#who is also very dramatic and sure is All In on shit.....

[sewersewersewercouch]

Microphone and ADHD: yet another very rambly analysis

GUESS WHO’S WRITING LONG TUMBLR POSTS ABOUT MIC AGAIN!!!!

i’ve been trying to formulate this post in my brain for a while and i’m finally writing it. I should add a disclaimer here: while i’ve done my own research for this, i’m also mostly writing from my own experience, which a) obviously every case of adhd is different, and b) while adhd is my only diagnosis at present, there are various other things that i’m questioning and in the process of being evaluated for which might also bleed into my experiences with adhd. If there are any issues please feel free to point them out! Also i don’t want to imply that if you don’t have adhd you can’t relate to mic, i’m just discussing the things i personally am seeing in canon. Also also, if this is weird and disjointed and rambly, well, you signed up to read a very long post by someone from adhd about blorbo from their shows.

I think what first comes to mind with Mic and ADHD traits for me is her impulsivity. This is something we see trip her up again and again—for example, when she yells at Fan in Tri Your Best, not considering how the noise could boost him into the air and ahead of her, or in Mazed and Confused, when she calls after Knife in the maze without realizing that Test Tube is in there as well. (And yes, she didn’t hear Baseball say that Test Tube was in there, but if she’d thought before she’d acted she might have considered looking around to make sure there were no Bright Lights missing as well.) Hell, another example I noticed was that during Mine Your Own Business, when Taco and Knife are arguing, Mic physically shoves Knife into the gem, and like, not gently, either—he slams into it pretty hard. It’s been pretty well established at this point that Mic is very averse to physical violence, and she definitely wouldn’t do anything like that intentionally, but the fact of the matter is, when she’s stressed like that, she just kind of makes a snap action without using her head.

This also ties into my second point, her difficulties with emotional regulation, which is something that’s very common with ADHD. I kind of struggle to describe how this shows up in Mic, because honestly, a lot of her seemingly overblown reactions are more of a “straw that breaks the camel’s back” type of situation where she takes so much shit from her teammates that obviously, who wouldn’t be upset? However, I do think it’s fair to say that she’s someone who’s quite easily frustrated, and can have a tendency to lash out quite harshly when she’s in this state. For example, in A Kick In The Right Direction, she’s pissed off about being relegated to goalie, which is fair, but she takes this out on Dough, who wasn’t involved in this decision, just because he happens to be near her, and she’s, like…pretty mean about it, too? Like, when he says he’s bored she says “so am I but not enough to talk to you” and then later flat out tells him to jump off a bridge. Yes, this second one was after he was distracting her and the Bright Lights got a goal past her, but still, it does feel like a pretty dramatic reaction. Especially as in general, Mic’s demeanor is friendly and outgoing, she clearly is someone who cares a lot about others’ well-being, and she’s just a nice person all around, but when something gets under her skin she’s immediately on the defensive and says stuff like this.

Also, just in general, Mic is very outwardly emotional. It’s one of the ways the narrative contrasts her with Taco, who for much of the story is incapable of giving up her facade, whereas Microphone is incapable of not wearing her heart on her sleeve. You can usually at any given time tell from Mic’s expressions and tone exactly what she’s feeling. This is especially noticeable as she’s frequently in a position where she has to lie, and she is…not good at it. Some of the time she falls back on the aforementioned defensiveness—for example, in Alternate Reality Show, when Suitcase asks what she’s painting and she replies, “Uh, zilch! Why are you picking today to talk to me for the first time ever?” and when Knife immediately after asks why she was late, she says, “I got other places to be? What’s it to you?” A lot of the time, though, she just gets all nervous and awkward. Adorable, undeniably, but not helpful when she’s in the position she’s in. (I was very charmed to find that she keeps this trait even after the game, what with her telling Taco to act natural and then going “Heyyyyy!!!! I, uh, found someone! :))))” as if that’s at all acting natural. Never change.) Mic feels everything very strongly, and she can’t naturally hide that like Taco can.

I also wanted to bring up Mic’s extreme sensitivity to negative feedback, or what’s often referred to as Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria—which, yes, I know that isn’t actually technically a diagnostic trait, but I would say it’s kind of an offshoot of emotional dysregulation combined with a response to being ostracised for being neurodivergent in a shitty ableist world. A lot of the time when Mic shows the traits I’ve mentioned here, and they trip her up, her teammates show her very little patience and compassion. (Baseball and Nickel are particularly guilty of this—Cheesy does it as well, but he also apologizes to her and it seems like they get along afterwards. Baseball, however, will be on thin ice until I hear a goddamn apology from him.) And while she tends to respond to their disparagement with anger externally, as mentioned above, it also clearly really upsets her in a deeper way. For all the amount she takes it out on others, she takes it out on herself tenfold: look at the words she uses to describe herself in her diary. “Annoying, harmful, random, useless, insignificant, loser.” This treatment, along with her previously mentioned sensitive emotions, make her very reactive to any form of perceived criticism or failure. Even in the finale, when she’s been through her own arc and had a while to heal from the toxic environment of the show, the image shown in the red line game shows that this is still what upsets her the most—the idea of being ignored and rejected by others.

I think this also goes the other way—she’s so sick of being disparaged that it turns into a desperation for approval and connection. This is kind of the foundation of her entire arc. I noticed this one moment in Mazed and Confused, where Taco offers to help her out and Mic says “Really? You would help me out?” as though she’s completely shocked by the idea of someone offering her help. Which makes sense—the only person who’s actually been there for her is Soap. And one could ask, why does Mic stay in her alliance with Taco? Clearly she realizes, deep down, that what she’s doing is unethical. Mic is someone who has a strong moral code that I think in most circumstances she’d care about more than the money. (Yes, I know, I know, the twist, but it’s been proven several times that contestants are more than capable of putting other things above the game. Look at Marshmallow, Clover, Lightbulb, and obviously, eventually Mic herself!) But I don’t think what keeps her pushing her cognitive dissonance down is actually anything about the money. It’s the approval she gets. Baseball, who as I’ve said is normally quite hard on her, compliments her when she does something right as a result of her cheating, and in so doing cements in her mind that cheating=people liking her. She also gets approval from Taco, which fuels this even more. And as this alliance goes on, it transforms into…well, I don’t know if I’d call it a friendship, per se, but it seems that Mic really does value Taco’s company and wants to connect with her on a more personal level, rather than just as a means to an end. This just muddies matters further, as Mic now has not only approval at stake, but also one of the few actual relationships she has in the game. It takes Taco killing two people in front of her for her to decide that’s not worth it.

I think I maybe got a little sidetracked from my point there, as I am very much wont to do, but I think this leads Mic to display some kinds of masking behavior. One facet of this is politeness/friendliness—and this is not to say that Mic isn’t genuinely an outgoing, friendly person. In my own experience, masking isn’t as cut and dry as “not acting like yourself”---rather, it’s often more putting certain, more socially acceptable aspects of one’s personality forward and suppressing the less acceptable ones. Her politeness also comes off as very stilted to me. For example, in Theft and Battery, where she says, “Guys, not to sound rude, but didn’t MePhone5S and 5C just try to kill MePhone4? Didn't this guy create them? Why would he support us if he just tried to kill us?” It seems like a weird thing to have to tack “not to sound rude” onto—it’s a completely valid and truthful point. But she’s so used to being perceived as rude that it seems she feels like she has to say that. There’s also another example I already talked about in a different post but will go back over here—in Mine Your Own Business, when Mic and Taco are trying to sneak past Knife, but Mic sneezes and then follows it up with “Sorry! ‘Scuse me!” Which, as Taco points out, isn’t something people normally do. And immediately Mic falls back on her other defense mechanism, lashing out. If you listen to what she’s saying when they’re arguing, it’s “What was I supposed to say, ‘bless me’ and bless myself? You’re the one who’s always trying to be proper, what’s your problem?” I think this moment says a lot about her—when she knows she’s messed up, she tries to cover for it with politeness, but she also doesn’t quite get the social rules right. It’s very much something that’s put on, not that comes naturally to her. (This is where I realized she has many parallels with my other favorite Cabby, but that’s a whole different can of worms.)

However, she also masks in kind of the other direction, that is, putting others down to boost herself up. The Grand Slams are not the healthiest of teams, to put it lightly, and Mic mimics the behavior she sees in others that brings them social success. For example, when she jokes to Baseball about not wanting to “pull a Balloon—” Balloon being unpopular as he is, she knows other people will find mocking him funny. And it works! Baseball laughs! She tries this again later, when she says to Knife “talk about emotional baggage” in regards to Suitcase, but this time he doesn’t respond well. Mic seems genuinely surprised at this—this method has worked for her before, so she’s put off by the fact that it doesn’t work this time. And I should say—this isn’t something Taco tells her to do. She does it entirely of her own volition.

Actually, looking at this more, it seems more like part of something she mostly does during her alliance with Taco—an unaffected, jokey front she tends to put on when she’s lying or messing with people, to…limited success, as discussed earlier, but I think she also uses it when she’s lying to herself, or trying to convince herself that what she or Taco is doing isn’t wrong. I had a few examples in mind. The first is in Kick the Bucket, right after the Nickel and Balloon double elimination, when she says, “Well, ha, what a lively experience! Well, not much to gain from sitting around and doing nothing. See ya!” It’s oddly nonchalant when clearly everyone around her is upset, and we see her look concerned for a second beforehand before she goes into this. I interpret that as her…kind of seeing that what just happened messed things up for a lot of people and that it was her fault, but she’s not ready to accept that truth yet. She also uses this affect throughout Mine Your Own Business—both with Taco, as an attempt to get her to open up, and with Knife, I think in some ways trying to mimic what Taco did to recruit her in order to do the same with him. Neither of these are successful. Knife being Knife, he’s someone who’s very able to see right through people (figuratively speaking, that is, because now people can literally see right through him! Get it? Because he’s a ghost? Please imagine the sound of Cheesy slapping his knee from somewhere in the distance). He plants seeds of doubt in Mic’s mind by telling her about Pickle—and she’s still not ready for those seeds to grow, but they certainly are there. In fact, the next time we see her use this behavior, it’s in Hatching the Plan, when she jokes that Taco will “inevitably drop me too or whatever.” She says it casually, but clearly what Knife said is still on her mind, and she’s trying to convince herself that what happened to Pickle won’t happen to her even though she doesn’t at all believe herself. I also think looking at this behavior has really clarified my view of her in the movie—at first I was frustrated at how she seemed much more calm and collected than I would have expected her to, both about the general horrors happening to everyone, and specifically about Taco. I talked about those criticisms in another post, and I do still stand by them to some extent, I would have written her differently. But I don’t think it’s as incongruent with her character as I did before—in fact, I think there’s plenty of precedent for her masking like that in situations of greatly conflicted emotion. (Oddly enough, I think it’s something she has in common with Taco, but Taco’s just better with it.) I kind of doubt she was quite mentally ready to reconnect with Taco yet, but in such a dire situation she doesn’t have time to process all that, so she just kind of shoves that to the back of her brain. Not to say that I don’t think she genuinely cares for Taco, but I do think there’s a lot of processing she hasn’t done yet about her that will hopefully be a topic of discussion later please please please AE please for me???? Anyways, I do think this is a response to her aforementioned emotional dysregulation tending to create problems for her, and it’s definitely a masking technique in my eyes.

I also want to touch briefly on Microphone and Soap’s friendship, because while it’s not evidence for my point exactly, per se, I do think it’s relevant. While unfortunately pretty stereotypical representation, I would say it’s generally considered true that Soap is coded as having OCD. Now I’m not going to say that all neurodivergent people can easily be friends with one another, I know that’s not true. However, looking at the scene we see with the two of them in Rain On Your Charade, it certainly plays a part in this specific friendship. Mic helps Soap cope with her compulsions, and Soap is the only person at this time who really values Mic and doesn’t see her as a burden just because she’s accident-prone.

One minor thing I also wanted to point out was how it’s pretty common for people with ADHD to struggle with controlling our voices, including the tone, speed, and…well, volume. I can’t count the amount of times I’ve had people tell me that I’m talking loudly and I didn’t even realize it. I trust I don’t have to explain how this point is relevant to Mic, and it does very much fit.

There was one specific line that inspired me to write this post, from Everything’s A-OJ: “I’m trying harder than anyone else, so why do I always lose?” One of the diagnostic traits for ADHD is described as making “careless mistakes” in activities, and I never have particularly loved that phrasing. It may look careless on the outside, because it’s often mistakes that other people can easily avoid, but when you have a disorder that affects your attention, impulse control, memory, executive function, et cetera et cetera et cetera, you doing your best might look like someone else half-assing it. Not to get too personal on my blorbo post, but I keep thinking about this one teacher I had in middle school who, when I messed something up in a class, said “oh, that’s such a Clonnie move!” I’m sure she doesn’t remember that, but I do, because when you hear over and over again that people associate you with making mistakes, that shit sticks with you, and eventually when nothing you do helps you start to feel like you’re the mistake. That’s why Mic as a character resonates with me so much. God willing AnimationEpic will bring my girl back because I would like to see how Mic heals from that mindset as time goes on and where she goes from here.

[fall0utmind]

I'm very picky with abo fics in general but your sick fic au? God it hits the spot perfectly!!

It has everything: Marc hiding that he's hurt, the people around realising that he's hurt but not Just How Badly Hurt he really is, dramatic and public reveal of just How Bad things really are. The guilt!!

Good god the guilt!!! The flavours of it, Marc who has been living with it and internelising that this is somehow his fault and that he's a bad omega, for a decade, (doubt that'll just disappear overnight!) maybe when Marc eventually wakes, barely aware and delirious from pain, He apologisees to Vale for having to deal with him again.. (you did say Marc blamed himself for Vale rejecting him, might as well twist the knife. Just hope Vale's alone when he says that cause Alex might just murder vale on the spot if he hears that).

Vale's guilt hitting him like a truck at first once his alpha realises that it's his fault that that his omegas in pain!! Seeing Marc unresponsive in a hospital bed, so small and fragile, and it's all because of him.. is it bad that I kinda want Vale to think deep down Marc hates him for doing this to him? Potentially Even More miscommunication? Because in vale's mind why wouldn't Marc hate him? Vale has been making his life a living hell for the past decade! Why would Marc want anything to do with him after That?

The guilt from Alex, and the other people close Marc, over not realising just how badly he was hurting, Pecco and the rest of the academy boys realising that by being around Marc they were causing him pain!!

Also speaking of the academy boys, you mentioned that Honda were a makeshift pack for Marc, and since Lucas now with Honda would someone accidentally say something to make him even more suspicious? I doubt anyone would intentionally say something, wouldn't betray Marc's trust like that, especially not to vale's brother, and I assume Marc would have been very careful with making sure noone fully knew just how serious things were, but like surely they noticed some things? Like Marc doesn't nest, doesn't scent, straight up disappears for days when he has a heat and comes back looking like hell?

Anyways sorry for the rambling! I can't wait to read this fic 🫶

Talking about two AUs at once is ruining my brain a bit. I keep buffering and getting confused 😭

Anyways, this has been in my asks bit for do long and I'm so sorry about that.

We sound like we value very similar things in fanfic, ngl. Cause what I really love in fics are:

- lots of hurt, especially when the MC is hiding his pain

- a huge amount of angst and pain - the closer we get to pain levels you can't come back from, the better.

- public realisations of the hurt that's been caused

- followed by loads of fluff

So, about what you said. Oh my God, yes. Marc internalising it is definitely going to happen. He thinks that it's all his fault, not outwardly but somewhere deep inside for sure. And yes, you're right. It's going to take him a long time to get over it and to stop internalising that he's a bad omega, and it's his fault. I can imagine that when he's first nesting again, and he's really struggling to do it, and he just thinks it's because he's a shit omega 🥺🥺 *again, Vale, when i get you 🔫🔫

But YEs what you said..

When Marc wakes up, there is a steady hum of machinery in the air and a steady beeping, which he feels would become irritating after a whole. He is barely conscious, everything's feeling dreamy, and pain still radiates through his body. He turns to his right, wincing as pain shoots through his side, a grimace on his face.

When he opens his eyes again, he meets Valentino's eyes. He has to blink rapidly to ensure he isn't still asleep, pinching himself lightly. Vale bats his hand away and Marc PANICS. Profuse apologies fall from his chapped lips as his eyes dart around in panic. Marc can't believe he's fucking it up again, making valentino sit here with him, when he's already made it clear that he doesn't want Marc. Because Marc is a bad omega. Who doesn't even deserve a pack.

"No, no. This wasn't meant to happen"

"I'm so sorry, valentino, I know - I know you don't want me. I'll leave, make sure it doesn't happen again. I'm sorry. You don't need to deal with me. You shouldn't have to. I'm so bad at this. A bad omega. No alpha should have to deal with a bad omega, " he rambles.

If he was more conscious, less drug-fueled, he wouldn't be saying this. Embarrassment curls in his gut, and yet he can't stop.

When marc drags his gaze back to Valentino, he chokes. There are tears in the older man's eyes and panic written all over his face.

-

Even better if Marc's family are there. Can you imagine Julia and Alex shouting at Valentino, can you imagine the hell that would break loose?

"You. You did this! You don't deserve to be an alpha"

"How dare you. You have no idea what he suffered. Get out!!"

-

I am living for this ask, it's so good. The idea that Vale thinks Marc hates him and the miscommunication is so good. More angst is fantastic.

I am obsessed with the idea that Valentino's alpha is freaking out. Firstly, at the sight of Marc, his omega, small, pale, fragile, and so SO unwell. Because of him. Im imagining that he actually doesn't realise it's his fault at first - instinct just took over when he saw marc collapse, and he ran, refused to leave marc alone, growling at anyone who got too close. Fuckkk. Then could you imagine, the doctors coming back in, saying it's bond sickness and pack withdrawal. Valentino frowning. And then it hits him like a tonne of bricks.

Valentino vomiting everything he's eaten into the nearest bin. His alpha thrashing inside of him, torn between the need to be near Marc and the all-consuming self hatred. Gosh 😭😭

And then yes, the idea that they miscommunicated, that Valentino tries to put space between them because clearly marc hates him now.

-

Then ALEX and MARCS FRIENDS

Stopppp everyone jusy realising they were indirectly hurting marc. The sadness they all feel. The way that he's better, everyone sticks closer to him, scenting him constantly and always keeping him nearby. They all stick nearby in the next, too, constantly touching.

Marc absolutely hating it- the pity and guilt.

-

Finally about luca - yes, I love this idea too. I think maybe he Overhears someone say something about how worried they are about marc. They realise luca is there and panic!!!! And then, yes, they won't tell him what it's about, but he's very suspicious.

So he starts to scout, information gather, goes to hound dani and dovi for information about what's happened. I think he only begins to realise as marc is already getting sicker. By that point, it's almost too late. He tries to warn Vale, but he won't hear it. 💔💔💔

Also, yes, people are definitely suspicious. I've touched on this briefly, but people notice for sure. Only the people close to him notice the lack of scent. His teams and teammates notice the whole no heats after 2018. A couple of people notice the coming back from heats like shit from 2015-18 (there are some theories, also some not nice words from certain people). But no one wants to ask. It's a bit taboo. Plus like it would feel like going against Vale. So people notice, but they don't do anything and don't say anything (it makes the guilt so much worse)

Thank you for rambling. I loved all of your ideas and answering this!!.

[ratatatastic]

local man haunts (me) open practise yet again more news at 11

[fuckdamn]

everytime i’m faced with wild overt misogyny that’s just platformed like it’s nothing i remind myself that people don’t actually have to feel this way about women. men are fully capable of treating women like human beings and viewing them as such. “but socialization but male fantasies but patriatchy speaks through us even when we don’t recognize it” sure but actually regardless there exist men who are fundamentally not raging misogynists and they generally seem happier and better adjusted. misogyny to me isn’t disappointing because “oh i can’t believe Men, as an essentialized category of person, are like this” it’s disappointing because people make the choice to be like this. “it’s my biological imperative as a man to dominate you” okay well it’s my biological imperative as a freaky bitch to dominate you so what now. what biological imperative is making you comment “onlyfans detected opinion rejected” on every picture of any attractive woman. i think i will always be understood by most people as a woman and i’m learning to accept that and trying to like it but misogyny makes me feel very trapped of course. but misogyny is a choice. which means some people make the choice to be misogynistic which is profoundly frustrating. but many other people choose not to be actively misogynistic and i believe anyone could choose not to be actively misogynistic if they wanted. so it’s a whole thing

[exopelagic]

I need to go to bed I’m just gonna shout a lil

[clockwayswrites]

Distracting Birb! Part 28

*throws this and runs* Masterpost

“So what did you find out?” Tim asked as he spun around. He was at the computer, of course, and looked most of the way to villainy backlit by the large screens.

(Dick loved his little brother, but villainy really wouldn’t be the most surprising outcome for Tim.)

“What makes you think we found anything?” Jason answered, just to be impertinent.

Tim rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t have called us all down to the Cave if you didn’t have anything.”

Jason scoffed. “You underestimate how willing I am to waste your time.”

“Boys,” Cass said calmly, ending the growing argument with just that word.

“Duke still out on patrol?” Dick asked as a distraction.

Tim glanced over his shoulder and back at the screen. “On his way back. He’ll be here in fifteenish.”

Best not to wait in case Danny woke, Dick decided. They’d be sure to fill him in. “Okay. Well, Danny was not lying, he has a lot of plants.”

“Dick managed to turn on the watering system. We’re all very proud of him,” Jason said flatly.

The siblings all golf clapped, which Dick took a dramatic bow to. “Thank you, thank you. Otherwise a pretty normal apartment. Comfortable, a little nerdy, and not fussy.”

Jason nodded. “There’s a hero��not sure if someone real or fictional—that we saw a few times. Someone called Phantom.”

Obliging, Dick sent the photo of the mug from the bathroom up onto one of the screens. Tim spun back to the computer and started searching.

“There were also a lot of medication in his cabinet; vitamins and several prescriptions also. Some of them had weird labels.”

“Damn, Dick, you couldn’t have gotten a clearer photo?” Tim asked as he squinted at the new set of images.

“As much as I hate to defend Dick,” Jason said as he added photos of his own to the screen, ‘that is a clear photo. Danny was writing in the same language along with English in a bedside notebook of his.”

“Are you in need of glasses, Drake?” Damian asked as he looked from the photos to Tim with a judgmental brow raised.

Tim flicked him off, which Dick considered telling Tim off for (Damian had enough bad habits), but was actually curious about this. “No. The text looks glitched out.’

“No,” Damian said slowly and with a scowl, “it is clear. Odd, but clear.”

“Cass?” Dick asked.

She moved a step closer to the television, head tilted. There was a long, quiet moment before she lifted her hand a gave a so-so motion.

Tim looked from her, to Damian, to the screens. “…Dick?”

“So that’s the thing, it looks wrong to me too. If I look at it too long it’s like it gives me a headache. Jason can read it though.”

Jason snorted. “That’s taking it a bit far. I feel like I should be able to read it. I can get a word here or there maybe.”

“Like it whispers,” Damian said, the quiet words oddly poetic for the youngest of them.

“…yeah, like it whispers,” Jason agreed, just as softly.

“Right, okay. Freaky language that only some of us can even see, much less read, and those who can have spent a lot of time in or around the league,” Tim said. “How concerned do we need to be able this? To we need to be concerned about this? I feel like we need to be concerned about this.”

None of them had an easy answer for Tim.

All of them were grateful for the roar of Duke’s bike interrupting the conversation as he pulled into the cave.

“What are you all looking some grim about?” Duke asked. He yanked his helmet off and took a deep breath, like he hadn’t been able to breath in hours.

It was a feeling they all got. Even a good patrol was draining and Duke had been actively on follow up over what had gone down today with the Mad Hatter. Dick tossed a towel Duke’s way and went to grab a drink for the other from the food safe fridge.

“Stuff from Danny’s place. Take a look at the screen,” Jason said.

“Danny? I thought that we liked the guy,” Duke said, accepting the drink with a grateful thank you. He drained half of it his the way to the screens. “Shit, that’s a lot of meds.”

“Take a closer look,” Jason said, though not unkindly.

Duke stepped closer to the screen.

And went alarmingly still.

Dick resisted the instinctual urge to reach out and grab him. “Duke?”

Duke gave an answering hum and turned his head, just slightly, towards Dick. His eyes never left the screen. Dick wasn’t sure if Duke had really heard him. It was Jason who ended up acting, ended up listening to that instinct. He stepped between Duke and the screen, blocking their newest brother’s view. Duke sucked in a sharp, startled breath.

“What?”

“Hey, come on, have a seat,” Jason said and guided Duke backwards into one of the chairs at the table.

Tim swiftly cleared the photos from the screen.

Duke shook his head. “Sorry, man, I don’t know what… that, huh. What did those look like to you all?”

“Magenta tinted pill bottles with different levels of medication in them,” Tim replied calmly. “Dick and I can’t read what’s printed on them. Damian, Jason, and maybe Cass can a little which means it might be League writing of some sort.”

Dick leaned against the table. “What did you see, Duke?”

“Magenta tinted pill bottles with something in them. Like whatever it was my powers were weird about it. I’d have to see them in person to know anything about why, I guess, but they were… I don’t know. But whatever that stuff was I don’t think it’s League because I don’t think it’s human. I don’t think it’s earthly.”

“Well, fuck,” Dick said with a sigh.

He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

[comicaurora]

So uhh. If you feel like talking about it. As someone who lives in the US, how are you being kind to yourself on this upsetting morning <3

Checked in with my loved ones first and foremost.

It's interesting. The vibe I've been getting from my circle is very different from 2016. Much less… dread and horror at a realignment of the understanding of what can and can't happen here, now, in this place and day and age. More "fuck, guys. again? whatever. enjoy your consequences, maybe you'll manage to learn something this time."

Frustration and anger is not the most positive feeling, or even the most fair one to express, but it is a protective one. It hurts a lot less than most alternatives.

And it's quite a shift. It was earthshattering back then. How could this have been allowed to happen? Why couldn't it be stopped? Why couldn't we stop it? Why couldn't I stop it? Why couldn't everyone see what this meant? Why couldn't I make them understand? Did they really not care? What did that mean about humanity as a whole? Were we so thoughtless? How could anyone be trusted?

It seems… much less earthshattering to see it happen twice. Disappointing, sure. Frustrating. But nowhere near as devastating as the first time I saw it unfold. We already knew it could happen. I've already had time to digest the implications. Now I'm just freshly disappointed.

It also feels less indicative of Crushing Truths Of Reality this time. We've seen shit get bad. We've also seen shit get better from here! We know both outcomes are possible, even inevitable. We know hoping for a better future is always worthwhile. This isn't the apocalypse. It's an unremarkably bad turn of events brought on by unremarkably self-centered well-documented human impulses. It's utterly mundane in its unpleasantness. It doesn't need to be dignified with despair.

A democratic election, no matter the outcome or the side we're on, makes us all acutely aware of how outnumbered we are by people whose worldviews and priorities are demonstrably incomprehensible to us. And the first time you get outnumbered, it's a shock. Defeat is haunting. It didn't matter how badly you wanted it; by the very function of democracy, you do not have the power to override greater numbers. (insert electoral college caveat here)

The second time through, I find myself focusing on a different facet that has dramatically reduced the amount of spiralling I'm doing. I don't expect this to work for everyone, but for me specifically, it helped to crystallize a few thoughts:

You don't have the power to control anyone else. You don't. You can't share your worldview and your revelations with them. You can't make them think or understand anything. You can lay it all out for them, but you can't make them listen, and you can't make it click. A mentor can't make their student learn a lesson; that's why teaching is so complicated and hard. An active choice must be made by the person to enable themselves to understand, and they must put the pieces together in their own mind before it makes sense to them, and the pieces must have been presented in a way that makes sense to them in the first place. Lead a horse to water, can't make them drink.

These elections highlight a disconnect in what different groups of people care about; and no matter how clearly you explain yourself or how passionately you perform, caring cannot be forced on someone. Understanding and connection cannot be forced. You cannot make anything or anyone matter to someone. They have to choose to see how it matters in order to internalize it. If they choose not to, that is not your failing. You couldn't have made them do it by just Explaining Better. They are not your responsibility. They make their own choices. You can't reach inside their head and connect the dots for them.

I'm a storyteller. I make stories and put them out into the world. I hope people get something good out of them, but I have no control over what that something is. I want people to be thoughtful and kind and compassionate and hopeful and see themselves reflected in stranges, no matter their differences. I can craft stories that I hope encourage this. But that is the extent of my ability and the extent of my responsibility. I control no-one's actions but my own, and so while I am not having the best day, I am at least content that I am doing what I can, and I am not shattering myself against impossibilities trying to control the things I can't.

Sometimes, people make decisions that I think are really bad. I can't make that not happen. All I can do is try to make decisions that will result in things I think are good. Today, that means checking in on people, and not assigning too much dramatic narrative weight to an ultimately mundane set of unremarkable bad decisions outside of my control. We'll take life as it comes and help each other out when and how we can. Everything else is out of our hands.

[augustinewrites]

“itadori, please respect his personal space—”

“kugisaki! stop hitting him—”

“megumi, don’t you dare bring that elephant out in my classroom—”

peace and quiet is short-lived whenever the first years are around.

you manage to quiet them down with the threat of assigning an essay, allowing you a moment’s respite to massage your temples and lean back in your seat, glancing at your phone to check just how many minutes you have left with them.

a notification pops up as you do, bringing on a whole new headache.

[satoru]: send nudes?

you quickly turn your phone over so it’s screen-down, face burning as you look around to make sure no one had seen.

peace and quiet is also short-lived whenever satoru calls out sick. because the strongest sorcerer of your time…currently has a cold.

he is, predictably, very dramatic whenever he’s sick. a mild fever means he puts himself on bedrest. a sore throat means he needs to be spoon fed a very specific homemade soup.

but the worst…oh, the worst is when he has a cold.

when satoru’s sinuses are clogged, he’s an absolute menace to deal with. his sneezes shake the apartment and his whines about sinus pressure are all you hear at the dinner table.

luckily, the students have resorted to quietly bothering each other, so you slowly turn your phone back around to deal with the man child who is likely littering the living room floor with tissues.

he’s stuck at home, which means he’s got nothing to do but annoy you.

[satoru]: haha jk

[satoru]: unless…?

huffing, you quickly type back a response.

[you]: NOT funny. i’m at work.

[satoru]: so what you’re saying is you’ll send them during lunch right ;)

“miss!” itadori shouts, his arm raised. “can fushiguro come to the arcade with us after class?”

“of course,” you say. “but please don’t forget to finish your essays on cursed technique origins. it’s due on monday.”

yuuji’s practically bouncing in his seat as he grabs megumi’s arm. hear that, fushiguro? you hear as you pick up your phone. your mom said yes!

megumi, who usually comes home on the weekends, still looks to you for approval. you assure him with a small nod and smile.

sometimes you just want to wrap him up in your arms and never let go. he may have been another couple’s blessing, but ultimately he’s yours and gojo’s pride and joy. possibly the only one you have left, as it stands.

thought you’re a little sad that he won’t be home for dinner tonight, you remind yourself that he’s growing up. for as long as you’ve known him, he’s always been a sort of lone wolf. but a lone wolf is still a wolf, and a wolf needs a pack.

he’s finally found friends he’s comfortable with, and it’s good that he wants to spend time with them and vice versa.

your phone buzzes insistently in your hand.

[satoru]: pleeeeeaaaase?

[satoru]: i think it’ll really help with my recovery…

[satoru]: if this cold kills me the last thing i want to see is a picture of you

oh, that’s actually kind of—

[satoru]: nude, preferably

maybe it’s a good thing megumi won’t be home tonight. you don’t need any witnesses to the crime you’re about to commit.

[you]: what’ll help with your recovery is a visit to the infirmary.

there’s a short pause, then you watch the little bubble appear and disappear about six times.

[satoru]: shit

[satoru]: is this a scene?

you roll your eyes, waving at the kids as they head out to catch the train.

[you]: i hate you

he doesn’t answer, so you get up to hurry over to your office, shutting and locking the door behind you.

you wait a moment, opening the camera on your phone as you do so.

once the sound of footsteps echoing through the hall disappears, you start unbuttoning the first few buttons of your shirt—

you scream when a loud sneeze startles you, satoru suddenly appearing at your side.

he doesn’t miss a beat, plucking a tissue from your desk and blowing his nose loudly. he throws it in the general direction of the bin before slapping his palm onto your desk.

you can tell he’s attempting to be some sort of seductive, but it’s dampened bu the way he sniffles loudly, his face a little red.

“hello, doctor,” he says, a lazy grin spread across his face. “i’m here for my physical.”

“honey,” you laugh, gently cupping the sides of his face. “you need to rest.”

“but ‘m not tired,” he pouts, leaning in to nose at your neck. his skin is warm against yours, much too warm for your liking.

you tangle your fingers in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. “since i’m your doctor, i’m prescribing a nap.”

“a nap does sound kind of nice…”

he gets up, taking your hand and dragging you over to the couch with him. he locks you within his embrace, sighing contentedly as he presses you to his chest.

“wait, satoru i have to supervise the second years’ training—”

it’s too late. he’s already asleep, snoring loudly in your ear.

so you take out your phone and text nanami, asking if he can cover for you this afternoon.

because a sick satoru is a needy satoru, and you won’t be leaving this couch for a while.

[fear-is-truth]

dae-ho 강대호 / PLAYER 388 as your boyfriend

tags — fem!reader﹒ sfw headcanons﹒established relationship﹒fluff

dae-ho, who knows an embarrassing amount about “girly” stuff—despite the typical “guys don’t know shit about makeup” stereotype. he can identify your products by name—“you left your stippling brush on the sink again,” he had casually mentioned once, leaving you stunned.

dae-ho, who is good at taking care of you when you’re feeling unwell, especially during that time of the month (growing up with four sisters, he has learned everything there is to know about periods.) he’ll make sure you have heat pads, pain relief meds, chocolate, and your favorite snacks stocked up.

dae-ho, who doesn’t care if something is “emasculating” as long as it makes you happy. wearing a tiger face mask or letting you stick glittery clips in his hair? no problem. your joy is worth more to him than any outdated social expectations.

dae-ho, who lets you braid his hair and braids yours in return. he’s surprisingly good at it, thanks to his sisters. fishtail, french braid… he’s got you covered.

dae-ho, who gives you the softest, dopiest smiles when you’re braiding his hair, applying a face mask, or just rambling about your day, he’s looking at you like you hung the moon.

dae-ho, who sometimes forgot to take out your scrunchie from his own hair when he goes outside.

dae-ho, who acts like it’s just regular “good boyfriend duty” by letting you paint his nails. really, he’s just amused by how cute you look, biting your lip in concentration.

dae-ho, who picks up on your mood quickly. if you’re having a rough day, he’ll know it before you even have to say anything. he’s the kind of boyfriend who just gets it, always there to listen, or just holding you in his big arms.

dae-ho, who is incredibly patient. even when you’re snippy or plain unreasonable, he’d never take it personally. his calmness makes you feel safe, no matter what mood you’re in.

dae-ho, who has a protective streak especially when it comes to you. if anyone messes with you, he’ll step in without hesitation, but he’ll do so in a calm manner. never the type to make a scene, but you can always count on him to have your back when you need it.

dae-ho, who acts all wounded when you gang up with his sisters. if you’re laughing at an inside joke with them, he’ll gasp dramatically, hand over his heart. “betrayed by my own girlfriend,” he’ll say, pouting like a kicked puppy. but he secretly loves seeing you bond with them.

dae-ho, who is very respectful of your boundaries, whether they’re physical or emotional. he’s never pushy and always checks in with you to make sure you’re comfortable.

dae-ho, who loves hyping you up— if you ever feel self-conscious, he is always there to remind you how amazing you are. he wants to see you feel good about yourself, and he’ll always be there to support that.

dae-ho, who is adoring and affectionate—he loves physical affection and will never shy away from showing it. he’s also an excellent listener, always asking how your day went and showing genuine interest.

dae-ho, who texts you photos of random things because they remind him of you. a pretty sunset, a stray cat, or a newly opened bakery.

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Special edition Christmas fic where genin aged team 7 decide hatch their newest plot to see Kakashi's face: using mistletoe

Because if they trap him under it with someone, he'll surely have to take his mask off to give them a kiss! ...Right?

(Sasuke thinks this is fucking stupid)

The entire thing is just a fucking slapstick comedy as Kakashi goes "what's the funniest way I can go along with this." And decides he will in fact lower his mask and give a kiss to everyone the kids corner him with. But only when they look away / blink / their view is obstructed

The kids are chasing him around with a string on a stick w mistletoe tied to the end of it, and every time they miss seeing the kiss (and his face) hey scream even louder

Reactions range from "???!?????!?!??????" (Iruka) to straight up passing out (Gai) to laughing hysterically with a bright red face (Kurenai) to just sort of freezing up like a deer in headlights (Asuma)

Kakashi, having way too much fun, makes a shadow clone to pull the Sukea thing again. And the kids get "Sukea" on board, thinking he can take a photo the second Kakashi pulls his mask down for a smooch. Kakashi has WAY too much fun, essentially role-playing with himself and swooning dramatically. Then, at the end, Sukea goes, "Oh no the camera's memory card is gone, Kakashi must have stolen it :((" and the kids all scream in agony

They try to get him to describe Kakashi's face and Sukea gets all coy and goes "umm... its kind of... indescribable?"

(They get another person to try to snap a photo of him but they turn out to be a freezer so they don't take the picture. When the kids harass them ab it they just giggle a little maniacally ab his face)

This does escalate to doing this shit w enemy nin btw. Funniest option is obviously Tobi but I'm also raising u a really freaked the fuck out Itachi looking like an angry, surprised cat after Kakashi gives him a peck on the cheek (Sasuke is gonna fucking KILL HIMSELF)

Obito gets the full makeout session bc its funniest.

He shows up looking for a dramatic fight but like halfway through his villain speech, team 7 dangles the mistletoe over him, and he's so thrown off guard he just kinda "???? excuse me I'm kind of in the middle of—"

Kakashi, who is a) in too deep to stop the bit now, and b) recognizes a good way to throw off an enemy, fucking launches himself at him, pushes Tobi's mask up just enough to kiss, and starts to make out w him

His back is turned to the kids and they're all scrambling to try to catch a single glimpse, but he keeps his back to them as they scream and run around (thus prolonging the kiss)

Kakashi is totally checked out of the actual kiss, this is all fun and games to him. Obito is having a fucking religious experience wrapped in a manic episode flavored internal breakdown topped off with a very loud high pitched kettle noise that may or may not be confined to his brain

This lasts for like a solid minute before Kakashi releases him and readjust his mask, pats him on the shoulder and goes "sorry about that teehee"

Obito just kinda 🧍‍♀️ and they stare at eachother for another solid minute as team 7 screams and cries and throws up in the bg

Kakashi, seeing the opportunity to leave and avoid what was for sure going to be a potentially devistating fight: "cool. So, anyways. Bye lmao." And runs for it w his students

Obito is left tanding still as a statue in the middle of the clearing. After like 20 seconds alone he starts hyperventilating.

Merry Christmas everybody 👍

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Multiverse Police (pt. 2)

"You said you're going to ask questions, then can we ask questions?" Superman really tries to be polite here because, first, he was raised by Kents and, second, Jazz and the whole interdimensional police thing looks non-hostile. At least now.

The redhead nods, "Sure, ask away, I'll answer everything I can." Then, she notices Batman reaching to touch the green shield and makes a soft, warning noise, "Ah, sorry, please don't touch it. I can show how it works later, but it's not meant to keep you out. It's to keep everything else in."

Batman reluctantly puts his head down and turns to her.

"Elaborate."

The sci-fi ship in the air makes a loud hissing sound, like compressed air being released, and the bottom part of it slides open. Jazz nods in the direction of the now open ship.

"You know what they say, it's better to see it once than to hear it ten times."

There are three humanoid figures standing in there. All of them are mostly monochrome, black and white clothes, starkling white hair. They look like one adult and two children, but it's one of the kids who raises his hands to his mouth and yells so loud everyone in three miles radius is able to hear him:

"Step away from the shield, please, shit's about to get real!"

None of the heroes move, but Jazz does take a few steps away. Wonder Woman, after a moment of hesitation, follows her example.

A mechanical voice comes from the ship itself, "Countdown to the breach. Five... Four..."

On 'three,' all three of the monochrome figures step out from the ship. But, before any of the heroes have time to worry, they all float in the air, undeterred by gravity, and the ship door closes behind them.

The countdown reaches 'one'. And in the next moment, it looks like the hell breaks loose.

Countless giant vines shoot out from the portal up, reaching for the ship. True to what the red hoverboarder said, they are very much toothy, every vine splitting in two and attempting to bite the ship like some twisted idea of scissors.

None of them reach it.

The oldest of three kids claps his hands, and a wall of raging fire descends on the vines, throwing them off. In the next moment, the trio falls apart, flying through the lovecraftian mess of carnivorous plants with practiced ease, the younger ones using what looks like icicles and little storms.

"Who are they?" Batman asks Jazz, following the youngest one's - the only girl among the three - movements as she creates a strong gust of wind with a wave of her hand. None of the vines or attacks get past the shield, though.

"My siblings," the girl answers, pointing her hand at the oldest one, "That's Dan. He's the most violent. One time, he destroyed our original world, but that timeline doesn't exist anymore." She then points to the girl, "That's Dani, the youngest. She rarely joins the crew lately. And she is actually a clone, but at this point, most of us have been cloned once or twice, so it's not a big deal anymore." She then points her finger to the last one, a boy that flies past them quicker than a lightning, freezing everything he touches, "And this is Danny. He is the most powerful one. Technically, he could have just ended the fight with one Wail, but kids like to have fun. Also, they don't get to show off their elemental powers a lot, so they are mostly being dramatic for you."

She says all this so easily, just like a matter of fact, and it is at this moment that the members of JL realize the sheer power of whoever these people are. When she casually told them she bested Superman, it could have been written as a coincidence, a joke. But this?

Dan growls as one of the vines scratches his shoulder. He bleeds green, but it's only for a second before both the wound and the suit knit themselves back together. This is not just a simple accelerated healing, it almost looks like a miracle.

"Oi, brats, I'm done with show off, get out of the way!" He yells at the other two, and Danny and Dani quickly follow the order, flying closer to him and behind his back.

"Cover your ears," Jazz tells the heroes around her, and puts her helmet back on, as Dan takes a deep breath and screams.

It hurts even those who follow Jazz's advice. Batman feels like his eardrums are about to be shattered for the lack of better word. But the vines like the sonic attack even less - most of them subdue and pull back inside the portal, and the rest is dissipating like they are being burned from the inside out.

And then, just like it began, the scream - the wail - stops. The silence feels deafening after the end of it, but slowly, the sounds return, and the JL watches Danny flying down to the center of the portal. He puts his hands on the surface of it, and for a long moment, nothing happens.

And then the Pit starts closing up.

Or, no, it is Danny who absorbs it, the green flowing up through his hands, his veins that start glowing the same green. His eyes become the same toxic color, with no whites and no irises, just glowing green all over, and his hair shimmers like stars.

A few minutes later, the portal is gone, like it never even existed, and Danny plants his feet on the ground and stretches, like one would do after a good rest.

"Oof, that was nice!" He turns to the other two, who are still up in the air, "Do you want some?"

Dan flips him off before going back to the ship, but Dani floats down to him and extends her hands out.

"Sure. I like getting it from you better than from the portal itself anyway. Gives it a sparkling taste, like Sprite," she chuckles. Danny takes her hands in his, and the green glow slowly makes its way through their joined palms, now flowing through the girl’s body.

"What are they?" Flash whispers, horrified, but Jazz hears it nonetheless and turns her head to him, taking her helmet off once again.

"That is not a very appropriate question," she chastises and smiles at their faces, "But it's okay, I get it. They are ghosts. Or ectoplasmic entities, or halfas, or highly liminal beings. Or, if you want a very simplified version, they are dead kids who are enjoying their afterlife a little too much."

"Dead?" Batman zeros on the word, snapping his eyes at the girl. She smiles, and for the first time, it doesn't look human. Her teeth are too sharp, her grin too wide, and her eyes are suddenly not just teal, but neon bright and glowing, with vertical irises.

"Most of us are dead in one way or another. And I do not mean it in a metaphorical sense."

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

What I'm thinking is they have a whole system going on. Amity Park generally resides in the Realms, but from time to time, they decide they want to go on a vacation, as a whole town, and they pop into existence on one of the Earths. They don't really care for the universe or dimension they end up in, as long as it is more or less peaceful (as in, no active wars going on right where they pop up), has sunlight and nice weather.

The GIW is taking care of legal things - imagine US government reaction when a whole ass town just boom, starts existing in a place where nothing existed before? So GIW does all the paperwork and discussions. Also, they are doing their basic research on the dimension they end up in, for science purposes.

I'm thinking Vlad is still a mayor of Amity. And sometimes, when a particular dimension is rather annoying, he straight up possesses the authorities because he hates official talks and couldn't care less for morals if he tried for a week. The GIW scolds him, but don't really say no. It's not a good solution to the problem, but hey, it works.

Meanwhile, Fentons are doing ectoplasmic research. They scan the dimension for troubles, basically, looking for natural portals and ghosts causing ruckus. Jazz is almost always the one who does the talking to the heroes native to the dimension - she is the one who has the most patience and social skills. Jack is in charge of transportation and Maddie is the head of biological, ecto-biological and other species research. Tucker is the tech specialist, of course - he is the sole reason why Amity has wi-fi wherever they go. Val and her father are, kind of, protectors? Security? But for the whole town, yeah. They do have GIW agents as subordinates.

Dani is not always living in Amity, she travels the Realms most of the time, but she joins when something interesting happens. Dan is, like, on an eternal probation period, GIW and Fentons keep an eye on him, but he is one of the heavy hitters for when shit goes down.

Danny is living his best life, he is mainly the protector spirit of Amity, but he also gets to protect all the dimensions from ghosts! He helps anyone and everyone - one day he is working with Val on defenses for their main ship they use to travel inside dimensions, and the next day he is joining Maddie in her studies of new species found.

Oh, I forgot Sam. She is probably the one responsible for the magic stuff - mostly everyone else focuses on scientific aspects, but she is the one to research on occult things.

| <- prev | next -> |

[cheyisagirlkisser]

.・College Ellie Headcannons゜・

Note: This is more loser Ellie-centric, I wanna maybe do a part two with just reader and her. Some sexual content and mentions of getting zooted below so 18+ warning!

•Art major, but she’s not the typical hot artsy lesbian you dream of her to be. More like rolls a fat blunt and sketches in her journal, it’ll either turn out to be a masterpiece or look like a crackhead had a go with her paper.

•Speaking of art major, when she’s horny and frustrated because she refuses to hook-up…she draws the lewdest art known to woman-kind. Those are her real masterpieces, but she can’t exactly turn them in for credit in her art class, can she? Fuck, the things that woman can make, though. Lowkey uses her exes naked bodies as inspiration though, maybe kind of weird but who’s gonna stop her?

•Doesn’t eat the food on campus half the time. She is embarrassingly addicted to Tai Pei containers and the occasional microwavable egg-roll. “That shit’s nasty, Ellie! Goddamn, just eat the Tacos 4 Life we have on campus.” Her friends will all tell her, but no. It’s like a guilty pleasure. Maybe it’s cause she grew up lower class and is used to TV dinners, has a special trauma bond to food that should be banned and probably is outside of America.

•Wardrobe consists of band tees, honorable mentions to Gorillaz and Falling in Reverse.

•Is actually an insanely talented writer. After reading her journals I feel like nobody talks about how emotional her entries are and she keeps a journal of her own in college for sure, not only for sketching and organizing art but also to write all her feelings out.

“Fuck me, this is my last year being gay.” -After her and Cat’s break-up, probably.

•Hates coffee. Definitely game-cannon, but this is important to the college setting. It’s the classic Monster or nothing, and she will absolutely judge you for drinking coffee. She calls it “the devil’s dirt.” So dramatic.

•Used to watch bad Hallmark movies because of Dina, now watches them alone because she misses Dina. There’s nothing like crying your eyes out to Christmas Under Wraps!

•Has a collection of rubber ducks on her shelf. Doesn’t use her very small space for normal things like her wallet or books, no. It’s rubber fucking ducks.

•Also has a slipper collection in her tiny closet, from Pikachu all the way to dinosaur feet.

•Has the “two-seater” t-shirt (iykyk) but refuses to wear it in public because she’s a pussy

•Favorite fruit is grapes. I just know my girl loves grapes when she can get her hands on them steer clear bc she will NOT share. Favorite candy is gummy worms!

•Actually wears rain boots when it’s wet outside or snowing

•Likes wired earbuds over airpods, listens to Pearl Jam when she misses living with Joel

•Is oddly good at making those little paper stars and has a huge grocery bag of then in all different patterns and colors

•When she starts dating you she shows you her dinosaur cookie-cutter collection because you're really good at baking. (Also bc she wants to see you in a frilly cute apron!)

•Is a slut for hugs. Kisses are cool, sex is great but agghhh Ellie just loves wrapping her arms around you and sometimes when you two are in her dorm she'll just hug you for what feels like hours on end, she calls it her 'weekly therapy.'

•Loves high sex because when she's sober she hates feeling like she's awkward or all up in her head. She also has a tendency to invite you over for sex after smoking.

•Has a septum piercing. Maybe this one is self-indulgent because I would go ballistic over seeing actual Ellie with one, but I say that college Ellie got hers pierced at 16 and didn't cry over the pain but wanted to literally jump off of a bridge the entire healing process it was so bad.

•Sometimes when you kiss her, her septum will slide over and look uneven and she feels fucking NIGERIA FALLS in her boxers when you fix it for her. Also for those of you who are sluts for glasses, you can fix her glasses too and it'll make her just as weak.

[evilminji]

You know what Damian deserves?

A Grand Chunibyo Epic Drama Romance of his very own. Something to REALLY make his parents wince and take a good, long look in the mirror. Because... YEP. Yep that's definitely Their Son all right.

They suddenly feel like they should apologize to several long suffering individuals.

Just?

Damian needs to meet a Fellow Dramatic, Too Serious, Feral Gremlin, "I AM The Heir Apparent! My Blood Is Mighty And My Heritage Noble!" Little NERD? Someone who matchs him, beat for beat, with all the flamboyant Stabby Drama and rooftop dramatic chase scenes of his parents but now?

With Ghost Powers!

Because she is a PRINCESS. In search of someone Worthy(tm) of her Hand(tm). Not because her DAD told her too, obviously, no no. She overheard some of the Ancients talking about how that's how THEY got married. And knows that princesses usually get spouses chosen for them. So SHES gonna chose!

Perfect plan.

And who BETTER? Then the Blood Son of... THE BAT*dramatic musical sting*! Prove yourself, Robin! *lunges with a blade!*

Obviously, love at first dramaticly back-lit monologs followed by sword fight and dramatic escape. She's a formidable opponent.

But? Who IS she? This dramatic Chunibyo WEEB of a child? She! Is Danny's SECOND Clone Daughter. It was discovered? The only way to truely, PERMANENTLY, stabilize Dani? Was to get cells from a stable Clone.

Meaning one that WASNT rapidly aged.

Danny was... conflicted. He was against creating a kid JUST for giving medical aid to his other kid. But? He WASN'T so against the idea of having a kid? Like... a baby. Doing Dad Stuff. Cause... cause he wasn't 14 anymore. He's just graduated college. Has a stable job.

Dani suggested they go for it. But only if they were sure it wouldn't hurt the kiddo.

And it didnt!

She was and is PERFECT. The light of their lives. A delightfully ghost raised little Stabby Feral Honey Badger Gremlin of a young lady! But she's ALSO? Missing! And Danny, king of the Infinte Realms, is Losing His SHIT.

WHERE IS HIS BABY!?

Dramaticly martial arts fighting in the rain, DUH dad! She has to defeat the boy she likes, drop a symbolic gift at his feet, then leave with a cryptic but Cool And Meaningful Statement! You wouldn't GET IT, you're so OLD!

Dick blames Bruce for this. You see this? Do you Bruce? This is YOUR genetics at play! You added AL GHUL DRAMA to your nonsense and now he's discovered dating!! Look at him! He's pining! Dramaticly training in early hours! He's gotten JON involved!

Just? Let JLA Dark have FUN for once. Let them see THE princess of basicly EVERYTHING... harrasing Batman... by trying to date his obviously willing son... and just go "Read at 12:37" sorry Bruce! Looks like they're out of the office! Doing.... uuuuh.... MAGIC STUFF *sounds of popcorn being popped* YEP! Maaaagic! He he he >:D

@lolottes @ailithnight @nerdpoe @hdgnj @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation

[emcapi-gaming]

My headcanon is that the WoL's truly absurd inventory space is a side effect of some previous Azem experiment. It seems in line with their other major inventions (summoning spell and presumably the hourglass) being related to Dimensional Shenanigans, and falls under the category of "inventions to make travel more convenient," which I'm pretty sure one of the side stories mentions that they're known for.

my personal headcanon to the magical girl clothes change is that if you have enought control over your inventory spell you can do this and it's a flex. most people can only fit the contents of a backpack in there. the wol is inventories georg just like they are teleports georg

and i assume the inventory spell is real ingame because most things people hand us do not fit in pockets. like moist dragon eyeballs

[reignpage]

Best Friends Forever

Geto Suguru as your college bff who you really shouldn't be lusting over. Warning: 18+, MDNI, nsfw, fem!reader, body dysmorphia, cursing, smut, porn with plot, unprotected sex, creampie, friends with benefits, angst if you squint, vulgar language, cunnilingus, occasional slapping, overuse of pet names lol, praise kink, typos

“Hurry the fuck up, seriously!”

You groaned. It wasn’t your fault the jeans weren’t fitting the way they used to, pushing a roll of fat over the zipper. There was no way you were going to Gojo’s party; not only had you clearly gained a couple pounds, but you were also just feeling nothing short of shit. To put it mildly.

Pressing your lips with an embarrassed blush, you mumbled through the door separating you and your best friend, Suguru, barely a whisper, “’m not going.”

“The fuck?”

His confused growl was very shortly followed by loud thumps against the wood, shaking the barrier. You, in true broke college student fashion, were living in a shoebox with thin walls, paying an extortionate amount of money every month to a lousy landlord who always smelt like cheap beer.

Perfume bottles and scattered papers shook on your desk, the vibrations from his pounding no doubt waking up all of your neighbours. Internally groaning, you rolled your eyes. You were going to have to face their judgmental glares. Again. As if any of them had any right; you had never complained about the family to your right’s obnoxious laughing at 4am or the heavy footfalls of your upstairs neighbour, not even the disgustingly pornographic moaning coming through the wall your bed was pressed against. 

You unlocked the door, pulling it open before his stupid fist could punch a hole through it. Coming face to face with the raised brow of Suguru who was eyeing you up and down. If he had been anyone else, maybe you would have felt a little shy about being in a bra and unzipped jeans, or ashamed about the piles of dirty clothes and trash littering your room. But the boy in front of you had seen so much already, neither one of you cared anymore.

In fact, his roommate, Gojo’s room was so much worse than yours you knew Suguru considered yours practically spotless. 

“I’m not going," you said louder.

He pushed past you, inspecting the haphazardly thrown clothes on your bed. Hand on his hip and finger pressed to his lips, Suguru’s eyes darted between your bed to your figure. “What about the sweater you wore to Shoko’s housewarming?”

You shook your head, fingers itching against a reddening spot on your wrist. He just cocked his brow once more, in question. Gritting your teeth, you threw your hands in the air and spluttered, “B-because it’s ugly!”

Suguru didn’t look convinced. 

“It looked fine to me when you wore it and got hit on by three guys.”

“Oh, please, a guy would hit on a bush if it brushed up against him.”

He shrugged, not denying your statement. 

You hated these moments. Nothing was going right, and you certainly didn’t have the time to be messing around, actually you were pretty sure you were already late. The kind of late that would have Gojo chastising you, whining about making him wait. 

Eventually, with some choice words from Suguru and lots of complaints from yourself, he managed to wrestle you into a pink sweater, shoving a hand in your face when you began to argue about how it was just ‘not the vibe’. But as you both made a move toward the door of your apartment, his firm hand circling your wrist as he dragged you along, you started to panic. 

Everyone was going to be there, and you hadn’t even bothered doing your makeup, too preoccupied with the disaster that was your closet. 

“Wait, Sugu! Please.” 

Perhaps it was the desperation lacing your voice or the nails that you dug into his forearm, but he stopped, swivelling to face you. 

A flush ran up your face, a heat that made you bite your lips sheepishly. Of course you were aware you were being dramatic, still, surely, he would understand the overwhelming feeling of insecurity that sporadically washed over everyone. Except, when your eyes met his, you realised that probably didn’t apply to Geto Suguru. 

Not with his broad shoulders, towering height, rippling muscles, rock hard abs, and a face that made women blush. He was also incredibly smart, considered one of the brightest minds on campus, and all the times he had helped you with your essays and given you corrections on answers you didn’t realise were wrong was a clear indication of that. Everyone who was anyone knew Suguru, and Satoru, they were a package deal: the hottest men on campus. 

He must have seen something in your eyes, maybe the tears, but he sighed, grip on your wrist weakening but not unclasping, the warmth seeping through his skin to yours and it made you shuffle your feet. Now was certainly not the time for those feelings to resurface, you reminded yourself.

“Oh, Angel,” he breathed out, brows furrowed as he stepped closer to your, his chest grazing the tips of yours. “You’re not feeling it tonight, huh?”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry, Sugu. Really. I think I’m just going to stay in tonight, maybe get started on that essay. But you should totally go, Gojo will be so upset with you if you bail last minute.”

He huffed with amusement, thumb rubbing your knuckles. 

“He’ll live.” And with a more serious tone, he asked gently, like he might spook you, “What’s wrong, hm? You feeling sick?”

You dropped your head against his chest, buried between his pecs which his tight black shirt highlighted. Oh God, how you love that shirt. It made you, and every woman (and man) drool. In truth, the way it hugged his body emphasised his broad shoulders, thick biceps and narrow hips. He was built like a whore. 

“No,” you sighed, “I just feel ugly.”

Suguru tilted your head up with a firm hand on the back of your head, tugging your hair so you would meet his eyes, pulling you away from burying your face into his chest. It didn’t hurt, he was always so gentle, but it was a solid grip, and you couldn’t help but imagine how those big hands could push and pull and bend you into position, yanking your head back to watch your eyes roll back. 

“Ugly? You?” He sounded so incredulous, nothing short of offended on your behalf it made your lips curve ever so slightly. “Baby, you could never be ugly.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re my best friend; you have to say that.”

He grinned, “On the contrary. As your best friend, isn’t it my job to tell you the truth no matter what?”

That made you laugh.

Suguru was generally honest, the perfect student, greatest friend anyone could ever have, and a law-abiding citizen. But he wasn’t above mischief and deception. Everyone knew that he got into as much trouble as his roommate. And judging by the glint in his eyes, you knew he was recalling the same memories as you. 

All the little pranks, the teasing and taunting, bordering on gaslighting, all for the sake of watching you stomp your feet and huff and puff about how rude and conniving he was. And yeah, with the way he was staring at your lips, maybe he was. 

You noticed the twitch of his lips and suddenly you hated your sweater for a completely different reason; you wanted it off. 

“Well, tell me the truth right now. Am I pretty, Sugu? If I was a girl, a stranger, at one of Gojo’s parties, would you approach me?”

His other hand suddenly appeared at the small of your back, pressing you even closer. And oh God, you could feel even more of him like that. He was so hot, it was making you sweat, stomach so solid and body so unyielding, you wanted to rub yourself on every part of him. 

“Oh, baby, you’d be the only girl I’d be thinking of. The only girl I’d want to go home with.”

The late nights thrusting your fingers inside of yourself to the thought of his naked chest bubbling over emboldened you. Pouting, you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your hands onto his back, feeling the hard muscles there. “Oh, yeah?”

His eyes narrowed at the sudden change in your voice. It didn’t sound sad or insecure, but rather, teasing, flirtatious, downright seductive. His grip on your hair tightened until you were standing your tiptoes, nose brushing against his, breaths mingling. 

“Thought you were feeling bad, Angel? You don’t sound like a girl who thinks she’s ugly.”

Ever so smart, you knew he was right. You didn’t know why you were suddenly trying to seduce him; you should have been convincing him to go to the party, get drunk and keep Gojo out of trouble. And yet there you were rubbing your tits against his chest, legs pressed together, like a bitch in heat. 

The guilt you were feeling almost stopped you, almost tugged you away, made you create distance and straighten yourself so you could pretend none of it was happening. But then you felt the hardness of something other than his abs pressed against your stomach. Something was poking you and it didn’t take a genius to guess what. 

“Oh, I am feeling bad, Sugu. Soooo bad I think you should stay and make me feel better. Would you, please? Pretty please?”

How could he say no to you when you were looking up at him with wide eyes and pouty lips? His best friend, his good girl. Pleading for his time like a whore? He was going to fuck you like one. 

And that was how you found yourself back in your bed, the pile of clothes thrown off as he pinned you to the bed, one hand climbing up your waist and the other arm beside your head holding himself up as he smothered your moans with his mouth. He was sucking your bottom lip, tongue pushing its way into your mouth, teeth scraping and nipping where he could. 

One of his legs was between yours and you were yanking him closer and closer until his thigh was pressed to your scalding core, rubbing with a desperation that made him swear under his breath as his hand reached your breast under your sweater, tugging down the bra cup so he could cradle the soft flesh in his palm, feeling the weight. 

“Oh, fuck, you’re grinding down on my leg. You feeling good, Angel?” He pushed his head down to suck at your neck, licking over your pulse and inhaling your scent. Suguru was feeling drunk, just as you were, hands gripped his back, running your nails up and down as you whined. 

“Yes, Sugu, oh God, oh God.”

You were going to cum. On his thigh. You knew once the night was over, you’d feel ashamed and embarrassed but not in that moment. No, all you could think about was the pleasure, the intoxicating muscular scent of oak, vanilla and sweat, the heaviness of his body, restraining your body, and the way his sinful mouth was descending to take a nipple. 

He grunted when, with the constant shuffling, your sweater fell down like a wall and with quick hands and sudden movements, he threw it somewhere across the room and expertly got rid of your bra. And then he was sucking and nipping like he was making out with your tits. The other hand twisting and pinching your other nipple, and when he slapped it to watch it bounce you gasped. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so beautiful. God, I’ve been dreaming of this.” Suguru was whispering all sorts of hushed confessions against your skin, lathering your breasts with spit as he alternated between them. 

Your hand was in his hair, tugging as you writhed on the bed. It was too much and at the same time not enough. You needed more and as you moaned his name, he understood immediately. 

Kneeling on the bed, he tugged your jeans off, face crumpled in frustration at how tight the material was, refusing to cooperate. Eventually it was off, leaving you in your panties. He exhaled shakily, body still as his eyes zoned in on the thin fabric between your legs. With them spread around his, he could see just how wet you were; you had soaked the gusset, leaving them see-through. The most sinful sight he would ever have the pleasure of seeing.��

In a blink of an eye his head was between your legs, one hand digging into the fat of your thighs, keeping you wide and open for him, and the other running his thumb up and down your clothed slit. 

“All this for me?” He was smirking and in any other circumstance it would have annoyed you; always so cocky, like he knew something you didn’t. 

You couldn’t help yourself, you moaned a yes.

The sound went straight to his cock. 

Without any other words, he shoved his mouth to your pussy, tongue running up your slit through the panties, teasing both yourself and him.

“You taste so good,” he whispered, “God, you’re killing me.”

And as if he couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled your panties to the side and pressed his tongue flat against your pussy. You both moaned. Suguru was ravenous, lapping up your juices like a man starved and groaning into your quivering hole. When his tongue flicked against your clit, your thighs wrapped around his head, hands clutching his hair, pulling him deeper inside you. 

“More, Sugu. Pleaseeee.”

He sucked on your bundle of nerves, sending bolts of lightning up your veins as you squirmed. And without warning, he shoved two fingers inside, curling at just the right angle, rubbing against that spongy part of you it made you moan louder. You were so close you could taste it. Eyes shut in ecstasy, you were feeling breathless, lightheaded. Why had you waited so long to let him do this?

You couldn’t remember why you had ever thought this was a bad idea, when it felt so good, so right for his tongue to be lapping the juice dripping down your pussy, his long and thick fingers reaching parts of you you had never before. So caught up in your own pleasure you didn’t even notice the rocking of the bed as your best friend humped the mattress, groaning into your clit every time you pulled on his scalp hard enough to make him roll his eyes back.

“Oh, yes, right there. Fuck, Sugu, don’t stop. Please!”

Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew you sounded like a porn star, and if he wasn’t sucking so good you might have felt the tiniest amount of shame and embarrassment. But when your eyes met his piercing gaze, scalding your very being, all other thoughts evaporated as he pushed you over the edge, back arching painfully, head thrown back as you howled in pure bliss. 

When you came down, you heard him whisper against your pussy.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, “that was the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

Through bleary eyes, lids threatening to shut close, you could see his blurry figure removing his shirt, the beefy biceps you loved so much flexing with the movement. Something wet grazed your lips, forcing its way onto your tongue. 

He slapped your ass, jolting you awake. It didn’t hurt, but God you wished it did. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me now, Angel.” 

You were sucking your essence off his fingers before you could realise, maintaining eye contact as he unzipped his jeans, shuffling until it was pushed down his thighs, just enough for him to release his cock out of the confines of his boxers, a wet patch darkening the material. Perhaps he knew you would have some smart-ass comment about how much he was leaking, hence why he was keeping your mouth occupied with swallowing his fingers. 

“Good girl, you like how you taste? ‘cause I do. You taste so perfect, my sweet girl.”

His cock was much longer, much thicker, and much prettier than his fingers. It was veiny with a pink tip, the head flushing an angry colour as an almost translucent liquid oozed out of the slit. At the base he had one hand fisted around it like he was trying to stop himself from coming. That realisation made your hole flutter. 

“Shuguuu, ah wan yuu inshide,” you whined around his tongue. It was unintelligible, probably not even English, you were feeling so delirious you couldn’t even tell what was happening anymore. After all, everything had happened so fast. 

A rollercoaster you didn’t even remember getting on and had no idea when it would end. You hoped to the high heavens it would never. The air between you two was thick, humid with the thin sheen of sweat on your skin, and the heavy panting from your heaving chests. 

Suguru laughed, head tilting down at you as he took in the sight of your watery eyes, shaking hands wrapped around his forearm as you sucked obediently on his fingers. Your breasts were shiny under the dim light from mouth, nipples stiff, and goosebumps running up and down your body as his gaze shifted to your swampy pussy, so pretty, and so so greedy. 

“You want me inside? Want me to fuck you, baby? Hm? Use your words, pretty. Like a big girl. You can do that right?”

You nodded and when he took his fingers out of your mouth and wiped your saliva all over your cheeks you could have sworn you got even wetter. How was that possible? 

“Sugu, please fuck me. Pleasepleaseplease. I want you inside, want you to fill me up.”

Oh, and when you beg so nicely, how could he ever deny you?

He jerked himself off a couple times, grunting as his cockhead touched your clip, lathering his member with your juice. Suguru’s eyes may have been focused on your puffy lips but his ears were still listening to you babbling about hurrying up and how you couldn’t take it anymore. 

Slowly, like he was afraid to push you too far too soon, he was inching inside you. 

The stretch burned. You were already so wet, so ready for him, but his huge dick was splitting you open, pushing you to your limits as your nails dug into the forearms that caged your head. Both of you were watching him enter, disappearing inside your scalding hole so slowly it made you roll your eyes back again. 

He was whispering encouragements in your ear. How good you were, how beautiful. You tasted so good, so well-behaved, his patient baby, and oh, how he adored your sweet sweet pussy. 

You always knew Suguru had a foul mouth; you’d seen him reduce grown men to tears, keeping Gojo humble, and you on your toes. But as he grinned in your ear about how loud your pussy was with its squelching, you wished he would just shut up. That must have been why you wrapped your legs around his hips, ankles crossing and then shoving him inside with a strength you didn’t know you possessed. 

He bottomed out inside you, tip pressing into that one spot deep in your cavity. 

In sync, you both moaned in each other’s mouths. 

You felt so full, his cock was bulging out of your tummy, imprinting itself in your gummy walls like it was making a home for itself. You could have sworn he was in your actual stomach, stretching all the way to your lungs. He was everywhere; musky scent overwhelming your senses, leaving you drunk off his masculinity, and your tits were rubbing against his chest, the friction so good you couldn’t help but arch your back to get closer.

“Fuck! You’re a little slut, aren’t you? So impatient, huh? Couldn’t wait for me to ease in. Want me to fuck you hard, is that it, baby? You want me to be rough?”

He didn’t wait for your answer, hips pulling back and then shoving his fat cock in mercilessly, reaching deeper and deeper, ignoring your squeals of pain and pleasure. It was so fast, so hard, so rough, you couldn’t breathe. He was fucking the literal life out of you. 

With a panicked haste, your hands buried itself in his hair, desperate to find your bearings and you pulled his face to yours, tongue circling his as you whimpered into his mouth. He was kissing you like his life depended on it, unforgiving and violent in his nipping as he shoved his tongue deep inside your mouth at the same pace he was plunging his cock inside you. 

“Oh, yes, Sugu. Right there, fuckkkk, don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Practically sobbing into his mouth, you dug your nails into his shoulders, whining every time his cockhead kissed your cervix. He thumbed your clit, rubbing furious circles like he was punishing you for making him feel so good, or for keeping that pussy away from him for so long. 

“I always knew my pretty best friend would have an even prettier pussy.”

He was so shameless about confessing he had been thinking about you in ways friends shouldn’t think about each other. But you couldn’t say a thing, you were just as desperate for him as he was for you, apparently. 

Suguru pulled back, leaving your clit so he could pinch and suck at your nipples. Every brush of his pelvis against yours drew you closer and closer as his skin kissed your bundle of nerves. 

Suddenly, he sat on his haunches, fingers leaving your tits as his hands gripped your hips in a bruising hold, fucking you onto his cock. 

You moaned every time your pussy lips grazed his pelvis, cockhead pressing against your G-spot again and again. Bouncing with every push and pull, you babbled, hands clutching your tits and pinching the tips the way he had, like you were trying to keep yourself grounded. 

“Wanna cum, pretty girl? Hm?”

“Yes! Yes! Please, S-sugu. Wanna -- fuck-- cum on your cock, wanna show you h-how much I love you.”

You felt him throb inside you, dick growing even bigger. 

His breath stuttered, shocked by your admission and then he kissed you mid-moan. It was messy, uncontrolled and uncoordinated. Saliva dripping down your chins as you struggled to follow his ruthless pace. Totally unlike him but it felt incredible to meet his tongue with yours in a careless dance, twisting against each other in a relentless battle.

“You --fuck­-- love me baby? Wanna shower me in your cum?” Suguru sucked at your neck, thumb rubbing your clit again, more frantically than before like he was beyond teasing you. He needed you to cum on him. “Oh, God, angel, I want that so much. Been dreaming about it.”

So close. You were so close, you just needed one thing from him. 

“Sugu, tell me you love me too!” You sobbed, nails running up and down his back and legs tightening around his hips to shove him even deeper inside you, caging him with your greedy pussy as it clenched down on him, refusing to let him go. 

“Oh, baby. You wanna –ngh- hear me say I love you? That what you need?”

“Yes! Pleaseeee.”

He pressed his lips to your near, licking the shell right before he whispered with a grin, “I love you more, you stupid slut."

Your orgasm came like a tidal wave, so sudden your vision went black for a millisecond, breasts bouncing up and down in a way that was going to leave you so sore the next day. Mouth open in an O shape and eyes so far back in your head, you probably looked like you died. It sure felt like it.

“God, I’m never going to forget how gorgeous you look cumming on my cock,” he growled into your neck, teeth clamping on the curve as he gave shallow but rapid thrusts until his orgasm followed. “Fuckkkk,” his groan was elongated, the low sound barely a rumble against your skin but it vibrated through your bones as you held him tightly to your body, whimpering when you felt his cum painting your walls. 

A beat or two passed, his cock was softening inside of you. Suguru rolled off, slumping down next to you, the cold breeze brushing against your front, and you shivered, feeling so empty it made you wince. His cum was leaking out of your pussy, a mix of your and his essence pooling under your ass and into the bedsheet. Your hole was still clenching, already missing his cock.

In one fell swoop, he pulled you into his arms, head resting on his chest as you both caught your breaths. Suguru pressed light kisses on the top of your head, hand brushing through your locks whilst he whispered literal sweet nothings, thanking you for being so good for him. 

Eventually, it grew quiet. 

Both of you were coming down from your highs and feeling tethered once more by reality. 

You had just fucked your best friend. Or rather, he had just fucked you. Good. Really good. 

“We did it again, huh?” He chuckled. 

With a groan, you smacked his chest. 

“We both promised not to.”

“I know, I know. I’d apologise but I wasn’t the one who started it this time.”

You bit your tongue; you couldn’t argue against that. 

This time you were the one who had started the game you two had been playing on and off for years. It had been weeks since the last time he had fucked you till you forgot your name, actually, over a month ago. Distressing as it was to hold back, you both pretended you were nothing more than just really good friends, ignoring the heat between your gazes as you shared a smoke, or the tight grip of his hands as he squeezed your hips to get past you.

And then you both forgot your promises and ended back in bed together. It was the same story again and again with you two. Not that anyone else knew, that was another promise you both made; keep the game a secret. Still, both you and Suguru couldn’t find it in yourselves to feel regret or remorse. The game was just too addictive.

As he drew shapes on your bare skin, a ping went off. You passed his phone to him, squinting at the bright light. Suguru laughed suddenly, showing you the screen. Gojo had sent two messages.

One read: you better not skip out on my party again >:(

And the other: sigh, say hi to y/n’s pussy for me.

It turned out, neither of you were very good at keeping promises. 

[steventhusiast]

modern au where eddie and robin are roommates and steve is italian <3

-

eddie has always known that his roommate robin is in the US for college, but grew up in and is from italy. sure, sometimes he forgets, because she somehow has a near-perfect american accent and also speaks two other languages, but he’s always known.

and for the past year and a bit, he’s known how much robin wants her best friend stevie to come visit. she talks about them all the time, and ever since she and eddie moved out of the dorms and into an apartment together for their next year of university a month ago, he’s known stevie is going to come and visit.

he just kind of forgot the exact day stevie would be arriving.

so when he, clad in nothing but his garfield pyjama pants and a metallica t-shirt that’s falling apart, walks into the kitchen one morning and sees someone he doesn’t know at the kitchen counter fiddling with their instant coffee machine, he almost shits himself.

luckily, he doesn’t, because he remembers in that split second that stevie was due to arrive last night. but he still flinches pretty hard at the fright and grabs for the nearest grabbable thing, which turns out to be the doorframe. somehow, he makes a noise loud enough to get the mystery person’s attention, and they turn around.

holy shit. eddie did not know stevie is hot. or that stevie’s actually a guy. he kind of just assumed, with the nickname and all? but the man standing there looks like he could’ve been carved by the gods eddie doesn’t believe in, and- eddie realises he’s been staring at the guy for a few seconds now, and decides to talk like a normal human being. he first adjusts his position so he’s no longer holding onto the archway of the kitchen for support, and smiles at the guy.

“hi, you must be stevie?” he offers, and stevie takes a few seconds to process his words before nodding with a smile.

“my name is steve. robbie just is… hm, silly?”

eddie blinks a couple times, because steve has an accent. a thick one. he should’ve expected that, because- hello? they’re both literally from italy. but it catches him off guard, and adds to steve’s hot factor. why didn’t robin warn him about this.

“yeah, robin is very silly.” he agrees with a chuckle, and then realises steve might not know him, “i’m eddie. robin’s roommate. you probably knew that already though, so now i probably look like an idiot. well- more of an idiot than i already do in these clothes…”

he lets his words trail off as he realises steve is frowning at him in subtle confusion. he’s picked up robin’s rambling-when-nervous habit over their friendship, and hot guys tend to make him pretty nervous. but then he realises maybe steve isn’t as fluent in english as robin is, and even if he is eddie’s a fast talker that doesn’t always pronounce things fully.

“i am sorry,” steve looks embarrassed, “my english is not as good as robin.”

eddie feels so guilty at the pink that’s made itself known on steve’s cheeks, and shakes his head immediately.

“no! you don’t need to be sorry. i just talk a lot when i’m nervous.” he confesses. why did he say that? now steve knows he’s nervous. or does he? maybe he didn’t catch his full sentence.

steve raises one eyebrow at eddie though, and one side of his mouth quirks up into a smile as he turns around to keep trying to make himself a cup of coffee.

“i am making you nervous? why?” steve asks, his back still turned. now eddie’s the one with red cheeks. dammit.

“it’s because eddie here thinks you’re hot, stevie.”

eddie’s flinch at robin’s magical appearance behind him is somehow more spectacular than earlier, and he clutches dramatically at his heart and spins around to glare at robin.

“robin! what the fuck, man!” he yelps when he realises what she’s said. but robin isn’t listening, she’s too busy speaking to steve in italian about who knows what.

probably about how she knows all eddie’s tells for when he finds a guy attractive and how she knows eddie’s type and steve checks every single box. or, eddie squints at the pair as robin tsks at steve and takes over manning the coffee machine, maybe robin’s just telling steve how to make a coffee with the machine?

“you think i am…” steve starts as he spins around to look at eddie, and seems to be searching for a word for a few moments, “attractive?”

eddie’s eyes widen, and then he sighs and fixes a glare on robin. robin just shrugs and makes a very insincere ‘oopsie’ expression, and eddie is about to start denying like his life depends on it, but he looks back at steve.

and steve has that blush back on his face, and a tiny smile, and he’s looking eddie up and down even in his ridiculous outfit.

“um, yes.” eddie practically squeaks, not used to having someone’s eyes on him like this.

steve says something to robin in italian that sounds like it ends with a question mark, and robin rolls her eyes.

“steve wants me to translate a pick up line he wants to use on you, but i literally refuse to do that. google translate is free.”

and with that, she leaves the kitchen.