#you are giving him an aneurism;;

[svampiir]

I don't know what's stressing Miguel out more. Copies of himself or the many versions of the 'little nerd'.

[rosa-gaze62]

Clark transforming his superman suit into one that doesn’t have shorts

Ma, hundreds of miles away in Kansas: something just happened

[blindmagdalena]

The big tatas ask and homelander mentioning reader sitting like a fried shrimp has to be why their back hurts gave me an idea LMAO, I have adhd and I’m bi af so I literally cannot sit straight or correctly, how is homie with an so who just cannot Sit Correctly so their back always hurt? Especially when they’re like omg my back hurts so bad and I literally have no idea why why does this happen to me

homelander every time his chronically crunched s/o complains about their backpain while repeatedly ignoring his comments about their posture

he's gonna pick them up and uncurl them like one of those 90s snap bracelets

[wannabemasterofwindintraining]

Sorry guys selena infected me with the mental illness </3

[tarnussy]

It would be neat if the DLC had something to do with the Limgrave mystery patch of fog

Daylight:

As far as I know, we still don't know why this patch of mist is there. In most lighting, it looks like a light bluish purple colour, similar to the sleep item mist, so naturally that makes me wonder. It's only here in the whole map, I added a pic of Liurnia mist for comparison.

[nonpanary]

I think I made my ai of Charlie a little *too* accurate

[puppetmaster13u]

Hear Me Out

Yokai Amity. What are yokai? Japanese spirits. And not just ghosts, a majority of mythical creatures? Yokai.

So how did this happen? Well, like most things, it can be blamed on the ghost portal in the Fenton Basement. And a lot of ecto contamination. Because while they're a small city? They're also in the middle of nowhere, meaning a lot of their foods and crops, they grow themselves. And the ectoplasm? Started sinking into the ground first. Y'know, where every plant grows and then both humans and animals proceed to eat it? Made even worse when those like Overgrowth or Vortex came through? Yeaah, it'd be a miracle if they didn't get contaminated and no surprise that most don't notice their humanity slipping with time with how it's happening to everyone.

Which kind of makes the situation Danny has found himself kind of hilarious? At least to him. The trenchcoat dude seems to be having an aneurism or something similar.

"So... not a meta?" the tiny vigilante child clarified again, head tilting from where he stood at the head of his group. Honestly Danny was enjoying this from his place sprawled across the park bench Honestly Amity had spoiled him with benches designed for extra limbs.

The blonde man seemed absolutely done with everything, hands twitching as though about to cradle his head in his hands or grab something. "No," he wasn't shouting but it was close. "For fuck's sake- your all lucky not to be cursed or worse-" He turned towards Danny. "Why the fuck didn't you?"

The hainu shrugged, wings doing more of the motion than the rest of him. "They're babies-" Or at least one of them was, borderline liminal as they were. "You play along with toddlers." Honestly he saw why his old rogues found this fun, even if he'd never go as far as they did.

The entire team of vigilante children bristled, one opening their mouth to protest before trenchcoat-soul-dude glared at them all before turning back towards him.

"Though what the fuck do you need that for that you'd steal it- not that any artifact like that should be in a bloody museum and not locked away where idiots can't get to it."

He snorted, the sound more dog-like. Or really more yeti-like, what with how he was taking lessons from Frostbite which meant large chunks of time in the Far Frozen.

"Technically I don't need it, my kid does," Danny held up a finger, marveling slightly at the clouds. It was quite different compared to Amity, what with how everywhere was so ecto-infused that the sky was effected.

"And what does a hainu need with-" the trenchcoat man motioned to the cursed object, which honestly wasn't that bad. But...

"Oh no, he's not a hainu, he's furaribi." Danny honestly wasn't surprised that Jordan wouldn't turn out the same as he, de-aged or not. Not that he was memory-less or anything, cores didn't lose that easily, but he did still have the physical brain of a child.

"Adopted?"

"Nope," he hummed, going over the list of things he still had to do today before returning to Amity. Sam had asked him to get a few more flowers to test how ecto would effect them and he had to pick up some computer parts for Tuck.

"How the fuck."

"My sister's a kitsune, my other sister is a shirouneri, my mom is a shishi, my dad a baku, godfather's an itachi, my boyfriend a raiju, my girlfriend a kirin, and my other girlfriend a yosuzume," he ticked off his fingers, not seeing anything wrong with it. Not like people could get into Amity easily after the whole GIW thing.

"... what the fuck does your family tree look like, mate, because that should be bloody impossible."

Danny shrugged, giving a sharp toothed smile. Yeah, the realms didn't care about that with how malleable ecto was.

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

(In case it's not clear: Hainu Danny, Furaribi Dan, Kitsune Jazz, Shirouneri Danny, Lion Dog Maddie, Baku Jack, Itachi Vlad, Raiju Tucker, Kirin Sam & Yosuzume Valerie) (Also feel free to come up with what everyone else might be) (Highly recommend yokai.com for a quick summary of each creature)

[certainlynotasimp]

okayy but miguel with a black cat! reader….she js likes pushing his buttons and flirting with with him and literally does anything and everything to get a reaction out of him…aaannd if it was anyone else who tried joking around with miguel he would claw their face off 0_0

A/N: Oooh that would be interesting~. I’m gonna just write a Headcanon for now, but I will definitely write a one shot later on. I also didn’t know if you meant in personality only or if she’s his dimensions Black Cat (the antihero/villain) so I just wrote her as a Spiderperson with a black cat personality.

Miguel with a Black Cat Reader🐈‍⬛

So I’m gonna head canon that Miguel’s own personality is more of a mixture of a black cat and protective Doberman.

When he isn’t stressed out about keeping the spider-verse together and not on the very of a aneurism, he can actually be a flirting bastard as well, so don’t expect to flirt with him and get nothing in return.

But that side of him comes out like 20% or the time since…ya know, ya boy is stressed.

So when they are in front of other people, Miguel would be annoyed with the snide remarks you would make to try and ruffle his feathers, but he wouldn’t yell at you unless it’s a particularly in appropriate time to make him riled up.

The flirting would probably fair a little better as Miguel will try to act annoyed with your lingering caresses and the way your voice seem to purr at him. But, depending on your relationship, he would react in different ways.

If you were just a colleague, he would brush you off and snap at you for being so dishonorable for a spider-person.

If you were his friend, he would roll his eyes and probably throw a snide remark about you needed to get back to work. He’ll secretly find it amusing and might throw a remark back on good days.

If you are his crush or s/o, he would act the same way in public, his eyes constantly rolling as he acts annoyed with you. But a little tinge of a blush will appear if you purr out particular nicknames or remind him of certain private moments between you too.

Sometimes he’ll surprise you on particularly good days and tease you back. He knows he’s good looking and uses it as a weapon to get you flustered.

“What’s a matter, bonito gato?” He whispers as his mischievous eyes shine down at you. Your back shivers as his large forearm rest inches above your head, his burgundy eyes shining red from the monitors next to you as he traps you in. His chest acting as a barrier from your escape as his hand cups your jaw. “Keep your eyes on me when I’m talking to you, Cariño.”

If he catches you giving this treatment to some of the other spidermen, expect one of two reactions.

1) He’s gonna give you the silent treatment for the rest of the day and finally snap at you when he feels particularly annoyed by it. It’s not that he wants to yell, but the memory of someone else touching and flirting with his little spider causes him to think he’s losing the only person he has.

After an argument, he’ll calm down and apologize. Depending on how long y’all have been together, he will open up about some of his insecurities and fears of losing you.

2) He’s gonna give you the silent treatment the rest of the day until you two can get somewhere more private. He’s gonna remind you why he’s YOUR spiderman~ 😘

If anyone else tried to flirt with him or ruffle his feathers like you do, may God help their souls because Miguel ain’t having it.

He’s fiercely loyal, so if you guys are in a relationship and this happens, he’s gonna get mad and snap at them for being a disrespectful friend to you (because let’s be real, 90% of the Spider Society are friends because majority of them are Peter Parker Variants) and will probably threaten them with either losing their spot in the society. Or if they being particularly pushy, he’ll let his talons do the threatening.

He can also just open a portal and send them out of there is he finds them annoying.

He only really lets Jessica and Peter B mess with him because it’s more like they are messing with him about his reactions to you. Peter B definitely caught Miguel’s blushing face in a couple of pics of Mayday with you over his shoulder whispering in his ear.

I believe the nickname you would have would be either “Kitty” or “Bonito Gato” because your skill set maybe more reminiscent of Black Cat (the villain) and because Miguel says you are just as annoying as a cat. He still loves you though.💕

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I always love when you guys message me and please feel free to send more! 🤍💕

[nonbinarylocalcryptid]

I'm gonna give you all (and at the same time, write It all down for my future self) an inside of how my writing process works feat. ADHD and sponsored by the autistic hyperfixation of the moment

*insert Professor Layton puzzle music*

Picture the #daddy Odysseus AU/Astyanax lives, now think about the timeline, how does that work? Allow me to bring up the following points/establish some sort of timeline:

-The kid must be ten years old by the time Odysseus reach Ithaca or the math won't be mathing and we can't have that

-This whole scenario must be as much Canon Compliant as possible. "But Morgan, the Odyssey has many adaptations!" Well my fellow Tumblr users, that's why we are sticking to Epic: The Musical; that, greek mythology and the power of fanfic make a dangerous yet powerful combination. And memes, a lot of memes.

-Keep in mind Zeus wants Astyanax dead because "it's the will of the gods", aka I'm inmortal and bored and it's way more dramatic this way

-Poseidon wants him dead because Zeus wants him dead. Odysseus, dude, how do you dare to defy a god's orders by keeping a baby alive???

-So the father and son duo has pissed off two major gods, Eurylochus is having an aneurism, Polited welcomes the kid with Open Arms (evil laugh)

-The musical goes as we know but with a toddler, chaos guys, chaos everywhere, so much things to write...

-My brain keeps telling me Astyanax starts teething by the time they leave the island in the sky, so not only have Odysseus to keep an eyes on the bag-that-does-not-contain-treasure he also is kept awake by a crying baby

-Tiresias is quite surprised that Odysseus keep the kid but this is greek mythology and at this point, in John Mulaney's wise words, this may as well happen.

-Little Astyanax can't not hold a sword because it's way too heavy for him, but the Odyssey is dangerous so let's give him a KNIFE and a BOW

-Also he's sassy, like, really sassy

-Odysseus is doing what he can, but lmao, try to raised someone in the middle of the Odyssey

-Let's pepper in some beautiful moments of paternal love because that's why we are here

-Odysseus has the mission to raise this kid with the perfect balanced of the Ruthlessness nad Open Arms philosophies, which is complicated because he is busy dealing with crysis after crysis and it's also hypocrital of him, he's way more ruthless with every day it passes.

-To maximize ✨DRAMA✨, Astyanax must learn about what happened in Troy and who he is (because guys, this is greek mythology, let's make it dramatic)

-Astyanax's opinion of the gods is quite cynic (can't blame him *cough cough* Zeus *cough cough*), but he still likes a few

-Because of the point above, this smol boy filled with rage and raised by Odysseus (dangerous combination) it's going to have a certified teenage rebellion and flee away in the middle of the night™ after facing Scylla and right before Mutiny and Thunder Bringer. This way, he can have a yelling match with his father figure, and Odysseus will face his crew alone etc

-I'm still working out in the how, but Astyanax will go back to Circe's island, and Circe will give out some really good advice and a power up, maybe even Hermes would stir up the pot a bit because damm, this shit is hilarious may as well fuck it all up a bit more.

-Astyanax reunites with Odysseus while he is fighting Charybdis, beautiful father and son moment blah blah blah, Astyanax is still salty (cuz they are in the middle of the sea hehe) but the time away has allowed him to rethink stuff. He is also a little shit and always has been so expect a lot of jokes and dark humour about Troy (coping mechanisms and all that). Odysseus could barely handle his sarcasm before, now he has no chance, he rather fight Poseidon blindfolded.

-Talking about Mr Why Did You Blind My Son, they faced him together.

-As the chaotic little shit he is, Astyanax assists Telemachus in his fight against the suitors. Telemachus does not know who this feral kid is but this is not the moment to ask questions.

-Athena loves the little shit, much to her surprised.

-Angst with Happy Ending because of the power of fanfic and headcanons

-Everything else after this point is slice of life feat. comedy

-Odysseus and Athena reconcialiation of we riot feat. Telemachus' face when he realizes who his friend was.

-Maybe a young man Astyanax decides to reclaim his throne helped by Telemachus and backed up by Ithaca?

[its-time-to-write]

Hi!! I hope you’re doing well and that you had a wonderful weekend:) My request (if you can) is short and sweet: the first time meeting Jamie’s mum! Maybe a heart to heart between the two women (you loved him first and because of that it is my honor to love him for the rest of my life typa deal) IDK anyway have fun with it and thank you!!!

Done! I love Georgie so much. Like, she gives off total mom vibes in the way where she seems like she’d try to be the sunlight in everyone’s day, you know?

there is happiness

You’re not taking a bus to fucking Manchester. Shit, you’ll take the train or a cab or maybe even walk before you get on a bus for upward of four hours with the Richmond Greyhounds. 

So why are you packing things into a duffel bag to do just that? It probably has something to do with the man sitting on the floor, debating which pants to pack. 

“Do you think I should take the Calvins?” he asks, pretending not to notice the murderous glare you shoot at him. 

“Don’t know why it matters,” you reply carelessly. “No one’s going to be seeing them anyway.”

Jamie gets up and slides his arms around you from behind, pressing a kiss to the crook of your neck. 

“Aw, don’t be so hard yourself babe,” he says. “You’re not no one.”

“You know what I mean,” you say, hugging his arms closer. “I’ll have you know I am very, very upset at you.”

You can feel his smirk against your neck. “Right, yeah, if upset is a new aneurism.”

“Euphemism,” you correct. “Wait. Shit. Or is it aneurism? Hey Siri, what’s the difference between a euphemism and an aneurism?”

Siri responds from your phone. 

You say, “Ah yes, an aneurism is what I’m going to have on that fucking bus ride on the way to meet your mum for the first time.”

Jamie flops backward onto the pile of clothes on the bed. “Babe, I don’t know why you’re so stressed out. It’s just my mum. She don’t bite.”

“Ok, sure. Yeah. I’ll calm down if you tell me exactly how many people you’ve brought home to meet her since making it to the Premier League. Actually, you know what? I’ll make it easier for you. You can even include platonic relationships.”

Jamie’s silent. 

“E-fucking-xactly. It’s just been Roy and Keeley. I wasn’t even this stressed when I met Ted because he likes everyone, but this is your mum. What if she hates me? It’s scary.”

“It’s not scary,” Jamie laughs. “She’s gonna love you.” You’re standing in between his legs now and he pulls you on top of him. “You’ll be fine, love, I promise.”

—

The bus ride was as expected. Smelly, loud, and filled with laughter. The team is still getting in the swing of things without Ted, but they seem to be picking up where he left off. 

You’re not really tired, especially since it’s mid-morning, but you’re pressed against Jamie’s side and he’s warm as always, so you find yourself drifting off.

—

The boys check into their hotel. You’re not staying with Jamie because the boys have all sorts of team-building things going on and Jamie’s mum insisted that she needs girl time.

You squeeze Jamie’s hand the entire way over to his mum and Simon’s place and he doesn’t even make any jokes about it, just squeezes back. 

Your heart rate shoots up a million times when Jamie knocks, then slows down about 10% when Georgie swings open the door and grabs you in a hug, barely giving Jamie any notice. 

“What the fuck?” he asks, amused. “Hey Simon, how’re you doing?"

“Oh lord, I told myself I wasn’t going to cry,” says Georgie, wiping away a tear. “Never thought he’d come home with a real, actual girl.”

Jamie makes an offended noise. “The fuck do you call all the girls I’ve been with?”

Georgie swats his arm playfully. “You know what I mean, love. None of them were built to last. Only one I sort of liked was that Keeley Jones, but I was never quite convinced you were right for her. But this one- well, must be the first girl you’ve brought home since primary school.”

“Come inside, come inside,” says Simon. “No sense standing in the doorway with the food getting cold.”

He ushers everyone inside and to the couches, and Georgie is latched onto Jamie’s arm now. He’s chattering away about the upcoming match and Roy as the manager, leaving you to take in your surroundings. There are photo prints on the walls and soft lighting and a table with photos of Jamie at every age. 

You smile at him as a baby, same giggly face as ever. 

It’s a nice evening. Simon’s made dinner and Georgie can’t stop beaming or ruffling Jamie’s hair. You’re the only other person on the planet allowed to touch his hair without warning.

He has to leave all too soon (“It’s a pillow fight, babe, and Sam’s fucking asking to get decked in the face,”) so you kiss him goodbye then head inside. It’s just Jamie’s family minus Jamie, and you have no idea how it’s going to go. Is this the moment Georgie tells you she actually hates you and you need to leave her baby boy alone? 

No. What happens instead is she takes your arm and leads you up the stairs to Jamie’s old room.

“Hasn’t changed since he left,” she beams. “Now come on, let’s chat just us girls! I feel like I already know you, what with the way Jamie talks about you all the time. Hardly a word out of his mouth that isn’t about you or footie.”

You grin. “He’s a man of singular tastes, that’s for sure.”

Georgie laughs. “Oh, I bet you’re good for him! Don’t let his head get too big, that’s for sure. My wee sexy baby always did need someone to take him down a few pegs here and there. But don’t let him fool you. He’s fragile as the next person, that one.”

You smile and say, “You two are so similar. He calls himself a ‘sexy baby,’ or a ‘wee sexy lad,’ all the time. And he can’t fool me. I know exactly who he is.”

Georgie’s eyes twinkle as she squeezes your hand. Not quite as strong as Jamie, but still the same type of grip. “Oh I’m sure of that, darling. I’m glad he’s got you all the way out there in Richmond. He’s been alone for a good while.”

You’re well aware of Jamie’s history since leaving Manchester. 

“You know, Keeley’s actually the one who kind of kickstarted all of this,” you say. “We’ve been friends for ages, and she- well, she sort of helped Jamie become a better version of himself.”

Georgie laughs. “Oh, you don’t have to sugarcoat it for me, love. I raised that lad, remember.”

“Ok, fine,” you say smiling, “She broke up with him because he was a massive prick, which started this whole redemption arc and she kind of forced us together at this event and, well, you know the rest. I just feel really, really lucky to be with him. Like if I were anywhere else at any other time, we could have missed each other. I could have missed him so easily.”

You shake your head. It’s hard to imagine a life without Jamie, and you wonder where you’d be at this exact moment if things had gone differently. What would be happening if you’d fought Keeley just a little more?

It doesn’t matter because Georgie’s squeezing your arm and saying, “But you’re here, darling. And it’s so wonderful that you two found each other, because I haven’t seen my baby smile like that in ages. I’ve got no worries about either of you.”

She pulls you into a hug, and it’s all you can do to keep from tearing up. 

God, who knew Jamie’s family would be so quick to accept you?

—

It’s late now, but you’re positive Keeley is still awake so you open your phone to send her a message.

You could have warned me, you text.

Three bubbles appear, then: what do you mean babe?

You roll your eyes. Fucker. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Your crazy football knockers are staring at me while I’m trying to sleep.

Keeley instantly responds with three angel emojis. I’m watching over you like a fucking guardian angel!

There’s a pause, then she texts, don’t know what Roy is. maybe the devil.

You snort at that. Roy Kent? Grump with a heart of gold? You don’t think so.

You close your text thread with Keeley and open the one with Jamie.

Nice football sheets, you write. Maybe we should get some for our room.

Jamie responds way too fast with an Amazon link and and an x. You smile then flip your phone over on the nightstand so you can get some good sleep, with Jamie’s guardian angels staring down at you.

[madwomansapologist]

notes on Prologue

"Szeth-son-son-Vallano, Truthless of Shinovar, wore white on the day he was to kill a king." - Narrator, Prologue.

I'm so curious about Szeth. His personality, believes, culture. Everything about him is so alluring. A character who kills wearing white to attract the gaze of its target, warning them about the danger and giving them a chance to fight back.

For someone who doesn't want to kill, he for sure puts on a show. Not saying that he's a hypocrite, it's just fascinating for me. If I told you I hate cooking (which I do) then the last thing you would expect is to see me flambé my dinner.

Shardblade cutting the soul, but not the meat, is so great for the imagetic of things. This is a story about a war, and the most powerful weapon of it all doesn't draw blood.

It's easy to look at a dripping blood sword and understand that it's dangerous. When it doesn't, than reality hits. The sword isn't dangerous. The person using it is. The object is not responsible for your choices. It you're a horrible human being, well the blood is on your hands.

I know it's horrible but everytime I remember while Gavilar was fighting for his life, Sadeas trying to trap the killer and Szeth about to have an aneurism; Dalinar was just sleeping... It makes me laugh. Yeah big boy, take a nap while your world falls apart.

Also what was he writing? I want to know what his letter was about. I want to know more about him.

Plus, the way people just give up Shardblades on this book is... not what I was expecting. Good for him (Szeth), poor you (Kaladin).

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[gaiathemexicanbeauty]

it only takes a taste | mike schmidt x reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: none! this is just pure fluff and maybe kind of slowburnish lol

this was loosely based off of it only takes a taste from the waitress musical! :3

idk i just really like the idea of late nights with mike even if he's too tired to even think straight lmao

also don't ask what time period this takes place in, i was born in 2004 and know like 2 things about the 70s-90s or whenever the movie takes place bc its never explicitly mentioned

i also do not regularly bake or cook so do not be afraid to go to my comment section and tell me if something sounds off

i love this man ok, i have said it 1000 times already but i've been in love with him ever since i first saw him when i was like 12 or 13 and was even more so obsessed with rebornica's mike design for YEARS. 12 year old me would have an aneurism if she knew about the fnaf movie

you let out a long yawn, one hand reaching up cover your mouth so as not to potentially ruin the mood of any customers around; granted, there was only two and they were graveyard shifters from somewhere outside of town but customers are customers. you'd been working at sparky's for a couple of months now, figuring it was an easy way to make some cash and keep food on the table. of course, you hadn't accounted for the very long hours that passed where you half debated trying to sneak away since no was around from 2-4:00 am: your boss would kill you, though, and you wanted to stay employed.

soft oldies music plays in the background as you glance over at the clock ticking away on the wall. just as you move to grab a rag to clean the counters for the 5th time during your shift, you hear the bell above the entrance jingle and don't even have to look up to know who it is.

mike wasn't a regular at first, just someone who popped in at random and very quietly asked for a coffee. after a while of starting a new job, he started coming in at almost 11:00 pm everyday and always asking for the same thing: just a plain, black coffee. "seriously?" you had said with a smirk the first time he said his order to you, your eyes widening at the attitude you had just given a customer. fortunately, mike was quick to respond with a tired but good natured laugh, his hands folded in front of him. "i'm all ears if you have other recommendations." he mumbled with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, giving you instant relief.

now, it was just clockwork. "hey." mike sighs with a soft sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he takes a seat at a chair by the counter you were standing behind. "coffee machine is kind of acting up tonight, you're gonna have to give it a minute. want anything else while you wait?" you say as you approach the counter, giving him a quick smile. mike is about to decline your offer, his lips parting to say something before his eyes land on something on the farther end of the counter. "what about that? still good?" "you're just in time. i was going to take the rest of it home." you say with a smile, walking over to the cake stand holding an apple pie with only 3 slices left of it. you take the lid off to plate it, handing it over to mike with a hum before bringing him utensils. you don't even get the chance to bring up to him that the slices have been sitting there for a couple of hours, blinking in shock at the way he's quick to start eating.

you turn your back to start taking down the chalkboard advertising the special from the day before, giving mike his one moment of quiet you were sure he needed. you start to think about what your day will consist of once you're done with your shift, dreading having to clean your room before you can actually sleep. "did you make this?" "yeah. why, is it bad?" you say with a chuckle, turning to look at mike again; your eyes widen a bit at the way mike is looking at you, his own eyes looking at you like he can't believe what he just put it in his mouth. "no, no, it's..it's really good, like. really good." your cheeks redden a bit at the sudden compliment, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear as you occasionally glance at him enjoying the pie you'd made; you wouldn't say you were amazing at cooking but you definitely knew enough to make a meal that would do more than just feed you.

it also didn't help that you'd been harboring a crush on mike for the past month. that you were aware of, he didn't have a partner of any kind but that might have been more to do with the fact he didn't have time for one than anything else. you at first brushed it off as just not having contact with anyone your age that late at night, just enjoying his company when nights got lonely. but you couldn't deny the way you would style your hair a bit differently or try a new perfume in the hopes of getting a compliment from mike; to your absolute pleasure, he almost always pointed it out. now to hear this sudden praise for your cooking took you out of your element.

"thanks, really, but i make it all the time. i can make thousands like it and they'll all be the same." you say with a light chuckle, crossing your arms against your chest as you look over at the cake stand sheepishly. "then maybe you should consider getting a day job making these instead." mike says between bites, giving you a playful smile. you can't help but scoff despite the smile on your face, looking over at mike again. "well, if it's that easy, maybe YOU should quit your job and come and join me. keep me company." the two of you have a quiet laugh, your cheeks reddening at the indirect compliment you had paid him. once his plate is empty, you take it away from him just to have an excuse to do something with your hands (also to get away from the almost fond look that mike was giving you right now, definitely not on par for him). there's a tense silence between the two of you before mike speaks up, clearing his throat when he speaks. "uh, i tried making that at home. the pie, i mean. i don't remember what kind it was right now, but it definitely didn't end as well as that." he says with a nervous laugh, hands folded in front of him again as you hear the coffee machine start to pour out his drink.

"well, what exactly did you do wrong?" with surprisingly no hesitance, mike goes on to tell the story of how sure he was about this recipe he'd seen in a catalogue, going above and beyond to make sure this "stupid thing" (his words) came out right. little did he know leaving his creation unattended for even a second would result in smoke pouring out of the oven and having to throw out a charred-black pastry; "and then abby went and acted like we could just go and do it all over again and.." mike starts, hands waving around uncharacteristically as he finished off his story. he caught the way you were trying to hold back a laugh, fingers pressed to your lips that were etched into a small smile. "it's ok, you can laugh all you want. i never tried doing it again." you can't help the laugh that leaves you once he gives you his full permission, still trying to keep your voice down. "i-i'm sorry, really.." you giggle once you've calmed down, rubbing your hands over your face before you start to walk around the counter to where mike is sitting. "but that's not how making a pie works. you can't just leave it like that or give up on the process that easily."

mike makes a face that says 'i'm listening', shrugging his shoulders when you sit on the stool next to him. "making a pie is like.." you start with a sigh, hands propping up your chin in thought as you look up at the clock. "you just know when some things feel right. if something is too much or too little, whether you need to start again or not. lord knows i've had to redo entire pies because the crust wasn't flaky enough or the filling didn't taste like apples enough." you say, chuckling a bit as you remember all the times you'd slaved away for almost entire days trying to nail down the perfect home recipe. you take a minute to think again, sitting back a bit as you smooth down your apron tied around your waist. "and it also doesn't help if you make something just to make something. when you bake or just cook a plain old steak, you have to make it like you're crafting a story or making a song. all of my best meals were made with someone or something in mind."

your cheeks go red again when you realize the very unprompted ramble you went on, a nervous laugh leaving you as you look down at your lap. "sorry, you totally don't have to-" "no, no, i-" the two of you jump a bit at the way you both try to speak first, sheepish smiles tugging at your lips before you go quiet again. the bell above the door jingles and you don't have to look up to know the two of you are alone now. "i like hearing about that sort of stuff. i really only hear about it when i'm here with you and it's..nice. different." your heart soars and you can only hope that mike can't somehow feel or hear it, trying to give him a warm smile without saying something you'll regret. you get up from your seat with a when he checks his watch, knowing that's code for 'i need to go' even before he stands. you're almost sure he'll leave without saying anything which you are simultaneously grateful for and hoped he wouldn't do, already busying yourself with some other menial task. "hey."

you look up almost as soon as he speaks, seeing the smile tugging at his lips and not able to contain your own. "save those leftovers for me. i hope it still tastes like you were trying to make it for me when i get back." he says, a smug look in his eyes as your lips part a bit in shock. you try to call out to him before he jogs out to his car, taking off accordingly.

-> ta da its done! :D &lt;-

this was honestly less romantic than i wanted it to be but i promise that my brain is racked with thoughts of him literally EVERY DAY so mayhaps i can write something else that's more up to par one of these days

but thank yall for reading! :D i haven't been able to pump out a oneshot like this for a while and it felt good to write something longer than a couple of paragraphs, i have missed this account sm 🐺💗 love yall and i hope that you all are having a fantastic day!

[samgirl98]

Forgotten Demon Twin 9/?

Prev | Next

Danny came face-to-face with green eyes.

Damian was here.

“Hey Val, can we have that order to go?”

Tucker and Sam looked toward where Danny’s attention was and immediately understood. They looked at each other before turning toward the half-ghost, worried.

“Sure thing,” Valerie said while looking a bit confused. Curiosity swam in her eyes. Sam paid for the food, and they stood to the side, silent.

“Hey Fenturd!”

Danny sighed. He really didn’t want to deal with Dash right now, especially with Damian watching.

“What do you want, Dash?”

“Because of you, I got thrown earlier. It’s time for me to return the favor,” he said while hitting his left hand with his right fist.

From the corner of his eyes, Danny saw the man, Dick, hold Damian down. His twin brother looked livid.

“Can we do this later,” he asked, “I’m not in the mood, Dash. I’ve had a pretty shitty day.”

“And it’s about to get worse.”

Danny didn’t even try to dodge the fist. He had to keep his cover, after all. It’s not as if Dash’s hit hurt anyway. His grandfather, hell, Damian has hit him harder than Dash ever could. Danny instinctively closed his eyes.

The hit never came.

When he opened his eyes, Dick held Dash’s fist.

“I think that’s enough, don’t you?”

Dick was glaring at Dash, and holy shit did he look scary. Well, he was a vigilante.

Dash flinched a bit and then backed off. But not before giving Danny a murderous look. Great, something else he would have to deal with at school. Why did these people have to show up and mess with his life? He had been doing fine until they decided to meddle.

“Here’s your order,” Valerie said. She stared at Dick and then toward Danny.

“Danyal, how could you let trash like that bother you? We taught you better than that.”

Danny scowled and ignored his twin, “Thanks, Val.”

He got the order and walked out of the diner with Sam and Tucker following behind him. It didn’t deter Damian.

“Dami,” the man, Dick, said his brother’s name in a warning tone. Who would’ve thought the precious heir would ever allow anyone to talk to him that way?

Danny felt a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. He didn’t think. He took the hand and flipped the person attached to it. Unfortunately, Damian didn’t land on his ass but did a flip in the air before landing on his feet in a crouch.

People were staring at him. His classmates were pointing and whispering to each other. Fuck! So much for keeping a low profile. He could imagine the gossip being born.

“What do you want,” Danny asked, “You’re just ruining the life I’ve made here.”

“I want you to come home, Danyal. You belong with father and me.”

Damian saw Danyal’s face darken with anger.

“It’s Danny. And I already have a dad. His name is Jack Fenton. Leave me alone, Damian Wayne.”

“Did he just say ‘Wayne’?” People were muttering and looking through their phones. Some were even taking pictures.

“Tt,” so much for a low profile.

“Not so fun to have your cover blown, is it akhi?”

Danyal left with his two friends, leaving Damian behind.

____

John Constantine, Hellblazer, occult detective, the Laughing Magician, was not having a good time before the Bat called. Batman told John about the Anti-Ecto Acts, and he could feel himself getting an aneurism.

Who the fuck decided that putting a hit out on the denizens of the Infinite Realms was a good idea? He knew it was against them because only creatures from the Infinite Realms produced and used ectoplasm. He didn’t know much about Infinite Realms, so he sat down with as many books as he could find.

John took a swig of scotch straight from the bottle. Then, he started researching.

Contrary to what most people thought, John spent more time in books and doing research than fighting monsters and demons. He had told Bats to give him a few hours to learn more.

What he found worried him. There were very few weaknesses that these so-called ghosts had. Some of them had never been human, to begin with, and were personifications of concepts. Dreams, time, nature. They were more akin to gods.

And the bloody US government had basically declared war on these beings.

John sighed as he turned the page to the book he was reading. It was going to be a long day.

Hmm, maybe he should call for some help. Deadman might know more about the ghosts of the Infinite Realms.

Making up his mind, John started the ritual to summon the other members of Justice League Dark. Besides, what’s the point of being part of a team if you don’t get help occasionally?

____

Danny had decided to leave his friends behind. He just wanted to be alone. After what happened in Nasty Burger, Danny felt tired.

He opened the door to his house and was met with Vlad’s smirking face.

Fuck.

“Hello, Dann-o! Vlad decided to come visit us,” his dad said with feigned enthusiasm. That was a first.

His mom came from the kitchen holding cups of hot tea.

“I can see that,” Danny said, “to what do we owe this?”

“Oh, you know, I’ve found out some interesting things and wanted to make sure secrets weren’t being spilled. Yowch!”

Danny suppressed a giggle. His mom ‘accidentally’ dropped some of the tea on Vlad’s crotch.

“Oh, I am so sorry about that. Let me go get a clean towel for you.”

“I’ll be in my room,” Danny said as the chaos unfolded. Besides, he wanted to know why Plasmius was here. He knew the moment he locked himself in his room, a duplicate of the older halfa would be there.

Lo and behold, he had been right.

“So, Daniel, or should I say Danyal? It’s time we talked, hmm?”

Danny tensed. Vlad knew.

Fuck!

@itsberrydreemurstuff @youracearocroatneighbour @imsotiredfanficlovertm @nek0mancer

[decadentpostnachos-evil-twin]

See a more or less short rendition of my experiences when I first read the acotar series (Three years ago?) beneath the cut. I purposefully misspelled some names, I don't feel like getting death threats from obsessive stans tonight. Bisou x

The funniest thing for me is that I started reading acotar spoiled and biased. I got the recommendation from TikTok, and everyone there was raving about Fey/sand and hating on Tamlin. So naturally, I started acotar being prepared to hate Tamlin and yearningly wait for Rice sand to make an appearance.

How the tables turned with that.

First of all, I was whipped for Lucien the moment he first appeared. (I have also been in the Eris corner ever since...2021? Or so, when there was literally one piece of writing for him and that was some headcanons. Anyway.)

Secondly, I folded for Tamlin too, against my expectations when hearing people say he was a nasty abuser and Rice sand is the feminist king. Like, I was prepared for Tamlin to be the biggest prick, and then he came along with lines like "I play a mean fiddle" or "I love you, thorns and all" and writing Limericks to help Feyrug learn to read, and he was fumbling so bad, it was just absolutely cute.

And when Rice sand made his first appearance, I was underwhelmed. At that point, I had only heard people sing praise about him and how perfect he is, and he was just the prick I expected Tamlin to be.

Utm was disgusting, and fundamented my dislike for Rice sand because he was giving Sex offender in the worst way possible.

Acomaf came along and I was kinda happy to have things "back to normal". And then everything went to shit, Tamlin was completely disregarded and vilified, as was Lucien. And Feyrug began sucking Rice sands dick. I was so disappointed, and I clung to any crumb of Lucien and Tamlin I could get, especially after the Summer Court debacle and the CoN whore thing, because that was just disgusting.

Acowar sold my soul to Eris, to the point of no return. I was an Eris girl before that, but after? Altered my brain chemistry. There's hardly anything he can do at this point to make me not like him. It also festered my hate for the Ic even more, and I began to really despise Feyrug too. I wanted to burn the book when Rice sand was resurrected, because I had hoped that he'd just stay dead atp.

Acofas was a train wreck and the only good things about it were the one appearance Eris and Lucien had each. The rest was either cringey or anger inducing, or both combined. My villain origin story.

Acosf... I hate how she treated Nesta. My girl deserves better fr. I despised Cassian's povs, except for the ones where Eris was present. (Duh) Once again, only a few good things about this book. Those being Eris, Lucien and the Valkyries. The pregnancy plotline sucks ass, and if I see one more Rice sand lover saying Eris is misogynistic for saying Morningan dresses like a slut while defending Rice sand for the shit he pulled with the pregnancy because "he just wanted to protect Feyrug" and still calling him feminist, I'm going to have an aneurism.

I went into this series biased. I literally hadn't even opened the first book and already thought Tamlin sucks and Rice sand is the greatest salvation. It was deeply ingrained in my mind before I even read the series. And even then, I came out hating Rice sand and his AA circle of life and loving everyone the popular narrative told me to hate. So no, I'm not delusional for liking the characters I do. People who blindly stan the Ic just lack reading comprehension or the will to think about what they are reading for more than five seconds because there's nothing more they want to know than the length of bad imitation Batman's cock.

[unicornpopcorn14]

1, 8, or 32 for skk (from the hug prompts) 🥹👉🏻👈🏻

bestie you can’t do this to me i will request all of them

THEY'RE ALL SUCH GOOD PROMPTS I AGREEEE

Hug prompts

Decided to go for 1- "Are you cold? You look like you're freezing."

Additionally, for @dazaibirthdayweek2024 Day 3: Good Intentions + Masks

Words: 3.3k. Hope you like it, Essie!! :D

Rings a Bell

You’d think being stuck with your former partner/enemy in a confined space is the worst thing that can happen to a person…

But no, it can get worse, when said confined space happens to be a fucking freezer room.

Yeah, Chuuya has no idea what led them to this. Well, he does, but thinking about it too hard might cause his fifth aneurism today, and, less importantly, dissipate his already fickle energy.

A snicker resounds from beside him, “Chuuya’s growling like a dog again!”

“Shut the fuck up before I hang you from that meat hook myself…” He tries to give his usual bite, but it falls short as his stomach lurches again, feeling awful in all sorts of places.

Great news: he can’t see shit. Mostly blurry shapes and wavering colors, but never past that. It doesn’t help that he has the fattest migraine of the century, accompanied by an urge to vomit he honestly doesn’t know how he managed to fight against this long. Arahabaki, the damn scoundrel, decides to stay standstill and let him handle this one on his own. Fucking fantastic.

He had been told what poison he’s been injected with, but he can’t for the life of him remember the name right now.

And who’s to blame for all of this? You guessed it.

“Chuuya!!” Dazai claps with a higher-than-normal-pitch, which successfully sends stronger-than-usual-ringing to his ears, “How did you know the new method I was planning to try out?! And you’re offering to help me?! My, you should get poisoned more often!”

“You’re lucky I currently am, piece of shit…” God, he wanted to sound harsher than that– perhaps come up with a more creative thing to retort with, but that all gets swept away by low groans and helpless eye rolls…

Chuuya doesn’t know why he even bothers with looking out for that bastard when all he does is become a pain in the ass afterwards. Every time he tells himself he would wholly ignore his former partner the next joint mission, something like this happens which throws all of his vows to the curb:

Dazai was probably distracted, probably not, but Chuuya grabbed him aside anyways, rendering him without an ability for just a second.

And right then a needle buried in his neck.

They got their asses handed to them immediately afterwards, because of course, and the fuckers decided to add onto their frozen meat collection today of all days– thus, their predicament.

Which consists of opposite organization members seated in a freezer room against an icy wall, the mafia member certainly looking more limp and uncoordinated than the other. Chuuya doesn’t know how Dazai’s seated, but he’s 90% sure he isn’t staying still for the life of him, so guessing that would be impossible.

“Think Koyou-san will send a search party after you?” The question comes out as slyly as you’d think a Dazai-question would come out.

“This fast? No… She knows I can handle myself…” Dazai should already know this, as nothing has changed much in the last four years. Chuuya groans out, breathing coming in difficult, “I’d have to be gone for an entire week before she gets worried.”

“Hm, same with the Agency. But not that long. Just a day at most…” He hears shifting from beside him once again, overly wary of his surroundings since his sight is on hold, “So we’re stuck here until the poison symptoms wear off. Alone. Together. Great.” Dazai concludes like it wasn’t fucking obvious.

“At least you have the blessing of seeing in front of you.” Chuuya closes his eyes to stop his spinning vision, as perhaps that can help keep the migraine at bay, “Do you realize… how nerve-racking it is to stay this close to you while blind?! You might try anything…!”

“That’s right!” Dazai chirps, his enthusiasm successfully making Chuuya’s nerves prickle, “Chuuya better use his ultra-deduction-instincts if he wishes to stand a chance!”

He grimaces while thumping his head back, wanting to re-demand the other to shut up for how splitting his voice rings in his skull, but Dazai would probably take that as an opportunity to scream, so he resorts to: “God, I hate you…”

From (unfortunate) experience, and seeing how high on the awful-feeling scale this falls, Arahabaki will stay asleep for twenty more minutes -adding to the fifteen he already suffered through-, until he finally feels the need to fucking do something and starts kicking his freaky immune system to life.

His breath comes out as condensed clouds, each intake of breath colder than the last. The shitty smell of raw meat doesn’t help with the nausea, and he has half a mind to sleep all of this off, but leaving the suicidal freak alone with metal hooks all around is probably a wildly stupid idea. He’s still weighing his options-

“I’m booooored!!” Dazai suddenly whines, high pitched and grating. Chuuya jolts, opening his eyes in order to send the other a scowl out of habit.

Only various shades of brown meet his vision, swimming before him. The migraine remerges tenfold,  “Wh-”

“Chuuya, entertain me!” Dazai leans onto him, shoulder to shoulder, so roughly that the clench of his stomach tightens. Chuuya barely has the energy to push the bastard back, said bastard surely aware of that, “Be my jester! Now, now!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that? Hey-”

Just as Dazai straightens on his own, Chuuya feels his fedora getting snatched, followed by low chuckles and murmurs of “Disgusting hat, I’mma burn you when we’re out of here…”

If Chuuya were to sound crazy, he’d have told you that Dazai is purposely being extra obnoxious right now– ridiculously so, but four years of separation might have granted him the blessing of forgetting how annoying Dazai could truly get, thus doesn’t humor that thought…

“You have two seconds before I start calling for grantors of dark disgrace and level this whole room over your head.” He warns, and doubts this is a good idea at all (Forcing Arahabaki awake is never a good idea). But he’s seriously getting tipped over the edge and the drug rushing in his veins isn’t helping in the slightest, “Give it, now.”

Dazai stays silent for a few seconds. A few seconds too long. Catching a glimpse of his face threatens to empty out the contents in his stomach, so Chuuya just decides to close his eyes again and relish this brief moment of piece, brushing the flicker of confusion aside.

Then the grating is back, “Fiiiine…”

It’s weird how Dazai takes his already outstretched hand and places the fedora on top of it, even lingering the hold on his gloved fingers for a second before letting go. Weird, but not concerning.

“Smart choice.”  He plants his belonging back on his head, sighing lowly. The option of sleeping sounds like a dream right now– would save him the trouble of handling the two constant problems in his life at once. But nothing ever feels as good as it sounds in Chuuya’s case– sometimes his comfort comes with a heavy price, even.

Suffering through this it is, then.

“Ne, you really still can’t see?” Dazai leans onto him again– not as roughly, but certainly making Chuuya lose his balance all the same, “What about the headache? Is it getting any better? Is it? I’m bored- can you see yet? Can y-”

“No I fucking can’t, that’s why we’re still here!” Chuuya exclaims, successfully shoving him off, unable to handle Dazai’s toddler whining a second longer, “You think I wouldn’t have kicked the door down the second I regained my ability?!”

“Eh, you’re right. The air smells so bad when a dog is sharing it with me.” Dazai taunts, and must be leaning back onto the wall now, legs overly outstretched before him (probably rocking his heels back and forth) because God forbid he ever sit normally, “Too bad the door is too sturdy to budge with my kicks.”

“Cuz you’re a wuss.”

“Cuz it’s sturdy.” The other stresses, then it’s silent for a few minutes. The moment the headache begins to dissipate into a buzzing sting, rather than pounding ache, Dazai decides he should resume the torture session,

“Chuuya should cut his hair.”

That’s… so random. Even by Dazai standards. “What the he- Are you touching it?!”

Fingers tug on the longer end of his hair, brushing it, “Need scissors.”

Chuuya wishes he could recoil back in disgust, he really does, “Keep your grubby fingers to yourself, piece of shit! You know how much product I use?!” He tries to smack the hand away, never lands on it, “They’re worth your damn hands.”

Dazai blows a raspberry, and the fingers meekly abort, “My bad for trying to make a slug look a hundred times better.”

“This is neither the time nor place for it, freak.”

“Oh, so you agree to cutting it later? Consent granted!”

Chuuya springs up from the wall, “THAT’T NOT WHAT I-” At the violent lurch he receives in his abdomen, he gags mid-sentence, but thankfully doesn’t fully throw up. Or unthankfully. He isn’t sure what’s better for him at the moment. He tries to breathe through the acid in his throat, “Fuck…”

He hears shifting from beside him, peeking to deduce Dazai hugging his knees now– rocking back and forth? He closes his eyes again, wishing time wasn’t a slow bitch at the moment. One arm presses to his abdomen, right where it’s angry and upset, the other stays numb on the floor beside him. Several clouds form in front of his lips, with him somehow sweating midst the freezing room, the water cooling on his burning skin terrifyingly fast. Perhaps a minute more and they’d turn solid.

“Can your trusty dusty chaos God wake up any faster?” Oh, right. Dazai isn’t dead yet, so peace for him isn’t an option, “Does turning him off and on again works?”

Chuuya rigids once something that feels like ice pokes his cheek,

“Fucking hell, when did you find an ice cube?” He uncoordinatedly smacks the thing away, which turns out to be a hand. Huh. “You already know the answer to that, bastard. Why are you even trying?”

“Worth it…” He giggles, something breathy about it, off. Chuuya pauses, sharpening his hearing instantly, because anything off regarding Dazai is always a bad sign, and his sense about this never lies. Call it a sixth sense, if you will. “Besides, pestering Chuuya when he’s weak is fun! You think I won’t take my chances? You really don’t know me at all!”

At that his concentrated frown dissipates, immediately replaced by one of assessment.

“Wait a second…” He keeps his head hanged and eyes closed, but his tone rumbles all the same, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Whatever you mean, sluggy poo?”

Chuuya doesn’t fall for the bait, sharpening his hearing even more, “I thought you were being annoying just for the sake of it, but now you’re outright telling me you’re being annoying?” He lifts his head to look at the direction of the other, sending a glare with closed eyes, “You’re trying to hide something. Out with it.”

“Pfff, paranoid much, aren’t we?”

And just like that, Chuuya catches it.

The shivers in the other’s breathing, that automatically translate to shudders in his speech, are so subdued, desperately trying to stay hidden from him, trying to get concealed behind loud pitches and provoking fronts.

It’s a testament to how far gone his mind is in order for that to escape him.

“You’re-” Without asking for verbal confirmation that he wouldn’t get, Chuuya hurriedly takes off his gloves, “Gimme that- where is it?” He blindly wanders till he finds a bandaged wrist and grasps it. The stiffen of the other gets ignored as his hands travel to the only bare parts in Dazai’s body– his fingers and face. The fingers are frigid to the point where he can’t hold them for more than a few seconds, while the moment he clumsily smacks the face in order to cup it with both hands, it’s like all his body heat rushes to it– the skin cold, hungry and craving any kind of warmth, “What the hell- you’re fucking freezing!”

“Wow, what an astute observation, Chuuya.” He hears the roll of the other’s eyes, as Dazai’s quivering fingers hold onto both of Chuuya’s wrists, trying to push them away from his face but not putting that much effort into it, “It’s not like we’re literally in a freezer room.”

“No- this isn’t normal.” Chuuya declares, squeezing the cheeks in. How come cold skin can burn so much? “We’ve only been here for like…”

“Twenty minutes?”

“Exactly. Doesn’t it take about… way longer for hypothermia to kick in?”

“That’s you! You’re the abnormal one!” Dazai exclaims, sounding more genuine than he has been since they’ve been thrown in here. Scratch that– since he’d known him, “You think all people come with a built-in heater? I thought you realized that that’s not the case during your mission in Siberia. And you call me a fish.”

Chuuya pauses promptly. Oh, right. Sometimes he forgets that he isn’t the only one who occasionally wakes up to screams coming from within, or feels unprecedented urge to unleash chaos in stressful situations, or even runs way warmer than others. These are constants in his life. Constants he has to remind himself that no other person experiences…

And even if Arahabaki is asleep, the remnants of his abnormally high temperature is still very much intact. Chuuya doesn’t feel much past the chills of the poison itself, other than that? Coolness at best at his extremists. He’d need to stay here thirty minutes longer for the real frigidness to kick in…

Though Chuuya is equally aware that while his core temperature is abnormally high, Dazai’s core temperature is, funnily enough, abnormally low. Leave him out in the snow for a few minutes and you’d get a hypothermic mackerel popsicle in no time.

Chuuya grimaces. Stupid, stupid.

How could he forget that? His mind defends him, tells him it must have been the poison, that it must have played a part in brushing that fact aside. Chuuya wants to curse it out. He’s retained many random facts about Dazai by heart– so, so many, some even entirely useless; but when it comes to important stuff he somehow has to be reminded of them the hard way. What is wrong with him?

Well, time to make up for that. Harshly, because the bastard deserves it.

“I’m perfectly normal, thank you very much.” He lies through his teeth, but his voice is almost soft, fingers still intact with the skin cosplaying an ice wall, “You’re the one with a terrible immune system that is eager to kill you at the first given chance.”

Dazai chuckles, breathily once again. Shakily, the accurate word for it. “Dying by hypothermia i-isn’t too bad, actually!”

“Just- fucking drop it, will you? You don’t need to do that shit.” Once again he grits out softer than intended, finally cutting the contact. If he had his eyes working, he’d have seen the way Dazai chases the hands for a second before collecting himself and drawing back, “Come closer before I snatch you by the hair.”

“Chuuya wouldn’t have the energy to, anyway…” Dazai finally sounds as slurred and exhausted as he should, and Chuuya’s thankful he can even move– numbness probably there but hasn’t fully settled in.

“You remember our code?”

“Code white? O-Of course I do. Have many fond memories with it.” He hears the rustle of fabric, which means that Dazai is taking off his coat. Chuuya does the same, if a little slower.

“Stage?”

“Mild.”

Chuuya exhales, “Thank fuck, I wasn’t looking forward to sharing body heat with you properly.”

There is a pause, then, “…Severe, then.” He sees the smirk in the Dazai’s face without the need to see at all.

“That so? I’ll bash your head against that metal wall, then.” He knocks behind him twice, just as he senses Dazai drawing near, “Seems like it would do the trick nicely.”  

“No thanks, I-I change my mind. I’d like the mild-stage treatment.”

“Just as I thought.”

Chuuya suddenly feels a weight on his lap, and acts. He takes both of their coats and wraps them with it as make-shift blankets, just as Dazai gets comfortably seated, ear over Chuuya’s heart, knees tucked close. The redhead presses his lips on the hair beneath him before he can help it, feeling the frost that has settled there. One arm supports the taller’s shoulder and back, while the other wraps around Dazai’s midsection, keeping him caged in.

Now without the need to hide anything, Dazai’s shivers turn to trembles, rocking him to his core and rocking Chuuya along with it. The brunette wraps the coats tighter around himself, pulse audibly rapid and panicking, trying to compensate the body for the heat it lost apace.

Chuuya’s migraine begins dissipating a little, and he dares open his eyes, to find the variety of colors taking the form of actual shapes, now. He relaxes, just as he feels Dazai do the same– their positioning, strange as it may come for them, somehow feeling utterly natural…

“Gosh, I almost forgot your stupid tendency to never speak up in situations like this.” The mafioso chastises midst the curls, “What? Were you trying to make up for the fact that I got drugged cuz of you?” Chuuya is sure there might be a number of other reasons, like the fact that Dazai could have simply been waiting to die like that– to pass out from the cold and never feel it when Chuuya tries to wake him up again.

But Dazai’s silence grants him an abundance of answers, one of them that confirms his verbal question, and he tskes in displeasure.

“Goody-two-shoes act that makes me sick...” He rasps, his upset stomach comforted with the added pressure to it.

Dazai huffs, finding the energy to nuzzle his cheek to Chuuya’s chest exactly like a freaking cat, “My personal heater…”

At how weirdly endearing that sounds, Chuuya bristles, “I’m not your fucking-”

“Along with being my dog? Too many jobs for your brain to handle, Chibi…!” Dazai’s slurred speech sounds funny, but the words themselves cause the shorter to growl, “You’ll overwork yourself!”

“Your neck is in a perfect position to get snapped. Watch your words.”

“Hm…” Dazai takes the threat in stride, one of his hands that was lost under the blanket coming up to hold onto Chuuya’s shoulder, “The air still smells bad, by the way.”

“Then I’ll keep you trapped in it for longer.” Chuuya counters, sharing his former partner’s frigidness without mind or care. He meekly feels the forehead concealed under brown bangs, to find it minutely warmer than before. Good, great.

“How much longer are we staying here again…?” Dazai asks.

Chuuya blinks, cozy, “Not much. I can see better now.”

“Mm, then all your strength will be back in ten minutes at most…”

“Of course you still memorize the exact cooldown duration of my ability.” Chuuya would have rolled his eyes if it weren’t for his splitting headache, “Why am I not surprised?”

Dazai keeps quiet, head hanging as he mumbles, “Chuuya’s the one with a bad memory…”

The redhead pauses, unable to deny the present truth before him, “Maybe…” He mumbles back, then huffs, “But at least you’re a thorn in my side that annoyingly reminds me of the kind of stuff I eagerly want forgotten…”

“If it’ll make Chuuya miserable,” Dazai tilts his head up. Chuuya sees the smile so clear, bright and giddy. Blurry at the edges but real. “I’ll always be a thorn in his side that will always keep annoyingly reminding him…”

Something leaps in his heart at the connotation embedded in these words, of his former partner vowing to never leave again, to forever be a part of the mafioso’s life despite what life has done them, despite the circumstances. And Chuuya himself vows to never forget how such a simple word almost sent him in a haze of emotions so deep and human. The word always.

His hold tightens, and he hides his face before mumbling, “Of course it will make me miserable, bastard…”

~~~~

Hc for context: I’m a ‘Chuuya has amnesia as a trauma response’ believer. Like yeah he remembers some details regarding missions but otherwise blocks out anything his mind deems too stressful to deal with. “Your mission in Siberia” Actually had most of his subordinates die because they stayed for the cold too long. :’) Obviously, some missions with Dazai are in that chunk as well, along with the entirety of Stormbringer cuz I said so jnrgjrn.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!! This wasn’t my best work so forgive me, Essie! I’ll try my best to edit and tweak some things in here when I have the energy. <33

[lailuhhh]

okay but you got me thinking so much about how young Mac looks when they're in the Sandbox. Like. Mac looks like a kid, he's baby faced anyway (tell us your secrets Lucas Till, I'm begging you), but something about the long hair from the original 2016 pilot is just. Ingrained into my brain and is NOT letting my brain worms escape.

I need Jack half teetering on the edge when he realizes just how young his EOD is; yeah he's gonna have to be somewhat competant bc he isn't dead yet, y'know? But Jack had never thought he'd be partnered up with a baby faced know it all that looks even younger than he actually is, like is he old enough to drink? Old enough to drive?

Jack is about to actually have a fucking aneurysm everytime he looks at the damn kid and the big bruise on his face, spreading across his temple. Looks like a damn smacked puppy, Jack grumbles to himself, and has to resolutely shove thoughts of Riley out his mind, but then the worst happens.

Mac and Jack bond and Jack is just confronted with the fact that this baby faced know it all is his responsibility and Jack did that. Jack did that himself and he might as well through himself a baby shower with a sign yelling congratulations its a twenty plus year old baby and he just has to scream into his helmet for a few seconds every day to try and work on his PTSD and the absolute anxiety attack this damn kid gives him.

Meanwhile Mac is happily playing with bombs and thinks his overwatch is a weird weird man that desperately needs to fucking chill, and this is Mac thinking that so he definitely needs to.

Right???

Canonically, Mac’s around 21-22 when they actually meet, but with a face like that?? That screams 17-19. Like all my army days writing, it’s never really clicked that Mac is so much younger than what we see on the screen

Jack’s had younger guys as partners before, but they always looked their age. Last guy was early to mid twenties and he looked it, or more so, he looked aged. Everyone Jack had been partnered with either looked their age, or older than they were because of what war does to people

Mac was the first one that was young that looked young, despite him being captive for however long, and somehow that made it worse. Mac saw the horrors of war and had been living as a prisoner, yet he still looked his age

Ignoring canon though, Jack knows it’s a new guy messing with his stuff because he doesn’t recognize the back of his head and it just sets him off and he spins Mac around and just decks him

Then maybe later after everything happened and they go on their first outing, a good portion of Mac’s face his all bruised because of just how hard Jack got him, Jack does feel a bit guilty because maybe he did overreact and was having a bad day and he shouldn’t have taken out the anger on Mac, so it’s just—

“I’m sorry man; some shitbag up the ladder is ridin my ass and stressin me out. Ya didn’t deserve that and I’m sorry for takin my anger out on you. Looks like I messed up yer pretty boy face— how old are ya anyways?”

And when Mac says however old he is, that’s when it hits Jack of oh my god he’s a literal kid it’s not just a case of baby face

That’s when the panic sets in of Mac shouldn’t be there and shouldn’t be disarming bombs and should be at college and what the fuck was the military thinking of letting him enlist, and then Mac’s already been there two years, which makes him panic more because the realization of Mac enlisting at an even younger age was the aneurism inducing fact of he needs to get this fucking kid out of the army

And yeah Mac’s just over here like wow man I’ve never seen this kind of IED before and don’t know where to start. Let’s shake it and see what happens and Jack’s doing his best not to keel over from panic and heart attacks every time they go out