#<- totally not stalling

[bawmbo]

get a load of this guy, "praise me i'm the lord" yeah okay, do you want animal crackers? a blanket and a nap?

[brothermoth]

I don't understand why people call John Marston stupid. He isn't dumb, he's barely functioning day to day and it's not HIS fault that whacky shit keeps happening to him. How would YOU react if your family turned into zombies after just going through like a billion Herculean trials to get them back???? That man is so checked out from reality that shit happens and he has no choice but to go "ok" and move on from that. John Marston has a customer service worker's ability to simply dissociate and complete tasks on auto pilot. He's not Arthur "helpful and kind" Morgan. He's a bitter fuck who does not give two shits about anyone he wants to get his beloved wife back so she can peg him and he wants to get his bitch ass emo son back so they can communicate poorly and take turns doing stupid nonsensical shit to give Abigail more stress in her life. He's just a Guy okay and I love him he's The Dad of All Time and I think he makes stupid fucking decisions but so do I and that's okay he's doing his best.

[snzydarling]

Valentine

charas: megumi, yuuji cw: snz kink content !!! explicit sex, chara with snz kink, oral sex notes: um. this is babys first smut fic.... please be nice im so scared to post this LOLLL first off a hugee thank you to @wildindigo111 and @randomsnzftshist for going through this and making sure the scenes werent awful. you guys boosted my confidence enough to post this LOL! i had a lot of fun going out of my comfort zone w this one. takes place post-canon when they're both pro-sorceres !! in the generic evb lives au. hope u enjoy !!

Yuuji is considered the only member in their circle who’s actually good at reading Megumi. 

It’s not that hard once you know where to look. All of Megumi’s tells start getting pretty obvious once you observe for a while. For example:

When Megumi left that morning for a mission, his eyes were crinkled around the corners, and his brow held a permanent furrow. Last night, he had been kind of quiet, swapping out his usual few-word sentences for impassive hums. Pair that with the time of year, and Yuuji’s got a pretty good idea of what’s going on. 

When Megumi gets sick it comes on slowly, and takes just as long to fade, so he ends up feeling just okay enough to keep working, and just bad enough to look pretty miserable for most of the time he spends sick. It’s a pretty unfortunate combination, especially for somebody like Megumi, who really hates it when you tell him how pathetic he looks. 

He’d just texted Yuuji that he was on the train home. Ijichi had been taken out with the same thing he suspected Megumi caught, and his message said in no uncertain terms that Yuuji is to “stay away” when he gets back. What it truly means is that he’d finally accepted his fate. Poor guy. 

Yuuji fumbles around the apartment while he waits, cooking shogayaki with way too much ginger. It's even more than usual, because Megumi sounded a little stuffed up and he wants to make sure he can still taste it. He makes sure the TV volume is extra low and the heat set extra high, and half-watches some weird drama Kugisaki told him about until Megumi comes in. 

He hears him before he sees him. First, the click of a lock, then quiet shuffling as Megumi takes off his shoes. When it takes him a little too long to say hi, Yuuji lolls his head over the back of the couch to see what's up. He's standing awkwardly in the doorway, one hand covering the lower half of his face. His eyelashes flutter for a minute before he ducks down. 

“ hi'tzchh-! hid'tzshhiew-! ‘dTZSh-iewh!” he gives a few experimental sniffles before lowering his hand and locking eyes with Yuuji. He’s all pink from the cold. “Bless you!” he calls, still dangling. All the blood going to his head makes it feel weird, though, so he rights himself. Even though the extra heat was meant for his boyfriend, it's made him feel all soft and lazy, too. He gestures for Megumi to join him, and frowns over his shoulder when he doesn’t. 

“I already told you, I’m sick.” It's a little sharp, like he’s all annoyed. Yuuji just shrugs and pats the couch more enthusiastically. 

Unstoppable force vs. Immovable object, or whatever. When Megumi doesn’t do anything but glare at him and look kind of miserable, Yuuji sighs. “I won’t get sick, Megs. Pinky promise!” Even though that's not actually the sort of thing you can promise, Megumi eventually links their pinkies together and sags into the couch next to him. 

Yuuji leans over, steals his customary ‘welcome back’ kiss. Megumi shifts closer, a little suddenly, parts his lips, invites Yuuji in. Snakes his cold hands under Yuuji’s shirt. It's a little weird for somebody who was just trying to skulk around him, but Yuuji doesn’t mind at all. Until Megumi stops dead. 

It’s a whiplash feeling to Yuuji, who was just starting to lose himself in it all. “You okay?” he asks, pulling back a little.

Megumi clears his throat. “Yeah. Just, um.” His ears are all red. “Sorry, that was a lot.” Aww, poor thing. Maybe, instead of irritating him, the comments of concerned coworkers did something else to his boyfriend’s psyche. 

“I don't mind.” Yuuji pushes back his bangs to give his forehead a quick peck. “You’re so pretty when you’re like this, I can't help myself either.” He watches the adam's apple of Megumi’s throat bob once, twice, before he clears his throat again. 

“Did you cook dinner yet?” He avoids Yuuji’s eyes as he says it, like he's flustered about something, even though Yuuji hasn’t said anything out of the ordinary. It’s good that he’s got an appetite, so he’ll let it slide, dragging Megumi to the kitchen instead of answering. 

Once they’re both sitting at the table, Yuuji takes the chance to get a good look at him. He’s rubbing his sleeve against the bottom of his nose, making a click-click sound as moisture shifts. His other hand is wrapped around the side of a mug of tea, clinging to its warmth. Even though he’s been inside for a little while, his face is still tinted pink and irritated. His eyes are a little red, too, like he's been crying or something. When he’s caught staring, he offers up a sheepish grin. Megumi opens his mouth, probably to tell him off, but then his breath gets all shaky and he gives up before any sound comes out, moving back into his sleeve. 

“ hih-  hi'Tzchh-! hiD'zshhi-! hI'zsHhi!  hih -  hiD-” he’s stuck in limbo for a few seconds, gazing hazily at the ceiling with his breath trembling, until it finally catches. Yuuji can’t help but wince in sympathy as he flinches forward with a “ hiD'TZCHhiewh-!” that’s unusually harsh for him. Megumi rubs at his throat as he recovers, nodding in thanks when Yuuji presses tissues into his hand. 

Once he's okay again, Yuuji leans across the table to kiss his nose, because it's all cute like that, and he really can't resist, especially when Megumi’s face is all scrunched up after. “Bless you lots, babe!” his face takes on a different type of irritation. “Your sneezes are so cute.” Megumi’s brow furrows even deeper. He curls into himself a little bit, like he feels exposed

“Are you doing this on purpose?” he mumbles, glaring in a way that 's usually kind of intimidating but is just cute now. When Yuuji tilts his head, kind of confused, Megumi huffs a whistly breath through his nose and gestures vaguely to himself. Then, to his pants, when Yuuji still doesn’t get it, flush traveling down to his neck and the tips of his ears. That makes it all click. 

Megumi’s hard. He’s horny. Yuuji can't help the laughter that bubbles up, rushing to reassure at the same time. “No, no! It's-” he cracks up again at his boyfriend's face. “It’s cute! Ow-!” There, Megumi smacks him across the head. He stands up to put a mostly empty plate in the sink. By the time Yuuji manages to get a hold of himself, he’s halfway to the bedroom, and Yuuji has to scramble to meet him before he’s kicked on the couch for the night. 

“I’m sorry!” He pleads, still wiping tears from his eyes. “It's really cute, I promise. Let me take care of you?” 

Megumi just kind of stares for a minute, observing, like there's some way he could be lying.. If it were somebody else, it might've stung a bit, but Megumi’s just that kind of guy, and he seems extra sensitive today. Yuuji nestles up to him, kisses the wrinkles between his brows, and considers it a win when he's not shoved away. 

“Yeah.” Megumi sighs eventually. Yuuji grins and dares to kiss him on the lips, now. “I’ll meet you after I clean up dinner.” 

Megumi meets him in the bedroom, flustered. 

It's so cute, the fact that he gets so bothered by this sort of thing. Yuuji, overwhelmingly, wants to take care of him. It's a familiar feeling. Yuuji meets him on the bed, encouraging him to scooch back a bit so he can face him, almost in his lap. He kisses him, nibbles on his lip, until Megumi has to pull away to breathe through his mouth. This close, he can feel the heat of his breath. He’s probably a little embarrassed. When Megumi initiates the next kiss, pulling him forwards, hands in his hair, it's a little bit of a shock. Yuuji can take a hint, so he starts making out with Megumi. He responds eagerly- snakes his tongue into Yuuji’s mouth, runs it along even rows of teeth. As soon as Megumi pulls back to breathe, he’s back with more need. Megumi’s lips taste like vanilla chapstick. His mouth tastes like menthol. When Yuuji starts moving his hands, tracing the muscles of his neck, every part of him feels wrought with tension. Yuuji’s a little nervous to take off his sweatshirt, since he’d looked so cold earlier, but Megumi strips it off as soon as Yuuji’s hands dip below the worn collar. 

Yuuji runs his hand along Megumi’s back as their lips meet again. He finds ridges of scar tissue and traces them, savors the way Megumi shudders. When his hands find his hips, tracing the outline of arching bones, Megumi makes a raspy sound low in his throat. 

“You’re so cute.” Yuuji murmurs, nuzzling his head into Megumi’s. He stops kissing him because Megumi can’t breathe when he does, and he feels a little bad leaving him without air. He moves his attention to his lower lip, softly biting at chapped skin. Megumi responds in turn, sucking at his lips. Everything Yuuji does is turned back on him ten-fold. When he moves his lips to Megumi’s jaw, his hand grabs more fiercely at his hair, legs wrapping around Yuuji’s waist. His own body is starting to overheat, warmed by Megumi’s flush skin. When Yuuji moves down to his nipples, licking at goosebumped skin. Megumi divides his attention then, dropping one hand from his hair to rest above Yuuji’s, where it's been lazily tracing the waistband of his sweatpants, and starts urging it lower. Yuuji starts to trace the outline of his dick,  tented through his pants. He squeezes, and Megumi responds by bucking his hips. 

Yuuji stops tasting the cedarwood of Megumi's soap for a moment, looking up to meet his eyes. They’re even closer now, Yuuji’s knee close enough to create a gentle pressure against his bulge.  There’s desperation etched in every one of his features, in more ways than one. His nose is pink with irritation, eyes a little unfocused. Yuuji kisses his lip again, dipping a hand to Megumi’s warm skin under his sweatpants, and Megumi's hands clench in his hair. When he gasps, it's not just pleasure, and Yuuji watches the way his features crumble as he tries feebly to squirm away from Yuuji. 

“ hiD'czhh-! ‘tzshh-iewh-! hiDt'zSHhiew-!” Yuuji feels mist spray his arm as Megumi’s half-bent away, because there aren’t many places to go and Megumi’s no good at holding it off when he sneezes. His muscles clench and shudder with each hazy breath. “hD’tCZHh-yu!” Megumi sniffles before he turns back fully, but Yuuji still sees the way his upper lip shines with moisture. 

“Bless you, baby.” Yuuji murmurs into his neck, smiling when Megumi whines beneath him. “You did good. So pretty.” 

While sneezing doesn’t do anything in particular for Yuuji, seeing the effect it has on his boyfriend does. Megumi’s even more urgent, encouraging Yuuji’s hand to his dick. He’s all needy, pushing himself closer to Yuuji even though they’re only a hairsbreadth apart. 

Yuuji goes back to tracing his lips down Megumi’s front, kissing each rib, each blemish. He lowers himself down, never breaking contact, until he’s on the hardwood floor, knees pressed down like prayer. He wants to worship Megumi. He kisses down his stomach, tasting cedarwood and sweat and heat. 

His hands busy themselves with Megumi’s pants, and with nothing to do, Megumi’s other hand finds Yuuji’s back, rubbing the hard muscles he finds. When his sweatpants lay in a discarded heap somewhere near the bed, he tilts his head back, and Megumi crushes his lips against his. Between kisses, when Megumi catches his breath, Yuuji studies his face. “So pretty.” He repeats. Megumi’s pretty all the time, but the rawness of being sick and soft around Yuuji unlocks a new side of it. “Can I suck you off?”

Megumi nods, clears his throat. “Yeah,” he says, and it scrapes against his throat like sandpaper. Yuuji smiles, kisses him again for as long as Megumi can manage, and spreads Megumi’s legs apart. Right before he’s about to take him in his mouth, his breath catches, doing that hitchy buildup until the itch crescendos. He has an easier time turning away now, and Yuuji can’t see anything but the strain of his muscles. 

“ i'ndt-iewh! ‘ndt- ndt’szhiew-! hiDt'chh-!” They’re about as restrained as Megumi can manage. His hand stops their massage, leaving Yuuji’s back to create a flimsy cover between them. Yuuji takes a hand of his own, reaching until he can cradle his face in his palm, and tilts until he can see him again. On the one he loves, watching the hitching of his breath and the silent battle in his face, Yuuji understands the attraction. 

“I want to see.” He says, reaching to kiss him again. “You’re so pretty, Megumi. Let me see you sneeze?” He runs his thumb along his face until he finds the side of his nose, pressing gently until Megumi gasps, desperate and whiny. He’s enchanted, watching as Megumi dissolves, guided by Yuuji’s hand. 

“hiD'cZSHh-! ‘tDZShhi-! i’tTCHhih-!” he sprays down his front, hand clenching in Yuuji’s hair. The final sneeze, uncharacteristically harsh, jerks him forward, and he accidentally tugs at the strands, but Yuuji won’t tell him. Instead, he praises. “Bless you. You did so good.” he lowers himself back down, pressing another kiss to Megumi’s inner thigh. “You’re so pretty, Megumi.” 

His dick is hard and leaking with pre-cum. Yuuji takes one hand to the base, tracing up and down as he licks at it. When he wets his lips against it, releasing quickly, Megumi makes a keening noise. His hands tighten, nails digging into his scalp as he takes it tongue to his dick again. 

He’s oversensitive- pent up. Every time his mouth touches his dick he mewls, becoming tenser and tenser. When Yuuji finally takes him in his mouth, he moans, raspily and deeply. It’s really sexy- Yuuji’s got that warm, wanting feeling in his nerves, a too-tight feeling in his boxers. As Yuuji starts to blow him, his hands rub against Megumi’s inner thigh. Megumi keens as he works his dick, skin dotted with goosebumps. Megumi whines for more, more until they’re moving at a dizzying pace, and then he throws his head back. He sounds so good, so needy. Just listening to him might get Yuuji off. 

“Yuuji-!” is all the warning he gets before Megumi clenches, breath whiny. 

“ ‘cZSHh-! d'shH-yu! hiD'cZSHh-!” His dick bounces, hitting the top of Yuuji’s throat with each sneeze. Yuuji takes him out of his mouth, glistening with spit, and kisses where his hands just were. “Did that feel good?” he asks, and doesn’t wait for an answer before taking Megumi back into his mouth. He hears his whine, and that's response enough. 

         He works Megumi's dick with his tongue, feeling the tension rise and rise, listening to Megumi, until he warns him, voice strained and whiny, that—“Yuuji, I'm gonna cum-!” 

        Yuuji takes him out of his mouth, purring as Megumi orgasms, warm and tense and so beautiful. Every noise is strained, and his voice breaks when he comes down, resting against the soft blanket with one final, worn noise. Yuuji gives his thigh one final kiss, squeezing his hand to it as he clambers back onto the bed to meet Megumi again. The kiss is shorter than it was before, because Megumi's catching his breath, and can't do that with Yuuji's mouth on his. He doesn’t mind, choosing instead to watch his boyfriend. He looks tired, but happy, gaze soft as the tension melts from his body. 

     He can tell he's ready for a shower, not very comfortable with being sticky and clammy with sweat. The way he watches Yuuji as he stands, staring through his eyelashes with lips swollen and parted, makes Yuujis own dick twitch. When he comes back to himself, he's frowning a little bit. “I'm sick. You probably shouldn't have kissed me.” Yuuji kisses him again, just to make a point. 

      “I never get sick.” He says, chest puffed out. When Megumi pulls himself onto his elbows, Yuuji goes to help him, guiding him up into a standing position. “Don't worry about that anyways. You need a shower.” And Yuuji needs to jerk himself off, but he'll keep that part to himself. 

      Now that he's standing, Megumi looks really tired out. He leans on Yuuji a little as they shuffle into the bathroom. Yuuji’s happy to take care of himself in there, warm and lazy from the steam, especially if it loosens up all the congestion in his nose and lets him kiss him for longer. 

     He knows, when they’re clean and back in the bedroom, Megumi will fall asleep with his hair still wet and breath against Yuuji's neck, probably snoring a little bit. Yuuji will grab his phone from the nightstand, tell Gojo that Megumi's down for the count, and turn off the morning alarms on his phone. 

Yuuji knows, as he observes Megumi's silhouette through the shower curtain, starting to nod off under the hot water. He knows he needs to snap a picture of Megumi's sleeping form to Kugisaki later, because he knows she'll get a little worried when she finds out he's sick, even if she'll deny it, and will appreciate the excuse to get angry at how lovey-dovey he is. He'll probably captain it with something sickly-sweet, like “look at my honey bear ( ≧∀≦)ノ” just to make her even more mad. 

They repeat this cycle every time the season shifts into deep winter, and Yuuji's gone through it enough times to know. In Yuuji's opinion, that's what makes it all so dear.

[wtftaylr]

hello benny new vegas, prepare to be Dressed Up

i love @effielovesapples body hc for Benny, it's been living in my mind rent free since i saw it SJDJH -- and much like benny new vegas i like taking things that arent mine, /j (sorry if u dont wanna be tagged!!)

[blightedcrow]

going through the rookanis tag with my very male dude man rook and very not straight lucanis is like going through a landmine of bias and it'll never not be funny to me AGSHDK

[popppyfur]

they make me ill

[deep-space-netwerk]

Alright question for everyone because I know we all have a science to the Bathroom Choice.

Say you're at work or a restaurant or a bar or something and you need to use the bathroom, specifically a toilet (not a urinal). The bathroom is clean but well trafficked, and has three standard stalls and one accessible stall all next to each other. The first standard stall is closest to the door, and the accessible stall furthest away. When you go into the bathroom, it's empty.

[casscainmainly]

Hello, do you have a reading guide (or just some recs) for Onyx? She seems really fun but I only ever seen her in batgirl and under the red hood (no worries if you don't have any though, have a good day!)

Hi!!! Onyx hasn't appeared very much and I've only read some of her appearances, but you can check her out in Birds of Prey (2023)!! She's in issues 14-17 (though I'll be honest she doesn't do much 😭). She is also in the War Games storyline - that storyline is not great (as I'm sure you know), but there are a lot of Onyx moments in there. Also, she's introduced in Detective Comics #546, and appears sporadically throughout until #567!

For a complete look at her pre-Flashpoint comics, you can check out DCU Guide's chronology list! It has post-Flashpoint too but seems to be missing the BoP issues so I'm not sure if it's up to date.

Happy reading anon, I hope you have a wonderful day as well 💕.

[f0urxy]

How Leafy not stealing Dream Island affects the BFDI timeline a lot // TPOT 15 SPOILERS

Spoilers Spoilers

Spoilers below

Welcome or Welcome back, my fellow peoples!

Alright! lets get to it. As we have seen in TPOT 15, Leafy being let into Dream Island by Firey had caused a lot of damage; Heres how much I THINK would happen.

Possibly no BFDIA. Im pretty sure it wouldn’t have started in the first place if Leafy wasnt being chased after she stole Dream Island, because they still wanted to battle for something and nobody ended up getting Dream Island.

^ I dont know if IDFB would happen though. Probs not

Donuts Diary would never have been stolen and the challenge wouldn’t be a court case. Since Firey no longer has a reason to steal Dream Island because he wasn’t angry about never getting the prize.

^ This also means that they would never had met Purple Face because they had to go to Yellow Face’s warehouse to find a way to break open the jail for Four, As for trespassing in a court room he was sent to cardboard jail. That means no co-co-host and Announcer wouldn’t have been there because theres no need to fight for the BFDI.

That adds on, BFB wouldn’t have existed. They fought for a BFDI at the start, and if Leafy got let in everyone would just be living on Dream Island and there’d be no need to battle for the BFDI :/

That also means TPOT wouldn’t have existed because Two wouldn’t have seen contestants battling at that time so we’d probably be watching like, the alien guys battling. Two needed to have seen everyone battling for Fours show, so if they never did then that means TPOT would’ve been weird.

Thats all, I GUESSS… Sorry for the rambling and incoherent points and everything 💔

ANYWAY… i hope you enjoyed this blog post, ill see you next time! f0urxy signing OUT!!!

[lizardverbiage]

JLA x TMNT 2003

"One pizza for you... and three pizzas for yours truly," Flash announced, setting down the feast in front of the Justice League's latest impromptu guest.

"Let me guess, your speed comes with an equally fast metabolism... which means the sheer amount of calories you need to eat to compensate is likely astronomical," mused said guest while opening up his personal pizza.

Something about the situation felt like it was the setup of a corny joke: the fastest man alive and a turtle eat pizza together. Well, not just any turtle. A talking, upright, apparently ninja turtle named Donatello who'd fallen out of a portal smack-dab onto the middle of the JL conference table.

That's one way to make an impression. Flash would have said "literally", except the table was made of some sturdy stuff. So was Donatello, as he'd gathered his bearings quick enough to go on the defensive when faced with the World's Finest. Not that a bo staff would have done much.

Luckily, the Justice League is, unlike the news likes to claim, capable of deescalating situations. Go figure.

All that to say: a teenage mutant ninja turtle was currently eating lunch on the Watchtower while the science geniuses of the JL put their heads together to figure out how to send him home. Well, that, and the moral quandary of whether making an interdimensional portal device was going to lead them down dark roads. Donatello didn't need to know that, though. Flash would really prefer he focus on the pizza.

Donatello, or "Donnie" as he insisted, pulled off a slice of classic pepperoni and inspected it before taking what looked like a very calculated series of bites.

Flash, on the other hand, was already starting on his second pizza. He was trying to keep a steady pace in order to be polite. "Is pizza different in your dimension?" he asked with his mouth full.

Donnie finished chewing and brought his hand to his chin. "No, it's just about the same. I'm not sure whether I'm disappointed or satisfied that pizza is such a constant."

"If pizza is a constant, I'm definitely satisfied," Flash commented, opening the third box.

Donnie chuckled before his shoulders tensed slightly and he started fiddling with the edges of his pizza box as he looked forlornly at Flash's stack. Should Flash have gotten more pizza for Donnie? He couldn't imagine what else could make someone look so sad at three boxes of pizza.

"Are you sure I can't help them out with the portal device? I know I might not look it, but I do know my way around machinery and the space-time continuum," said Donnie, his voice a little plaintive. Oh. Right.

Flash rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I definitely believe you on the machines and the continuums, but... sorry, Donnie. It's not that they don't trust your skills, it's just that—" Ooh, abort, abort, that makes it sound like—

"They just don't trust me," stated Donnie flatly. Flash could only offer him a matter-of-fact shrug. As paranoid as Batman could be, he was also often frustratedly right.

Donnie put his head in his hands. "It's just so maddening to not know the progress of things. Or if they have a prototype, or what metrics they're measuring... I'd take a brief impersonal update every hour or so, even if it was just 'we're still working on it'!"

"Hey, what's the rush?" asked Flash, ignoring the irony. "You're in a whole other dimension on a satellite in space. I'm sure there's a bunch of sciencey stuff you could do that doesn't involve portals."

Donnie just groaned. "You're right, you're right... but I just can't focus on anything else. I need to get home as soon as possible, I mean, for all I know there's actually some sort of major time dilation situation going on and who knows how much time has passed at home for my brothers—!"

Sensing that Donnie was now spiraling more than brainstorming, Flash zipped over to Donnie's side and patted his shell. Flash had read once that turtles could actually feel through their shells, which was pretty neat. He'd thought about getting a turtle as a pet before, but maybe that wasn't the best thing to think about now.

"Hey, if your brothers are anything like you, I'm sure they're doing alright. I mean, you faced down Superman with a stick! Not that you knew who he was, but still. They might be worried, but it seems like you guys are a tough bunch," Flash consoled.

"First of all, not a stick. Second of all, they might be tough, but I've seen what happens when I disappear with no warning. I'd really rather not tempt fate." Donnie gritted out, his voice tight with emotion.

"Oh," Flash replied, then stalled. Of course, since even pauses went by lightning-quick, he continued with, "Like, they get into trouble?"

"Nevermind. I mean, yes. They get into trouble," Donnie said. He was staring at his leftover pizza slices, but Flash got the sense he was seeing something else. Suddenly he strengthened his posture and he clenched his fists, looking Flash straight in the eye.

"Everything fell apart. For reasons that will take too long to explain, I ended up in an alternate timeline. There I saw that without me, the world ended, and my brothers were hurt, separated, and ultimately, killed. And that's why I absolutely need to be there, working on that portal to get me home as fast as possible."

Now Flash felt like he was looking at an uncanny funhouse mirror. Except you could definitely take out the "fun" and replace it with existential dread he tried not to think about. He flopped back into his seat and picked at his own last slice of pizza.

"So... We've dealt with other dimensions before," said Flash's mouth, seemingly on its own. "I guess you could also call it an alternate timeline. They came here, since they'd actually figured out the whole dimension travel thing."

Donnie didn't ask follow-up questions. He was just looking at him. Flash, who had never been good at stopping, kept going. "They were alternate versions of us. Well, the Justice League founders, that is. All except one. And they'd completely lost their way. They were like super-powered dictators and were absolutely convinced they were in the right. All because... All because of me. Because the me there died."

Flash's leg was bouncing fast enough that the table didn't even visibly shake from it.

"So then I couldn't stop thinking about it. How I had to be extra careful because if something happened to me, then apparently that was it for the Justice League's moral compass. The whole world is changed. It kind of drove me crazy."

Flash forced himself to let go of his tension and slouched back against his seat.

"But I had responsibilities I couldn't slack off on, you know? And I had to tell myself that those other guys were just a what-if. Who knows what else drove them there? The point of the Justice League was for us heroes to be able to help each other help the world. It can't just be me that's holding it together, that doesn't make sense. So sometimes I guess at night it still drives me a little crazy, but I gotta move forward."

Flash remembered that there was still someone on the other side of the conversation. "Uh, I don't know if that made sense. But I'm sure you and your family work together, too, and it's not just on your shoulders."

Donnie smiled ruefully at him. "That does make sense. You've definitely given me something to think about. Especially the odds that I'd run into someone with such a similar experience. That was a pretty cohesive overview of the situation," he commented.

Flash shrugged. "When you think fast, you've got a lot of time to think," he admitted. "I'll try to convince the others to at least get you an update, though. You finish up that pizza!"

With that, Flash zipped away. He barely caught the tail-end of Donnie's grateful "thank you" as he put the nervous energy from that talk into something useful. Hopefully Batman & Co. had decided on something and Donnie was bound for home soon.

[incorrect-mighty-nein]

Jester: Guys are so lucky they have boners to tell them when they’re horny because girls are just like “am I horny, or am I hungry, or am I bored, I don’t know, I don’t have a dick”

Molly: that’s definitely an interesting take, but sometimes we get boners for no reason, and it’s something like “What is it boy, did you see something?”

Beau: you two are officially my new favorite people

[3416]

mitch.. watching the camera.... ok

[kindalikerackham]

I had one private thought in my head, one thought, since I'm still newish to 911, and very new to watching the interviews, and that private thought was: "ehhhh, idk that Ryan and Oliver are really, you know, like that"

and the lightning bolt from on high came and struck the tags with the buzzfeed teaser. Christ ALIVE never MIND I retract all previous statements of doubt holy SHIT

[tvntheatre]

⚔️@ballcrusher74 ♦ Fencer & Faux

🧸@shynighter Sinny

🍓@il0vecatsuwu Michael

Hey guys I drew your sillies.

Expect me to do something like this again, or repost, because I'm not done with you Fauxerz.

[thecaptainofcosmichorrors]

Change of plans!

You mortals know quite well that I said that I would be all but delighted to write my truest fascination, Sampo, but that will take longer than expected—time is but a foe when allowed to be. For this oversight, I will gift you hcs related to either: Shadow milk, Pure vanilla or Black sapphire cookie.

If you decide to speak up, I might hear out your words; also, I am appreciative of the ones that are started following this delightful journey—you could say it warms my cosmic hearts :)

[hey-heigo]

Chapter 22

im back from hiatus. makoto time

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

still no byakuya pov so we get to hang out with his divorced boyfriend

you might notice some events are out of order compared to the og timeline. this is within my plan...

@digitaldollsworld :]

Content warning tags: implied physical violence, blunt force injuries, more concussions

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“I did warn you.”

Makoto casts a rueful look upwards, looking through his bangs as one hand rubs at the tender lump on the back of his head. Thankfully, it wasn’t too swollen, and he didn’t feel much lingering dizziness, but it’d definitely be hurting for a while. In front of him, Kyoko stares down over her crossed arms, totally unconcerned, if not for the way her fingers were tightened on her elbows, and the slight pinching around her eyes.

“I was being careful,” He mutters back, though even to himself he sounds whiney and petulant. Like a kid that got caught in the act. He looks back down at the floor between his scuffed sneakers, and shifts slightly. It wasn’t exactly comfortable crouching here, leaning against the tiled wall of the boy’s bathroom. “I knew what I was getting into.”

“You didn’t. You charged in here without a care in the world.” She replies bluntly, and he winces a little at that.

“I was just trying to help-”

“I’m well aware.”

He recoils again, feeling the miserable, sinking feeling in his gut threatening to swallow him up. He did what he had to during the trial, despite knowing full well that Byakuya would hate him for it - but this time around, he really fucked up.

He drops his head between his knees, miserable between the throbbing pain and his own guilt. Above him, he hears Kyoko sigh, and then she’s lowering to a crouch in front of him, so that they were eye-level. “What’s done is done.” She still seems displeased, but not angry. “Lift your head. I’m going to check that you’re not concussed.”

“...You know how to do that?” But he lifts his face anyway. And jumps a little, as she places a hand below his jaw, tilting his face upwards. “U-um...”

“Okay, your pupils look fine. And the reaction to light seems normal.” She turns him a little to the left, then the right, her own eyes pale and striking. He can feel a flustered kind of warmth crawling up his cheeks from his neck. “How’s your vision? Blurry? Sensitive?”

“N-no? Um, I can see fine-”

“Any trouble focusing on anything? Pain?”

“No, I-”

“Follow my finger.” She releases his face, and holds up one finger, moving it slowly closer to his nose.

He pushes it away, now thoroughly embarrassed. “I’m fine,” He insists, turning away. He knew pretty well how unnerving Kyoko’s gaze could be, but right now they felt like sun lamps, burning a hole in him. “I- can I just tell you what happened in there?”

That seems to get her attention. She drops her hand, and shuffles closer.

“I’m listening.” She says, voice soft and serious. And he coughs, clears his throat, and begins-

—

He had come up to the second floor with the intention of going to the third, if only to wander around a bit to take his mind off things, but had wanted to stop by the library first, with the vaguest idea of trying to pick out a book to give to Byakuya as a sort of peace offering.

But as he came up into the hallway, and looked at the wall where Chihiro had been pinned - the body gone, the bloodstains cleaned, and even the holes in the drywall patched and expertly plastered over - he felt a deep, bone-chilling feeling in his chest, and couldn’t bring himself to walk past it. He turned around, and then noticed the slight sound coming from the boy’s bathroom as he passed, and remembered what Kyoko had been up to before yesterday’s trial.

It had bothered him then, and even more so now, as he recalled it. Kyoko’s alibi was flimsy, but she’d executed it expertly. Even the person she claimed as her witness, Toko, hadn’t said anything to support it, but by the time Toko was giving her testimony, no one was paying attention to Kyoko anymore anyways. It was like she’d planned it all, and if it hadn’t come out at the very end who the true culprit was…

He frowned, and shook off the unease. Whether he could trust Kyoko for now wasn’t something he could determine from yesterday alone, because it was clear she was doing things on a different level from the rest of them. Even compared to the real Ultimate students, she always seemed to be a step ahead, calculating beyond measure. In the end, the only thing he could do was be grateful that she was on their side.

He stepped into the bathroom. It’s the same as yesterday, old, dusty, the light buzzing with a lemon-yellow glow. He passed the empty stalls to the last one on the end, its door hanging ajar -

A pale figure shot out just as he was about to push the door open wider, and slammed a leather-clad palm against his mouth before he could cry out. He panicked for a moment, one hand grabbing the fingers pressed into his cheeks, the other shoving at the mysterious assailant’s shoulder, before he suddenly recognizes who it is.

“Kh-yo-goh-?!” He managed, voice muffled. Kyoko, with clumps of dust clinging to her sleeves and what looked like a cobweb flying off her hair, glared back at him.

“Let go of my hand,” She gritted out, and he realized he was still squeezing the fingers around his face, and let go quickly, raising his hands in surrender. She released him in turn, cradling her hand gingerly to her chest as she did. There was something wrong with the way her fingers were curled, the way her face paled slightly when she tried to clench it into a fist.

“U-um, are you o-”

“Fine.” She did not sound fine. Her voice was strained. Her posture was as steady as ever, but her eyes kept darting. “What are you doing here?”

“I…” he hesitated. “I was just. Looking around?”

She stopped casting uneasy glances to level him with a stare, eyes narrowed slightly, and even he knows how pathetic that must sound. “I-I’m being serious! And- and anyways, what are you doing here?”

“Investigating.” She said it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and in hindsight, he really could have just guessed.

“I thought you said you were going up to the third floor?”

The corners of her mouth turn downwards. “I said that to throw off anyone who might have been listening in. Including the mastermind.”

“...Oh.”

She looked away from him, and he stood there, unsure, feeling both stupid and, somehow, frustrated. It wasn’t as if he was trying to look for her. And he only ended up coming into the boy’s bathroom on a whim.

The stall behind her is empty. There’s not even a toilet, just an odd collection of cleaning supplies. Totally innocuous at first glance, but he frowned, and squinted. It was hard to tell with the light, but everything in the stall was just as dusty as the rest of the place, except for a perfect rectangle of tiles against the far wall.

“What’s in here?” He asked, and her attention snapped back to him.

“Nothing.”

“You said that really fast…”

Her brows furrowed slightly, a scowl if he ever saw one, though the corner of her mouth twitches slightly. “...Have you ever been told you’re too observant for your own good?”

He smiled sheepishly at that. “Um. Not to my face?”

Kyoko was quiet for a moment, apparently pondering whether or not to tell him, before she sighed, and leaned in, one hand resting on his shoulder to pull him close. “Not now, but later.” Her hurried whisper tickled against his ear, and the fine hairs on the back of his neck, and he inadvertently shuddered. “When I’m not around, and it’s safe to do so. Press against the tiles against that back wall. Don’t spend too much time there, or you’ll draw suspicion.”

And then she left. Suddenly and with barely a sound, leaving him stupefied, standing in the middle of the bathroom, rubbing at his ear. He had the feeling that he had just been trusted with something very important, but he had no idea what, and no idea why.

He should have left as well. And followed her advice later, much later, when the tension had passed and the mastermind was suitably distracted; but the curiosity had been too strong. He was antsy and pent-up, and desperate for some answers.

The room behind the stall wall was a dusty, foreboding place, cobwebs and cracked gray cement and exposed ventilation pipes. Fluorescent lights hum from the ceiling and cast a pale, eerie white glow. A shelf leaning against the far wall, a chipped-up desk and stool in the middle of the room. The shelf was crammed full, files and papers and books - yearbooks, he realizes - and crumpled-up pages litter the floor.

A file room? He stepped in hesitantly. Why such a place would be hidden behind a boys’ bathroom, he didn’t know, but as he approached the desk he found the files that Kyoko had just been looking at. Some things about the school’s founding, a blueprint of the building - and a yearbook, with a scrap of paper sticking out from between the pages.

It must have been a misprint, because the embossed date on the book’s spine made it out that this was meant to be published for this year. His school year. His school year that hasn’t happened yet, because of a killing game.

It was the only explanation he could think of, but he couldn’t help the sense of foreboding prickling up his back as he reached for it, hesitating briefly as he reached for the cover. It flips open to the page just before the freshman class portraits, where the piece of paper that had been sticking out like a flag.

YOU MUST NOT LEAVE.

The words were printed neat and bold, in stark black. Makoto frowned, and picked it up, turning it in his hand as if it was some optical illusion, promising to reveal some deeper meaning. And there must be some deeper meaning, because he couldn’t shake the strange, uncomfortable feeling that he knew exactly why this wording was used. ‘You must not leave’, not ‘you can’t leave’.

It makes it sound like we have a choice, he thought, before-

—-

As he finishes, he reaches up to touch the back of his head again, feeling out the tender bump. The pain was still there, just manageable, but insistent. It felt like all the energy in his body was being drained out of that spot, leaving behind a bone-deep, achey tiredness.

Kyoko is still across from him, chin tucked into her hand as she thinks. And then she sighs, and stands up, stretching slowly. He waits, expecting her to get angry, or something, but she doesn’t even seem too disappointed. Or maybe she was just good at hiding it.

“Come on,” She motions for him to stand, and he does, feeling his knees creak. “We should go to the nurse’s office.”

“Huh? No, I’m fine-”

“We don’t know that for sure. And I’m not enough of a medical expert to clear you of a concussion.” She glances to their side, where the door to the hidden room was, perfectly blended in with the rest of the wall. “That door is locked now. I can’t get in.”

“What, seriously?!” He tries it himself, stepping past her to push against the tile. But there’s no budge, not even the slightest movement to suggest that a door existed there in the first place. “But the files-”

“Whoever it was that knocked you out was likely the mastermind. They wouldn’t have let that room stay open after they found out that we knew about it.” Kyoko shakes her head. “It’s unfortunate, but there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

He winces at that. “But you hadn’t finished looking through them…”

“No, I didn’t. But I doubt that we’d be able to access those files whether or not we could get back through that door,” She pauses, and glances back at him. “But again. There’s nothing we can do about it now.”

She turns to leave. And he grimaces again, still kicking himself for his own stupidity. But he follows her anyways, dogging beside her with feet that feel as heavy as lead.

The nurse’s office is clean when they get there, the waste bin empty, the curtains pushed back. Even the bed is made, and Makoto can’t help the pang in his chest as he remembers seeing Taka there, curled up and silent, unwilling to say anything to anyone. Kyoko is already rummaging through the drawers, and she passes a white bottle to him.

“For the headache.” She says simply. “You can grab an ice pack from the fridge here, too.” And turns to leave.

“Wait, what about you?” He blurts out, before he can think twice about it.

She raises an eyebrow. “What about me?”

He hesitates, but he can’t take the words back now. “Your hand. Your left hand, I mean - it’s hurting, right?”

And as he could have predicted, she freezes, then sighs, a sound that’s half-annoyed, half-amused. “Again. Too observant,” She flexes her hand in front of him, as if to prove him wrong. “It’s fine. It won’t hinder me.”

Now it was his turn to scrutinize her. There are no tells on her face, no outward sign that she was lying at all, but Makoto remembers how she favored her right hand when typing on Alter Ego’s keyboard, and how shaken she had been after he had grabbed her left hand earlier. He knows what he saw, and that seemed to be the one thing he was good at here.

“...I won’t ask you what happened. But you shouldn’t try and pretend like it’s fine if it’s not, or it could make it worse.” He casts a quick look around the nurse’s office. “There’s probably those, uh, those finger splints thingies – like the kind that athletes use – somewhere around here…or we could ask Sakura, maybe? She probably knows about these kinds of things.”

“...It’s fine, Makoto. I don’t need it.”

“You don’t-” He stares at her, incredulous. The strange contrast between her concern for his potential concussion, and yet her own self-neglect was baffling, but he finds it hardly surprising. “...Okay, can you let me see the damage then?”

“No.” She replies instantly, in a voice so flat that it didn’t leave any room for deliberation. And suddenly, he’s worried that she’ll leave again, and makes an aborted attempt to grab for her arm - and hesitates, before pinching onto her sleeve instead.

“Why?” He feels frustrated, the same frustration he felt that night Sayaka died; when Byakuya confronted him about his blindness. “Why hide it? Why…why do you want to deal with this all by yourself?” He can’t help the edge of desperation that’s creeping into his voice. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we could all work with each other?”

Kyoko’s eyes narrow slightly, like she’s the one who doesn’t understand him. “Makoto…don’t be ridiculous.” She shakes him off. “I doubt anyone here has the capabilities to help me.”

“You don’t know that! We’re all students of Hope’s Peak, so- so I’m sure they can all help somehow.” Granted, now that he’s met his fellow freshman class, he’s learned that they were all human, and sometimes, painfully so. But even despite that, they were all still extraordinary when compared to him. “What, is this about- about pride, or something?”

She huffs, a sound that’s almost a snort. “Of course not. Don’t confuse me with-” She pauses for a moment, hesitating. “...No, it’s nothing to do with pride. It’s about my own safety. Surely you can understand that much?”

He winces a little at that. He does understand, unfortunately; several times now, he’s seen some of the most well-meaning, seemingly harmless people of their group become violent and desperate, and resort to the worst possible means. But even so, he can’t give up. “But, if it’s just the ten of us left-”

“Enough, Makoto. Listen.” She turns to face him fully now, giving him her full attention. “We are in a place with no clear exits or entrances. We have been given explicit instruction to kill each other, but not pointlessly injure. And yet, one of us has been disabled, seemingly for no reason, which means that there is nothing here that we can take for granted. Not even our own bodies.” Her injured hand clenches again, though it shakes slightly at her side. “Maintaining distance is the safest option for me. I would suggest you do the same.”

Every word she says is true. He knows this, and he hates it, in much the same way that he hated how Byakuya had spoken so callously about Sayaka after the first trial. What he hates more though, is how hard it is to refute any of it…and how he knows that she was only saying it with good intentions. Out of concern.

She turns to leave the nurse’s office, and this time he lets her go. 

“For what it’s worth, I still trust you.”

The words are out of his mouth before he can even reconsider it. But she stops with one foot past the threshold.

For a moment, it seems that she is about to turn around and say something, but instead, she rounds the corner, and disappears from sight.

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