#anyway that's a problem for tomorrow's me

[14thgalerie]

what happens in Vegas, doesn't stay in Vegas... ?

• pairing: clark kent x fem!reader

• now playing: my one and only love by john coltrane & johnny hartman, i fall in love too easily by chet baker, and i know why (and so do you) by red garland

• word count: 5.3k

• genre: fluff, angst, suggestive but not really

— hello! wow it’s been months since I wrote anything. of all characters, I’m surprised that clark kent would be the one to take me out of my writing slump, not that I’m complaining. this is unedited so forgive me. before anyone asks, yes, there will be a part 2 because this is too short. maybe up to 4 parts if I follow my outline. but anyway, I hope u enjoy this thing! also this was kind of inspired by this one fic I read, maybe years ago, that I can barely remember.

The Las Vegas air was drier than you expected, even in the night. Not suffocating, but still sharp, clinging to the back of your throat with every breath. All around you, neon lights blinked in no real pattern, just bright enough to remind you how far from home you were. The city buzzed in a rhythm that felt completely unfamiliar.

Clark had been mostly quiet today, save for when he became quite aggravated when Lois and Jimmy were bickering about Superman’s involvement in Boravia. The two were convinced that the hero acted a bit impulsively, not considering the geopolitical ramifications of involving himself in the war. While the bespectacled man insists that the actions that Superman took were justified, given that Boravia’s invasion of Jarhanpur was simply not right. The three exchanged arguments on the ethics and legality of the issue; meanwhile, your thoughts were far away. 

Initially, you were only supposed to be on Sports duty this week. However, Lois, ever so passionate, dragged you into a joint piece on LuthorCorp operating its shady businesses in one of the casinos here. The flight to Vegas was only about three hours, but Lois insisted on leaving the same evening for reasons unknown to you. Now, here you are, three days into the assignment, in the middle of the lively and loud city, feeling overwhelmed and tired after running around for three days. All that was left to do was polish your draft before you could finally collapse in the soft sheets of your hotel bed. 

Lois had left with Jimmy about four hours ago, vanishing into the blur of neon lights, pulsing music, and the glittering lure of slot machines. They had begged you and Clark should come along, but you smiled and said you were too tired to keep up with them and waved them off. You pushed for Clark to join, too, but he asserted that he didn’t want to leave you alone tonight. 

Now the two of you were in your hotel, claiming your own corners with your laptops, screens aglow with soft white light.

“Remind me to hide the next time Lois wants to rope everyone into another one of her exhausting exposés,” you groaned, stretching your arms above your head. You sank into your chair, shoulders heavy, after shutting down your laptop. 

Clark chuckled under his breath, low and warm. “I don’t think there’s a place on Earth far enough, honestly.” 

You let out a small laugh, too, knowing that it’s completely true. Lois trusted only a handful of people for stories like this, and unfortunately, you are a part of that small statistic.

His phone buzzed, which made you glance over to him. “Should we check on Lois and Jimmy? I’m afraid they might be drinking and gambling away their savings by now.” You stood to refill your cup of coffee. “They should get some sleep so they won’t be too tired before leaving tomorrow.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” he says with a crooked smile, flipping his phone around to show a message from Lois. The text was barely comprehensible with more typos than actual words, but the gist comes through: flight’s cancelled. Which means one thing: an extra day all to yourselves. 

You took a long sip from your cup. “I should be surprised that Lois managed to send that in her state, but if anything, this just gives them reason to get blacked out drunk. So…. not surprised.”

Clark let out a laugh. “So, um…” He leaned back on his chair, trying to play it cool. “I know this bar downtown. A little quieter than the usual scene, if you’re up for it?” Clark would’ve sworn he was perfectly calm if you asked, but his hands told a different story. They were shaking just enough that he had to fold his arms across his chest in what he probably thought was a casual manner. Not that that was what you noticed anyway, your eyes shifting so quickly to the way his biceps bulged beneath his folded-up, white sleeves.

You tilted your head and gave an apologetic smile, “Hmm, I want to. But the bed is calling to me.” 

For a brief moment there, you could have sworn that disappointment tugged at his features, but before you could take back your response, a loud ping from your phone caught your attention. Before opening it, you already knew what it was from. So, you excused yourself from Clark and went outside to the balcony.

“Hey, Mom,” you call her instead of replying to her messages.

“Wow! You’re still alive!” The sharp and sarcastic voice of your mom rang through. “I was starting to think you forgot all about us already.”

“You’re being too dramatic, Mom. It’s not like I’m on a vacation here,” you sigh, resting your forehead in your hand, elbow propped against the cold metal of the railing. “I’ve been busy with the story we’re coveri-”

“Gosh, you’re always too busy. Surely, you could spare a few seconds to answer my messages. Did I not tell you about your Aunt Linda, who wanted to work so badly? Now look at her state, living alone with no child to take care of her.” She always brings up the poor woman, who frankly didn’t even seem all that bothered to be living alone. The last time that you saw her, she was leaving to have a tour around Europe for 3 months. That certainly didn’t look like someone who was pitiful.

You love your mom. Really. But sometimes, she can be so exhausting to talk to with her way of letting her thoughts spill out unchecked. On a good day, when your energy is full, you have the patience to gently rein her in and have a proper conversation. But she seems to have an otherworldly sense to call when your energy and emotional reserves are at their lowest.

“I called, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, after ignoring the many messages I sent you.” Well… she’s right, but you won’t admit that. “What has gotten you so busy? Surely your colleagues could handle things without you for a moment or two.”

“Just… work, Mom. I was at a press conference the whole day, and I had to turn off my phone. Sorry.”

“Gosh, Mari’s daughter is an architect, and she even got featured on that Architectural Digest magazine. Did you see that, by the way? Anyways, she’s doing all that and she still has the time to check up on her dear mother.”

“I’ll look it up later when I get the chance.” 

“And most of all, she got engaged. Those high-school sweethearts are just too adorable; the whole family is excited.”

There it is.

You say nothing. Partly because there’s nothing you could say now to stop her from saying whatever it is she has in mind, and partly because you’ve heard it all already before.

“Not that I’m pressuring you, darling,” she adds, in the least convincing tone possible for your mother.

“Right.”

“I’m just saying. A lot of your friends are getting married and having children of their own already. Surely, if you have a husband or a wife, even, that would bring some fun to your life instead of working yourself to death.” 

“Mom, I’m not unhappy. I love what I’m doing.” You close your eyes for a second and take a deep breath. It’s frustrating that despite a thousand conversations about this, your mom still wouldn’t get it.

“I never said you were. I’m just wondering when you will stop covering and chasing after exciting stories and start living one! There are so many things out there to spend your time with, darling. But you waste your free time too with your work. Your whole life revolves around being a journalist.”

“So many things being: getting married and building a family?” you childishly remarked, knowing that in some ways she’s right, but you just really hate how she goes about pushing her point across. “I am living an exciting story, Mom. It’s just not the one you envisioned for me at my age.”

“That’s only one of them, don’t get technical with me, young lady.” She tsk’ed at you. “You never listen to me. Why do I bother? Anyways, did your busy schedule at least let you eat something?”

“I had a burger and some fries for lunch.”

“You’re going to have heart disease with how much fried and instant food you eat.”

You pull your phone away from your ear to check the time. It’s getting late, and Clark must be waiting or something. “I've got to go, Mom. It’s late and I need to sleep.”

“Fine, make sure you’re actually getting sleep and not working till 3 in the morning.”

“Yes, Mom. Goodnight, and I promise I’ll call you tomorrow, and when we leave for our flight. Our original one got delayed, so I’ll be staying one more day.”

“Well, enjoy your last day, at least. Good night, too, darling.” 

You hang up and, with no care and grace, let your head drop forward until it meets the cold metal railing with a dull thunk. The call was as exhausting as you expected. The sudden gust of wind bites at your exposed skin, letting it ground you for a moment, when a hand suddenly touches your back. It was gentle but unexpected, which made you jolt upright, your heart racing.

“Whoa, hey,” Clark’s voice came from behind you. “It’s just me.”

You turn to find him standing so close you could feel his warm breath. His brows were drawn with concern, hand still half-raised as if he was afraid you might flinch again. “Are you okay? Bad news?”

You shook your head, “No. Just… dumb mother-daughter stuff.” Running a hand through your hair as you try to ignore the fact that he was too close for your poor heart.

He gave you a look. “Well, I’m neither a mom nor a daughter, but I’m here if you want to talk about it,” he offers. 

“Actually, can I take you up for that drink at that bar?” You looked up at him, hoping he hadn't taken back his offer earlier. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to sleep after today. I’m too…tense.”  

“Yeah!” He grins, those dimples you secretly adore making an appearance. Your heart softens at his enthusiastic voice, even after having a heavier workload than you do today. “You wanna change first, or do you wanna go straight ahead?”

“You stink. You should change.” You press your pointer finger across the opening of your nose. 

He lets out a breathy laugh, “You’re one to talk, lady,” to which you admittedly laughed at too, feeling icky at the way your blouse stuck to your back earlier from sweat.

“Whatever. Give me fifteen to freshen up a bit, and we can meet back up in the lobby.”

A short walk later, the two of you stepped into a bar tucked between a shuttered wedding chapel and a pawn shop with flickering signage. The inside, however, was another world. It was the kind of place you could hide away into. Soft warm lights casting faint light across stone walls, candlelit mismatched tables, slow jazz from a baby jazz in the middle of the room bleeding through a haze of cigarette smoke that didn’t seem to bother anyone. While you normally abhorred the smell, you find that it doesn’t bother you much right now. 

Clark led the way in, greeting the bartender like he’d been here before. Maybe he had, you would have to ask when you sit down.

You slid into a booth, your arm brushing his as you did so. He placed down your drinks— an old-fashioned for him and a cocktail you didn’t quite catch the name of for you. The only thing that mattered was that it was strong enough that it almost felt like blades on the back of your throat, but sweet enough for you to properly enjoy it. It must be the lack of food in you, but it hit fast.

“You weren’t lying when you said you know a good spot,” you murmured, swaying your half-finished glass, watching the spherical ice swirl before looking up to meet his gaze.

Clark leaned back against the booth, glasses slightly askew as if he’d been tugging at them in thought. 

“Glad you like it. I went to college with a friend from our club who took me here one spring. The bartender from earlier is his brother and also the owner of this place,” he said, pointing back at the bar with his thumb. 

“So you’re saying I’m drinking for free tonight?” You raised your brows, impressed.

Clark smiled, sipping from his glass. “That depends on how charming you are to Milo when he comes by later.”

“Milo?” you echoed, a scrunch in your forehead, glancing at the 6’4 bulky guy moving around the bar. “He doesn’t look like a Milo.”

“What does that even mean?” He laughs.

You shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know. I imagine someone who was a theatre kid and wears glasses and is kind of lanky.”

“Well, that was him back in college. He was in the theatre club with us, too,” he replies. “Jerry, my friend, said that the guy got his heart broken and decided to spend his time off the stage, lifting weights.”

“Are you for real? Is he still performing?”

“I don’t think so. I haven’t spoken with the two much lately.” 

“Here I thought you found this cool place on your own,” you say teasingly.

“I don’t think it’s going to be that easy to find a place like this in between a chapel and a pawn shop,” he replied.

You nodded, your gaze drifting back to your drink before you took a swig. “Yeah, Vegas doesn’t exactly specialise in quiet. But quiet is exactly what I need right now." 

Clark watched you for a moment with those soft, blue eyes before saying, in a more serious tone, “That’s what I figured.”

The two of you edged on opening up for a few more glasses, but by the fourth round, your shoulders had dropped, and the thrum in your chest had dulled into a relaxed state. You weren’t sure if it was the music or the drinks that loosened your tongue.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admitted. “With... anything. Life, work. My mom thinks I'm failing at everything; otherwise, she wouldn't be so overbearing, just because I’m not married or planning baby showers or I don’t know... making casseroles to bring to her every Sunday.”

You sighed, eyes fixed on the sad wedge of blood orange in your drink.

“I used to think I’d be someone by now. Like the version of me I pictured at sixteen would be proud of. But all I see in the mirror is someone who is at a stagnant point in her career, unable or maybe not even qualified to have that growth. 

You exhaled, bitter and tired. “And then I look at you. Hell, I was at the Daily Planet before you, and already Superman has chosen for exclusive interviews.”

You point out, before adding quickly. “Not that I’m jealous or feel like you don’t deserve it because you do! You’re a great journalist, and I can see why you have those exclusives. But still…  it just messes with your head.”

“I can ignore it sometimes, but then my mom calls to ask how I’m doing, and then somehow everything comes crashing down. And it’s not like she means to make me feel bad. I know she genuinely worries for me too, and it might be just my head saying this, but… there’s still that unspoken question in her voice — Is that it?”

He didn’t say anything. Letting the silence rest softly between you. You almost regret opening your mouth, knowing he must find you ridiculous. But before you could excuse yourself, his voice filled the air, low and steady.

Clark’s fingers tapped his glass, thoughtful, “I get it.”

“My folks used to say I was meant for something big, that I had to stand out, lead, and make a difference. And I did that in the way I understood it, which is how I ended up as a journalist. When you grow up hearing that, it starts to feel like no matter where you are in life, it’s never enough. Like if you’re not constantly doing something to do good, you’re letting everyone down.”

You blinked, his words slicing through your heart. There was weight in his voice, but no resentment. 

“I’m not saying it’s the same,’ he flusteringly added, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I know how heavy it can feel. Like you owe everyone some incredible version of yourself. And if you’re not living up to it, you’re failing. However, like you said, maybe it’s just something inside of us pushing this idea.”

Your fingers were loose around your glass now, the heat in your throat no longer from the alcohol as the words settled in your chest. 

“Did you talk to your parents about it?” you ask, curiosity filling you since you remember that his relationship with them seems more like a fulfilling and loving one from their phone calls.

“Oh,” he said, after a pause, clearing his throat. “They’re great. Still, it took me a while to really open up. I think they always knew, though.” 

You looked at him closely. His expression was unreadable, like he was holding something back. But the softness in his eyes told you it wasn’t anything to be worried about.

“I’d love to meet them someday,” you said instead

He smiled, “They’d like you.”

You sip the last drop of your drink before saying in a resigned tone. “I hate that it still gets to  me.”

“That means you care,” he said. “But caring doesn’t mean you owe anyone, even your mom, a version of yourself that doesn’t exist. A you who exists solely to satisfy somebody.”

That silence returned, but it felt a bit warmer. Like a blanket draping over you instead of a thousand-pound weight. Being in a city buzzing with slot machines and bad decisions, it felt right sitting in this private corner with Clark, with the rhythm of jazz and soft murmurs filling the space between you.

You push your empty glass to the middle of the table, the melting ice clinking at the sudden move. “Okay,” you said, sitting straighter. “I am officially done with my downward spiral episode for tonight. We should go somewhere else!”

Clark smiled at your sudden burst of energy. “Are you drunk enough for karaoke, maybe?”

You made a face. “I don’t need to be drunk for that. But I think I need something more fun.”

“How about we go somewhere else? We could ask Milo for suggestions.” His eyes held a glint of mischief, which excited you.

“Ok, let’s be free from expectations and have a Vegas cliche rest of the night!” You laughed loud enough that a couple of heads turned your way, not that you noticed.

“...Okay,” he said, standing up before you could overthink your idea. He stretched his arm towards you to offer his hand. “Let’s go make bad decisions.”

To which you gladly took it before stepping out into the neon-soaked streets with his hand curled around yours.

The first thing you noticed the next morning was the dryness in your throat; it felt like it had been wrung out and left to dry in the desert. The taste in your mouth was weird as you tried to swallow, but even your mouth had run dry. A dull, nagging pain resounded in your head. Despite the harsh conditions when you woke up, you just lay still, trying to find the will to push yourself up and quell your thirst.

The second thing you noticed when you finally did open your eyes was that the room felt slightly different. 

With a slow survey of the room, you find that the interior is exactly the same as the hotel you’ve been staying at. But the faint trace of aftershave in the air and a crisp, clean, and earthy fragrance clinging to the sheets you were curled under was definitely not yours. With half-closed lids, you reached for the shirt closest to you. It looked like yours. The shirt was wrinkly and smelled like alcohol, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. A trail of the rest of your clothes was strewn about from the doorway to the bed, tossed off in a hurry you couldn’t remember.

You sat up slowly with a groan, gripping the heavy quilt to your chest as the cool air hit your bare skin. Your heart stumbled once, then twice, as you looked below the sheet of fabric to find that you were naked as a newborn. You hurriedly put on the shirt you grabbed.

“Fuck. How much did I drink last night?” you muttered, running a hand over your face. You freeze when something cold grazes your cheek.

With dawning horror, you pulled your hand away from your face like it offended you.

There, on the fourth finger, sat a ring. Simple. Something you would choose for yourself. Gleaming with the light from the open curtains on the balcony.

It took a second for it to register in your mind, but when it did, your heart dropped hard and fast like gravity had yanked it straight down. “No, no, no….”

Your attention was caught by the shifting in the spot behind you, and you looked back in horror to see exactly who the stranger was that got you so plastered last night that you ended up with a ring on your hand. However, the voice that emanated from the clump of sheets stopped you cold.

“Morning,” came the sleepy, gravelly voice of Clark Kent. You’re fucking screwed. 

On any normal day, you would be swooning over his voice, but given the situation, it left you blank. Your heart has leapt from your feet and into your throat. Unable to find the voice to answer, you simply stare wide-eyed at the squirming body.

You try to recall the night before, but the events played like a tangled reel of tape. Clark laughed at the lounge bar as he looked down at you. The glint in his eye when you invited him to have a “Vegas cliche experience”. His large hand is drowning yours. The dry gush of wind as you left. A glowing pink sign of the chapel next door. The stupid, drunken smirk on that Elvis guy.

But then he moved, sitting up, and you saw… way more of Clark Kent than anyone in your office could ever imagine.

Clark stretches his arms over his face, muscles shifting beneath his skin. His hair was tousled from sleep, and the sight of his bare chest sent heat rushing throughout your body, especially with the way every curve and line of his arms stood out in the morning light. He turned to the side, making his back face you. It was something in the way his broad, sculpted back moved as he strained to grab his black-rimmed glasses on the nightstand. You haven’t even realised he wasn’t wearing them.

His gaze unabashedly travelled your body until he cut himself off, “Y/N? What-” as his eyes locked in on the ring on your finger. Looking up at you to see you staring at his hands, which lay on his lap, made his heart beat so loud. Hoping it was just another one of your rings, he hesitatingly looked at his own ring finger, only to find a similarly designed one.

“Oh,” he said softly. Then, after a beat, “Fucking shit.”

“Ditto.” You could barely get the words out. Your voice is suddenly too high, too thin. You turned to reach for the glass resting on the carafe, the soft clink of the glass on glass oddly loud in the stillness. Quickly pouring yourself a drink, the water was crisp and sent a clean chill down your throat every time you took big gulps.

Sitting back properly to face him, you see him still staring in the same spot your hand was at, like somehow staring any harder would help him make sense of what was happening. “Are we…?”

“Well, there’s no other explanation for why we’re both naked in bed with rings on our left hands.” You sarcastically spit out. “We’re married.”

He slowly nods, still in a state of disbelief. You watch him look around the room until both of your eyes lock on a folded sheet of paper near the lamp on the desk across the bed. He checks to see if he was decent before standing to grab it with shaking hands. Clark hands it over to you to and you open it quickly, to get it over with. 

A marriage license. 

Signed. Stamped. Dated with today’s date, at two o’clock in the morning.

Clark leaned in from beside you after hastily putting on a pair of pants and a shirt from his suitcase. The two of you stared at it like the printed words on the paper would change if you willed it enough. 

You could physically feel how the blood on your face drained. The shock came back to you at seeing it confirmed in the paper. You just woke up in Las Vegas with no memory of last night, in your coworker's room, someone you were definitely not crushing on for weeks now, with a ring on your finger. 

Opening the folder paper fully, a piece of hard paper falls out. You grab it to see that it’s a printed photo of the two of you. You were wearing a veil and holding a bouquet, with your arms slung around Clark’s neck as he carried you bridal style with wide grins on your faces. You looked happy.

“What the hell did we even drink last night to end up in this situation?” you ask Clark, still trying to wrap your head around how mind-bendingly drunk you must’ve been to marry someone you weren’t even dating— right after telling your mom that marriage wasn’t in the cards just yet.

“I… don’t know. I don’t even usually get this drunk. I can’t even remember a thing from last night. Fuck, I’m so sorry for this,” he rambled, running a hand through his dark hair and pacing slightly in front of the bed. You watched him for a moment before you pushed yourself to stand and made him sit down on the chair by the foot of the bed. You stared down at your…husband. It feels weird to say it in your head.

“What are you saying sorry for? We both willingly got drunk last night and decided to do this. Hell, I’m even more at fault because, for some reason, I wanted to get even more drunk when I was already tipsy,” you reassured him, trying to calm him down.

“Yeah, but I agreed!” he argues. “I should’ve known better, too.”

He finally looks up at you, and his face flushes in such a bright red before sharply looking away. Looking at where his eyes were before, you gasped and grabbed the quilts to cover your lower half. You hadn’t realised that you were only wearing your underwear and a shirt. Despite the fact that something obviously happened between the two of you last night, you weren’t exactly thinking rationally.

“Ok. First priority. Clothes. Do you, uh… need me to grab you something to wear from your room?” he asked as he looked outside through the glass door of the balcony. Hopefully, nobody could see you from other buildings. 

“Uh, probably not. Jimmy and Lois might see you. Just grab thrones on the floor for me, will you?” you asked. He chuckled and nodded, and made a quick move to grab each piece of clothing of yours and hand it to you while still trying to look as far away as possible. “Can I use your bathroom for a sec?” “Yeah! Go ahead, the hotel stuff is in the drawer if you need it.”

Quickly running towards the bathroom, you shut the door behind you, making sure to lock it before dropping your full weight on the edge of the tub. You were still in shock at what had apparently occurred in the last… you haven’t even been able to check the time.

You make quick work of doing your business and make sure to splash yourself with cold water to fully wake up and look presentable before you go to your room. 

You slipped out of the room to find Clark, cleaning the mess you left last night across the room. Clearing your throat to grab his attention, you go back to sit on the edge of his bed. The quiet between you was thick. Not cold. Just heavy. Like neither of you, with your big brains, knew what the next step was. He sat beside you, hands leaning on his knees, staring into nowhere like you were.

“I know we already said it, but I hope you know I mean it when I say I’m sorry,” he said. “I should’ve watched you more closely. I shouldn’t have let us drink that much, and now we’re…marrie,d and I know that’s not something you wanted.”

You sighed, knowing he would never accept the fact that he wasn’t at fault. “Ok. We were both at fault. I need you to understand that, too.” You grab his hand and pull it to your lap, your thumb gently grazing the skin on his palm.

At his continued silence, you added, “Clark. You didn’t hurt me on purpose. You didn’t take advantage of me. We were being stupid and drank more than we could. There was no malicious intent for either of us. Stop worrying about it.”

His eyes finally flicked to meet your assuring gaze, hesitant. “But still. You didn’t want this. Not like this.”

You were quiet for a beat.

“I guess I could at least have my mother off my back now that we’re married. So that’s a win.” You shrugged with a grin. “If I had to be married in Vegas to anyone by accident, I could’ve done a hell of a lot worse than Clark Kent.”

He cracked a smile at that, disbelieving. “You know, I was going to say the same thing about you.”

You laughed, “Oh, it’s not like I didn’t know.” You waved your hand like it was nothing.

He lightly pushes you on your arm, which makes you fall back against the pillows, laughing heartily. You pull him by the arm to lie back beside you. He grabbed your hand to interlace your fingers together and let them rest on the small space between you on the bed. The warmth of his skin is comforting in the haze of the morning. 

With a quiet sigh, you ask him, “What do we tell Jimmy and Lois?”

“I feel like no matter how much we prepare, they’re just going to freak out on us. Mainly because they weren’t at the wedding.” He replies. Chuckling at the thought.

You nod; those two have a flair for dramatics sometimes. 

“We should at least try to figure out if that license is legit before we leave for Metropolis, too.” 

The low rumble in your stomach made you look at the clock to see if you still had time to grab breakfast. “But before that, let’s go, I’m hungry.”

“Alright, just promise me no mimosas for now.”

masterlist

[infinitelymint]

another little snippet of what's now 8k of Violet feeling like proper shit and thinking a baby might fix it (spoiler alert, it won't)

He cups her cheek and she hates herself a little bit for turning into the touch, for savouring the warmth and the feel of his hand against her skin. It’s been so long since she was last touched with any kind of affection that wasn’t from her dragons. It’s a testament to just how long that she lets him of all people. She squeezes her eyes closed tightly, willing herself to keep the tears at bay.

She’s missed it so much, the feel of someone else’s hands on her body. The comfort of a simple, platonic touch. She has missed the connection, the intimacy, the knowledge that someone cares. Gods, she thinks again, what she wouldn’t give for a simple hug.

“Vi,” he breathes, and there he goes again with the ‘Vi’, breaking down her walls even further. He sounds heartbroken and she can’t quite grasp why. He doesn’t care about her, so why does he suddenly sound like he does?

“I don’t think I’m okay,” she confesses and there’s no amount of squeezing her eyes closed that will hold the tears back now, not when she's finally uttered the truth that she has known intimately for months and months out loud. She feels the tears fall down her cheeks, leaving wet, hot tracks in their wake, like a map of her sadness. It doesn’t take long for his thumb to come up to wipe them away.

“I know,” he says, and there’s none of that brute efficiency or cold detachment she'd come to know from him during the war. His tone is gentle. It’s nothing like she remembers him, nothing like the picture she has of him in her mind. She doesn't know how to reconcile this version of him with the one who's only ever shown her indifference or frustration before.

She thinks that maybe peace time allows some to break down, and others to take care of the pieces that are left in ways that war time never could.

[please-read-the-manga]

'Sasuke deserves to die in a ditch.' Actually, though?

Decided to make this its own post because truthfully I don't know the etiquette here, but someone posted something pretty laughably egregious in the 'Sasuke' tag (as far as character interpretations go) and I felt compelled to gather up some manga panels to try and figure out where they were coming from and if you could feasibly justify their take.

The initial assertion, from what I gather, is that Sasuke's supposed inaction towards Orochimaru's other prisoners/experiments is heinous and as a result has warped him into such an evil that even Itachi cannot/should not forgive him. I am summarizing, perhaps crudely, but the original post is not the most thought out concept lol. I did consider it, though... were we ever shown Sasuke participating or condoning Orochimaru's actions? Was Sasuke complicit and, if so, to what degree?

Now, I'll briefly caveat that I think it seems like the original post might have been more of a story request? Which, in that case, who am I really to judge what someone wants to write for their own fun/enjoyment? But taking it in good faith that that's all it is and the post wasn't actually bait (which I acknowledge I'm falling hook, line, and sinker for if it is lol), then that's still a pretty tall order for a story as it (imo) requires such a dramatic departure from the canon portrayals of multiple characters to make it work.

I mean, even the cognitive dissonance Itachi would have to employ in an act of ultimate hypocrisy to judge Sasuke's alleged inaction as any worse/less agreeable than his own active violence would be incredibly fascinating given he is the murderer of countless innocents, operated as a reliable agent in a terrorist organization for multiple years and faithfully did whatever it took to uphold the appearance of loyalty, and encouraged Sasuke to go to any length for enough power to defeat him/later be able to fend for himself post-assisted suicide.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's just check out some panels and reflect on what Sasuke was doing while he was under Orochimaru's control and see what we can extrapolate from there.

1.) We can start out easy with Sasuke's alleged interest/participation in Orochimaru's experiments to which we are blatantly shown that he actually has complete and utter disgust for Orochimaru's methods.

He is revolted by what Orochimaru does for his experiments, even (in the panels above) likening Orochimaru's cruelty to that of Itachi's, someone who (at this point in the story) Sasuke views as the ultimate evil.

The rest will be hosted under the cut because adding panels (and I apparently hit the limit of that) drags out the length of these posts to an absurd degree.

2.) Kishimoto makes a point of showing us that Sasuke has deliberately chosen not to kill or even give in to Orochimaru's cruelty during their time together, something Orochimaru even mocks him for.

Sasuke's sole goal at this point in the story is exclusively to kill Itachi so he can achieve justice for his family and bloodline. He even continues to reiterate this point post-Orochimaru's death (but pre-Itachi death/reveal of Konoha's atrocious betrayal of the Uchiha) to Team Hebi.

3.) Sasuke outright states that he was only able to kill Orochimaru while he was weakened. He is also well aware that Orochimaru wishes to possess his body (ie. genetics) and, given that he is prepared to face Orochimaru at this exact, pivotal moment when he is most weakened/Sasuke is most guaranteed victory (ie. Sasuke is not taken off guard at all), I think you can make the argument that he was keenly preparing to attack/kill Orochimaru as soon as he was able. If he didn't do so earlier, then perhaps it stands to reason he didn't believe he was capable of succeeding at any other point.

4.) Sasuke certainly has some degree of freedom and maneuverability that other captives of Orochimaru do not, but he is definitely not an equal to Orochimaru and that power dynamic between them is reiterated frequently. While he is sometimes referred to with respect, he is also referred to as a pet/experiment. A gilded cage is still a cage. The power dynamic of Orochimaru as the master and Sasuke as his captive/future vessel/object of desire is notably and routinely emphasized.

*Note Suigetsu's use of 'we' and 'us'. To me, this implies that Sasuke is viewed by other captives as 'one of them' and not someone operating alongside Orochimaru like, say, Kabuto and Karin. Also, I'm out of images, but there's a panel I had to delete for space which has Orochimaru referring to Team Taka + Sasuke as his 'superior lab rats' again emphasizing Sasuke's shared status.

5.) Speaking of Suigetsu (who we know was experimented upon), he appears to be quite familiar with Sasuke when Sasuke comes to free him. While we unfortunately don't get to see it, its obvious that a relationship of some degree has been formed between the two. Their familiarity with one another highlights that this is not the first time Suigetsu and Sasuke are meeting and from this we can (perhaps) infer that he and Sasuke bonded at an earlier point and, due to the lack of antagonism from Suigetsu towards Sasuke compared to his immediate dislike of Karin who he does state experimented on him, that Sasuke did not participate in his torture.

Keep in mind that, at this stage in the story, this is a hardened Sasuke who has fully embraced his role as the sole arbiter of justice that can do right by his family, but it's still Sasuke. This is still the same Sasuke who fed Naruto, violating Kakashi's rules, and risked never becoming a ninja. This is the same Sasuke who sacrificed his life for Naruto, who called Naruto and Sakura his precious people he wanted to protect, etc. This is the same Sasuke who a few chapters later goes out of his way to show great respect to the ninja cats and Nekobaa, thanking her for everything! Even if he may have been hardened, I'd argue we are almost always encouraged (as readers) to remember that Sasuke is fundamentally a good, kind child (like Naruto) that was horrifically tortured and manipulated by bad actors and the corrupt ninja system into embracing those more violent tendencies out of his deep love for others and a need for survival. Naruto, importantly, never lets this image of Sasuke fall from memory (even calling Sasuke out when Sasuke tries to fancy himself a villain) and, in my opinion, the reader would do well to remember who Sasuke really is as well.

And, in this vein, who is to say he never fed Suigetsu when Kabuto wasn't looking, igniting their bond? That he and Suigetsu didn't talk about their brothers? It's pure conjecture, but thoughts to consider that aren't the most braindead 'Sasuke is pure evil' nonsense you see out there lol.

*Also, 'I knew you'd show up' can imply so much. Did Suigetsu know of Sasuke's plans to overtake Orochimaru? Why was he so sure Sasuke would come rescue him? Much to consider there.

6.) Outside of Suigetsu, let's take a moment to look at how other prisoners/captives view Sasuke. We are directly shown that they, in some form or another, view him as one of them. Again, I interpret this to have emerged from an understood kinship that informs Sasuke's status as 'Orochimaru's next vessel' as not inherently divorced from the idea of him being just as much a captive/victim as them.

Sure, he is afforded some privileges as we've already mentioned (being at Orochimaru's side and not in a cell, for example) but this does not negate the fact Orochimaru always intended to use him, just as he used every other prisoner/captive under his watch. Also, as far as these privileges go, I find it interesting that it's also implied Sasuke was constantly (or at least a majority of the time) accompanied/monitored by Orochimaru and Kabuto given that his mere presence without Orochimaru/Kabuto breathing down his neck is notable enough that multiple people comment on it.

*Note the use of 'chaperone' here, it's an interesting word choice.

7.) Now, let's discuss the curse mark which is the sole reason why Sasuke is with Orochimaru to begin with.

Orochimaru deliberately coveted, targeted, and groomed Sasuke as far back as the Chunin Exam arc so that he could harvest his genetics. He forcibly placed a curse mark (again, read: CURSE, this was not some fun little power-up, it retains extremely negative drawbacks) on the body of a 12-year-old genin who was taking a state-sponsored meat grinder-style exam and found himself up against one of the Legendary Sannin, someone he couldn't possibly hope to defeat.

And we know that the curse mark Sasuke never asked for includes the following:

It debilitates him/constantly erodes his body.

It could have immediately killed him (multiple characters familiar with the curse marks are shocked he survived and continues to survive).

It amplifies and inflames his hatred (we see Orochimaru taunting him and inflaming his survivor's guilt while he is knocked out, ie. utilizing his horrific trauma against him).

And, ultimately, it is implied it would have eventually always required Sasuke to seek Orochimaru out to survive it.

Additionally Orochimaru is frequently shown targeting vulnerable children just like Sasuke and manipulating them for his own gain. This is standard practice for him and as far as extremely vulnerable children go, there are hardly any better examples than Sasuke. There was always an inherent power imbalance shown in the relationships between him and the children he is manipulating. He handles them in a way that is expressly individualized to exert ultimate control over the relationship and exploit their vulnerabilities/trauma tenfold.

8.) And, on top of the curse mark, Sasuke must contend with Itachi's conditioning of his psyche. At the ripe age of seven, Sasuke was actively encouraged by Itachi to give in to killing to try and strengthen his sharingan (ie. the infamous 'kill your best friend' directive). Importantly, Sasuke resisted this! Even though he had no reason not to follow the bloody path his brother laid for him, he refused to give into such cruelty. This is on top of the intense psychological torture and enormous weight that Sasuke had to bear in his quest for justice. Knowing you are the only survivor and no one else cares half as much as you do about avenging your annihilated family and culture is no small pressure to bear. To then actively choose to do it your way and stay true to yourself/values, is also commendable.

9.) I saved this one for later on as it's pretty well known among fans already and so directly refutes OP's concept of Sasuke holding no care for the other captives around him. But Sasuke goes on to free Orochimaru's prisoners as soon as he can. He straight up does not leave them hanging lol.

Side note: I love these panels, I wish a lot more had been done with them. It was around this time in the manga I really wish it had been renamed Sasuke, because everything going on here was x10 more interesting than anything happening with the Konoha crowd lol.

10.) Finally, as far as Sasuke goes, we have to acknowledge that Sasuke's ultimate goals always revolve around avenging the grave injustices done against those he loves/loved. Sasuke continually represents selfless love, he will sacrifice everything so his loved ones (his mother, father, brother, and clan) who have had all these wrongs done against them are given proper rest and justice.

He is deeply traumatized, he doesn't always fully know the entire story (as it's in the best interest of the bad actors around him -Itachi, Orochimaru, Obito- for him not to know everything/the entire truth), and he often struggles to express his thoughts/feelings in an adequate way that will afford him the help/answers he needs from others. So, Sasuke is not without his flaws/difficulties. But you'd have to be purposefully misinterpreting the text/his characterization to not see the good in him that Naruto, the main character, is loudly, constantly, directly shouting about at every chance he gets.

And let's end on the quick, again, laughable idea Itachi would ever 'put down' Sasuke. We have a couple of Itachi's to consider:

We have Itachi 0.0, a traumatized child who had far too much responsibility foisted upon him and who took Danzo's shit genocide deal that guaranteed ONLY Sasuke would be spared. At this stage (and again, we're talking a young, traumatized child soldier) Itachi would rather have his name besmirched for eternity and be the mass murderer to his own flesh and blood than ever put his baby brother in danger. The dilemma he was presented should also be coupled with the fact that Danzo is an incredibly manipulative, evil genocider who simply couldn't wait to mutilate some bodies/rob some graves for his own power/ambition while ruining countless lives (Itachi's included, and especially Sasuke's) as he knowingly shoved Itachi into a corner.

We have Itachi 1.0 that hoped traumatizing his brother and encouraging him to become as strong as possible (by any means possible) and avenge the clan/kill him so he could become this 'ultimate hero' to the village would lead his baby brother to theoretically (lifelong trauma notwithstanding) living a long, safe, productive life after he was gone.

We have Itachi 2.0 that wondered if Naruto might be able to help his (understandably) spiraling brother and was heartened when Naruto insisted he would never kill Sasuke and would always find another way - ie. reiterating the unconditional love Itachi has and always had for his baby brother. This, interestingly, resulted in Naruto being given Shisui's eye that would have forcibly brainwashed Sasuke into serving the state that sanctioned their clan's genocide, but let's ignore the horrible implications of that for a minute...........

And finally we have Itachi 3.0 who admits he was wrong to go about the early plans for Sasuke's life in the way that he did. He states, ultimately, he will love Sasuke no matter what. It's unconditional. He stops trying to forcibly alter his brother's lifepath and he states outright and blatantly that he will always love Sasuke, nothing will change that. His actions have always been influenced by his interpretation of love for Sasuke and that cannot be divorced (in good faith) from his character.

I'm being a bit facetious in some of these summarized points, but generally Itachi's stance on Sasuke's well-being never changes, he always loves Sasuke, only the way in which he offers guidance/expresses his love/thinks about what Sasuke's well-being looks like evolves throughout the story.

*Apologies, I have no idea why the font is so atrocious on these panels lol, but it says "And not matter what you do from here on out, know this... I will love you always."

Idk man, whoever is writing this story OP is asking for, is going to have a crazy uphill battle trying to convince readers that Itachi would ever give up on his brother (that he... directly encouraged this type of behavior in...) when Itachi exists to support and love his brother, when Itachi has always done everything for Sasuke. The debate about whether those actions were in any way good or healthy is wholly separate, but the text outright emphasizes that Sasuke has Itachi's entire, unconditional support and love no matter what. I know some people are allergic to the concept of unconditional love for some reason, but this is a crucial, critical, overwhelmingly highlighted point in the manga and these two specific characters' respective arcs that are known and cherished by many, many people lol, so, I don't know how you renege on that...

But I'd love to see a writer try, I guess. Why not? If you can keep both Sasuke and Itachi in-character and manga accurate, I'd be very interested in seeing a Itachi that not only abandons his beloved brother he has done everything for but also tries to kill him. I definitely wouldn't know how to go about making that convincing given all the direct evidence to the contrary presented in the manga.

Now, the stuff we don't know about Suigetsu and Sasuke's time together or spin-offs that maybe explore a Sasuke that continues on his trajectory to support and lead the people the shinobi world has abandoned? Like the kekkei genkai users (much like himself) who were abused by many in the shinobi world and further victimized by Orochimaru's vile ambitions? I'd, personally, be really interested in reading a faithful exploration of that. There is a lot to explore with Sasuke's time with Orochimaru, but I'd recommend reviewing the actual manga if you're after a realistic/authentic portrayal of these characters in your work.

[2isted-chocol8-art]

I read "the freedom" by @ultimatefeldsparring and surely it didn't awaken anything in me

Edit: Bad news :( @/ultimatefeldsparring's blog got nuked apparently, but you can still read the fic here

-> More Outer Wilds Art

[margindoodles2407]

hello my friends

so uh.

please pray for me cause i just came down with. like. some demon flu or something. it hit me out of absolutely nowhere. like i left the house feeling slightly nauseous and i chalked it up to my normal everyday morning nausea but. it was. not that

i threw up twice in the span of like an hour earlier today and came home around 1:30 pm and then spent like four hours drifting in and out of consciousness. i'm not nauseous anymore but my limbs are so weak i can't walk. which is a problem cause i do need to eat dinner y'know? and even though the kitchen is literally right down the stairs from my bedroom i just. i'm not sure if i can make it down and back up again without collapsing

also i *need* to drink fluids and knowing me that's going to be a battle so please also pray that i will remember to consistently do that. especially in the middle of the night.

thank you :)

[supernowa-art]

sleepless nights

[hakusins]

cw // tattoos, slight nudity

timeskip! whitney x eri (pc)

i need to make whitney a dad ;;w;;;

reference used for the art under the cut!

(unfortunately i've lost the source for the ref pic, so if anyone can be so kind as to link i'll add the link to the post!)

[septimusmoonlight]

You doing ok?

hi

[ajastu]

ive been replaying da2 right. and it made me think about why datv feels a bit different to the previous games in the franchise in regards to, like, how messy it gets (different but not in a bad way this is not a crit post)

This is also not like, a deep analysis tm or anything, im literally just writing this bcs i cant fall asleep but LONG STORY SHORT.

1. Your PC is not someone Important

2. Your involvement with the Politics Tm is not as extensive

In origins, you have to go around n convince people to help you fight the blight, while ALSO dealing with the whole Loghain situation. the warden is literally one of TWO people who can get the job done. kind of integral!

da2, of course, deals with the mess that is Kirkwall, with its rising tensions and inevitable tragedy, with Hawke becoming Important to the city, with all the bullshit that entails. (and also it unfolds over the course of, like, what, 10 years?)

Dai... youre literally made to be the head of a religious organization with a lot of power and influence. You aren't given a choice, u have to be the chosen one now.

Datv? Rook isnt really all that imporrant. They aren't even high up in the ranks of whatever faction you choose for them. They werent even supposed to be in charge in the first place.

They also dont have to convince most of their allies to help with fighting the gods (aside from the wardens, ofc), because everyone understands the stakes. Of course, you help them out and all that, but they are Already your allies, they would be fighting this battle anyway.

Rook isn't a chosen one. theyre not a champion, they're not the only person who can do the job. They just.. happened to land in the role of the leader. Solas connection is a bonus, as is the dagger, but again. Not exactly irreplaceable. (the treviso/minrathous choice comes to mind here. it took me two playthrus to understand Why exactly Rooks presence made a difference, because like... theyre just a Guy. what does it matter where they go? but it wasnt Rook who made the difference. it was the dagger)

So, the focus is less on politics and more on building a reliable team, a community. Theyre not choosing stuff like who will become the new archon, or who is supposed to be the first talon, or whatever else. That just simply isn't their role.

Theyre just here to try to kill two blighted gods and not die in the process, ideally.

Theyre not important. The team is. And they are an integral part of that, but again, not THE chosen one. Their role could be fulfilled by different people, which cant exactly be said about the warden, or Hawke, or inquisitor.

and idk, i think thats fun. very stressed-employee-trying-to-meet-deadlines kind of vibes. someone please make them go take a nap

edit: ok ive been informed u Can choose the next archon if u save minrathous but my point still stands. rooks involvement in stuff like this is Minimal compared to the previous three protags

[july-19th-club]

i have no mouth and i must scream speech but for about insomnia hate hate hate let me tell you how much i have come to hate being awake

[cassiskurocorner]

Try not to make Sebastian have heated eye contact with another man challenge (Impossible edition)

[ro-bee]

Oh wow... I think I might eat something rotten

I say as I was chewing on the vaguely green salami

[jihnari]

this is how i spent my week 🤡 (pure html/css mock of a character's phone notifications)

i added in the "notification settings" and "clear" buttons for accuracy, and then had the terrible thought "but what if the clear button cleared the notifications"

it does that now! i dont want to talk about how long it took to get it to do that. but. it does that now ✨

[every-sanji]

[mashmouths]

i try to find something to compliment for every customer i help bc it makes us both feel good. that being said. someone came into work today and it took everything in me to not reflexively tell her "omg love your pit hair btw" or like. try to somehow communicate that i also have gay pit hair. bc that would sound insane.

[kaisollisto]

hi 😳😳