#cannot handle it. does not get it. does not like it

[em1i2a3]

Soak Up The Sun

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and the team are on vacation in Mexico–Val’s treat for staying out of trouble–and Bob ends up getting a brutal sunburn after refusing to wear sunscreen.

Warnings: Just pure fluff here, Descriptions of Sunburns, Bob is in pain in this one (bros please wear SUNSCREEN) Bob and Reader are in an established relationship, Bob’s a bit sassy in this lol.

Author’s Note: In keeping up with the theme of being in scorching hot climates, I decided that this would be a great little blurb to do! I just found it to be a nice little thing to release and write as a little break from my Bob Floyd fic today. I loved writing this little thing and adored the little hint of sassy Bob I decided to throw in there cause the man does have some sass I think. I can’t wait to post my next thing tomorrow, I’m so excited for it! Cause on Friday we’ve got another crazy double update circuit and I cannot wait!

Word Count: 2,856

“Bob…” Your voice was low, a plea edged with exasperation as you leaned one hip against the dresser, sunscreen bottle in hand, “Please…You’re literally going to scorch. I forgot to reapply yesterday and I literally felt my skin cooking. I could’ve sworn I smelled burning flesh.”

From across the hotel room, Bob groaned like you were asking him to give up his freedom instead of just–god forbid–apply a thin layer of SPF. He was standing near the sliding door that led to the balcony, the golden morning sun caught the tousled edges of his damp light brown locks. His thin cover up–white linen, of course–hung open and loose over his chest, clinging slightly where his skin was still warm from the shower you both took. His swim trunks were a deep navy, already wrinkled from him sitting cross-legged on the bed earlier trying to fix the drawstrings so they were even.

His bare chest–pale in all it’s glory–was on full display, freckled and defenseless. And still, he had the audacity to shrug lazily and say “My skin is us–used to the sun. I’ll be fine Y/N.” You stared at him with wide eyes, absolutely aghast by what he had just said.

”Used to the sun?” You repeated, “Bob…My love…Light of my life…The only thing your skin is used to right now is fluorescent lighting and being covered by hoodies, long sleeved shirts, and sweaters year–round…This isn’t New York.” He scratched the back of his neck, his face turning a blush red from all the things you had just called him, clearly trying not to grin, and slowly you watched his eyes soften. It was the look he always gave to you when he wanted to entice you for a kiss–or for when he wanted to convince you to let him do what he wanted.

”Bob. Don’t give me that look. You’re really going to end up getting burned. Put the damn sunscreen on.” He raised his hands as if he was surrendering, but instead he took a step towards the hotel room door.

“Y/N…I’ll be fi–fine. I’m just going to be an hour or two…Maybe less.” You advanced a single step towards him,

“Robert.” You said sternly, which made his lips quirk up into a smile.

”Ou…Using my fu–full name now…We're getting serious hmm?” You squinted at him.

“You’re pushing it.” You warned, still following his movements. You kept your distance, calculating your angle. If you needed to tackle him, you’d need room for a solid launch. The carpet was thick, cushioned enough to minimize injury. Bob’s eyes flicked nervously to your stance, and you knew he saw it too–the calculation behind your silence. You saw his hand move to rest subtly on the doorknob behind him, fingers curling around it slowly.

“I will literally tackle you to the ground in the middle of the damn resort if you don’t protect your skin.” Your voice dropped into dangerous territory. Low. Even. With just enough heat to make his brow glisten.

Bob paused. His hand froze on the handle, knuckles paling.

“Va–Val won’t appreciate us getting into trouble here…” He started, slowly. “Remember sh–she booked this trip for the team so that we could unwind and relax… If we get shipped back to New York for–for stirring things up, Val isn’t going to be happy.”

You arched a brow, stalking closer.

“You know who she really won’t be happy with?” You asked, voice sharp as cracked ice. “You, if you come back looking like the color of Elmo, Bob.”

He groaned like your logic physically pained him. “I do–don’t burn! I tan.” You laughed, short and disbelieving, crossing your arms in front of you.

“Bob, I’ve only ever seen you in different shades of red. Crimson. Rose gold. That one time it was practically cherry Kool-Aid. I’ve never seen you tan. Ever.”

His hand finally gripped the doorknob. Turned it.

And then he had the audacity to smirk–smirk–with a crooked, sheepish sort of charm that softened the edges of his face and made your heart annoyingly ache just beneath your ribs.

“Th–That’s because you never fail to ma–make me blush…”

Your mouth opened, already halfway to a flustered retort–

But the door was already swinging.

“Sorry, I love you, I’ll se–see you in an hour!” he called out breathlessly, bolting into the hallway like a man running from the scene of a crime.

You stood there in stunned silence, sunscreen still clutched in your hand like a grenade with the pin pulled.

“BOB REYNOLDS–”

But it was too late, he was gone, and all you could hear was the hurried slap of bare feet on tile echoing down the corridor.

The door clicked shut gently behind him, like it didn’t just bear witness to your complete defeat, and you let out a dramatic groan, walking to the edge of the bed tossing down the sunscreen onto the thin comforter before dropping face-first into the mattress, climbing up to Bob’s side of the bed, smelling his aftershave–lemon, and mint–on the pillow that he had laid on the night before. You reached for your phone and opened the group chat.

You: If any of you bozos see Bob around please slather him in sunscreen, he’s going to come back looking like a piece of bacon if you don’t.

——————————

The hours had slipped by.

You were curled in the hammock strung up just outside the balcony doors, a paperback in one hand and a half-melted drink in the other. The sun above Mexico had climbed to its highest point, casting everything in that harsh, white-hot glare that made even the breeze feel like it passed through an oven first. Fortunately, you had stationed yourself smartly beneath the wide circle of your umbrella, skin protected, mind adrift in the haze of heat and fictional drama.

The quiet lull of your page-turning was broken by the snick of the hotel door unlocking.

You froze mid-sentence.

Then came the unmistakable shuffle of bare feet dragging across the carpet. Slow. Heavy. The rhythm of a man whose body had turned against him.

You glanced over your shoulder just as the glass door slid open again.

Bob stood there, blinking at the floor like it might shift under his feet. His white linen shirt was wrinkled and clinging in places, damp from sweat. His chest, his arms, even the tops of his cheeks—all a warm, flushed hue of pink that hadn’t been there when he’d left. His light brown curls stuck slightly to his forehead, limp from heat and water.

“See?” he murmured, voice low and sleepy. “I di–didn’t burn.”

You narrowed your eyes, slipping out of the hammock with a sigh and placing your book on the patio table. “You sound like you’re on the brink of heat stroke. Lay down on the bed. Let me get you some water.”

He shuffled past you like a man barely conscious, a wilted version of the smug idiot who’d bolted out this morning. You opened the mini fridge, pulled out one of the chilled water bottles, twisted the cap off–and turned just in time to catch the full, pathetic glory of Bob Reynolds trying to climb onto the bed like it was covered in spikes.

He was moving in slow motion–elbows bent weird, hips at a funny angle, legs dragging like they’d stopped cooperating.

You arched a brow, unimpressed. “You sure you’re not burned? Because you’re definitely doing the ‘I’m burned’ crawl onto that bed of ours.”

“No…” He breathed. His curls fell forward, sticking to his flushed forehead. “No, I’m fine. Just di–dizzy.”

You sighed through your nose as you crossed the room.

He flopped onto his back like it took everything in him, a soft huff of air escaping his lungs as he sank into the mattress. His arm flopped across his chest dramatically, and he looked up at you like a dying Victorian debutante.

You handed him the water wordlessly, and he chugged it in seconds, neck arched, throat working in big, frantic swallows. You watched with your hands on your hips.

“Yeah…” You muttered. “You’re either dehydrated or about to pass out from sun exposure.”

You reached out to touch his arm.

And jerked your hand back instantly.

“Jesus Christ, Bob…” You gasped. “You are burned! You’re boiling!”

He shook his head weakly, eyes fluttering closed as the empty water bottle rolled off his chest. “It’s no–not painful though.”

“Not yet!” You snapped, rubbing your fingertips against your shorts like the heat still clung to them. “Sunburns don’t always show up right away. It usually takes a bit of time. You goof…You’re probably going to blister.” Bob made a soft sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper, curling in slightly on himself. The movement clearly hurt him–his jaw clenched, and his whole body flinched with it.

“I… I th–thought I’d just get a little color,” He said, eyes still closed, lips dry and cracked.

You sighed and sat beside him, pressing a hand gently to his forehead. Still way too hot. He didn’t protest your touch now–just blinked up at you, cheeks bright and flushed with the early burn.

“You’re gonna regret this in about an hour,” You muttered.

He reached for your hand sluggishly, curling his fingers around yours. “I al–already do…Sorry I didn’t listen.” You brushed his sweat-damp locks back from his forehead with your free hand, heart squeezing despite yourself. You let out a breath somewhere between a huff and a sigh, brushing your thumb along the back of his hand.

“You’re lucky I remembered to bring aloe vera with me…”

Bob cracked a faint smile, eyes still closed, his voice hoarse and wobbly.

“Be–Because you knew I’d be stubborn?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. “Exactly.” You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, leaning in slightly so he could hear the dry amusement under your exasperation. “Did we learn our lesson, though?”

He nodded against the pillow, light brown curls shifting ever so slightly with the movement. “Al–Always listen to you…”

“Damn right,” You muttered, softening, leaning forward to press a kiss between his flushed brows.

Bob hissed–just a tiny intake of breath–but still smiled underneath it.

“It’s that,” you murmured, brushing your lips over the same spot again, “And always wear sunscreen.” He let out a breathy, tired laugh that made your heart squeeze again. He sounded like he was trying to keep it together through the sheer force of exhaustion and heat.

“Will you help me put so–some of that aloe on now?” He asked, voice low, tentative. “I actually am starting to fe–feel like I’m on fire…And I need to cool off.”

You gave him one more soft kiss between the eyebrows and stood, letting go of his hand.

“Hang tight. I’m gonna go dig it out.”

He made a noise that might’ve been agreement or pain–it was hard to tell at this point.

You padded over to your side of the room and crouched beside your open suitcase, rifling through the tangle of rolled-up swimsuits, cover-ups, soft cotton shorts, and travel-sized chaos. Your fingers finally closed around the cool plastic bottle of aloe, the gel inside sloshing as you pulled it out with a triumphant sigh.

“Got it.”

You turned to face him again, twisting the cap open with one hand and watching as he barely lifted his head from the pillow.

“You’re just burned on your front, right?”

“Ye–Yeah…” He murmured. “I fell asleep on my back.” You paused mid-step.

“…You fell asleep?” He winced, realizing his admission. “So you’re saying this could’ve been even worse?” You added.

Bob made the smallest, most pathetic groan. “Bu–But it’s not worse…” He insisted weakly. “So can you pl–please come here and rub that on my skin now?”

Your lips twitched.

“I should make you wait,” You muttered under your breath. “Just for the drama of it.”

He whimpered. A real one. A sad, miserable little whine that came from deep in his chest.

You sighed again, crossing the room slowly and lowering yourself onto the bed beside him. Bob shifted slowly, groaning as he maneuvered himself upright in the most awkward half-sit of all time. He moved like every inch of him was coated in regret. Still, he reached for you, mumbling something unintelligible as he crawled over and finally laid the full weight of his upper body across your lap.

The heat of him hit you instantly. Not metaphorical heat. Actual radiating body heat–like you were holding a radiator in your lap. The warmth soaked through your thighs, making your skin damp almost instantly, but still…His weight settled into you in that familiar, grounding way. The way it always did.

You exhaled softly, brushing your fingers over his hair again before reaching for the aloe bottle.

With a low pop, you squeezed a generous glob into your hand. The gel was thick and cool, a soft translucent green that shimmered faintly in the sunlight pouring through the window. It smelled faintly of eucalyptus and cucumber–fresh and sharp and oddly calming. A scent meant for soothing. Healing.

You rubbed your palms together to warm it slightly and whispered, “Alright, solar boy… brace yourself.”

You leaned forward and gently pressed your hands to his chest.

His body tensed beneath your touch–muscles flexing instinctively beneath the coolness–before he let out a long, shuddering sigh that sounded like the air had been punched out of him.

“God,” he breathed, “it feels like a piece of ice…Th–that’s so good.”

You smiled softly, brushing your thumbs over the line of his collarbones as you slowly worked the gel into the angry pink flush of his skin.

His eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling against his cheeks. His body, normally all controlled strength and subtle restraint, was loose now. Boneless. Almost fragile.

“Ha–have I told you that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my en–entire life,” he mumbled, voice drifting somewhere between delirium and sincerity, “and that I don’t deserve such a perfect person like you in my life?”

You snorted, amused despite yourself. “You technically tell me that every day without words.”

He hummed–a low, content sound from somewhere deep in his chest.

You grabbed another cool dollop of aloe and slowly slathered it along the tender skin of his stomach, careful not to press too hard. He flinched only slightly, but didn’t pull away–just let you touch him, soothe him, cool him.

“I love you so much…” He murmured, the words tumbling out like they’d been resting behind his teeth for hours. “And I’m glad that I have you.”

You looked down at him.

His eyes were still closed, face relaxed now. Less pained. His lips were parted slightly, pink and dry and still cracked from too much sun, too much pool water, too much stubborn Bob nonsense.

You bent down slowly, brushing your lips over his gently, careful not to hurt the delicate skin. He responded with the softest twitch of a smile, his hand reaching to weakly brush your thigh where it held his weight.

“I love you too,” You whispered. “And you’re the best thing that’s happened to me as well. Even if you don’t believe it.”

He let out a soft, almost bashful hum, the kind you’d only ever heard when it was just the two of you–quiet and slow and completely unguarded. His head dropped slightly against your stomach, and you felt him melt.

“You’re wa–warm by the way,” He grumbled sleepily.

“Because you turned me into a human heating pad.”

“Still nice…” He slurred, already fading.

You pressed one last kiss into his hairline, then shifted slightly so you could reach for more aloe without displacing him.

“Get some sleep,” You whispered, “You’ve got a long night of whining ahead of you.”

He didn’t answer.

But the weight of him against you was answer enough as he slowly got heavier and heavier against you as your hands continued to work in the aloe.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt behind the cut; got some more "draft stud" for y'all. No real reason, haha, just because I actually wrote a pretty decent chunk more of this than I ended up having space to post for the mystery slots last week and like, it SEEMS like so far this WIP is up a few of your ( crime ) alleys. Like juuuuust maybe, hahaha. So I took a lil' writing break and got it all Tumblr-able for all of your tire-thieving, crime-lording needs! ❤️ content notes/warnings: omegaverse, family-planning via attempting to recruit a crime lord who is legally your dead-brother-by-adoption to knock up your best (boy)friend, and Tim Drake's total lack of respect for both personal boundaries and Jason's impending migraine. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

���Jesus Christ,” Jason groans, burying his face in one hand. He doesn’t even bother asking when or where the little creep got ahold of any of his DNA to test that. Fucking–probably off the damn memorial, for all he knows. Or, well–admittedly "at a crime scene" is an equally likely option. “You know if I were legally alive, we’d be legally siblings, right? Technically we are legally siblings.” 

“I actually think it’s pretty common to ask siblings for favors like this?” Tim says. “Or cousins, maybe.” 

“Yeah, the actually related ones!” Jason says in exasperation. “Or at least the ones who aren’t trying to drop-kick each other into either early retirement or a life sentence in goddamn Blackgate!” 

“I mean I really don’t think we have that kind of relationship anyway, considering, but also I’m not the one who you would ideally be knocking up,” Tim says with a shrug. “Also full disclosure, I don’t actually think Blackgate could handle you so there’s not much point in trying to send you there. Maybe if I just needed a free weekend or something, I guess.” 

“Why did Batgirl turn you down on this, Dream Warrior?” Jason asks, half-eyeing him.

“I’m going to blame either David Cain or Lady Shiva for that,” Tim says. “Probably Shiva, considering we were effectively asking her to sire a pup and then not actually be their parent. I didn’t think there was a high chance of her saying yes, honestly, but she was both our immediate first picks so it seemed kinda . . . I dunno, disingenuous not to ask her?” 

“Yeah, obviously she would've been,” Jason snorts as he unwraps his sandwich to tear a bite off. It's goddamn delicious, which MM's always is, but he's still vaguely annoyed because it's goddamn Tim Drake who brought it. “So what pick in the stud draft am I, eleven? Twelve? Lucky number thirteen?” 

He cannot actually imagine how many people must've turned Tim down for him to be here, so–

“No, you're second,” Tim replies, shaking his head. Jason stares blankly at him past his mouthful of wafflewich. “If you say no, I’ll be calling Super-Man, and if he says no then–” 

“Superman?!” Jason sputters. 

“No, Super-Man,” Tim “corrects” like he somehow thinks he’s actually saying a different name. “Kong Kenan. How was that not self-evident?” 

“Because it sounds exactly the fucking same, that’s how!” Jason says in exasperation, though that does make more sense. Definitely more sense than Clark, anyway, because that was definitely a what the actual fuck EVEN moment. 

“It really doesn’t, but this is getting off-topic,” Tim says, then gestures meaningfully with a hand and asks, “Which is: what are your thoughts on sperm donation? 

“Sounds boring,” Jason replies frankly before taking a swig of coffee. 

“Oh, that was a metaphor, Kon said he’s fine either way but I’d really prefer you actually fuck him,” Tim clarifies with a much more meaningful gesture. 

Jason stares blankly at him again. Tim continues to look unfazed. 

“. . . is this a kink thing, Beyond Thunderdome?” Jason asks finally, for lack of any other reasonable explanation.

“This is a ‘I don’t want my omega to feel like a lab experiment for his first breeding heat because he’s worried about making me feel emasculated’ thing,” Tim says. 

“. . . yeah, fair enough,” Jason allows, taking another sip of his coffee. Still goddamn delicious; still Tim Drake-related annoying. “Jesus, though, you could’ve led with that. You know I’m a fucking beta, though, my chances of successfully knocking up your boy in one cycle are not that impressive.” 

“Well, that’s the useful thing about cycles,” Tim says with another little shrug. “They, you know, cycle.” 

“You want me to fuck your omega through probably multiple heats?” Jason asks, still more than a little incredulous about the idea. Again, he was not even aware that those two were dating. He was not even aware that Tim was into invulnerable and insatiable touch-based telekinetic omegas built like sexy industrial farm equipment with a very public history of “let me prove I’m good enough” issues, though actually when he thinks through that full sentence in his head it’s admittedly difficult to make an argument for why he would not be. 

Maybe if he was very, very gay or very, very asexual, Jason guesses. 

“Well, if it goes well this time, we’d probably ask you to do it again in a couple years anyway, so why not?” Tim says. “Kon wants to have more than one.” 

“Oh, so twice as many multiple-heat fucks?” Jason says. Jesus, this little freak of human nature. 

“Maybe three times, depending?” Tim says, tilting his head to one side with a considering expression. “Kon was designed to be hyper-fertile but given I have heard of exactly one Kryptonian ever that had a littermate it seems like Kryptonians might have a lower chance of conceiving litters than humans do, so we don’t really know how that might go yet.” 

Jason pauses for a long moment, because all general incredulity and disbelief aside, that sentence contained a red flag the size of a damn bedsheet. Several bedsheets sewn together, in fact. 

Maybe just an entire Bed Bath & Beyond’s worth of bedsheets, actually. 

“‘Designed to be’,” he repeats, and Tim’s expression briefly sours. 

“We’re not going to get into what Paul Westfield’s backup ‘make myself a custom Superman’ plan entailed,” he says. “Especially because he didn’t immediately scrap the thing when Kon came out sixteen and unpresented.” 

“Fucking hell,” Jason says. Well, that definitely explains Tim wanting to make sure Superboy doesn’t feel like a lab experiment while he’s getting bred.

“Mmmhm,” Tim says. 

Jason eyes him for a long moment as he takes another swallow of very good coffee, debating on how stupid this idea is and also if he wants to deal with Bruce’s opinion on him getting involved in it. A counterargument, admittedly, is Superboy’s very pretty smirk and ass you could bounce a giant penny off. 

Though . . . 

“Do you actually factually know if Kryptonians have a lower chance of conceiving litters, or is the prevalence of them having singles potentially just a birthing matrix thing?” he asks. “Because another solid reason I can think of to use one of those besides not risking the dam’s health or life and doing whatever weird ‘genetic optimization’ thing they had going on with 'em is Kryptonians being a lot more likely to conceive litters. Like big litters.” 

“. . . that is a question that I should have thought to investigate sooner,” Tim admits with a slight wince. 

“Y’think, Season of the Witch?” Jason asks dubiously. Tim frowns, tilting his head again and clearly confused, and Jason rolls his eyes. “Third Halloween movie, genius.” 

“Oh,” Tim says. “I was wondering what the names were about.” 

“Terminator, Nightmare on Elm Street, and Mad Max,” Jason says with another roll of his eyes. He did not think calling the guy a bunch of threequel titles was that subtle a dig. “Jesus, kid, watch a movie that didn’t originate on either Netflix or PornHub."

“I don’t watch either of those?” Tim says, wrinkling his nose. 

“You watch porn somewhere, otherwise you wouldn’t be asking me to knock up your bitch for you,” Jason snorts dubiously, tearing another bite off his sandwich. Who even has that thought process? 

“I’d really prefer you not call him that,” Tim says. 

“Who cares, he’s not even here,” Jason retorts dismissively, waving him off as he chews. 

“Well yeah, I wouldn’t be telling you not to call him a bitch if he was here, because that would actually be helpful,” Tim says reasonably. Jason . . . pauses, and stares at the corner of the wall past Tim’s head. It’s a wall. 

 It . . . sure is a wall, yeah. And also the corner of a wall, yup. 

Wall. 

Jason chews the rest of his bite very slowly and does not allow himself to process the implication that Superboy might like being called a bitch in bed. 

“I’ve never actually heat-partnered anyone before,” he says. “Like I’ve rut-partnered a few people, but I feel like that is likely a significantly different experience. And probably also easier, frankly, given getting most alphas off takes about a fifth of the time and effort as getting most omegas off.” 

“That’s not really a concern,” Tim tells him with another one of those little shrugs. Jason stares at the corner of the wall past his head some more. It is . . . still a wall, yeah. Yup. Definitely still a wall.

What the fuck does that even mean? There is literally no way Tim meant “you wouldn't need to bother getting my omega off while you were breeding him as non-lab-experiment-ly as possible”, because in what fucking world would he have meant that, so like–what? Just . . . what? 

Jason’s brain is unfortunately supplying some very goddamn creative and very goddamn dirty theoretical answers to that question.

[thetrasha]

Ok but can i get some fluff on shanks, Beckman, Marco and Ace? Maybe how they try to cool you down after suffering a heat stroke? Where i live we are getting a severe heat wave and its causing me to lose salts from sweats making me suffer a bit

I hope it's gotten a bit better for you, but I'm getting cooked in my own room, too, so... yeah 😭🤝And this is just a PSA: I didn't include actual heatstroke in the request because... the only one on that list who'd be able to help at all is Marco LOL Heatstroke is incredibly dangerous, so if you suspect you're suffering from it, call the emergency services immediately.

This is just a heatwave extravaganza edition because we're all suffering through summer (not including you Southern Hemisphere guys grr)

Cooler Than Me

feat. SHANKS, BENN BECKMAN, MARCO, ACE

SHANKS

Shanks is the type to approach things in a fun way.

As the Captain, Shanks is certainly used to making rational decisions that can be explained with logical reasoning… as a person, however, he isn’t quite as likely to keep his cool. He’d be miserable once the heat gets to him and lose it on a pretty tight schedule. Frustrated groans and curses just follow him around once he realised that his own sweat seeped through today’s linen shirt once more – after he’d let his cape be, too. It’s a tragedy! With you as his beloved, he tries to prevent himself from turning into a complete grump, but every sweet moment at night is cut off after he realises, after barely a minute, that he cannot cuddle you to sleep today without dying.

Shanks is still very much smitten with you and cannot bear to watch you suffer just as much as he does. Most of his crew can handle the heat, some even prefer the intense climate of summer islands, but you two stick out like a sore thumb. Shanks, as fun-loving as ever, would try to cheer you up by eating popsicles with you. It’s a sweet treat that cools you from the inside out – and he can share flavours with you. Watching how giggly you get when you saw just how deeply red the ice cold popsicle dyed his tongue made it worth all the hassle. He excitedly looks at your own tongue, now dyed as blue as the sea.

And he cannot help but kiss you right then and there.

BENN BECKMAN

Benn notices just how much you struggle, feeling sympathetic towards the person he secretly fell in love with… He doesn’t want to treat you any different from the rest, you should be able to fit in without any complications, but the Vice Captain himself just cannot ignore his affections for you, no matter how much he tries to bury them. He follows you around like a ghost and wordlessly hands you glasses of water. Somehow, he picked up on your bad habits and takes care of you in his own way. The water’s always cool, fresh and he always appears when you need him the most.

Benn is the type to approach things in a methodical way.

Benn is a force to be reckoned with. You may not hear him, but you can feel his presence; that’s how imposing he is. Despite not hailing from more exotic lands, he can handle the heat quite well. If the temperatures rise too much, he cools himself down by keeping his hair wet. Still, he’s willing to move crates around, do ship maintenance and do other forms of physical labour. It honestly makes you jealous. He is so unbothered that he doesn’t even look like he’s sweating all that much. Meanwhile, you can barely move around without breaking a sweat. Moisture gathers at the nape of your neck as the sun beats down on you, which has you taking a shower almost twice a day. It is ridiculous!

It’s bizarre, but you might just pick up on the fact that acts of service are his love language and he’s desperately trying to be serious and respectful about this…

MARCO

Marco is a doctor, which means that he’s definitely best equipped to help you. Plus, his eyes just dart towards you fanning hot air towards yourself after Whitebeard asked you to mop the deck… and you just chose to do it in the dry heat. Congratulations, now you’ve got Marco monitoring you. He watches you carefully, analysing every sway with a judgmental gaze – he’s always ready to step in and excuse you for the day, but he also doesn’t want to take your autonomy away. You’re independent and he honours your own decisions, no matter how irrational they may seem. If you want to work in the sun, fine, but he’s not letting up until he can make sure you’re safe.

Marco is the type to approach things in an analytical way.

He loves you so dearly, that’s why he doesn’t even mind sneaking around your peripheral vision to make it seem like he’s nonchalant about his pining… he’s really not. He’s just waiting to pin your hair up and apply wet towels to your pulse points, slowly cooling your blood down. That refreshing feeling will distribute itself evenly throughout your body and he can just watch with a soft smile as relief makes you go lax instantly. And he’s just there, touching your neck and wrists like it doesn’t make him nervous, like there’s no fire in his eyes at the sight of you feeling so safe in his presence… You’d rest your pretty head on his shoulder and let him check your vitals… just to be close to you without seeming like a total try-hard!

Marco’s also most likely to keep you in the med bay and secretly fan air towards you with his fiery wings. It’ll be your little secret!

ACE

Ace is the type to approach things in a silly way.

So… being around Ace when you’re suffering from the extreme weather is actually pretty hard. His body temperature is just naturally a lot higher, which means the match-up is just overall bad. He trails after you like a lost puppy as he ignores all those stares that follow the two of you around. Ace doesn’t feel the heat at all – the fact that fire is hot doesn’t even register to him; he’s made of it. Of course he notices that you’re not exactly in top shape… you sweat a lot, started carrying around a massive jug of water – oh, and you avoid touching him. He’s yearning so bad, flashing you the sad kicked animal eyes every five minutes because he cannot stand not being close to you…

Ace does, however, have a genius idea that he remembers from his childhood.

You aren’t as impressed as he is when he presents a tiny kiddie pool to you… right on the main deck. Anyone could watch you lounge here, but your dear boyfriend even propped up a deckchair right next to this abomination… and the thought alone is what counts. It’s kind of sweet, to be honest, to watch him go bright red as soon as you sit down in a tiny puddle of water, looking up at him with a deadpan expression, legs hanging off one side of the meagre ‘pool’, but he still listens with rapt attention once you tell him what you’ve been up to on this hot day. He even clenches his fist in victory for this million Beri idea.

And… it’s ridiculous, but it did cool you down!

[willofthequill]

Sleep Sweet

Welcome back to another adventures in Mouse's Mini-verse! It's Father's Day and the one year anniversary of the start of my Daddy Duty series! I cannot believe I have been writing these silly stories about Mouse and Sukuna for a year! I have had such a blast working on this series, and I have no intentions or desire to stop! Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, given Kudos, likes, or reblogs! I appreciate you all and hope you have many happy days ahead!!

If you prefer to read this story on AO3 click here !

Author's Note: For anyone new to my Daddy Duty Series, Mouse is Sukuna's, currently, 3 year old daughter with reader. Monkey is their infant son.

Summary: Sukuna is home alone with both children for the first time when the battle for nap time begins.

WC: 1300+

CW: reader is referred to as 'Mama' but not described and no pronouns used for reader, use of the word 'boob' in a reference to breast feeding, kiseru smoking (outside away from kids), but it is all around fluff and SFW.

Fic Divider by: @strangergraphics

“Mama definitely does it better, Papa,” Mouse said from where she sat across from her father on a zabuton. Her legs were crossed as were her arms across her chest. Sukuna recognized the scowl across her face as being a mirror of his own. 

“Does what better, Mouse?” Sukuna asked, trying to soothe the fussy baby in his arms. 

You and Uraume had decided to go to town together, leaving him alone for the first time with both of his children. He had scoffed at you when you asked if he could handle it. Of course he could! 

A few hours in and he had already decided that going forward he owed you a night of absolute pampering for every time he was away. As the minutes dragged by he decided he owed you for all the past trips he had gone on too… How did you do this for sometimes weeks at a time without any aid? 

Every time he got Mouse occupied, Monkey cried. Every time he got Monkey satisfied, Mouse was getting into something…

“Puts him to sleep,” she said, giving him a look that questioned his level of intelligence. 

“Well, Mama has certain… abilities that I do not,” Sukuna said as he tried again to get Monkey to take the bottle.

“Yup! He likes the boob. Papa got boobs, but them not food boobs.”

“I do not have boobs. I have pectoral muscles. But otherwise, your assessment is… accurate.” Once again, Sukuna was flabbergasted by the conversations he wound up engaging in.

Mouse puffed out her cheeks and pressed her lips together, narrowing her eyes on her baby brother. She suddenly sat up with a big smile on her face. “Mmmm, Papa! I has an idea!”

Oh, he couldn’t wait to hear this. “Alright, let’s hear it.”

“I take a turn to try to make him go sleepy, now. Please and Thank you, Papa!”

Unless her idea was to smother her brother, she could not do worse than he was. Fuck it. “Alright. What do you need me to do?”

“Let's go to the bedroom, Papa!” Mouse got to her feet and did one of her little jumps, signaling her level of excitement. He hoped he did not regret this.

Sukuna stood with Monkey in his arms and followed Mouse to the master bedroom. She clambered up onto the bed and laid on her side. Mouse patted the bed next to her and gave him instructions. “Monkey needs to go here, please and thank you, Papa!” Mouse instructed.

He moved to kneel on the soft mattress and gently laid the baby down on his back next to his sister. “Alright, now what?”

“Papa do something else, please and thank you” she said, resting one hand on her brother’s stomach. 

“Do something else?” Mouse strikes again with her infamous audacity.

Tuna jumped up on the bed and made his way over to the two demon seeds laying in the middle of the giant bed. He moved to wiggle himself between Sukuna's knee and Monkey’s side so that the baby was sandwiched between a bossy toddler and a kitsune with a death wish. 

Mouse gave him a grin and the hand on Monkey’s stomach gave him a thumbs up. “I gots this, Papa! I the big sister, remember!”

To his surprise, Monkey was already starting to fuss less. He let out a dejected sigh and shrugged. “Fine. But you are not to pick him up and I am only giving you 5 minutes.”

“10 minutes.”

“7 minutes,” he countered.

“6 minutes!” she countered back.

“Done!” Who was he to tell her she had short changed herself? An image popped into his mind of the look that you would shoot him when Mouse told you about this exact conversation over dinner tonight… Mouse was right. You were scary. “7 is bigger than 6, Mouse.”

“Then I wants 7 minutes, please and thank you,” she said before she began shushing softly at Monkey.

“7 minutes. And-”

“I no pick him up, promise, Papa.”

Sukuna leaned over to give both of his children gentle kisses on their foreheads and he was pulling away when Mouse said his name. He glanced down to see his daughter’s eyes suddenly starting to get heavy with tiredness as well. “What do you need, Mouse?”

“I need to kiss you too, Papa,” she gave him a tired but toothy grin. She rubbed her face against the soft pillow case and lifted her hand from her brother’s tummy to reach for him.

Sukuna felt his heart melt at the sight and leaned forward. He let Mouse pull his head down so she could place a gentle kiss on his nose. He smiled softly at her and kissed her forehead again, one of his hands reaching over to ruffle her hair. “Sleep sweet.”

Sukuna moved to open the shoji door to the back yard. He stepped outside to sit on the engawa and loaded his kiseru as he listened to Mouse quietly singing the song you sang to them every night at bed time. 

He took a long drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs and breathing the hazy mist out his belly mouth. 

He smirked as he remembered the first time he had done that in your presence. He had expected you to be at least mildly disgusted or slightly disturbed. He had expected to see that adorable look you got on your face when you were perturbed by his actions.

But oh no, not his precious one. Your eyes had lit up like fire works in the dark of night and you had immediately handed the kiseru back to him, demanding he do it again. And again. And he did. 

Sukuna would do anything to see you smile and laugh like you did that night. If it meant spending several moments behaving like some damn street performer doing cheap sleight of hand tricks for a few coins, then so be it. 

The same went for his daughter and his son. Anything to protect you guys. Anything to see you smile. 

He was unsure how long he had been lost in his thoughts when his name was called softly from the bed, calling his focus back to the present. He set his kiseru down and headed inside. Noting the quiet of the room he made sure to keep his footsteps light as he approached the bed. 

“Good job, Mouse,” Sukuna praised, seeing that Monkey and Tuna were both sound asleep beside her. 

“I can’t sleep though, Papa,” she said softly. Just like her brother had not long before, Mouse was now fighting her own nap. 

“And why not?” he asked, arching his brow.

“I need Papa cuddles, please and thank you, Papa,” she said, yawning. She moved the hand from Monkey’s belly to point directly behind her at his side of the bed. 

“And why should I?” Sukuna asked, two hands on his hips and two arms folded across his chest.

“Because Papa loves Mouse!” she said, matter of factly. Monkey started to stir and Mouse rubbed his belly, humming softly and whispering. “It okay, Monkey. Oneechan is right here. Oneechan always be right here. Papa be right here soon too.”

She really was your daughter through and through. 

“You are lucky that is true.” With a sigh he laid down next to her, wrapping one large arm across his children and even letting his fingers rest on Tuna’s back, giving the kitsune’s fir a few gentle strokes. “You did good too, Tuna.”

“Shshh, please and thank you, Papa. Don’t wake the Monkey.,” Mouse said in a whisper as she  fit her head under his chin like usual. In a sleepy voice she said, “Sleep sweet, Papa.”

He adjusted his head to kiss the top of her head before resting his chin on it again. “Sleep sweet, Mouse. Now stop talking.”

“Okay, Papa.”

His daughter just had to have the last word. He grinned as he let his own eyes close. That’s my girl.

[elvensorceress]

fuck it friday, have some ridiculous Buck for OS and Buck's birthday from a brand new, post s8 Jenwyn fic that was meant for 911 pride week but will probably not be finished in time 🫠 oh well happy bisexual 🩷💜💙 buck to everyoneeee

tagging anyone who wants to share something 💕 @tizniz @hippolotamus @glorious-spoon @daffi-990 @spotsandsocks @sofa-king-lame @sergeantchenford @exhuastedpigeon @kejfeblintz @damnikindaship @capseycartwright @dangerpronebuddie @livinginsunnyhell @mangonadaeddie @lover-of-mine @drmellking @beyourownanchor6 @saveahorserideaneddie @deluludiaz @sazanahashi @singitforthegirls 💕

It is not Buck’s fault. 

He’s trying. Okay? He is absolutely, one thousand percent, sort of, for the most part, more or less, at least once a week, semi-heartedly trying. He’s looked at tons of places. He applied to… maybe one? Or two? Maybe zero. But again. Not his fault. All the apartments in the greater whole of Los Angeles have something wrong with them. All of them! Not Buck’s fault he is still, technically homeless. 

The place near the station didn’t have an elevator and it was on the fifth floor. That’s not disability friendly. Sure, Buck could manage. On good days. But it’s inconsiderate to other people. Like Chris. How would Chris visit him?

The place out south had a really short shower and Buck isn’t short. Or small. And he wants to get bigger. It’s time to bulk up again. He’s been slacking lately. Actually, he hasn’t exactly been slacking. He’s been working out a lot. That’s what you do when you need some physical activity and relief. Eddie said so. Hen also said so. Ravi started making a suggestion about other physical activities that bring relief but Chim cut him off and made him go scrub all the tires on all the trucks. But anyway. Small shower? Also doesn’t work. 

The apartment he looked at out near San Bernadino was okay and everything but it’s really far away from people he likes to hang out with. He would bet at least ten dollars that the whole building on Yucca Street is haunted. Legit, verified, super haunted. It gave him weird, unsettling vibes even if Eddie blamed it on the questionable take out Buck got for breakfast.

The new-ish high-rise building with pristine, empty rooms was the exact opposite of haunted. It was soulless. Buck ended up actually wishing he could find a scuff mark or a dent or a chip in the paint just to say that creepy place had something of a personality. But it didn’t. 

The one with the decent bathroom had a terrible kitchen and the one with the amazing chef’s kitchen was way out of his price range and also too much like his loft. Not that the loft sucked or anything. It was great when he was there. 

Buck just doesn’t want to be there anymore. He doesn’t want to be at any of these places. 

What does it matter if he spends a few more months couch surfing? He did it for years. A lot of years. About seven of them. Which is almost as long as he’s lived in LA. It’s fine if he doesn’t have his own place for a while. Eddie keeps telling him it’s fine. And when Buck argues that he should give them space because the house is Eddie and Chris’ and not Buck’s, then both Diazes get a really sad, heartbroken look on their faces that Buck cannot handle looking at.

Why would Buck want to live in a place that isn’t right for him when he’s perfectly content where he is even if it is a couch as a bed and most of his things in storage? He doesn’t actually need much. He wants to wait for the perfect place. He can wait. Something will come up eventually. No need to be moving somewhere that he knows won’t make him happy. He is happy where he is. You know. For now. He’s fine. Great even. 

Maddie’s jaw clenches and she sighs like she’s aggravated. Even though she just stares at him with a tense, squished face and radiates annoyance. 

It gets very uncomfortable feeling her look at him that way, and that can’t be good for the baby currently asleep in Buck’s arms. He turns his body as if it will shield his little nephew from his mother’s weird, pinched judgy face. 

[arcade-confetti]

that post which acknowledges the weight of bruce not telling jason about willis' death is a godsend, it is such a major breach of trust and it happens at the beginning of jason's robin career as well and imo really sets the tone. to me it was always where jason's trust in bruce started to fracture and the diplomat's son was the last straw after which he desperately starts looking for someone to trust (a parent).

i think the change in jason's backstory in post-crisis is a major in-universe reason for why bruce's parenting stops working for jason. pre-crisis jason lost his parents in a singular moment due to an act of violence just like bruce (and dick) which bruce personally knows well and has already had experience helping dick with so he is able to be a relatively better parent to jason (i mean he was still a fumbler with the whole dyeing the hair, comparing them, jason not having time for much outside of robin and all but still much better that post-crisis). when the crisis happens and jason's trauma changes that similarity ends. jason is now a child who took care of his mother in her final days and had to survive poverty and homelessness. his loss of his parents is a slow painful process. bruce cannot relate to any of these things but he still approaches jason with that same tactic which worked for him and for dick. jason understandably wouldn't respond well to this.

none of this is jason's fault but it displays that bruce is not very capable of handling or personally helping people with trauma that he does not understand himself. he also does not understand why he is unable to help jason or why jason isn't responding to his methods. this combined with alfred's fuckass classist bullshit combines into everyone viewing jason as a problematic child instead.

i think this is why bruce being the best dad ever to jason in before his death does not work for me in a post-crisis setting because bruce fucks up a lot of things from the get-go, i do not think jason ever really felt that secure in that timeline despite the adoption (which i have seen a lot of people use as proof of their bond's stability before jason's death but i think that is incomplete without understanding why their bond fractured in spite of that). i mean there is a reason why jason doesn't even think that bruce would help him with his mom quest. the garzonas case is not a "omg why is my supportive loving dad suddenly not trusting me on this" but more of a "this man who i thought i am supposed to depend on has proved to me yet again that he does not trust me". jason doesn't really seem all that concerned or surprised with bruce not believing him imo, almost like he didn't expect bruce's explicit trust in him. which he is right to do because bruce has proven multiple times that he does not trust jason and that jason cannot trust him. garzonas was always the straw that broke the camel's back.

The post

I dont have much to add to this I really really like it and just like, YEAH yeah exactly.

[demonslayedher]

Things that went through my head while watching this episode (in 2025!)

--This episode exists in this format because somebody at Ufotable probably said, "You know what this series needs more of? Tengen's legs."

--That being said, two things I don't really like that I'm gonna just put out there: 1. I don't like seeing how beefy Tanjiro is, and 2. Ufotable is really hit and miss with filler. This one, which is mostly filler, has parts that work for me and parts that I think would have worked better if they were reigned in a bit.

--Okay, to come straight out with the point they wanted to make at the end of this episode (and in just about every other trying-to-add-personality-to-the-mob filler bit in this season), the other Corp members know that they aren't capable of defeating Upper Moons, let alone Kibutsuji Muzan. However, they are filled with hope that people like the Hashira and Tanjiro can, and they will do their best to get stronger so that they can support them.

--...Okay.

--First off, I am fine taking that at face value. That is a valid point to make in a series like this. In the end, many of them will make good on their commitment to their shared goal by sacrificing themselves to save those who have the real capacity for accomplishing the goal. They are, as Tanjiro has so often reiterated, bound by each other's wills, and pushed forward by the wills of many people.

--Also, it is a shonen. I am not going to read into this saying that harsh training in a short period would have just tired them out before the big battle. They're fine. Each and every one of these Corp members has clawed their way here with determination, commitment, and enough strength to break my arm bones in one hand alone. I wholeheartedly accept the storytelling premise that they have all benefited from this grueling training and that they will all come out stronger because of it, even if that does not mean they will be of the same caliber as those with more Gotouge-given talent.

--But gosh, dang it, Ufotable, did you have to be so heavy-handed with it!??

--There were hints leading up to that "I know I can't do it, but I believe you guys can! And I'm gonna do my best to support you!" declaration at the end, but gee whiz, I wish it could have been handled with more grace.

--As for what I think worked in this filler, Tengen's outright disgust with Corp members talking about getting out of training. These guys are committed--just as much as anybody who was driven to the Corp for more than money or (within a secret organization) glory--but Tengen can only see the gap between their commitment and that of Hashira who have trained to the point of spitting blood. He cannot see beyond that gap. And that is why there is some satisfaction in the "I can't do this, but I'm going to get stronger to help you guys anyway" ending. Tengen needed some hope restored in them.

--This is something I really like about the Hashira Training Arc--it was, for both the Hashira and the regular Corp members, a chance to get to know each other better and care about each other, and feel united in a common goal. This, after it has been so commonplace for the Hashira to seem like an organization all their own, with the others all just dragging on their heels. Until very recently, it was easy to just complain about the poor quality of the other Corp members, because the Hashira cannot see beyond that gap. It is like the curse of knowledge--once you know something well, you often cannot remember what it was like to not know it, so this can make you impatient with people who haven't got it yet. It makes it easy to overestimate others. These other Corp members have been saviors to so many people, but all it takes is one demon to end all that. And the Hashira have seen that too many times, and it colors their view of these very powerful people who have all been doing their best.

--More on that in the following episode, which I think improves on this a bit more

--Because this episodes is basically fan service

--Because we all like seeing Tengen's legs, right

--Because we all like seeing Tanjiro just hanging out and having domestic time with the girlies, who finally have gotten to process their new life and what they all went through on Yoshiwara

--Not that they have bothered to remember Zenitsu and Inosuke's names, but I'm sure they served them tea too and made sure to thank them (whether or not Zenitsu has any idea what he did, who knows)

--But that being said, this probably the first time Tanjiro and Uzui have seen each other since that battle, and Tengen's assessment of him and how he has grown--both in what he says to Tanjiro right away and what he thinks to himself during the fanservice mock-battle on the mountain is so satisfying, both for Tengen himself and for everyone who has been rooting Tanjiro on. So happy for Tengen that he gets to feel that he has contributed to the future of the Corp, despite his retirement.

--But, I love that flick of his eyepatch, dang, how satisfying

--Though it feels like Tengen does have a part of him who wishes to still be fighting (especially when he appears to find these Corp members unreliable and says how he'll look bad (to his former peers) if he sends them in such poor condition), Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma are all loving this new peaceful life and I am so happy for them.

--Now, having seen this in Toho Cinema with the short bit of them having bad movie-going etiquette because they just don't know any better, I looooove the idea of them all going out and doing things like going to the cinema for the first time. But, seeing as they were all essentially raised in a cult, they just don't understand some normal society stuff. Sure, they could work their way around the nighttime society of Yoshiwara because it was work and being ninja means infiltrating in order to spy, but even in their hobbies like going to hidden onsen and even in their chosen location for this training, they are still isolated from society, because that is what they know. I would looooove to see them be like, "Hey, have you heard of these things called 'caa-fei'? Tengen-sama, let's go to a 'caa-fei.' How do we dress for those? Do we need to wear Western-style dresses? Tengen-sama, how do we get those? Oh! Oh!! We can try that thing!! In those big buildings! Sho... that's right! 'Shopping spree!'" (Tengen probably knows how to handle large amounts of money and Hinatsuru can handle small purchases like groceries and supplies, but I'll bet Makio and Suma have no money-related sense because they just haven't needed to deal with it.)

--Okay now as for the other filler I think is working here

--It is a little heavy-handed, yes, but I do enjoy the scene with the two Corp members on patrol. Yes, it is a lot of exposition, but at least they just get to be normal dudes about it expressing what is normal to them. Corp life is normal to them now, they hate and fear demons and it gets pretty routine but they do take their work seriously. And like, if the Kamaboko boys get to be goofballs, these guys deserve to be goofballs too.

--And, frankly, letting them be goofballs is the best way for us to bond with them.

[riemanifests]

https://www.reddit.com/r/NevilleGoddardCritics/

why is there a reddit about the law being fake or not real , why do you think that they didn’t get what they wanted with the law ?

ok so i had a whole yap but tumblr is a bitch and has a CHARACTER COUNT SO LETS BREAK THIS DOWN AS SIMPLE AS I CAN 😭 1. Look at the system everyone was raised on

we were raised with society, with the belief that you have to hustle to get what you want or take an action in order to get something, that not everyone has the same capabilities and you can only be realistic. yk we were given a lot of rules as to what we can and cannot achieve and we naturally depend on each other to know what is and isnt right what's bullshit and what's not. that is years of programming / conditioning / etc, and imagine this you are someone who has a logical brain who for years thought you just couldn't get the life you want, and then all of the sudden you come into this information of loa, all of the sudden they're saying that you're in control of reality. i mean that is a huge shift especially because we were raised to think differently and its so ingrained. when you come into loa its a whole new way of thinking and seeing reality, and not everyone is able to handle that. not everyone is able to leave that programming behind and to dive into this new information. it does take a lot of trust and reworking, and some people just don't want to do that or can't. 2. everyone is right.

that is literally the law working LMFAO they probably had a lot of doubts and tried to manifest and just couldn't because they believed that it was bullshit and as a result reality proved them right, so now they have experience in the law being bullshit that just reinforced their belief. but we choose our own truths what is true for them doesn't have to be true for you and just because that is their truth does not mean it's mine. i am right and they are right, because our realities are a reflection of us. so again choose your own truths don't let others influence what your truth is because you have a choice just like they did and they decided to accept their truth to be "loa is bullshit", so that's just the reality they're going to live in. 3. society was not built to promote manifestation

in the media they're not going around and saying you are in control of your reality, they're not teaching kids that anything is possible, and they're not telling you that there's more options than you think. you weren't told that as a kid and others were not either, so you gotta understand there's already so much in this world that contradicts loa and you being in control because it's just not public knowledge. not everyone knows loa and in a world like this is it really hard to understand why some people would think it's bullshit? no not really, so yk what those who were raised as a victim and in the passenger seat have so much strength for deciding that was not going to be their life anymore and for diving into loa despite the doubts and despite how they were raised. that takes courage but you can do it. i have so much more i could say, but just understand there are always two sides of the coin. not one is the right one over the other, one is just the other side of the other. it is up to you which side you are on, whether that's "loa is fake" or "loa is real". either way loa is still going to be in effect and prove you right so i guess the real question is what do you want to be right about? do you want to be right about being in control of your reality or right about loa being fake? it is your choice my love. i also suggest you don't read those type of threads, cause with the amount of doubt and disbelief you might have you become more susceptible to those threads. there's more threads that are in favor of loa full of success stories. if you decide you want to give loa a chance, then actually apply it to gain those personal success stories because those will bring you so much more faith than reading other's stories.

[heretherebedork]

They hurt so much because all of this is made of love. Just... very different ways of expressing love. Jeongwu just wants the chance to love Jiwon while Jiwon's love makes him want to protect Jeongwu... even when that protection hurts him.

And that hit the nail on the head. Why Jeongwu is so upset and so hurt with his Jiwon 'solved' this problem and how Hyoseok used the idea of dating Jiwon as a joke in the tags. Because that's more than Jeongwu can even do with his actual relationship with Jiwon.

Well, this was a great way to absolutely shatter Jeongwu's heart because it definitely sounds like Jiwon wishes they weren't dating.

So... Jiwon is being an absolute jerk here and it's born out of his own anxiety and all his fears and it's painful as fuck because I know that feeling. That feeling when all of your anxiety and your fear becomes all the negative thoughts you're certain the other person is having and no matter what they say your thoughts are always going to win because they're there even when the other person isn't.

Jeongwu cannot win this. He cannot convince Jiwon anything else. Because no matter what he says... Jiwon will convince himself otherwise. He'll convince himself that Jeongwu cannot love him or stay with him and nothing he does can help.

Jiwon is making these choices out of love but it's a specific and selfish and fearful love because it's a love born out of anxiety and that anxiety can only spiral every time the idea of love comes up again.

Jeonguw basically begging Jiwon to lean on him and to let him be there to love him and then to get rejected for the kiss after that? To have Jiwon turn away when he tries to be intimate? That's more than he can handle. He's been trying so hard to be strong and to love Jiwon exactly where he's at but Jiwon just won't let him. He won't let Jeongwu love him or support him. He just keeps pushing him away and pushing his own narrative onto him and his feelings about their relationship and it hurts so much because Jeongwu is basically begging him to let him love him.

[star-pup01]

Who Are You?

Trying something a little different this time!

I needed to get the brainrot out, so I decided to make a little Deltarune one-shot. One-shot is a little generous, because this ended up being 20k words. It was split into two chapters for readability. Yes, this is more player propaganda.

Embed is not currently up yet, but here's the link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66901393/chapters/172675429

Summary:

The Angel perplexes Ralsei far more than he can handle. How could he understand them? One moment, they are hugging him. The next, they choose to fight for the first time without any prior warning. Between days, they grow more tired, like something weighs them down. Ralsei's only purpose is to serve them and the Lightners, so perhaps he just does not understand how the Angel can change so rapidly. He can never truly understand them, despite trying so hard to do so. Yet, part of him keeps wondering. Curiosity gnaws at him the more time he spends in the Angel's presence. After a frustrating three days with the Angel, Ralsei cannot make heads or tails of their behavior. They confuse him, and he confuses them. Perhaps, Ralsei was not thinking straight when he took drastic measures. Maybe, he had been too weathered down by the previous day in the church to be able to think rationally. Against his better judgement, he calls for the Angel by name. They answer, and Ralsei finally sees the Angel for what they are.

Tags under the cut

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandom:

Deltarune (Video Game)

Relationships:

Kris & Ralsei (Deltarune)

Kris & Ralsei & Susie (Deltarune)

Ralsei & Susie (Deltarune)

Deltarune Player & Ralsei

Characters:

Angel (Deltarune)

Deltarune Player

Ralsei (Deltarune)

Kris' Red Soul (Deltarune)

Kris (Deltarune)

Susie (Deltarune)

Additional Tags:

Post-Deltarune Chapter Four

Angst and Hurt/Comfort

some additional fluff because i cant help myself

Bittersweet

Player Propaganda

Deltarune Pacifist Route

Angel is Deltarune Player

Ralsei is red horns

Canon-Typical Violence

Minor Injuries

Possession

Ralsei is forced to practice self care

Ralsei is not having a good time

Kris and Susie are in minor scenes during this

Language: English

[twicedone]

SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE TLT SERIES (SO FAR) READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

Okay so, I saw a post on about TLT a while ago and despite my best attempts I cannot find it again. Essentially, it went; "Does Gideon finally have what she wanted, are women throwing themselves at her in the Cohort, does she even care?" It got me thinking like... how would Gideon even handle that in her current state? She's the CHILD OF GOD, she was right, her Father is the most important person in the world and he's finally claimed her. Is it all she ever wanted? Does any of it mean anything to her, without Harrow? We get a tiny glimpse into how its been affecting her through Nona's eyes in the last bits of Nona the Ninth (ie, saddest girl in the world and her lies about Harrow.) so obviously she hasn't been having the greatest time... but that's coming from Nona, who's able to notice the tiniest details in body language and speech. How well as Gideon been hiding her despair from everyone? Does Ianthe know how deeply Gideon fell for Harrowhark (she probably does.) How have her "father" (John was hardly even a sperm donor, he doesn't deserve the title tbh.) and Ianthe been twisting Gideon this whole time? How well do Gideon's lies work on herself? There's so many fucking questions!!!! Anyways. When I think about "THE BIG HERO KIRIONA" (and all her titles that I don't remember atm) there's two scenarios that play out in my head. There's the Kiriona that tries to bury her pain in hedonism, taking full advantage of her position as THE EMPEROR UNDYING'S DAUGHTER to indulge in everything she ever wanted. The second is more plausible (both based on my reading of Gideon's character, and of how Tamsyn has treated sex and intimacy so far.) Kiriona throws herself into the work the Emperor gives her, she fights like a woman possessed for the Cohort, and seeing as she's essentially invincible - takes suicidal risks. I think any sign of intimacy would enrage her, both of the women whom showed her ANY kindness (those women being Cythera and Harrowhark) both "betrayed her" (although only Cythera actually did, but Gideon sees Harrowhark's lunatic act of love for her as a refusal of her entirety.) and would push away anyone whom tried to truly engage with her. We see that Gideon and Ianthe are somehow "friendly", but she also lies and lies and lies to Ianthe the entire time they interact in Nona!!! How much of that friendship is REAL?! I think both Gideon and Harrowhark have an up-mountain battle to fight if they want to truly be together (and FUCK you, they do.) But I think that they'll do it, I think they'll suffer all the agonies of their love to be able to stand side-by-side with one another again. I don't think they'll be making out with each other by the end of Alecto the Ninth, but I think that with Tamsyn's words on the subject at hand (that there WILL be hope.) that we'll be leaving them to work at it until they can. tl;dr GRIDDLEHARK BABY, WOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! sorry if this was scatterbrained, I just wanted to sit down and write out my thoughts. <3 ty for reading!!!

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Jan behind the cut; "the one where Kon's soulmark isn't fake". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Just fine, Kid,” Lane says darkly, still glaring daggers at the WGBS guys. Like, if she had heat vision . . . oof. There would not even be a stain left to clean up. There would not even be a smudge left to clean up. 

“We’ll fucking sue your–!” the TV reporter starts to yell, and wow does Lane project when she’s pissed-off. Like, she doesn’t even yell back at him; she just gives him a look and the dude snaps his mouth back shut so fast Superboy hears his teeth hit. 

“You’ll what, Nate?” she asks dryly. “Start another fight you can’t finish? Or just get put on probation for plagiarizing an intern again?” 

The TV reporter blanches, then tries to get himself together enough to brush the grass off and glare back at her. It is not effective. Like. At all. She just folds her arms and gives him this absolutely flat look like she’s just, like, bored. 

Yeah: major “oof”. 

Maaaaajor. 

Fuck, Lane is just so fucking cool. If Superboy was, like, a normie civilian type or whatever and not gonna grow up and be Superman, he’d wanna grow up and be her. Like, you know, except for the part where you probably have to go to college and shit for doing shit like being a reporter or whatever. So not, like, specifically growing up to be a reporter or whatever, just like . . . the vibes, whatever, he doesn’t know. 

Also like, who even reads the newspaper anymore anyway? Definitely not a solid career prospect to grow up and be. 

He's not really the college type anyway.

“Well, need anybody dropped on any of the rent-a-cops, then?” Superboy asks her, mostly because he’s already blown his cover so he feels like he should do something. “Or, like, does your buddy down there need dropped at the first aid station, whichever.” 

“I’m fine, Superboy, thank you,” Kent says, straightening his glasses awkwardly as he makes an even more awkward attempt at getting himself up off the grass. Superboy pretends not to remember meeting him after that embarrassment of a bank robbery in the vague hope he’ll be less fucking mortified about having met him at that embarrassment of a bank robbery, though his success is maybe kinda limited there. “Um–Lois, are you–?” 

“The only thing I ‘hurt’ was my knuckles,” Lane snorts, rolling her eyes. 

“Oh right, guess yours aren’t invulnerable, huh,” Superboy realizes, then ducks down and grabs Kent by the back of his jacket to pull the guy up to his feet. Usually he’d just let a dude handle himself, but this dude is just so awkward, he kinda feels bad for him. Like, might as well leave a three-legged puppy trying to climb the stairs solo, geez.

Kent makes a mildly startled noise and nearly overbalances in the process of getting his feet under him. Superboy is actually low-key embarrassed for him. Like–god, what, does the guy try to be this awkward? Superboy really, really feels like somebody should have to be trying, to be this awkward.

Lane has the weirdest taste in soul-dudes, seriously. Like, the literal actual weirdest. Superboy just genuinely cannot believe a badass like her has a soulmate with a glass jaw who, again, tripped his way into a microphone. 

Actually, he can’t believe Superman has a soulmate like that. Like–talk about fucking weird. 

Yeah, Superboy definitely doesn’t get it. If he had a soulmate like that–like, a weird awkward dude who literally couldn’t even take a punch from some rando TV reporter, seriously–like, what would that even be like? 

. . . like. What would that even . . . be like. 

Superboy thinks, like–he thinks: if his soulmark was real, if his soulmark matched somebody else’s, if there was actually somebody else on the end of it and it was weird awkward Clark Kent or professional badass Lois Lane or even Su–

“Like maybe your jaw’s fine but you should probably take up yoga or something, man, you gotta work on that center of balance,” Superboy informs Kent, because that’s all stupid fucking shit to be thinking about anyway. His soulmark’s fake, so it doesn’t matter anyway. Like–just, it’s fake. Obviously. 

It’s fake, so it was never gonna be fucking anybody. 

So he doesn’t think about it. 

“You should be taking this bitch to security!” the WGBS guy snaps, and Lane just arches an eyebrow and continues to look entirely unimpressed with him. 

“Sorry, who?” Superboy asks, cocking his own eyebrow at the dude. That . . . sure is a choice that this dude is choice-ing right now. Like . . . wow, definitely a choice. Like all these choices that he has been choice-ing. “The pretty lady in heels who I just watched your sleazy ass chuck a microphone at and then throw a whole-ass haymaker at? And like, not even competently? Like you’re lucky you didn’t bust up your wrist, man, your form’s total fucking shit.” 

Admittedly his general form is kinda iffy because his TTK reinforces all his bones and muscles and ligaments and everything else he’s got anyway, but he at least knows how to throw a basic-bitch punch, alright? Like, he can pumpkin spice his way through a street fight. He can in fact very much pumpkin spice his way through a street fight. 

“She started it!” the guy sputters indignantly. Superboy just pushes up his sunglasses and cocks his head to squint at the dude. 

“By what metric, man?” he asks, wrinkling his nose. 

[utilitycaster]

ok I do not want to put this on the post about sf worlds without homophobia bc it does make a fair point in some cases about internally coherent worldbuilding, as well as plugs the Vorkosigan Saga, which I am always in favor of doing. however, at least in a fantasy world with a decent amount of available magic via different means, and especially if magical ability is not solely tied to book learning (ie, cannot be prohibited via social control), it's always made sense to me because like...what if you tried to force this person who could get pregnant into an unwanted marriage and they just eldritch blasted you for it. and what if this happened with enough frequency that people just gave up on trying to control this shit because they kept getting eldritch blasted by women and queer people. Like in a low-magic fantasy, I agree that it would be complicated unless there was some other force involved (eg, religion, as in the Kushiel novels where 'love as thou wilt' is divine decree ie god wants you to have consensual sex and doesn't care if it's gay, and even those have misogyny and heteronormativity outside of Terre d'Ange, and the initial trilogy doesn't really deal with trans identity that I recall). But if magical powers that don't require specialized training to obtain are present in a certain percentage of the population at random, at some point, fear of getting vaporized for disrespecting someone's autonomy is a powerful enough motivator to create a roughly egalitarian society. Or in other words, I kind of agree in that I think it's better to ask yourself "why is there not misogyny and queerphobia in this setting and what norms and systems would arise to handle matters of inheritance and childbirth in that case" than to automatically say it's unrealistic.

[videogamelover99]

Ragatha "I don't miss my mother's yelling and berating and guilt-tripping" vs Jax "She's too nice don't you feel like she's trying to take advantage of you" FIGHT.

[scarletsaphire]

I'm a little talking out of my ass here but like. Kids are going to enjoy gorey, scary, horror things. It is an entire genre of media, and for a lot of kids (especially kids who feel othered in some shape or form) it is a space to play around with things that cannot be handled in other types of fiction and every day life. That's the point of stories, to help people deal with concepts where they can't hurt us!

I think that games like Poppy's Playtime (idk enough about garten of banban to fully talk about it) are incredibly important and good for kids actually, because they are still generally child focused horror media. Almost all characters are dolls, and while there are definitely parts that count as gore, it's cartoonish and confined to the toy characters. Ita themes are explored in a very surface level way while still being in line with the genre and story, and it's not going into anymore graphic detail than a goosebumps book does.

These types of games (and books like goosebumps and movies like Coraline) all have a very important space in that they are children safe horror media. Most horror things are not safe for kids, yes! Which means that if we try and lock all of it, even the stuff that is safe, behind a barrier of Not For You, then children are going to find a way to get into it anyway, and since all of it has been labeled Equally Bad, it's very likely they'll stumble across something genuinely distressing and not tell anyone because of fear of getting in trouble.

I don't like Poppy's Playtime, but it, and a lot of the games like it, are very important to Weird Kid Development and trying to strip it away from them is going to cause more harm then good.

i do Understand why people get weirded out seeing kids into horror that has like gore involved in any way shape or form (ex. kids being into like, poppy playtime, garten of banban, etc) but u must understand that to many 5 year olds viscera and violence are like kind ofawesome. it was to me anyway. maybe somethings wrong with me But i was drawing dinosaurs eating eachother and tearing eachother apart on the reg and all my red crayons were worn down to nubs. on account of the viscera

[mishkakagehishka]

Ik this is gonna be controversial bc of the amount of balkan mutuals i have but ngl i judge smokers so hard it's unbearable. Genuinely humiliating to even imagine being one, for me personally