#I know it's old news by now and this joke has probably already been done

[writerslingo]

My mom made this joke when I told her about Jay Johnston (Jimmy Pesto) getting arrested for being a part of the Jan. 6 insurrection. And then she proceeded to make this meme in further response, lmao

[strawberryblue-blog]

Babysitter —Ruben Dias.

summary: Being Carlota's shared babysitter with Ruben has never been so difficult.

warnings: none. enemies to lovers, curses, cute, soft, some jealousy, etc.

words count: +2.5k

#SEXYNOTE: HI!!! I really apologize for disappearing again, i already finished my first semester and i'm back for you 💌 Thank you for all the support while i was gone, love you 🩷

Soirée music played in the place as you talked animatedly with your date, drinking an expensive red wine cellar that you had saved for a special reason and laughing when George talked to you about his life.

Today you had decided to bring your date home and prepare something to eat, quietly and thoughtfully, to get to know your co-worker better, who had insisted on taking you out to dinner but when you had another plan in mind, he modestly agreed.

A few months ago he had come to your job as a finance manager at the company you worked for, these last few weeks you had been getting to know each other better and you were happy with your new relationship. You were really hoping that you could make something happen, because George was a gentleman and you liked him a lot.

So after welcoming him into your home, you were now sitting on the couch, after dinner, drinking and chatting about yourselves, getting to know each other a little better. There was no hint of seductive closeness on his part but you tried to laugh at all his jokes and look delighted with his stories so he would notice you had attention. The talk was coming along great, exchanging laughs and melodious glances. Maybe he hadn't approached you but you could tell he was looking at you, he was being nice and you really enjoyed the time with him.

Until the doorbell rang and you were a little surprised, almost scared. It was quite unusual for someone to come at this hour and even less so if they had not warned you before. You politely excused yourself, confused as to who it was and walked to your door.

Oh no. It couldn't be.

You quickly opened the door when a baby's cries startled your ears and you saw the man standing in front of you, holding the desperately crying child.

"What are you doing here, Ruben?" you asked closing the door behind you, your hands went to the baby to take when the young man handed her to you defeated.

"She won't stop crying, I've done everything but she won't listen to me" you say quickly and you cradle the child trying to calm her down.

"Shhh" you say stroking her back while looking for an explanation from the young man. "You're supposed to take care of her today, it's my day off!" you whisper as you continue to stroke the baby's back and cuddle.

Carlota, the little one only a few months old, cries desperately on your shoulder as you cradle her trying to soothe her but it seems something else was bothering her.

Her watery eyes looked at you as her crying continued to impact your ears, you hated to see her cry and you probably looked like you were going to cry too. It wasn't the right time but you couldn't help but feel sad for her.

"I know but I can't calm her down, I tried for quite a while" he says worriedly. "And I'm not going to bother her parents on their last day of vacation" he replies and you want to punch him.

Damn it. Just now? Ugh!

Carlota is the daughter of Ines, your best friend and the daughter of Bernardo, the best friend of who is standing in front of you. Ruben Dias. A self-centered jerk you can't stand but the two of them are Carlota's godparents and were in charge of being her babysitters for these days, while your best friends and father of this little girl were on a mini "vacation".

"I told you everything you had to do, it was only one day, Ruben!" you say angrily again. Your hand rubs Carlota's back, seeking some comfort for the little girl.

"I did it, Y/n!" he shouts exhaustedly and you shush him.

Your neighbors have probably already heard his screams arguing and clearly the little girl's screams, so you reopen the door to your house and walk in with Carlota in your arms. You need to calm her down or it will be worse in a while.

Damn. For a moment you forget that inside your home was your date and you sigh, cursing slowly when you see him in the living room. George stands up from his place on the couch and looks at you confused as you walk towards him with a little girl in your arms, you think as you try to find the right words to explain the event. Ruben walks in behind you and you can hear him hold back his laughter, mocking you and even though you're not seeing him but you're sure there's a smirk on his face.

"Oh, I get it" you hear Ruben whisper as he sets Carlota's purse on the living room table.

«Don't say anything, please» you plead in your head as you give an apologetic smile to your date, who is still looking at you confused and even a little scared with the whole situation.

"I'm so sorry, George" you apologize to him. "It's an unforeseen emergency..."

"You'd rather have a date than take care your daughter" Ruben's words make you go speechless.

Quickly your eyes dart to him and you can see his gaze enjoying this moment, your teeth squeak as you clench them smiling at him to shut him up.

"No!" you shout quickly but you startle Carlota, who cries loudly again and you have to gently rock her.

"This is a misunderstanding" you tell him quickly.

George opens his mouth to say something and you can see how his face is disfigured, he is somewhat disappointed and surprised, you can even see how he is trying to take things in. You don't judge him, you would be too if your date looks like with a baby out of nowhere. But it's not what he thought.

"It's not what it looks like, she's my..." you try to say but Carlota's desperate scream accompanied by a cry comes again.

You try to calm her down as the little girl hides between your neck and shoulders, curling up. This is chaos, Ruben seems to be enjoying it from his spot as he smirks and you are desperate to calm Carlota down and attend to your date.

"I-I..." you hear him try to say.

"Uh man, she didn't tell you she has a daughter, definitely a red flag" Ruben sneers again.

You're about to explode, Ruben is being a complete idiot for no reason. He needs to shut his mouth immediately before you start crying too.

"It's not my daughter!" you say but to no avail, the baby's screams make anything but understandable and if Ruben keeps talking you're going to kill him right here.

You are beginning to despair. Carlota is still crying and you're starting to suffer for her, your date is about to leave and will probably never call you again and you can see Ruben enjoying the situation as if he planned it. Idiot.

Your date grabs his coat from the seat and starts walking towards the exit without hearing you shouting her name, no way. You hand Carlota to Ruben with a murderous look and run to stop him.

"George, wait!" you yell. "I can explain..." The boy's frightened look looks at you one last time and you see him disappear as the elevator doors begin to close.

Great. Just when you were about to go for more, this happened. Now you were going to have to explain the whole situation to him (if he still wanted to go out with you) but you were sure Ruben had scared him off with this whole misunderstanding.

Damn it, Ruben.

You walk like a murderer into the house, you can see how Ruben cradles Carlota, she is still crying but when she sees you she stretches her arms towards you. You hold her as you walk away towards the kitchen, looking for some peace inside because you are about to murder someone. You open your refrigerator and can see the cold gel pacifier that Ines once left for Carlota. You take it and give it to the little girl, who when she tastes it for a few seconds, her crying starts to slow down.

She was upset because her teeth are starting to grow and sometimes it hurts, Ines had said that the cold gel pacifier helped her and surely Ruben had forgotten it.

Peace and harmony reigns again when you no longer hear crying, Carlota even hugs you as you lead the way back to the living room. You stand in front of Ruben and look at him, trying to find an explanation.

He has a flat smile and a laughing expression as if feeling guilty.

"Oh, I forgot" he mumbles simply and grimaces.

"Are you fucking kidding?" you ask suddenly. "I told you, Ruben. Several times!" you say and your blood boils.

He doesn't answer anything, just takes the girl out of your arms and starts walking towards his things. You call out to him, trying to stop him but he keeps walking away from you.

You want explanations. There is no way he has forgotten that her teeth are growing and that he has her medicine and pacifier cold, even though you told him before you left. You had seen to it that Ruben had everything on hand so that Carlota wouldn't miss anything and you wouldn't be bothered.

"You come and interrupt my date just because Carlota was upset with her teeth, you could have called me" you ask confused. "I left you everything, the food, the bottle, even her gel pacifier for her teeth in your refrigerator with her medicine, I don't understand, I gave you every explanation" you keep saying angry but he ignores you.

He starts to put things away, looking like now he is the one who is in a hurry to leave. You won't let him go so easily. Not without hearing him out first.

"Did you really have to come, Ruben?" you ask would be. You cross your hands on your chest and watch him waiting for his answer, as if you have all the time in the world. "Did you really have to interrupt me?" you insist.

"Is Carlotta an interruption for you?" he questions ignoring your question. Great, he's turning the tables.

His brown eyes intensify as his question makes you frown. His gaze stays glued to yours and you feel a funny feeling in your stomach.

"Of course not!" you squeak in denial. "But I told you I couldn't take care of her today, to call me in case of any emergency" you spit through your teeth, you are angry and very much so.

"Look, Carlota, your aunt would rather put someone in her bed than take care of you" he says lifting the girl in front of his face, who watches him curiously

Carlota lets out a laugh that makes you sigh with love. Even without knowing what he's saying she seems happier than ever now. She is so beautiful.

But you're angry and you won't let him get away with it, even if he's funny.

"I'm seriously, Ruben" you murmur harshly.

"What if Carlota really needed something?" he asks in response. "Would you have let something happen to her just to get a man?" sighs suspiciously.

Oh. There is the problem.

Ruben just wanted to screw up your date. Ideas start to come to your head when you think the most. Had he tried to scare George? Saying Carlota was your daughter, acting like an idiot in front of him. Was he jealous? of you? of your date? He clearly wanted to interrupt you, it wasn't an emergency.

"Are you jealous that i had a date, Ruben?" you ask with an amused grimace. "Why did you say that to George?"you keep insisting.

His gaze weakens and he raises his eyebrows quickly shaking his head. Of course he is. A laugh hides in your throat when you think about it again. There is no way. He just wants to ruin you.

"Ruben..." you say again. "You could have called me" you complain as you throw yourself on the couch.

"I just got scared, she wouldn't stop crying and i didn't know what to do" he says after a while.

"You still should have called me"

"Then Carlota and I will leave if we bother so much" he keeps saying as you roll your eyes at his words.

"Give her to me" you ask stretching your arms out to take her, since they're here at least you're going to enjoy your beautiful niece.

Ruben approaches you slowly, sitting down next to you and reaches for Carlota. As you take her in your arms, your fingers touch Ruben's hands and you feel a shiver down your spine. His eyes meet yours for a few seconds but you break the contact when you quickly move away, standing up, holding the girl in your arms until you lay her on your chest and caress her back as she babbles.

The child's crystallized eyes begin to close as she sits quietly on your chest and you smile helping her to sleep with your caresses and your little melody that you begin to hum. You can't help but be moved by the image, she looks so angelic, asleep in your arms as you gently cradle her.

Behind you you feel an exhausted sigh and you slowly turn around watching Ruben begin to fall asleep on your couch. You hide a smile as you see him there, his body is relaxed and he really does look tired, just as tired as Carlota. Now he looks really calm, so much so that you don't know whether to leave him there. You move a little closer and move his shoulder slowly, he opens his eyes again somewhat startled and looks at you confused.

"Let's go to bed" you whisper carefully so as not to wake the little girl. Ruben smiles somewhat sleepily and you roll your eyes in denial.

You start walking towards your room, taking all the care in the world not to disturb Carlota and when you get to your room, you settle her in her crib (which Ines also left one day) and cover her with her teddy bear blanket. The little girl rests peacefully while you caress her chubby cheeks with tenderness.

You hear Ruben enter the room and you tell him to lie down on the bed, while you take off your shoes. He does the same and settles into your spacious bed.

"You really are desperate to have a man in your bed" he whispers teasingly as you lie down in front of him.

"Fuck you" You roll your eyes again with a giggle. He just keeps saying stupid things but you still sigh rarely.

"I only let you sleep in my bed because you'll be the one to wake up if Carlota cries in the middle of the night" you tease amused.

You don't mind sharing the bed with him today and you know he could sleep perfectly well on your couch but from there he won't hear Carlota's cries from here and tonight you'll make him suffer.

"Good point" he mumbles settling into place to find a comfortable position.

"Goodnight, idiot" you whisper closing your eyes to fall asleep.

"Goodnight, princess" he replies after a few seconds and your body vibrates as you feel his words.

The heat in your cheeks starts to burn and you have to open your eyes, so you say nothing, completely ignoring his greeting, pretending to be asleep. Why is your heart racing in such a hurry? He's just teasing you. Damn it.

After a while of struggling with your thoughts, you open your eyes when you feel a slight male snore and see Ruben resting comfortably in front of you. You carefully stretch out your arm, grabbing the blanket and cover him a bit as you sigh deeply.

Your pulse quickens for some reason as you watch him in detail. You shake your head quickly and want to stop looking at him... but you can't.

[eyelessfaces]

I'll be the silence ringing through and through and through

santiago garcia x reader

summary: if santi had it his way, he would be back home, with you, his mouth on your neck or something of that kind– it would have been possible, a few months ago. or in some alternate universe where he hadn’t fucked it all up. in short; santi wants you back.

warnings: mentions of a breakup but no reason is mentioned, alcohol consumption

tags: f!reader, exes to lovers, inevitable angst, fluff

word count: 1.7k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

happy new year!!!! randomly dropping a santi fic to start it right hhhh

fic title is from the song "heart to heart" by fiddlehead :)

reblogs and feedback are extremely (I cannot stress this enough) appreciated!!

If Santi had it his way, he would be back home, with you, his mouth on your neck or something of that kind–

It would have been possible, a few months ago.

Or in some alternate universe where he hadn’t fucked it all up, and where he would be holding you by the waist and kissing your cheek instead of having to watch you from afar, scrutinizing every littlest movement of yours while he was slumped in Frankie’s couch, like an hermit, feeling helpless, the neck of his beer being the only thing to kiss his lips tonight.

Maybe it was just the alcohol, maybe everything would seem way less dramatic tomorrow, save for the hangover headache – but no, scratch that, he wasn’t even drunk, just barely tipsy, so no, tomorrow won’t be better.

It must be the sight of you laughing at another man’s joke then, probably.

Was he hitting on you? Was he just a friend, like Benny, Will and Frankie were to you? 

He shouldn’t care; that wasn’t his business, that wasn’t his problem. Not anymore. Not that he had been the kind to carefully observe your every movement any time you talked to another man back when you were together. He had never really been of that kind, he trusted you.

Except here, right now, it was his problem. For some reason, it felt like it was, and even more than before, when you were still together.

Because now that you didn’t love him anymore, there was nothing to stop you from doing anything with that man.

Would that man fill the hole Santi had left in your heart? Would he make you happier than Santi ever had? 

Probably. He was probably a good man, would be a good boyfriend, wouldn’t fuck everything up. Would probably even marry you, and he’d be damn right to.

“He’s gay” Will snorts, plopping down next to Santi, giving a small pat to his chest. Santi’s gaze finally departs from you to turn to his right, where his friend has settled next to him.

“Good to know, but I‘m not interested in him,” Santi jokes, looking down at his half full beer. Half empty.

“That, I know.” Will cocks his head to the side, a more serious expression over his face as he brings his beer to his mouth. Santi’s gaze darts back to you and that man talking, a sick feeling filling his stomach as he sees you smile and shake your head frantically just the way you used to when he would come up with a shitty joke. “I’m like, eighty three percent sure she’s still in love with you.” Will speaks again, nudging Santi’s knee with his own.

“Seventeen percent of what?” Santi chuckles, more convinced that the rest of that percentage is the most important part.

“Seventeen percent of, you still fucked up, man.” Will says, patting Santi’s knee before getting up from the couch, already. “I’m not good at math dude, but all I can tell you is, it’s worth trying again!” he declares over the music, pointing at Santi before disappearing through the crowd. 

Easier said than done.

Santi sighs, bites the inside of his cheek as he runs a hand over his few days old stubble. 

He had never had any issue talking to people with ease, but for some reason, the idea of talking to you tonight seemed like the most intimidating thing he ever had to do in his entire life.

But god, did he want to look at you in the eyes again. To have you make that focused frown whenever you were attentively listening to someone. To see the way your lips curled up into a smile when you could pre shot a joke, and the way you still pretended not to know what the punchline was, and still ended up laughing.

Santi smiles to himself, finishes his beer, and when he looks up, you’re not in the crowd anymore. Then Benny joins him when he goes to the kitchen for a refill, and you happen to slip out of his mind for the time being. 

—

The air is crisp, compared to the smothering heat inside. It tickles your cheeks, the tip of your ears, it hits every exposed area of skin, the sweat over it now feeling ice cold.

It’s all you needed and wanted, so you shouldn’t complain.

You walk back and forth along Frankie’s porch, the overwhelming feeling of the slight tipsiness and the fast beating of your heart simmering down, and you lean against the wall, taking a deep breath. 

You turn at the sound of the door opening beside you, the loud, previously muffled sound of the music now clear, ending up face to face with the one person you did your best to not go talk to all night long.

“Shit, sorry. I’ll go” Santi apologizes, still firmly holding the doorknob, starting to go back inside.

“No, no, it’s alright” you say, inviting him to stay with you. “I didn’t privatize the porch” you joke, giving him an awkward smile.

He chuckles as he tentatively steps outside, closing the door behind him, leaning his back against the wall beside you. Neither of you say a single word for a while, then he looks over at you, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. “I assumed you wouldn’t wanna see me.” he finally declares, making you scoff and shrug.

“I actually don’t mind,” you say, looking over at him. He’s now looking ahead, a small pinched smile over his lips. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip before looking back at you.

“I feel like an idiot.”

“Fair enough, you are one.” you immediately sigh, looking away. His gaze is too heavy. “I loved you.” the knot inside your throat tightens only after you pronounce the words, thankfully.

He swallows hard, a shiver running down his spine. It’s not the cold air’s doing. He stares deeply at you, watching you doing your best not to look at him.

“I know.” 

The atmosphere hangs heavily as the awkwardness takes over. The silence lingers, punctuated only by the sounds of the night around you. 

He pushes himself away from the wall, taking a step closer and turning to look at you, forcing the both of you to truly establish eye contact for the first time tonight.

"I fucked up, I know," he admits, his voice low and filled with remorse. "But I never meant to hurt you." he shakes his head. “Ever.”

You blink, your gaze tearing from his. "You did anyway," you reply, your tone tinged with a mixture of bitterness and sadness. The memories of the pain he caused are still fresh, wounds not fully healed. 

He runs a hand over his stubble, a nervous habit you remember all too well. "I know I can't change anything that I did, but I want you to know that I'm sorry."

Your eyes meet his own again, searching for sincerity. "It doesn't fix everything," you say, your guard still up. 

He nods understandingly. "I just needed to tell you, and to let you know I haven't stopped thinking about you."

The vulnerability in his gaze begins to chip away at your defenses. Despite the hurt, a part of you softens. "Santi–”

He cuts you off– "I've been thinking, and you know I don’t do it often” he jokes, scoffing. “And I realized how much I lost when I let you go." 

A wave of internal conflict washes over you. Your past relationship is a heavy burden you’re carrying, and you’re not sure you should grant him your forgiveness, yet there's a glimmer of something in his eyes that translates his genuine desire for redemption, and there’s some part of you that craves everything you had with him.

“Please,” he starts, his gaze chasing yours as he softly holds onto your wrist. “Please give me a second chance”

His plea hangs in the air, and you can feel the sincerity in his touch. The warmth of his hand on your wrist is a rough contrast to the chill in the night air. You sigh, and look away, torn between the pain of the past and the possibility of a different future. The silence stretches painfully, and you can hear the faint sounds of the night around you – a distant car passing by, the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

A shiver shakes through you, the brown of his eyes seeming deeper than usual, softer as he silently begs for you to say something.

“Second and last chance” you finally declare, refusing to give up on everything you’ve done to try to get over him, yet indulging in everything you’ve ever wanted since you’ve been apart. 

He nods silently, his hand leaving your wrist to settle at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Okay. Alright. I won’t need another one” he promises confidently, the frown over his face eventually softening. You smile as his thumb gently rubs over your now cold skin.

“Alright, but you gotta kiss me for it to take effect” you tease as you break the tense atmosphere, readjusting your position onto your feet and placing your hands at either side of his neck. His skin is warm, and you feel his muscles contract under your hands when he laughs.

“Good thing I’ve been wanting to do it all night long” he smirks before leaning in and pressing his lips against yours, smiling as you sigh into the kiss. This is it; you feel complete again. 

He tastes of booze, and his light stubble slightly stinging when he moves are surprisingly pleasant. Your hand shifts to rest at the back of his neck, feeling his scar here, his own hands pulling you closer at the waist where he squeezes lightly when you run your other hand through his short hair.

You pull away only once it becomes necessary, the lack of oxygen making you all giddy though you’re not sure it’s just it. Santi is still holding you close as he presses his warm lips over your forehead, laughing when a shiver runs through your spine and makes you jolt. 

“Alright” he declares as he strips himself of his jacket, pulling it over your shoulders.

“You already pulled this trick on our first date” you scoff, looking over at him. A sly smirk grows over his face as you adjust the jacket over your shoulders.

“...And it worked, didn’t it?”

—

reblogs and feedback are extremely (I cannot stress this enough) appreciated!!

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[one-idea]

Horrible idea, but:

Marineford au, in which everyone survived. (At least on whitebeards side. Something Something Marco awakening his devil fruit after seeing his family die around him)

Happy end, right?

Exept that Ace is going through major Angst because A) realization that the family he loves would (and could) have died because of him and B) the uprise of people trying to assassinate him.

No matter where he goes, everyone knows who and (more importantly) whose son he is.

He is seen as the son of the devil, a demon that shouldn't have been born

There isn't a place in the world where he is safe, no matter how much his family tries .

This!

So here’s the thing. I have always seen Ace survives Marineford as having this problem. Everyone now knows who he is.

The government wants him dead. His bounty is going to sky rocket and while we normally see that as a good thing it’s not because of any feat he has done. He hasn’t earned his bounty. And that would hurt. He’s tried his whole life to separate himself from his father and now all of his accomplishments are forever over shadowed by his blood.

It’s also dangerous because his abilities are now over stated (to the general public and other crews) we see in the show how people react to Luffy and the crews different bounties and how much they are treated like a threat or a joke. If Ace’s bounty sky rockets because of his connection to Roger and not his skill the people coming after him are planning to take down someone of let’s say Kaido’s strength and Ace isn’t there. (We are seeing this with Buggy and Cross Guild in the cannon where Buggy’s strength doesn’t match his bounty. And while we are making memes out of it the man has to be stressed)

The Whitebeard’s can try to shield him but they aren’t what they used to be. Even if Whitebeard survives they got out by the skin of their teeth and the arrival of Shanks. While Marineford is them fighting on enemy territory with a mass disadvantage it’s still going to effect the reputation. And even if Whitebeard loved he’s not fighting fit and the world knows that. Marcos and the crew can probably repeal some people but can they full shield Ace the way they could before the war? No.

In fact it would probably be a constant struggle for the next two years. Maybe at some point Ace disappears for a while but in reality he’s met up with Rayleigh and Luffy and joined in on training up his Haki. (And spending time with his little brother)

By the time Luffy and crew are ready to hit the sea again, Ace’s life is in constant danger. And remains so until Wano. Wano where his baby brother beats the pants off of Kaido and becomes the new emperor of the sea. The new emperor of the sea who has a very public tigh to Ace and has already destroyed Enies Lobby to get back one crew member, successfully broke into and out of Impel Down leading a large prison break to Marineford where he publicly declared Ace his brother and fought to save him once already.

Now it’s not the Whitebeard name shielding Ace but Luffy’s. It’s not being the son of the King of the Pirates that gives him infamy but being the brother of the future king of the pirates Monkey D. Luffy. Even if Luffy doesn’t publicly declare Ace as under his protection you would have to be stupid not to understand that these two would go to war for one another.

Honestly Whitebeard’s statues probably got downgraded depending on how badly they got their butts handed to them in the first place. They might join up as part of the Strawhat grand fleet. Whitebeard just wants to protect his kids and at this point he’s old, injured and not what he used to be. It Strawhat has already shown his loyalty to those that are his and Ace is already his.

Of Whitebeard can’t make a run for King of the Pirates anymore. Can’t protect his children and territories he might as well through his hat in with the person he knows is going to take care of them. Someone so much like Roger’s who believes in freedom above all else. (Shanks would be his second choice but the man has to many of his own plans. And it’s kind of obvious that Shanks has through his hat (or his arm) into Luffy’s ring long ago)

Now that’s idea one but idea 2

But this is where we get to have some fun with abilities, timelines, and shenanigans. Because let’s say Marcos’s phenixes ability when awakened is not just to heal but to burn away trauma for the point he can revive someone. When did the revival happen? Because if this happened at Marineford the Whitebeard’s get a second wind and can probably pull out a win in the fight. But everyone knows they survived and who Ace is.

If he does it after the fight. After Ace dies in front of Luffy and Luffy is whisked away. After the Whitebeards retreat. Looking over the bodies and grieving the loss, Marco unlocks his ability. Receiving Ace, Whitebeard, and the others, now we have some shenanigans.

Because Luffy doesn’t know that Ace is alive and Ace doesn’t know Luffy is alive. Maybe Ace lost his fruit maybe home didn’t but we can tackle that later.

The Whitebeards are hanging low until they get their strength back. No one in the government knows they survived and that’s the way it needs to stay. Until Luffy shows back up at Marineford to honor Ace.

Ace sees the news paper and he thought Luffy had died. He knew Jinbei had taken him away from the battle but no one could tell him where Luffy went or if he had survived his injuries. He wants to rush to Luffy and make sure his brother is okay. Marco has to tell him to slow down. If he races out and the world realizes he survived before he’s back at full strength he will just get captured again. But Ace is stubborn about seeing Luffy and making sure he’s okay.

They know he went to Marineford with Rayleigh so they use some connections to find the old man. He’s not about to tell them where Luffy is until Ace reveals himself. He agrees to take just Ace to see Luffy. After a reunion filled with tears Ace decides that the best way to build back up his strength is to stay and train with Luffy.

Now fruit? Did they keep their abilities? They technically died. So either yes they kept them, they lost them, or Marco restored their body and powers but the fruit also exist outside of them so two people can now have that ability. (Meaning Sabo can still get the Mera Mera and Blackbeard still gets Whitebeard’s fruit.) this is helpful to keep the story moving but also reinforcing the lie that the Whitebeards died.

If this is the case Ace and Luffy train their Haki and abilities together for two years. When Luffy is finally ready to burst back o to the scene so is Ace. Stronger than ever.

Again maybe the Whitebeard’s eventually join the grand fleet. If the world thought they were dead they don’t have their statues as emperor crew anymore but they would be a lot stronger in this version.

In both versions they Whitebeard’s help out with Wano and Ace and Sabo get to reunite.

[kitthepurplepotato]

Chapter 6 - Crimson Riot?!

Summary: Eijirou is too busy fawning over Crimson Riot.

Warnings: Swear words, Eijirou makes one kinky comment

First Chapter Ko-Fi Master List

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She’s so close. Oh my god. She’s so pretty. Those plump lips, the slight blush on her cheeks… how is he supposed to resist?

He knows Y/N said this was a date but he’s still sure she’d meant that as a joke. It was just teasing. She still called Kirishima her homoerotic buddy by the end of the day, so clearly, he’s still in the hubby zone.

He should be happy for getting a kiss on his cheeks. He should be thankful…

Okay, Y/N is clearly aiming for his lips but maybe, that’s just his wishful thinking.

He’ll just… wait it out, he guesses. He slowly closes his eyes, letting faith choose the path for him and certainly, it does; Y/N’s door opens up from the inside. Kirishima respectfully almost shits his pants.

“Did you forget how to open your own door, you silly sausage?” A cheery old man with Crimson hair crackles teasingly. “… oh. Oh!”

Well, that’s what Kirishima’s also thinking. Oh. This relic is a bit too big to fit into a box; Kirishima thinks as he looks at the man in front of him who looks 100% like Crimson Riot.

Kirishima’s also sure it’s illegal to keep people in boxes. Except if they want to be kept in a box. But why would they live in a box willingly?

“What the fuck are you doing here, Uncle?!”

Oh, it’s just her uncle. The loaded one who owns the flat. It makes sense. Crimson Riot was one of the best heroes of his era so he certainly managed to get his hands on enough money to keep him and his family well fed for as long as he lives and probably even after. Makes sense indeed.

Makes… sense.

Okay, wait. So this man, possibly Crimson Riot himself, just opened Y/N’s door and she called him her uncle. That means…

“Crimson Riot is… your uncle?!” Eijirou yells and there is a palm on his mouth the second after.

“Don’t fucking yell, you himbo!” Y/N sighs, clearly aggravated by Kirishima’s stupidity and to be honest, Kirishima is quite used to get this look every day so he doesn’t even flinch. He’s a bit dumb. He knows it. He’s okay with it. “Why the fuck are you here, uncle?! You just ruined my plans!”

“Ahh, honey, I’m sorry to say this but I’m quite sure the mood is ruined anyway so we might as well have a little chat. I’m quite sure Red Riot-kun is more than happy to tell me what does he want from my one and only niece I’m willing to kill for if I need to.”

Kirishima’s blood freezes in his veins. This is too much to take in for his little bird brain. Okay, let’s focus. One thing at a time. One thing… at a time.

“Are you really…” He lowers his voice into a whisper. “Crimson Riot?”

Y/N facepalms herself. He has no idea what he had done wrong this time. Like, bro… can you really blame him for that question? He was already all over the place thanks to the fact that he was on a not-a-date with his new favorite person and now that favorite person turns out to be Crimson Riot’s niece? Eijirou is having an out of body experience. He swears he can see his soul leaving his body as he stares at the old man he’s been worshipping for decades now.

“Yes… I was Crimson Riot when I was a hero. Now, I’m just uncle Riot. Okay, son?”

Kirishima cries manly tears. This is the best day of his life.

~•🪨•~

“So now that we are settled, can you please tell me what are your plans with my little girl?”

Uncle Riot asks. Well, that’s easy.

“I…” Nevermind. It’s not.

What are Kirishima’s plans with her? Honestly, not much. He knows he’ll never have the balls to confess to her. He knows he’s not enough for such a perfect woman anyway, so… “I like spending time with her. She’s the manliest woman I’ve ever met.”

Uncle Riot rolls his eyes and looks at Y/N questionably. She sighs.

“We were on a date and if it’s not for you he would be my boyfriend by now, so fucking thank you for the cockblock.”

Okay, what the fuck. Kirishima has no idea what’s going on and why is Y/N lying about their relationship but if that’s what she wants, he will just roll with it. He doesn’t even need to lie to be able to do that.

“To be fair, I was about to kiss her goodbye in the doorway, then you opened the door and… well… not like I mind, sir! I’m actually so thrilled to meet you, can I ask a few questions?” Kirishima rambles, embarrassment already forgotten.

“I thought you want to have some alone time?” Crimson Riot smirks knowingly but Kirishima is too excited to even think about cheeky things.

“That can wait!” He spurts out and he can’t even finish the sentence before he gets a fist in the stomach.

“Oi!” Y/N yells, clearly offended. Kirishima gives her his best apologetic face, puppy eyes and all, and Y/N only sighs at that. “Only if you stay for the night.” Y/N whispers into her ears, and oh boy, his whole face must be as red as his hair. Stay… for the night?! Like a sleepover? With the prettiest angel in the whole universe?! Kirishima is so fucked.

“Uhm… okay?”

“Good boy.” Y/N kisses his temple with a smirk and Kirishima descends to another planet. He really liked being called a good boy. Is that weird? Kinky? His little fella between his legs says it’s the latter. Oh no.

~•🪨•~

You are so done with this bozo. Yes, you said you are okay with Kirishima staying over to talk to your uncle for a while but it has been hours, you need to go to bed in a few minutes and the red headed idiot - the younger one - can’t fucking shut up. Even your uncle looks uncomfortable at this point, probably having PTSD from all the times he’s been interrogated before. Yet here is the himbo, his non-existent tail wiggling from excitement as he asks questions after questions like it’s his fucking job.

By the look of it, you’ll go to bed alone. You are actually about to cry from how disappointed you are.

“I’m going to bed. I have an early shift tomorrow.”

Your voice is so lovelorn it’s actually ridiculous.

It’s just… you had this all planned out. You wanted to kiss him in the hallway then ask him to come in, cuddle on the sofa then maybe… share the bed after. You can’t believe it’s almost midnight and none of your attempts to kiss him worked. Is he even interested in you? You really thought it’s obvious that this was a date. He gave you a ring and promised he’ll be yours, yet here is, fangirling over “fucking old man Crimson Riot” instead of being with you. It just… hurts.

“What’s wrong, Angel?” Red asks and your stupid heart almost leaps out of your chest from the pet name. Your uncle takes one good look at you and slowly makes his way to the door with an apologetic smile on his face.

“I… just remembered something. I need to go. Sorry, son! I’ll see you soon, I’m sure of it.” That stupid old man winks at you as he sneaks out of the door. There was no fucking need for that. No fucking need.

“There is spare bedding in the chest of drawers next to the sofa.” You mutter and make your way towards your bedroom and for your surprise, Eijirou doesn’t even bother to come after you.

You take a deep breath and grab your pajamas from the bed then make your way to the bathroom to shower and brush your teeth. When you are done you take a peek to the sofa; Eijirou looks so fucking sad you start to feel terrible for being an absolute bitch to him just because he didn’t give you all his attention for once.

“Hey, himbo.” You half-whisper into the silence and Eijirou looks up right away.

“I don’t know what I did wrong, but I’m sorry.”

Oh my fucking god, how can he be so cute?!

You move closer the sofa and crouch down in front of him. You are done with this game. Just… done.

“You’ve done nothing wrong. I just love to be in the center of attention.” You admit sheepishly, your hand caressing his cheek, because you can’t behave yourself. Eijirou melts into the touch and pushes his cheek into your palm then turns so he can leave a kiss on your fingers, slow and so-so loving it almost makes you cry.

“Crimson Riot is the only person who can steal my attention from you.” He admits, and you can’t help but giggle at that.

“That was a really backhanded compliment, Ei.” You smile as your thumb caresses the skin under his eyes. There’s a lot of tension in the air but not the unpleasant kind; it’s like you are both waiting for something, but none of you know how to actually make the first step. “So what do I need to do to gain your attention, Red?”

“Don’t tease me…” he looks down into his lap with tears in his eyes. It breaks your heart.

“Ei… I’m not teasing you.” You stroke his cheek again. You can’t help but take a peek at his pretty lips, slowly closing the remaining distance as you speak. “I want to know. I don’t want you to take your eyes off me. I’m being selfish.”

“You can have all my attention. All of it.” Eijirou whispers, so close to your mouth it lips actually tingle from his breath. Fuck it. Just fuck it.

“No, it’s not enough.” You finally close the remaining distance and kiss him right on the mouth. You stay there for a few seconds, savoring the taste, the texture, the softness, then move away with your heart in your throat. You did it. Oh my god, you kissed him. And it was amazing. Oh god, you are so in love with this himbo. “Good night, hubby. See you in the morning.” You smile at his dumbstruck face. Red Riot.exe has stopped working, clearly. “I put a new toothbrush out for you. The red one is yours.” You can’t help but barge back for another little peck before you run into your room with a massive blush on your face.

It’s done. It’s official. You made your intentions clear as a day and he didn’t say no. You make a new note in your calendar for today called “anniversary” then you yell into your pillow, like a proper adult.

~•🪨•~

“So she tried to kiss you several times during your DATE.” Katsuki mutters.

“That’s not what I said!” He retorts right away but his best friend does not listen.

“Then you proposed with a ring from the vending machine and she said yes.”

“I didn’t propose!”

“Oh sorry, you told her you’ll marry her.” Katsuki looks at Kirishima with pure incredulity. “Then she invited you to her flat and told her uncle you two are a thing.”

“You are not listening, Katsuki!” Kirishima yells with a red face. “Why are we not talking about Crimson Riot?! He’s the uncle! Crimson Riot! Katsuki! Focus!”

“You focus! She fucking kissed you on the mouth TWICE, Shitty hair, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?!” Katsuki is absolutely out his mind by now, he’s yelling like a maniac, his eyes dark and menacing, and you swear there are fresh claw marks on his desk where his hands are right now.

“She’s not my girlfriend! I swear!” He’s about to cry. What does he not understand?! Yeah, she kissed him. On the mouth. But maybe Y/N is just really affectionate with his homosexual buddies (hubbies). There are some countries where people kiss on the mouth. Or at least he thinks.

“No, she’s fucking not, because she’s your fiancé, you absolute idiot!”

“Eijirou, I love you to death but you are an absolute himbo… a himbo with a fiancé.” Katsuki’s girlfriend looks up from her paperwork. He can’t believe these two.

“She’s blood related to Crimson Riot! That’s just… inappropriate! No! I’m done with this conversation!”

“She made you a home-made fucking bento at 5 fucking AM in the morning! The carrots are fucking heart shaped!” Katsuki continues to yell, but Kirishima is done with this conversation. “HEART SHAPED, KIRISHIMA!”

No one understands him. No one.

~•🪨•~

It has been a week since you and Eijirou became a couple. You wear the ring every day, showing it off proudly, especially, when customers try to chat you up. You love how their face pale when you tell them that you are actually engaged.

He comes to see you every single morning, buys his usual coffee and gets a little kiss on his mouth as a bonus. Eijirou barely kisses back but he’s a shy boy, so that’s fine; he’ll eventually get used to it - You’ll make sure to kiss him loads on your date, and maybe by the end of the night he’ll actually kiss you back… and maybe, he’ll stay the night and kiss you even more. Ahh, a girl can dream. Eijirou has no idea how absolutely gorgeous he is but that’s why you like him so much; he makes you feel like a teenager again, naive and lovesick and well… he also makes you feel really hot in inappropriate places.

No one can blame you, though. Red Riot has the body of a god and he’s sweet and so innocent you just want to ruin him until the monster in him comes to the surface and devours you in whole, but it’s too much too soon so you try your best to behave yourself and keep the kisses chaste because there is no fucking way you will be able to stop once that kiss deepens.

It’s quite silly how stressed you are about being proper when it comes to this thing even though you are literally engaged to the guy.

Having sex after the first date? Hell no.

Getting engaged on it? Hell yes.

If this keeps going this way you’ll end up having your first night after the wedding.

Hell, maybe you’ll get eloped in a random chapel on your second date.

The weirdest thing is, that you wouldn’t even mind doing that.

You feel really silly to call something so fresh “love” but you are old enough to know the difference between a crush and pure, wholehearted affection. Eijirou is everything you’ve always wanted in life; he’s kind and genuine, a person who’s not ashamed of having emotions, who’s not ashamed to cry, to be angry, to be unapologetically himself, even if people laugh at him for being like that. He’s kind to a fault but that’s even more reason for you to stay by his side; you’ll make sure that no one can break his fragile heart, you’ll make sure he’s the happiest himbo in the whole wide world.

“I can hear the wedding bells!” Your boss teases with a smile, but you can’t even get mad at her.

“Me too, boss, me too.”

The silence speaks volumes.

… Next Chapter!

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TL: @porusuniverse @sixxze @unofficialmuilover @cheesenmax @readingfan @sammmm29 @pwinglez1 @happydragonfrog @magicalhandsherringclam @lovingnightharmony @theequeenofcurses @kirishima-eijirock @nerinefy @selfindulgenthoe @fierysplash213 @woofwoofwolf @touyasprettydoll @confused-smol-fan @themultifandomgirl @dark-witch-bitch @lotusstarr

[shouldaspunastory]

Thank you @broodsys! @dadrunkwriting

This might be wildly out OOC once we get more details or the game drops, but Emmrich Volkarian has bewitched me body and soul, and I love and have already drawn and begun collecting headcanons and lore for my Rook that is going to woo/be wooed and marry the gentleman necromancer. Hope you enjoy.

Emmrich Volkarin x Tobias Rook (SFW, Pre-relationship, pining. 1192 words) ------------------

The thing of it is, Emmrich is far more accustomed to dealing with the dead, isn’t he? Skeletons, in particular. Nevarra may be a warm enough clime, but the necromancer knows the cool, stale air of the Necropolis and his study filled with bones, old tomes, parchment, ink, and the scent of his favorite teas far better than that of the sun and bustling markets miles above. What he knows of the living- aside from that of a few colleagues- is primarily of their connections to and beliefs surrounding death and what rites should follow. Anything outside of that, well, it is largely theoretical. That’s never troubled him before. That it should do so now, so late in life, is… unexpected, to say the least.

And Tobias Rook is… warm, bright, and more alive than anyone Emmrich has even known. A series of utterly baffling and delightful contradictions Emmrich could spend the rest of his life puzzling over and never entirely figure out. Exactly the kind of challenge, the sort of puzzle, he adores. He adores them, a realization that had shaken him to his very core. They make Emmrich feel more alive than he has in years, and, somehow, both younger and older at the same time, makes their heart stop and race. It’s probably a lucky thing he’s already gone gray, or some of their more reckless antics would almost certainly inspire some new ones. They’ve come away from today’s battle on a little more bruised and worse for wear, but the mage is well aware how easily it might have been otherwise.

“Do you ever think about it,” Emmrich asks when he and Rook are finishing an evening cup of tea, the rest of their companions having already turned in for the night. Given his area of expertise, and the odds of what they’re up against it seems prudent to ask. Truthfully, it seems almost shamefully neglectful he’s not done so before now.

“What’s that?”

“Death. What comes after. What rites you would like others to perform for you,” the necromancer prompts, but Rook shakes their head.

“Not as often as you, I suspect,” Rook replies with a soft, amused chuckle, then, sobering a little, mulls the question over in order to give him a more serious response.

Rook does that a lot. They are playful- albeit sometimes a bit irreverent soul. But they never shame or discourage Emmrich when he spirals into an impromptu lecture about his latest studies or curiosities, even when they don’t entirely understand them, they ask him questions and do their best to provide him both with humor, and thoughtful responses in equal measure.

Emmrich is used to being the butt of a fair number of jokes over the years, not that he’s ever paid those much mind, but Rook is inexplicably far more interested in making him laugh than laughter at his expense. Where some of his colleagues and acquaintances over the years deemed him peculiar, even somehow vaguely off-putting for being so committed and interested in his grim work, Rook consistently seeks out his company, praises and seems to admire his passion, even if they don’t share it for the same things.

“I don’t want or need any pomp or circumstance, and I’d hate to think the last thing I ever did was inconvenience my friends. I don’t know for certain what comes after, but I don’t believe I’ll be needing my body for it. Whatever is easiest, does the least damage- to your purses- that’s what I want.”

Emmrich frowns thoughtfully. It’s not that he expects Rook to share his exact views on death, their answer is a pragmatic one, but hearing them speak with so little reverence for their body and its care after death- a body he’s come to… appreciate since first they met- is difficult for him to reconcile.

“I never-“ but Rook cuts themselves short, biting their tongue, and taking a sip of their tea to give them a moment’s pause. “I’ve never cared if anyone knew my name,” they continue finally, refining the thought as they set their cup of tea back on its saucer. “That was never why I joined up with the Shadow Dragons, and it’s not why I’m doing this now.” Emmrich nods as they continue.

“I don’t care if the world knows my name. I’ve never needed that. I just want to matter to someone… one person to remember me- even if that memory fades with the two of us. If it was the right one, that would be enough,” Rook concludes. This is a sentiment Emmrich can understand, and one he shares. He sighs softly, a little wistful. Were he a younger man…

“For what it’s worth, Little Bird, I know I’m not the right one, but I could live a thousand lives and never forget you. I don’t know how anyone could.” Rook draws in a shallow breath, pupils blown wide as they try to meet Emmrich’s eyes which are suddenly rigidly fixed upon the floor in front of them.

“Why not,” Rook asks softly. These words catch the necromancer by surprise if the way his head shoots up at their question is any indication.

‘What?”

“Why not you,” Rook repeats, their voice is soft, almost like speaking too loudly will shatter whatever this strange, beautiful, and fragile moment between them is. Perhaps it will. Emmrich’s throat feels dry, despite the tea, tighter than it had a moment before. Were it not for the way it hammers against his ribs, quite as if it wishes to escape the confines of its bone prison to reach them, Emmrich would swear his heart has stopped.

“I wouldn’t mind if it was you,” Rook admits, suddenly uncharacteristically shy. “I, um, I’d really like that, actually,” they confess softly.

Their cheeks are flush, Emmrich thinks, unable to do anything for a moment but to gape at them. Full of blood, of life, warmth, their eyes full of light, of nerves, yes, but also, hope, a tenderness he’s seen before now, but clearly not for all that it was. They bite their lip and Emmrich realizes he’s been silent, lost in his swirling thoughts, for too long. His gloved hand gently clasps one of their hands, his thumb finding Rook’s pulse and caressing the inside of their wrist. Their heartbeat more akin to a hummingbird than their namesake, but precious all the same. I’ve done that, Emmrich marvels, cool fingers of his bare hand reaching out to rescue their bottom lip, bangles on his arm tingling softly, joining the symphony of his quickly beating heart and shallow breaths.

“Are you sure,” Emmrich asks, words scarcely louder than a whisper, but needing to offer them one last out.

“Please,” Rook nods, and Emmrich doesn’t keep them waiting, fingers moving to card through their hair before coming to cradle the back of their head as his lips meet theirs in a kiss of infinite care and patience, as though the pair have all the time in the world, and he, can think of nothing better to do with that time than this. And just now, he can’t.

[tragedycoded]

oc questionnaire - royston edition.

I'm not happy about this either /bit

So, I lost all my old character intros when I nuked the old blog. They're probably floating around somewhere.

If nobody knows who Royston is, he is the tritagonist (that's right, idiot, Hofer's the deuteragonist) of Doom Metal Love Story and a neverending pain in my neck. As of July 1st, 1873 he is a 45-year-old gambler who's wanted in five states for various flavors of murder and known to consort with 37-year-old First Sergeant Cole Sullivan.

I will do my best to keep spoilers to a minimum; however, for my own sanity, I'm answering for Book 2 Royston.

@the-golden-comet [1, 2] wants to know:

What never fails to make you laugh?

[he immediately starts cracking up]

Well, since you asked, I was just imagining the expression on Laurence Huston face when I stuck him.

What a knob. I cannot wait to drain the snake on his grave. Do not tell Cole I said that.

How can you tell if you’ll get along with someone?

Oh, I get along with everyone, darling. I don't have to wonder ahead of time.

Do you prefer sweet, savory, sour, or salty snacks?

[looks in Sullivan's direction and sighs]

What is your favorite season?

Autumn. [beat] Oh you want me to elaborate? Well I sweat less, for starters--

Never mind.

Where would you like to visit?

Now that you mention it, I've never been to Kentucky.

When do you usually go to sleep?

Why, are you hoping for an invitation? When I'm done for the day. Or when I'm tired. Or whenever I damned well please.

Royston tends to pass out around dawn.

@wyked-ao3 [x] I picked Royston knowing he would have to answer these:

If you had to pick just one enemy who would it be?

[he doesn't hesitate]

Doctor Emil Powell of Wherever the Fuck University. His actions directly lead to Cole's death. If someone didn't have me figuratively leashed to the damned boarding house I'd have caught up to him already, but noooo, I'm not allowed to go ahead and take care of him myself.

When did you feel safest and why?

[scoffs]

I will bring out Gott.

New Year's Eve. I will not elaborate.

If you could save just one other person who would it be?

Listen, I don't have to save him. He's the one who saved me.

Royston thinks people in town give a shit about whether he maintains his heartless badass reputation.

Oh shit @sableglass [x] has some good ones:

Tell us your favorite joke.

Would you believe I learned this one from Sullivan? Cavalrymen are absolutely filthy.

The private--I presume one could say "gentleman," however when Sullivan recited it to me the first time, it went like this:

The private couldn't understand why his lass failed to write him throughout the entirety of the campaign. She said it was out of her power, as he had carried away the pen with him, and left her nothing but the ink-stand.

Oh he thinks that's funny.

What is your proudest achievement?

He just grins. I think that's supposed to means he's proud of still being alive.

Five things that make you happy?

BEER.

TOBACCO.

BEDS.

HOT WATER.

SULLIVAN.

Pre-Sullivan #5 would have just been "GAMBLING."

And finally, from @orphanheirs [x]:

What would your perfect day look like?

[sigh] He's there when I wake up, and he's there when I go to sleep. Typically I'm there when he goes to sleep and then he has to go. If Army doesn't muster him out quickly I will burn down that entire fort. That would be a perfect day.

Do you believe in ghosts?

[siiiiigh] Ghosts aren't real. Spirits, however... are insatiable little bastards, and I have no tolerance for them.

If you could only wear one color of clothing for the rest of your life, which one would you choose?

Black. It's easier to conceal blood, and I notice Cole looking at my ass significantly more when I'm wearing dark clothing. Win-win-win.

Tag! (I have a tag list, let me know if you want on or off it.)

@lychhiker-writes @cowboybrunch @saturnine-saturneight @ashfordlabs @autism-purgatory

@noblebs @aintgonnatakethis @the-golden-comet @asablehart @mauvecatfic

@leahnardo-da-veggie @sableglass @gioiaalbanoart @words-after-midnight

@lavender-bloom @jev-urisk @wyked-ao3

[willysnylander]

so this is probably the only post i’m gonna make about the final game instead of just reblogging stuff about it, but like. here’s the thing. i don’t want the oilers to win the cup for themselves. i don’t want them to win it for their fans, especially considering they were, like, my fifth choice of team going into the playoffs. i don’t even want them to win it for canada, despite the fact that if they win they’ll bring it home for the first time in thirty-one years and my meagre sense of patriotism rears its head at the thought. or at least, i don’t care if any of that is what they win it for.

i want them to win it for eighteen-year-old connor mcdavid, drafted onto a team that had his jersey made before the draft even happened. i want them to win it for nineteen-year-old connor mcdavid, being named captain of an nhl team, the youngest in history, when he was the same age i am now. hell, i want them to win it for seventeen-, sixteen-, fifteen-year-old connor, getting into the ohl a whole year early on a special exception, being named captain of his ohl team, playing against and with jealous boys several years older than him and beating them, already being talked about as the second coming of gretzky when most kids his age had fewer worries than asking the person they liked to the next school dance.

i want them to win it, want him to win it, because he was drafted at eighteen already the next proclaimed hockey messiah when sidney crosby had already been that less than a decade before, and now he is twenty-seven and only now close enough to touch the stanley cup, and the entire time he has had the weight of the cross, of the entire league, on his shoulders. because he has done nothing more than play and play and try and try, wanting everyone to be right about him and to be a good captain even if he was given the responsibility when he could have just been starting college and to be the second coming they want him to be, not knowing who he is if he isn’t that. because that’s what people have been seeing him as since he was a teenager, since he was eager and starry-eyed and too young. and already connor bedard has come along and the fans, the reporters, the league have already started proclaiming a brand new second coming, while all the while he has continued to play and try and become more and more the supposed “hockey robot” that we like to joke he is, because he had that cross on his shoulders for so long and even now, even as it has started to shift onto the back of yet another starry-eyed ingenue whose peers are barely out of high school, he still craves that crucifixion. because he has always been told it is his destiny to ascend, and so far all he has gotten is the suffering and desperation and pressure of that ascension with none of the rewards, and finally, finally, the reward for his suffering is so close to being his.

and i know he’s far from the only athlete to be put on this pedestal, to bear this weight. i know he’s not even the first one in this league that this has happened to. I know that even getting to foist that silver idol above his head won’t be worth all the weight and attention and pain that he’s suffered since he was only a kid, that it won’t make up for it. i don’t know if anything could make up for all that.

but it doesn’t change the fact that i want it to happen. because if after tonight, he’s able to look back on nineteen-eighteen-seventeen-sixteen-fifteen-year-old him and know that he got from there to where he is now… it may not be worth all of it. but it will be worth something.

[thotsforvillainrights]

Shigaraki smut headcanons? Sorry if you've already done this, I just love crusty boi. (　＾��＾)

(You're fine, Anon! It's one of those cases where it FEELS like it's been done but probably hasn't lol. I went and checked the new and old masterlist and couldn't find anything. Now's my chance to add it to the collection ^_^)

~Shigaraki Smut Headcanons~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up|drabble

-Really would like to say he's a freak in bed but I don't think he's all that wild...at least not at first. I feel like he has a lot of love to give when he opens himself up for it. There's not really much lust between the two of you at first (not on his end at least). His walls are up really high and for a while he starts to feel really guilty about developing feelings for you. He's not sure if he deserves to have love given to him, or to give love to others. All his life he's been focused on what he hates and not enough on what he could love. When you come along, he's filled with anger at the fact you were able to get to him so easily.

-He can't deny any longer that he has feelings for you. When you try to reciprocate these feelings then it becomes complex. He's not letting you in as easily. He prays at night that you give up on him, that you leave for your own good. At the same time he wants to open himself up to you but he just doesn't know how. When he finally decides to let himself go and feel for once in his life, it becomes likely the most beautiful and simultaneously terrifying experience he's had. When you say you love him, it's invigorating. When you touch him...touch his skin of all people, he feels special. He feels confused all at the same time. Why would you chose him?

-He's scared at first to talk about you, to feel pride out loud. he's scared he'll somehow jinx things and that he'll wind up hurting or even worse is that he'll wind up hurting you instead. It's not just the mental hurt he's worried about either. It's the pysical hurt and the crushing idea that he might slip up and you'll be gone forever. Even with gloves as a precaution, he's still not up to the idea of touching you. Why should he when he doesn't deserve to touch you anyway? A demon with an angel like you? What a cruel and disgusting joke. Don't you know if he were to mess up then you'd be nothing more than a pile of ash and memories? You don't care. You want his touch, his hugs and kisses. And just like always, he's weak to deny you. He gives up and cautiously inches into the next phase of your relationship.

-When the sex finally comes into play, he feels a bit overwhelmed. Understandably you should come to expect him not lasting very long for the first few times. Can you blame him? You're something akin to a sinful pool of gold and he's strong enough to hold back. He's focusing all his energy on making you feel good, keeping a handle on his quirk, and trying not to hurt you all at the same time. Your sex brings fireworks out. His vision gets spotty once before and leave him wondering if he might pass out. He's breathless, his skin damp with sweat and his legs weak...shaking from your activities together. He's quiet but you can still hear him making sound just for you. It's all for you.

-Because he won't focus on his own pleasure, you end up taking the reigns in that department. It takes some time for him to settle down and accept that you actually WANT to make him feel good instead. Of course you do, why wouldn't you want to return the favor? He can't grasp the concept at first. That's okay, he didn't need to think too hard. Just lay back and let you handle it yes?

-His drive doesn't seem to be that high, nor too low. If anything, he's a perfect in-between, matching your pace perfectly. He's moldable like clay for you. He'll fold and bend at your will but he also remains understanding of his own needs and preferences as well. I think maybe later on in the relationship you can see him getting a little rougher in bed. Of course at your request, he learns the ins and outs of it. Shigaraki after gaining a power-up shows a considerable difference in the ways he goes about things but that's a story for a different time.

[gremlingottoosilly]

And they said I couldn't be a psychologist [COD x fem! Reader]

Tired of living with a family that genuinely thinks that being a psychologist is a wild ride to being poor and lonely? Got too many student loans to ever think that you will be able to repay them? Just join the army! Good company, great benefits and lots and lots of travel.

AO3

Characters featured in this chapter: Captain John Price This fanfic will contain incorrect use of psychology, my dead dreams of becoming a therapist instead of a journalist, basically a harem "The only girl on the team" plot and a reader who can't fight to save her life, literally. Each chapter will concentrate on one or few characters at the same time, I hope you will like it!

Google search: average school psychologist salary in my state

Allow Google to search for your location?

Fuck it, the government already know who you are, where you are exactly, and what you will do with this pretty wrecked mental state of mine, if I wouldn’t get an affirmative answer.

School Psychologists made a median salary of $62 000 in 202X.

Google search: average psychologist salary in my state without Master’s degree

National average salary for Bachelors in psychology is: $32,395 per year

Google search: master’s degree psychology how much

Average cost to earn a master’s degree in Clinical Psychology: $62,650

Average cost to earn your doctorate in psychology: $115,500

Google search: how many days can person not eat

Google search: annual striper’s salary

Google search: can I become a stripper if I’m not attractive

Google search: Army enlisting

💬💬💬

In highsight, perhaps, you should have stayed with the stripper option. Sure, it would be a lot more mentally draining, but at least you would make much more money out of the utter humiliation this work would promise to be every day. Military, on the other side of the spectrum, wasn’t really different from being a sex worker – you are still selling your body and mind, still have too much time in a dominantly male field, and will probably experience a lot more patriarchy sausage parties once you get there. The only thing that was different was the employer. 

And tax benefits. 

And health insurance. 

And a special program for those who would like to receive an education after they are done killing people, but don’t want to pay more than 100 000 dollars for a diploma that would look good on exactly one photo on the wall and then would be forgotten by pursuing the career of a sandwich artist. Ah, oh no. Negative thinking again. 

Jesus fucking – oh no, blasphemy, looking not good for your all-american goody-two-shoes portfolio – Christ, you have to get herself together – and at least somewhat presentable, even this would mean very little, considering the fact that for a woman in such masculine field, any signs of traditionally feminine things would be considered a bone thrown to a pack of wolves, but…no, no, no. You can’t have this new age psychology shit while she is on a mission…by being a new age psychologist, enlisted to the army just because you don't want to be a stripper, and too slow to become a good drug dealer. 

Cynthia Cockburn once wrote an essay about women's role in maintaining patriarchy by joining the army. How a lot of females are helping salvage the old system, that has to be put down for good for a long time already – and how this system continuously throws them out, without even acknowledging their input. 

You are wondering, if by applying your makeup right now, you are doing pretty much the same. Ah yes, a woman in a field dominated mostly by psychotic men! Let me just put on my brightest red lipstick, a short that will barely cover anything important and, of course, a pair of heels that would set anyone in the hearing range to a Vietnam flashback even if they never been in Vietnam to begin with. Oh no…is that a risky joke? PTSD is a serious matter, you know. You shouldn’t joke about flying helicopters and war flashbacks – not when the training for the military psychologist courses were so hard, that even you, with your pretty much good mental health, would have to check herself double time for any trauma that the instructor would leave with you. 

Two weeks of torture for an opportunity to apply the blandest eyeshadow known to mankind, the pinkiest lipstick that barely holds any pigments – it’s not like you have money to splurge on something better even given the permission – and a mascara as clear as the mountains fresh air. God – oh no, blasphemy again, you really don’t want to get a good grade with all of these God-fearing old-fashioned men, aren’t you? – you really hated just how bland you look. You feel like one of these girls in your college – with tightest buns, cream sweaters and perfectly high-pitched laugh that would make them desirable for even blander college boys. Ah, how much you hated this place. 

The military base, however, is far worse. 

First, there are just too many people here. Second, everyone looks at you like you are some sort of ghost. Judging by your loosely hanging white doctor’s coat, they aren’t too far from the truth, but it still was weird. And finally, third – you are still not sure that your papers have been sent correctly, and this is even the right place. 

Instructor – a terrible, horrible, horrendous woman – told you that there would be plenty of study material for you here. That with these people, writing your master’s or even doctorate would be a “ ‘king breeze, rookie, if they ain’t decide to eat ya first”. The males around you – and some women, of course, because the newest military recruitment made sure to include as many people as possible, providing everyone with the opportunity to kill people as much as they would want – doesn't sound quite as great material for your research. 

And you are not going back to the fucking college. 

She said that some Captain brought you here specifically – and that higher-ups made him do it, as he was dismissing any previous attempts of sending psychological help for any of his units. So this is going to be a classic conflict between a person and the government – and you, a useless specialist – are going to be stuck in the middle, as long as you don't get shot. Perfect, terrific, just a great fate for someone who got out of college after 4 years of destroying her own hopes and dreams in a giant cell of a US education system. 

You haven’t even met the man before, and now you are sitting here, in the middle of nowhere on this gigantic base. Fighting with the fabric of your clothing – a nice buttoned shirt, nothing that could be considered a provocation from your side, and trying to breath as the reality of the situation is slowly thinking it. 

Breathe in 

You stuck here for only god knows how long – until you either will be dismissed, or decide to go away by your own choice. With people you know nothing about, and who probably doesn’t even want you here. 

Breathe out 

This is a perfect opportunity for you to write your Thesis – just pick one of these perfectly twisted specimens, and make his mental state even worse. Or better, if you would feel nice enough for such hard work. 

Breathe in 

Perhaps, it’s not so bad – only a few years of service, and you will be back in your education. The children and their easily molded minds are waiting for you to be their perfect school psychologist. With average salary of “fuck you and your savings too”.

Breathe out 

Health insurance is nice. Would be even better with some dental insurance, but this is reserved only to soldiers. And you are…well, not a soldier, that is for sure. 

Breathe in 

– Greetings. I suggest you are the mental health expert? 

…and, all of your neatly putted breathing schedule is fucked. Stupid army people and their stupid questions with such nice and deep voices that would make you think of deeply fucked up stuff any other day and…

– Oh, um, yes. A psychologist. And you are..? 

– Captain Price. You have to work in my unit, but I figured out that just sending my men to get you would be too much on your first day. 

– Thank you, I…I would rather greet them myself, that is. I kinda have to. 

He frowned. Oh, great. A perfect example of stoic  fatherly type – the guy who is probably thinks of his soldiers as his kids, definitely don’t have a wife – alive one, at least – and slowly cooking himself alive in a pot full of misery, machism and “I don’t buy any of this mentally ill stuff”.

His mustaches are great though. And a hat. 

– Do you really? 

– Well, I don’t want to earn my paycheck for just sitting around. This would be nice though. 

– In that case, higher-ups would put us both in trouble for this. 

– Do you have anything for me to start working with? Like a personal file or…

– I’ll show you around. 

– Oh. Okay. 

He seems harmless enough. As much as one man wearing a full uniform with too many weapons and a tiny hat could be – but you still feel well protected while walking beside him. With this still hanging loose coat of yours – you’ll have to search for something more adjusted for your tiniest fucking height – you can feel everyone’s gazes on you. Jesus, you will have to work with this many people? Let’s just hope that no one here believes in magic powers of therapy, and you would be pretty much free for any of your working hours. 

— But you do have personal files of your soldiers, right? 

— I thought your people like more of a personal approach? 

— Well, it would be really great, but I need some documents to write off my work and…

— Then you are going to write those documents, kid. I don’t want to scare you, but a young miss like you really wouldn’t want to see real portfolios of my men. 

— Sir, with all honor, I am not a…

– We’re here. 

Oh. Saving you the humiliation of being able to recognise patronizing tones and understanding, that you are, in fact, a kid, a young miss, and generally a useless fucking person. Psychologists in a place, where most of the people probably believe, that getting drunk will save them from nightmares? What a joke. 

At least the office is nice. 

Tidy place, neatly furnished room with a table, a sofa – something right out of Freud’s fantasies. A small empty closet for all three of your psychology books. You can already picture whimsical and fun soldiers laying here, trying so bad not to laugh in your face as you were trying to uncover all of their mental trauma without being strangled to death. 

– Thank you, sir…captain? It’s nice. 

– Not much, but everything that we were able to put when they said that we need a mental expert here. 

– I will try my best not to disappoint you, I promise. 

– You can unpack here, someone will show you the bed later. Still don’t know whether to put you with soldiers or medics. 

– Um…I would really prefer a… A nice and roomy bedroom, preferably with no one to snore alongside you, and definitely not with soldiers who can get the wrong ideas about a nice and sweet lady psychologist sleeping right next to them on their base. Of course, you can’t say that. 

–...I need to gather as much material about them as possible, so it would be really neat to sleep closer to the soldiers. 

You are the architect of your own demise. You and your stupid Thesis that you are not even sure, whether you could write it right now or not.

– Oh. 

He scratched his chin in a manner that you have seen too many times. Do all older males with bears share the same mannerism? 

Then he smiled – a ghostly feature on his face, that almost made him look like he actually wanted you here, and not just putting up with higher-ups bullshit because every special task force needs its psychologist just so the soldiers won’t kill each other on one sunny day. 

– Okay. I’ll think about something, doc. 

– I am not…not a doctor, sir. Not yet, at least. 

– Well, it’s either a doc or a kid. What do ya prefer? 

– Doc would be better. Perhaps, I will earn my doctorate after the service. 

– That’s the spirit, kid. 

– But sir- 

Shit. He is gone already. 

You were never a fan of dad jokes. Or dad types. Or anyone, who is questioning what the fuck you are doing here, even though you spend 4 years fighting for this position in the college. Who cares, if you can’t shoot guns? Words are just as deadly! 

Well, judging by the size of the rifle on the Captain's body, maybe, your words would definitely be less threatening than his guns. But this doesn’t change the whole picture! 

Oh, well. You might as well try to get yourself as comfortable as possible – considering all of the possibilities, they might simply forget that you exist, and you would have to sleep on this tiny couch at least for today. What a great opportunity and definitely something that you spent four years waiting in awe of. Perfect, beautiful, something right from her dreams. 

“You can still get out of here, you know. Just go out of this door and we will never ever speak about joining the military ever again. Trust me, babe, I am your conscience.” 

Oh no. You hated talking with your conscience – mostly because it was an annoying prick, and also because, as studies were showing in many of the presentations you would make for your classes, this is a first sign of not just a person being self-aware, but also the step to being proclaimed a mad man. Even if you are, in fact, a very self-aware and mentally healthy person. Mostly. You liked to think of yourself as one, at least. 

“You don’t want to be here. And you shouldn’t – there is plenty of work outside.” 

Yeah, like a sex job. Or secretary. Or a waiter – what a beautiful line of work for someone already in too much debt to her government. And judging by the already dismissive faces of your parents, going home as a stay-at-home daughter is also not going to be an option. So, go far and beyond. 

You just need to find a few people who would be interested in psychotherapy – how hard is that?

[jazeswhbhaven]

Wish good health and positive vibes to that salt anon, bless their salty heart.

With the MC stuff going down I think I felt I identified a few things. We know what happened with MC's parents but it's never been touched at all and I think PB made a huge mistake. Because that part is probably a good start to give some flesh on that bone that does nothing but bone every devil. Hence why people are complaining that MC is horny...yes it's a horny game but MC's only personality is that and that can fall short without any substance, or clash with the story.

The real questions that need to be ask is: What is WHB MC doing in the story to give them any merit? The answer is: not much. We could give them merit during the end of Chapter 3-4 with Nina and Leamas...but then the dildo thing ruined it. And speaking from the narrative...what else do we know about the MC? They're Solomon's descendant, and for the devils, Solomon was the big deal and very dear to them. But again, this is where the writing falls short. I remembered there was an argument about if the devils even value MC because they're MC and not Solomon's descendant but I won't touch on that we know the devils like MC and it's really just plot armor. I shouldn't be sitting here reading and wondering what EXACTLY makes the devils LIKE MC? Because MC barely has done a lick of anything than sit there and watch, oogles devils, gets kidnapped, gets hanged, etc etc. I guess for me, MC isn't impressive which I expect from a faceless character, they're frustrating because all they have going for them is their horny thoughts but they're ragdolled throughout the chapters and haven't done anything useful even though they're the key for this war deal going on(I swear if chapter 6 makes them a joke again I'm killing everyone in the room), and honestly any sort of situations that's meant to be funny isn't funny to me unless it's just the devils interacting. Then again I enjoy taking a backseat and watching characters interact than any MC in any game.

On a lighter note: if someone as useless as MC can have 6(7) kings and that many devils wanting their dick/cooch then please open the gates and ship all of us to Hell. Unlike MC who dawdles there, we're ALL willing.

Dialing back to answer some old inbox asks before all the new stuff happened (phewihavealottocatchupon)

But yes anon, I wonder though if your opinion on MC is the same after chapter 6 if you've finished it? I'd like to hear your thoughts now that we've seen a bit of push back from MC and them at least vocalizing things this time around.

Now since I don't know if you've finished the chapter, I won't go into too much detail but they DID slip up and it made me shake my head. But at the same time...they're human and perhaps that slip up was bond to happen. (if you did finish it and you know what I'm talking about feel free to chime in on that)

Without getting into Chapter 6, I feel that MC is indeed not giving me much to go on for the valid reason of their plot armor. I'm sure they can help with the entire underground lab thing that's going on, but from what I gather...chapter 7 is probably going to piss off most of us when it gets down to the wire of what MC needs to do.

But that's just my early predictions, I already feel my dread coming from that cliffhanger....

[johaerys-writes]

Ch. 5: i thought we were the same, birds of a feather

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

By the time they leave their hotel room, most museums are closed for the day, but there’s still a few that are open. Achilles drags Patroclus from exhibit to exhibit in the Art Museum, telling him about each artist and art movement he has studied in detail beforehand. They stay there until closure, then they visit the botanical gardens, a vast swath of land filled with rare species of trees, bushes and flowers, fountains and streams and glass-like lakes with swans and other water birds gliding leisurely around them.

Achilles chirps merrily about this and that —botany has always been a shared interest of theirs, ever since they used to spend most of their summer in Chiron’s camp— and he laughs often, much more than Patroclus has seen him doing in years. Even before he left for Switzerland, when their relationship had already started getting rocky.

Patroclus had felt guilty about that for a long while, the fact that their… differences and arguments had soured the easy companionship they once used to share. He’d felt partly responsible for that: for disrupting the plans that he and Achilles had meticulously been crafting for years, then for not being able to be happy for Achilles for going on without him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find a silver lining in the situation they’d both found themselves in. Besides, it’s not like Achilles had ever made things easy for him, rubbing his adventures and his glittering social life in his face one moment, then baiting him into endless arguments the next; so, really, feeling bad about it all had been pointless from the start.

But he still feels that sharp pang of hurt when he sees Achilles' smile now, genuine and sweet like it used to be, as he glimpses a side of him that he hasn’t seen in so long. As his heart jumps each time their hands touch. This is what he’d missed, more than anything, why he envied all those nameless new friends of his: being around him, talking and joking with him, simply having fun with him. They hadn’t done that in so long amidst all that turmoil, but somehow Patroclus finds himself falling perfectly in step with him as if they haven’t missed a single day.

“Look, Pat!” Achilles exclaims suddenly, catching Patroclus’ hand and pointing at a tall and robust tree a little down the lane. “That’s a Tebusu Heritage tree. It’s said to be one of the oldest in the world, over 170 years old. Remember those ancient trees we used to study on Pelion? You used to love those.”

Patroclus follows him as he rushes forth to examine them. These trees here are shorter and more slender than the ones on Pelion, but they still stir fond memories in him, of long summers spent idling in their shade.

“These gardens are great,” Achilles says enthusiastically, after his lengthy explanation of the trees’ properties and their specific characteristics. “Much better than the gardens in Zurich, I should say. Maybe London, too. I was there for a photoshoot for a brand collab a few months ago and they weren’t half as extensive or rich as these…”

He lets his sentence trail off, sneaking a shy glance at Patroclus. His throat bobs as he swallows, and he looks away.

“What’s wrong?” Patroclus asks softly. He gives his hand a gentle nudge. “Keep going. I want to hear it.”

“It’s just… you never like it when I talk about… you know. Travelling, being abroad, doing photoshoots and all that. So… I’ve been trying not to.”

Patroclus stares at him, taken aback. Achilles didn’t seem to have the same inhibitions a year ago, when he’d shamelessly send him photos from whatever club, restaurant or continent he’d find himself in. Patroclus wonders if Achilles knew it was bothering him, even then. Knowing him, it was probably to rile him up and get a reaction out of him rather than innocently sharing moments of his day with him. The implication stirs that particular brand of annoyance that only Achilles can get out of him.

But another part of him is mournful for all the little moments Patroclus has missed from Achilles’ life. Travelling and brand collabs have been taking up an increasingly big chunk of his time it seems, and Patroclus has been there for none of it, has stubbornly never shown the slightest interest in it. Not that Achilles had shown any interest in his own work until yesterday, when he helped him with his presentation. But that’s more than he’s done in years. And Patroclus is still so grateful for that. He wants more of it.

“I don’t mind,” he tells him finally, after a short pause. “I’d still like to hear it. Anything you have to say.”

Achilles beams at him, his eyes lighting up with so much joy that it makes Patroclus ache. Any reservations he had about learning more about Achilles’ life evaporate as he listens to him talk about his work the last few months, the modelling gigs he’s been juggling on top of buckling down for his last round of exams. Patroclus smiles at that; if anyone can do all of those things and still ace his exams, it’s Achilles.

“...I even got an offer to work with this new online platform for musicians,” he says, as they’re walking down a quiet lane lined with baobab trees. “They somehow found out I used to play the violin and they asked me to advertise it on my page.”

“You didn’t just use to play the violin,” Patroclus chuckles, strangely delighted to hear about Achilles’ recent endeavours. “You placed first in the string competition in Vienna in eleventh grade. I’d be surprised if someone hadn’t dug that up.”

“Yeah, that was fun, wasn’t it?” Achilles grins at him. His entire countenance seems to be glowing in the amber sunset light. “We used to train for hours every day but it was worth it.”

“Phoenix had us practising those pieces for months. I can still see myself playing them in my sleep,” Patroclus groans.

“I still think we should have gone for a duet. Then we would have both won.”

Patroclus chuckles under his breath, ducking under a low hanging branch. Achilles had needled Phoenix for months to let them play together, but the old man would never relent. Patroclus was good for his level and for the work he put in, but he was never exceptional like Achilles; he wasn’t born a virtuoso. In the end, he had been disqualified at the finals, missing the third spot by a hair with his rendition of Chopin’s Mazurka in A Minor, while Achilles had swept the crowds away with Bach’s Sonata for Solo Violin No. 1 in G minor. As long as he lives, Patroclus will never forget how Achilles had walked on the stage, a slender boy of seventeen, and had held a massive concert hall captive while he played and for several moments after he’d finished; and then the audience had erupted in cheers and applause, tears standing in some of their eyes, including Patroclus’ own.

That has always been Achilles’ gift: changing things wherever he might be, down to their molecules. Shining so blindingly bright that the world around him can't help but be captivated by his light.

“I think perhaps it’s better that Phoenix never changed his mind,” Patroclus says. “I might have dragged you down with me because of some stupid mistake. Or I would have stolen your spotlight. We can’t have that.”

He says that with a smile, without envy or malice. A simple acknowledgment of facts, with a little bite of humour perhaps. But Achilles stops walking and turns to him, his features completely serious.

“You could never do that,” he says, very firmly. “You’ve never once dragged me into anything. Any mistakes I’ve made have been my own. As for the spotlight—there’s no other person I’d rather share it with, Pat. None.”

Once again, Patroclus stares at him, aghast. He doesn’t know where all this is coming from, why Achilles is speaking so seriously and earnestly all of a sudden. He has never known Achilles to lie to him—on the contrary, Achilles has always bluntly told him the truth even when it hurt—but hearing this from him now, after everything, makes it impossible to believe.

Another part of him though, the part that always ran back to Achilles after every heartbreak, that always yearned for him despite it all, wants desperately to believe him.

“You should start playing the violin again,” Patroclus says quietly, his voice thick with emotion he can’t quite hide. “You were always… so good at it.”

Achilles smiles, and the waning light falls so sweetly on his golden hair, his eyes, his beautiful skin. "You should take it up again too. Maybe one day we can play Handel’s Passacaglia together, like we always wanted.”

The fantasy is so potent, impossible to resist. He and Achilles playing together again, practising for hours every day just like they used to, the thrill after mastering a particularly difficult piece… Patroclus’ heart clenches with painful longing.

The path they're on is empty, and they’re shielded from view by the thick foliage. Before he knows it, Patroclus is stepping closer, reaching out to wrap his arm around Achilles' waist.

“I’d like that,” he whispers, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss. "I really would."

Achilles sighs, melting into him, pulling him close to kiss him deeper.

[babydollmarauders]

I’d love to see a tense and restless Jack on his and the reader’s first night out since El was born. Like moms are usually the tense ones, but Jack can’t even think straight because it’s weird not having his kid around and not knowing if she’s okay or not.

“Jacky, she’ll be okay.” my hand rubs circles on my husbands back, our daughter held tightly in his arms as i try and reassure him that the four month old will be okay without us.

“there’s prepared bottles in the fridge, you’ll just have to warm it up. and you know the diapers and wipes are in the diaper bag on the table. she just ate like twenty minutes ago, so she might only need one bottle in about two hours, if we’re not home by then. um-”

Jack is cut off by Quinn’s sigh.

“bro, it’ll be fine! you have a whole house of babysitters right now!” Quinn reminds his brother. “go. take. your. wife. on. a. date.”

Jack heaves out his own sigh and nods, finally handing El over to Luke, who stands next to Quinn.

“yeah! remind her she’s sexy, or else i might become El’s new stepdad!” Trevor chimes in from his spot on the couch. i roll my eyes as Jack lets out a sarcastic laugh.

“my wife knows i think she’s very sexy. how do you think we got here in the first place?” at Jack’s words, i lightly smack his shoulder, huffing out a chuckle.

“let’s go, babe. just ignore Trevor, i’m not sure why he thinks he would be a fit decision for a stepdad.” i joke, pushing my husband along towards the front door. “if anyone, it’d be Alex!”

Trevor gasps at my quip, swinging around to look at me.

“i resent that!” he calls out.

“i knew i was daddy material.” Alex shrugs as he walks out of the kitchen and into the living room, dropping his weight onto the couch.

“never say that again.” Cole laughs, stretching his leg over from the armchair he sits in to kick Alex’s leg.

Jack rolls his eyes as i laugh at our friends, a small smile playing on his lips.

“let’s go to dinner, J.” i tell him, finally able to pull him out of the house.

Jack spends the entire drive to the restaurant gripping the steering wheel tight, his eyes glancing down towards his phone in the cup holder every minute.

“Jacky.” i sigh as we’re seated at our table, him immediately checking his phone as i pick up my menu.

“hmm? yeah?” his eyes flicker towards me briefly before setting his phone back down.

“she’s fine. i promise.” i reassure, my voice gentle as i snake my hand to rest on top of his on the table.

“i’m just worried.” he confesses, as if i couldn’t already tell. “what if something happens? we should be there, we’re her parents.”

i can tell the guilt of any hypothetical situation is eating away at him, and i’d be lying if i said it wasn’t setting in slightly for me. but i know that our daughter is in good hands. she has five uncles who love her, watching over her right now and she’ll be okay.

“i know you’re worried, and i know you feel guilty at the thought of us not being there if something were to happen. but we need this, Jack.” his shoulders square when he realizes i didn’t use a nickname, showing him that i’m serious.

“it’s been probably five months since we’ve had a date night. four months since we’ve spent any time to ourselves. there has to be at least some semblance of romance still in order for us to to not turn into a pair of zombie parents who drift apart.”

my voice trails off at the end, and i know he knows i’m referring to my own parents. who after i was born, took their roles as parents much too seriously, thinking i was their only priority, never taking a date night, never putting their relationship first, until eventually they grew apart. they stayed married, but it was somehow worse, as they had fought and became locked in a toxic marriage that hadn’t done any of us any good. they became overbearing and overprotective of me as a result. which only ended badly.

“hey.” Jack coos, squeezing my hand in his to ground me back to this moment. “i won’t let that happen. i promise to you, and to El.”

a smile pulls at my lips at his words.

“i know.” i assure him. “and i know it’s hard to leave her right now, it’s hard for me too. but it’s the first time, eventually, it’ll get easier. i hope.”

he chuckles at my last words, nodding his head.

“i hope so too.” he tells me. “it’s different when i’m on roadies because you’re there. you’re the one taking care of her. but…”

Jack wrinkles his nose.

“my brothers? our friends? do we really think they’re capable?”

i bark out a laugh, covering my mouth to try and muffle the sound in the crowded restaurant. a grin spreads across my husband’s face at my laugh, making my heart race like when we first started dating.

“i really think they’ll be okay.” i giggle. “she’s their niece, they don’t want anything to happen to her.”

“you’re right.” Jack nods.

“i always am.” i shrug and he playfully rolls his eyes as a waitress finally steps up to our table. as i’m telling the girl my order, i can’t help but notice Jack checking his phone again, even typing what i assume is a check-in text to his brothers.

once the waitress leaves, Jack’s phone buzzes on the table and he reaches out for it like his life depends on it. reading his incoming text, his shoulders slump in relief and i furrow my eyebrows at him.

“she’s asleep.”

[thewebcomicsreview]

Woah, it's a hamsteak! Bit early this month, maybe they're splitting it into two parts (Edit: Apparently yes, per a newspost). They've been teasing a big [S] page for a while, probably where the game starts in Meat and The Point is revealed in Candy, and these updates seem like they're getting everyone in position for that. We're now done with the Ship and with DIrk, and we won't see either until the [S] comes, but we still need to pick up the kids and see what Karkat is up to, so I'm expecting this is a setup-heavy update for an [S] page...next month, on 6/12? Let's see.

KARKAT: KEPT YOU WAITING, HUH?

Candy Karkat is blatantly Solid Snake and I'm a bit surprised the old team never had him riff a Snake catchphrase. New team popping that cherry right off. Also, wow, Karkles got swole.

MEENAH: took you long enough bossman KARKAT: I THOUGHT I ASKED YOU TO STOP CALLING ME THAT WHEN WE'RE ALONE. MEENAH: big bossman KARKAT: NOT BETTER. MEENAH: sweetie-pirate KARKAT: BOSSMAN IT IS.

We're just going all-in on the Metal Gear references, but Meenah loses fishpoints for not calling him Big Bass. It's right there, Meenah.

KARKAT: AS YOU MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE NOTICED THERE'S AN ESCALATING, LARGE-SCALE MILITARY CONFLICT UNDERWAY;

Is there? I hadn't noticed, because the war is entirely fucking offscreen in HS2, to the point where I'm really unclear on if it's huge open battles (as in the epilogues) or a terrorist insurgency (as implied by Jane's focus on PR, the lack of any on-screen fighting, and even here Karket saying he was blowing up "Crockercorp" supply depots instead of "human" supply depots). "Escalating" is an interesting word, though. I have a theory that Jane and Rose both don't consider any of Earth C's population "Real", and in Jane's mind she's basically just been larping as a bad guy up until her dad died and she got serious, and this is why Jane was seemingly cool with helping Jade raise Yiffy, even though Jade is a commander in the anti-Jane rebel army. Jane's going to just stop being evil on a dime and everyone but Rose and Jane are going to be baffled.

There was a writer commentary where they kept making jokes about doing this, but I guess it's real. Why is the Carapacian naked?

These guys, who are not guaranteed to survive to the end of the update, are already fucking great.

KARKAT: ALRIGHT, COMPANIES 1 THROUGH 3 ARE IN PLACE. KARKAT: 4 THROUGH 6 ARE EN ROUTE.

Is this the first 413 in HS2? I'm surprised they're not using 612, the troll number.

KARKAT: ALSO THIS COVERT-OPS SUIT IS TIGHT AS ALL FUCK. MEENAH: well if its any consolation that may be rough for you but its a pretty great time to be your rear admire-all 38) KARKAT: MUCH OBLIGED.

The ship no one expected!

KARKAT: NOT LIKE DAVE. MEENAH: how you feelin about that

I know Karkat hasn't had a lot of screen time in HS2, and I know they've justified why this is coming up now, but as far as Karkat knows Candy Dave A. Married Jade, and then B. Died fifteen years ago. Has this really not come up in fifteen years?

SOLLUX: there's like a bazillion m0oks swarming ar0und my crib and none 0f the grubereats dudes are accepting orders right n0w. SOLLUX: probably 0n account 0f your inc0nvenient ass war. SOLLUX: could y0u pick me something up? SOLLUX: i'm assuming you're 0n your way.

Is this...the first on-screen interaction between Karkat and Sollux since Cascade in 2011? It was worth the wait.

KARKAT: MAYBE YOU'D GIVE MORE OF A FUCK ABOUT THE REPRODUCTIVE FUTURE OF OUR SPECIES IF ARADIA WAS EVER ACTUALLY THERE LONG ENOUGH FOR YOU TO GET SOME. MEENAH: ohhh snapper KARKAT: ANYWAY YEAH I CAN PROBABLY SWING THAT.

This is maybe the most Karkat interaction ever. He's furious for extremely good reasons, he's constantly insulting his friends, of course he'll swing his A-team war truck by McDonalds on the way to the war zone to get Sollux something. Doesn't even occur to him not to.

KARKAT: AND WE NEVER LET IT GO. LOB 4: Well said, sir! KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK. KARKAT: HOW LONG HAVE YOU ALL BEEN LISTENING? TER 2: Pretty much since the beginning, sir!

It's cool and thematic that these guys talk in Dave's colors but I'm unbelievably sad they don't have names.

KARKAT: COMMANDERS HARLEY, MARYAM, AND LALONDE ARE INBOUND, AND NOT LONG AFTER THEY GET HERE THINGS ARE GOING TO GET BATSHIT STUPID!

Last time we saw Vrissy, she was seeing Yiffy for the first time. I was expecting an update following up on that before the big everything coming together, but maybe they won't get a chance to talk yet

Because this sure feels like the last page before an [S]

Edit: But it isn't, the news post said another update this month.

[kitthepurplepotato]

MWRMI Part 2

My Weird Roommate, Midoriya Izuku!

📦 Week 0.5 - Let’s get settled! 📦

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~•

Previous part Master List

Warnings: Swear words, mentions of Deku’s “peach” and other parts in a non-cheeky way. I also made Deku look like a sugar daddy by accident but I swear that was not my intention, he just loves to share his money with his friends, he’s just nice like that!

16 + because of the joke in the last part of this chapter.

Summary: Y/N meets pro hero Deku’s mysterious cat and gets to know Midoriya a little bit too much for her liking. (That’s a lie, she secretly loves it.) Bakugou gives Y/N a flattering nickname.

There is an ugly attempt of a blueprint by the end of the story about Deku’s flat if the layout gets too confusing!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

It has only been an hour since your world has turned upside down. You’re staring at the ceiling in your new room; which is absolutely massive by the way; your bed is extremely comfortable, even with the lack of sheets and pillows. Your room has two massive wall-to-wall windows; one facing the garden area with the pool and the hot tub, the other one facing the city; the view will be absolutely stunning when all the city lights come to life.

You hear a rustle outside your door and a thump of a cardboard box being placed in the hallway; that’s when you realize you are being an absolute prick right now.

You kind of forgot about the van outside the building stuffed to the brim with all your boxes and old furniture. Deku must have went down to tell them where to bring the stuff up. Knowing this guy he probably did all the work for them.

You jump up from the comfortable bed and make your way to open the door a little bit too aggressively. The side of the door meets a fluffy green head. Well, now you’ve really done it.

“I’m so sorry, Deku-san! Are you hurt?” You crouch down to the poor guy, trying to access the damage. You heart makes a few somersaults when you touch the ridiculously fluffy and soft curls. That counts as a damage, right?

You, Y/N, 23 years old fangirl, touching pro hero Deku’s hair, like it’s no biggie. How is this all real? Oh, your face is really hot. And so is pro hero Deku in his fucking joggers and oversized all might thank top.

“You don’t need to be so polite, just call me Midoriya.” The hero giggles. - Jesus, why is he so adorable?! - “Also, I would be a pretty lame hero if a single door would be able to hurt me. Try throwing the whole building in my face next time, that might make me a tiny bit dizzy at least.”

Your embarrassment fades away with your loud laughter after hearing Deku… Midoriya making such a joke with such a straight face. You look around the hallway, seeing a bunch of boxes already placed next to the wall.

“I’m sorry, I forgot about the boxes, I’ll get the rest! It’s your free day, you deserve to chill.” You really don’t want him to do all the work for you, even though you know it’s probably not a big deal for him.

“No worries, there’s only 10 boxes left, I can bring them up in one go!” Midoriya exclaims, like it’s an absolutely normal thing to be able to hold 10 massive boxes full of heavy books on one shoulder. The hero world is amazing.

“I need to see that.” You accidentally say your last thought out loud, which only makes the green haired hero giggle out loud, again.

“Well, what are you waiting for then?” A mischievous smile spreads on the hero’s face, his eyes shining with challenge. He takes your hand and pulls you forward to the main entrance like you’ve known each other for ages; it’s the complete opposite of the high school version of him, at least if Jirou’s old stories were true.

Back in his first year of high school, Midoriya Izuku was a shy boy, really lanky and really awkward with everyone, especially with the ladies. He was severely bullied by his childhood best friend, Bakugou Katsuki, who somehow became a close friend of his during his high school years, like the terrible bullying on Dynamight’s part has never even happened. There are a lot of foggy gaps in the story, parts Jirou didn’t want to share for the sake of the other person, but eventually, Midoriya has changed; he’s become stronger, a man full of confidence but his empathy towards everyone only grew stronger as the time went by. His heart is big enough to love every single living, breathing thing, without a limit.

You let yourself be pulled towards the door, down the hallway and into the elevator, your heart full of anticipation to see your favorite hero do something so domestic, just for you.

Ahh, you are such a fangirl, goddammit.

Midoriya goes all out to show off, just to make you laugh; he puts 9 boxes on his shoulder and spins the tenth one on his fingers like a basketball. You can’t help but giggle, your eyes shining like the fangirl you are, absolutely fucking smitten with the man opposite of you. Midoriya takes one glance at your face and laughs with a hint of a blush on his chubby cheeks and gives you the box. All your muscles strain from the weight of it, and you can’t help but wonder how the fuck did he not break his finger. “Team work makes the dream work!” Midoriya grins as he steps into the elevator to go back to his apartment….

…Which is also your apartment.

You’ll never stop fangirling about this. Never.

After putting the boxes down in the hallway, you hear a rustle from one of the open boxes; by the look of it, the tape didn’t hold properly and snapped, leaving the box half open.

Two beige ears stick out from the small space between the two flaps of the box, alert.

“All Meowt! Get out of there!” Midoriya giggles at the intruder and takes it out of the box; a massive cat with beige fur and barely visible leopard print on his back. You almost choke on your saliva from trying not to laugh at the obese cat. His mismatched eyes; one blue, one dark brown; look at his owner angrily, clearly not amused by being taken out of his new “home” so abruptly. He moves his chubby arms to attack the “offender”, but makes his mind up in the middle of the movement; it’s too much bother to raise these fluffy paws! After a few seconds, the cat just lets his body go limp in Midoriya’s hand, making him look like a sack of potatoes.

“He’s so chubby!” You cry out, but by the look of it, this wasn’t the right thing to say as Midoriya puts the cat into his arms and covers his little ears with a pout on his face.

“Don’t say that, Y/N! He’s self conscious!” He tries to reprimand you and you swear you try not to laugh even harder than you already are, but it’s impossible. “Don’t laugh, Kacchan called him a fat bitch a few weeks ago because he tried to get some food out of his plate and he started throwing up right after!” Midoriya looks so sure of his reasoning and you don’t have the heart to tell him that the cat probably threw up because he actually ate some of the food which knowing the fiery hero was probably full of sriracha or something definitely not good for the poor cat’s sensitive stomach.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” You try to get some air into your lungs after all the laughing.

“So…” Midoriya puts the cat down who runs into the bedroom opposite of yours. “Can I help you unpack? I’m not sure when I’ll be home properly again, so… I want to tell you more about the flat? Get to know you, and stuff…” the hero scratches his fluffy head, embarrassed. “I mean, you don’t need to say yes, I understand if this is too much for you, I mean, when I met my idol for the first time I was about to pee myself and even after months of being together almost every day I still managed to freak out every time I remembered who he is, I still freak out sometimes when he comes over and plays with All Meowt…”

Oh yeah, you were so busy laughing you kinda forgot the name of the little rascal. It’s a really fucking ridiculous name.

“Please, breathe.” You snort while you look at Midoriya’s face; he’s flushed and out of breath, thanks to him trying to get all that rambling out without taking any air into his poor lungs. “I’ll accept your help, thank you.”

This is how you end up in your room with pro hero Deku, who’s extremely busy right now with handling your Deku merch with utmost care. Thankfully, the room has quite a lot of shelves so your hero merch can be displayed nicely; Midoriya tried to persuade you to have your merch in the living room, but after 5 minutes of back and forth arguing you compromised by having 1 Deku figurine and a few other hero ones in the living room, while the rest stays in yours.

It’s a really fucking weird thing to be able to argue about such a silly thing with your favorite hero. You wrote so many fanfictions about your daydreams of living with the Number 1 hero, but the real thing is so different, you are actually not sure you know this hero at all at this point.

The base of his character is the same as the one in your fanfictions; kind, understanding with a heart full of love, but in real life, he is so much more than that; he’s less of a hero and more like a nerd, a super hyper and excitable person who’s overprotective and just so fucking lovely it actually hurts your brain and your heart.

After the argument is settled, Midoriya tells you about the stuff you might need to do in case he can’t make it home; feed All Meowt, pet All Meowt, water the plants, make sure there is bread and rice in the house in case he actually makes it home and basic things like that. It’s really not so different from the way you lived until now. Your old roommate was an unviable peace of shit who would have starved if it’s not for you, so having cheaper rent for all your hard work this time is a gift from God himself.

You end up cleaning up the mess until later in the afternoon and you both decide to order some takeaway as you are both too tired to actually make food tonight. Midoriya pulls you out of your room to show you around flat properly; apparently pulling people around is a thing Midoriya does, or at least it is now; then Midoriya stops by the massive wall-to-wall window in the living room and points at a big fake plant in front of it.

“So this is my favorite plant, the only one who didn’t die on me yet.” He shows you the plastic plant with a proud face. “I’ll get some more now that you are around! It only needs water once a week but I once forgot to water it for a month and he was still okay! So don’t worry about it too much!”

This is a fucking plastic plant. And he doesn’t know. This is…

“So how long have you had this plant, Midoriya?”

“Two years. I got it from the squad after I started to cry about accidentally killing all my plants when I was drunk.”

… absolutely ridiculous.

This man… this pro hero… this legend… has been watering a fucking plastic plant for two fucking years and no one had the heart to tell him that it’s fake.

This man is fucking precious. Oh my god, he is so fucking precious, you can’t even.

His friend are also absolute legends, because you are quite sure they had to “water the plant” while he was away to the US and they probably did it for him, out of pure pity.

You keep a straight face and pet the leaves of the plant to make sure he knows you’ll take care of it properly. You’ll go to the nearest garden center tomorrow and buy all the fucking plants in the word for this precious little boy and you’ll make sure they don’t die on him.

The living room is absolutely massive by the way; it has a corner couch that’s big enough to seat at least 15 people, it has a super dark green color and looks super expensive; there is also a massive TV (or rather a home theater), a massive drink cupboard, a coffee table, several shelves full of limited edition hero figurines (the price of these figurines is something you don’t even want to think about right now) and there are several cute Polaroids hung up on a fairy light on one of the walls. You’ll take a closer look when he’s not around, you don’t want to creep him out… yet. The kitchen/dining area has an arched doorway instead of a actual door, making the space feel even bigger than it is; the room is full of handy gadgets and different types of coffee machines, a super expensive looking rice cooker, and in the corner you can see the cat’s feeding bowl, which of course, is fucking automatic. Why is the cat so fat then?!

The oven is super fancy as well and absolutely huge, the dining table is big enough for your whole family tree. Everything is… oversized. Now it makes sense why the greenette said that the flat is way too big for one person. This flat could hold a party with half of the city without it being too crowded. Midoriya mumbles through the whole flat, telling you random stories involving the room then excitedly pulls you through the hallway again to get to the massive door leading to the pool. The outside area is - wow, what a surprise! - massive, the pool is bigger than some of the public pools in your mom’s city, there is a hot tub connected to it on the left side, bubbling vehemently as you walk next to it to get to the garden area, which is the only part of the flat that looks abandoned and uncared for, but you are already planning on planting several fruits and vegetables on one side and super cute flowers on the other, so needless to say, you really don’t mind that he doesn’t care about this area. Hm, you might even get a little cute picnic table so you can appreciate the sunrise with a hot coffee in your hands. You could draw your manga here, in the sunshine! Oh, you are really excited.

“Hey, Y/N, are you with me?” Midoriya waves his hands in front of you; you probably ignored the poor guy’s excited rambling by accident.

“I’m so sorry, Midoriya!” You bow apologetically. “I was just thinking about cleaning up the garden and have some tomatoes and flowers in there? A picnic table? Sorry, I really shouldn’t be reorganizing someone’s garden when I’ve only been here for a few hours…”

Midoriya’s eyes sparkle with excitement, looking as happy as a baby golden retriever.

“You want to take care of the garden too?!” He chippers, but he gets cut off by a really loud ringing noise coming from his bracelet. It flashes in red aggressively until he taps on it twice; suddenly, a holographic Bakugou Katsuki appears on the top of the bracelet, in the size of a hero figurine.

“Code red shit nerd, meet me at the usual corner. Group C made a move, all units are needed.” Dynamight suddenly moves his head to your direction. “Yo, freeloader, nice to meet ya or whatever.” The call cuts off and you just stand there like a dumbfounded idiot; what’s with all the high tech stuff? And what’s up with that nickname?!

“Don’t mind him, he gives everyone a nickname.” The hero smiles, but he’s clearly really antsy to move. He takes out something gold from his pockets and puts the golden thing in your hands without giving it a second thought. “Here’s my bank card, buy whatever you feel like we need in the flat and also feel free to use it for your garden shenanigans! It’s my garden, so I’m paying! Also, let’s do your fingerprint quickly because I really need to go.” The hero gives you a sad smile and it breaks your heart a bit; he clearly wants to stay for longer and chat about your plans, but oh well, this is hero life for ya’.

Midoriya takes your fingerprint at the door in only a few seconds then runs into his room to change; after a minute he comes out the door and heads towards the garden.

“See you soon, Y/N! Sorry I can’t stay and celebrate your new life with you! I’m heading out!“ The hero runs out to the garden before you have time to appreciate him in his hero costume/freak the shit out because fuck, this really is the Number 1 hero Deku you are living with; then jumps off the 43. Floor of the building without hesitation. You are frozen in place in front of the back door as you stare at the hero’s silhouette getting smaller and smaller in the distance, bouncing from one building to another.

You come back to your senses after a few minutes and move towards your room to finish up. Midoriya doesn’t seem to be coming back soon.

The next morning. 🥦

You wake up at 5 am to a really loud splash coming from outside of your window. You look at your limited edition Deku clock and let out a low whine; it’s way too early for this shit.

It takes you a few minutes to move to the window to investigate the weird noise; you are still half asleep and probably not even aware of your new living situation yet. As you stare into the distance with your eyes unfocused, the splash of green and yellow becomes a full picture… and that’s when you realize you are staring at the pro hero’s NAKED ASS moving from the pool to the hot tub to get warm.

It’s not just the bottom you had a glance at; oh no… there was the ding and the dong and everything you kinda never wanted to see; okay, that’s a lie, you are a veteran in the cheeky section of Tumblr, but man, you’ll never be able to write a fanfiction again without feeling like you’re about to expose Deku’s intimate secrets.

If the situations isn’t terrible enough, after Deku is settled he waves at you with a smile on his face, absolutely unaware that you did indeed see his ding and his dong while he crawled into the hot tub, and for some weird reason, he’s absolutely not freaked out by you staring at him at 5AM in the morning while he soaks his sore muscles and enjoys the lovely sunrise.

You: Who the fuck uses the pool naked?!

Jirou: I did not want to know that.

You: Me neither.

Jirou: Stop lying to yourself.

You: …

You’ll never leave your room again.

… Next Part!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Fun facts:

- The “chubby cat” conversation has actually happened in my real life, it was a legit conversation with my mother-in-law. She’s precious.

- I’m quite sure I accidentally stole the name “All Meowt from someone else’s ficc, so if it’s you, send me a comment or a message and I’ll tag you as the original author or something! Thank you!

- I tried to make a little thingy to show you the layout of Deku’s flat, don’t judge me, please 😂😂😂

(It’s a masterpiece, I know.)

The secret room will be revealed eventually. (Stop thinking about dirty things, we are talking about Deku.)

Feel free to try and guess what the secret room is, can’t wait to see your answers!

See you in the next part!

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated 💚🥦

Kit

~•🥦•~

Taglist: @porusuniverse (want to be added? Just ask!)

[fiveredlights]

Okay I need to know things from literally ALL of the wip’s 😂

But I guess the ones that intrigue me the most are the post AUS2024 fic, the alternate Vegas 2023 story and the lmao daniel retirement fic!!

But like I said, I want to know all things lol! You are like one of my favourite authors ❤️

P.S. please feel no pressure to update, write or anything. Take your time

beth you ask and i will dutifully answer, gonna put everything under the cut because this is a long post 🫡

snippets: ausgp 2024/you're on another path

so fun fact about this one i wrote it post quali, and i had planned to post it after the race was done so i a "pre-wrote" two endings. i wasn't going to because i was gonna be like "oh max will win but something bad might happen to daniel" so i had this ready to go:

and i was sitting in the grandstand watching max's car explode in the pitlane and all i could think about was "did i do this. again" and honestly who knows.

Daniel’s already lying down face first on the bed when Max makes it back to their hotel room. He’s been doing it a lot recently after races, opening the door to their hotel room and just starfishing on the bed, unmoving until Max gently coaxes him to actually sleep. 

God, if his twenty-something year old self could see him now. 

Yeah, you’re back at the team you started with—no not HRT, that’s gone now, yes the Red Bull—not junior—sister team. The Red Bull seat? Yeah, not yours anymore, and it’s looking like it’s gonna stay that way. No, no podium at your home race, more like qualifying P18 because you were an idiot and drove over track limits. Points? Well, you had a good chance but I guess luck just wasn’t on your side yet again. 

Oh, and that young and upcoming driver from the Netherlands? Yeah, he’s your boyfriend now—surprise, you’re gay! And he’s a three time world champion, but that’s probably not important. 

Any one of those things would’ve sent Daniel into hospital, but all of those things combined? 

Early death. 

snippets: las vegas 2025/bonus fic reimagined

(i'm going to assume you mean las vegas 2025 and i'll give you both)

Max isn’t winning right now. 

He couldn’t really tell you why. 

Plenty of pundits, fans, strangers on the street have stopped him and asked him to dissect why he hasn’t won a championship in the past two years. He gives them a hastily PR trained and approved answer that seems to be more conscious in his mind now than before and cracks a well timed joke he’s sure his teammate would be proud of. 

Then Daniel comes along and will say, “Max already has three, he’s got to leave some for the rest of us!”, and the conversation will usually move on quickly after that. 

He knows that Daniel isn’t the sole reason for his non-winning ways right now, but when the eventual news of their relationship happens to drop, there’ll be dissections for days on if Daniel plays a part in Max’s performance right now. 

The last time Max hadn’t won a championship was when Daniel Ricciardo was with Red Bull, surely there’s some connection there?

snippets: las vegas 2025/don't read the last page

(Max is italics, Daniel is not.)

Max 🩵

July 31, 2025

...

I may have accidentally 

I swear it was an accident 

Like I pinky promise swear to our first born child

Don’t bring Matilda into this

Did you murder someone

What

Why is that your first thing

You are making a big deal out of it

Like bigger than the podcast you did in January

So I have to assume you murdered someone

Okay well it’s not murder but nice to know you think I’m capable of it

Daniel

I forgot to take off my wedding ring and wore it in the paddock and people saw and I got asked about in the press conference 

They definitely thought I was just engaged so I guess that’s just a silver lining

And you have a bet with Lando over when I was going to accidentally do this

Which is rude because I would never do the same to you Maxy

You literally have a bet with Fernando over if I’m going to slip up and say husband in an interview

How do you know that

And he’s Fernando you know you can’t say no to him

Daniel

When you came out you literally posted a photo of me on your Instagram

The whole paddock knows we are married

Half of them went to our wedding

About 85% of fans think we are in a relationship because you keep on teasing them with photos that is definitely me

Is it so bad that we just say yeah we’re married

We are literally about to have a kid

Okay well when you put it like that

I guess you’re right 

I know

I’m always right

snippets: lmao daniel retirement

They asked him if he wanted a big farewell thing, like they had done with Sebastian and Kimi a couple years back. 

He’d almost said no until Lando pulled a face and said “Mate, people’s last memory of you driving can’t be you heading to the pitlane again.” 

So he agreed. Told Blake to tell them to keep it minimal. No standing on giant mockups of his face during the national anthem or whatever.