#I should have a shitty comics tag

[erotetica]

comic scraps w/out context

[no-light-left-on]

"Fuck you."

I've been re-reading What Lies Between Sorrow and Longing and since I am unwell about this entire fic I drew a scene from Chapter 4

[silverware-is-interesting]

very minor no mercy run spoilers(?) under the cut maybe a little au of sorts?? idk and it's a bit long

honestly, i was happy at the time there wasn't a guardener fight (because i found her fight in the pacifist run kinda difficult) but now that i think about it could be quite... sad? if you know wat i mean?? maybe despite Axis's warning, and, y'know how he looked, she still did what she was programmed to do, which is protect the flowers & stuff like that. plus, she'd probably have much more defense in the geno run, so you'd just LOAD her with bullets, and maybe the backups too, not too sure

anyways, sorry for the block of text, i just think she had a lot of potential (not trying to seem like i don't like uty, of course!)

but basically, Clover would just shoot her with a fuckton of bullets as she slowly died, and some of her systems crash one at a time (idk 'bout that last part though, i'm not really clever when it comes to coding and that kinda stuff)

might make more about this concept, might not, idk

[triglycercule]

normal murder time trio and then the idiocracy that is jk fashion au and the jk!mtt

[ow-old-men]

wouldn't it be so cool if when the pve for ow2 comes out the story and writing of it all is so horrendously bad that it has a reaction effect within the fandom that kickstarts people making their own versions of the game's story and soon there's fan comics that are 20x better than anything bl*zzard could dream of

I know this is somewhat a joke question, and yes- on the face of it, it would be

But in reality, that would not be the reaction to canon content being bad. Spite can only support you for so long - and more importantly, people are already doing just that; creating. If PvE comes out and is horrendously bad, people will be disappointed, they’ll be angry, they’ll post about how they feared this but had dared to hope, I’ll make a very big and funny and time consuming post writing a fake job application to the blizzard writers or some dumb shit like that. And then some of us will leave and some will stick around and make the same shit posts and drawings and what have you not

It’s all already there, you don’t have to punish yourself waiting around for something you don’t want

So sorry for being overly sincere, but if you want fandom to thrive, you shouldn’t sit around and wait for canon to write itself off for good, you should go out and look for the amazing stuff people are already putting out. Hell, you should make your own! Community and enthusiasm and love will always make better stuff than bitterness

[windupaidoneus]

should i like. name these comics. should it be smth like zaki adventures or something

[ps1snake]

sorry for the spam lol

[weirdmageddon]

i love these tags this person is so right

actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?

i wanna get into this actually

(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)

even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie

but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"

im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,

don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity

dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor

(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)

despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him

rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said

and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol

roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"

side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.

i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect

but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?

yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise

so, dave's environment

the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors

his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)

roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok

what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)

rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:

and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear

but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable

there two types of ironies at play here:

seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)

doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)

you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.

"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"

how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1

he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”

dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.

*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift

dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:

if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.

basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"

speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use

oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. ​she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”

btw dave lalonde would look like this to me

[jasntodds]

hiii! could you do a comic!jason todd x reader angst where they were friends with benefits but reader developed feelings for him, and when she confesses he turns her down and "breaks up" with reader,

then a couple years later, reader moves on but jason isn't over them cause jason did like them back but was scared of commitment.

(if u want) angst prompt 35 when/if they reconnect

I literally rewrote this like 10 times because I couldn’t decide what I was gonna do with it and then it ended up being way longer than I intended lol I hope you like it!!

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Words: 4,378

Warnings: Swearing, angst, hurt/no comfort, mention of casual sex

masterlist | tag list | requests: open

You’re seated on Jason’s couch, facing him as you sit cross-legged. Your hands are in your lap, fiddling with your fingers as your hands shake. You think you’re gonna be sick.

“I-I, uh, I…like you.” You say it slower this time, barely glancing up Jason’s face. “More than a friend.” You wince with your words, wishing desperately to go back in time and not say anything.

He blinks at you and it’s the longest few seconds of your life.

“That…” Jason starts and he wants to bolt for the door. He wants to get as far away from this conversation as he possibly can.

The whole friends with benefits was supposed to be just that. Friends…with benefits. There were never supposed to be feelings because that complicates everything. Jason is very good at hiding his and keeping them to himself but you? He never thought you’d ever feel anything for him more than a friendship.

He thought, eventually, you’d find someone either at work or maybe on a shitty dating app he’d scoff and harass you over. The benefits would end and his chest would hurt a little but you’d be happy with someone who was deserving. You’d be with someone who was afraid to have this conversation.

“It’s…it’s okay if you don’t.” You chew the inside of your cheek, feeling them burn.

Jason Todd has only ever made you feel safe. It seems as though that security he offered allowed you to confess your feelings for him. You should have trusted your instincts. Bad Idea.

“I don’t.” Jason takes the out without even thinking about it and the words feel like glass on his tongue.

He watches your face fall and the rims of your eyes start to water. Your mouth opens as if you don’t know what to say and you’re grasping for anything. It’s not you, he thinks. It’s him, he thinks and he knows that’s terrible because that’s what everyone says but it’s true. He’s lying to you but it’s because he will always be a problem. He can’t bare the idea of a relationship or the commitment or anything that comes with offering himself to someone in that way.

He can’t offer the security of commitment.

This was supposes to be just friends having casual sex sometimes.

“Oh.” You finally get out and Jason thinks he’s just committed the worst crime of his life.

“You’re my best friend.” He says it and even that feels like a lie now.

You nod.

All you do is nod because you think if you try to say anything, a sob will rip your throat to shreds. You want to hold onto some part of your dignity.

Jason isn’t sure how you’d ever come back from this. He knows now. Now he knows you have feelings for him and he can’t just hold onto it. It’s too hard because he has feelings for you, too. Now that he knows, he’s terrified he will spill one day and then he’ll be sucked into something he can’t do. He’ll hurt you. He’ll hurt you worse than you are right now. Being friends with benefits was so much easier. He didn’t have to give you that part of himself. He didn’t have to worry about that part of you.

“I can’t do this anymore.” Jason keeps his voice steady, deciding maybe it’s best to just cut ties before this gets any worse for either one of you.

He thinks he’ll regret it later.

“But—“

“I can’t do it anymore.” Jason repeats himself, a little harder this time.

He knows he’ll regret it later.

“You should go.” He says it with a little bit of a bite and he really doesn’t mean to but he thinks if he doesn’t, you’ll hear his voice crack.

“Jay, I’m sorry.” You manage to get out as you get to your feet and somewhere in our stomach you feel betrayed.

It’s not that he doesn’t like you back, that’s okay. But he was supposed to be safe. Sure, he’s safe in a physical sense. You never have to even look over your shoulder or offer any paranoia when you walk with him through Gotham. You know if anything were to happen, he would know and he’d come. He’s always been safe in this protective way but he always felt safe with everything else, too.

You thought you could trust him with your words and your feelings and your heart. You thought, because he was your best friend first, even if this played out where you read the whole thing wrong, you’d be friends. He would apologize and offer some sort of condolence and you’d get over it. But, this doesn’t even feel like the Jason you’ve come to know and adore. A part of you feels lied to. You thought you could tell him anything.

“Just go.” Jason pulls in a breath. “Not tryin’ to hurt you but I can’t do it and that’s not fair to you. We shouldn’t’ve started this whole thing anyway.”

You nod again.

You think the floor might collapse from under your feet.

“Okay.” You say in defeat. “Okay.” You say it again as if the second time will ease some of the ache through your chest cavity.

It doesn’t.

And you leave with a hung head and tears stinging your eyes while Jason bites the lump in his throat down.

“You ready?” Dick asks, his arm locked with yours.

“I’m never ready for these and yet, I keep getting dragged to them.” You widen your eyes with a cornered grin.

Another gala, another night in a dress that isn’t the most comfortable, another night surrounded by rich people who don’t actually care about what the gala is for. You tend to be a plus one for Dick these days just so he doens’t have to go alone and half the time, you’re able to be an excuse to get out of there. You think that’s why he asks you.

“Thank you again.” Dick’s smile is bright and cheery, tender and kind.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome.” You brush him off with a smile as the two of you enter the building.

You hang onto Dick’s arm, walking through the large room to greet some of the business men and women who are expected to be donating tonight. Dick makes nice as he always does while you just tag along. Talking to people at thes things was never much of a strong suit or something you really wanted to do. You are exclusively here for your friend.

After the fifth group, you excuse yourself to grab drinks for you and Dick. Standing at the bar seems to be a nice break from it all so you stall for a few minutes. You take your time ordering drinks and looking around the room, noticing some of the other bats also making their rounds to different groups. It almost makes you laugh knowing they all hate these things, too. But your attention suddenly gets pulled to the side as you feel someone stand beside you. Their presence is towering.

“Hey.” He say and you’d still recognize the voice anywhere.

“Uh…hey.” You state, turning around to face Jason.

In two years, he hasn’t changed. He’s in a tux, one similar to the one Dick is wearing. Black and white, pretty standard for these things. His hair is slicked and styled to lay flat, the white streak still bright as ever. You never liked his hair done this way. It always looked best a bit disheveled and tossled. His eyes are still the prettiest shade of green you’ve ever seen. You think he looks just as pretty today as he did two years ago and then you almost mentally scold yourself for even thinking it.

“How’re you?” Jason asks, trying hi best to ignore the racing of his heart.

You’re wearing one of your favorite colors, a color Jason swore always looked best on you. The dress fits you well even though Jason is betting you’re ready to go home and change. You have your hair done neatly, styled to be out of your face. Jason saw you from across the room and he thought the whole world stopped for just a second. Something that hasn’t happened in two years.

“I’m okay.” You answer, keeping it plain, not sure how else you’re really supposed to approach this.

“Good.” Jason nods his head, sucking in a breath as he looks out to the floor. Dick is laughing with someone in a group. “What a kiss ass.” Jason mutters.

Your brows furrow. “I recall you faking a handful of laughs at these a few times.” You remind him.

You catch a hint of a smile coming ot his lips. If he actually smiles, you’ll be doomed.

“Got me there, I guess.” Jason shrugs before looking back to you. “But it’s Dick.”

You catch a hint of a smile coming ot his lips. If he actually smiles, you’ll be doomed.

You nod. “Mhm.” You hum, taking a small drink from your glass.

It’s been two years since you’ve seen each other. Two years since you’ve spoken. You went from almost nightly hookups and sleeping together, speaking nearly all day when you could, best friends, to nothing. He was your favorite person, your best friend in the entire world and now it’s like he was nothing. He was just someone you knew. It hurt then.

But you’ve moved on.

“It’s uh, good to see you.” Jason lets the words fall from his lips.

“You, too.” You answer, still remaining a bit cold, not entirely trying to.

Maybe it hurts now, too.

Talking to him now is like picking open a scabbed wound.

Jason saw you the second you came in with Dick. He’s been watching you from a distance ever since and he finally gathered the courage to talk to you, knowing you could hold a grudge better than anyone. He knew you were still holding one against him given the zero contact and zero attempt. It was a risky move coming to talk to you and he’s not entirely sure what he wanted from the conversation. All he knows is that his heart is in his throat and his hands are sweaty. He wants to smile and his stomach is knots. He thinks he misses you more than he ver thought he could.

In the two years since he’s seen you, he’s had time to think about his decision. He’s had plenty of time to wallow in his regret and still not bear to even hold the courage to try and mend things. How could he possibly mend anything whe he knows he hurt you? He’s not supposed to hurt the people that care abut him even if that seems to be what ends up happening.

He didn’t mean to hurt you, just himself.

“How are you?” You finally ask and you don’t know why you do.

Maybe it’s a habit.

Maybe you do care.

“Good.” Jason answers quickly, clearing his throat. “Same old.”

“Good.” You nod softly, quickly raising your brows.

You swore you moved on. You swore you were done. You even dated a few people since and were happy in your relationships, barely thinking about him on occasion. You were happy. Not that he really gave you any choice since he never reached out to try and fix things. In fact, you’re almost entirely positive he’s even avoided you. But, he’s standing in front of you, a careful distance away to mind your personal space and it’s like every feeling you ever had for him gets thrown back to the surface.

How the fuck does he do that?

You shake your head. “Should probably get back to Dick.” You pick up the two drinks.

“Yeah, right.” Jason answers. “It was good to see ya.” Jason pulls a breath and musters a small smile.

Your breath catches in your throat. His smile was always something you admired.

“You too, Jason.” You give him a soft nod and you think see a grimace cross his face for a half a second with the use of his name, something you almost never called him.

Jason watches you walk back to Dick and he feels the aching in his chest. It’s been two years and he has to fight the urge to call and text you. He has to fight the urge to go to your apartment after patrol. It’s why he’s avoided anything and everything you were invited to. You’d never turn down your friend because of something that happened between him and you. That just wasn’t you. So, he avoided, trying to make it easier for you at the very least. But it’s been near torture him.

He misses you.

You go back to Dick, putting on a fake smile. The rest of the night you spend trying to forget your entire interaction with Jason. Talking and joking with Dick and the either bats doesn’t seem to help. Your mind always seems to wander back to Jason just as it did forever ago. This time though, instead of some sort of giddy smile and your mind feeling all mushy, it only feels sad and achy. You think you miss him more than you’ve convinced yourself.

By the time Dick takes you home, you’re exhausted from faking your way through conversations and a few laughs. The only thing you really want to do is eat something, turn on a comfort movie, and go to bed.

Pretend like you never ran into Jason.

It’s always a risk running into Jason whenever it’s something involving the bats. It’s why you don’t go to everything you’re invited to. You were friends, friends with benefits, but friends and somehow it’s always felt more like an actual break up than anything. Somehow you’re in the middle of him and his family half the time while having also been friends with them.

The game of avoidance is exhausting.

You change into something that’s actually comfortable and find yourself rummaging through your fridge, kicking yourself for not stopping at the store yesterday.

You were tired. It seemed too much work but it’s eleven at night and you don’t have much.

You settle for some toast and swear you’ll hit the store tomorrow.

After a few minutes of staring blankly at your toaster, your toast pops and you find yourself seated on your counter. It’s bland and not all too filly but you thin it’s better than not eating anything. Maybe by the time you’re done, you’ll feel a little better.

You scroll through your phone, mindlessly eating. It’s nothing unusual as you scroll through your feeds. A few photos from friends, a few cute cat videos, and an annoying ad every few posts. In all honesty, you find yourself content sitting here. That was, until you hear the sliding of your living room window.

Mid-bite you’re pausing, looking to your window as your heart runs to your throat.

You look over to the other side of your counter, clocking your full butcher block. Not ideal, you think. You can’t throw them with great accuracy. But your baseball bat is your room and your only other option is a pan from the cupboard below you.

You settle for the butcher knife, grabbing it as you hop off the counter.

“Get out!” You grind your teeth as the figure starts to come through your window.

“Hey to you, too.”

You roll your eyes, seeing Jason emerge from the window, helmet covering his face and distorting his voice.

Of course it’s him. You couldn’t just spend the rest of your evening trying to forget about him.

“What the hell are you doing crawling through my window?” You bite back.

In all honesty, you should have locked it. It’s been two years and leaving it unlocked is still such a habit and you can’t seem to break it. Something about maybe he gets hurt one day and he still chooses to come to you. You hate the thought.

“Why the fuck is your window unlocked?” Jason quips back.

You glare back at him. “Habit.” You state sternly.

“Do you want to put the knife down?” Jason asks, reaching behind his head to the take the helmet off.

“Depends.” You raise your brows at him more to just be difficult.

He’s made your night pretty unpleasant and difficult so you’re going to make his night the same.

He matches your stare, shifting his weight to his right foot as he holds his helmet on his hip. You make an annoyed and mocking face at him before you put the knife it’s rightful place. You still fold too easily around him.

“Go on.” You gesture a hand towards him.

You hope he gets whatever it is over with so you can just go to bed. Fuck your other plans. You’re so done with tonight.

Jason bites the inside of his cheek. He tried his best to muster up the courage to come over here. He intentionally came before patrol. This way, he could always back out and if this got ugly, he would have to leave anyway.

“Just wanted to know if we could talk.” Jason says and he dodges your eyes entirely.

Your brows pull together. “About?” You roll your eyes. “You could be more forthcoming.”

Jason knew you would not make this easy. None of this is easy. If he could even communicate the fact it was hard for him that would make this whole thing easier but that seems to stick to his throat. He’s run over everything he wanted to say ever since he watched you walk back to Dick a few hours ago. He thinks he has the whole memorized but you’re just watching him, looking more annoyed than he’s ever seen you before.

He’s forgotten everything he ever wanted to say to you.

“D’ya remember that night?” Jason blurts the question out before he has a chance to turn around. He regret the question the second it leaves his lips. “And I—“

“Kicked me out of your apartment and then never spoke to me until tonight? Yes.” You finish with a bitter spite in your tone.

This is what he wanted to talk about?

“I-, well was hopin’ I could explain.” Jason sucks in a breath and he shifts his weight again to his left foot.

“After two years, now you want to explain your actions?” Your eyes are wide and you’re trying to keep your voice down but it still hurts as much you want to deny it does.

Jason sees your jaw clench and your fist ball. You look absolutely furious with him and he knows he deserves it. He should have had this conversation that night or at the very least the next day or just not two years later. He feels like he’s intruding and he has no idea what to do. The last thing he wants to do is intrude. Why did he decide to do this?

“I know it sucks.” Jason says. “I saw ya tonight and I dunno.” Jason shrugs his shoulders. “Thought about it…a lot before, too.” His voice goes a little quiet. “I’m not good at this.”

There’s a part of you that almost wants to soften. It’s not that Jason is really loud or anything but his voice is usually a little rough, not necessarily “quiet”. He’s only ever really quiet when he has to be or when he’s trying to get himself to talk about something he does not want to, around you anyway. It’s a trait you picked up on not too long into your friendship. At he time, you wished he didn’t feel the need to make himself quiet or small in order to say what he was thinking. You don’t know how you feel about it now but you don’t want to feel whatever this ache in your chest is.

“Well fucking try, Jason.” You cross your arms deciding to fight the ache with a bite.

“I was just scared.” He confesses and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound so small.

That’s not fair. He’s the one that hurt you. He’s the one that didn’t call after everything and now you’re standing here wanting to hug him and tell him that it’s okay. He doesn’t do it on purpose. Despite it all, you are certain Jason would never guilt you on purpose. But, you still feel guilty because you know him. You know nearly everything there is to know about him.

But it fucking hurts and you were scared, too.

“Do you think I wasn’t?” You question, your voice harsh and pained. “And I had good reason, apparently.” You spit back and you don’t know why you say it.

Jason thinks this whole thing was a bad idea. There has not been a day he doesn’t wish he could take it back. He knows it hurt you and he misses you. But, hearing that you should have been scared to tell him something makes him feel like you’re ripping his heart out of his chest. He thinks this is something how you must have felt that night.

Jason groans. “You told me you had feelings for me and I fucking didn’t know what to do! I’m not good for you!” He tries to defend himself, scrambling for any part of his original speech to come back to him. “Thought we could just…do what we were doing and you’d find someone else.” His voice almost sounds defeated.

“That’s such a load of shit.” You fire back. “I didn’t want anyone else! I wanted you!” Your hands move out in front of you as if that will get your point across.

“Fuck,” He lets out an exasperated groan. “I was fucking scared I’d fuck it up with you or you’d get hurt for being with me. I didn’t want to risk that!” Jason shakes his head and looks to the floor. There are no excuses for the way he hurt you. “I knew I’d fuck it up.”

“So what are you saying?” You shrugs your shoulders, trying to get him to get to the point.

“I-I have feelings for you, too.” Jason nearly swallows his own vocal chords.

That sends you right over the edge. You’re somewhere between pissed and in agony. How dare he come to you and confess after two years? You moved on. You have been dating and getting on with your life. You have friends that are not him or the bats. Now, he wants to show up and suddenly tell you this? And then he wants to say it’s because you deserve better. What does he know? If he knew anything, he’d know none of it mattered to you in the first place. Every doubt he ever had about himself, you didn’t care about because you always knew he was good and enough and deserving. And that actually hurts because he can’t see himself the way you always saw him. Why could he never see himself the way you saw him?

“No! You don’t get to show up two years later and suddenly tell me you like me. That’s not fair! I have moved on from you!” You scream back, not able to hold back anymore. “I told you I liked you and you told me that you couldn’t fucking do it! You kicked me out! You kicked me out of your life! That’s not fucking fair.” You can feel your voice crack as tears well behind your eyes. “You broke me and you never even apologized for it.” Your voice comes back down and you can feel your heart nearly wanting to break through your ribs.

“I-I’m sorry.” Jason’s voice is soft and small. He didn’t mean to not even apologize. He didn’t know it hurt that badly. He couldn’t even imagine it would. He should have known. “I fucking swear I am. I didn’t mean to.”

“Well you did. You couldn’t have a conversation with me to explain it. You just…cut me out of your life like I was nothing. Do you have any idea how badly that hurt?” You question and the anger is starting to flood away with heartbreak.

“Please,” Jason tries. “You should be mad but…I…I do miss you.”

It’s something you’ve wanted to hear for a long time. Sometimes, you’d think he’d show up out of the blue and tell you he misses you. He wouldn’t be in love with you or anything like that but he’d come by and he’d miss you. You’d be friends again and go back to some sort of normal. He’d be in your life again but that day never came. Not until now and it doesn’t feel the way you were hoping it would. All it does is hurt.

“I miss you, too.” Your voice is small as it cracks because you do miss him. “But that doesn’t make any of this okay.” You shake your head with the soft shrug of your shoulders.

“Just want you back even if it’s friends.” Jason feels the burning behind his eyes and he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness. You’re right and he knows you are. “I’m sorry.”

You were friends for years before you even started the friends with benefits thing. You do miss him. As much as he’s hurt you, you would very much like to have him in your life again. Jason struggles sometimes with things and this is one of those things. You know. But, that doesn’t mean you should have to be someone who gets hurt because of it. As much as you want him back in your life, it’s something you don’t think you can answer at the moment.

“I’m gonna have to think on it, Jason.” You let out a sigh.

Jason nods softly, feeling absolutely crushed and defeated. “Okay.”

“You should go.” You say it softly, holding back tears and every urge you have to work it out. You’re too angry, too annoyed, too sad, and still too infatuated with him to think straight.

“I’m sorry.” Jason offers once more as he walks back to the window.

He slides on his helmet and just like that, he’s gone.

[2knightt]

Heyyy!!! Could i please get The gang with a reader they were never romantically interested in, just friends with, getting a glow up? And the gang slowly realizes they have feelings for them? And reader used to have a crush on them? Angsty please 🤧🙏🏽

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ tastes like she might be the one. ⋄ 𓍯

REQUESTED…the gang realizes what they lost a little too late.

tags/warnings: shitty angst, gn!reader, reader isn’t forgiving, EVERYONE is toxic, story-focused, i made reader and the gang stop being friends cuz rejection is awkward.

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ i seen this req and started maliciously laughing to myself while rubbing my hands

—

johnny cade

falling in love with your best friend. it’s a common troupe in tv shows, but have you ever noticed it never works out in real life?

you watched from a distance as johnny walked around the whole east-side with ponyboy. your ‘best friend’ was hanging out with someone else after telling you, ‘he was busy.’

a sudden feeling of disappointment washed over you. it was no longer the usual sadness you felt after seeing johnny hang out with his other friends after bailing on you.

you were almost numb to it.

the ball in your throat you’d usually get as tears swelled in your eyes evolved into thoughts of what was for dinner.

before, you’d drop hints that you’d like him. all johnny would do is brush them off. you know he’s not stupid and that he knew what you meant, he just didn’t feel the same.

now, you’re avoiding him. which was easier than you think as it still seemed he was uncomfortable around you.

eventually, you just stopped talking. people would ask why you guys don’t hang out anymore or they’d ask where johnny was. all you’d do was shrug your shoulders.

why should you care?

a significant amount of time had passed since johnny last seen you face-to-face. obviously, he was mature enough to admit that it was his fault. but, he can’t stand being awkward around you.

until one fateful and unfortunate day.

“ow! jesus, man—watch where you’re going.”

“yea.”

johnny mumbled, watching the random, rather pretty person, rub their head. you looked up instead of looking down at the concrete, only to meet johnny cade’s eyes.

“johnny?”

“wait-y/n?”

his eyes scanned you up and down, shock settings in. how were you the same person he’d giggle with about the latest comic?

“uh, yeah. tha’s me.”

you mumbled, feeling a little bit awkward from it all. i mean, who wouldn’t? he’s looking at you like you’re a model from the magazine’s two-bit steals.

“…wow. you, uhm—look amazing.”

“yeah, thanks.”

you two muttered amongst yourselves, looking like the epitome of awkward teens. johnny was rubbing the back of his neck as you picked at your nails.

“so,”

johnny started, his voice already shaking and unstable.

“what’re you doing this week?”

“gonna be busy. sorry.”

you waved off his question before saying a sorry excuse for a goodbye.

johnny stood there, feeling slight deja vu as you walked past him. he used to tell you he was gonna be busy to stay away.

and now here you are, doing the same.

the ball in this throat wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he tried to swallow it back, no matter how hard he tried to blink the tears away.

a familiar feeling of sadness washed over him

dallas winston

“it’s not like i’d ever date you, anyhow.”

sure, he was drunk when he said it as you carried him out of the drive-in. but, you know the saying. drunk words are sober thoughts.

you liked dallas. like, a lot. many might’ve said he wasn’t worthy of you—you disagreed each time. but, it was clear he didn’t feel the same.

he treated you like a friend. which, you two were friends, but it’s hard to watch someone you love treat you like the same guys he puts into headlocks.

after that, you distanced yourself. you knew he was cursing you deep down for ignoring him, fuelling his belief that every person was out for him.

but, you couldn’t look at him without feeling like crying while angrily punching him.

a few months went passed and you, somehow, managed to steer clear of dallas winston for the time being.

until one slip-up.

you and your new-found-friends all watched the drag race with giggles and cheers filling the air.

a tap on your shoulder pulled you out of the trance, turning your head only to be greeted with dallas’ cold, dark eyes.

“i thought that was you, y’know. where the hell have you been?”

everyone got awkward. you avoided his gaze whilst your friends went silent, whispering to each other.

“around.”

“so, you go ‘round and change up your whole look?”

“exactly.”

you answered, an obvious attitude in your voice as you held back an eye roll.

“well, you look good. if that’s what you wanna hear.”

“i know. now go away, dallas.”

you spat before turning your attention back to the track, quickly talking your friends back into their excited mood.

dallas watched as you acted like he didn’t exist. he clenched his jaw as he walked away, his hands in a fist while walking into an abandoned alleyway.

a crack was heard from his knuckles, followed by a groan. his skin was red, fresh wounds opening before he punched the brick wall again.

the seconds felt like minutes and the minutes felt like hours as dallas trashed the alleyway, making it look like a tornado had rushed through only the narrow path.

anger was the only thing he felt. for you embarrassing him and for allowing you to slip through his fingers.

ponyboy curtis

“i don’t see myself datin’ you. you know that, right?”

he snapped after you, not so subtly, hinted that you liked him. ponyboy was always one for brutal honesty, but at a time like this, it wasn’t needed.

the longer and longer you thought about it, you seemed to create this idea of ponyboy. the one that would take you out, not ignore your feelings, step up when he had to, and most importantly—actually like you.

delusional is what you’d call it. psycho is what ponyboy told his friends as you sat across the street with yours.

over summer break, it was only natural you’d mature and grow into your looks. you were always beautiful, but the change was enough to knock anyone out of their seat.

especially when it was your ex-crush slash ex-best friend.

you sat out on a bench by the lot, chin tilted up to look at the stars that twinkled. the concept of ‘vampire stars,’ always amazed you.

things so beautiful were still able to suck the lives out of the ones closest to them. the shining dots in the black ink of the sky still resembled the humans below.

“y/n..? why are you out so late?”

you heard a groggy voice come from behind you after a tap on your shoulder. unfortunately for you, you immediately recognized the voice.

“i was jus’ about to go home, ponyboy.”

you mumbled in response, quick to gather your things. panic washed over pony as he seen you getting ready to leave. his hand grabbed your wrist, loosening his grip as he realized how weird it was.

“can’t you stay a little longer and talk?”

“not really, i don’t see myself talking to you anytime soon. good night, ponyboy.”

you answered rather bluntly as you yanked your wrist out of his hold. you walked away without bothering to look behind you.

ponyboy stood there, dumbfounded. he was always one to read between the lines—so when you told him, “anytime soon,” he took that as, “i’ll talk to you, just not right now.”

call it delusion or insanity, but in his head, he was just seeing someone who is still getting over the crush they had on him.

maybe you’ll like him back soon.

sodapop curtis

“i like someone else, y/n. ‘m real sorry.”

even when he’s rejecting you, he still treated you better than any other guy you’d dated. that’s why you could never say you hated sodapop curtis, he’s too sweet for such a word.

although, he wasn’t all that sweet if he was avoiding you. soda said he’d forget like the whole confession thing happened, but he clearly didn’t even bother trying.

you longed for him to even wave at you. for his eyes to meet yours. you just wanted his attention. desperation was truly a shameful thing.

he was so quick to go and date sandy. maybe it was a blessing in disguise. it helped you move on quicker. slower than most, yes, but quicker than you ever thought.

you had met a rather cute guy awhile back. made you feel like a little girl again with how special he treated you. he made you forget all about soda.

you waved goodbye to your boyfriend as he kissed you on the cheek before you closed the car door. he dropped you off at home, so it wasn’t a far walk. any farther and sodapop, who was sitting inside, would’ve went crazy.

your mom had let him in, pushing your old history aside and offered him a hot cup of tea. he sipped on it while holding back tears.

once the click of the lock was heard, soda’s eyes began to water.

“y/n, sandy she-“

he mumbled as he seemed to lunge at you, his arms already wrapped around you. you felt his tears hit the crown of your head like bullets.

despite your morals, you pushed him away, wriggling yourself out of your grasp.

“dude, you can’t just do that.”

“why not? i thought we were best friends.”

“were, soda. we were friends.”

you said flatly, no emotion past disappointment in your voice when you spoke while you took your shoes off.

“and don’t touch me. i have a boyfriend.”

“you what?”

“yeah. i don’t like you anymore and we aren’t friends. you can go home now.”

soda stood there with a broken expression on his face, he was nothing more than a defeated and an empty man in a house that was no longer comforting.

he watched as you walked around the corner, not even sparing a glance toward him.

a small part of him hoped you would. you’d gotten prettier since he’d last saw you. your eyes shinned brighter, your smile was wider, and you stood with more confidence.

he really, really wanted you to look at him.

darry curtis

“look, y/n. i like you and all, but i needa focus on myself and my football.”

two years ago, before you guys graduated, you confessed. you immediately regretted it.

you looked a fool as darry curtis nervously rubbed the back of his head. all you did was nod and let out a small, ‘okay,’ before walking off.

you went to the college that was the farthest away from tulsa. being in the city reminded you of the embarrassment.

as you studied, you obviously matured. both mentally and physically. you no longer held the silly grudge against darry, even when you had to go back to visit family.

but all it took was a small wave toward darry for all the memories to go rushing back. but, not to you. to him.

seeing you giggle as you played with your younger cousins made him regret telling you he wanted to focus on football.

he envisioned the life you two could’ve had.

you helping ponyboy with his schoolwork, comforting soda when sandy had left him, and making him a home cooked meal when he went home.

but that’s all behind him now. it was just a fantasy.

you two are older. and even then, it’s not like you’d give him a chance. you still think he’s the biggest football star.

steve randle

“i don’t like you. i’m sorry, y/n. i jus’ don’t.”

and he left it off at that. of course, you never out right said you liked him. steve randle wasn’t stupid, however.

he knows how to read between the lines. and you know when to leave someone alone. and steve clearly didn’t want to be around you.

you watched longingly from afar when you seen him in any casual setting. you’d do anything to take the confession back—to go back to normal.

as the weeks and months passed, you never even seen steve. it seemed your obsessive staring and the need to check up on him constantly ended.

the habit, or rather the addiction, finally stopped.

it didn’t stop for steve. he seen you at the DX for the first time in awhile, smiling and giggling with your friends.

you’d only smile like that with him. he grasped the wrench harder as he clenched his jaw.

while paying, steve made sure to walk through the front doors so you’d see him.

“oh. hey, y/n.”

“…hey.”

you muttered with your brows pinched together, looking at him like he was the girls you used to gossip about him with.

“so, uh—you look nice.”

“thanks.”

your boring answer made it seem like you wanted a way out. and steve knew when to let go of a conversation, he wasn’t dumb.

you walked past him and out the door, your friends glaring at him. his eyes never left your figure as you walked away.

he wished he could take back the words he said. maybe if he wasn’t so rude, you’d be back beside him.

two-bit mathews

“you’re funny, y/n.”

funny. funny was what he thought about your feelings. you loving him was funny.

fine. you’d show him funny. let’s see if him being without you was ‘funny.’

you avoided him, ignoring him when he tried to call you over. this would help you move on and show him what was fucking ‘funny.’

the next, ‘hey, y/n,’ should be the last. you couldn’t stand to look at the dumb curl from his brunette hair that rested on his forehead. you couldn’t stand his laugh.

two-bit had gotten the hint. he left you alone even though it felt weird walking around town without you.

he hadn’t seen you in weeks, until at the bar. he heard your giggle and suddenly his heart raced like never before.

maybe it was jealousy or dislike.

two-bit found you sitting on a bar stool, a shot in hand. out of instinct and habit, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“two-bit?”

“why’ve you been ignoring me, dude?”

the humour in his voice was no longer there as he felt nothing was funny in you ignoring him.

“that’s funny, two. go bother dallas or somethin’.”

you grumbled with your jaw clenched, pushing him off you. two-bit muttered something under his breath as he pushed the exit.

he cannot stand the way your hands were still soft or how your lips were still parted when you focused in on the conversation.

[diminuel]

In Stinky Child Au , how Crocodile lost his hand ?

He lost it to Whitebeard.

I know that for sure but I'm still not sure what his backstory with the guy is, that is, if they already knew each other by the time the clash happened.

I don't know if you want to hear my ideas already or if these would be spoilerish for comics or fic to come, so I'm just putting it under a read more. (Also, maybe I should invest in a Stinky Child AU tag X'D I also have a feeling I said some of the things I'm talking about here before but my blog is a mess.)

I think that while Crocodile still did Warlord duties not too long after Luffy was born, he hasn't really been on the Grand Line. Since Dragon involved Garp pretty early on, he kind of "claimed" Crocodile as "his" Warlord, to do missions on his bidding, which gives Crocodile a bit of a cover and a reason to be in the East Blue. (Sengoku allowed it, because it's easier than trying to fight with Garp, though I don't think he suspects there is a reason behind it.)

The first journey back out into the New World, maybe when Luffy's 2 and Ace is 5 (before Dragon picks up Sabo), was not supposed to be anything dangerous. Maybe a bit annoying to do it with "training wheels on" but he's not an idiot. He's got kids at home, he is not taking unnecessary risks. His aim is to gather intel for the RA and take out pirates along the way, usual stuff, a little bit of adventure, a little bit of danger, but not exceeding the levels that are just the New World's base line.

What I'm playing around with at the moment is that he happens to sail into one of Whitebeard's new territories - so new that the information has not reached him yet - and one of the pirate ships attacking him sail under WB's flag. So when he sinks that ship, WB is quick to retaliate. And even though Crocodile realizes his mistakes, gets on the phone to confirm, maybe even tries to fix it, one of his flaws is that he doesn't want to be a coward. He has already given up his plan to become pirate king to protect Luffy, but he's still a pirate, he's still powerful. So he fights but of course is defeated. Maybe not killed because WB miiiiiiight recognize him (as the scrawny kid he left behind?)

He has to beg for his life, admits that he has children that depend on him. And of course WB spares him, would have most likely also spared him if he didn't confess, but he does not spare him the patronizing remarks that people who are this weak and have people depending on them, should not be pirates. And whether he cuts off his hand during battle or as a "stay home" warning I don't know. During battle would be kind of less shitty, depends on how we are all feeling about WB ;3

So yes, he gets away, badly hurt and when he finally makes it home (ashamed, angry, doubting himself, in pain), there is a third child waiting for him?

[erotetica]

Well now I amn ot doing it.

[maiverie]

TRIAGE! ┊ a lee heeseung series — FINALE ♡

you try to teach the nerd how to date.

synopsis: heeseung is not, by any measure, date-able. he’s dorky, he’s nerdy, and he does this weird thing where he snorts loudly every time he laughs. in fact, he loves everything that normal people are allergic to — computer science, collecting rare comic books, and birdwatching on the weekend.

given that you two have obviously nothing in common, you find yourself utterly flabbergasted when you receive a letter in your locker, on which heeseung has written, "hi. will you please teach me how to date?"

MASTERLIST HERE !

kayla’s playlist (@/miiiwaa) ♡ my shitty og playlist . tags : #.*triage .

TAGLIST

@enhyflirt @dreamyenskz @icedcoffeesunwoo @ssolari @skazoo @jjunis @heejake-en @koroktsuya @jeongwins @tinykoi-s @en-boyz @soobin-chois @blessed-sky @jhyunieee @kisswon @vbxrin @cosmicsunghoon @bloomedberry @jungwonielove @miiiwaa @jungwoniee @lhsng @missharubear @deonuism @sarahxy537 @bambisgirl @hrrhmay-primaryblog @yeonzzun @msxflower @sunsunu @jangwonie @sweetjaemss @seungstarss @tokyoflies @solelyenha @softforqiankun @goodforgyu @va1ry @taekbokki @ashxxkook @moon-gyus @jakeified @markleeisdabestdrug @wccycc @viagumi @pisss111 @outrologist @fairfairee @hiqhkey @ctrlemis

chapter five (finale)

word count: 8k | navigation: previous / MASTERLIST warnings: swearing, (verbal) bullying a/n: final chapter; thank you so much for reading this far. sorry this took so long to get to you :(

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎

‘let’s have a little talk, you dweeb.’

heeseung had been backed into a corner.

while he often liked to reserve that idiom for metaphoric effect, he means it quite literally — ryujin and taehyun had literally backed him into a corner of a bedroom with no way out.

it was obvious he had stumbled across something he shouldn’t have. 

ryujin and taehyun kissing? how disturbing.

if it were up to him, he truly wouldn’t have meddled in their business. however, the way they’re sneering at him leads him to believe that they think his actions were intentional. he wants to insist that no part of this was deliberate—that he was honestly just trying to find you—but tense silence circulates the trio and he has no inclination to speak first.

“who the fuck do you think you are?” ryujin punctuates the silence with her malice, making him inwardly wince. her hands find their way to her hips as she openly scowls with disdain. “god, you’re annoying.” 

“i-i should go,” heeseung lowers his head, scratching the nape of his neck. “i didn’t mean to intrude,” he laughs nervously in an attempt to dispel their hostility, “i was just trying to find—”

“no, you should stay.” taehyun suggests, a smirk slithering to his lips. he rolls his head around his neck before sighing contently. “you should stay and play with us.” 

play…?

heeseung physically recoils with horror, stomach twisting with unease. there’s something about taehyun’s predatory stare that flares goosebumps all the way across his arms. he realises that the most wise decision right now is to escape the enclosed space as soon as possible. 

“sorry, i-i don’t want to keep my parents waiting,” he lies, lowering his head. “they’re downstairs.”

the two exchange impish glances.

“well, we won’t be long,” ryujin stifles a laugh before taking a seat on the bed. she folds one leg over the other, leaning back with her arms propped up. “since you were creeping on us, we thought you could exchange the favour and tell us all about your girlfriend.”

“girlfriend?” heeseung blinks. he doesn’t have a girlfr— oh.

miss sunset.

you? his… girlfriend?

as if.

“oh,” heeseung dips his head shyly. “n-no, you’re mistaken. she’s, um… she’s not my girlfriend.”

if he were being honest, he was kind of hoping to change that some day.

“what, so you guys haven’t fucked yet?” ryujin bats her lashes, a playful stare in her eyes.

heeseung’s brows instantly furrow, a frown on his lips. frankly, he was a little bugged by their vulgarity and the tone used to address you. this was the same type of contempt he noticed in other people in his life — like his aunt at her wedding, who pulled him aside and cautioned that ‘girls like that are foxes, heeseung! they’re nothing but trouble.’

it shouldn't matter, because they’re all wrong.

every single one of them. 

they're wrong.

it boggles his mind that people can’t see what he sees.

then again, it can’t be helped that all the best things about you are what can’t be seen. sure, you’re so pretty that sometimes he can’t even meet your eyes properly, but you’re also warmer and kinder than you give yourself credit to be. you must not realise, but he notices the little things you do for him — like the way you clean his glasses when he places them down on the table to sleep; or the way you pretend you’re full so he can finish the rest of your lunch; or the way you scribble encouraging little notes and drawings on his textbooks when you know he has a long night of studying ahead of him. 

it boggles his mind that some people may never have the privilege of peeking behind the curtain to see that you’re warm, and funny, and kind, and caring. you embody everything that his well-fitting nickname suggests. miss sunset — a blaze of colour; an explosion of soft yellows, bright oranges, fierce reds, pearly pinks and vibrant purples. 

you’re a fiery kiss to the sky.

it’s both a shame and an honour that he’s able to keep you to himself. 

“you know she likes you, right?” ryujin smirks, erecting from the bed.

heeseung’s eyes instantly round. “wh-what?”

“yeah,” she slowly slinks toward him. “she told me.”

“r-really?”

“duh. why wouldn’t she? we’re best friends,” ryujin scoffs, arms folded. “and i know her better than anyone. we’ve known each other since we were little kids, you know.” 

heeseung notices that you don’t often talk about your relationship with ryujin and taehyun. you don’t really tell heeseung much about anything from your past, but he would certainly consider your old friendships to be the biggest elephant in the room. he doesn’t doubt that you were all once close friends, but he knows you haven’t been in contact with them for a while now. it’s obvious why, in his opinion — they’re mean-spirited people who enjoy sinking their claws into people and injecting poison.

they’re callous and vicious and hateful. they’re everything that you’re not. 

‘best friends’? he felt insulted for you.

it was like trying to hold a candle to the sun.

“what… what was she like?” heeseung can’t help but ask, his stomach doing a little flip at the thought of you as a child. he knows he should probably leave the room, but the temptation runs too deep — he wants to consume everything about you.

what did your hair look like? what did your laugh sound like? did you prefer playing outside or staying inside? what made you smile during the day and what kept you up at night?

his heart began to thump at the thought of these answers before reluctance settled in.

was it wrong to wonder these many things about you? 

was he allowed to be curious? 

would that truly be okay — given that you were a goddess and he was next to nothing?

“cute,” ryujin replies, head bobbing. “she was cute.” 

aha!

heeseung can’t help but smile profusely. “of course! i knew it,” he mumbles, blushing to himself. of course she was cute; beauty like that must have been obvious even at a young age.

ryujin’s razor-sharp stare remained. she seemed to study heeseung carefully before lowering her gaze. “she was also kind of mean, i guess,” she continued, inspecting her nails nonchalantly. “a bit of a bully.”

taehyun stifled a laugh at this, and they exchanged knowing glances as though they were indulging in an inside joke. “oh, yeah, i remember she once bullied that kid for sitting in her seat.”

bullied?

heeseung frowned, doubtful about their claims. he reminds himself that they’re both the type of people to embellish any story for their own entertainment. “you’re wrong,” he frowns. “she wouldn’t do something like that. sh-she’s not like you. she’s different.”

ryujin’s lips extend into a smile. “how well do you think you know her?”

his frown deepened. “better than you do.” 

the pair instantly burst into cacophonous laughter that seems to poison the air in the room. 

heeseung bites his bottom lip, feeling unease swirling around at the pit of his stomach. 

“really?” ryujin defies him with a raised brow. “you really think you know her that well?”

he nods slowly.

“okay,” she tilts her head, “then where is she right now?”

heeseung’s eyes flicker to the ground. he didn’t know the answer to that question, but that wasn’t indicative of anything. “well, i-i don’t know, but… she’ll be back—”

“obviously, she ditched you. she left you, heeseung, it’s something we used to do a lot. we’d invite two or three suckers to a party, get them drunk as shit, and then make them entertain us for the next few hours.” 

his eyes widened as he fell into momentary silence, forming as many rational justifications as he could. “but… i was the one who asked her to come with me. and… and you just told me that she… she likes me.”

ryujin rolled her eyes. “the only reason yuna invited you was because we thought it’d be funny. plus, don’t get me wrong — i’m sure she likes you, but don’t put any weight on that. it’s like how a person can like a helpless puppy. it’s pity; that’s all it is.”

“th-that doesn’t mean anything.” heeseung felt discomfort sprout inside his chest, branching insidiously in his lungs and up his throat. “that has nothing to do with her! she’s… she’s an angel.”

“really?” ryujin slithered over toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder, clenching it tightly to bring their faces close. “then why’d she tell us about that letter of yours?”

heeseung felt his heart drop to his feet. “wh-what?”

“the letter you left in her locker,” ryujin continued. “what did it say again? something like…” she pretended to brainstorm, tapping her chin with a finger. “oh! right… wasn’t it something like hi, will you please teach me how to date?” ryujin giggled as taehyun joined in snickering from behind.

his breathing quickened. the letter. 

you told him you never told anyone about that. 

did you lie?

maybe they’re bluffing — you wouldn’t do that. and even if you did lie, you would have definitely told heeseung afterward, right?

“the funniest part was the fact that you signed it off like the fucking virgin-loser you are. kind regards, lee heeseu—” they cackled again, this time even louder. they continued to banter with one another by echoing the contents of the letters. 

heeseung felt himself shrink. hot tears burned his eyes as he felt their humiliation pile on and on as though they were determined in hammering him into the ground. 

“oh my god,” ryujin laughed, wiping the tears from her eyes. “gee, thanks for tonight’s entertainment, heeseung,” she chuckles off the rest of her amusement, “i wish i took a photo of the letter or something. so that i could share it around with—”

“no!” heeseung cried as he swallowed the lump in his throat and began to enter a swivet of panic. “d-don’t! i-i—”

“you’re shaking like a leaf!” ryujin pouts, reaching to grab his shoulder before he flinches. “it’s okay. i won’t tell anyone. unlike your girlfriend, i know how to keep secrets,” she whistled. “say, heeseung… i’m keeping a lot of secrets these days, aren’t i?” she brushed his hair with her fingers.

“even yours.”

he stopped dead, chest rising up and down as he attempted to breathe. he tried to clear his tears with rapid blinking, but it only resulted in more tears replacing the previous ones.

“don’t worry. we’ve been nice. we haven’t told her your secret yet,” she winked. 

yet?

“listen,” ryujin’s voice lowers, her finger lifting his chin so that he faces her. “i really don’t want to keep your parents waiting for too long, so i’ll say this: your girlfriend’s not a saint. she’s vicious in her own way. and if you hate us for the things we make you do, then you should hate her, too. why? because she and i are exactly the same — everything we’ve done to you, she’s done to someone else.”

“y-you’re… you’re wrong.” he turned away from her finger.

ryujin hummed once. “well, let’s face the facts.” her lips slowly lifted into a grin. “you’re alone right now, heeseung. she’s not even here. she left you. i saw her get in the car and leave just earlier. go ahead and look outside if you don’t believe me.” 

heeseung’s gaze flickered to the ground.

“but anyway,” ryujin whirls around and exchanges a smile with taehyun. “we gotta go… we wouldn’t want to stay out too late since we have an early morning, right?” she smirks. “we’ll see you tomorrow, heeseung. at the police station.”

“wh-what? why?”

“because someone ratted us out,” taehyun chimes in, eyes rolling. “so we’ll keep your secret so long as you do one more favour for us.”

you can have your puzzle back. i don't want it anymore.

“you can have your puzzle back.” your little sun says, his voice lowering into a register so low that you almost miss it. “i don’t want it anymore.”

the room remained dark as heeseung’s words hung like ghosts in dead silence.

it was deafening, the way his whisper was the softest sound you’d ever heard. you were holding your breath, fearing a reality in which i don’t want it anymore meant something beyond what you could hear at face value.

“i don’t want your stupid gift,” he croaks, burying his face in his hands, stifling a sob. “j-just… please, just leave me alone.”

finding him sitting in the dark room alone and crying made your heart shatter. it was easy to confront the idea that ryujin or taehyun had hurt him, but you weren’t equipped to face the possibility that it might have been you. the distance he was creating between the two of you allowed your inner antagonisms to fester — your chest tightened with unease, exacerbated by the pressure of fear expanding within you.

“h-heeseung,” you blurted in surprise, your throat so parched that it forced you to swallow and brace yourself for what felt like impending heartbreak. “why…”

you were so stunned that it honestly felt as though time had stopped moving for a moment. you allowed space to pour between the two of you — you let a beat pass, then two, then three, then four, and with each one that scurried by, you grew more and more apprehensive that he wasn’t going to retrace his steps. you thought there was a chance he’d backpedal his words and tell you they’d sprung from his chest in the heat of the moment, but instead, he let you soak in abject misery.

your heart sank. above everything, you were terrified — he was slipping away from you like dust between your fingertips. it wasn’t long before tears followed — they blurred your vision, no matter how many times you’d tried to dismiss them with your hands.

“h-heeseung?” you called his name softly and hoped to peel his fingers away from his face, but he flinched at your touch. in every attempt you make in closing the distance, you find that heeseung draws a line between you; each harsher than the last. he recoils at your touch, shrivels at the sound of your voice, and offers you nothing but a view of his back that shields you away. 

he was cowering from you.

it made you feel ill. sick. like the taste of bile was rising to your mouth and leaving an acidic, ghostly burn in your throat. bit by bit, your resolve was crumbling like a house of cards. 

“tell me what’s wrong,” you begged him, crouching before him on the carpet though he curled away from you. “i promise i’ll fix it, okay? i’ll fix everything.” 

“y-you can’t,” he sniffled.

you felt your throat constrict. “why not?”

“because…” heeseung finally lifted his head, and the moment your eyes locked with his bloodshot ones, it felt as though his fear, hurt, and pain ricocheted back to you tenfold and struck you like a stab to the heart. he sniffled again. “because you lied,” you saw his eyes well with tears again, “and i lied, and—” his voice became smaller. “all we do is lie to each other.”

perhaps this was what you’d always feared — that you were going to be the one to break him.

after all, you had a tendency to do precisely that. you can’t even count the number of times you’d accidentally shattered the dishes in the kitchen that your mother adored so dearly. or the number of bones you’d broken during wild dares from late nights. or the countless number of fractured friendships in your life because you never really struggled with breaking — whether they were dishes, or bones, or promises, or hearts.

was he another?

was heeseung just another one of those things you were always bound to break?

“please leave,” his voice was becoming softer, and softer, and softer, further eclipsed by his cries. you could tell he was struggling to make out his words. you could also tell that he was being honest. 

you’ve never had anyone beg you like this before.

“okay,” you whisper, tears littering the carpet. “i’ll leave.” 

unable to look at him any further, you twist on your heels. you do what you do best — you run. you run down the stairs and out the house and run and run and run, ashamed that this story has unfolded the exact way anyone could have predicted.

he hates you, you may love him, and neither of you are puzzle pieces that fit together. 

perhaps heeseung was right; perhaps you truly are sunrises and sunsets, because alike parallel lines, the two never meet. 

perhaps heeseung never taught you to heal after all. perhaps broken bones and hearts can never properly heal, the same way cuts and grazes may leave permanent scars on our bodies. perhaps your body did what it could to fix what broke, but it only took one gust of wind to retrace old scars and re-break what will always remain broken.

you’ve never been very good with your emotions.

you constantly misrepresent them. 

you smile when you’re sad, frown when you’re happy, say things you don’t mean and omit the words that you resonate deepest with. 

after the party, you cried like you have never cried before. it was a foreign, almost out-of-body experience. every emotion exploded and pierced through the thin surface they were bubbling beneath. your scathing tears had soaked everything — your eyes, your cheeks, and your pillow late through the night. the worst of it was the heaviness inside your chest that ceased to subside, one so hefty that it was the reason you felt like you were sinking to the bottom of an ocean.

it was only until the next morning that anger, the emotion you consider to be the easiest to wear, brought you the energy to pay a visit to ryujin. you were going to get the answers to all your questions. 

after all, that was what you’d learned over the years — anger is the only emotion that gets you answers.

which is why you began with ruthlessly banging your fist on her front door.

“open the door, ryujin!” you bellow.

bang! bang! bang! 

what could she have possibly said to heeseung?

bang! bang! bang! 

why? why was it that ryujin was so insistent on butting in your life?

bang! bang! bang! 

was this some form of karmic reparation? was the universe simply rescinding what should have never been yours in the first place?

you didn’t know what you were going to do. or say, for that matter. yet here you were, desperately trying to claw your way up to the surface where the sun kisses the water. to hell you were going to let this heaviness make you sink and give ryujin the satisfaction.

with no response on the other end, you began to kick the door now.

bang! bang! bang! 

“i said, open this fucking d—”

it finally swings open. 

“are you fucking nuts?” ryujin shrieks from the other side, face contorted with outrage and disbelief. she glances at the door before openly gaping at you. “what the hell? you’re going to break the fucking do—”

you waste no time in lunging toward her. you shove her with both hands, thrusting her so far behind that she lurches back and stumbles onto the floor. while sprawled on the ground, ryujin instantly snaps her head up at you and scowls. “what the fuck is wro—”

yet again, you don’t give her much time to react. you step toward her, making her scramble back before her back hits the wall. as the distance between the two of you closes, you crouch in front of her and roughly push the side of her head with a finger.

“what, ryujin?” you smirk vindictively. “did that hurt?”

her chest sharply rises heavily when she meets your icy glower. “get out.”

though she attempts to pick herself up from the floor, you harshly grip her shoulder and force her back down. you reach over and tap her cheek condescendingly, your voice now a lowly whisper. 

“how funny,” you scoff, head tilted. “i thought i told you to stay out of my life.”

she grits her teeth. “i said, get out.”

“why should i? you’re the one who keeps insisting on getting involved in my shit.” 

“you’re batshit.” she gapes at you. “is this about that dweeb?”

“his name is heeseung.” you snap at her, bunching the collar of her shirt in your fist. you yank her toward you, your other fist lifted and curled.

ryujin barks out a dry laugh when her eyes flit to the sight of your fist. “you’re going to punch me?” she snickers again in disbelief. the sight of her grin makes your fist tighten under her shirt. anger. you felt your anger simmer at cautionary temperatures and slowly branch up in your neck to your face. 

“what did you do to him?” you grit your teeth, breathing slowly to control your emotions. 

it was difficult, because you felt as though she relished at the sight of your anger. she must have recognised your most familiar emotion and felt as though you had shifted back into becoming your old self. you saw it in the way her lips curled, and the way her brows had lifted, and most notably, in the way her eyes paraded a small, tiny, starry glint that conveyed her amusement.

it made you wonder if she was doing this all intentionally. 

just to get a reaction out of you.

just to get something.

“it wasn’t exactly what we did to him,” she smirked. “it was what he did to himself, really.”

“where’s taehyun?” you reach over and slowly comb your fingers through her hair, before closing your fist and grasping a bundle of her strands, jerking her head backwards. “i want him to see your face all battered up. you know, before i beat the living shit out of him, too.” 

she sneers at you. “why don’t you ask heeseung? i’m sure he’ll know exactly where taehyun is.”

you narrow your eyes at her. “what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“they’re probably together right now.”

heeseung and taehyun? together?

you scoff. “what?”

she stifles a laugh, and there it is again — that glint. like a tiny star amidst a midnight canvas. you could feel the anger grow like an inferno within you. that glint was pestering you; it was almost begging for you to reach over and extinguish it. you grip her hair harsher, this time yanking her head backward. 

she yelps as you pin her down with a glower. “tell me where.” 

she hisses at the pain of your grip on her hair and narrows her eyes. “police station, obviously,” she spat with a glare.

her eyes met yours, where your confusion must have been evident. those midnight eyes turned with patronising pity. “wow,” she remarked sarcastically. “the idiot still hasn’t told you.”

“ryujin,” you lean toward her and hiss slowly, with the intended effect that each syllable augments your hostility, “say one more thing about him and i’ll bash your skull against the cement.”

“now tell me,” you hiss, “what are they doing at the police station?” though your words appeared to be laced with composed venom, the truth remained that your heart had begun to drum. everything was coming at a surprise — you couldn’t imagine what would ever bring heeseung to a police station, though you could enumerate a thousand reasons for taehyun.

“like i said, heeseung did it to himself.” 

not satisfied with her answer, you yank her hair again and this time she attempts to strike you with her free arm, but you grab her wrist and desist her from doing so. she winces when you pull her hair tighter, prompting her to quickly open her mouth and elaborate. “okay, okay!” she cries. “he was the one who agreed to take the drug test for taehyun!”

your lips drop into a frown. “what?”

“then the police found out, okay?” she seethed. “we needed him to come in and deny everything. happy?”

you stopped in confusion. what the hell was she talking about? as you sifted through the many thoughts that raced in your mind, you finally froze when you began to comprehend the situation.

you remember now. it was that day — the day you’d first met heeseung in the school hallway, when taehyun had set his eyes upon and sunken his claws into his latest victim. 

taehyun was a drug user, and when he was finally caught by the school, he was mandated to perform probationary urine tests. he constantly evaded these tests by intimidating somebody into giving him fake samples. this was common practice, and it just so happened that heeseung was his chosen victim the day you two had first met.

heeseung never told you that.

he never told you that he went through with it.

“i mean, maybe if he’d kept his mouth shut or done a better job at peeing in a fucking cup, things wouldn’t be like this. in saying that, whose fault is it really?” ryujin rambled on, rubbing salt to the wound as your anger multiplied. “it was still fun at least. especially when we got to talk about you.” 

your hand balled into a tighter fist.

“me?” you pin her down with a dark gaze. “what the fuck did you say about me?”

she shrugs smugly. you watched as a sly smile slithered to her lips and her eyes pooled with shiny darkness. “nothing that wasn’t true.”

your heart drops to your feet.

“you know, it’s funny,” ryujin stifles a laugh, “because he denied it at first. said that you were…” she lifts her hands and uses her fingers to show quotation marks, “different.” you felt your anxiety pierce and gush into your stomach. “we laughed in his face. different, my ass. you didn’t tell him, did you? that you’re actually as much of a piece of shit as we are. he even called you an angel, you know that?”

angel.

“so we decided to set the record straight and we told him what he had the right to know.” she giggled. “you didn’t forget, did you?”

you stared.

“the letter,” she reminds you. “he was so embarrassed i think that was when he started to cry.”  

you froze.

the letter.

fuck.

you wanted nothing more than to run to heeseung and clarify the misunderstanding as best that you could. you wanted to talk to him. hold him. apologise and tell him you’d never intentionally hurt him. that it was an accident — that you lied, yes, but you just didn’t want him to feel embarrassed at that time. that it was a lapse in judgement.

but for some reason, something holds you back.

anger.

anger holds you back. 

the thing about anger is that while it may be your most familiar emotion, it is also the most paralysing of them all. and when it’s combined with resentment, it becomes insidious. the reality about anger is that it exists only in the absence of control, a dangerous condition to find yourself in.

nevertheless, you feel that way.

you feel out of control. 

helpless. angry. frustrated.

why? because that glint is still there. the gleaming, ostentatious star in her eyes that flounces around in her own delight. mocking you. 

ryujin is staring at you expectantly, anticipating your reaction.

you know that she’s waiting for you to punch her. to show her you prefer fists over words. to show her you have not changed in the slightest. everything she has done is aimed to get a rise out of you; she doesn’t care about anything else but avenging the fact you had tossed your friendship to the side — that you had tossed her aside. 

in this moment, you realise that no matter how hard you try, you know that ryujin has won. she doesn’t even need to try very hard to show you that you will never be able to change into a better person. your efforts have come to naught. even now, you are held by anger; you want it to control you — even if it means reversing everything heeseung had taught you about not acting upon your impulses; about not fighting fire with fire. 

you wonder how heeseung would react if he found out what you’d done today. that you’d allowed anger to override you and that you had already used your hands on ryujin. 

you pushed her, shoved her to the ground and pulled her hair without a second thought.

after all, you’d proven her right — you are still the same person. 

how would he react? 

these very thoughts loosen your grip on ryujin’s collar.

you slowly retract your hands from her, feeling the heaviness inside your chest gnaw at you. why are you stooping to her level? as you swallow and salvage whatever amount of sense you have left, you shake your head and slowly rise to your feet.

if heeseung saw you now, he’d probably be scared.

he’d probably see them in you.

your sudden withdrawal makes ryujin freeze. she seems taken off guard. she watches you suspiciously as you attempt to compose yourself, noticeably irked by your lack of response. “you’re… not going to hit me?” she hesitates, sitting up slowly. 

“ryujin, you and i are done.” you attempt to stabilise your shaky breaths. for some reason, focusing on heeseung helps your mind from spinning. he’s your anchor and when you use him as your moral compass, he brings the clarity you need. “for real this time.”

“what?” ryujin splutters with disbelief. she pauses, openly gawking. “what the fuck?” she scrambles to her feet and storms over toward you before abruptly shoving you into the door — the impact thunders down your spine and instantly releases a grunt from you, head spinning. 

“hit me!” she taunts you by sneering in your face. “i made your little boy cry. hit me.”

“if he wanted me to, i honestly would,” you spit at her. “you should thank him you’re not bleeding out right now.” 

she yells as you storm away from her house and it occurs to you that there’s really only one person you want to see right now.

you want to tell him that he was right.

you are different from ryujin after all.

and you will do whatever it takes to stray further and further away from being anything remotely similar.

‘you never know.’ ‘you might wake up one day and find that the sun is gone.’ ‘and then it’s like, poof — no more sunsets.’

heeseung was right.

the day you two had first met, you laughed and called him a loser for taking photos of the sunset. after all, he was attempting to immortalise something that was already a cosmic promise. 

honestly, you didn’t get it.

what was the point of taking a photo of something he could see every day?

you realise now that he was right all along – it really was possible to wake up one day and find the sun gone.

everybody just has a different idea of what the sun is to them. for you, yours disappeared when you realised heeseung was doing whatever it took to avoid you over the weekend.

your texts were left unanswered. 

calls were sent to voicemail.

he was shutting you out.

you tried to visit his house on sunday morning, but his mother faced you with a regretful smile and asked you not to come in. you didn’t know what else you could do because he seemed to close down every avenue you pursued.

you were so eager on monday morning to see him at school. you were an hour and a half early as you roamed everywhere, attempting to control your nerves. you didn’t know whether or not you should have waited at the school entrance, or by his locker, or just outside the classroom door. 

it didn't matter, because he was late. 

you were already halfway through the day when you had almost given up, though you got your first glimpse of him in days when he had finally showed up.

he looked almost as horrible as you did.

the darkness under his eyes had grown. his brown hair was fluffy and in plain disarray compared to how he usually styled it. his eyes were so puffy that it looked like he’d been crying all weekend, the same way you had. you tried to catch his eyes, but he didn’t return your gaze and instead slid into his desk quietly with his shoulders slumped.

there was a pang in your chest. his appearance made guilt expand within you. 

did you do the impossible? did you break the sun and make it rain? 

when class finished, you waited outside the door and stopped him when he tried to leave. it was only then that he finally looked back at you and you felt your heart stop. it took you all the strength to not cry, so you snaked a hand around his wrist and led the way to the school’s court garden. 

“heeseung,” you faced him when you both stopped at a quiet place inside the open garden. his gaze was affixed to the grass beneath his shoes, so you took a deep breath and let the words flow from your chest.

“heeseung, i’m so sorry for lying to you about the letter.” 

he didn’t reply.

it stung to hear silence on the other end because you weren’t used to it. you were used to heeseung’s warmth; his smiles, his laughs, and the bright stars in his eyes. instead, he seemed to have retreated back into a shell of dejection.

you gulped and fiddled with your hands. “i-i should have told you the truth. ryujin saw it, yes, but it wasn’t because i showed her. i-i just… she was there when i found it in my locker. that’s it. it’s not an excuse for lying, but i promise i would never intentionally embarrass you.”

you waited for his response and still found silence. this was when panic slowly crept up inside you. 

“i-i really fucked up when i lied to you. i just didn’t want to embarrass you, and the more time that went on, the weirder it felt to bring it up. but i should have told you the truth. i’m sorry, heeseung.”

there was a pause before he finally lifted his head.

“stop apologising,” he whispered so gently you almost missed it. 

“wh-what?”

“it was here,” he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth and roamed the area with his eyes. “i-i think it was here when you told me to stop apologising to people. you said i said sorry too much.” 

god, you felt relief in your chest, it felt nice to hear his voice again. you were worried he might never talk to you again.

as you briefly considered his answer, you glanced around and recognised the bench you two had sat on when he’d tried to confess to lia. he was right — it was exactly here that you two had your first real conversation. your stomach twisted. he always remembers everything.

“i’m really sorry for ignoring you over the weekend.” heeseung finally returned your stare, and once your eyes had met, you felt your heart squeeze at the sight of misery in his pretty eyes. you hate the sight of him like this. this must be one of the worst things you’ve ever done. you wanted nothing more than for the rain to stop and the clouds to pave way for your sunshine.

“i-i just needed some space,” he continued gently. “and actually… mom thought it was a better idea for her to take my phone, so i didn’t see your texts.”

“oh,” you replied, noticing the distant tone in his voice. “it’s okay, heeseung. i understand.”

“but, um… i did a lot of thinking,” he says, smiling weakly.

you smiled back, though trepidation edged along your nerves. “o-okay.”

his eyes diverted to the side. “i… i wasn’t sad over the weekend because of the letter. i—” you saw his eyes flicker upwards toward the sky, as though he was attempting to contain his tears. “i-i think… i was just upset because…” he bit on his lips as you watched him deliberate over his next words. your heart was beating faster and faster at the possibility this may be the last conversation you ever have with him. it was selfish, but you didn’t know if that would be manageable for you. 

because even if he didn’t need you, you needed him.

“because i didn’t tell you about taehyun,” his lips fell into a sad frown. “thing is, i… i was really embarrassed about it. and… well, i-i…” he took a deep, shaky breath.

you knew he was gathering as much courage as he could to speak with you.

“i just really, really, really hate embarrassing myself in front of the person that i like.”

he finally looked up at you and everything in you stopped. blood felt like the crackling of lightning in your veins. every other sound seemed to dull into a deafening silence.

“to clarify, th-that’s you. y-you’re the person that i like. a lot. i like you really a lot— that... doesn’t make sense,” he winced at himself, eyes shut tightly. “i’m sorry, i… i sound so stupid right now.” he slumped his shoulders. 

“heeseung, i—”

“wait. p-please let me continue,” he looked up at you through his glasses and you fell straight into his deer-like eyes.

“okay,” you whispered. “go on.” 

“i… i just want to be good enough for you,” he finally admitted and you felt everything around you crash. him? good enough for you? he already was; he was more than enough. you were the one struggling to catch up with him. “be someone you can depend on. someone you can trust and be proud of.”

“heeseung,” you step toward him and clasp his hands with yours, forcing him to look back at you. “you’re right. you really do sound stupid.”

“h-huh?” he peered up at you as you saw panic flicker like disco lights in his eyes. “i-i’m sorry, i… i just wanted to come clean and not lie to you anymore. i’m really sorry for pressuring you, i—”

“no,” you shook your head, silencing him immediately. “it’s not because of that.” 

you dropped his hands and slid yours in the spaces under his arms where you could wrap around his waist and embrace him into a tight hug. he instantly froze while you allowed yourself to melt into him, your face in his chest.

“fuck,” you mumbled against his uniform, inhaling the scent of his laundry powder. “i missed you like crazy.” 

his heart was hammering inside his chest and you squeezed yourself tighter, finding solace in the synchronicity of your beat with his. 

“two days and i felt like i was going insane,” you gripped his blazer tightly, “i… i thought you hated me.” 

“hate you? n-no way…” 

a stupidly wide smile stretched across your lips. slowly, you noticed heeseung was beginning to return your embrace. his arms slowly found their way to your back, and once they rested on your body, you allowed yourself to take a proper breath, engraving memories associated with his scent.

“i like you too, dummy,” you mumbled against the fabric. “ceaselessly. probably way more than you like me.”

“you—”

“yes, me.”

“y-you… you really like me? for real?”

when you release him, his bewildered expression makes you instantly erupt into a fit of laughter. he seems to take this as an indication that you’re messing him because of the way lips return into a point.

“are you kidding?” you scoffed playfully, grabbing his face and cradling it with both hands, his soft skin against yours. “you make it ridiculously easy to.”

“a-are you serious?” he pointed to himself, lashes batting innocently. “you really like me? me? heeseung? you like lee heeseung? you know i’m heeseung, right?”

you stare, astounded by his reaction. “you’re crazy.”

“no, i just told you i’m heeseung,” he deadpanned.

idiot. “yes, heeseung. you. i like you like crazy. it’s sickening how much i do.”

heeseung watched you expressionless for a moment before you watched his face explode with sunshine. speckles of gold dust returned to his eyes and twinkled like constellations. his smile swept his face and instantly made your heart thump out your ears. 

“you’re not lying, right? you really like me? and it’s definitely because of my bowties, right?”

you almost wanted to groan aloud and slap yourself in the face, but you stifled down this desire and shook your head instead. sickening, you thought to yourself. his sunshine is so sickeningly sweet.

and if there’s one thing about you — it’s that you have a sweet tooth; and heeseung is a taste you have been dying to have.

“yes. it’s definitely the bowties. they’re basically chick magnets,” you remarked, a smirk forming. “do you know what happens to chick magnets?”

heeseung quickly shook his head. 

you smiled. “they get devoured.”

heeseung’s brows slightly furrowed, his head tilted to the side in what appeared to be confusion. he blinked, not quite understanding your implication.

“in other words, i’m going to kiss you.” 

that, he understood. 

heeseung’s eyes instantly rounded like saucers. “h-huh?”

“i know you heard me,” you took a step toward him, circling your arms around the back of his neck to ring him in close. he blushed at the proximity, and if you were being honest, so did you.

frankly, you were more nervous than you’d thought you would be. this was the fastest and hardest you’d ever felt your heart beat; it almost threatened to leap up through your throat. 

perhaps it was because heeseung was an expert at annihilating everything you thought you knew about yourself. he was great at that: showing you that you were much further from who you thought you were, and close to who you thought you could never be. there were no more first, second, third, and fourth experiences anymore. just a life before him and after him.

when you felt his breath nearing and the heat from his chest, you thought your head spun for a moment.  it felt as though the distance between your lips were simultaneously the closest and farthest distances apart. it wasn’t until he sighed – a release of just the faintest, softest breath — that the sound swept through your chest like a hurricane, and you felt everything within you topple over.

your whole body sank forward into his and you kissed him. you shut your eyes and did what you feared most — you opened up your heart to him and let everything you had within you flow out so that he could feel every inch of your warmth and sincerity. you led the movement first, noticing the way he tried to mimic your movements. he was slow and uncertain at first, until he followed through with what felt right. 

when he began to kiss you back, it felt like fireworks shattered within you. you instantly softened when he looped his arms around your waist and hugged you tightly, because there was no safer feeling than being in his arms.

you knew it.

heeseung is good at everything he tries. 

when the kiss deepened, you thought he tasted like he fell from the clouds and the stars. like stardust and eternity and endlessness. you liked the taste of that. all you’ve ever known are temporary people, the leaving and the waiting and the hoping, so it makes all the more sense when you crumble and melt at the taste of forever and focus on carving this memory onto your soul. 

you couldn’t deny it any further — you were falling in love with him. in fact, you’d fallen down a slippery slope that led you into a pit with no way of crawling yourself out. 

when your lips pull away, you’re both panting for a proper breath. it isn’t until your eyes meet that the world stops moving and something warm ignites like a candle. 

you allowed time to pass you by as your eyes raked every feature of his face; drinking in his beauty, indulging in the rare moment you were able to admire him so closely. you felt bewitched by the way the sunlight gently radiated his features; they shone through the sky and struck him like a spotlight, even in broad daylight. being this close to him brought forward all of his prettiest, most finely drawn features – the mole on the left side of his lips, his long, wispy lashes, and the slight scrunch of his brows. 

you should’ve stopped, but you couldn’t, because he was prettier the longer you stared.

time slowed while you were slipping further and further into an enchanting spell.

falling.

you always hated that — the sensation of falling. being out of control; being helpless. but somehow, with heeseung it felt different — you were falling through time and space and the stars and the sky and everything in between. it was really beautiful. 

you’ve been falling for days and weeks and what felt like lifetime across lifetimes. you fell until it no longer felt like falling, but flying.

“heeseung, you’re really bad at kissing, you know that?” 

you felt so bad when his entire face fell and he looked at you with complete horror. “wh-what?” 

you placed a finger on his lips to keep him from talking. “since you’re so bad, i think you need a few more lessons,” you smiled. “let’s ditch school and go to back to mine. you know, for education’s sake.” you winked.

heeseung tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, smiling shyly. “o-okay.”

fin.

a/n: and then they went home and watched Star Wars :) ANYWAYS. guys u do not understand I actually went thru 32842378 cycles of frustration, anger, and giddiness while trying to wrap this series up. I'm not lying when I say I have about 6 different versions of this chapter, but I decided to keep it simple and straight to the point because ultimately that's what I felt triage was all about :) if you came here looking for genuine dating tips& got lost im sorry i can’t help u cos I'm in my healing era (subtext: literally no man wants me). but anyways I hope this series brought you a little bit of joy some way or another. I honestly had the best time writing it ^^ all the best! hope i to see u in my future works too! thanks for reading! love u so much! <3 (also feedback would be vv nice if u have the time!) MWAH

also, i’ll probably write bonus chapters every time i miss this story so lmk if u wanna be tagged in those ^^

back to masterlist.

//

[the-hydroxian-artblog]

Are Merch Mimics capable of using assimilation offensively against humans, for self-defense and otherwise? Like, if someone tried to break a toy/game/etc they were inhabiting, could the Mimic instead pull them in?

To a degree, yeah. I should mention though that Victor isn't "in" the TV in any magical sense; spoiler alert: he's the controller Vance is holding! Hence, the eye on the controller reacting to the dialogue. The Victor on the screen is actualy a model he rigged for a homebrew game he coded the old fashioned way, which responds to whatever inputs the controller sends to the Wii.

He actually is an active member of the homebrew community, and loves to mess with electronics the old fashioned way. Almost no one on the forums knows he's a toy bird, but are impressed nonetheless with his little projects, various rail-shooter games, and weird obsession with snarky anthropomorphic birds.

Victor could technically "jump into a game" on a tv screen, but it'd be a bit of a weird process if he doesn't know how to mod the game, so it'd look more like a shitty greenscreen effect rather than anything coherent. He'd need to learn in real time how the game is coded, how to inject arbitrary code into the system while it's running, etc etc. He CAN do that because he's a fucking NERD, but it wouldn't be a quick process at all.

I should also mention, mimics have an inherent ability to create dreams, since they come about from processing the thoughts and ideas of humans. If a human bonds with a mimic, such that the mimic now knows how the human thinks, they can pull a (somewhat) willing human into the dream when the human sleeps. So to wrap this all up: what Victor could do for a game he understands inside and out is pull a human into a dream that happens to match whatever he himself experiences as currently going on in the game. Basically the ultimate VR experience, with the mimic as a middle-man. Which might be something that'll happen in the comic soon....!

So that all seems a bit convoluted, right? Here's even more worldbuilding about matter assimilation by mimics below the cut. Stop here if you don't want a headache.

The reason so many hoops would be needed to pull a human into a game world is that assimilation is much easier on inert, inanimate objects that are not currently "in use" by a thinking thing, or something that relies on constant electrical signals to function. This can be something with brainwaves, or some other kind of animation like a normal robot. A mimic can convert a CRT TV that's turned off somewhat easily, but a TV that's turned on, with particles of every kind constantly moving into and out of it, is much harder to convert.

This means that humans and biological creatures in general are also trickier to convert, though it can still happen if done gradually enough. Hence, Victor wouldn't be able to rapidly convert Vance in one fell swoop, it'd be a whole process. It's easier to just pull a human into a dream instead, and if a mimic understands a video game, or a story in a book really well, they can basically make the fictional world into an extremely lucid reality for whatever human tags along with them.

I often describe mimics as just "jojo stands if they were corporeal and could just get up and move around on their own with no user"; you know how in jojo stand battles or old stories about magic curses, if you break the curse or kill the stand before its effect becomes permanent, all of the damage is magically undone? Like if you kill Green Day, the mold stand, all of the molding just instantly stops?

Mimics who use their powers of assimilation offensively work similarly; they can project their influence to a certain range, and partially assimilate matter in that range. If you knock out or kill the mimic, however, everything reverts to normal. A human who doesn't want to get converted can basically just turn around and walk away most of the time, or shoot the mimic, so the mimic in question needs to pull off some trick to get the human to stay within range for the assimilation to fully stick. A human can still break free and get out of range even if fully converted, but it's much harder, as assimilation usually means the mimic gaining greater control over the converted object in question. The exact range and effect mimics have is again like jojo stand ranges; it varies.

Different mimics have different affinities for different things. Victor can assimilate cheap electronics fastest because he likes them and understands how they work (it's why he's a toy bird mp3 player). Az can assimilate guns, and turn ammo into weird anomalous ammo with weird effects. Zachary is a genius who can assimilate any matter, including biological matter, faster than anyone... but he's also extremely picky and hates the sight of blood, so he only uses assimilation on things he really, really likes.

If I could somehow make another read more at this point, I would. It's gonna get messy:

What a weird power and setup though, right? Why? The true nature of mimics is unknown to most of them, but the deepest lore is that the first mimics were constructs made by a people long ago, who first made them as highly advanced machines that'd recognize the thoughts of their masters to fulfill any practical desire. Need a road built? Done. Need a ship repaired? Done. With physical needs all met, the people began to turn inward, and use the mimics to illustrate their own artistic ideas. Eventually, the will and consciousness of these people were assimilated and inherited by mimics, who themselves became people. Mimics spread, altered themselves, duplicated, deviated, fused, split, and wandered around. Getting into recreational wars, manifesting horrors and delights into reality because they could.

Somehow, after the dust settled, the strongest mimics, the angels, decide to set their sights to the stars, and observe other lifeforms develop technology and their own art. Did mimics come to earth millions of years ago, and simply watched humans grow, evolving with them in-tandem? Or did humans make the first mimics, and somehow became undone and set back to the stone age? The answer to this mystery is currently known only to the oldest of mimics. Except Zachary. He's old, but didn't care to remember.

This is generally why mimics seem so compatible with humans; they were made by either them, or people who were, for whatever the reason, very much like them, flaws and all. The ability to assimilate is basically the conversion of matter into a more malleable state of information. A virtually magical power, but this was achieved not through prayers and spells, but a very human-like obsession with developing technology to the point of exerting control over molecules, then atoms, then the lowest planks of matter. The obsession with scaling every mountain and crossing through every valley. To rip the natural world apart, and hopefully, put it back together before it's too late. Angels seek to ensure humanity walks the right path there, but with human's own desires and intent honored, for better or worse.

To answer your question: yes. A mimic of Mario can pull you into the game and you can jump with him and eat shitty low poly spaghetti with him.

The process for doing that is just convoluted and complicated, and you need to get to know each other a bit first. If he tries to use it as an attack though, it either won't work, or it might just wind up giving you mild brain damage.

[isthemedia]

Poolverine-Yoink! (2/2)

Part 2 is now done.

Here's Part 1. And here's the Ao3 link.

@manicpixxiedreambitch

@ineffablestardust

@saspas-corner

@angelbonezs

Since ya'll wanted to be tagged when part 2 was done.

=============================================

‘Not today…not tomorrow…not now,’ Wade’s groggy mind repeated. His joints ached. He could hear a ringing that wasn’t typical tinnitus. He grabbed at the back of his neck, the skin feeling too tight. ‘Really laying it on thick there ain’tcha madam/sir author? Is this whump? I feel like this can be classified as whump.’

(Whump is more hurt than comfort. So no, not really.)

‘Well I’m calling it whump, even if it’s not tagged that.’

(You can go ahead and do that, even though it’s wrong.)

Wade sighed as he curled up a bit tighter. Skin felt like it was prickling if exposed to air. That staticky feeling of just too many eyes watching. He could hear the door of Al’s room creak open. The shuffling of her feet…

“Yer too damn quiet right now,” Al complained. “An’ I know yer still here,” she added, her cane smacking alongside the bed. She stopped when she hit the pile of blankets. “Oh lord this again?”

She didn’t get an answer. No witty reply or snide retort. Heaving a sigh, Al continued on. “I’m headin’ ta bingo, and I’m gonna call Vanessa-she can explain this nonsense ta Logan.” It may have sounded like complaining, but the tone in her voice was clear. It was that ‘don’t worry, help is gonna be on the way deary’ tone. 

And really? Bingo at what…this early in the morning?

‘What time is it even?’

(Early enough.)

‘Lazy establishing setup.’

Wade shifted somewhat, the bed frame of the pull-out creaking as he did. Right, how was Logan going to take this? He should handle this. Maybe? 

Well, Vanessa should be able to handle it, she had no fear with the somewhat feral wolverine he brought home. She did tease him about how he went full ‘White Woman’ and took a wild animal home under the guise of ‘you’re mine now’. He guessed she wasn’t entirely wrong. 

But he also wasn’t expecting Logan to stay as long as he did. He’s read the comics-and sure even though this Logan is from a different universe it almost seemed ingrained in all of them to just-leave some day.  

It wasn’t a bad thing that he stayed. Hell no! If he could he would strap Logan down and make sure he’d never leave. He loved having him around. Al did too. And how could he deprive dearest little miss Mary-Puppins from her other papa? 

The frame of the pull-out creaked again. Oh, speak of the devil. Wade could feel how the pull-out shifted, the weight of the other occupant being removed. But made sense when they’re-what 200-300 plus pounds thanks to a metal skeleton. 

Really no logical way for a shitty pull-out to hold the both of them without collapsing or even warping the frame, yet it still stood.

He wondered if they could use that as sort of a marketing ploy, maybe convince Logan into some centerfold-esque poses just for added effect. Well, effect and future spank-bank material, but he wouldn’t need to know the latter. 

“Come on!” Wade felt the kick given to the pull-out, it jostled the whole thing. Welp, good luck with the Peanut, cause he wasn’t moving. Threaten him with a good time all you want. 

Snikt.

‘And out comes the steak knives. Would stabbing me reset this? Haven’t been stabbed during any of these moods.’

(Pretty sure stabbing would just make you feel worse.)

‘So gonna be a fic with no stabby-stab? And am I even gonna talk? How can you have a Deadpool fanfic where I don’t talk?’

(It’s character introspection.)

‘Sounds like you just don’t wanna come up with quips for me.’

The mattress creaked slightly. Oh, that’s Vanessa. Al really did call her. Such a sweet old blind bat she is. 

Wade could hear them-somewhat over the ringing in his ears that changed to something more akin to the old dial-up sound of the internet. Logan sounded less growly now too.

 Ah Vanessa, the one who can soothe the savage Logan.  

It was weird what his ears would pick up when he was like this. Full conversations happening just outside his makeshift fort of blankets? Nah, that wasn’t important enough. The sound of something being slid across the sheets though? Yeah, could hear that. 

‘And yoink!’ Wade snatched whatever Vanessa slid over to him. Hey! He didn’t have this one! Of course she’d know that. ‘And another for the collection. Ya know I don’t think anyone is gonna get the reference. You’re dating yourself.’

(At least someone is dating me.)

‘Ooof self burn. Ya sure you don’t need the hurt/comfort tag?’

Vanessa just knew what to get-she still remembered. Sure it didn’t work out between them. It stung for a long time. Longer than Wade wanted to admit, but it wasn’t like Vanessa wanted him out of her life. She had to drill it into his head that even if they weren’t romantically involved anymore, didn’t mean she didn’t love him. It was just a different love. 

He sorta got that. He was feeling that too. Feeling it during the Time Ripper thing. During the time in the Void. 

Felt it when he came across Logan. Oh, that was something he still needed to unpack…too bad he was a lazy asshole after a vacation. Eh, it’ll eventually get unpacked-granted, he’ll probably wait until the last minute…like always. 

Vanessa was always going to be special. He would drop everything if she needed him, and vice versa it seemed. But Logan…Logan was something else. He wasn’t sure what he was yet. Sure, he knew what he wanted Logan to be-at least he was pretty sure what he wanted him to be. But that wasn’t gonna fly with Disney and Marvel-or the legion of dudebros who think he and Logan are total and complete masculine heterosexuals. They really need to pick up a comic.

Ah, something else was being pushed towards him. ‘And yoink again!’ Hey, weren't these things discontinued? Sheets were gonna need to be changed after this. At least this time around it would be a more common reason than needing to change them cause they tried to reenact the bed scene from ‘Nightmare on Elm Street’. Maybe they should just buy red sheets. Same logic should apply to them like his suit.

Almost on instinct, Wade felt something shift in the bed. ‘Yoink!’

Only this time, there came a high pitched, noticeable yelp. Oh! Oh sweet baby little angel Mary-Puppins! 

“Shhh shhh. Oh baby girl I’m sorry,” he cooed as he cuddled the shaking pup. He could hear Logan laughing-the asshole! Some other papa he was! Frightening their little baby. His free hand sneaking out of the mess of blankets to flip him off. 

OH! And THAT just made him laugh more? Asshole! When this whole mood thing is done he’s demanding a divorce and child support!

--

Everything was quiet in the apartment. Slowly Wade peaked out from the blankets. Logan was asleep. Al’s door was closed. Mary-Puppins was having little Dogpool dreams.

The apartment was dark, saved for the stray glow of the streetlights filtering in through the busted blinds. 

Carefully, silently Wade slipped out from the mound. Not the worst start to this, though he was tempted to give Logan a smack for making him scare poor, sweet, little Mary-Puppins earlier. The prick-and he laughed the whole time! The super mega prick! 

Wade sighed as he looked over. Logan looked peaceful, or well as peaceful as he could be. Brows were still furrowed, muscles twitching as if ready to go all fight-or-flight. But he wasn’t having a nightmare, so to Wade it meant it was peaceful.

He could save the smacking for another time. He’ll even drop the divorce threat. Cuddles and kisses from Mary were always a plus for him anyway-so it kinda worked out.

Right, he got up for a reason. Treading with light footsteps across the apartment, as to not make a single floorboard creak, he made his way to the bathroom. Hey maybe the merc with the mouth, but he knew how to move quietly . Kinda needed too in that line of work. 

He brushed his teeth, and washed his face. “Ya know, the static feeling from being watched, doesn’t help when there’s like actual readers for this.”

(Semantics, se-mahn-tics. Sides, like you’d let me just keep you as an unmoving lump of blankets for another 3k words.)

“Eh true.”

Wade made his way back, trying to figure out what was the best way to climb back in without waking Logan. He didn’t need to wake him by accident. Even if he wasn’t having a nightmare, it was a bad idea ta just wake up a sleeping wolverine. 

He didn’t wanna get a gut full of adamantium claws again, thank you very much. It wasn’t like Logan meant to do it on purpose. Logan’s mind is always somewhere else when he’s suddenly and rudely woken up like that. So Wade couldn’t blame the guy. Hell, he WOULDN’T blame the guy. 

‘I’ll just blame you.’

(Again no stabbing is happening in this one.)

‘But you are making allusions to it happening before.’

(Oh just go back to your musings and pining.)

‘Fine, I will,’ Wade huffed before looking back over to the sleeping form taking up the other half of the pull-out.

Logan looked better these days-not that he didn’t look good ‘cause goddamn Hugh was still working it even after all this time. It was more of how relaxed he was now. Had a bit of weight put back on him too-‘happy weight’, that was the term right? Or something like that. 

Urban dictionary would help him. Just needed to steer clear of the raunchy side of it. At least this time around.

Wade took it as a sign that Logan was happy here. Maybe if he stayed happy enough he wouldn’t want to leave. He really didn’t want Logan to leave. 

Logan matched his crazy in a way Vanessa did and in ways she didn’t. In ways she just couldn’t. 

Logan didn’t need to change anything about himself. Didn’t need to be a ‘good guy’-he was plenty good enough so shut up Jean. 

Al loved him too. She might not have said it aloud, but Wade can tell she does. 

Sure he was a little feral. Sure he would rather have booze than an actual meal some days. Sure there were times Wade would wake up with a set or two of claws in his chest. But that was fine. Normalcy was for losers anyway. 

What was normal about two slightly fucked up mutants with regenerative powers, a coke addicted blind elderly woman, and the world’s ugliest yet sweetest dog? Who needed normal in a home like this?

Logan didn’t need to be tamed. All Wade wanted was for Logan to just, feel like he belonged. That Logan had his own little Logan-shaped hole carved out here, Junji Ito style but without the horrific implications.

He was certain if Logan did try to leave, he would follow him-funny sitcom stalker style, and drag him back home. Cause even though Logan wouldn’t want to admit it, this shitty little one bedroom apartment was his home now. Al, Mary-Puppins, and him were family now. 

How Logan has his own toothbrush, coffee mug, he got a cupboard just for his booze, and everything. 

There was definitely some codependency between them. Wade was pretty sure of that. That time in the Void-being almost torn apart by the Time Ripper-the fact that he turned around when Wade called him.

But hey, a little codependency never hurt anyone. Besides,  that would just be another thing to add to the ever growing list of things wrong with one Wade W. Wilson.. He’s pretty sure Logan doesn’t mind it either.

The pull-out didn’t even creak as Wade climbed back in. Not a single sound when he settled back under the blankets.

‘That is some lazy writing there.’

(Hey, be thankful I decided to be nice and not wake the sleeping Logan.)

Wade peaked out again, just to make sure Logan was still sound asleep. Fingers itched to just trace down his sleeping face, through the coarse facial hair and sideburns. Though last time he tried that Logan literally bit off two fingers off. Really didn’t wanna go through that again either. 

Hopefully Logan doesn’t get fed up with this whole thing. Just walk out and leave. To be fair it is kind of a golden opportunity for him if he decided too. Wade hoped this wasn’t going to last much longer. 

--

So, Logan did leave. Well not leave-leave. Jerk decided to head out and restock since they managed to empty the bag Vanessa brought. Dammit, he could be a sweet guy. Why does nobody pay attention to that? Honestly. 

Logan said Al was off to the laundromat-they both knew what that was code for. He also warned Wade that he was setting Mary by him so there wasn’t a repeat from yesterday. Alright, all is forgiven now. 

He didn’t pull Mary under the blankets this time, but he did reach out to give her pets. She seemed content with the arrangement as well, licking all along his hand to his wrist. Seemed she forgave or just forgot the scare from before. 

He slipped his hand back under the blankets. He was thinking-dangerous thing he knows-but he was trying to come up with an idea. A plan to convince Logan that there was no reason to leave. He had a few brewing, but was pretty sure he would end up skewered, or beaten down, or torn apart if he tried any of those.

So his new plan? Well it was a bit crazy. Crazy and yet so simple. Simply just tell Logan. It worked before. It worked quite a few times before. 

So his chances were pretty high about it working again. Just a simple ‘you can stay here as long as you like’. Hmm but that made it seem like he could still leave. 

Maybe a ‘hey, surprise I think I love you…so don’t leave.’ Nah that kinda sounded desperate.

‘You got everything you need right here, besides the housing market is shit right now.’ Eh, that made it sound like this thing was an obligation. 

Wade’s thoughts were cut off when he heard the sound of something being slid across the sheets. ‘And yoink,’ he snatched the offering. ‘Awww Peanut went all the way to that corner store that sold the weird flavor chips. He spoils me.’

Another sound. 

Oh…

Wade felt himself smile as he reached out again, and placed his hand over Logan’s. Damn the guy was hot. Well, not just hot like that, but like he was a furnace. Wade’s thumb rubbed small circles over Logan’s knuckles, feeling the lone scars his body had-where those claws would poke out from. He could feel a knot just behind those knuckles. 

Maybe a good ole massage was in order for him. Would be the least Wade could do as a thanks for him. 

“Yer gonna need to let go or I’m gonna need ta stop pettin’ Mary if you need somethin’ else,” Logan’s voice rumbled. Well, Wade couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let the attention Mary was getting from her other papa just stop. He gave Logan’s hand a pat before giving an ‘okay’ gesture, before slipping back under the blankets. “You get so damn spoiled,” he heard Logan say under his breath.

Yeah, maybe just telling him was the best plan. He just needed to find the right words now. 

--

‘Captain’s log, Star date….I dunno the author didn’t give me one.’

(Dates are pointless for fanfics.)

‘It appears the author wishes to deflect from criticism of their laziness in doing a proper establishing setup.’

It’s been four days into this little funk of Wade’s. He was pretty sure he was ready for it to be over. The only issue was that once this was done, then he’d need to figure the next thing. The asking Logan to stay thing.

He wasn’t sure if he was quite ready for that yet. That familiar sound broke his train of thoughts again. ‘Aaaaand yoink!’

“Jesus!” 

Oh Laura came by too. Awww he didn’t mean to startle the baby wolverine. Logan and Vanessa were laughing-they could be real assholes sometimes. Loving assholes but still assholes all the same.  

The creaking of the bed frame, the dip in the mattress. Logan was potentially putting himself into yoinking-range. If that happened, well, there would be no way Wade could resist if he did. 

“You miss him talking, don’t you?” Wade could hear the smirk in Laura’s voice. She’s such a cheeky kid. He’ll take blame for that. Bad influence and all.

“Dunno what yer talkin’ about,” Logan grumbled. 

“Suuuure you don’t.” 

Logan huffed and shifted slightly. Oh? Just a bit more Wolvie. He felt the mattress dip a bit more-BINGO! “SHIT! I forgot!” 

Both hands shot out and grabbed an arm. Logan absolutely let his guard down, cause there was no way Wade could have pulled this off if he didn’t.

And if Logan had his guard down, that meant he was truly relaxed here. More than that, he felt safe here. And why wouldn’t he? He had the one and only Deadpool here to keep an eye on him. Well okay, the one and only that mattered. None of those variants to worry about. 

Man, that shocked look on his face was definitely doing things. Wondered if he could see it more. He felt himself smiling. He knew it was that dumb lovestruck smile he’d give Vanessa when they were together-only slightly different. Cause this one wasn’t for her, this smile was for Logan. “Got too close there Peanut.” Dear fuck was that his voice? ‘Hey next time, write something where I’m not nearly silent for four days. It’s murder on the vocal cords.’

“Yeah, figured,” Logan said softly. “Better?”

“Hmm…a bit,” Wade murmured. Fuck it, he’s in for it now. “Gonna talk your ear off, cause I had a lotta thoughts goin’ through my head during all this.” Wade dragged two fingers along Logan’s jaw, carding through the cause hair of his beard. This time without worrying about losing them this time.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Wade leaned down. Not exactly the Spider-man kiss, but it was close enough. He felt Logan’s breath hitch.  ‘Please, stay here? Don’t feel like you need to run away. There’s space just for you.’

“...ready ta come out? Say hi ta Laura and Vanessa?” Logan asked as they pulled apart. Wade almost wanted to say no. He wanted to kiss him again. 

But he’d be lying if said he didn’t want to see them. Four days of next to no social interaction was killer. He was gonna need to call Peter and Dopinder too. Maybe make Logan walk with him to the X-Mansion so he could see Yukio and bother Ellie. Maybe watch an episode or two of the Great British Bake-off with Colossus.  “Yeah, ‘m pretty sure I’m good,” Wade nodded. 

Logan shifted and pulled the blankets back and off of himself as he sat up right. Wade pulled them back just enough to uncover his head. He shifted and shimmied across the mattress till he could comfortably lean against Logan-and he wasn’t pushed off. Score!

“Hey,” Vanessa greeted softly. 

“Hey,” Wade gave her a soft smile. Definitely a different smile than before. He could feel it, and she could definitely see it. 

“Missed ya. Seems like Logan did a good job at taking care of ya.” 

“Hmmm he did,” he laid his head on his shoulder. “Thanks Peanut, I owe ya.” 

“Nah,” Logan shrugged slightly, jostling Wade slightly-almost like he was teasing him. Or maybe Wade was getting his hopes up. “ Deal enough with my shit, the least I can do.” 

Wade hummed, then straightened up some when he felt something shift under the blankets. No way, was Logan…okay yeah-yeah maybe this was gonna work out. “yoink,” Wade said softly as he took Logan’s hand, threading their fingers together. 

Logan had a perfect spot, right next to Wade. 

[everwalldigan]

Anon is just misconstruing people taking the fact that dick wasn’t around a lot during Jason’s run as robin and extrapolating that jason had a reason to be bitter about it as maligning dick. NeverMind the way dick fans love to give him angst with the “my mom gave me robin” thing even though that’s like a thing that got added one time, and dick gave Jason robin in a box their first interaction post-crisis. And that that box was deliberately drawn exactly like and intended to evoke when dick gave Jason robin in a box pre-crisis, when Jason was about to debut his own costume and persona and dick went out of his way to ask Jason to be robin. Like okay either dick didn’t have any resentment that could be picked up on, voiced or not, about his mom giving him robin and Jason stealing it, or you’re making your fave a boring 20something who beatifically suffered in perfect silence while a teen trampled on the memory of their dead mom. Which is it.

Like there are out of universe reasons dick wasn’t around when Jason was robin, Jason only existed as robin so that dick could spend all his time with the Teen Titans and Batman could still have a robin, so Nw didn’t cross over into Batman and Robin much, he did it quite a few times after Jason died before Tim came, and Jason’s post crisis robin run was pretty short so there wasn’t time because a lot of the time happened in time skips, but it doesn’t change the fact that dick mentored Tim and wasn’t there for Jason, and that Jason was kept by Batmans side so usually in Gotham, occasionally with Batman when he was doing justice league stuff, joining the Teen Titans once to help when dick was in trouble, doesn’t compare to Tim’s heavy involvement with YJ and TT. Dick fans are just soooo sensitive they can’t handle someone looking at those canon dynamics and considering their possible emotional impact, justified or not, and they especially can’t handle a what-if that explores how it would be if dick were mean. Like if there people hate fandom and alternate characterizations so much they should just log off or stay out of the tag, and never read else-worlds either 🙄🙄🙄

Tbh (as a dick fan myself, I came into the fandom and imprinted on him like a baby duck) I think dick had all the reason to be a bitch to Bruce and by extension cold/standoffish to Jason. Is it a shitty thing to do that to a kid who just wanted to have a home? Yes it is but 1. I don’t think dick was really intending to hurt Jason, I think he was so hurt and angry by Bruce’s actions that he didn’t really think about the position Jason was in. And 2. I think he’s allowed to be flawed and that doesn’t take away from his character at all

This is exactly why I feel intimidated when trying to delve into the comics cause it’s like, whatever iteration you pick you’re never right and there’s always someone who’s gonna say “well I think that iteration is bad, the one I like is more true to the character” if that makes sense. Like I like the concept of Robin being smth dick created with the memories of his parents to help people while making his family’s colours a symbol of hope. And with that concept comes the hurt of being essentially fired from the position you created and then finding out your mentor had just handed over that symbol to someone he basically just met. Like I think dick obviously does have regrets with the way he treated Jason and I think that guilt would manifest into him investing more into a relationship with Tim and not letting history repeat itself.

But then again, I’m still quite new to the fandom which is why I mostly keep out of discussions and stay with silly parodies/scenarios so if I misconstrued any of the characters in a major way… my bad