#and because we all know what moment we were robbed off...

[seraph5]

Ok I'm about to say some oldy timey shit romanticising old school marketing and it's going to mainly be from a western perspective because that's what I experienced. There was a moment in marketing around the 90s/early 00s that was really special. We were coming off the consumerism boom of the 80s and people were less impressed with the straightforward product-penutbuttered-with-the-hard-sell approach so marketers had to get creative. Not that marketers had never been creative before but I feel like for a long time the majority of companies couldn't be bothered with the effort. So what happened was the start of a wave of marketing wherein the marketing itself offered value even seperate to the product. Tv commercials startled having recurring stories, not just in themes but actual short form narratives, physical marketing like posters had fun tricks to grab your attention, viral marketing that felt like treasure hunts was born, ads were occasionally so beautiful you would cut them out and pin them up. It was like a remote version of the upsell where you just got something fun and free for the hell of it. Ofc the hope is that you would then share it, buy the product etc but ultimately it was centering value for the consumer. Companies vied for our delight.

Then with the rise of the internet as not just an information hub but a social hub a new wave of marketing was born and it was truly the death of this carnival of delights. Execs didn't want to pay a ton of cash to delight and entertain when they could just shout at you from tiny low cost boxes on the page. There were absolutely some fun marketing stunts post the rise of the internet but since then it's not just been the ads but the relationship with the consumer that has changed.

Now, aside from the mountain of mindless drivel sometimes devoid of a sell at all, scarcely even bothering to be in conversation about the product, there is an insidious controlling element that has permeated the consumer market relationship. Companies don't care about providing value at all. They jam advertising down your throat, lock you into ill-fitting subscriptions that mean you don't even fully own what you've paid for, they trap consumers with dark pattern design (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dark_pattern) and they take away functionality they once offered for free then call it premium and sell it back to you.

Now I'm not saying some of these things never existed before in a much more analogue way, obviously companies never 'cared' about the consumer beyond the purchase they could get, but the complete abandonment of any effort at all is extremely depressing. The honestly hateful 'you'll take what I give you and like it fucker' vibe marketing has taken on is omnipresent.

Even now speaking as someone who works at a place where we are trying to provide value in our marketing beyond what was ever provided before, we are getting burried and hidden by the media platforms in favour of ai slop and creepy soulless ads.

Unfortunately I don't really have a solve for any of this so long as the internet continues to be colonized by companies intent on aggressively robbing you blind and telling you to thank them for that privilege. Just know that when you see fun packaging like this and wonder where it's gone now you know.

 I got a couple of movies from Netflix and they had these cool Halloween-themed mailers. Maybe I’m easily amused, but they’re kind of nifty!

[keraiiszn]

ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

ꜱᴍᴏᴋᴇ x ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

It all started at 3:12 AM, when I woke up feeling like my uterus had a personal vendetta against me. Like it had been plotting this moment for nine months, sitting in meetings with my back, my bladder, and my ankles, strategizing on how to make me suffer.

I didn't scream. Not yet. I just laid there breathing heavily like I'd just done a HIIT workout while eating a burrito, and whispered, "Oh no." Because I knew. I KNEW this wasn't Braxton Hicks. This was the real deal. The baby was clocking in for his shift, and he was apparently the type of employee who shows up early and ready to WORK.

"Elijah…" I nudged him with the gentleness of a mother waking her child for school.

He snored. Not just any snore—the deep, satisfied snore of a man who had eaten a full plate of his mama's mac and cheese and watched two episodes of The First 48.

"Elijah," I said louder, with the tone I usually reserved for when he left dishes in the sink.

Nothing. This man was in REM sleep like he was getting paid for it.

I balled up my fist, stared at it like it held the power of Thor's hammer, and thumped it against his chest with the precision of a drummer hitting a snare.

"HUH—WH—WHO—Y/N, YOU GOOD?! We getting robbed?! Where the gun?!"

"I think I'm in labour."

Now let me paint you a picture of how this grown man—this six-foot-six, business-owning, tough-talking man who had practiced birth affirmations with me in the mirror, packed my hospital bag with lavender oils and those expensive soft socks from Target, watched seven birthing videos (and cried during three of them), and made a playlist called "Welcome to the World, Lil Bro" complete with Stevie Wonder and John Legend—got out of that bed.

He moved like his soul was leaving his body and he was trying to catch it.

"Wait—you sure? Like, contraction contractions? Or like when you thought you were in labor last week but it was just gas?"

I gave him a look that could have curdled fresh milk.

"I don't know, baby. I just woke up screaming on the inside and feeling like someone's playing dodgeball with my organs. What you think?"

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I waddled to the bathroom like a penguin in flip-flops. Sat on the toilet. That's when it happened.

My water broke.

Now see, I thought it would be graceful. Maybe like a gentle spring rain or a leaky faucet. Something manageable. Something I could clean up with a regular towel and some dignity.

Nope.

That thing gushed out like Niagara Falls decided to relocate to my bathroom. Like someone turned on a fire hydrant. I stood up and yelled, "ELIJAH! WE GOT A FLOOD! NOAH NEED TO BUILD AN ARK IN HERE!"

He came flying in—and I mean FLYING, like he had wings—with a mop.

A mop. Not a towel. Not a change of clothes. Not even a "baby, you okay?"

A whole mop.

"Elijah... what are you doing?"

"Cleaning up the water?"

"Baby, that water came from INSIDE ME. You gon' mop me up?!"

He stood there holding that mop like it had betrayed him. "I... I panicked. I heard 'flood' and my brain said 'mop.'"

Another contraction hit me and I had to lean against the sink. "Get me some clothes. And throw that mop away. We ain't mopping up no birth water."

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While I was bent over the bed trying to breathe through a contraction like the doula taught me—in through the nose, out through the mouth, imagine opening like a flower (which, by the way, is the most ridiculous thing anyone has ever told a woman in labour)—Elijah decided, out of nowhere, that the hospital bag I had meticulously packed three weeks ago was "completely unacceptable."

"This can't be all you bringing! Ain't no snacks. What about your bonnet? The good bonnet, not the raggedy one! What about the baby's sound machine? THE LOUNGE SET! You ain't bring the three-piece lounge set you made me drive to three different Targets for?!"

"Elijah—" I started, but another contraction cut me off.

"AND YOUR CHARGER! Lord Jesus in heaven, you forgot your phone charger. We gon' have a baby with no damn phone battery. How we gon' take pictures? How you gon' post on Instagram? Your mama gon' kill us both!"

This man—this grown man who I had watched parallel park a truck and negotiate business deals—was now tearing apart our linen closet, throwing robes and random items into a duffel bag like we were fleeing the country.

I was having a contraction on the floor, bracing against the couch, doing my breathing exercises, and he walked past me and handed me my eyelash curler.

"Elijah. I'm. In. Labor. I don't need lashes."

"You always say you hate looking dusty in pictures! What if someone takes a photo for the hospital newsletter? What if Channel 7 shows up? You said you wanted to look cute meeting the baby!"

I wanted to fight him. I wanted to throw that eyelash curler at his head and then follow it up with the bonnet he was frantically searching for. But another contraction said, "Nah, we're not doing violence today. We're breathing."

"Baby," I said through gritted teeth, "if you don't stop packing like we're going on a three-week vacation and help me get to this car..."

He stopped. Looked at me. Looked at the chaos he'd created. "You right. You right. Let's go have this baby."

Then he grabbed the eyelash curler anyway.

Getting to the hospital should have been simple. We'd driven there twice for practice runs. We knew exactly where to go.

But at 4:30 AM, with me contracting every five minutes and Elijah's adrenaline making him drive like he was in Fast and Furious, everything went wrong.

First, he missed the exit.

"ELIJAH."

"I see it, I see it! I'ma get off at the next one!"

"There IS no next one for three miles!"

Then the GPS decided to recalculate and took us through the scenic route. Through downtown. Past the 24-hour donut shop where Elijah had the audacity to say, "You want anything?"

"DO I WANT ANYTHING?! I want this baby out of me! I want to not feel like I'm being split in half! I want you to drive like you got some sense!"

"I'm just saying, donuts might help—"

"ELIJAH MOORE, if you stop at that donut shop, I'm having this baby in the parking lot and naming him Krispy just to spite you!"

We finally got to the hospital at 5:15 AM. Elijah pulled up to what he thought was the emergency entrance but was actually the loading dock for medical supplies.

A security guard knocked on the window. "Y'all lost?"

"My wife's in labor!" Elijah announced like he was Paul Revere.

The guard looked at me, mid-contraction, gripping the door handle. "Maternity ward is around the front, baby daddy. Follow the pink signs."

"Pink signs," I repeated through my breathing. "Follow the pink signs, baby daddy."

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We got there. I got checked in. Got hooked up to all the monitors. Got examined by a nurse who had clearly seen it all and was not impressed by my dramatics.

"You're 3 centimeters," she announced.

I almost cried. three? THREE? After all that suffering, all that breathing, all that flooding and mop drama, I was only three centimeters?

"That's it?" Elijah asked. "She been in pain for hours."

"First baby?" the nurse asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

She smiled the knowing smile of a woman who had probably delivered half the babies in the city. "Oh honey, you've got a long day ahead of you. But don't worry—" she looked at Elijah "—daddy's gonna take real good care of you, ain't you, daddy?"

Then Elijah, this man who had just driven through half the city like a maniac, who had packed our entire linen closet, who had brought a MOP to clean up amniotic fluid, looked at this nurse and asked, "Can she get the epidural now? You know, as like a courtesy? Since we here early?"

The nurse blinked at him. Slow. Deliberate. Like she was processing whether he had really asked what she thought he asked.

"Sir, labor doesn't work on a courtesy system. This ain't the Ritz-Carlton."

I would have laughed if I wasn't busy trying to breathe through another contraction.

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I labored all day. ALL DAY. I walked the halls like I was training for a marathon, bouncing on that big rubber ball they gave me (which I decided was invented by someone who clearly hated pregnant women), and did squats in the bathroom because apparently that's what helps.

My mom came around noon with a bag full of snacks and that worried look she gets when she thinks I'm not handling something right.

"You doing okay, baby?"

"I'm fine, Mama. Just bringing your grandson into the world."

Elijah's mama arrived an hour later with enough food to feed a small army and immediately started rearranging the room to her liking.

"This ain't set up right. Why is the bed facing that way? The baby needs to see the window when he come out. Elijah, move that chair. Y/N, you need to eat something. You can't birth no baby on an empty stomach."

I saw Jesus at one point around 3 PM. Not in a religious way—in a "this epidural is hitting different" way. He told me I was doing good and to stop telling Elijah to shut up so much.

I told Jesus that Elijah deserved every "shut up" he got.

Between contractions, I called Elijah every name I could think of. Not mean names—well, not too mean—but I definitely questioned his intelligence, his common sense, and his ability to handle stressful situations.

At one point around 4 PM, this man brought in a Bluetooth speaker and tried to play "Pum Pum Bring Life" by Kalado because "it's to brighten the mood and it’s true that I was bringing life through my pussy."

I threw a cup of ice at him.

Not the whole cup—I needed the ice. Just the ice. It scattered across the floor like musical notes of my frustration.

"Turn it off."

"But baby—"

"TURN. IT. OFF."

The nurse came in to check the commotion and saw Elijah collecting ice cubes from the floor while I glared at him from the bed.

"What happened here?"

"Musical differences," I said.

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By 10 PM, I was 8 centimetres. EIGHT. We were getting close, and I could feel it in my whole body. Everything was different now. Intense. Real.

Elijah had been chewing the same piece of gum for four hours—nervous chewing, stress chewing—and the sound was about to make me lose whatever sanity I had left.

"If you don't spit out that gum right now, I'm going to make YOU birth this baby."

That's when he cried. Real tears. Not "I'm overwhelmed" tears or "this is scary" tears, but genuine, deep, emotional tears.

He was holding my hand, looking into my eyes, and saying, "You so strong. You doing so good, baby. Look at you. You growing our son and you ain't even complaining—"

"I've been complaining for nine hours."

"Okay, you complaining, but you DOING it. You really doing it. You got this."

And I believed him. I felt strong. I felt capable. I felt like Wonder Woman and Beyoncé and my mama all rolled into one.

Until I looked over and this man was eating a Slim Jim.

A SLIM JIM. During labor. During this sacred, powerful moment of bringing life into the world.

"Ain't no way. There is absolutely no way you're having a meat stick while I'm pushing out a human being."

He looked at the Slim Jim like it had materiized in his hand without his knowledge. "I'm stressed! I eat when I'm stressed! You know this about me!"

"Throw it away."

"But I just opened it—"

"ELIJAH."

He threw it away. But I could tell he was mourning that Slim Jim.

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The nurse checked me one more time. "We're at 10 centimeters. Time to push."

Everything changed. The room got serious. The doctor came in. More nurses appeared. Elijah stood beside me, holding my hand, and I could see in his eyes that he was scared and excited and proud all at once.

"You ready?" the doctor asked.

Was I ready? Was anybody ever ready for this?

"Let's do it."

I pushed. And pushed. And screamed things that I'm pretty sure my mama pretended not to hear from the hallway. I might've said some things that require forgiveness and possibly some Hail Marys.

The doctor kept saying "I can see the head!" and Elijah kept crying and saying "That's my son! That's my son!" like he had just discovered fire.

And then.

Then I heard it.

That cry.

That tiny, loud, miraculous, earth-shattering cry that changed everything.

Elijah sobbed. Full-body sobbed. The kind of crying you do when something so beautiful happens that your body doesn't know how else to respond. His forehead pressed against mine, tears falling on my face. "He here. Oh my God, baby, he here. He really here."

They let him cut the cord, and his hands were shaking so bad the doctor had to help him. Then they laid our son on my chest, and everything else disappeared. I forgot the mop. I forgot the Slim Jim. I forgot the ice throwing and the GPS drama and the four-hour gum chewing. It was just us. Me, Elijah, and this perfect little brown baby with his daddy's nose and what I could already tell was going to be my whole attitude.

"Hi, baby," I whispered. "We been waiting for you."

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Around 6 PM, after I had gotten cleaned up and the baby had been checked and weighed and declared perfect, the door opened.

Elias walked in first, all 6'4 of him, ducking slightly under the doorframe, carrying a teddy bear that was bigger than the actual baby and three foil-wrapped casseroles that smelled like heaven.

"I ain't know what y'all was gonna be hungry for, so I brought mac and cheese, green beans, and cornbread. And some of mama's pound cake for later."

Renee came next, wearing a full fur coat—mind you, it was 71 degrees outside—screaming before she even got through the door: "WHERE MY NEPHEW?! I need to see this baby that had y'all acting crazy for nine months!"

Maya trailed behind with a camera and a ring light. "I'm vlogging the first meeting. Y'all don't be weird. Act natural. But also, maybe look towards the camera when you hold him."

Toni brought wine.

"I can't drink that," I said.

"It's for me," she whispered. "Labor stories make me nervous."

The baby was sleeping in his little hospital bassinet, wrapped up like a tiny burrito, completely unbothered by the chaos that was his family.

Elijah was trying to swaddle him for the visitors, and Elias had the nerve to start coaching him from across the room.

"Nah, bro, tuck that corner tighter. You want it snug but not too tight. Like when you—" he paused, looked around the room full of women "—like when you fold a fitted sheet."

"Boy, you don't know nothing about folding fitted sheets," Renee said, pushing past him to get to the baby. "Let me show you how to swaddle. I raised four kids."

Maya was crying because "the baby yawned with purpose" and trying to get it on camera.

Renee asked if we wanted to make him a TikTok account. "For the brand," she said seriously.

Toni kept threatening to take him home. "Just for a week. For bonding. Cozy auntie bonding."

My mama was trying to organize all the gifts they brought while simultaneously making sure everyone washed their hands and didn't wake the baby.

Elijah's mama was critiquing everyone's baby-holding technique and rearranging the flowers they brought "for better energy flow."

The nurse finally had to come in and diplomatically kick them all out. "Visiting hours are over, and mama and baby need their rest."

"We family!" Renee protested.

"Family visiting hours are also over," the nurse said with the authority of someone who had managed many chaotic families.

As they filed out, each one of them kissing me and the baby and promising to come back tomorrow, I realized this was going to be our life now. This beautiful, loud, chaotic, loving circus was our baby's family.

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It was quiet. Finally quiet. Just me, Elijah, and our son. The baby was sleeping in Elijah's arms, bundled in the blanket that Elias had wrapped him in with surprising gentleness for such big hands.

Elijah was in the chair next to my bed, staring at our son like he was trying to memorize every detail of his face.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you more," I whispered back.

"You cussed me out seventeen times today."

"You deserved every single one."

He smiled. That soft smile he gets when he knows I'm right but doesn't want to admit it.

I leaned over and kissed his hand, the one that wasn't supporting our baby. "Thank you. For being here. For the panic packing. For bringing a mop to clean up amniotic fluid. For the Slim Jim stress eating. For everything."

He kissed my forehead. "You made me a dad. You made us a family."

Our son let out a tiny sigh in his sleep, the softest sound I had ever heard. Like he was perfectly content to be exactly where he was.

And just like that, the hardest, funniest, wildest, most chaotic day of our lives became the best day of our lives.

I looked at Elijah holding our baby, both of them peaceful and perfect, and thought about how this little person was going to grow up with the most loving, crazy, dramatic family in the world. He was going to have a daddy who packed entire linen closets and brought mops to floods, a mama who threw ice during labor, uncles who brought too much food, aunties who wanted to make him TikTok famous, and grandmamas who rearranged hospital rooms for better energy.

He was going to be so loved.

And probably so confused.

But mostly loved.

"What are we gonna call him?" I asked.

Elijah looked down at our son, then at me. "I don't know. But whatever we choose, he's gonna have some stories to tell about the day he was born."

"Starting with the mop?"

"Definitely starting with the mop."

Our baby opened his eyes for just a moment, looked around like he was taking inventory of his new world, then closed them again with what I swear was a satisfied expression.

Welcome to the family, little one. It's going to be a wild ride.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

[fishblade-koi]

"Can I at least say hi to her ? - I'm sorry it's too risky . . . maybe when we're done. - Right . . . when we're done . . ."

[oveliagirlhaditright]

So, I don't know if I'm ever going to watch the 5th Wave movie based on reviews I've seen for it now (even though I also feel bad saying this--and think maybe I should--because I'm also someone who thinks you should judge things for yourself), but I have watched a few amvs for it... and just based on that (though I admit that that might not be a fair metric to base it on), I do agree with people who think that Evan Walker was miscast (it also might have been direction issues). He just seems too earnest to me? Too trustworthy? And that's sort of a problem, of course, because you needed to have so many moments in the film where you didn't know if you could trust the guy or not. And based on the scenes I've seen, he doesn't seem mysterious/sketchy enough. He also doesn't give off the vibes where Cassie was like, "I'm going to kill Evan Walker!" because he was pissing her off so much. IDK. -shrugs-

[beloveds-embrace]

YOU GET MEEEE LIKE YES THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I HAD JN MIND FOR MAIL ORDER KONIG TOO 😩😩 and the dialogue was too good not to add, so thank you sm ☕️ anon!! <33

Reader x mail-order soldier könig

You weren’t proud of the choices that led to this.

In your defense, when your unhinged, narcissistic ex-fiancé decided to take “I can do better” as a personal threat and “leave me alone” as a flirtation, your options shrank quickly. Police were useless, restraining orders were suggestions, and the panic room catalog had a three-month shipping delay you really couldn’t afford at the moment.

So you did what any desperate, slightly unhinged person with Wi-Fi and a bottle of wine would do at 2AM: you shopped online.

Not for a therapist- you didn’t like being robbed more than once per month- and not for new locks, and not even for a machete and a training montage or karate lessons.

You shopped for a bodyguard. And not just any bodyguard- mail-order, military-grade, possibly-black-ops (you didn’t know exactly what that meant, but you knew black belts were the strongest in karate so it probably applied here too) bodyguard. Because you weren’t looking for subtle; yoh were looking for make him cry and question his choices.

The site was slick, you could admit. Black and red and sleek fonts, the kind of design that screamed we definitely waterboard people but make it ✨fashion✨. The site also billed itself as Elite Protection Services: Discreet, Deadly, Dependable. It might as well have been Bodyguards R Us. You scrolled past the profiles like you were picking out a toaster.

“Ex-Interpol, trained in Systema, bilingual in seven languages.”

Nope. Too smug-looking. Kinda reminded you of Johnny Bravo but without the appeal.

“Specializes in anti-stalking protocols. Former MMA champion.”

Too pretty. Psycho ex would take that as a challenge.

You scrolled past endless profiles: more ex-SEALs, ex-spies, people who listed training styles like they were personality traits. Everyone looked like they were auditioning for a movie about stopping nuclear threats with emotional damage and well-fitted tactical pants.

Until you found him.

KÖNIG.

That was it; no last name, no smiling profile pic. Just one blurry photo that looked like it was taken from a security feed during the purge. A massive man mid-stride, face obscured by a tattered executioner’s hood (does he like cosplay?), one arm casually holding what was either a high-powered sniper rifle or a small medieval ballista. Just the quiet threat of do not attempt to engage unless you are fireproof and have no dreams… and hopefully have a will.

His bio was just as minimal as his name, but thankfully not bolded and capitalized like he was the living version You-Know-Who: Former special forces. Classified background. Urban combat. High-threat asset protection. Temperament: Reserved. Languages: German, English. Hobbies: [Redacted]

And honestly? He was perfect.

You hit “Hire” with all the solemnity of pulling a lever on a guillotine.

The meeting, then, was scheduled at a “neutral location” (aka: a converted warehouse that probably used to be a meth lab but now boasted folding chairs and bulletproof windows and claimed to be state-of-the-arts just). You were told to wear neutral colors and avoid sudden movements like he was a military contractor-slash-deer.

He was lucky you didn’t have a driving license or car yet.

The facilitator, woman named Claire who radiated HR department energy and quiet terror, greeted you with a nervous clipboard smile.

“Please remain calm during the introduction process,” she said, like she expected you to run. Like he was a bull and she forgot to tell you not to wear red even though you were very sure bulls didn’t actually get bothered by the color. “Sometimes clients are… startled.”

You waved her off; you were not going to be startled. You were in charge. You were the employer. You were cool and rational. You were the man-

And then the door opened, and he walked in.

It wasn’t so much a walk as a tectonic shift, honestly. The lights dimmed- or maybe your brain flickered like a dying flashlight trying to process the sheer volume of the man now in the room with you because the damn profile and profile pictures absolutely did him no justice at all.

Easily built like a walking mini-cathedral, every step he took echoed with the weight of someone who didn’t walk so much as advance steadily like a cursed forest creature with war crimes on his résumé.

The hood was real, by the way. Not a vibe, not a metaphor, not a cosplay prop. A literal ragged executioner’s hood, like someone had looted a plague doctor’s wardrobe and decided to lean in (actually… were those shirt sleeves-)

Anyways, he said nothing, and so you stared with your mouth half-open and your neck craned and your buffering. There was a pause, the kind of silence that usually precedes a boss fight or a marriage proposal but without the music for both, and you weren’t sure which direction this was going to go.

Claire cleared her throat with the delicacy of someone trying not to disturb a sleeping lion.

“Well, if you’re not feeling a connection, we can always-“

“Don’t you dare.”

It came out louder than intended and far more desperate than you’s ever hoped anyone would hear you. You pointed at König like someone calling dibs on a rare Pokémon, and almost gave yourself a whiplash from how quickly you turned your head to glare at her.

“He’s perfect. Get your own!”

Claire blinked and König didn’t move. But you could feel him blinking behind the hood, probably wondering what, exactly, he had just been spiritually adopted into.

There was another pause.

König tilted his head, then slight nod that was just enough to suggest acknowledgment… or possibly pity. You’d need to peer into his eyes and make him do different expressions so you’d understand what he was thinking behind that hood, because you weren’t sure if his nod meant I accept this job, please never yell again, or you are an unhinged rat and I respect that, but either way: he was yours now.

You turned back to Claire with all the confidence of someone who had definitely just bought an armored tank off Craigslist.

“Where do I sign?”

Claire, likewise, slowly handed you the paperwork like she was passing off custody of a weapon of mass destruction. Something like an armored tank bought off Craigslist.

“…Please don’t antagonize him.”

“I would never,” you replied, already mentally redecorating your apartment to accommodate a seven-foot medieval cryptid with probably boundary issues. You couldn’t imagine anyone with those backgrounds not coming with built-in issues unless they were rich and old.

König, for his part, said nothing. Just stood there, looming like an ancient ruin that had wandered into a security job. But you swore- when you weren’t looking directly at him- you caught the faintest rise in his shoulders. Like a chuckle.

Or maybe a sigh.

Either way, you’d take it; you had a human mountain now. And your ex?

Was going to shit bricks and you’d be there to film and enjoy every. single. second. of it.

“C’mon, big boy,” you grinned at him, taking one of his big hands and tugging uselessly. “We have so much to do!”

[wonderjanga]

Father’s Day

@autistic-human’s post and @moonlightcycle571’s comment on said post were the inspiration for this one. I love dad Marvel soooooo much, cause I think Billy would try his best to be a good adult figure without even realizing it can come off as parental. He’d just be doing what he would’ve wanted someone to do for him, which was be there for whichever kid no matter what. So what happens when a bunch of angsty teens with trauma meet him? He’s obviously going to try his best to be there for them!

Like Kon, when he first met Marvel, he didn’t really know what to think of the man. He was nice. Almost overwhelmingly so. He also helps Kon with anything if he ever needs help. He’s also almost always around and is willing to talk about virtually anything with Kon too. And this isn’t just exclusive to him, but to everyone. (It makes him feel slightly queasy sometimes. He hasn’t realized what he’s feeling is jealousy whenever his parental figure’s attention is on another kid.) So that’s why when Father’s Day came around and M’gann suggested they all do something for Marvel, he was a little dumbfounded. One, because he just came to the realization that he thinks of Marvel as a kinda dad, and two, because what were they going to do? Marvel isn’t actually their dad, so what if the Captain finds it weird? Kon really doesn’t want to think about Cap finding all of this weird.

The YJ eventually decided to just get Cap a gift. They were all pretty sure that’s what you were supposed to give fathers. Now the question is: what to give him?

Marvel: *goes to Mount Justice to check in on the kids*

YJ: *All in the kitchen fighting about how to frost the cookies cause they all did it differently*

Marvel: *hears them and comes to the kitchen*

YJ: *doesn’t notice him*

Kon: *Does notice and picks up his batch of cookies and goes to Marvel* “Cap.” *presents cookies to Billy*

Marvel: “Huh?” *stares at cookies. Kon’s cookies are a bunch of mishapen blobs with smiley faces* “Are these for me?”

Kon: *nods head* “They’re you.”

Marvel: *takes a cookie with one of the biggest smiles Kon has ever seen on the man’s face* “This is amazing… thanks Kon!” *bites cookie* “They’re really good too!”

Kon: “Really?” *eyes shining at the praise*

Marvel: “Yeah!” *finishes cookie and is about to grab another one*

Other YJ members: *now notice Marvel and Kon* “Wait! Wait! Wait! Try mine next!” *they all proceed to take turns shoving cookies into Marvel’s hands*

Marvel: *eats them all and gives each of them stellar reviews*

About after thirty minutes of Marvel and the kids eating cookies…

Marvel: “What was all this for by the way?”

YJ: “Huh?”

Marvel: “What was all this for? I mean, it’s not my birthday, so…” *doesn’t know it’s Father’s Day*

YJ: “Oh uh… We just felt like it.”

Marvel: “Oh. Okay!” *just happy to gobble the last, remaining cookies* “By the way, this means a lot to me. Even if it was just a spur of the moment thing. I appreciate it.”

YJ: *all super duper uper happy he loves it but trying not to show it* “No problem.” (Spoiler: they’re not very good at hiding it.)

Then there’s Damian. He’s always had a love-hate relationship with Marvel’s happy go lucky, friendly attitude, but it sort of reminds him of Grayson so he’ll never admit it but it’s leaning more towards love. The man has also weirdly never once gotten mad at him, or at anyone as far as he can tell. He’s extremely patient, and the fact that Damian hasn’t pushed the limits of that patience yet is surprising to the young Wayne. The man also knows a surprising about of animal facts and lets him pet his tiger. So that’s another bonus. The man also doesn’t underestimate him solely based on the fact he’s a child. So, when the Father’s Day holiday rolls around, he decides he would reward Marvel for being an admittedly commendable person.

Marvel: *standing by the window of the Titan’s tower, looking at Jump City*

Damian: *appears from nowhere* “Captain.”

Marvel: *jumps before looking to Damian* “Yes, Robin?”

Damian: *holds up Alfred the Cat* “This is Alfred the Cat. I’m giving you the privilege to pet him just this once. Say hi, Alfred.”

Alfred the Cat: *meows*

Marvel: “Hi.” *little wave to Alfred* “Nice to meet you, Alfred.” *shakes Alfred’s little paw before petting him*

Damian: *lets Marvel get a single pet in before pulling Alfred away* “Alright, that’s enough.”

Marvel: “Oh- uh…” *smiles at Damian* “Thanks for letting me pet him, Robin.”

Damian: “Your welcome.” *nods at him before walking off to bring Alfred back to the manor*

Then there’s also Raven. She honestly had no intention of even thinking about the holiday, considering the fact her father is a demon that actively sucks and ruins her life. Then she saw Damian do his thing and after thinking about the Captain and how the man cares for her and her team members… she supposed he should get some type of reward. The man is extremely nice after all.

A little while after Damian’s departure…

Marvel: *back to looking out the window*

Raven: *also appears out of nowhere* “Marvel.”

Marvel: *jumps just like with Damian and looks to her* “Yes, Raven?”

Raven: *presents Marvel with a mini version of himself*

Mini Marvel: *waves to Billy*

Marvel: “Wha?” *bends down slightly to look at Mini Marvel with a confused smile* “Is that me?”

Raven: *nods head* “It’s a new spell I learned. I wanted to show you.”

Marvel: *pokes Mini Marvel in the stomach* “This is… Amazing!” *gives her a wide grin* “You’re amazing!”

Raven: *a little surprised she feels happy at the man’s approval but isn’t really hating* “Thanks.”

Marvel: “Actually, wait. Hold up!” *mutters a spell and in his hand spawns a Mini Raven. He places the Mini Raven in Raven’s palm with the Mini Marvel*

Mini Marvel: *fawning over Mini Raven*

Mini Raven: *blankly staring at Mini Marvel and lets it fawn*

Marvel: “And you’re saying you learned this spell on your own?” *looks away from the Minis and to Raven* “That’s awesome. You did a wonderful job.”

Raven: *doesn’t really know how to handle all the praise* “Thanks… I’m uh… I think I left the stove on.” *instead of heading to the kitchen, runs off to her room*

Marvel ended up later telling the other members of the JL how many gifts he’s gotten that day. They were a little confused and wondered how many kids Marvel could have. But no, they found out that a lot of their own kids think of him as a somewhat father. Also, a few of the adults might’ve thought about slipping Marvel gifts when the man wasn’t looking cause Billy being a dad isn’t just exclusive to the kids.

[chuulyssa]

jealous monster trio + law and ace x reader

a/n. not proofread!! i wrote this on my phone in the middle of watching a movie ong. idk why there aren't many dialogues in ace and law's part, but im lowkey pleased with how everything turned out

tags. fluffy fluff fluff, established relationship

crack tags. sanji gets a nosebleed (again), sanji tries to steal you away, sanji (that's it, that's the warning), marco bepo and robin are the best matchmakers, nami robs someone 😴

luffy wasn't the type to be overly possessive about the things he liked. growing up with two brothers, he had learned to share all mundane things in his life; his clothes, his blanket, even his toothbrush.

but not you.

luffy didn't understand the feeling that was developing in the pit of his stomach at the sight of you working out with zoro in the crow's nest. it was nice to stay healthy, right? that was what he had thought when he saw you reject his offer to play board games with him. he watched you walk away and up to the crow's nest where the swordsman practically lived, and sulkily climbed his special seat on the head of the sunny.

"oi, luffy! come down," usopp called out from the deck, and he glanced at the latter. "robin's telling us another story of the ancient civilizations of the west blue!"

"i'm not in the mood," luffy shouted back, still gazing wistfully at you.

he watched your face contort into one of pain when you moved to do the crunches, and zoro laughed at you before showing you how to breathe in the position as you lifted yourself back up.

"are you sure? i think you're just hungry!" usopp called again. "robin said we can have some of the special pancakes sanji made for her."

luffy stared back at his friend, his eyebrows furrowing as he thought hard. soon after, he yelled back, "i'll come down, give me one second!"

as you got back up from the crunch you were performing, you saw a long arm on the glass wall of the room and nearly screamed. luffy accidentally slammed his face into the wall, his cheeks comically enlarged as he spoke something incoherent to you. zoro rolled his eyes from beside you.

"i think he's saying break time is over. you've gotta go deal with him now."

.

zoro was rather secure in your relationship. he didn't mind it when other people commented about how nice you are, or about how pretty you look. he let it all slide, seeing as he knew all of the comments were true, and you deserved to know that. so he wasn't one to get mad when such things happened.

except when it came to the idiot cook.

it had been almost fifteen minutes past your usual time and you still hadn't shown up. zoro had gritted his teeth in the middle of a set and set out to find you. it didn't take him long, however, to figure out what was keeping you.

"my dear y/n, you must listened to this acoustic poem i have written in your name," the cook had one of your hands in his, blocking your way up to the crow's nest.

"i'm sure it's lovely, sanji, but i'm in a hurry right now--"

"ah, where, i wonder, must i look to find another beauty such as yourself--?"

"oi, cook! buzz off, will ya? no one wants you around," zoro's voice came from upstairs, and you turned to look at him.

the cook glared at him from behind you, but immediately pouted wistfully when you turned back at him. "don't say that, 'ro," you scolded, and the cook's face lit up at your words, eyes gleaming at the sight of zoro's annoyed look.

"i said what i said," zoro walked downstairs, twirling a strand of your hair around his fingers when he reached you. "buzz off, prince of the perverts."

.

sanji is a little bit of an idiot. insecurity runs in his veins, and thus so does jealousy. you would have felt bad for him too, had he not been making you feel the same way since day one.

his face streamed with tears as he followed you around the marketplace. a few minutes earlier, you had caught him shooting to the sky with a nosebleed because of some poor woman's smile. he had landed right at your feet, the sight momentarily disarming you before you kicked his frame out of the way to walk.

it had been about half a minute of you ignoring him and he was on his hands and knees, begging for you to spare a glance at him. you would have felt bad, had this not been the fiftieth time in a week. you instead chose to turn to usopp, who had grown to learn to ignore sanji and his antics around women ever since they first met at the baratie. sanji's ears turned a bright red at your movement, and he clinged even harder at you

the two of you silently agreed to not wait for nami while she was busy robbing civilized people in a restaurant, and sped up at the looks the passersby were giving sanji, who was practically hanging onto your waist right now.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry, angel, i know that's not gonna cut it but i beg for your humble forgiveness, i will not ever-"

"how do you deal with this moron?" usopp whispered to you, and you whispered back an "i don't know".

sanji kept mumbling things into your hips and pressing soft kisses into your waist, until you gave in when chopper hurried up to where you were, polaroids of your smile hanging around his neck; your boyfriend was just in rehab!

.

ace didn't think you looked half as good with anyone else but him. that is another way to say, he couldn't stand anyone who was within a certain radius from you. he wouldn't talk about it at all, and whenever you would bring it up he would play dumb.

but he hated it; not in a you're-mine-and-belong-to-me way but more in a im-just-a-boy-who-needs-external-validation-to-exist kinda way.

so he didn't like the way you were the only 'daughter' in whitebeard's crew among all the 'sons' who spoke about you like you were a trophy. he didn't like how you were placed under marco's division and not his. he didn't like how both whitebeard and marco laughed at him whenever they caught him looking at you.

after a particularly rough mission, the first division was having a blast with all the treasure they had managed to get back. ace looked at you with a longing pout on his face, about ten feet away from you. you were laughing with thatch at the moment, and he was busy fantasizing about how you would react if he carried you into your shared room on his shoulder, kissed the back of your nape and sucked hickeys to spell his name on your neck--

marco slapped the back of his head and his face fell into his plate with a loud crash.

"thank me later," marco said, eyes unwavering as the man in front of him fell asleep face-first into a plate full of food.

he went away as ace woke up shortly after, his face covered in curry, with men laughing at and mimicking him, but among all of them, his ears only heard the sound of your laughter before you quickly got up to hand him tissues.

.

law did not care. or at least, he pretended not to. after all, it had taken multiple tantrums from bepo to get him to confess to you, and even then he had made it clear he was not a fan of whatever you might have thought to be an 'ideal, loving relationship'.

that was, until today, when you had learned just how far you had to push his buttons to transform him into a romantic man. you could feel law's gaze on you as you laughed at whatever dumb thing luffy had just said, but when you turned around, he was busy conversing with robin about who knows what. once again, you turned to luffy, felt weird, turned back and saw nothing. for every minute you talked to the straw hat about something, you could feel law breathing down your neck, albeit in a subtle manner that no one but you seemed to catch.

"law," you finally came up to him, and he looked up at you as if he hadn't for ages. "is something wrong?"

"what makes you think so?" he challenged, and you could feel robin chuckle next to him. after shooting her a perplexed look, you shrugged and walked back to where the group was having fun, staying a bit closer to chopper this time, for luffy's safety.

it wasn't until the two of you had retreated back to your shared room for the night that you had realised what you felt had not been a hoax. law was on you the moment you lay next to him on the bed, nuzzling up to you and pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and cheeks.

you were confused, to say the least, but you had a faint suspicion that this strange side of law was the idea of a certain archaeologist.

[shewolfofvilnius]

It's fascinating how even though you don't always hear about \ anyone other than Astarion, every origin companion in BG3 has an endgame/epilogue state that is either outright bad for them or at the very least "not as good as they deserve".

Obvious there have been books and 100,000 pages of fic and discourse written about Ascended Astarion. In the moments when he almost acts like his old self, even then it's merely humoring you with a whim.

Mother Superior DJ Shadowheart flat out admits to severe empathy for what Viconia went through, and has fully closed herself off from any sense of attachment or feeling other than Nocturne and Tav. Her continued need to find carve-outs and exceptions and loopholes parallels Viconia's own eventual disagreements with Shar. And as we know, Shar will eventually betray or abandon her if Shadowheart doesn't betray her first. It's the story of every devout Sharran we meet.

Gale, the God is a smug arrogant hubris-ridden asshole that's even mean to Tara in the epilogue. Nearly every single sentiment he expressed about why he wanted the Crown and to ascend is immediately inverted. Of course he's not going to interfere. He's a figure of aspiration. Once he received power himself he immediately forgot and forsook everyone and everything about why he wanted it in the first place. A romanced God Gale is SLIGHTLY more grounded but that's mostly just because you ground him. And if you ascend with him, that ends that.

Lae'zel's return to Vlaakith results in her ascension, which leads to her missing the party and being very dead. The things that Lae'zel claimed to value will never truly be as long as Vlaakith rules, and her not escaping and falling back into her people's death cult robs her of the ability to create a new Gith, a better Gith.

Karlach is dead, or almost as bad, a Mind Flayer. And while most of her initial personality remains, by six months in she's already grown emotionally distant and her personality is clearly and evidently being slowly overridden by the brains of the dying she consumes. She's forsaken the embrace of death for the guise of eternal continuation in her. And even surrounded by the ten people who should mean the most in the world to her, all she mostly thinks about is others' perceptions of her (ala the Emperor) and the fact that she's hungry. Mind Flayer Karlach even notes that she used to think becoming a Mind Flayer would be the worst thing ever, but now she likes it. Shades of the Emperor x1000 and a clear sign that the Karlach we know and love is rapidly becoming a memory.

and then there's Grand Duke Wyll. On the surface, it appears the happiest of the "bad" endings, but pay attention. Note how he discusses wheeling and dealing and making agreements with patriars. (How well has contracts and deals worked out for you in the past?) Oh, and in certain conditions including romance, Wyll will offer you the chance to become a Grand Duke as well - with the others being his father (Ravengard #3) and Florrick (Wyll/Ulder's longest lasting family friend). That's not a government of the people for the people. When the power is tied up by a husband, spouse, his father, and their most trusted advisor, that's the makings of a monarchy or oligarchy. Of the type of patriar power-claim to last for generations, something Wyll himself once mocked. Oh, and if you adopt a child, then you get into the worst part of it all: Wyll's been busy running a city, and oh hey, instead of y'all bringing YOUR FOUR MONTH OLD DAUGHTER with you, hey, she'll be cool being watched by the Ilmater temple for a night right? Sorry, Wyll, were you saying something a few months ago about distant parenting? Yikes.

[etherealhannie]

( oneshot ) ،، kiss me , you idiot ،، ⌇ 민규

─────────────────────────────────────────

" are we dating now , or do i still need to bribe you with food to hang out with me ? " .ᐟ 🫙

pairing .ᐟ bestfriend-now-boyfriend!mingyu × fem!reader genre .ᐟ childhood best friends to lovers au , same mess yet lil sweeter word count .ᐟ 1.3k song rec. .ᐟ ─

note .ᐟ witness this , not experiences it . 😞🖐🏻

─────────────────────────────────────────

Mingyu stood in front of Y/N’s door, fidgeting with the strap of his backpack. He'd been here a thousand times before, so why was his heart racing like a middle schooler about to confess for the first time?

Maybe because, in a way, he was.

Y/N had been his best friend since childhood—the one who used to push him off swings, steal his food, and tease him relentlessly for being taller than everyone else. Their friendship was pure chaos from the start, and that never changed as they grew up. If anything, it only got worse. But somewhere along the line, Mingyu started noticing little things. Like the way his heart beat faster when Y/N laughed at his jokes or the pang of jealousy he felt when she talked about other guys. And the kicker? He realized that he didn’t just love Y/N as a best friend—he was in love with her.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked. Before he could second-guess his entire life, the door flung open, and there she was, grinning mischievously. "Late as usual, Kim Mingyu."

"I’m literally three minutes early!" he protested, stepping inside her apartment. He couldn’t help but smile, though. This was their thing—bantering, teasing, and laughing their way through life. He loved it. And he was about to ruin it all by admitting he liked her.

"You ready for movie night?" Y/N asked, bouncing onto the couch and kicking her feet up. She tossed him the remote like it was a reflex.

"Actually..." Mingyu rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. "I wanted to talk to you about something first."

Y/N paused, the grin fading just a little. "Uh-oh, serious face. Should I be worried?"

"No, no. Well, maybe? I don't know." Mingyu was making this worse, wasn’t he? He took a deep breath, sitting down beside her. "You know how we've always... had this, uh, thing?"

"What thing?" she teased, clearly not sensing the gravity of the situation.

"This... chaotic, fun thing between us." He waved his hands in the air, trying to find the right words. "But also, I’ve realized it’s not just chaotic and fun for me anymore. It’s more."

Y/N tilted her head, her eyes narrowing in playful confusion. "More like what? Are you saying you want to rob a bank together? Or maybe start a prank war?"

Mingyu huffed, shaking his head with a nervous chuckle. Leave it to Y/N to make even his serious moments feel like a joke. "No, I’m saying..." He inhaled sharply. "I like you, Y/N. Like, really like you. More than just friends."

Silence stretched between them for a moment. Y/N blinked at him, her usual quick-wittedness seemingly gone for the first time in their long friendship.

"Oh," she finally said, breaking the stillness.

Mingyu’s heart sank. "Oh?"

"No, I mean—" Y/N suddenly burst out laughing, clutching her stomach. "You... you were so nervous! You looked like you were about to explode!" She reached over, ruffling his hair like she always did when teasing him.

Mingyu’s mouth dropped open. "Wait. You're... laughing? I just confessed to you!"

Y/N bit her lip, trying to suppress her laughter, but she was failing miserably. "Mingyu, you dork. I know."

"You know?"

"Yeah, you’re not exactly subtle," she said, grinning. "I've noticed for a while now. You think I wouldn’t catch on to the way you blush whenever I tease you? Or how you always seem extra flustered when I call you cute?"

Mingyu felt heat rise to his cheeks. "Then why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I was waiting for you to figure it out and tell me, obviously," Y/N replied matter-of-factly, still smirking. "Besides, it’s way more fun watching you squirm."

He groaned, covering his face with his hands. "I can't believe this."

"Hey, at least now it's out in the open," Y/N said, pulling his hands away from his face. Her tone softened, and there was a sparkle in her eyes that made Mingyu’s heart flip. "And, for the record, I like you too."

Mingyu’s brain short-circuited. "Wait, what?"

She smiled softly, this time without the teasing edge. "Yeah. I like you, you big idiot. I’ve liked you for a while."

"You could've told me," he said, still trying to process what was happening. His heart was hammering in his chest, a mix of disbelief and joy.

Y/N shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?"

He stared at her for a beat before his lips curled into a grin. "So... what now?"

"Now," Y/N said, sitting back against the couch, "we continue our usual chaos. Except now we get to kiss and be all gross and couple-y too."

Mingyu laughed, the relief washing over him like a tidal wave. "You're the worst, you know that?"

"And you're stuck with me," Y/N replied, poking his side. "Now, come here and let me give you your first official couple smooch."

Before Mingyu could react, Y/N had pulled him in, pressing a quick, playful kiss to his lips. It was so casual, like something they'd done a million times before, but it sent his heart soaring all the same.

"So," he said, pulling back slightly, "does this mean I can kiss you whenever I want now?"

"Within reason," she teased, poking his chest. "Don’t go overboard, Kim Mingyu. We still have a movie to watch."

But Mingyu had other plans. With a mischievous grin, he leaned in again, this time capturing her lips in a deeper kiss. It wasn’t just playful now; it was soft, sweet, and filled with all the feelings he’d been bottling up for months.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N's cheeks were pink, and she looked slightly flustered—a rare sight. "Okay," she breathed, "maybe you can kiss me a little more than I thought."

Mingyu laughed, his heart feeling lighter than it had in ages. "See? Told you it’s better when we’re a couple."

"Debatable," Y/N shot back, but the smile on her face told him she didn’t really mean it.

Over the next few weeks, their relationship didn’t change much. They still bickered, teased each other relentlessly, and pulled pranks like they always had. The only difference now was the added sweetness—the way Mingyu would wrap his arm around her waist as they walked, or how Y/N would absentmindedly reach for his hand while they were talking. It was chaotic, but it worked. It was them.

One evening, they were at a friend’s housewarming party, and as usual, chaos ensued. Mingyu and Y/N were being their usual loud selves, debating over something trivial—this time, it was about who could make a better spaghetti carbonara.

"I'm telling you, you put way too much garlic in it!" Y/N said, waving her hands around dramatically.

"It’s called flavor, Y/N. Ever heard of it?" Mingyu shot back, rolling his eyes.

Their friends were used to their antics by now, but someone asked, "Do you guys ever fight about anything real? Or is it all just spaghetti and who can prank better?"

Mingyu and Y/N exchanged a glance before bursting out laughing. "We don’t really fight," Y/N said between giggles. "But if we ever did, I’d win. Obviously."

"You wish," Mingyu said, pulling her into a side hug, his voice dripping with playful affection.

"You guys are disgustingly cute," their friend groaned, shaking their head.

"Well, it’s either this or complete chaos," Mingyu replied, grinning down at Y/N. "And trust me, you don’t want the chaos."

Y/N elbowed him in the ribs, laughing as he feigned injury. "Ow, see? She’s violent!"

"Only when necessary," Y/N said with a wink, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

Mingyu beamed, pulling her closer. He never thought falling for his best friend could feel this... right. It was the same chaos, the same playfulness, but now it came with a sweetness that made his heart feel full.

And as long as he had Y/N by his side—whether they were fighting over spaghetti or teasing each other about literally anything—he was more than happy to be caught in the mess.

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Previous - Part 12 - Next

"So we just have to wait a little longer... Here you go"

You were finishing explaining the situation to Curly while giving him his medicine, Anya was standing behind you grimacing in pain at the sounds the man made while swallowing.

Anya: "How is it that... Can you tolerate that?"

"What thing? The sounds? The burnt meat? The smell? The blood?"

You were mentioning while slowly and carefully removing the bandages from his body, the man trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to further discomfort the other woman present, but the bandages were almost stuck to his skin.

You were applying water little by little to be able to peel them off better, you had managed to get more drinkable water from the station, grateful for it since they had been without bathing or cleaning themselves to avoid wasting it for weeks now.

Anya: "Everything..."

"Well, I've been to many places, doing different jobs... I've gotten used to it."

When you saw the woman's horrified face, you realized how bad that sounded.

"I worked in morgues and crematoriums! Heavens... I didn't kill anyone."

Anya: "Seriously?"

"My dad owned a morgue and a crematorium, when I turned 18, he made me work, you have no idea how many times I had to clean my own vomit off the floor... or the corpses."

Immediately, she covered her mouth, almost vomiting at the thought of it, but you laughed at her reaction.

"That was exactly my reaction! I grew up with a strong stomach."

Anya: "How did you get here?"

You finished removing the bandages from the man, looking at his skin, you sighed knowing full well that you would have to clean it, pus was already forming in certain areas.

Anya, upon seeing that, had to turn around and hold her stomach, trying to think of something else.

"If you want to get into medical school, you have to watch this, no professor will have pity on you for having a sensitive stomach."

Anya: "I've already seen it without the bandages... But... Today they look extremely bad... I'm sorry..."

Upon saying that, she took a deep breath and turned back again, ready to help you clean her wounds.

"...I was in charge of the morgue in just a few years, and one day, while preparing bodies... I saw him, my father on the table in front of me, ready to be open and empty like any other corpse.. Three shots to the chest, some guys had robbed a store while he was in, he tried to be a hero defending the cashier, and they shot him. The thieves fled with nothing in their hands... I got depressed..."

You looked at Curly, who was watching you attentively while you told that story he already knew.

"I ran away from home... I started with drugs... and all kinds of things to get money... I went to my mother's house just to ask her for money or to eat something, I didn't care how much she begged me to stay... I just... I couldn't feel good again, and I was destroying myself to know that I was still alive."

Anya: "...How did you get out of that?"

"Because of this stubborn one"

You smiled at Curly, who soon looked away as if he weren't paying attention to what you were saying.

"He found me shoplifting in a store, and instead of turning me in, he bought the things I was taking and invited me for a coffee" you laughed, recalling that moment.

Anya: "Seriously?"

"Then he was looking for me all over the city."

Anya: "Did he want to see you again?"

"I stole his wallet."

You paused to laugh at the memory as well, before continuing with the story.

"But he insisted on keep meeting with me, on helping me, and I ended up falling for his kindness... I started living in his house, he was never around because of work, I got a job as a dog walker to have my own money while I was recovering, and he was always making sure I was okay... After years... Finally, I had the strength to see my mother again... And she felt relieved to see me well... Ugh, you have no idea the scene she made when she met Curly, so happy that i found a good man, I wanted the ground to swallow me up."

Anya: "That still doesn't tell me how you ended up as co-captain."

"...Five years ago... Curly recommended me, I did the physical and psychological exams, the training, and since I passed everything flawlessly, well... That's how I ended up here!"

You scratched your neck, smiling somewhat embarrassed that it wasn't a great story of how you became captain on your own; that was the plain truth of how you had ended up there.

You finished putting the upper bandage on Curly, ready to continue with the lower part.

Anya: "We're going to have to be careful with the catheter for this part."

Immediately, they heard Curly's complaints when they were about to remove the bandages from that part.

"Don't be like that, Curly! Anya was the one who has been changing your bandages, washing them, and put the catheter in for you; there's nothing wrong with her seeing you again."

Anya: "I think he doesn't want you to see him..."

She said a little embarrassed, you turned to look at Curly, speechless, not knowing what to say to him.

"Okay, no problem, I'm leaving."

You raised your hands to get up from your seat and leave that room. 

Anya: "You shouldn't feel ashamed, she'ss your wife after all, she'll see you again someday."

Curly shook his head slowly, he preferred that you see him again when he was recovered.

[rueclfer]

not a lot, just forever // oneshot part three

a/n: the last of the bday oneshots for my favorite trio <3 this one hit a little different for me and i think its because i've never written post war canon-adjacent shigs before so this was really healing <3 happy birthday tomutomu i love you foreverrr

keigo takami, touya todoroki, tomura shigaraki

it’s still so frustratingly embarrassing for tomura; the glances glazing over him by the passersby, being present, taking up space, all of it. despite all of the time that had passed and the constant work in therapy and counseling, nothing was harder than existing.

“i want to go inside,” tomura mutters, his gloved fingers tapping against his outstretched legs. 

it was a bit humid, and the sun was beating down on the two of you, but you knew tomura was itching for a hoodie to hide under. he desperately wanted to be invisible.

“this is nice though, isn’t it?” you sigh in content, leaning your head back and letting the sunlight engulf your face. “i don’t remember the last time i was able to sit in a park like this.”

“it feels too open.”

“does it feel too open or are you just too used to being trapped?” you squint your eyes open, slightly peering over at him next to you on the bench.

he scoffs and kicks your foot with his. you catch the end of his eye roll and take it as an opportunity to scoot in closer, letting your thighs graze together.

“sorry,” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder. “i know it’s hard.”

hard wasn’t the word tomura would use to describe his recovery process. he felt lost- as if he had been dumped in the middle of the desert with no sense of direction, and the worst of it all was that it was lonely.

spinner had written his book. dabi was in his family’s care. toga was off in quirk counseling. you were rapidly progressing. he was nothing.

“what do i do now?” he whispers back to you- something that you two often did for a private moment when you caught each other in the hallways of the rehabilitation center.

“we,” you emphasize, looping your arm in tomura’s, “are free to do whatever we want.”

“we…” he slowly repeats, “you know, you don’t have to stick with me anymore,” he half heartedly chuckles, “you can do whatever you want now that we’ve graduated from this bullshit.”

you think back on those late nights at the hideout when you two would be the only ones up. you'd be sitting at the bar, knees to knees, closely leaning into one another, talking in hushed tones, and exchanging light touches as you pass an energy drink back and forth.

you remember those times fondly where you could pretend to be anyone else, but there was always that looming dread in the back of your head during those days.

this won’t last forever.

i can’t get too attached.

i’ll love you for as long as i can.

here you were now, side by side as things turned out wildly different from what you expected- that the next time you’d see tomura would be in the afterlife.

you’ve spent too long shutting down any thought of the future that envisioning it now leads to a scribbled mass of grey in your mind. you couldn’t visualize it. no plan. no expectancies. nothing. you had nothing to be sure of except for the fact that you and tomura were here and alive.

where else would you want to be?

you don’t say anything except for a hm that you breathed out.

tomura’s deep exhale almost nudges you off of his shoulder. you’re half tempted to peer up at his face to gauge his expression, but the fidgety hands in his lap already gives away his feelings as the beat of silence passes.

“you remember what we talked about? all those years ago when we were hiding out at that shitty bar?”

“we talked a lot, babe,” you lightly chuckle, “you’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that.”

“about what we’d do if things were different.” 

“rob a bank and leave japan with new identities?” you joke.

tomura deadpans, “dumbass, i’m talking about the last night that… you know.”

the last night you were you?

“oh that conversation,” you mutter, uncomfortably shifting in your seat, "remind me what we talked about?”

“you don’t remember?” 

truthfully, it would be impossible for you to forget when that conversation was the only thing that got you through the agonizing nights in the hospital room when you thought you had been the only survivor.

“i do, but i like hearing you talk so remind me anyway.”

tomura responds with an annoyed huff, “well if you remember, then i’m not going to repeat it. i just mentioned it because clearly neither of us know what the fuck we’re going to do with our lives after this.”

you unloop your arm from his and sit up, making him snap his attention towards you. it was the first time today that he looked you in the eyes. his cheeks were flushed from the sun- the first sign of life in his face in a long time after the limited outside time allotted from the rehab facility.

“we talked about wanting a quiet life,” you quietly say, reaching your hand up to tuck a tuft of his shaggy hair behind his ear. “not in the country though. you wanted to stay in the city for the convenience, so maybe a nice little apartment. you still want that?”

he slowly nods his head. “think so.”

from his ear, your hand trails down to his jaw and neck, running across old scars from deep scratches.

“and i specifically remember you being so mad at me when i laughed at you when you said you didn’t give a fuck about anything else as long as you could have a dog.”

“still want one,” he mutters.

“and then…” you continue slowly, resting your hand on the rough skin of his neck, “i told you that i was a cat person, but i didn’t care as long as we…”

you couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. it had always been an unwritten rule to never talk about the “what ifs” and “what could’ve beens” in the hideout, but you always loved breaking the rules, and tomura loved entertaining your thoughts.

the tips of his ears began to match the blush on his cheeks. 

“keep going,” he barely whispers, keeping his eyes locked on yours- one of the small meaningful things that he had grown to do over the last few years in therapy.

“as long as we could be together. i just wanted to be with you.” you quietly say. “i still do. if that's okay."

a beat of silence passes. a life with you. a dog and maybe a cat. nothing else. no expectations. just you and whatever "normal" life you two could live.

“we should…” he trails off for a moment, thinking of the right words to say, “get married?”

you blink one. twice.

“hah?” you exclaim, recoiling back.

your hand slaps onto the back of the bench to leverage yourself through the motion.

“what?” his face deepens in color “what else are we supposed to fucking do?"

“how did we go from yeah i want to move into an apartment and raise a dog with you to marriage?” you laugh, almost unbelieving.

“i don’t know? just shut up,” he grumbles, “forget i said anything.”

tomura turns his head away from you, looking off in the other direction as he curses at himself. he doesn’t know how to tell you that yes, that’s exactly what he wants too- that existing may be hard, but he wants nothing more than to do it with you.

his face is burning from the embarrassment, but you’re still giggling to yourself and he can’t resist himself from turning back to watch. 

you two have never dared to utter “i love you” to one another before, but in that moment , he felt it on the tip of his tongue and for once, he’s not afraid to let it out.

“i love you, okay?” he says confidently, but his eyes are unable to meet yours until you force them to.

you reach up and hold his face in your hands, bringing him in closely. “i love you,” you lightly run your thumbs across the apples of his cheeks as his eyes dart back and forth between yours, “and we should get married."

[kanmom51]

Just realises something the other day

With all we got with AYS there was one thing that was painfully absent.

Yes, I know I'm over dramatizing at the moment, seeing that this hasn't occurred to me until just lately, but let me be a little dramatic for a second. Missing Jikook privileges is what I have at the moment...

Anyways, this was glaringly missing from the entirety of AYS.

Another moment that was robbed from us in ITS2...

And do we remember this one? JM so used to JK's massages that he recognized it's not JK's hands on him.

Yeah, I'm not done here...

The back massages, the rubs, the neck massages.

He does this to ease JM's neck, shoulder and back pain.

He does it to acknowledge JM. He does it to comfort him.

He does it to touch JM because he needs that touch.

And whatever the reason, he does it a lot. He does it all the time.

Even this. Not even massaging or rubbing, just the need to touch. Sneakily touch. During a shoot. Nothing playful here. Just a need fulfilled.

We even got JK massaging Tae's neck in Jeju, after Tae asked him to because of a muscle cramp he was suffering from.

OK, like I said, I am being a little over dramatic here. it's not like we didn't get ANYTHING.

We did get a little one when they were sitting for their end of show commenting.

But that's it?!

Yeah, not buying it.

And it's not like JK has suddenly stopped touching JM. It's not like he's suddenly stopped rubbing his back, his neck.

We got it from JK at the airport on their way to Japan (fan cams).

Not to mention how JK literally couldn't keep his hands off JM in their live just after their return.

You know, even for JK this was A LOT. And seeing this was JK after their trip to Sapporo, yeah, not buying that he behaved any differently throughout that trip, or their previous ones as well.

Where where these touches, rubs, massages in AYS???

You know what?

I will say it loud I will say it clear.

WE WERE ROBBED.

I can easily see it happening when JM was sick and JK wanted to comfort him.

When JM hurt himself in Jeju.

When they were sitting in the hot tubs.

There is zero chance that those two could keep their hands off each other in those hot tubs.

Especially after their day out on the slopes.

When JM was feeling down and needed comforting at the end of the Sapporo trip.

I can assure you that the one little neck rub we did get to see when they were sitting at the end of the trip recording their end comments for the show was not the only neck or shoulder rub JK gave JM to try and comfort him at that point.

Yep. Robbed!!!

Please correct me if I'm wrong. I just can't remember anything else.

59 days people.

We are now under the two month mark!!

[gildedpomegranates]

Ideas for Season 2 I Would've Liked to See/Explored More:

Ambessa explicitly acting as a motherly figure to manipulate Cait, who's grieving a mother. Especially since Cait had a complicated relationship with her mom, centered around Cassandra being overly protective/unsupportive of her choices, with Ambessa being everything her mom wasn't.

Jinx and her relationship with Zaun. In s1, she doesn't have much of one due to isolation (encouraged by Silco as well as self-imposed), other than the fear and discomfort she inspires. She doesn't have to become a revolutionary (although its odd that there was so much marketing and set-up for it), but at least explore that. People who love her, people who blame her for Piltover's retaliation, people who are unsure. This could also be a great chance to establish more about in-universe Jinx and Ekko, since Ekko's character is very centered around the people of Zaun.

Vi as a person. Having a chance to explore who she is outside of being a sister-mother and a prisoner. Struggling with making choices for herself as someone either completely robbed of them (as a prisoner) or who couldn't afford to make selfish choices (as a caregiver). Exploring her immense untouched trauma, as well as her relationship to Zaun. Her guilt as an enforcer possibly causing her to double-down in support of the revolution, maybe by joining the Firelights and supporting Ekko.

In a similar vein, Jinx as a person. She's established as a character that latches onto one person (her main caregiver) and has a tendency to absorb parts of that person (morals, behaviors, etc). I would've loved to see her without a main person, possibly as a parallel to Vi. Vi discovers who she is without someone to protect while Jinx discovers who she is without someone protecting her.

Cait and Jayce's relationship. It was completely thrown to the wayside. Overall, s2 tended to sideline platonic and familial relationships for romantic ones.

Ekko as a person outside of his relationships to other characters. We know like? Nothing about him and his time during the time skip in s1. Does he like being a leader? Does he not know how to define himself outside of being one? Does he resent being forced into the role and having to grow up way too fast? A combination of all of the above? How long has he been the leader? Was it him alone that established the Firelights, or were there originally older rebels that passed long ago, leaving only him? Like please, let him be a character. I know people joke about him being perfect and universally unproblematic, but a lot of that is because they don't give him enough screen time or any realistic flaws or let him organically develop beyond being a plot device.

Jinx and Ekko's relationship. This doesn't have to be romantic, just them and their in-universe dynamic please. At the end of s1, we had this big moment where Ekko, who had been coping with it by insisting Powder was dead, realizes that Jinx is just grown-up Powder, and that he can't kill her. s2 then does nothing with this, fobbing him off into an alternate universe with an alternate Powder. I would've loved to see Jinx and Ekko struggling to work together, getting to know each other in a capacity other than enemies. Ekko emulating Vander's 'we don't give up our own people' and protecting Jinx from Piltover despite his better judgement.

Y'know what? Ekko and Sevika. Both two people desperately fighting for Zaun, in two wildly different ways. I would've loved to see them interact. They probably would've gotten into a fist fight, but just imagine the Ekko-Sevika-Jinx power trio heading the revolution.

The Wolf vs the Fox. Mel as a formidable politician, working in the shadows to undermine her mother. Her putting everything she's learned in Piltover to use, weaponizing the lessons learned from her banishment. If they were so desperate to include the Black Rose plotline, they could maybe have Mel becoming obsessed with protecting Piltover from her mother and going so far as to ally with her brother's killers.

[qoldenskies]

Thinking about Rise Splinter hate… it always makes me kinda sad. Like YEAH, it wasn’t right the way he treated the boys. But like, Rise is really good at expressing subtle familial dynamics, and one of the big ones for me is the fact that like… there’s always an undercurrent of “It’s complicated” to their interaction with Splinter. IRL, it always pisses me off to see people casting judgments on people’s relationships with their family, because you don’t know!! Yeah, they hurt you, but not everything’s black and white. It’s complicated. Because you love them, and sometimes you get to understand a little bit better why things happened as you get older.

In a matter of smaller importance, hate for him loses so many opportunities in his character… even things that might just be kinda off-handedly mentioned.

He fought for SEVEN years—give me Splinter with chronic pain. Splinter relating to his boys with their neurodivergence—it’s HIS fault they have it!!!

That was seven years of imprisonment, or even simpler, an abusive relationship. What did he learn from that? How did he change? What things are skewed in his worldview?

His childhood! We saw his relationship with his grandfather a bit, but how did Splinter grow into his dream of being a movies star? HIM BEING A MOVIE STAR. He was both a rebellious team and a literal celebrity, this guy probably took empyrean at some point without knowing it, just like. Recreationally or something LMAO.

I maybe just need more of his old man knowledge. Him being so loser-core was a great move by the Rise team, and I could SEE where his story was going—ROBBED. We were ROBBED.

splinter hate is CRAAAAZY when he's such an INTERESTING character who does actually have a lot of obvious depth. like he's goofy and he's objectively flawed as a parent but he does go out of his way to improve himself and LEARN throughout the show, and he does listen and apologize when he knows he's messed up. his issues are so similar to leo's actually, leo's a kid so he's got more leeway to be shitty but idk when people act like its endearing on him and not on splinter. splinter's hilarious free my man

on the other side of the coin i dont really like when people make him a perfect loving parent either,,, i think people going for all kinds of interpretations in order to serve whatever story they need is fine but i do prefer kind of messy parent splinter, i think its kind of sad to see him reduced down to bad or good. he LOVES his boys so dearly and he would NEVER intentionally want to hurt them, but he's quick to cast judgement when he's angered/feels disrespected (evil league of mutants comes to mind, but also in turtle dega nights when donnie first stops the tank) and he's really a lot more inattentive than he should be. but there are REASONS behind this, coming out of an abusive relationship, fighting in bloodsports against his consent for years, you could probably count the whole draxum thing as traumatic (its presented as kind of silly in the show, but considering what it lead to,, its a pivotal moment in the backstory. its one of those things that i reasonably feel can be recontextualized because its so essential) and then dealing with crippling body dysmorphia and being forced into the sewers with no company other than his children,, it really adds up

idk like ,,,, you can still be extremely traumatized and be a horrible parent. in fact trauma can be a direct CAUSE of being a bad parent because that kind of thing influences every facet of your life and if youre unprepared emotionally, yeah. but splinter isn't the kind of person to double down and become more overtly nasty when he feels cornered. if he gets the feeling that his kids are actually upset with him, he backtracks. this is actually kind of a key trait of his, that he does try very hard to correct himself when he messes up. he's communicative and apologetic, and he tries very hard to be that way.

and also this is maybe something that i just have a wider problem with when it comes to the way people interpret things in cartoons at times but splinter's actions in eps like lair games (especially in lair games) and flushed but never forgotten are meant to be like. jokes. its absurdist comedy that's meant to catch you off guard. there are more serious emotional beats in rise you can use but i think when youre adapting this world and characters into a more serious tone you have to keep that kind of thing in mind because some things are meant to be surprising and absurd for the sake of making you laugh. i think the best comparison i can think of is how in musical movies they're not actually singing (in most cases, sometimes the fact that they actually are is played for laughs it depends. but yk what i mean). the joke is that this is kind of a shitty thing he's doing but taking the actions themselves seriously in a vacuum in order to cast shame on a character has always been odd to me. that'd be like calling raph abusive for rolling up the window on mikey's neck in late fee. or calling the teetz murderers because they caused a robot mass suicide that one time. it just doesnt make any sense

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Waywren Truesong behind the cut, who asked for Timkon and "GET LOVED IDIOT" and is getting “interdimensional whoring for Timkon”. Get DOUBLE-loved, idiot. 💚💚 (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Do you know what we’re doing, sweetheart?” he asks. “Why it feels this good?” 

“S’you,” Kon slurs into Tim’s other self’s shoulder, tightening his arms around him again. 

“Flattering answer, and we do appreciate it, but we’re trying to get you used to how good your prostate can feel,” Tim hums, smiling briefly against the other’s spine. Really, really cute. “Though it’ll feel a lot better when we’re insi–” 

“Inside,” Kon cuts him off with, his voice a strangled croak and his hips pushing back erratic and wanting. “Y-you–Rob, please–” 

Tim’s other self makes a strangled noise of his own, and Tim himself wants very badly to just stand right up and shove his dick into this Kon. Possibly even more than he usually wants to shove it into his own Kon, after hearing that. It’s going to have to wait ‘til after they can settle him down enough to check in on him properly, but it’s a very tempting fantasy all the same. 

“Kon,” his other self groans, and Kon tries to rock his hips back smoother and does a very clumsy job of it and whines again, all shaky and shaken. Tim drags the textured thumbpad of his glove across Kon’s hole, and then Kon really whines, and sounds a lot more than just “shaken” this time. He also jerks forward hard against Tim’s other self, and the other very audibly gets the breath knocked out of him. 

“S-sorry, sorry, I–” Kon croaks, and Tim’s other self tightens his grip on him and inhales roughly, then presses a tight kiss against his temple. Kon shudders. 

“Don’t be,” Tim’s other self grunts lowly, clearly trying to catch his breath. “Told you. Not gonna let you fall. Just enjoy it.” 

“Robin,” Kon moans helplessly, clinging to him tight enough that Tim hears his other self’s body armor creak. 

“Yeah,” his other self breathes as Tim gently strokes and pets between Kon’s legs and under the curve of his ass and up the inside of his thighs with his rough, brick-gripping gloves, and drops a few soft little kisses along the dimples in the other’s lower back and the base of his spine. Might as well let his other self do the talking for a little while, he figures; let him have his turn there. They’re not competing here, after all. Much as he is admittedly entertained by pissing off another version of himself, this is cooperative play. “Yeah, c’mon, just like that. Feels good, right? You like it?” 

“ROBIN!” Kon gasps, his hips twitching and thighs shaking helplessly. Tim’s other self hisses; grabs both of Kon’s belts in one hand and fists them tight. 

“Oh, good idea, if you do wanna leave those on,” Tim muses, since him completely biting his tongue isn’t going to happen, and spares a moment to pull out one of the little foil packets of lube he keeps on hand for these occasions and slick up his fingers with it. He still doesn’t bother taking off the gloves, because Kon’s still invulnerable and always does love the texture. “Give ourselves a nice easy hold when we fuck him.” 

“Fuck!” Kon moans, a hard jolt going up his spine, and Tim’s other self buries a tight, hoarse noise in his curls. 

“Kon. You really want–?” he starts to ask unevenly, and Kon shoves his face in tight against his shoulder and nods desperately, his hips pressing back into Tim’s hands just as desperately. 

“Hold me, hold me, do anythin’ if y’just hold me for it!” he begs roughly, digging his fingers into the back of Tim’s other self’s body armor and fisting his shaking hands in his cape. 

Fucking cute, Tim thinks again. His Kon’s just so much harder to overwhelm, especially this quick. More experienced, obviously, so once again Tim is increasingly certain that this is just the sexually-repressed reality. 

Just it’d definitely explain some things if it were, that’s all. 

He strokes the–slicked-up, textured, brick-gripping–pad of his index finger across Kon’s hole and Kon gasps, another hard shudder jolting through him, and Tim strokes across his hole again and then just barely presses in against it testingly. This Kon will probably be a little harder to coax into– 

Kon’s hole opens right up at just the slightest pressure and Tim’s finger sinks in right to the first knuckle. He makes a mildly surprised approving sound, and Kon immediately comes all over his other self’s armored jock with a moan so loud it’s practically a yell. 

Huh, Tim thinks. He didn’t actually expect this Kon to think to use his TTK to open himself up like that, considering. Definitely didn’t expect him to do it that eagerly, if nothing else, and without any hesitation at all. 

Fuck, that’s hot. 

“Asdfghjk,” Tim’s other self says, or at least something close enough to it. So he’s clearly of a similar mind to Tim, if a bit less coherent mind. 

“S-s-orry, sorry!” Kon chokes even as he’s still coming in messy fits and spurts–he comes a lot more than a full-blooded human, and therefore comes a lot longer than a full-blooded human–and Tim slips his finger in just deep enough inside the other to rub a knuckle in against his prostate and draw that process out for him just a little bit longer than that. Kon chokes again, his hips jerking. 

“We told you to enjoy it, baby,” he reminds him gently, curling his knuckle in a little harder. Kon whimpers. “You’re doing just what we want you to do.” 

Kon whimpers. 

Cute. 

“R-Rob,” he stammers. “Rob, it’s–it–” 

Tim has not missed how many times Kon’s said their name so far–like maybe he’s just taking the chance every chance he gets, now that he has–what, permission, maybe? Or just a reason to say it at all? 

Though he also hasn’t missed that Kon hasn’t called them “Tim” even once. 

“Feels different, right?” he asks gently, stroking softer across Kon’s prostate and inner walls. Kon’s whole body is shivering, looking weak. Tim remains exactly as into seeing one of the strongest people in this or any reality weak for him, and even more into seeing specifically Kon weak for him. “Coming like that, I mean.” 

“Rob,” Kon pleads shakily, his hips tilting back clumsily again. Tim hears his other self’s body armor creak again too. 

Oh, he realizes. Kon’s really into this. 

Well, that’s definitely a “problem” that Tim is very happy to both have caused and be solving. 

[agentoffangirling]

I really don't like it when people try to present Team Cap and Team Iron Man as being the same thing, bc they're very clearly not? (And sorry for doing this type of discourse in 2025, but it needs to be said)

Because let's be honest, the mainline MCU didn't really focus on the Sokovia Accords past Civil War. It's not present in Doctor Strange, Black Widow, Homecoming (at least in a large capacity), certainly not Ragnarok or GOTG 2, Black Panther, and almost no one cares by Infinity War. When we look at the projects post Accords, there are hardly any moments where they matter, and by 2025, they're fully repealed. Nine years of being active, five of whom were during the Snap, meaning only four years, and most of the projects don't go very in depth. That tends to lead mainline audiences into believing it was never that bad in the first place and that Cap was being selfish

But we see how the Accords really effect everyday powered people in the supplemental material like Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. After being introduced, powered people had three options

Go into hiding. Live a normal life. Never show off your abilities

Sign the Accords. If you were part of a government agency like S.H.I.E.L.D., it is heavily implied you had to sign or you couldn't work for them anymore

Don't sign and show off your powers? You go to the Raft

This went for everyone, it didn't matter if your power was making farts smell good, you counted as powered. Imagine the bank down the street is getting robbed, with these in place, you couldn't do anything about it if you weren't signed or you risked going to jail; they're awful options

Or what if you were signed? Great, now all your information (powers, weaknesses, danger level, LITERALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU) is held in a massive server that can be easily hacked and accessed. We see in AoS s4 that signed Inhumans are getting harmed bc the Watchdogs, a hate organization, was able to get their hands on their information and find out exactly where they were. POWERED PEOPLE WORE TRACKERS THAT WAS CONSTANTLY BEING UPDATED ON THEIR LOCATION. THAT'S FUCKING WRONG IN SO MANY WAYS

Let's switch gears for a sec here and go to another side, where thankfully, that isn't happening to you, but you do wanna make some kind of change in your community. You notice that people are going missing, that there's weird power outages and decide that's worth looking into, so you go to the council and present your case. Now, as we all know, politicians never agree on anything, so the chance of getting an immediate yes is almost impossible (I'd argue 1% is far too generous in this case). It may take weeks, months, or the decision is swept under the rug and oopsies, now the entirety of Florida is covered by a blanket of darkness!

Or you get a no, and actually, they want you to check out this tiny little village in New Zealand, and so you have no choice but to go. You quickly realize that this isn't really worth your time and feel like your services are required elsewhere, but again, you're not able to back out. When you return, you find that London has been utterly destroyed. This is a situation that Steve himself brings up, and it's something that absolutely could happen! There are just endless risks to this

Then, of course, the worst scenario, being sent to the Raft, which, bc it's in international waters, they can do whatever they want to you!! Doesn't matter if it's inhumane, no one can do shit about it. It's stated in "Jessica Jones" that prisoners aren't allowed to have any contact with the outside world, and if you go in there, you go in for good. Almost no one makes it out. Again, it doesn't matter who you were and what your powers were, you would be stuck inside with the worst of the worst. WANDA MAXIMOFF WAS IN A SHOCK COLLAR AND STRAIGHTJACKET. How in any situation is that okay??

Steve understood this, understood the true consequences of handing themselves over to hundreds of governments. He wasn't against having regulations (neither am I) but he knew this wasn't the right way to go

One side holds all the power. The other holds nothing. This is in no way equal