#he is highly concerned for the taste of these kids

[gourmet-trash]

As others have pointed out, I too reject "token straight friend Rose Walker" and instead give you "bad taste in women Rose Walker"

The first time it happens, Hob doesn't say anything. He doesn't even acknowledge, outwardly, that he noticed it at all. Between the Inn and his teaching job and, oh you know, just several hundreds of years of being around children and young adults, he can confidently say he has at least some modicum of knowledge on how to interact with them.

So, the first time, he doesn't say anything. He's cool like that.

He also doesn't say anything the second time.

But the third time he watches Rose Walker making figurative heart eyes at Johanna Constantine, of all people, he can't help himself. He also can't really pretend he doesn't see Rose so busy gawking that she misses the rim of her glass and splashes cider onto her jumper. She's sitting right in front of him at the bar, after all.

"Doing all right there?" he teases, passing a few napkins across the bar.

Rose grabs the proffered napkins quickly, visibly flustered while she dabs at the damp spot on her chest. "Just, uh, clumsy, I guess."

Hob snorts softly. "Or distracted," he says, lifting his eyebrows when she jerks her head up.

"...I don't know what you're talking about!"

Hob makes a little "sure you don't" humming sound and picks Rose's glass up to wipe it down for her while she deals with her jumper. "It's cute," he insists, even though he knows from experience that most young adults don't like to hear it. And judging from the face Rose makes, she's no exception.

It almost makes Hob laugh -- Dream makes a very similar expression when someone tells him he's cute.

For Rose's sake, he swallows down that particular amusement and sets the cider back in front of her. "It is! But you might want to work on being a smidge less obvious with the staring."

Rose clears her throat, passing the damp napkins back across the bar when he motions for them. "...It's that obvious?" she asks slowly.

"Little bit, I'm afraid," he says, smiling apologetically.

Rose groans at that and drops her face into her hands. Hob only just makes out the muffled, "Do you think she noticed?" that follows.

Hob glances to the corner of the Inn where Jo has roped some sorry sap into a game of darts. It's not going well for the lad if the jeering of his friends is anything to go by. "Mmm...she's a little distracted, so probably not this time."

"This time?!" Rose repeats, lifting her head out of her hands to balk at him.

"You've been very obvious about it, poppet."

"And you didn't tell me!? I can't ever come back here!" Rose hisses.

Hob bites back his amusement -- poorly, judging by Rose's narrow expression. "I promise it isn't that big of a deal."

"What is not that big of a deal?"

The next few seconds are spent by Hob and Rose startling, someone bumping the glass between them in the process, and then both of them frantically trying to catch said glass before it spills more cider over the bar. When the glass is upright again and they turn accusatory stares on the King of Dreams, sitting at the previously empty barstool at Rose's side, his expression is nonplussed if not vaguely amused.

"You know, one of these days you're actually going to give me a heart attack or something. And then you're gonna have to explain to Auntie Death why she's here," Rose points out.

"I will take that under advisement," Dream drawls, more obviously amused by then. And when Hob leans over the bar, he obligingly tips his head a bit to accept the kiss dropped against his temple.

"Hello, love. Please don't give any of my patrons heart attacks at the bar."

"I will endeavor not to," Dream assures him. But the scuffle over the cider has not distracted him, and he repeats, "What is not that big of a deal?"

"Nothing!' Rose says quickly -- too quickly -- before Hob has a chance to deflect with a bit more tact. "Hence, not a big deal," she adds, snatching the glass off the bar and taking a long drink.

Dream watches her for a moment, no doubt taking stock of the damp spot on her jumper and the blustering, before turning to Hob, expectant.

But Hob has not been a snitch for many, many years, and he is not looking to revive that particular character trait this century. He flashes Dream a smile and leans back from the bar, already grabbing a cocktail glass. "How about we try a French 75 today?"

Dream purses his lips, though Hob suspects it has more to do with his question being very obviously ignored and less to do with their ongoing game of "make Dream try a new cocktail every time he comes in until Hob finds one he actually likes."

"Hob." 

He hums to acknowledge he heard him, considering the gin he has on hand.

"What are you not telling me?"

Hob grabs one of the bottles. "That I don't think you're going to like the French 75."

He turns his back to fetch the champagne and to hide a grin when he hears an annoyed little huff from the other side of the bar. Dream would deny huffing, of course, so undignified. But he huffed. He was huffy.

"Rose Walker."

"No," Rose says shortly, setting her nearly empty glass back down. "Look, no offense Uncle Morpheus, but it's seriously not a big deal, and it's also not something I wanna talk about. Okay?"

It is not, apparently, okay. Hob can tell the second he turns back around, spots the telltale sheen of emotion in Dream's eyes. Rose probably did too, which is why she's very pointedly looking down at the last of her cider rather than at her Uncle. Because they have come a long way since the rocky start of their relationship, but Hob knows better than most how fiercely Dream wants to nurture this relationship with his niece and nephew, almost despite himself. 

And bless him, but jumping straight into teenagers and young adults, nevermind the complications of a crush, is a tall order for anyone, much less the anthropomorphic personification of dreams. He definitely hasn’t had as much hands on time with young humans as Hob. Or if he has, he’s…rusty, to say the least. 

"You were comfortable to discuss these things with Hob, but not with me?"

Rose groans outright and turns on her stool, however reluctantly, to face Lord Shaper. "No, actually, I didn't want to be talking about it with Professor Gadling, either. So if we could all stop talking about it and pretend this never happened, that would be great!" she said, shooting a pointed frown in Hob's direction for good measure.

He holds his hands up in as placating a gesture as he can manage with a lemon twist between his fingers, and Dream glances between them for a moment before, with obvious reluctance, inclining his head.

"Very well," he says. "It is not my intention to make you uncomfortable."

"Thank you," Rose says, less terse, and Hob sets another cider in front of her at the same time he passes Dream the French 75. Dream eyes the cocktail with no small amount of distrust and Hob can’t help but laugh.

"Oh, come on, don't make that face before you've even tried it."

"Yeah, they're not bad. If you don't like it, we can switch," Rose offers, and while Dream does not look anymore convinced that he'll enjoy the beverage, or that he'd prefer Rose's cider, Hob can tell some of his proverbial feathers (well, currently proverbial, but sometimes more literal?) have settled. 

Heaven help him, but he does so adore this impossible, mercurial creature.

At their encouragement, Dream does eventually take a sip of the cocktail. And while his reaction is not quite as strong as it had been to the martini from last week or the Alabama slammer which, admittedly, Hob had only made as a means of getting Dream to say Alabama slammer, he is clearly not impressed.

"What do you think?" Rose asks, amused.

"It is...palatable," Dream says after a moment, and Rose laughs when he lifts it for another reluctant sip.

"Don't drink it if you don't like it!" she protests, waving for him to put the glass back down, which Dream does with something not unlike relief.

"Starting to think gin might not be your thing," Hob says, glancing over when the bell over the door jingles. He smiles and waves a hand that way. "See? Cor can use the door."

"Didn't you say he broke into your apartment through a window last month?" Rose asks, smirking when Hob shushes her.

But, by that point, Corinthian is close enough to hear. And to reach around Dream to pluck the French 75 off the bar. "And guess who finally got the damn locks on his windows repaired after that?"

"That is not a good reason for breaking into my flat!" Hob protests.

"It's a perfect reason for breaking in! I could've stabbed you in your sleep!" Corinthian argues.

"You have stabbed me in my sleep!"

Corinthian chuckles over the cocktail, half draped against Dream's side, who shifts subtle to make room for him there. "I have done that," he agrees.

"You've what?" Dream says, turning a frown on Corinthian who waves a dismissive hand.

"Metaphorically," he lies, before sidestepping out of the conversation by leaning around Dream again to flash a smile down the bar. "Well, hey there, Rosebud."

Rose, whose attention had drifted back in the direction of the darts game -- new bloke trying his hand now and losing just as spectacularly -- turns quickly back around. "Hey! Where's Jed?"

"Dropped him off at the movies with a couple friends."

Rose frowns. "...What movie?"

"One that I'm certain Jed and his friends were able to buy tickets to themselves, of course," Corinthian says breezily. Rose narrows her eyes a little further.

"If Jed has nightmares all week, it's gonna be your fault."

Corinthian makes a little noise of disagreement over his drink, and Hob starts wiping down the bar to keep himself useful while they bicker. And to avoid letting Dream pull him into any further interrogation about the whole stabbing thing.

"Technically, that would be My Lord's fault, wouldn't it?" Corinthian says, motioning at Dream between them, whose suspicious expression has not wavered.

Rose rolls her eyes. "You know what I mean!"

"Uh huh. Didn't know you were so into darts, Rose."

Hob pauses his cleaning to glance up between them, Rose visibly flustered and Corinthian's eyebrows lifted high above his sunglasses while he sips Dream's drink.

"What?" Rose eventually says, and Hob doesn't wince but it's a near miss. Poor thing, she's usually better toe to toe with Cor in one of his more meddling moods.

"You know what I mean," he drawls, and Rose snatches her cider up to chug. Again.

Rose knows what he means. And Hob knows what he means, even if he's not entirely sure how Corinthian himself knows. But Dream, sitting between the three of them, clearly does not, and he misunderstands rather wildly.

"Would you care to play darts, Rose Walker?" 

"That's a great idea!" Corinthian insists while Rose coughs around her drink. "That gal in the corner seems like she's pretty good, I bet she could talk you through the rules."

And then Dream turns his head and his attention alights on the darts game already happening. "Johanna Constantine is here?" he asks, looking back to Hob for confirmation.

"She's a regular these days, yeah," Hob says, and he'd argue that Dream doesn't stand from the stool so much as he pours himself from it, too liquid in his movements for the human shape he wears.

"Then I shall have to introduce you, Rose," he insists, and Rose only manages a token, squeaked protest before Dream is ushering her towards the darts game.

Hob swats Corinthian with the towel he'd been wiping the counter with. "That wasn't necessary," he points out, trying very hard to tap down on his own amusement.

"Sure it was! This way Dream can figure it out himself, and then he can be the one to tell her there's no way in hell we're gonna approve her trying to date Johanna fucking Constantine."

Hob laughs despite himself and leans against the bar, smiling when Corinthian takes up Dream's abandoned stool to meet him halfway. "She is a grown woman, you know. We can't stop her from trying to date who she likes."

"We can sure as hell try."

"We can do that," he agrees, leaning in to return the quick, sharp kiss Corinthian dips in for. "Does he know how to play darts?" Hob asks, glancing towards the corner when Corinthian leans back.

"I have absolutely no idea." [ ← prev ] [ next → ]

[animehideout]

Your work is super good! Would it be possible to have the Sfw alphabet for gojo pretty please? Or what he's like when he falls in love and is committed? Whichever you would rather do.

SFW Alphabets For Gojo Satoru ♡

a/n: Thank you Anon for this cute request I really had fun writing this one, I hope you enjoy it <33

Note: I'm working on all the requests so don't worry my loves 🫶🏻🩷

A: Affection.

( How he shows affection?)

Gojo is openly affectionate, whether in private or public settings, be it during meetings, on the street, or in the presence of his students, colleagues, or even higher-ups. He consistently engages in subtle displays of affection, such as holding hands or loosely wrapping his arms around your shoulder or waist. Indifferent if others are looking, he doesn't mind if your lovey-dovey interactions make others uncomfortable or cringe. Especially at home, he'll latch himself to you as if he were a 6Ft tall koala.

B: Babies.

( Does he want to settle down and start a family?)

Gojo is good with children, he's able of taking care of them financially and never fails in making them laugh with the silly faces he makes. Eventually he likes to get married but he only lives the moment with his partner till both of you are ready to take that step. Satoru doesn't want to rush things concerning kids he would like to have children but that depends on your decision, might also consider adoption if you want kids but don't want to go through pregnancy.

C: Cuddles.

( How does he cuddle you?)

This 6ft giant is definitely the big spoon. Would he crush you with his arms? yes. Would he let go of you once he traps you in his embrace? No. When both of you are cuddling, his strong arms would engulf you and give you all the warmth you need. When he gets home exhausted from work he loves to get babied, he lays his head on your chest, your steady heartbeat soothes him to sleep.

D: Dreams.

(Dreams he wants to achieve with you?)

Gojo is a guy with big dreams, and having a partner makes achieving those dreams even more exciting. He dreams of traveling the world with you, collecting souvenirs from every country and city both of you visit. Probably would make a shelf full of souvenirs collection. Satoru has got a sweet tooth, so he's eager to try the various sweets and pastries from different countries, even planning to make you a sweet tooth too so you can enjoy them together without you complaining that it's too much sugar.

E: Ending.

( What would make him break up with you?)

Cheating is a deal-breaker for him; he would end the relationship immediately. He values himself highly, so if his partner picks someone else, it hurts his dignity and pride. He won't hesitate to break up on the spot and won't give any second chances or even care to listen to explanations or excuses. He sees them as a waste of his precious time and energy. ( who would cheat on Gojo tho🤔? )

F: First Date.

(How did he ask you out? and how it went?)

Confident af yet so laid-back, he'd casually ask you out, assured you won't say no. Being a busy guy, he'd likely do it through a text or call, saying something like, "Hey, wanna go out on date with me? I'll pick you up at 8:00 p.m." Without giving you much chance to respond, you might think it's a simple hangout. Surprise! He takes you to a fancy, high-end restaurant, covering all expenses for your first date and every date thereafter. He's a true gentleman🥹🤌🏻.

G: Gifts.

(What kind of gifts he gives you?)

He likes buying expensive gifts from expensive brands, especially accessories and perfumes, and he does it randomly without occasions, just to spoil you. Spending money on you is like a job for him because he sees it as his duty. However, he doesn't really think about what you might like; instead, he picks things based on what he personally prefers. Surprisingly, you end up liking them because he has good taste 🤌🏻.

H: Hobbies.

(What hobbies he enjoys doing with you?)

Satoru has two main hobbies to do with you; shopping and watching movies. You prefer shopping because when you watch movies, he often spills the beans and gives major spoilers about what happens, making you frustrated with the messed-up order of events, and sometimes canceling your movie night. On the other hand, he enjoys shopping together because he gets a free fashion show from you. Would make you try on various clothes, and he even lets you pick out shoes for him. It's like you both are bees, buzzing around from one store to another, making fun of ugly clothes and having a good time gossiping and judging designers.

I: Impression.

(Your first impression of him?)

You'd be excited to meet the strongest sorcerer, the famous Gojo Satoru that everyone talks about. However, when you see him for the first time, you might be surprised, thinking, "What the heck?". It's hard to believe he's a teacher with significant responsibilities. He appears childish and unserious, He may seem annoying and talkative, mostly bragging about himself, and you could notice him being a disrespectful to older folks. This creates a negative first impression. Yet, as you get to know him better, you'll discover that he's truly wise and responsible, although he does have a hefty ego.

J: Jealousy.

(Is he the jealous type? How does he deal with it?)

Satoru is a chill guy who doesn't easily get jealous or offended. He's confident in how he looks and who he is, believing he's better than other guys out there. If a guy comes up and starts showing off in a not-so-smooth way, he'd mock and tease him, laugh and make fun of him. But if another guy comes along and seems capable, oh boy, he'll go all out to try and make him look small, overshadow, belittle and embarrass him in front of you. Gojo will do whatever it takes to show that he's superior and the perfect match for you.

K: Kisses.

(How does he kiss you?)

He likes giving hugs, but when it comes to daily kisses, he's all about the goofy and playful ones. He plants them all over your face, making a sound like 'MWAH,' even squishing your cheeks and giving them a big ass kiss. He giggles during these kisses and enjoys how you playfully push him away. Annoying you with his love is something he really likes to do.

L: Love Language.

(What is his love language?)

His has two love languages combined; physical touch and giving gifts. He loves having his hands on you, and he's also a fan of PDA ( Public Display of Affection) . He became addicted to your touch, even if it's just a pat on the head. Additionally, he enjoys giving you gifts because 1st, he loves you, 2nd, it's also a way for him to flaunt his wealth.

M: Mornings.

(His mornings with you?)

For a man with heavy responsibilities hanging on his shoulder, he would wake up quite early and you are forced to wake up with him, and the thing is, he doesn't wake you up like normal people do, he would be overly hyped and excited. Would tickle you till you fall off bed, would literally startle you in your sleep with his random tickle attacks. Whines a lot if you refuse to wake up or if you hit him with a pillow. Once you're fully awake he likes to enjoy breakfast with you in the balcony while both of you enrich your bodies with an intake of vitamin D. 🌞

N:Nights.

(His nights with you?)

He's a night owl, nah seriously lacking in sleep, yet always full of energy. During the night, he might suggest dining out, but if you're tired, he'd order food delivery and just hang out at home. He'd even join you in your skincare routine, then tucks you to sleep. He watches over you, making sure you're comfy, and only then does he join you in dreamland. He never drifts off before you. 🌌

O: Opressive.

(Is he controlling in a relationship?)

Gojo is super open-minded, values independence, and trusts you a lot. Normally, he's not the controlling type, but when it comes to your safety, oh hell no, he gets strict and over controlling. If there's something risky going on outside, he won't let you take a single step outside the house without him knowing about it.

P: Pet Names.

(His favorite pet names?)

He likes giving you cute, cheesy names in public to make you blush like “Pumpkin spice of my life” or “Cute lemon cupcake”, but mostly calling you “baby”or “babes”. He also enjoys being called by cringy pet names or anything other than his real name. If you ever use his real name, Satoru, he tends to overthink, worrying he might have done something wrong or that you're upset with him.

Q: Qualities.

(His good and bad qualities?)

He's got plenty of great qualities ; responsible, supportive, funny, and attractive, making him total boyfriend material. Like everyone else, he has flaws; he can be really egocentric, always showing off his looks and skills, even though everyone already knows what he's capable of. It's just how he is, but sometimes it might make you feel a bit insecure or less important in the relationship.

R: Rules.

(Do you have any rules in your relationship?)

Rule number 1 : never underestimate him, or he'll break up with you. Rule number 2: trusting each other, is crucial, without it, your relationship could fall apart. Rule number 3: express your feelings openly, give him praise, and shower him with compliments.

S: Sad.

(How he cheers you up when you're sad?)

It can swing either way – he might make you laugh and lift your spirits, or he could say something that deeply offends you. If he's all about you, flirting, tickling, promising your favorite food, and cuddling protectively, he's sure to bring a smile. But, if he cracks just one egocentric, self-absorbed joke, you're gonna snap.

T: Teasing.

(How he teases you?)

Gojo loves to see you mad at him, he finds amusement with your annoyed expressions, that's why he pulls pranks on you so often. After arguments he places things on the higher shelves so he can tease you about your height, tall or short in all cases he looks like a giant next to you “oh can't reach that babes? lucky for you your handsome man is 6ft tall”. Would also make you blush and tease you a lot if he catches you staring at him.

U: Unique.

(Something unique or special about him?)

He's got this adorable habit of doodling, and surprisingly, he has a bunch of markers. He likes doodling on your shoes and phone case. These doodles usually reflect his mood. He's actually quite talented. His drawings often bring a smile to your face or make you laugh.

V: Vulnerability.

(Is he vulnerable in your relationship?)

Being vulnerable is tough for him; it hurts his ego and shatters the image he maintains as the strongest. When he's sad, he avoids letting his facial expressions betray him. Despite trusting you, he prefers to keep his worries to himself, even if it feels overwhelming. When he's emotional, he retreats into solitude, needing time alone with his thoughts until he calms down or figures things out.

W: Wedding.

(How would he propose?)

Even in serious moments like a marriage proposal, he keeps it playful. He might take you to the top of a building at night to enjoy city lights, and then suddenly, he drops the bomb: "I think we shouldn't be dating anymore." It gets super serious; you might even tear up, wondering what went wrong. He silently watches as you bombard him with questions, then out of the blue, he suggests, "Let's get married instead," leaving you completely stunned. With a silly smile, he adds, "Hm so what do you say? I even brought you a ring," pulling out a velvet box from his pocket. He makes up for the scare with a romantic night afterward.

X: Xtra.

(Extra headcanon)

Surprisingly, he enjoys gossiping and spills all the details, especially about those higher-ups. He uses a bunch of curse words and can spend hours talking shit about them and about how much he wants to use his curse technique on them to get rid of them. You often join him in these gossip sessions, especially when someone gets on your nerves.

Y: Yuck.

(Something he hates in general or in you?)

Gojo dislikes weakness, especially in people with potential but are afraid to try or improve themselves. With his strength, weakness irritates him. He hates it when you gives up on something you're good at just because you're anxious or lack self-confidence. He'll go out of his way to try and motivate you and knock some sense into you.

Z: Zoo.

(Does he like pets?)

Gojo is open to the idea of having a pet, like a puppy, because they're energetic and adorable. However, his busy schedule doesn't allow him the time to properly care for it—feeding, showering, and regular walks. But if you insist, he might consider it.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Absolutely adore seeing all the bits of writing on the bots reactions to the kiddos 🤣 Fr makes my day, just scrolling though feed and BOom your writing! So I randomly thought of the kids doing barbecues or picnics and sharing all their grubby food like Oo try this and maybe not as it’s spicy. What I mean is I’m sure the bots wouldn’t understand how human food can have so many flavours.

Glad to brighten someone's day! I am honestly startled by how enthusiastic people are about TFP bots reacting to things. I haven't gotten this many notes in like, three months. Its crazy.

Anyway, lets roll with this.

Cybertronians do have a degree of flavoring involved in their fuel. However due to the nature of energon, there is only so much flavoring that can be added before it loses its nutritional value, turns into high grade, or explodes in some fantastic display. Not to mention their ability to taste is severely limited, partially due to the simple fact that their sensory systems are more focused on external stimuli or processor function. In fact, most Cybertronians can hardly taste, if they have an intake at all. It simply isn't part of their biology. They have no need for it. Of course some get modifications in order to have a wider range of taste, and some are forged with heightened senses, but as a general rule most do not have the ability to note much.

At most they can read sweetness, bitterness, and anything that is metallic in nature. But spiciness, savory flavors, and most of the finer flavors humans experience are simply out of their range. Fueling can be enjoyable, but for most of their kind, it is merely a way to keep on going. But humanity? They eat for FUN, and that is odder than the team expected it to be.

Watching the children swap food around for the sake of flavor is... strange to the team. Seeing Miko give up what they can tell is vegetation that is highly nutritious to humans for a bag of chips soaked in all sorts of chemicals left most of them in a state of confusion. Jack offered up a sandwich, the arguably healthier dish, for a handful of gummies. Rafael passed over some sort of meat in exchange for Miko's rice. The exchange of nutrition was not orderly or equal in any way or form. Then sometimes the children would just eat each other's food without regard for the nutritional value.

The team couldn't understand it. Sure Cybertronians would trade fuel at times, but rarely was nutrition a concern. Humans swapping fuel left and right was just a tad strange. Not incomprehensible, but strange nonetheless.

Smokescreen has tried to eat human good once just to see if he could taste it. He could not taste much at all and ended up purging for the next day due to the food not going well in his tanks. Bulkhead also made an attempt once when Miko offered him food. He was stuck with cheeto dust in the grooves of his jaw for almost a week before he gave in and went to the washracks to handle it. Wheeljack made direct optic contact with Ultra Magnus and purposefully ate an apple that was offered to him, just to watch the commander squirm of course. He had to purge it all up an hour later, but watching the reactions of those around him made it worth it.

Ultra Magnus was tricked into eating human food when it was put into his energon once (by a certain wrecker). Magnus tried to hold it together, but ultimately he too ended up needing to purge. Ratchet has given the "do not eat organic fuel" speech far too many times to be happy about it.

[echo-lover]

Hello there!

A few of my favorite Star Wars headcanons about clones

• Parental instinct

I've noticed that some clones have a highly developed paternal instinct.

I think Cut with his little family is not only one.

Hunter showed concern for childrens safety from the very beginning, like Kaleb and Gungi (surviving Wookie Jedi). He looks after Omega like his own daughter, as do the rest of the Bad Batch. Hunter definitely plays the role od father in his team as a responsible and a little overprotective leader.

Echo is the most mature in my opinion and in my eyes he will always be a mommy.

Waxer immediately felt the need to care for the newly met child and had no problem with hugging or comforting little Numa when she started crying. I just know that he loved children and secretly dreamed of starting a family, but he put himself entirely at being a soldier and protecting those who can not protect themselves.

Even Boil had grown strong bond owith Numa after some time and wanted to protect her at all costs.

I think Rex would also make a great father figure. He felt a strong need to take care of others. He acted as a mentor or an older brother for Ahsoka, and when he met Omega, he immediately got in touch with her. It's worth mentioning how he immediately stood between her and Bad Batch when he found out that the boys hadn't removed their chips yet. He remembered perfectly well what happened during Order 66. I'm sure he felt guilty that he had almost executed his longtime friend who trusted him with all her heart. He also felt responsible for his brothers who died in this tragic event.

I think this paternal instinct comes straight from Jango Fett's genes, who cared for Boba and loved him, and adopt him as his son. Jango asked specifily for him and knew from the very beggining that he want to adopt this kid. The Mandalorian culture is known for being easily attached to children, and they often decided to adopt kids, as fathers and mothers, and raise them like their own.

• Overprotective Hunter

Hunter is, in my opinion, the most sensitive and emotionally mature of the Bad Batch. He can read the feelings of others, especially those closest to him, so he always knew when something was wrong. Perhaps his enhanced senses have something to do with this.

He also has a tendency to be overprotective.

As a leader, he put the good of the squad before his own. I'm sure that running and hiding from the Empire, the constant pressure on his shoulders, was very tiring for him.

Hunter tried to protect Omega and his brothers the best way he could. That's why, the loss of any member of his family was a hard shoot in the heart for him. He sees it as a personal failure, as he failed his loved ones. He may start to think that Crosshair's words as true, that maybe he shouldn't be the leader, but he hasn't told anyone about his feelings and his own doubts.

But I think Echo knew... Echo knew that Hunter was worried and tired of the constant responsibility.

• Hunter and his senses

Hunter is a synesthete. This means that what he feels with one of his senses also affects the others. For example: he sees sounds, he can taste colors or numbers have colors for him. His synesthesia is a side effect of his enhanced senses.

Due to his heightened senses, Hunter also felt pain more intense than the other clones.

I still remember the moment Omega snuggled up to him after rescuing her when she was kidnapped by Cad Bane. Hunter winced in pain for a moment as his chest wound still was fresh. He had been shot with a blaster and almost get himself k!lled, and yet the most important thing to him was Omega. He ignored his own discomfort and focused fully on Omega, making sure nothing happened to his little girl. The expression of pain quickly turned into relief.

• Family

Some time after Omega joined the Bad Batch, they agreed on the role of family members:

Omega is their little sister, of course Hunter play the role of a father, while Echo is hailed as a mother. Our grumpy little bean muttered something about this being stupid idea at first, but in the end he liked being called mommy Echo.

Echo is a great addition to this crazy squad. He is the most experienced and can keep his family in line. It will never stop to amaze me how much good and love is hidden in the heart of a man who has never known a moment of comfort in his life and to whom no one has ever shown love. His physical and mental health were very bad after the events at Skako Minor. There was almost nothing left of the inexperienced Reg from the 501st Legion. Despite this, he will always remain my favorite character in all of Star Wars universe.

Wrecker is basically a second baby and needs to be looked after more than Omega, because if you let him out of your sight for a moment, he'll probably make a big mess.

Wrecker had the mind of a child trapped in the body of a large man. He is strong and could cause fear, but he have a soft heart. He cared for those closest to him, especially Omega. When his little sister was having a bad day and was sad, Wrecker was the first to make her laugh and even shared Lula, his beloved doll, with her.

I like to think that Tech and Crosshair are sort of twins (like Echo and Fives) they're a great duo and I miss their interaction so much. Tech, as the wise one, did not get in the way of the others, offering his advice when needed. Crosshair, on the other hand, although he seems cold and very distant, I think he would quickly like Omega and become a supportive, slightly sarcastic brother to her.

• Crosshair is not as cold as he looks

Crosshair hated being different, and called a freak from the very beggining. All his life he tried to blend in, to do his job well as a soldier, and as a member of the team. He didn't show it, but he was touched by other people's words about their group, different look, and specific abilities. That's why he hated Regs so much, he wanted to prove his worth to them. And also to himself.

When I saw Crosshair for the first time, I thought that he must have quite low self-esteem and become nervous in stressful situations. Whenever he took off his helmet, we saw him immediately reach for a toothpick. He felt the need to have something in his mouth to relieve the stress and tension in his body. He always seemed to me to be the type of perfectionist who pays great attention to detail and will practice until he achieves perfection in a specific field.

Despite his specific style, Crosshair wasn't as cold as he seemed. He really cared about Omega, and I'm sure that if they had the chance to spend more time together, Crosshair would like the girl and treat her like his little sister. He will destroy anyone who tries to harm Omega.

I also think that Crosshair secretly loves animals, especially cats. I imagined that it started with Wrecker once bring a white, homeless kitten to the Marauder. The animal started fawning at Crosshair's legs and refused to leave him even for a second. In the end, Cross liked it, petted him and cuddled with him, and even let him sleep in bed with him. Having a pet was a stress reliever for him. He named his kitten Alpine.

• The past still hurts, just as much as before

Echo often had terrible nightmares. We can see in the Bad Batch, that his PTSD was still very strong. Every contact with medical equipment could trigger a severe panic attack and anxiety. Fortunately, Omega was there to support him at the time. I'm always touched that even though Echo didn't know Omega back then, he trusted her enough that her presence really helped him come back to reality and understand that he was safe.

I'm sure that he had nightmares about being tortured and locked at Skako Minor, and also dreamed of Fives. I think because of this he may have even been afraid to fall asleep, and as a result he slept very little.

He missed his brother so much and blamed himself for not being there when he died. Echo was afraid of being locked up and deprived of help, so he tried to get involved as much as possible in the fight against the Empire. I think that was one of the main reasons he went back to Rex.

I also think that Echo and Tech had long conversations and spent a lot of time together while repairing or piloting the ship. They got along the best of the whole team and only with Tech, Echo felt relaxed enough to be able to talk about his feelings and problems he was struggling with. Tech never asked, like the overprotective Hunter, he just listened, and that was enough for Echo to discover a soul mate similar to his fallen brother, Fives.

I imagine one night Tech found out that Echo couldn't sleep and asked him what happened. Echo was so surprised that someone actually asked him how he felt that he didn't know what to say at first. He finally decided to open up and confess what was on his mind. Tech understood him and they became very close from then on. That's why Echo suffered so much after losing Tech. He felt as if he had lost half of his soul again.

I imagine that, Echo was the only one from the Bad Batch to still use Mando'a. He and Fives used to speak this language among themselves. Fives nicknamed him Ech'ika (little Echo). Now, Echo used to call Omega ad'ika. After Fives death, Echo sang an old anthem - Vode an (Brothers all) to honor the memory of his fallen brother. They had learned it when they were still cadets and used to sing it together before going into battle and all 501st knew the lyrics. This is one of my favorite headcanons.

I'm sure that Echo got a tattoo of a five in honor of Fives' death. In this way he always carried his brother with him and wanted to honor his memory.

• Nightmares

Omega took a while to get used to her new home after leaving Kamino. I imagine she often had nightmares that made her afraid to go to sleep alone. Hunter saw that and let the little girl sleep with him. He told her some stories about the planets they had visited on missions, and the bond between them grew stronger. He didn't admit it, but he had fond memories of those times together.

• Fives and his twin

If Fives survived, he would be the first to side with Rex to save Echo. Seeing his beloved brother alive, but connected to computer and badly hurt, he would be both happy and devastated at the same time. Fives would do absolutely anything to be reunited with his beloved twin, even if the whole Galaxy was against him and thought he's crazy.

After being rescued, Fives would make sure Echo was fewling comfortable and help him overcome his PTSD episodes. Then he would join the Bad Batch with Echo, because he didn't wanted him to feel different. Despite some problems, the Bad Batch accepted them as their own and they became very close, like family. I pictured them sitting around fire and how they shared stories from various missions together.

Then Fives saw that Echo was trully happy. He hugged him close, and when Echo asked what happened, Fives simply replied, "I'm just happy you're here, vod'ika. That's all."

• Astronomy lesson

Tech taught Omega astronomy. How to read sky maps and name constellations. They often sat together at night, watching the sky. Hunter would get a little angry when they stay up too late, fearing that both his brother and little sister would be sick, but his anger faded quickly when he saw the smile on Omega's face. Papa Hunter would do anything to make his little girl happy.

• Two captains

Howzer is Rex's twin, like Fives and Echo. They are giving the same vibe. They trained together from an early age, still as cadets, and then the war separated them. They are also very similar in character. Courageous and great leaders, they do not abandon their people until the very end. I feel they would get along pretty well.

• Brothers for life

Cody was like an older brother to Rex. His ore'vod. He trusted him the most of all the clones.They were inseparable from the beginning of the war and became very close after the Umbara ARC. I imagine Cody was comforting a devastated Rex. He knew perfectly well that under the mask of captain's determination there was a lot of pain and suffering after loss of many brothers. They were both good people who saw a lot of evil and death in their lives. They carried mourning in their hearts and finaly were able tolet go all their emotions. It was the first time Rex had let tears flow in his brother's arms. He felt loved and safe, and Cody didn't let him go for a long time. From this moment, they looked at each other a bit differently, carefully analyzing the other's emotions and making sure that everything was okay. Besides being strong and serious leaders, they were caring and loving brothers on the inside.

Also, I just know that they were having small competition. The 501st and 212th were competing against each other as to which legion/batalion was more effective in combat. General Kenobi and Anakin secretly supported this fun game.

• Suffering medic

Kix put a lot of pressure on himself as a medic. He wanted to save as many lives as possible and not let a single soldier die. He always fought to the very end, refusing to rest until the last man was healed. Each death of his brother was equally painful for him and he treated it as a personal failure.

Umbara left a huge mark on him. He failed. So many of his brothers had fallen, and he worked until he was breathless. Only when he was so exhausted, that he could no longer stand on his own, he agreed to take a break.

Kix sat alone against the wall, looking at his hands, and cried quietly. His hands and armor were covered with the blood of his brothers. Some of them were badly hurt, others didn't make it. Kix wished he were in their place right now and felt guilty. It was hard for him to be the one that survived.

He didn't know how long he sat like that, but at one moment he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and a calm voice that he recognized immediately. It was Jesse. His best friend, his brother... Jesse told him that he did everything he could, that it wasn't his fault, but Kix wasn't convinced.

Then Jesse, seeing how bad his brother's condition was, that he started shaking, without thinking much, he wrapped his arms around Kix, pulling him into a tight hug. The medic did not protest and gave vent to his emotions and helplessness. It was the first time anyone was interested in his health. He had always been responsible for others and now someone was taking care of him. It felt nice, warm... Kix hugged back his brother and they both know that they feel the same way.

[qe-podfic]

Check out the cover illustration for Chapter 2 of Quantum Entangled. Made by the wonderfully talented @commentdismal

So impressive. The rendering took my knees. /pos

Excerpt below cut:

Crowley uneasily drifted into wakefulness with a crick in his neck, a mild hangover making itself apparent via an insistent thumping at the back of his skull. The lingering stench of a headache was drumming inside his head like he was the unfortunate desk assigned to a kid with ADHD. All things considered, it wasn’t the worst way Crowley had ever woken up. It didn’t even make the top ten. That’s why, despite not knowing exactly what reason he had for falling asleep on his own damn couch, he wasn’t all that concerned. Slowly, like a ping-pong ball through molasses, memories of the previous night trickled into his awareness.

Aziraphale was here. Aziraphale was here and in his bed. Aziraphale was here and in his bed and wearing his clothes. At once, Crowley realised he had made a grave tactical error.

Drunk Crowley and sober Crowley were only the same person by virtue of the fact that they unfortunately shared a body. Currently, sober Crowley was cursing—quite creatively, mind you—the very notion of that unavoidable fact. Always trying to make the best out of a bad situation, he decided to approach the morning with an impudent unfuckedness. As the saying went: ‘Not fucked over was the one who was unfucked.’ (-Confucius, probably.)

Crowley checked his watch, surprised to find that it was no later than eleven am. He wanted breakfast, or brunch, or just a nice package for the calories he depended on to… Y’know… Live. And it would be rude, if he was cooking for himself, to not at least offer something to his—rather reluctant, he remembered, mortified—guest.

Each stride rendered as unfucked as he could manage, he made his way to the kitchen. First, he used his hideously expensive coffee machine (a ROCKET MOZZAFIATO—imported from Italy) to make one flash bastard of a latte, with the ultimate goal of kicking his A1 adenosine receptors into a more coherent semblance of order. E.g. not receiving adenosine.

Then, he took a wok from his large and impressive array of pots and pans, like a gallery of hung men above the island bench top, and placed it on his induction stove. The stove itself was seamlessly blended into the counter in such a way that it made people helpless to envision burnt hands and accidental emergency-room phone calls. The sleek black design (because Crowley could be sold on almost anything if you made it sleek and black enough) was self-aggrandising in the same way that many circumspect judges on certain cooking shows were. The kitchen as a whole, really, was a lustrous example of the kind of high-tech cookhouse you’d find in the back of a Michelin star restaurant. 

Grabbing a few eggs from the fridge, Crowley scoured for omelette ingredients that were both generally palatable as to, hopefully, not be offensive to Aziraphale’s tastes—whatever they were—and impressive enough to make Crowley seem like he, at the very least,  knew what he was doing on a culinary level. Sticking to his mantra of unfuckedness, Crowley picked out some bacon, cheese, and spinach, along with various herbs and spices from the pantry. Crowley liked omelettes as a general rule. The ratio of effort to edible nutrition was highly favourable—having spent most of his life as a university student with no spare energy to waste on frivolous flambés, brûlées, or any other such fancy French dish.

Making an omelette wasn’t a difficult process. There were two steps; step one was to put all of your ingredients (chopped or unchopped depending on how groggy you were when preparing it) into the pan. Step two was to wait. Heat and time. They were the universal duo that laid claim to the title of ‘instigator’ in most molecular reactions.

Obedient to this philosophy of unfuckedness, heat and time, Crowley chopped bacon, cracked eggs, tore spinach, and altogether cooked a damn good meal. With the two omelettes cooling on their respective plates (the plates were square shaped and black because Crowley refused to be acquainted with the typical agreement of things) he ventured through his cupboards on a mission for tea. Aziraphale seemed like the tea-drinking kind. Finding an abandoned box of loose-leaf French Earl Grey, the label slightly sun faded, he put the kettle on.

Proud of his domestic accomplishments, he set off to wake Aziraphale. He hoped the comestible peace offering would be a balm for any of the awkwardness left over, lingering, from last night.

“Knock, knock,” he greeted onomatopoeically, tapping on the bedroom door.

“Urmf—Crowley?” came the quiet reply, obvious in how freshly awake it sounded. Crowley opened the door, just a crack—not enough to see into the room but enough to let some light in—before chuckling mildly.

“Morning, Angel. I made breakfast. Tea is available too, if you want some.” There was a muffled sound of agreement, and then the distinct shuffling of someone getting out of bed. Crowley padded his way to the kitchen to give the man some privacy.

He was halfway through his own omelette, near-afternoon sun shining down on him from large windows on the east side of the kitchen, when Aziraphale made his presence known. With a curt clearing of the throat, he stood, unsure of himself, at the edge of the kitchen’s connecting hall.

Crowley was fucked. Oh, he was so utterly fucked. Aziraphale made an innocuous image, in Crowley's home, in Crowley's clothes; but that did not stop the racing ambitions of Crowley's mind. Aziraphale wasn't to know this, though. The Queen shirt hung loose on him, gently draping over one shoulder but leaving the other exposed. Crowley felt like a Victorian—or the man responsible for the dress codes of high school girls—scandalised at the revelation of flesh. He reprimanded himself for his undignified train of thought. Aziraphale deserved more than to be ogled like a piece of meat at the snout of a hungry, hungry hound. He couldn't possibly help that his hair was bed-messy, nor the fact that it did terrible things to Crowley's sense of composure. Nonetheless, Crowley would survive. He wasn't a wanton beast. Humanity afforded him—in theory—some amount of dignity.

“Your plate’s over there. I tried to guess how you take your tea; is ‘two sugars and a splash of milk’ anywhere at all close?” he asked Aziraphale, swallowing a bite to hide the raspy quality of his own voice. The astonishment on Aziraphale's face answered a simple ‘yes’. Although, maybe it was astonishment at the breakfast laid out in front of him. It wasn't really a normal move, Crowley reflected sheepishly, to cook a meal for the guy who had just come over for a drunken movie marathon. But Crowley wasn't normal in most things, so he resolutely didn't think about it.

“Yes,” Aziraphale murmured, gaping a little.

“That's exactly how I take it.” The whisper was draped in the kind of mid-morning confusion that only ever occurred after a late night of considerable drinking. He gently cupped the mug, tendrils of steam rising from it in fragrant arches. Sipping the beverage softly, his eyes fluttered shut, simple pleasure oozing from the drop in his shoulders.

“Thank you, Crowley.” His voice was etched in all-too-raw sincerity. He opened his eyes, gazing at him with the kind of look that forced Crowley to turn away.

“Don't thank me. It's the least I could do,” Crowley mumbled weakly. Undeterred, but still feigning propriety, Aziraphale hummed in absent acquiescence. He took the plate with his omelette, looking suddenly affected.

The gentle graze of porcelain plate against the bench top seemed almost reverent, as Aziraphale sat himself on the barstool next to Crowley’s. One thing that Crowley had learnt about Aziraphale—in the heated revelry of their late evening—was that he liked food. No, he didn't just like food. He loved food. Adored food. Damn near worshipped food. As he slowly raised the fork to his lips, Crowley hoped that the sacrifice was fit for the tabernacle of his idolatry.

Aziraphale’s eyes popped open in wide, slightly hedonism-glazed, surprise. 

“Oh—” He almost keened. And, if Crowley wasn't already red in the face, this would have been the inelegant signal that drove blood to the apple of his cheeks.

“Oh! This is simply scrumptious!” Aziraphale praised, made guileless by the distraction of—rather excellent, in his opinion—cuisine. Crowley ducked his head as if trying to bob under the blow of his words.

Untrusting of his vocal cords, Crowley didn't reply, content to revel in silence while Aziraphale finished his meal. The relative quiet gave him the chance to recalibrate after the unexpected misalignment of his neurological circuitry. It was peaceful. Cosy.

Discord:

AO3:

[yuurei20]

Idia Info Compilation part 3: Phantom Bride pt 2

During the Phantom Bride event Lilia and Jade reflect on who the next housewarden of Ignihyde will be after Eliza marries Idia as—like Savanaclaw—Ignihyde has no vice-housewarden.

When Idia accuses them of having hearts made of stone for joking about his impending doom, Leona reminds him of when, earlier in the day, Idia had tried to send the ghost bride after Leona and Vil to save his own life by sacrificing them.

Azul acknowledges, “he has so little to say in his defense, he’s resorted to high-pitched squealing”. Idia is at first delighted by the remaining students who arrive to rescue him at last (insulting “the rest of these randos” in reference to everyone else who had gone to save him), but quickly resorts to insulting them as well for their appearances, calling them “a total sartorial dumpster fire”.

At the end of the event Idia silently acknowledges that his obsessing about everyone’s appearances makes him no better than the ghosts who kidnapped him, saying, “I gotta hand it to these normies. They’re main protagonist material”.

When Ortho encourages Idia to thank them sincerely, however, he follows up with “would have been nice if they hadn’t cut it so close” and gets into an argument with Ace over the sincerity of his gratitude.

Idia sinks into self-depreciation, deciding that he is like a monster in a tragic tale and simply not meant to be the center of attention. Self-depreciation is common for Idia.

Idia's fear of people mocking him behind his back sometimes seems to center on concerns that people will make fun of him for his hair and say things like “is his hair on fire?”, “that’s that cursed Shroud guy”, “he’s gonna pass on all his bad luck”, “He’s blue all over! Gross!” and otherwise make disparaging remarks about his clothes or baggy eyes, reflecting in a vignette that “No one in Ignihyde would go on patrol at night to keep ME safe”.

This consistent flow of self-depreciation is in interesting contrast to how Idia does seem to, simultaneously, think very highly of his abilities: referring to himself as “a certified genius”, a “tactical mastermind”, his own taste in music as “sublime” and how he is capable of doing anything he puts his mind to.

At the end of the Phantom Bride event he assures the other students that he’s “not that special. But you all keep talking about me like I’m the best, so what does that say about you?” followed with “Maybe I’m just the best option in THIS group”, “people did call me a ‘promising prodigy’ when I was a kid. And I’ve only gotten better”. Ace acknowledge that Idia is really cool, “…so long as your mouth is shut” while Riddle wonders at how thinks so highly of himself for all his self-depreciation.

Phantom Bride ends with Idia retiring to his room, which is a constant theme throughout a variety of different vignettes Idia consistently refers to himself as a shut-in, refers to going outside as “problematic” and Ortho explains that he simply hates leaving his dorm room.

[blasphemousgoggles]

Strange Mr. Qi

A Mr. Qi x Reader, Part 2 added. I thought this was going to be short.

Warnings: Mr. Qi is the warning (Stalking)

Mr. Qi was, to put it lightly, weird. This may sound rude however you had good reason to think this. While mining, you would be able to get many things such as ores, gems, even artifacts! But you would also find chests, weapons and most importantly notes. The notes had provided you with some useful information on other people but it was a bit confusing. How did all of these notes get into the mines? Some of these are from peoples diaries and you highly doubt someone would rip a page and it somehow gets into the mines. Other notes are drawings which would allow you to find buried items or- a gold statue of Lewis. Why. While strange you could chalk it up to maybe carelessness and coincidence until one note.

“Greetings, Y/N

Have you found my ‘secret’ in the dark tunnel?

I look forward to meeting you!”

- Mr. Qi

You were a bit taken aback because while you had found many notes before, this one had specifically addressed you.

“That's kind of creepy.” you think.

 While you were weirded out, on a whim you decide to see what the ‘secret’ was. The only dark tunnel you knew was the bus tunnel and wouldn’t ya know there's a lock-box! It was missing a battery though. When you had placed that battery pack into the lock-box you hadn’t expected to receive another cryptic note. You don’t really know what you were expecting but now you had another quest to do. Being sent on a wild goose chase to find some guy was the last thing you had expected.

Each note had you complete various tasks such as placing a rainbow shell into a box at a train station or placing beets into Mayor Lewis’s fridge. Out of curiosity you completed each task, and it was pretty fun! It was really refreshing to do something new and it gave you some sort of rush every time you finished a task. You were very interested as to who was behind these letters considering the note had said that he was “looking forward to meeting you”. You eventually had decided to ask around town to see if anyone knew who he was but apparently none of the townspeople knew. It was pretty strange considering that if it wasn’t them then who? Everyone you had asked seemed to have no idea who this person was, you had assumed it was a prank of some sort but everyone had seemed genuinely baffled. Some were concerned if this Mr. Qi was sending you concerning letters but you had assured them otherwise. 

Eventually you had found two notes, one was a riddle to give a dragon his last meal and the other was to make it to level twenty five of the Skull Cavern. Skull Cavern was easy enough but the monsters were stronger than the ones in the mines, and you had received a pretty hefty reward of TEN THOUSAND GOLD.

Your eyes had bugged out when you saw the amount.

“What the-!”

Whoever was sending you these notes had to be hella rich because who does that? You didn’t even have to go that deep!

The riddle however was a bit trickier, you had no idea as to what ‘dragon’ you could feed. After looking everywhere in the valley, it seemed nothing was here so you looked through the desert. You found it! There were the bones of what looked to be a dragon and you had found a small piece of paper in its teeth.

“Its maw gapes at the desert sun. Even in death, it yearns for a taste.”

“That's a bit grim.” you thought. You read the letter again, you have to give the dragon its last meal… and its maw gapes to the sun. Then like a sack of bricks it hits you. Solar essence! That's actually pretty clever. Thankfully you are carrying some solar essence due to your escapade into the Skull Cavern. You place the sun into the dragon's mouth and you see a note.

“You’ve proven yourself, kid. Check out the pile of lumber next to your house.

I’m proud of you.”

- Mr. Qi

Your heart swelled at that. The people pleaser in you was thankful for any praise you can get. The lengths you go for a stranger. You get on the bus to head home, you thank Pam for taking you home and-Wait. Your lumber pile. YOUR LUMBER PILE! That is at your house! When the hell did he make it to your farm?! You would get how he would know where you lived. Your farm was featured in the newspaper and anyone is able to mail you but the only people allowed onto your farm were the people that you knew. This guy would have had to sneak around the townspeople, get over the fences surrounding your house and place something in your lumber pile.

“Hey kid you alright?” You look over to Pam. She looks pretty concerned. Ah right you were thanking her.

“Oh. Sorry about that. I'm fine, thank you for taking me home.” You get out of the bus and quickly head home, internally freaking out.

You run over to the lumber pile and you see a green card sticking out. It has your full name, a photo of you and the words “Club Member”.

“Do- do I have a stalker?” you murmur. You are more than capable of defending yourself considering all the monsters you had slain but it still unnerved you.

You are starting to wonder if it was a good idea to do all of these tasks, much less even meet the guy. You were still intrigued, if you met him he could probably answer your questions and if he tried anything you could most definitely beat him in a fight.

You remember the Oasis. It had a path in the back blocked by a bouncer. Could that be where you need to go? You decide to sleep it off and go in the morning.

At 6:00 AM you’re up and ready. You tend to your crops, feed your animals and harvest whatever you can and put it in the shipping bin. You decide to look into your mail. You have a few gifts from the others, Caroline had sent you some parsnips while Elliot had sent you crab cakes. There was another letter, it wasn’t addressed by anyone but you had a clear idea as to who it was.

“Someone is

waiting for you

on level 100

in

the

skull cavern…”

Obviously it's Mr. Qi. Seriously you hadn’t even met the guy and he has taken up so much of your life already. You could head down to level 100 in the Skull Cavern but you already have plans to get into that club in Sandy’s shop.

By now it's 10:00 AM and you head over to the bus. You thank Pam for taking you and you go over to the Oasis.

Sandy greets you on your way in and you make some small talk.

“You look really thirsty. Here, have a taste of this ice cold milk.” You smile

“Oh thank you!”

Sandy is very pleasant to talk to however you REALLY have to do this now. You head over to the back to the bouncer.

“!!! Is…is that a ‘Club Card’?” Wow he looks shocked. Guess this club must be a big deal.

“Yes.” He nods “You may enter.”

“You’re a club member!?” You look over to Sandy and sheepishly smile.

“I guess so.” With that you step in. You are now in a casino. The first thing you notice is how purple it is. The purple walls have a lovely wavy design and the windows have a purple blanket of stars and the ceiling is also purple as well. The floor however is black and blue with a star pattern on it. There are two card tables, some slot machines, and the fortune teller you watch on TV.

Then you see him. He turns around and smiles oh so warmly at you like you’re an old friend of his.

"It's good to finally meet ya, kid. Welcome to my exclusive clubhouse.”

[aliceindaisychains999]

Ultimis’ Favorite Things! (What Makes Them Happy)

Tank Dempsey

A big chunk is revealed in his World at War bio. “Hand him a loaded weapon, a good woman, and something it shoot at and he’s happy.” Dempsey appreciates the simpler things in life. Anything that includes ass-kicking and a lovely lady by his side is enough to keep him grounded. A nice, cold beer would be nice as well!

Cats! He's a total softie about them. Tank actually owned several in his lifetime. As a kid, he had a calico cat named Sadie. She had a cat sibling named Mason, who’s fur was black and white. And then there is his orange tabby back home named Rocket. Rocket finds himself into a lot of mischief easily. Having zoomies around the house and stealing socks (and once munched on Tank’s $20 bill), he eventually calms down and Tank feels at ease having him purr on his lap.

Believe it or not, Tank does have appreciation for the great outdoors. He has a lot of fond memories about his Dad. A big majority of those memories take place camping in late summer. He finds it easier to ground himself when on a long hiking trail, birdwatching, making a campfire and canoeing. No fishing though, he will fistfight a mackerel.

Takeo Masaki

Peace and quiet. Complete solitude. He’s very introverted, perhaps to the point it’s been concerned that he’s a hikkikomori. But that won’t stop Takeo from finding a place with gentle atmosphere. A bonus if he can have a cup of tea as well, lemon ginger with a spoonful of honey to be exact.

His hobbies give his mind distraction. He enjoys tending to his small garden of flowers and a small bamboo plant. If he had to choose, he would say African daisies are his favorite flower. Takeo also loves Lily of the Valley, but knows they can be poisonous so he doesn’t have them. Other hobbies include meditation, reading, working on his memoir, keeping sharp on his combat training and his new interest in woodworking.

Takeo will light up if you have his specific type of witty humor. He isn’t always thrilled by crass comments. But there have been a few times he let it slide by for the sake of making light of a situation. The best I can describe it is that it tends to be a little snarky with some situational humor. It’s what helps him connect a bit better with Dempsey.

Edward Richtofen

I think it goes without question that he is a huge bookworm. But his taste is not what you’d expect. Aside from nonfiction involving scientific topics, he also enjoys romance novels. But he’d never confess that to anyone! One of his all time favorites is a theory written about the concept of time and quantum gravity research.

Edward has always dreamt of traveling. Technically, he is with the teleporter. But it’s not the same as having a getaway vacation like a train ride to the Swiss Alps or exploring a bustling city like New York. He recalls a few times where he tried to make a vacation out of traveling abroad for Group 935 and illuminati related purposes. And his family had visited Italy a few times in past summers as a child. Perhaps someday, he’ll be able to make this dream of his a reality.

Success, of course! Isn’t it obvious? When you’ve had so many colleagues und oppressors order you around, it’s enough of a drive to finally take control in your hands and to do things YOUR way! He’s a highly ambitious doctor. There is always a plan accompanied with a goal or purpose in the long run. The smoother things go, the more gleeful he behaves. Is that why he was so happy at Camp Edward?

I’m mad because knowing him, there is definitely one way to relieve his stress that we will NOT speak of. Ach, primitive simpelton! Instead, I’ll add that he has a soft spot for jazz music and stuffed animals (both real and the teddy bear kind)

Nikolai Belinski

There’s more depth to him than just your standard vodka answer. But we’ll kick things off and say yes he does enjoy a good drink. His favorite besides vodka is Țuică. But it’s SO strong he saves it for special occasions. And he has to drink it at home because he got kicked out at one of the bars he used to go to because of it.

Believe it or not, he’s an excellent cook! He can win the hearts of many with a warm meal. Nikolai enjoys making comforting stews to pelmeni to even bread baking every now and then. It was more frequent when he was sober but he still gives it a shot every now and then. Just as long as he’s regular drunk and not super drunk. Super drunk makes everything a bit disastrous.

Nikolai loves stories. He has many good ones to tell. But he also loves hearing from others about their lives. Nikolai also enjoys card games like blackjack or war. He’s an incredibly skilled player so if he asks you to play, know you have a real challenge on your hands

[ja-stuff]

The reader taking a blow (that could k33l them) to protect their beloved (established relationship or not yet). Your choice if reader survives or not. Toman and Bonten boys.

Let me know if you're comfy with this prompt, otherwise, I have another idea. Take your time and enjoy! Thank you again for being amazing. ❤

Note: I am back! and I am hoping this is up to your expectations bubs, I really pushed myself here, lol! I am sorry it's so late! But yeah, here it is, and I hope you enjoy this! Btw, this is my first ask ever and, i really thank you for giving me the idea and for sending the request! I loved making this one!

Title: Reader/ Y/n, takes the blow that was meant for them TW: mentions of blood, gun, and the word k33l in it, implications of injury and death Character: Ran Haitani  Genre: angst Wordcount: 2,253

You’re well aware of your boyfriend’s line of work, and you have always been prepared for whatever comes your way. You know you don’t have anyone else to blame for any of this, but Ran sure blamed himself for ever getting close to you.

It is autumn, a perfect day for a perfect date. You had prepared everything since last night and wouldn’t shut up about the things you wanted to do at the park with Ran Hatani the whole day. Just as excited as you were, Ran just sat the night before, full ears, and happily watching you planning out your date. He promised himself to make this day memorable for both of you. He wanted this to be your day as much as he knew it would be his. As a good boyfriend, he knew he hadn't been the best partner for almost a month now since work has kept him busy, but he’s now ready to spend all of his days off of work with you. Ran is determined to fulfill everything on your date list and have something in surprise just for you.

“Ran! Let’s go over there!” you smiled happily while pointing to the truck where they sell coffee. “You know, it isn’t perfect when we stroll around the park in autumn without a coffee in hand!” You giggled beside him, clinging to his arms and dragging him all the way there. “... I have been dying to try this kind of date with you!” Your voice is too soft, making Ran’s eyes soften, and his heart swells in awe.

“Babe, what’s your choice?” You asked him from the moment you both stopped in front of the menu board, which was placed from the far left of the truck. Just like you, Ran is busy narrowing down his choice of cup, to the ones you both uttered at the same time, “... I’ll have their best seller, hmm… Caramel Macchiato!” you both laughed before Ran took you to the bench just a few steps away from the truck and the line. “Sit here princess while I order, don’t miss me too much– or wait, I think I’ll miss you right away though!” your boyfriend said, as he planted a kiss on your forehead, and walked back, facing you with a foolish smile plastered on his face. “I’m not even a meter away from y– hey  watch where you’re going or you’ll fall!” you voiced, highly concerned about his habit of watching you while he walks backwards. Ran just nodded his head, and went in line, obediently, still, a smile visible in his face.

Just as when the barista at the truck handed your drinks to Ran, you immediately walked towards him and helped him with it. You first took your sip as you were curious on how it tastes, making you hiss at the sudden feeling of a burn. “Ow… hot… hot…” you quietly whispered, wishing that Ran did not see that, but when you looked at him he was holding in his laughter, making you glare at him. “Sorry! Careful. Careful. The coffee might spill!” he said, laughing. “Sorry, love! I just thought it was cute~” he said, as he gently  touched your lips, feeling the burned part checking if it had gotten scarred. “Your lips feel fine, should I kiss it?” he flirted, which made your face turn into a crimson red, “Not fair, Mr. Haitani! I might’ve gotten injured and you’re still flirting?” you scoffed at him, walking past him ignoring the teasing faces of the kids from the background.

“Love, wait! *laughs* Okay, I won’t! But I do think you needed a kiss right now. Isn’t this on your list?” You turned towards him as he walked towards you, hands wide open, “But first we need to sit down.” You nodded and intertwined your hands to his. “You know, that I love you right?” you randomly uttered, “and you know I do too, right?” he replied, placing a kiss on your forehead once more. “It has been awhile since we did this… Hmm, what do people call this? Holding hands while walking? It feels great, the weather seems to be in favor of this date!” you chortled, as Ran’s cheeks tinted pink. “Why are you so adorable?” Ran whispered to himself, making you look at him with curious eyes. “What, babe?” you asked, “I said, here’s the bench, love.” He smiled, you both sat there, just feeling the breeze, and each other's company, while you quietly sipped your cup of coffee, while you shared little stories with each other.

“Right, I remembered that! Back when Rin stole the hoodie you gifted me on our fourth year! Man, I was so mad at him, I could smack him with Sanzu’s katana, but I forgot that Sanzu might have done it to me first before I could ever hit my brother with it.” you both laughed, reminiscing the day you witnessed chaos in the Bonten HQ. “I know! Sanzu’s just trying his best to wait for you guys to get him involved in the quarrel! If I wasn’t there, I might’ve patched you the whole night and gave you a scolding.” you spoke, and took a sip from your coffee. “But it was the hoodie you gave me!” you cupped his cheek with your free hand, “Point made…” you tried to please his reason since you find him cute that way, ignoring the situation from back then.

Now, despite being on a perfect date, as you may have thought, it wasn’t the same for Ran. For a while now, just as much as he is happy with this bonding time with you, he has been feeling that the both of you were being watched from the moment you left the coffee truck. Ran’s been having a hard time trying to stay focused with listening to how your week went, he is trying his best  to search the area with his keen sense, making him alert and have his eyes simply surveilling the area to make sure that none of his imaginations are going to be real, that no suspicious person walks near the both of you, and that you are free from the possible dangers that could occur anytime. He thought he was doing a good job keeping you safe all this time, but somehow he failed.

You never had any idea that you could tame such a beast, when he is known as a man so terrifying, that everyone else feared. A man so strong, that you know you’ll always be safe when he is around. That such a man who’s capable of loving you, caring for you, and protecting you is with you. Sometimes you still wonder, why does it have to be you? When there were other girls trying to seek his attention before the both of you started to date, and sometimes you question yourself with why is it him? You may not know the answer to this verbally, but you know that deep inside your heart, just as much as you meant so much to him, he was also the same to you. Just as much as he wanted to protect you, you wanted to do it as much to him. Even if it means you sacrifice what you have, your life. 

It was only a swift moment when you saw the man with a black hoodie and jeans a few meters away hovering his way towards the both of you with his hoverboard, pulling out a gun from the pocket of his hoodie, and aiming at Ran. You stopped talking midway, smile dropping, and was frozen in place for a moment. You also noticed that Ran’s been a little tense this whole time from the moment you took a glance at his face looking from another direction. You shift glances towards Ran and the man who’s getting nearer and nearer as the seconds pass. Too stunned to speak, and was not smart enough to alert your boyfriend, you did not hesitate and blocked Ran from his sight last minute. And just as the kid kicked the pile of leaves near the bench you both were sitting, a gunshot was heard, and the man passed the both of you.

*BANG*

Time moves slowly, with Ran staring towards your standing form in front of him slowly losing its balance, wavering from side to side, your shaking right  hand moving towards your left chest. Turning around to face your now standing boyfriend with his eyes wide open, as if the situation is not really sinking in.

“Ran…” you called softly, fat tears escaping your eyes, as the pain slowly registers to your veins from the sight of your own blood in your hands.

 “Ra–n?” you repeated with a shaky, breathy voice. “I–I’m hurt…” you gasped, almost choking on the blood that you had just coughed, feeling your knees getting weaker. 

Fast enough to catch you before you even meet with the cold ground, Ran grabbed you by your shoulders carefully sitting the both of you on the ground, with you close to his chest. “I– I’m bleeding…” you panicked, as breathing started to feel difficult with each inhale and exhale. Ran woke up from the trance he was in when he felt hot tears streaming down his face.

“No–no! Y/n? Stay with me!” his voice was shaky and full of desperation, “Somebody! Please call 911– my–my fiance’s– Y/n please? Stay with me! We’re still on a date– you can’t *chokes* Ugh, this can’t be–” Ran screamed and commanded the people around him, while he made sure to keep you with him. “Somebody! Call 911!” he cried once more, as he cupped your face, “Baby please? Stay with me… don’t leave me!” 

He said, whining like a sad puppy in the rain, eyes turning glassy as the amount of tears he could produce kept on coming nonstop. Pain could be heard from his voice as if it was him who was shot. Desperation grows as each second passes. Feeling that the time with you is starting to turn into dust. Scared of what he could become if you close your eyes now.

“Open your eyes… Talk to me! Stay awake please!” he begged you as you flashed him a weak smile, and weakly nodded your head. “Ran– if…” 

“Don’t… please save your energy– I need you babe. I need you.” You knew that people who had witnessed the scene gathered, and that they were all talking and some were making phone calls, but none of the vibration and voices you could hear and feel. 

“Please, keep your eyes open, love. We haven’t done everything you wrote for this date. I haven’t kneeled in front of you yet.” Ran continued to talk to you, revealing that the surprise he had for you was his proposal.

“Ran, yo–” “Yes babe. So please, stay with me. I have waited a long time to do that, so please… I’m begging you–” You’re trying your best to keep awake, but your breathing became more painful than the gunshot wound on your chest. You’re getting numb, scaring you that you won’t be able to say something to Ran. “Love, y–you know… I love y–you so m–much and everything a–bout you.” you started, gathering all your strength to cup his face. “I know. I know. And I love you so much, that I can’t imagine my life without you in it… please Y/n… Don’t speak as if this is going to be a farewell–” 

“Ran, I’m so grateful to have y–you in my life… And that I had the intention of dating you with marriage in m–mind.” you continued, growing weaker and weaker, feeling your body getting a little cold, coughing a little of the life you have. “I am genuinely h–happy that I became a part of you.” your voice is getting softer and softer with each word, enough to call it a whisper and eyes becoming heavy, threatening Ran with his worst nightmare at the very moment.

“Y/n, no… please? Stay with me… I know you never deserved me, but I still couldn’t let you go… I love you so much. I am confi–dent that I’m able to protect you, but– please? My love, stay with me…” his voice sounding so tired as he felt you approach your last breath. “Love, please? Open your eyes…”

“I don’t know how to live without you.” he whispered in your ear, giving him the last warmest smile you could ever give him. 

“I love you… y/n, please hold on a little– no…” With the last ounce of strength he had, he cried his eyes out, whispering his last words, some are confessions of love, words of I love you’s, complimenting your looks, words of how he doesn’t deserve you and vice versa, and lastly, what he had planned in the supposed future with you.

With the ambulance arriving late, to bringing you to the hospital, informing his brother and the whole of bonten about what had happened, and to holding your funeral, revenge did not leave Ran’s mind. He is determined to comb the whole country in search for the man responsible for the death of his beloved, paying him tons of the amount of pain you had felt when you, an angel, died in his sinful, non-deserving tainted blood hands. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[13eyond13]

This is from a while back buy I'm super curious, why do you hate Fahrenheit 451?

Hahaha. Oh Fahrenheit 451.

So I just read it for the first time this year. All I knew about it beforehand was that it was a highly praised classic, often taught to people in high school, and that it was a dystopian novel that involved bookburning. I thought that because of these things it was going to be like a 1984 book about how censoring literature for containing controversial material, regardless of the context/meaning/purpose of the story, is a dangerous thing to do. Something that is probably good to think about and continue to teach kids!

Instead what I got was some half-baked dystopian world that is very much just Ray Bradbury whining hysterically for several hundred pages about how TV is rotting everybody's brains. ESPECIALLY the brains of women/housewives, it seems. Society is burning books in the novel mostly just because they can't be assed to read anything anymore now that TV is here, so they make it highly punishable by law to read at all? And somehow erase all record of people ever reading for pleasure in less than a couple of generations (there are old people in the world who still like reading, so it must have been fairly recent - but I don't know, the worldbuilding really doesn't make a lot of sense and left much to be desired for me).

The scene that really cemented my hatred for this book is the one in which the protagonist (who very randomly has an epiphany that reading is actually GOOD because of an underage manic pixie dream girl neighbour who flirts with him) barges in on his wife trying to have a nice time watching TV with her housewife friends and rudely shuts the TV off and forces them to have awkward small talk with him instead. At some point one of the housewives mentions having C-sections when she gave birth because she was scared of being in immense pain (which somehow is supposed to help prove to the readers what godless lazy morons people have become since the invention of TV? As if C-sections aren't often medically necessary and also a painful major surgery). The protagonist then yells at his wife and all her friends, calling them monsters, then starts forcefully reading pretentious poetry to them. The whole time my jaw was on the floor and I was not on his side at all, like. OMG! Shut the hell up and let the ladies enjoy watching a show together and to have a C-section when they give birth if they want to, hahaha. It was like the cringiest r/iamverysmart thing I'd ever read...

THEN to top it all off there was an afterword by Ray Bradbury where he essentially blames minorities, POC, and women for being the enemies of "good aesthetics," which is apparently the main "censorship" he's concerned about in books:

I enjoyed the prose in the book and some of the more creepy off-the-wall parts of it, like The Mechanical Hound (a robot dog with 8 legs that runs around and euthanizes whatever its programmed to smell). But overall I thought it read like the temper tantrum of a conservative asshole man-child who doesn't bother recognizing his own privilege and who looks down his nose snobbishly at anyone who doesn't share his hobby of reading or his exact taste in literature. The argument the book was making didn't ring very true to me, and the dystopian future it presented didn't make a lot of sense to me, so the fact that this is STILL considered one of the best books of all time really annoyed me and threw me for a loop. 😅

[madaboutmunson]

Hell Raiser - Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 |

"Ok, ok, you know what. You got me, 'm drunk. But theeee only-eee reason I am, 's becuz of your stoooopid carnival. So you can lemme in, orrr you can call the paramedics and have a big ol' scene when I try'n scale the barriers." Eddie slurred and swayed at the window reflection of the person in the ticket booth. 

The tooth-braced, acne-riddled teen rolled their eyes, "You know what? They aren't paying me enough to deal with this. I'm gonna let you in, but just go in, get your shit and leave. Otherwise, I will call the cops!" Eddie followed the sound and actually faced the kid in the booth. Narrowing one eye and slapping his hand on the window, he pressed a kiss against the glass.

“May the gods bless you in this life and the next, kid!” Eddie yelled back as he tried to vault over the barrier that, unfortunately, the kid had opened at that precise moment, and there was a rapid meeting of Eddie’s whole body and the ground. He quickly jumped back up, well, if you could call it a jump, and swayed on the spot for a moment as some giggling girls passed him by. He pumped his eyebrows at them, “Ladies,” He said with a low bow that almost sent him careering towards the ground again. He gave them his most charming smile, or at least that's how he thought it looked, but it was useless. They just kept walking.

Eddie reached into the front of his jeans, retrieving his hip flask.  He had decided that pockets would be stupid in case he got searched, not thinking that hiding it there would also look highly suspicious, possibly giving them more reasons to kick him out.  He took another huge swig of vodka, which honestly might as well have been paint stripper from its aroma and taste, and began the trek to the tent that had ruined his life.

The walk over was a dizzying mix of emotions for Eddie. He was pissed, first and foremost. This fucking scam had othered him so that even the guys that looked up to him now pitied him, and that would not do. No way. Eddie was the leader of the Hellfire Club. Eddie was the leader of Corroded Coffin. No lack of a girlfriend was gonna change that. That weird guy was gonna fix this, he’d get his girl, and everything would go back to the way it was. And that was where the second strong emotion consuming him from the guts up came into play. Every girl that passed his way, he’d give them a sweet smile and flash them his big soulful eyes hopefully, but all he got in return were looks of disgust, patronising laughter, or for a guy to step in between them. He didn't have to do this if he could find her before the tent. Each rejection fueled Eddie’s anger, not at the girls but at this carnival guy. Eddie was more than aware he wasn't a pin-up for the Hakwin’s female population, but at least he wasn’t an asshole. At least he wasn’t some hump-em-dump-em guy. At least he gave you who he was from day one.

By the time he got to the tent entrance, he had planned at least ten ways to ruin this guy’s life. He stopped for a moment, for a smoke, before he would unleash his wrath onto this creep. His eye bore holes into the ground. He wondered if he made them big enough, it might swallow him up, and this embarrassment would be over. He felt a nudge in his ribs, and a sweet smell filled the air around him. He squinted his eyes a little to find Donna, a recently graduated member of Hellfire Club. He gave her a sloppy salute as he swayed involuntarily. "Ho-ho, well, If it isn't Donna, the Delinquent," he chuckled, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. It's all a bit of show for her, "Thought you would have left this shitpit by now, dearest, for more accommodating shores," he dropped his head into a tilt. Her happy-to-see-him expression dropped to concern as her eyes studied him.

"Yeah, was gonna, but er, can't resist a carnival, you know?" She dragged her words out, still analysing him, "You ok? Because you look like hell, Ed," she said, shuffling closer.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine, just sauced," he work-laughed and tapped his hip flask.

"Well, I'm not blind, buddy. I can see that. You're just… on your own," she frowned, draping an arm around him, and it caused a wolf whistle somewhere off in the darkness.

"Even The Freak is getting his girl back," a distant voice dripping with minimal IQ shouted, and if that didn't punch him in the guts again, because he knew that absolutely wasn't true at all. Donna wasn't interested in him. She never had been. Donna wasn't interested in anything remotely like Eddie, but for appearances and comfort, he leaned his head on her shoulder. He wasn't about to tell her what was wrong. That's not how it works when you're the leader. The problems come to you, not the other way around.

Eddie still remembers the day he'd seen Donna at the cafeteria table, entirely not herself. No make-up. No zingers. No innuendos. No grand scheme for the upcoming gaming session. She stuck out at the hellfire table. She looked like she belonged elsewhere in the cafeteria and could have. She was on the cheer squad. She was stunningly beautiful, which had not escaped Eddie's notice, but people didn't often ask to join Hellfire. They'd recruit them. Except for Donna. She arranged a business exchange for drugs she didn't want just to ask Eddie privately, and for a few minutes, he couldn't believe his luck. A girl, a beautiful, popular girl, wanted to join his team, and though that wasn't impossible, it was against the odds, and there was something he couldn't quite put his finger on, so though he might flirt a little, he never pushed it, or asked her on a date. Eddie thought for a while, maybe she had a little crush on him, she absorbed his mannerisms, started dressing a bit like him on non-squad days, and Eddie wasn't above being charmed by imitation, the highest form of flattery, and as time passed, she grew more vibrant and outspoken in her own version of Eddie's shell. Until the day she made a discrete pass at the wrong girl. Looked at her a little too long and touched her arm a little too softly, and when confronted with disgusted homophobic slurs, Donna told a lie. A whopper and she was too embarrassed to tell Eddie until he'd dragged it out of her. 

Donna liked girls. She'd never had a crush on a boy. Sure, she said she'd had them, but she learned quickly her boy crushes were not romantic. They were idolic. She didn't want them. She wanted to be like them. So she had gone on dates to keep herself safe, claiming she was saving herself for the right guy or marriage, whatever kept her current beau at bay. Lucky for Donna, she wasn't the first non-straight person Eddie had ever met. Quite a few of his little flock had confided in him over the years, so though a little disheartened, he took no issue. Then she'd told him that to defend herself, she'd told the locker room, she was actually dating him, so what the other girl had rightly accused her of couldn't possibly be true, and Eddie, true to his role in the Club, simply said Ok. So they played pretend for the rest of her last year, holding hands in the halls, pretending to whisper sweet nothings to one another, but really telling the crudest joke they could, going on dates, which were really just friendly hangouts, but because of the level of their friendship, to an outsider, they looked like the most connected couple in school.

It was easy to play the part. Eddie was a great actor, as was Donna. She'd been playing a role her whole life. If he was candid, he loved the way he could see it eating away at the jocks when he'd be allowed to plant a kiss on her cheek, and they'd never been granted so much as a greeting from her. It wasn't hard for Donna to gaze lovingly at Eddie because she did love him, platonically. No questions asked he protected her in whatever way she needed, and when the time came for graduation, they staged a very meticulously planned and scripted public breakup. Releasing both of them from one another before prom, that due to not graduating, Eddie had no intention of attending, but Donna was. Then he received a worried phone call from Donna two days before the event, which made him reconsider or rather gave him an excuse to go back on his statement. On the condition Eddie could "win her back" in the most theatrical way possible. Which he did on a "borrowed" horse and a costume suit of armour when Donna was on the field for practice. Flipping the bird at the coach and the other people on the field as they rode back to the stables giggling. Despite the occasional sneer or whisper, they'd had the best time at prom together, and then Eddie had thought she was gone.

"You're not here for a carn'val," Eddie slurred. "You got scared out there didn' ya." He put his hand to his heart, "Without your Sir Edward, righ?" She smiled, shook her hair, and Eddie knew he was right on the money.

"I did. It's much different when you can act on it. When you can go somewhere and approach the people you’re actually into…in that way…when it’s allowed, or at least tolerated. You know how it is. So I came here tonight for some normalcy, but that didn't work out" She looked around nervously, her eyes landing on the tent, which currently had Van Morrison blaring out of it.

Eddie frowned. You know how it is. It swirled in his head, and slowly but surely, his drunk little brain cells started stumbling around, putting together the jigsaw of words and their meaning. Then, finally, he sat up straight, his frown deepening, "I do NOT know how it is!" He thundered, and Donna frantically tried to calm him down or at least to quiet him. "I'm not like that!" He defended.

Donna quickly tried to shush him, as he sparked up a cigarette which illuminated the anger in his eyes, "Eddie, I'm sorry I got it wrong. I just thought because, you know, you were never in a long-term thing, and then you helped me, I thought we were…in the same boat," She said quickly in a panic.

Eddie looked furious, "You know what?! I'm sick of this shit. Sick of everything. I'm sick of being the leader. I'm sick of being an outsider. For once, I just wanted what everyone else had, but guess fucking what? I couldn't have it. Not even magic can break my curse." He pulled the plush monkey out of his pocket and pushed it into her chest, not as hard as he wanted to. He still didn't hate her entirely, "Here, take everything." He says, emptying his pockets into her hands, "Eddie doesn't need it. He's nothing, right? Doesn't deserve any of it anyway." Donna stared at him with pity in her eyes.

"Eddie, sweetheart, that's not true," she said sadly in an attempt to make him see he was so wrong.

"Well, you know what. If I'm gonna be the freak show, I may as well give the people what they want, right?" He said with a sarcastic smile and bowed to Donna, whose face contorted into pure sadness, and she ran back into the tent. Eddie turned to face the entrance to his latest nemesis and started barging people out of the way until he got through to the creep and his book of songs.

As he stormed towards the book, fueled by pure ire, the strange vendor leered over their lecturn and unabashedly sniffed the air as Eddie stomped towards it.

"Ah…Mediocre performance Munson has returned," the caped one hissed into the air like a snake tasting the air, "You think loading yourself with alcohol is going to improve anything? Tut tut Edward, you know that's not the problem. The problem is you and your barricades."

Eddie glared up at him like he was trying to set him ablaze with his mind, "Give me m' song. I sang and I got nothing. You're othering me. You're-you're pushing me outside of everyone." Eddie's pickled mind couldn’t find the words, but it found the rage as he gripped onto the podium, shaking it.

The eyes of the peculiar man above him widened impossibly large, and an unnervingly thin grin stretched their mouth wider than it should go. Eddie should have been afraid, but he was too furious and glared back, not budging an inch. Then, above, he tilted his head so sharply that Eddie was surprised his neck didn't just snap, "Oh, is little Eddie Munson finally ready to give them a real show?"

"I did last time! I sang for ya sssstoopid crowd las' time!" Eddie bites back.

The voice above him began to warp. It seemed to have added creaks like old floorboards, "No, Eddie, No. You gave me a performance with a mask, with restraint, with nothing of you in it, and that's precisely what you got in return!" He almost seethes the words at Eddie, like he's the angry one now.

Eddie thumped his fist down on the book, "I'll give you a fucking show! A show so electric it will tear the roof right off this fucking place!" He expected the angry eyes still on him, but instead, he saw the man above him nodding along with Eddie's every word, his tongue at the corner of his mouth, and much to Eddie's disgust, he noticed he was drooling. A string of it began to travel down until it hit the table the book rested on below. Eddie's eyes locked back onto him with renewed gusto.

"Then…choose, but no faking this time, else you will get more of the nothing you already have," The man said delightfully and composed himself finally. 

Eddie closed his eyes and let whatever and whoever appeared in his mind to come and go as they pleased. This time he heard the flurry of pages that he must have been flicking through so fast they began to heat up until suddenly his eyes sprang open, and between his fingertips, he was holding a page of the book, the edges of which were burnt and the man above him squeals with delight and claps his hands.

Eddie reads the paper.

 Hell Raiser by Sweet

Eddie smirked up at him and crumpled the still-hot paper in his hand, "Buckle up, freakazoid. I know this one front to back." 

Eddie pushed past the curtain. Did not wait in line. His chest was heaving. He felt charged with something, but it was not the alcohol anymore. If anything, his mind felt razor-sharp, like something had sobered him up but left him with all the bravado booze provided.

He stomped onto the stage, grabbed the mic from the person singing and bared his teeth, so they ran off down the stairs. The multicoloured Christmassy-looking lights of the tent cut out for a split second, and he heard the crowd gasp. When reilluminated, the place was bathed in a red glow, and smoke filled the floor at his feet.

Eddie stomped a foot out slightly to the side and adopted a solid stance. The crowd was enraptured. All eyes are on him. He lifted the mic to his mouth, screwed his eyes shut and screamed the opening line….

“LOOK OUUUUUUT!”

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

Got some questions for today :)

1: do the duo like kid friendly horror? Like monster house, coraline, Casper etc…

2: what was the duos first day as superheroes together?

3: would mar’i dye her hair?

4: saw a post saying that Jake is a fan of Star Wars, what’s his favorite movie, game, and character? I can see him and Chris playing Lego Star Wars the skywalker saga in couch co-op.

5: what are they gonna dress up as this upcoming Halloween?

6: what’s their favorite candy?

1. They partially grew up on that stuff if anything. It’s a Halloween tradition for Chris and Jake to marathon those movies (mainly Coraline, Nightmare before Christmas, Paranorman, Frakenweenie and if their parents allow it, Beetlejuice) after a night out Trick or treating.

2. The Duo’s first ever joint mission came when classic alien villain Brainiac once successfully captured the Justice League, the Titans along with most of both the Kents and Graysons in both Metropolis and Bludhaven, leaving it up to Chris and Jake after the two are the only ones who safely evaded being shrunk along with their respective cities. While they started separate on different parts of Brianiac’s ship, they met up at the storage room for all those cities the Coluan had collected. While Chris faced a one and one battle against the cyborg, Jake frantically searched for any button or wire he can to free the cities while also making sure Brainiac didn’t launch a probe into the Sun which could’ve created a planet destroying supernova.

After trial, error, getting roughly pounded and various other issues, the two realize that by working side by side, combining their strengths and tactics, only then was Brainiac beaten down, granting Jake the codes needed to stop the supernova probe while Chris flew the bottled cities back to their rightful places, twisting off the caps allowing them to grow back to normal size (for a bonus he even did the same the long lost Kryptonian city of Kandor at the South Pole, a vital part for Thara Ak Var’s story later). Soon, Brainiac was turned over to Project Cadmus’ custody, the day was saved.

It’ll be about a week or two later when Jake was investigating stolen Kryptonian and Tamaranean tech from the aforementioned Cadmus along with other high tech places, which leads to him calling up Chris if he’d like to join on his secret investigation, an offer Chris happily accepts. This was the first official mission together after the small taste of it they got with Brianiac’s invasion.

Thus, the Starburst Duo was born.

3. Highly doubt it. Her hair already leaves sparkly purple streaks when in flight and as far as she’s concerned, that’s good enough for her. She knows how to dye hair but that doesn’t mean she’ll do it on herself. Lol

4. He adores and favors The Force Awakens as it was his first Star Wars film. It’s the one film out of the Sequel Trilogy that everyone he knows likes as well so there’s that working out. His favorite characters are many by the ones that pop to his mind include Luke, Finn, Ezra, Vader, Dooku, Mace, Rex and of course the Ewoks. Both The LEGO games and Republic Commando are his games of choice and yes Chris and him absolutely have a blast with it together. It’s common for them to fool around Dexter’s Diner swinging their lightsabers all over the place.

5. Chris - Probably as Son Gohan (Cell Games Saga) from Dragon Ball

Jake - Most likely as the Eleventh Doctor from Doctor Who since his Uncle Tim in turn is going as the Tenth (or Fourteenth) Doc.

6. You will be surprised how many Red Vines packs and other licorice flavors Jake has stored away inside the back corner of the fridge. Even Black licorice doesn’t taste bad to him at all

Meanwhile, Chris favors Twix, both bars. He’s bipartisan in the debate over Left Side or Right Side

As for them both, they of course would take their team’s namesake, Starbursts, any day.

I swear, these questions are getting more interesting with every single ask my friend. @gothicghost2000

[starlightbuck]

how am i supposed to live without you

word count: 6,644 || read on AO3

Buck deflates, body going slack as he leans back against his sofa. He read through the gossip articles earlier between calls, enough of them to prove the validity of the breaking news story, but hearing Eddie confirm it makes it real.

Eddie is embarking on a nationwide tour with one of the most popular singers in the world.

And he’s going to be leaving Buck behind to do so.

Or

In which Eddie goes away on tour and Buck has to adjust to living without him.

“Buck! How could you not tell us?”

Buck freezes, coffee mug halfway to his lips as his coworkers stare at him with varying degrees of emotions plastered on their faces. Hen’s excitement. Chim’s amusement. Bosko’s confusion. Bobby’s concern.

It’s the last expression that worries Buck the most.

“Tell you what?”

“About Eddie!”

Buck lowers his mug back onto the table and eyes the team suspiciously. They’ve brought Eddie up many times in the past, much to Buck’s chagrin.

Have you two gotten your heads out of your asses and started dating yet?

You two are awfully close.

How does it feel to be a co-parent?

How’s your boo doing?

It’s that line of questioning and teasing that makes Buck particularly apprehensive about whatever it is his friends are going to say to him about Eddie today. “What about him?”

Bosko rolls her eyes. “Quit playing dumb.”

Buck reels back, the words packing a hard punch. He doesn’t know what he’s done to draw Bosko’s ire, but it only deepens the rapidly growing pit in Buck’s stomach. It reminds him of how he felt all throughout high school at some prestigious place his parents forced him to attend. He was the only new kid and that, coupled with the weird birthmark on his face, made him an outcast right off the bat. His classmates would whisper things as he passed by and made it a point to talk about him when he wasn’t around, always sure to keep a tight leash on some secret about Buck that they never bothered to share with him.

Buck swallows back the acrid taste of inadequacy, hating that even after all these years, it can still make its way to the surface. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bobby’s face does something complicated. Bosko shuffles uncomfortably. Chim and Hen both frown.

“I thought you knew,” Hen says in the same measured voice she uses when talking to a victim at one of the scenes they’re working. Buck has always marveled at how it can keep those they’re trying to save calm. He wishes it could have the same effect on him. “I wouldn’t have said anything otherwise.”

“Knew what?” Buck’s heart is racing, trying to piece together whatever pieces of the puzzle everyone else has already solved. He stands, ready to walk, run, fly, do something if that’s what he needs to do. What Eddie needs him to do. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”

For one terrifying moment, no one so much as moves a muscle or breathes. It’s as though they’re suspended in time, the brief pause right before the climax unfolds and leaves a mess in its wake.

It’s Hen who holds her phone out to Buck. He takes it and almost immediately wishes he hadn’t. His knees give out and he’s lucky that his chair is there to keep him from hitting the floor.

There on the bright screen is a face he knows too well under a headline he doesn’t know how to make sense of.

Unknown LA Artist Eddie Diaz Tapped as Opener for Priscilla King’s Highly Anticipated Stadium Tour

Buck is sitting alone in his apartment with a half-full beer in his hand when someone knocks on his door.

“Buck? You in there?”

Buck takes a hearty swig of his drink instead of responding.

“I saw your Jeep out front, you’ve gotta be in there.”

Buck should’ve parked around the corner.

“I’m coming in.”

The sound of a key being inserted and twisted in the doorknob is loud in the otherwise silent space. The noise is a temporary reprieve from the thoughts that have been swirling around in Buck’s mind since this morning.

Lights brighten the once dark apartment and Buck has to blink in rapid succession to adjust to the unexpected change.

“Is there any reason why you’re sitting alone in the dark?” Eddie questions, rounding the sofa and taking a seat beside Buck. Buck doesn’t say anything, doesn’t trust himself to. “Chris was really disappointed that you didn’t come by tonight.”

And that? Well, that’s not fair. Anyone with eyes knows that Chris is Buck’s weakness - he’d capture the moon and bring it back down to earth if Chris asked him to.

“I’ll apologize next time I see him.” Buck’s voice is gruff from disuse, and he hopes that’ll hide the undercurrent of hurt that wedges itself between each of his words.

He’s not sure how many more ‘next times’ he has with Chris. Or Eddie.

How does that saying go again? You never know what you have until it’s gone. In his defense, Buck always knew what he had - he just wasn’t expecting it to be ripped away from him. Not like this.

“Are you okay?”

Buck hates that question with every fiber of his being. If there was a way for him to eradicate it from the English language, he would. Has anyone ever answered that question honestly? He doubts it and he doesn’t intend to be the first to do so either. “Yeah.”

Eddie slides over on the sofa so that his shoulder brushes Buck’s. Usually, that small touch is enough to send sparks racing down Buck’s spine. Now it’s bittersweet, tainted by a ticking clock that is counting down the time Buck has left with Eddie.

“Buck.”

It’s not fair that Eddie can make Buck’s name sound so beautiful. Then again, Eddie has a tendency of making even the simplest things sound like a lovely melody. Buck used to, still does, love that about him. But he loves it a little less now that he knows it’s that same talent that’s going to take Eddie away from him.

“Why didn’t you tell me as soon as you found out?”

Beside him, Eddie inhales sharply. “Who told you?”

“The internet.”

Technically Hen did, but the internet is close enough to the truth.

“Fuck.” Eddie stands and Buck almost reaches out for him, but it’s not his place to do so. Even if he wishes it was. “I was planning to tell you tonight, but you never came by.”

Then, almost as an afterthought, Eddie adds, “I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

Buck deflates, body going slack as he leans back against his sofa. He read through the gossip articles earlier between calls, enough of them to prove the validity of the breaking news story, but hearing Eddie confirm it makes it real.

Eddie is embarking on a nationwide tour with one of the most popular singers in the world.

And he’s going to be leaving Buck behind to do so.

The only person Buck has to blame for being caught off guard by this is himself. He tricked himself into believing that maybe, just maybe, Eddie would be the one to stay. It was foolish logic compounded by wishful thinking and an imagination that’s constantly running wild.

Buck’s never been worth sticking around for in the past. Why would things be any different now?

This moment isn’t about him and his inability to find anyone who thinks he’s worth staying for though. It’s about Eddie and the fact that he’s finally achieving a dream that he’s been working towards for much longer than Buck’s known him. So, Buck shoves aside the steadily spreading ache in his chest and musters up the biggest smile that he can. He hopes it’s convincing.

“A tour with the Priscilla King? Eddie, that’s huge.”

“I know.” Eddie runs a hand through his hair, dislodging a couple of strands that end up hanging in his face. “I know. It’s insane. I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Well it is and no one deserves it more than you.”

It’s something Buck believed when he first heard Eddie perform at a dive bar a couple of years ago and it’s what he still believes to this day.

“Thank you,” Eddie says, before taking a seat in front of Buck on the edge of his coffee table. “For coming to my small shows. For always cheering the loudest. For taking Chris on nights when I got last-minute gigs. For helping me record and post my covers. For telling me I could do this on the days that I was convinced I couldn’t.”

There’s a stinging at the back of Buck’s eyes but he opts to counteract that feeling by biting the corner of his lip. He can’t cry. He won’t.

Even if this feels like a goodbye.

“Your support saw me through this and got me to where I am today. So, although it doesn’t feel like just saying this is enough, thank you.”

Eddie takes Buck’s hand, the one that isn’t still holding onto his almost empty beer bottle and laces their fingers together. The air is forcibly dragged out of Buck’s lungs, and he’s convinced that he’ll never breathe easily again. Not with the knowledge that Eddie won’t be around anymore.

Buck thought they had more time. It’s why he never pushed this thing that they’ve got going on between them. The lingering touches. The sometimes-flirty banter. The need to constantly spend any free time together. He was convinced that one day, the two of them would figure it out. They’d get their shit together and stop toeing the line between being close friends and something more.

Maybe they would’ve. But Eddie is leaving, and Buck doesn’t know how to tell him that he’s taking Buck’s heart with him.

“Nothing’s going to change between us, right?” Eddie questions, his hand squeezing Buck’s tightly. Buck relishes in the added pressure, thoughts trailing off to an alternate world where Eddie wasn’t sitting here telling Buck he was leaving. Instead, he’d be asking Buck to come with him.

It’s unrealistic, Buck’s aware of that, but he can’t stop himself from thinking about it. In that version of his daydreams, Buck would’ve been a braver man and already told Eddie how he feels. Buck’s not brave though, not when it comes to love. He’s put himself out there too many times in the past only to end up burned.

It’s not like anything will change the fact that Eddie’s leaving anyways.

“Nothing’s going to change, Eddie. We won’t let it.”

Everything changes because of course it does.

In some ways, it happens all at once.

Everything in the Diaz household is packed up and either put into storage or shoved into the small nooks and crannies of Abuela’s house. Carla helps Eddie find an aide who can join him on tour and keep up with Chris’s needs. The school Chris was attending provides recommendations for a tutor who will make sure Chris stays on track for the last month of school before summer vacation.  

In other ways, it’s a slow progression that somehow manages to do more damage to Buck’s heart than saying goodbye at the airport to two of his favorite people in the world did.

At first, Eddie makes it a point to FaceTime Buck every night, no matter what. He’ll let Chris catch up with Buck first before he takes the phone, letting their conversation stretch for as long as he can.

The FaceTime calls transition into sporadic phone calls because Eddie rarely has any free time and, when he does, he’s too exhausted to maintain a conversation. There are nights when he falls asleep five minutes into a phone call with Buck and Buck stays on the line because he might not have Eddie with him anymore, but at least he has this.

Then the phone calls become texts because there isn’t even time for Eddie to speak on the phone with Buck anymore.

Buck knew this was coming, but he still wasn’t ready. Not to open his thread of messages to Eddie and see far more blue messages than gray. To see the way he tries to maintain a conversation that Buck’s sure Eddie barely cares about having.  

In summation, Eddie’s gone and Buck’s whole world is turned upside down. They swore nothing would change, but everything has and it’s Buck who’s left behind to pick up the shattered remains of his heart while the rest of the world falls ever more in love with Eddie Diaz.

‘I loved him first’ is what Buck wants to say.

He never does.

“I don’t think I can keep doing this to myself,” Buck slurs, wine glass in his hand almost empty.

It’s been a month and a half since Eddie left and Buck feels the loss every day. Even more so now that they aren’t in contact like they used to be.

“You shouldn’t have to,” Karen responds, words only barely clearer than Buck’s. Her wine glass has been abandoned on the coffee table alongside the two bottles of wine Buck brought along with him for this specific purpose.

He’s been sad, unendingly so and it was Karen who finally called him out on it during dinner at Bobby and Athena’s one night. She left him no choice but to agree to swing by during one of Hen’s overnight shifts so they could talk.

“I miss him.”

“I know, honey.” Karen reaches out and covers one of Buck’s hands with her own. Her touch is a comfort that grounds him in this moment in place of the thoughts of Eddie that constantly plague his mind. “I think it’s time that you do what’s best for you.”

“Eddie’s what’s best for me,” Buck confesses, the alcohol making his tongue much looser than ever before. He’s never said these words aloud to anyone before, not even to himself.

“Maybe he was,” Karen counters, suddenly much more sober than before. Or maybe she was never drunk to begin with, and it only seemed that way to Buck because of how much he’s had to drink. “But he’s not now and you deserve better.”

“I deserve better,” Buck parrots, rolling the words around in his mouth. He says them again just because he can. “I deserve better.”

Karen smiles, a lopsided thing that makes Buck smile too.

“You do. And I think that means distancing yourself from Eddie.”

Buck’s heart skips a beat. “But-”

“Eddie put that distance between the two of you first. I’m sure he didn’t mean to, but it happened and you’re paying the price because of it. Now I think it’s your turn to do the same.”

Buck doesn’t respond, opting to finish off the last of his wine. It burns a little on the way down, but the sting is nothing in comparison to swallowing back the truth behind Karen’s words.’’

Eddie (2:42am): hey! how are you?

Buck wakes up to the message a couple of days after his alcohol-induced confession to Karen. His first thought is to respond right away, heart ratcheting up at the sight of Eddie’s name in his notifications again. But then he sees all the messages that he’s sent to Eddie over the past few weeks, the ones that went unanswered, and he changes his mind.

“I deserve better,” he whispers, locking his phone and getting out of bed.

“Hey, Buck! I know it’s been a while since we last spoke, but I just wanted to drop in and see how things are going. How’s the station? Chim play any good pranks on you lately?”

Buck listens to the voicemail twice. He almost hits the “Call Back” button, but he can’t bring himself to do it. So he doesn’t.

Eddie (11:24pm): did you get my voicemail?

Buck stares at the text, a hint of gray in the otherwise blue landscape that makes up his text chain with Eddie. His fingers hover over his keyboard, trying to come up with something to say, when the alarm sounds. Buck, along with the rest of the 118, make their way to the truck for yet another call.

He puts his phone in his pocket and forgets all about responding.

“I just spoke to Chris, and he said you guys spoke last night? When I tried calling, you didn’t answer. Call me back when you get this?”

“Evan Buckley, now is not the time to be on your phone.”

Buck jolts, the reprimand made louder by the alcohol coursing through his system. “Just give me a second. I have to-”

“Oh no no no,” Karen tells him, coming by and plucking his phone right out of his hand. Her warm fingers circle around his wrist as she tugs him toward a dimly lit stage. “You and I are doing this duet. No chickening out now.”

Somewhere in the background, Buck hears Chim squawking, Hen yelling, and Bobby reminding Buck that he doesn’t have to give in to peer pressure.

It all steels his resolve.

“Let’s knock their socks off.”

Eddie (2:07am): i miss you

Buck, having put Eddie on ‘Do Not Disturb’, never sees the message.

“Buck! How could you not tell us?”

Hen, Chim, Bobby and Bosko surround him in the locker room, and it gives Buck the worst sense of déjà vu. It takes him a second to place the origin of this feeling but, when he does, it’s like someone ripped the rug right out from under Buck’s feet.

The last time this happened, Buck found out about Eddie leaving for tour. Although it’s a wound that has healed over time, it’s still a sore spot that he’d much rather not revisit.

“No.”

“No?” Chim sounds as perplexed as the rest of the team looks.

“No,” Buck confirms, lacing up his shoes before standing. Their shift is just starting and the last thing he needs is to be distracted when there are lives on the line.

Hen holds her phone out towards him, and he resists the urge to take it from her and toss it in the nearest garbage can. That phone has done enough damage in the past. He won’t let it do so in the present as well. “But-”

“No.”

“But it’s E-”

“No.”

The fourth ‘no’ must do the trick because the semi-circle they created around him gets broken up. Bosko is the first one to go, followed by Chim and then Hen.

Bobby lingers the longest and Buck is expecting him to say something, but the captain just squeezes Buck’s shoulder before following the rest of the team out of the room.

“Hi, Bucky!”

Buck smiles despite the all too familiar ache that comes with only being able to see a pixelated version of Christopher. It’s not the same as the real thing, but he reminds himself that it’s also better than nothing. “Hey, buddy! How are you doing today?”

Chris is bouncing in his seat, having far more energy than Buck would expect out of him at this time. “Good! Did you see the video of daddy?”

“What video?” Buck asks because the alternative is admitting that he has made it a point to avoid all things Eddie-related for his own well-being. That’s not a conversation he’d know how to go about navigating, especially not with Chris.

Chris stops moving, lips turning down in a frown that sends a wave of guilt crashing over Buck. He never wants to be the cause of his favorite person’s unhappiness.

“Daddy sang last night at the concert. When I saw Priscilla this morning, she said that it was everywhere.” Chris does that on occasion, namedrops Priscilla King as if she’s not the single most sought after star in the music industry right now. Buck is sure that it’s going to make Chris the envy of all of his classmates when he goes back to school. “I asked her if she thought you saw it and she said yes.”

Had the circumstances been different, Buck might’ve been awestruck over the fact that one of the most famous celebrities in the world is aware of his existence, all thanks to a nine-year-old.

“I’m sure it was great,” Buck says, wholeheartedly meaning it. He’s had firsthand experience with Eddie’s singing in the past. Him being chosen as the opener for Priscilla King’s tour was no fluke.

“You have to watch the video.”

Chris has only ever used that tone in the past during moments of urgency. Usually, Buck would have no choice but to buckle under the pressure of Chris’s gaze and do as he’s been told, but this is different. He can’t do it. Not after he’s finally gotten to a place where losing Eddie has transitioned from excruciating to painful but manageable.

It’s taken him time to get to this point and he can’t jeopardize that for anything or anyone. Chris included.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Chris asks with a pout that Buck desperately wishes he could erase off of the young child’s face.

“I just can’t.”

“Is it because you can’t find it? I can ask Priscilla to send it to you if you want.” Chris’s innocence surrounding the situation somehow manages to make all of this worse. “You have to watch it. Daddy sang the song just for you.”

The blood in Buck’s veins runs cold. Of all the things Chris could’ve said, Buck can’t say that he was expecting that.

“You mean he sang a song for everyone.”

“If everything that Chris has told me about you is true, there was no way the song could be for anyone but you,” a female voice says from somewhere off-screen.

Chris looks towards a spot of the room Buck can’t see before grinning widely. Chris shifts the tablet and Buck tries to withhold a gasp and fails because, standing there in all her glory is Priscilla King.

“So you’re the famous Buck these Diaz boys can’t stop talking about,” Priscilla drawls, something akin to delight flickering in her brown eyes. “I can see what all the hype is about.”

“I-” Buck starts, words failing him in a way that they haven’t since he was a teenager. Living in LA has desensitized him to most celebrities, so much so that he usually scoffs at stories of people becoming starstruck when meeting someone famous. It seemed ludicrous to him that a random stranger could have that effect on another person, all because of their social status.

This must be karma coming back to bite him in the ass in the most devious way possible. It’s the only way to explain his inability to form a proper word, let alone a full sentence. He can’t do much more than open and close his mouth in the hopes that something coherent will magically slip past his lips.

“Bucky, are you okay?”

Priscilla laughs, a deep chuckle that is in stark contrast to the dulcet singing he’s used to hearing on the radio. “I think he’s a little surprised to be talking to me.”

“Why?” Chris asks, genuine confusion overtaking his features.

“This is why you’re one of my favorite people on this tour, Chris.” Priscilla ruffles Chris’s hair, making him giggle.

It’s the familiarity of the scene that breaks Buck through his temporary celebrity-induced haze. Without the shock coursing through him, he can get back to the topic at hand. The same one he is struggling to wrap his head around.

“Why do you both think that Eddie sang a song for me?”

“Just watch the video and you’ll know why. In fact,” Priscilla pauses to take her phone out of her pocket and begins tapping away on the screen, “my team recorded a better version of the performance than you’ll find on YouTube. If you give me your number, I can text it to you.”

“I know Bucky’s number!” Chris reaches for Priscilla’s phone with wiggling fingers, and she hands it over without a second thought. It takes him less than a minute to type in the ten digits that make up Buck’s number, something he learned to do because of Eddie’s insistence.

If, for whatever reason, I can’t get to you, Buck will.

Those words had rung in Buck’s head long after Eddie said them.

It’s the buzz of an incoming text message that brings Buck out of the memory. When he checks his phone, he has one new text from an unknown number and there’s a video attached to it.

Whatever look crosses his face, Priscilla must catch it because she says, “I know it’s scary, but take the leap. I promise it’ll be worth it.

It takes a few hours filled with a lot of pacing and false starts before Buck finally finds the courage to pull out his laptop and open the link that Priscilla sent him.

“I hope you guys don’t mind, but I’m going to do a different cover tonight,” Eddie announces, fingers lightly strumming his guitar. Incoherent screaming can be heard in the background and the hint of a smile graces Eddie’s features. The screaming only grows louder.

“I had someone back home.” Eddie’s fingers still and he looks out into the crowd, eyes searching as if he can conjure up this person from his thoughts alone. “And I messed it up. I let them slip right through my fingers even though I knew - I know that they’re everything I could ever want.”

Buck doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe.

He’s not a part of that crowd, but he’s as enraptured as everyone else is.

Eddie’s gaze drops down to the mic in front of him. He exhales deeply, the sound reverberating around the stadium. “So, if you’re out there, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for waiting so damn long and I’m sorry for pushing you away. If you’re listening, this is for you.”  

Eddie strums his guitar, and people must know what he’s about to sing from those chords alone because there’s more screaming.

“I could hardly believe it when I heard the news today. I had to come and get it straight from you.”

The lyrics are vaguely familiar to Buck, but it’s Eddie’s voice that renders Buck awestruck. It has been so long since he heard Eddie sing that hearing it again now is like that first time he heard it in a bar over three years ago. He had never known that a voice could be so beautiful, that it could make him feel so much, until he met Eddie.

“They said you were leavin’, someone’s swept your heart away. From the look upon your face, I see it’s true.”

Music has always amazed Buck. Songwriters can take topics as complex as love and heartbreak and fitting them into a song that only lasts a few minutes. Then singers take those words and infuse them with seemingly endless emotions.

In this case, Eddie has found the perfect song to match the heartbreaking melody that has been playing on repeat in Buck’s mind since he found out that Eddie and Chris were leaving for tour.

“So tell me all about it, tell me ‘bout the plans you’re makin’. Oh, then tell me one thing more before I go.”

Buck is mesmerized.

Over the past three years, he has seen Eddie perform in countless places. In coffee shops, open mic nights at random restaurants, and on small stages in bars, but none of them have done him justice.

This, a grand stage, is where Eddie belongs.

“Tell me, how am I supposed to live without you? Now that I’ve been loving you so long. How am I supposed to live without you and how am I supposed to carry on? When all that I’ve been living for is gone.”

And with those words, Buck gets it. He understands how Chris and Priscilla, and probably everyone at work too, knew exactly who Eddie was dedicating this song to.

The yearning in Eddie’s voice is a mirror to the yearning in Buck’s heart. It’s the only way to explain how his heart calls out to Eddie as if it’s being called home after being lost for so long.

“And I’m too proud for cryin’, didn’t come here to break down. It’s just a dream of mine is coming to an end. And how can I blame you when I built my world around the hope that one day, we’d be so much more than friends?”

Luckily no one is around to see Buck reach out to his laptop screen and graze his knuckles over Eddie’s face. Those brown eyes that Buck has spent what feels like his whole life falling in love with give nothing away while Eddie sings.

His voice though.

His voice is singing everything that Buck only ever dreamed of hearing Eddie say.

“Now I don’t wanna know the price I’m gonna pay for dreaming. Oh, now that your dream has come true.”

The price that Buck had to pay for Eddie’s dreams coming true was steep. More so than even he was anticipating. It’s a price that he paid then and a price he knows he'd wholeheartedly pay again just to see Eddie where he is now - on stage and getting all the love and attention he deserves.

But this moment, this song, is different. It feels like a new dream being realized.

A new start.

“Tell me, how am I supposed to live without you? Now that I’ve been loving you so long. How am I supposed to live without you and how am I supposed to carry on? When all that I’ve been living for is gone...”

The song ends and, for a second, there’s silence. Eddie’s chest heaves from the exertion of his singing and, when he looks up, the audience yells at the top of their lungs. It startles Eddie, so much so that he takes a couple of steps backwards.

Then, as if remembering where he is, he throws his free arm up to wave and smile at everyone.

The smile doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

Buck’s vision is blurry when he types up the only message he can think to send.

Buck (8:32pm): do you have any tickets for your LA show next month?

He puts his phone down, unsure of how long it’ll take for him to receive a response.

That’s why he’s so surprised when his phone chimes only seconds later.

Priscilla (8:32pm): I’ll personally fly you out to our next show myself if it means Eddie will stop moping around.

“Are you nervous?”

Buck’s heart squeezes at the sound of that voice, having spent far too long only hearing it over a phone or computer as compared to in person.

“Yeah, buddy,” he says to Christopher, who is sitting in the chair beside him. “I am.”

“You don’t have to be though. It’s just daddy.”

The simplicity of those words is a sharp contrast to the situation that’s about to unfold. Even more so because Eddie has never been ‘just’ anything to Buck.

“They’re ready for you,” a woman with a headset and clipboard informs Buck and Christopher. “I’m going to walk you over now.”

The instructions are easy to follow and yet, the thought of standing up feels as insurmountable as climbing a mountain. Once Buck gets up, the plan that has been a week in the making will be set in motion. There will be no turning back.

It’s terrifying to think that after everything that he and Eddie have been through together, this is the way the page is going to turn on their relationship. Not in a small and quiet way, like Buck had always dreamed about, but on an unfamiliar stage in a packed stadium full of people neither Eddie nor Buck have ever met before.

“C’mon, Bucky.” Chris holds out a hand to Buck and, if there’s anything that Buck has ever been happy to fail spectacularly at, it’s this. His inability to say no to Chris. Without it, he would be frozen to his spot, ready but afraid to find out what comes next.

They walk through the backstage area together, the stadium’s employee at the front guiding them through the darkness with a flashlight. She must be cognizant of the need to not rush through the sometimes small and other times crowded spaces to allow Chris the ability to keep up with her.

As they draw closer to the stage, Buck can hear the chanting of the crowd. It is a long way away from the small bars and pubs that Eddie used to frequent. Back then, having more than twenty people in the crowd was a big deal. Now, Eddie is easily singing to tens of thousands of people at least four times a week.

They say nothing can prepare you for being thrust into the spotlight, so Buck wonders how Eddie prepared for this. He desperately wishes he could ask.

“Minnesota, you’ve been great tonight! Is it okay if I do one last song for you?”

Chris squeals, gripping Buck’s hand tightly. This is the cue they’ve been waiting for and, from their position on the side of the stage, they have the best view in the arena to watch it all unfold.  

“I have a new song -”

“Now now, hold on there Cowboy,” a voice interjects. The audience’s screams amplify tenfold as Priscilla strolls out on stage with a microphone in one hand and a stool in another. Buck is tempted to cover his ears but doing so means letting go of Chris’s hand and he’s not sure what he’s liable to do once he lets go. Chris is his anchor, and, without his touch, Buck is almost certain he’ll let himself be washed away at sea.

“Hey, P. What’re you doing out here? Trying to steal my thunder?”

Priscilla sets the stool beside Eddie and takes a seat on it. She props her arm on his shoulder, eyes twinkling when she leans in so she can use his mic to say, “you do know that this is my tour so, if there’s anyone stealing my thunder, it’s you.”

There’s a lightness to Eddie that Buck is unsure he’s ever experienced before. Like a flower with the right care, Eddie blooms under the brightness of countless adoring fans and someone as open and friendly as Priscilla.

“Well if that’s the case, should I be getting off your stage?”

Eddie goes so far as to start unplugging his guitar, to the chagrin of countless concert goers.There’s somehow even more yelling than before and this time it has nothing to do with Priscilla.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cowboy. I’d have a riot on my hands if I let you walk off this stage right now.” She takes a moment to take in the crowd before turning her attention to the side of the stage that Chris and Buck are hiding in. Buck is almost certain that she winks in their direction. “I’m actually here because I have a favor to ask you.”

Even though Eddie has been rolling with the punches up until now, Buck can tell this unexpected request throws Eddie off. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“I was wondering if I could sing a song with you.”

Buck’s in a packed stadium where everything is at full volume, including the crowd, but not even that can drown out the sound of Buck’s pounding heart in his ears. This is it - the beginning of the end.

And, hopefully, the start of something new.

As if sensing his spiraling thoughts, Chris squeezes Buck’s hand again.

On stage, Eddie purses his lips and puts a finger to his chin. “I think that can be arranged. What did you have in mind?”

Priscilla covers both her mic and Eddie’s when she leans forward to whisper the song in his ear. If Eddie’s surprised by what she says, he hides it well.

“Think you can handle that, Cowboy?”

Eddie repositions his fingers on his guitar, cocky smile in place. “I think I can. I just hope you can keep up, P.”

Buck experiences an unnerving sense of déjà vu as Eddie strums the first few chords of the song. It’s almost as if he’s at home watching the video Priscilla again.

“I could hardly believe it when I heard the news today. I had to come and get it straight from you.”

Priscilla and Eddie harmonize the lyrics as if they’ve sung them a hundred times together before. Where he goes low, she goes high. Buck would be captivated if not for what he knows is going to happen next.

“Alright, Mr. Buckley,” a stagehand says, appearing seemingly out of nowhere with earbuds in hand. He was told ahead of time that he would be wearing them so he could hear better once he’s out on stage. “It’s time.”

“They said you were leavin', someone's swept your heart away. From the look upon your face, I see it's true.”

The stagehand gently pushes Buck forward and with that, Buck finds himself stepping out of the shadows. Like a sailor being pulled to the shore, he walks towards the siren that’s going to change his life, for better or for worse.

“So tell me all about it, tell me ‘bout the plans you’re makin’. Oh, then tell me one thing more before I go.”

The lights on the stage fade and a spotlight lands on Buck as he walks onto the stage. Priscilla jumps off the stool and it’s only then that Eddie turns in Buck’s direction.

Time stops when their eyes meet.

Eddie has never been an overly emotive person. A lifetime of being told to ‘man up’ and to ‘take things like a man’ stole that ability out from under him. And yet, there is no denying the tears that well in Eddie’s eyes as he takes Buck in.

Buck has waited for what feels like forever to be looked at like this. To be seen.

And to be seen like this by Eddie? Buck is sure there’s no greater feeling in the world.

“Tell me, how am I supposed to live without you?” Eddie sings directly at Buck as he walks towards him too. They meet somewhere in the middle, just like they’ve been doing for the past three years. It’s a magnetic pull that Buck is tired of fighting. “Now that I’ve been loving you so long.”

Eddie is close, so close, now.

Somehow it’s still not close enough.

“And how can I blame you when I built my world around the hope that one day, we'd be so much more than friends?”

It’s a lyric and a confession all rolled into one, the perfect encapsulation of how Buck has felt for too long. And, if the way Eddie’s voice cracks on the last word is any indication, it’s how he’s felt too.

“How am I supposed to live without you and how am I supposed to carry on? When all that I’ve been livin’ for is gone.”

Buck barely registers the flashing lights and hysterical screaming that is amplified by the song ending. He is too busy looking into the eyes of the man he loves.

Unlike Michael Bolton, Buck had to learn how to spend these past few months living without Eddie. Now that he has, he knows for certain that he never wants to do it again.

“You sang a song for me.”

Eddie laughs before resting his forehead against Buck’s “You weren’t answering my calls.”

“Michael Bolton though? Feels a little dramatic.” Buck is aiming for nonchalance but is unsure how much of a success that is. It’s hard to tell when it feels like his heart’s going to beat right out of his chest and take its rightful place alongside Eddie’s.

“It got you here, didn’t it?”

“You got me there.”

Buck doesn’t know what happens after this. There are conversations to be had, logistics to figure out, a young child to take into consideration and so much more.

But those are all things to worry about later.

For now, Buck is content to bask in the glory of this moment, this revelation, with Eddie.

[fumifooms]

L’s sugar addiction & self-medication : character analysis

I have some thoughts on L and his relationship to sugar that I haven’t seen from others yet surprisingly, so I’m making this post that hopefully won’t get too long definitely became long af. I’m very open to counter-arguments or people adding on to this.

Some context: I 100% see L as autistic and there’s honestly no debate to be had, even though I don’t think it was done intentionally. (I respect others having different perspectives, I just think it’s objectively the most fitting label/explanation and I’ll act like it’s a given through this analysis). I’m autistic myself, “high-functioning” meaning I mask decently enough, diagnosed at 18 and started taking concerta for attention this month at 19, I’m also INTP if that matters and yeah uh as a kid I identified a lot with L and Near and wow surprise surprise I got a bit unhealthily reliant on sugar for a while there, so here I go. 

Other context headcanons: L has autism, but is undiagnosed, which I believe mostly because Wammy’s House seems to be outside of the government and society’s eye and it didn’t seem concerned with diagnosis or mental health, the time at which Death Note was written in, and just general vibes idk. Even if he was diagnosed, he strikes me as the kind of autistic who wouldn’t care about the label and wouldn’t give much thought to it -mostly because he gives 0 shit about masking tbh and he’s highly fact oriented-, thinking he works well as he is and that medication would change him and the rupture to his habits sound unpleasant, even if down the line it’d be very helpful and it actually doesn’t change you as a person chill. Yeahh, I have an aversion to drugs of any kind, outside stuff affecting my brain chemistry just gives me a big nope, that’s including alcohol, coffee and painkillers, so I can relate even if it’s something I have to get over, and he seems the type of not wanting to be under any effect. Anyways point is: he doesn’t take meds and isn’t super aware of his condition, despite being knowledgeable in his habits and needs in many regards in canon, on the spot I’m thinking about his sitting pose = brain power stat for example. 

So why the sugar? The canon explanation is something along the lines of it giving him the energy he needs because he sleeps so little. Yeah fair, that does make sense, and also fits in with what I’ll be talking about:

My explanation: L self-medicates with sugar, which lead to sugar addiction. And I’m being 100% unironic. Those words are thrown around jokingly a lot but sugar addiction is a real issue that doesn’t get addressed much. Confirmation that L’s relationship with sugar is an addiction might even have been like, explicitely stated in canon at some point? But I haven’t seen that around and my memory really isn’t that good. So yeah there’s probably L’s picky food taste because of autism sensory issues in there as well, him just liking the taste and all and wanting same food, but this level of always eating it is more than just a preference. I’m sorry fellow autistic guy that only ate potatoes for all his life and got massive problems, but at least potatoes don’t influence your brain chemistry. Even if it started as a preference and continues to be such, if he’s addicted or not with how much of it he consumes is out of his hands. And where my earlier rambling comes in is: I think he’s unaware that it’s an addiction, I think he doesn’t think much of it, he overestimates his agency and control over his diet, even if he does recognize his dependency on it to a degree. L eats sweets pretty much constantly in canon, so that part won’t be argued about, I’m more interested in the why and how of it.

Let’s refine what sugar addiction is a bit, have this article. (It implied at one point that sugar can’t be truly/gravely addicting but it shows facts comprehensively so I’ll let it slide) Sugar addiction pretty much demands that you eat sugar constantly to get the effects (energy, stimulation that makes your head feel clearer) you seek, when the addiction is in full swing. Sounds self-explanatory yet?  Is sugar addiction real? Further reading: healthline.com article, theguardian article, someone’s journey. It’s a complex and debated issue, and sugar is still something important to have in certain quantity in our bodies, I don’t claim to be a biochemist or expert on the topic. 

Ok but why sugar? Why would he get addicted? Why does L feel like he need it? Well even if it wasn’t a full on addiction, which in his case it is, sugar gives energy, as mentioned, it can somewhat act as a stimulant. Without mentioning that sugar is widely spread and seen as pretty casual, it’s easy to get into eating it way too much and thinking nothing of it, like coffee, especially if you don’t suspect your craving of it is tied in with how your brain works. In autism, if you tend to be understimulated, you can get prescribed stimulant medication that’s intended or generally given to people with ADHD, like me with concerta, it’s really not that uncommon. Have these article tidbits that adress it as self-medication:

(article 1: addcrusher.com “How You Are Self-medicating your ADHD” - Article 2: Medium.com “Why Adults With Undiagnosed ADHD Often Turn To Self-medication”)

Why do you think L needs stimulants in the first place? He has shown to want more stimuli in general, rather than being overstimulated, even if he does like to have a calm controlled environment. I, too, am an autistic person that gets understimulated easily, which mostly leads me to listen to fast paced music as stimming when doing college exams, etc. L seeks the mental stimulation of puzzles and it’s the only thing he shows interest in doing (canon), again because of the stimulating entertainment factor. Because he doesn’t mind situations that put him under pressure, or in contact with a team of people or in public. He doesn’t mask to appear nice or neurotypical, but he does show no discomfort about an overwhelming amount of stimuli in general. Also because he stims in other ways than solving cases: tapping his feet, playing with food, etc. And, last of all, the reason of this essay, because he eats sweets all the time. 

Okay, but sugar as self-medication? Really? Where does your personal experience come into this? Like I’ve mentioned here and there, I get understimulated easily and I only started taking stimultant meds veryyyy recently. That stuff is instinctual; you’ll tap your feet mindlessly if you need more stimulation, if you’re hungry you’ll eat, if you want coffee you’ll get it, if you have a lil sugar craving you’ll seek to quench it, even if you don’t really know why. You do what makes you happy, and if sugar makes you feel good for a while, makes you feel energized or think more clearly then subconsciously you’ll start wanting it more often, hence why you start out not thinking much of it. I wouldn’t describe my case as an addiction, I don’t think I really got withdrawal or super bad or anything, but there definitely were days when i’d constantly be craving and/or eating sweets, always taking breaks from fruitless work to grab another sugary snack every 15 minutes or every hour. Gummies or other candies, cookies, marshmallows, and for a while even literal packets of refined sugar. They were food cravings like any other, feels like “I want some pizza”, but underlaced with need, and a feeling that you’ll feel and function better once you’ve gotten it. But the craving never stops, and you’re never satisfied, you only ever end up taking more and more and more. Yeah, I’d class my experience as an attempt at self-medication, definitely. Often when I'd take a lot and keep surrendering to the craving for more it’d just lead to more intense hyperactivity, manic symptoms and my body going bonkers with sweating and shaking and stuff, but sometimes it’d genuinely help me focus on schoolwork and on concentration. 

Conclusion: It’s a stimulant, so it helps L. It makes him feel like it’s helping him think better and be more awake, so he takes more. It keeps working to some degree even if it’s unhealthy, so he never stops it or tries alternatives. That’s kind of all there is to it, in the end. L puts a great deal of interest in his mental state for productivity purposes, but has never seemed to have any care in his body’s health at all, so I don’t think he’d care to change even if he knew how bad it was anyways.

Tangent:  I also like the thought of Wammy’s House being pretty abusive in that neglectful (and manipulative) way and Watari being such an enabler, all focused on performance rather than healthy behavior and thought processes, which does work for iq results apparently but at what cost. L and Mello especially def have some self-destructive habits. Anyways yeah- I like that angle instead of the whole thing being “haha quirky”, it sounds narratively consistant and compelling for the tone of the Death Note franchise. I’m sure Watari honestly believes he’s doing a good thing and helping L working at his best condition, to some degree, but yeahhh feeding the guy under your care only sweets for years without steering him towards healthier alternatives is bad if we want to do a realistic analysis, especially if you’re the one who raised him/organized the environment in which he grew up. 

Actual conclusion, more in-depth: So what does this all mean for his character, if I’m getting angstier: L is driven into his detective work not because of some grand passion or ambition (canon), but because working on cases is the only thing interesting enough for him (also canon) aka the only thing that gives him enough stimuli to not be understimulated and painfully bored, but for that lifestyle of constantly chasing high stimulation he also needs substances that give him a rush. The whole thing is extremely unhealthy and unsustainable and L will crash and burn out eventually at any given moment. Kind of a tragic character, huh. He died on his thoughest case ever, his interest driving him to take risks and get more invested and stressed than ever.

L’s laser focus on objective productivity while ignoring the fact that he has human physical needs just like everyone else, likely from a feeling of superiority and uniqueness not entirely unfounded, makes him blind to his very real issues. Being an irl L isn’t cool, it’s sad and unhealthy, cringy for everyone else around you. You may think you have metaphysics and the meaning of life or lack thereof pegged, but that won’t do you any good while you’re on the floor in a manic episode or burnout. I’ve been there mate, but seriously, gain perspective and grow some self-care, being purely statistic oriented is stupid. 

Give this man concerta. And a therapist he’ll condescendingly dismiss and talk over, but therapy nonetheless.

[oriharaizaiza]

It's interesting how Kyohei is just casually hanging out with another gang member from the blue squares, and initially seems to get along just fine. His values aren't all that straight forward; he's fine with the general idea of attacking Masaomi, even if he himself considers this fight below him. His only real concern is being caught by the police when it comes to a straight forward fight. Though Masaomi is a kid, the fandom often forgets he's also the leader of an active gang, which, although they didn't particularly start any fights or wars, is still highly violent in it's defense. The characters in the books on the other hand definitely do aknowledge this fact and therefore treat him much more like an adult.

Of course... When it comes to kidnapping, mutilating and raping a little girl... Hmn yeah that clearly goes too far. I think we can all agree with Kyohei on that one, but it actually isn't surprising that this behavior is cheered on in gang culture, is it? Certainly leaves a bad taste in my mouth to remember how relatively normal this kind of thing likely is in that sort of underworld.

So of to the rescue they go—

Evidence for Ran Izumii being among the biggest shit holes in this generally highly questionable series... Right there. Even the blue squares closely in league don't seem entirely comfortable with the absolute disregard for Saki as a person he's speaking with here.

Enter Walker, who's good mood was immediately doused upon seeing her.

Walker's 2D fantasies are as unrealistic and entertaining as always. I personally don't think he actually believes it though, despite Kyouhei's earlier comments about the two Otaku's not being able to tell reality and fiction apart. I think if anything, it just serves as a perfect distraction. I absolutely would believe that Walker has a hero complex though!

Don't play with fire people, you'll get burned. Even Walker did, and we all know it wasn't his first time. He just had different priorities in the moment. We'll have to admit though, it was very effective, even stopping them from being able to give chase right away.

In the short ride away from the scene, we know;

1. Everyone saw Masaomi, and nobody blamed him from being unable to manage on his own. He is, after all, just a boy.

2. The police shows up suspiciously fast after Khouhei and crew escape the scene.

3. The remains of the blue squares got in trouble with the Awakusu, of all people, right after.

4. And picked a fight with Shizuo,

5. Which Izaya then conveniently made use of to 'frame' Shizuo.

6. Izaya moved to Shinjuku right after this incident.

This smells of a typical Izaya style revenge scheme to me. I don't believe for a moment that he was okay with what was done to Saki, or that he intended for it to happen because this is exactly how Izaya reacts in other times where people he cares about are hurt by somebody else.

Izaya obviously has a lot of issues with expressing affection, but I'm pretty sure this is it, these over-the-top revenge actions, since it's pretty damn consistent who he does it for.

I actually think that Izaya's mocking attitude towards Masaomi later in the hospital, and his disregard for him in the 'current' time also have to do with being disappointed and angry at the boy, for being a coward and betraying Saki. It's hardly an excuse- he's just a kid after all, but it explains.

And finally I'm suspecting, since it's put this way, Shizuo was probably at leat party responsible for the thing he got arrested for? It was probably Izaya's fault he ended up in whatever the actual situation was in the first place, but seeing how shizuo was at this point in time, he probably did some non-excusable violence on his own accord.

Also this means that the remark about their 'rivelry being set in stone' in the first book, refers to this point, only two years ago. So their fight before that were actually of a friendlier, less serious nature??

A little while later, once Saki already has recovered a bit, Kyouhei's crew runs into Masaomi at the hospital.

The interaction is quite telling for how everyone believes Masaomi should be treated. Yes, he's young. But he's not a elementary school child. He's a teenager, and he made the concious choice to get into fights, and to keep his gang once he realized he had one. He even chose to keep his gang after realizing he could protect his friends by breaking it up. Masaomi can and should be expected to take responsibility, HE made these choices, nobody else did.

And still Kyohei gave him a way out, telling Saki a lie for him, letting Masaomi bury the past and move on with somebody he's supposedly in love with, should he chose to.

He does make a choice in the end. But he still courses to run- just with a little bit more closure than simple avoidance, as he ends up breaking up with Saki.

Kyohei really was being cool, and he definitely has an impact on Masaomi! I'm not sure if it was a 100% positive one in this case, but he did the best he could've. It's not Kyouhei's fault that Masaomi is an idiot.

Leave it to Erika and Walker to totally ruin it though. Though I have to say, reading under the bedsheets? Training your ears to hear your parents approach? Relatable.

[camels-pen]

Tolerance

Summary: Johnny and Kitty are fighting again, Ember's on Kitty's side, and thus, Danny has to steal a bike.

based on @jackdaw-sprite 's prompt "Danny realizes that underage drinking laws might be different in the ghost zone." and @aggressivelyclueless' prompt "Party night at Ember's! Rock music, drinks, bad movies and bad decisions: during a ghostly game of truth-or-dare, the pranks get a little out of hand when somebody dares a certain half-ghost in attendance to steal Johnny Thirteen's motorcycle…"

(2nd fic in drunk in one shot series)

Warning: implied/referenced underage drinking

Ao3 Link

~

“I dare you to steal Johnny’s bike.”

Danny made a face. “Uh, didn’t Johnny get uninvited…?”

“Yeah, and?”

He held up his hands. “Nothing, just checking.”

Danny avoided Ember’s gaze and studied the little blob ghost curled up in his lap. She narrowed her eyes.

Oh dang, he’s gotta save this. “I can totally take his bike from him! In fact, I can- I can take his jacket too!”

The room erupted into cheers. “That’s the spirit, Dipstick!” Ember said, slapping him on the back. 

---

The night started out well. Danny showed up to Ember’s party with a bizarre and highly flammable invitation in his hands hoping for a quiet night with some kind-of-friends and kind-of-enemies. He wasn’t really complaining about the full-on party atmosphere he showed up to instead of the girls’ night he was expecting.

Everything was already in full swing when he arrived, but Ember let him know they were waiting on him so they could start the truth or dare. Seeing nothing to lose and everything to gain, Danny readily agreed.

Well, there was something he had to clarify first.

---

“...and if you lose, you gotta take a shot!”

“You realize I’m fifteen, right?” Kitty raised an eyebrow. Danny leaned closer and whispered, “I saw Walker in the kitchen.”

“I know. I just got a refill.” She shook the red plastic cup in her hand. “Why are you whispering?”

“Because I don’t wanna get arrested.” There was a blank look on Kitty’s face. “For underage drinking.”

Kitty rolled her eyes. “Right, human laws.” She waved a dismissive hand. “We don’t have any drinking laws in the Zone.”

Danny’s eyes nearly popped out of his head and his excited grin was just this side of not-quite-eerie. “No fucking way.”

“As long as you’re a ghost, what does it matter?” She laughed. “I mean what’s really gonna happen? Most ghosts are dead so there isn’t really a worry about consequences. Well, that and the fucked up and inconsistent legal system.”

“Oh fuck yeah. I’m gonna—” Wait. There was definitely something concerning in what she just said. “What do you mean most ghosts are dead?”

“C’mon kid, that’s just common knowledge! I mean, haven’t you met—?” Kitty was cut off when a different teen ghost—one that looked like they came straight off a boyband cover—tugged at her wrist and gestured towards the bean bag chairs. “Oh, sorry Danny, I’ll tell you later. Need to grab a good spot before they’re gone!” And before he could protest, Kitty and the teen ghost rushed over to fight another pair of ghosts for the bean bag chairs.

---

The game hasn’t started yet and though he’s really curious what alcohol tastes like, he refuses to lose on purpose. He could enjoy a victory drink when this was all over and he was the only one left sober.

Though, he did start to sweat a little hearing some of the dares thrown around. The party had at least three dozen ghosts hanging around, participating or watching around the circle of players loudly trading questions and dares in the living room. Danny himself was sitting on the couch between Ember and Skulker.

He started off nervous and tense, laughing awkwardly and subtly leaning away from the knife handle poking out of Skulker’s belt, but as more and more truths were revealed and dares completed or failed, he started to relax. At one point, a little blob ghost introduced themself to him and settled on his lap. They didn’t have a name, but he took to calling them Blobbert in his head.

The sofa cushion was soft against his back and despite missing the chance for the bean bag chair, Danny thought this was a good trade. He laughed as he watched Kitty pull back in disgust from the teen ghost beside her—he thought she called him Drake once—and promptly take a shot without acknowledging his dare at all. The room laughed and Drake threw an arm around her, which made her roll her eyes, a fond smile on her lips.

The game continued on, but Danny had resigned himself to never getting called. There were dozens of ghosts around and no one was enforcing a rule where everyone had to have a turn so, being squished between the massive metal suit housing Skulker and the cushion hog that is Ember, he really didn’t expect to get picked. Though, honestly, he was perfectly okay with that. All competitiveness aside, he was really comfy for the first time in a couple months and he’d rather not give that up right now. So, he decided to just stay quiet and watch the show. 

He petted the blob ghost’s back—the little one tired themself out and took a nap not long ago—and finished off the pizza in his hand before reaching for the water bottle at his feet. That’s when he heard his name called.

Amorpho was belly-up in the kiddie pool, a tight blue ribbon slipping off the edge of his tail fin, and groaning out a series of (apparently) dolphin curses as slices of pepperoni rose and fell with his heavy breaths. At one point, someone had mercy on him and gave him a pair of tinted sunglasses to replace the ones he broke. The ghost nearly cried in relief, though Danny couldn’t tell if it was because he was drunk or the flashing lights were burning his eyes. Maybe both. Either way, the sunglasses themselves were a bit thinner than usual so Danny could see the ghost’s swirling eyes darting to him as he lifted his head to watch where the bottle landed. 

Amorpho flopped backwards into the pool. “Ughh, I can’t think of a good one for Billy right now. Someone else come up with something.”

Murmurs started up as the other ghosts debated what would be best for Danny. Or rather, what they would want to see him do. 

Danny winced at some of the suggestions and nearly decked someone over another, but then Ember piped up with a triumphant shout. Everyone quieted and turned to her, expectant.

“I’ve got the perfect dare,” she said, eyes twinkling with mischief. Danny had a feeling he might regret this.

---

“Hey, you fucking brat! Come back here with that!”

Why why why was Johnny in Amity?

Danny could’ve gotten away with it so much less painful if the ghost was just riding around in the Ghost Zone or hanging out in his lair, but noooo, Johnny and Kitty were fighting so Johnny, of course, had to go out and try picking up human girls to make her jealous and take him back. Ancients, what a moron.

He yelped as a blast sailed past his ear. It burnt someone’s tomato garden to ash and Danny winced, knowing he would probably take the blame for that. If this went on much longer, they’d probably get chased down by the GIW, what with all the destruction Johnny’s causing, and then Danny really will lose the bet since he can’t just leave Johnny to get caught. 

Okay, wow, he might be spiralling a little. The damage wasn’t that bad. Sure a few lawns and driveways would never look the same. Maybe the partially destroyed roofs and countless broken and dislodged shingles would get some people really angry, when they look up and realize at least. And the sticky ectoplasm he’d been throwing at Johnny to slow him down hasn’t really hit their mark, so there are probably a lot of things forever stuck together until Danny comes back and gets rid of it, which, okay yeah, maybe he wasn’t really spiraling and just being a realist on how much the town’s gonna hate him after tonight.

And of course, all his worrying about the consequences left him open to a tackle by Shadow, causing them and the motorcycle to crash in someone’s backyard. 

The good news was that Johnny’s bike was okay, meaning the ghost wouldn’t wring his neck any more than he was already planning to. 

The bad news was there was a grill on fire and a line of a quickly burning rope tied to a propane tank nearby.

Danny cursed. He could make a shield out of ice, but there’s no way it would stop the impact from the blast—he was strong, but he wasn’t that strong. Plus, even if he could minimize the damage, how is he supposed to get rid of—?

An idea popped up in his head and he grinned. 

Quickly, Danny threw up an ice shield around himself and the house directly behind him. 

Johnny and Shadow knocked insistently on the shield. “H-Hey kid c’mon! We were just messing around! No need to get our asses blasted over it!” 

Danny flashed his fangs. “No, I think you might need a little ass blasting. As a treat.”

The tank exploded and his large shield cracked much more than he was comfortable with, but it was worth it to get Johnny and Shadow away from him with a near guarantee they won’t be back anytime soon, likely too busy groaning in a ditch somewhere.

Danny whistled happily to himself, letting down the shield and resolutely ignoring the scorched backyard while floating towards the last place he saw the motorcycle.

…Which was now just a mangled piece of burning metal because he forgot to pull that behind him when he shielded himself and the house.

Perfect.

---

So, he did regret it, a little, and since the rules of truth or dare were absolute, Danny had to endure the consequences.

“Bottoms up, Dipstick!” Ember shouted, handing him a full shot glass and sitting on the edge of her seat. The other ghosts mirrored her eagerness, leaning forward with big smiles on their faces. Danny laughed awkwardly and peered into the glass.

The liquid was clear and when he sniffed it, he couldn’t smell anything. Honestly, if it weren’t for the dull glow surrounding it, he would’ve just assumed it was plain old water and Ember was just messing with him. 

He shrugged. “Sure, why not? I mean it’s just one shot, what’s the worst that could happen?”