#he's such an asshole and at once a terribly lonely man

[rusted-pipe-of-wisdom]

also for all the lack of respect for source material, doomsday clock made me appreciate just how much of adrian's character is actually a study of loneliness.

he is an incredible mix of passion and sensitivity with a dash of savior complex, and he's so focused on the big picture he can't see human beings as anything other than figureheads in the grand game. he's haunted by the idea that he, too, is a figurehead in someone else's design, that he is insignificant in the grand scheme of things. it's no wonder he and manhattan get on so well, but whereas jon is removed from the definition of humanity, adrian is fully human, and in this sense he's far lonelier and more tragic than jon. he's not invincible or immortal. he's just so out of touch he can't meaningfully connect with other people.

isolation is an important theme in watchmen, but adrian's version of it is crucial to his identity, and it just feels so complete and profound.

he's a poor little meow meow.

[candycandy00]

Can you just do your general nsfw headcanons for the jjk men?

Sure! These are very unorganized though, sorry! Just my random NSFW opinions about them!

Gojo Satoru:

First of all, he’s very good at sex. It’s canon that he’s good at anything he tries so this is provable fact. He’s very tall so it’s likely that he’s well endowed. 

He has a huge ego, which can be good and bad. He’s confident in his performance in the bedroom because, well, of course he is. And confidence is definitely sexy. But at the same time, he’s going to be a bit too full of himself. This can get annoying. He’s going to know exactly how to push all your buttons and get you riled up, which is going to make him the worst tease in existence. 

All of this is why I think he would be kinda mean in the bedroom. A bit of an asshole. But a very charming one so good luck resisting him. He knows he’s gorgeous. He knows he can satisfy you better than anyone else. So he’s going to use that to his advantage. I see him being the type to get really turned on by making you beg. I also see him having just a little bit of a degradation kink. He’ll throw in some insults or mock you for being so desperate for his dick (don’t let him fool you, he wants you as bad as you want him but he’ll never let it show).  

The fastest way to turn him on is to stroke his ego. Telling him he’s too big, he won’t fit, it hurts, etc. while also still begging for it will absolutely send him to the moon. The thought that you want him in you so badly, even if it hurts, gets him riled up faster than anything else. And once he’s in there, letting him know how deep he’s hitting, how he’s stretching you, will drive him wild. 

He has one major weakness though. No matter how mean or taunting he can get, deep down, he’s actually a pretty nice guy overall and genuinely cares about you and your feelings. So if he thinks he took things even one step too far or actually hurt you for real (physically or emotionally), he would feel terrible. He would suddenly turn into the sweetest boyfriend ever, being super affectionate and gentle, until he felt sure that he was forgiven and things were cool between you two. 

As for his sexual history, I think he hooked up with a lot of people when he first got out of high school. I mean people were already throwing themselves at him when he was still pretty young, so what do you think a hot young man is going to do? But I think he slowed down a lot as he got a little older. The random hookups started to leave him feeling empty. He probably starting having them to begin with because he was lonely after his split from Geto. It was just an enjoyable way to not feel alone for a little while. But gradually, the loneliness crept in faster and faster. So he decided to stop hooking up until he met someone he could have an emotional connection to. 

Geto Suguru:

I feel like Geto would be a very generous lover. He would definitely prioritize your pleasure, getting most of his own through watching you become a shuddering mess beneath him. 

He’s extremely good at performing oral sex. His tongue would be amazing. And he enjoys it more than anything else. Expect to climax several times, in a row, each time the two of you are intimate. 

Outside the bedroom, he’s very respectful and kind to you. He’s raising two young daughters, he wants to show them how they should be treated by a partner. But this respect and care crosses over to the bedroom too. He makes sure you’re satisfied and well pleased. 

When it comes to pleasing him, his hair is practically an erogenous zone for him. Run your fingers through it to hear him purr like a cat. Grab it, pull it, play with it, whatever. He loves it. When he’s making love, he prefers extremely intimate, deep, deliberate motions. He likes to take things slow so the two of you can just enjoy the feel of each other’s bodies. 

Is a firm believer that sex isn’t just for physical pleasure, but is a way to be closer to the person you love. For that reason, he’s had way fewer sexual partners than someone like Gojo or Toji, but the encounters he’s had have been way more meaningful. 

Sukuna:

Do you really want to know what gets this guy off? 

DO YOU? 

No sugar coating here, Sukuna is a monster. He enjoys suffering. He loves hurting people. He probably doesn’t give a shit about his partner’s pleasure. Or their consent. Or keeping them alive. It’s stated in the series that he “lives according to his pleasure”. So I can’t see him holding back if he saw someone he wanted. In his first scene alone, he specifically mentions women twice. Once asking “Where are the people? Where are the women?”while grinning maniacally. I think it’s pretty clear what the implication was there. He also implies that he would do something unsavory to Nobara if he took control. This was probably just his way of being a menace to Yuji, but the fact that he implied it at all says a lot about him. 

So yeah, all this to say I think he had his way with a lot of women when he was alive, probably killing them afterwards (which would explain why he has no descendants).  

As for his kinks? Oh Lord, there’s probably a long list and they’re all probably nightmarish. He’s probably into pain/torture/blood/humiliation/degradation/etc.  Anything to be cruel. He’s a cannibal so he definitely wouldn’t mind drinking a little blood and would probably be into biting. He’s just the walking personification of all the worst porn categories. 

But! He is actually capable of treating someone well if he likes them. We see this in how he treats Uraume (laughing and joking with them, forgiving their mistakes, just generally being nice to them). And how did Uraume earn a place at Sukuna’s side? By providing a service that Sukuna valued (cooking tasty human meat). So if he were to meet someone who really blew his mind in the bedroom, it’s possible that he would value them enough to keep them around. 

If that were to happen, he’d probably be a lot less of a nightmare in bed. He’d still have his kinks, but he would actually want to keep you alive, so he would tone it down to keep from damaging you too much. I also think he would start pleasuring you on purpose if he cared about you. He would enjoy knowing he could drive you wild with just a touch. Like Gojo, he has a massive ego. He’s also narcissistic and domineering. So while he would still prioritize his own pleasure, he would definitely see the charm in watching you come completely undone only for him. He’d still be very forceful and very rough. 

Nanami Kento:

Didn’t know he had a daddy kink until you accidentally called him daddy in bed. At that moment, something snapped into place for him, and he never looked back. 

Is lightly authoritative in bed, mainly because he knows it turns you on so much. Often uses “good girl” or “bad girl”. Engages in some light spanking, with his hand or his belt, but never actually hurts you and it’s something the two of you have thoroughly discussed and agreed upon. 

He usually guides every encounter. He’s used to being in charge. But you like it because you get to relax and let him do all the planning. Outside the bedroom, you have a totally normal relationship that a lot of people might even call dull, but inside the bedroom? You can both get quite kinky. 

Nanami will sometimes engage in teacher/student role play. You pull on your old high school uniform, which you’ve made a few alterations to in order to make it more sexy, and he has a monumental struggle trying to keep his self control. 

Speaking of his self control, it’s pretty strong. But if you tease him too much, he will absolutely have you bent over his lap, alternating between spanking you with his open palm and pleasuring you with his fingers. He’s very good with his hands. 

Fushiguro Toji:

Is a horn dog. It’s been told in the manga that he went “from woman to woman”, so he definitely got around. I think he’d definitely be into random hookups. But if he formed an emotional connection with you, as he did with Megumi’s mom, he would be faithful to you. 

Has a size kink, definitely. He is HUNG. 

Is very proud of his stamina. He can go for several rounds in a row. He’ll exhaust you, but you’ll definitely end up blissed out and very satisfied. 

Can be very soft and gentle or very rough, depending on the mood. He likes both. He’s also open to most kinks you’d want to try. He’s there for a good time, not to be judgemental. However, he would probably get a little bored or annoyed if there was a lot of prep involved. Wanna role play and throw on some costumes? Sure! But if you have to put a lot of time into converting the bedroom into a particular setting, he will lose interest. 

Probably not the best at aftercare. After he’s satisfied the both of you, he’s falling asleep and probably expecting breakfast in the morning. He’s not picky about what it is though so if you just give him some toast he’s cool with it. 

Enjoys showering together. He’s not the least bit shy about being naked (with that body, can you blame him?) and would think you’re being silly if you acted shy. 

Choso: 

Of all the guys, he’s probably the most shy and subby. He’s also the mostly likely to be a virgin. Not a huge shock considering it’s not been that long since he was incarnated into a human body. 

Choso would be a very sweet and devoted lover. Once he started to view you as family (in a spousal way), he would literally do anything to make you happy. That extends to the bedroom, where he would learn all the things you like just so he can please you. 

Contrary to what some people think, calling him “onii-chan” or “big brother” would not excite him. It would probably be the fastest way to kill his boner. He takes his role as a big brother very seriously, so putting yourself into that context would just make him uncomfortable. 

Doesn’t have many specific kinks but his absolute favorite thing is receiving blowjobs. Seeing you get on your knees in front of him gets him so excited he can barely breathe. He still can’t believe someone like you would work so hard to pleasure someone like him, but he gets mesmerized when he’s watching you suck his dick. 

Definitely the soft type. You’d have a hard time getting him to go rough because he’d be afraid of hurting you, and that’s the last thing he wants. But over time, you could probably convince him to try more spicy activities once you’re both very comfortable with each other. 

[m-jelly]

Sheriff situation

Levi x fem!reader

Modern AU, fluff, romance, being a couple, silly situation, supportive Levi, funny situation.

Levi gets a noise complaint from your neighbour. Suspecting it's about the noises Levi's get you making in the bedroom, he goes to have an awkward conversation but is shocked to find it's about your two cute wind chimes, one of which he got you. Levi has to stop you from getting too sassy.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird

"Sheriff?"

Levi lifted his head and gazed at a lady in his contact department. "Afternoon, Angela. Everything okay?"

She smiled at him. "Got an interesting call."

"Oh yeah?"

She read out an address before smiling a little. "Ring a bell?"

It did, it was your neighbour's address. "What's wrong?" Worry and fear surged through him as he rose to his feet. He called your name with love. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know if she will be. The call is a noise complaint."

A deep blush went over his cheeks. "Noise..."

"You been making noise at your girlfriend's place?"

"I'll go and see what's happening." He grabbed his jacket and yanked it on. "I probably won't come back as it is near the end of my shift."

"Have fun."

He gulped hard and ignored the giggles from the ladies who took the calls. The only thing Levi could think about with noise had to be how much he made you moan when you were intimate in the bedroom. It's not like you both were screaming the house down or breaking the bed, but he was sure last night the window was open because it was hot and he was doing so many things to you for so long.

The drive over to your home wasn't long, but Levi's mind was racing with what could possibly be going on. Your safety was his concern. Levi knew how much of an ass your old neighbour was. It all started with his lewd comments about your body when you moved in, along with watching you in your home and complaining that you put up blinds to stop him.

Once you protected yourself from his views, you next had to protect yourself in the garden. It became easy for you when Levi and you dated because you were always over Levi's. As a result of rarely being home, the old man was complaining about every single thing you did.

Levi pulled up and expected to see the old man waiting for him and you hiding in your house, but instead, he saw the two of you at the fence shouting at each other. He was now very concerned for your safety.

Levi jogged over as you shouted at the old man that he was a dirty pervert. "Tch, oi! You two, stop with the shouting. Reduce the anger and talk to me. I need to know what's going on."

The old man pointed at you with his bony finger. "I'm sick of you. You accuse me of terrible things and all you've been doing is torturing me!"

Levi sighed. "How does she torture you."

He pointed. "Those wind chimes! They are too loud! They go on all day and night! Surely there is a law against it!"

Levi pinched the bridge of his nose. "So, you demanded for the sheriff to come because of wind chimes?"

"They're too loud! I know there is a law about excessive noise! She is violating that law!"

Levi groaned. "Sir, no laws are being violated here. Wind chimes don't make excessive noise."

"They do for me!" He huffed. "You're the sheriff! You should support me! I'm an OAP you know! I built this country."

You laughed. "Oh really? What part did you build, huh?"

Levi said your name sternly. "Don't."

You pouted. "Why am I being told off when he's the asshole!"

The old man shook his head. "See what I have to put up with? I was always so nice to her. She's been pushing my buttons and now she has those damn wind chimes. I'm an old sick lonely man."

"Go to the hospital then if you're that sick and maybe call some friends over if you're lonely."

He glared at you. "I have no one!"

You smirked. "Wonder why. Not like your attitude and spying on young women is the issue."

"I want her arrested!"

Levi let out a long sigh. "For what?"

You showed Levi your wrists. "I wouldn't mind you arresting me, sugar."

"Behave."

The old man shook his head. "She should be arrested and locked up! Someone like her should not be in society."

You laughed. "Then who would you try and perv on huh?"

"I am no pervert! You always pick on me and lie. Kids these days are all the same!"

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not a kid! I'm an adult. Plus, you calling a kid makes you perving on me far worse!"

"You just hate old people! You pick on me! Us old people are forgotten about!"

You growled. "Oh please, you get so much shit handed to you. You just like being the victim all the time!"

He pointed at the wind chime. "I want this gone! Both of them."

Levi stepped over and put his arm out. "Sir, don't grab that. Those wind chimes are her property."

"They're terrible things! They're ugly! They need to go!"

"Sir, touch them and you will get into trouble."

The old man poked Levi's chest. "You're taking her side because she's probably polishing your gun! You're sleeping with criminals."

You leaned around Levi and smirked. "You're just jealous that he can get some of this and you never will."

The old man glared. "You'll be begging me to give it to you! When I was younger."

"Yeah, when you were younger, you're not now."

"I will shove those chimes."

You grabbed one and shook it in his face. "Oh no so much noise!"

Levi tried not to laugh at your actions. He softly called your name. "Stop shaking your chimes."

You stopped and mumbled. "Thought you liked it."

"I do." He winked at you making you smile. "How about you put those cute chimes at my place?"

Your eyes sparkled. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I mean, we've been a couple for two months and I can't get enough of you. So, move in with me and you'll be far away from this man. You can have wind chimes and you can sunbathe in my garden because my home is on the edge of town."

You nodded as tears filled your eyes. "Yes, yes I'd love to."

"Perfect. Now, no more shaking your chimes at other men." He nodded to your home. "Get pack as much of your stuff as you can and I'll drive you home. We'll pack the rest this weekend to move you in."

You kissed Levi's cheek. "Okay!"

Levi turned to the old man. "I know what you've been doing with her. I've been staying over often, so I've seen what you've been up to."

The old man went pale. "Sheriff, I was just...I...uh..."

"I want to drag your ass to a cell, but I lack evidence." He gave the man a look of murder. "Hurt her, touch her, pester her or do anything against her or any woman again and I will be forced to take action. Do not test me."

He nodded. "Y-Yes sheriff!"

"Now, go inside and be a well-behaved citizen of this town. Myself and others in this town of sick of your shit. Now go." Levi watched the man race inside. "Tch, damn pervert." He turned and walked all the way to your side of the fence and into your home. "Darling?"

You pushed your full suitcase down the stairs. "I'm here! I packed clothes and some cuddly toys."

Levi eyed the bag. "You don't need cuddly toys."

You frowned. "Why not? I love them."

"I'm your cuddly toy." He pouted. "You're supposed to hug me, not them."

You giggled as you wrapped your arms around Levi's neck. "You jealous of my cuddly toys?"

"I am." He hugged you tightly. "You're mine." He kissed you and hummed in happiness. "Can't believe you shook your wind chime at him."

You laughed. "Just wanted to make things exciting for you."

He smiled softly. "You're incredible. I love you."

"Love you too."

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

I Keep Thinking About a Gale x Ace!Tav x Astarion AU

It makes no damn sense. Compels me though.

Let me be clear, this would be an AU and not a continuation of the “canon” I’ve established with Ace!Tav. It’s just not how I picture their story playing out. All the same, I keep circling back to this in my brain. Call it a thought experiment.

I’m probably not going to write a full fic for it. So, if anybody wants to take this general idea and run with it, feel free. Just give me a shoutout. Or if you guys are curious about this AU drop me an ask and I’ll answer with some rambles.

Speaking of, shoutout to @leighsartworks216 for letting me ramble to them about it.

Astarion x Ace!Tav Masterlist (for reference)

Cards on the table, none of these people are ready for a poly relationship

Gale is explicitly monogamous and ties sex and romantic love intimately together. Astarion is still dealing with the idea of being enough and just ✨the trauma✨ . Meanwhile Tav has their own abandonment issues and is just waiting for Astarion to get bored and leave. And yet! This disaster trio won’t leave me alone.

So this whole thing gets started when Astarion approaches Tav about wanting to experiment with sex again

He knows Tav isn't interested in sex and doesn't want to make them feel pressured into having it just to please him, so they talk about opening up in the relationship

Tav is hesitant about it, but also doesn't want this to be the reason Astarion leaves and so agrees

They convince themselves that if Astarion wants to have a one night stand, it’s fine; so long as he’s not seeking out his emotional needs with other people then there’s no risk of him wanting to end things; this is, of course, a terrible way to handle it

So, with that hanging over their heads they reconnect with Gale over some quest (maybe getting a magical item to allow Astarion to walk in the sun)

Gale has been teaching and while happy is admittedly still a bit lonely so is grateful to see his friends again

Gale and Tav always had a close relationship, but seeing them again does stir up some of those old feelings he'd let lie because, you know, the Absolute (headcanon here for further details)

Gale internally berates himself for this because he 1) knows Tav is ace and therefor not interested in a sexual relationship which is something he prioritizes when it comes to romance and 2) Tav is clearly still in a loving relationship with Astarion, so he's not going to be the asshole to get in the middle of all that

He tells himself it’s just the loneliness talking and pushes that shit down

So, he starts getting closer to Astarion who, while still a bit of a rogue, has mellowed a bit and worked on some of his more selfish instincts

Honestly, having the opportunity to see how much Astarion is devoted to Tav increases his opinion of the man

He and Astarion’s relationship is still antagonistic, but much more playful than before

This culminated in a moment when Astarion and Tav are checking in on each other after a trap goes off

Astarion pulls them close a moment kissing Tav on the temple once it’s clear they’re fine

Gale watches this interaction, his stomach twisting with familiar jealousy, but pauses as his mind screeches to a halt realizing “wait, am I jealous of Astarion or Tav?"

Meanwhile Astarion is a bit surprised at Gale being more friendly with him, but he can't say he's complaining. He knows Tav missed him, and while he had his own jealousies early in the relationship, he's since moved passed it. Gale was the one to help him ultimately get together with Tav after all.

He makes more of an effort to get to know the wizard one on one and finds himself looking more and more

There is something oddly endearing when he rambles

Gods he really is a powerful wizard (connotation: scared and horny)

Did his robes always show off his chest hair like that

He really does make Tav happy

Until one morning he's laying in bed and snaps up enraged with himself like, "GALE?! OF ALL THE PEOPLE YOU CAN FEEL COMPELLED TO FUCK. FUCKING GALE?!?!?!?!"

Full existential crisis

Yes, they said opening the relationship, but he knows how nervous Tav feels about it. They’ve told him about their past relationships and how so many of them fell apart when the topic of sex came up

But he also knows he can’t do a one night stand; he needs to trust the person he’s having sex with, he wants it to mean something

He knows Gale and he knows it would mean something with him

He also knows Gale’s opinion on monogamy; would he force him to choose between him and Tav? Would Gale even want to be with him? Astarion knows Gale used to feel deeply for Tav

And what if it ends badly? Gale is Tav’s friend, his friend. Fuck, this can’t be happening

Meanwhile Tav is reconnecting with Gale and is like, “Gods I did miss him…oh wait I like *missed* him, missed him”. But pushes that shit down because, again, in a very loving relationship with Astarion which they won’t risk for anything and 2) Gale has made it clear that sex is something he values in a relationship as a form of intimacy.

They knew they couldn’t give him that then and they can’t now

Tav is also starting to notice how Astarion is looking at Gale

They’re much more in tune with his emotions and can see he’s interested

Tav starts to feel jealous and then feels guilty for doing so because they said opening the relationship was fine

Gale is wonderful. They know he’d treat Astarion the way he deserves. They could hardly blame Astarion for ultimately choosing him

They knew deep down they were just a stepping stone on Astarion’s road to recovery. If he can be with someone who can give him so much love and sex, why would he need them?

It also doesn’t help that as they start noticing Astarion looking at Gale, they see Gale looking right back

They do feel deeply for Gale, but know his thoughts on monogamy

Besides, they turned him down before, they can’t expect Gale to have held onto those feelings

So they start to slowly distance themselves from both men, resolving that if Astarion approaches them about it, they’re not going to stand in his way.

This course of action causes all of them to start driving themselves crazy in their own heads

Astarion is scrambling because they can sense Tav pulling away and is desperate to figure out what’s wrong, but Tav won’t tell them anything

Gale can see it too and so is pushing down all of his emotions because “Tav I know you love Astarion and Astarion loves you, so what’s going on”

Tav can’t confide in him either so they just don’t say anything

This leaves Astarion and Gale to start confiding in each other more because what’s going on?

Finally Astarion spills everything to Gale, he and Tav opening their relationship, his fears about them leaving, and becuase he’s got a good idea why they’re pulling away

Gale is admittedly a bit obtuse about it which prompts Astarion to grab him by the front of the robes and start kissing him

Gale respond enthusiastically and the two of them start making out. But before it goes any further their brains catch up with them and they stop, both knowing that they need to talk to Tav

So they approach Tav and Tav’s like, “yeah, it’s fine, can’t say I’m surprised, neither of you are exactly subtle. It’s fine. I’ll take this as my queue to go then.”

Astarion then jumps in like, “wait, no, who said anything about leaving”.

Tav tries to convince him that it’s fine, that they’re happy for him, really. They can’t begrudge him for wanting more and he shouldn’t feel compelled to stay with them.

Astarion’s brain is reeling from this because are you actually kidding me? Please say you’re joking and don’t actually believe that.

He then takes their face in his hands and tells them he’s not going to stop loving them just because he wants to have sex again and if there is one lesson they’ve taught him is that he has more love in him that he ever thought possible. He’s got plenty to spare.

Gale meanwhile has been watching Astarion and Tav’s relationship for some time and has come to understand you can separate sex and romantic love

He then steps in saying, “yes, I am interested is pursuing something more with Astarion, but also with you. Honestly out of the two of you, I’ve loved you for much longer”.

Tav would still need time to accept the idea that they’re not the third wheel. Gale would need to work out how to put that sometimes obsessive love into two people and Astarion still has his trauma, but they’d all have each other to work it all out once they get everything out into the open.

[winterlynightlystories]

Didn't know where to go

Tw; mention of death, blood and mental breakdown. Angst!

Please do not copy or steal my work.

Gojo Satoru/Male!Reader

Note; it's almost one in the morning. I'll correct it later in the day 😂 I wanted to have my take on Satoru after killing his best friend, so here it is!

Summary; You seemed to be the only one noticing how Satoru isn't doing well since Geto left. So you approach him, you talk. You never imagined where it would lead you would get on.

~~~~~~

You were worried. Well, more than usual, and for cause. Your friend and crush Satoru was acting weirder and weirder with each passing day. Ever since that failed mission and Geto going rogue, you could barely recognize him. Of course, Satoru kept smiling and being an asshole, but something was off. Almost as if there wasn't really someone behind those sunglasses. His smiles and laughs were... empty.

It took you a few days before gathering enough courage to approach him. For once, you found Satoru sitting alone at a wooden table, staring into the distance. You almost turned around a few times, fearing to bother him. But Gojo turned his head toward you and waved his hand in your direction, calling for you.

- “Y/n-chan!” he called with a sing-song voice, making you grunt

- “Don’t call me chan, you asshole! I'm a man!”

His only answer was a laugh, empty too.

You sat by his side and Gojo returned watching nothing. Maybe he hoped to see Geto coming back.

- “Satoru... Are you okay?” you finally asked, almost whispering your question.

- “Mah, what do you mean? Why wouldn't I be?” he asked back, but didn't look at you.

- “Well, your best friend is gone and, I don't know... You don’t look really happy. When you laugh, it doesn't reach your eyes, like you are forcing yourself to.” you looked away, sighing. “Honestly man, you look like you are faking everything as if what happened didn't matter or affect you. I'm just worried about you.”

There was no answer and you wondered if you went too far. It was none of your business after all, but you couldn't leave your friend alone. Not after everything he just went through. Gods! You could remember his clothes soaked in his own blood and his pale skin still stained with it. He could have died, right there! And you would have lost him. You knew your feelings were one-sided, but you still cared for him.

- “How did you see through my acting, Y/n?” he asked with a sigh, his voice blank of emotion.

- “I guess I know you well enough.” you answered with a small smile. “Satoru, you know you can come to me, right? Won't judge you or repeat it to anyone. Just... How are you really doing?”

You turned your head only to find Satoru without his sunglasses. He had closed his eyes and threw his head back. The fake smile was gone and, overall, Satoru seemed sad. Terribly sad.

And lonely.

- “Not so well I think.” he replied and you put a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing it. “Empty, angry, there are so many emotions I feel at the same time. Yet, it's like I don't feel them at all. Numb maybe.”

- “I see.” you replied before passing your arm around his shoulder and pulling him in a hug. “I'm sorry you have to go through it. I'm sure Geto is doing just fine. Never saw you two apart for this long, so I'm pretty sure he's going to come back running just for you.” you added, feeling Gojo return your embrace and put his head on yours.

- “And I am so angry at him. Why leave me behind? Why... Why does it feel like we meant nothing?” he asked, voice slightly shaking

- “I don't know Satoru. I really don't know”

And it's true, you don't know what Geto had in mind by leaving. Especially when he said nothing to Satoru, which was so unusual. Because you knew Gojo Satoru would have followed that man down in hell with no hesitations.

After a few minutes, you separated when you heard Satoru's phone buzzing. By his face, you knew it wasn't good news. You gently cupped his head in your hands.

- “Promised me to come to me. Whenever, night or day, it doesn't matter. I'll be there if you need me”

- “I'll try to not forget,” he said with a smile.

And just like that, he was gone.

A few weeks passed by and you had no news from Satoru. To say you worried for your friend, and crush would be a euphemism. You knew Satoru was more than probably fine, but still. You knew him well enough. He should have at least texted you some stupidity or just sent you a picture of his meal. A few days were normal, but weeks?

Then, there were the rumours about Geto. Worse, they seemed to be getting true. Could he really have turned into an enemy? Into someone, you and Satoru might have to fight?

Hopefully, no. You were not at their level, more use as a tracker for cursed objects, not a fighter.

That night you took a long shower, trying to relax and forget about your worries. You could smell the food cooking in the oven, only making you hungrier. You still had almost an hour before it would be ready.

But then came the shift.

Under the water, you froze, trying to understand what had shifted. The pressure, you thought at first, as if you were flying in an airplane. Or the gravity, as you felt heavier than you truly were. You began to feel sick and light-headed. Quickly turning off the shower, you got out and grabbed your towel.

Coming out of the bathroom was a terrible mistake. Crashing against your wall, you almost let go of your towel. Cursing, you tried to stabilize yourself. After a minute or so, you got a little use and could walk into your living room. You froze, again, on the sigh before you.

Hair bloody and his blue eyes almost mad, Gojo Satoru stood in the middle of your room. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks and his hands shook uncontrollably by his side.

- “Satoru? W-what happened?” you asked, feeling the pressure in the room getting worse by the second and you felt as if your head would explode.

- “I killed him.” he simply said before laughing hysterically, without it reaching his eyes.

- “Satoru, who did you kill?” you asked, heart racing in your chest.

- “I didn't know where to go, but I remembered what you told me. Mind if I crash for the night?” he ignored or didn't hear you. “Your sofa will be perfect, but I think I need a shower first.

- “Of course!” you exclaimed, trying to step closer, but just could not. “Satoru... What?”

- “Great! Because I don't think I can support longer the feeling of Suguru's blood.” he said, a broking sob passing his lips as tears kept rolling.

- “Omg...” you gasped, a hand covering your mouth. “T-this way, come with me”

Turning around, you led Satoru to your bathroom. Behind you, you heard the man ripping his clothes off his body and throwing his shoes away. You turned the shower on, immediately on hot water, and watched your friend almost jump under the water.

Leaving him some intimacy, you went to your bedroom, after turning off the oven, to get some baggy pants for yourself and Satoru. You knew that even your biggest probably wouldn't fit him properly; the man was a fucking giant after all. Finally, you went and grabbed a clean towel for Satoru and took care of his ripped clothes.

You went back toward your bathroom and, for a second, didn't know what to do. Should you wait for him to finish or should you go in and keep him company? You were happy that Satoru felt safe coming to you, especially with his current state of mind, but you never saw him like that before. How would he react now? Taking your courage in both hands, and a deep breath, you went in.

Still in the shower, Satoru was washing his hair. You couldn't see any trace of blood on him, or anywhere. The pressure and gravity were finally back to normal, or so, and you could breathe normally again.

After putting the pants and the towel on the sink, you approached Satoru. The poor man was still shaking, and probably crying.

- “Satoru? Do you need help with your hair?” you asked, as gently as you could. You watch Gojo stop moving for a second. “C’mere, I'll help you. I'll make sure there is no more blood.”

You saw Satoru's shoulders drop as if giving up before slowly turning toward. You tried to ignore how he flinched under your touch when you helped him down on his knees, but couldn't hold back a ‘sorry’ as if you had hurt him. With a quick look, you concluded there wasn't any more blood and helped him rinse his hair.

Even if Satoru was now calmed, he looked absent, dead. You had to help him more by drying him and giving him a hand to put his pants on. And like a child, you took his hand and led him to your bedroom.

- “C’mon, I'll let you get the bed. You're too tall for the sofa.” you said gently and watched him lay down.

To your surprise, Satoru didn't let go of your hand. Instead, he pulled you onto the bed, next to him.

- “Please, don't go,” he said, voice so low you almost didn't hear.

- “I'm not going anywhere, I promise.” you replied, entwining your fingers.

You watched Satoru close his eyes before doing the same. After a few minutes, Satoru’s breath slowed and his hand relaxed in yours; he was asleep. It took you longer to fall asleep, fearing he would disappear into the tin air. But in the morning he would still be there, clenching your hand in his. And if your phones rang, or if someone came knocking at your door; no they didn't.

[thesandsofelsweyr]

THE SUS BOY NEXT DOOR

《 PART 1/3 // READ ON AO3 // TAG 》

After coming back from a terrible blind date your asshole neighbor is the last person you want to see right now. He doesn’t have his signature scowl for you tonight, however. Tonight he seems terrified.

《WORDS》 2,809 《CHAPTERS》 1 2 3

《PAIRING》 Arkhamverse Jason Todd x Female Reader

《TROPES》 Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Neighbors, Pre-Relationship

《WARNINGS》 Aftermath of Torture/Violence (canon typical), Panic Attacks, Scars, Blood and Injury, Swearing

《NOTES》

This takes place immediately after Jason leaves his failed Batman confrontation and run-in with the Joker from Arkham Knight: Genesis Part 6.

Reader is a true crime addict who enjoys red wine 🍷

This is my first attempt at a reader-insert fic 🙃

Yes this is a repost. My blog is still new so Tumblr didn't allow my original post to appear in the tags. (Shout out to the 10 of you who still managed to find & like the original 🥰)

《 ALSO ON AO3 》 (comments & kudos there are very much appreciated!)

You climb the last flight of steps up to the fourth floor of your apartment building, stomping each stair into submission as you go. You’re still fuming from the blind date you just escaped. That is the absolute last time you ever let Erin set you up with one of her stock broker bro coworkers. You don’t care how hot or rich they are; you are done. Done, done, stick a fork in you. You love your bestie but by God does the woman have terrible taste in men or what.

Both of the pricks she handpicked for you were narcissistic know-it-alls with egos the size of Texas; a pair of swine in designer suits (who, to Erin’s credit, were smoking hot but that’s beside the point.) Once the pig from tonight decided that you weren’t trophy wife material he became far more interested in his phone than he was in you. And the last pig coddled you like you were a delicate, empty-headed damsel in distress who was lucky to be granted the honor of his company and conversation. You should’ve learned your lesson after that first failed date with Dalton Rockefeller-Vanderbilt (or whatever old money asshole last name he had) but you’ve been feeling lonely lately, especially after Ash introduced you to the fab guy she’s dating (an accountant with a perfectly plebeian name of Abe).

You glare down the hallway as you ascend enough to peek over the top of the stairs. Oh great, you think sourly, pursing your lips, your face hardening into a study in once I step inside that door I’m downing a shot of whiskey before turning up an overflowing glass of wine. You stare molten daggers at the tall, brawny guy in your sights. It’s the hot asshole who lives beside you; the last person you want to see tonight. He’s standing, hunched as ever, in front of his door, key poised for the deadbolt, wearing that same teal baseball cap and red hoodie that he never seems to take off. Your jaw tightens. You’ve tried to be nice to the brute—flashing him a smile, saying hello—but all you’ve ever gotten in return was a scowl, if he deigned to acknowledge you at all. Well, you’re fresh out of smiles tonight, jerk.

A flutter of unease tickles your tummy as you step onto the landing, into the narrow hallway with him, your back turned to the only exit, a six foot tall sus man between you and your apartment. You stand up straighter, squaring your shoulders, trying to make yourself look and feel taller. It’s late, and your building is eerily quiet while the city is abuzz with incessant sirens. The usual ensemble of notorious nutjobs are fighting yet another battle in their never-ending war with their rival nutjob who dresses up like a Bat.

Nutjobs like this guy…

You reach into your handbag and grab your keys in your fist, sliding the sharp ends between your fingers, ready to stab at some eyeballs. (You regrettably didn’t have room for your taser or mace in this bag so you have to improvise.) It’s your own fault that you suspect the guy’s a sociopath lying in wait to jump you. You made up a serial killer backstory for him—the result of one too many true crime podcast binges—despite not even knowing the guy’s name. You can’t help it. He gives off serious Ted Bundy vibes. Well, maybe that’s unfair to Ted. Ted would’ve at least smiled at you before bludgeoning you with a crowbar. This guy though…

This guy doesn’t have a scowl for you tonight. Actually, he seems startled by your sudden appearance in the hallway, dropping his keyring to the floor with a clatter that shatters the uneasy silence, causing you to jump. He ducks his red-hooded head between his hunched shoulders as you pass by, warily eying him, ready to stab those icy blue eyeballs of his if he tries anything.

You arrive at your door and take out your keyring, sighing with likely unnecessary relief as you slide the key into the lock. The guy’s probably a harmless weirdo incel who never learned how to talk to a woman. You steal one last peek over your shoulder at him, and watch as he stabs at his deadbolt with his key, hitting everywhere but the keyhole because, you realize with surprise, his hand is shaking too much to hit the target. This dude’s a disaster, you say to yourself as you turn the key in your own deadbolt. Then, as he misses the keyhole yet again, you hear yourself ask, “Do you need help?” in an annoyed tone. You didn’t mean to sound so bitchy but whatever. He shouldn’t be such a bitch to you.

He seems to jump at the sound of your voice, and his keyring clatters to the scuffed wood floor again. You stare back at him incredulously. Is he wasted or something? You wonder as that unsettling feeling creeps back in, prickling the hairs on the back of your neck. Your grip tightens around your doorknob as your pulse picks up speed.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles in response without sparing a glance in your direction.

“You don’t look fine,” you grumble back at him, the flames of irritation rekindled by his rudeness. Why should you care if the jerk’s too drunk or stoned to get in his apartment. Let his rude ass sleep on his doorstep. You shove open your door and take a stomped step across the threshold—you really need that glass of wine. Out of the corner of your eye you see him bend down to pick up his keys, then hear him groan like he’s in pain. You poke your head back around the doorframe, curious, and notice he’s doubled over now, clutching at his heaving chest, breathing hard and fast like he just ran a 5k or—your heart leaps inside your own chest—like he’s having a fucking heart attack. You watch, mouth agape, brows furrowed, as he sinks to his knees, a handful of red fabric still clenched in his trembling fist, then falls forward onto his free hand while he struggles to get control of his labored breathing. Crumpled on the floor like this, fighting for a breath, makes him seem so small, vulnerable, and not the least bit threatening; more like a boy who needs your help and less like an NFL quarterback who murders women on the side for fun.

Just go into your apartment, pour that extra large glass of merlot you’ve been fantasizing about since John Preston Anderson III introduced himself with his full name. Curl up on the sofa with In Cold Blood or a horde of shirtless, oiled, bronzed, and heartily-muscled Dothraki in your Game of Thrones rewatch. Who cares if the hot asshole serial killer next door has a heart attack? But you care apparently because you rush over to him instead, ignoring The Stranger Beside Me audiobook narrator inside your head warning you that this is a textbook Ted Bundy ploy, you idiot. You bend to help him, to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, and when your fingertips brush against him his entire body jerks away from you, like you zapped him with your taser. He throws up an arm to warn you off. “Don’t,” he snaps breathlessly before gulping down a lungful of air, then rasps: “Please don’t touch me.”

You bristle at his harsh rebuff but keep your temper in check since the guy’s clearly in crisis mode. “Should I call an ambulance? You look like you’re having a heart attack.”

“It’s… it’s not a heart attack… it just… feels like one.” He bites off each word, every breath precious. The fingers of his free hand dig into the hardwood floor.

“At least let me unlock your door for you,” you suggest shortly, biting your tongue before you can add: since you weren’t able to manage that yourself, then feeling guilty for even thinking that. What had the poor guy done to you tonight except happen to be standing in your shared hallway after some other asshole pissed you off?

He gives you a small, grudging nod so you retrieve his fallen keyring, wondering why a man needs so many damn keys. “The bronze one,” he grunts, as if he read your mind.

You unlock his door with the bronze key then push the door open while he drags himself to his feet behind you, huffing and groaning. The dimly lit apartment that greets you is sterile, spartan; that doesn’t help the serial killer vibes at all. One of the furnished units, you presume, since the furniture looks like it was plucked from the lobby of your building. The walls are white and bare; no art or posters or photos of him scowling beside a lover. And the place is spotless—you’d assume it was vacant if you didn’t know otherwise. A vision suddenly fills your mind, a vision of him on his knees, bright yellow dishwashing gloves pulled halfway up his muscular arms, an uncapped bottle of industrial bleach at his side as he scrubs at a puddle of blood while the lifeless corpse of the last girl who wandered in here lies wrapped up in blood-stained plastic behind him. Oh God, you even smell the bleach. But then you notice the stacks of paperback books here and there, the open sketch pad on the sofa with pencil-scribbled notes and drawings, some charging AirPods beside an iPad, another red hoodie—one that zips up the front—hanging from the back of a dining room chair, a gym bag, and atop the kitchen island, a rather happy-looking houseplant which, you have to admit, is kinda cute.

Before you can take in the rest of his place he staggers past you, bumping into your shoulder with a bruising force that knocks you sideways and nearly off your feet. Then with one last little wheeze, he topples over like an uprooted oak tree in a windstorm, smacking face first into the hardwood with a meaty thud that rattles the floor beneath you.

“Oh my God!” You squeal, covering your mouth with both hands. 

A shot of adrenaline pumps through your veins, spurring you into action. You snatch your phone from your bag with rubber fingers, nearly flinging it aside in your panic, and frantically dial 9-1-1, forgetting all about the emergency shortcuts created for just such an occasion. Your stomach dips at the sight of the bulky body lying prone at your feet, still and silent as the grave. As the phone rings—the long-familiar trilling sound now seemingly drawn out as if it will stretch into eternity—you kneel beside him to check his pulse and see if he’s still breathing, praying he isn’t a corpse, when you spot something that knocks the breath from your lungs and stops your heart dead in its tracks. With a cold, trembling hand you push up the tail of his hoodie…

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” The operator asks by rote, voice booming through your phone’s speaker, but you barely hear it over the alarm bells clanging inside your head. You’re gaping at the gun tucked into the waistband of his pants, unable to form any sort of response around your heart lodged in your throat.

“Hello?” the operator asks irritably.

“Hi, uh,” you start with a squeak, eyes still fixed on the textured grip of that deadly weapon, but then smack your lips shut. What are the cops gonna think when they see that gun? And what if he’s wanted for a crime or something and you get him arrested? He said it wasn’t a heart attack, acted like this had happened to him before. You can always call back if he’s actually dead or dying…

Why the hell does it matter if he gets arrested?? Your brain shouts back at you. Why are you even here in the first place when there’s an unopened bottle of merlot waiting for you in the safety of your apartment only a few footsteps away, where there’s not an unresponsive armed man who’s built like a tank, who doesn’t even need the gun when he could snap your tiny neck with those massive hands of his? Could the universe give you any clearer signals that “you in danger, girl”? Have you learned absolutely nothing from hours upon hours of Karen and Georgia? “Stay sexy and don’t get murdered”—this guy isn’t even nice to you! Don’t you dare hang up that phone…

“Um, I’m so sorry. I thought my neighbor was having a heart attack but-but he’s fine actually. False alarm. Sorry to bother you!” Your words tumble out in a rush then you smash the “End Call” button before you can get questioned further or chewed out for wasting their time. In the back of your mind you hear the recording of this 9-1-1 call replaying on the My Favorite Murder episode starring you, before the hostess pair warns their listeners not to make the same foolish mistake you just made.

You sit back on your heels, clammy hands kneading your knees while that chunk of baleful metal glares back at you from his waistband, like a coiled rattlesnake peeking out from beneath a rock. Your mind is racing as fast as your heart through scenarios that all end with you getting shot. Then your hands are moving with minds of their own, fingers curling around the textured grip, getting your dainty fingerprints all over the murder weapon as you slip it free. It’s heavier than you expected, you note as you grip it tighter, careful not to get your finger anywhere near that trigger. Heavy, but not heavy enough for something that can end a life in an instant. The thought makes you shudder. You place the gun on the floor then give it a shove, eager to be rid of it, praying that the damn thing won’t go off automatically as it slides across the hardwood floor out of reach. You’ve never touched a gun before this moment and have zero interest in shooting yourself in the face.

Now your attention shifts back to the poor guy who's still out cold. You lay your hand on his back and feel its steady rise and fall. Still breathing, thank God. Then with a grunt of effort and a mighty heave you manage to flip him over on his back. Immediately your hand shoots back to cover your mouth and you suck in a horrified breath as his pale face, previously hidden beneath the shadow of his hat and hood, becomes visible in the lamplight. 

You were expecting the weals on his chin and forehead, the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, his bottom lip swelling from where it busted when he fell flat on his face. What you weren’t expecting to find was dried blood smeared across his cheek up to his ear, or the J-shaped scar beneath his eye that you’d noticed before (it’s unfortunately hard to miss, despite his best efforts to hide it) weeping beads of fresh blood from where someone traced over it with a knife you assume, carving deep into his skin. But it wasn’t the sight of the blood or the crimson J that pulled the gasp from your throat and made your stomach nosedive like you were on a rollercoaster. Nope, that was your reaction to the angry red furrows encircling his throat around his Adam's apple, deep indentations where someone wrapped rope or wire or cable around his neck so tight that it embedded in his skin; ligature marks from where someone fucking strangled him.

You grab your phone then pause, biting at your lip. Maybe you should call 9-1-1 again. What if his windpipe is crushed? What if that’s why he was breathing so hard, why he fainted? Those marks are so deep… he could be seriously injured. But if he was seriously injured, why had he returned to his apartment instead of going to the ER? It seems like he made the choice for you.

You open your phone’s browser and type: how to treat strangulation injuries, then quickly skim over the top result. Ice. That seems simple enough, you tell yourself, noting that you can clean his J cuts with soap and water, at least until he wakes up. And if he doesn’t wake up soon? Well, then you’ll call the cops. After all, he’s probably a law abiding citizen who’s licensed to carry that gun; a guy that you just pinned as another one of the nutjobs because you always get paranoid about every stranger you see after your true crime binges. In your defense, this is Gotham-fucking-City and you’re a young single lady who lives alone. You’d be a fool not to be paranoid.

[kingkatsuki]

I just love the idea of falling for Bakugou before you’ve even met him, you know? Like him showing up in your life when you’re at your absolute lowest and helping you through? And little do you know that you’re doing the same for him? When he’s too proud to talk to any of his friends or ask for support.

Imagine it’s been a few weeks since you broke up with your boyfriend, and the breakup wasn’t amicable. You’re back to feeling lonely and isolated as you stay in the same apartment you used to cohabitate with him. Every room seems that much bigger, and his side of the bed is always cold. You’re trying to convince yourself that you’re over him as you trawl through dating apps and start the arduous process of deleting all the photographs of you together on your phone. Memories that now feel wasted as you remember what you once had, what you lost.

Your friends force you out one Friday night, sick of seeing you wallow in your own self-pity as you decide on an outfit to wear. It’s been well over two months and there’s still an ache in your chest, a void in your life that you’re yet to replace as you down shot after shot with your girlfriends. Instead of the alcohol numbing your pain, it begins to exasperate it. Reminding you of all the times your ex-boyfriend came home late smelling of other women, forgot your birthday or anniversaries and the fights you had together.

Telling your friends you were going to the restroom as you excited towards the smoking area of the bar, standing outside in the cool nighttime air as the heavy bass of the speakers dulled through the brick walls. If your friends knew what you were doing they’d probably tell you to stop, not to trudge up old memories but you couldn’t ignore the ache in your chest or the rage brewing behind your eyes.

Pulling your phone from your bag as you move to text him. A number that you’d long since deleted from your phone, but being with your ex for so long you typed it into your phone like muscle memory. Texting inebriated long abandoned as you held the phone to your ear as it rang, letting the rage build inside you as you heard a rugged “Hello?”

You didn’t wait before you exploded on the phone, unleashing the feelings you should’ve conveyed to him during the breakup. Alcohol fuelling your rage as you continued berating him for being a horrible person and a terrible boyfriend. You probably looked insane shouting as the other smokers congregated outside, but no one paid yo any mind as you continued to scream your fury at him.

Until the voice on the other end of the line spoke properly.

“You done yet?” You could hear the sarcastic lilt to his voice as you felt embarrassment begin to flood your body, “It sounds like you got terrible taste in men, sweetheart.”

You’d dialled the wrong number. And somehow even though he was a stranger and you’d been the one to call him by mistake, his words had you seething.

“You don’t fucking know me.”

“I know enough to know he’s a grade A asshole.” The man scoffed, “Sounds like you’d be better without him.”

“Yeah, well he thought that about me too.”

“He break up with you?” The guy asked nonchalantly but the question had you trying to mask your hurt.

“Yeah because I’m still not good enough for a guy that treated me like absolute shit,” You felt your voice raising again as your throat became hoarse, “Cause all men are fucking assholes.”

“Listen here, princess. I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but I ain’t your boyfriend.”

The man continued to talk to you on the phone, even making sure you were okay before hanging up as you stepped inside the club with tears streaming down your cheeks. You hadn’t even realised you’d been crying— the slightest bit of kindness on the phone when he asked you if you were gonna be okay had you sobbing as you rejoined your friends.

But what you don’t expect is to wake up to a text from the same wrong number the next morning.

“You always go around giving random strangers shit on the phone, sweetheart?”

Originally I was gonna have this where Kirishima was your boyfriend and he died, and you keep calling his voicemail to hear his voice until one day the voicemail box is full and so the number redirects to Bakugou’s phone but I didn’t wanna kill Kiri😂😭

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve/Eddie Soulmark AU Worth and Worthy

Warnings: Mentions of a burn scar, a prior attack via bully’s, Nancy cheating, Steve handling it ah, poorly, his TERRIBLE parents, etc.  Steve was a romantic.

It had been a well known fact about him even in his king days, one of the many facets of his charms that made the ladies do their best to catch his attention. He was a roses and chocolates kind of guy, even for a woman that he just had one night stands with. 

Sure, he might sleep with another girl the next night, but between the care he showed in bed and the charm he showed after, Steve didn’t catch the flak many other teenage boys did for his sexcapades. And if any was mentioned well, all it took was dropping some line about how he was trying to find his soulmate and things were right as rain. 

Then he met Nancy.

Steve knew of course that she wasn’t his soulmate.

He hadn’t cared. 

In a refreshing bout of sanity, neither had Nancy.  

She went off on all these cute little tirades about how soulmates was an outdated concept, that the marks they all bore could mean any number of things, that the word soulmate itself might not mean it was a romantic relationship, and if it was, how you shouldn’t waste your life looking for someone who could be anywhere in the world. 

Hawkins Indiana was so small, the chance of the person who represented your mark being there was slim, and wasn’t a romantic relationship something you should work at anyway? Be present for every single day?

Steve bought the whole thing, hook, line and sinker. Believed it with all his heart and soul. 

Distanced himself from his asshole friends, charged back to face down a demon with a baseball bat, laid bare his soul for the fiery woman who had stolen his heart.

Loved her long after she broke it, on the floor of some stupid party, drunk words searing him like a burn. 

When he found out she’d cheated on him with Jonathan Byers, on grounds that he was her soulmate…

It was the kind of crushing blow that had remade him as a person. 

Throughout it, the lonely days that followed, Steve woke up and stared in the mirror every morning at the mark that sat on his hip.

Fuck Nancy. 

Fuck Jonathan, fuck Tommy, fuck Billy-fuck everyone. 

His parents might not love him, his friends might have been fake and his own love bullshit but at least he had one person out there who was meant for him. 

A person who would accept him, for who he was (and wasn’t a sassy middle schooler using him for rides, even if Steve was secretly thankful for Dustin’s sudden presence in his life.) 

Throwing his crown away was easy. Being a better person, a person who wasn’t an asshole, was hard. 

It would be worth it in the end though, because he would be worthy of his soulmate's love.

                                                         xXx

Too bad life seems to be just as tired of Steve as he is of it, because he finds his soulmate in Hawkins trailer park of all places, hanging out with Eddie Munson, a person Steve found he enjoyed far more than he’d ever thought. 

It had barely been two weeks since Vecna had been defeated, the Upside Down destroyed, with the group of survivors still clinging tight to each other.

He was over at Eddie’s to help him sort all his shit into boxes in preparation for his move. The older man had just been given his shiny new government alibi, cleared of all charges, but it was obvious he wasn’t comfortable walking around by himself yet.

For reasons Steve had long had his own freakout over, he wasn’t comfortable with the idea either. 

It had been going fine. Eddie and Steve were trading off cassettes and mocking the others choices as they packed, things easy between them in a way only surviving a supernatural catastrophe could create in such a short amount of time.

He knew. Had known, since Eddie pulled out his guitar, that the metalhead was his. 

It made sense in a way. Steve had been so easy around him once they had gotten over their mutual jealousy regarding the kids. He hadn’t thought they had much in common at first, but the more he hung out with him, the more Steve realized it wasn’t the little things they shared but the big ones.

The love for the kids. Their humor and personalities. The way they fit together, bounced off each other, looked at life in general. 

Steve was happy to learn about all the things Eddie liked, had tolerated D&D and nerd shit for years long enough to have picked out various pieces he himself enjoyed. 

Now it was simply a matter of when to tell him. 

Then Eddie decided to change shirts. 

He was moving slowly,  jeans slung low on his hips. It gave Steve a nice long look at his hip (and briefly the treasure trail of dark hair that he was determined not to stare at.). 

For a second Steve almost mistakes the long healed wound there for one of Eddie’s demobat bites; but those were covered in bandages still and this was too far down for where they had struck.

This wasn’t even one of the guy’s scratcher tattoos, that ink faded while this one casually pulsed with yellow against the crumpled skin surrounding it. 

It takes a minute for it all to sink in. The color, the mark, the way the damaged skin was long healed in a close pattern over it.  

Anger floods his face with heat.

 Steve's body goes hot with it, his vision swimming and sound dropping out as his entire being pinpricks down to the soul mark on Eddie's hip.

He recognizes the cause of the destroyed skin around it. Burn scar, the kind that made your skin change color and crumble in on itself once healed.

Munson had tried to burn his soul mark off. 

It would be a crazy thing to see on anyone, the most unhinged act of rejection Steve can personally think of.

It wouldn't be a big deal, not to him, not when he still didn't know Eddie that well, except the stupid image staring back at him in the midst of all the shiny, scarred skin is a fucking baseball bat with nails.

As in, Steve's weapon of choice. His baby, the bat he carried with him in the trunk of his car and carted into his house everyday, hidden in a carrying case for golf clubs. 

"What the fuck?" Steve spits. He's intimate with the taste of betrayal already. His parents have a house in Burbank they stay in half the year. The word 'bullshit' still makes him wince. He has PTSD from being tortured by the Russians and likely a budding anxiety disorder from all the Upside Down nonsense and yet this-

This hurts more than anything life has put him through.

"What?" Eddie asks, confused, before following Steve's eyes down to his own hips. "Oh."

He brushes a hand almost subconsciously against the nail-bat, and they both watch it pulse a light yellow.

The tell tale sign of a soul mark, the way it could light up like a neon sign. 

"You tried to burn off your soul mark?" 

Steve's voice must come out far more angry than he had meant it to be, because Eddie's head whips up to him. 

"You a romantic, Harrington? Think you'll run into your soulmate one day?" Eddie teases, but his own voice is taking on a defense edge.  

"I already have." Steve says flatly. Part of him wants to withhold, not say, not admit that hes the one Eddie's tried to burn out of his life, but another part of him wants his soulmate (fuck) to explain why. 

Why try to cut him out. 

"If Nancy-"

"It's not her." Steve cut him off. "Stop dodging the question."

Eddie crosses his arms, gives him a look with those dark bambi eyes that Steve’s seen a million times. It’s a stubborn, “come hell or high water” expression, complete with a grin smug enough to make you want to hit him. 

He used it primarily against jocks being assholes, which just pissed Steve off further. 

“I don’t think I’m dodging enough, seeing as it’s none of your business.” 

"Munson." Steve says sinking everything he has into the word. "Why did you try to burn off your mark?" 

Eddie stares at him, eyes searching. He’s definitely on the defensive now, likely confused as to why Steve’s flipped from joking to furious. 

Steve can’t find it in himself to care. 

Eddie cocks crossed his arms over his chest. "Why the hell do you care so much? What's it to you?"

And right, right Eddie doesn't know. That it's him. Can't. 

So Steve decides to explain it to him. 

Untucks his polo with a few hard pulls. Yanks the fabric up. Reveals the Warlock that hangs low on his left hip, some nerdy dice making up the tip of it. 

"Wow, you got some popstar, hey Harrington?" Eddie says, practically before he even sees Steve’s mark. 

Definitely hasn’t had the time to really look at it.

Steve wants to strangle him. "You're an idiot, Munson." 

Then; “Look closer.”

Eddie does. 

A savage feeling of glee runs through him the second he sees Eddie registers the dice, the same black and red one Steve knew he used. Makes the connection that it isn’t just a guitar, not even his physical Warlock, but instead the stupid thing he draws on everything he seems to own.

Notebooks, textbooks, post it notes, his fucking pants. 

All things Steve has gotten an up close and personal look at considering how much time he’s spent in Eddies trailer the last few weeks. 

Saucer wide eyes jerk back up to Steve’s face. 

“Shit.” Eddie says almost breathlessly, shooting to stand straight, hands frantically pulling at his hair. “Steve-”

“Give me an answer, Munson. You owe me that.” Steve interrupts him, because he is done. 

With life, the universe, everything. 

“Why did you try and burn my bat?” 

“I-I didn’t-” Of all fucking things tears are springing up in Eddie’s eyes.

Steve kind of wants to cry himself, but can’t seem to find any emotion other than fury and a growing sense of numbness. 

Eddie takes a step forward, and flinches hard when Steve jerks back.��

“Steve-” He’s begging, Eddie Munson is actually begging, and he kind of wants to laugh at how much life clearly fucking hates him. 

“It wasn’t me. I didn’t burn it, Steve please-!” 

Tears are now openly tracking down Eddie’s face, his arms going from crossed to hugging himself. “Fuck! I had a whole story planned for this, I never thought-”He looks up at the ceiling, like he can’t bear to look at his own soulmate. 

Steve is rapidly flipping through emotions, the numbness coming in to save him, making words impossible to get out. 

Eddie is still speaking. “Jordan P, middle school. He eventually got expelled but before he did he and his asshole buddies caught me after school. Held me down.” 

He bites his lip so hard it bleeds and that cuts through to Steve. 

“I fought, I fought them so hard Steve. I tried, but there were too many,” He chokes on a breath and Steve finds himself moving forward without thinking. 

“They told me I didn’t deserve you.” He whispers, finally bringing his head back down, just in time to realize Steve was wrapping him up in a hug. 

Eddie freezes in his hold, but Steve just hugs him tightly, resting his cheek against Eddie’s curls.

“I'm sorry.” He says quietly. “I just reacted, Eddie. I’m sorry.”

The older boy fell into him, arms wrapping back around Steve as he tucks his face. 

“I’ve got you.” Steve whispers to him, rocking them gently. “I’ve got you.” 

And he did--for the rest of their lives. 

[yantalia545]

Yandere allies with a party girl s/o

*18+ warning

America:

As a party god himself, he understands the thrills of partying and is more than willing to join you at any out-of-this-world party. After all, going alone to parties can be so boring, why not have a trusted friend tag along?

The two of you will have more Instagram-worthy nights than anyone. He can’t help but fall more in love with you as the two of you giggle along at the excitement of the next party.

He absolutely loved going out to party with you, until that one terrible night.

Someone scumbag had managed to catch you when you were alone and try to put himself on you. It wasn’t until America heard your screaming crying pleads did he finally found you.

That night would be glued into America’s mind forever. Especially the image of you; terrified teary eyes, shaking, and the top of your dress ripped. Ruined by some dirty asshole.

Safe to say, that man had to be carried out on a stretcher and America had to make a plea for acting in defense. It doesn’t take much for the whole thing to get sweated away when he’s the America though.

Before that horrible night, he never once thought much about just how dangerous those places were they’d party out. Everyone was always drunk out of their minds and creepers lurked around amongst the mist of them. Just waiting for the chance to drab some helpless girl. It terrified America thinking of how easy it was for that dirty man to get you away from him. He needed to do better than that. He won’t let anything like that happen again.

He’d be clingier than before. Was he always so pushy about hanging out with you? If you say anything about it, America will argue that he just wants to make sure you’re safe. You would take his word for it, but something about the demanding glint in his eyes really puts you off.

When you finally get a breath of fresh air by somehow getting a party plan passed America. You were just trying to enjoy yourself with your girlfriends when a pissed off blonde figure comes out of nowhere and drags you out. Don’t bother screaming for help. It only took one look over to the bouncer did you know; he’s in on this too.

Russia:

It’s not a huge surprise that Russia would be one have an obsession over this kind of darling either. Russia is a man who often comes from a home of silence and suspicion. Someone who’s spicy and full of life would be the perfect kind of darling to fill Russia’s lonely heart. The only thing is he’s rather selfish and would rather have you shower him with all of your energy rather than sharing it with others.

Russia won’t be one to jump to kidnapping you surprisingly. Not right away at least. You just look like you’re having so much fun that he wants to join in too. The only problem is when you’re over six feet tall and are awkward as hell the whole club is tense. Not that Russia looming over you hells either.

You, bless your heart, may try to jock it up to Russia just having the nervous butterflies about going out to a club the first time and take him to a smaller club. When that doesn’t help, you try to argue to go without him since clubbing is really not his thing, but he insists on going with you.

Try to sneak out to a club without him and some during your stay you’ll feel a sudden presence and hot breath trickling down your neck. Turn around, and he right there with a childish smile plastered on his face saying about how silly you forgot about him. Hell do this as many times as it takes to show you that wherever you go, he goes.

Your fire for clubs may start to dwindle at this point. It’s just not as fun to go out when Russia is all over you. Not that just cutting off clubbing would get Russia to leave you alone. He’s just excited for the next adventurous thing you’d love to do.

It's also a good thing in Russia's mind that you grew out of partying... Those places were full of untrustworth people who were undeserving of your time. Why not just spend some more time together? Russia doesn't like to share, so independent acivities are much more Russia's speed anyways.

China:

Yeah, been there and done that already. Trust him on this one but partying is not really all that glamorous as movies make them seem. They're gross and people usually get hurt. Not to mention, the people who attend them are not always the cleanest. As a respected country, China knows that you need to be better than that.

China will see you as someone who reminds him of his past self. He's made lots of mistakes in his upbringing. Even if he hates to admit it. He needs to guide his wife to be a perfect, etiquite, darling and partying isn't marticulous of your time and energy. In fact, if anything, it only smudges your beauty. Don't fret though, China is going to fix you.

No more partying for you. He's made that mistake in the past and he will not let you repeat that awful lession. China is much older and more expericed than you and he will hold that over your head as being all knowing. Much to your annoyance. You can try to sneak up, but somehow, just as you're about to leave, it's like a que that China always shows up. If your try to rufuse China's company over parties he'll throw a fit and may even become a bit foreful.

In China's eyes, you're much like a child who needs constant supervison. If you keep trying to ditch him to sneak out to parties then he'll take matters into his own hands. He'll move you in to his place eventually seeing as you can't be trusted without his guidence.

China will become heavy on your lessions in order to shape you into his ideal wife. They'll be long and tiring, but most importanly, you can't say no. He's only trying to preserve your reputation as a nation. It's not a good image if his wife is a party animal going out and getting drunk every weekend.

Not to mention that China doesn't have the greatest history with drugs. The whole ordeal with England really damered his outlook on drugs and alcohol. If he's not allowing himself to partake than neither will you. China is well aware of the struggles of setting good habits but don't worry, he'll be here to help you every step of the way. If you've been good and doing well in your lessions, then China will paper you with all kinds of homemade goods and goodies. Desrespect his rules and China will be forced to keep you under lock and key with harshed lessions until you learn your place as his wife.

France:

Did you say party? France loves a good party. He'll be more than happy to come along with you rather he asked you or not. How did he even know you were going to a party tonight, you ask? That doesn't matter. You can't go to a party without someone. It would be so lonely without your darling companion to accompany you. Besides, what if you need a steady ride home or just need your hair tied back and he wasn't there to help you?

France can't stand the idea that some dirty person might try to take his place as your loyal companion. He worked too hard to jeopardize that. Not to mention that as someone who does a little partying himself, he'd know all the good spots for Instagram-worthy nights out in the city of France. Nothing like VIP treatment to better your partying experience.

Much like America, he didn't mind the partying at first. It was what made you your spunky self. However, darling, these places are starting to look too dirty for a fine diamond like yourself. Why don't the two of you just stay at his place and enjoy the Franch night on the terrace together over a few glasses of wine?

England:

How he could ever fall for a person like you is beyond anyone's best guess. You're his complete opposite. While he'd rather be relaxed at home with his favorite book and a cup of tea, you're right at home in the loudest of crowds.

Maybe his younger self loved your carefree and wild personality. He was quite the teenage dirtbag during his punk phase himself. However now that he's older that's all behind him. You're too old to be acting like this anymore. It's time you became more like a proper young lady and he sees it upon himself to guide you.

You'll be woken up one early morning with him at your front door. He doesn't care how early in the morning it is nor how much you protest. You're going to learn to be a proper lady whether you like it or not.

Before you know it, you're dragged out of your house and forced to live with him. All in the same day, you'll be forced into a marriage contract. Seems like your boos thought it would be a wonderful idea to go over your head and agree to the profound man.

No more sneaking out to parties for you. You'll be kept in a locked room until you learn your place. No amount of disrespect or refusal will stop England. Can't you see he just wants to focus on more important things and reach your full potential as his wife?

[lakesbian]

show me aisha laborn

close to two bingos but no dice. Aisha Is Every Thing To Me. people say some of the most horrible racist misogynistic ableist shit about her wildbow included but despite it all he somehow gave her a Fucked Up Amounts Of Good Tragic Arc. she starts becoming so well-written towards the end of worm she's really going to stick around in my brain forever as one of the top all time characters in anything. to be clear she's never done anything wrong in her life ever at any point in time but i do want to reestablish my take that she's a freaque and it's important people understand this. she asks a dude who's robot girlfriend just got robot enslaved how the robot pussy was. she just stands in rooms invisibly looking at people and then going "aw man i was there for five minutes and you didn't look at porn once" to announce her presence. she sincerely compliments her dead best friend by talking over and over again about what an unlikable fucking asshole he was. she tortures someone to suicide and doesn't count it as murder afterwards because technically they were the one to off themselves. she's a horrible little freak (affectionate) and this must be known. it's her foremost charm. particularly obsessed with how she's a terrible 13yo who makes terrible 13yo edgelord jokes and then when she matures through the sobering power of half the people she knows and loves dying + accidentally adopting 13 traumatized children she starts making terrible dad jokes instead. i'm never going to be over how fucking sad that [tiredly] "because i'm mysterious" line from her in her epilogue is. mysterious only in the sense that everyone who truly saw her is gone and she's left to be the lonely keeper of their legacies. man. Man. We don't post about aisha enough.

also, she's cool. she just looks cool. she's cool and everyone should draw her more and use eyesearing neon green and purple and fuchsia when they do it. scene queen aisha forever real to me.

[onetimetwotimesthreetimess]

as much as Owen annoys me at times I can’t help but be sad for the man who lost his entire firehouse 20 years ago and still carries the guilt of surviving inside his heart. who lost his brother when he was a kid and before he could come to terms with it, his father walked out on him. The same man who survived cancer not a year ago and watched his son almost dying in his arms not once but multiple times. who lost his asshole of a father to old age, Gwen—the love of his life to a horrible accident, Robert—his step brother to a terrible illness, Gabriel—one of his closest friends to death and Judd—his bestfriend to life. Owen is not my favorite character and man if he annoys me like anything but i believe that at the core Owen is a terribly terribly lonely and sad man and in this essay I will—

[couldntbedamned]

Hello! Since you appear to be a Strange fan, both comics and the movie version, do you think the movie does his arc justice? Not being very famiaair with the comics my issue with the first movie is that pre-character development Stephen is potrayed, instead of charismatic amoral bastard like pre-character development Tony Stark, as merely a run of the mill charmless asshole, so what happens to him feels more cruel than karmic, but you also don't get that invested in seeing him get better.

So, Stephen's backstory in DS1 definitely left something to be desired for me. I know that BC did his absolute best, but not touching on WHY Stephen is so hell-bent on Not Failing Ever and so determined to Be The Very Best Like No One Ever Was™️ was a huge miss on SD & MCU Exec's part.

Stephen's childhood and losing his sister Donna is such a huge part of what informs who he is as a character. He couldn't save his sister from drowning and he's never forgiven himself for that. He has a perfect record in the OR because 1) he IS a talented and gifted surgeon and 2) he's able to purposefully choose cases he KNOWS he can pull off. Every time he saves a patient he's succeeding rather than repeating the worst failure of his life and the thought of not saving a patient terrifies him because he already failed once and he can't bear to to it again.

[Also in 616 Stephen's father was such a massive asshole and Stephen's childhood was Not Great, which also factors in to why he's so driven to succeed. (Also he developed a drinking problem to cope with the pressure.)]

One of the parts that struck me in DS1 is just how uncomfortable he is being thanked by the patient's family after he removes the bullet. Dude saved a guy's life, but he doesn't exactly like the praise from the family; he doesn't think of himself as a hero. He just did his job and he resents the hell out of the other doctor (Dr. West) for not doing his properly (in Stephen's view). Then he's back to being cocky which always struck me as a front.

I will never ever EVER say that Stephen's not arrogant. He IS. I LOVE that about him and I feel like one of the few people in fandom who doesn't have a desire to see him humbled or knocked down a peg or two (usually in the name of making him worthy of whatever love interest is being put forward in fic 🙄). He's arrogant and he has every reason to be: he IS smart, he IS a talented doctor, and he IS a master of the mystic arts. He's earned the right to be.

But that's FAR from the only part of his character. He's also empathetic, incredibly lonely, and desperate for connection even when he's terrible at it. In lots of ways he's a self-fulfilling prophecy because he WANTS to connect with people, he WANTS love but he's also so scared of failing or hurting anyone else that he defaults to Asshole!Stephen because if they leave, then he can't hurt them. He's also, more than once in 616, made decisions for someone's own good without actually consulting that person.

Stephen is, first and foremost, a healer. He WANTS to help people. He ABHORS the taking of a life. And a lot of that clashes once he learns about the mystic art because as we've seen, sometimes there's no other way and it weighs HEAVILY on him, to the point where he feels so guilty about what's happened to Peter in regards to Endgame that he did a spell to MODIFY THE WORLD'S MEMORY. There some desire to play around, sure, but I 100% believe most of it was due to guilt.

I wish his trauma from the Dark Dimension and Infinity War was touched on more, because man has been through the wringer.

The thing about adapting Doctor Strange into a movie is there is a LOT of lore that has to be cut or repurposed to fit within the box MCU has built. SD is a fan and did his best, I know, but things like Stephen's backstory getting cut and removing the scene in Nepal where Stephen tends a dog's paw because "he's not nice enough yet" kind of irk me. I do think, hands down, he has a much better grasp of Stephen as a character than do MW and SR. And BC himself is a huge fan and understands Stephen's character very well and what little backstory/gravitas we got for Stephen in ITMOM (that wasn't built around pining for a woman he parted amicably with and hasn't dated in fucking years 🙄) was because of BC. I wish we'd gotten more.

I'd definitely check out @doctorofmagic and their AMAZING posts. They have such a fabulous understanding of Stephen as a character.

[psychdiarys]

You know, it's pretty interesting how Only Friends viewers have such a black-and-white perception of the characters, that they can excuse anything the "good ones" do & show no mercy to the "bad ones" when they're wronged.

Like Mew, Nick, and Sand are seen as these innocent victims, while Top and Boston are labelled as the ultimate villains. Even Ray, who's far from perfect, gets a bit of a pass.

But let's face it, none of these characters are faultless. Yes, when they make mistakes or hurt others, it often stems from their own pain and brokenness (which is very human of them).

Boston, on the other hand, seems to do terrible stuff seemingly unprovoked, making it hard to empathize or forgive him? I guess this is why Boston bears the brunt of all the hate.

Most of these characters are flawed but are seemingly good people who do bad things. Meanwhile, Boston acknowledges his bad boy image, and he doesn't pretend otherwise. He owns his asshole-ness.

But when you look at everything he's done, like his whole thing with Nick, he's been pretty upfront about it. He made it clear that they're just friends-with-benefits and nothing more. He's honest about seeing other guys too, although he does sweet-talk Nick into feeling special.

But if we compare, Ray's not much different with Sand, minus the playboy aspect. Ray got close to Sand, led him on, but went to Mew as soon as he got the chance. He only comes to Sand when he's lonely. In fact, even after getting to know Sand's story, he said hurtful things to him.

But because Ray's got a load of trauma and self-destructive tendencies, we're more inclined to understand him, while we know nothing about Boston's past to redeem his behavior.

What makes Boston seem even worse is that Nick is way more obsessed with him than Sand is with Ray. I mean, Sand genuinely cares for Ray, so it's heartbreaking to see how Ray treats him. But because Nick is down atrocious & was probably way more hurt, Boston seems like the bigger dick in comparison.

Also, the night when Boston ruined the get-together at Sand & Nick's place by spilling the beans about Ray still loving Mew? Yeah, we hated that cause everyone was having a good time & it was none of his business to meddle in their relationship. 

But guess what, Ray did the same thing at Mew's party, exposing all his friends & ruining the birthday celebration.

Like yes, he was angry because he bears a one-sided love toward Mew so it seemed unfair to find out he's getting cheated on by the man he chose over him. But he publicly made a scene & even involved Cheum & April who had nothing to do with any of it.

It's just that Ray did it out of love & anger while Boston did it unprovoked. So Ray can get a pass but Boston definitely doesn't. 

Now, definitely the worst thing Boston ever did was hooking up with his friend's almost-boyfriend. That was a terrible betrayal, no doubt. He may not have done it to hurt Mew but he did it out of jealousy and the need to feed his own superiority complex, with zero excuses or remorse.

But as bad as that was, there's no excuse for him being illegally recorded having sex, not once, but twice, without his consent.

That's a cybercrime, plain and simple. Nick had no right to record Boston, especially because they weren't even dating? It's not like Boston was cheating on him because he never implied they were exclusive.

And then Sand stealing the video and everyone passing it around? Aren't they all cybercriminals for spreading around an illegal sex tape?

And how come nobody condemns Mew's threat to post Boston's non-consensual sex tape as revenge porn? Like I've seen people say "If I were Mew I would have posted it". HELLO? NO. That's .... not okay.

People are so blindsided by their hate for Boston that they don't see it as a violation.

Like I'm glad that Mew DIDN'T post it but threatening to show it to his dad, who may not even know Boston is gay? That's EVIL.

Not to mention, how Mew burnt the sketch Top made him in front of him, despite KNOWING he has fire-related trauma?

Like listen, I get Mew. His boyfriend cheated on him with one of his best friends; that's definitely the worst betrayal ever. So I GET him, we all get him. But if we can understand & excuse his actions, why can't we spare a little bit of that understanding towards Boston (or Top)?

Nobody calls out the cybersexual harassment against Boston because he's seen as a "fuckboy" who deserves it. Being a slut is obviously the worst thing a human can be.

Like, everything Boston did in this show is immoral, no doubt. But the others have committed not just immoral but illegal acts, all in the name of revenge or love or hurt.

So, while I won't argue that Boston is a first-rate jerk and a terrible friend who can't be excused for his actions, we've got to admit that he's not any worse than the other characters. 

Maybe it's because we haven't seen his side of the story, it's hard to empathize with him. 

Regardless, I think that disliking Boston for being a jerk AND realising that he doesn't deserve to be violated or cybercrimed are two things that can exist at the same time. That's my take on this.

[aiiidoneus]

tooth for tooth, eye for eye, fracture for fracture

summary:

After escaping to Daisy’s safehouse, Jon fields off statement hunger by minimizing his use of the Eye’s abilities. However, the Eye is just as eager for the world to end as Jonah Magnus, so with Jon and Martin doing everything in their power to prevent the former's influence, it takes a bit of tag-teaming from the Fears to bring about the apocalypse.

rated mature for language and (eventual) violence

archive warnings for (eventual) graphic depictions of violence

|| link ||

excerpt:

Jon hadn't been entirely comfortable with the idea of stealing a car at first. It was ironic really: that he could tear someone's trauma from their lips but flinch away from the prospect of theft. 

Basira had thought so, too. She hadn't said it, and he hadn't Known. But a look must have passed over his face then because the instructions that hadn't ceased since Jon had pulled Martin from the Lonely and into the Institute's tunnels came to an abrupt halt. She had pursed her lips, eyes narrowing in an apparent attempt to gauge whether or not whatever damning expression Jon had made was worth addressing. Jon had averted his gaze then and become jarringly aware that Martin's hand—which felt concerningly less than substantial—was still held in his own. He had realized, guiltily, then that he had forgotten the other man was there entirely. Before Jon could chase the nagging—yet still very real—possibility of Martin's presence bleeding back into the dimension they had so recently escaped from due to Jon's careless, belated realization of his presence, Basira's instructions barreled on. 

They had left shortly after, briefly stopping by Martin and Jon's offices to retrieve what few clothes they had left in the archives. Both had relinquished their flats, it seemed, and had been living out of their respective offices. Martin still hadn't spoken; the knowledge had come to Jon unbidden. Nonetheless, an ache had bloomed beneath Jon's sternum upon the realization that the same person who would bully him into leaving the Archives before it became too terribly late had been resigned to the same fate.

They had boarded the tube afterward, their meager belongings tucked easily into a decrepit duffel bag Jon nicked from lost and found, taking a train toward Scotland—or rather, getting as close as they dared. There were too many eyes on a train. Too many people who—willingly or not—could betray their whereabouts to Elias—Jonah. 

Then came the stealing bit. It had been fairly easy, with the Eye supplying Jon with enough helpful input about the exact angles of security cameras and such that he wondered if an avatar of the Eye had ever been a professional thief. It wasn't a fancy vehicle by any means, and the owner had not only left the doors unlocked but kept the keys into the console. Jon had felt bad for the poor idiot before the Eye had informed him that the rich, pompous asshole it belonged to wouldn't be coming home for several months at the very least and even then likely wouldn't consider the theft worthy of pursuing. He decided to take solstice in that particular knowledge as he slid into the driver's seat. 

The drive, like Martin's eventual detachment from Jon's hand and settling into the passenger side, was wordless. Jon had turned the radio on to fill the silence but grew tired of fiddling with the channels once they lapsed into static—an unwelcome reminder of the tape recorders he had decidedly left behind—and resolved to exist in the prickling silence. Other than frantic glances in Jon's periphery, he didn't try to engage Martin. He seemed content—not content, but rather something carefully blank and possibly (hopefully?) thoughtful, or perhaps reflective—to stare out at the endless fields unfurling past the tinted windows. Several hundred miles had been spent like that. Then the car had been ditched off the road a little ways, obscured enough by foliage that no one would unwittingly stumble across it. 

Which brought them to the present: crunching wordlessly along a gravel road that cut through the pale, mist covered fields like a river.

(read the rest on ao3.)

[cetaceans-pls]

Back To Front

Magic gone awry has made Bruce a much, much younger man.

Jason’s not super jazzed about being the Responsible Adult in this situation

BruJay, T

bruce wayne day 4, for the prompts: brand new at batman, fear of guns

this is VERY soppy. i’m also SO indescribably sleepy that i wrote this with one eye closed, but nevertheless i enjoyed writing this hugely, so please enjoy

-

Jason looks at Bruce, and tries to be Regular about for having to look down to meet him in the eyes, for the first time since, uh, the dawn of time.

“You’re handling this pretty well.”

Bruce, zapped by a stray bolt of magic during a battle royale between Z and the magiced asshole of the week and now a hang-dogged looking young man of 20, just looks at Jason balefully.

God, Jason thinks. Man’s too young to even drink.

“Look, I know the only reason you let me give you a lift back to the Cave is because I got Alfie on the phone to talk to you. You haven’t even met Di-, uh.” Shit. Jason’s not sure what would happen if he spills that kind of information, if maybe this soggy-biscuit version of Bruce will find out he goes from lone ranger to mother hen right quick and decide to not go to the circus one particular night. “Uhm.”

“If this really is time travel and not some type of induced hallucination, don’t tell me anything,” Bruce says in his trademark growl, but it’s a little high and it lacks that electronic overlay that makes his voice spit and threaten like a fork being blasted in a microwave.

He’s so young. Jason’s eyes almost water to look at him, and he cannot comprehend that a year or so further down the line, this Bruce with his lank hair and perpetual turned corners to his mouth will see a child who’s lost everything and go no, not everything.

“I won’t,” Jason says. “I wasn’t gonna,” he says, like he hadn’t had half of Dick’s name out his mouth. He groans, and brushes his hair back in irritation. “I guess it’s going to be code names only, then. I’m Red Hood, and we, uh. Work together.”

It’s one way to describe it. He pulls out his phone, ignores Bruce’s hungry, interested stare at the cutting-edge piece of tech to someone from a time where landlines were king, and texts Alfred.

he doesn’t remember anything can you please take out EVERYTHING in the bedroom?

Of course.

He looks up from his phone, and see Bruce looking at him shrewdly. It’s another departure from normal; regular Bruce, his Bruce, is constantly looking at people shrewdly with zero expression on his face. Bruce can run through 15 vicious assessments of a brand new alien species without a single crease of an aristocratic brow, probably, and it just hammers home how....fresh and new to all of this, Bruce is.

Once a man’s been Batman for a couple of decades there’s something of it that remains in the blood, and Jason had thought he’d gotten awful good at seeing the man underneath it all, but... no. Even at his most vulnerable, even at his most laid bare, the Bruce of his time’s got too much iron in the blood, too much eldritch after seeing all of the horror.

He looks at this Bruce and the first adjective that comes to his mind is soft-bellied. His second thought it Gotham’s gonna ruin you.

It’s a little depressing, like giving a eulogy at a funeral for a man who isn’t dead yet, and maybe Jason’s not as good at keeping a poker face while roiling in emotional turmoil because Bruce looks at him with blatant concern.

“Do we have a bad working relationship?”

“Maybe?” Jason doesn’t even know if he’s lying because of time travel or because he doesn’t actually know how to describe the messy fuzzy business of Batman and Red Hood being simultaneously terribly antagonistic and brutally efficient. “Look, I’m gonna get a migraine if I have to do 6-D chess to figure out if I’m going to collapse space-time every time I answer a question. How about we just sit here quietly in the Cave, you don’t look too hard at any of the tech, and you also don’t ask me why we have magicians on speed-dial.”

Bruce frowns. “You don’t have to keep me company in that case. I’ve survived near-death experiences, I can survive sitting in the Cave by myself until help comes.”

“Great point. Except, see, I can’t leave you alone.” Not for any practical or logistical reasons; few places on Earth were safer, and they can’t even go to Clark’s Fortress because this B is still a few years out from their first meeting. “Don’t ask me why,” Jason rushes to say, when he sees Bruce open his mouth to argue (of course). “Time traveler reasons, all right?”

The hell it is. Jason just cannot leave B alone in this state (soft-bellied). It’s just hitting hard and hitting weird, to see how young B had been when he’d started all of this. Of course Jason’s stint had started much younger and ended much worse, but he’d popped out of Catherine with skin an inch thick, probably.

Left to himself he hadn’t been particularly idealistic, though that trait had blossomed when he got given Robin. It’s just a weird realisation to make, that Bruce is all ass-backwards. Had started out a little delicate and intensely believing in his singular ability to make things better, and so much of that just gotten chipped away. The pillar of support’s mostly gone now, much of what’s left is just stoic rusty rebar.

This before to the after that’s the Bruce he owns is a little sickening to think about, much less face.

Bruce doesn’t pick up on Jason’s obvious cues that he’s feeling a little frazzled and a lot awful, because all he’d heard was Jason brushing him off without good reason. “Listen,” he says, puffing up his chest, and god the armour plating on this early batsuit looks gossamer thin and about as good at gossamer at preventing injury, god. “If you’re that desperate to keep your secrets, it’s fine. Just leave, and send Alfred down here to keep me company. He knows me.”

Jason wants to laugh at that, though he’s feeling a tad too hysterical to let it loose. “I promise you, B, I know you real damn well. Too damn well, even.” It’s 100% why he’s having this crisis of self, seeing what Bruce could’ve been based on what he was.

(Could’ve been someone with emotions he didn’t mind being read on his face).

Bruce doesn’t look convinced, so Jason pulls out his gun and in a smooth move shoots a hole through a target on the other side of the cave. The resounding bang echoes like a ghost through the cavernous walls, but Jason doesn’t even have time to care about the ringing in his ears.

What decades of training have dampened down to little more than a twitch at the corner of his mouth isn’t present here; Bruce has a full-body shudder, then goes a little green, before rallying back and baring his teeth. “Why the hell did you do that?”

“You get better at it, at not reacting to guns,” Jason says simply. “For a long while you got better at it for bad reasons,” and he’s too polite to say you have had some type of deathwish or other for most of your life, “and then you did it for better reasons.”

Bruce just keeps staring at him, even and serious. “Which one are you?” he snaps. “One of the bad reasons or one of the good ones?”

That does manage to pry out a startled laugh from Jason, who wants to grab Bruce round the throat and either punch him or kiss him (no changes there). “Been a major contributor to both, to be honest.”

Bruce steps towards him, posture aggressive but voice strangely earnest. “Which one are you now?”

Jason looks down at him, and wants to scream. “Good one,” he says, rendered solemn despite himself. “We both worked real fucking hard to get to that stage, I can tell you that for fucking sure.”

Jason’s forced to rescind his earlier thoughts; even if this Bruce still hasn’t gotten his face under control yet, that brain under all that thick mussed-up hair is still razor sharp (and a bit of a bitch). Bruce’s eyes narrow, than widen in surprise. “We’re involved. Aren’t we? We’re involved, and something about me or you or us together makes working together difficult.”

Jason groans, and shoves Bruce away with a hand to the face. “Nope, not getting into that. I literally am not gonna tell you anything any more, we’re both in time-out right now, fucking hell.”

For no reason that Jason could conceivably come up with, Bruce just looks satisfied. “You want to do a time-out but still sit together with me here, when you could just leave. Could have just left a while ago. That it, isn’t it? Our working relationship is difficult, but our personal relationship is...good.” He looks a little disbelieving. “Good enough that you’re here and you won’t leave me.”

Jason makes a face, and scowls at Bruce. “If this universe collapses around our ears ‘cos you couldn’t not be a detective and leave things the hell alone, I’m not taking responsibility.”

Bruce looks at him like he’s about to argue, but then he cocks his head to one side, frowning. “Did you hear that-”

And then the universe does collapse (just a little bit).

-

When Jason comes to, he’s sitting in one the Cave’s 200 office chairs, and Bruce, his Bruce, is leaning against a table, arms folded around that (magnificent!) broad chest.

Jason feels so much blessed relief it hits a lot like an asthma attack. “Fuck me, you’re the worst human being in the entire goddamn world.”

Bruce shrugs, but he’s smiling faintly. “Don’t think that can be true, since you’re still here with me.”

Jason groans. “Fuck me, do you remember everything? Wait, so that really was you from, like, 1998 or something? We didn’t break the universe.”

Bruce shakes his head ruefully. “I’d been trying out a new type of grappling hook, and the line had snapped. I wake up and I’m concussed to hell and back, and everything’s like a fever dream. Didn’t realise it wasn’t until the Red Hood came to Gotham, but it certainly added an interesting layer to how I felt when I found out that this....,” he gestures vaguely around them, “this was you.”

Jason licks his lips, throat gone dry. “Good kind of layer, or a bad one?’

Bruce pushes away from the table to loom over Jason, this familiar sightline, this beloved bulk. He rests a hand at Jaosn’s jaw, and smiles. “The good kind,” he murmurs, warm and close. “After all, we both worked real fucking hard to get here, didn’t we, Jaybird?”

Un-fucking-believable. Jason wants to beat the crap out of Bruce, and has to make peace with just biting hard on Bruce’s thumb instead. “Asshole. Should’ve stayed as younger-you, he was all innocent and, uh, earnest.”

“Gotham’s taken most of it away,” Bruce says matter-of-factly, but they’re both still whispering like they’re in a church that they built themselves. “Whatever’s left though, I’m happy to let you keep.”

All of it, Jason doesn’t say, because it doesn’t need saying. He’s keeping all of it, because all of it is his, cracked cement and sturdy rebar and a face that’s easy to read and this worn-down man who’s still better than the next thousand you could conjure up.

“C’mon,” Jason says roughly, knocking Bruce’s hand off and climbing to his feet. “Everyone’s been worried as shit about you.”

“They shouldn’t have been,” Bruce says mildly. “You were here with me.”

“Oh my god,” Jason says. “Fuck me, bring back the other guy.”

But then he grabs the hand he’s bitten, and tugs Bruce back to the present.

[msfbgraves]

(to punish him for not accepting Terry's apology earlier.)

Of all the Knights and Pawns revelations, this one is the most hurtful. By far. Punishing your own spouse—after you have raped them, with your own children only rooms away, because they didn’t forgive you the next day—by fucking someone else. Just. OMG. That’s so terrible on every way. Drunk or not that’s not the point; that’s the excuse for being so incredibly, disgustingly vindictive. Then, after, keeping the cheating hush hush for several years, and having your spouse—who by then has forgiven you, given you two more beautiful kids, and still continues to love you—find out by having someone else, an outsider, tell them at a funeral. Out of the blue. So now, another person knows, so now there’s embarrassment and shame too that this domestic issue is known outside of the family. 

I don’t think there are words enough for how disgusting and foul and most of all—incredibly cruel and deeply abusive—Terry is for doing these things. It’s beyond awful in every single way. The sheer amount of emotional distress Daniel has to go through because of this total asshole. 

I suppose Daniel would only become the perfect spouse if he had just forgiven Terry the next day after what happened that night—then Terry wouldn’t have had to go off the rails even more and punish him!! See, it’s all Daniel’s fault of course. 

🤢 🤮 

Makes me almost wish Daniel had ended up with Kumiko or Johnny or even Chozen in this verse. None of them—not even Johnny—would ever do something like this, canon included. Hell, I highly doubt canon!Kreese would stoop this low. 

(He always asked himself if he wasn't good enough, somehow, but he's not too bothered by it) Arghhhh. I know he’s not bothered by it, but just the fact that he asks himself this question in the first place is awful. Clearly the poor thing who does so much and really is a wonderful spouse is either not being shown and told how much he’s loved, how good he is—or he has some deep insecurity thanks to Terry. Maybe all at once.

(But that fear soon proves unjustified.) Uh, okay. So Terry is nice to him after spilling the beans. How kind of him. 🙄 I hate that Daniel even felt scared, that he wondered if Terry was gonna act like a dick after…well, acting like a dick. Honestly, the parts of the fic where Terry gets nasty gives me domestic violence vibes. He sucks. 

(It makes him feel lonely and unappreciated) 😭 😭 😭 Ooof that stings. Daniel of all people, even in canon, needs to be shown and told that’s he’s loved and appreciated. The moment those affirmations are taken from him…

(the puppies are BIG MAD at Daddy for that. Not. Again.) No no, puppies, by all means! He deserves it. Which makes me ask—do the older puppies know what’s up? Or do they at least suspect? Sam maybe. Even Robby considering how he’s a Mama’s boy. 

Arghhh. I just wanna give Daniel all the cuddles and snuggles. He’s too sweet for all this misery. 

Anyway, those are my thoughts. And I just wanted to say this is 1000% not hate. I very much enjoy this story, very much enjoy all the installments (even when they hurt!), and very much enjoy the world building, and still want them to be happy, curse my nasty Silverusso heart. I also very much enjoy your writing, and again, love this one in particular! So thank you very much for writing it, even if I now dislike Terry a lot lol.

Anyway, Daniel could do much better than Terry Silver here. That man will never deserve having this cutiepie in this life. Not one bit. 

Nonnie, first off, thank you for this incredibly kind and heartfelt message. Writers always want to evoke a response in people, and it's entirely fine if that response is anger at one of the characters. I do the same! So no hate, I get it <3

As for Terry - he married Daniel at gunpoint, knowing full well the boy didn't want him and the family wanted him dead. You'd need to be a certain kind of entitled and dismissive of other people's feelings to do that. Truly considerate people don't do that. They don't. So, did I expect that to never rear its head?

But he's sweet and loving and kind - yeah, because he wants to be. He wants a home, he wants genuine love, and he's arrogant enough to think that he should get it whatever he does. Oh, sure, he'll apologise, if only for himself, because he does feel guilty. But this whole marriage was begun on his turf, and he completely expects it to stay that way, because... Well, because he wants it to. And what Terry wants, Terry gets, that's how it works!

And then Daniel doesn't play. He straight up leaves, and that is not allowed. Like Michael standing up to him wasn't allowed. And he can't do anything and he feels bad and worried and vulnerable and other people are supposed to make that right for him and they're not. If he can't take Daniel, he'll take someone else that'll show him....

(Did Don LaRusso expect this would happen? He factored it in, he can't not have. But he needed a few years to get his strength back, after which he'd dispose of that Irishman and take his family home if need be... Conveniently forgetting that caro Daniele would again have to be hurt in the process!)

But now, there's love. Such profound love, because you can't marry Daniel LaRusso and not open up a well of love inside yourself you had no idea existed. Doesn't happen. And when Terry bodily feels the difference between his Danny and some other omega... after feeling the absolute shock in his house without that sweet boy.... How shaken his pups are without their Mama, how bereft he feels without his baby son, too...

Finally his ego shuts up long enough for his heart to feel "You dun fucked up, you lowlife." Nobody save John Kreese would ever tell him this and John Kreese he also doesn't always heed.

Should he have known this before? Of course. But people who understand this, in their soul, don't become Mob bosses, and if they do, they don't force people into marriage with them. In fact, a lot of people like that don't even realise what they're doing then, they simply go "huh?" when their wives put rat poison in their food.

The biggest issue now is that Terry knows he's had a change of heart - he really has - but in the ten years in between, Daniel can't know that. At any point, Terry can do something like that again and then where will he be? So in a way, it is a blessing in disguise because not only has Terry not done something violent to him again, after this happens and Daniel again decides to wait and see - he doesn't change. He doesn't have a tantrum, he doesn't try to get back at him, he doesn't get dismissive, he sincerely apologises and explains and in a very backwards way, this is actually a relief to Daniel because at least it gives him the opportunity to say: "Hey asshole, what did I ever do to you?"

And Terry is scared out of his mind because he knows, viscerally, what he stands to lose, he knows what it cost to get it back and he knows that he probably couldn't do it again.

So yes, Daniel is hurt and puppies are incensed - by now, the eldest are 16, 15 and 14 years old, Robby is nearly 13, and people at that age don't accept any excuses. They haven't had to compromise and they definitely don't understand why anyone should have to. If Mama inexplicably doesn't murder Daddy in his bed, they're not letting him get away with it. Sammy, Yasmin and Eli remember very well how Mama and Daddy had a huge fight and had to go away forever to make up. And they remember the feeling of being so upset when Mama was. No, in their way, they're tearing Terry a new one. For Daddy to endanger their safe haven, they won't have it and there's four or them and only one of him.