#if anyone would like I could probably explain how I beat the game I remember the path exactly :3

[chibishortdeath]

So, Simon’s Quest gets the mythical fandom status of being “completely unbeatable without a guide”, but I don’t really agree. My source: I never had to use a guide to beat it. I looked up a couple things like the number of days for each ending and not a whole lot else.

I think maybe a lot of people go into it with the idea they’re going to get the best/fastest ending on their first try. While you definitely can technically beat it like that, it’s very much a game that wants to you play it a couple times. It has three endings all with faster times AND it was a game that came out during the era of renting things: it was made to be replayed! Or at least just generally goofed around in—

To be honest, I had more trouble figuring out the blue crystal puzzle than the red. Just having the white crystal out makes platforms appear default, no other input needed. So when seeing a massive expanse of water and no effect just holding out the blue crystal, I thought I was going the wrong way and started trying to fight enemies I could not on the other side of the map 💀💀💀. It took playing it and failing a couple times before I made Simon crouch at the water in confusion and it worked lol. So later on in the game at the infamous Deborah Cliff, I first whipped at the cliff a bit and then crouched because that had worked before. First time I played the game I didn’t even know the hint books existed so I never looked for them. It was an absolutely bizarre experience when I eventually one, especially cause I accidentally pressed a button through the text and missed it 💀💀💀.

But yeah, the gameplay is just trial and error mostly. Talk to a guy, take his advice, turns out he’s lying, oh well that’s known for next run then. Go to a mansion, find out there’s no oak stake seller in this one, damn, guess next time I should get two at that other mansion. And sometimes it’s not even entire runs of the game, if you get in a bad spot, you can reset and try it over :3! It took me a good handful of tries to get the slowest ending, then about exponentially less to get the other two—

All this being said: I can see why a lot of people don’t like this kind of gameplay. In certain contexts, I don’t like having to replay a whole game just to get a better ending (Portrait of Ruin Stella and Loretta battle is kicking my ass but I can’t get myself to just get the bad ending and replay it ughhggg)! It’s grindy, it’s doing the same thing over again, and most people will just prefer being able to straightforwardly beat something. I just like the game cause I saw it as one big puzzle to solve and also enjoyed the grinding and the playing over and over the same way one might like a rogue-like or something like Vampire Survivors if that makes sense???

But yeah anyway whole point is that I didn’t find it to be an unbeatable game. It’s obtuse, it’s vague, it’s mean, and some of that was unintended, but a good 90% was. It’s a weirdly unforgiving but very forgiving game— like it purposefully leads you off track and makes you waste time, but it’s still a game that wants you to beat it—!!!

So, anyway, I’ve been told I should play Dark Souls— 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

[spenceragnewfics]

f!reader losing virginity to spencer ? maybe as "just friends" to help her "get it out of the way" but they really like each other.

So...this was supposed to come out on Spencer's birthday but work and life got in the way...sorry.

WE’RE JUST FRIENDS? | Spencer Agnew x F!Reader | 18+ MINORS DNI

(also, yes the girl in the photo has a certain skin color but it's not indicative of the reader. I try to make these open to everyone as possible.)

TW: Smut, oral (f! receiving), fingering, cursing, two idiots in love

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

DESCRIPTION: You have told you're best friend Spencer everything...well except two things. You're in love with him and you're still a virgin. Two things you never plan to tell him...until you do.

She never understood why people couldn’t just be friends. Opposite genders can be friends and not have any romantic feelings. Is it kind of hypocritical coming from her…yeah, but not totally. 

You see, Y/N has feelings for her best friend since college but is purely platonic with all her other male friends; Chanse, Shayne, Tommy, Ian, Anthony, and all the other guys at Smosh. She knows the main reason she’s attracted to Spencer and has been for years, he’s himself. It’s hard to explain unless you know Spencer but what made her fall for him…is him.

It’s not like her feelings are so intense she couldn’t date anyone else, in fact, she’s dated a couple of guys but they haven’t lasted for vastly different reasons. One thing has been one of the constant reasons for the break up, you don’t want to sleep with them.

She doesn't know why, but she has yet to date anyone who has made her feel comfortable enough to lose her virginity to, not wanting to regret it later on. That’s something she hasn’t told anyone, not even Spencer because she doesn't know how to explain why she hasn't yet. It’s something she never thought she would tell him until one night of drinks, pizza, and gaming. A semi-regular night for the two of them, especially after a long shoot week.

It was barely midnight, the two of them had been hanging out for like four hours at this point just talking, eating, and trying to beat the other at Mario Kart or play duos on Fortnite.

The night had gotten away from them after an epic Battle Royale about an hour ago where they celebrated with an extra drink and chatting. Like everything, somehow they got onto the topic of dating, both of them being single for almost, or over in Spencer's case, a year. That then delved into talking about more intimate stuff, “Honestly, I’m so fucking happy that I lost my virginity in high school. I could not imagine still being a virgin now. Too much pressure.” He quips after he makes a joke about the movie 40-year-old Virgin.

Y/N looks at him confused and lowkey, panicking, “Why do you say that? I don’t think it’d be that bad.” She confesses, sipping more of her drink. “Dude, when you’re in high school or college it’s all just part of the experience. You barely have dated anyone so there isn’t much pressure. Now though, fuck dude!” He says, rubbing his face in frustration at the thought and she looks down.

“There would be so much pressure at this point. You’ve dated so many people and at this point, it’s probably just you being in your head.”

“Or you’re scared to give it away and regret it. Guys losing their virginity is a lot more different than girls. You have to remember that, Spence. A lot more at stake too.” She looks at him, trying to show a stoic face but Spencer isn’t buying it.

Y/N is always someone who tries to show both sides of the coin but is usually more silly about it. Now, she’s being very serious and trying to act stoic, like she’s hiding something. It’s not something he wouldn’t have noticed unless they had been friends this long.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to strike a nerve. I know you’re all about being things neutral but this seems like a bit more than usual. What’s up?” She looks at him confused, trying not to get embarrassed and say something she doesn’t want to. “Nothing, I just think that sometimes this whole thing is oversimplified.” He raises an eyebrow, “You’re acting like you’re still…” He trails off when she looks down and squeezes her eyes shut.

“Oh my god! Y/N! What the fuck! I thought you and-”

“We were but I changed my mind. Every time I thought about possibly losing it to him I felt nothing but dread. Same thing with the other guys. I don’t want to regret it.” She plays with her fingers, not wanting to look him in the eye.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She looks at him shocked, “Why would I need to tell you? It’s personal but also how the hell do I bring that up?” She says before speaking in a silly voice, “Oh, Spencer, I gotta tell ya, buddy. I’m a virgin because I get major anxiety and overthink it to where I just haven’t done it.” She does a silly laugh that sounds a lot like Goofy.

“Okay, I get it. This is a sensitive topic, I’m sorry.” He apologizes, looking at her sadly and she feels her heart pinch. “It’s not that. I just…I want to. I want to so badly but I just get so anxious and overthink everything. Sometimes I think that it’d be easier to find someone to hook up with or just get an escort or something.” She looks at him, “Or someone I have been friends with forever basically and I trust more than anything.”

Spencer looks at her confused until she raises a brow and he gets the message, “Oh, you mean me? Really?” She nods, playing with her fingers again as she gets nervous. “Yeah, I mean. I know I wouldn’t regret it with you because you’re my best friend. I don’t think there is a guy I trust more than you.” She confesses, making his face light up.

“I would be honored. Holy shit, you won’t regret this. I promise.” He says, sounding like an excited young kid who just got picked first for baseball. She giggles at his silly antics before letting out a shocked yelp when he pulls her close. “So, are you more dominant or submissive or…” She shrugs her shoulders. Spencer shrugs his as well before putting his hand on her cheek, pulling her in gently before connecting their lips.

She puts her hand on his as her other moves into his hair. He sighs into the kiss as her nails scratch at his scalp, sending chills down his spine. Gently, he lays her down on the couch as his lips move to cheek then to her jaw, and landing lastly on her neck.

He feels his pants tighten as she lets out soft sighs from his lips on her sensitive neck. His tongue licks a long stripe along it before he sucks on her pulse point. Her hand pulls at his hair in response as she mutters out his name softly, the sound making him harder by the second.

Unknown to Y/N, Spencer was slowly coming to the realization of his own feelings for her. What he would always brush off as anxiety of her dating someone new and unknown to him has turned out to be jealously. Jealous that these random guys would take you out and not him. He finally has his chance to test the waters…well test a little more than the waters.

His lips continue to work on her neck but stop when she starts to giggle. “What, what’s so funny?” He asks, moving back a little and chuckling himself. “Your beard tickles a bit. I like it though.” She’s coy about her words, he smiles at her shyness before going back to kissing her neck as she giggles again.

This is nothing he’s felt before. The other girls he had dated and slept with were all serious about sex. They didn’t want or think that sex could be playful and fun but in this moment Spencer feels his heart soar. He’s pulled out of his trance as she tries to pull off his t-shirt, he helps her take the article of clothing off before slipping his hands under her shirt.

He holds back a moan just at the feeling of her lace bra, not even seeing it in person. She giggles before slipping the shirt over her head and swears his eyes are popping out of his head. “I knew you had awesome tits, but holy fuck!” He groans as he puts his face between them.

His warm breath fans over them, sending chills down her body before his warm tongue licks her lace-covered nipple. She bites her lip as he does the same to the other before pulling her bra down to expose the flesh fully.

A strangled moan falls from her lips when he wraps his around her right nipple. His thumb and forefinger play with her left, rolling and gently tugging it. She feels herself getting wetter with each tug as her hands tangle in his hair. He continues to stimulate her nipples for a while before moving down with open mouth kisses.

“Spence, you don’t have to-”

“I want you, now sit back relax and enjoy the show.” He jokes with his sassy smirk before kissing her plush thighs. She sighs comfortably at the feeling before laughing when he playfully bites her thigh. “Sorry, you just tasted too good not to have a bite.”

Her eyes stay on him as his beard tickles her thigh before he moves to be face-first with her pussy. His finger come up to spread her lips as she feels her cheeks heat up, not used to having someone see so much of her. Her thighs start to close but Spencer stops them before they can. “Don’t hide yourself. You’re beautiful.” He assures her as he licks a long strip up her slit.

The new feeling makes her eyes roll as she breathes shakily. He continues to give long licks before moving to suck on her clit. “Holy fuck!” She moans, her hands quickly finding a place in his hair as she relishes in the new feeling.

She had used vibrators and other toys but nothing had felt like this before. His tongue swirls around her clit a few times before sucking again. He moves a finger to her entrance, “I’m going to put a finger in. It might feel weird at first.” She nods, moving a hand down to his arm. She releases a breath at the uncomfortable feeling, her hand squeezes his arm.

“Are you okay?” He asks his finger fully inside. “Yeah, just feels… different.” She confesses as she starts to feel embarrassed. “It’ll feel better in a bit, just gotta get you warmed up a bit.” His finger thrusts in and out for a moment before he adds a second. She moans softly when adds a second and whimpers as they move. “Is it feeling better?” He asks, she responds with a sweet moan that makes his cheeks heat up.

His fingers continue going in and out, stretching her out slightly. His fingers graze the spongy spot inside her, “Oh my, do that again! Please.” She begs. The feeling made her see stars, who is Spencer not to please? His finger rubs the spongy spot as she starts to feel herself get close.

“Yes, yes, just like that-Fuck!” She screams when his lips wrap around her clit again. He licks and sucks intermittently while still playing with her G-spot as she screams his name. “Spencer! Fuck! I’m gonna cum!” She yells as the knot in her stomach snaps.

He licks and sucks her clean before sitting up. Pulling off his hoodie and pants. He aligns himself with her leaking hole, “This will probably hurt, but it’ll subside. I promise.” She nods as he slowly pushes in.

While the tight feeling makes him moan loudly, having been a while since he slept with anyone, Y/N bites her lip, the feeling being intruding and uncomfortable. Noticing her discomfort, he leans down and kisses her sweetly, trying to distract her as he continues to sink in.

Spencer is just a bit above average in length but more girthy than most. The stretch is something Y/N will come to love but for the first time, it’s a different feeling than anything she’s ever felt. Her face unconsciously skews in a bit of pain when he’s fully inside.

Leaning down, he locks their lips. His hips are still as he gives her time to adjust, the feeling of her wrapped around him is making it hard to keep still though. Her hands tangle in his hair once again and gently pull when she’s adjusted, giving them the okay to move.

His thrusts start out slow, letting her body adjust to the new sensations and the starting pain slowly melts away. He intertwines their fingers as he thrusts at the same pace. The gesture is small but is enough to make her feel safe and loved by the man on top of her.

It takes about a minute before Y/N starts to moan, “Faster, please Spencer.” She begs needing to feel more. It takes everything in him not to smirk as his hips pick up speed. “Oh god.” She moans, wrapping her legs around his waist to keep him close.

Spencer keeps a steady fast pace, his tip hitting her G-Spot as he moves his hips a little. The only sounds in the room are skin-on-skin, moans, and heavy breathing. The two are eye-locked, watching the other’s face and expressions.

“Shit, I’m close.” Y/N moans, feeling the familiar knot forming. “Me too, shit,” Spencer groans as his hand moves to rub her clit. “Fuck, Spencer!” She practically screams with the added sensation.

“Cum for me, Y/N. Please cum all over me.” He moans, his thrusts getting sporadic.  She screams his name as the knot bursts in her stomach and she cums on his dick. He groans as she clenches around him, making it hard for him to not cum inside her. He continues to thrust through her high before he starts to breathe very heavily.

“Where do you want me to cum?” He struggles to get out, feeling very close. “I don’t care.” She says, her voice very breathy. He pulls out and only strokes himself a few times before he cums on her chest.

Coming down from his high, the two look at each other and then laugh. “Oh my god, that was amazing. How the hell are you still single?” She jokes as he lays on top of her. “Just haven’t found the right one yet.” He says, his eyes looking at her softly as she runs a hand through his hair.

“Maybe you just haven’t been looking in the right places.” She smiles at him and he leans in, “Or maybe I just have been overlooking a certain someone.” he says before kissing her.

[merrybloomwrites]

Lil Forehead Kiss

Summary: You're known amongst your friends as the person who give out hugs, high fives, and platonic forehead smooches to everyone. Except your crush. What happens when you slip up? Will he reject you, or will it open a door to a new possibility?

WC: 1.6K

AN: Thank you @wtv-my-current-hyperfixation for requesting this story! This fluffy piece is based of this request and it was a joy to write!

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If there’s one thing you’re known for, it’s being a very affectionate person. You never shy away from showing casual affection to your friends. It’s second nature to you to lean in for a hug or reach for a high five each time you see someone. 

You’re always cautious about not crossing boundaries with people, and you know who doesn’t like to be touched, and you make sure to respect that and give them their space. 

Especially since it’s not always just hugs and high fives. You’ll hold hands, give little shoulder rubs, even press a friendly kiss to someone’s cheek or forehead. It’s no big deal to you, and you’ll give everyone who likes it this treatment, doesn’t matter if they’re a girl, a boy, nonbinary, makes no difference to you. Everyone deserves a little love!

But then there’s Damien. The one person you struggle to show this affection to. Not for a bad reason, but because, well, you have a crush. Have since the day you met him. Which was on your second day as an editor for Smosh Games. Probably not the best time to develop feelings for a coworker. 

He’s just so funny, and sweet, and gentle, there’s no way not to love him. But he doesn’t need to know that. Honestly you’d probably die of embarrassment if someone found out, especially if Damien himself were to find out. 

So you keep your distance from him. No hugs, no hand holding, no platonic smooches. Because with him, you’re not sure you could keep it platonic. Best to avoid the situation all together. 

Damien has noticed that you’re less tactile worth him than others. He’s admittedly a little bummed about it, but he keeps that to himself. He knows that when he started at Smosh, he told people he wasn’t a huge fan of physical contact. 

So really it seems that you’re just respecting him by giving him his space. 

But he wishes you wouldn’t. Partially because it seems nice to get random affection throughout the day. But mostly because he may be secretly harboring a bit of a crush on you. 

So he starts dropping hints that he’s not quite as anti touch as he made it seem. On an episode of Smosh Mouth he tells the story about the pranks that were common when he started at Smosh. 

“You somehow seemed to avoid those pranks,” Shayne says. 

“Because I told everyone I don’t like being touched,” Damien replies. “Which isn’t totally true but kept me from getting ice cream down my pants.”

They both laugh at this, remembering the ridiculous shenanigans of older era Smosh. 

“I thought that was interesting,” Shayne says. “Because I remember back during the So Random days you never said anything about having a problem with like, hugs and things like that from friends.”

“Yea it was really just to protect myself from the craziness here. I’m good with hugs and high fives and stuff, especially from friends,” Damien explaineds. 

“What about lil kisses?” Amanda asks with a smirk. 

“Oh, big fan,” Damien says. “Gettin a lil kiss on the forehead? Sign me up!” 

“Really?” Shayne says. “I did not know that.”

“Absolutely, can’t beat a forehead kiss.”

You’re glad that you’re listening to this episode while alone in your car, because your blush at this conversation would be very telling if anyone were to see. 

Well damn. There goes your excuse to keep away from Damien. More than that, you now want to give him a kiss just to see how he’d react. Would he give you that big smile that you love? Would he grow pink and bashful? You need to know. 

But you can’t. Because you don’t trust yourself to not give away your secret. You have to keep your distance and if anyone asks, you’ll just say it’s force of habit. Yea, that’s a good plan. 

And the plan continues to work. 

Until the day you slip up. 

It’s a Games shoot, and Damien, Courtney, and Shayne are all squished on a couch to play some classic Mario. You smile watching Courtney and Shayne banter. It’s always fun to watch them, especially now that their secret is out and they feel more free to interact however they want to. 

You find yourself daydreaming about how it would be if you told Damien about your crush and he reciprocated and the two of you fell in love and lived happily ever after. 

The shoot starts and shakes you out of these thoughts. Time to focus on work. You’re there to help out with tech as needed, but also because you’re a pro at all things Mario. Since you’ve appeared in a few videos, you’ve gained a bit of a following. So the idea today is that you can make a cameo to help the three if they get stuck at any point. 

It happens about half way through. After nearly a dozen attempts, they can’t get past a certain level. You’re called in, and you walk on the stage before leaning over the back of the couch. You’re between Damien and Courtney, and you try not to act like the schoolgirl with a crush that you are when his hands brush yours as he passes you the controller. 

It takes you three attempts to pass, and you banter with the others while you play. Everyone cheers when you finally succeed, and Damien says, “And this is why Y/N is the queen of Mario here at Smosh.”

You laugh at that and turn to press a kiss to Damien’s head. Realizing what you’ve just done, you do your best to keep cool. You ruffle both his and Courtney’s hair as you pull away from the couch. The fans are aware of your tactile nature with your friends. Hopefully they’ll think this is just that, you being friendly. 

When you make it off stage again you look back and catch Damien’s reaction. He’s definitely blushing, and when he catches your eyes he gives you a smile. It’s small, soft and shy. You smile in return but quickly look down before he can see how smitten you are. 

For the remainder of the shoot you can’t help but sneak glances at Damien, surprised and flustered every time you see him looking right back at you. When they finish filming you see Damien walking over, and you quickly think of a question to ask Alex. Anything to avoid having what’s likely going to be a very awkward conversation.

Unfortunately, it’s the end of the day, and Damien doesn’t have anything else he needs to get to and therefore has plenty of time to wait for you to finish your conversation.

“Hey, you got a sec?” he asks as you turn to him.

“Yea, of course, what’s up?” you reply. Maybe this isn’t about the kiss. Maybe this isn’t about the looks you were giving him. Maybe you aren’t about to die from embarrassment. 

“I was hoping we could talk for a moment. Just us?” 

“Sure!” you reply as your heart rate increases. The two of you walk out of the room together but not before you see the cheeky and hopeful looks from Courntey and Shayne. 

Damien leads you to a small meeting room that’s not in use, closing the door behind you to ensure privacy. 

You brace yourself for a potential rejection, so you’re more than surprised when Damien blurts out, “I like you.” 

When you don’t reply right away he continues, saying, “Sorry, I wasn’t planning on saying it like that. But I do. Like you. Have for a while. And I figured you probably saw the way that kiss earlier made me melt so I felt like I should come clean and tell you.”

There’s another silent moment before your brain finally catches up. Damien’s shy smile has started to fall when you say, “I like you too!”

The smile comes back, as does the flush on his cheeks and he says, “Really? I hoped, but never really thought you did because you always avoided me when you were so tactile with our friends-”

You cut him off to explain, “I avoided you because I liked you. I thought that if I was the same way with you I’d open up this whole can of worms about feelings and crushes and thought it was safer to just, you know, keep that all bottled in.” 

“I guess that’s smart. Because the second you came near me I knew I was not keeping my secret anymore.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you say, so happy this is finally happening, and it’s going better than you ever could have imagined. 

“Do you wanna, uhm, maybe go get dinner?” he asks.

“I’d like that,” you reply. 

“So it’s a date?”

“It’s a date,” you confirm. 

The two of you leave work and meet up at a restaurant nearby. You have a wonderful time together, chatting about work and life and divulging how far back your crushes on eachother go. 

When it’s time to say goodnight you lean in for a hug. He holds you tight for a moment, and this embrace feels different than the ones you share daily with your friends. There’s more feeling, more promise behind it. He’s leaning down just a bit, allowing you to press another kiss to his forehead as you pull away from the hug. He does the same for you, and the two of you stand there smiling, your insides warm and fluttery, full of hope for what’s to come. 

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AN: Thank you for reading! I don't currently have any other Damien ideas in the works so feel free to send requests for stories with him!

[kattyfics]

Memory Loss

summary: You were captured by the Capitol after the 75th Hunger Games along with Peeta and Johanna. What happens when you make it back to district 13, but you can’t seem to remember your boyfriend of 3 years.

wc: 758

warnings: angst, mentions of t*rture, fluff at end?

On the outside you were fine, there was the minor bruise or cut here or there, but you seemed to be ok physically and mentally. At least compared to Peeta you were. There was bound to be some kind of psychological trauma in you, but the doctors of district 13 had yet to experience it.

The first non medical person to visit you was Plutarch and Haymitch, they originally told you about the rebellion before the 75th game began, promising they would get you out of the arena and bring you back to 13.

You weren’t mad at them, you understood that Katniss had to come first, being the face of the rebellion and all. You felt especially better when Haymitch explained how he vouched for you, Peeta, and Johanna, and how Coin declined his request to save you.

It had been about a day since you got back, and they were still restricting visitors. You had heard about Peeta’s outburst, feeling sorry for Katniss, you requested to see her. Only, when she showed up, she wasn’t alone.

With her was a tall blonde man, with signs of a natural fading tan. Probably from the absence of sun in district 13. He had deep blue eyes, reminding you of the ocean and your home in district 4. What confused you was the wide smile on his face and the tears that formed when you locked eyes.

He called your name and immediately rushed over to your side, sending you into a panic. He was handsome, you couldn’t lie, but you didn’t know him and his intentions. The man sensed the fear on your face and backed off, his happy relieved demeanor turned into one of worry and fear.

“Do I know you?” You warily asked, pushed against the headboard of your bed as much as you could.

“Baby, it’s me.” The man responded, voice cracking as a different kind of tears formed in his eyes.

As you became more uncomfortable you turned to the person you did know, “Katniss, who is this?

“This is my friend Finnick.” Katniss replied after much hesitance. She understood what was going on quite well. The Capitol had gotten to you, like they had gotten to Peeta.

Katniss made her way over to the man, Finnick, and whispered something to him. The expression on his face still stuck in pain. You felt pang of guilt, you knew you had caused his pain somehow, despite not even knowing him.

After their exchange of words, Finnick swiftly stood and left your room. Your eyes following him all the way out.

“Am I supposed to know him?” You asked after a beat, guilt fully replaced the fear from earlier. You didn’t want to be the cause of anyone’s pain, involuntarily or not.

“Don’t worry about it.” Katniss was quick to reassure you. Jumping into a conversation about yourself after. Distracting you from the obvious problem.

——

You were monitored for a few more days before you were released. In those few days the doctors, Katniss, and Johanna had explained everything to you.

You were in a relationship with that man Finnick back in district 4. During your time in The Capital, they had somehow caused amnesia to make you only forget him. A move meant to purposely hurt Finnick.

You still felt guilty despite knowing nothing you did yourself made him look so pained that day. You wanted to see him, talk to him now that you know a little about him.

That’s exactly what you did when you were released. Johanna was walking you to the cafeteria for lunch, and after you got whatever limited food they had, you sought out the man that’s been plaguing your thoughts for days.

He was eating alone in the corner of the room. A piece of rope lay next to him on the table, and he focused solely on eating. You beelined straight for him, causing Johanna to fall behind.

“Finnick?” You call the foreign name. He looks up and drops his spoon, a flash on hope in his eyes. You sit down next to him and quickly explain, “I still don’t remember you, I’m sorry.” His face falls in defeat, but a look of contentment remains that wasn’t previously there.

“It’s ok, I’m just glad you’re here” he faintly smiles and locks eyes with you. You smile back, and find yourself glad that the old you fell in love with someone so kind. You even start to think that maybe you can grow to love him again.

𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹

[nukecommacomrad]

Hallooo everynyan

yee it is my headcanons of the relationships between the characters, the way how i see it (just hear me out, if you can read)(und i fell like shit, so I need to write for a while, and then I'll start drawing again, and also i want you to know who you're contacting when you see this mindset >:))

in general, it is difficult to do this, given that the characters do not interact with each other at all from the word at all, but you can fantasize. And I can even fantasize in this context :)

I consider this as in the approximate canons of the game and generally do not like that everything would be so easy. Everything should start with a little intrigue, so not everyone has a love relationship and stuff at once, yeee...I know it might be boring for you, but accept it from me that I'm nerd 🤓

lmao good luck sorting this out. I went overboard so much, but I hope that everything is roughly clear there ":)

btw, I'll explain the most complicated relationships I have, which I find quite funny, and I haven't noticed anyone else making the same assumptions yet. Therefore, I will say what I cannot keep silent about 😔🗣️if you want, you can ask me questions about this or anything else! I won't mind at all, and I can still take requests!! I need to do something while I can't draw funny drawings.

Glass Joe&Von Kaiser. Glass is not as cute as he seems, although he is a little silly (but everyone there is a little silly, so this is the norm, lmao)

if you know history you will understand 🔽🔽🔽

The relationship between Kaiser and Joe is really similar to that of an elderly married couple, although they themselves are unaware of it. Joe and Kaiser are the oldest there, so it seems to me that they started their boxing careers a long time ago and have known each other for a long time. Joe also has patriotic tendencies like Kaiser (none of the other guys shout about their country as loudly as he does, lol). Therefore, it seems to me that they must have had a conflict on this ground. When they were both in their prime, they started arguing over who could last the longest in boxing. Joe recognizes strength only in spirit, while Kaiser recognizes physical strength and discipline. And maybe it started when they were over 27 (for Joe) or 30 (for Kaiser). And now, these weirdos are still in the ring, refusing to give up on each other. The Frenchman already has problems with his head physically, and the German mentally (how ironic), but these stubborn sheep do not give up. These many years hand in hand have brought them very close and they can be considered best friends, because sometimes they can just peacefully exist side by side. But, nevertheless, taunts and insults jokingly pass between them, i like that dynamic ✺◟(∗❛ัᴗ❛ั∗)◞✺

Besides, it seems to me that these guys obviously knew Doc when he was still in good shape. They probably remember how he defeated them in the ring, and perhaps the legendary "star punch" performed by Mac. Of course, they wouldn't have recognized Doc now, but they would have found out about it after the second round, it would have been a pleasant reunion of old acquaintances. They have respect for him, so they will treat Mac more kindly than as a destroyer of their skulls.

Don Flamenco&Carmen&Super Macho Man. Oh-Ho-ho-hon yeeee-..I like this ༼ง=ಠ益ಠ=༽งIn my opinion-..Okay, let's assume that the blonde is Carmen Don was talking about (but there's also a theory that Flamenco didn't have anyone in particular, because in Spanish, Carmen is just the epitome of a femme fatale, but okay, let's imagine that he was referring to the very Carmen). For me, she's also as silly as everyone else, so she's the girl who likes to watch men beat each other in the ring and she likes it and she's pretty good at it, knowing almost all the fighters and watching the TV footage if she couldn't buy a ticket. I think she's in love with Flamenco. She doesn't look Spanish, but she probably has Spanish roots, and she lives in America with relatives who live in Spain. For the sake of Flamenco, to see his fight live, she comes to Spain, where a spark broke out between them😍 (yeeeas slaaaayyyy)

but before they met, she was spotted by a Macho Man. Because I doubt that cool men will spend so much on just one girl out of a thousand, which is clearly a sign of attention on his part. Carmen agreed to chat with him, but she did not find him olfactory, and when he offered to buy her jewelry, she did not expect him to do so and quickly refused, because that heart has long been occupied by someone else...

And, my God, what a drama, two people in love with the same girl. But she loves only one thing, and that's clear, but the Macho man tries not to show that it hurts him, although he visibly hates Don for it. And Don also hates Macho for the fact that he keeps up with her sometimes, although it's clear that there's something between him and Carmen.That's why they're rivals>:) und blonde is sexy chicka who deserves a happiness 😘

Aran Ryan. Yeeaa, surprisingly, not all the arrows on it are black, but that's because it all depends on other people ;) And hey, hey, Little Mac is the main character! The person we're playing from. Of course it's impersonal and a bit wooden! Therefore, we must identify him for ourselves and mold his character based either on our feelings from the game, or just to amuse ourselves. And I imagine Mac as a very patient boy who just has an inner scream of horror in his head from everything that is happening(what happened to me when I saw from his face who he was fighting with and what he was going through, jajajaha).Although he doesn't show it outwardly, deep down he really gloats, laughs, gets mad as hell, and sometimes does cheeky things and says them.

He kicked Aran's ass, and Aran seems quite pleased and seems to be enjoying it. It seems to me that Aran still saw the same hooligan notes in Mac, so he can consider him a good rival and friend. And in general, Aran finds friends in other people only those who can compete with him, because he is a very strong boy and he is bored with others. But he also likes people who put up with his antics and maybe find them funny if he didn't do them out of spite. Popinsky, Disco Kid, and Lil Mac himself belong to this type.

They are rivals with Don, because they literally go toe-to-toe in all parameters. They are the same age, the same height and both are strong, but I am sure that Aran has moved higher only because he cheated, and the Spaniard did not suspect this at all (for which he now hates him deep down) ༼ᕗຈل͜ຈ༽ᕗ

Heheheh I like that Don has a pretty scandalous personality, which perfectly shows his loss to lil Mac ffhgdsdhsshgrf

[soupct123]

I come before you, tired, angry, and slightly unhinged, to offer the Portal and Half-Life lesbian appreciators something:

GLaDOS x Colette Green

(Is the ship name GreenDOS?)

Thought process:

[Skippable if you know who Colette is. The end of this part will be marked with “end” in this font]

I was binging Richter Overtime videos one day and his short on Colette sorta stuck in my head. Colette is, as far as the Half Life lore goes, barely a character. Despite her actually having lines when you play as her, due to Half Life Decay being a co-op game that needed built-in player communication, we have so little canon information about her that the Richter video is only about 6 minutes long, 1 of which is devoted to the Vortigauts you get to play as when you beat the base game. From the little of her in the Half Life 1 instruction manual she is an electronics and robotics engineer, and in Decay she starts laughing dementedly when she starts attacking and finishes off enemies.

I was just “woag hot crazy low poly butch” and the information sat in my head for a while until the next time I thought about Chelldos and Chellyx stuff. The comedic potential of Chellyx with GLaDOS being jealous about it is one of the things I like most about it. Then I thought “it would be cool if GLaDOS could get a rebound too. Or maybe Chell gets to be single and jealous. I don’t think anyone would go for shit like MossDOS or genericrebelnpcDOS tho and I don’t do ocs.” Then Colette activated in my brain

With “roboticist” and “crazy” being the only things we have on her personality, I think they make a good base for having her be with GLaDOS. Colette being a robotics engineer gives her and GLaDOS potential for:

1: thematic depth

2: good banter

3: smut

If you play the games the way they’re “meant to be played,” Chell is quiet, unflinching, and just a little quirky with it, so I think someone who outwardly matches/exceeds GLaDOS’ freak would be funny to pair with her.

[End]

Since Colette has lots of room left on her slate, I will add a bit of headcanon to make things juicier:

Other than what I saw checking tags here, I don’t know how widespread the Gina Cross and Colette Green ship is, but I ship it. My take: They got romantically involved while working together at Black Mesa, and while they were very passionate when they were alone together, Gina preferred not to be very public with it. You can attribute it to Gina’s more proffessional personality if you want a slightly less heavy reason compared to the sadly more realistic one. This explains why the colorblind security guards try to flirt with both characters in Decay. Colette didn’t want to keep it secret, and it came out to a few scientists, who were all cool about it, but it caused strains whenever Gina was there to witness it and tried to divert the subject. With the events of Half Life 1 causing the events of Decay, the two were getting closer, until the game ends (I don’t really remember what their goal was but it was probably some weird shit that was added on to be important to what Gordon was doing in a convoluted way). I operate under the assumption that Colette survived, and remains in G-Man’s pocket dimension thing.

In Opposing Force, a corpse with Gina’s face model but a different colored HEV suit can be found in Xen; it is not explicitly stated in any games or official material to be Gina Cross herself. A writer years later claimed it was her on social media, but it’s subjective whether claims made that way should be taken as fact, and with everything in the gearbox expansions being in canon limbo anyway, most of what I’m discussing doesn’t really matter much if you’re “playing by the books.” Despite the discrepencies, I personally go with that being Gina Cross’s corpse, because one of the Half Life franchise’s biggest problems is that nobody dies and stays dead.

Whether Colette was aware of, or even personally witnessed Gina’s death is also unknown, so I guess whichever seems more appropriate for a given story will work.

Last headcanon: I’m not as dug-in to the Half Life side, but I saw someone else saying the automated female voice for all HEV suits was Gina Cross herself. The official voice actors are different, and they could’ve actually meant the training course in the tutorial, but I like the idea, and she is canonically the one who designed the HEV suit.

With all that said, here is the workings of a little concept that I had:

PORTAL: REBOUND

(There’s a version of this in my head that’s a full-ass AAA game, sorta like that cancelled ravenholm game with the opposing force guy, but with my motivation levels this thing will be lucky if it makes it to a single chapter of a fanfic.)

During an altercation involving the G-Man, some, or possibly all, of his assets have been randomly released from stasis. Colette Green is awakened by rain falling on her face, and finds herself on a cliffside dotted with the wreckage of a large facility. She has nothing to her name but her H.E.V. Suit, and after screaming into the air and punching several rocks, the suit’s automated voice tells her to seek medical attention. It’s Gina Cross’ voice, which just drives her crazier with grief. As she follows the only path there is, through overgrown parts of the facility, she is beset upon by Xen creatures, many being unfamiliar to her, and having cybernetic enhancements that seem almost parasitic*. She has to fistfight, evade, and use her environment to get past the critters, and once she finally moves into safer parts of the facility, she is barely standing. She begins scavenging for supplies, and discovers that this is Aperture Labs, a place she knew of only by reputation. With no HEV chargers and Aperture’s health and safety deficits, she is forced to modify her suit with whatever she can salvage. She notices that some of the security cameras still follow her, but after they don’t produce any meaningful reactions, she assumes they’re just tied to motion detectors. Her voice’s radio picks up garbled transmissions in certain areas, but none seem useful, even the clearly decipherable ones. At first she has to salvage supplies from office areas, storage areas, and loading bays, which offer some raw materials that she can patch herself up with and begin attempting to build a long-range communication device, and she finds a good melee weapon for use against the occasional small critter. After going through several papers, maps, and whatever computers still work, she chooses to head for a test track, and discovers a Portal gun. Of course she’s fascinated by the device, but her main objective isn’t to test, so she brute forces and walks right through some of the damaged tests, but finds herself getting into it when she needs to finish one to progress. Along the way, she meets the turrets, uses some broken ones to build her own “regular” gun, uses some to defend against the Xen creatures, and further modifies her HEV suit, now with long fall boot parts and other quality of life gadgets. Her loneliness is getting to her, and she starts hearing Gina’s voice in her head, so to distract herself she forcefully befriends a wounded turret, and carries them around on her back so they can shoot things for her.

Eventually, all of Colette’s physical needs are met, so now all that’s left to do is find out what happened while she was in stasis and find long-range communications. She begins snooping more actively, and as she pokes and prods deeper and deeper, she finds parts of the facility in pristeen condition, still operating cleanly, if seemingly a bit sluggish and directionless. To her frustration, there are no humans left, but as she gets closer and closer to the answers she seeks, she feels like she’s actually being watched now, and every room she enters seems to whir to life whenever she approaches. Still left with so many gaps in her knowledge, the rooms and walkways now begin to shift with a clear purpose and path, which she distrusts and avoids at first. The facility just tries harder and harder, and she begins lashing out at the paths, until she’s left with no options but to follow. The walkways lead her directly into some test chambers, which she is forced to solve. She’s great at it, even when the chambers begin to cheat. What’s strange is that with their increases in complexity, they contain less hazards than the earlier tests. The radio reciever in her suit starts to pick up sounds, fuzzy at first, but they become clearer as she progresses through each test. It’s a robotic female voice, that doesn’t seem to be speaking, just making very quiet “observation noises.” Humming, sighing, ohs and ahs, chuckling, and moans. Gilette finally calls the voice out by refusing to solve a test and shouting “Who the hell are you? I can hear your fucking moans!”

The voice is taken off guard, and sounds really embarrassed, then figures out that she hears her because of the HEV suit. Colette had learned the hard way that the emancipation grills fried Aperture tech that went through them, unless covered by another material that wasn’t listed for destruction in the grill’s system, so she had been avoiding them, breaking them down, and wrapping her valuables in abandoned jumpsuits. The test door opens, but Colette can see the grid flicker off and on again for a moment, suspecting it had been updated, and shoots through the glass of an observation window. She makes one halfhearted attempt to get completely off the path, but lets her rage set in and brute forces through several more chambers that are mostly just traps to get her through an emancipation grill, until she’s led into a fool-proof one with no way out but through it. She pieces together that her ability to test is what’s important to the voice, and begins bargaining.

“I know you can hear me. I know that you don’t want to kill me, because you would’ve done so already. I know you want me to keep doing these tests. Either come to me or let me come to you.”

No response.

“I kinda like doing these tests. I can tell you like watching me do them. We can work something out.”

Nothing.

“Alright then. I guess you don’t care about these tests.”

Colette puts her gun to her own head.

“I’ll just kill myself then. It’s easier, and I don’t exactly have much to live for. It’s been fun, lady.”

Colette squeezes the trigger

The voice frantically begs her not to

The emancipation grill turns off, and the next chamber has a portal emitter open for her to finally meet GLaDOS

Multiple Choice Question:

Grades and answer sheet will be posted next week. This question will be on the test.

From there the toxic yuri builds up as these two awesome unstable freaks bring out the best worst most fun parts of each other. Two smart bitches telling each other exaaaaactly.

The things Colette will do to GLaDOS, with her masters in robotics and PhD in mechanical engineering, is beyond anything Chell could ever fathom. Gina Cross’ spirit is weeping. Colette basically buys Atlas and P-Body’s love with upgrades and cool stuff she scavenged, like a [gender neutral term for aunt/uncle] buying their [gender neutral term for niece/nephew] an xbox for christmas. GLaDOS feels deeply ashamed that she’s been getting it on with a Black Mesa employee but she likes everything else about Colette so far and eventually it turns into a kinky roleplay thing. When G-Man is done with half life 5’s plot or whatever he goes through the list trying to recapture all his missing assets, and when he sees a nude Colette clinging to Glados’ underside and pulling her wires with her teeth he figures it’s not worth trying to get her back. I can clearly see either of them holding a cigarette in bed after their first time and thinking “god I needed that”

Is my vison too niche or completely stupid? Idgaf it’s funny

*for the Portal: Rebound lore, the parasitic cybernetic enhancements on the Xen creatures are basically what regular aperture tech does when it’s left unchecked and evolves, like that movie Screamers 2. They evolved like earth animals do and gain basic instincts to first simply survive, then propogate, and eventually some parasites become sentient. Some parasites simply run off of their hosts’ energy, others begin altering and taking over their minds. Things get bad when leftover combine-altered creatures like gunships and striders get infected with parasites that lead to larger leaps in Aperture parasite evolution, and maybe even alerting the Combine themselves to Aperture tech. This is a half-baked concept because I just wanted to give Colette some new cool things to fight but once the lesbian shit starts it doesn’t matter to me

[yunwangja]

hi! try this :) https://pin.it/1D5buGSPu

i’m so sorry this took SO long ! but this was so cool !! i hope you like this, anon <33 this is a oneshot btw

best friend’s brother | lev haiba x fem reader oneshot

you are a first year student of inarizaki high, the younger sister of the miya twins, who didn't mean to fall for your best friend's little brother, lev haiba, one of nekoma's players.

tags: lev haiba x student photographer!reader, falling for your best friend's (little) brother. lol.

notes: set in pre-timeskip. i tweaked some roles a bit to fit the story i made. idk if this is ooc or not rlly be the judge bahaha

“you’re distracted,"

suna’s voice cut through your thoughts, his sharp eyes looking at you from behind his phone screen as he saw you staring at your camera. it wasn’t accusatory - more of an observation. you hadn’t even realized you were staring off.

“i’m not distracted,” you muttered, looking away, trying to sound casual. but suna wasn’t buying it. he puts down his phone and easily pulls your camera to have a view of what you were looking at.

or who. well, he kind of figured it out.

“is it because of lev?” suna’s voice was blunt, as usual. you felt your heart skip a beat.

“what? why would it - what?” you sputtered, feeling your face flush. suna simply smirked, like he had known all along. the worst part? tadashi was right there, too, and now both of them were staring at you, waiting for an explanation.

“so, you like lev,” suna said it so matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

you groaned. “okay, yes. i like lev. can you stop looking at me like that?”

yamaguchi, who had been silent this whole time, chuckled softly. “well, that explains why you’ve been acting weird lately.”

“how do you even know - ugh, never mind.” you gave up arguing, sinking into the couch in defeat. it was out now. no point in denying it.

you sigh. how did you get yourself into this?

it all started at the nekoma vs. inarizaki volleyball match. you weren’t there as a spectator, but as the official photographer for inarizaki’s team - documenting every spike, every block, every dive for the perfect shot.

you first met alisa, who eventually became your best friend. she approached you after seeing you taking photos at the game and asked if you had any photos of his brother. lev was just her giant, awkward, but lovable younger brother, someone who could easily slip into the background of your mind - until he didn’t.

it was alisa’s birthday party that changed things. everyone was having a good time, and as the night wound down, alisa had asked lev to take you home. what you didn’t expect was the conversation on that ride. lev, with his typical awkward but sincere tone, had casually mentioned how he’d seen some of your photography - especially shots from the match.

"your photos are... cool. i really liked the one you took of me blocking. it made me look awesome." his grin was infectious, and you remember laughing. something about his genuine excitement over a simple photo tugged at something inside you.

from then on, you couldn’t help but notice him more. every time you hung out with alisa, lev would always be there, tagging along. it was a slow shift, but you started catching yourself watching him at matches, following his movements with your camera more than anyone else. suddenly, lev wasn’t just alisa’s goofy younger brother anymore. he was lev - someone you found yourself thinking about more than you wanted to admit.

but how were you supposed to confess to him? and what if alisa found out? she might think it’s weird, and the last thing you wanted was to mess up your friendship with her.

“so, what’s your plan?” suna asked, his tone teasing, though his eyes glinted with curiosity.

“my plan is to not mess up my friendship with alisa first, and then maybe figure out the lev part,” you admitted. you hated how exposed you felt under their scrutinizing gazes.

“you should probably tell alisa before she figures it out herself,” yamaguchi suggested gently. “it’s better coming from you than her finding out later.”

suna nodded in agreement. “yeah, might want to get that out of the way first. unless you like unnecessary drama.”

before you could respond, the door slid open, and kenma walked in, headphones around his neck. “what are you guys talking about?”

“y/n likes lev,” suna said casually, like he hadn’t just dropped the most personal bomb in front of kenma.

“suna!” you nearly leapt out of your seat.

kenma raised an eyebrow, giving you a once-over. “alisa’s brother? huh, interesting.”

“it’s not supposed to be public information!” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“well, i couldn't really care any less,” kenma said, shrugging. “but it would be funny to see you rejected if you will be.”

your head snapped up at that, eyes wide in disbelief. “kenma!”

you looked up, startled by his bluntness. “you could at least pretend to be supportive, you know.”

kenma gave you a flat look, not a hint of sympathy. “supportive? i’m just being realistic. i don’t see the point of dragging this out. if you want to confess, go ahead, but don’t expect everyone to sugarcoat it for you.”

“so what, you think I’m going to get rejected?” you shot back, feeling a mix of frustration and nerves bubbling up.

he tilted his head slightly, clearly unfazed by your reaction. “i’m not saying that. but you’re acting like it’s the end of the world if he doesn’t like you back. it’s not.”

“kenma,” yamaguchi chimed in, sensing the tension. “you don’t have to be so harsh. y/n’s just trying to figure things out.”

“i’m not being harsh. i’m being honest,” kenma replied with a slight roll of his eyes. “she’s the one making this way more complicated than it is.”

“see, this is what i get for telling you guys anything,” you muttered, leaning back in your seat, feeling the pressure building from their differing opinions.

“it’s just how kenma is,” suna said with a grin, clearly enjoying the banter. “he’s got a point, though. you’re making this bigger than it needs to be.”

“but you guys make it sound so simple,” you argued, glancing between them. “it’s not that easy.”

“that’s because it kinda is,” suna said, reclining back again. “you’re the one making it difficult.”

later that night, you called tendou to vent about how your so-called “secret” was now public knowledge. tendou, always the mischievous one, wasn’t surprised when you told him what happened.

“suna found out? classic,” tendou laughed through the phone. “but hey, at least now it’s out there. no use hiding it anymore.”

you sighed. “yeah, but now i’m stuck figuring out what to do next. everyone says i should tell alisa first.”

“they’re right. alisa’s your best friend. she’ll understand. and as for lev, well... you guys are getting closer, right? i think at the least he'll understand,” tendou said, his tone light-hearted, but there was a sincerity underneath.

“thanks, tendou,” you muttered, feeling a bit more reassured.

“anytime. and hey, just go for it. you’re y/n miya. you’ve got this!”

the next day, you found yourself wandering into your brothers’ room. you didn’t really want to tell them about your crush on lev - not directly, anyway - but maybe they could give some advice on what to do, since they would know how it feels to have a younger sibling.

“oi, what’s with that look?” osamu asked, noticing your hesitation as you stood awkwardly by the door.

“nothing,” you muttered, walking in and flopping down on their couch. “just... need some advice. for a friend. they wanted help because you guys are big brothers.”

“oh? advice from the great miya twins?” atsumu piped in, his voice laced with his usual teasing.

“yeah, like.. what would you do... if... you say, one of your team members likes me?” you look at them, hoping they wouldn't laugh at you.

they both stare at you and their eyes slowly turn judging. osamu scoffs, "wow. didn't know you could be so shameless.”

you rolled your eyes, "it's not like that!" you whined. "just... i was just wondering, as big brothers... how would you feel if two people who were close to you unexpectedly liked the other, or something."

you fidget your fingers and look down to the ground. you slowly look up back to them and see as they exchanged glances before osamu raised an eyebrow. “you like someone, don’t you?”

you blinked, startled by how fast they figured it out. “w-what? no."

“yer actin’ all weird,” atsumu said with a smug grin. “and yer terrible at hiding things.”

you groaned. “i’m not hiding anything.”

“sure you aren’t,” osamu smirked, sitting down beside you. “so, can i guess who it is?”

“it’s no one,” you quickly deflected, not wanting to make it worse by bringing lev into the conversation. “i just need advice for a friend... okay?”

osamu chuckled. "okay, whatever, i won't say i think it's the little brother of one of your best friends, but," you look at him annoyingly, but afraid to confirm it anyway. he takes a deep breath,

“well, whoever it is, just don’t overthink it. if ya like ‘em, make sure you tell them. whatever happens will happen anyway.”

“and don't worry about their sibling,” atsumu added. “i'm sure they'll be happy to see two people close to them possibly get together. whoever they are."

you rolled your eyes to hide your embarrassment, but you couldn’t help feeling a little grateful for their advice. "yeah, okay. i'll tell them... i guess."

when you leave, the two exchange another glance and shake their heads with a smile. their little sister was growing up, though nothing has changed.

with a newfound determination, and a long self-pep talk, you made your way to alisa’s house, nerves bubbling up inside you. you knocked on the door, and when alisa opened it, she greeted you with her usual warm smile.

“y/n! hey! come on in,” she said, stepping aside to let you inside.

you stepped into her cozy home, the scent of freshly brewed tea wafting through the air. the living room was just as inviting as ever, and you felt a mix of comfort and anxiety clashing inside you. as you sat down, your heart pounded in your chest. you needed to say it -there was no backing out now.

alisa flopped onto the couch beside you, tucking one leg under the other. “so, what brings you here?” she asked, glancing over with her usual easy-going tone. “you’ve got that serious look on your face.”

you opened your mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out right away. “i… uh…” you stumbled, wringing your hands together. you had to rip the bandaid off, no more dodging it. “there’s something i need to tell you.”

alisa’s expression shifted slightly, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “sure, what’s up?”

you took a deep breath, the air catching in your throat. “it’s about lev.”

you could see her brows raising just a little. but she didn’t say anything, waiting patiently for you to continue. the silence between you two felt heavy, and the words you’d rehearsed so many times suddenly felt too big to say.

“i… i like him,” you finally blurted out, your heart racing like it would burst from your chest.

alisa blinked, her gaze softening as she processed your confession. her silence stretched for a beat longer, and for a second, you feared the worst. but then, she smiled - a warm, reassuring smile that immediately eased some of the tension in your body.

“that’s cute,” she said, her tone casual, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

your breath caught in surprise. “you… you’re okay with it?”

alisa tilted her head, her expression turning playful. “why wouldn’t i be? y/n, it’s not like you’re confessing a crime or something,” she teased, laughing softly. “i’m happy for you. really.”

your chest loosened with a rush of relief, though doubt still lingered. “so… you’re not mad?” you asked, still feeling the need for reassurance.

alisa rolled her eyes, but in the affectionate way she always did. “why would i be mad? honestly, it’s really sweet. i don’t mind at all,” she said, her voice calm and reassuring.

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, feeling the tension melt from your body. “thank you, alisa. i was kind of freaking out about telling you.”

alisa waved a hand dismissively, brushing off your concern with ease. “you don’t need to worry about stuff like this, y/n. really. lev’s just lev - you know how he is,” she added with a soft laugh.

you smiled, feeling a sense of ease wash over you. it was comforting to have alisa’s support, without any pressure or expectations.

just as you were about to reply, the front door clicked open, and you froze. footsteps echoed down the hall, followed by lev’s familiar voice calling out, “alisa, i’m home!”

alisa grinned and shot you a quick look, raising an eyebrow like she knew something you didn’t. your pulse quickened as lev’s tall frame appeared in the doorway. his eyes landed on you, and instantly, a wide grin spread across his face.

“y/n! didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, his voice bright with surprise.

alisa gave you a sly look as she got up from the couch. “well, i’ll leave you two to it. i’ve got some work to finish upstairs,” she said, winking as she headed toward the staircase. “don’t let him get too full of himself, y/n!” she called over her shoulder, leaving you alone with lev.

lev plopped down next to you, still smiling like he didn’t have a care in the world. your heart raced all over again as you turned to him, the weight of your confession looming between you like a giant unspoken truth.

lev leaned back casually, his bright eyes settling on you. “so, what’s up?” he asked, his voice light and unaware of the emotional storm brewing beneath your calm exterior.

you fidgeted slightly, glancing at your hands before looking back up at him. the room suddenly felt warmer, the space between you growing more noticeable. “oh, not much… just wanted to catch up,” you said, trying to ease into the conversation.

lev grinned. “catch up, huh? you’ve been busy, haven’t you? i haven’t seen you at the last few matches,” he teased lightly, nudging you with his elbow. “i thought you were avoiding me or something.”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “no, nothing like that. i’ve just been… thinking a lot.”

his playful expression softened a bit, picking up on your shift in tone. “thinking about what?” he asked, curiosity laced in his voice.

your heart pounded in your chest as you felt the moment drawing closer. you glanced away for a second, gathering your thoughts. “just… things. you know, stuff that’s been on my mind for a while.”

lev sat up a bit straighter, sensing something more serious in your words. “oh, sounds heavy. what kind of stuff?” his voice was still gentle, but his attention was fully on you now.

your stomach twisted with nerves, but you knew you had to say it. you couldn’t keep dancing around it forever. the words felt big, but there was no running away from them now. you took a deep breath, your fingers curling into your lap as you finally looked at him again.

“lev… i’ve been thinking about... you.”

his brow furrowed slightly, confusion flickering in his eyes. “me?”

your pulse raced as you nodded, your voice quieter now. “yeah. i… i like you, lev. i’ve liked you for a while.”

the words hung in the air between you, heavy and vulnerable. lev froze, blinking at you in surprise as if trying to process what you’d just said.

“wait, what?” he asked, his usual confidence faltering for a moment as he stared at you, wide-eyed.

“i like you,” you repeated, your voice steady but your heart pounding. “i’ve liked you for a while now.”

lev stared at you, wide-eyed, before a slow, sheepish smile spread across his face. “that’s... that’s crazy because... i like you too.”

your heart stuttered. “wait, you do?”

he nodded, cheeks turning a little pink. “yeah, i mean... remember when i told you how much i liked your photos? that was kind of my way of trying to get close to you.” he let out a soft laugh. “i admired what you did, sure, but... it wasn’t just that. i liked spending time with you. i liked you.”

you blinked, the realization hitting you all at once. “so all that time, you...”

“yeah,” lev admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “i just didn’t know how to say it. i figured if i talked about your photography, it’d be easier than admitting i liked you.”

you felt a warmth spread through your chest, the tension dissolving as a smile tugged at your lips. “wow, i had no idea.”

lev laughed again, his grin turning a bit wider. “yeah, i didn’t really make it obvious, did i?”

you nudged him playfully, your heart lighter now. “not at all, you dork.”

he laughed with you, his expression softening as his eyes met yours. “but seriously, i’ve liked you for a while, y/n. i just... didn’t know how to say it until now.”

your heart fluttered as you took in his words, feeling a warmth that spread from your chest to your cheeks. you couldn't help the smile that formed, a mix of disbelief and relief washing over you. “well... you’re saying it now,” you replied, your voice softer than before.

lev looked at you, his eyes bright, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to blur. it was just the two of you, sitting there, both feeling the same weight lift off your shoulders.

he reached out, hesitating for only a second before gently taking your hand in his. “so... does this mean we’re, you know, together?” he asked, his usual confidence replaced with something more vulnerable, more genuine.

you laughed softly, squeezing his hand. “i think so, yeah.”

a wide grin spread across his face, lighting up his features. “that’s... that’s amazing,” he said, his voice brimming with excitement. “i won’t mess this up, i promise.”

you smiled, shaking your head at his earnestness. “you won’t,” you reassured him. “we’ll figure it out together.”

he looked at you with such affection that you felt your heart skip again, and before you could say anything else, lev leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “i’m really glad you told me,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere.

you felt warmth rush to your face as you looked up at him, your fingers still laced with his. “me too,” you whispered back, feeling lighter, more at ease. everything felt right.

as you both sat there, hands intertwined, you couldn’t help but feel that this was the start of something good - something that felt real and yours.

[lonely-and-thirsty]

Today my Master has explained to this Cunt that orgasms are no longer for free! So, for the first week of the February this Cunt must pay for everytime she comes by saying smtg disgusting or humiliating about herself.

This Cunt should also force herself to orgasm at least five times while imagining getting fucked by disturbing and unpleasant males met offline.

The game is started!

ORGASM PAYMENT:

~ this cunt is a needy crybaby, spanking herself as a reward for being whorish enough

~ this cunt is a cheap whore, dreaming of becoming a public free use toy

~ this cunt is a pathetic ashtray, rubbing to the thought of public humiliation

~ this cunt is a degradee with a sloppy hole, needing to take a rubbing break while making a list of five worst males she should have spread her legs for

~ this cunt is a submissive coward, easy to blackmail and ready to lick dirty boots while shaking in fear

~ this cunt is a dumb primitive bitch, driven by her carnal need to feel a cock pressing to her cervix and filling her with cum

~ this cunt is a disgusting freak whose status should be made public so that anyone on the street could act with her accordingly

~ this cunt is a public toilet with a gaping asshole, ready to be abused and punished for pretending to be a male bottom

~ this cunt is a rapebait, acting like a victim to bring violence upon herself and deserving to get violently gangraped threatened with her life

STRANGER SUBMISSION:

1.

There's been that customer this week… A weird guy. Offputting. Sometimes you just know the person is shady just by the way they look at you. That one was even hinting that he's a criminal while we smocked together. "There're different ways to push different people", he said. "See how much I can tell about you already without knowing you", he said. "You're a nice guy. Good customer service. I'll return", he said.

He hasn't returned, but I've felt anxious till the end of the shift for no reason. It's not like he's actually guessed anything right about me, not a single thing. But he was unpleasant and smug and extremely creepy. I honestly don't want to meet him ever again.

What if I will, though? What if he did guess stuff right? Precisely about me being a female. How would it feel to get railed by someone so subtly creepy while allegedly non-violent?

2.

That was a brief encounter, but deeply annoying. Young dude, almost a boy, I'd say. Spoke to me about his girlfriend in a degrading way. One of those men who ridicule the mere idea that a female sexuality is something more than craving a dick.

"She wants a sex toy, can you believe it? I'll get her the cheapest and smallest dildo, she'll remember to only want a real thing". I rolled my eyes: sure, dude. I thought that he obviously has a small dick if he's so disappointed that he can't find a dildo small enough for his plan. I hoped the girl will drop him after that shitty present. I haven't had time to be annoyed out loud though, so I just brushed it and minded my own business.

What if I confronted him? What if it slipped that I know what females want in bed first hand? How easy would it be for him to prove me wrong? How embarrassing it would be to come, clenching over his tiny cock?

3.

A scary neighbor. I knew him briefly, not like we've been properly introduced. There's always this aggressive one, blowing up on anyone who breaths the wrong way. He's a veteran, that's probably the reason why his short temper does feel like actual danger somewhere deep in my guts.

He's yelled at me once when I was walking a dog for a friend and it barked in the direction of some child. I apologized and rushed home. I tried to reason with my fear by thinking how ridiculous he was. It wasn't even his child, and said child wasn't frightened by the dog at all. It wasn't any of his business, but he's somehow viewing himself as the guardian of the neighborhood peace. All barking, no biting, just like my friend's dog. Still, I've shivered. Still, my heart was beating too fast for a good hour and I kept thinking of what I should have said if he proceeded bugging me. Of how I could have tried to calm him down to defend myself.

What if he did proceeded? Whould it be me calming him down or him punishing me? How much of a danger to the kids would he find me after finding out what's in my pants?

4.

That clingy guy at the gay bar. Not to the point of harrasment, so I've tolerated him trying to seduce me for a while but too handsy not to be yakky.

Just a normal person, I guess, but I was deeply uncomfortable by all the touching and found him generally not attractive, not my type at all. We've parted peacefully, though he seemed rather offended by me not going along with what he's probably seen as playing shy or hard to get.

And I've left feeling a bit gross and a bit sorry that I've rejected the chance to get sex. Sometimes you have to choose between doing it with someone you're not really into or not doing it at all. And I rarely choose the latest.

What if I decided to do it? What if he got disappointed even more after revealing my anatomy? How would I bear being gross for someone I find gross myself? Would the humiliation he'll put me through differ if he was gay or bi?

5.

And the one that was actually bad. I was scared for my life, not able to escape that man if he decided to harm me. It was at my previous work place, me alone at the night shift at the shop. He comes in, boss me around in a typical middle age ex-gangsta way. Displeasing, but not too scary. One of those customers you should entertain for hours while they feel important and dominant because of your politeness. The thing is — it really lasted for hours. And he was a ranging homophobe in the middle of the crusade for "fracking up fags". There was a car waiting for him, I saw it through a window. Three other guys like him, younger by the looks, his subordinates. I chatted with him, he liked me to the extent of giving me his number in case I need to beat the shit out of someone. After he left, I wanted to throw up from stress. I was tired with my whole body from tension, because that could have ended really badly for me, if he has clocked me out. I had dodged a bullet.

But… What if I didn't?

UPD: There's only one day left and I'm still to fulfill my second task. Meaning I'd have to spend most of that day fucking myself in different ways, remembering all the worst males I've encountered in a raw.

Sounds like a potentially mindbreaking experience. Wish me luck and send me encouragements. I'll probably cum to anything you send me in such state <3

Stay tuned as I'll try to wright down everything in detail!

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: angst?

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

YOU GUYYYSSSS

part forty

❝ THE BEGINNING OF THE END ❞

THURSDAY — SEPTEMBER 10 — 3:47 PM

WITHIN TWO DAYS, DR. KEENE HAD BEEN ARRESTED, AND JOHN WHITTAKER WAS MOVED INTO ARKHAM.

And two days after that, no plan b had been set into motion. The Secret Keeper hadn’t been seen, and neither had any metahumans or missing children. It was like time froze; like they were all hunkering in the labs no one knew the location of. Stalking. Waiting for something. A signal. A word.

Bentley had been spending most of his time recovering. He couldn’t remember a thing from his sickness, not a second of it, but he sure could feel it for a few days. His whole body was sore and he slept a ton. Life was largely… still sort of normal. Apart from the newly acquired superpowers, which Bentley was slowly getting the hang of. The hard part wasn’t controlling the water, it was controlling his emotions so the water didn’t, like, kill people. Which had been going pretty okay.

Asten and Nico were doing good. Both were healthy and at home, living their own lives. Turned out, Asten hadn’t been so pissed about Nico taking him to the Manor. What he had been pissed about, however, was Bentley spilling the entire truth to Bruce, which he had confessed to them over text. Nico was fine with it; he probably would’ve done it already. And he knew Bruce was Batman, which made it better. (It had also slipped that Nico knew everyone’s superhero identities, which went strangely, strangely well.) Asten, however, promptly stopped texting Bentley and hadn’t since. (Queue a spiral of Asten hates me thoughts at a family dinner that ended with most of the table's drinks levitating. But, on the bright side, Bentley got them all back in the right glasses.)

But that was okay. Bentley was okay. Everything would be okay. 

“Check,”

Bentley looked down at the chessboard with a sigh. “I’m not very good at this.”

“You’ll get it. It’s complicated at first,” Tim replied from the other side of the table. He seemed… good. He was allowed to monitor the Batcomputer again, and looked way better. Less sick. Bentley was thankful — he’d missed Tim.

In the last three hours, he and Tim had played over a dozen mean games of checkers at the den’s board game table, and were now trying their hand at chess; a game Tim was very good at, and Bentley had little to no idea how to play. He was told it was easier to learn as you go. He didn’t think so.

Tim turned out to be freakishly good at chess, actually. He’d already beat Bentley twice and was trying his best to explain, but the poor kid just wasn’t getting it. (He was more or less moving his pieces exactly like Tim was. At least it wouldn’t be wrong!)

“Did you see anything on the computer last night?” Bentley questioned, moving one of his pieces completely randomly. Tim seemed like he wanted to correct the turn, but ended up just going with it instead. “Nope. No Secret Keeper, no metahumans. Only petty crime and gang activity.”

Bentley nodded to himself. “What about the news?”

“Nothing concerning or suspicious,”

To say Bentley was a little stressed out about the infamous plan b would be an understatement. He was told not to watch the news or Batcomputer, but he wasn’t told not to ask. Gotham burning because of him was pretty much directly his business. (And his fault. Queue a late night bathroom flood that he managed to fix before anyone else noticed just a few nights ago.)

“Here — let’s start over,” Tim suggested, moving all of his pieces back to the beginning of the game. Bentley followed suit, lining them up just like he did.

“May I take over, Drake?”

Bentley and Tim both craned their necks to glance over at the door of the den, where Damian was standing. Bentley hadn’t really seen him outside of family meals and times when everyone was together. 

He was wearing a deep green hoodie and black sweatpants, leaning against the door, and he and Tim seemed to have some kind of weird, thirty-second staring contest in which they spoke with their eyes before Tim finally stood up and made his way out of the den.

Damian made his way to the other side of the chessboard and sat down there. “Did he teach you how to play?”

Bentley glanced up at him, meeting his greenish-blue eyes for the first time in a long time. “Sort of, I guess. I’m not very good.”

Damian hummed in response, moving one of the pieces on the board. Bentley simply copied the movement with one of his.

“Father told me you ran away because of what I said, and that I should apologize,” Damian spoke up, a strange expression taking over his features, like talking that way was literally paining him. “I… did not mean for you to get so upset.”

Bentley said nothing, watching closely as Damian moved another piece on the board and trying to move one of his own correspondingly. 

“But… you did not do anything wrong to make me angry at you. I… guess I was… jealous. Of how much everybody loves you. Drake and Richard and Todd — they all flock to you. They acted like brothers to you way faster than they did for me; I still do not think Drake likes me. I understand that I am different from you, but seeing such a stark difference in my family made me… upset. After all, I am a Wayne by blood, and I felt… inferior,” He explained quietly. 

Bentley watched as Damian blinked, glancing around with a sigh. “I… am not very good at talking about this type of thing.”

“Me either,” Bentley replied honestly. “But I think you’re doing a good job.”

Damian glanced up at him, and with a exhale, moved another piece. “I guess I… I saw the way my father treated you, and… and Richard stopped spending time with me and started spending it with you instead. Watching your relationships with everybody around me flourish and become better than mine… losing the interest of my family to someone else… it hurt.”

Bentley breathed in and moved another piece on the chessboard. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It was not your fault. Being jealous was my mistake — I have been taught better than to let it cloud my judgment, and yet, it got the better of me,” Damian moved another piece. “I have always felt like an outsider in this family, due to my upbringing and differences from everybody else. Being Robin after Drake made it worse. I have always felt like I had to work to make them love me. You went to school and had friends on the first day. I suppose… watching another child join the family and get everything I had worked so hard for handed to him made me overreact.”

Bentley said nothing, but kept watching the pieces on the board move. 

“I am sorry, Bentley. I said a lot of inappropriate things to you. The truth is, your spot in this family is not built on pity or sympathy, but something much, much more… real. And it made me feel threatened. It was not right for me to take it out on you. And I sincerely apologize for all of my behavior recently,” Damian said softly. “The truth is, I have never had a real family before this one. I had my mother, of course, but this is very different… better. And, in all honesty, thinking about losing them to someone else, to anything, it… scares me. A lot.”

At that, Bentley snickered. Damian’s head snapped up, and his gaze grew cold. “Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing bad, it’s just… we’re a lot more similar than I thought, that’s all,” Bentley explained, moving one of his chess pieces. “Losing all of this has… I guess… kind of became one of my worst fears. And I do stupid stuff, like run away, to try and keep that from happening. We’re doing the same exact thing, just… differently.”

Damian nodded slightly, taking his turn. “I suppose we are.”

A moment of silence passed.

“Perhaps we can find a way to… deal with it… jointly.”

Bentley looked up at him. “You mean, together?”

“It’s not my typical behavior, I do admit, but I believe that would be the most beneficial course of action. We have the same motives; working together to not do, quote-on-quote, stupid things, would be the ideal solution.”

Bentley nodded. “Okay.”

They both moved another piece. “And, since I am being honest… I… miss doing things with you.”

Bentley smiled slightly. “Me too.”

Damian moved a piece on the board. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, I do not deserve it; but… perhaps we can… still try and do things like we used to?” 

“I already forgave you,” Bentley said, taking his turn.

“What?”

“I already forgave you,” He repeated, glancing up at Damian. “I never blamed you. I knew you probably didn’t mean to hurt me, and that something else was going on. Plus, when anything around here goes wrong, the only person I’m trained to blame is myself,” He said, shaking his head. “I’m not upset at you, Damian. And I do miss you, too.”

A long moment of silence passed where no one said anything until Damian uttered: “Checkmate.”

Bentley snickered again. “I’m terrible at this.”

“You are pretty abysmal, yes,”

He and Damian made eye contact and started laughing, for the first time in what felt like a literal forever.

Maybe everything would be okay.

—

SATURDAY — SEPTEMBER 12 — 6:51PM

Okay, so Bentley was really loving the whole superpower thing. Not only could he make water go where he wanted, but he could also make it do what he wanted. For example, he could use a little stream of water to pick things up, like an extra hand, or break things, or cut things. (Yes, the fallen tree in the backyard was from him. It was experimental.)

Currently, though, his favorite thing to do with it was wrap the water around his own feet and use it like a skateboard. He could make it go really darn fast. It was pretty much the funnest thing he’d done in his entire life. And, when he was done, he wasn’t even wet!

Actually, that was exactly what he was doing right now, at sunset, in the backyard with Damian, Nico (who had slept over), Titus (the dog), and Ace.

Now that Bentley and Damian were friends again, life felt normal. Like actually normal, all except for the fact that Asten still wasn’t talking to him. But that was fine, he guessed. He didn’t let it bother him that much.

Nico had acquired a new power over the past few days — and it was manipulating the air beneath him so that he could fly. Straight up levitating-in-the-air fly. Which was awesome and sort of unbelievable. 

Now, the three of them were playing with the dogs, throwing toys from the sky and making the trusty Wayne canines chase their impossibly fast movements, and had been for almost an hour.

“Bentley, I am not sure this is the safest means of travel,” Damian stated. He was across the yard from Bentley, also standing on a platform of water and pretty much hating it. He was struggling to balance (which was odd considering he was Robin), and even though he literally wouldn’t hit the ground if he fell, was surprisingly unsteady.

Bentley chuckled, moving across the yard on the water seamlessly and quickly with a chew toy that Titus was chasing. “Don’t you trust me?”

“You, yes. Magical levitating water, no,”

“C’mon, we won’t let you fall!” Nico announced, dropping low to the ground and flying in a few circles around Damian. “This is the safest you’ll ever be!”

“I seriously doubt that. Although I assume I appreciate the sentiment,” Damian replied, wobbling slightly when the water lifted him up a bit higher in the air.

“Lean where you want to go like you’re on a skateboard. It’ll move when you want it to,” Bentley announced, demonstrating by taking a steady but sharp u-turn that threw Titus for a (literal) loop.

Damian scrunched his nose. “How do you know?”

“Because the water does what I tell it to,” Bentley deadpanned. “Duh.”

“I presume-“

In the distance, there was a loud, thundering crash that made everybody jump. Loud like hurricane loud. Loud like atom bomb loud.

Nico promptly landed back on the grass, and Bentley made the water seep back into the dirt and leave him and Damian on dry ground.

“What the heck was that?” Nico questioned, blue eyes wide, flicking around warily. Bentley looked around the grounds surrounding the Manor, but couldn’t come up with much.

“I don’t know,”

“It sounded like-“

“Dami!”

The three of them turned to face the porch, where Dick was standing, an urgent look spread across his face. “C’mon, we need you!”

Oh, so something really serious was happening? What was happening?

The three of them made for the house at once, and Bentley assumed it was really, really serious when Dick went straight into the cave in front of Nico with no discretion at all.

They followed him closely, and halfway down the stairs, Nico nudged Bentley’s shoulder. He had his phone in hand. “I missed four calls from Asten.”

Bentley glanced down at his pockets, patting them and then withdrawing his phone. On the lock screen, there sat Asten’s name. Four times.

“Me, too,” He muttered. Nico tapped on Asten’s name and brought it to his ear. Bentley heard it go straight to voicemail.

“That can’t be good,” Bentley muttered, and Nico shook his head.

When they made it to the cave, it seemed to be crunch time. Tim was all Red Robin-ed up, sitting at the Batcomputer, typing furiously, and Bruce was but two feet away in his full Batman gear besides the cowl. Jason was about halfway into being Red Hood, Dick ran off to get ready, Cass and Steph zoomed out of the cave on guttural sounding motorcycles, and Damian made for the locker room, where his suit was.

“Holy shit,” Nico muttered, breathless.

Bentley, amused by his cursing but not enough to crack a smile, made for the Batcomputer in record time. “What’s happening?”

In the center of the massive screen was an aerial view of Gotham from what looked like a drone. Bentley’s question was answered indisputably by a building — an entire actual building, with a bunch of floors and all — rumbling and shaking at the base, the entire thing collapsing from the bottom up with a loud crash that rumbled the sides of the cave, smoke and dust pluming up into the sky and making it hard to see. The city was indeed glowing, but not in it's normal sunset lights way. 

Gotham was burning. 

There were flames everywhere; licking out of the windows of buildings, vehicles burning on the streets, trees and plants and flower beds charred, entire multi-story buildings engulfed in flame. How many people had… how many people were…?

Bentley’s father had warned him about this, and still, he told the truth anyways. (How stupid was that? Bentley Whittaker was still on his ten year streak of doing absolutely nothing beneficial.)

“I’m trying to triangulate the epicenter of the destructive energy, but I’m struggling. It’s powerful everywhere,” Tim said, more to himself than Bruce, still furiously typing away on the computer. The keys he was pressing were showing up as lines of code in a box in the bottom left corner of the screen. The top right corner also had a little box in it, cycling through what looked like the most prevalent news channels and stories.

“I’m going to have a heart attack,” Nico whispered, drifting up next to Bentley and looking at the computer. “I’m in the Batcave.”

“Bentley, are you positive your father didn’t say anything else about this plan b? Anything at all?” Bruce questioned, moving away from the computer to a different part of the cave.

“No…” Bentley muttered, watching the news stories flick to pictures of charred bodies and immediately looking away. “All he said was… when the elements are against each other, fire always wins. That’s all.”

Bruce got a calculating look on his face and pulled his cowl up.

“There! Make that bigger!” Nico exclaimed, pointing at the current news story that was running in the top corner. Tim blew the tab up to twice it’s normal size and put the volume on.

On the screen was a video of a semi-truck, upside down in a deep, deep ravine, burning and smoking. The headline read: semi-truck failure in Somerset.

“-unfortunately, driver Samuel Evans was killed almost instantly in the windshield-first impact. There were no witnesses around to see exactly what caused the truck to swerve off the road-“

Samuel Evans. Where had Bentley heard that name before? 

“Oh my God,” Nico muttered, bringing his hands up to his mouth. “That’s Asten’s uncle.”

Bentley blinked, looking at the upside down semi-truck. Asten’s uncle was dead, and they’d missed all his calls.

When the elements are pitted against one another, fire always wins.

“This is it,” Bentley muttered. Nico looked over at him, furrowing his brows. 

“What?”

“The Secret Keeper showed me you finding your adoption papers. In that dream I saw a big door in your house that had the Greek gods on it. Hephaestus, god of fire, was destroying everything, and the gods of water and air were trying to save him… and… and in the videos, Dr. Keene talked about powers becoming volatile under emotional stress… The Secret Keeper could see the future, they had it all planned out…” Bentley muttered, swallowing thickly. “This is it — the end my father was talking about.”

Nico swallowed thickly, too. “And you’re saying…”

Bentley looked back at the screen, at the rapidly crumbling buildings behind an upside down semi. The drone moved to a tall building Bentley had seen before, not too long ago, in a dream, with a small figure with blue hair and orange eyes standing on top of it.

“…We have to fight Asten,”

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere @beatyoutothatusernameloser

[gul4bjamoons]

✩ worlds collide, part three; 

                        marcus rashford ────── 

confined by rigid expectations, a girl discovers an unexpected escape when she crosses paths with a daring boy on a football pitch.

⭑  wordcount : two thousand eight hundred twenty-four.

⭑  notes : i need to befriend more rashy fans :/ also this was way longer than expected

˙⋆✮ masterlist. part one. part two. ...

The days that followed were a blur. Your parents kept you on a tight leash, monitoring your every move. The freedom you’d cherished was gone, replaced by a suffocating sense of isolation.

You wanted to reach out to Marcus, to explain everything, but you didn’t know how. Your parents had confiscated your phone, and every attempt to leave the house was met with resistance. Eventually, you stopped trying.

Meanwhile, Marcus waited for you that first week, sitting on the bench by the pitch after his games, watching for any sign of you.

“She’s probably busy.” he told himself, kicking a loose pebble underfoot. “She’ll be here next time.”

But next time came and went, and you were nowhere to be found.

The weeks stretched into months, and Marcus’s hope began to wane. He’d ask around, but no one seemed to know anything about the girl who used to sit on the sidelines.

“She probably moved on,” Max had said. “Rich girls like her don’t stick around places like this.”

But Marcus didn’t believe that. Not you.

-

Despite the ache of your absence, Marcus threw himself into football. It was the one thing that made sense, the one thing he could control. His skills on the pitch earned him a spot in the academy, then the youth team, and eventually, a place in Manchester United.

He became everything he’d dreamed of—fast, agile, unstoppable. He was the kid from Wythenshawe who made it big, the one who defied the odds. The world knew his name, chanted it in stadiums, and plastered his face on billboards.

But even as he achieved greatness, a part of him always felt incomplete.

Late at night, when the noise of the world faded, Marcus would think of you. He’d remember the way you’d sit on the sidelines, your laughter ringing out whenever he tripped over the ball. He’d remember the way you’d encourage him to chase his dreams, your belief in him unwavering.

He’d wonder where you were, what you were doing, if you ever thought about him.

Sometimes, he’d drive through Wythenshawe, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. But the pitch was always empty, the streets quiet.

You were gone, like a dream he couldn’t hold onto.

-

Years later, during an interview, a reporter asked Marcus what kept him grounded despite his fame.

“My roots,” he said simply. “Where I come from. And… the people who believed in me before anyone else did.”

He didn’t elaborate, but as the cameras flashed and the reporters moved on to their next question, Marcus found himself thinking of you again.

You were the first person to truly see him, to believe in him. And no matter how much time passed, no matter how far he went, he couldn’t forget you. He longed to just speak to you again or steal a couple more laughs.

-

The ballroom shimmered with a golden glow, a blend of opulent chandeliers casting a warm light on the sea of tuxedos and evening gowns. The air buzzed with muted conversation, the clink of glasses, and the soft strains of a string quartet. 

You moved through the room with practiced grace, your heart beating in rhythm with the cause you held dear—true philanthropy, not the showy gestures your parents preferred. It was another thing your parents had never quite understood. While your parents were busy charming their affluent peers, you were already speaking with representatives from a literacy program, planning your next charity event.

The scent of roses and lilies filled the air, mingling with the gentle hum of a string quartet that played in the background, weaving a melody that felt like a soft embrace. This wasn’t just a party; it was a celebration of grandeur and ambition, a testament to your parents’ new luxury resort chain that promised to be a haven for the world’s elite.

Near the bar Marcus Rashford could be seen, his fingers lightly tracing the rim of his glass. He wore a suit that fit him as if it were spun from midnight, every detail of his appearance meticulous, yet there was a softness in his eyes that betrayed his unease. He didn’t particularly love these events, where every smile held a hidden agenda, and every handshake was a silent transaction. But tonight, his presence was non-negotiable.

The invitation had arrived with all the subtlety of a command, his name carrying weight in circles where power and prestige were currency. His PR manager had gently insisted—“It’s important to show face, Marcus. These connections could be invaluable.” And so, here he stood, surrounded by opulence, a reluctant prince in a castle of wealth, his gaze occasionally drifting to the crowd, hoping to find an excuse to leave.

As he scanned the room, the music swelled, and for a fleeting moment, the noise faded into the background. The air seemed to still, and the world narrowed down to a heartbeat.

That’s when he saw you.

He was captivated hearing your laugh soft as you gestured animatedly while speaking to a group. You looked different—more poised, more polished—but those eyes… those were the same eyes he’d spent years dreaming about.

It had been five years, but how could he forget? The girl who’d believed in him before the world even knew his name. The one who used to watch him play with that wide-eyed curiosity. The one who had disappeared without a trace.

Marcus’s fingers tightened around his drink as he drew a breath, steadying the nerves that suddenly fluttered in his chest. The room, bustling with laughter and clinking glasses, seemed to dim around him. He wasn’t Marcus Rashford, the football star, in that moment. He was just a boy from Wythenshawe, trying to reconnect with someone who had once meant the world to him.

Gathering his courage, Marcus set down his glass and straightened his suit. He made his way across the room, weaving through the clusters of guests, his steps deliberate yet cautious, like he was approaching a dream that could dissipate at any second.

When he reached you, you were mid-laugh, your smile bright and captivating. The sound of your laughter filled him with warmth, but also a pang of longing for what once was. Clearing his throat softly, Marcus waited for you to finish speaking before gently interjecting.

“Excuse me,” he began, his voice steady but carrying a hint of the vulnerability he felt. “I couldn’t help but notice how passionately you were speaking about the literacy program.”

You turned, your eyes meeting his, polite curiosity flickering across your face. “Oh, thank you. It’s a cause I care deeply about.”

Marcus offered a small smile. “I can see that. It’s inspiring.”

There was a beat of silence. He watched as you took in his face, searching for familiarity, but it was clear—you didn’t recognize him. The realization hit him like a wave, a mixture of disappointment and understanding swirling within him.

“I’m Marcus,” he said, extending his hand. “Marcus Rashford.”

You accepted his handshake, your grip firm but your expression remaining impassive, friendly but detached. “It’s nice to meet you, Marcus.”

He swallowed the initial sting of not being recognized. It made sense. He had changed—a lot. Gone was the boy with worn-out trainers and a shy smile. In his place stood a man who had climbed the heights of fame, his physique honed by years of discipline on the pitch. His once soft, boyish features had sharpened, now framed by a neatly trimmed beard and moustache that added a layer of maturity to his face. Every part of him, from his confident stance to the polished lines of his tailored suit, was a testament to the man he had become—refined, composed, and far removed from the boy you met on the pitch.

Forcing himself to relax, Marcus continued, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity. “It’s clear you’re passionate about what you do here. It’s admirable, really. Not everyone dedicates themselves so fully.”

Your smile widened slightly, but there was a flicker of something in your eyes—guardedness, perhaps, or distraction. “Thank you. It means a lot to me, more than I can put into words.”

The conversation felt suspended in time, the hum of the gala a mere backdrop to the tentative connection between you. Marcus wanted to push further, to bridge the gap years had created, but before he could speak again, another guest approached, drawing your attention away with a polite urgency.

You excused yourself with a soft apology, leaving Marcus standing there, his hand slipping back into his pocket, his heart caught in a quiet ache. The opportunity had slipped through his fingers, yet the resolve in his chest hardened—this wasn’t the end. 

As you disappeared into the crowd, Marcus exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging with a weight only he could feel. He wasn’t the boy you once knew, and perhaps that was for the best. His childhood in Wythenshawe still lingered in his mind. Back then, all he had to offer was potential, a promise whispered to himself on the quiet streets.

Now, he stood on the opposite end of that promise, cloaked in fame and fortune, hoping these would be the tools to bridge the chasm between his humble beginnings and the life you led. He believed you deserve someone who could command a room, someone whose name was met with admiration and reverence. Someone with power, influence, and the means to give you the world.

Marcus clenched his jaw, pushing down the doubts that bubbled to the surface. Maybe you not recognizing him was a good thing. Maybe fame and success would capture your attention, perhaps even win the approval of your parents, who only saw worth in status and affluence. After all, he had built himself into a man they couldn’t ignore.

As the moon rose higher, Marcus reappeared, gliding toward you through the soft glow of the ballroom, his every step measured, confident. Your parents noticed him before you did, their faces lighting up like chandeliers at his approach. His name was music to their ears, a melody of success and prestige.

“Marcus, such a pleasure!” your mother gushed, her eyes sparkling as if she had just caught sight of a rare gem. “We’ve been hearing so much about your accomplishments.”

Your father extended his hand, his grip firm, a silent acknowledgment of Marcus’s stature. “Remarkable, what you’ve achieved.”

You turned to Marcus, a smile already curving your lips, warmed by the earlier interaction, hopeful for something more meaningful now. He met your gaze briefly, his eyes softening for a moment, before the conversation unfolded.

“Thank you,” Marcus began, his voice smooth, crafted to charm. “It’s been a journey, one that’s taken me to places I once only dreamed of.”

At first, his words held a certain allure, drawing you in with the promise of shared stories and deeper connections. But soon, the narrative shifted, the light in his eyes gleaming with something else.

He spoke of his latest acquisitions, each word gilded with the shimmer of wealth. “I’ve just added another property to my collection, a stunning estate near the Hale Barns. The architecture is simply exquisite, a perfect retreat.”

Your parents leaned in, captivated by the luxury that Marcus effortlessly wove into the conversation. But for you, each word chipped away at your initial thoughts of him, revealing a man encased in the armor of his own success. You should've known he would be just like the rest of the guests in attendance.

“And the yacht,” he continued, his smile easy, “is modest by some standards, but it turns enough heads in Monaco.”

Your heart, which had lifted at his earlier approach, now felt heavy, a quiet ache of disappointment settling in as you watched him perform for your parents, each phrase crafted to impress, but none meant for you. You were left standing amid the sparkle of riches, a sea of words that felt shallow in the grand ballroom of your expectations. A mix of irritation and disappointment bubbling beneath your composed exterior.

You forced a smile, the effort sharp on your lips as Marcus’s words wrapped around you like a gilded chain, heavy with the weight of his wealth. "Excuse me," you murmured softly, your fingers brushing your mother’s arm, a silent plea for escape. "I need to check on something."

Your mother barely registered the shift in your tone, her attention wholly consumed by the glossy narrative Marcus spun before her. She was entranced by the tale of his latest venture, too absorbed to notice the coolness in your voice, the disquiet lingering beneath your skin. Marcus’s eyes, a flash of disappointment, flickered toward you as you moved away, his lips parting as if to protest—but before the words could form, your father’s hand landed firmly on his shoulder, drawing him back into the conversation with effortless ease.

Marcus’s gaze held on you for a moment longer, a magnetic pull, but the gravity of your parents’ interest soon anchored him to the crowd. You slipped away, the weight of his eyes a soft pressure at your back, yet the gentle hum of the party receded as you made your way into the cool embrace of the kitchen.

Here, the air was different—fresher, lighter, a refuge from the glittering chaos that had felt so suffocating moments ago. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon mingled in the air, comforting and familiar, wrapping around you like an old, well-worn sweater. You exhaled slowly, your lungs filling with the quiet, and leaned back against the counter, allowing the stillness to wash over you.

Mrs. Peters, the cook and wife of the family’s driver, stood at the heart of the kitchen, her hands steady as she placed a delicate dessert onto a porcelain plate. She was a woman whose presence always soothed you—silver hair soft as moonlight framed her face, her eyes sharp with a knowing kindness that saw more than most could imagine.

She met your gaze immediately, reading the quiet turmoil behind your eyes. Without a word, she slid the plate toward you, the sweet aroma of the cake mingling with the soft warmth of the room. A knowing smile curled at the corners of her lips, like she understood more than you’d let on.

“What’s got you frowning sweetheart?” she asked, her voice a gentle balm to your frazzled nerves.

You sank into a chair, the wood cool beneath you, and let the words spill out, the frustration in your chest finally finding its voice. “Just egotistical guests, his name is Marcus.” you huffed, the name falling from your lips like a tired sigh. “I thought there was something real there, something different. But all he does is brag about his fortune... his connections… it’s like he’s just another one of them.”

Mrs. Peters, who had been tidying the counter with a dish towel, paused and raised an eyebrow. Her hands rested on the cloth, her gaze steady, considering. “Marcus Rashford? He seems like a nice young man to me. Infact helped me earlier tonight, when I was struggling with the trays. A real gentleman.”

Your mind flickered, caught between two conflicting images of the man—one of a suave, self-assured charmer, the other of the man she described, helping, gentle. You couldn’t reconcile them. “Maybe he’s good at pretending,” you murmured, the words thick with uncertainty.

She chuckled softly, the sound a melodic hum that seemed to settle the air around you. Her eyes twinkled with something unspoken as she moved toward the stove, her voice carrying the comfort of experience. “He’s done more than you know, love. Charity work, from what I hear. Doesn’t boast about that, though.”

You blinked, the words catching you off guard. Is that why he was so intrigued earlier?

“Charity?” you repeated, your voice softening, a flicker of curiosity replacing the simmering frustration.

Mrs. Peters nodded, her smile gentle but knowing. “Yes, dear. He’s made a real difference for many people. Not just with his wealth, but with his time. He gives when it’s asked of him, no questions, no fanfare.”

Her words settled in your mind like soft rain on dry earth, the image of Marcus shifting, slipping from the polished façade you’d created in your mind. He had been a mystery to you, but now there were layers you hadn’t considered, depths you hadn’t seen.

Your fingers drummed lightly on the edge of the counter as you mulled over her words. Marcus—this man you had dismissed as another one of the polished, self-absorbed rich men you’d grown so weary of—wasn't quite the person you'd thought he was. There was more to him than the image he so carefully cultivated, more beneath the surface than the stories he told.

For the first time that evening, a flicker of something like hope stirred in your chest—a glimmer of the possibility that perhaps the footballer wasn’t entirely what you had imagined him to be.

© gul4bjamoons 2025

[yanderecrazysie]

[if this request goes against the rules please lmk and just ignore the parts that are againt the rules]

request:

sadistic kenma, who still plays volleyball and is dominate with reader being on the more submissive side and is tall who likes anime and a few games (not many but has a common knowledge on them)

Not against the rules at all, lovely Anon! I love that I’m writing for a tall reader btw, I think it’s my first time!

Title: Façade

Pairings: Kenma x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, sadistic tendencies, slight dacryphilia, bullying, mild description of injuries, tall reader, Kenma’s a bit OOC

Summary: Who would believe you if you were to say that quiet, barely-noticeable Kenma terrified you?

façade

/noun/

an outward appearance that is maintained to conceal a less pleasant or creditable reality.·    

     

Kenma was barely known throughout the school, even in his own class. Even though he was the setter of a volleyball team that’d made it to nationals multiple times, he was somehow invisible.

To the people who did notice him, he wasn’t anything special. Just a quiet, video game-addicted boy that didn’t bother anyone.

Anyone but you.

You were the only one who had seen a different side of Kenma. You doubted even his best friend, Kuroo, knew what kind of monster reared its ugly head when the two of you were alone.

It started after art class. Or maybe you just hadn’t noticed it until then.

The two of you were tasked to clean the classroom, so everyone left you together in awkward silence. You knew nothing about your classmate, so a part of you had been hoping to talk to him, but you could tell he wasn’t the talkative type.

It was as you were moving some of the sharper scissors that one slipped and sliced your hand open. You hissed and dropped the offending art tool, clutching your bleeding hand while inspecting the damage.

It wasn’t a deep cut, but it hurt and bled like one. You’d be fine, you’d just have to pick up a bandage from the nurse’s office. Everything was fine.

Until you turned around.

Kenma’s eyes were locked on your bleeding hand, a deep insatiable hunger swirling in them. He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away, but definitely not out of horror. A chilling grin split his lips and his tongue flicked out to wet them once.

You were frozen in terror, horrified by this awful change in your classmate. Frightened beyond words by the way he seemed to enjoy seeing you injured. You barely remember muttering “nurse’s office…” before hurrying away from him and his sadistically hungry expression.

You couldn’t avoid him in class, but you stayed far away from him every other chance you got. Kenma, however… something must’ve awoken in him because, suddenly, the shy boy was inching closer to you whenever he could. He still gave you the chills.

When he walked into the anime club one Monday evening after school, you thought your heart stopped beating. He claimed volleyball practice was canceled, but that he wanted to stay at school until he normally left anyway. 

You wished he just went home and didn’t invade your club room. You felt dirty all of a sudden, like something you loved had been tainted. You couldn’t enjoy yourself that day, nor could you focus on anime and the anime-style video games that Kenma weaseled into the conversation.

The worst part came when he walked home with you. He apparently walked home with Kuroo usually, but he’d gone home after volleyball practice. Since your house was on the way, why not? Your clubmates encouraged you, probably trying to play cupid between you both.

You could tell your closest friend was shipping you with the boy, finding your height differences cute or something. Or maybe it was because she knew that you shared a love for a few of the games he had mentioned and, apparently, anime in general. Either way…

How could you explain that quiet, shy, harmless Kenma terrified you? 

You trudged alongside him as you went home, thanking everything that you lived close to the school and it would be a short walk.

You were so grateful, you didn’t even notice him sticking out his leg to trip you.

When you stood up, wincing from the pain, you found your knees and right elbow bleeding slightly. You seethed inside, wanting to lash out at him after you were sure he tripped you.

He played the part well, gasping and asking if you were alright. Fussing over you. Acting like he was innocent in all of this. But you knew better. His eyes were glued to your injuries and they gleamed with excitement and something darker.

It was as he dropped you off at your doorstep that you confirmed that you weren’t imagining it all. 

“You’re so pretty when you’re in pain.”

Would anyone believe you if you told them what he said?

No. No, they wouldn’t. You wouldn’t have, had you been an outsider to this situation.

But now you worried about him more than ever. You no longer felt safe in the anime club, worried he’d barge in and infect it with his creepiness whenever his club was cancelled. You were never safe in class, since he had switched seats to be by you each time.

It wasn’t until he started sitting behind you, though, that the trouble really started in class.

Yanking on your hair, kicking your heels, stabbing a pencil into the back of your neck… You had to sit there silently and endure it all, crying to yourself after class and hoping he didn’t see because, whenever he sought you out and found you that way, he looked more excited than ever to see your tears.

He’d even said once, when he’d followed you to your locker to find you crying there, “You’re so pretty when you cry.”

He was sadistic, that much was obvious, but no matter what you tried, he never backed down. You even tried to use your height to be intimidating, but he wasn’t phased. He’d never be phased as long as he had access to you. Or, more specifically, hurting you and making you cry.

You’d tried to hint to your friend that there was more to Kenma than meets the eye, but she was dismissive and playful, more concerned with an upcoming wedding than a funeral.

You tried to get evidence that he was hurting you, but it was difficult. If you had a camera out, Kenma wouldn’t try anything. If you tried to be sneakier and audio record him, he just remained silent. He always seemed to know what you were up to.

Kenma was intelligent and good at predicting others’ movements. You’d seen that in him the last time the school went to a volleyball tournament, but you never expected that to be used on you.

Would there ever be a way to show others that Kenma was nothing but cruel to you?

At this point, you were ready to give up.

The next time he cornered you, ready to hurt you once more, you begged to know why. You begged him to stop and leave you alone until your throat burned and tears pricked your eyes. It wasn’t long until you bowed so low that he became taller and the tears escaped your eyes, dripping to the floor, as you promised that you’d do anything for him if he’d just stop.

But as you raised your teary eyes to see his expression, you realized that it was all in vain. That Kenma would never stop torturing you.

His smile was wider than it had ever been before.

[6okuto-moved]

could you do more Mhin headcanons? The first ones you made were great!

MHIN HCS 2

gn!reader | wehehe :3

keeps the window a little open when it rains to hear it better

they don't keep many things out in the open but they do keep all the gifts / cards you get them somewhere... just can't bring themself to throw them out. whether it just says happy birthday! or it's a long heartfelt letter, they'll find themself pulling it out to see it later in the evening for a few days

buys snacks just for you and tells you they happened to get extra so you should just take some. or that there was a sale so they might as well have bought it. or that it's a thank you for some small thing you did a few days ago

not sure if it'll be an option in the actual game (maybe probably will be) but mhin wouldn't trust you offering to help without asking for something in return. takes a While,, something big to realize you're serious. a situation where helping them would risk way more than any logical person would risk

scene where mhin is offered what they want with the cost being You and they say no. the crowd cheers i fall to my knees

is their hair natural or dyed or what. who's to say. dyeing their hair together yaaay!!

not awesome with comfort (or being trusted with vulnerability in general) but doing their best. there's (what they feel is) one too many beats of silence where they can't figure out what to say. they purse their lips and furrow their brows, staring anywhere but you. their comfort comes with pauses in between phrases, trying to find the words that explain how they feel properly. it's…direct? but genuine all the same. "you're being too harsh on yourself." "there's no point in dwelling on it now. it'll only make you feel worse." "fuck them." < not comfort I Guess but i do want to see mhin straight up just say Fuck that guy and complain about people even more

will Not watch a movie opening night unless you physically drag them over there or pay them. like who knows how many/what kind of annoying people will be in the audience.

they also don't like malls. get them out of there. please. they scrunch up their nose whenever they walk past a lush (me fr)

mhin looks like one of those people that just knows random facts. i've never been one of those people so i can't give you a good example but you'll ask something, not actually expecting an answer, and they'll just,, know.

modern au university student mhin who knows all the good study spots that are Actually quiet and comfortable and not the library third floor that's always full. very specific spots in buildings you've never found yourself in and you promise not to tell anyone else about it for Both your sakes

nosy about drama. mhin might pretend they don't care about these people you're talking about because they don't even know what they look like but What do you mean they said that to you? What the fuck happened 3 years ago? what are you guys talking about? you can see them reacting from the corner of your eye even if they don't say anything

you guys remember that felix cg where you're hiding in escell's study or wherever. that. imagine. but in the senobium. let's think for a moment

moving mhin's bangs so you can kiss their forehead.... the intimacy of tying their hair for them.... pushing strands out of their face.... the way they freeze the first few times you do it but don't move away. they hope you don't notice the goosebumps on their neck or how they lean into your touch while you play with their hair. you do. but y'know

they get teased a lot because people find their reactions amusing (my bad) but it means when you genuinely compliment (or defend) them, it's all the more meaningful

[itsdeathofabachelor]

Remember the post I made about Jotaro being the same level of fucked up as Kakyoin but in different ways? I think I need to give examples because I have a very distinct thing in my brain I need all of you people to grasp to some extent here.

Jotaro is fucking huge. Ginormous for no reason considering he very likely hadn’t had the time to work out in between beating the shit out of local gang members, dashing and dining, and being a bitch to his mother. But because he hasn’t really been in a setting with a bunch of people with similar physiques as him, he has no idea how to act outside of being ‘cool’. Like, he sees no point in flaunting how he looks so he doesn’t, unlike with someone who, say, worked at their body image for months.

So I am being dead serious when I say Holly didn’t make him a school lunch one time (she had such a bad flu bug she couldn’t get out of bed) Jotaro skips all of his classes, entire day ruined. He goes out to the convenience store, red faced, puffy eyed, and shoves a packet of donuts down his shirt. No one even fucking notices. He eats all of them and cries, it’s so fucking funny.

I should probably mention, Kakyoin is one hundred percent the only one who Jotaro could give less of a shit seeing him do this. So he’s there, gingerly explaining the breeding cycles of salmon and trout in hopes of engaging Jotaro’s autism enough so he doesn’t choke and fucking die around the three donuts he shoved in his mouth.

So, six foot five, bulging muscles, could pop a can of tomatoes open if he put it in between his thighs and squeezed slightly, having a breakdown under a tree somewhere in a national park, defeated. A red haired, twitchy twunk drawing with a stick in the ground saying some shit like, ‘you can tell it’s a type of mammal because of its fin bones, even if it’s exclusively in the water now— please slow down Jojo I really don’t want you to throw up again’.

No, like, he’s a mess all the time but would rather die than be around literally anyone when he has that ‘calm before the storm’ meltdown feeling. So he just sort of shows up at Kakyoin’s doorstep like a stray and lays on his bedroom floor for three hours. Sometimes he falls asleep and Kakyoin uses him as a backrest because he always chooses to be face first directly in front of his Atari and Kakyoin wants to play his games.

Kakyoin’s mother one hundred percent thinks Jotaro is some dangerous delinquent who is going to put her son into a grave, life or death peer pressure situation until she sees Jotaro being dragged out of the house by his ankles with an out of breath Kakyoin carting both their bags under one arm, Jotaro’s coat over one shoulder, and Jotaro’s foot in both his hands. Like, ‘We have a math test. I need good grades. I am not explaining to Miss Holly why you have to retake highschool’.

And Jotaro’s completely limp, like three hundred fucking pounds of pure muscle, wearing a tank top, face down with his hat brim dragging on the floor. He looks fucking dead. He looks like a dead fucking rat. And Kakyoin’s mother no longer has nearly as many worries about Jotaro but also is forever cursed with the knowledge that, even if she were to gossip to her book club about it, they would never believe her.

Also, she’s seen Jotaro cry three separate times on the kitchen floor as Kakyoin makes his grilled cheese in the shapes of dolphins because his favourite cereal changed their packaging or Sadao calls and he’s just losing it in a puddle of tears. He never mentions it again and literally goes back to normal like nothing had happened.

He could beat the shit out of a whole biker gang, spear and set their leader on fire, all stoic and angry and totally badass. Everything falls into place with perfectly timed catchphrases and comebacks, but he’ll still be at Kakyoin’s house, twenty minutes later, face down infront of his Atari. And Kakyoin will use him as a back rest to play his games.

[mochegato]

I’m Coming Over

Jason pushed out a harsh breath through puckered lips and sharply cocked his head to the side before pushing out another breath and cocking his head to the other side to crack his neck.  His eyes never left his target, even as he bounced from foot to foot to get his blood pumping for the task at hand.  He needed his focus.  He needed to be on his game.  He needed to have game, which was a problem whenever he spoke to Marinette.  Or rather, whenever she spoke to him.

But he could do this.  He’d strategized.  He’d thought through what he was going to say when she responded to him.  He was going to be cool.  He was going to be smooth.  He was not going to stutter or shut down or go into overdrive.  Now he just needed to do it.  Stop staring at his phone and use it.  He pushed out another breath and selected Marinette from his contacts before he could overthink it.

It barely rang once before she answered.  “Alya?” Marinette’s voice burst through loud enough that he had to pull the phone away from his ear.

“Even better,” he crowed with a wide grin.  She might not be able to see it, but it made him feel suave, confident.  He’d like to think she could feel it.

Marinette took a deep breath.  “Jason,” she greeted curtly.  “What do you want?”  He could certainly feel her pursed lips through the phone.

His smile faltered.  This was not a response he had planned for.  They bantered, things sometimes got heated, usually in a good way, but sometimes not.  He needed to get the conversation back on course.  “Well, good evening to you as well.  I’m doing great, thank you for asking,” he chirped.  When she didn’t respond after a few moments, he coughed awkwardly.  “I’m looking for Tim,” he explained, desperately hoping it didn’t sound like he was scrambling for an excuse as it felt in his head.

“This isn’t Tim’s number,” she pointed out flatly.

He frowned.  That wasn’t their relationship.  He hadn’t done anything to deserve it yet.  She rarely snapped at him before he’d gotten the chance to antagonize her.  “Yeah, I’m aware,” he answered defensively.  

“Why didn’t you call his number then?” she snapped.

“I did.  He isn’t answering his phone.  That’s why I’m calling you,” he snapped back.  “You always know where he is.”

She huffed loudly.  It was so iconically her, especially when speaking with him, he could picture the breath blowing her bangs out of her face.  “He’s on a date.”

He blinked a few times.  Tim was on a date and Jason was still trying to work up to it?  “Tim! Like my brother Tim?  Nerd, geek boy?  So high?”  He held his hand up to midway up his chest.

“Yes, your brother Tim,” she chided sharply.  “So, try not being an asshole for once and leave him alone… and me.  Good night, Jason.”

He pulled the phone away from his ear and narrowed his eyes at it.  The whole conversation was off.  Her tone was off.  It was scratchy and raw.  He remembered the times her voice sounded like that.  It was never good.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Her answer was too quick and abrupt, far too quick and abrupt to be the truth.  He snorted at the blatancy of the lie, it was like she didn’t know how to lie convincingly. “I thought you hated liars.”

“And I thought you didn’t care,” she clipped back.

Jason paused, his mouth opened for just a moment before he snapped it closed again, the corners of his lips tugging down.  That was a more convincing lie, if she were talking to anyone but him.  They played detached, but neither was.  She might not know exactly how deeply he cared about her and in what way, but she knew he cared.  And what’s more, he knew she knew.  And she knew he knew she knew.  “I don't,” he lied.  “But I can't pick on you if you're sad.  It makes me look like an asshole.”

It took a beat for her to respond.  A full ten seconds for her to respond.  Ten seconds that lasted a full year.  “You think that's what'll tip you over?”  He could hear her lips quirking up slightly at the corners, exactly like he hoped she would.

“You’re right.  Probably not even that.  I’m too amazing,” he boasted.

The line was silent for a few moments.  He waited with bated breath for her response, hoping he had been cheeky enough to get her to laugh.  He got her to smile.  He just needed a bit more to get her to laugh.  And if he could get her to laugh, he could know she’d be okay.  His hopes were dashed almost instantly when he heard her deep sigh.  “It’s not good fodder for insulting me, so I doubt you’re going to care.  I really have to…”

“That’s not… I’m not going to…” he cut in aghast.  He huffed harshly.  It was so much worse than he feared it was.  Something had to be seriously wrong and, knowing her, she didn’t ask anyone to come support her.  “Do you have anyone there with you?”

“Checking up on me?” she glowered.

“Yes,” he answered instantly.  “Are you alone?”

Marinette snorted derisively.  “Utterly,” she muttered.

It took all of a portion of a second for Jason to make up his mind.  He was moving before he could even get the first word out.  “I’m coming over.”

“You certainly are not,” she squawked.

“Pixie, you sound like Hell.  Either talk to me or I’m coming over.”  The words may have sounded like a barter, but he had already grabbed his jacket and keys.  Even if she started talking, he was going to go over.  There was no way she was reacting the way she was and didn’t need someone there with her.  She may be too proud to ask.  She may be too unwilling to inconvenience anyone.  But he wasn’t going to let her suffer alone.

“As flattering as that is,” she hissed, “it’s nothing you can help with.  Goodbye, Jason.  And leave Tim alone tonight.”

He smirked at her response.  She’d just given him the perfect opening.  “If you want me to leave him alone, I’ll need something else to focus on, so I guess I’m coming over.”

“Jason…” she started warningly.

“See you in a few,” he chirped back.  The sound of her objections were drowned out by the revving of his engine in the seconds before he hung up.

><><><><><><><>< 

He pounded on her door for the third time.  Pretty soon, her neighbors were going to stick their heads out to yell at him, but he was fully planning on just breaking into her place before it got to that point.  “Come on, Mari.  Don’t make me huff and puff and blow the door down.”  He raised his fist to pound again, but she opened the door just as his fist was about to connect.  He had to pull his hand back from punching her in the eye.

She leaned against the door jam, arms crossed and lips pursed, blocking his entrance.  “How’d you get here so fast?”

He took a moment to take her in before responding. She looked like Hell.  Gorgeous Hell, but still Hell.  Her eyes were red and puffy enough he wouldn’t be surprised if she was having trouble keeping them open.  Her skin looked stretched thin, the way the skin of people waiting for their loved ones in the hospital look.  He didn’t have to look hard to see the tear tracks still on her cheeks.

“A complete and utter disregard for any and all traffic laws,” he quipped as he moved past her and into her apartment.  “There isn’t a traffic light or stop sign that wasn’t run through at my bike’s top speed.”

“Jason!” she admonished, but it lacked her usual heat. She trailed after him to continue her castigation.  “There was absolutely no need for that.  That was incredibly dangerous.”

“Seemed warranted,” he shrugged, letting his jacket fall and tossing it on one of the chairs on the far side of the room before he twirled to face her, arms crossed over his broad chest, his body propped against the back of the couch.  “Wouldn’t have had to if you would have just told me what was wrong.”  He tried to meet her eyes pointedly, but she refused to look up, her arms crossed over her own chest like an additional barrier to the space she kept between them.

He sighed heavily and stretched to wrap his hand around her arm and pull her closer to him.  She came readily, but still kept a space, albeit smaller, between them, refusing to allow him to envelop her within the safety of his presence.  He ducked his head even lower to meet her eyes, but she still avoided his gaze.  “Mari… talk to me, please,” he begged lightly.  “I’m worried about you.  I can’t help if I don’t know what is going on.”

Her eyes finally snapped to his, but they’d lost the listlessness they’d had only moments before, replaced with a cold narrowed gaze.  “There’s nothing you can do,” she xxx.  “And I’m not talking to you about anything, especially something like this.”  She waved her arms around her in a vague but harsh motion, just barely missing hitting Jason in the jaw.

Jason’s brow scrunched in confusion for a few beats before everything clicked into place; why she was so sad and why she didn’t want to talk to him about it.  “Ahh, that.” He nodded in understanding.  His scrunched brow scrunching further in anger and a touch of jealousy.  “You need to shake this off.  He’s an asshole.  You won’t miss him.  You’re better off without him.”

Marinette jerked back from him like he’d burned her. Her eyes widened for a moment before they narrowed disbelievingly.  She barely managed to gasp out a horrified, “What?”

Jason took a step closer and gently grabbed her shoulders to reassure her.  She was better than this.  She was better than Tim.  She deserved better.  She deserved the best.  She certainly didn’t deserve to be hurt or not seen.  If Tim couldn’t realize what he was doing to her, he wasn’t the friend she thought he was and certainly not worth the effort.  “That asshole’s not worth your tears.  He’s absolutely blind.  You’re amazing and he’s a douchbag.  There are so many better people out there.  If he can’t realize what an amazing opportunity he had with you…”

She tore her arms out of his reach, physically retraining herself from slapping him when every fiber of her being ached to.  “How can you… What the Hell is wrong with you? How dare you!  I know you don’t like him, but this…”  She shook her head in disbelief.  She knew Jason didn’t like him but she never thought… This was heartless in a way she never expected from Jason.  Jason was always so caring… well, an asshole but a caring asshole.  She absolutely could not deal with this right now. “You need to leave,” she stated resolutely.

“What?  It’s true!” he exclaimed, following her.  She had to know.  She had to understand.  This was Tim’s mistake, not hers.  He faltered when she refused to look at him and her arms retook their protective position over her chest.  There was no way she was this in love with Tim, so in love that him going out with someone else shook her so deeply that she was offended to her core at his words. “You may know him pretty well but I’ve known him longer, and if Tim can’t see how good he could have had it…”

Marinette’s eyes snapped to his, her arms loosening over her chest, almost falling to her sides.  “Tim?  You… you’re talking about Tim?” she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“Yeah,” he answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  “The shithead going out with someone else…”

“Going out with…” she repeated slowly.  The words trailed off at the end as she took them in until she folded over on herself, her entire body shaking.

Jason crossed the space between them in two quick steps. His hands were almost on her back to rub consoling circles until he realized she was laughing.  He pulled his hands back, unsure how to handle the sudden mood shift.  “Pix…”

She stood back up, tears falling from her clearly amused eyes.  “You think… you… you think I’m jealous of Tim’s date?” she gasped out between bouts of laughter.

That response was just about the last thing Jason expected to come out of her mouth.  He’d been prepared for being desolate, Hell, he’d even been prepared for her to lash out in anger.  But laughter? And not even unhinged laughter. Actual, amused laughter?  That was nowhere on his radar.  “You… you’re not?” he asked uncertainly.

“No,” she gasped out.  For the first time that night, a smile curled her lips.  “That’s the only good thing about today, him finally going on that date.  Do you know how many times I had to sing I Would Walk 500 Miles before Tim agreed to ask Kon out?  Four!   Four times!  He made me do it four times before he caved.  And all over asking someone he’s been pining over for months.”

Jason gaped at her.  It took a full hour, or at least that’s what it felt like to Jason before he was finally able to find his words again.  “Then why the fuck…”

He instantly regretted it when her smile dropped, her lips turned down into a devastated pout.  “Adrien!”

Jason blinked.  The words not quite able to register.  He’d been sure she was upset over Tim going on the date.  “What did Adrien do?”

“He didn’t do anything!” She yelled.  She groaned and pulled at her hair as she folded over again.  This time Jason was positive it was not with mirth.  His suspicions were confirmed when she let out a loud, guttural groan. “See this is why I didn’t want to tell you.  You always assume the worst about Adrien, and he’s never done anything to deserve it. You treat him like he’s a henchman or something and he’s my best friend.  He’s like a brother.  And he’s…” she choked out a sob.  “He’s been in an accident and he’s in Paris and I’m…” she motioned around her helplessly.

Jason paled immediately as his words from just a few moments ago replayed in his mind, realization hitting almost hard enough to knock him off his feet.  “Oh shit,” he murmured.  He grabbed her into a tight hug.  “I’m so sorry, Pixie.  I didn’t mean any of that.  I know how much Adrien means to you.”

She let him hold her as she cried.  “I can't be there to check on him or comfort our friends or be comforted or help.  I just have to sit here and wait and worry and try desperately not to let my mind spiral into the worst-case scenarios or convince myself I’m a terrible friend.  And it wants to spiral.  It wants it so bad and it's taking all my mental capacity not to let it.”

He nodded as he rubbed soothing circles on her back. “Okay,” he started soothingly.  “Let’s talk this through.  Let’s start with what do you know?”  He listened patiently as she told him everything she knew.  It wasn’t much and it was very disjointed, she jumped from fact to fact and speculation to speculation, but her voice evened out with each jump, like each point grounded her a bit more.  The pain and fear were still there, but they had eased back, no longer on the forefront.

“Alya called this morning, right?”  He waited for her nod confirming his statement before he continued.  “Have you eaten anything since you found out?”

She gave him a baffled look.  “No?”

He nodded.  “Okay.  That was at least ten hours ago.  Let’s get something in your stomach.  Do you have chicken soup?  Alfred used to make me chicken soup when I was worried.  It always made me feel better.”

“Jason,” she said sternly, attempting, but failing, to gain his attention away from searching through her cabinets.  “The only thing that is going to make me feel better is knowing Adrien is okay.  Not something as frivolous as…” she motioned toward the can of soup Kon had brought over she didn’t even know how long ago as his contribution to a potluck she hosted.

“Alya will let you know if anything happens that you should worry about.  But there won’t be.  He’ll be okay, Pixie Pop.”  He pulled her hands into his and stared deeply into her eyes.  “I promise he’ll be okay.  He’s strong.  It’ll take more than a rogue science experiment to take him down.  And talking care of yourself isn’t ‘frivolous.’” he insisted.

She shook her head.  “I’m not…”

“It doesn’t make you a bad friend to take care of yourself.  It doesn’t,” he said definitively.  He lowered himself to catch her eyes to make sure he conveyed his earnestness.  “You are maybe one of the best friends there is. You would do anything for your friends. It makes you annoying as fuck but absolutely riveting.  There is nobody, nobody, I’d rather have on my side.  You are fiercely protective of your friends.  Every single one of them knows you would go to war single handedly on their behalf.  And win. Whoever you went up against wouldn’t stand a fucking chance.”

She tore her gaze from his and wiped away a few tears that had escaped.  “I think this is the nicest you have ever been to me,” she teased.

The tension in his shoulders eased somewhat at her smile, so soft, it was barely there.  He smirked at her.  “Well, you know… I don’t want you to get a big head.  You’re so small, you’d topple over.”

“Oh my God,” she dropped her head on his chest and relaxed against him as he tightened his arms to pull her in further.  “You’re such a jerk,” she said quietly as she burrowed further into his arms.

He had to stop himself from saying ‘your jerk’. That was too much, right?  Surely that was too much.  She had just been crying a few minutes ago.  Definitely the wrong time for sensitive.  “Yeah,” he agreed easily instead.  “But I’m an honest one.”  Marinette scoffed loudly.

He chuckled at her skepticism.  “Yeah, okay.  But I was telling the truth about this.  I meant every word.  You are the most impressive person I know and the best.”  He buried his nose in her hair quickly getting lost in the feel of her in his arms.  After a few moments he pulled away just enough to whisper, “And you are really small.”

Marinette groaned and shoved his chest.  “Really?”

“Really!” he exclaimed.  A broad, teasing smile that he didn’t have to fake, stretching his lips. “I have to crouch over to cuddle you. I’m going to end up with a bad back.”

She leaned back, still within his arms but establishing space between them.  “You could just… not.”

Jason gasped dramatically and jerked her back against him. “No, I can’t.”

“You’re rid…”  The rest of her sentence was lost when her phone rang, interrupting her. Marinette jumped immediately, lurching toward it until her foot caught on the corner of the couch.  She didn’t even think to brace herself for the fall before strong arms steadied her, too focused on getting to the phone as quickly as possible.  “Alya?” she all but yelled into the phone.  After a momentary pause she spoke again, her voice much weaker.  “Adrien?”

She spun toward Jason, her eyes watering again. He had almost pulled her into a comforting hug, his stomach dropping at her expression, but she spoke before he could. “Tomorrow is definite?  Is Nino going to take you home?”  She was silent for a few seconds as she listened, a soft smile developing as she nodded absently.  “And how long until you’re back to normal strength?”  Her smile widened as she listened.  “Two weeks isn’t too bad.  So much better than it could have been,” she offered with a bright smile.  “Yes, I will try to get some rest now.  You should too.  It’s almost time for you to wake up,” she chided gently.  “I love you too.”

Jason’s smile turned bittersweet at her words.  She was able to say the works so easily to Adrien, even Tim.  It was a reminder he wasn’t there.  He lowered his eyes to the floor for a moment before looking back at the can on the counter. He turned back to her just as she launched herself into his arms.  His response was like reflex, reacting before he even felt the blissful sensation of her body against his, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.  “He's going to be okay.  Completely fine!” she exclaimed.

He pretended not to notice his chest getting wetter as she clung to him.  “That’s great, Pixie Pop,” he whispered against her hair.

She pulled away just enough to meet his eyes and Jason couldn’t not notice the relief in them.  “They’re going to let him go home tomorrow and then he needs to take a few weeks off, but after that, he should be fine.”

Jason grinned down at her and brushed away some hair that had worked its way over her eyes while she had buried her face in his chest.  “See? That cat has too many fucking lives,” he grumbled playfully, exaggerating his voice to make sure she knew he was joking.

She started to push further into his fingers that lingered around her face but pulled away to quirk her head to the side and study him, sadness working its way into her gaze again.  “Why don’t you like him?”  Her voice was quiet.  It was almost worse than the look in her eyes, but the two combined were devastating.

“I don’t dislike him,” he insisted instantly.  She scoffed and stepped back.  “I don’t,” he repeated firmly.  “I actually… think he’s a really good kid,” he admitted grudgingly.

Her brow furrowed and her lips thinned just slightly as she considered his words.  She believed them, which made it more confusing because that was not the way he acted whenever Adrien was around or even mentioned.  “Then…” she started.

“Because…” he groaned and dragged his hand over his face a few times.  Apparently, this was going to happen right then and none of the lines he’d prepared worked for this conversation.  He’d prepared for almost every way the conversation would come up but explaining his feelings toward Adrien was nowhere on the list.  Discussing feelings in any kind of depth, was nowhere on the list. The hours of preparation and strategizing were for nothing, which actually was probably for the best.

This wasn’t a mission against some villain or to steal something.  This was personal.  It was his soul.  This was his heart… and hers, potentially.  So, everything he said needed to be from the heart, which meant being honest.  It was absolutely terrifying.  He hated it. He looked back at her, meeting her gaze. Instead of making him more nervous, it reinforced his resolve.

“Because you two have a history.  Because you trust him with your whole soul.  Because he dated you.  Because you love him and say it so freely.  Because I can see the connection you guys have and I want that… with you.  I want you to trust me like that.  I want you to look at me like that.  I want you to want me like that.  I want you to love me like that.”

Marinette stared at him, mouth agape, utterly unprepared for the onslaught of emotion.  She studied his eyes for any indication of dishonestly or uncertainty, but there was none, just unadulterated affection, so intense, her heart stuttered.  After a few moments she shook her head slowly.  “No, you don’t,” she said firmly.

She continued before Jason could object, his mouth already starting to open and his body angling closer.  “I trust Adrien like a teammate, one I’ve had since the beginning, one who taught me as much as I taught him.  I look at Adrien like a partner, someone who’s had to give up the rawest parts of himself to fight by my side.  I want Adrien like an accomplice, someone who will jump into the fray without asking questions.  I love Adrien like a brother, someone who will be in my life and supporting me no matter what path I follow, but not taking the path with me.  That’s not what I want for you.  That’s not where I see us going.”

Jason’s lips split into a broad grin.  “No?  Where do you see us going?”

Marinette bit her lower lip shyly, almost driving Jason into a frenzy.  He was barely able to limit himself to resting his hands on her hips and moving into her space, towering over her with an adoring grin.  “Nowhere tonight.  It’s been a long day already and I don’t think I could take much more emotional upheavals, but eventually?”  Jason nodded encouragingly.  “I’d want you to walk that path with me, to figure out the path together.”

He took a deep breath and stepped closer to cup her face gently.  “Oh, Pixie, you’re never going to be able to get rid of me… unless you, you know, don’t want me around… that was meant to be romantic not… creepy.  I won’t like stalk you or anything.”

Marinette giggled and wound her arms around his waist. “I know,” she reassured him as she rested her chin on his chest as she craned her neck to look at him.  “That’s how I took it.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief and hugged her closer, enjoying her in his arms again.  Every cell sang with the contact.  Every sense soared having her so close.  “Thank God.  Because I want to feel this every day.”  He forced himself to pull away so he could meet her eyes sternly.  “But for now, you should eat.  Come on, I’ll make the soup for you.”

Marinette nodded.  “Soup then sleep,” she agreed tiredly.  But when she looked back up there was a devious glint in her eyes. “Will you join me tonight?  To rest?”

Jason shook his head.  “No, you need to get some good rest after the day you had and I don’t trust either of us to stick to that.  I’ll let Tim know not to let you know about the date until at least tomorrow afternoon.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.  “I thought you couldn’t get ahold of Tim.”

Jason waved her off almost flicking a noodle from the spoon he had used to stir the soup and still had in his hand.  “I just needed an excuse to talk to you.  I can break through if I need to.”  Marinette gaped at him for just a second before breaking down into giggles.  “So, tonight, uninterrupted sleep,” he continued.  “Then tomorrow, get ready, because I’m coming over, and I may never leave.”

Marinette smiled and nodded.  “I’ll be ready,” she promised.

@maribat-calendar-events

[windtraces]

i got mentally ill. heehoo. can't tag shit

so glad that i only wear sports bras. i bind usually and actually need to get a new one bc my old backup is too beat up and i hate the other. but bras are scary. my cup size? idk dd last i checked which was coincidentally before i came out as trans

my family is cool. kind of family where we don't talk about things but it suits me. i'm genuinely glad that the time dad asked "what are you even so fucking depressed that you cut yourself about?" and i said "I WAS RAPED!!!!" he hasn't said anything else about that. maybe he forgot. i don't want to talk about that

i mean i do kind of. but i can't. i can't even talk about the things i remember, let alone the things i forget, and it's easier and more fun to visit and hang out and do my laundry and play video games parallel play style with dad. i can try to talk about it somewhere else. here for example. i can't bring that back up to dad and stepmom when they have enough going on with cancer and chronic illness and i'm pretty much fine.

they are so fucking delicate with me and i appreciate it. i really do. because i can't take things the way i used to and the time dad got mad at me because i was a pussy about visiting grandma before she died. i get why he was mad, he has his own stuff, but i can't take him being mad. i get scared when he gets mad at the dogs and i think he notices too and i think he feels guilty which just makes it worse. he's trying so hard to be better. he is better. but i still just get scared

and he really wasn't that violent either, he only got physical a few times. and one time it was his fault entirely, i got home from work and he wanted to talk about something upsetting to both of us and i was tired after school and work and wanted to go to bed. but sometimes it was me too. i shouldn't have been drinking. he knows it's a slippery slope. he shouldn't have done what he did but i shouldn't have been drinking and even though he was wrong sometimes he wasn't completely wrong. me waking up while taking venlafaxine i may as well have been drunk anyways. it was bad. i mean dgmw, he fucked up, i still consider him an abuser, but he isn't abusive now, he's changed. he offered me a beer last month. he let me stay with him, he doesn't tell me to shut the fuck up when i ramble about things i like. he's better now and i am too. i'm not a teenager anymore i can regulate, and i help him with stuff and also his parents (my grandparents). i'm not useless.

even if i'm useless he still cares now that he learned how to care and how easy it is to break a kid. he recognizes when i get overwhelmed and helps by keeping things away from me. he loves me. he encourages things i like. he's better. he doesn't tell me to shut up. he explains things he likes too, and i like it, even if we don't do the same things we can talk.

i straight up forgot why i was originally rambling. i just want to transition. i wish i had the money, and i could probably ask for help but they've already helped me so much and i'm 25 so i should be able to do this. but

idek how it would go. they (dad and stepmom) already know that i pretty much only wear mens' clothes. i think it's best if i wait until mocky and pocky die. pocky would he really upset if he noticed. but he might not. idk. i'm so sick of waiting and so sick of being poor. i want testosterone i want top surgery. i think they'd be fine with it, as long as i didn't scare pocky and mocky, which i already bind all the time anyways and i think mocky knows but it just isn't talked about. grammy knows bc mom told her. that also isn't talked about

we don't talk about fucking anything and i'm too stupidly shy to talk about it. everyone probably thinks it was a phase

stepmom probably doesn't she got me a haircut. and mocky said i look better with short hair. but i'm scared. i don't want anyone to hate me and i don't want to cause stress. i want to go pull weeds once a week and organize closets and help mocky get groceries and carry and sort everything and everything i can to help them. and i want to help dad and stepmom too, i help how i can when i go. i want dad to keep teaching me about home repair stuff he learned. i don't want to lose them, i need them, and i don't want them to be mad even though they already know but they might get mad if it gets too real. i want to be fionn. i don't want to be lauren, i want stubble and a deep voice and a flat chest and to be called fionn, not lauren, and i barely take care of lauren but i like to think i'd take better care of fionn but i can't be fionn. FUCK

[akariarda]

Christmas Eve

Lloyd,Misako and Sensei Garmadon are spending Christmas Eve together.

Tell me if you have requests!

"Mom! Dada!" Lloyd called out as he entered the monastery. "Where are you?!"

Lloyd's mother approached him, looking confused. "Are you okay, sweetie? Your face is so red!"

"I was running," Lloyd explained. "I didn't want to waste time."

"And why exactly can't we waste time?" Sensei Garmadon asked, curious.

"Because it's Christmas Eve," Lloyd began and walked over to a cabinet. "I wanted the three of us to do something together, like old times."

"And what about your friends?" Garmadon asked.

"They're family too, but I wanted it to be just the three of us tonight. For old times' sake."

"Alright then," Misako said. "What do you have planned?"

"Well, actually, a lot..." Lloyd said.

"Just so it won't be late, because you have training..." Garmadon started but he met Misako's gaze and interrupted his sentence.

"I meant, since you don't have training tomorrow, it can last as long as you want."

"It won't go too late," Lloyd reassured his parents, rummaging through the cabinet.

"Cards?" Misako exclaimed in surprise as Lloyd pulled them out. "I love playing cards!"

"Because you always win," Garmadon added. "But this year will be different."

"We'll see," Misako smiled at him as Lloyd shuffled the cards. It would be fun if he could beat them this time.

~~~~~~

"I won again!" Lloyd shouted as the game ended. "Maybe you would have a chance if you focused on me, instead of just each other.

"I hate cards," Garmadon shook his head. "I'm never lucky with them."

"Now what?" Misako asked.

"I have an idea," Garmadon joined in and went to get something.

"I'm a bit scared," Lloyd swallowed. "It's probably something like who can balance on a stick longer or something."

"He have some good games too," Misako assured him. "You'll see."

"It took me a while to find it," Garmadon said, carrying a box and dusting it off.

"What is that?" Misako asked.

"Don't you remember the game I showed you once? I used to play this when I was little."

"That was ages ago..."

"Lloyd, son, now is really not the time to argue about years," Garmadon interrupted.

"I agree," Misako chimed in."It would be better if you explained your game to us instead, because I didn't understand anything the last time."

~~~~~~

"So, I put this piece here, right?"Lloyd said while moving the pieces on the vintage game board.

"Why didn't it go here?"Misako asked and moved the piece to the other end of the game board.

"No, no, and no." Garmadon shook his head. "Maybe it will take me more time to explain this to you, I've been studying it for decades."

"How did you expect us to learn this in just one evening?" Lloyd asked him, confused.

"Life is full of surprises, son," Garmadon replied. "And I have high expectations from you."

"How about mom suggests what we do next?" Lloyd suggested.

"Sure, why not." Garmadon turned his gaze towards Misako.

"Um, well," Misako murmured. "Maybe we could decorate a Christmas tree!" Misako suddenly remembered.

"Why didn't anyone of us think of that?" Garmadon asked, looking at the barren tree waiting for someone to finally pay attention to it.

"First, we need to find the decorations," Misako pointed out.

"Come on, guys, seriously?" Lloyd asked. "You don't even know where the decorations are?"

"Someone wasn't in a hurry to help find them," Misako muttered through clenched teeth, looking at Garmadon.

"I was meditating," he said in his defense. "Let's go find them now."

~~~~~

"At least we have the decorations," Garmadon positively said when they brought the old boxes from the basement.

"They will need a lot of glue," Misako noticed.

"They will need much more than just glue," Lloyd said, turning the decorations in his hands. "Are you sure we don't have anything else?"

"Almost certain," Garmadon told him. "Do you think we can save some?"

"Some," Lloyd said. "But the Christmas tree will be empty."

"We have lights and ribbons," Misako said. "It will be fine."

~~~~~~

"It actually looks really good," Garmadon noticed when Lloyd put the star on top. "It exceeded all expectations."

"And more," Lloyd proudly stared at the tree.

"Should we watch a movie now?" Misako suggested.

"I choose the first movie!" Lloyd jumped and ran to the TV.

"Misako," Garmadon sighed and leaned on his wife.

"What happened?" she gently asked him.

"If I fall asleep, promise me you won't wake me until the end of the movie."

"I promise," Misako replied and rubbed his back.

~~~~~

"Garmadon! Psst! Garmadon!" Misako whispered and shifted the shoulder Garmadon rested his head on.

"You promised you wouldn't wake me," Garmadon yawned.

"The movie has ended," Misako told him.

"Good morning, dad," Lloyd greeted him.

"Is it already morning?" Garmadon asked and lowered his head onto Misako's shoulder again.

"Let him be, Lloyd. He will wake up when he finds out he gets to choose the next movie."

"Really?" Garmadon energetically raised his head.

"Yes, my dear," Misako replied.

"Finally, we will watch something worth watching." Garmadon said as he picked up the remote control.

"Oh no," Lloyd swallowed.