#phew that was too much work

[esmiara]

"Happy birthday, slug~"

April 29th.

To Chuuya, it wasn't that much of a special day really, merely another day on which he would work the same way he usually did. To everyone else however, it seemed to be some special event in itself. They would offer him meaningless trinkets or little consummables such as cakes, cookies and chocolates. One day, some of his men gave him a bottle of some expensive and beautiful wine, saying they paid for it by saving money together. Such a useless thing to do. They were Mafia after all. If he truly wanted to, he could buy tons of this brand on his own. The wine was quite good though, so he thought he could thank them and maybe even keep this bottle somewhere in his appartment, as a vase or something.

But ironically, on april 29th, it wasn't the Mafia he was worrying about each year. He worried about one single man, whom wasn't even a mafioso anymore.

This one man had made his life goal very clear from the first moment they had met: mess with Chuuya as much as he could. And so on his birthday, this tall and annoying man would celebrate it in his own way, thus making Chuuya's life a disaster.

Chuuya never felt so tense except for this single day. He didn't knew where, when or how the threat would come at him. He was more than wary, eyeing everything meticulously to catch even a single glimpse of a trap he was meant to fall into.

This time, he was in his appartment, some gift laid out randomly, but carefully, on the living room's table. It was already evening, yet still no sign of this one man. Chuuya stared at the wide window in front of him, sat on his leather black couch.

From the window? An aerial attack this time? He thought. But he quickly dismissed the idea. No. This was already the "surprise" from two years ago. This bastard wouldn't do something twice.

He then looked at the ceiling. But he already saw him disguised as a realistic spider man. It wouldn't happen again either. To be fair, Chuuya hoped for it to never come back, as this disguise was truly terrifying. The thought only was enough to make him shiver.

Suddenly, his door rang once. It was so subtle Chuuya wondered if he dreamed about it. Until it rang another time, in a more insistent way, scaring the ginger at the same time.

He looked at the door, sweat running his neck.

Is he really coming from the fucking front door?!

He hesitantly got up from the couch.

The door rang yet another time.

He approached it like it was some unknown wild animal then stood on his toes to look at the peephole.

There he truly was. This man he was so cautious about. He was simply dressed with a sweater, casually waiting on the porch, whistling and keeping his hands behind his back.

Dazai Osamu.

Chuuya didn't see any direct threat, so he carefully undid each lock he had prepared. Then he put his hand on the doorknob. He took one deep breath in order to prepare himself for whatever was coming in his face, and turned it with a pokerface. He was ready for anything.

"Ooh! You did open the door!" said Dazai, beaming.

"You're the one who continuously rang at my fucking door" he hissed. "So what are you doing here?"

Dazai grinned then leaned toward him, making the redhead uncomfortable with their faces so close to one another.

"Do you know what day we are today?~" He hummed.

Chuuya took a step back.

"Y-yeah?" he tried to chuckle, but with his trembling and nervous voice made it very unimpressive.

Dazai kept staring at his blue eyes for what he felt was an eternity of unease and despair. Until the tall man took back his face from his own.

He looked briefly at what was behind his back.

Oh yeah, come to think about it, what is he hid-

But Chuuya didn't have enough time to formulate his thought. The next thing he knew, his nose was suddenly stuffed in a big flower bouquet. Surprised, he involuntarily sniffed the flowers and sneezed loudly.

"Oops! Too close."

Dazai quickly took a step back as well, but somehow Chuuya knew this was deliberate.

When he glanced back at the bouquet, he froze.

It was a big -and actually very pretty- bouquet with a sappy "Happy Birthday" written on top of some sticks between the flowers.

The more he looked at it, the more Chuuya was puzzled about it. He glanced at Dazai, smiling slyly at him, like he would most of the time.

There is another trap. He immediately thought.

"So you see~" Dazai began humming again. "I first thought about crashing twenty remote-controlled tiny helicopters into your car to make a beautiful firework out of everything. But then I had a way better idea!"

He stared at Chuuya.

"Today, I decided to surprise you by doing the opposite of what I would do." He said, on a lower tone.

He closed his eyes and looked down again.

"So? You totally didn't expect that, right?" He giggled, mocking him. "You should have seen your face, it was absolutely priceless!

"Wh...what the hell Dazai?!" Chuuya shouted.

His fist firmly closed, he opened his mouth. But words were stuck in the back of his throat, his cheeks burning.

"You can't just stress me out for a whole day and come with a bouquet! "

Dazai simply stood there, with the said flowers between them.

"This is way too-"

"Too normal?" Dazai suggested, softly.

"Yeah! This is too... normal." Chuuya stammered, lowering his head.

He took another look at the flowers, his frowning brows further carving his face.

"You're just messing with me again, you asshole." He growled lowly, pushing the bouquet aside with the back of his hand.

Chuuya heard Dazai take a deep breath.

"Yeah, sorry." The bandaged man mumbled, to the point Chuuya had a doubt if he did hear anything.

Dazai's mouth curved into a forced grin.

"So I guess I brought a copy of the boy and the pup all for nothing?~"

"Hold on- you what?" Chuuya quickly lifted his head.

Dazai smiled at him, showing a DVD from behind his back.

"You still had more?!"

"Of course, I always hide a lot of things." He winked.

The small man finally sighed.

"Fine... Come in. As long as you don't have any of those helicopters in your pocket or something."

Dazai stepped happily and gave him the bouquet.

I guess the vase bottle will finally find a use, uh? He sighed, overwhelmed with the big bunch of flowers.

[chalkrub]

my SLOPPIEST lady muscanston, emerging from somewhere. would you give her a kiss? be honest

[buttercupshands]

I'm REALLY busy with work rn BUT that doesn't stop me from falling into GF rabbit hole because THAT BOOK....

It feels like 2015 again wow

[willowser]

the idea of ua teacher bakugou honestly makes me so sad, because you have to consider the possibility of him not making it to the end as a hero which !! is heart-breaking !!

but at the same time — there is something really cathartic i think about him growing up and growing out of measuring his worth by being number one, by being the best. and i like to think of him as a grumpy professor !! a bit like aizawa !! or him keeping a close eye on the shy, quiet students, watching out for them and always there to bully them (affectionate) along their path . or for him to be an all might to someone, a young kid that looked up to dynamight in his hay-day, now getting to follow directly under his lead.

[byerscity]

okay confession. lately i've been trying to be more open minded with st ships (specifically the ones that are in the running to be endgame next season, y'all know who i'm talking about).

like since my twitter tl constantly has milven's takes, i've been trying to listen. but omg. how. do. people. think. byler. is. not. going. to. endgame. like the evidence is right there... i'll never understand. and i'm well aware this is coming from a biased perspective, considering that my blog is all about byler but oml. how do you see parallels (and i've seen arguments about byler parallels on twitter trust) and just say "nahhh that doesn't mean anything" or on the other side of the spectrum be like, "i see it but i don't see how this is going to contribute to those little gay boys being canon. stay delusional!11!!" at the end of the day, these are just theories and cool things people notice and everyone is entitled to love and hate the ship of their choice for whatever reason that may be, but i'm a very logical person and as soon as i see any type of good evidence that contradicts even the most instilled beliefs of mine, i'm not afraid to question it.

maybe i'm just being a hater trying to call anti bylers stupid (in the nicest way possible that i can think of), or the will byers hate on sttwt is actually driving me insane and those people need to pay, but whatever.... just a thought!

[alectoperdita]

Oh hell, I am all about them drugged confessions. If/whenever you’re up for it. 💕

From Put That Guy in a Situation(TM) Ask Game

Jumped this one ahead in the queue since it's someone's birthday. 💜💜💜 Enjoy, my friend! I hope this has enough of the stuff you dig about them.

13. Drunken/drugged/sleepy confessions

content warnings: referenced non-consensual drug use and mildly spicy because Seto is thirsty

---

The city lights stabbed into Seto's eyes. The city's heartbeat—a frantic cacophony of bumper-to-bumper traffic, music spilling out of late-night shops and restaurants, and an overwhelming pulse of humanity—pulsed against the back of his head like a second migraine.

He lifted his heavy head and tried to get a better look at his surroundings. Not an easy feat when the world wouldn't stop spinning. Seto could feel the planet's rotational force itself.

In the sky, a bloated, sickly yellow moon hung on the black canvas, a dim bulb when compared to the Oriental Pearl Tower's neon blue and magenta on the opposite riverbank. The phalanx of lit skyscrapers behind the landmark formed a blinding wall that threatened to lighten the night sky.

No wonder they were sitting at a standstill in traffic. He was in the Bund. Shanghai. He was in Shanghai. Not for the first or second time, but the city's nightlife never failed to overwhelm.

It came back to him in bits and pieces. The Pan-Asia Duel Monsters Championship was in China this year, which KC was a sponsor of, along with a dozen international and domestic corporations. Seto wasn't here to compete, though. He was here to do business and build guanxi.

Which meant night after night of hard drinking and tedious back slapping as Seto endured their patronizing compliments about his passable Mandarin. Endless rounds of maotai until his blood must be 90% alcohol. That was the preferred poison of the old-school elites, the ones who built their wealth on the backs of a rapidly booming economy that outpaced everyone's wildest imagination. Not even Japan had sustained that kind of boom in the post-war years.

Potential liver failure was the price of doing business in this country.

That was last night, though. Seto was sure of that much, even if the passage of time seemed theoretical at best. Tonight, he'd been swept into a gaggle of their children, mainly the sons of the previous night's party officials and business moguls.

The fuerdai. His "peers."

Ha! Gozaburo had handed him nothing. Everything Seto owned, everything he accomplished, was through his own sweat and blood.

Seto will give them one thing: their tastes were decidedly less provincial. While their fathers drank baijiu like fish drinking water, they preferred cocktails, or at least pitchers of iced green tea mixed with Crown Royal.

Maybe that was his first mistake. Maybe he shouldn't have underestimated how fucked up he could get on such a simple mixture.

That was the last thing he could remember. He drew a yawning gap between the afterparty at the club and this taxi cab.

Seto sank into the seat and squeezed his eyes shut. His stomach lurched. Perhaps it was a good thing that they were stuck in traffic. He might not be able to keep it down in stop-and-go traffic.

An abrasive—a familiar abrasive voice—encroached from the fringes, though. An equally combative voice shot back in a different language.

Seto's head lolled to the side, away from the window and toward the other passenger in the backseat. Reluctantly, he pried his heavy eyelids open. God, why was he so tired? It felt like he'd pulled several all-nighters in a row.

His fellow passenger was Jounouchi, locked in a heated conversation/argument with the cab driver.

Right. Jounouchi was also in Shanghai this week. Except he was here to compete in the tournament. And unlike Seto, he didn't speak a lick of Chinese.

Not that his laughable grasp of English fared any better.

"Fuck, I'm telling ya, it's the other Marriott!" Jounouchi groaned in Japanese, running a frustrated hand through his bird's nest hair. It looked softer than it had any right to be, though. The strands ought to be bleached to hell and back after this many years.

But Jounouchi had been updating his wardrobe and his deck in recent years. Every victory advanced his look and style, and even netted him some media training like someone deserving of media notice, which was why he was playing in the Pan-Asian championship. Seto couldn't ignore him like he once did, like he still tried to in vain sometimes.

(And sometimes, he very much didn't want to ignore Jounouchi, wondering if he could catch the other man's attention in return...)

None of that explained why they were in the same cab, though.

Jounouchi tried again to communicate. It hurt to listen to him butcher English to that extent. The cab driver appeared to grow even more irate, threatening to eject them entirely.

Giggles spilled uncontrollably out of him. Of course! Of course, Jounouchi's incompetence got them stranded on the opposite end of the city from their hotel.

Fortunately, he was a snack to look at, even if his brains were nothing to write home about.

Seto's words croaked out of him, repeating in Mandarin what Jounouchi had been trying to convey. God, why did it hurt so much to speak? But even his drunken slur sufficed, earning a grousing retort from the driver that Seto should've just said so sooner while shooting a death glare at his other passenger through the rearview mirror.

At the sound of Seto's voice, Jounouchi jolted in shock, releasing the driver's headrest he had been clinging to. After several awkward moments of staring, he inched closer to Seto, stopping short of touching him. But the proximity and the tight enclosure made Seto's skin crawl. Not in an unpleasant way, though. His body tingled and felt a touch flushed.

How would Jounouchi's skin feel against his?

"You alright there, Kaiba?" asked Jounouchi, seemingly floating closer. He waved a hesitant hand in Seto's face.

Base urges welled up in him. He wanted to grab Jounouchi's hand and bite it, no better than a dog, as he once mocked the other man for being. Better yet, he could drag his tongue across the rough palm and lap at his knuckles. Suck his thick fingers into his mouth and learn contentment from how they could fill his mouth.

Seto was never drinking green tea mixed with whisky ever again.

He managed a small noise of confirmation before he twisted away, curling as best as he could around the seatbelt. Something like a whimper pushed at the back of his throat, but he refused to release it. He wouldn't humiliate himself any further. Just as he wouldn't crawl across the middle seat and cuddle into Jounouchi's lap.

But god, he wanted that so much it hurt.

A warm hand landed on his back, and he nearly surrendered as Jounouchi rubbed soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

"It's okay." Jounouchi spoke softly, but somehow it rang louder than the many decibels of Shanghai traffic. "We'll be back at the hotel in time. Just hang in there."

Seto spent the rest of the journey folded into himself, wedged firmly against the side of the taxi, trying and failing not to tremble under Jounouchi's caring touch. With a hushed tone, Jounouchi explained what had happened. It was pure coincidence that he ran into Seto and his "party" at that particular club. (Coincidence is giving chance too much credit. There were only so many high-end nightclubs in the city.) Jounouchi had wandered over to say hi before rejoining his own group. But out of the corner of his eyes, he'd noticed that Kaiba was acting unlike himself. In fact, the entire group seemed a bit off.

Seto was coming to his own conclusion before Jounouchi shared his.

Seto had been drugged. And since he knew better than to take random shit handed to him by strangers, it must've been slipped into his drink. Or maybe it was in the communal cocktail pitcher to begin with.

"They were trying to drag you off to someplace else. Don't ask me where. But you didn't look like you wanted to go, so I stepped in," Jounouchi trailed off. He'd yet to remove his hand, but it sat unmoving, a steadying weight on Seto's back helping to ground him to reality.

"I can't imagine they were happy," Seto muttered.

Jounouchi chuckled. "Not one bit. Acted like I was trying to kill the party. One chick threatened me with her stiletto heel."

"My knight in shining armor." Seto found himself laughing, then regretted it when his head throbbed.

"Don't worry, I didn't hit any of 'em. Mighty tempting, though. I just kinda threw you over my shoulder and high-tailed it outta there. That was how I knew you were really outta it. You barely cursed me out."

Heat associated with both shame and arousal rushed through him. It turned out those biceps he secretly admired weren't just for show.

"Finally, we're here!" exclaimed Jounouchi. His hand also regrettably retreated.

Seto watched blearily as Jounouchi overpaid the driver and leaped out the door. He didn't go far, though. He jogged around the vehicle to Seto's side and yanked open the door. As he leaned in and over Seto to undo the seatbelt buckle, the woody scent of Jounouchi's cologne flooded Seto's nostrils. And his strength was plainly evident as he braced his arms around Seto's shoulders and hip.

"Alright, up we go," urged Jounouchi.

Under any sober circumstance, Seto would've never allowed this to happen. To let Jounouchi touch him, especially as a caretaker. But Seto was the farthest thing from sober, fucked up on whatever combination of alcohol and party drugs he had been unwittingly fed. He didn't have the strength to stand on his own two feet.

So he relied on Jounouchi and his strength. Clung to the man's sweat-slicked neck.

The doorman didn't give them a second glance. Why should he? Seto was simply the latest in an endless stream of drunken guests stumbling back into the five-star hotel.

A lobby concierge approached and tried to help, though. Both Jounouchi and Seto waved him off. Jounouchi likely because he didn't want another stressful not-conversation, and Seto didn't want anyone but Jounouchi touching him right now.

"Hey, what floor?" Jounouchi asked after propping him against the wall of the elevator carriage.

Seto patted down his pockets and was relieved to find his wallet. He didn't expect the fuerdai to rob him blind like a common mugger, but you never knew. He tossed the leather wallet to Jounouchi and croaked, "Key card."

The tournament competitors were provided with single-bed guest rooms. Seto, on the other hand, occupied the Vice Presidential Suite for the week. Their elevator shot toward the top floors, bypassing the dozens of floors between the ground and the suites.

As they ascended, Seto snuck covert glances at the other hand. Despite the air conditioning running at full blast, Jounouchi was still huffing and sweating. Who could blame him? Summer in Shanghai could be blistering.

"Can you walk?" asked Jounouchi when the elevator doors finally parted.

Struck muted, Seto shook his head. His heart raced as Jounouchi wrapped a burly arm around his waist, and together, they hobbled down the hall to the suite's door.

The lights flicked on automatically as they entered, drawing an impressed whistle from Jounouchi as he took in the room.

"Yeah, guess I should've known. You wouldn't be caught dead living like us commoners. Where's the bed in this joint?"

The mention of bed caused something hot and heavy to coil in Seto's navel. Without meaning to, his arm tightened around Jounouchi's neck, which only prompted the other man to grip him tighter, mistaking the action as a plea for more support.

"Bedroom," he moaned, knocking his head against the side of Jounouchi's. He might be imagining it, but he swore Jounouchi shivered and pink flooded down to his neck.

Seconds later, they stumbled into the adjoined bedroom. The spacious room apparently didn't warrant any comments, because Jounouchi deposited Seto on the bed and disappeared from sight.

To say Seto was disappointed was an understatement.

It may be a blessing in disguise. Jounouchi had already done the "decent" thing: extracted him from a dicey situation and brought him to safety. Seto didn't need to embarrass himself in front of the other man any further.

He jumped when a hand grabbed his shoulder, kicking a leg out blindly.

"Relax, it's me."

Silly though it was, Seto did relax as soon as he registered Jounouchi's voice. His firm but careful touch.

"Here. I got you water from the minibar and a cool towel. It's unopened. I promise."

Seto stared helplessly at the two items being offered to him. Jounouchi made no moves, either. They were at a stalemate. At least until the other man sighed and pressed the moist towel to Seto's sweat-dampened forehead. His eyes fluttered closed, and he unleashed a faint moan at how good and chilly it felt.

"C'mon, you gotta drink the water, too. The whole bottle, then I promise to leave you alone."

Panic spiked through Seto's system. Being alone, something he never minded before, suddenly sounded unbearable. He didn't want Jounouchi to leave.

He reached out. Not to take the proffered bottle, as refreshing as its content may be, but to grab Jounouchi's forearm. Jounouchi froze under his clutch.

"You can't leave. I won't let you," said Seto before he could stop himself.

Jounouchi's breath hitched. As he stared at Seto's face, his eyes darkened with something unspeakable. He licked his lips. "Okay, not leaving. Not tonight. Guess someone's gotta keep an eye on you and make sure things don't take a turn for the worse. But you gotta at least let go of my arm. I'll take the couch outside."

Seto slid closer. "I want you—"

Jounouchi gasped. Seto could kiss him at that instant, but his head spun.

He wanted Jounouchi in every conceivable way. Wanted to feel his naked skin against his skin. Wanted to feel his weight pressing down on him as his cock pushed into Seto's hole. Wanted to shatter apart and then let Jounouchi piece him back together in the afterglow, warm and content.

He thought Jounouchi might grant him those things. If only he'd ask for them. But the words remained stubbornly lodged in his throat as sobriety started to creep in on the edges.

"I want you to stay with me," he whispered, holding Jounouchi's shell-shocked gaze.

Tonight and tomorrow. Maybe even for the rest of their lives. One day, Seto would give voice to the whole truth.

Read other prompt fill ficlets here

[ssreeder]

I'm so looking forward to iroh and zuko properly talking and seeing irohs reaction to zuko being gay.

Like we all know he doesn't agree with the fire nation rn but how will he react?

Will he not support him cause sokkas a guy? Will he not support him because it's SOKKA? Will he accept him? Will he reveal he's known for years zuko was gay?

Especially with everything that happened with zhao, regarding to what jee said to bato on their date. (Which is a very understandable perspective, zuko just got out of this very sexually traumatising situation and almost immediately starts a relationship (his first relationship) with sokka, but then again it is a very unique situation)

One thing I love about some atla fics is how they portray the FNs thoughts on queerness, cause on one hand they were one of the only country's (I think) that treated men and women the same but then again it's also the fucking fire nation.

And I also think zukos whole canon arc can be very comparative to queerness,

His dads an asshole and after speaking out against him he throws him out, and zuko try's for 3 years to regain his father's love and acceptance, and then faced with the opportunity of regaining it takes it immediately regardless of who or what he may hurt (iroh, his own morals etc) but once he makes it back home realises how fucked up everything is and eventually confronts his dad and openly tells him he doesn't agree with him then runs aways.

I also wonder if iroh secretly knows jee is queer it doesn't seem that likely to me but it also is iroh so who knows.

<3

I do think Iroh’s reaction will be a big moment for not only the story but for Zuko’s character development. Right now, Zuko’s technically still a prisoner, holding himself there by assuming Iroh will not understand or judge him when in reality he’ll never know what his uncle is thinking until they TALK ABOUT IT. (Which the FN royal family is just sooo good at healthy communication I don’t understand why this is so hard for them lol?!)

I do agree that the suddenness of the relationship combined with the intensity from both zuko and Sokka is very alarming for people looking at it from the outside (I mean we all totally get it cause we were there but others are like uhhhh hmmmm ok this might be concerning) so I get them gossiping and wondering if this is truly real or what the fucks going on with those boys.

I love Zukos canon arc because there’s just so much about zukos story that can be relatable no matter who you are and I think that’s why he is a fan favorite (it doesn’t explain why we torture him the way we do but ehhhh it’s fine haha)

Hmmmmmm does iroh know Jees gay? Depends on how saucy those music nights got ;)

[bugprinz]

happy *checks notes* thminedai thursday!

[turtlemurmurs]

GENTLEMAN SCIENTIST FINALLY GOT A REWORK!!! I STAYED UP ALL NIGHT TO FINISH THIS TO CELEBRATE THE OCCASION!!!

I’ve had a few very silly “beard science” ideas in my head for a while but now that it’s officially relevant~ I really wanted to make a mockup update poster like they used to do for the original game! I hope you all enjoy <3 (Disclaimer: the only thing I took from the actual update is the beard storage thing lmao)

Here’s a slightly more faded probably less readable version aand just the Wilson by himself because he turned out cute <3

[mightymizora]

There is an artist on the Twitter who makes the most !!!!! art and they did a giant Mystra and Gale that has left me shaking with how good it is.

I’m not gonna post it because the haters are too much and they were very precise with tagging but if you’re a curious mutual dm me…

[bunnihearted]

goddess the body feels sooo good after a workout 🫠

[curiosityschild]

Amphibiuary Day 7: Animated

[snowshinobi]

hanahaki disease trope captivates me because (as I interpret it) the call is coming from inside the house. bc you see, the solution is easy. the flowers stop trying to tear their way out of your body if you confess your affections or get over them. go do stuff other than hanging out with your doomed crush for a while or speak your feelings: let the flowers see daylight. but sometimes ... catharsis ... is worse.

it's like when Fall Out Boy said "I'll keep my jealousy close 'cause it's all mine" and when Taking Back Sunday said "if it's not keeping you up nights, then what's the point?" these warm, bloody, one-sided feelings might be as close to reciprocal love as you're gonna get. if you flee or confess and aren't loved in return ... you're healed. free of pain. free of flowers. that precious thing you were holding onto so fiercely, for months ... vanishes.

hanahaki studies the compulsions that drive self-destruction. that turn pain into the means to its own end. human resilience is our greatest strength and an agent of literal body horror. hanahaki paints an intentionally romanticized picture of how vital wanting to get better is to actually getting better. as the adage goes, you can't control how you feel, but you can control what you do about it.

healing is terrifying. watching a character reject it until their death is sobering. watching a character choose it when they are at their most scared and sad and hopeless is ... devastating. it makes me press my hands against the walls of my consciousness.

[cheylouwho]

speaking of being busy. laughs

[lelianaslefthand]

oh and i also revamped charity's design for the 5000th time *kisses her*

i have apparently never posted her on here?? despite being on my oc page??? this was early access charity. never forget what they took from you (dragon tattoo).....

[orcelito]

Man I really hadn't gotten as far in the manga as I thought. I just finished ep 267 of shippuden and it's gearing up for the Gaara vs his dad fight, which I remember being where I dropped off in the manga. Bc I'd been keeping up with new chapters for a while, but with all the war talk... idk it just didn't capture 14 year old me that much. So I stopped keeping up.

Now, though. I find all the war tactics interesting hfkshdk it has me wanting to play a fire emblem game again. Hmmmmmm