#the problem is that something is also wrong with him

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

I think cnc Tumblr porn helped me understand consent better. Like coercion is a brand of cnc, so when I noticed my partner said "I think" instead of yes, and arms pulled away even though other parts were responding, it reminded me of coercion cnc, which lead to a stop and discussion. I might be a bit of a horny fuck, (nothing wrong with that, just inconvenient right now), but is there a way to turn down arousal/libido? Depression, stress, and relationship issues seem to be the big ones on Google, but. Um. Yeah. I'm also worried that things I wouldn't put much weight in could be coercion. Like if I ask about sex they'll feel a time limit on when they have to say yes, or cuddling with them while asking will pressure them towards saying yes.

hi anon,

I'm gonna say first and foremost. let's maybe work on starting a new paragraph when we introduce a new idea. because some of these swerves hit like trucks and you gotta warn a bitch.

anyway, let's talk about it!

no, there's not a reliable way to decrease your libido. that happens to a lot of people via mental or physical health problems and stress, as you noted, as well as in response to some medications or other things that cause hormonal shifts. it's not really something that can be purposefully induced, no matter how irksome being horny may be. life is a series of annoyances.

re: your thoughts on coercion - listen, man, you're going down a bad rabbit hole here. do we want to follow this thought to its logical conclusion? then asking for anything is coercion, because it places pressure on the other person to say yes or risk disappointing you.

when my wife asks me if I want to watch an episode on Once Upon a Time with dinner, he really wants me to say yes even though OUAT sucks so bad that it makes my brain hurt. sometimes I say yes, because I'm in a good mood and I like to make him happy and also because I post OUAT recaps on patreon and I need that sweet sweet #content. but other times I say no! and that's okay with both of us, because I know my wife is a big girl who can handle not always getting exactly what he wants and he knows that I'm not saying no because I hate him or because I think he was being an inconsiderate asshole for asking. and, most importantly, when I say yes he knows I'm not doing that because I feel pressured to say yes but because I'm genuinely fine with it.

if you ask about almost anything there's an expectation to answer eventually. it's entirely reasonable that you would be thinking about sex while cuddling and present the option. if you don't feel that you can trust your partner to say no when they don't really want to do something, then that's something you need to talk about with them! but there also comes a point when you have to believe someone when they say yes rather than perpetually second guessing them.

[cloudyhall]

Tried to recast him with a fan cast. These fan casts are almost never Jewish actors, you'll notice. In fact, there's someone on this very app that recast Will Byers as himself.

Hi.

I think this part is about me, and I wanted to talk about this really quick. Please read the full post before reading this.

First, 

I wanted to say, as well, that I haven’t seen a lot of the evidence of Noah Schnapp supporting Palestine until now. It has given me something to think about. Despite this, I have always thought of myself to be more sympathetic towards Noah than most of my peers. He was 18 when the initial posts went out and lost people he knew in the October 7th attacks. Additionally, I was raised religiously, and constantly was in a mixture of deeply religious environments growing up. I’ve found that most people who are also more sympathetic towards him were raised religiously, and it’s something that I’ve wanted to make a video about for a while now. Regardless of this, he has, unintentionally or not, spread hateful ideas on his social media (mainly Instagram) and has done very little to show change **on the initial platform that he spread the hate on in the first place.** I don’t know if this is due to his views, management team, Netflix, what have you, but he has still done little to publicly show change. I respect very much that he has supported behind closed doors, but my problem still resides in the fact that he has not publicly done much when public support is probably the most effective thing he can do. This is why I do not express those sympathies publicly. I feel that anger towards what he has done is justifiable. I DO NOT BELIEVE THAT HOMOPHOBIA OR ANTISEMITISM IS JUSTIFIABLE, HOWEVER. Do not misconstrue my words.

Second,

I’d like to address the “Tried to recast him with a fan cast. These fan casts are almost never Jewish actors, you'll notice. In fact, there's someone on this very app that recast Will Byers as himself” statement, if it was in regard to me.

I’m not sure if I am lumped in with the non-Jewish actor fan casts, but I would like to state that I am, in fact, Jewish. I am of Polish-Jewish decent. I had ancestors in Nazi death camps. I will not let anyone try to erase that part of me or try to label me as an antisemite or as someone who's trying to erase Jewish people.

I never meant for my videos, or jokes, to come across like that. When the initial Instagram story dropped, it almost felt like the Byler community was in mourning. The promotion (whether intentional or not) of the stickers effected me deeply, to the point where I DM’d Noah asking him to reconsider, even though I know he wouldn’t answer, and I remember it vividly ruining my entire day.

When I have made jokes about recasting Will as myself, I have never tried to come across as homophobic or antisemitic. It was made with light-hearted intent and was more of a cope for myself if anything, and I feel like this very much came across in the video and posts I made. Now, as time has passed, I realize that it was a contribution towards the hate against Noah Schnapp, and I am truly sorry for that. I have never intentionally spread hateful, homophobic, or antisemitic content against anyone, let alone Noah Schnapp, and I am sorry that my video came across in that way. It is now removed from YouTube. Obviously, I have done something very wrong if people view me and my video in this light.

I wanted to respond to this to clarify my stance/why I made those posts and videos. I have never tried to spread hate towards Noah, wished harm upon him, or wanted to erase his legacy entirely.

I also don't joke about that anymore, or even joke/reference it, and I haven't really for a year. I'm upset that it seems as if (from the post) that I am still actively doing this. I am not.

This post, in its entirety, has given me a lot to think about in regard to Noah’s actions and behavior. I just felt a need to talk about this.

Let's Talk About Noah Schnapp

In light of everything that's happened in the last few days—namely Netflix releasing its first teaser for Stranger Things Season 5—many are returning to Stranger Things spaces online here and elsewhere for the first time in months. Maybe years. So, it's time to have this conversation again, because many people weren't here when some of us were having this conversation in the lull between content; and we're due for an update.

Buckle up—this is going to be long. I intend for this to be a mega post on the whole situation in so far as I can cover it, with receipts and screenshots.

The Conversation Around Noah

Put bluntly—the vitriol around Noah Schnapp has become dangerously insane. It's been that way for 2 years, but the renewed spotlight on Stranger Things, especially as Noah is set to take center stage in a Will Byers-centric season, has revived some of the worst elements of the conversation.

"What do you mean?", you may be asking. Well, I think it might just be better to show you:

This is just a sampling. If I showed you every tweet — every post — every video I've seen with this rhetoric, I'd need another medium to do it. A tumblr blog alone couldn't contain it all. But I take it you see my point now.

How Did Things Get This Way?

There are people on this app and on #that app who will say this behavior/treatment is warranted. They'll tell you that Noah is a "genocide supporter." That he "cheered for the deaths of Palestinian babies." That he "celebrated as people were being murdered." But none of this is true.

As a reminder, this was what Noah actually said—his very first comments on the matter—right after the Hamas attack that happened on October 7, 2023:

Important to note:

"...we will hope and pray for safety, justice, liberation, and self determination in Palestine."

and

"...we will say a Jewish prayer for peace for all Israelis and Palestinians."

That is the literal antithesis of support for a genocide or the wholesale slaughter of anyone.

The very next thing to happen was the infamous "sticker video" about which the most lies have been told, so let's debunk them one by one:

He did not make the stickers.

He did not wear the stickers.

He did not hand out the stickers.

He did not hold up the stickers.

He did not even touch the stickers.

He did not post the video on any social anywhere.

I've posted a pair of screenshots here that give you the gist in lieu of the video itself, but you can Google the video and watch the entire thing to see that I'm telling the truth.

What actually happened was that Noah was taken to a restaurant by a pair of influencers who were his guides while on a school-sponsored trip to Israel. Both were significantly older than him, were responsible for the video in question, were the only ones in it (aside from the waitress) to actually touch the stickers in question... and yet? Noah bore the brunt of the hate that ensued. When the backlash came, they abandoned him and left him to the wolves. (And perhaps because of that, he no longer associates with either one of them, nor follows any related social media accounts—all of which he was required to follow in the first place as terms of going on the trip through his school.)

Noah had just come out of the closet earlier that year and was 18 years-old. He would only turn 19 years-old in the ensuing weeks.

He has addressed these events several times. Most famous was the TikTok that he made explaining his actual position (that he doesn't want anyone, Palestinian or Israeli, to die). Less famous were remarks he made to fans on Snapchat:

I'll post his remarks here for those who can't read the text:

Hey guys! I appreciate you reaching out. To give you context, I did not post this language or this sticker. I was at breakfast with friends, it happened to be an Israeli cafe, and a girl was handing out stickers. Someone photographed me and posted and tagged me. As you guys know better than most people, social media can be used however people want to use it. I understand the weight of the situation and take it very seriously. I have friends of friends who are currently being held hostage in Gaza right now. My friends kids were killed in the massacre at the Israeli music festival. Standing up against this terrorism is important to me and why I made my statement after the attack. As one of the only few Jewish people with a platform, I absolutely think it's important to share my message about hatred for Jews around the world right now. However, everyone online is obviously twisting everything and saying I support genocide and am Islamophobic which is obviously entirely false and never have I stated either of those things. Seeing what is happening to the innocent people in Palestine pains me so much and I wish it would stop. I fully support everyone in Palestine as I said in my post on Instagram. One of my best friends in college is Palestinian and we talk about this issue allllll the time and agree on most things. I think people on social media are just animalistic right now so it's hard to even chime in because they just rip me apart so now I'm staying out of it.

I'll let that stand on it's own. I think it provides the context behind his remarks, the situation with the video/stickers, and his actual views versus how social media portrays his views. It also explains why he hasn't said anything else in almost 2 years.

The key takeaway: He was speaking out against antisemitism and the attack on Jewish people on October 7 and he supports an end to what is happening in Gaza and fully supports Palestinians. He literally says it.

And this support, by the way, has been corroborated by his own actions and the word of mouth from Palestinian organizations he has contributed to:

What Has Happened Since?

It would be easier to list the things that haven't happened; but I'll try anyways:

Noah has been called antisemitic slurs; gay slurs and targeted with gay stereotypes; been compared to antisemitic caricatures; he's been threatened with death and had posts go viral fantasizing about his brutal murder; his family has been threatened; he's been threatened with rape and sexual abuse; there are massive accounts on Twitter that doxxed his location while he was filming Season 5—particularly targeting him when he was alone; he's been hacked, had personal pictures leaked; he's had lies spread about his treatment of his cast mates (all of whom have spoken out and said that they've loved him at some point since, making these claims unequivocally false.

Here are a few examples:

Again, I can only post a sample. I hope that sample is enough to get the message across.

It's hard to overstate how cataclysmic this has been. Obviously, he's recovered and healed a lot since the initial incident; but the damage done needs to be acknowledged. These attacks drove him into a dark place by his own admission. He talked about needing therapy on his (now deleted) private spam TikTok account. And they are starting up yet again.

And Then There's the Fandom

The Stranger Things fandom in the wake of all this has been an irritating place to be. Not just because of the above behavior but because of the blanket hypocrisy.

The shipping sub-fandoms in particular have been rank with antisemitism and homophobia—even the Byler fandom, which is predominantly queer. People have:

A) Taken pre-Stranger Things photos��like his baby pictures or pictures with his family—to use as part of their content, their profile pictures, their banners, their fan art, their fan edits, etc.—violating his and his family's privacy for "Will" all while calling him "ugly," a "fag," and lobbing the above-listed threats at him. B) Tried to recast him with a fan cast. These fan casts are almost never Jewish actors, you'll notice. In fact, there's someone on this very app that recast Will Byers as himself. This is gross and absurd. Will Byers is intrinsically tied to Noah Schnapp. Tied to his identities as a Jewish person and a gay man. Tied to his experiences being a character he helped bring to life during his formative years. C) Persist in stanning or support his cast mates despite the fact that they continue to associate with him. This, in particular, is gross hypocrisy. If you're going to be mad at Noah Schnapp for being in a restaurant around stickers you object to—guilt by proximity/association, in other words—those SAME standards should apply to his cast mates, who continue to hang out with him outside of work, state that they love him, and post him on their social medias. I have a whole post about that here.

Instead, the cast is continually afforded blanket immunity while he is singularly targeted for continued abuse and harassment.

It should give the fandom some pause that openly pro-Palestine actors like Maya Hawke not only continue to hang out with him; but in her Instagram story, even stated that she misses it (check the link above for a screenshot of said story). She wouldn't do that if she thought he somehow supported mass-murder; and she knows him way better than any one reading this blog. That goes for the rest of them, too.

They know him better than you. They know his moral compass and what he believes. And they haven't abandoned him and obviously aren't going to. So, are you going to stick to your guns and apply your anger evenly; or maybe consider that you don't have the full picture?

So, Why Care?

I get this in my Asks so often. "Why do you care?" "He's a celebrity." "He don't know you." "He's not your pookie."

I know. It's not about that.

Yes, full disclosure, I am obviously a fan of Noah's. Have been since the show started. And no it's not because I'm gay and he's gay or because he plays my favorite character in Stranger Things.

Like many of his fans, I've spent the last decade seeing his lives on Instagram and TikTok, seeing his fan interactions, watching his vlogs and videos, and I've come to respect him as a human being quite apart from Will Byers or his role as an actor. Fundamentally, I really believe he is a kind and caring human being. The word of mouth from everyone who knows or has met him bares this out—and, yes, he's even been kind to me in the few conversations we've had.

This is only one example from Instagram during The First Shadow premiere this year; but I think it encapsulates what I like about Noah most. He's kind. He goes out of his way to be kind. He does things he doesn't have to do, contractually or just in general, for the sake of being kind. He always has been.

He's also stood up for a plethora of causes. Black Lives Matters, trans rights, the rights of women. He's known to be his cast mates' biggest supporter—and they'll tell you as much, too.

But quite apart from my personal feelings about him and more importantly: this is wrong.

Antisemitism is wrong. Homophobia is wrong. Both kill. Still, to this day. As I am sitting in my kitchen writing this, the news just broke that an Indigenous gay man and a celebrity was shot dead in front of his husband—after having his home burned down and dogs burned alive—in the United States. Yesterday, news broke that a gathering of peaceful Jewish protesters (which included children and the elderly) demanding the release of hostages still held by Hamas was firebombed in Colorado. Luckily, they all survived, but six people were injured in that attack.

Violence and bigotry are ascendent everywhere right now. Minority communities are being targeted. Normalizing the behavior I've described and shown above kills marginalized people. Regardless of your feeling about Noah as a person or celebrity, normalizing the violent and bigoted remarks, tweets, and behavior towards him harms Jewish and LGBTQIA+ people—all of us.

And just as an example of that, I give you the treatment Finn Wolfhard is now receiving just for the "crime" of shaving his head and being deemed no longer conventionally attractive by the fandom:

Yes, the general audience found out about Finn's Jewish heritage and now he's a target, too.

And this fandom is at fault for it.

You cannot normalize bigotry towards one person and expect it to stay contained to that one person. It will always harm everyone in that community. Finn Wolfhard—or any other actor/actress—being your favorite is not going to spare him from the consequences of a discourse you started.

ALL antisemitism and ALL homophobia needs to be called out. The people who insist it's okay that they do that for ANY reason—regardless of if they themselves are LGBTQIA+ or not—need to be ejected from the fandom and never let back in.

Noah Schnapp is a human being. He does not deserve this treatment. No one does. No one is saying you have to like him or even care about him. But you SHOULD care that this is how he's being treated and the impact it is having on others. The impact on Jewish people. The impact on queer people. Standing up and saying that does not mean you support genocide or murder or bigotry of any kind. Quite the opposite, in fact.

I am a person with left-leaning values. I'm tired of those values being spat on and dragged through the mud by people who think THIS is activism or is in any way helping a cause. It's not. All it is doing is perpetuating harm on a real person and real communities—queer and Jewish alike. And it needs to stop.

Related Blogs:

I've compiled some related blogs that expand on other elements of the situation that I've mentioned above in greater detail. This post was already long enough. I'll be updating this as more content comes out.

Examples of Noah’s Support for Gaza and Palestine (by @nymphus-fan-account)

The Evolution of a Lie

No, the Stranger Things Cast Does Not Hate Noah Schnapp

Lyric Vault’s Obsession with Noah Schnapp

[chimielie]

“Today,” Atsumu announces imperiously, “is the first day of summer.”

“Not until the twentieth,” you say, not turning away from the omelet you’re folding carefully in the pan. You should add “no early morning dramatic declarations” to the list of roommate rules tacked up on the fridge, but you know it would join “no volleyball in the house” and “no drinking on weeknights.” You also know that, like the latter two, the ignorance of the rules would not be entirely Atsumu’s fault. “Please do not be so stupid when it’s so early and I am so, so hungover.”

“Really?” Atsumu’s voice is as bright as his hair. “I feel fine.”

“That’s because,” you roll your eyes as you turn around, sliding the omelet around in the pan in a practiced maneuver as you prepare to flip it. “You have a ridiculously athlet—”

The omelet splatters on the ground.

The hand that’s not holding the now-empty pan comes up and slaps over your eyes, even as you peek through your own fingers.

“It’s the first day of summer,” Atsumu says, clearly pleased to have your full attention and then some. “Because I found my hot boy summer shorts.”

The inseam can’t be longer than five inches. The sun has kissed him all over; with a shudder of disgust (that’s what you’ll call it), you realize you want to too. What a horrifying concept. You’re already mentally carving a place in your to-do list for it.

“Those are obscene,” you say. “What is a hot boy summer? You are not a hot boy. You are an average man.” You are clinging to the edge of a cliff and he is prising your fingers off one by one.

“They’re a little tighter than they were in high school,” he says thoughtfully, flexing his thighs. One, then the other. Then both. The seams are going to pop. Those poor shorts are going to bust. You gape at him, caught between terror and hope.

“What is wrong with you? What is your problem?” You demand, the pretense of hiding behind your hands dropping.

“You’re bein’ mean,” he complains. “You don’t like my shorts?”

“I hate them. Take them off,” you say imperiously. You are going to fire him from being your roommate if he wears those around you ever again. You are going to vote him off the island. You are going to do something so, so inadvisable, and embarrassing, and un-undoable.

“Fine,” he shrugs, and hooks a thumb into his waistband.

“Not what I meant!” You shriek. Your volume startles even yourself and you cringe at the desperate scratch of your voice. His thumb is still just under the fabric, which is forcing your gaze along his hand to his loosely curled, long, lithe fingers, and then to—

Oh, sweet corn on a cob, how did you miss seeing that. You cover your eyes again.

“Are you alright?” He asks. You turn around and face the cabinets with your hands still over your face. You can tell from his tone that he knows the direction of your thoughts. And your line of vision.

“No. You made me spill my omelet.”

“I didn’t make you do anything,” he says. “You did that on your own.”

“It was your fault. Walking around my home looking like a slut—”

“Our home,” he corrects. You splutter wordlessly. When you turn around, he’s standing over you, a smirk toying with his mouth, his eyes dropped to half-mast. You keep your head up, gaze fixed firmly on his face. “Are you objectifyin’ me?”

“No,” you say, eyes dropping. You raise them again with Herculean force. “No. I think of you as a whole person with your own thoughts and-and decisions—“

As you speak, Atsumu steps toward you. You step back.

“What if I decide to do this?” He murmurs, putting a hand on your cheek. He’s warm, like he just stepped out of the sun. “Your face is awful hot.”

“I’ve fallen terribly ill,” you say. “If I faint, you may need to catch me.”

He’s caged you against the counter. You panic, groping to the side to turn off the stove.

“Gonna faint from seein’ my ankles, huh,” he looks supremely self-satisfied, leaning back momentarily to admire the much-more-than-just-the-ankles he has on display.

You seize your chance and lift the hem of your shirt with both hands, pulling it up to your chin.

He stops and reels back, eyes bugging out of his head. You make a break for it, pushing past his arm and running down the hall.

“Oh, you are gonna get it when I catch ya,” he shouts after you, thought he’s still rubbing his eyes in a daze when you glance back.

You laugh to yourself, slowing to a stop just around the corner, out of his line of sight.

The weather forecast is looking like the season is taking a turn for the hotter in your apartment.

[tipsandtrixx]

I also love them because they actually admit to each other that they were wrong or hurtful in something they said or did to the other. Like in the Nostalgia episodes, after Logan gets frustrated and leaves, Virgil calls him out and Logan admits he was wrong to ditch Virgil when he needed him. At the same time, Virgil admits in DWIT that he should have listened to Logan sooner and thanks him for fixing the problem. They're so healthy because they admit when they mess up and appreciate when the other is right where as the others have a problem with admitting when they're wrong or when someone else had a better plan than them.

virgil being aware of an inside joke between janus and remus and HATING that he knows it. i. i thhink im gonna have oragn failure.

[spikesbunny]

can u draw law (finally) hooking up w/ his long-time ally/acquintance but didnt know reader was mtf and just stares at the dick for a while then carries or smth

+ an: i was torn between making law experienced or unexperienced, so i went with my personal favorite (virgin law)!! also apologies, i know i said i write mtf reader, but dicks are not my specialty </3

minors DNI!

trafalgar law had his eyes on you. ever since you stepped onto his ship 10 years ago, offering to be his nurse.

there was something about you, so appealing. maybe your style? the way your hair cascaded over your shoulders? the piercings you had lining your face?

maybe it was your voice. sweet, alluring.

it was gross. the way he felt about you, sitting in his room, jerking himself off to fucking anatomical diagrams of female reproductive organs. he was a doctor, for fucks sake! and your captain!! this was unprofessional on the highest level.

never had law ever been this pathetic over a crewmate. you probably didn't even want him!!! sure, you were sweeter to him than the others on the crew, but you probably just wanted to warm up to your captain. and that sent blood flowing to the wrong places.

fortunately, it was another late night, and you were long gone. hopefully asleep, safe and sound. he hoped you were. he couldn't afford to loose you - not only as a dear friend, but also because he was disgustingly infatuated with you.

law was confident he knew everything about you - or at least, most. not only was he your best friend, but a doctor too. he could solve any problem you had.

minus the fact he gets a hard-on every time he ends up checking your wounds after a battle.

his heart jumps into his throat as footsteps make their way down the hallway, coming towards his office. he sighs, brushing a hand over his face, making a (weak) attempt to focus back on his paperwork and stop fucking day dreaming.

"who is it?" he calls, his tone stern. until he sees you in his doorway. "shit... hey... can't sleep?"

"somethin like that." you coo, making your way over to him. "law, you know its late... get some sleep." you whisper to him, and in that minute he knows he's a goner. his dick twitches to life, and he shifts uncomfortably in the seat.

"it needs to get done."

"lemme stay here then" you ask, settling yourself down onto his lap without a warning. he swallows a moan, nodding, trying to remain nonchalant as he works away.

law's facade fails when you shift your hips, earning a whimper. you turn back, meeting his eyes. "law.. you good??"

law looses it. he can't, he can't lie to you, can't ignore the way his heart pangs when he sees you. "can i eat you out?" he ask.

your face flushes. out of both lust and embarrassment. this is gonna be hard to break to him

"law uhm... no."

"huh?" he pauses, before looking guilty. "shit, im sorry.... hope this didnt make things weir-"

"no, not no you can't, but literally you can't. i wasn't born a girl." you confess."

he blinks. "ohhh... can i suck your dick then?" he ask.

you chuckle, amused by his boldness.

"sure. why not." he sighs, shaky hands moving to set you atop his desk, hands making quick work of your bottoms. he pulls off your pretty panties - a cute touch, he thinks to himself - swallowing at the sight of your dick.

"fuck... uhm... how do i suck dick?" he ask.

right. he was a virgin. "oh, right. uhm..." you grab his face, bringing him down. you press your tip to his lips, watching him slowly take it in. you sigh breathily, giving him a soft 'good'. "use some tongue, and if ya can't fit it all, use yer hands."

he nods around you, slowly lowering his head down, messy and uncoordinated with his movements, slowly starting to gain confidence.

sure, he wasn't the best. but it was the fact he was the one giving you head that made it feel so good. your hand wraps around his hair, pressing him further down, tip hitting his throat and earning a soft whine from his lips.

law whimpers and moans around you, dick twitching and ready to cum just from pleasing you. sure, it wasn't what he had imagined, but fuck, he would kill for this to be a reoccurring thing.

"so close" you groan, pushing him down further, before spilling hot seed down his throat.

law eagerly swallows, pulling off and licking his lips. "w-was that good?" he whispers, eyes teary and meeting yours, seeking your approval.

you nod, bringing him up to kiss his lips. "mhm. perfect."

"now... what should i teach ya next?"

©2025 spikesbunny- please do not repost/translate my works on other media sites ♡

[omgfangirlland]

Kinda want a batfam x reader where she was actually loved but she just didn't notice it.

Bruce didn't want reader to be involved so he hid her but to her it came off as Bruce not wanting to deal with her. She never noticed the loving and longing glances they gave her.. The yearning of wanting to call her their sister/daughter but they couldn't as she was born weak and they didn't want her to be in danger. She began to loathe them but also loathe herself for being born weak. She was smart, able to learn and copy moves but never had the strength to properly execute the techniques. She never noticed how the batfam would protect in her in the shadows while she continue to hate them for not caring for her.

(Bonus, she dies and get sent back to the past, finding out that they care for her or the batfam goes back to the past.. Months before her death and makes up for everything)

-🔱

The born weak part immediately made me think of Jeff "Joker Moreau(I still believe we were robbed of this romance option much like how I think EA were cowards for not letting us romance Garrus and Tali from the first game) from Mass Effect the trilogy, because he has a mild(to severe but it doesn't look like that in the games, just the brittle bones and maybe breathing problems? can't quite remember) case of brittle bone disease, and it's essential to his character, so I'm taking a lot from him- needing leg braces, crutches/cane/walker, his attitude-

I'm also making the batfam go back into the past-

Hope this is the thing you were referencing here 😩⬇️

CW: death, inaccurate depiction of brittle bone disease(my only knowledge is wiki and one videogame character)

PS this will have a part 2 because I started at like 4- it's almost 7:30 rn 😩😩 I'm tired :))

When Bruce first saw you in the back of Gordon's police car, you were a mess. Glassy eyes, busted face, both legs broken, and your nondominant hand bruised to hell. The aftermath of a Bane attack that left you alone, no other family members wanting to take in a sickly child like you, too much responsibility.

And it was- but that wasn't what worried Bruce. The man didn't know how soft he could be with his touch, the pats of praise he gave Dick, Tim or Jason could easily hurt you- what if he squeezed your hand too hard and broke your finger? What if he hugged you too tightly and dislocated something, or cracked your rib?

He was terrified. So terrified, he flinched away the first time you tried to hold his hand- he wasn't prepared, didn't expect it- he was sad for two weeks when you didn't try to hold his hand again. And Dick wasnt any better- he was stressed, shaking with the need to just grab you and swing you around like a doll- which you were in his eyes, the porcelain kind that the tarot reader at the circus always warned threathened him not to touch or he's bound to shatter them into milion of tiny pieces.

Jason met you a lot later, and when he first heard Bruce say that you had brittle bones, he didn't much care. "She's not a china plate, Bruce, she won't break if you look at her wrong." He remembers saying, but seeing you was another story. Your room was on the ground level, and seeing your stiff walking, hearing the metal of your leg braces, your hand around a cane, made him choke on his words.

He knew he shouldn't patronize you, shouldn't baby you- you were more than capable, that was very clear- but everytime you went to sit up, to grab something deemed a bit too heavy in his opinion, every time you were going for the stairs, he was the first to say something against it or to react- hindsight 20/20, he came off ruder than he meant to be.

Tim wasn't talking to you. He was afraid his tired mind would slip and say something that would make you hate him beyond repair, and while he wasn't afraid to touch you, he did think you'd hate it if he did. So he kept to the shadows, to the internet, keeping you out of the eyes of the media and nuking comments he didn't like before you could even have a concept of their existence.

Cassandra was your second shadow from day one, simply refusing not to follow you from the shadows once you were out of your room, which was starting to be less and less. She thought it was a bonding activity, but to you, it was just weird events you refused to acknowledge, because your mind immediately went to ghosts. The salt was way too high? You sigh and turn around to try and find Alfred, but the clicking of a glass on the marble countertop stops you. The salt wasn't on the shelf anymore. "...Thanks?" You take the salt and refuse to look at the cupboard again. Cassandra nods to herself, happy to be of help.

Damian was Bruce's little spy. You thought kids didn't want to be your friend because of your illness, but the truth was that Damian was a jealous and protective kid, and Bruce was ready to bite heads off at the slightest mishap. Like when one kid laughed at your walking aid- Damnian was quick to report back to his father, and Bruce was even quicker to threaten the school and student- nobody would believe how terrifying Bruce "Playboy" Wayne actually is when it comes to his kids.

But all that to you seemed like no one wanted to be near you, that nobody wanted to know you because of how you were born. And slowly, you started resenting your supposed family. You didn't care about your colleagues at school- they were strangers, but Bruce took you in- he was supposed to be different.

At one point, you thought he did it for PR reasons- "Bruce Wayne adopts disabled kid" - you were ready to be paraded around, for him to act up in front of the cameras, but the man barely agreed to let you go to an in-person school. Soon after your mind settled that he simply wanted to hide you, that he deemed you a stain on his name or simply not useful to him since you couldn't be Robin- so you remained quiet, a good kid with high grades, because what else could you do in their eyes besides dream and learn?

You didn't remain quiet when Bruce mentioned that a team of pilots and a spaceship crew would be at the next gala. You begged for an hour straight, almost cried, and when he gave in, you sure did- in the coziness of your own room.

On the day of the gala, you dusted off a dress you bought out of pure spite, expensive and too showy for the graduation party your school had planned- you fully wanted to sneak out and just catch a taxi or get a bolt to your school since Bruce forbade you from going, but when the day came you were simply crying too much due to overhearing tit bits of Jason arguing with Bruce about you.

So your day was spent in your room, doing your hair, having a mental breakdown over your eyeliner being sisters, not twins, and you felt amazing- until Bruce stared you down. He was biting his tongue to not cry, he still sees you as the little tween, and seeing you all dolled up made him realize how fast time passed. To you, he seemed utterly disappointed. And an argument almost broke when he refused to let you use your cane, insisting on the wheelchair. He won. For now.

You were on a mission, and a wheelchair won't stop you, not when you'd be so close to your dream- you just didn't expect to meet your dream while Ivy was attacking. Alas- you stole the spaceship Bruce was presenting as a something-something for the Justice League - you didn't care, you just wanted to pilot the babe.

When his voice came through the coms of the spaceships, you did panic, your replies being grunts and hums, and as they complimented you, you felt vindicated- finally, you couldn't wait to see their faces when they realized it was you who learned in second how to maneuver this beauty through Ivy's attacks, that it was you using the weapons on her plants to get them out of trouble.

Ivy wasn't having it. Her anger and desperation only fueled her powers, and as she took care of the bats, for now, she refocused her full attention on the airship. Attack after attack, you evaded and shot, but one vine came down hard on the tail of the craft, taking the wing out with the engine.

The craft was built to withstand a crash, the interior was made to move as little as possible during such a scenario, and the belts were made to hold tight. Anyone else would have gotten some ugly bruises, but anyone else didn't count for someone with brittle bones.

The crash didn't kill you, the broken spine and punctured lungs from the jolt of the impact and hold of the belt did. It was slow and painful, but you couldn't be happier in your last moment.

The family was in ruins.

They didn't sleep that night... or the one after. Everyone felt guilty to some extent, like they could have done more, better, but Bruce knew you would have stolen the ship either way, your diary said as much. You wanted to prove to him and the others you could do it- could be the best at anything you put your mind up to- and you were. You were amazing, your laughter through the coms will be a memory he'll hold dear to his heart. He wished he had said that while he could.

Dick was punching his way through dummies when he wasn't lethargic, while Jason simply locked himself in his apartment, drowning into his own sorrow. Tim and Cassandra busied themselves with anything they could, anything that would distract them from the need to cry, and Damian was close to stealing your corpse and throwing you in the pit- Alfred decided to sedate them- slightly-, what really put them to sleep was the cuddle pile as they watched movies they took from your room.

When they woke up, they did so in their own rooms, deciding to just lie in their own beds for the day, not quite having it in them to get up... Everyone but Tim, who got up to steal the coffee pot.

The young man stopped dead in his track as he saw your disheveled self eating breakfast. He did something he's only done while severely sleep deprived. Passed out. Your mouth hung open as he made impact with the floor, and all you could do was yell for Alfred with worry.

[bardoftheshire]

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Rodrick Heffley x Reader

Summary; After Rodrick’s found that he likes his best friend, he begins to avoid her. And after a month of not talking to or being around her, it all changes the night he decides to lock Greg in the basement.

Notes; I literally wrote this in 10 hours and I think that’s a new record. It’s maybe poorly written but I just wanted to get something quick out and thought Rodrick would be a good “contestant”.

Warnings; Very little foul language, kissing(?) That’s all..

Word Count; 2,391

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“And don't have anyone over this weekend. Got it?” Mr Heffley scolded, pointing his finger at the two boys.

“Yes, yes.” Rodrick said, rolling his eyes

“Wait, what about Rowley and Y/n? Can they come over?” Greg asked.

Rodrick's eyes grew wide and his head whipped to look at Greg. Greg knew something that Mrs and Mr Heffley didn't, and something that Rodrick would kill him over if he ever said anything about it.

Susan looked at Frank and sighed, looking back at the boys.

“Fine. But only because Y/n will be here. She'll keep all of you three in line. Won't she?” Susan said.

“Yes, mom.” Rodrick rolls his eyes.

“Alright, let's go. Remember, nobody but the Jefferson's.” Susan says before closing the door.

Greg rushes to the phone.

“Get back here you little asshole!” Rodrick shouts, rushing after Greg and getting to the phone first. “No way.”

“Why? I’m just gonna call Rowley to come over. And Y/n.” Greg smirks.

“No you’re not. I’m the boss here so I say Rowley doesn’t get to come.”

“What? Why are you the boss?”

“Because I’m older, idiot. The older one is always the boss.”

It wasn’t really a problem at all, having Rowley over. But what the problem was, was that Y/n would be coming over, too.

Y/n Jefferson, was Rowley’s older sister. She was in the same grade as Rodrick and became friends with him when Greg and Rowley became friends, so a long time. The two were practically attached at the hip, it was rare to see them out and not with eachother or at least not in the same place.

And where the center of the problem lies, is that this now hormonal teenage boy, started catching feelings for the girl he had been friends with since he was 10 years old. And the even bigger problem was that Greg knew.

That being– whenever Rowley came over, he prayed that Y/n wouldn’t come either, because just even the thought of being around her, made his ears ring (or maybe that's just because of the most recent session with his band where he decided to not wear ear plugs) and stomach all swirly to the point he felt nauseous. He couldn’t say a full sentence around her anymore.

Unfortunately for Y/n, this gave her the impression that he no longer wanted anything to do with her. Not good. Rowley noticed her newly found sadness, her once cheerful self that always played with Rowley, now began to isolate herself in her room away from everyone else. He was her brother, and he had to know what was going on. So simply, he just asked.

Three knocks before he entered her room. “Y/n?” Rowley asked.

“Yes, Rowley?” Y/n answered, writing in her notebook in the dim lighting of her room.

“Do you want to play Twisted Wizards with me? I got you a new controller with my allowance.”

Y/n sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I can’t right now, Rowley. I’m busy, okay?”

“But you've only got your name and title on the page and you’ve been in here for hours. Are you okay?” Rowley said, concerned.

And then she broke. She began to sniffle and soon enough Rowley was right next to her rubbing her back.

Y/n turned around in her chair and wrapped her arms around Rowley, pulling him into a hug as she cried.

“What’s wrong?”

Y/n hiccuped before pulling away from the hug and wiping her eyes. “It’s Rodrick.” She sniffled.

You know that brotherly instinct that almost all brothers have about their sisters no matter how old they are? That’s what Rowley felt right now. He knew Rodrick was a little mean, but he was also practically Y/n’s best friend.

“What did he do?” Rowley said, his face plastered with a look of confusion and slight anger. It was hard for Rowley to hate someone because he was very forgiving. Last year proved that with Greg, but someone had just made his sister cry and that just didn’t sit right with Rowley.

“He just, I dunno. Stopped talking to me like, last month. He avoids me at school, doesn’t eat lunch with me anymore, and I think he even told his bandmates not to hang out with me either, because they do the same thing! I just don’t get it, Rowley. Do you know if I did something to upset him? Can you ask Greg?” Y/n waved her arms around.

Rowley knew exactly what the case was. And that’s because Greg can't keep his mouth shut for the life of him when it came to stuff like this.

Click.

Greg had told Rowley about a month ago that he started suspecting Rodrick was catching feelings for Y/n. He noticed that Rodrick started acting funny around Y/n. Like how he would get some new mean sort of confidence whenever she would come over. Like how he would get so red in the face you might suspect that Greg had played another prank on him. Like how he would start stumbling over his words like a kid with a stuttering problem. Or like how Greg saw discarded and crumpled up letters that he dedicated to Y/n.

“Oh. You didn’t do anything, Y/n. Rodrick just likes you.” Rowley shrugged.

“He liked me. Emphasis on the liked, Rowley.”

“No, Y/n. He like likes you. Like how mom and dad like eachother.”

Y/n lifted her head up slowly and furrowed her brows in confusion. “What?”

“Rodrick likes you, Y/n. Greg told me. He said that Rodrick likes you but doesn’t know how to tell you because he’s an idiot or something.”

“Really?” Y/n says with a smile.

The phone began to ring and Rowley left Y/n’s room to go pick it up.

“He likes me?” Y/n smiled to herself as she spun around in her chair, wiping her nose. “He likes me.”

Rowley ran back into Y/n’s room after about a minute of being on the phone with a concerned look on his face. “We have to go, Greg says that Rodrick locked him in the basement and we have to save him.”

“Oh, is mom okay with it?” Y/n asks.

“Yeah, totally.”

“Okay, alright, let’s go then.” Y/n sighed as she got up from her seat.

--------------------------------------

Rowley sneaks around the house to go to the basement window where Greg was probably waiting.

“Rowley, why are you going down there, let’s just go through the front door.” Y/n says as she shuts her car door.

“Shhh, I don’t wanna get caught.”

Y/n shakes her head and waits, seeing Rowley come back to the front of the house and go in with Rodrick. Uh-oh.

She decided to wait it out, but when she found that Rowley still hadn’t come out after five minutes, she decided she needed to go in.

She went to a couple parties, but she was only in 11th grade, so not as many as movies made them out to be. As to how Rodrick got this many people to come to this party of his, she had no idea.

“Rowley? Where are you?” Y/n called out through the crowd. “Hey have any one of you seen a little kid? Red shirt? A little chubby?” She asked a small group of girls. They shook their heads no and walked away.

She huffed and turned around when the house phone started to ring.

“You, don’t touch that phone!” A voice calls out as the music stops. “Everybody freeze! Freeze. If anyone makes a sound, the party is over, and I am a dead man. So shh!”

Y/n turned around the corner into the living room to see Rodrick cautiously and anxiously walking to the phone.

“Hello? Yeah everything’s fine. I was just.. washing dishes.” Dishes? “No problem. Bye. Greg? Oh uh, he can’t. He’s asleep. I don’t want to wake him.” Rodrick talks on the phone as everyone looks at eachother, clearly bored. “The basement? What the heck are you doing down there? Wouldn’t you rather be up here, hanging with me?” Rodrick laughed nervously.

Y/n followed Rodrick as he left the living room and to the basement door, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall as he opened it and gave the phone to Greg.

“Yeah, mom. And I have your number if I need you.” Greg says before the call ends and the music continues.

“Listen up. If you do anything that embarasses me, anything at all, I will-” Rodrick says before Y/n cuts him off.

“You’ll what?” Y/n says with a raised brow.

Rodrick turns around and looks at her in horror. “I uh- I will uh- I will be totally cool with it.” He shrugs.

“Sure.. Hey, Rowley. Let’s go back home now, yeah?” Y/n glared, taking Rowley’s hand.

“What? You don’t want to stay?” Rodrick asks.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Rodrick stayed silent for a moment. He was no longer able to just avoid her, he brought this upon himself.

“How about we go up to your room for a second, yeah?” Y/n proposed quietly.

All Rodrick could do was gulp and nod. The two made their way up the stairs and into his room, with thankfully no one inside. Y/n sighs and sits on the bean bag in the corner of the room.

There was an awkward silence as the two sat across from eachother.

“So.. what have you been up to?” Rodrick laughed nervously.

“I dunno, but you’d know if you were still talking to me this past month.” Y/n felt bad for reminding him, but who wouldn’t be upset about something like this.

Rodrick looked down at the floor, clearly guilty. “Sorry.. It’s just…” He took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to say it so I just avoid it.”

“Like your homework and chores?” Y/n laughed.

“Yeah, I guess.”

This is probably the most serious she’s ever seen him. He didn’t even laugh a little or crack a smile, he just picked at the nail polish on his fingers silently.

Y/n got up from her seat and took a new spot right next to Rodrick and put her head on his shoulder. He never had problems with it before, but now she noticed that he stiffened.

“Do you remember when we would just stay up here for hours doing whatever we wanted. Laughing so hard and yelling so loud that your parents could hear it all the way from the living room? Or even when we would just lie together in silence. The good silence.” Y/n said with a smile.

“Yeah. Remember when you got me grounded for a month?” Rodrick looked down at Y/n with a smile.

“That wasn’t my fault, Rodrick. You took the blame.”

“If I didn’t, then you probably wouldn’t be allowed here anymore.”

Y/n laughed and lifted her head and looked up at Rodrick, a now more comfortable silence filled the room for a minute.

“You like me, don’t you?” Y/n smiles.

“Duh. We’ve been friends for like, 7 years already.” Rodrick said as if it were common sense.

Rodrick obviously wasn’t the brightest out of the bunch in this chaotic family, and that was obviously obvious when he’s so oblivious to things like this.

“No, dummy. I mean like like. Duh.” Y/n laughs.

Rodrick’s mouth felt dry and he couldn’t talk again. If he tried to say something it was sure that only a single word would come out, so without even thinking, he let out that one single word.

“Yes.” He replied with a gulp. His cheeks and ears flushed a bright red.

Y/n grins and lays down. “So Rowley was right?” She said to herself.

“What?”

“Rowley. He told me that Greg told him that you may or may not like like me. He was right.” Y/n giggled.

“What?!” Rodrick’s eyes widened and he shot up. “I’m killing him, he’s so dead!”

“Oh my god, Rodrick, get down here and kiss me already, I’ve been waiting years for this.” Y/n pulled him down back onto the bed with a smile and he complied.

For a guy who thought he was hot shit, he was awfully nervous. His hands shook and he had no idea where to put his hands, how does one even kiss someone? And after what felt like ages, he finally managed to close the gap.

Y/n smiled as he kissed her gently and wrapped her arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.

They pulled away from eachother now out of breath, their lips swollen, and they simply stared at eachother in awe and disbelief. Rodrick had just kissed Y/n? And Y/n definitely did not expect that her childhood friend would be her first kiss, but she couldn’t be more happy that it was.

Y/n pushed Rodrick down onto the bed with a laugh and laid beside him, her hand on his chest and face buried in the crook of his neck.

“I really like like you, Rodrick. Like, a lot.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“Don’t get too full of yourself, now.” Y/n groaned. “Let’s go back downstairs. God only knows what our brothers are doing.”

“What? Who cares about them?” Rodrick says.

“Me? Let’s go, Rodrick.”

The last thing that Y/n ever expected to see as she got down there was Rowley leading a large conga line with some 16 year old girl holding on to him. Sister instincts had just kicked in.

[jacksonekennedy]

Alice was cautioning him of all the things that could go wrong while she swiped one of his Yale beanies. She'd go after his sweats. Even his pajamas, likening her behavior to a bank heist. The problem? Jack would've relinquished all of those things freely.

How could she be a criminal when all she wanted was to smell like Jack whenever she slept? That was no crime. Not in Jack's eyes. Not even close.

"Well, not to be crass, but I usually sleep in my boxers…"

Jack swallowed, wondering how the sleeping arrangements would work in New Mexico. Would they share a hotel room? A bed?

"But I do have some pajama sets."

Not ones he wore often. Usually only whenever it was cold, or whenever he was crashing with family for the holidays. They were nothing special, but they were comfortable. Jack walked over to the other end of the closet, pulling a light blue set from the drawer.

"Actually. Let me fix your bag," Jack offered, and before Alice could respond, he was already reaching for one of his clean gym bags, placing the pajamas inside. He rested the bag on a dresser, scouring his closet selfishly for all of the things he wished to see Alice in. An old gray Knicks t-shirt that Jack had thrifted, circa 1999. Some sweatpants — which Jack was convinced wouldn't even fit her — but he packed them anyway. Some socks, which would also be kind of big. More t-shirts. A few caps — even a black one with the white KNDY logo.

Honestly, Jack didn't expect Alice to return any of these items. And that was okay. He'd rather she keep them.

Jack also realized that they'd only be in New Mexico for a short amount of time. Probably. She had to leave in a few days, so the amount of clothes that he'd packed for her was definitely overkill.

Oh well. At least she'd be covered in him, head to toe.

"Is it still a robbery if I don't press charges?" Jack smiled. She just wanted to smell like him. His heart tightened thinking about Alice wearing one of his Yale t-shirts to bed. His stomach tightened thinking about her wearing that and nothing else.

"But there is, like. An imbalance here."

Jack frowned. Yeah, absolutely. An imbalance.

"Could be an abuse of power, or something." He scratched at the back of his neck, wondering how to address this … issue.

"It's just — you're going to have things that smell like me, and you'll be able to wear them to bed. But I don't think I can fit in any of your clothes. So. What do we do?"

Jack allowed the statement to linger. And his next words were … shameless and out there. He wouldn't have blamed Alice for rolling her eyes. Calling off the trip. Playfully punching him in the shoulder.

"We could sleep together."

Yeah. Jack knew exactly how that sounded, and he'd said it like that on purpose.

"Well. Not like that. Maybe like that." No — Jack had meant it exactly like that, but he had to pretend to save face, right? "But. If we shared a bed, and I held you all night. Maybe it wouldn't be so… imbalanced anymore."

'Well, yes, Alice, you can lie, but you don't have to.'

That, combined with Jack's laugh— it made her glad she'd been so bold.

He seemed to like that.

Whenever Alice had scraped up the courage to just say whatever, let out whatever that was hanging off her lips, Jack seemed to like that. It made Alice want to keep acting like in this way. Touch his face, call him baby as if it were her right. Say that she wanted to lie, for the soul purpose of stealing his clothes.

Jack leads them into the closet.

'You can literally grab anything that you want, baby.'

Man.

Those words drop right from Alice's ear down into her belly.

She wants to seize the collar of his shirt— demand that he call her it again. Baby. Baby, baby, baby.

There's his chin, coming to rest atop her shoulder like a bird alighting to it's perch, his hand, spreading warmth across her abdomen, and Alice shivers. Hard.

'You can rob me blind if you want. I'm gonna grab some sweats and a t-shirt for the flight. It's like … six hours. We'll be there late.'

Man.

"Stop saying things like that," Alice murmurs, feeling the absence of Jack's hand when he kindly opens up drawers for her convenience.

Beanies and hats, like she needed.

"You can't just tell me to rob you blind... baby."

Alice selects an offered beanie— another Yale logo, hah — and tucks it under her arm.

"Because now I'm going to ask you where you keep your sweats, so I can steal some."

Man. Maybe she should tell Jack to turn around so she could strip his closet clean and shove it all into a trash-bag— she was close to going mad with power.

Fucking mad!

But Jack's hand at he abdomen had done it. Stirred up heat inside her, the desire to smell him during every minute of that six hour flight.

Alice reaches over and flicks his shoulder.

"And then I'm gonna fight down the urge to ask you for the location of your pajamas like this is a bank hold-up."

Her lips flutter into a smirk.

"So I can smell like you when I fall asleep..."

[mixed-match-archive]

The continuation of this post

Please note this is illogical bullshit and very much based on my personal feelings so...

Sakura.

1) She was on a team with Jesus and Jesus pt2 so I think it's only fair

2) Naruto spent years chasing sasuke and making big statements like "when you hurt I hurt" and "I want to share your burdens" so any decisions he makes regarding him (ie trusting any information he has about the alien clan) should/realistically would be questioned in the story (but it's not D:) but if Sakura was the hokage she could both vouch for his character and make unbiased decisions regarding him without it being heavily questioned

3 ) she was training under tsunade while she was hokage so it would be a lot easier for her slide into the role then a lot of other characters

Tenten.

1) I like tenten

2) Ok so this is gonna be hard to explain but the interpretation I got from naruto's whole "I'm gonna be the hokage" thing was that he felt it was just the easiest way to make people care about him but after the story plays out naruto has everything he wanted so being the hokage has none of the worth it used to have but he's the hokage in the end anyway which ruins the whole thing but I'm pretty sure the only reason that happened (besides my interpretation being wrong) is because it's been built up so long and it's like damn who else is gonna do it

Whos gonna take the place of hokage thats not important enough to get mad at but at the same time isn't just some guy we've never heard of enter tenten a background character that has little to no interactions with team 7 but is still a strong and capable ninja that we know nothing about which makes the concept of her secretly dreaming of becoming the hokage the tiniest bit more believable

So to quickly wrap up my thoughts to have something naruto strived towards for so long be '''taken''' by a background character and him feeling nothing about it whatsoever would drive home the point that hey maybe I don't have to become the equivalent of a war hero king president God to be loved

And if you're really attracted to him being hokage tenten doesn't HAVE to become hokage she could just make naruto question if he really wants to be hokage which could end in him choosing to continue down the path for reasons other than his unbearable loneliness

Of course this is in a world where my interpretation of naruto is the correct one but every time I rewatch Naruto I think I'm more and more wrong and completely missing the point also this option sucks because it makes tenten a plot device and she doesn't deserve that so disregard it

Kiba.

1) It'd be funny as fuck

2) this post

3) I would like to see how his character acts in this type of scenario

Shino.

1) I think we can all agree that one of the biggest problems in konoha is how much shit gets past the hokage but if shino was the hokage he could just plant bugs on people like picture this

shino: you've been taking an interest in illegal experimentation recently you know that goes against the terms of your probation.

Orochimaru: hokage-sama I only read a book I would hardly call that taking an intere- wait how do you even know about that?

Shino: your headlice told me.

2) it'd be funny as fuck

Shikamaru.

1) He smart

2) He can put in the work if he wants to (ie any situation he's ever been involved in)

3) it'd be funny as fuck

[insomniac4000]

I have to. ChrisMD angst.

The whirring of the fridge was the only sound that filled through the flat. It was like a low droning noise, annoying like a fly who couldn’t work out how to leave through the same window they just came through in. The sound was always there almost mocking her, she sat there in the near silence, the noise crawling into her ear like an irritant as tears pricked her eyes. She never used to be like this, she never would have thought she would be this person; sat on her own at 1 o clock in the morning knees to her chest as she cried. She used to be strong, used to be carefree but all that changed when she met him. Christopher Michael Dixon; the man she loved most but also most hated in the world. The worst part was he hadn’t really done anything wrong, it was more who he was and she knew that would never change which only meant one thing.

It was never going to work.

It was difficult to pinpoint exactly when these feelings started but what was obvious now was she couldn’t keep living like this anymore. The despair, the darkness, the self criticism, the questioning every move she made. It was slowly eating away at her and if she didn’t act soon there would be nothing left.

She pulled herself together long enough to send him a message saying “will you be home alone tomorrow?” and when she got a reply saying yes she sighed and lugged her heavy and tired body to bed.

“I have to say this is such a nice surprise. Did you want breakfast or a cup of te…” Chris trailed off. When he first opened his door he was excited to see her, it had been a couple of days now and they didn’t have plans to see each other for another day but as he spoke looked at her, tired eyes which were slightly glassed over, red rings around them, bottom lip quivering. She really didn’t want to be here, she didn’t want to do this and her feet wanted nothing more but to run away from the whole situation but she couldn’t she HAD to do this, for herself.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his words and his demeanour were all soft.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered, she didn’t want to say it. She felt sick as soon as the words came out of her mouth.

“Come on what’s happened?” Chris tried to put an arm around her waist as he so often did but she pulled back, she knew if she touched him she’d fall into those arms of his and never pull away, he’d never let her go but she couldn’t. She had to be strong.

“I just can’t do this anymore Chris.”

“Do what?” Chris looked scared now, he felt scared. This girl in front of him that he was looking at seemed nothing like the girl he knew, the one he had fallen in love with.

“This. Us.”

“No, please don’t say that. Look come in, sit down we can talk about it,” Chris’s speech was rushed, he fiddled with his hands desperate for something to do, for someone to hold. Knowing that she at least owed him an explanation she nodded and slowly walked into the flat, not looking at him as she hovered awkwardly by the sofa.

“Did you want that cup of tea?” Chris asked slowly, she shook her head a firm no keeping her gaze at her battered up Nike shoes. Chris bought her some news ones a week ago but she daren’t wear them, it didn’t feel right.

“What’s going on my love?” Chris asked and she burst into tears at the name he called her.

“Please don’t. Don’t be nice don’t be you because this already hard enough as it is.” Her voice was shaky and breathless, she was barely keeping things together.

“Look just talk to me and we can work it out.” Chris reached out again with his arm but she walked away shaking her head.

“I haven’t been myself for a while Chris.” She started, hoping it would be easier to talk about her rather than do what she knew would break hers and his hearts.

“I have noticed you’ve been a bit quiet lately. Look whatever it is we can get through it together I just need you to talk to me.”

“But that’s the problem Chris. We can’t get through it.”

“Don’t talk like that. We can get through anything.” He sounded so sure, so sincere.

“Not this.”

“Don’t you love me anymore?” His voice broke which almost broke her, he sounded so quiet, his voice small like his stature. He sounded like she felt, broken. She took a deep breath.

“It’s not that I do and this makes this so much fucking harder!” Her voice got louder as she turned round and faced him for the first time. She wished she didn’t, he looked scared, concerned and like he could break at any moment. It could have been a bet as to who was going to fall first, she was sure who her money was on.

“Chris… it’s not you…”

“I beg you please don’t finish that sentence.”

“You’re amazing and you treat me well, you’re actually the best person I have ever had the pleasure of being in a relationship with but. The camera’s, the fans the comments…”

“… Forget about those!

“I CAN’T! You’re used to people making jokes about you, messaging you random stuff at stupid times of the day, noticing things and talking about them in a jokey way but in reality they are your biggest insecurities and you latch onto that and can’t stop thinking about it.” The words eventually fell out of her mouth, she had been waited to say them for weeks. The relationship went public less than two months ago and in that time things were difficult. She already had reservations about it, she started comparing herself to him and his success for weeks before it all came out in the open and it only opened the can of worms more. The were wiggling and eating away at every part of her confidence, her self-esteem.

“You just have to ignore them..”

“I CAN’T Chris. I’m not like you. I can’t shrug it off and make a joke about it in my next video. I’m not a content creator I’m a fucking building surveyor! When someone calls me plain or boring or a gold digger it gets me. Every single comment one by one has just chipped away and now. Now I don’t even know who I am Chris.” She should have felt like a load left her shoulders, she should have felt lighter but she didn’t, she felt the opposite. She was really doing this and she hated every second of it.

“You just have to learn how to…”

“No. Chris you’re not listening to me. Every single time someone has made a comment it’s just made me feel worse and worse. When I sleep at home and you’re here I cry myself to sleep every time, I sit there and stare at each comment for hours on end trying to work out what they mean. Every time I post something I second, third, fourth guess EVERY thing I do because I’m scared to make the wrong move, it’s in here Chirs,” She tapped her head for good effect.

“I’ll tell them to back off, you should haven’t to feel like that you’re right and we can..”

“…You’re not listening to me Chris. What happens when they ramp it up because I’m being a sensitive bitch, they won’t stop and even if they do stop it’s too late Chris. I’m just going to spend every moment thinking I’m not good enough for you.”

“We know that’s not true.”

“It is Chris. I cant compete with you, your lifestyle. As much as this hurts me to do it’s going to hurt me even more.” She made her way to the front door, Chris chased her as fast as his little legs could.

“Please don’t do this,” Chris’s voice pierced through her heart like a knife.

“I have to.” She whispered and she didn’t look back. This was for the best. Probably.

Chris responded in the way everyone was afraid of, he went completely off the rails. After him and Shannon broke up it was a bit of a running joke until he found love with her the other girl that had broken his heart. This time it was worrying. He had completely lost faith in relationships and instead used women as “what else where they good for.” “They just use you so I’m going to do the same.” Everyone had tried to talk to him; George, the Arthur’s, Will and even Reev had tried to tell him what he was doing wasn’t healthy but it was falling on deaf ears.

“We’ve officially lost him,” George commented one day when they were all at the pub. Chris had left with a girl a few minutes ago, she seemed much more interested then he did.

“I thought he’d do this bullshit for a couple of weeks, mope and get over it like he did before.” Will mused.

“Let me text her, maybe she can knock some sense into him,” a tipsy Arthur Frederick suggested getting his phone out. Arthur Hill took the phone from him.

“That’s a terrible idea,” the musician warned holding the phone up from the fellow Arthur to stop him from getting it.

“Plus it’s not needed,” George added staring at the group of girls who just walked in, the rest of the group looked in that direction also and it was soon clear to see why George was staring. There she was. She looked good, well dressed, made up it looked like she was with colleagues. She looked a little bit thinner than they remembered her but on the whole she looked like she was doing much better than Chris. They decided to ignore it, not wanting to rock the boat, avoided the bar when she was there, making sure they wouldn’t bump into her it was awkward as they kept looking over at her seeing if she noticed them. She only did as they were leaving, only because she was about to go to the toilet and found herself face to face with George. She stared at him, heart pumping as she wondered if he was here.

“How is he?” She asked, she could feel George’s eyes staring her down.

“You don’t want to know.”

“I do.” George simply shook his head before making his way out of the pub. She sighed, she thought he would have been over her by now as she was nothing special. Chris would forget about her but she would always burn a candle for him.

[ysrjune]

Could you write something for when Scott got home and was taken to mt horizon ?

Like uhh he called you beforehand and told you to get ready for your date, and then while they were hauling him into the car they let him make one call and he called you 😭 idk what to put after

“They told me I have a problem. With drugs.” Scott's frustrated tone says over the phone. “It was this or like a juvenile hall or something, I dunno. I wasn't really paying attention.”

“Scott.. you kind of do have a problem..” You frown. “Look, it's like a rehab, right? Better than a place where they yell at you all the time to get it together.”

Scott groans. “I just wanna go home. We were supposed to see each other today.” He sounded like he could cry. “Babe, I dont wanna be here. I dont know these people!” But also.. did he really want to go home.

“Er.. not even home.. to your place. Where I can be safe with you, ya know?” He sniffles. “Babe get me out of here.” It was heartbreaking hearing this. You really did wish that you could come, but he already told you that they told him, only parents were allowed to visit.

“Scott, I—” The man behind Scott hung the phone up, and he got even more upset. “What the hell is wrong with you!? I was talking to my girlfr-”

“Let it go, Scott. You can call her next time. We need to check you in.” The man says and grabs Scott's bags so they could go. Scott wiped his tears and hesitantly walked behind the man. He will call you later.

—

@bxbyysstuff @anakinstwinklebunny @lovethestarrs @valloos @anisangeldust @xo-yaaaaaasxo @anakinca @dollfilmz @gothams-sweetheart @sockiess @sythethecarrot @speaknow-sw @loveamira @alealuvshayden @mvst4far @prettiestmini @amiratheangel @blckberrie @literally-izzyy @litt1e-misssunsh1ne

[serensama]

A Word with Friends: Of Houses, Hearts and Hidden things

Ahhh finally, this thing has a name.

Thank you @hedwigoprah you wondrous creature, I am a fan of this amazing game and this week's word. I may not use it as often as I should but gee when I read it in something, I do enjoy it quite a lot hahah. My thanks to @woundedsoul12 and @jenn2d2 who tagged me in their awesome work too <3 This week got away from me (yes, again, I have a problem) at 3.1k so yeah- LONG POST.

Read on Ao3

Avarice

1. Excessive or inordinatedesire of gain; greed for wealth 2. Inordinate desire for some supposed good.

---

Enduring the Fifth Talon’s cane was nothing; the man was barely putting half of his strength into his hits. He had almost taunted Viago by saying that Caterina could still hit harder than him, but thought better of it; it wasn’t as if he wanted the man to hurt him more. 

Illario had been prepared for his reaction, knowing what would happen when they were found out; it was a certainty that someone would notice them. It wasn’t even cloudy when Lilya led him by the hand through the front door of her shared home with Viago. He knew the moment he agreed to follow what was to come. It was only a matter of time.  

“What were you thinking?!” the older man hissed, striking him again out of fury. “Don’t! You can’t talk yourself out of this one, Dellamorte. You knew I tolerated this idiocy because it made her happy. If you’re deluded enough to think I wasn’t aware of you sniffing around her since the Antiva City mission, you’re more of a fool than I thought. I let this happen because some part of you makes her light up, and I am not yet completely without mercy. But to protect what is mine, I will be. Do not force my hand, Illario. This ends, now. And for Maker’s sake, put on your underwear man, and get out of my House.”

Illario knew that things would be set in motion, and he would either have to accept and live with them, or be incited to rally against them - and he knew which he intended to do. He was well aware of what people thought about him. That he was capricious. That he was materialistic, callous, shallow, and only liked to gamble, duel and fuck. They were not wrong. Those things were all true to a degree, he was as they said- but he was also more. And it was times like these that he was grateful for people continuously underestimating him. 

He put on his underwear and picked up his leathers, reaching into the pouch to pull out a velvet drawstring bag, about to throw it to Viago, but the Talon squinted at him with distrust and shook his head. “Open it, and put whatever is inside on her dresser,” he ordered, not foolish enough to catch something thrown at him by another assassin. 

The younger man sighed and pulled at the strings, then tugged at the fabric to show Viago a small, glass bottle. Even from across the room, Illario could see the way recognition fell upon his face, his eyes glued to the crystal atomiser. He knew what it was. He knew the effort it took to get one, the time and the expense. What people in his position meant by giving someone a bottle of bespoke perfume. 

“Do you even know if she feels the same way about you? Are you so sure in your affections that you would doom two Houses to bloodshed? Do you want to see Lilya hurt?” he asked, still staring at the bottle.  “There are only three certainties in my life, Fifth Talon,” Illario replied, pulling his pants on one leg at a time. “That I will become the First Talon, that I will one day die, and that I will do both with Lilya by my side.” Viago said nothing or deigned even to give the other man another look, moving past him to pick up the bottle before he left the room. 

Illario jumped out of Lilya’s bedroom window, easily hopping down from the second-floor drop. He hoped she liked her perfume and understood the meaning behind such a gift. Viago certainly had. Effortlessly, the Crow bounded over the rooftops and made his way to the building where all the chatty little fledglings congregated, smirking to himself. He didn’t care if he forced Viago’s hand or Caterina’s- he would suffer every blow for both he and Lilya, and then he’d return the favour to them tenfold.  ---

He had never wanted for anything. He’d been a happy enough child- except during his time with Caterina. Even then, he couldn't claim he had it harder than any other Crow. The hollowed out Villa was miserable, Caterina even worse, but he would never insult his brethren like that. Not after he’d borne witness to the training facilities in their capital. 

When he became a full Crow and was deemed worthy to be treated as an actual member of his house again, he gained access to luxuries that would make even the most decadent nobles burn with envy. In a life where everything lay at his fingertips, he regularly indulged in new and exciting pleasures: the finest wines, custom-made livery, and exclusive experiences that could only be afforded by those with the right connections and obscene amounts of coin. And for a time, it worked- a patch over the gaping wound in his chest that never seemed to close, no matter what he did.

He knew there was more to life, even if others thought he cared only for his superficial diversions and his relentless desire to succeed Caterina. But his true avarice did not lie in ambition alone. It ran deeper. It was a hunger to be seen, to be wanted, to be accepted. Perhaps even loved… if he dared admit it.

So imagine his surprise when, after years of searching, he found something that made the ache subside. He still remembered the first time he saw her; he had taken a contract in Antiva City when he happened upon someone who made him stop dead in his tracks. She stood quietly in the corner, stoic, more focused on the children in front of her than on the senior Crow who had entered the training yard. Curious, he stopped one of the trainers from his House and asked about her.  “Hey, Gianni, who is that?” 

“Who?” 

“That one over there, with the black hair past her waist,” he grinned, unable to tear his eyes off of her for more than a couple of seconds. Gianni scanned the yard and scoffed, rolling his eyes at Illario and laughing, thinking the Master Assassin was merely joking. When Illario did not join in and continued to stare at the woman, Gianni sobered and gawked at him, completely baffled. 

“Are you being serious?” 

“What?” he asked, still watching the girl as she corrected her sparring partner’s grip on their dagger. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Have you been living under a rock back there in Treviso? That’s Viago’s girl.”  Illario finally tore his eyes away from her and back to his stricken acquaintance, who appeared to be afraid on his behalf. Typical Gianni, how he had managed to survive as a Crow for so long was anyone’s guess. “What, like Viago’s girl or Viago’s fledgling who just so happens to be a girl?”

“Yes.” Gianni sighed and shook his head, utter disbelief plastered on his tattooed face. “She’s the most promising one of the bunch, escorted here by Viago himself about five years ago. Used to come up here every few months to check in with the instructors, but now she’s close to becoming a full Crow, he’s been coming up much more often to check in and mentor her personally.”  Illario whistled and nodded appreciatively. He had never heard of Viago purposely taking time to directly manage any of his House’s fledglings, either he really did have a special interest in her or he was already making moves to be considered for the next Fifth Talon. 

“So, for once, be smart, Illario-” “I am always smart, Gianni-”  “Yeah, a smartass. Viago isn’t someone you cross, he’s actually eerily similar to your grand-”

Illario pinned the trainer with a sharp glare that made the man swallow his words, coughing nervously as he excused himself. And whilst he didn’t pay any heed to Gianni’s words, he did not approach her for years, until they were chosen to take part in the same contract. 

A member from each House had been handpicked by their Talons and sent to Antiva City for a reconnaissance and assassination contract arranged by the royal family. So, everyone was concerned when Viago had his little paramour stand for House de Riva in place of one of the other Master Assassins under his command. They all wondered if it added credence to the rumour that the Fifth Talon was finally tired of the pretty young thing now that Teia Cantori was in the picture. They all looked at her with a mixture of derision and pity- stupid, little girl- a Talon and bastard son of the King was never going to be her means to a happy ending. What truly impressed Illario was that she didn’t let their not-so-subtle snickers or whispers affect her at all; the youngest of their team acting the most mature. It was laughable. 

They had to form two-man cells to complete their missions, and he raised his hand immediately to be paired with de Riva. There was no contention; they all saw her inexperience as a liability rather than the potential for excitement she might bring. Their comrades rolled their eyes at him and sent knowing smirks his way, assuming he was only after one thing- and happily let him chase after her. She had been quick to voice her displeasure at being paired with him. The first words out of her mouth after leaving the meeting were that Viago would kill her for getting partnered with him, and he laughed, flattered, not at all offended that the Fifth Talon had even thought to warn her about him. He found it absolutely hilarious. “Really? Pray tell, please tell me what Viago de Riva had to say about me.”   Lilya eyed him warily but relented, seeing no harm in his knowing. “He told me to keep my wits about you. That there was more to you than what most people saw.”  Well, well, well. Perhaps he had been too harsh on the man. As much as he kept to himself, he certainly did know how to read people.“He also said that when you tried something, and that you would, I had his permission to kill you.” 

Yes, he really was a great judge of character.  

“Oh really, Baby Crow, you think you’d be able to kill me?” he asked, genuinely entertained by the confidence the little chit had. If he weren’t already intrigued by her, it would have been the beginning of his fascination. Lilya shook her head and smiled up at him, her posture relaxed as she stood before him at a polite distance.  “No, of course not, Master Crow,” she said plainly, both maintaining eye contact for long enough for him to realise her eyes were the exact same shade as his mother’s favourite emerald ring. She stepped forward and invaded his personal space, an audacious thing she was, her hands locked behind her back to show that she was no threat, even leaving her front open, practically welcoming him to try to attack her underhandedly. “I know I can kill you.” 

Lilya smirked up at him. The vixen. He didn’t know why, but he believed her, and he knew it said something about himself that it somehow made her more alluring. Illario wasn’t afraid of her threats, no, he was much more concerned with the fact that this small thing had managed to captivate him by doing so little. It was not just because she was stunning, but she, too, had more bubbling under the surface, and he was ever so curious to find out what. 

Illario tapped her on the nose, Lilya crinkling it slightly which amused him to no end- he almost wanted to ask her to do it again. What in Maferath’s bloody balls was happening to him?  

“I look forward to seeing all you can do, de Riva,” his voice huskier than he intended as his eyes roamed down her form.   

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” she replied wickedly, “but I’ll make sure you don’t.”   

A challenge. That’s all she was. Just a tantalising challenge wrapped in leather and smelling like the flowers his father would give to his mother whenever he’d return from a contract... What were those flowers again? 

She was about to turn and walk away from him, but she thought better of it and locked eyes with him again. He opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly witty when she returned the favour, and tapped him softly on his nose, stunning him. She grinned and wished him a good night and walked away with a sway he wasn’t sure could be taught. Even by the Crows.

Oh, he was going to have so much fun with her, for however long it lasted between them. 

---

But it didn’t end. 

He had waited for the illusion to fade, for her veneer to dull. Waited for his desire to be sated, for the thrill of the chase to slow down into banal routine, for the smile she drew from him to lose its warmth and become just the practised curling of his lips. But it never happened. Each time he returned, he wanted more. She shone brighter, each touch and taste of her sweeter than the last. Everything- both familiar and new- remained vibrant, intoxicating, and effervescent. His smile for her never faltered, not once.

It was enough to drive him mad, if he weren’t already half-mad from whatever spell Lilya had cast over him.

She cut through all his bullshit, had seen him more bare than anyone and still wanted to be around him. It was unheard of, unthinkable, unbelievable. Yet there she was. She tried to convince him (her, it was always her that needed convincing) that it was just for fun, just good sex, that she enjoyed spending time with him, and it really wasn’t serious. That they were able to walk away at any time, no strings attached. Like good little Crows.

And there they were, four years later, more entwined than ever. Neither knew where to begin cutting away at their attachment without tearing into themselves, only to find pieces of the other still clinging, impossible to remove, without leaving something important behind. There was no clean break for them, only the painful truth that moving on would mean losing parts of themselves they could not bear to part with (each other, they did not want to lose each other).

Illario didn’t know how to go back to the time before she became part of his life. To return to the dull and the dreary- the contracts, the mindless games of craps at the Diamond, and the endless waiting. Always waiting, for Caterina to make up her mind.

How was he supposed to go from sipping cappuccinos at Café Pietre in the mornings, as they sat back-to-back, both of them reading the latest serials from Tevinter... to nothing? From cuddling on a random rooftop, far from prying eyes, watching the skyline of Treviso shift and shimmer as the city changed. From those days when he came back from a contract feeling tainted, scrubbing himself raw, only for the noise in his head to quiet at the gentle brush of her hand through his hair. The sound of her humming, steady and soft, easing a pain he hadn’t even known he carried.

How could he lose all of that?

He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t. 

The sound of a carriage drew near, his ears picking up on the horses’ hooves on the street just in time to start moving, his introspection almost causing him to miss her after waiting for her for the last four hours at the least-travelled passage to get to Antiva City. He thanked his gut for knowing the overly paranoid bastard would send his right-hand through there in case there was to be a confrontation, and Lilya was forced to reveal where her real talents lay; there would be little risk of witnesses. 

He threw caution to the wind and leapt between the buildings to descend from his perch, losing his footing when one particularly loose tile slid down the roof, causing the assassin to fall short of his intended landing and almost swearing loudly enough for the carriage driver to hear. Illario crouched low to the ground, pressing himself into the shadows so the man wouldn’t see him as the carriage rolled by. He grabbed onto the railing just behind the driver’s box, and Illario could feel his ire grow at the old man who still hadn’t noticed anything amiss. If the man had been in charge of her safety, Illario would have slit his throat to save the driver from the embarrassment of doing such a poor job.

He was close enough to the door to hear Lilya swearing and cursing his name, and he almost barked with laughter. There he was, dangling like an idiot to see her- and he was probably the last person she wanted to see, especially after he was the reason she’d been sent off on a useless contract. Illario tapped on the driver’s arm; the man jumped at the sudden contact, pulling the carriage to a harsh stop. The Crow flashed his knife at the shaking man and mouthed for him to stay. The driver nodded frantically and dropped the reins to his feet. Illario smiled and tipped an imaginary hat to him.  

“You called for me, Paloma?” he chuckled, opening the door to one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen- Lilya, staring at him with her mouth slightly open and eyes so full of hope that he knew, without doubt, he had made the right choice that day. Following her to her house, risking what could become another Crow civil war, he would do it all again. He would follow her into the Void itself and call it the Maker’s side, so long as she stood by him.

Caterina might never name him as Talon, but he’d be damned if he let her take the one good thing he had left, the one thing he knew was his. She could choke on her pride and the archaic rules that were written in the blood of others; he wasn't giving her up. Not now. Not ever. 

He left Lilya, knowing that she could take care of herself without him or Viago bothering her and hovering on the sidelines. He had to hold up his end and begin his preparations. He didn’t know if six months was enough time for everything he had to do, but he’d do the impossible for her homecoming- oh, it was going to be one hell of a party. 

Softly tagging: @rookamell @mythals-whore @talkmagically @selennes @serstolas @davrinsleftpectoral @thedissonantverses @himluv @hightowerqueen and anyone else who wants to play- im super late this week so I don't know who has been tagged or not TT__TT

[anonmousegosqueak]

Today when the lesson was particularly boring my brain rewired some SoapGaz…

The whole 141 going at a Pub to get drinks, Gaz is one of the least strong against alcohol (still more than the average human though, that one is a giant with great metabolism, the problem is that he is against an old British person, a Scotsman, a mountain tall men and a Russian.

So he gets "a little tispy" while barely walking straight and when he gets back to base with Soap he bevomes like a coala. He grabs Soap's arm, drags him in bed with him and they both fall asleep (haha! You tought the shut was here? You fool! I'm a lover of slower even when it's barely a drabble!) So the next morning they can't look at each other in the eyes because… *points at situation* maybe they have fucked and don't remember, but neither of them remembers so it doesn't count. So the next time they go out for a drink (alone this time) Soap is the one that gets "tipsy" and gaz is the one who has to drag him back to base. But Soap is a horny drink, and Gaz is enough into it that he probably falls for his trap and they end up making out sloppy and then grind into each other because they are too drunk to have coherent and normal sex:)

Yessss

Yessssssssss

Chat, I need to stop writing fics. Creativity is dead, words are hard, I'm literally sobbing because I feel really bad about ignoring Boner's stuff but I just. Can't. WRITE. FICS. So have some ideas instead:3

First time? They're waking up in a panic. Cus like- "oh my God. Did we fuck last night? I mean I'm naked, you're naked- oh fuck we're doomed" ect, ect.

Not only are they both homosexuals with high levels of internalized homophobia (because I said so), they're also both not so subtly into each other. And while yes, they are both Sargents so it's slightly less bad, it's still not exactly *good* to fuck your coworker in almost any situation (unless y'all are porn stars, in which case it's pretty normal.)

So yeah, they uh- they end up avoiding each other for the next week. Talking about it like mature adults? Hah! Do you even know who these people are?

It ends up being pretty obvious that something is up. Even recruits can tell something is wrong, and those bunch are usually clueless. While they're still working together, perfectly professional on the field... Well that's kinda the issue, isn't it? Everyone with two eyes has seen how they pair up, the chaos they cause, the team they make. So for it to all suddenly stop?

But of course, the awkwardness fades.

That week without Price having to clean up after the shenanigans those two were pulling was nice, but it was just that. A week. Soon enough they were simply ignoring that night and pretending nothing happened.

Neither of them were really the type to hold a grudge after all.

So when the second night rolls around? >:3

Gaz is just a bit more sober this time, though probably still more drunk than he should be. Soap on the other hand? He'd just returned from an absolute shit-show of a mission, he needed to unwind. In this case, that means getting absolutely fucking pished.

And obviously, he's a horndog.

I'm talking openly grinding on Gaz in public, no filter, just filth. The one good part? His accent gets so thick when he's drunk that no one can understand anything he's saying.

Gaz is pretty drunk and therefore- into it.

So yeah, they stumble back (mostly after Price kicked them out of the bar for being too horny), and have a heated makeout sesh on Gaz's bed. They both pass out before anything serious can happen, but they do manage to cuddle throughout the night, even with Soap's tossing and turning.

The next morning... Well,

It turns out they might not have been drunk enough tbh. Why do I say that? Because they both *clearly* remember swapping spit. They could probably describe what the other man's lips felt like, and hell would they be fantasizing about it as well.

That's not the only difference though...

Because, when they wake up, Soap doesn't run off. Gaz doesn't kick him out. Neither of them speak for quite a bit, but neither of them break it off. They just bask in the warmth and comfort of each other.

They talk over breakfast.

And then they... "get distracted", and accidently burn the pancakes.

By the time they actually get back to the others, it's pretty clear something happened again. Not because of the stoney silence, but because of the warmth that now sits between them.

Aka: they actually talk about their feelings for once and everyone has a happy ending :)

[justanoasisimagines]

Saved you a seat?

Summary: After a long mission, Harcourt insists on a debrief in a cramped hotel room. Adrian realises it's the perfect excuse to have you sit in his lap. Except Chris can't stand you two being affectionate with each other... Pairing: Adrian Chase x Female Reader WordCount: 598 Prompt: Adrian offers you his lap as a seat. Warnings: N/A A/N: 30 Days of 30 Drabbles for my 30th Birthday. If you'd like to see a part 2 of this or more with these two. Let me know. Continuation of this Drabble. Also based on this Headcanon Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!

The mission had been a total disaster. Your information was wrong. Your source had fled the second you caught on. It was a disaster, catastrophic. Everyone was battered, bruised and so desperate for their beds.

All you wanted was to go back to the hotel, take a bath with Adrian, eat something and rest.

Yet Harcourt had to insist on a debrief.

Dragging your body into her hotel room, you struggled you were about to sit down on the adjacent bed, when Adrian waved you over.

“Babe, here, you can sit on my lap.” A weak smile etched on your lips, you make your way over to him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you down on top of him. Your body relaxed into his warmth. Adrian always ran warm. Eyes fluttering closed as you leaned into the curve of Adrian’s neck.

Adrian was safe. Adrian was home.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Your eyes snapped open, and Chris was glaring at the two of you again. You’d never encountered someone so anti PDA before. Which was peculiar to you, coming from the man who frequented threesomes.

“Don’t start this again,” You warned, glaring like a razor-sharp knife. Your body was aching, beat up and bruised, but you’d find the strength to shut him up.

“It’s totally inappropriate.”

“Dude, the only person who has a problem with this is you,” Adebayo replied. You observed Chris give Harcourt a look to back him up, but she shook her head.

“Don’t look at me. As long as it doesn’t affect their work, I don’t care.” Christopher rolled his eyes.

“See, can we get on with the debrief now?” Chris rolled his eyes as the debrief commenced, eyes struggling to stay open, bodies tired and worn. Your eyes struggled to stay open, and Adrian’s hand trailed up and down your back in smooth circles.

“Don’t listen to him, babe. Do you know it’s been four months since he’s gotten laid? I get grouchy after a couple of days.” Adrian whispered as he placed a kiss on the top of your head. You didn’t hide the smirk as you regained focus on the conversation.

“Can you both fucking stop. Whispering amongst each other. What trading secrets now?”

“One, she didn’t say anything. Two, I simply stated the obvious; you're so hellbent on watching us all the time because you can’t get any yourself!”

“That’s bullshit!”

“Is it?”

“It’s either that or jealousy? I get it, man, I have a super hot, amazing girlfriend. Who wouldn’t want to be with her? The problem is she’s mine. Best-friend or not, you’re not taking her from me.”

“Why would I want someone like her?” Sometimes you forget how quickly Adrian’s reflexes are. Suddenly, you were sitting on a mattress, and Adrian and Chris were suddenly toe-to-toe. Adrian’s face turned red.

“Don’t disrespect her! Because if I have to choose, it’s her every time.”

“Yeah’ll you’re not my best friend, Eagly is” Adrian’s face suddenly dropped, as he left the room without another word. Suddenly, everyone was awake, staring directly at Chris.

“Why can’t you just let him be happy? All he wants is your approval, and yet instead of being happy for him, you have to make it about yourself! Next time you have a problem, why don’t you take it out on me? At least I don’t give a shit what you think.” You rose from your seat, ignoring the aches and pains, now worried about Adrian.

“I’ll go sort out your mess, while you think about what you’ve done.”

[lvrspiastri]

single dad aus always live rent free in my mind, so... single dad!arthur being so immature but still dedicated to his kid. maybe reader is friends with charles or works with kids, so thats how they meet. arthur hasnt dated since his kid was born, so he's really awkward and clumsy- but all goes well!

Parenthesisᴬᴸ

i. love. this.

i'm also so happy to get an arthur prompt because i've been obsessed with that man lately. hope this is along the lines of what you were looking for :)

PAIRING: single dad!arthur leclerc x gender-neutral!reader

SUMMARY: the prompt except reader is arthur's son's kindergarten teacher

WORDS: 2k

TAGS/WARNINGS: nothing at all, this is absolute fluff, maybe a curse word here and there. kids.

Having dinner with one of my kindergarten students' fathers was out of the question. Not for any official reason—it just felt fucking wrong. Still, every time Frederic's father, Arthur, walked into my classroom for a parent-teacher meeting, I found myself at a loss. Something about his soft Monegasque accent—it all made it hard to remember why the rules mattered in the first place.

He never lingered on purpose. Always polite, always a little too formal, like he’d rehearsed what to say on the drive over. He asked about Frederic’s reading, worried over handwriting, nodded earnestly when I reassured him. And maybe it should’ve been easy to brush of. Just another parent doing his best. But then he’d smile, quick and shy, and run a hand through his hair like he was apologising for taking up space.

Once, he brought a thermos of coffee and offered me some before realising how strange that might seem. “Sorry, I thought—never mind,” he said, practically shoving it back into his coat. It was ridiculous. And stupidly charming.

That was the problem.

He wasn’t trying to be anything. Not flirtatious, not magnetic. He just was. Earnest, a little awkward, with those kind eyes and the sort of accent that made even “maths homework” sound romantic. He made me laugh without meaning to. He made me nervous without trying.

And worst of all, I don’t think he had a clue.

Watching him ask me out was more embarrassing for him than it was for me. He stuttered constantly, spent too long trying to find the right words in English but finally got out what he wanted to. Dinner. 7 pm. At Ciao Cucina. And I prayed that he would cover the bill because I certainly couldn't. I put effort into the way I looked. Did my hair nicer than I usually do. Fancy shoes. Ironed my top for once. If he was taking me out to a place costlier than my weekly rent, I had to look the part. He picked me up in his motherfucking Ferrari, holding flowers and wearing an Armani suit.

The car smelled like leather and aftershave and something warm I couldn’t quite place—maybe nerves. He held the passenger door open for me (green flag), then rushed to the driver’s side so quickly he almost tripped over the curb. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling too much.

Once we were inside, there was a pause. He fiddled with the air conditioning. Adjusted the volume on the radio. Turned it off again.

“You look…” he started, eyes flicking over to me before darting back to the windshield. “Nice. Very nice.”

I could’ve laughed, but didn’t. “Thank you,” I said, smoothing the hem of my top even though it didn’t need it.

He nodded, the movement terse. “I didn’t know if you would say yes.”

“You asked me to dinner, of course I would've.”

“Yes, but still.” He cleared his throat, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. “You are a teacher. Very professional. I'm a racer.”

“You're a parent,” I said lightly, “who just picked me up in a Ferrari.”

He went bright red. “Ah. Yes. It was… not the best choice. I had another car but it’s with the mechanic. I think it is very pretentious, no?”

“It’s completely ridiculous,” I said, deadpan. “But the flowers helped.”

Ciao Cucina was the kind of place with white tablecloths and waiters who spoke in soft, reverent tones. The lighting was low enough to feel intimate, and the menu didn’t list prices, which was always a bad sign. Arthur looked like he belonged—confident in that quiet, fidgety way of his. I, on the other hand, felt like I was walking into someone else’s life.

The hostess smiled too widely when she saw him. “Signore Leclerc...,” she said, leading us to a corner table with views of the water and the rest of the restaurant. It was private, but not hidden. Like the kind of table people who mattered were supposed to sit at.

Arthur pulled out my chair with the same clumsy formality he’d had all evening. I thanked him. He sat down, adjusted his napkin, and immediately knocked over his water glass.

It wasn’t dramatic. Barely noticeable. Just a soft clink, a quick spill, a muttered curse in French as he reached for a napkin. I bit back a laugh and handed him mine.

“I am very sorry, I haven't been doing this since...since Freddy's mother...” he muttered, eyes fixed on the tablecloth.

“It's fine,” I said, smiling. “It's already going well.”

He looked up at that. Really looked. “You are very kind to me,” he said, softly, almost like it was a fact he didn’t quite understand.

A waiter appeared and poured more water like nothing had happened. Arthur ordered in fluent Italian, and I let him—partly because I didn’t trust myself to pronounce conchigle without making a fool of myself, and partly because it was kind of hot, watching him speak a language that fit his mouth better than English ever could.

When it was my turn, I pointed at the menu and said, “That one, please.”

Arthur smiled like it was the best thing I could have done.

“So,” I said, once we were alone again. “Is this the part where you pretend to be charming, or is the nervous thing your whole brand?”

His ears turned pink. “I was hoping it go away...”

“It’s growing on me.”

He smiled at that. Subtly. Small. Crooked. “It is not intentional,” he said. “The nervous thing. I was not like this before.”

“Before what?”

He hesitated. “Before I became… single father. Before I had to talk to teachers which look like you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That was almost smooth.”

He laughed, short and embarrassed, reaching for his water like it might save him. “I do not know how to do this. Dating. I do not think I have the—how do you say—game?”

“You’re doing fine,” I said, even though everything about him was uneven and offbeat. The people I'd gone out with before came in all sorts. Cocky. Dominant. Vain. Red flags. But whatever he had worked. Because it was honest.

Our food arrived then, perfectly arranged plates that looked like art, not dinner. Arthur picked up his fork, then put it back down.

“I was very bad in school,” he said, out of nowhere. “I think the teachers did not like me. I wanted to do racing like Charles.”

“Is that why you’re overcompensating with your son’s education?”

He blinked, then laughed. “Yes. Maybe. He is clever. I don’t want to ruin that.”

“You’re not ruining anything. He’s bright, curious. A little talkative.”

He grinned. “That is genetic.”

I took a bite of my pasta. It was incredible—rich, warm, ridiculous. “God, this is good.”

He relaxed slightly at that, like the food had granted him permission to enjoy himself. “You eat too fast,” he said, not unkindly.

“I don’t get a lot of slow meals.”

“You deserve them.”

That hung in the air for a second too long.

I took another sip of water. “So do you.”

He didn’t answer, just smiled in that soft, uneven way of his. I could feel myself leaning in without meaning to. This shouldn’t have felt like anything. And yet it did.

We kept eating. Talking. Laughing. The kind of dinner that unfolds slowly, without trying to be perfect. Just enough awkwardness to feel real.

And still, in the back of my mind, a quiet, impossible thought: What am I doing?

He insisted on driving me home, but somehow the route veered—subtly, unintentionally, toward his apartment instead. “Just for a minute,” he said, almost apologetically. “Freddy’s with Alex. And she has to go back home. So I just need to check in.”

I should’ve said no. I should’ve drawn a line somewhere back between the pasta and the moment he said I deserved slow meals. But I didn’t. I nodded, and we drove the rest of the way in a silence that didn’t feel tense. Just full.

His apartment was warm, lived-in. Not what I expected from a man who drove a Ferrari and wore Armani. There were stray socks in the hallway, drawings on the fridge, a stack of unread mail on the entryway table. The kind of place held together by love and a bit of chaos.

Freddy—little Freddy—was on the couch, fast asleep in Lightning McQueen pajamas curled up under a worn fleece blanket. A book lay open beside him. His chest rose and fell in the slow, steady rhythm only children seem to master.

I didn’t mean to stare, but I did.

“He wanted to wait,” Arthur whispered, voice low. “He likes you.”

I smiled, and something in my chest softened, dangerously. “He’s a good kid.”

“I think so too.” He walked over and gently adjusted the blanket, brushing a curl from his son’s forehead with a tenderness so instinctive it knocked the air out of me.

And then it clicked.

Not in a romantic sense. Not exactly. But something about the shape of the room, the stillness of the night, the way Arthur existed here not just as a man but as a father. It made everything slot into place. It wasn’t just attraction anymore. It was the feeling of this. Of shoes by the door, colour pencils on the floor and someone making sure the blanket was still tucked in.

He turned to look at me, a little unsure. “You want tea? Or water? I have very bad beer also.”

I laughed quietly. “Tea’s good.”

He nodded, disappearing into the kitchen with all the grace of someone trying not to wake a sleeping child. And I stood there, in the soft light of a living room that wasn’t mine, staring at a sleeping boy who wasn't mine, somehow making this complicated, impossible situation feel—just for a second—safe.

He handed me the tea with both hands, like it might spill if he didn’t concentrate. He didn't bother with a saucer. Then he cleared a space on the couch beside his sleeping son, nudging aside a plastic dinosaur and a crumpled piece of paper that looked like an unfinished drawing of a treehouse.

“Sorry for the mess,” he said with a sheepish laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been wanting to look for, uh… a nanny. But I do not have much of time.”

I took the tea and sat beside him. “You don’t need to apologise. This is… homey. It’s nice.”

He smiled at that, almost relieved. “Thank you. I try. But there is days when I forget to do laundry or Freddy eats cereal for dinner three nights.”

I looked down at the little boy curled under the blanket. “He looks pretty happy to me.”

He followed my eyes, and something in his face softened again, that same quiet vulnerability I’d seen at school when he worried about spelling tests and playground friendships.

“I just don’t want to get it wrong,” he said. “There is so much I already missed.”

“You’re not getting it wrong.” I hesitated, then added, “You care. A lot. That’s more than a lot of kids ever get.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just sipped his tea, eyes still on his son. Then, quietly, “I used to be someone else. Before. I had a different life. And now, it’s just... this. Him."

The weight of it landed between us—not heavy, not uncomfortable, just real. I found myself setting my tea down, turning slightly toward him. “And is that so bad? This life?”

His gaze flickered up at me then. And for once, he didn’t flinch or look away. “No,” he said. “Not bad. It’s just… hard to share with someone. Or to imagine somebody wanting it.”

“I’m here,” I blurted, before I could think better of it.

And for a long moment, neither of us moved. Freddy shifted slightly in his sleep, murmured something incomprehensible, then settled again. The quiet hummed around us.

He blinked. “Are you?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I think I am.”

He didn’t touch me. Didn’t lean in. Just smiled. A little lopsided. A little stunned. And whispered, “Okay.”

[aaliyah-sturns]

One last goodbye | chris s

Summary: you and chris were a perfect couple, until one night where everything changed

Warnings: angst, cussing, cheating (this is first and third POV)

chris is orange, y/n (you) is pink, matt is blue, nick is purple, ariana is red

a/n: i know I'm 100% gonna disappear again and I'm sorry for that, but I'm back... until I come back but I wasn't feeling lazy today so here y'all go! I also don't support abuse or cheating because no one should go through or do that, and I am also tryna figure out the plot for the fake dating series.

____________________________________________________________

I don't know when it all happened but it was a moment in my life where I was second guessing myself. the day it all started, the day I found out, and the day I won't forget.

I was driving home from work when I stopped at a Mcdonald's. I called the triplets to see if they wanted anything.

I called matt he said he didn't want anything because he's at a friend's house with nick and they won't be home until tomorrow. I told him that's fine and thanks for letting me know before I hung up.

I called chris, but it went straight to voicemail. Huh that's weird he always picks his phone up, I called him again but it still went to voicemail. I decided to give him a 10 piece with large fries since he always orders that.

when I walked into McDonald's, I was greeted by a stranger who held the door for me, I ordered my food and I left when I suddenly overheard a couple arguing.

I didn't pay much attention to it, probably because I didn't want them to think I'm noisy, but at this point they were yelling at each other and making a whole scene, I would hear voice cracks and sniffing I just decided to keep walking to my car and drive home since the food was getting cold.

i opened my door and got in, I put the food in the passenger seat, and buckled my seatbelt, my hands were on the steering wheel but the car wasn't on, I leaned back into the driver's seat, glad that me and chris won't have that problem, boy was I wrong.

when I parked the car outside the triplets house I saw an unfamiliar car. guess Chris was also hanging with his friends, I said turning the car off and grabbing the food, I unlocked the door and put the food on the table,

that's when I heard it.. a moan. a moan that echoed the house. my heart stopped. no it can't be, I said as I slowly went up stairs careful not to make any noise. that's when I heard another moan and another one and another one, at this point I'm right in front of the door, I saw that the bedroom door wasn't closed all the way and had a little gap for me to see the inside of the bedroom.

I slowly turned my gaze to the gap, just to see Chris humping a blond chick moaning his name, I felt sick to my stomach, I didnt know what to do, and suddenly I felt my body betray me.

I barged into the room, their look on their faces looked like they got caught doing something they shouldn't, baby I didn't think you'll be home early, Chris said as he tried to cover the girl, who is she, who? Chris replied fast, Chris don't fucking act stupid with me, WHO IS SHE, you said yelling at the top of your lungs, baby calm down it's jus- FUCK YOU CHRIS, I HOPE YOU FUCKING BURN, YOUR CHEATING ON ME WITH A DUMB BLONDE, I WORK MY ASS OFF FOR THIS RELATIONSHIP, AND THIS IS WHAT I GET IN RETURN, WHAT THE FUCKS WRONG WITH YOU,

DONT FUCKING YELL AT ME, YOUR OVER THERE AT WORK, WE BARLEY EVER FUCK ANYMORE EVER SINCE YOU HAD THAT JOB, AND I'VE BEEN FEELING LONELY AND HORNY, AND I DONT KNOW WHY YOU CALLED HER A DUMB BLONDE BECAUSE SHE FUCKS ME BETTER THAN YOU EVER DID. GO FUCK YOURSELF CHRISTOPHER, I HOPE SHE FUCKING CHEATS ON YOU WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND. you said as you walked out of the room but then suddenly you heard a familiar voice, y/n. You froze, unable to walk, no it can't be, you turned around slowly, ariana! you say in disbelief.

y/n I know we were best friends in highschool, but I was jealous of you, because you dated everyone I liked, and you dated Chris when I told you I liked him, ariana your the same person that fucked the whole football team, i don't wanna hear it, I also don't wanna hear that same sobbing story of your boyfriend cheating on you, when you cheated on him with his best friend pete, so you can keep fucking Chris, you turned your gaze to Chris, have fun with your stds. You said as you slammed the door. you got in your car and started to call nick and tell him what happened, he agreed that your stayed the night with him at his friend's house.

When I arrived at Nick's friend's house, I saw nick outside, he looked.. worried like if his brother was different. hey nick, you okay, you said trying your hardest not to cry, yeah I am but are you, your eyes are watering, it looks like you're gonna cry. and after those last words slipped out of nicks mouth, your tears starting coming down like a waterfall, you dropped down on your knees sobbing, nick crouched down next to you and started hugging you tightly, like if he wasn't gonna see you again.

y/n he said whispering in your ear, I'm sorry he said trying his hardest not to cry now. For what nick, you didn't do anything, there was a silence before nick spoke again. I'm sorry that my brother cheated on you with her, I'm sorry my brother was childish like that, and I'm sorry- and I'm sorry that he didn't keep you like he planned when he was 15. After that sentence flew out of his mouth, you guys just sat there in silence, and the only thing being heard was your sniffing.

-8:36 am-

you barely slept since chris cheated on you, your sleeping on nicks and matts friends couch, when you felt matt tapped your shoulder, you good y/n. Yeah just- just replaying that shit in my head. well we're leaving right now, so come on. matt said grabbing your arm so you had to sit up, ok I'm coming.

you and nick went to your car and Matt went to the van, the drive was quiet, only hearing the song espresso playing on the radio. When you got to the triplets house, you saw that once again ariana's car is here. you sighed and groaned. Hey it's gonna be okay, you have me, you turned your head to nick. thanks nick, you said as you both opened the door and got out of the car.

you and nick started to walk towards the front door. when you entered the house you were greeted by Chris dirty look and ariana's mad expression. You went up to Chris and "your room" and started packing your things, not knowing where to go, you only knew that you didn't wanna see Chris face again. that was when you were greeted by Chris figure standing behind you. What do you want, you said while putting your clothes in a bag, to tell you that ariana doesn't have stds and your lying just so I can leave her and get back with you. You started laughing and you turned around. Do you ever think I wanna get back with you, I would rather jump off a cliff then give you another chance, now go back to your bop girlfriend while I leave. you said turning around and started packing again. Shes not a bop, what is she then, a whore, slut, hoe, neither, Chris answered. you just shrugged your shoulders while still packing your clothes, where you gonna go. Somewhere where I won't see you, and I don't understand why you care all of a sudden. because-

because what, you're gonna say you miss me even though you don't, you're gonna say imma miss you even though you won't, save it Chris, leave me alone, why are you being like this. and suddenly the words "because I hate you" came out of my mouth which was weird because 14 year old me would not believe what I just said. After those words echoed in Chris ears, head and, brain. He froze realized what you said, realized what he did, and realized that you're leaving and won't ever see him again. I'm sorry y/n, i'm sorry for everything. save it. I don't wanna hear it. you say holding your tears, when you left his room, you said your goodbyes to the triplets and left the house. while chris was just frozen where you left him.

as I walked out of the house where held many memories of me and the triplets it was an end. I turned around to look at the house one last time, I put my bags in the backseat and got into the car. I started the car while looking at chris bedroom window one last time

I was only a chapter in your life, even though the whole book was about you.

-

TAGS: @madisonb44r @mattsglassezx @ghost4love