#they don’t talk about it because the other is injured so how could they complain

[theotherbuckley]

I know we say it a lot but a lot of our “I can’t believe Buck and Eddie can’t see what’s right in front on them” moments are the near death experiences. And it’s like we see how much they love each other. We see Buck clawing at the ground and screaming for Eddie so bad that he has to be pulled away by Bobby. We see how Buck needs to be pulled to the ground by Mehta because in that moment Buck can’t think about anything other than the fact that Eddie just got shot in front of him. We see Buck rolling under the truck to save Eddie despite being crushed by one just to save him. We see Eddie screaming for Buck and trying to lift his dead weight before resigning to lowering him. We see Eddie yell “do more”. We see it. But they don’t.

They feel all that grief but they don’t know the other one does too. Most of the time the other gets better and then they pretend that nothing happened or they dive into another relationship and run away. They don’t talk about how it felt to be the one watching (because it’s “not their trauma”).

I want one of them to see the footage of one of these incidents. I want Eddie to see Buck clawing at the ground or pulling him under the truck. I want one of them to see the other break and go:

Oh. I love you too.

[audhdnight]

Just thinking about the common experience of late diagnosed disabled people of “the normal amount of pain is none” and how we’re just supposed to know that despite *some* level of pain being OUR normal for our entire lives, even if it’s usually not super bad it’s just always there.

Thinking about how, when I told my mother this, she asked me “So what’s hurt?” Which is very different than “what hurts?”

I looked at her, confused. “Nothing is hurt. I just hurt.”

And she says “But where do you hurt?”

“Well, right now it’s my stomach and my ankles-“

She cuts me off. “So you twisted your ankle?”

“No,” I say. “My ankles just hurt. I’ve been walking today.”

Now it’s her turn to look confused. “Just walking doesn’t make your ankles hurt. You must have sprained them or something.”

But I shake my head. “Nope. This just happens on days when I walk more than a little bit. My ankles hurt first, then my knees by lunch time. And if I don’t take a nap and stay on my feet all day, my hips will be hurting too.”

“Oh.”

Joint pain is my normal. Sometimes, if I barely walk all day, the ache in my ankles is barely noticeable and doesn’t affect my functioning because I’m used to it. If I do what most able-bodied people would consider to be a “normal” amount of walking, almost all of my joints will hurt by supper. If I have to wash dishes or run any errands, I’ll hurt so bad I can’t walk for the rest of the day.

Then there’s the chronic migraine attacks. I used to have them multiple times a week as a child, and no matter how I explained myself, nobody ever understood that they weren’t just headaches. I experienced those too, and frequently, but they were not the same. Thankfully, at the age of eleven, I found an article explaining migraine triggers. I was able to identify a few of my own triggers, and the frequency of my migraine attacks reduced to maybe a couple a month. For a few years I was basically on cloud nine, I’d never experienced such a lack of pain before and it was so freeing. Unfortunately, migraine is a progressive condition, so the attacks have gotten more frequent over the years.

And then there’s the “random” pains. Some mornings I wake up and my stomach hurts. Or my chest. Or my back. These are just things I have to live with, because my body’s connective tissue is… well, for lack of a better word, faulty. And I never knew that other people didn’t experience this, because how could I? We never talked about it. Sometimes I’d hear people complain about back aches and just assume they were like mine. Of course, I knew that injuring yourself could cause muscle aches, obviously. But I just assumed that *most* of the time, other peoples bodies hurt like mine did. I didn’t realize that humans aren’t supposed to “just hurt” without a connected incident.

And when I try to explain this to able bodied people, their response is always the same. “Well, everyone’s back hurts sometimes.” “Everybody gets headaches sometimes.” “You’re not special just because you’re too lazy to walk. I still go to work when I don’t feel good.” And no matter how many times I try to say that No, you don’t get it, I *always* hurt, they still brush me off and dismiss me.

[dickgraysonsbitch]

Hi! Just found your blog and it’s the best thing ever honestly. I was wondering if you could do a Jason Todd x reader where the reader deals with migraines and sensory overloads? If not that’s totally cool, have a nice day!

thank you so much for your ask!! this was actually my first request ever 😭 nonny you will go down in history 💖 a psa that while i do have mild sensory issues, i don’t have migraines, so any and all criticism is welcome!

warnings: pills/migraines | 1.2k words | dividers by @cafekitsune | requests open !

You fell onto the bed, tucking your knees in close to your chest. Fifty minutes. This goddamned headache had been the bane of your whole existence for fifty minutes, and you couldn’t even catch a bloody break. Every week, it would come back like clockwork, and while you had your routine (two advils, an eye mask, and soothing ocean noises all while sitting in a dark room with a singular, mildly-scented lavender candle with two out of three wicks lit) it didn’t change the fact that every minute that you lay there, the throbbing sensation around your head came back worse than before.

Grasping the tip of your nose, you tilted your head back in order to swallow the pills next to you. If you didn’t, you’d eventually gag on the water, and that wasn’t really a pretty sight to see. It was a miracle that you could even work as a hostess, especially on the graveyard shift, because it was taking every ounce of your willpower not to throw up at even the most tamest memories—a sleepy child with food flying out of their mouth, or a costumer shouting about how ‘insane’ you were when you had only gotten through your second advil of the day. It wasn’t enough, clearly, because if it had been, you wouldn’t be holed up in your dark room like a vampire with chronic pain.

One knock on your window jolts you from your ibuprofen-fueled haze. Two knocks. Three knocks—god, who doesn’t have patience in this stupid city? Not everyone can be a metahuman that travels at the speed of sound.

You open your window, head still pulsing, but all thoughts of another cup of mildly sweetened honey tea dissipates when the Red Hood smoothly slides into your living room/kitchen (it’s Gotham! Rent may be low, but you are poor as hell), removes his helmet, and shakes his head like a wet dog, the domino mask he was wearing underneath somehow not falling off. He shoots you a crooked grin before plopping himself on your couch, resting his legs on your coffee table.

“Shoes off,” you grumble. “And for the millionth time, I have a door for a reason. And I put food on that table, and I don’t want to see your nasty feet on it.” While other people might be a bit more reserved when talking to a Bowery drug lord, you had never given yourself the same boundaries. He’d crashed into your apartment when he was injured one night a few months ago, and since then, the Red Hood swore to one, pay off your window, and two, make sure you were safe. In his words, it was the best way to repay you for saving his life—even though you didn’t really do anything of the sort. Basic stitches that you learnt in high school, because that was what they taught when a vigilante could collapse in your house due to blood loss any minute in Gotham.

“Woah…” he raises his hands up in mock surrender, his eyes glinting with mirth. “What’s wrong? Rough shift?”

He can always tell, and you’ve decided to refrain against trying to lie to the only crime lord that you’ll likely ever be friend with, unless the Penguin unexpectedly decides to lumber up your fire escape. (Hood’s gotten you a spiked baseball bat for occasions like that, because you complained about any firearms). A pang of pain from you head. Mental note, put out the candle, no wicks. Darken the room even more, try and fail to go to sleep. You have your second job in the morning tomorrow. Mental note, take a melatonin if you can’t sleep, pack a few pills of ibuprofen and acetaminophen if you can’t get through your morning shift. It’s two AM right now, you could still get three hours of sleep if you—

A rough, calloused hand gently caresses your cheek, sending a tingling sensation down your jawline, all the way down to the base of your spine. Okay, woah. “Take a deep breath, baby.” Hood’s deep, gravelly voice shakes your from your stupor. Oh. You were slipping back into your anxiety induced panic attacks, and you hadn’t even noticed. You take one deep breath, but instead of feeling like you’re stuffing an oversized pillow into a kid sized cover, you’re at ease, letting fresh air flow into your lungs.

“How you doin’ tonight, huh baby? I saw your kitchen light on, thought I’d stop by.” Red Hood rubs a simple circle pattern into your back, letting you lean onto him.

“I bet…” you take a shallow breath. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

A smile cracks through onto his face. “Nah, baby, just you. All the girls have nothing on you, baby. You want to tell me about your day?”

Maybe it was just his voice, but you were almost immediately more at ease than you wee moments ago. Red Hood would’ve had a great calling as a therapist, or even a guidance counselor, but you weren’t sure that he’d like it if you called him, arguably the most fearsome man in Gotham, a service worker. Men were weird that way.

“C-can you talk to me, Hood? I don’t know… you have a nice voice, I guess. Makes me feel safe.”

You could swear that you heard his voice crack before he cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that. So… I guess I didn’t do much today. Oh! This one sleaze-bag was trying to rob this eighth grader, and I’d never seen this old guy, okay? The kid, his name’s James, he immediately just swings his backpack at him. And I come in, this dude’s already gotten a broken nose…”

He keeps talking about the unexpected things that happened during his day, but your eyes are just trained on Hood. His sharp jaw, his toned arms, his hair and the decent-sized white streak that runs through it, his soft lips and the J scar that covered his left cheekbone, and you wondered what it would be like to know him without the mask on. Would he still be the same, sweet guy that you knew?

In a sudden moment of courage, you take Hood’s hand and squeeze it, your heart pounding nervously against your ribcage. “Thank you, Hood.” You whisper. “I don’t know… I don’t know what I would be done if you weren’t here. I’d probably be still having a killer headache right now.”

He smiles, something that you’ve been seeing him do a lot more often than he’s known for. Red Hood, vigilante, drug lord, crime boss? Nowhere to be seen. You try your hardest to gaze past the white lenses over his eyes, concealing his eye color.

“Jay,” he mutters softly, soft enough that if you hadn’t been sitting so close, you wouldn’t have been able to hear a word that he said. “Call me Jay.”

The head comes come back sometimes, but you usually tend to ignore the headaches after a dose of acetaminophen and a head massage from who might be the world’s best vigilante, Jay. You may not know his full name yet, but you know his heart, and under all that armor, under the Red Hood, is a man with a heart of gold.

please please please let me know if i got anything wrong so i can edit it!

[luffyvace]

PERRROOONAAA x female reader :3

Does anybody on tumblr love Perona as much as I do?!

(Once again, may be more accurate to pre time skip perona 😋)

Perona with a girlfriend seems like such a sweetie!! And I say this in the kindest way possible- but with men (specifically stupid men) she just seems to get upset quicker?? Granted, in the show, as far as I’ve seen she interacts with male more than females (poor her she’s gonna go insane) but then again there’s more guys than girls in op anyway.

Moving on- shopping with her is always fun!! ٩( 'ω' )و you two could shop for hours and hours together. By the way I’m specifically talking about when she dropped zoro off on sabaody. You can’t tell me she didn’t stay for a while and buy a crap ton of cute clothes. Ngl the girls in the background of sabaody had some pretty cute outfits!! Which mean they have good clothing stores. Which means you two definitely when on a shopping spree 😉🤩

I’m talking going from store to store, getting snacks like pretzels and cotton candy in between, going on a few rides n such. And of course getting some sweet deals because your cute and know how to coupon 😋😋

While we’re on the topic I might as well mention fashion. In fact these wouldn’t be Perona headcanons without it⁉️ Like have you SEEN how that girl dresses?! I LOVE her style it’s so cute!! (Opinion: I like her pre time skip fit better) Besides the point tho, I just feel like she couldn’t get along with someone who has no style so IK for sure you’ve got some 🙌

Either that or your okay with her dolling you up LOL. Ngl I feel like she’d love that- whether you can dress or not. She doesn’t even have at least bearsy anymore so who else does she have to glamify??? 😱 Zoro?Mihawk? 😖 No way they’d let her!! 😤 But dw at the very least you know you’ll always look good 😘💋💗

Cooking with Perona! (THAT COULD BE THE NAME OF A TV SHOW AT THIS POINT HAHAHAH) but yes of course cooking is a sort of love language for her, so she’s always cooking you stuff!! Meals, snacks, desserts whatever! She makes them randomly but you’d better appreciate it!!

if you can’t cook she’d have no problem doing it for you, but you simply must appreciate it!! At least thank her verbally if your not gonna do something in return physically! Okay?

if you can, you two have lots of fun cooking each other meals. There has been many days where you make each other your favorite meals then sit down and eat it together all romantic-like. ☺️ Aaaand there’s also times you have little mini arguments as to who’s cooking who’s favorite food tonight.

“No! Sit down I’ve got it, I said!!”

“I’ll do it Perona don’t worry about it!”

“No way! I was gonna make your favorite tonight!”

”huh? No don’t do that, I was gonna make your favorite!”

“well just sit down and let me handle it will you?!” 😤

nothing too serious like I said, just you too being so sappy you argue about who’s gonna cook who’s favorite dinner 😂💗💗

y’all have girl sleepovers at mihawk’s ٩( ᐛ )و

i mean yeah where else but you get me. You two stay up and gossip about any and everything. She’s the gossip type of girl 💯 I’m not saying you are though, so if you aren’t she can talk about anything, she doesn’t mind :) you could always build a pillow fort, read books, paint each other’s nails/toenails and sing instead 💖

she def rants to you about zoro and mihawk being living, breathing headaches. Which, unless your a nonchalant girly- you probably understand. 😭 having alone time with each other is essential to keep the other sane. 😄

her affections are cooking and doing favors for you. She’s also quite protective/big sister like and will make sure your okay randomly throughout your day. She keeps your hair in place and buttons the buttons you forgot to button up. 💖💖 that type of big sister like <33 she may or may not complain a bit (not as much as with zoro) but she’ll do basically any (sane 😭) thing you ask of her. If your ill/injured she forces you to stay in bed as long as it takes until you’ve made a full recovery. I feel she’d have a lot of medical knowledge so that helps ;D

she’d be shy about it when your first getting into the relationship, but after a while..! when in private, I feel like she’d be very soft for cute little kisses! 😚 100% in private though- she doesn’t want any sour faces from zoro or mihawk (😑) she’d make this clear too because she like to be made fun of 😒

her kisses are really soft, so are her lips. She’d probably leave light lipstick stains all over your face. She’d accidentally make those little smooching sounds each time she kisses you. She’s embarrassed about it but you two laugh it off and continue smothering bunches of love all over the other’s features. She really loves kissing your cheeks—they’re so squishy and cute!! <3 and she looooves cute things 😊

Ending it there because if I ever do Perona’s kisses one day that’ll be a spoiler 😱

I ended up loving Perona much more than I thought I would when I started watching one piece 😭💗 not complaining tho !! 💋

[tiyoin]

You wanna know how dangerous twisted wonderland is? Ain’t no way a magicless person can survive. Ruggie can make 20 people fall off the stairs!!!! Riddle can color you but idk what that really does cus we don’t have magic, Leona can turn people into sand, Jamil can hypnotize you, vil can poison food, malleus could kill you.

LITERALLY!!!

it’s so incredibly EASY for a none magicless person to get injured and i mean SERIOUSLY injured.

not only is magic and potions real- but you have someone who can make an ACTUALLY binding contract, someone who can put a magic tracker on you and know your EVERY move, someone who can put you in a glass coffin that makes you pass out-

ruggie jamil leona and epel are the few characters i’d avoid if someone told me about them only by their unique spells

like i would be SHITTING MYSELF if you told me that if i looked into your eyes / left eye you could get me to tell my greatest fears and embarrassments. like suddenly, i can’t see no more 🧑🏻‍🦯🧑🏻‍🦯🧑🏻‍🦯

realizing riddle could collar anyone whenever he wanted and he just doesn’t is so mind bending. like yeah he did collar everyone, but he could collar WHOEVER, WHENEVER and the collared loses their magic while collared???? HELLO??

i’d be so scared and nervous about being the only one not able to do magic. like that guy could set me aflame and there’s nothing i could do.

kalim could be SUCK a menace but he’s too good for that is something the school never knew it needed. because kalim could DRENCH AND SERIOUSLY INJURED PEOPLE just by sending water down a hallway, and his unquie magic lets him let out a lot of fucking water.

remember when he made so much water that the leech twins were able to turn into their merforms and swim back to the dorm in a desert. a desert.

i’d also be shitting bricks thinking that someone could just lift me off the ground via broom. it’d be like a hawk circling a chihuahua or a yorkie. 😭

instead of clumps of fur left there’d be pens and an eraser… maybe a couple of other miscellaneous items like a cartoonish looking bubblegum😭😭

but also,,, think about how amazing their medicine is??? LIKE WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOURE HEALING A SERIOUS HAIRLINE FRACTURE WITH A TROPICAL FRUIT MEDLEY TASTING POTION??!?

or you see someone seriously injured and internally bleeding and instead of a serious procedure they just wrap him like a mummy and wave a wand. THE FAMILY ARENT EVEN THAT AFFECTED- THEYRE SLIGHTLY ANNOYED AT BEST.

“dad we told you not to climb the roof again”

“i survived last time and missed the gate this time. so it’ll be a day shorter for recovery!”

… WHAT ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT?!?? HOW ARE YOU EVEN TALKING RIGHT NOW??!?

imagine trying to escape crewel’s class by complaining of a migraine and not even 5 minutes later he’s next to your cowering form, too scared to lift your head to properly meet his eye. you won’t have a choice though, as crewel’s hard stare forced you to look at the freshly brewed potion he’s offering you.

he ONLY does that if he hates you… or if you’re ace… or grim… sometimes even deuce

not saying everything is a easy fix via potions because there are still cases that need long, strenuous surgeries.

but because of the technology they have they can probably offer a lot more complex surgeries, but require doctors to be another fucking level.

(imagine how disgustingly rich you’d be as a magic doctor 🤤)

let’s not forget about our magical cat-buddy grim whose ears i’m 100% sure are made of fire. fire so hot it’s blue. he has a forked tail which looks pretty pointy if you ask me.

oh let’s not forget he has the impulse control of a 5 year old, the ego of a finance bro and the heart of a cat. he can also use magic. flame magic being his specialty.

you never know when he’s gonna burp up flames or get so excited his ear fire gets bigger and taller.

grim alone is a handful but now you gotta watch out for magical teenage boys?? brother..🥲

[stellari-s]

a promise i want to keep . . .

request; it was a prompt from @judejazza hehe ✨✨ and requests are currently open!

wc; 1 958.

tags; jude jazza x gn! fairytale keeper! reader, injury fic, slight presence of blood, may be kinda ooc (this is my first time writing for jude and ikevil), pain inflicted on reader, best to assume pre-established relationship, jude is softer if you squint a bit 👀

summary; you had gotten injured after a mission because you took a hit for jude, but roger is out right now, and so who ends up treating your injuries? well, who else is there but jude?

you had made a mistake — except that you hadn’t. that is to say: you didn’t think you made a mistake, but in the eyes of the man before you, he apparently seemed to think otherwise.

“ow ow ow, jude,” you hiss, gritting your teeth together in an attempt to distract yourself from the sharp sting on your arm inflicted by a certain ruthless fairy. “be more gentle—please.”

“gentle?” jude repeats your words, albeit with a more cold tone and wicked grin. “i betcha you’re hopin’ for that quack of a doctor to come and treat your wounds so ‘gently’ right about now, but what a shame he’s out. the goddess of luck just ain’t on your side today.”

actually, you don’t mind being with jude... not that you’d admit such a thing to his face.

that, and you could find it in your heart to, i don’t know, be a little more nice.

despite that, though, you know that jude very well could have just left you there. if he was a truly harsh, truly cruel person that others may make him out to be, that would be exactly what he would’ve done. when you think of it like that, you really can’t bring yourself to mind.

that alone was enough to give you a sense of comfort.

you start to retreat into the confines of your own thoughts, and for a while, that is enough to withdraw you from the pain of the wound, letting it fade into a throbbing ache in the background.

that is, until another sharp pain brings you (unpleasantly) back to your senses. “ack, jude, really, if i wasn’t watching you, i would’ve thought you were out to reopen my wound, not treat it, i swear.”

“aw, does it hurt? what a shame ya won’t be protectin’ me next time.” his voice drips with sarcasm, but the next moment his smirk drops into a more serious, or maybe angry, expression. “if ya got the time to complain to me, ya got the time to sit and reflect how much of an idiot ya were back there. should i maybe look at your head first? or if ya prefer to reflect, you can sit on your knees to reflect yourself.”

“i don’t need to be on my knees for you to treat my arm,” you manage to talk back, your shoulders raising and eyes narrowing in a defensive posture.

you had responded the way you did in a somewhat sore attempt to hide how hurt you had felt by the words that pierced through your heart like a blade lathered with a generous coating of poison.

to your surprise, though, you see the silver-haired man before you grin. “oh? seems at least you got some guts.” jude then narrows his purple eyes, which reminds you of a field of violets in a moonlit night and makes you feel strangely calm, as he clicks his tongue in exasperation. “but talk ‘bout a joke goin’ over the head,” he mutters, though his hands continue to clean the wound. it seems he is no longer interested in pressing on the wound purposely for his own amusement.

“...it doesn’t hurt as much.”

the comment was meant for yourself, but it seems it had reached jude’s ears as he directs a glare in your direction. “yeah? want me to do it again?”

you feel a shiver rush up your spine like a spider crawling upwards, causing you to stiffen in place.

“n-no thank you.”

you two fall into a silence after this, letting jude focus on your wound. occasionally you hear him mutter how he was going to make roger pay tenfold for increasing his workload, but it doesn’t escape you how he still pays close attention to your wound.

as he does, the weight of your actions from the mission finally settle in your mind.

at first, when jude had called you an “idiot,” it really did hurt your feelings. you know his words are intentionally harsh, and if he wanted to be nice, he would find a way to twist those words to make them sound mean. but thinking back on the incident that had landed you two in the basement of crown castle as “doctor” and patient, you know the words he had spoken are the truth, even though he had casually waved it off as a “joke.”

— some time ago.

“jude, are you sure we should just walk back? we can always hail a carriage.”

“nah, the mission from queenie’s officially over, but there’s something i gotta check first. goin’ by foot’s faster in this case. if ya going to stick with me though then don’t get in my way.”

as a fairytale keeper, you don’t have an obligation to stick with jude any longer. if you wanted, you could simply go back to the castle, write the report, and submit it to victor. but there is a miniscule feeling tugging in your chest.

perhaps it was an innocent curiosity. a sudden, maybe “idiotic” feeling bubbling inside you urges you to nod your head, say “yes, let me come with” regardless of any rationale. it threatened to overflow.

outside of missions, what was jude like? you knew he ran another business, and that he has made a sea of enemies by now, but what else?

“…please take me with you, jude.”

a smirk graces jude’s lips. “just remember ya asked for it, so don’t come runnin’ to me if ya end up cryin’.”

the meaning of those words would sink in soon after, when apparently someone who is within this vast “sea of enemies” charges head-on toward jude from a blind spot.

jude starts to turn around, but when you see the silver gleam of a knife, your body moves on your own.

he could have protected himself all right. you know that well in your head.

so why did you take a blow for him? for jude, of all people? was it some attempt to cling onto any sense of justice in this dark world that muddled your sense of morality, maybe?

by now, jude had started wrapping gauze around your arm. you simply watch the bright red of your own blood spread like a flower blooming on the white of the fabric.

“…jude?”

“yeah?”

you had thought you were ready to confess your thoughts to him, but much to your chagrin, once you actually open your mouth to speak, the words come out with a slightly trembling, hesitant quality.

“about what you said before. i think… you were right.” you suck in a breath to try and recompose yourself (to little avail). “what i did back there was… idiotic, as you say. i’ll admit that.”

jude doesn’t respond, but you can tell he is listening, even without making eye contact with him.

you take his silence as a cue to continue — or rather, to finish your thought. “but, i don’t think that makes me, as a person, an idiot.”

jude scoffs. “a person is defined by their actions, whether they like it or not. if ya got good intentions but the way ya go ‘bout it is shitty, there ain’t no one who’ll give a damn.”

“that’s quite funny coming from you,” you blurt out before thinking, earning yourself a sharp look from those stormy violet eyes of his.

“ya know that’s besides the point, smartie. if ya really want me to think otherwise, i hope you’re prepared to pay back the debt ya owe. if not… well, at least ya ain’t idiotic enough to not know.”

he finishes wrapping the gauze around your arm then, though he doesn’t let go without giving your arm another squeeze, a threatening motion in its essence.

“ouch! okay, alright, i get it! i will pay you back, so stop squeezing my arm and pressing on the wound!!”

“next time don’t go dawdlin’ around tryin’ to protect me if all ya gonna do is get hurt and give me more work on my plate.”

you see jude’s eyes glare at you, maybe even gleaming slightly due to the lighting. his expression doesn’t bother to conceal his annoyance either. but once again you had come to the realization that — twisted as it was — this was his way of warning you, as one may arguably remember best through pain.

it was his way of protecting you.

his words were mean, but he never once abandoned you; he never left you behind. hell, here he was, probably having better things to do right about now, treating your arm (though that was only because roger was out).

the thought tickles your mind and makes a smile break out on your lips as you try to stifle laughter. jude, on the other hand, doesn’t seem so amused.

“ah? the hell’s so funny?”

“nothing.” more stifled laughter.

“aw, ya can’t be that much of a freak.” jude once again has that wicked smirk playing on his lips, glowing in his eyes. “how ‘bout i sew your mouth shut first for lyin’ through your teeth?”

“say what you want, but i know you won’t actually go through the pain of doing that.”

when you see jude’s eyes widen slightly, you can’t help but let out a small victory cheer in the depth of your heart for catching him off guard, even a little bit.

it was a small victory indeed, though, for jude managed to recover quickly.

“well if ya can go ‘n talk back to me like that, guess ya feel better.”

now it is your turn to feel surprised as jude suddenly lets go, turning his back on you and walking back upstairs in long strides. you lift your arms to reach out for him, unable to move more than that due to surprise for a brief moment. when you can move, you jump off the table on which you sat while jude was treating you to follow after him.

“ah… hey, jude! wait for me! would it kill you to walk a little slower?!”

though you can’t see his expression from where you are (and so you could be completely wrong), you have an inkling at least he isn’t wearing as harsh an expression as he had when he was facing you.

[jude seemed a little mad today.

i do get where he is coming from, too, i really do. that said, a part of me felt that if i hadn’t taken the hit for him, then he would have taken it for me. i’m not sure if he respects me at this point (maybe he just finds me annoying) but still, i’m convinced it’s in his nature to protect others.

like a guardian fairy, he can’t… not protect others. even if it’s in his own, jude way.

that’s why i couldn’t help thinking if jude is the one protecting others, then who is there to protect him?

maybe that person isn’t me, and i think i ended up in jude’s debt rather than earning any semblance of thanks. but even so, i can’t help but feel i want to become that person someday.

perhaps it’s simply naïveté, but that’s why until that day may come, i hope i can at least stay by his side.

“what a shame you won’t be protecting me next time…”

i know you probably won’t see this note, jude, but i just want to say that unfortunately, i don’t think this will stop me from trying in the future, nor do i really regret it.

——after all, just like you have your own promise you want to keep, i, too, have one of my own i do not want to break.]

(found on a crumpled notebook page, ripped neatly out from the book)

[johnkahner]

Hi! I saw your post requesting asks about MK asks and I have no idea why I'm so obsessed with characters from a game I've never played but here we are.

Can I request a fem!reader x MK1 Smoke where reader saves Smoke during the battle at the end on the pyramid and they fight side by side until the end where they finally confess their feelings and it ends with fluff? I just wanna see Tomas happy. Thanks in advance!

AN: Hello! I hope this is to your liking! I love Smoke, and I hope I was able to write his character correctly. This was super fun to write. This wasn't proof read.

Notes: Female Reader and Fluff

Before Armageddon began you and Smoke were talking about the fights to be had. His face is full of concern and his voice of sincerity. He calls your name “I think you should stay back, and let the others and I deal with this.” You look slightly disappointed. You want to protect him and your friends. Though you won’t complain that he is worried about your safety during this fight that could destroy your home.

“Don’t worry Tomas. I don’t want you to worry too much. Just focus on what’s about to happen.”

The two exchange smiles. Then the fight began.You keep distance from him. Fighting when necessary. You want to stay somewhat close to Tomas in case he gets into major trouble. You want him to stay safe. Not just because he is your closest friend, but because he is the one that you want to give your heart to.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The battle against the Titan Deadly Alliance is happening now. Smoke fought many battles to get to this moment. Seeing variants of friends, foes, and some being hybrids of the two. He wants to finish this final fight. He hopes you are safe. With Armageddon happening now he just wants to protect you. When he is dodging attacks from the two sorcerers he makes a mistake. He stumbles. Almost face first.

Smoke notices that someone has appeared in front of him. He sees you. He’s shocked that you are trying to fight both Shang Tsung and Quan Chi to help him out. He decides that now isn’t to scold you for almost getting injured in this fight.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The two of you work together to defeat them. After the battle you two stand side by side. He looks at you with a worried expression. “That was extremely dangerous,” he says your name, “I had things handled.”

Shuffling your feet. “I just didn’t want to see you hurt. It makes me sad just thinking about it…”

“I can say the same about you. Honestly I’ve been wanting to say this for a while now, but I wasn’t sure how to exactly tell you this.”

You look each other in the eyes. Your ears turn a shade of red, while his cheeks are dusted with a pink color. The moment is peaceful. Though the exact location may not be exactly what others would count as ‘romantic’.

“I like you. I think about you more than I think I should. During my training sessions I think of ways I can just impress you.” He confesses his true feelings for you. You smile at him gently resting your hands on his face. You lean in and press your lips to his for a simple and light kiss. Then move to whisper in his ear “Want to go to Madam Bo’s after this?”

[postmodernbeliever]

not for a second longer - fox mulder x female reader (fluff)

fox is coming home from a case that's got him missing you like crazy, and you're (im)patiently waiting.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

my ao3 | word count: 3,070

content tags: dorks in love, fox mulder misses you, domestic fox mulder, fluff, domestic fluff, worry, romance, waiting, overthinking, fox is an idiot (/pos), reunited and it feels so good, just soft fluff that's all, cross-posted on ao3, mentions of murder/case material but briefly!

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡

fox felt like if another second passed without hearing your voice, he might go insane, and this was a first- even for a complete lover boy like him. 

the agent has been away on a case for a few days. not much shorter or longer than any other work he’s done, but this time he couldn’t bear being far from home. he’d done everything just as he always does- there were no changes in the routine he’s tailored since he met you. he called every night to let you know he was safe and hear about your day, even if it was late and he woke you up by doing so; he’d remind you to feed his fish, and ask you about that nagging coworker who the two of you nicknamed hannibal because he always brought something creepily edible for lunch (the man ate steak tartare like his life dependent on it, honestly.) and you’d complain, like always, and you’d ask how his case was going, which would lead to him willingly divulging all kinds of classified information just for fun. you’d offer advice if you could. you weren’t as invested in the paranormal as he was, but you’d had your share of spooky stories, so your middle-of-the-road perspective helped at times. the phone call was always the same, but it didn’t matter what you talked about. he just wanted to hear your voice as badly as you did his, and it put you both at ease. so he called. 

like clockwork, fox admired the engraved backside of his watch before he fell asleep every night, where it said don’t keep me waiting. it was an inside joke that sparked when you’d first started dating. fox warned you up and down about how dangerous his job can be, how he’s been injured and in and out of hospitals and how multiple criminals are likely sitting on plans for his murder if they ever break out of incarceration. he prepared to see you get overwhelmed and leave him due to the potential stress; yet when he packed up for his first case, you kissed him softly, no fear to be felt, and told him not to keep you waiting because you couldn’t promise to keep his fishes alive while he was gone. the watch was last christmas’ gift, and he never took it off, especially when he was away. 

fox even kept with his dorky tradition of taking one of the many shirts you’d left at his apartment and sleeping with it under his pillow, where he could hold onto it and feel like he at least had a piece of you while he was alone. when you found out he did such a thing, you teased him brutally, and then you began leaving clothes in every corner of the apartment for him to save. and you left your spare perfume bottle in his bathroom cabinet, so he could concentrate them with you. 

the man took all the cheesiest precautions to make his work out of state bearable until he could solve the damned things and get back home, but even with all of his bases covered, it wasn't enough. something felt different this time. coming back to a motel every night, like he had for his whole career before he met you, was torture. every moment of the case strung him farther out. now, if you’d asked the lovely and level-headed dana scully why fox was so eager to be done with the case, she would’ve given you a plain and simple explanation: the two were investigating a string of seemingly unrelated murders by men unto their girlfriends, but fox had a suspicion that some kind of entity persuaded each man to kill the girl who kept their beds warm. and with every day that they didn’t track the cause down, he felt the pressing weight of your safety and how much he cared for you, and it was making him- as scully would kindly put it, of course- act out extremely irrationally. even you could put two and two together there, but he’d been a bit avoidant over the phone about this one job, so you didn’t know. fox refused to think about you in connection to the work, though, because to allow his brain to cross its signals and imagine you and him as victim and suspect (as a paranoid brain might) would just be stupid. but whether he meant to think of you or not, everything was putting him on edge by association, and he was itching to see you happy and healthy and still his. 

by the time fox deciphered that the newest date-night romantic comedy at the local movie theater was having midnight showings, and the ticket booth operator was a twenty-five year old involuntary celebate who was admitting loving couples into the place and watching them make out right in front of his jealous eyes, the case was a one-and-done. scully didn’t buy that the employee was telekinetically causing the boyfriends to kill, but the kid got shot in a police chase, so fox was left to his conclusions and she to hers. and he couldn’t drag her ass out of town fast enough. fox was two hours early to the airport. he bounced his leg on the entire flight home, and scully barely got a “see you tomorrow” out by the time he hailed a cab and ordered the driver to his address. 

his gut was twisting itself in knots, hoping you’d be home. you practically lived with him by how much time you spent at his apartment; the truth was that he was away so often, and you just couldn’t sleep unless you could curl up in his bed, with his pillows and blankets and wearing his clothes, and let everything that belonged to him comfort you until you got the man back himself. he knew you’d be there- it was nearly one in the morning. but still, after all this time staring at dead girls and thinking about how in love they were with the trusted boys who slit their throats, he just wanted to collect you into his arms and keep you there. 

you were wide awake because you knew he was on his way. you stayed up all night watching all the classic movies he had on tape, glancing at the clock, trying to stop obsessing over the unlikely crash of his plane. you were standing in his little kitchen, watching the tea kettle boil and listening to the fuzzy transatlantic accents yapping a room away, when the front door of the apartment swung open. 

you didn’t even have time to leave the kitchen. fox threw his bags down like a child and scurried to you, engulfing you in his arms; he drew your body snugly into his and buried his face in your shoulder. he was squeezing the air from your lungs, but you didn’t mind. you combed your fingers through his moussed-up hair, breaking up the curated clumps and reminding it of how it naturally fell against his head. he smelled just as he did when he left, like his ralph lauren polo green- minty and smoky, and so much himself. his soft leather jacket hung onto the smell of his taxi, but you ignored the staleness and inhaled the good stuff. 

“i missed you so much,” fox sighed. the man showered you with kisses all over your neck and jaw, traveling up the valleys of your cheeks to make sure he got your eyes and nose and forehead, too. you squirmed playfully and swatted at his hands, but he only smiled and fought you off.

“jeez, it’s like you thought i died or something!” you giggled. 

fox’s eyes flashed with something that looked like momentary worry, and then it was gone- replaced with a warmth you’d missed more than you realized the past few days. his arms were around you again, this time much gentler, and he asked, “you feel safe with me, don’t you?”

“what? fox, why would you even ask that? of course i do,”

“you know i’d never hurt you,”

“baby, you’re the only person in the world i feel safe with.” you promised, petting the back of his head softly, smoothing the hair down his neck. with both hands, you lifted his face from your shoulder and brought his face close, so you could look right into his ruminative eyes. the man smiled as your thumbs caressed the stubble growing in on his cheeks, those rounded teeth poking out beneath his top lip the way you adored. your chest fluttered, and you couldn’t help but return the gesture. 

“are you okay, baby?” you asked, knocking your forehead against his playfully. 

the man dipped his neck low and pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth. somehow it felt more intimate than if he’d truly kissed you; like by being an inch off base, he was saying more than the real thing could. he always did things like that, such small gestures that would go unnoticed if he was any other guy and you were any other girl, but every move fox made was conscious. each one was a choice that meant something. kissing you in such a way wasn’t a mistake, it was purposeful- he was proving his allegiance, ruling your mouth was more sacred and deserved to be earned. he was poetic in that respect, you knew it, and it made every hair on your body stand up. maybe that’s why you shifted your position and locked him in a normal kiss- a forceful one, at that. to remind him that you were nothing sacred, just someone who desperately loved him. 

you’d missed the way his lips molded to yours, the familiar chapped patches that came from his nervous biting, the way his scruff scratched your chin. you even missed the feeling of his breath as it blew out of his nose and across your face, warm and frequent, because he always seemed to breathe faster when you got close, like a teenage boy. you kissed him hard, letting your hands fall down his chest and press against his abdomen, remembering the sculpted curves of his stomach beneath his t-shirt. fox’s lips curled upwards as you touched him, and in those few moments of your neediness, he was sure you meant what you said before- that you truly did feel safe with him. 

when he pulled away, he brought the pad of his thumb to your plump bottom lip, holding you by the chin. “i’ve been going crazy without you, you know.”

“so have-” you began, but were cut off by the sudden screeching of the forgotten kettle behind you. both fox and yourself jumped, and you rushed to twist the knob on the stove, shutting the thing up in frustration. “sorry.”

“it’s okay,” the agent chuckled.

“you want some?” 

“only if you bring it over to the couch for me,” fox said, batting his eyelashes jokingly. 

“what am i, your mother?” you countered.

fox rolled his eyes and pressed another kiss to your lips, rebutting, “no, but you do love me, don’t you?”

“oh, shut up. go unpack.”

you listened to his footsteps as he went to retrieve his bags and haul them to his bedroom. smiling to yourself, you waited to hear him open the door and laugh. every time he came home, you left his bed an unruly mess and accumulated as many water cups on his nightstand as possible, and he had a love-hate relationship with it (mostly love, because he adored the idea of you living in his space.) a full-bodied sound came from the other side of the apartment, a hearty one, and a voice called, “impressive collection you’ve got in here!”

with two steeping cups of oolong you walked slowly back to fox’s living room, where his copy of vertigo had rewinded to the start. you settled into the couch, putting your feet up on the coffee table and watching jimmy stewart dangle from a drainpipe as you awaited your boyfriend’s return. it always took him a little while to unpack because it was more like repacking- he would swap out all his worn clothes with new ones and throw everything in the hamper, and he had to take out all his necessities only to keep them somewhere easy for him to grab come the next time work sends him away. you were used to waiting for him, but how he acted tonight was making you impatient. 

when fox was finally done and changed into a clean shirt and pajama pants, he headed towards the hallway to come and sit with you. but he paused when he came to the corner, making his steps quiet, so he could take a look at you undisturbed. you were slouched on his old, rickety couch, in clothes all belonging to him; a pair of old gray sweatpants that hugged your thighs, given they were a bit bigger than his skinny ones, his old oxford long sleeve that has a hole in the neck, and a frumpy blue grandpa-style cardigan he hasn’t worn in years. your hair was tucked away in an unraveling braid, with little locks fanning like leaves across the apples of your cheeks. your chipped nails cradled the mug in your palms, and the colors from the box television danced in the reflection of your chunky tortoiseshell glasses. he imagined you sitting like this while he was off on a case, at home in his home, watching his movies and wondering about him like he did of you late at night. you were so pretty and so important that he felt the love buzzing in his fingertips and toes.

the man came around the corner and sat down cautiously on the couch so as not to spill your tea. your face softened at his arrival, and you leaned forward to place your cup down and clamber back to him, throwing your arms around his neck. fox hoisted you onto his lap despite your objections, and he hugged you tighter. he just didn’t feel like letting you go tonight, it seemed. 

“did you eat?” you asked, looking down into those puppy eyes that gazed up. 

“a little while ago.”

“how long was a little while ago?”

“...ten o'clock this morning?” fox grinned sheepishly.

“fox! aren’t you starving? let me go heat something up, i got chinese last night-”

“shh, no, not yet,” he grabbed your hips as you tried to get off of him, “don’t go anywhere yet. sit for a minute.”

“but-”

“no buts. just sit with me a little longer and then i promise i’ll eat, okay?”

you sighed, only half-aggravated, and nodded softly. “alright, fine.”

you rested your head in the crook of his neck, your shoulder pressed to his; he twisted you a bit so you had a chance to look at the tv and sit on him at the same time. fox’s fingers traced mindless shapes against the fabric of his sweatpants on your knee, finally at ease. you stole a glance at him from the side and admired the way even his harshest features seemed to curve softly; his square jaw melted into his neck, his aquiline nose a pretty protrusion alongside his lashes that curled wildly. you always thought his face was the most deserving of marble preservation, far more than those ancient guys. 

“you're missing the movie,” he flushed. 

“i already watched it tonight.” 

the man nuzzled your forehead like a puppy, feeling his stomach flip as your palm rested flat against his chest. you snuggled right up to him and let out a heavy breath you didn’t know you were holding. the two of you sat quietly for a while, taking turns watching each other and remembering what it felt like to be close, and you were half-asleep in the comfort of his arms when his stomach growled and woke you up.

“i’m gonna go make you something,” you chuckled.

“awh, come on, you were just about to sleep!” he whined.

“fox, i want you to eat. once you have a little something then i’ll climb right back on you, promise,” you teased, pushing up off the couch.

“whatever,” he groaned, but there was a toothy smile behind the complaint, so you took it well. 

fox watched as you sauntered off to the kitchen, and he called after you, “hey, wait,”

“what?”

the man hopped off the couch and scrambled to the doorway, where you were only feet from the refrigerator. he stooped down and planted a smooch to your forehead, muttering an, “i love you.”

“just can’t leave my side now, hm?” you nudged fox’s nose with your own and gave him a look so fond it nearly melted him into a puddle on the kitchen tile. “i love you more. now beat it, spooky.”

“hey!”

“shush. go sit down and i’ll make it up to you later.”

‘you’re bossy,” fox crossed his arms, leaning against the wood molding and watching you move towards the fridge.

“well, if you’re not gonna leave, then at least get a pan for me to heat this rice up in, would you?” you ordered, shaking the day-old fried rice container in his face.

“anything for you, darling.”

being without each other could feel impossible at times. no matter how he tried, no set routine could recreate the feeling of falling asleep beside you; nor could any amount of his laundry could conjure fox himself to send you off to work with a kiss every morning. his work made it easy to miss him. but moments like this, where he watched you make him a late-night snack that he would share with you, were the moments that made all the waiting worth it. and the moments that will come after, too- the couch that was waiting for you both to come back to, where you’d fall asleep with your face against his neck, and where he’d fall asleep watching you breathe. nobody knew that absence makes the heart grow fonder more intimately than you two did. but even with that in mind, neither of you cared about that right now. 

he was simply thankful to be with you, the one he called home; thankful that he didn’t have to be without you for a second longer, and so were you.

[starsurface]

Maybe if you could, a CG mk1 Shao Kahn and a clingy, toddler space reader who likes to act tough with Shao. Monkey see monkey do situation because reader loves Shao so much that they wanna be just like him. Jljkjljlhlhkhl okay have a good night or day 🩷

I hope you know, I loved the idea of this request so much that for two weeks I literally couldn’t put it into words, but trust me, a smile spread across my face every time I thought of it. <3

Also hope you have a good day/night, Sugar. <3

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

CG Shao MK1 w/ Clingy Toddlerspace Regressor Hcs

🛡️ AHBDGS, he adores you!!

🛡️ He thinks you are highly entertaining!! A mini him, how proud he is!!

🛡️ . . . Until you copy his bad behaviors 😮‍💨

🛡️ Its all fun and games until you ‘order’ him to get you a refill because your ‘in charge now’ 🙄

🛡️ Honestly though . . . I think he’d find it entertaining too (although he will put ‘bad’ behavior in check)

🛡️ Shao isn’t one to curse, he’s better than that, but he’ll still make sure to watch what he says around you, just incase you decide to repeat it

🛡️ He also makes sure to watch who he complains about, or just what he speaks about, because he’s overheard you talk to your stuffies using his . . . not very nice words

🛡️ No but shouting his MK9 Babality “You suck!” at your stuffie! They were totally out of order, can’t have that around here! >:(

🛡️ His favorite regressor activity with you is imagination playtime

🛡️ Why? Because you can be just like him!! A very serious, very strong, war General, prepared to send your stuffies- Uh, soldiers into actions!

🛡️ If you ask him, he might even let you borrow his helmet!! :o

🛡️ Not his battle ax though, your too small for that, awesome general or not :\

🛡️ Sometimes you have to play with Reiko, because being a war General is actually a very important job, and sometimes Shao has to do actual work :(

🛡️ So when your reeeeally clingy, he’ll let you borrow his helmet because then you can ‘continue your duty’ and be just like him!

🛡️ ^ He doesn’t like leaving you when your small though, and only trusts Reiko with you when your tiny (don’t worry, Reiko’s also very good at pretend war games or storytime)

🛡️ If your big enough, or willing, to play wrestle, Shao . . . is a bit nervous

🛡️ He’s a big guy, a very big guy, and can easily hurt you if he’s not careful

🛡️ But that doesn’t mean he won’t do it!! All good soldiers need ‘training’, how else are you going to be just like him if you don’t ‘train’ with him?

🛡️ He’ll make sure to keep an eye on you though. You might be ‘tough’ but he doesn’t want you to hold back any tears just because ‘Papa doesn’t cry over a papercut!’

🛡️ Tough big kid or not, your still his baby, and he’ll be damned if he let you not cry over something, even if it’s ‘silly’

🛡️ If you do get injured, he’ll help you make it into a big story!! That papercut from earlier? You actually got it from fighting off a tiger, Shao saw it happen himself

🛡️ Not the best with sensitive littles, especially when they try to hide their emotions to act all tough, but he’ll try to make sure your okay with things

🛡️ Not much of a wrestling fan because fighting is scary? Well, a pillow fight is just as warrior like!! Or maybe you could ‘battle strategy’ with some board game pieces!!

🛡️ If your different while big, more defiant or snarky to him, he’ll tease you about how loyal you are when your small

🛡️ Many kinds of nicknames!! Little Warrior, Best Soldier, he’ll even call you General!!

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Soooo, I use to do all my Hcs on my school chromebook. But I graduated, so now I’m doing it on my tv . . . Hope these are good still 😅

^ This is also why I haven't updated. Other than all the precollege stuff and everything else, it's so difficult writing on my tv. :/

Also y'all, the gif I used??? The lighting??? It's actually so pretty???

[autistic-ben-tennyson]

Alien Force Ben: Was he really that mature?

I want to talk about something that’s been on my mind for a while. Fans complain about how Ben was super mature in early AF before regressing into an arrogant “man-child” in S3, UA and OV but I don’t think the change was as drastic as people say. Ben was never the super stoic, mature character they think he was. A lot of his behavior was fairly consistent, even if some of it was flanderized in the later sequels. People can have their critiques of his character writing, I have some myself, but I think the version of Ben people romanticize wasn’t as much of a Gary Stu as they remember.

For starters, Ben could still be kind of a asshole, especially to Kevin, which was somewhat justified due to his criminal past. He took potshots at him in “Kevin’s Big Score”, both before and after he stole the Rustbucket. In “The Gauntlet” he had fun messing with Gwen and Kevin as Goop and later laughed at Kevin after seeing him get beat up by Cash. In that same episode, he goofed around when trying smoothie combinations as pictured above. He also enjoyed annoying Kevin by playing with his car lock in Verdona’s debut. There was also “Darkstar Rising” where he made an insensitive joke that caused Kevin to lash out at him after getting his plumber badge confiscated.

Before I continue, I’d like to say that I’m not doing this to vilify Ben or make him into a heartless monster like some do. I’m kin with the asshole and consider him one of my favorite characters. This is just me pointing out that early AF Ben was never the perfect mature person that he’s remembered as and could still be goofy and had some of those same flaws that Ultimate Alien Ben gets dragged for. I headcanon him as having autism because while he’s very compassionate, empathy is not his strong suit which isn’t a bad thing nor does it make someone a bad person. I sort of incorporated that into my fanfic where Ben and Steven Universe grate on each other before bonding because of their differing personalities with the former realizing how insufferable he can come off as.

Then there’s “Pet Project”. For starters, Ben lied about having homework to get out of going to the mall and so he could watch a movie. Not much different from what he does in “Duped” or “The Perfect Girlfriend”. He also shows a distrust of Ship and doesn’t seem to care about him until Gwen and Kevin force him to which remained consistent through S3 and UA.

Ben acted as mature as he did during the Highbreed war because with Max gone and his team as their only hope, he had to be the adult in that situation. By S3 with peace established and Max out of retirement and proven to be alive, he could let his guard down a bit. He said himself in “Absolute Power” that he has fun “but when the situation got serious” so did he. In UA, when Aggregor injured Max and Kevin mutated again, Ben was forced to act as leader again, hence why he was back to acting mature in that arc. Kids IRL who are forced to be adults far younger than they should be do often struggle with regression later on.

Again, none of this was to vilify Ben or make him into douchebag. I just feel like his character isn’t as inconsistent as people say it is. Could the writing have been better? Sure but early AF Ben wasn’t a mature, always serious saint and he always had those flaws or personality quirks, even before fame got to his head in season 3 and UA. If you disagree and think they ruined his character after, that’s fine, this is just how I interpret him.

[coquetteraccoon]

Hey I was wondering if you could write something for postal dude with a really sweet girlfriend who’s also a ballerina. Thank you

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT SOMEONE REQUESTED SOMETHING

But yes here you go:

The daily question for him is: how are you with him? And why?

Someone as sweet as you, as graceful as you, with him? Didn’t make sense in his mind, but he wasn’t complaining in the slightest. He loved how sweet you were to him, he felt like he could be himself around you and on top of all that, Champ LOVES you, to the point he’s started nicknaming you Disney Princess. But that’s not your only nickname, a few being: Sugar Plum, Pas De Lovely, Arabest, usually some cheesy ballet pun, but also some typical ones like Sweetie, Darling, Dear, etc. but he always supports you any way he can, going to all your performances, helping you tie your En Pointe shoes, and encouraging you as much as humanly possible.

“My pirouette was terrible”

“The fuck are you talking about? It was great, you did it perfectly”

“You don’t even know what a pirouette is”

“It’s a jump and it was great”

“…thanks Babe”

As you continue to date he does learn the terminology of ballet better so he can know what you’re talking about, which is when the ballet nicknames started. He will help you stand up for yourself if he feels like you’re being too nice. If you’re being kind of a pushover he will say something about it and will use “other” means to prevent it from happening. If a girl was being mean to you because you weren’t able to play Odette in swan lake, her ankles might magically be injured so she can’t either.

All in all he loves the hell out of you and thinks you are the best ballerina he’s ever seen

[beautifulchris]

take care

wc: 0,8k

pairing: demigod!jisung x gn demigod!reader

summary: a pair of adhd kids ended up in the same school and got brought to camp together

genres: fluff, little angst, demigod!au, camp half-blood!au, classmates to friends!au, mutual pining!au, son of apollo!jisung, child of hephaestus!reader

tw: physical injury, infirmary

notes: idk why but i’m kinda obsessed with apollo x hephaestus children; anyway enjoy ! i'm reposting the works i posted while shadowbanned, please don't mind me

networks: @kflixnet @k-labels @whipped-kpop-creators

permanent tag list: @badwithten​ send ask/dm/comment to be added!

Publié à l'origine par han-jisung

It all started in school. You were the hyperactive kid, couldn’t stay still for more than a couple minutes, and Jisung was the comical one, always cracking jokes, playing music and dancing in the hallways.

He was usually fun to watch until he destroyed your science project a mere week before the due date. Sure it was accidental, and he apologized, but it had been so much work, so much sweat and tears poured into that project for months.

You were fairly pissed off.

He proposed to help you rebuild it, but you had dismissed him with a wave, feeling humiliated enough. Plus, it would’ve felt like cheating.

Let’s just say twelve hours of sleep in seven days are not nearly enough but you ended up with the best grade.

You were so exhausted in your next class, free of all the anxiety surrounding your science project, that you fell asleep.

Jisung, the guy responsible for your drastic lack of sleep, that you avoided all week—which turned out to be a not so difficult feat after all—took advantage of your sleeping state. He wrote an apology letter and asked your classmate to slide it under your arm.

At the end of class, after mutturing a few curses about how stupid you were for not being able to stay awake—you need to be more gentle with yourself!—you spotted the letter.

It was surprisingly neat, compared to all the times Jisung wrote on the board. It wasn’t the usual sloppy I-do-not-care writing, it was more of a I-make-efforts-please-forgive-me type. You could tell he was trying, and since your project was a success… You decided to forgive him.

At eleven years old, it was easier to forgive and forget.

A few weeks later that same year, four classmates tried to attack Jisung and you while you were in a classroom alone—nothing weird, you were just the last ones to leave—until your science teacher stopped them.

It was ugly, your classmates disintegrated and turned out your favorite teacher had goat legs. Definitely a normal day in your chaotic life.

Your goat teacher brought both of you into camp half-blood, where you got claimed by Hephaestus while Jisung got claimed by Apollo.

You only saw each other occasionally, being in the forge with your siblings most of the time, and him tending to the injured campers in the infirmary. Not that you became friends of course.

Although, more and more often over the years, you ended up in the infirmary because of some stuff exploding, fire erupting—no, you weren’t immune—, pieces of metal flying and knocking you out.

Yeah, the infirmary was the third place where you spent the most time in, beside the forge and cabin nine.

Wait. No, actually, Jisung deplorably said you were spending more time in the infirmary bed than your own. You had your appointed bed at this point.

Jisung always took care of you, not without complaining, though. Not about having to stitch you up or change your bandages and stuff, no. About how you had to be more careful.

He’d be nag about how some injuries can never fully heal. You’d argue that it wasn’t intentional.

He’d joke and say that you don’t need a reason to come see him. You especially do not need to hurt yourself. Which was essentially right.

You talked a lot when you weren’t passed out, and you had learned lately that he was dreaming of owning a lyre.

After doing some research (read: asking Kevin from the Athena cabin), you had everything you needed to make one. You thought you could repay him this way, even if it felt like not enough.

This time he didn’t see you there for weeks.

After mustering up your courage, you entered the infirmary. Jisung was here as usual, humming while tending to a Nemesis kid’s wound. When he finished and saw you, he rushed to your side.

“Hey, what is it?” he asked as he examined your body for any damage but it was all old scars. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, this time,” you sheepishly smiled.

You took the package that you previously put against an unused bed. Jisung hadn’t even noticed, his attention solely on you. Realizing that, his ears turned a shade of pink.

“It’s for you.”

He stared at the package in your hands. “For me?”

You nodded. “Open it.”

You resisted the urge to bolt away when he took the gift from you. As he opened it, you tugged nervously at your overalls’ suspenders.

“I usually forge weapons but I, uh, made you—”

He beamed. “A lyre! Oh Gods, Y/N, you’re amazing! This is the best gift ever!”

He started playing right away, making everyone stop and stare. The melody was smooth and pretty.

“It’s even tuned! Thank you so much Y/N, how can I ever repay you?”

“Ah no, see, this is me repaying you. But if you want to thank me so badly, you can play for me from time to time.”

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, here’s the masterlist <3

[sesamestreep]

Matt/Foggy, 36

From this Spotify Wrapped Prompt Game: #36. Made You Look - Meghan Trainor (🫣 I am not immune to a viral tiktok audio earworm…)

“Are you capable of exercising any self-control at all?” Foggy asks, voice dripping with annoyance as it carries across the room.

“I—” Matt pauses, as he tries to figure out the right response to that question. “I’m literally just sitting here,” he finally offers, weakly, because it definitely sounds like he’s in trouble, he’s just not sure why.

“I know that,” Foggy says, coming back to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m talking about what happened last night.”

“I was under the impression that you enjoyed what happened last night.”

“Matt…”

“In fact, I distinctly remember asking if you were enjoying yourself and you said—”

“You don’t need to quote me,” Foggy says, evidently excited or embarrassed by the memory—or both. “I remember.”

“Well, then, I’m confused by your sudden change of heart.”

“Not a change of heart,” Foggy clarifies and Matt is very often thankful that Foggy can’t hear his heartbeat and now is one such moment, because the way it immediately calms down from relief is genuinely a little embarrassing and he’s glad no one else has to know about it. “Just confronting the very frustrating reality that I’m going to have to do the walk of shame in a shirt open to my navel because someone tore half the buttons off of it in his haste to get me undressed. Again.”

Matt shrugs, very deliberately casual now that he knows this isn’t a real argument. “It felt like an urgent matter at the time.”

“Matt, I don’t even know where any of the buttons ended up!”

“Thank God. It’d be really embarrassing if you’d had the presence of mind to keep track of that while I was…well, you know.”

“I don’t know why you can’t just unbutton my shirt patiently like a grownup,” Foggy complains, which is the exact opposite of what he was doing last night, but Matt doesn’t bring that up.

“I don’t know why you insist on wearing those fancy suits with like eighteen layers I have to go through,” Matt says, instead. “Getting you naked is like breaking into a Swiss bank.”

“They’re three piece suits, you infant,” Foggy retorts, laughing. “And I’ve been told by everyone on Earth except you that I look great in them.”

“I’m sure you do. But for my purposes, they’re a nuisance.”

“You’re a philistine, Matthew. And I’m going to tell Luke that you don’t appreciate well made clothing and get you on his bad side for all eternity.”

“Please don’t,” Matt says, grabbing Foggy’s wrist like he might go for his phone right away. The downside of meeting Luke through Foggy is that he always has this extremely viable threat in his back pocket. “You have no idea how hard it is to find a good tailor these days.”

“Oh, I’m intimately aware,” Foggy cries, and there’s a shuffling noise as he (Matt’s guessing) shakes his injured shirt at him. “And speaking of Luke, you can’t claim my clothes are a nuisance to get out of when you run around in your leather daddy body armor all the time. There’s just no comparison!”

Matt doesn’t point out that he rarely shows up to see Foggy in the suit because it usually ends in them arguing rather than fucking—or, at least, arguing for a while before they get around to fucking. That’s not going to win him any points at the moment, he imagines.

“Leather daddy?” he asks, incredulously, instead.

“God, shut up,” Foggy says, still embarrassed and excited about it.

Matt takes the shirt out of Foggy’s hands, gently, and then, not so gently, shucks it to the other side of the room. “Maybe I just like who you are under your clothes more,” he says, carefully. “Did you ever think of that?”

“You’re so full of shit,” Foggy says, and, Matt’s not really sure how, but his voice fully gives away that he’s blushing.

“You could borrow something of mine…”

Foggy snorts. “Yeah, I don’t think you have anything in my size here, sweetheart.”

Matt lets his hand trail up Foggy’s side. “Oh, well. Hot guy in a tight t-shirt. What a sad fate for all of us to endure.”

“That gimmick only works when it’s guys like you. On me, it’ll just look delusional.”

Matt frowns, not liking the sound of that one bit. He slips his hand around the back of Foggy’s neck and pulls him close until their foreheads are pressed together, relieved by how easily Foggy complies despite his purported annoyance.

“Then it looks like your only option is to stay here forever,” Matt says, solemnly. “Completely naked, of course.”

“Of course,” Foggy says, laughing softly. “It’s the only plan that makes sense.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement,” Matt replies, leaning in to kiss him. He conveniently doesn’t mention that he has one sweater, three sweatshirts, and no less than five t-shirts that he’s stolen from Foggy that he could just as easily return to him and solve his current predicament. He likes his solution better.

[kaspenhoward]

Six The Musical Headcanons - Jane Seymour:

-I believe that like the beheaded cousins she too has PTSD but unlike her cousins she doesn’t trash, fight, run, or scream, she simply freezes, becomes silent and can’t move. The same for nightmares, where she taught herself to be quiet cause Henry in her last life got upset with her for panicking

-Why does Jane go through this though? You might ask. Well queendom that’s because as we all agree, Henry is a a*s, we know he didn’t truly love anyone all that “Plain Jane” talk from history books is probably from the fact Jane was ab*sed into being the perfect housewife and just that, which we know in reality is short of possible. Henry was a jerk meaning the unfortunately Jane probably suffered from that. Even with hints of the possibility in heart of stone; “build me up, tear me down” could be interpreted as Henry love bombing her just to hurt her soon after.

-I’m a fanboy for mother figure Jane as much of you probably are as well, her, quiet, gentle, motherly nature definitely pulled Kat (Katherine Howard) in quickly and two from what I like to believe, bonded very quickly. Jane does enjoy also fussing over the other Queens as well, and to tease her Anne and Anna enjoy jokingly calling her “Mum Jane”, Jane to tease them back will fuss over them excessively much to their chagrin

-Kat, called Jane mum once in front of everyone and was very embarrassed and worried about how Jane would take it, hid from everyone for as long as she could, but once Jane found her, she reassured her and told her it was okay. It now is common occurrence to hear Jane and Kat refer to each other as “mum” and “daughter” in the queen household and out of it.

-At random times during the night once every two months, you’ll just find Jane very awake quietly wondering around the house. Jane never really elaborates why she just says “making sure”.

-Jane prefers tea over coffee. She makes a really good tea, and much to the other queens chagrin, they never can replicate it no matter how many times Jane tries to show them how to make it.

-Jane is the only one who isn’t banned from using the oven, and only Jane and Catalina are allowed to use the stove without another queens supervision.

-Jane hates loud noises, especially yelling, and confrontation. And she’s terrified of “screwing up” as she likes to say even though the queens reassure her that she’s allowed to make mistakes. One time she broke a glass, froze for a minute but then frantically shaking tried to quickly pick of the glass, this ended up injuring herself and Kitty had to carefully pry the glass out of her hands to get her to stop.

-Jane actually finds very nice company in Cathy and Anna. Jane when she initially comes back is unable to read, Cathy discovers this one day when her and Jane are out shopping and Cathy teaches her how to read in private. Jane isn’t near perfect but she’s improved and finds pleasant company reading with Cathy or Cathy asking her philosophical questions which even if she doesn’t understand the full concept makes Jane very happy to try and answer because for the first time her opinion and knowledge is being asked of her. Anna is very energetic and while Jane can’t always match such energy, finds much enjoyment in having a nice day out with Anna sometimes who brings a lot of energy into the room/environment while also including Jane.

-Regarding the sexuality of Jane, I don’t really have a set idea cause it doesn’t matter much in my mind cause I think all the queens just need a long break from romance to.. process stuff and happily live as a family. I honestly don’t really complain about any shipping of the queens as long as it isn’t between the cousins but it’s more personal opinion that they all need a few years before any of that. BUT, Panromantic for sure. That’s my verdict she’s just too loving of a person to care about gender. (In my happy little ace mind I imagine all my favorite characters to be ace so that’s what I would say because I prefer living in that bubble)

-When Jane gets upset she gets one of two: immensely quiet or incredibly frantic. Whichever one she doesn’t like to be seen in that sort of state and tried to hide from the others. Effectively this doesn’t end up working in the end when Kat constantly clings to or follows Jane around like a little duckling. Leading to one day where Kat finds Jane crying the most silent cry ever that breaks her heart. After the incident Jane knows she can always go to any of her queens for help.

-Jane is the sweetest most kind hearted person ever, yes. But her infamous temper that comes out once every blue moon is terrifying enough it even scares Catalina.

Omg I love this queen so much 🤍🤍🤍

[oneokkombat]

Hanzo and Satoshi’s origins in mk1 (OnK’s version)

Hi!! I’ve been planning for ages to finally post a definitive version of how I think adult Hanzo and Satoshi could’ve existed in mk1, so here it is! I rewrote this multiple times because I was never really happy with it until now lol but I finally came up with this and I’m really happy with it. I hope you guys like it!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

✧.* For their ages I’m not entirely sure, I rather leave the specific timeline vague lol. For Satoshi I do have a clearer timeline. He was around 10yo when he first met Hanzo and around 14yo when he arrived at the Shirai Ryu. For Hanzo is more vague and I don’t have specific numbers, I do picture him older than Kuai, Harumi and Tomas, maybe around Bi-Han’s age or even a few years older.

with that out of the way lest begin!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

❂ - Both Satoshi and Hanzo are from a lower class clan with a corrupt grandmaster. Their clan suffered from poverty, sickness, starvation, among other issues..

❂ - Their old clan was also constantly under attack since other clans had conflict with their grandmaster or simply to take advantage of their bad state to steal resources.

❂ - Big part of Hanzo’s family was part of the clan’s warriors, which ended up with him also being part of them. While there was a time he was proud of it, at this point, he is tired of the constant danger. He hasn’t felt at home in the clan since his family passed either from illness or during battle.

❂ - Technically he can quit…but he can also be punished for it, so Hanzo is stuck.

❂ - Satoshi never got to meet his biological parents, as a newborn he was left at the clan’s clinic , since then a group of nurses have taken care of him.

❂ - They take turns on who’s house Satoshi is sleeping in, who’s helping him with school, etc.

❂ - Hanzo met Satoshi after getting injured, Satoshi was being a “little helper” to the nurses treating his wounds.

❂ - Satoshi was completely fascinated by Hanzo and talked his ear off asking him a bunch of questions about “how is it like being a brave warrior” Hanzo gladly answered what he could (omitting the sadness and gruesomeness)

❂ - All of Hanzo’s recovery was spent with Satoshi’s company, he was not complaining about it (he has a soft spot for kids aww)

❂ - Once Hanzo could leave the clinic Satoshi got really sad thinking he would not see him again, Hanzo promised to visit as often as he could.

❂ - Hanzo kept his promise and visited Satoshi nearly every week to tell him stories and bring him small gifts from his trips. He also made sure to help the nurses feed him, take him to school and care for him in general.

❂ - Satoshi definitely got very attached to Hanzo and would wait for him every day ( :( ) he would also beg Hanzo to either help him with school, help him skip school or tell him every single detail of his trip.

❂ - The nurses already considered Hanzo Satoshi’s dad from the moment he started caring for him, Hanzo was in denial for a while though.

❂ - With the worsening state of the clan the amount of injured people increased and the clinic was quickly running out of resources. The nurses realized they had no time to care for Satoshi, so one of them decided to take him to Hanzo so he could take care of him.

❂ - At first Hanzo refused because his lifestyle was too dangerous for Satoshi, after the nurse told him they might have to give satoshi away to another nearby village Hanzo feared he might not see satoshi again and made the decision to care for him.

❂ - Hanzo is well aware this was a selfish decision because what was best for satoshi was probably leaving for a more peaceful place, but he already grew attached to him and he knew Satoshi was too stubborn to leave his side.

❂ - On the other hand, Satoshi was blissfully happy he got to spend more time with Hanzo.

❂ - I believe they staid in the clan 4 more years before they had to escape. It was not easy and unfortunate Hanzo couldn’t be there for Satoshi all the time, luckily his neighbors helped whenever they could.

❂ - This definitely made Satoshi very independent at an early age, it reminded Hanzo of his younger self since he also had to mostly care for himself. It pained him that he could not let Satoshi be a kid for as long as he should. Another one of his regrets.

❂ - Both Satoshi and Hanzo are very stubborn, so despite adoring each other they tend to argue a lot.

❂ - As Satoshi grew older he begged Hanzo to teach him how to fight, Hanzo completely refused until the clan started to get attacked more often.

❂ - Hanzo taught Satoshi basic self defense skills so he can at least have time to run away from danger, Satoshi was a little frustrated with Hanzo holding back but he accepted something is better than nothing.

❂ - Hanzo is a little overprotective, I don’t know if y’all noticed lmao.

❂ - One fateful night, multiple clans allied with each other to attack their clan, their grandmaster had a lot of loose ends with them and they got tired of it, this happened at dawn.

❂ - This is the night where Satoshi and Hanzo got separated

❂ - It happened so suddenly none of them were prepared, at first both of them were supposed to run away together, but the enemies already knew who Hanzo was and he felt they were going to get targeted more.

❂ - Hanzo also thought if he risks his own life and stays fighting Satoshi might have a better chance of escaping.

❂ - As you can probably tell, it wasn’t a well thought out plan, but he was desperate so he basically yelled at Satoshi to run and to not try to come back for him.

❂ - Satoshi for the first time didn’t argue with him, he ran as far as he could.

❂ - Satoshi spends about 2 weeks wandering around, he is too scared to actually stay in nearby villages so he only gets near them to steal food and water, which also gets him to be chased away by the villagers.

❂ - Eventually, he meets Tomas (!!)

❂ - For everyone wondering, Hanzo does survive the battle, although barely, he manages to hide until it dies out but he is heavily injured and thinks he will not make it, fortunately people from a nearby clan heard about the massacre and came by to help all survivors.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Here it is!! Technically it’s still the weekend so I did post this on time lol, I have more hcs planned for this AU mainly how Hanzo finds the Shirai Ryu and also his role in it, I also just have a list of various hcs that also include Kuai liang, Harumi, Satoshi and Tomas, hopefully I get to post them soon!

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight - Not In A Chipper Mood

For: @strawberrycamel @higgidigs @thegayonthemoon @sprout

Danny’s not new to injuries but this is certainly a new one and it’s kind of ridiculous. Oh, and it’s also Vlad’s fault even if it’s really not.

Okay. So uh. Danny’s having a bit of a day. Well okay, most of the day was pretty standard, pretty normal. He got judgmental looks from Lancer for un-completed homework, got a swirly from Dash where he had to pretend he actually needed to breath, Jazz called from uni to complain about her roommate and cuss him out a little for recommending she put ectoplasm in the other girls hair dye, and Vlad jabbed him with that stupid Plasmius Maximus thingy ‘cause Danny dyed his cat with beet juice. All pretty standard Danny experiences. What wasn't, however, was him taking a quick nap in a tree only to wind up inside a fucking wood chipper.

How did whoever not notice him??? He has some serious questions about that.

He had more questions about how the heck he was still half alive! Since the wood chipper -that he’s guessing is missing safety features or something- didn't turn off when it encountered something substantially more squishy than a tree, and whoever was supposed to be running this thing had seemingly fucked off. Anyway, he got woken up by his shoulder getting turbofucked by giant blade things, reasonably he assumed it was Skulker being an asshole… it wasn’t of course, and it not being Skulker threw him off enough that he just kinda… didn't do anything until the blade stuff went crush happy on half of his face.

He thought he was going to die die! People don't exactly survive this kinda thing do they? Heh. Talk about dumb ways to die.

He reacted to the face crushing though, obviously. High pain tolerance or no he can, in fact, still feel pain. Unfortunately his still slightly groggy from sleep and confusion dumb ass, decided the best choice was to push himself away from the blade things with his hand… by putting said hand on the blades. That didn't work out so great for him, in that said hand kinda lost the ability to remain attached to the rest of him. His second attempt to get out involved trying to use his feet to wiggle backwards, unfortunately by that point one pant leg hand already been snagged -bye bye knee- and the other foot couldn’t hook on anything around so he just wound up flailing around some and achieving a whole lot of nothing.

Now see, this wouldn't even be a problem if he had access to all his powers. Like, he could have just phased away or floated off or just used his ghost strength to destroy the machine. But no, stupid Vlad and his stupid Maximus thingy or whatever. Sure this even more one hundred percent wouldn't be happening if Danny hadn’t decided to sleep in a tree… and if he had heard the loud ass wood chipper.

… Yeah this was really his own damn fault. Still, fuck Vlad and Danny’s stupid luck too.

Anyway where was he? Oh yeah, so like, the machine was still going chop happy on him when he kinda noticed that his shoulder was just… regrowing an arm, slowly but still; which once again shocked him into just not doing anything, because since when could he regrow limbs! Like it wasn’t going very fast, fuck you Vlad, but it was still going. Which, weird huh? Also weird that his head ain't really a head no more, and he’s not dead. He really should be dead. Lack of a head -and chest, and arms, and one leg- might be contributing to him not being super freaked out though. Like, he’s thinking and feeling but probably not the way he should be, all things considered. On one hand he’s thinking about how holy fuck he is so injured Ancients fuck he should be dying, but on another hand he’s just kinda legit amazed he’s not dead/dying, and on another hand he’s trying to figure out if this bullshit would be classified as a shredding injury or full body disembowelment or dismemberment or disintegration or just being turned into Campbells Chunky Soup™.

Annnnnd he just got a blade to the eye which exploded like a grape, fuckin’ lovely.

At least his powers were slowly, slowly, returning so he was repeatedly reforming -it’s not regrowing at this point, just entirely reforming the scraps back together- faster and faster, not enough to get out but, you know, it was something. He’d like his intangibility back though, that would be way better. Sure maybe someone could show up and actually look after their machine but that wouldn't actually help him, he was a bunch of mangled bits! What was whoever gonna do? besides turning the machine off anyways. Which, okay fine that would actually help a lot, but it would probably also severely traumatise whoever… Danny’d like to not do that, but to not do that he needs his powers back… or to think up another way to deal with this shit.

Even if he manages to fully reform himself he’s just gonna get chopped up again; he’s lost count of how many times his poor right hand has been re-obliterated. But hey, at least his healing is solid enough now that he’s mostly staying in bigger chunks pretty consistently, less stringy shreds/globs and more pizza box sizes of flesh/muscle just kinda flopping and bouncing around. Some of him is in the machine’s inside, and some’s still whacking around in the blades; some is also in the wood chip pile but that was unfortunately only half of his left hand, bits of intestines, and a foot. A fully formed foot and other bits just kinda sitting and wiggling on some wood chips must look really weird. He was trying to make his half hand drag itself over to shut off the machine but it was kinda hard to focus on that, and he couldn’t just form an eye on the hand so he could actually see where his hand’s going.

It wound up falling down a sidewalk drain…

Danny was having a really bad day. A really weird really bad day.

“FEǝɯ ɹ∀ ANW pY BOX- Op HEɹƎ ANNƎIƆTS!”.

And his day just got worse, even with his ears all fucked up and surrounded by loud machinery he knows that’s The Box Ghost’s sorry ass. Well, he might as well try to get Boxy to help Danny unfuck his fuck up, he’s sorta got a mouth… a mouthish thing; and maybe some of a vocal cord. “F y, MACHIN I kn’th k I THE! Oh cank hinonow, canow, y, Bow, OF OF IN OF thin, t INE! TURN THI MACHE t thin, canou t Oheyou OFFFF”. That was intelligible right? Maybe.

“Uhhhhhh. Phoʇu∀m?”… “okaʎ”.

Oh thank fuck, that sounded like an okay. Good. Oop, there goes his eye again; fucking lovely.

Boxy makes some kind of squeaking noise. “Aǝɥʇ llse BUTNO┴S AR Ǝ CIRCUɹ∀˥!”.

“Oh fucks shoe Oh a sake, Boxy! OR SOMETHING!”. He manages to flick the top half of his right hand out of the front of the machine with one of his toes purely to flip Boxy off.

But the Box Ghost grabs the half hand, “yes! YOU TOU┴I HƆ NO MƎ!”. He uses Danny’s fingers to push a circular button and the machine finally turns off. He wants to kick Boxy’s ass, but… the guy does kind of push around the semi reformed globs and chunks of Danny into a sorta square pile. He even goes and gets Danny’s one foot and the partial section of intestines, putting that on the pile that’s just laying in the flat area of the wood chipper; Danny’s eyes reforming enough to see that the Box Ghost is just floating there staring at him awkwardly and fiddling with his fingers.

Danny waits to actually have enough of a mouth and vocal cord to speak properly, “thanks I guess”.

“You have a LOT OF BLOOD and… FLESHY STUFF!”.

“Oh for fucks sake”, Danny rolls an eye, which literally rolls around a little, “yeah. That’s kinda how not being dead dead works seemingly. Fuckin’ jazzed I didn't just make myself deader”.

The Box Ghost points away awkwardly, clearly asking to leave; Danny waves him off with a fully reformed right hand. Sure maybe the guy will go terrorise some folks but that’s pretty unlikely since Danny probably just disturbed the ever loving Hell outta him.

Eventually Danny drags his semi reformed upper right half and some of his attached head -most of said head is inside the machine- over the side lip of the machine and hurls a tooth at the on button to re-mash up whatever’s inside the machine. Letting that go for a bit before using another hurled tooth to turn it back off, and gets to work pulling out all the bits of himself he can.

Honestly? He only grabs the important stuff, major organ bits/core bits and that shit; the rest he can just reform inside himself eventually apparently.

But guess what? Yeah the guy who owns this shit comes back during Danny’s dig time, doesn't bother looking inside the machine to see why it’s off, and just goes to turn it back on.

Danny blinks, watching his right hand get re-obliterated by the blades. Snarling, “YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!”. Before mustering up enough energy -which he thankfully somewhat had again- to create some ecto-ice and just lets loose on the blades/insides of the machine while screaming angrily at it.

The man screams, the machine explodes, and Danny walks off in a huff to snag his left hand out of the damn drain.

“WHAT THE HELL! KID?!? THE HELL!”.

“FUCK YOU!”.

“YOU BLEW UP MY MACHINE!”.

“WATCH YOUR DAMN EQUIPMENT! YOU FUCK FACE DIPSHIT!”.

“WHERE DID YOU EVEN GET ALL THIS ICE! HOW’D YOU EVEN GET IT IN THERE!”.

“‘CAUSE YOU PUT ME IN THE MACHINE, HORSE SHIT! AND FROM YOUR MOTHER!”.

“HEY!”.

“FUCK YOU!”.

“FUCK YOU TOO!”.

“FUCK YOU MORE!”. Danny storms off to the guy continuing to shout obscenities at him. Fuck that asshat.

---

Danny barely makes it around the corner when he senses the Box Ghost again, lovely. The ghost’s huddled in a cardboard box with a bunch of cats, Danny walking over and looking over in at him, “you, uh, doing okay there?”.

The Box Ghost goddamn whimpers, petting one of the cats, “I did not know human pulp was possible, and all that wood pulp to make precious boxes is contaminated now”.

Danny tilts his head back and sighs at the sky, oh no, he traumatised the poor bastard. Whoops. “Okay yeah, sorry ‘bout that one”, looking back down at the ghost, “maybe give wood chipper operators shit for not caring to pay enough attention to avoid contaminating their product with an idiots body slash corpse? I though I was gonna die all thanks to my sleeping habits”, tilting his head sideways, eying all the very content looking cats, “though, why is you trauma response go-to a cat cuddle pile?”.

“They appreciate my BOXES OF DOOM houses”, the cats jumped a little and glares at the ghost for the noise, Boxy pats them pacifiyingly.

And sure enough when Danny glances around a little more, yeah tons on boxes, some set up like steps to sleep(?) on top of tall fridge-sized boxes. Some have little cubed roofs made out of very tiny boxes. It was actually kinda fucking adorable actually, Sam would approve. Danny should encourage positive ghost behaviour? Right? Right. So Danny gives the Box Ghost a head pat, “good on you, Boxy. Good on you. I’m suddenly far less inclined to stop your box stealing ways”.

Now that gets the box obsessed ghosts spirits up again, him whisper shouting, “I shall rule as my minions praise my boxed creations!”.

Danny shakes his head and decides to leave the guy alone to cope with Danny absolutely horrifying him only to then encourage his box obsession; besides, now that Danny’s calmed down slightly he’s fucking tired again.

---

Danny only just managed to find a new tree to sleep in -regardless of the apparent consequences he’s still tree sleeping partly out of spite right now, bad decision or not- when his phone goes off, making him glare down at the caller id, "the fuck you want, Vlad".

"Daniel... did you, and I quote, 'horrifically obliterate my stuff with a cold shoulder the size of Texas's ego'?".

Danny gestures exaggeratedly at his phone, "Oh fuck off, that jackass put me in a wood chipper! I was sleeping!".

"In... in a fudging wood chipper?!? Why would you sleep there? What would possess you to choose to do that?!?”.

"No, you idiot! I was in the tree!". Danny’s slept in many questionable place but nowhere nearly that questionable. Holy fuck.

"Are-", Vlad sighs heavily, "are you telling me one of my mayoral employees just stuck a tree with a teenager in it into a wood chipper without looking first? And that said teen idiotically didn’t notice".

Danny snorts, "yup", and pops the 'p'.

Vlad sighs again, "okay. That's great. Nice to know my employees do their jobs. That man is fired five times over. Your foolishness is nothing new though". What fully happened seems to finally hit the rich fucker, "wait, you went into a wood chipper and you're not completely dead? Daniel?"; oh he sounds so concerned.

Danny stretches out some, "yeah, turns out being turned in flesh pulp and chunky soup, thanks to someone zapping away my intangibility, isn't enough to make me kick the bucket the rest of the way".

"Now, Daniel-".

"Oh don't you 'now, Daniel' me, you fruitloop. I could have just phased away after the rude awakening that was getting my shoulder absolutely obliterated by heavy machinery, but someone made that kinda impossible. I'm surprised my ecto worked enough to even bother with the half-assed reforming attempts", huffing, "Boxy wound up rescuing my sorry ass. Boxy. Using some of my detached fingers to push the off button; it was circular. Am I making you want to throw up your shitty wine yet?".

"Slightly, yes. Your life is a ridiculous nightmare; though finding out that at the very least you won't die from such injuries is appreciated".

"Oh fuck off", Danny smirks, "you should see if you'd survive".

"Not happening, Daniel".

Danny tries to sound as earnest and sickly sweet as possible, "I can help?".

Vlad hangs up on him. Jerk. Danny chuckles down at the phone; today didn't end so badly. He is never telling Jazz about this though, not a chance in hell.

End.

Prompts: Danny learns he can't die from dismemberment. and Danny suddenly finds out that halfa biology is more different from human than he thought and Danny wants to blame this on his generally shitty luck. Maybe on his parents (for all they love him, but still manage to hurt him), on Vlad, on Skulker, on the GIW, or on Clockwork (because Danny knows he can see this and still won't help). But really, he might be dying fully this time, and the only one he can really blame is himself. and The box ghost finds purpose among the stray cats of Amity- they appreciate the cardboard kingdoms he builds them!