#this is gonna be two parts btw

[insertsickusername13]

Day three of richjake week 2023 and I actually have something written before 10 pm! Be proud of me.

today's prompt: Secrets (oooohhhh)

disclaimer: so star said no explicit content bc they're a minor buuuut I had an idea and listen, it's not explicit like AT ALL, but it does talk abt sex a little and sexual content is definitely implied. I got permission from Star but she also said I have to put a warning sooo here is a warning that yes sex is talked about but no it is not explicit in the slightest. oh also beware of mentions of abuse.

Summary: Rich faces the consequences of being in a long-term kind-of relationship with a prince.

word count: 1.9k

--

“So you’re really willing to live the rest of your fucking life like this?! Living a lie?! You’re so much of a fucking coward you’re planning to hide your entire life—”

“It’s not a lie!” Jake yells, so loud, so guttural, so utterly animalistic Rich is convinced it must be pure screaming rather than a sentence with actual words woven into it. 

Rich almost flinches back. He almost lets himself be afraid of this primitive version of Jake, but to do that would be to exile his consciousness back to five years old, hiding under his bed while his brother took the brunt of his father’s anger. He won’t do that.

“Don’t fucking yell at me,” he seethes, and though he tells himself he’s being mature, being clear and concise, he still blindly fumbles for the silver hairbrush on Jake’s vanity behind him. It can cause pain. He can cause pain. Just in case. 

Jake’s wild, bloodshot eyes follow the movement—darting back and forth in his eye sockets, the rest of him remaining unmoved, borderline crazed in the way he barks out a stark laugh at the pathetic sight. 

“Here’s a deal: don’t try to pretend I’m like you—” this he spits, the words acidic and smoking with implications, as he approaches Rich, his stance daunting and condescending like he believes Rich to be stupid “—and I won’t yell.”

He sticks his hand out, jabbing Rich right between the ribs. He wants Rich to shake it. To make their ‘deal’ official. 

Rich glares down at the offending hand, then back up at Jake’s face. It’s unfair that between the pure malice on Jake’s face and the hard, unwavering set of his jaw, Rich can still see the soft, caring prince he was so accustomed to. That boy was the opposite of irascible. He was painfully civilized, polite to a fault. Jake hasn’t changed, hasn’t suddenly become some unredeemable monster, he’s just been stripped of the humanity he fought so hard to keep among the selfish lords and nobles and royals he’s forced to surround himself with.

“Like me,” Rich repeats, voice so monotonous he almost doubts that he’s kept his humanity either. Even so, anger boils in his stomach, burning his insides with steaming heat, a painful form of proof. He’s human. He’s furious. 

When he repeats the words again, they’re painted with rage. 

“Like me. Fucking like me.” He backs up—one step, two, three. Jake’s vanity bangs up against his spine. “So you’re willing to strip me, fuck me, undo me, but you’re scared of being like me?”

Jake’s hand clenches into a fist. Rich can see the indecision on his face. He wants to hit something. He might hit Rich. Instead, he digs his nails into his own palm until blood coats his fingertips and drips down his wrist.

When he speaks, he doesn’t yell. He sounds like he’s negotiating with another king, debating the outcome of some war with a random, pretentious prince he’d stumbled upon at one ball or another. His civility has returned to him, sure, but it’s a bitter kind—it burns with psychotic desperation despite its apparent tranquility. 

“I never gave you any indication that I wanted anything more than sex. You knew that from the beginning. You knew this was just an—”

“If you say experiment I will never speak to you again. Experiments don’t last two and a half fucking years.”

Jake looks like a ship about to go under. He looks like destruction. 

“I have been engaged with multiple different women over our time together—”

“You seemed perfectly content coming home to fuck me every night anyway.”

Jake makes a sound like he’s just been stabbed with white-hot metal. His legs give out for a second—not long enough for him to fall, but long enough for his muscles to go from tense to struggling to hold him upright. The only reason he doesn’t sit is because he knows how it’ll come off. He’s been in the council’s chambers, he’s sat in on negotiations and treaty signings. He’s memorized every aspect of body language that can signify weakness and, by god, he cannot let Rich know that he makes Jake weak. 

“I have been engaged with multiple women,” he repeats, the words slipping between his teeth (teeth that have dug into Rich’s skin, have tasted his blood, have memorized the indents at his hips and the slope of his muscles), “I am engaged to a woman. Not you. Never you. Our arrangement—”

“Affair.”

“Arrangement—” The word comes out strained this time.

“Dalliance,” Rich says.

“Arrangement—” He almost sounds like he’s choking on it. Rich smiles.

“I can keep fucking going, asshole. We had sex. We didn’t sign a contract. Fucking own up to it.”

Jake lowers his head in submission.

“Our dalliance was just fun. Just playing. It was a thing for children. It was never anything more than—we were just—” he struggles around the word, the weight of it so complete he can barely say it, not only afraid of Rich’s reaction—violent, furious, unforgiving—but also of what it would do to himself. He’ll be forced to slice off his own tongue. It’ll always taste like the shape of—

“Experimenting,” he says (almost sobs), “You were just an experiment.”

Rich drops the hairbrush. If he keeps it in his hand he’ll throw it and he’d rather die than do that.

“Right,” he says, his voice trembling. Doubt stands behind him, a shadow so dark it makes his vision double and triple. Even as the room spun, the two, three, four, five Jake’s all swimming in his vision coalesced down into one boy, one prince, standing in front of him without a crown to be seen. “Right, an experiment sticks around even as you filter through dozens of different girls. I’m the experiment. Not them. They’re not all just fucked up attempts to find a girl who makes you feel like I do. Because she’ll fix it. She’ll fucking fix you—”

“I don’t need fixing! I’m not—” he spins, grabbing his dress shirt from the floor. It’s pretty incriminating to be half naked with the boy you’re claiming you don’t love. 

“I’m straight,” he says, forcing himself into the shirt, “I’m straight. It’s not fake when I’m with her. I’m marrying her because I want to. Because I can't---don't, fuck, won't marry you.”

He keeps talking, Rich knows he keeps talking, but it’s so quiet Rich can’t hear it over the blood rushing in his ears, over the tears blurring his vision. Jake’s mouth moves, muttering to himself, reassuring himself that it’s the truth—he likes her, he likes her, he likes her—and Rich does everything he can not to obsess over the words. He almost wants them tattooed on him, wants to stare at them with burning eyes until the entire world has caught fire with the knowledge that Jake does not love him. 

Jake pulls his suit jacket over his shirt. He looks up from the floor and over at Rich, his gaze a labyrinth of lies Rich doesn’t want to believe, but Jake’s always been a sweet talker—he can make even the most bitter of words taste like honey. That’s how he kept Rich around for so long even as he danced with girls at balls and took princesses out on picnics while Rich stayed sitting, waiting at Jake’s bedroom door like a little kid, for Jake to come home and bed him. 

(But it was never the sex, no matter what Jake said. It wasn’t. It was the moments after. Jake, naked under the covers, malleable like molten gold, hanging off of Rich’s words like he was trying to ingratiate him. It was Jake’s hands on Rich’s hips in every dark corner of the palace Jake ruled. It was the stolen kisses before council meetings, chaste kisses in hallways during balls that would’ve escalated to more had Jake not had to return to the ballroom a moment later to dance with a noble’s daughter. It was the pink of Jake’s lips as he kissed Rich’s shoulder, his mouth still the strawberry flavor of the lipstains the girls he courted wore. 

It was Jake pacing the length of his room, repeating the lines to a speech he was about to give with the nervous fervor of an anxious teenager about to confess. It was the way he looked at Rich for either approval or constructive criticism, and the way he accepted every word Rich said, whether good or bad, with a curt nod and hidden smile. 

It was the fact he never seemed to know what to do with himself when Rich complimented him. A simple ‘you’re pretty’ and Jake was frozen, face flushed and tongue drunk and uncoordinated, unable to come up with any response other than nervous laughter.

It was the first night Jake had fucked him. He’d tried to make it all a joke. 

“You’re supposed to boss me around sometimes, y’know,” he’d laughed, still breathless from their climb back through Jake’s bedroom window. They weren’t supposed to go down to town without supervision, but when Rich had caught Jake with his sheets tied into a rope and hanging off the side of the castle, he’d joined him instead of yelling. “Instead you just let me do whatever I want. I could—” he’d grabbed Rich’s shirt and pulled him in close. “I could touch you here—” his fingertips brushed over Rich’s bicep, then the rim of his pants, “—and you won’t stop me.”

There was a long, heavy pause. Jake looked up from the place he was touching Rich and whispered, “You’re not stopping me.”

Rich smirked. 

“Do you want me to?”

Jake only laughed again, bright and starry. He shook his head as he dragged Rich to his bed, overeager and ecstatic. 

It was the fact Jake loved him. Jake loves him. 

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me—)

Jake approaches carefully, almost scared of what Rich will do if he gets too close. Rich remains still, waiting. He wants Jake to kiss him. He thinks maybe he will. One last impassioned kiss, a dramatic ending to their dramatic story, before Jake says that god forsaken word again and leaves.

But Jake only skirts around the edge of Rich’s personal space and snatches his crown from the vanity behind him. 

“Maybe,” he whispers, sounding calm and resigned—almost defeated—now that Rich is thoroughly convinced of Jake’s intransigence, “Maybe it never had anything to do with you, have you—” he swallows the truth and continues, “—have you ever thought about that? Maybe it could’ve been anyone. Maybe you were just a boy in my bedroom willing to have sex, and maybe that’s all I thought. Maybe it was just instinct. Maybe I liked it, but maybe that was just because you touched me and you wanted me, and I—”

Rich searches Jake’s expression for pain. These words should be hurting, should be tearing him apart from the inside out. That’s what they’re doing to Rich. They’re destroying him. He never thought Jake was pernicious. He always thought Jake was an instrument of god, an extension of pure creation and goodness, but there were no tears in his eyes. Only a vague, shadowy regret. 

“---maybe I just let you want me. Because it felt nice to be wanted.”

He knows what he’s doing as he puts the crown on his head and leaves. It’s a show of status. Rich is a servant with red-hot tears on his face and Jake is a prince with a crown on his head. 

Jake is a prince who’s going to a ball to dance with his betrothed and Rich is a servant who’s going to stay in their— in Jake’s—bedroom and clean up the mess of their love and then the mess of their fight. 

Fuck you, Jake Dillinger. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

---

the secret is that they're in a relationship. bc. bc jake's a prince and he's not allowed to be in a relationship w a dude. yep. okay.

[fashion4standusers]

Anyway, if I had a nickel for every time a series had six installments that gradually escalated in ridiculousness, only for the sixth installment to end with a universe reboot and the seventh installment to pick up in a new universe where alternate versions of the original characters now exist in the distant past, I'd have two nickels.

One of those series is JoJo's Bizarre Adventure. The other is Riverdale

[starry-bi-sky]

i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.

He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.

And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.

And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.

Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.

Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."

There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.

It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.

Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.

At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.

"Do you like to do anything?"

Nothing. Just silence.

Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.

Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.

Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.

And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.

He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.

Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.

So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.

"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"

"Don't."

He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.

Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"

"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."

It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"

The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."

Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."

And they fall back into silence.

Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."

He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.

(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)

At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.

Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.

("Tucker told me once--") ("Tucker?") ("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")

(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)

(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)

It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."

The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."

The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.

When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.

Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.

"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."

When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.

Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.

[wigglebox]

Dr. Sexy 😘

[dailytomlinson]

Louis Outtakes by Joshua Halling (2020 — 2023)

*Read description for details on where each photo was taken

[halfdeadwallfly]

[skrunksthatwunk]

actually i'm still thinking about the moral orel finale.

he has a cross on his wall. do you know how much i think about that bc it's a lot.

a lot of stories ((auto)biographical or fictional) centering escape from abusive/fundamentalist christianity result in the lead characters leaving behind christianity entirely. and that makes complete sense! people often grow disillusioned with the associated systems and beliefs, and when it was something used to hurt them or something so inseparable from their abuse that they can't engage with it without hurting, it makes total sense that they would disengage entirely. and sometimes they just figure out that they don't really believe in god/a christian god/etc. a healthy deconstruction process can sometimes look like becoming an atheist or converting to another religion. it's all case by case. (note: i'm sure this happens with other religions as well, i'm just most familiar with christian versions of this phenomenon).

but in orel's case, his faith was one of the few things that actually brought him comfort and joy. he loved god, y'know? genuinely. and he felt loved by god and supported by him when he had no one else. and the abuses he faced were in how the people in his life twisted religion to control others, to run away from themselves, to shield them from others, etc. and often, orel's conflicts with how they acted out christianity come as a direct result of his purer understanding of god/jesus/whatever ("aren't we supposed to be like this/do that?" met with an adult's excuse for their own behavior or the fastest way they could think of to get orel to leave them alone (i.e. orel saying i thought we weren't supposed to lie? and clay saying uhhh it doesn't count if you're lying to yourself)). the little guy played catch with god instead of his dad, like.. his faith was real, and his love was real. and i think it's a good choice to have orel maintain something that was so important to him and such a grounding, comforting force in the midst of. All That Stuff Moralton Was Up To/Put Him Through. being all about jesus was not the problem, in orel's case.

and i know i'm mostly assuming that orel ended up in a healthier, less rigid version of christianity, but i feel like that's something that was hinted at a lot through the series, that that's the direction he'd go. when he meditates during the prayer bee and accepts stephanie's different way to communicate, incorporating elements of buddhism into his faith; when he has his I AM A CHURCH breakdown (removing himself from the institution and realizing he can be like,, the center of his own faith? taking a more individualistic approach? but Truly Going Through It at the same time), his acceptance (...sometimes) of those who are different from him and condemned by the adults of moralton (stephanie (lesbian icon stephanie my beloved), christina (who's like. just a slightly different form of fundie protestant from him), dr chosenberg (the jewish doctor from otherton in holy visage)). his track record on this isn't perfect, but it gets better as orel starts maturing and picking up on what an absolute shitfest moralton is. it's all ways of questioning the things he's been taught, and it makes sense that it would lead to a bigger questioning as he puts those pieces together more. anyway i think part of his growth is weeding out all the lost commandments of his upbringing and focusing on what faith means to him, and what he thinks it should mean. how he wants to see the world and how he wants to treat people and what he thinks is okay and right, and looking to religion for guidance in that, not as like. a way to justify hurting those he's afraid or resentful of, as his role models did.

he's coming to his own conclusions rather than obediently, unquestioningly taking in what others say. but he's still listening to pick out the parts that make sense to him. (edit/note: and it's his compassion and his faith that are the primary motivations for this questioning and revisal process, both of individual cases and, eventually, the final boss that is christianity.) it makes perfect sense as the conclusion to his character arc and it fits the overall approach of the show far better. it's good is what i'm saying.

and i think it's important to show that kind of ending, because that's a pretty common and equally valid result of deconstruction. and i think it cements the show's treatment of christianity as something that's often (and maybe even easily) exploited, but not something inherently bad. something that can be very positive, even. guys he even has a dog he's not afraid of loving anymore. he's not afraid of loving anyone more than jesus and i don't think it's because he loves this dog less than bartholomew (though he was probably far more desperate for healthy affection and companionship when he was younger). i think it's because he figures god would want him to love that dog. he's choosing to believe that god would want him to love and to be happy and to be kind. he's not afraid of loving in the wrong way do you know how cool that is he's taking back control he's taking back something he loves from his abusers im so normal

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 766: The ones chasing the colored bib!!

Pag 1

1: Those who pride themselves on their speed on flats are jumping ahead one by one!!

Waa

So fast!

2: Their goal is

3: the first result that's 10km ahead of here...

Pag 2

1: The sprint line!!

Pag 3

1: We're done here

On!!

Hurry up, you haven't forgotten anything?

No

2: Damn, road racing is so much more hectic than tennis

3: I-I'll grab that for you!

Thanks

4: We have to take a different route than the race to get to the supply point ahead of time

5: They were saying that a a lot of people jumped ahead earlier right after the start

For that “something line”? Is that thing so important?

On

Pag 4

1: The sprint line is the first title

2: During the Inter High there are three colored bibs you can obtain in one day: the sprint's “green bib”, the mountains' “red bib”, and the one for that day's victory, the “yellow bib”

This for all three days... nine of them in total

3: And among them, the “first day's fast sprint line” is the very first one

4: A flash situation right after the start when no one is injured or had retired yet.... out of the nine bibs that everyone can desire

5: under the same conditions, this, most of all, is the one

Pag 5

1: when everyone has the same chances!!

Gallop!!

2: The green bib

3: has to be mine!!

Ugh!! That guy's fast!!

4: There's a lot of show-offs from Nagoya

They mistake flashiness for strength

Real strength is

Pag 6

2: is “thickness”!!

Th... “thickness”!?

3: I'm Oosumi from Kagoshima's Satsuma Nishi high school!!

In Kyushu “thick” means “big”!! And I won't lose against anyone when it comes to waist circumference and neck thickness!!

Ugh!! He really is huge!

4: Oosumi-kun!!

Kagoshima's Oosumi-kun!!

5: The thickest volcano in Japan is Sakurajima!!

The thickest radish in Japan is the Sakurajima radish!!

Uh... but that has nothing to do with running!!

Pag 7

1: I want to try and see if there's a connection!!

3: If everyone has a chance, then it's not out of reach for anyone

4: That's right... the chances are equal... so

5: of course... in order to take all the bibs and regain the title

Pag 8

1: Kanagawa's Hakone Academy is aiming for the first sprint line too!!

Pag 9

1: “Shoot them down”?

You really wanna go, Bashi-kun?

2: Well...

3: In that case, Jou-kun will rest..

Wha!! wait, Manami, the plan....

4: We can't hold him back.... Bashi-san, please don't break your zipper

5: Even if I break it, as long as I win there's nothing to complain about!!

6: Can you do it?

Who do you think you're speaking to!!

7: I'll take it, 100%!!

My jersey, that was handed over to me by Izumida-san... and that Izumida-san got from Shinkai-san...

Pag 10

1: Is the one with the “bib number 4”, the ace sprinter number of Hakone Academy's tradition!!

2: Ugh!! Hakogaku is moving....

Ugh...

The first sprint.... for Hakogaku, Doubashi is suddenly going for it?!

Pag 11

3: Just now

4: I heard someone say that Hakogaku is moving!!

5: And earlier I got confirmation that Kaburagi moved

Pag 12

1: The third year Doubashi is going?

That Doubashi!!

2: What should our selected team do!!

3: We have no chance of winning

So do we keep going like this and preserve our strengths?

No

Should we send someone!?

4: Good grief.... is there no time to calmly savor the “feeling of running”at the Inter High!! The feeling of running!!

5: Pfui...

Pag 13

1: Of course I'm prepared for it but still!!

2: Kobayashi!! Uchikawa!!

3: You have the chance to test your legs that you've trained on the track field!!

4: Go for the green bib challenge!!

Pag 14

1: Huh.... but

But the first attack is basically already done

If only the two of us jump ahead now from here....

2: One last train is soon coming up from behind us

He has a terrific acceleration, but if you can jump on it you can make it to the front!!

3: Ohh

Waaa

4: He's coming!!

5: Seriously!? If we can then I wanna go!!

What should we do, Sugimoto-san!!

Pag 15

1: He's here!!

5: He's huge!!

Hakogaku!!

Huh!! Sugimoto-san!?

7: Kuaaaaaa!!

Pag 16

1: Doubashii!!

2: Sugimoto-san jumped ahead....

3: and caught up to the Hakogaku guy!?

4: Huh!?

What do you want, you....

Pag 17

1: You're Sohoku's handyman....!?

2: Can you take two people of the selcted team with you!?

I want to give them the chance to experience the sprint

3: Why are you running in the Inter High!!

4: The selected team!? So you're the one they said they called at last minute!!

Please take them with you

5: Ah!? You call that a negotiation!?

Get out of here with that selfish talk!!

6: There's no benefit for me..!! It's ridiculous!! I refuse!!

I'll make up for it!!

Pag 18

1: When Hakogaku is in a pinch somewhere, we'll help you!! I'll take the initiative!!

3: Buah!! Oi, wait-

You!? Helping!? Hakogaku!?

Th-that's right!!

4: Buuah, that's not balanced!!

Please

5: Please!!

Pag 19

1: …. tch, I don't hate earnest people

2: Get on!! Selected team's guys!! But I won't care if you get shaken off!!

5: Handyman!!

I felt your spirit!!

Pag 20

1: I'll take these guys for now

I don't expect anything though!!

Thank you Doubashi!!

Waaa-

He's so fast!!

Pag 21

1: Ah I'm so glad....

Sugimoto-san....

Sugimoto-san is amazing.... he negotiated....

2: Now, we'll run in a formation while preserving our strength

Otherwise, if we're all scattered when they come back, they won't have a place to rest

3: Yessir!!

4: Do your best, guys

5: So fast....

It's hard, Kobayashi...

6: But we'll hold out

This is the road that Sugimoto-san negotiated for us!!

Yes!!

Pag 22

2: Hakone Academy's Doubashi moved, on!!

This.... Issa-kun and Doubashi-san... could it be that it'll be like...

3: last year's matchup, on!!

4: No but, Kanzaki-chan, what you were saying earlier about the colored bibs

5: You said that counting the sprint and the climb, there's three of them for each day

Pag 23

1: And there's no one who wants to take all three of them?

2: Yeah, since climbing and sprinting are fundamentally different running styles, there's no one

5: That is, if you exclude....

Pag 24

1: those out-of the-ordinary people who will appear sometimes!!

Yon

[fruitybashir]

i know we're all still in a blowjob stool frenzy but can i interest you in ummm kind of spoilers for the first jance epilogue tomorrow 😗👉🏼👈🏼

[epilepzia]

Oh I never try ask here,huh? Well,here I am!! >:D hey you, checkpoint! With a flick of my wand,you are now cursed to be a fairy BAHAHAHA

[osamusriceballs]

The Accident - Part XVII

Atsumu x fem reader

Warnings: Making out

Words: 1,5 k

About: Back to Onigiri Miya <3

Part I II -> Next Part

"Finally. Took ya long enough."

Osamu rolls his eyes when you both enter the shop. You apologetically smile and wave while uttering a greeting. "Hey, Osamu. Sorry for being late." Atsumu grins widely, simply ignoring Osamu's comment while you both move to the counter, where Osamu is working. You notice that he looks a bit tired after moving closer, the bags under his eyes proof that he probably only slept a few hours before he had to open up the shop again. Yet, he still professionally forms Onigiri with his hands, everything looking as flawless and clean as the last time you had been there.

Osamu finally looks up to you both when you reach him and suddenly raises his brows when he sees how tightly your hand is held by Atsumu's. His mouth opens slightly, as if to comment on it, but he closes it silently without saying anything before he diverts his attention back to the Onigiri in his hands, now with a small smile adorning his lips. Your face warms up and you mentally thank every deity for making Osamu the more tactful and considerate twin. You're quite certain that Atsumu would have commented on that, if he had been in Osamu's place. Such a tease.

You clear your throat and let go of Atsumu's hand, but his grip around yours is so tight that it doesn't make any visible difference. "Samu, I'm starvin'—could eat the whole menu today. Gimme that please." Atsumu points towards the filled plate in front of Osamu, who just groans as a response and rolls his eyes. "Yer only here for five seconds and I already wanna kick ya out."

You blink in surprise when Osamu simply pushes the plate towards Atsumu and then turns around to open the fridge. "I prepared somethin' for ya. Take it before I change my mind." He hands you another plate with dishes that you remember from the last time you had been there, and you hastily pull your hand out of Atsumu's death grip to take it. "That's—amazing! Thank you." Your stomach clenches at the sight of the food, and you become painfully aware of the fact that you haven't eaten anything since last night, and it's around 4 pm at this point.

"I'll make sure to tag ya in an Instagram post, Samu." Atsumu grins and places one hand at the small of your back to direct you towards a free table. "Here." He quickly places his plate on the table and moves back to the counter. "I'll get us something to drink." You smile and nod while you try to calm yourself down. Your heart starts beating faster when you think about what has just happened with him in his apartment. How he had kissed you and held you. How he was laying on top of you and grinding against you- so needily and desperate. How your hands had been buried into his hair, desperate for him to deepen the kiss—and he did.

But it all came to an end when you had moaned against his lips, the sound so breathless and lewd that your eyes shot open—and he pulled away with a curse. "God, y/n. I can't—we shouldn't—gosh, fuck. I want you so badly." You could see his clenched jaw, his flushed cheeks, and feel the hardness in his pants without a doubt. You knew he wants to go further- but the wetness between your legs was also evidence of how much you wanted him, and you were quite certain that he could feel your warmth and wetness through his pants at this point. But you knew it's not right. Not now, not so shortly after all that.

You had taken a deep breath and then untangled your legs around his body. "It's probably for the best if we stop right now." You smiled a bit strained, your body wanting nothing more but to stay here forever and let him have his way with you, but your mind told you to slow down. You didn't want to ruin this by starting something like this too soon. He had simply nodded but still leaned down to press a longing kiss against your lips. You had melted into the feeling of his lips against yours and reached out for him, only to have him grab your wrists a little clumsily while he pulled back from the kiss and pinned your hands to the bed. Your eyes widened at your vulnerable position under him—and a throb of need rushed through your body.

His eyebrows shot up and his lips curled into a smug grin at your reaction. "Oh? Ya like that? Seems like we're in for a good time then." You swore you could have exploded any second, especially if he kept looking at you like that, and you simply released a shallow huff at his words. "Yer really testin' me here, wifey." He closed his eyes for a second and then pulled back. "Imma take a quick shower and then we can grab somethin' to eat at Samu's. Is that alright with ya?" You had simply nodded, too flustered to form words, and he pecked your cheek one last time before he headed to the bathroom.

After that, you wobbly made it to the other bathroom, quickly washing your face and getting dressed again, trying to distract yourself from the fact that you were this close to giving in and begging him to sleep with you. You have never felt like this with someone else; Atsumu just elicits feelings and actions from your body that you would never have thought were possible. He's a great kisser, and judging from the way he had been grinding his hips against yours, you were quite certain that he will be equally as good in bed. Your face had heated up again at the thought of sleeping with him, and you had quickly grabbed your stuff and go back to the bedroom. You both quickly took your things and made your way towards Onigiri Miya, but not without making out heavily in the elevator.

"Here ya go." Atsumu places two drinks on the table, and you get pulled out of your thoughts. You try to look calm and composed with a smile and thank him while he takes his seat, shortly admiring him in his simple, yet very attractive outfit. A white shirt and a pair of jeans—nothing special, but when Atsumu wears it, it just looks that appealing.

"Don't worry, these are alcohol-free. I'll stop drinking for a while for sure." He scratches the back of his head bashfully, and you laugh softly. "I figured so. But aren't you training like crazy now? Isn't it bad for you to drink anyway?"

A faint pink hue covers his cheeks at your words. "True that. I'm gonna stay away from alcohol for a long time." He shakes his head and then looks away. "Can't believe it's just a few more weeks till the Olympics. Time is running but- oh, let's start with the food already. Can't wait any longer, I'm sorry." He takes an Onigiri off his plate and eagerly digs in, and you're quick to join him, amused by his cute expression while he's chewing. He must have been starving for sure.

"I feel so much better already." He grins, and you nod while you eat a spoonful of your meal, enjoying the taste of fried rice. "Me too. I love Osamu's food." Atsumu nods and pretends to think for a second and then smugly grins. "Seems like yer fallin' for all the Miya's. We're a talented family after all."

"I'm not falling for all the Miyas!" You weakly protest, but the food could definitely make you consider Osamu as a possible partner. "Just kiddin'." He chuckles but suddenly yawns while he reaches for another Onigiri. "I'll drive ya home after that. I'm way too tired for anything more." He does look exhausted now. You don't know how he manages to even hold a proper conversation in his state, his eyes closing every few seconds before he almost violently pulls them open again.

"That's okay." You smile sympathetically and reach for your drink. He got your favorite, and you feel a sudden warmth running though your body at this realization. "I'm also exhausted after last night. But uhm..." You hesitantly fish for your phone and unlock it. "Do you maybe want to give me your new number?" You feel a faint blush creeping up your cheeks, but you're too afraid that you'll forget about it later- especially when he can barely keep his eyes open. "Oh? Sure." His eyes light up, and he quickly wipes his fingers on his tissue before he takes your phone. "Here ya go. I'll make sure to text ya every day."

"You don't have to text me every day." You snort but smile at the thought of always waking up to messages of Atsumu. "I will. Don't worry." Something about the way he says that makes you believe him, and break the intense eye contact when you take the phone with slightly shaky hands and look at the screen.

There it is, your new contact:

Husband

[kitteneddiediaz]

201 and 163 mayhaps for the general smut asks? if it’s sparks anything ofc!

Hi Zesty! Thank you for the request! This ended up being wayyyyyy sappier than I was thinking it would be haha, I hope you enjoy!

163. “do you like it when i touch right here?”

201. “take it like a good boy”

NSFW below the cut

"Do you like it when I touch right here?" Buck whispers, rubbing his fingers gently over Eddie's taint. He's nervous. Nervous that any wrong move could disrupt the quiet, tranquil atmosphere that somehow has allowed him to be where he is right now.

If he's being honest, Buck still isn't really sure what happened. It felt like one second, him and Eddie were doing what they're always doing - standing in the kitchen late at night, opening up about things that feel too real to say in during the loudness of the day. The next, he had Eddie pressed up against the kitchen island, hands tentatively wrapped around Eddie's waist, delicately working his lips over Eddie's, coaxing his mouth open.

Buck's surprised. All of his trysts before have always been... frantic. Tearing clothes off and tripping over furniture on the way to the bedroom. But, Eddie's always been different. And he deserves to be treated different.

It's why Buck hesitates, because this means so much more than a one night stand. He knows that this is a pivotal point in their friendship, the stepping stone to something they've been growing towards for years. Buck knows tonight isn't about playing his cards right, but being aware enough to not play his cards wrong. That he can stumble and be nervous, that he should. That maybe being too boisterous and cocky would be the exact thing that would make Eddie doubt.

It's another reason why he's so gentle, when he walks Eddie backwards through the house, kissing light and open against his mouth. Why he lowers Eddie gently to lay back against the couch cushions, thankful he's strong enough to carry Eddie's weight without risk of dropping him. Why he's slow to kiss down Eddie's neck, to map his skin and taste him for the first time, outside of warm, wet blood splatter on a hot August day, or alcohol-induced sweat from them bumping into each other as they raced to Chimney's hotel room all those months ago.

And Eddie's skin... Buck can't say what Eddie tastes like, and if he's being literal, Eddie tastes like how most people taste. But, he's hopelessly sentimental, so when he nibbles at the sensitive skin at the hinge of Eddie's jaw, high up just under his ear, Buck can't help but taste the memories. Late night conversations and apologies, fresh-baked lasagna over a dining table strewn with 7th-grade math homework over the surface, wall patchings and fresh paint and frames for art that had been hidden away in a garage for way too long. Eddie tastes like a foundation, like a parcel of land with a warm golden-glowing house, beckoning Buck to unpack his belongings alongside the ones already there, space perfectly vacant for Buck to settle into. Not to lay claim to a territory, but to grasp a welcoming hand, inviting him into a life already well-loved.

It's overwhelming, thinking back to those moments where Buck knew it was only a matter of time. And it's overwhelming thinking in the moment now too, knowing that even though tomorrow and the day after will be a little awkward, the two of them stumbling around each other, blushing and giggling and reveling in their puppy love - however short-lived it may be before it settles into something more real, more secure - that one day Buck will be familiar with the way Eddie arches into him. Buck will get to be familiar with the way Eddie's breath hitches, the way his legs fall open to invite Buck to settle between them, that he'll be familiar with... god with the way Eddie breathes his name like a prayer.

They take their time undressing each other, stopping after shirts and pants are removed to touch skin that either of them has only ever gotten to dream of what it feels like under their clothes. The pointy bones of their hips knock together as they settle again, pressed together on Eddie's couch.

And this is where Buck finds himself now, draped over Eddie, one hand cupping the side of his neck and the other working the skin behind his balls.

Eddie's sighing so pretty into his mouth. "Yes. Buck, baby."

Buck slides his hand up to wrap around Eddie's cock next, entranced by the way Eddie's eyelashes flutter closed and he digs his fingers a little harder into Buck's bicep and back he has a grip on.

Buck works him over, sliding his own cock in next to Eddie's to glide over their lengths together.

It's only a few strokes before they're tumbling over the edge together, moaning and gasping into each others mouths.

Post orgasm clarity hits Buck like a ton of bricks though, suddenly distraught at was the hell he just did to implode his friendship with Eddie. It doesn't last long though, because Eddie immediately starts giggling into Buck's neck, hands gliding down to grab at his waist.

It makes Buck giggle too, and it's all he really needs to feel the uneasiness in his gut settle, and then he's sitting up on his haunches, grabbing a tissue to clean both of them up.

"You're gonna stay?" Eddie asks.

And Buck laughs at him just a little, softly. "Yeah, Eddie. I'm staying."

And he does.

[thesmokinpossum]

Sonny and Tom, from beginning to end

[starry-bi-sky]

"Stillborn? No, no, still born." -- DPXDC AU

Based off a comment I saw where Bruce knew about Talia's pregnancy in the earlier comivs, and was ecstatic to be a father. So much so that Talia feared he'd give up being Batman for it, so when she gave birth she put the baby (Damian) on a doorstep and (seemingly) told Bruce that the baby was stillborn.

Instead of Damian, that baby was Danny! Meet Daniel Brown, the 14 year old foster kid whose been living with the Fenton family for the last two years. He's about two years older than Damian.

His last name, "Brown", was a generic surname given to him because the note he came with didn't have one on it. It just had the name "Danyal" on it, but albeit 'Daniel' was the one that had been put into the system for, I'll be totally frank here, racism reasons.

(I looked it up to make sure, and it's generally not permissible for foster parents to change the names of their foster kids even if it's a permanent residency, and for that reason Danny doesn't have the last name "Fenton".)

Danny's got ✨~issues!~✨ He's been through a handful of homes growing up, most of them terrible for a variety of reasons. Which has, as a result, left lasting scars. He's generally a very sweet kid, just very distrustful and jumpy. He's got the signs of a kid suffering from PTSD, and a handful of other issues including attachment and insomnia. His inferiority complex could rival Damian's, and that's going to make for an interesting mutual hatred for when they finally meet.

(something I'll get into later)

He still has the blanket he was found in. It's made of a very high quality material and is a beautiful emerald green with little golden thread accents, it's high quality as a result has Danny clinging onto a desperate hope that his bio family might be out there, and the only reason they gave him up was because of some outside factor. It's been taken a few times in old foster homes, and he's flipped out each time.

While he still calls Jack and Maddie by their names, he likes them well enough. The bar isn't that high though, and while they're some of the better foster parents he's had, "better" doesn't equal "safest". Their laboratory malpractice. Basically, C- Fenton Parents. They're negligent by virtue of being engrossed in their work, but they do care equally about Jazz and Danny. So he doesn't hold it against them that much.

He kinda prefers it that way, their loud affection is overwhelming and Danny doesn't know what to do with their attention, even if he craves it. It's a bit of a complicated situation.

They took in Danny because they genuinely wanted another child, but didn't want a big age gap between them and Jazz. It was actually Jack's idea to foster, and they discussed it with Jazz beforehand. She was all for the idea. Thus, a handful of weeks later, a ton of paperwork, and inspection later, and Daniel Brown entered their household with a trash bag in one hand and eyes like shards of stained glass.

His relationship with Jazz is kinda strained, but that's by virtue of her constant psychoanalyzing and helicoptering. Like with the parents, Danny's overwhelmed by the attention and also just, straight up doesn't like the fact that she's telling him that there's something wrong with him. He knows that, thank you. He pushes her away when she does this.

Other than that though? When Jazz isn't smothering him and is acting like an actual sibling and not a third parent, they're pretty close, and Danny really likes her. They've hung out a few times on their own volition, and Jazz showed him how to take better care of his long hair.

His school situation,, pretty similar to canon with the bullying, albeit with a few more instances of him blowing a fuse and lashing out against his attackers. He's a rather angry kid, but it's quiet. It builds up, piles on top of itself, until eventually, like a volcano, it erupts and burns everyone within radius.

Danny's got a fire core, not an ice core. Phantom's hair is made of white magma; thick and heavy, setting itself on fire when his anger runs hot. When he gets angry, his skin begins to char and split open to reveal pulsating lava underneath, and he crackles and pops like a raging forest fire.

I haven't decided yet on how he meets the batfam -- i've got two ideas but they're both in opposition to each other, and drastically alter how the rest of the plot goes. But I do know that him and Damian hate each other in the beginning. And it has nothing to do with inheritance or "being the blood son" -- although their blood relation absolutely plays the major role in their disdain for each other.

Simply put, they're jealous of each other for the same thing: thinking that the other was wanted.

Damian hates Danny because, unlike Damian, Bruce knew about Danny since conception and wanted him from the moment he heard about him. He had a whole nursery set up, and still does. He never took it down -- just locked the door. Damian was thrust upon Bruce without warning, and he feels like he forced himself into the family. And while on some level Damian knows and understands that Bruce wants him and loves him as much as his other children, that doubt and feeling of inferiority still remains. He looks at Danny and sees him with what Damian always feels he needs reaffirmed.

Meanwhile, Danny hates Damian because he looks at him and sees him with everything Danny's ever wanted. He hates him because Damian grew up knowing both of their parents, with one of them for most of his life, and then moved over to the other. There was never a moment where Damian was (seemingly) left to doubt his place within the family. Damian was raised with the very same woman who left Danny on a doorstep, with no clue to his identity beyond a little green blanket and a note with only a first name. Damian was wanted everywhere, and Danny was wanted nowhere. Damian is Danny's replacement in his eyes.

(It's the little revelation that Damian grew up with their mother that elevates Danny from being quietly envious of Damian to downright despising him. What did Damian do, that Danny didn't? He could live with Damian living with Bruce -- Bruce didn't know Danny was even alive. But him living with their mom? Are you fucking kidding him?)

Damian never outright attacks Danny physically, but it's not like he hides that he didn't like Danny. Meanwhile, Danny, in all his repressive anger, quietly despised him from a distance until finally one wrong snide side-comment has him blowing up and it becomes a screaming match. They're both just enough similar to each other that when they look at each other they really just see a mirror.

They'll work it out together, eventually. But it'll be ugly and cruel and explosive, and they'll start mending the bridge to become brothers in more than just blood relation in the end.

But yeah, stillborn Danny has... a lot going for him.

[teddybeartoji]

can't tell whether i'm getting fucked by my non-existent period or i've just fallen into a Ditch face first

[asiandra-dash]

🥞🌟 / 🎈☕ stuff I drew in class because I really don't care lmao