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yelenasdiary · 6 months

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Party's Over

Pairing: Police Officers! WandaNat x Fem! Daughter! Reader, Kate Bishop x Fem! Reader

Summary: Sneaking out on a Thursday night to join your girlfriend at a party wasn’t what your mothers thought they’d be dealing with when one of them gate crashes the party.

Warnings: Angst, Some Fluff Mentions of underage drinking, Language Warning, mentions of drugs, Reader is 17, so is Kate, Slightly Overprotective Parents, Character Death ?? | 2.2K

AC: I hope you all enjoy this little idea I had x

Music filled the house party full of teenagers from several different high schools, red cups full of beer in the hands of most, people scattered throughout the house, some in the pool and others in small groups of their own. You snuck out after hours ago to join your girlfriend, Kate, for a bit of rule breaking fun.

Kate, wearing black jeans and her archery club dark purple t-shirt, could barely keep her hands off you, especially when you were wearing the leather jacket that she had gotten you for valentine's day, a plain black t-shirt underneath finished with black jeans and a pair of your mom's black combat boots. Kate placed a kiss on your neck while her warms were wrapped around you from behind as you poured another two beers for you both, "wanna go upstairs?" she whispered.

A soft smirk tugged at your lips, you nodded, placing the beers on the table before following your girlfriend upstairs to an empty bedroom. Kate knew you weren't ready for anything physical, and she respected that, the furthest the two of you had got was a steamy make out session whenever you were home alone, tonight was no different. Kate gently brushed your hair out of the view of your neck, "may I?" she looked up at you, you knew what she was asking, "just small ones" you replied.

Her lips pressed against the skin on your neck, lightly sucking to leave a faint but noticeable mark, she left a total of four hickeys on your neck before her lips were pressed against yours once more, your tongues exploring each other, too distracted to hear the loud yelling from downstairs over the music.

"Yeah, yeah! Save it!" The police officer shook her head, "The party is over! Now I suggest you all get out of my sight before I take everybody down to the station and call your parents!" she added, grabbing a plastic red cup out of a party goers' hand, "and I am sure they won't be happy with the fine they'll get for underage drinking!" She went on. The house quickly went form a fun party to teenagers dropping their drinks and rushing to get out of the house.

"I'll check upstairs" the red head's partner commented before walking up the stairs, "Who's house is this?" the officer looked around at those who didn't move, raising a brow when neither answered.

"Alright kids, that's enough" A voice interrupted your make out session, Kate's hands all over your arse. "Parties over" the officer added when you pulled yourself away from your girlfriend, rolling your eyes at being caught. The officer followed you and Kate downstairs where you heard a familiar voice. Your heart skipped a beat when you came eye to eye with your mother, Natasha.

"Y/n" she said your name sternly, full of disappointment, "Kate" she said in the same tone as her eyes shifted to Kates. You knew you were in deep shit, especially when you were supposed to be at home and studying for next week's history exam. Your mother looked back at you, her jaw clenching as she tried to keep from giving you a lecture in front of everybody, "Officer Hill, could you please take these two outside" she added without breaking the strong eye contact with you.

----

"Mom, can we please just go home?" you asked while sitting on the seat by her desk, your arms crossed while your mother gave you the silent treatment. "The best thing you can do right now is keep quiet!" she replied, shooting a disappointed look your way. You rolled your eyes once more before looking across the room to your girlfriend and giving her a soft 'I'm sorry' type of smile. Just then, Nat rose from her seat and walked over to Kate, you watched from your seat but were unable to hear a word that was said.

"Does Clint know you were out tonight?" Natasha asked the blue-eyed girl, she shook her head, "No Mrs Romanoff, I told him I was staying at your place tonight with Y/n to study" Kate replied with the honest truth, she knew better to lie to a cop, let alone Natasha Romanoff.

"Right. I'm going to give him a call, I'll have one of the offices take you home" Natasha spoke sternly seeing how scared Kate was from getting into trouble with the red head. "Another thing" she paused, looking directly into Kate's eyes, "I know you and Y/n have been dating for a while but if I ever catch her with hickeys on her neck again, you won't be seeing her any longer, do you understand?"

Kate nodded, "I understand, I'm really sorry Mrs Romanoff" she replied.

"Good, Officer Hill will take you home, I'm going to call Clint now."

You watched your mother wander back to her desk and pick up the phone, your eyes drifted over to take and mouthed "what did she say?" but Kate just shook her head, making you mad at your mother for whatever was said.

----

"What did you say to Kate?!" you demanded as your mother opened the door to your home, "Go upstairs to your room!" Nat replied, ignoring your question as you stormed into the living room. Wanda paused her sitcom and looked at the two of you confused.

"What's going on? Why are you dressed and why are you home so early?" she asked, standing up from the sofa. Natasha was set to knock off work at 2am but here she was at 11pm.

"Do you want to tell her or should I?" Nat looked at you while her hands worked on taking off her gun holster belt. Full of frustration, you turned to your mom. "I snuck out, okay?! I snuck out and went to a party with Kate! I don't see what the big deal is! I am 17 for god's sake" you snapped. Wanda wasn't impressed with your actions but she was always the calmer parent when it came to conflict. "Now tell her about the marks on your neck" Natasha added.

"Oh what?!" you moved your hair to the side, showing your mother the hickeys that Kate left behind, "these?! Just some fucking hickeys?!" you added.

"That is enough! You do not speak to me like that! Do you understand how worried your mother and I would be if something happened to you?! Did you even stop to think about that? You are still a teenager!" Natasha's voice rose with anger, deep down her own fears were beginning to show.

"Honey" Wanda walked up to her wife, "go take a shower and calm down, let me take this one" she added in her soft tone that always helped Natasha take a moment to breathe.

"God!" you snapped once more, "you act like I am supposed to be this perfect child and do nothing wrong, all I ever do is do good by you and the one time I want to do something for myself you act like it's the end of the world!" you added, Wanda turned around and now both your parents were looking at you. "Do you know how fucking annoying and embarrassing it is to have the entire school know that my mothers are police officers" you went on just as Wanda opened her mouth to say something, "I never get invited to parties because nobody wants you two to show and up ruin it just like you did tonight! Now everybody is going to think it's my fault!" You finished before storming upstairs to your room, slamming the door shut.

Of course, your mothers knew their job title would eventually cause an unspoken issue but after seeing your little outburst, they only just now saw how much their jobs were affecting your social life.

After a while, Wanda came knocking on your door. "Honey, can we talk?" she asked, poking her head in. You tossed your phone to the other side of your bed and sat up as Wanda walked in and sat down on the edge of your bed. "Don't give me that lecture about mom loving me so much and she is only mad because she cares, please" you sighed.

"But you're right on that sweetheart, she does love and care about you so much, you're our baby" your mother reached for your hand, "do you know what we see every single day on our job?" Wanda asked causing you to roll your eyes, "I know, I get it" you huffed.

"Honey, please, listen to me" your mother tilted her head ever so slightly, "you're 17, you're young and you're going to do things that mom and I aren't going to agree with but at the end of the day, you're our little girl. No matter how tall you are, you'll be 50 and still our little girl, your safety is so important to us.

Mom told me what she said to Kate, she doesn't mean that. You're just growing up so fast and now you're dating, it worries us, but I know you're safe and Kate is a lovely woman and I hope she isn't to upset with your mom" Wanda couldn't help but brush a lock of hair behind your ear, "I know our jobs take a toll on you and I spoke to mom, she's going to drop the possession charges on the brothers who lived there but I can't let you sneaking out slide. You broke our trust a little tonight, so I am only doing this because I love you and I want you to really understand that" she went on.

"Mom, please! it was one time" you sighed knowing that your punishment was coming.

"Hopefully the last. You're grounded, no going to Kate's this weekend"

"Mom! You've gotta be kidding me!?" You snapped, pulling your hands away from your mother.

"I'm sorry love, but it's only fair"

----

The weekend went by slowly, not only were you not allowed to stay at your girlfriends for the weekend but Natasha and Wanda both agreed to confiscate your phone for the weekend. You spent the whole of Saturday in your room, ignoring your mothers whenever they came by, they knew you were upset but so were they. Come Monday morning and you were over the whole ideal.

"Good morning" you smiled as you took a seat at the dinner table, Wanda made a quick eggs, bacon and toast for breakfast, all three of you were at school and work today. "Somebody seems happier today" Natasha replied as she looked up from the newspaper, Wanda pouring herself a mug of coffee while you took a sip of your orange juice.

"Yeah, I did some thinking and I guess you guys were right to be worried and I am really sorry" you explained. Both your mothers looked at you, Wanda smiled softly, "I'm glad you see the situation from our shoes" she spoke.

"But" you looked to Nat, "mom, you can't talk to Kate like you did. I know you want to protect me from literally everything, but I trust Kate and she's always been so caring and respectful towards me. Thursday night was the first time she'd ever left marks on me, and I liked it and if the time comes and I want to sleep with her, I will" you added before taking a bite out of your toast, leaving Natasha speechless. You rose from your seat, your toast still between your lips.

"You're leaving already?" Wanda asked, slightly assumed.

"Yeah, I have a test today and I want to get there early to see Kate" you replied, grabbing your backpack before wandering over to Nat and placing a kiss on her cheek, "I love you mom, have a good day" you spoke before doing the same to Wanda, grabbing your phone from her before leaving the house.

"Love you too honey!" You mothers called out in sync.

----

You knew you'd have the house to yourself after school, so it wasn't a surprise that you invited Kate over to make up for the lost time from the weekend. Upstairs in your bedroom, laying in Kates arms as she read you her English essay while her fingers ran through your hair, her voice calming you from the build-up of nerves that you had felt all day.

"Mrs Potts is totally going to fail me on this" Kate chuckled as she threw her essay to the side once she finished reading it. "Don't say that! you'll pass! It covers everything the assessment said to cover" you replied, looking up at her. Kate frowned slightly, "what's going baby?" she asked seeing the uncertain look in your eyes. You sat up slowly and shook your head lightly, "I don't know, something feels off ever since lunch, I'm probably just stressed about todays test" you replied trying to brush off the uneasy feeling you were having.

Just then, you heard the front door open, "Mom's home! I'm going to ask if you can stay for dinner" you smiled, leaving Kate in your bedroom as you wandered down the stairs. One look at your mother and that uneasy feeling suddenly made sense.

"M-mom?" You questioned looking at her, her eyes red and puffy from crying. "Mom, what happened?!" you asked, fearing the worst.

#fanfiction #marvel #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #black widow #wandanat #wandanat x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader

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qcomicsy · 1 year

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Some Nice!future au headcannons because I want to keep the ideas fresh in my head.

- Bruce is retired, Wich is insane saying this, I know right? How could he? And that's my favorite part he is retired, except he isn't actually.

He generally stays in the comm and no he doesn't care if that bothers Terry. Sometimes Terry just purposely turns his comm off, part to piss Bruce off and part to not get himself pissed off because there's a limit on how much you want your dad minding your business while your doing your job.

So Bruce stays sometimes in the comm and sometimes giving his mostly unwanted inputs on his investigations.

He doesn't get out as Batman as much as he wants to, because yeah that would get him killed but when that ever stopped Bruce Wayne honstly? And also because when he did it he almost gave everysingle one of the Bats a fucking heart attack.

Terry was so fucking confused because some goons and criminals kept telling him 'I though you were taller???' and he would get '????'

- Bruce minds everyone business as well is not just Terry, sometimes he just pop up in the other Bats comms and everyone is deeply annoyed about it, because how the fuck he keeps invading their own security system?

And it's even more infuriating because in the end of the day (most of the time) he is just extremely helpful.

Not even Oracle could keep him off her back.

- Tim is "technically" now the best detective in the world, except he isn't because Bruce isn't dead and Detective Chimps isn't either, but not many people know that.

- Gordon is happily retired thank you very much, and he can finally rest because Montoya filled for him as commissioner.

- Everything that might happen is her problem now.

- Harley is mostly retired she lives with Pamela in a farm and works as a super-people/part villains therapist from home-office.

- Harley and Pam got married.

- Jason visits Harley constantly, they bonded a lot in these past few years.

- Jason visits Harley much more often then he visits Bruce and Bruce is definitely not jealous about it even though Harley lives in literally nowhere and the Manor is right there–

- Bruce nags Jason, so much about it. He nags everyone about it. He sends a passive agressive "Alfred told me to tell you dinner is ready" message ever couple of weeks (he's lying).

Jason once told him "I really miss it when you were emotionally stunted" and Bruce just looked at him and quipped.

"You're the ones to told me to get therapy."

- Bruce doesn't actually go to therapy he gossips with Harley and they call that therapy.

Because Harley tricks him into sessions mid gossiping.

And it is in fact, better than nothing.

- Terry became Batman as an annoying 17 year old for the exasperation of every adult of the Batfamily.

- Damian and Tim we're the one's who trained him, Bruce unfortunately was hospitalized at the time (he's better now).

- Damian trained Terry in martial arts, combat and streets smart skill and Tim helped training him on how to proceed with the criminal forensics part.

- Duke and Steph kept an eye on Terry in his first months of patrol, Terry kept trying to get away from them to do whatever he wanted but Tim or Damian would always eventually catch up to him.

- That doesn't mean he stopped trying until he made all four of them age ten years of stress.

- They let him do it whatever he wanted eventually, but mostly because they knew he was ready.

- Steph just did on purpose.

- Damian rarely would actually join Terry (or any of them) on patrol because he prefers working in the shadows.

- The day Terry successfully tricked all the four of them into leaving him alone he almost had a heart attack because he immediately bumped into no one less then Nightwing and Redhood.

- Red Robin was the one to call them.

- Terry and Jason got along so quickly it's infuriating.

- Terry is a great Batman, he is skilled and witty which puts almost every criminal off rithm.

They hadn't got this that amount of stress ever since Dick's robin.

- Jason works as a literature professor in Gotham public school.

- Jason was Terry's teacher for a while.

- Terry hated it.

- Terry got to school with patrol bruises once and when Jason managed to get a hand on him he cussed him out for 45 minutes.

That's how he learned that Tim and Damian forgot to teach Terry how to hide them.

Then he cussed them out for 84 minutes holding Terry's shirt the same way you hold a wet cat.

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satureja13 · 1 month

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Jack eventually convinced the others to send him back to the Therapy Game. And even though Vlad had a (mostly) positive experience, they are so worried after Jack broke down when he returned from his last session.

Saiwa: "Be careful. Leave whenever you feel uncomfortable." Jack: "I will." Tiny Can beeped exitedly and started the Game.

Jack was still locked up. But he kept himself from screaming 'OUT!' and tried to get himself together. This. Is. Just. A. Game. Breathe in through the nose and out through the muzzle. Just like Saiwa tought him. He managed to calm down a bit and looked around. There was NPC Barfolomew! And NPC Uncle Stefan on the stands! What a strange place. Is this a court hearing? They won't execute him, will they?

NPC Barfolomew stood up: "Are you ready Boys?" A growl and a rattle from the cell next to Jack answered him ö.Ö' There is another wolf captured here. And from the stand Jack heard the crowd chant: "Wolfsbane! Wolfsbane! WOLFSBANE!!!" Just like last time. Barfolomew is obviously the bookmaker here.

He opened their cells (finally!) and they stepped out. Jack looked around. Of course there is also an NPC Greg! He is so going to have a word with Tiny Can when he's back! At least there's no gallow or pyre.

The Queen hissed: "Who is this pooch and why isn't he greeting his Queen?" Barfolomew: "Forgive him, Your Royal Highness! He probably grew up in the woods!"

And to Jack: "Hey, Moonchild! Get yourself together!" And so Wolfsbane and Moonchild greeted the Queen and her entourage.

Which consisted of no lesser than Noxee, Ji Ho and: Caleb! OMG! (The Boys met Caleb Vatore last Winter Solstice ^^') Even though Jack knows that these are only NPCs, he's so excited. Noxee! And Caleb! He already regrets that he left the game early last time. And Ji Ho looks so beautiful!

Barfolomew went back to his table. Jack Moonchild and Wolfsbane stood opposite of each other. So these are wolf fights! Barfolomew shouted: "The bets are placed. Leeet's get ready to rrrumble!" And the crowd cheered and chanted their 'Wolfsbane!' fan chants...

Wolfsbane hugged Jack Moonchild and whispered: "Don't worry, I'll go easy on you!"

Caleb does not seem to like what he sees.

Despite Wolfsbane's promise, it was a rough fight. But Jack Moonchild enjoyed it. He loves a good fight - and he's the Super Soldier after all :3

Neither is giving anything away. Caleb's eyes are locked on the combatants.

'Well, in the Euston Tavern you screamed it was your shout But they wouldn't give you service so you kicked the windows out They took you out into the street, kicked you in the brains So you walked back in through a bolted door and did it all again

At the sick bed of Cúchulainn we'll kneel and say a prayer And the ghosts are rattling at the door and the devil's in the chair, hey'

The Sick Bed of Cuchulainn - The Pogues I can't keep still when I hear this song! ^^'

It was an equal fight but Jack Moonchild won in the end. And Caleb looks shocked. It seems he placed his bets on Wolfsbane.

The Queen stepped down to congratulate Moonchild and extolled them for the enthralling fight. His beloved, beautiful Noxee. Best therapy ever! In this world he is not the damaged, mangled wolf with a bag full of disorders. Here he can show his talents and gather positive experiences in a safe surrounding. Good job, Tiny Can! And maybe, in this game, Noxee is not together with Greg and Jack can woo her and become her King! If Greg were her King, he would sit next to her, wouldn't he? Poor defeated Wolfsbane can't look pouting Caleb in his sulking eyes.

To be continued...

From the Beginning ~ Underwater Love ~ Latest 🕹️ 'Therapy Game' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 2 months

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I Cherish You, Halcyon Days: vi

“You’re gonna die, kid. In the worst way possible.”

tags: afab!reader (she/her), angst, slow burn

pairing: gojou x reader + onesided!getou x reader

summary: You’re 15 years old when you’re told you’re going to die. You’re 17 years old when you realize who your killer will be. And you’re 17 years old when you make peace with the fact you wouldn’t want it any other way.

index | previous chapter | next chapter

"Need a pick me up?"

You open your eyes to see the youngest of your grade holding a cold bottle of green tea. "Oh, thanks," you grab the cool bottle from Suguru's hands gratefully. You had been sitting in the living room area on the couch when you started drifting off. Staying up for hours the past couple nights training with Gojou is a draining experience.

"It's not coffee but it has caffeine in it," he takes a seat next you, nestling against the arm on the opposite end of the couch. "Did you have trouble sleeping? When I got up to get water, it smelled like someone had been cooking. Was that you?"

Guilty as charged, you deny nothing. "Was up late bullshittin' and decided to chef it up in the kitchen," you shrug nonchalantly.

Your little training sessions with Gojou always go on longer than you originally planned. He's surprisingly strict and persistent nor does he really hold back with any comments on what you're doing wrong, but they're all fair assessments. So just as you did the first night this began, you cooked you both a late night dinner before skipping off to bed.

"Did you meet that Naoya guy, by the way?" The way Suguru's face twists into an annoyed grimace is enough of answer. I'm already coming up with comebacks for the next time I see him, I wasn't fully prepared the last time. "Yeah, can't believe Gojou wasn't just being overdramatic for once. Please kick that guy's ass if you get paired up in the individual battles." You wonder how it will go since there's an uneven number of combatants. Will it be 1v1 fights split between four of them or will it be an all out jumping with every Kyoto student fighting Suguru and Gojou all at once? You suppose you'll find out in a couple days. "Our legacy is on the line!"

The curse user chuckles, "I'll be sure to defend it fiercely," he vows poshly, bowing with a hand over his heart. "Should I fail, I'll gladly banish myself from your sight for all time."

Giggles slip from your lips with ease. Serious as Suguru looks, he's quite playful. It was something you appreciated during your first days at Jujutsu Tech when you came in a month later than the other first years.

Utahime was a doting senpai, Shoko was kind but respectful, Gojou was annoying and Suguru was helpful with an air of spiritedness. He didn't come at you with wave after wave of prodding questions about where you came from, why you were in Japan or even jokes about your technique the way Gojou did. Yet he was more forward than Shoko who was more content to let you do the reaching. Your transition into being integrated into the already established friend group in a way was thanks to Suguru. You were more grateful than you'd ever reveal.

"You know, if being a sorcerer doesn't work out for you, you should really consider a career in acting." Suguru only snorts at your comment. "I'm serious! I can see you reciting Shakespeare as we speak!"

Suguru rolls his eyes but it's good-natured, "as if a sorcerer would be satisfied in a normal career."

"You never know," you lean against the arm of the couch you're on with a grin. "Having backups might be a good idea! You just don't wanna admit I'm right that you have a flair for theatrics."

One of Suguru's eyebrows raises inquisitively, "what are your plans? After we graduate, I mean," he clarifies as quickly as he asks. "Even before you came to this school, I'm sure that's something you had to think about. Were you planning to go back to your home country after graduation?"

Your eyes dart to the corner of the room and you press your lips together, shoulders stiffening ever-so-slightly. You hope it isn't noticeable but perceptive as Suguru is, you know he can tell. "That's," you think of your mother and father and your uneasy upbringing. How your relationship improved after you moved out the house. It isn't like there'd be much of a problem now that I know what curses are. And even by the time I got to middle school, I got better at ignoring them. It would be different if you moved back in with them. "Something I'm still figuring out, I guess."

It isn't as if you never thought of your future. You knew inevitably that it was something you'd have to cross. You suppose you were just hoping to leave that problem for the [First] of the future to deal with. "I'm not really opposed to staying a sorcerer," you continue truthfully. "But I'm not really sure how the jujutsu scene works in my country. We probably don't have an organized force of jujutsu sorcerers like Japan, maybe I could start one."

Suguru mulls over his next question thoughtfully as if he is unsure he even wants to ask. "Why did you come to Japan, if you don't mind me asking."

You mull over if that's something you want to answer yourself, "well-"

"What are you two talking about over here?" Saved by a bell cosplaying as a lanky, nearly 190 cm teenager with white hair who wears sunglasses indoors. Gojou yawns as he approaches the couch you and Suguru are sitting on, he reaches a hand out almost expectantly to your green tea. You open the bottle, taking another swig before you hand it over before Gojou takes a large gulp himself. One that is literally more than half of the bottle.

"Most of that is mine, Gojou," you remind him a sharp look but there's no real bark or bite in your words, you're too tired.

Gojou shrugs, lips still resting on the neck and finish of the bottle, "I'll get you another one," he mumbles nearly incoherently, drinking the rest without a care in the world.

He's lucky you're more amenable to his morning shenanigans because he's been helping you the past couple nights. "Whatever, just put it in the fridge after you buy it."

"Looks like I jinxed you after all," Suguru chuckles to your right and you groan because he's probably right.

"I'm fighting your jinx with all my might," you mutter back. Apparently, once indulging Gojou becomes habit, it's hard to stop. Or is it a bit much to say you indulge Gojou if the most you really do is share food and drink? You're too tired to consider the nuances in this particular moment.

"What jinx?" Gojou cocks his head to the side.

"Nothing," you yawn again. "It's the nunya jinx where if Gojou asks too many questions, I stop sharing all my snacks with him." It's satisfying to see how both boy looks at you in confusion when you speak in your native tongue. As much of a disadvantage you were put in when you first came to Japan because of it, it's become a nice little source of privacy among your peers that don't know the language. A pocket of something you can keep to yourself. "Anyway, it's just a little inside joke between the non-sorcerer family hailing kids on the block," you wink at Suguru and he closes his eyes with a small smile.

The still-cold bottom of what was once your green tea is placed against your forehead in retribution.

Maybe you won't cook for Gojou tonight.

ー

[Today, 14:43]

Shoko: The Kyoto Tech kids passed us up heading to the training area. Naoya is with them. Have fun with that www.

Me: ^o^ don't worry I won't~

It's a day before the Sister Exchange event truly begins when you see the Kyoto Tech students again.

There's only one training outdoor training facility at this school and so, if you all happen to use it at the same time, there isn't much that can be done about it.

You can see why Utahime listed Kamo Ririka as a person of interest, she's gorgeous. You pointedly ignore your friend sputtering that is not why Ririka had been mentioned in favor of focusing on her pastel pink hair. "I only mentioned her at all because you wanted to know about the Kamo students at Kyoto Tech!"

She whispers furiously in your ear, you personally think the dust of pink on Utahime's cheeks still lean favorably towards your theory. Me thinks the lady doth protest too much, you puff your cheeks in coyly. That only serves to make Utahime press her fingers against them to release the air stored in them. "Also, the person you mentioned before with the green streak in his hair," you spot the very lad yourself. "That's Kumatetsu, he's a second year like you."

"Thank you, Utahime, I appreciate your knowledge."

"I could have told you that," Gojou shrugs.

Your side eye is directs to the boy as quick as ever, "you said you didn't even talk to these guys much last year, how am I supposed to know what you know?"

Four of your seven peers are absent from this coincidental gathering. Haibara and Nanami are on some sort of spur of the moment mission and will be back later in the evening. Shoko and Suguru went on a quest to get drinks from the vending machine. As for Mei Mei, she didn't care for training for an event she wouldn't be part of.

Gojou sticks his tongue at you and you return the favor. "Naoya, looking horrid as ever, I see," Gojou waves at the first year with so much mock enthusiasm, you might have thought he was being genuine when he sauntered over to the Zenin. "I'm not good at holding back so if you go home now, I promise to be nice the next time I see you."

Utahime scowls, "Gojou, they just got here-"

"Eager for my attention I see," Utahime's attempt to stop feathers from being ruffled is futile as Naoya welcomes the jabs with his own. As far as you're concerned, Gojou can rile the Zenin boy up all he wants. "Had I known that, I would have done my best to say hi the other day if I hadn't been interrupted."

You snort as you thumb out a text to Shoko that the Kyoto students have arrived. That she and Suguru should probably prepare for the training grounds to be in shambles when they return. And that if a fight starts between Gojou and the mustard-haired first year, you won't be stopping it.

Me: Hell I'll jump in and help!

Shoko: Getou says he would you not get into a fight but if you do, punch Naoya for him if he doesn't make it back in time.

"Even Icarus had to learn a lesson about flying too close to the sun. I look forward to the day the Six Eyes is humbled and brought back down to earth with the rest of us," you thumb halts over your keyboard, glancing at where Gojou and Naoya presently stand. It irks you at how easily Naoya says it, clearly accustomed to using it. "Hopefully it'll be me. But honestly, why wait for tomorrow when we can see what happens today, Si-"

"He has a name," you close your silver Nokia flip, slipping it into your pocket. You feel the buzz of a message coming through but you choose to ignore it in favor scratching the dark irritating itch growing in your stomach.

"Excuse me?" Two heads look at you at your interjection. Naoya who looks at you like you're an insect large enough to garner attention, and Gojou who tilts his head at you curiously.

"A name," you repeat yourself, setting a hand on your hip as you glare back into amber eyes. They just barely look at you with anything other than cold indifference. "Gojou has one. I call you Whiney the Poo and Bitch Baby in my head all the time and I still manage to call you Zenin Naoya out loud so stop calling him that."

"And what happens if I keep doing it in, senpai?" Never before have you wanted to punch someone this badly. Never and you live with Gojou Satoru, the menace of Tokyo's Jujutsu Tech.

"You wanna say the shit again and find out?" Matter of fact, you want Naoya to say it. You take a step forward, all too eager to put the arrogant first year in his place. "You know what, go ahead. Make my day. Say the shit again and see what happens to your ass."

"Okay," Utahime's hand grips your shoulder tightly before you can take another step. "I think we should just train on that side of the training grounds," she points feverishly to the opposite side of the track field that is considerably further than where the Kyoto students have settled.

The Kyoto second year from the other day ー Kumatetsu, if you remember correctly ー places his own arm in front of the aggravating first year. Pretty third year Ririka sighs in equal parts, dark green eyes darkening as she watches the scene unfolding in front of her. "Yeah, that would be nice, there's just so much space here to train," he agrees with Utahime with swift ease. "Why just bundle up in one little corner here, right?"

"Nah, he can move if he wants to though," you snap in Naoya's direction, nodding your chin to where Utahime's finger leads. "Take your first year before I embarrass his ass in front of everybody."

"No no, there doesn't need to be any fighting," Kumatetsu replies with a frantic but annoyed smiled. "We don't want any problems, we're all allies here. We don't want to fight." As if sensing the mustard-haired first year was about to open his mouth and deny that claim, Kumatetsu covers it with without even blinking. "Ignore him, he doesn't want to fight."

"Yeah, I wouldn't wanna fight me either," you roll your eyes. When you see that particular comment grinds Naoya's gears more than anything, you decide to give yourself the win. Bitch Baby 0, [First] 1, you nod to yourself as Naoya is unceremoniously dragged to the rest of his Kyoto peers in a tight headlock away from you and infinitely further from your tallest classmate.

You tap Utahime's hand lightly. "It's fine, I'm not gonna run over and drop kick him if you let me go." Utahime doesn't look like she entirely believes you and you can't really blame her in this moment. You don't think you've ever been that mad before, not in front of these particular classmates at least. When was the last time I got like this actually, you struggle to sort your thoughts as you try to calm yourself down. Right, right, that time with Takuya and his hair.

Takuya, your old crush from your first and second years of middle school. A core member of your friend group with Chinatsu and Tooru until he moved away after the end of second year. I wonder how he's doing, we haven't heard from him in forever. He was a kind boy, a real sweetheart, that's why you liked him so much. His eyes were as black as the night but your favorite thing about him was his hair. You became friends because of it, actually. His dark red hair was long and almost always kept in a braid.

Then some asshole tried cutting it. That was the first and only school brawl you got into in your entire life, skirt on and all. Thank you, Auntie Chiharu, for not grounding me for punching that guy first.

To think the next time you'd get so angry would be for Gojou's sake.

What has this world come to?

"We're going this way," Utahime tells you firmly, upperclassman voice front and center.

"Fine," you sigh. This motherfucker pissing me off, you glare in Naoya's direction one more time. I haven't cussed like this since my Sakuragi Middle days. Your eyes catch Gojou's shades before you turn, his expression unreadable. Partially because half of his face is obscured, partially because the bottom half of his face gives no clues as to what he might be thinking.

Ugh, he has me over here defending Gojou of all people. This might be more unforgivable than Naoya's presence being generally unpleasant. Your glare narrows with a click of your tongue but you smooth out your face since Gojou is who you're looking at. It isn't like Gojou is the one you're mad at. The same rules from before applies. No one messes with one of us except for us. And even then, there are lines that shouldn't be crossed. You turn to follow Utahime begrudgingly to where she is briskly walking to. When you feel the unmistakable shape of an arm draping across your shoulders, you groan, "Gojou don't start."

Unfortunately, the menace of your class is already snickering much to your chagrin. "Oh [First], you do care!" Gojou swoons, leaning against you as if he's a damsel. "I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it myself!"

"I did not do that because I like you," you deny uselessly, knowing it won't matter what you say. "We just have a temporary We Hate Gojou Alliance truce going on right now. The We Hate Zenin Naoya Alliance takes precedence over any of your shenanigans during this time period." Utahime doesn't argue against it, so perhaps there really is a truce going on with Gojou.

"You know, the more you say that, the more I'm convinced that you're secretly the president of my fan club," Gojou all but beams. Maybe it's you but he seems slightly more obnoxious than normal and you decide that's likely a good thing in this particular instance. "You can be honest."

You huff but you don't move to immediately shove his heavy ass off of you. He didn't look like he was particularly bothered by Naoya's nasty comments, but you didn't want to assume when you spoke up. Well as long as he's in a good mood, I guess that's all that matters. "Yeah, yeah, you caught me," you decide to indulge the boy only two days older than you. "Number 1 Gojou Satoru fan right here, don't tell Utahime."

index | previous chapter | next chapter

Extra

Here you go, chapter 6 prime for the reading and a day away from the Sister Exchange Event taking place. Y'all are getting this a day early because I have something to do all day this Friday and I'm not sure if I'd be able to get up then at a proper time.

Anyways, Reader is appalled. Naoya's got you out here defending Gojou's honor and shit, you need to rethink your priorities in life. But at least you can confidently say that you'll call Naoya out on his shit whenever the opportunity presents itself time and time again. Turn us up, Whiney the Poo.

See y'all next week.

Likes and Reblogs appreciated.

#look she's writing #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou x reader #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x you #geto suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto x you #getou x you #i cherish you halcyon days

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sundaynightlive · 11 months

Text

Fresh Night Air [Book was there, it was there…](Greatwise)

Disclaimers: No age gap shit. They’re 16 and 17 respectively.

Also: I do not hate Mike or any of Will’s friends—I’m just exploring the way they might tip toe around him after all the shite he’s been through.

Realistically: I ship Byler. But I like healthy love interests MOST and whatever’s going on in ST right now is not that, so why not throw a Gareth in there?

If it’s not your thing, I get it :) I only wanted to write a sweet little happy-Will fic with LIGHT angst for like two seconds. If you’re going, have a good rest of your day <3 peace and love darlings.

If you’re staying, enjoy :)

“Gareth Emerson,” the boy introduces, and Will shakes his hand over the table. He’s still a little pissed about his friends joining another party while he was in California, but when’s the last time Mike took anything Will said seriously, ever?

He shouldn’t be surprised.

They sit back down—across from each other, no less—and turn their attention to Eddie now that they’ve all been decently acquainted. The DM claps his hands together and rubs his palms excitedly—despite Will’s initial annoyance at being completely and utterly betrayed, he actually really likes Eddie, fangs and all. He’s cool, he’s nice, and he’s the only Upside Down monster that doesn’t wanna kill or eat any of them, save for the occasional half-cup of blood that seems to satisfy him completely.

They had all been astounded at the convenience of that—blood being so filling.

Or maybe Eddie’s affliction hadn’t fully taken by the time they got his body out of the Upside Down and a troupe of federal scientists pumped him full of drugs—they aren’t totally sure.

Either way, he’s a sad excuse for a vampire, and a completely awesome dungeon master.

“Good evening, intrepid heroes, and welcome to my eighth,” Eddie pauses, as if he’s in awe of that number himself, “And best campaign yet. Drumroll, please!” Will starts a little as the boys around him (plus Erica) begin to pound on the table with their fists. Will joins them after a moment, allowing himself to grin both at the nerdiness, and the undeniable giddy excitement that’s filling his chest and shoulders.

Eddie uses his hands to push his feet up on his seat—his throne, really—and then stands, throwing his arms out wide—

“Plight of the Hellwalkers!” A cheer rises up from the table, as if any of them know what that means other than tieflings and devils and the sort. Maybe something celestial, if any of them are feeling particularly combatant. Will’s already got all these ideas forming in his brain—he’s known for being pretty creative when it comes to PC’s. Will the Wise hadn’t exactly been the height of ingenuity, but Mike hadn’t always wanted to DM a complicated character—he just wanted to run impossible dungeons and make his players sweat.

Eddie’s a different story.

Will’s running all kinds of characters through his brain when he notices Gareth looking at him. Will would’ve thought he’d be chatting with all the other boys, or even with Eddie since the two of them seem to be pretty close—but no. He’s looking at Will.

Hesitantly, Will makes eye-contact with him. Gareth doesn’t seem bothered about getting caught staring. Will’s brows furrow—this is… weird. They just met not even five minutes ago.

What? He mouths.

Gareth holds up a finger, like he’s gonna tell Will in a second. Will’s confused by this (because when are they gonna have a second?) until Eddie announces today’s session is all about working on PC’s, and in order to keep the campaign interesting and fun, he’d like them all to leave the room and come back in one by one so he can get a brief idea of each character, by the end of today, and hopefully by next session, have everything ready to go.

And then he says—

“Gareth, you first. And then Mike. And after that I don’t care who goes when—figure it out.” Gareth gives Will one last glance. He raises an eyebrow. Then, he absentmindedly looks over at Eddie, and finds he’s staring daggers into the side of Gareth’s skull.

What is happening?

Still perplexed, he leaves the auditorium with his friends, unable to shake the feeling that he’s being discussed in the room they left behind. He picks at his clothes—his nice, plaid button-down and his khakis. He feels kind of stupid—everyone else has a Hellfire t-shirt of some sort—all his friends in a baseball tee, and some of the older members in what are probably older t-shirts. All Eddie’s school-allocated budget must go towards them—Will’s certain they probably don’t get more than fifty bucks, if that.

“So?”

Will starts as Mike throws an arm around his shoulders, completely oblivious to how that affects him.

“Isn’t it fucking awesome?”

Will snorts at the profanity—Mike’s been cussing more and more since he started tailing Eddie like a lost puppy. Will assumes he thinks it makes him sound cool—not that he has anything against cussing, it’s just a little funny to him that Mike never talked like that before.

“Totally,” Will says, letting a little sarcasm seep into his tone, “You just couldn’t resist breaking your promise, could you?” Mike’s eyes widen—deer caught in headlights.

“I–it’s—you never said anything about extracurriculars!” Mike tries, and Lucas and Dustin burst out laughing at the lame attempt at an excuse. Will rolls his eyes, shrugging off Mike’s arm.

“Asshole,” he mumbles. Lucas and Dustin roar with more laughter as Mike looks for other excuses—Eddie this, Dustin that—

“Dustin didn’t promise me anything,” Will points out, and Mike groans.

“Dog house!” Erica is teasing, “Mike’s in troooooubleeeee.”

Truth be told, Mike’s not in trouble. There was certainly an initial sting—the only thing Will had asked of him had not been honored—but beyond that, Will’s not fond of holding grudges, especially given he knows full well how quickly life can go from bad to worse.

It’s just fun to watch Mike squirm.

“I’m sorryyyyyy,” Mike whines, “But Eddie’s just so cool and I couldn’t say no!” He puts both hands on Will’s shoulders, shaking him lightly. Will bites his lip to stifle his grin—the way Mike is pouting at him for forgiveness is equal parts adorable and hilarious.

“Forgive me?”

Will shakes his head, still biting back that grin.

“Figure out how to make it up to me—then we’ll talk.”

Mike straightens up, puts two fingers against his forehead, and dramatically salutes. Will loses the ability to stifle his grin and fully laughs at this ridiculousness.

They’re alive, they’re friends again, and Will’s desperate crush is dwindling by the day seeing how happy his sister is. Will couldn’t stay mad at his best friend for anything, and he won’t go on liking him, either.

Things are okay. Things are on their way to good, again.

“Wheeler—get your bony ass in there.”

And that’s Gareth.

“You—” he points directly at Will, exactly like Will figured he might, “Can I steal you for a second?”

Will stands. He doesn’t miss the confused look that Mike gives him, but he does choose to ignore it, mostly because he’s equally as confused. Gareth motions for Will to follow him outside, and sensing no danger or malintent, he decides there’s no point in saying no, especially since he’s not certain how long he’s gonna be sitting bored on this bench otherwise.

“Okay,” Gareth says, once the doors are shut firmly behind them. The night air is cool and nice on Will’s skin. He wants to take a deep breath—relish in all this comfort of being home, of being able to breathe—but he doesn’t know if Gareth would clock that weird reaction to just stepping out. So he tells himself he’ll take that moment later. “I had a crazy idea, and I wanted to know if you’d be down.”

Will raises an eyebrow.

“I’m listening.”

“So, totally shoot me down if you have a better idea, but I think it would be sick to play as angels—you know, since it’s a hell campaign—but specifically an Angel still in line with Heaven’s order, and a fallen one. So, they like, know each other super well, but also are at odds with each other, and like, one’s trying to convince the other to fall and vice versa.”

Gareth looks at him expectantly. Will stares back, trying to comprehend how Gareth even…

Gareth must have read his mind.

There’s no other explanation for how spot on that idea is compared to all the concepts he’d had running around in his own head mere moments ago. And not only that, but Gareth is looking at him like… how did Will not notice he looked like that, before? Why is it only now that—

“Hello? Earth to Byers?” Will starts. Right—he has to answer.

“Yeah—I mean, that sounds awesome,” he manages, cheeks growing pink in embarrassment. He looks away from Gareth’s cool gaze, unsure how to handle the feelings he’s feeling at this moment. Excitement, anxiety—and a myriad of other things he doesn’t feel right naming yet.

“Awesome,” Gareth repeats, slugging him lightly in the shoulder. Will’s whole stomach jumps into his throat.

This cannot be happening.

“So, if you’re down, I’m free tomorrow night. We could kick it at my place and talk background and logistics and shit.”

That’s a terrible idea.

“Sounds great,” Will says, and in his mind he’s repeatedly kicking the shit out of his own kneecaps. He wishes he were a stronger man, but the idea of playing a character that’s not only complex in his own way, but has a strained relationship to another PC? It’s too good to pass up. Plus, Gareth already talked to Eddie, so Will get’s to play under a DM who’s capable of managing that kind of storyline—it fills his chest with something downright palpable.

“Fuck, I’m excited,” Gareth says.

“Me, too.”

Will wonders briefly if his internal criticism of Mike’s cussing was spoken way too soon.

Gareth’s bedroom is a dream—Will would call it a loft, but that’s not exactly what it is. It’s adjacent to the attic, an alcove that sticks out from the roof and makes the house look both magical and completely ridiculous. All sides of it are fitted with windows, and in between those, the walls are a deep, navy blue. For the most part, it’s immaculately clean apart from misplaced shoes and a sock or two.

The slivers of walls which are not windows are covered with intense shelving that holds both an extensive collection of cassettes and vinyls, and books. Will wouldn’t have guessed Gareth was a reader, but by the looks of it, he’s practically a library.

The carpet is soft, the bed is big and covered with an enormous quilt. There are soft white Christmas lights hanging throughout the space, creating an inviting glow. Gareth tells Will to drop his bag anywhere, so Will finds the most out-of-the-way corner he possibly can, and sets his stuff down gently. He’s absolutely enamored with the space, but he’s trying not to show it. He could only imagine the teasing that would ensue if he told Gareth the bedroom he spends every night in is like Will’s own personal heaven.

To Will’s further dismay, Gareth plops down on his bed and pats the space next to him. Never in his life did Will expect to be sitting in bed with a cute boy who’s also basically a stranger, but here he is, swallowing his own nervousness and settling down. It’s unbelievably soft. Will let’s his mind wander to what it must be like to sleep there, and then quickly snaps himself out of it.

That’s creepy, he scolds himself. Stop.

“So, did you think of anything in the last 24-hours, or do you wanna start with just the general idea I had?” Gareth asks—and it’s so impossibly normal for how abnormal Will feels. He’s so stiff he might as well be made of wood. Jesus—even his fight or flight is starting to act up.

“Well,” Will says, deciding he’ll force himself to relax by talking, “You know how angels are, like, usually a patron of something? Like, they have a specific purpose, or whatever? I thought we could use something like that to determine our proficiencies, and stuff. I was also thinking that I could be the straight-edge angel and you could be the fallen one? But that’s totally up to you—your idea, your rules.”

Will fidgets nervously with his own hands. Gareth is… actually listening to him. His expression is attentive. Will’s not used to that—so he keeps rambling.

“Also—I like the idea of a sibling dynamic but I thought it would be better if it was strictly a best friends thing? I feel like a lot of D&D overdoes the, like, “you were my brother” thing but meaningful friendships or whatever can be so much more impactful because you choose your friends and stuff, and for a character to choose their person and then lose that person and find them again but still be at odds is just—Sorry, I should shut up. I just realized I’ve been talking for way too long.”

Will wants to melt into the bedspread—hell, he just might.

Gareth grins at him, shaking his head.

“No, totally keep going. You’re brilliant.”

Yup. Melted. Absolutely a liquid. Will doesn’t think he’ll ever be a solid again.

Will starts spending an ungodly amount of time with Gareth, but it’s not his fault. His own friends are great, and he spares them every moment he can, but it’s been a long time since being with them has ever felt like this—totally and completely void of tension. His friends… they haven’t been giving him attention freely. It feels weighed down by this notion that they’re forced to hang around because everything they’ve been through.

It’s not fair to think of them that way—he knows they’d still care for him, regardless.

But that pity is stuck behind their eyes. And they won’t talk about things in front of him, like how they’re feeling, how they’re doing. Once, he was hanging around Lucas and Dustin, and they left the room after uttering some lame excuse. Curious and a little hurt, Will had pressed his ear to the door to find Lucas venting about Max, and how she was doing, and how he’s trying to hang out and have fun but she’s all he can think about—half-paralyzed and totally blind, all alone at home when he’s not with her.

It’s selfish, he knows, but he couldn’t help feeling offended. He can be a shoulder—he knows he can be a shoulder. He’s not going to break down the minute someone else needs a hand. They’ve been plenty good for him—he can do the same.

He just needs a chance.

But they won’t give him it, so he loses himself in the simplicity of a brand-new friendship. He and Gareth start just talking over the campaign, and the D&D stuff, but it soon evolves into much more than that. It starts with a book—

“Gertrude Stein,” Will muses, slipping the collection of poetry right off the shelf. He lets it fall open in his palm to a random page. Gareth had gotten bored of devising background and trying to locate biblical information without a bible—so he’d flopped over on the bed and hidden his face in his pillows.

Will had rolled his eyes at him, and went looking for something to entertain himself.

This is where he finds himself, now.

They read a little Gertrude Stein in English, and Will remembers it fondly. He’s not a huge poetry guy, but Stein’s poetry is so ridiculous it actually manages to interest him. It was also generally impossible for most of the class to read aloud, because of it’s insanity, but Will excelled at it. He read it so well, and so succinctly in class, the teacher herself had been shocked.

Maybe his trauma had rewired his brain for nonsensical poetry.

Book was there, it was there. Book was there. Stop it, stop it, it was a cleaner, a wet cleaner and it was not where it was wet, it was not high, it was directly placed back, not back again, back it was returned, it was needless, it put a bank, a bank when, a bank care.

Gareth looks up at him from the pillows curiously, and Will grins in his direction. He begins reading with the utmost conviction, as if anything he’s reading makes a lick of actual sense.

Suppose a man a realistic expression of resolute reliability suggests pleasing itself white all white and no head does that mean soap. It does not so. It means kind wavers and little chance to beside beside rest. A plain.

Suppose ear rings that is one way to breed, breed that. Oh chance to say, oh nice old pole. Next best and nearest a pillar. Chest not valuable, be papered.

Cover up cover up the two with a little piece of string and hope rose and green, green.

Please a plate, put a match to the seam and really then really then, really then it is a remark that joins many many lead games. It is a sister and sister and a flower and a flower and a dog and a colored sky a sky colored grey and nearly that nearly that let.

Will finishes the poem—called Book—and looks back up at Gareth, who seems to be stifling a laugh. Will raises an eyebrow.

“What?” he teases, “Didn’t get that? I’ll read another one.”

Suppose it is within a gate which open is open at the hour of closing summer that is to say it is so.

All the seats are needing blackening. A white dress is in sign. A soldier a real soldier has a worn lace a worn lace of different sizes that is to say if he can read, if he can read he is a size to show shutting up twenty-four.

Go red go red—

Suppose and Eyes is cut off abruptly by a pillow smacking into Will’s chest and falling over the book he’s holding out—an accident which has Gareth absolutely howling with laughter. Will retaliates immediately, tossing the book to the floor and going after Gareth with a pillow.

The rest is history.

They hang out after school, they go to record stores and diners and swimming in the pond behind his house. They have an absolute blast role-playing ex-best friends while becoming best friends, all the while, Will’s fondness growing exponentially every time they share breath. They spend nights at each other’s houses, they talk for hours, they read together, they listen to music together—Will even get’s a little bit into metal, even though it’s not totally his vibe. Weeks and weeks pass—then months. They know everything about each other like the backs of each other’s hands. Will’s friends start making comments about it—Mike especially—and light-heartedly complain that Will is “replacing” them when that is certainly not the case.

They could never be replaced.

But being around Gareth is like magic, up until the moment it’s not.

“Hey… can I talk to you about something?”

Famous last words, but Will is so full of pizza and so content with his back pressed into Gareth’s bed, head resting lightly against the outside of the boy’s knee, that he doesn’t quite grasp the connotation.

He wishes he had—that there had been warning.

“Sure.”

“So… after the earthquake—”

Will should’ve known then and there this was headed in a foul direction, but he was none-the-wiser. He was still half-engrossed in Emily Dickinson, who had grown to be his absolute favorite poet over the last few months.

“Eddie told me everything that happened. And he told me what happened to you.”

This is where it hits him. Will jerks away from Gareth’s knee like it’s scalding, hurt painting over his face as it all crashes over him.

None of this has been any different.

“Will?”

“Are you serious?” Will asks, horror growing in his chest, in his tone. Gareth’s face screws up, a look Will knows all too well—a look he only sports when he’s thoroughly confused.

He must be stupid—Will’s reaction shouldn’t be confusing to him at all.

“I just wanted—”

Everything is tainted. The way Gareth looks at him, acts with him, the way he chose Will out of everyone from that stupid table that first day of Hellfire—he knew. The whole time.

Will is some pathetic charity case who needed a real friend. And he let Will think, this entire time, that he actually liked Will for himself. Not because Will desperately needed to be liked, not because they were bonded by some shared hell, not because Will had suffered, but because Gareth liked him.

It had all been a lie.

“How could you?” Will asks, shakily. He feels tears gathering in his eyes, and he hates himself for it. Now he’s gonna cry like the broken, traumatized baby he really is. The one Gareth has always seen in him. He’s just proving a fucking point.

That’s all he ever does.

“How could I—”

“I can’t believe I let myself be another fucking charity case,” Will hisses, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand as he scrambles to his feet. Gareth seizes his wrist.

“Will—”

Will’s stronger than Gareth—he doesn’t look it, but there’s a lot of muscle beneath his clothes. He makes sure of it—he doesn’t wanna be the victim of anyone or anything ever again. He wrenches his wrist out of the boy’s grasp, pointing at him accusingly with the other.

“You. Suck,” Will snaps, doing his best not to yell. He doesn’t wanna get worked up enough that Gareth sees just how deeply this has stricken him, and part of him, a naive part of him, hates how devastated Gareth already looks. “I can’t believe I thought you actually liked me. I’m so fucking stupid.”

And with that, he snatches his bag up off the floor, and gets the hell out of there.

It’s only when he’s home, past his mom and his brother, and in his bedroom with the door shut tight, that he crawls into his closet and muffles his sobs with his teeth bared into a sweatshirt.

Heartbroken.

“Hello?”

“Don’t hang up!” Will should absolutely hang up. It’s been three days of nothing—avoiding Gareth at school, refusing to speak to him, neglecting to answer the phone even when he was nearest to it.

And now, just when it so happened that nobody else was home, Gareth was on the other end of the line.

“I should so hang up,” Will snaps, already angry. He didn’t wanna be reminded. He’s been so fucked up the last few days, it’s almost like Gareth dumped him. In a way, he kind of did. Or, Will did.

Whatever, the details aren’t important. What’s important is that Gareth lied to him. Extensively.

“Listen—I need to talk to you, but I wanna do it in person, okay? Please—just ten minutes of your time, and if it’s not fixed, I’ll never talk to you again. Except at Hellfire. But that’s it! Okay?” Will wishes he had the balls to say fuck no, but it’s too difficult. He allotted months of his life to Gareth, and as much as he hates it, can attribute a ton of his recent healing to him. Being carefree and spending time with Gareth had been exactly what he needed most days to get out of his own head, to stop thinking about things that couldn’t be helped.

A breath of fresh night air, one might say.

Looking back at that now makes Will nauseous, but he swallows it down. He doesn’t exactly want his and Gareth’s time being good friends to forever be tainted by the fact that it had all been out of pity, but Will doesn’t know what he could possibly say to make that better. He sighs into the phone.

“Get here ASAP. And ten minutes is all you get!”

“Sir yes sir!”

“Thank you for letting me talk,” Gareth says. Will crosses his arms over his chest. He’s got no intentions of letting Gareth step foot over the threshold, and Gareth seems to be able to tell.

“Ten minutes,” he says firmly, and Gareth nods quickly.

“The first thing I should’ve done when we started hanging out is tell you I knew about the Upside Down,” he says quickly, and yeah, he’s got that fucking right. “I’m really sorry that I hid that from you—I guess I didn’t think you’d wanna talk about it, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have talked about it. I’m sorry.”

“Decent start,” Will says begrudgingly.

“Second, I did not choose you as my D&D partner because I felt bad for you,” Gareth says, and then his face get’s all screwy, and he starts shifting his weight back and forth, like whatever he needs to say is really hard for him to say. He looks left, and then down at his shoes, and then crosses his arms over his chest and let’s out a breath he’d been holding—

“Spit it out.”

“I thought you were cute!” he says, all his words running together, so much so that it takes Will a second to process what he’s even just said, “And I wanted to hang out with you and I thought that if our D&D characters shared a backstory then we’d spend a lot of time together and I’d be able to make a move but I felt bad about making a move knowing stuff about you you hadn’t shared with me so that night I wanted to kiss you so bad but I wanted to talk about what I knew first so that I wasn’t kissing you and then bringing up your childhood trauma because that wouldn’t be smooth at all, but then I messed everything up and—”

Will’s not sure what happens to his body. First of all, he’s absolutely floored at the notion that he wasn’t a charity case or anywhere near that at all—this boy was attracted to him and wanted to be around him. That’s so far out in left-field it’s practically a home run. Second—Gareth likes him? Like that? In small-town, middle-of-nowhere Hawkins, Indiana, a cute boy likes him? And it’s not Mike Wheeler, feelings-denier extraordinaire, or someone Will would rather eat glass than hang around with?

God, it’s Gareth?

He completely loses track of his ability to command his own body—he steps forward, puts both hands around Gareth’s face, and kisses him right on the mouth to shut him the hell up. Will’s never kissed anyone in his life, save for one girl in California, just to prove his own disinterest, but he makes it work. Gareth certainly doesn’t seem to be complaining, the way his arms move securely around Will’s waist and he kisses back with fervor.

They break, both void of breath. The kiss wasn’t exactly long, but all the excitement has Will’s ribs heaving. He presses his forehead into Gareth’s, blushing like crazy and avoiding the eye-contact Gareth’s trying to prompt from him.

“You’re such an idiot,” Will manages between breaths.

“Kiss me again.”

“Definitely.”

It was only a few weeks later that things started getting bad again, but they were heavenly weeks of sneaking around, sharing looks when no one was paying attention, and kissing in dark corners. Will started feeling whole again, like the places and things that the Upside Down had stolen from him were things that Gareth could replace, curling up on couches with him, meeting his mom, holding his hand, and treating him like someone who was already whole.

And though he wished, ached to ignore the warning signs, he told Gareth immediately when The Mind Flayer felt like it was slithering closer, lifting the hairs on the back of his neck and tugging at the corners of his mind.

And Gareth had been there, as fresh as summer night air in his lungs, all the way until the end.

#will byers #greatwise #stranger things #fluff #hurt/comfort #angst #gareth emerson #gareth x will #fanfiction #fic #fic rec #ficlet #gertrude stein #emily dickinson #poetry #friends to lovers #lgbtq #gay

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carionto · 8 months

Text

What if we just hollowed it out?

Progress on the Dyson Ring was unbearably slow (by Human standards) and Captain Knoslark and some of his crew were busying themselves with a twice-a-week extended D&D session. He was banned from GMing after trying to introduce the Deck of Many Things, so relegated himself to a Wild Sorcerer Drow build. When it was not his turn during combat, he would make sure when his turn did come up, the holographic projections he programmed would show off his descriptions of his magics in the most spectacular fashion. He was irritatingly good at the visuals, and nobody wanted to praise him outright for fear his ego might explode, but it did pass the time well enough.

The construction efforts have become so routine and uneventful that the only people who had anything stimulating to do on the clock were the observation officers. Even then, it was just ships going in and out of the system, sometimes big groups of civilian craft would bunch together in the Oort cloud for a race, other times an alien diplomatic vessel and escort would jump in for a visit or to drop off a person who had "made a mess on a vessel not outfitted to handle Human strength", which typically meant somebody forgot alien doors don't have a manual override and broke it by opening it by hand without much trouble. Most exciting was when a new Dreadnought or other large military ship was constructed and it set out on its first voyage outside the shipyards around Earth.

Of course, their main job was monitoring celestial objects and make sure any wandering meteors or debris weren't on a collision course with anything important, and if there was one, tell the nearest patrol ships and they would go out and redirect or destroy it.

Today, Officer Xiang spotted something a bit bigger. A rogue planet! Trajectory analysis indicates it will pass into the Oort cloud in two years and pass through Sol over the next forty three, only once coming relatively close to Mars, but not enough to influence its orbit. It was, however, big enough that they could complete a significant portion of the Dyson Ring. Big enough that, in theory, it would then be able to output enough power at once to power the planetary Warp Gate for anything up to the size of the Moon.

Unfortunately, deeper scans showed it once had living organisms on it, and was thus protected under intergalactic preservation laws: "The surface of any rogue planet that once housed life shall remain untouched, and the planet shall be marked as a historical landmark and scientific object for study purposes only."

To this, Captain Knoslark inquired: "Hmm... but what about below the surface? It's just cold rock at this point, right? What if we find a natural crevice and just dig a little further? For Science!"

As a junior officer and there being almost no people who are experts on such niche intergalactic laws yet, Xiang and the others couldn't find a reason why this wouldn't work, but it felt... off.

"Just think, it'll be fine - we'll reinforce some of the ore and create a porous interior, preserving the structural integrity of the planet as a whole and keeping the surface as is. AND we get about 85% of a whole planet to further our progress - that's a whole 17 moons worth! And and it would be within our jurisdiction during the time. It's a win-neutral as far as I can see."

That sounded like logic. Maybe? Either way, we would have to talk to the higher ups about this plan. Even if anybody wanted to, hollowing out a planet is not a thing you can do in secret. You need, well, literally a planet's worth of ships, equipment, and crew to do something like that within just over four decades, and we want to get it done in less than one.

No matter our advancements, dedication, willpower, grit, force, or cunning, the two foes Humanity cannot defeat, but must always accept and handle properly - logistics and the accompanying bureaucracy. Still, it would be nice if we didn't have to use up more of our moons so quickly for one project.

#humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humanity fuck yeah #humans are deathworlders #humans are space australians #hollow planet #carionto

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ozziethegreat · 13 days

Note

Do you have any shipkid of your own (that you made for utmv)?

YES I DO!! I only have two that have actual backstories so I’ll share them :3

I’ve already mentioned Keiko on my TikTok a few times, but Sinklair is relatively new :3 they’re both Colorkiller ship children if that wasn’t obvious enough, but they exist in different timelines. (Neither have both parents LMAO)

Yap session below

Keiko - 15, he/him, transmale, autistic + aroace

Soul traits - integrity, patience, kindness

Keiko exists in a timeline where Color failed to save Killer basically- Killer ends up dying in a fight with Color (and similarly to how PJ was made, Keiko randomly appeared). Color ended up taking Keiko to the Omega Timeline and raising him there, with emotional support from Epic and Delta.

Keiko didn’t have much of an education because he was more interested in doing his own things- he would only attend school to take science classes because he likes science, computers, and technology. :3 (he also hates social interaction)

Obviously by his sweater and slippers, he also likes cats a lot, much like Killer did. After Killer’s death, Nightmare ended up replacing him with a new Killer from a different Something New timeline, but Color decided not to chase after him again, for the sake of giving Keiko a decent childhood. It was also bad for his own health, and his friends convinced him it was better to let it go.

Sinklair - 17, he/they, boyflux, pansexual

Soul traits - Justice, determination

Sinklair on the other hand was born after Killer’s good ending. Color and Killer were living together for a short while in the Omega Timeline, but Nightmare (who was petty and wanted to get back at Killer for leaving him) killed Color shortly after Sinklair was born. (Guys they can’t be happy)

Killer obviously was not very happy about that (😭😭). As someone who normally saw death as a minor inconvenience, he had a lot of mixed feelings about it. But he couldn’t be trusted to cope by himself, because he still hadn’t fully healed from everything else, so Dream offered to keep him company.

Because of that, Sinklair grew up mostly around Dream, Swap, and other members of the Star Sanses, so he learned a lot about battle and combat, and it inevitably became an interest for him. He had a normal education, and later he joined the Star Sanses to pursue his love for combat. (Hence his uniform)

Guys am I cringe /j

#sans au #ship child #ship children #Colorkiller #color sans #killer sans #delta sans #epic sans #dream sans #star Sanses

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somanyratsinthewalls · 5 months

Note

FHey! If requests are still open, could you do fudge brownie + daisy please 👉🏻👈🏻

Hi! OMG welcome to my first ever Sabo fic I'm so excited, I hope it's good!

Pairing: Sabo x Revolutionary Afab!Reader

WC: 2300 I got carried away lmao

Prompt: “I can’t even speak when I’m with you, all the words I’ve known are lost inside your body.”

— —

You and Sabo had known each other for a decade at this point. He was your superior, being the Chief of Staff, but you weren’t too far behind. You trained in the Revolutionary Army together when you were younger. He was your close friend, but you had no idea that he felt differently about you this whole time.

— —

*Y/N & Sabo, age 12*

“Stop smacking me with that stupid pipe, ugly rat!” You whine and cover your head with your arms. “We’re supposed to be training, anyway!” You kick your leg out at the obnoxious blonde boy who was nearly a foot shorter than you.

“Rat? You’re the little rat, rat!” Sabo continued his barrage with his metal pipe. He had the urge to engage you in combat after he saw you practicing fighting with another trainee. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt the need to shift your focus to him, but he knew he had to get your attention somehow.

“Get away from me, weirdo!” You push him on the ground and go back to your place on the training ground.

Sabo snarled at you as you walked away. He would get you to fight him eventually.

— —

*Y/n and Sabo, age 17*

“You! Won’t! Ever! Win!” Your weapon hit Sabo’s repeatedly as you were caught in the heat of your daily sparring session. After wearing you down years ago, you agreed to train combat with him every morning.

“Hah!” Sabo huffs out with a smile. “That’s what you think, y/n. I’ve been getting special training from the boss and I’m going to learn powers you’ll never have!”

“Oh yeah?” You snort. “Well, until then, your ass is mine!” With those final words you land a blow and hear Sabo’s pipe clatter to the ground. You use your last strike to knock his top hat off his head. You smirk. Once again, he is defeated. Sabo pants heavily, chest close to yours and looking down at you now that he’s grown to almost his full height. You feel his hot breath on your nose. Sabo looks into your eyes, his own round eyes filled with the vigor of battle but also a little extra… sparkle.

*bddpp bddpp bddpp*

Sabo is knocked out of his trance by the sound of his mini den den mushi ringing in his coat pocket. He reaches in to his jacket, pulls it out and answers it.

“Yes?”

*muffled voices on the other line*

“We’ll be right there.” Sabo hangs up the snail.

“Boss wants us. Special mission again.” Sabo meets your eyes again as he slips the snail back into his coat.

“Fine, maybe you’ll learn something from me this time.” You playfully wink at Sabo and turn tail to jog up the road towards the base. Sabo felt something stir inside him when he saw you wink and smile at him. You had become so beautiful and it was hard for him to ignore his feelings any longer…

“I’m so fucked…” Sabo laughs to himself before he hurries after you.

— —

*Y/n and Sabo, age 23*

You speed-walk through the halls of the base towards the Chief of Staff’s office. You reach the office door and rip it open without knocking.

“Oh almighty, all powerful, all knowing, Chief of Staff, I finished the absolute FUCK ton of paperwork you requested.” You dramatically flail the passive stack of papers you spent all day working on around in the air as you strode angrily towards the blonde man at his desk.

“Incredible to hear, y/n.” Sabo flashed you a smile as you slammed the papers down in front of him on his desk and rolled your eyes.

“Still can’t believe you got this promotion. Would’ve been mine if I had a penis…” You grumble as you fold your arms as you walk towards the door to leave.

“Come on, y/n. You know I have a year on you in rank. Not sure how much it has to do with my, um…” Sabo organizes the papers in front of him instead of finishing his sentence.

“Whatever.” You move to leave. You hear Sabo let out a big sigh behind you. You had to admit you missed your sparring sessions and occasional lunches together since he got his promotion. He didn’t have as much time to train and hang out as he used to. As annoying as he was, you did miss his company. You grab the door in your left hand and pause. You turn back towards Sabo who was sitting at his desk with his head hung low.

“Hey… me and some of the guys having beers tonight. You should join us.” You give Sabo a small smile as he looks up at you from across the room.

“Yeah? You think?” Sabo cocks his head.

“Yeah. Wouldn’t kill you to get out of this sad-ass office for once.” You chuckle warmly and head back to your room, shutting the office door behind you.

— —

*5 hours later*

You sat in the dimly lit mess hall with several of your Revolutionary Army counterparts imbibing the last of the alcohol stores before you restocked tomorrow.

“I was up to my fucking ass in paperwork all day, can we do shots instead?” You finish your beer and slam the empty bottle down on the wooden table.

“Girl, you read my mind!” Koala grabs shot glasses out of the cabinet and brings them to the table and starts to fill them with clear liquor.

Suddenly, the swinging door to the mess hall opens and the Chief of Staff strolls in. The merriment pauses and everyone turns to look towards Sabo standing in the middle of the room.

“Speaking of paperwork. Come take a shot, Chief…” You grab another shot glass and add it to the line of shots Koala was pouring. Once full, you raise one for yourself and another shot for Sabo, which he gingerly steps towards you and grabs to raise against your shot glass. The rest of the party including Koala raise their shots to the center to meet yours. You meet Sabo’s eyes across the circle from you. You make a toast.

“To us, to the revolution, and to no regrets.” You smile and clink your shots together. Your friends hoot and holler. After a messy clank, you all down your liquor. Sabo coughs and sputters along with a few other army members. You and Koala laugh.

“Chief of Staff can’t handle his white rum? What kinda man of the seas is that?” You slur out at Sabo and giggle.

You all pour more drinks and sink in your seats to continue the celebration. As the night went on, you felt Sabo creep closer and slower to you, eventually ending up at your side as you played cards with a few others. Clearly the alcohol was affecting him as he sidled up close to your body. You heard Sabo giggle to himself and he leaned into your neck and slipped his hand onto your thigh. He began to whisper.

“How about I show you what kind of man of the sea I am y/n, huh?…”

You pull back and look at him with wide eyes. He had never shown affection to you in this way, you were shocked. You took far too long to formulate a response.

“Y/n… I-I’m sorry! I-I’ll see you tomorrow!” Sabo stutters out at you, clearly embarrassed.

Sabo was already out the door of the mess hall before you could respond.

“Sabo, wait!” He was gone. You rise out of your seat and go to follow him to his quarters.

Not bothering to knock (again), you ripped the door of Sabo’s room open. He was stripped of his hat and jacket sitting on his bed with his head in his hands.

“Sabo…” You lower your voice and move towards him. He doesn’t lift his head.

“I apologized, y/n. Can we just forget about that. That’d be great.” Sabo still remains motionless.

You walk slowly to right in front of where he has his head hung. You quietly drop to your knees, one at a time, and hold his head in your hands. You bring his face up gently to meet your eyes.

“Hey… you didn’t give me a chance to answer your question…” You smile and look into his welling, shameful eyes.

“W-what?”

“Show me what kind of man of the seas you are, Sabo.” You whisper to him as you hold his face in your palms.

Wordlessly, Sabo pushes his lips into yours and grabs your neck to pull you into him further. You tangle your tongues and lips together and take fistfuls of each others hair as you engaged in a kiss years in the making.

It was messy, it was needy, but neither of you progressed beyond kissing for several minutes. The two of you were just relishing in the feeling of years of pent up emotions coming to a head. Sabo removes himself from your lips and moves down your neck. He bites at the junction of your neck and shoulder before he whispers to you.

“How long… how long have you felt this way…? How long have I waited?” Sabo breaths out into your hot skin.

“I.. I don’t know…” You grasped at his broad shoulders as he nips and sucks at your sensitive neck. “I just know I need you now…”

“I’ve loved you since I saw you, y/n…” Sabo moves lower on your body and lifts your shirt and bra over your head swiftly. He kisses your exposed chest and grips your breast and lifts it so he can take your nipple in his mouth. You head lolls back and you sigh as he moves his lips to the other nipple while squeezing the abandoned one with his fingers. He continues his confession to you.

“Years ago… I remember it was my birthday… 20 maybe?” Sabo says as he kisses from your breast down to the waistline of your pants. “You wore a pink dress… just barely covered your ass… that was when I knew…” He continues to kiss your abdomen and begins to unbutton your pants and shimmies them down your legs with your panties. You were now naked in front of your childhood friend. Sabo pushes you back on the bed and spreads your legs as he kneels in front of you. He silently gasps as he lays eyes on your dripping sex, mere inches in front of him.

“That was when I knew I had to have you like this. Spread out, open for me.” Sabo leans in and takes a tentative slurp from the bottom of your hole to the top of your mound. You gasp at the sensation on your cunt.

“Sabo! Please! More!” You writhe in his grip on your thighs. Sabo obliges and licks you up and down again, slowly.

“You don’t need to beg, y/n, not from me. I’d give you the sea if you asked me for it… I just want to please you…” And with this declaration, Sabo dives into your pussy fully and attaches his lips to your aching clit. He swirls his tongue and suctions his mouth in ways that have you screaming and arching your back towards the ceiling of Sabo’s private quarters. You feel yourself being brought towards the precipice of pleasure when Sabo sticks two fingers in your hole and you whine and clench around his digits.

“Sabo! C-close!” You moan out.

“Do it, sweet girl, cum for me…” Sabo mumbles into your cunt and continues sucking and flicking his tongue on your clit. You cum hard into Sabo’s waiting mouth and flop back onto the bed with heaving breaths. Sabo rubbed soothing circles onto your pussy with his palm as he pulled back. You twitched at the gentle stimulation.

“Shit, Sabo, I didn’t… I didn’t know…” You tried to catch your breath. He brought his body over your own on the bed and kissed you deeply. You pulled back and stared into his eyes. His blonde hair was disheveled, and you had so rarely seen him without his stupid hat, you felt like you were seeing him even more intimately than just naked.

“Shh… I know that now… Let me show you how much I want you….” Sabo sheds his pants and hops up on top of you. He positions his cock at your entrance and pushes himself in slowly. The both of you moan out loud at the feeling.

With Sabo’s huge cock spearing you, you grab the back of his head and push it into your neck.

“Fuck! Sabo!” You cry out as he sucks on your neck again, pulling himself out and thrusting back into you.

“Y/n… You have no idea how hard it’s been… having to work like this...” Sabo whispers into your ear as he fucks you slowly yet deeply. “I can’t even speak when I’m with you, all the words I’ve known are lost inside your body.” Sabo speeds up his thrusts and pulls your lower back upwards to hit your most precious spot. Sabo fucks you hard and passionately, nothing but soft praises and moans filling the room.

“You’re everything I need, y/n… tell me you’re mine…” Sabo leans in over you as he pushes your knees back to your ears.

In your lust filled haze you look him in his round, sparkling eyes and confess to him.

“I-I’m yours, Sabo…” You grip the hair at the back of his neck tighter.

“Y/n… yes…” Sabo pushes harder into your sweet spot with his rigid cock as he pushes you over the edge of climax and watches you keen and whine with pleasure. As Sabo feels you clench and cream all over his dick he finds himself uncontrollably releasing all over your insides. He comes to after a powerful orgasm and leans back to watch all his pent-up load drip out of your hole around the edges of his cock. He tried not to get hard again as he pulled out and flopped down onto the bed beside you.

After a few quiet moments with only your breathing and the lapping of waves at the rocks on the edge of the base, Sabo turns over and pulls you into his grasp.

“So… I finally win?” The Chief of Staff smirks as he caresses your lower back.

“For now….” You smirk and nuzzle into his chest to fall asleep.

xx Mo

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shaniacsboogara · 1 month

Text

|| DND ASK GAME ||

1. How many campaigns are you currently playing in?

2. Do you DM?

3. Who is your current PC?

4. What's your favourite class?

5. Is there a type of character you want to play but haven't had the chance?

6. Do you have a favourite moment from any of the campaigns you've played in?

7. What song(s) describes your current campaign / player character?

8. Do you have any funny campaign stories?

9. Do you collect dice?

10. How is your PC similar to you? How are they different?

11. Do you prefer playing online or in person?

12. How long have you been playing DND?

13. What was the inspiration for your current PC?

14. What's your favourite NPC you've encountered in a campaign?

15. Is there any skill in regards to DND that you're currently trying to improve?

16. What's the plot of your current campaign?

17. Have you ever cried during a session? If so, what happened?

18. Do you watch any actual play shows / podcasts? If so, which ones?

19. Have you played any other ttrpgs aside from DND? Would you want to?

20. Have you ever had a character die?

21. Favourite combat encounter?

22. Do you prefer combat or roleplay?

23. How many PCs have you created?

24. Have any tips for DMs / players?

25. What's your favourite thing about playing Dungeons and Dragons?

#dnd #ask game #ask #answer #dungeons and dragons #ttrpg #ask away boogers!!!

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bliss-wily · 3 months

Note

hcs about zarbon

Oh boy…where do I begin? Under the cut as some of these are likely stupid as all hell. Some make no sense and hell some might contradict each other. But this is my blog so hehe. I do have more but I swear I’m boring. But thank you for the ask anon!

Prefacing this by saying that these are likely more canon/headcanons. I understand there isn’t vast amounts of information out there but these ideas are pulled from a combination of the anime/manga/video games/merch. Now without further ado:

•Zarbon is part of a royal bloodline; most likely a Prince.

•An opportunist to his core. I think he could be very self serving. After all, many times in certain scenarios this man is willing to betray Frieza.

•Believes peace is achieved by ruling through fear - although with working under Cold and Frieza for so long it’s easy to see why he might think that.

•Unless his father was the same. Which I mean, it’s likely. Fair rulers aren’t exactly common.

•Tsundere. Need I say more?

•Until he opens up then he would be very PDA with his partner. Likely talks about them constantly.

•Learned to value beauty since a child - likely scolded by his parent(s) for using his transformation.

•A cat person. I imagine he’s snuck many little kittens from all different planets into his quarters. Small, cute and fluffy!

•I don’t think he’s sadistic - more pragmatic.

•Loves fruit, strawberries in particular. Why? Well, why not?

•As for actual food? Fresh, expensive, maybe into spicy foods too.

•Wine snob.

•Could also see him being a whiskey and rum consumer.

•Skincare is his hobby, I could imagine him being like those influencers who have hundreds of products.

•If Earthling social media were a think, like our platforms? He would be in Insta most I think.

•Dodoria is his closest friend, even if the two seem to detest each other. Zarbon is definitely the one who pretends more though. Dodoria more chill.

•Drama queen! Gossiping and complaining are definitely something to expect.

•Randomly gets stuck in his transformation sometimes, maybe just wakes up like that? He would not be caught dead wandering the halls of the ship like that so he just holes himself up in his quarters until it passes.

•Sleepy or fatigued after transforming for combat. I also imagine the way his bones and muscles shift and rearrange must leave him sore and bruised.

•I imagine he sticks to a schedule, and everything must flow to that. Disruption comes with a tantrum.

•An accidental flirt. Blame Xenoverse 2 for that one.

•Hydrophobic, baths, showers and spas are an exception.

•Cold blooded - loves warmer climates.

•Any free time or days off are spent at spas, nail bars or salons. This man loves self care.

•Highly intelligent.

•I think he knew he was going to die in his last fight against Vegeta. If Vegeta didn’t kill him I think he knew Frieza would. I understand that he asked Vegeta to team up but I think he already knew the answer.

•Scared of Frieza, and I think he might’ve been scared of Vegeta too.

•Introvert, he likes to be alone, he likes silence.

•So very easily jealous.

•Infrequently swears but he will do it if pushed.

•Would 100% join the Ginyu Force. What’s stopping him? The posing. This man is I’ll not drop his classiness for such ridiculousness.

•After every training session or fight/battle - he’s bathing. Germophobe possibly.

•Sensory issues: sounds, feelings, textures, light.

•Whilst very monotonous and serious, I think he’s deeply in touch with his emotions.

•Xenoverse 2: Laying a finger on his student (or rather ‘star subordinate’) is a death sentence.

•Xenoverse 2: Trust issues.

•Xenoverse 2: Scarf collector! Wanted to steal 17’s scarf after all.

•Xenoverse 2: I think he showers his student/subordinate in praise and gifts. Plenty of evidence to suggest this. Although the praise does come off very flirty at times. However, I doubt it’s intentional.

#dbz #dragon ball #dragonball #xenoverse 2 #zarbon #dodoria #frieza #vegeta #anime #headcanon #answered ask #my thoughts #my nonsense

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djuvlipen · 4 months

Text

After a court sentenced Dalibor Nikolic – whose wife died from his beatings – to 12 years in prison civil activists on Friday called for real change to a system 'that fails to protect victims'.

Human rights activists in Montenegro called for the government to hold a special thematic session to present critical issues in the current system for prevention and protection against violence, along with concrete proposals for its improvement.

Around a hundred civil activists gathered on Friday in front of the government building in Podgorica to protest against the Higher Court verdict in the femicide case in a protest organised by the NGO Women’s Rights Centre.

The court on Monday sentenced Dalibor Nikolic to 12 years in prison after his pregnant wife, Zumrita Nerda, died on January 17, 2022 from his beating.

The head of the Women’s Rights Centre, Maja Raicevic, said they were protesting because they had not received a response to earlier demands for the government to reform a system “that fails to protect victims”.

“We demand that the government strengthen the authority of the previously established operational team for family violence as an independent mechanism to assess the performance of all relevant institutions involved in the system combating violence,” Raicevic said.

“The goal is to ensure effective protection of victims, end impunity for officials who fail to fulfill their duties in cases of family violence and build trust in the work of state institutions.”

Zumrita Nerda, a 27-year-old Roma, died five days after being badly beaten by her husband at their home in the port of Bar. The Higher State Prosecution accused Nikolic of beating his wife for eight hours after an argument in front of their three minor children, stressing she received dozens of blows with fists and an improvised baseball bat.

Miranda Nerda told the gathered crowd that her sister, Zumrita, had suffered brutal violence for 11 years, and that a 12-year prison sentence was too lenient.

“Where is the justice here? Is this justice?” she asked, while the gathered activists expressed their disapproval with whistles.

#Zumrita Nerda #Romani victims of femicide #femicide #Montenegro

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ridiasfangirlings · 2 months

Note

A skinny kid like Fushimi exercising in Homra is hilarious but can you imagine what his first couple of training sessions in Scepter 4 were like? I know they do kendo and all but they're probably also got running and obstacle course like things going on like the military. So picture 16(turning 17) year old Fushimi suffering through this.

I imagine Fushimi probably skipped out on a lot of the S4 training sessions for this reason, I can just see him taking one look at the training grounds and noping right out of there. It’s mentioned that his style of swordplay is different from the rest of the squad (and you can see from his fight with Yata in S1, he’s much more wild with his sword than the more regimented alphabet squad are) and in Side Blue we notably don’t see him practicing with everyone else in any of the training scenes. Since he’s technically Intelligence at that point it would make sense, but he does have a sword and I can’t imagine Munakata not expecting him to learn how to use it. I assume a lot of Fushimi’s training was done solo or at best one-on-one with Munakata or Awashima, rather than practicing with the combat troops.

That said, I could also see Munakata deciding that Fushimi needs to work on his stamina and suggesting he try some of the regular training regimen. Fushimi has issues with it right from the start, like the combat troops are probably expected to wake up early and Fushimi is just like ‘fuck that’ and sleeps in (because he was up past midnight working the night before). When he finally drags himself to the training ground everyone else has been working for hours and are sweating, Fushimi looks at everyone running around and exercising and just grimaces. Munakata greets him pleasantly and suggests he start with a run around the training ground, Fushimi gets maybe halfway around before he needs a drink and a rest in the shade. If he has to do an obstacle course I imagine him thinking his way around it, like he’s not going to try and run up that sheer wall he’s going to throw some knives into it for handholds and get up that way. If there’s sparring afterward Fushimi sticks around long enough to knock out some of the weaker members and then dips when no one’s looking, when Munakata mentions they missed his presence afterward Fushimi just clicks his tongue and says it was worthless training anyway.

#Fushimi Saruhiko #Talking K #I bet he skips out on as much as possible #he's allowed bc he's Munakata's favorite #I imagine he does some training with the sword on his own #but he skips all the exercises and that's why he's so skinny and unhealthy

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eriquin · 11 months

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The Prophetic D&D Game Masterlist

I guess I have three parts to this now so I'm making an updateable, followable post about it:

Part 1: game introduction Part 2: real characters revealed and game started Part 3: conclusion of the first session Part 4: in between sessions Part 5: the next murder Part 6: reasons to role-play Part 7: cuuuuursed Part 8: inspiration takes many forms Part 9: haven't we learned not to split the party yet? Part 10: tragic backstory Part 11: how to uncurse someone without a walkman Part 12: anticlimatic epilogue to session 3 Part 13: inappropriate jokes about giants Part 14: debate about physics Part 15: combat, communications, and cross-dimensional travel Part 16: start of session 5, resolving the cliffhanger Part 17: planning an attack Part 18: transportation and conflict Part 19: final session Part 20: bait-and-switch Part 21: the wrong way to split the party Part 22: concurrent combat Part 23: the end of the game Part 24: erica gets read in Part 25: breaking the curse Part 26: gathering the party

Now on AO3 as well. And now complete and part of a series: The Oracle of Roane County

Taglist: @weirdandabsurd42, @10moonymhrivertam, @blueskiesandstarrynights

#the prophetic d&d game #my writing #hellfire club #stranger things #fanfic reblogging #i guess reply to one of these posts to be added to the taglist?#that sounds reasonable #or subscribe to this and i'll keep it updated #unfortunately i have posted most of what i've written already #so #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#we'll see

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masculinepeacock · 2 years

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DND Questions for Sleepover Saturday

Okay besties. you know the drill <3

DM Questions

Do you plot separate arcs? Or wing it?

What is your NPC creation like?

How do you come up with combats? Do you enjoy combat?

What's your favorite part of DMing?

Do you have a favorite NPC? Or type of NPC?

Plot or character focused?

What are you inspired by?

Do you prefer world or character creation?

What's your favorite thing your players do?

Player Questions

10. How do you come up with characters? 11. Mechanics led? Or vibes led? 12. What's your favorite part of playing DND? 13. What's your least favorite part of being a player? 14. Do you like to player characters with family? 15. How many PCs have you played? 16. Do you have any archetypes you tend to play? 17. What's your favorite thing your DM does? 18. Do you prep for sessions? 19. How do you feel about PVP? Player-player romance?

Character Questions

20. Is your character religious? 21. Are they involved in any interpersonal drama? 22. How do they feel about the rest of the party? 23. Would they burn the world for those they love? 24. If they were the god of anything, what would they be the god of? 25. Do they believe in love? 26. What kind of music would they like? 27. What three songs remind you of them? 28. What would they do if they were betrayed? 29. How do/would they handle interparty conflict? 30. What are their thoughts on justice? (highly specific now) 31. If they were a contestant on Taskmaster, what kind of contestant would they be? 32. If they were on GBBO, what kind of contestant would they be? 33. Would they do good in a trivia game? 34. What would their thoughts on the fall of Rome be? 35. Have they ever had major surgery before?

#send em in besties #sleepover saturday #ask game #dnd

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callsignthirsty · 1 year

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#17 "When I get home I expect you to be undressed and waiting on all fours for me." With Cyclone 🫣

@deadratio — come get your man Also, big thanks to @purelyfiction who helped me a whole helluva lot with this. You're the best ❤️

Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x F!Reader Word Count: 1830 Warnings: Masturbation, dirty talk, phone sex (kinda-sorta-almost), daddy Minors DNI

Smut Prompt #17

There's something about coming home to an empty home that makes you just… well. As your keys find their home on the hall tree, you fail to place the feeling that falls over your home like a shadow each time Beau leaves. Even the armchair in the living room — your usual perch, book in hand as the wall clock ticks in the background — feels wrong now as the quiet lingering and longing settle deep into your bones.

"Yearning," you mumble as epiphany strikes. You've given up on your book, having only gotten a couple of pages in before realizing that you'd absorbed none of the words.

He's been away at conferences since you'd gotten together, but this is the first time a conference has been delayed — curse the weather in upstate New York. As it is, the conference began the very day it was supposed to end, and now as the sun continues to blaze a trail through the sky, there's no time to pop open a bottle of red. You help yourself to a heavy-handed pour and check the time in New York.

7:48 PM.

It isn't even 5:00 PM on the west coast, and Beau's undoubtedly seated around some dinner table making polite conversation with some admiral or another.

Beau would've been home by that time had your time zones been the same. Khakis creased from a day of desk work, skin tacky from roasting in his office with nothing but the admin building's ancient AC unit to combat the San Diego sun. He'd slide into his spot behind you while you finished dinner. Press a kiss into the curve of your neck as his arms wrap around you, biceps testing the limits of the cotton twill as the lingering scent of his body wash lights up something in the fuzzy reaches of your hindbrain, and he towers over you. Cradles you to his chest. Praises your efforts for the day and beckons in the night.

It's hardly night now, though, as you, your glass, and your pinot finds your way to the bedroom. A sigh escapes your lips when you see how empty the bed is. It's not that you're surprised. You knew it would be empty. But it's one thing knowing and another seeing.

You feel like a new woman after one incredibly indulgent bath and three glasses of wine. Not a less lonely one, but certainly different.

You don't bother dressing as you return to your shared bedroom and make a home for the remaining pinot on your bedside table atop a coaster. A smile tugs at your lips as your fingers brush the coaster. You couldn't have given two shits about condensation rings on your furniture before Beau, but Beau had opinions. It was one of the many ticks that had you smitten with the vice admiral.

Stretched out on the duvet, you sigh again in defeat, boredom, and yearning. The wine and the bath have made everything warm, but you aren't ready to go to sleep yet, so instead, you stare at your phone's lock screen. Your finger traces over his cheek, and the phone's screen warps. You click the screen off and back on until Beau smiles back at you. This photo is a closely-guarded favorite. A side of your Beau that no one else gets to see immortalized in 4K. The Beau who stirs beside you in the early hours of the morning and rouses you with whisper-soft kisses across your shoulders. Some mornings, those kisses move in one of two ways.

Lashes flutter closed with an alcohol-fueled whine. You'd give the world to feel the mattress dip beneath Beau's weight beside you. His steady breathing at your side as he slips into one of his deep sleep sessions. To trace mindless patterns across his arms until he woke with a shiver. Until he'd gather you to his chest and roll on top of you, voice raspy as he asks if his princess needs attention.

She does, you think to yourself, blinking back to your lock screen and Beau's smiling face. It takes fumbling hands long seconds to unlock your phone and tap on Beau's contact. The phone rings, and you can see him in your mind's eye. Dressed in his service blues, a political smile, Warlock at his side.

A second ring. Your tongue feels heavy as you try to think of what you'll say past the 'baby, I miss you' that runs on a loop through your mind. Would you ask him to step outside and entertain you for a while?

"You've reached the voicemail box of Rear Admiral Beau Simpson. I am currently unavailable. Please leave your name and number, and I will return your call as soon as feasible. Thanks."

Beep.

Your lips move before your brain can catch up. "I think you know my name, Admiral," your voice sounds like velvet brushed backward to your own ears. "It sounded so pretty coming off your lips when you were unavailable with me before you left." You bite at your bottom lip even as it curls into a grin. This is different from where you thought the night would take you, but the wine appears to have both you and Beau's voicemail along for the ride. "I wish you were here with me," you confess as your fingers trace the folds of the duvet. "Beside me. Inside me."

Your cheeks heat, suddenly hot between your thighs. "Fuck," you whine, "I'm so empty, Beau." Your legs fall apart of their own accord as you roll onto your back, staring up at the ceiling and trying to conjure images of his handsome face. The spark that lights his eyes when he has you exactly where he wants you. Wanton. On your back. Calloused hands inspecting every inch of your body as if he expects there to be a test later. His tongue leaving cold trails across your skin. How perfectly he melds with you, stretching you wide. The little grunts that sneak out as he husks your name into the curve of your neck.

Oh, if only he were here. But he isn't, so it's your hand that drifts to your splayed legs, your fingers that gather and spread the slickness that accumulates at just the thought of him. "God, Daddy," you gasp, "wish you could feel how wet I am. See how much I've missed you." The last word trails off on a moan, lost as two of your fingers slowly enter your aching cunt. It's nowhere near the satisfying burn of his fingers. There's simply no comparison. Another whimper falls from your lips as you try to satisfy your burning desire. "Can you hear it, daddy? How wet your baby is?" you ask as you drive your fingers back in with a wet squelch that you hope the phone picks up.

"It's not the same," you gasp, brows drawn in disappointment. "My fingers are too small." A third finger joins the two already pumping in and out of you, and your breath hitches. "They don't feel the same. Don't feel as good." Your head tips back, mind recalling pleasured snippets of past encounters, touches that continue to burn you even though he's an entire country away. Your legs tense, shaking at the recollection of endless nights, his cock splitting you apart, your own voice echoing, calling his name in the pleasured silence of memory until a quiet, desperate "Beau" slips past your lips and onto the recording.

'Look at what a good girl you're being for Daddy.' You can practically hear him, and the imagined praise has your back arching, fingers curling. 'Aww, Princess, you feel so good on Daddy's cock.'

The air in the room is thick, hard to gulp down as your fingers continue to work at your core even as a cramp builds in your wrist. Sound leaves you freely, your mind and body too loose from the wine to be self-conscious as you writhe and whimper. "Daddy," another lewd cry.

You have no idea how long you've been like this. Ear pressed to the phone as you chase your high. You don't dare pull away for fear that you'll break the spell that's fallen over you, and the ball in your stomach is so tight. "But you're not here," you say, and a breathless laugh almost leaves you at the absurdity of the situation. "Guess I'll just have to take care of myself tonight." You wet your lips with a flick of your tongue. "Sweet dreams, Daddy."

The phone slips from your hand as the call ends, and your attention narrows until you're solely focused on the pleasure zinging through your veins. Each movement of your fingers is strategically matched with a hand-picked memory from the vault in the bank of your mind. Your palm rolls over your clit, knowing that your fingers won't be able to reach the spot within you that Beau can — the one deep within you that makes your stomach flip, jaw fall slack, and eyes roll back. The way his cock pushes deep with each thrust, hips crashing into yours as if he can't stand to be anywhere but buried to the hilt in your heat.

Your legs twitch to circle his hips, desperate for it. For him. This doesn't compare. Not in the slightest. But it does the job.

A hiss and a silent cry escape into the early evening, splotches of white obscuring your vision. It's nothing compared to the heights Beau will take you to when he gets home, but the pleasure rolls through your veins all the same and makes your lids heavy.

It's sometime later that your phone buzzes from its place on the ground, and you scramble to pick it up. But it's only a promotional text.

It's 10:07 PM in New York.

If previous conferences are anything to go by, Beau's night is still going strong. And you had called him in the middle of it to desperately plead for him to come home and take care of you. Begged. Whined.

Wine.

The pinot sits where you left it on the nightstand, the glass empty but enough of a nightcap left in the bottle to carry you back to dreams of brawny arms wrapped around your waist and hot breath puffed against the back of your neck as you press your nose into Beau's pillow and breathe him in.

When sunlight spills across the bed to wake you the next morning, you find yourself refreshed. In your pre-caffeine haze, you go about your morning routine before you return to bed with a piping cup of coffee and the book you'd abandoned the night previous.

Your phone buzzes on the bedside table with several notifications. Among them is a photo of an updated ticket from ALB to SAN. But that's not all.

Daddy: When I get home, I expect you to be undressed and waiting on all fours for me.

#thirsty answers #thirsty's smut prompt list #beau cyclone simpson x reader #beau cyclone simpson x f!reader #female reader #cyclone x reader #top gun smut #top gun smut prompt #user: deadratio #user: purelyfiction #no beta we die like goose #i'm running on fumes posting this #we'll all be reading this for the first time in the morning

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