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#funkys fics
jztr-77 · 1 month
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nap time with the cocoa puffs
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wispscribbles · 5 months
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❄️ Remember to bring blankets for your recon mission ❄️
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plistommy · 2 years
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Eddie Munson’s house (With some details!)
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prince-liest · 3 months
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Some thoughts on Lucifer's mental health, relationships, and role as king of hell!
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Lucifer’s perception of himself as the king of hell is really interesting to me because he’s very blase about it in canon while totally using it when it suits him.
I think it’s really telling that the first time he actually brings it up himself is when it’s something he can leverage to help Charlie out. He reads to me like someone who objectively knows that he’s the hottest shit in town, but also just doesn’t really think that it matters most of the time because it's not relevant to his personal problems. Being Lucifer Morningstar did not allow him to achieve his goals in petitioning heaven. Being the most powerful person in hell didn’t even un-fuck his family life!
...Except for when suddenly it might in fact help un-fuck his relationship with his daughter.
It's the main thing he can desperately and dramatically showcase as a worthwhile reason for Charlie to maintain a relationship with him, because he as a person is depressed, half-functional, and barely has enough spoons to pay attention to a conversation he's having with her while he's actively having it, nevermind remembering their last one.
He wants to! And it doesn't start with his song at the hotel! It starts with him answering the phone, heavily fumbling actually connecting with Charlie despite clearly desperately wanting to, and then realizing she's asking him for something and promptly choking on his tea before excitedly telling her, "Yeah! Of course! Anything within my power is yours for the asking, you just name it." He knows that there is a great deal 'within his power,' and he's happy and relieved that he can offer her that!
Lilith has been gone for years but he's still wearing his wedding ring. His walls are still covered in family portraits. He's just been sitting in his room making thousands of rubber ducks he thinks suck instead of ruling hell, because his daughter liked that one duck he made one time.
Charlie needed him to support her in her mission, but damn did Lucifer also need Charlie to get him out and moving and actually doing things again.
Anyway, someone get this man on an SSRI.
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ghostbsuter · 6 months
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I'm on the writing grind, you can see that I just finished rewatching the Teen Titans (2003).
Edit: Here is some art I did for Titan!Phantom
.・゜-: ✧ :-
(The end is near.)
Gripping the communicator, the bright yellow case with a cartoonish 'T' on top glared back at him.
(The portal was growing.)
He presses the button, the communicator switches on and he calls out.
"Phantom to Titans, do you hear me? Phantom to Titans."
The crackling sound came as a sign of connection, It didn't take any heavy weight off, however.
"Robin here, Phantom? Everything alright?" The soothing voice of Teen Titans leader answers him, and he suppresses a sigh.
"Robin," he bites his lip, the portal only growing.
The ghost zone is eating Amity and all just because fucking Vlad couldn't, for one ancient time, sit still.
"I—" a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he apologises with a wince. "You're gonna be really angry at me when you... find out."
Concern leaks through the voice as Robin speaks. "Phantom? What's going on?"
Thr screen on the communicator switches on and Robins brow knitted expression stares back at him.
It quickly changes, alarmed. "Phantom." The vigilante says. "Is Amity Park okay? Do you need backup?"
Always on the right track, dear leader. Danny shakes his head fondly.
"It's too late for backup," he admits quietly.
"Phan—"
"Just tell new members of me, okay?"
Danny doesn't let the other finish, giving a bitter smile before throwing the communicator on the ground, breaking it.
The familiar yet threatening green of the ghost zone welcomes him.
"Titans! Emergency call, Phantom got a situation!"
The bright red lights is enough for the rest of the team to flood to the common room.
"Rob?" Cyborg asks. "What's the situation?"
"We don't know!" The bird answers, stressed. He's pulling the audio and video recording of the call up to the monitor, replaying it for the team.
They don't figure it out until they are at Amity, landing with the jet and jumping from their seats.
Raven and Starfire fly ahead, and they all reach the border of Amity.
Or what of Amity remains.
Because–
The entire city is gone—!!
Complete annihilation.
(When robin finds out who did this, he will have words with them.)
"Robin," Raven waves them all over to her side. She's crouching, hand in a sphere of black, her magic. "Amity wasn't destroyed. It was relocated."
Her expression is grim. "Someone abducted a whole city."
All he does is nod, looking at the team before him.
"Someone call Herald, Titans, we got work to do. Our mission is to find Amity Park, Phantom, and save both." With sombre nods, they prepared for take off.
"Titans! Go!"
And they separate.
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tangledinink · 1 year
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Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? Donnie typically switches from contacts and headphones to glasses and earrings when he’s at home! source material lol. if you’re not following @pinetreevillain already, then you should (maybe even check out their patreon) love everything they make. had to give donnie lil earrings in his honor,,, i had a really good time drawing donnie go swing swing swing so then i draw a bunch of the hamatos stimming (very stimmy household) and babbled abt it under the cut
raph: loves to fucking chomp, dude. had a biting problem as a child (gee i wonder why), gets chewy necklaces for every christmas/birthday/holiday. will put almost anything he finds in his mouth. second most tactile hamato-- he's not as inclined to seek out physical contact as mikey is, but enjoys it very much when hes got it!
donnie: second biggest chomper, has a chewy jewelry collection. loves to flap, fidget, and, yes, to swing his earrings. plays with his hair a lot as well. also does a lot of verbal stims-- the most inclined of the bunch to chirp or make other noises. whenever he chirps, trills, or cheeps at leo, leo will always reply in kind. they used to do this WAY more often when they were little, but still occasionally do it now. the even more popular stim of choice is speaking to each other in vine quotes.
leo: mostly verbal stims. enjoys making noises at donnie, esp when they were little, stim of choice is (repeatedly) repeating quotes from tv shows, movies, vines, etc. will just start saying shit out of no where and gets excited when someone else jumps in. he'll do it at anyone in the family, but donnie is the most active participant. if you start a quote leo will finish it. (donnie absently mumbling to himself in his room: michael with a b..... | leo, screaming from down the hall: THER R E S A BE E E EE ?)
mikey: fidget fidget fidget fidget. arguably the stimmiest boy. cannot fuCKING stay still. bounces his leg, rocks in his chair, taps his fingers, paces, jumps, swings his legs back and forth, plays with the beads in his hair, clicks pens, etc etc. he also dances as a stim and paints as a stim when he's feeling restless. by far the most tactile hamato-- loves textures and touch, huge fans of hugs and snuggles and deep pressure. he often seeks raph out for these things. when he was little would use his family as jungle gyms. now that he's older and bigger, however, he only uses raph as a jungle gym :)
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wisteriagoesvroom · 2 months
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GOOD GRIEF 😭 OSCAR FOR MCLAREN X REISS.... CAN YOU GET YOUR FOOT OFF MY NECK
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source: mclaren ig stories
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crit20art · 9 months
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jonmartin vampire au!!
Summary: Struggling for income, Martin registers with an app that connects vampires with willing blood donors. His first client is not at all what he expected.
Rating: T (graphic violence warning)
Word count: 124k COMPLETE!!!
Tags: vampires & vampire bites, canon tma vampires, getting together, mutual pining, body horror, non-sexual intimacy, power dynamics, fluff/angst, hurt/comfort, trans martin, sex-averse jon, slow burn, non-sexual kink, humor
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findafight · 11 months
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Steve being demiromantic bisexual is so good actually.
Aspec swag off the charts. Trying to talk to his autistic bestie who also has no clue about romance but for different reasons about not ever really feeling like his relationships are about more than sex. Going on dates with a girl he isn't sure about a spark with that are actually just an excuse to support a kid and gossip with his bestie. Having a "crush" on a girl his friend told him was perfect for him who rejects him and tells him she's a lesbian and immediately becomes her best friend. Staring at a man's lips for too long before going back to pining for his ex (who said man was saying he should go back to). Desperately wanting a romantic connection and unsure how to get it, but finding fulfillment in deep platonic bonds.
He is so powerful.
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bongo-clash · 2 years
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Peacock Au Part 3
(Part One & Two here!!!)
Continuation of the Eldritch Danny DPxDC fic!!!! This is Kind Of the final chapter but Bones has also been making my brain go So Wild with other ideas so!!! Big chance they'll be more parts at some point (probably after Ectober week if I do!!)
Either Way Here It Is
(Fic under cut!!) (+ Part 4 Here)
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Constantine makes the executive decision not to explain anything to Batman until the other League members are gathered in the watchtower meeting room. Maybe not his best choice, evidenced for the most part by the seething glare the vigilante is shooting him from his place at the head of the table, but still, John really doesn’t want to have to talk about this any more than he has to. It’s already going to be a pain in his side as is. 
It doesn’t take long for the rest to appear through the zeta tubes. Superman and Wonder Woman predictably arriving first of the lot, followed by Zatanna, the Flash, and then Green Lantern. Once they’re all settled and he figures this is all the people that’ll be showing up today, he deigns to begin speaking. He might’ve appreciated a bit of a higher attendance rate, but he’ll take it. 
“Alright, you lot,” He starts, just as the Green Lantern opens his mouth, likely to ask what this whole meeting is for. “I believe we’ve got a little bit of a situation on our hands.”
“Situation how, Constantine.” Batman asks, eyes narrowed behind the cowl, the furthest thing from a question. 
Constantine sighs deeply, fingers fidgeting in his coat pocket for a cigarette even if he knows he can’t smoke in the watchtower (maybe he could just hold one…). In lieu of looking the man in the face, however, he addresses everyone else in the room. “Well, see, the Bat here had a Pit forming in his territory, and he decided it’d be a bloody brilliant idea to call me for help instead of literally anyone else. The good news is the Pit’s gone. The bad news is I’m pretty sure the thing that got rid of it is worse.”
A few of them make faces, since if Constantine’s involved then this is definitely a magic problem, and none of them are fans of magic problems- Superman looks like he’s trying not to twitch. “Can you describe it?” 
“Not properly, no. Big, bright, bit of a space theme going on? Had these horrible things on them, kept changing between eyes and mouths and hands- used those to reach out and get rid of the Lazarus Pit, ‘far as I could see. They knew I was doing it for the Big Bat even though I never said a word about it, and from what I understand, they wanted a favour for sorting it out. I don’t know what they want it for.”
Batman’s face is unreadable, but there’s a scrutiny there that permeates the air around him. “So you discovered the existence of a powerful, unknown entity, and not only did you deign to summon it into our world, but you then proceeded to make a deal with it as well, completely unaware of the potential consequences.”
“In my defence,” Constantine retorts. “This is entirely your fault for getting me involved. I’ve no clue why you thought coming to me was a solid plan in the first place.”
There’s a storm brewing beneath that bat mask, but Wonder Woman intercepts before it can descend into a full-blown argument. “Now is no time to be assigning blame, we need a plan. Do you know of any way we can attain more information on this being, Constantine?”
“Not the foggiest,” He replies simply. “The only thing the book said was that it could help with the Pits. When I asked the damn thing what it was, it just gave me a riddle and, quite frankly, I wasn’t going to push it. So unless Zatanna has anything, I’ve got nothing.”
The whole table turns to look at Zatanna. She has a contemplative look on her face, pausing for the moment presumably to run through the information in her head. “Well, there’s a lot of entities around whose existences centre on keeping the balance between realms or concepts, but this is the first I’ve heard about anything like this. The closest thing I could think of is maybe Pariah Dark, since he’s known to have a connection to the Lazarus Pits, but he’s been out of commission for centuries now, and he’s never been depicted at all the way you described…”
“…And I know for a fact that his summoning ritual requires a blood sacrifice, and this thing didn’t want blood.” Constantine finishes. 
Zatanna makes a sour face, seeming to understand his implications, and the remaining non-magic members of the JL look appropriately disturbed. He thinks the worst thing about it for them is probably that there’s no real way to plan this out. They’ve got no power list, no strengths, no weaknesses, they don’t even really know what the entity is beyond its relation to the Lazarus Pits and even that’s an area of questionability, because the Pits are damn confusing on their own. If this thing shows up on them now, they’re screwed.
And just as the thought crosses his mind, there’s a tangible shift in the watchtower atmosphere, like the air’s thinning and closing in on itself at the same time. He looks at Zatanna with matching confusion, praying to gods he’s never met and that don’t like him that he hasn’t just managed to jinx himself in the worst way possible. 
“Do you feel that?” He says, and it doesn’t look like it’s only the other magic user in the room that does, because a fair few of the remaining League are pulling expressions Constantine really doesn’t like. Please, please say he hasn’t jinxed himself. 
There’s a sound like whale song and whistling as something comes up through the floor, and there’s not enough languages on Earth or beyond to encapsulate how many swears John wants to say right now. 
But it’s not the entity. 
Or at least, it doesn’t look like the entity, even if it certainly feels like it. It kind of looks like a teenager, of all the awful things. They have flare-white hair, bright, sheepish green eyes, and they’re wearing what Constantine thinks is a hazmat suit but doesn’t know enough about hazardous material protection to say for certain. No alarms going off, no doors opening or shutting, no signals at all; just a weird breeze, and the few seconds of warning that gives before the being appeared. That’s worrying. The way the League doesn’t even say anything is more so. 
“Hi,” They start, after what feels like an eternity of silence, and oh boy, they really do sound about twelve. Constantine doesn’t know how to deal with children, let alone ones that can just phase into the most secure superhero base in Earth’s orbit. This is awful. “Okay, so, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot yesterday, so I just wanted to, y’know, rectify my first impression? Uh, sorry if I came across sort of… weird.”
Everyone looks at the glowing kid. Everyone looks at each other. No one knows what to say. Flash decides to be the one to break the silence with a cough. “That’s great, kid! Uh… who are you, though?”
“Oh!” They startle. “Right. Me and Constantine met yesterday- I think I kind of scared him? It was by accident, though, I promise! I’d just had a long day, y’know? I didn’t know I was gonna get summoned and I wasn’t thinking so everything just kind of happened.”
No way. 
No. No way in Hell.
“You are not that thing I summoned yesterday.” 
And he knows, he knows entities like that tend to have forms more palatable for mortal eyes, but after seeing that yesterday, his brain just cannot for the life of it connect it to this. This child floating mid-air in a base he shouldn’t be able to access, with big huge earnest eyes and a painfully youthful face. One that seems to have reached a realisation. 
“Ah,” He says, smile just a little bit wry. “Fair enough, I did look kinda different then. Just- here, this should look a little more familiar?”
It’s not a full shift. He doesn’t contort into the same mind-searing thing that Constantine had had to bear yesterday- but his eyes scatter into neon spots across his face, nose and mouth left intact, the neck of his jumpsuit folds into the creases of an open eye, and those peacock-membrane-whatevers fall into fruition on his back, drifting like a cape or like spines. And just to top it all off, there’s a dinky little crown floating above his head, decorated with icicles and whispers of mist. 
It’s not a full shift, but Constantine’s never going to forget those damn cosmic peacock feathers. No mistaking it: that’s the entity. Forget yesterday, this is the worst day of his life. 
“What the Hell is happening right now.” Green Lantern flatlines, face dulled into non-understanding. Constantine thinks he feels the same way but worse. 
He takes a deep, cleansing breath, and tries not to scream. “You’re the one who sorted the Pit problem out?”
“Uh, yep, that’s me.”
“Okay, great! Fantastic. Can you tell me what the Hell that whole deal was?”
What’s left of the maybe teenager’s face drops somewhat, and a gloved hand reaches up to rub at the back of what’s left of his neck. “Ha, right, yeah sorry.” He mumbles, and Constantine kind of feels bad, but he’s also still kind of suffering from the adrenaline high of meeting the guy yesterday, so he guesses they’re even now. 
“So, I mean, I don’t usually look like that? It is my true form or whatever, but I’m not really… I don’t hang about in it too often. Gives people the heebie jeebies, y’know? I don’t want to scare people out of nowhere, especially not for a first meeting! But I was about to go to sleep last night when you summoned me, and I wanted to shift my form a little just to be more formal about the whole thing, but I guess I let the whole thing go by accident, and I didn’t realise at all until I got home. And if I was in that form by accident- I usually go with ghostspeak during summonings ‘cause it’s easier in that way and there’s usually translation sigils embedded in the circle- but if I was in that form by accident, then I was probably using a different dialect to the one I thought I was, so if I sounded kind of off, then that’s why. Again, really sorry about that. This was totally not how I wanted my first impression with the Justice League to go. You’re all really cool, y’know? I wanted to get off on the right foot and not the ‘let’s fight each other’ foot.”
Constantine blinks, opens his mouth, closes his mouth, and then blinks again. He’s sure there’s a reasonable response to this that can be expressed in a sentence somewhere, but right now he’s too enamoured with how utterly absurd this is. He genuinely, honestly does not know what’s worse: that this kid can turn into that, or that he can turn into that and it’s so natural he doesn’t even notice. 
Still, as consistent as the sun sets, Batman’s the first one to break the stupor, interjecting with narrowed eyes. “How do we know you’re not a threat to us? We don’t even know who you are.”
“Uh,” The kid splutters. “I didn’t introduce myself. My name’s Danny.”
“Danny.” Batman replies flatly. 
“It’s a nice name!” Danny, apparently, defends, looking about as stupefied as someone can without eyes on their face. The dinky little crown drifts after him when he moves his head. “And, um, I don’t know how to prove I’m not a threat? I mean, I closed up that Lazarus Pit for you, if that counts as being helpful in a non-threatening way?”
If anything, Constantine would think that makes someone more threatening. “You said you wanted a favour for it, that you were going to ‘find your recompense’.”
“No I didn’t?” Danny says incredulously, before he pauses and his lips part in an O. “Right, translation error, duh. I uh, didn’t actually say that, that’s just how the sigils took it I think. You don’t owe me anything. It might be nice to get some help if I’m ever in a bind or something, but we didn’t make a deal or a pact or anything, you just asked for help, so I helped. 
His brain completely shuts down, blue-screen style. This isn’t how this type of thing goes. There’s no way this is that easy. “You seriously don’t want anything.” 
“I mean, an autograph might be nice. My friend thinks you and batman are cool.”
“You don’t think the rest of us are cool?” Flash complains, because that’s exactly what he’s supposed to be getting out of this conversation and not how utterly insane it is. 
Danny, the kid that’s going to be giving him nightmares and is already giving him migraines, has the audacity to look embarrassed. “I think you’re cool; obviously you’re all cool, you’re the Justice League! My friend’s just into the edgier members, I guess? She’s goth.”
“Oh? So who’s your favourite?” Why is no one acknowledging that the incomprehensible cosmic horror just called him edgy. Why are they just moving past this. 
“…Martian Manhunter and Green Lantern. I really like space.”
Yeah, no shit, he’s made of it. 
Constantine genuinely wants to pass out. He wants Batman to get him over the head with a batarang; he wants Superman to tap him on the forehead and give him a concussion, just- anything not to be here right now. This might not even be the weirdest thing that’s happened to him, but he’s hating every minute of it. This kid’s talking and existing like it’s nothing but even as the conversation begins to border on casual the atmosphere is still thick, nearly physical with the chill and the chiming of bells and the way something shifts every time those peacock feathers waver behind him. 
Right now, John really, truly does not care if this entity’s playing some kind of twisted long con to trick them into sacrificing their souls or something equally as horrifying. He just wants to go home and forget anything ever happened. “So, you’re not a malicious entity.” Constantine states finally, putting an end to any further back-and-forth that he’d managed to tune out. 
“I promise you I’m not.” Danny replies seriously, even as his features shift back to something more human-looking that only seems like it’s trying and failing to hide something bigger underneath it now. 
Constantine puts his hands in his pockets, and turns straight to the door. “Brilliant news. I’m leaving now. I hope we never have to see each other again.” The League and that kid can do whatever they want, but Constantine swears on everything he holds sacred that he’s not touching any of it with a ten-foot pole. He never wants to have to deal with anything like this again, and he is never agreeing to do Batman another favour. 
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sinnabee · 1 year
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messy sketch for @shirajellyfish 's oneshot, Tied Together ! im. NOT normal about it, at ALL, ouuuugh i love it so so so so much aaaaghhh pain and suffering and agony (<- enjoying it)
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reegis · 9 months
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bc im genuinely curious if you have any reason for this. and i have no clue how to word this and it may sound a bit rude (sorry!) BUT
So u have ur lyf design right???? blue sparkly (has a tail!) and then??? the train gang. they look closer to humans then lyf does. and like!!!! i love their designs so very very much but i need to know if theres a reason!!!!! have a lovely day :]
its actually all just because i read a fic (which i will have to try & find so i can link it abdjfjf) that had the hc that Lyf was a Jotun/Jötunn (the ice giants from norse mythology) & i thought that was the most galaxy brained take of all time & immediately went nuts with my own take on what that would look like! (combined with another fic i read where Lyf has a tail, which is also *chefs kiss*)
so basically theyr just another species that lives in midgard!! I realized later that making Loki a Jötunn or half Jötunn too would have been absolutely perfect but id already mostly finished coloring her & i was too committed…
so heres a lazy recolor of Jötunn! Loki 🤲🏻
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i couldn’t decide on her hair
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essektheylyss · 2 months
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hi hello hi I need to scream for a sec but I HAVE A SHORT STORY IN A PRINT ANTHOLOGY! like a real actual physical book!!! the anthology as a whole is about resource scarcity and specifically the moment a resource runs out, and true to form I wrote a funky thing about time and grief and messy familial relationships and gardening. cuz what is there to do when something ends other than to keep maintaining your plants.
this isn't even to say you should totally buy this thing but if you do want to check it out, it's available for preorder
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purpleqilinwrites · 7 months
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first.
a/n: these days have been feeling yucky to me (unrelated to fandom), so i wrote a little nanami thing to cheer myself up.
fandom: jujutsu kaisen
character: nanami kento
genre: fluff
info: established relationship (nanami is your husband); reader is also a jujutsu tech alumnus
warnings: high school dumbassery
synopsis: allegedly, gojou was your first kiss. allegedly.
word count: 1.3k
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Nanami Kento
"Can I help you?" you asked, your smile evident in your tone as you looked at Nanami from over the novel in your hands.
There was a certain sullenness that knitted his brows together, one you recognised as being a symptom of having a few too many necessary interactions with a certain white-haired sorcerer. Nanami slumped backwards into the armchair, running a hand down his face with a tired sigh. You chuckled lightly to yourself as you waited for him to speak, eyes fixed on the words on the page in front of you but not reading any of them.
"Gojou-san said something to me as I was leaving the school, and I'd like you to confirm or deny it," Nanami said, finally.
You let out a thoughtful hum, slotting an expired stamp card into your novel before closing it and leaving it on the coffee table. "And what did he say?" you asked, feeling the beginnings of a strain in your cheeks as your smile widened, anticipating.
Gojou did say the damnedest things sometimes.
Nanami groaned, his hand immediately going to his already loosened tie to tug it off his neck. The collar of his dress shirt fell open in the absence of the tie, and you allowed yourself to be distracted by his Adam's apple for a second before bringing your attention back to the increasingly interesting conversation you were having.
"Before I say anything else, I want you to know that I'm asking purely for curiosity's sake."
You nodded along, urging him to continue. He let out a long exhale as a means of pause, and you mirrored the break in his words to settle into a more comfortable position on the couch, still anticipating.
Nanami was uncharacteristically hesitant with his words, as though he was rephrasing himself several times before anything could leave his tongue. When your husband was like this, it brought to remembrance a younger version of him who tended to cut himself off in the middle of sentences because he wasn't satisfied with how his thoughts came out. He had always been more careful when he was speaking to you.
You mentally put aside a reminder to buy some kikufuku for the sole purpose of eating the whole box in front of Gojou and not sharing. If you felt particularly devious when the day came, you could always flick some of the rice flour left at the bottom of the box at him. Maybe leave a suspicious white handprint or two on his back for his students to pester him about.
"Of course," you said, still smiling, still waiting. "But please, just say what's on your mind. I don't think I can take much more of this mystery."
"Gojou-san seemed to be under the impression that he was your first kiss. He said—"
You couldn't contain the violent cackling that boiled over your lips, slapping your hands on your thighs and folding over in your seat. "I'm-I'm sorry! Hah! Please— Go on," you said, your words coming out in pieces as you tried to stop laughing long enough to hear Nanami out.
He sighed at the sight of you misty-eyed and happy, a fond smile pulling on his lips.
While you busied yourself with wiping your tears on the ends of your sleeves, Nanami stood and stepped around the coffee table to sit beside you. You moved to swing your legs over his lap when you felt the couch dip with the addition of his weight, scooting close enough to prop your cheek on his shoulder. His hand naturally came to rest on your hip, and he leaned in to press a few kisses into your hair.
"That's what you wanted to know?" you asked, eyes bright and still slightly out of breath.
Nanami regarded your face for a moment, silently admiring you. His other hand came to cup your jaw and you obliged him, your mouth pliant against the insistent press of his.
"Is it true?" came your husband's voice, his breath warm on your face. You shook your head, chasing his lips and relishing how they curved into a smile against yours.
"But I did kiss Gojou once," you said, breaking the string of saliva with your finger as you reclined into the backrest of the couch. The pleased expression on Nanami's face immediately soured terribly. He motioned for you to elaborate before placing a hand on your thigh, squeezing lightly.
"It was in the first year of high school, sometime at the beginning of the school year," you started, laughing when Nanami's eyebrows shot up. "My first kiss was actually Shouko. After, I kissed Getou and then Gojou. All on the same day."
The pinch of his lips told you that he was still processing this revelation, so you waited. It was a lot to process even for you, when you suddenly remembered it when the school year came to an end. Three people you kissed in one day, simply because Gojou hounded the rest of you to "live life a little".
You idly smoothed the palm of your hand over the muscular plane of Nanami's chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of it as he breathed.
"You kissed all of your classmates? And on the same day?" he asked, incredulous. You nodded to both questions, your smile turning sheepish. Nanami's hand on your thigh squeezed again, more firmly this time, as if there was some written confirmation in your skin about the time you kissed three other people who weren't him.
"Tell me how it happened."
You blinked.
"Are you disappointed?" you asked, already looping your arms around Nanami's torso and tucking your head under his chin, an offering. He dropped a kiss into your hair and let his lips linger there, a quiet reminder that you never needed to fear him harbouring such feelings against you.
If anything, he was disappointed in all three of your classmates for whatever transpired in those early months of your time in Jujutsu Tech. In Ieiri, Getou, and especially Gojou.
"No matter what, I love you, remember?" was the promise that he whispered into your hair, a reprise of the firm promise he gave you on your wedding day.
You giggled, repeating the words into his collarbone. It tickled him, both the feeling of your breath on his exposed skin and the assurance that you felt loved in his arms.
"Gojou started it," you said, and it made perfect sense. Nanami had suspected as much when he first heard the words from Gojou's lips. Of course, it was his upperclassman's fault. "He was convinced that having a 'kiss fest', as he called it, would be a good bonding experience for everyone. Like it was something normal to do in high school."
You left room for him to ask questions, knowing him and knowing that he'd definitely want to know more. Mentally, you replayed the whole 'kiss fest' and everything that led up to it, catching yourself by surprise with how crisp some of the details were in your mind's eye. It was a thing that you happened to participate in while you were in high school, completely uneventful and entirely disregarded.
After all, the best part of your high school years was meeting your husband. Everything else was just happenstance, smooth rocks that marked out the road that led to him.
"Did you enjoy it?" was the question that pulled you from your reminiscing.
You put your finger to your chin in thought. "Based on what? Like, taste or something?" you asked, drawing a blank when you pondered how best to answer the question posed to you. You knew when it came to him there was no wrong way to say things. It was more that you wanted to properly convey how little those three kisses meant to you.
It was Nanami's turn to laugh, the sound warm and inviting you to do the same. You brushed away the stray golden strands falling in his face, taking in the handsome image before you and committing it to memory.
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baeshijima · 2 months
Text
soulmate "we would find each other in every lifetime" au, but whenever you find each other there is always just a slight mistiming.
in some instances you meet mere moments before disaster strikes. in others you are forced to be enemies due to untimely misunderstandings. sometimes you only catch a glimpse of the other in passing before they disappear as though they never existed. there would be the odd occasion where only one of you recognised the other, with them not knowing who you are or of the history which haunts your conscience.
and then there would be times you find yourself desperately holding the other, the tears which burn tracks down your cheeks being the only source of warmth on their cold skin.
despite the unnerving predictability fate has in store for you, you both cannot help but to hope that maybe — just maybe — this next lifetime will be kinder to you both; kinder in a way that your souls are not torn apart before they can even meld together.
(though such sentiment never comes true, it doesn't stop the feeble hope from burning aflame when you cross paths every lifetime. repeatedly, incessantly, and without fail.)
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ninyard · 13 days
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"if you can't figure it out by now, then i don't have anything else to tell you."
This would be perfect for Andrew to say to Neil
“If you can’t figure it out by now, then I don’t have anything else to tell you,”
(aka an Andreil “what are we?” conversation.)
-
“Allison hasn’t stopped calling you my boyfriend since we got back from the cabins.” Neil was sat parallel to Andrew with his arms wrapped around his knees in a meagre attempt at keeping warm, next to Andrew’s outstretched legs. The air on the roof of the dorms was crisp with a fresh Spring breeze, the wind swirling debris in little whirls around them. “I haven’t told her to stop, but I will if it bothers you. ”
“Is that what you’ve been thinking about for the last twenty minutes?” Andrew asked, a rhetorical air to the question he didn’t really want answered at all. The smoke that left his lips disappeared quickly in the wind, miraculous that his cigarette was still burning. He brought it back up to his lips and inhaled before turning to look at Neil. He didn’t say anything, and his bored gaze didn’t say much either.
“It’s Allison.” Neil settled for, as if it were explanation enough. He sat up straight to match Andrew’s eye-line. “It’ll catch on.”
Andrew regarded Neil for only a second longer before turning back towards the view in front. “She has never strayed far from being a tabloid princess. It’s nothing more than front page news to her.”
“I told you she was betting on us,” Neil said, but Andrew held up a finger to stop him. “What?”
“Their poor choices in gambling are not my business.” He said, stubbing out the finished cigarette next to him and flicking the butt over the edge. His hands found rest in his lap, interlaced into each other. “They chose a horse in a race and think that they’ve won. I don’t care.”
“Tell me to ask her to stop, then.” Neil looked away as well, arms crossed over his chest, close to asking Andrew to go inside. They could talk in their dorm, except for the fact that Kevin had surprisingly invited Matt over to discuss his playing strategy, and this was not the kind of conversation Neil wanted to have with company. They could speak in German; but he’d made a conscious effort to speak in English in front of his teammates since he promised not to keep secrets from them anymore. “Say the word and I’ll tell her, because I don’t care.”
“Evidently not.” Andrew said. “Why bring it up if you didn’t?”
“Well, does it?” Neil didn’t want to indulge in his desire to dodge his questions by changing the subject. “Bother you, I mean.”
“Irrelevant bullshit doesn’t bother me.” Andrew pedantically emphasised the word bother with quotation marks in the air. “You’re asking stupid questions.”
“Valid questions.” Neil corrected.
“Needless questions.”
Neil sighed and extended his legs. He had to brush the hair from out of his eyes to look over at Andrew, reminding himself that he needed a haircut. “I’ll tell her to stop, then.”
“That is not what I said.” Andrew brushed him off with a wave of his hand.
“So are you my boyfriend?” Neil wasn’t sure why he cared so much, or if he even cared at all, because he knew in truth he would never go out of his way to call Andrew his boyfriend anyway. But in some ways it felt important to understand what was really happening, and how exclusive was their nothing? In his own mind, never to be spoken aloud, did Andrew even believe that they were a thing?
Andrew looked at him, his gaze falling from the top of Neil’s head to the bottom of his chest and back up again. He tilted his head, and landed on Neil’s eyes. After a small inhale, he nodded forward, “No.”
Even expecting it, even knowing that was what he was always going to say, it still felt like a surprise punch to his stomach. That’s what Andrew had done to him, he’d turned him soft, he’d turned him into someone with an interest in normality. He’d turned him into someone who longed for a boyfriend and a life, a home, a future, even if his stomach twisted at the thought.
He pushed down the tiny feeling of disappointment that radiated through his gut, and smiled, “Okay.” Andrew didn’t look away, but he remained silent, and Neil filled the space with a question he knew he shouldn’t ask, but had to ask anyways, “So what are we?”
“You are living inside a movie.” Andrew didn’t laugh, but Neil was sure that the desire to was buried somewhere beneath his stoic expression. “Is that how far removed you’ve become in your freedom, that you think that is something you have to ask me?” He shuffled himself over so he was better facing Neil, and he glanced between his eyes. “We are nothing.”
“A truth?” Neil tested.
“Fuck off,” Andrew poked Neil’s chest hard enough to hurt. “That is the truth.”
“So I’ll tell Allison to stop.” Neil’s head bowed in an over exaggerated nod of understanding. “I’ll tell her that you are not my boyfriend, and you don’t want to be called that. I’ll tell her you said that.”
“I hope that is not supposed to be a threat.” Neil had hoped his response would be more telling, but Andrew continued with, “Would you like to be called my boyfriend?” His tone was less inquisitive than it was mocking, the slightest grimace in his face telling Neil that he hated even saying it.
“I don’t know.” Neil reached a hand out towards Andrew, pausing for a silent glance of approval from him before he placed it on his chest, playing with the strings of the black hoodie he wore. “I’m mostly tired of not knowing what I mean to you.” Andrew’s expression hardened into something resembling annoyance as he continued to speak. “I’m not asking you to call me your boyfriend, okay? I just want to know if you‘re going to meet another guy, and think it’s okay to get him off, because we’re not together.”
Andrew didn’t move to reciprocate the touch Neil had given him, but raised an eyebrow at the hypothetical. “It sounds like it would be a problem for you if I did.”
Neil matched his stare and coolness in his response, “And what if it is?”
“This is an entirely unproductive conversation to have,” Andrew rested a wrist on Neil’s shoulder and brushed a piece of hair back behind his neck. A small but meaningful gesture that perhaps was given in lieu of ensuring Neil that his example would never happen. “I will not give you the pleasure of reassurance. If you haven’t figured it out by now, then I don’t have anything else to tell you.”
“How can I figure it out, when you keep telling me it doesn’t exist?” Neil’s voice was low, and Andrew’s sigh meant he heard the gentleness in it. He heard the way Neil hadn’t meant to sound so pleading, the words leaving his lips in such a way that felt like a desperate whisper for answers. “I want to hear you say it.”
Andrew looked down at the hair by Neil’s neck. “You know that I won’t.”
“Then tell me that we’re not just fucking for fun.”
Andrew dropped his hand and pushed Neil off, seemingly thrown by his bluntness. His laugh was a single short breath, not a semblance of a smile or humour in it. He shook his head as he took a cigarette from the packet he’d pulled from his pocket. Once the cigarette was placed between his lips, he stopped with the lighter a few inches away from his face, pointing the fire starter at Neil. “Well, we’re certainly not fucking for love.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Neil watched as he struggled to ignite the lighter, hand cupped around the flame, the wind set on blowing it out. After the third unsuccessful try, Neil reached forward to help him shield it with both his hands, until three short puffs in from Andrew told him it was lit. Andrew leaned back and exhaled. He watched as Neil pulled his hands away.
“You want to know if I’m going to get bored of you, then.” He said through smoke. Andrew adjusted himself to tuck one of his legs beneath the other, leaning his elbows on his knees. “You want to know if I have feelings, is that it?”
Neil shrugged his shoulders and looked at his hands. “Maybe.”
Neil listened as Andrew let out another smoky exhale. He cleared his throat, and when Neil thought he might speak, he instead filled his lungs again. There was no need to flick off the ash as the wind did that job for him, but from instinct he did it anyway. He let out another humourless laugh, two short puffs following in order to keep the stick lit. Andrew was not looking at Neil as he lifted his eyes to watch him, Andrew’s hazel gaze fixed on something in the distance. Using the thumb and index finger of his free hand he wiped the sides of his lips, tensing his jaw like the words took it out of him just to say. “Fuck you for even asking.”
The tug in Neil’s chest was impossible to ignore. It felt wrong to hear Andrew’s voice wrapped around those words, words that separately read like an insult, yet meant something different to their original form when he uttered them. Like watching a fish out of water, like listening to a mime sing; to have these moments of vulnerability from Andrew were as beautiful as they were rare. He hadn’t intended to steer their conversation to the place where it had landed, and part of him felt guilty as he watched Andrew silently struggle through the side of himself he swore did not exist. The side of Andrew that kept itself buried six feet below, hidden from anyone who asked, except for Neil, who’d been digging a hole for months trying to find it.
“When you put a name to something it gives it permanency, yet an opportunity to end,” Andrew sat up and moved closer to Neil, finding his position with one knee in between his legs, sitting back on a spot on the lower half of Neil’s thigh. He threw the cigarette somewhere behind him as he settled. Taking Neil’s hair into his fists, he examined the look on his face with his lips slightly pursed. He considered his words and took one hand out of Neil’s hair to hold his chin up, making sure he was listening. “You label it however you wish. I will not. Do you understand?”
Neil nodded, afraid to speak, as if any words insufficient would cause Andrew to change his mind about where he rested his body weight. It was reassurance enough that he’d found his way there, and that he remained, comfortable by his own volition.
“And for the record, Abram,” Andrew leaned in close, wisps of his hair tickling Neil’s face, his breath hot as he left a gentle kiss on his jawline. Neil shut his eyes and breathed in the moment, hiding his fists in the pocket of Andrew’s hoodie. “To answer the question you so annoyingly want answered,” He left another kiss higher up on his jaw, brushing his lip against his ear lobe as he moved, slowly, so gently Neil was both afraid he would fall apart, or that he would be able to feel his quickly beating heart through his skin. The hand that had sat in his hair moved to cup the opposite side of his face, the other tucking Neil’s hair behind his ear and holding him by his neck. Neil couldn’t help but shiver as he whispered in his ear, “I will not be fucking anyone else, and I am not just fucking you for fun. Happy?”
Neil nodded as he turned into his lips, melting into the kiss that warmed him up as the wind persisted. His hands pulled out of the hoodie pocket, and he tapped Andrew’s neck for permission to hold him. When Andrew hummed with a barely there nod, he hooked his hands around the back of his neck and pulled him closer.
There were a million things Neil could label Andrew;
Terrifying but caring. Gentle while violent.
Beautiful, like something that deserved to be hung on a wall, yet so precious Neil wished nobody else could see.
Rough. Jagged.
Talented. Human.
Misunderstood, perhaps. Genuine, most of the time.
When he thought about Andrew, there were a million things he could identify him as before landing on Neil’s boyfriend.
He would not tell Allison to stop, nor correct Nicky when he joined in. He would not say it out loud, either, as if their nothing that is something was so sacred it couldn’t be uttered. It was a relief of course to know that Andrew was his, and though he felt embarrassment rush through his blood at the idea of it, he was certain that what they had both found in each other was glaringly rare and hauntingly perfect. He noticed how perfect they fit together in each others space, lips on lips, hands on skin, and wondered how he ever doubted this was it; that this was real.
He was sure that no one else could experience such a thing.
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