Prompt (TobiMada fluff) given by @fantasticalmemories Belated Happy Birthday and Happy Halloween.
“What’s for dinner?”
“Food,” Madara answered, shushing Tobirama. Tonight’s chef is infinitely more focused on the brewing tensions between the two main characters than the golden-brown mushrooms on his pan. Tobirama snuck a piece— only for Madara’s wooden spoon to parry his chopsticks. “It’s not yet done.”
It’s not right!
Since when have you cared about what’s right?!
His lover let out a light chuckle, stirring the food just enough so the mushrooms did not burn. Tobirama was not mischievous by nature, preferring to sit by the lamplight, leafing through one book after another and writing his notes in between. But tonight, All hallow’s eve, was always a night of mischief— even if they weren’t participating on the celebrations this year. He made another attempt at the mushrooms. “You can always replay that.”
The wooden spoon met his chopsticks once more. “I told you,” Madara hissed, “It’s not yet—“
Tobirama let go of the mushroom and stole a kiss instead. And another. And another. Each one was a small revenge for all the times Madara had disturbed him from his work. He could feel Madara contemplating between the slowly burning mushrooms, the climax of his show, and— Tobirama’s lips curled into a smile. “I’ll leave you to that then.”
They ended up calling for a food delivery that evening.
whumpbby 😭 commiserate with meeee. Idk if you've seen this post that's kind of blowing up about how fandoms are racist in general because they always focus on white characters and ships over the POC ones and to be real, it's not that I disagree. I do agree, very much so, though I think the issue is way more nuanced. But I figure hey it's still a relevant post and I go to reblog and then I realise it's written by a goddamn anti 😭😭😭 now I have hIVES gdi the op is in the notes screeching at people for being kylo ren fans and telling them to die and I'm just So Over This, we can't have anything nice
The worst part is that this post got onto my dash from the blog writingwithcolour who gives really good and multi-cultural advice on writing POC and while I see why they'd reblog it, my automatic EWW UGH reaction to finding an anti's post unfiltered on my dash is now putting serious sus on that blog :((( I'm just here to whine at you dats all but yeah antis are ruining so many good things about Fandom I can't even feel good about a relevant post anymore
*commiserating*
I feel ya, the fandom that is supposed to be the place of fun and unwinding being overridden with self-congratulory bullshit is a pet peeve of mine too.
It is hard to find a balance between ‘ yeah, these issues exist’ and a ‘no, I am not here for that’ and not end up on this or that pitchfork, because we seem to be living in the time and social sphere where daring not to be concerned about the current issue of the week for even one second of the day marks one as a degenerate/racist/sexist/take your pick. It’s the wart marking the witch. And you are expected to prove your creed constantly, to preform to someone’s satisfaction until they deem to absolve you.
If she floats, she’s a witch. If she drowns, she’s not, but well, the point is moot.
It’s tiring, god, it’s exhausting - when already so many things are exhausting in the real life we have outside of these fandom spaces. And it gets doubly exhausting once you realise that - it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. No graph showing how many poc characters are NOT being shipped, no list of authors who ship ‘problematic’ ships, not one anon message trying to shame someone into not doing something - NONE OF IT MATTERS.
NONE. Not one grain of good has come out of it.
People see a problem and get invested and sometimes the problem is real and needs solution - and very often we are so small and have no resources and we can’t help in any realistic way. So, brain comes up with ways of helping us feel less shitty about out own helplessness and we invest ourselves so deeply into them, because what else can we do? That post, that blog, that call to arms, that callout, that anon message - we are doping something! We are helping!
We are doing something, right? Right???
It’s so hard to admit that not one child was saved by the witch hunt on Ao3, not one minor was saved form grooming by attacking fanfic writers on whatever platform, not one person was saved form abuse by attacking trans people, not one person was helped by the war on the “Q-word”, not one goddamn soul was helped by the anti-bullshit. All it results in is misery and pain and harassment, but hey, at least someone is reacting! - and, hey, these are ‘effects’, right? And we’re after ‘effects’ because at least we are doing something if it has effects, right??
These movements, these tactics, these people - they are nothing else than kids stomping their feet in their respective kiddy pools and thinking the waves they create change the currents of the real ocean. They imagine they are stopping a tsunami hitting some foreign land when all they do is splash on the people who just want to wet their feet in the same pool.
Listen. A story.
In my town there's this guy who will randomly appear in the market square and shout about God and Salvation and how everyone sucks. This recent Christmas he positioned himself right opposite of the charity orchestra and was a nuisance to anyone who wanted to stop for a moment and listen to them playing Christmas carols - to have in this depressing and cold, and busy end of a crap year we have all survived, a moment of respite, of Christmas cheer, a crumb of relief. Usually the orchestra is surrounded by people and kids throwing coins into their box, by folk recording on their phones, etc. No, this this year no one could enjoy a moment of peace, because a nutcase behind tried to overshout the orchestra, so people kept walking, intimidated and annoyed.
Out of frustration and, I admit, curiosity, I walked up to him and asked why won’t he move over to let the orchestra play - what I got was more shouting. Because listening to Christmas carols was hypocritical without the sprinkling of despair over the state of humanity and Our Sins.
He wouldn’t engage, he wouldn't speak to me like a person - I was standing two feet form the guy and he was yelling at the top of his lungs so everyone heard him. I was raised Catholic in one of the most Catholic damn countries in Europe, I know what God is about. But, you see, it didn’t matter to the guy, what mattered was that he needed to be heard yelling. This was his attempt at converting people - by yelling in their faces. He was doing something and feeling better for it!
This guy was the anti-movement in a real, compact, one-dude pill. Any anti-movement you can think of that picks a flag and then starts to screech in its shadow, because it makes them feel better about themselves.
As for Kylo...
The hilarious hate towards Kylo fucking Ren of all people? Towards people who ship him? All that misplaced anger at the crappy treatment of the poc actors by Disney and predominantly male ‘fans’ of Star Wars?? Let that sink in - white dudes with money made decisions, white dudes on the internet ganged up on an actress - but nah, dude, the women who write fanfic are the culprit! We can’t gang up on Disney and we are too afraid of the dudes on Reddit and 4chan, but these girls writing Reylo porn are there and accessible and not scary and not male! We can take them on!
How is it not hilarious? How?? This level of misdirection and confusion, being so intimidated by the insurmountable task of being angry at a corporation that makes their merch (that they are still buying, because hey, a fan is a fan, who doesn’t want a baby Yoda t-shirt?) that all they can do is to spin around and bite the ankles of the person standing behind them? How is this not hilariously morally bankrupt and so pitifully, tragically human?
Let the block button become your shield, another good blog will come, don't regret blocking ones you are not sure about. You’re here to relax, you don’t deserve this kind of stress. They will keep screeching, but you keep walking, friend, the orchestra is still there playing your tune, enjoy it.
(I am a little sorry about the time zones though. Y’all are in April 2 and still feeling the effects of this part of the world. [Story of American hegemony’s life tbh])
( Commission for @fantasticalmemories !!! Prompt is jaycentric jaydick with Jason sick and Dick taking good care of him with a lot of love and affection! This was so fun to write and my heart is incredibly warm. (: )
Jason has never felt this type of way before. This is the worst he’s ever felt being sick and he doesn’t know how much longer he can endure it. His chest is tight, his stomach hurts, and his head is feeling cloudy. His eyes are feeling incredibly swollen and he’s sure it’s from the amount of times he’s sneezed and blown his nose. There’s a mountain of tissues displayed on his bed that he’s yet to transfer over to the trashcan on the other side of his room but he sees no point in doing so if more tissues are just going to accumulate.
He hasn’t actually taken anything to cure his sickness, as he sees no point in medication as he believes it only offers a “placebo effect” and no actual long term fixes.
As dramatic as it may be, Jason cannot remember what it was like before he was sick. What it was like being healthy and not miserable, even if it was only about a day ago.
At some point, he thinks he can hear the front door of his apartment being opened but he also feels so stuffy to the point where he’s positive it’s just his imagination. Once he’s elevated enough on his bed, he allows himself to drift into sleep. He’s so exhausted, he doesn’t actually process his dream or understand what is happening. There’s colors, stiff movement to the point of no control and he can’t make out the faces on any of the figures. By the time he wakes up, he can’t scrape up any idea of what he dreamt about. But he forgets about that as soon as he sees his friend enter the room.
“What are you doing in my apartment?” Jason croaks, weakly slamming his fists down on his lap.
Dick approaches him as if it’s no big deal, shrugging as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed with a tray in his hands. “I knew you were sick and took it upon myself to use the spare key under the doormat to get in.”
“How’d you know where my spare key is?”
“I think we all know that you keep a spare key outside just in case you get too drunk and lose your main key.” Jason huffs to himself and allows the tray with his soup to be placed on his lap. “I’ll go grab the medicine I bought for you and bring it in here.” Dick smiles, heading out of the room.
Jason can’t help but make a face of distaste before he turns his attention to the food in front of him. He’s surprised the older man didn’t make a comment on the mountain of used tissues the first time he came in, but when he comes in with the bottle of medicine, he has a large trash bag that he scoops the tissues into. “I could’ve done that myself…” Jason mutters, the edge of the bowl against his lips and he slurps the hot liquid.
“I’ve been here for about eight hours now and I haven’t seen you come out of the room once. Just let me help you, please?”
Jason knows that he actually has no right to complain at this point, but he wouldn’t really admit that he’s low key enjoying the treatment he’s getting, as he realizes that this soup is really good and quite soothing on his throat. The steam coming from it is clearing his sinuses in the best way possible. But when Dick comes at him once again with the medicine, he has to groan exaggeratedly.
“Can I eat first?”
“I’ll go back to the living room after I see you’ve had your medicine.”
Jason huffs, setting the bowl back on the tray and he pops open the bottle of liquid. He’s about to swing it back, unmeasured and everything, before Dick grabs his wrist. “Can you at least take the right dosage?”
“What, afraid I’ll overdose? It’s not even possible, this stuff is fake and just a scheme to make medical professionals gain more money from us.”
Dick makes an exaggerated sound and rolls his eyes. He measures the exact amount that’s stated on the information label and hands Jason the cup, which Jason takes like its a shot of alcohol.
“Happy?”
“Yes, you may continue with your soup.” Dick grins, heading out of the room with all the trash that was accumulated.
The rest of the day Dick is up Jason’s butt, and not even in the pleasant way. Because Jason is awake, Dick feels the need to monitor him. He’s already went through multiple hot rags on his face, his temperature has been checked twice, and the older man actually made him get out of bed to shower. However, after his steamy shower, he steps out to find a fresh change of pajamas, and a towel waiting for him. When he gets back to his room, his bed even has a clean set of sheets, and they’re warm.
“What’s your angle?” Jason asks, slowly sliding back in bed.
“Stop asking me that. The sooner you’re better, the sooner the world can properly be aligned.” Dick spreads his arms as if to represent something like a rainbow, adding some dramatic flair to his purpose.
It’s when Jason is over his sickness that he realizes he misses Dick, because it was nice having someone take care of him and shower him with affection. There was some point of his illness where the older man would sit at the edge of his bed, fingers gently combing through his hair, casually keeping track of the warmth on his forehead. Jason thinks he can actually still feel Dick’s touch but he still wants it there.
He knows that Dick is only a phone call away and he would gladly come back, even if Jason isn’t sick. But would Jason actually call him? He’s not one to intentionally appear needy, and that may be a sign of weakness that he doesn’t wish to display. He flips through the apps on his phone, occasionally pulling up Dick’s contact but quickly leaving it. He squeezes his phone in his hand, huffing a sigh before he chucks it on his bed and leaves his room.
It’s a day later that he gets the “how are you feeling?” text with the endless amounts of smiley faces. Jason takes his time to reply, to not make it seem as if he was waiting by his phone.
Jason makes a sandwich and fifteen minutes later he’s replying to the text. He sends a simple “alright” and contemplates actually thanking Dick, but something about that is holding him back. Probably the fact that he’s still shocked that someone took their whole day to tend to his needs and nurse him back to help. There’s still soup in the fridge and medicine on the counter, just in case he needs it. Jason doesn’t want that, though. He wants his friend.
It’s not even a minute after that text is sent that Jason’s phone is vibrating profusely in his hand and out of some odd natural instinct, he’s answering the call before his brain can process what is really happening. “Uh, hello?”
“Jay!”
“What is it, Dick?” Jason clears his throat, throwing his feet up on the coffee table as he crosses his arms over his chest, propping the phone up between his ear and shoulder with his head tilted. Cool status.
“I was just checking in and… wanting to know if you were free today?”
“I didn’t somehow manage to get you sick?”
“Manage…? What, were you plotting to get me sick? Yes, Jason, I’m sick. Sick in love with you.”
Jason’s stomach flip flops at the small comment. However, this is normal for Dick, with his naturally flirty personality. He’s probably this way with his friend Wally.
“Yeah, whatever. So you want to hang out or something?” But, please say yes.
“Yes!”
“Let me look at my schedule.” Jason pauses. Dick thinks he’s legitimately looking at his schedule. His nonexistent schedule. “Yeah, I’m free.”
“Hell yeah!”
“When can I be expecting you?”
“I was actually already walking toward your apartment hoping you’d be free.”
What the actual fuck?
Jason scrambles to his feet, maintaining his casual tone, “oh? Just let me know when you’re close.” They end the call and although Jason doesn’t have time for a full shower, he sprays some cologne and brushes his teeth, tossing his dark hair to the side. It’s still messy, and his wavy hair still falls over his forehead but he heads back into his room to look over his outfit. He has on a t-shirt and some sweats, which he decides to keep, though he changes into some fresh socks to at least feel the effort.
Dick doesn’t really let Jason know when he’s close, and Jason knows that because there’s some enthusiastic knocking on his door. He opens it to find that bright, award winning smile. “Hey!”
“Hey, there.” Jason grins, stepping aside to allow Dick to come in and kick his shoes off. The apartment managed to maintain its cleanliness since Dick was last over. Jason was able to take the trash out and not leave tissues all over the place, and there weren’t a large amount of dishes piling up so that’s already a step.
The older man stays in the living room while Jason heads to the kitchen and gets a bowl of popcorn going. He lets him decide on a movie, and Jason is sure Dick is conflicted between if they should watch horror or comedy. He’s sure by the time he comes back there’ll be a comedy movie on.
As he walks out, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth, he’s able to confirm that Dick indeed picked comedy.
It’s a less than impressive Seth Rogan movie. Jason isn’t going to make a comment though, because having Dick back in his apartment is all that he could ask for, and he doesn’t mind pretending to be enthused by the choice of entertainment. He puts the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, takes his seat, and they’re watching the movie.
Dick slides up to Jason on the couch casually throughout the movie, which Jason chooses to not acknowledge much although he definitely can notice it, as the cushions on the couch sink occasionally, and now their thighs are touching. An arm is sliding around his shoulders and he grins.
“Are we in high school again?”
Dick pouts, “no! Can I not get close to you?”
“Should’ve yawned while you were at it. You know? Yawn, stretch your arms, slyly throw one around me.”
“Whatever…”
Dick starts to retreat but Jason quickly stops him, grabbing onto his wrist. He pulls the arm back around his own shoulders and even laces their fingers together as they hold hands. “You’re fine.”
His friend looks like he’s about to lean in and close the gap between them but he makes quite a snapping motion as he looks away to sneeze, loud and his whole body jumps with it. “I think I’m getting sick.” He mutters, sinking back into the couch.
“And I’ll take care of you this time.” Jason chuckles, wrapping an arm around Dick’s waist.
Thanks so much for posting again ;________; Like I love this pairing and your blog is the only one that sates my thirst, on top of it being fucking awesome and all. <333333333
Thank you so much! I’m happy to quench the thirst of my fellow Ranma/Ryoga shippers…we’re all crawlin’ through this barren desert together, my friend.
Following your blog is a series of adding shows to my to-watch list again and again and it's getting longer and longer XD
!!!~ oh! lol I'm taking this as a compliment XD
Tho, I'm extremely happy you like my taste in anime and I do hope you enjoy watching them!! I'm glad to be of service in finding new shows to watch 😘🤍
