#it’s the group she volunteers with she doesn’t run it but like. I need to know more

[goldkirk]

the fabric store my sewist mother put into the gps was next door to a leather kink supply shop with full window displays

[pumpkinpaix]

Regarding #EndOTWRacism’s summaries of 2023 OTW Board election candidate positions

Before I begin, let me say now that while I am a volunteer with the OTW, my views are personal and should not be taken as any kind of official statement from the org, its leadership, or other volunteers, especially not the candidates in question. My focus here is on the Asian candidates for obvious reasons, but this post is not meant as endorsement or disavowal of any of the candidates, whose bios and platforms can all be read here.

Do not take this as an excuse harass the mods running EOTWR. I cannot make myself clearer.

--

I am making this post to express my extreme disappointment with End OTW Racism’s post purporting to summarize the platforms of the candidates for the upcoming Board elections. It is no longer rebloggable, but can be read here.

The way that the candidates with Asian names were spoken of is deeply insulting when compared with how candidates with English-language names were discussed. Asian candidates had their platforms misrepresented, their expertise downplayed, and their lived experiences reduced down to “bringing an international presence” to the board, which was then further caveated with, “diversity alone is not going to solve the issue of racist harassment currently allowed in the OTW’s policies and enforcement practice”. While it is true that diversity alone is not a solution, it’s pretty offensive to essentially have “remember! Just because they aren’t white doesn’t mean you should vote for them!” tacked on to one of the Asian candidates’ platforms. 

End OTW Racism seems more concerned with whether or not candidates used the buzzwords they wanted to hear rather than with how racism is discussed holistically within the statements. While I can appreciate that EOTWR has a specific agenda, to say things like, “[s]he does not mention racism, racist harassment, or hiring a DEI consultant in her platform, so outside the outreach and support she mentions, there is not enough for us to conclude that these would be priorities for her” regarding Zixin Z.’s position, directly following the statement, “[s]he also mentions the need for outreach towards non-English-speaking fans and has a desire to provide support to volunteers from minority groups” is fucking laughable, especially after the initial mistake of stating that Zixin Z. only wanted to do more outreach to Chinese-speaking fans. Again, I understand that people make mistakes and that this mistake has since been corrected, but I hope it prompts some reflection on the sort of biases that would lead to such a mistake in the first place. It may have been completely innocuous, but in charged discussions about racism, please understand that it gives an impression that is difficult to shake. I do thank you for not trying to hide that this happened. 

Why is Anh P.’s lack of discussion on TOS/PAC a point against her, while Zixin Z.’s years of experience on PAC, her role as a mod on Weibo, and her background in nonprofits don’t even warrant a mention? For that matter, why did none of the Asian candidates’ skills or experience warrant mention? Qiao C. and Zixin Z. have both been volunteers with the organization for several years now, and Anh P. has years of moderation and volunteer experience elsewhere prior to her work with the OTW.

It is so fucking frustrating that despite each one of these candidates specifically talking about the need for diverse voices, they had their platforms essentially passed over because they didn’t use the right words, and it is particularly fucking aggravating to see that EOTWR will use Chinese issues as props when trying to press OTW leadership on the racism that occurs within the org, but then completely fail to connect the dots on why these candidates are running because the wrong language was used. Zixin Z. is one of the Weibo mods, for fuck’s sake. 

The entire post feels like an exercise in virtue signalling, from every time it was brought up that a candidate did not provide pronouns in their platform statements, despite every one of them having pronouns provided in their bios (why mention this detail at all? You could have simply used the pronouns), to what felt like willful obliviousness to the anti-racism stances in the Asian candidates’ platforms. It feels like the concern starts and ends with racism in Anglophone terms, on Anglophone terms.

I can respect the driving ideas behind EOTWR, even if I disagree with the way that EOTWR pursues their goals. I do believe that we want the same things in the end, and therefore chose not to interact with the many posts I have seen about the protest. However, I saw the summary post and could not let it pass without speaking.

For a protest group supposedly dedicated to ending racism in the OTW, this felt incredibly hypocritical, conscious bias or not. In my most charitable frame of mind, I can see this as misjudging and overcorrecting to ensure that there was no favoritism shown to the obvious non-white candidates lest EOTWR be accused of tokenizing– again, it is true, that diversity in and of itself is not a solution to racism. 

In my least charitable and most bitter frame of mind, I feel inclined to wonder if EOTWR, much like the OTW itself, is uncomfortable with the lack of influence they could exude over an international candidate. It would be much, much easier to push their agenda forward with more culturally familiar candidates, particularly white ones. Guilt and public scrutiny are powerful weapons and easy to wield against those with perceived privilege in our current atmosphere, often to the detriment of the actual discussion at hand in my experience. I know that’s cynical. It’s hard not to be. (For clarity's sake: I do not know the other candidates' races. This is a hypothetical.)

This isn’t a demand for an apology. I think we fetishize the capital-A Apology to the point where I find them sort of meaningless unless they are given freely. I don’t need EOTWR to agree with me, and I don’t really want to keep talking about it. Rather, I would prefer that EOTWR take action to do better as they continue in their campaign. What that action is is their decision. If they truly mean to stand against racism in the OTW, then I’d like them to demonstrate it.

--

DO NOT HARASS EOTWR MODS. I AM FUCKING SERIOUS ABOUT THIS.

[apas-75]

So last night I finished reading Rise of the Red Blade for TotE Vibes Research purposes and the two Inquisitor characters in it really illustrate exactly why I think Barriss is going to survive and escape them.

Because the thing is that there are two kinds of Inquisitors! The ones who volunteered, and the ones who...didn’t. Iskat (RotRB’s focus character) perfectly exemplifies the first type: she had some traumatizing experiences at a young age, fell through a number of institutional cracks in the Order, had a really terrible master (meet me in the pit, Sember Vey), everyone was too busy to give her the follow-up they would under normal circumstances, Palpatine had an agent actively gathering information about her and pushing her to become Worse—she was a pre-selected candidate who was offered the choice to come quietly when Order 66 hit, and she took it. By that point all of her issues and doubts had been exacerbated to the point where it wasn’t hard for her to make herself hate the Jedi, and then she rationalized her way through any indication that her freedom was a lie and doubled her way down right into hell.

By contrast: Tualon, Iskat’s crechemate situationship guy. He had some issues but was not someone on Palpatine’s radar; Iskat left him to die in Order 66 and he survived getting shot by darksiding out about her betrayal. Because of that he was taken alive and they did some shit to him. When Iskat runs into him at the Inquisitor HQ after he’s freshly-inducted he can barely remember why he hates her, or anything else from before he was taken. He woke up in the room where you fight Trilla and they fully shattered him and glued a semblance of a person back together out of the wreckage, just COMPLETELY Winter Soldiered the guy, and the only way he had to cope with it is to lean into a weird codependent situationship with Iskat.

And that distinction’s always been there with the Inquisitors; you have the true believers who ended up hating the Jedi or wanted to go on a power trip (or had the kind of revenge plan only a 12 year old could come up with and then stick to for a decade, in one case) and didn’t need any additional coercion to volunteer, and you have the ones that they broke. In the former group you’ve got the Grand Inquisitor, Reva/Third, Lyn/Fourth*, Fifth, and Iskat/Thirteenth. For the most part they’re certified freaks, but they came by it naturally. (Reva’s a different flavor.) In the latter, you’ve got Trilla/Second, Seventh, Masana/Ninth, Tualon, and probably most of the others. They all got disassembled and reassembled without much care given to the process and are all Coping with it badly in different ways, whether by deciding it’s Empowering, Actually (Trilla & Seventh) or by becoming completely jaded about everything (Masana & Tualon).

(*We obviously don’t know a lot about Fourth yet, but the fact that she shows up to recruit Barriss while rocking yellow dark side eyes before ROTS is even over tells me she’s definitely a volunteer.)

All this is to say: The Grand Inquisitor is making a colossal mistake with Barriss from the drop, and it’s why I think she’s going to win their battle of wits and escape. Because he is treating her like she is an Iskat and she could not be any farther from it.

He sends Lyn to get her to come quietly! They actively withhold information from her about what happened to the Jedi and what her expected role in it is! That’s not how they recruit the ones they think will be a problem; if that were the case she would have been stunned out of hand and woken up on a rack.

Instead, he’s giving her special attention,, he’s training her—he doesn’t think they need to break her. She’s just got a few...pesky hang-ups from her time as a Jedi that need ironing out**. He’s projecting on her; he doesn’t just want an empty shell holding a lightsaber—he wants Barriss Offee, loyally kneeling at his side, fully believing in their mission. She’s his favorite.

(**That “mercy only breeds defeat” line isn’t just a generic darksidism; I’m pretty sure he’s directly critiquing how Barriss got caught because she showed mercy to Asajj Ventress.)

And surely that's something he can turn her into, right? Because she hates the Jedi, right? She attacked them, she outsmarted them, obviously she’d be down for wanting to wipe them out! He was there when she confessed and, like pretty much everyone else in the room save for Ahsoka, he didn’t hear a single word that she said—just what he wanted her to be saying. He’s got a deeply incorrect idea of her, and that idea is “she’s just like me for real.”

And he’s wrong, because the Inquisitorius is everything she feared the Jedi Order was becoming—literally, an army fighting for the dark side—and the Empire is everything she knew the Republic was becoming. She might be prone to despairing, it might in some hypothetical be possible to get her into the same resigned despair trap as Anakin, but she would never actually want to serve the Empire, and they don't think they'll have to try hard to convince her to.

She loves the Jedi, she loved being a Jedi, she wanted to save them. She wants to be one again more than anything even though right now she thinks she doesn’t deserve it, thinks that she’s already too broken to reclaim what she was. But I think being surrounded by actual fallen Jedi and being told over and over again that she’s like them is, in the end, going to be what reminds her that she never stopped being a Jedi in the first place.

And as long as she can make sure her captors don't realize that's true until it's too late, she'll be home free.

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 ao3

Steve gets quiet.

They’re not talking about it, but Eddie can read more than enough into the silence, into the way Steve gets a fixed look in his eyes, keeps going to some place that he cannot follow. His jaw clenches a few times, as if he’s trying to hide how his breath starts to catch every so often; it’s such a subtle movement, but Eddie notices.

He can’t afford to not notice.

It feels too familiar. Feels like a clock ticking.

He slips away when a nurse brings up some dinner—tries to justify his exit as Steve is seemingly distracted, shooting the shit with her. The excuse is weak even in his own head; it doesn’t stop a nasty inner voice from whispering venomously, That’s right, run away. You’re a coward.

But his skin is crawling, and he can’t—He needs—

He presses the phone firmly against the side of his face, so that it feels as if each dial tone reverberates through him. He’s lucky, in the end, that Wayne picks up, caught in a lull between volunteering and his night shifts starting again. Eddie tries to crack a joke about how it didn’t take long for mundane routine to return, but his heart isn’t in it.

And of course Wayne can hear that. “Eddie,” he says, “what’s wrong?”

Eddie swallows. “I—I can’t stop thinking that—that something’s going to happen.” And the phrasing sounds childish out loud, but he can’t think of another way to put it. Can’t stop feeling that a part of him has never left the RV, still on the precipice of knowing…

“Saw that Nancy Wheeler at the trailer park,” Wayne says mildly.

Momentarily thrown, Eddie frowns. “Oh?”

“Mm-hmm. There was a big group of folks cleaning up there—I thought I’d shown up early for it, but she looked like she’d been there for hours.” Before Eddie can even ask how she was, Wayne goes on: “She smiled at me, but she was really quiet. Got her a coffee just so she could hold onto it, you know?”

Eddie smiles. “That’s… thanks, Wayne.”

“I think she was waiting for something to happen, too,” Wayne says, gentle.

Eddie breathes in and out.

“That kinda feeling doesn’t just leave you overnight, Ed. Even if there’s nothing left to—”

“But what if—” Eddie has to cut himself off, frightened suddenly that he will speak it into existence.

“Talk to him, Eddie,” Wayne says.

Eddie stands there holding the phone long after he’s hung up.

-

He moves the couch so it sits flush against the side of the hospital bed. Steve watches him absently; his eyes keep drifting over to Eddie’s guitar.

But Eddie doesn’t pick it up. He sits down on the couch, faces Steve. Tries to be brave.

Steve isn’t looking at him now; he’s staring at some fixed point in the distance. The sight makes Eddie’s stomach clench.

“You have to tell me,” he gets out.

Steve blinks, turns to him. His eyebrows furrow slightly. “…What?”

“If it’s—if it’s not over,” Eddie says. “If you’re… if you’re seeing… fuck.” He shakes his head, his attempt at seeming even remotely calm shattering all at once. “Look, I-I’m sorry, I just—I can’t do it again.”

Steve stares at him.

“Please don’t make me do it again,” Eddie pleads. His voice breaks at the end.

Silence.

“Oh,” Steve whispers. Then, louder: “Oh, shit. No, Eddie, that’s—God, I’m sorry. That’s not it.”

Air leaves Eddie’s lungs in a dizzying rush of relief. “N-no?”

“No. I don’t—he’s gone, I don’t feel… there’s nothing there. Nothing.”

“Okay, that’s… okay.” Eddie nods repeatedly, reaches for the guitar—it doesn’t need tuned but the pattern of it helps to hide the residual shake to his hands. He feels a bit foolish now, but he’s fine with that, honestly. Better that than…

“I’m… I’m really sorry, Eddie,” Steve insists. “You weren’t supposed to see, like, any of it.”

Any relief Eddie might have felt evaporates. He feels suddenly very cold.

“What,” he says flatly. Has to set the guitar aside again. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The worst thing is that Steve just looks confused, like what he’s said is meant to have been reassuring.

“What do you…? It’s not a riddle, dude, I just meant it wasn’t for you to—I should’ve—”

“Oh my god,” Eddie breathes. “Oh my god.” He feels like he’s just been pushed off a cliff, like he’s in free fall.

He can’t avoid the thought, now: that, if he had fallen asleep in the RV, if Steve was alone when…

Eddie makes an involuntary, despairing noise—not quite a whimper, but close enough to it that Steve’s expression softens despite his lingering frown.

“Eddie,” he says, far too kindly. “I don’t… I’m kinda lost here. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Tell me,” Eddie manages.

“Tell you what?”

Eddie gives a shaky sigh. “Just—tell me you wouldn’t have—if I hadn’t heard you… Please. Please tell me you wouldn’t have—you wouldn’t have just gone off fucking quietly.”

Steve glances away.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie says.

Because he can see it now, can imagine blearily waking in the RV along with everyone else; can see the driver’s seat lying empty.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Steve says, and his voice sounds strange—choked with something Eddie can’t truly place.

“Like what?”

“Like it’s some…” Steve exhales, and he sounds almost angry. “I don’t know! Like it’s some big thing.”

Eddie laughs in disbelief. “A thing.”

“Yeah! Like it’s something—fucking noble or—”

“Then what is it?” Eddie counters, heart pounding.

“I—”

“’Cause from where I’m standing, Harrington, it seems like—”

“Look, would you just—”

“—you’re the only one who can play the hero card, is that it?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, and he laughs harshly. “You know what? Yeah, that’s exactly what I—Stop looking like that, you’ve got no fucking right to judge what I—”

“I’m not judging, I’m—”

“Just shut up!” Steve says, eyes wild; and Eddie has the sinking feeling that he’s somehow missed several steps in this conversation. “I don’t care what you think, ’cause even if I’d—no matter what, I’d choose it. I’d choose it fucking gladly.”

“How can you say that?” Eddie says, hushed. “How can you even—”

“Because it had to be me!”

“Why?”

“Because.”

Eddie laughs again, but it barely counts as one; the sound equal parts tired and devastated. “You realise that’s not a fucking answer, right?”

Steve’s hands are clutching the sheets with a vice-like grip. “Because,” Steve says, suddenly very, very quiet, “it couldn’t be anyone else. I… I couldn’t handle it, okay? I’m not… I’d never forgive…”

“Steve—”

“And he knew that,” Steve says. He sounds close to tears. “He knew.”

A long, long moment.

Eddie sighs. “Jesus. I’m—okay, okay. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Can you just…?” Steve’s jaw clenches again. “Please just play.”

Eddie hesitates. Thinks of when he played the song this morning, Steve’s thousand-yard stare. “Not if it’s hurting you.”

“It helps,” Steve says, and Eddie can’t help thinking that it’s not quite a denial. “Helps me… remember.”

Eddie plays the song, but he doesn’t sing. Instead he searches and searches for something to say. He thinks of Chrissy. Fred. Patrick. How perhaps no-one had ever… noticed. Had never asked them.

But, faced with Steve, he doesn’t know where to start—instinctively feels like a question that’s too open-ended will seem too daunting to even begin to answer. So, he tries to keep it small. One step.

“How long did what?”

Steve blinks back into awareness. “Hmm?”

“This morning,” Eddie says. He slows his tempo until the song sounds almost like a lullaby. “You were gonna ask something, and you stopped yourself. How long…?”

“Oh.” Steve sighs. “Yeah.”

Eddie waits patiently, plays right through another verse until…

“How long did it take?”

Eddie hears the question, but he doesn’t understand. He continues to strum, replies, “How long did what take?”

“In your trailer,” Steve says, “for me to…?” And he must see something in Eddie’s face, because he’s quickly saying, “You don’t need to—Christ, I’m sorry.”

“No, I just—” Eddie drops the guitar, swallows through the sudden light-headedness, the nausea. “Just gimme a second.”

He must not be doing a very good job at collecting himself, because Steve looks stricken. “Eddie, you don’t have to—”

“Just gimme a second,” Eddie repeats, because if Steve withdraws now, he’ll never forgive himself. He covers his mouth with his hand for a moment, then says, “It was really fucking quick, man. Like…” He clicks his fingers, and it seems as if the sound echoes in the silence between them.

“Oh,” Steve says again. He pushes a palm briefly against his forehead, as if he’s the one to now feel light-headed. “That’s… Jesus, that’s really trippy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Felt like I was… Um. Felt like it went on for a… A lot longer.”

Eddie reaches out, slowly, slowly, to where one of Steve’s hands is gripping onto the sheets. He places his own hand on top, squeezes once. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You were…” Steve relaxes his hold, then pushes the back of his hand up against Eddie’s palm, like he’s leaning into the touch. “I remember, you were making me laugh. And then…”

The sight of the white film across Steve’s eyes flashes through Eddie’s mind, as harsh as lightning. He doesn’t allow himself to flinch. Keeps holding Steve’s hand.

And he gets it, suddenly. Because whatever is in Steve’s head is killing him, hurting him deeper than any physical wound ever could.

“Steve,” he says softly. Begging. “Please.”

Tell me.

Eventually, Steve nods. He smiles, of course he does, even through his fear. Takes a deep breath, then lets it out slow. “Okay.”

[cozage]

Heyyy first of all I love you works so much, you are such a good writer😭 I saw your requests are closed so feel free to ignore this but I just saw the latest post were anon asked you if you preferred karaoke with strawhats boys or spa with the girls and I found that a beautiful idea. So if you can/want could you please do a karaoke with strawhats (boys and girls) hc please?? Thank youuu💜💜💜

This is a request for my Sleepover Event, send me one too! :)  

Okay for starters if you have not heard the groups “Family” song, I’m going to need to you go to Youtube and check it out (they recently re-recorded the japanese version with Jimbei and 🥺🥺)

Most of these are just how everyone would act at a karaoke bar. But I added everyone singing with you, take that as you wish :) 

Karaoke Night

Luffy

He’s starting off the night with a song. The first to volunteer without even a drop of alcohol in his body. Literally pulls you up on stage to sing with him. 

He’s SOOOOO bad. He’s always offkey but that makes you feel a little better because at least people’s ears already hurt so your voice doesn’t matter too much. 

He likes to sing the classic sea shanties and older stuff that everyone can sing along to (if it was our world he would be singing Journey and the old classic country music). He’s big on yelling “You guys know this part, sing along!” and holding out the mic for the crowd to join in.

When he’s not on stage singing, he’s either dancing or running around to all the groups of people mingling, asking if they’re going to sing

He always volunteers to be a partner if people are too nervous to sing along. He’s there to have fun and wants to make sure everyone else is having fun too :)

Zoro

Nope. This man is not singing. 

That's what he says. That’s what he promises. No way in hell he’s getting up on that stage. 

Until he gets about 10 tankards of ale in him. Then he’s climbing up on the stage ready to sing his HEART out. 

He sings loud and proud, and halfway through the song beckons you up to join him. If you don’t go, he’s going to jump down and slowly walk to you and serenade you. 

He’s probably going to sing some oldies song that’s deep and slow. Like Frank Sinatra or maybe even Johnny Cash. (I can imagine him absolutely nailing “And I did it….MYYYYYYY WAYYYYYYYYYY”)

At the start of the night he’s sitting in the corner alone, watching everyone carefully to make sure nobody tries to make a move on you or any other crew member, but by the end of the night he’s up, sitting with strangers and laughing and having the best time ever. 

Sanji

His eyes are always on whoever is singing…unless it’s a man. 

Sanji himself doesn’t sing, and he’s definitely not singing alone, but any time a lady goes up, Sanji’s asking if she needs a duet partner. He can’t let a lady sing alone, afterall. 

He’s more of the kind to just sit and enjoy the show, show support when he needs to, heckle when it’s one of the Strawhats up there. If he hears any mumbling or rude comments while a lady is up singing, he’s going to war. 

He can tell you kind of want to go sing, but you’re too nervous to go up or initiate asking, so eventually he pops the question and asks you to sing with him. 

You guys are definitely singing some kind of duet song. Definitely Troy/Gabriella vibes from that first scene in High School Musical. You both start out kind of nervous but by the end you’re only focused on eachother and you’re both into it. And you sound pretty good too! 

Nami

She’s definitely not the kind of person to start the singing, but she’ll do it with enough encouragement.

She’s not singing alone though. Unmless someone pays her to sing alone, she won’t. She doesn’t even like duets (she knows she’s not the strongest vocally and hates when people make fun of her).

She prefers group songs. Usually three or more gets her comfortable singing. Her, Usopp, and you know all the good music, so the three of you can sing some songs without even looking at the words. 

Early 2000’s music, especially R&B, are your alls go to. Rich Girl, Umbrella, SOS, all the bops that people that grew up during that time know and love. 

She is definitely a heckler when someone is singing badly too. She may not boo them off the stage but she WILL be laughing at them.

Usopp

He’s not singing. He has allergic-to-crowd-itis. No way is he going up on stage. 

Unfortunately, he's bad at betting, and Nami makes him go up. You offer to join him so it’s not as scary for him. 

He’s picking some random song that nobody has every heard of. If they don’t know what the original sounds like, they don’t know how good or bad it is. Mt. Joy, Portugal, The Man, Go Radio. Music that if you know, you LOVE. Upbeat folky music that’s easy to have a scratchy voice and be offkey.

After the first time, he realizes he actually had a lot of fun, and starts doing it with bigger groups. He even gets Nami and Luffy to join you all and you guys all sing a fun upbeat song.

When he’s not on stage, he’s laughing along with the boys and cheering on for whoever is on stage at the moment. Over-exaggerated screams of support and lots of clapping. 

Chopper

Terrified of the thought of being on stage. But he’s a supportive little guy, and he’ll do it if you do it. 

He walks up and hides behind you. Looking out at everyone in the crowd is so scary for him! Especially knowing how vicious Nami’s comments have been. 

Once the music gets started, his voice is a little shakey, but by the time the chorus rolls around, he’s into it! The whole crew is yelling cheers of encouragement to him and he really starts to get into it. 

I could see him really getting into some fun pop music. Katy Perry, Olivia Rodrigo, Taylor Swift. He doesn’t get why the songs are so aggressive but he loves scream singing with you

After the first song clears his nerves, it’s hard to keep him off the stage. He’s jumping into every group song there is. He loves the RUSH. 

Robin

You’re convicned this woman is not singing. Like she’s just not. I’m sorry. You can beg and plead all you want but shes not-

“Do you want to sing? Sure! I’ll try everything once!” And with that she puts her book down and walks up onto the stage.

You guys are going hard or going home. The slower songs of people like Adele, Miley Cyrus, Billie Ellish, Lizzy McAlpine. Voices that you KNOW you will fail at replicating or sounding better than, but that’s just her vocal range, and she’s actually pretty good!

She enjoys it, but once is enough for her. She might do it again if you or someone else asks, but it’s always going to be those hard to match songs. 

She is honestly so fulfilled watching everyone else take the stage and be absolute goofballs. She prefers to watch and laugh along with everyone from the back of the room, a part of the family but then not center of attention.

Franky

Frankie loves pop music and you can’t convince me otherwise. The second he hears a song he likes, he jumps up to be next in line. He’ll sing anything, but his first pick is pump up 2012’s music like One Republic, Tao Cruz, Imagine Dragons. 

He’s such a star when he sings too. Dancing around on stage, pulling you up to join him and serenading you. He can really put on a show for the audience. 

He definitely made adjustments to body to have little smoke [things] and little sparklers. It definitely starts a small fire.

He’s having a GREAT time and loves loves loves it. He knows it’s important to let everyone have their turn, but he’s almost always in the lineup for karaoke, whether it’s the two of you singing or with a group of people. He’ll sing with just about anybody (and he gets requests for it too)

When he’s not on stage, he’s talking to the other patrons (trying to get in with other groups to sing more) 

Brook

Brook…what can I say? He was born for this. And died for this. And came back to life for this. Brook has ALWAYS loved karaoke. It’s what got him into performing. 

He asks if you want to sing one of his songs with him (what an honor!), and he does his best not to steal the show. But he’s missed performing and he’s missed the crowd, so he goes overboard a little bit the first time. 

The crowd goes freaking insane. He gets so many comments about his voice, and he always does his best to say he only sounded better because you were with him. 

He likes to sing his own songs, but after a few rounds, he just lets you (or whoever he’s singing with) pick the music. He’s got a very specific range though and doesn’t like to go outside of it.

He’s surrounded by fans most of the time, and anytime he spends offstage is met by autographs and fans fauning over him, buying him drinks and trying to get him to notice them.

Jinbe

Jinbe does group singing only. He won’t sing alone, and he doesn’t really want to do duets either. Even group songs he doesn’t love. He’s not big on singing or being the center of attention. 

He will join people on the stage for a group performance though, but he will only join in for the chorus or moments where everyone is singing. 

He can tell you’re nervous about singing, so he stays close and gives you little words of encouragement as you’re singing with everyone. 

He’s so supportive from the crowd though when you go up without him! He always tells you how great you did and tells you his favorite part of every songs so you know that he was actually paying attention. 

He really just sits and enjoys the vibes. He’ll sing along from the crowd if he knows a song, but he’s just there for the atmosphere and to support his crew. 

[or0ch1maru]

Akatsuki Beach day HCs?(also include orochimaru if you don't mind) kisame is thriving

Anytime I think akatsuki and the beach I can only imagine absolute chaos

I’m loving all these fun and mushy scripts y’all are sending my way🖤🥺also, please don’t worry if it takes me a while to get to yours, my small business and my job(I work retail and it’s been a HOT MESS with Christmas right around the corner) tend to take up a lot of my time but I promise to get to every one you lovies send in<3

Okay, back to it..

•

🐚so for starters I could see Konan being the main planner. Food, drinks, making sure they have enough of literally everything they could need, as well as making sure everybody wakes up on time to leave.

🐠then for the majority of the time they’re at the beach she would be found relaxing under an umbrella reading or watching everybody have a good time.

🦞pain on the other hand would be trying to stop deidara from blowing up Tobi. (I’ll elaborate further down)

🪸pain would definitely be the ‘dad’ of the group, making sure things aren’t getting too out of hand, and failing terribly at it. Zetsu lost a sandal? Just go barefoot, what’s the worst that could happen? He gets a splinter or a rock scrapes his heel. Feels bad when Zetsu starts crying about his foot hurting, would buy him ice cream as an apology.

🌊I imagine Zetsu as being a big softie. Just like Tobi he wouldn’t know what to do first. I also see him having a slight fear of water? Someone tries splashing him he’d close his leaves? Pinchers? Locking himself in his own shelter

☀️he’d find a bucket, a cup, literally anything and start collecting all the pretty shells he spots, even when the bucket gets full, he’ll start stuffing them in his pockets.

🪼our gentle masked comrade Tobi would refuse to take his mask off, let alone his shirt🥺

🐙poor thing couldn’t figure out what to do when they first arrived; go swimming? Build a sandcastle? Collect shells? Stare at the fish and other sea creatures showing themselves in the water? Nope, he decided on doing what he does best, piss off Deidara

🐬doesn’t even mean to do so, deidara is as explosive as his art so of course he’s going to get mad when Tobi accidentally gets sand in his hair.

🐋would retreat far into the ocean on a floaty, avoiding Tobi as much as possible. His hair would be tied up into a bun to keep the sea water from drying it out. Would most likely be those floaties with the little cup holder in it, probably with a beer can or sake in it.

🦭Sasori my man, I can imagine him working on a sandcastle. Using his skills to make a large one with details that would be tedious to anybody but him.

🦐he would volunteer to run up to the shops to grab things his comrades may want. No matter how small or stupid that item might be. Would buy small toys and presents in the gifts shops for everyone. He really enjoys walking through the board walk, will take a break and hang out on the pier for a bit before returning to the group.

🐚the zombie combo would both be talking and trying to pick up the gorgeous women who also decided to head to the beach that day. Hidan of course would be much more outgoing and flamboyant about it. Showing off his muscles and abs.

🐠Kakuzu on the other hand, all he’s gotta do is show off that one smirk of his to have them hypnotized. Wouldn’t care if one of them felt up on his scars or touched his hair. He won’t voice it, not even to Hidan, but he enjoys the attention, even if nothing comes of it.

🦈oh boy Kisame. Do I really have to say anything? As you said, he’d be THRIVING.

🦈would be moving through the water with ease, not even a ripple would be seen as he swims. Within minutes, sharks and other large sea animals would be seen following him around. He’d be so cute about it too, feeding them random shit he’d find, knowing what they want, or giving the sharks little boops on their noses(you can’t tell me you don’t see him doing this) and would be the main one to eat like 90% of the food Konan packed. She would make him join Sasori when going to the shops so he can stock up on everything he devoured.

🦞our sweet boy Itachi would pop into the water for a little bit before wandering off to the tide pools. He would find a patch of sand to sit on, watching as the sea stars and small fish go about their business as they wait for the tide to come back in

🪸would eventually get tired of being in the sun and lay out a towel next to Konan to hang out under the umbrella. They would talk or sit in silence, depends on how either of them are feeling that day.

•snake boy orochimaru would LATHER himself in sunscreen, you see how pale he is? (No offense, i love him) and he would also wear sunglasses to protect his eyes.

🌊I could see him complaining about the sun and trying to avoid it like the plague, acting as if the sun is the worst thing imaginable. Not one to express his feelings well if at all and uses his complaints to hide the fact that he’s actually having the time of his life. Would put a fish or eel in a jar, wanting to bring it back to the compound to keep as a pet until Konan tells him release it. Promising to take him to a pet store to get one there instead.

☀️towards the end of the day, moving into the early evening the whole group would play volleyball or fuck around in the water, splashing each other until everybody’s out of breath.

[hathay]

twst first years halloween headcanons<3

warnings: none!

(tis but just small silly hc’s. i may make some hc’s for the other years too im not sure yet😍😍)

♡ace♡

- will literally take candy from children. doesn’t matter how he has to, he will brisk right on by, snatching a handful from a child’s bag. using a magic trick to distract a big group of the to get more? he will. he has no shame.

- couldn’t care less about wearing an attractive costume, would wear something awful and stupid like a banana or like one of those inflatable dinosaur costumes. (he still thinks he looks so attractive in that costume too)

- actively steals parts of the other first years costumes and just waits menacingly for them to notice.

- will discreetly (sometimes.) judge other people’s costumes (even though he looks ridiculous).

- INSISTS they take group photos especially if they’re in awful costumes, and will post the worst photos of everyone off guard.

- he will also force everyone to watch horror movies afterwards, but only ones he’s seen so he can seem like everyone else is a scaredy cat when in reality, his first time watching them he almost peed himself.

♤deuce♤

- takes halloween seriously.

- absolutely loved being home for halloween and helping him mom decorate to liven up the holiday.

- he calls his mom on halloween from NCR and even sends her pictures of his costume, and later group photos.

- volunteers to hand candy out to kids, absolutely LOVES IT.

- doesn’t know what he wants to dress up as, but will take suggestions and loves group costumes.

- has to HIDE his candy because he doesn’t trust ace nor grim enough to just leave it lying around, it is quite literally under his bed within like 3 different boxes.

- hates the horror movies ace puts on, literally cannot stand them. almost punched ace in the leg MULTIPLE times when he was jumpscared but jack put a stop to that.

❆epel❆

- sometimes joins ace in snatching candy from kids, sometimes he smacks aces hand away and thinks he’s definitely stolen too much.

- definitely with deuce in enjoying group costumes, it makes him feel included, but definitely wants to dress cooler than sometime goofy

- almost brawls with adults who try and say they’re “too old” to be dressing up and getting candy

- LOVES trick or treating since he was one of the few kids in his hometown, he loves being able to go door to door with other people and seeing kids running around in costumes just beaming.

- so hyped about candied apples, gets everyone some but tells them he could could make some better ones in his hometown for them one day!

- tries to get everyone to trade candy because he doesn’t want some of the ones he got, but he doesn’t wanna give them away for nothing!

- def hides all his candy from vil, it’s hidden so well in a bag, in a bag, in a box, in his closet, with shoes on top and all.

☾jack☾

- sometimes gives off the “too cool” for halloween vibes, but absolutely loves it. he finds it so fun to dress up.

- used to help out around his house, making sure his siblings had their costumes on, taking them door to door just to see them smile.

- would dress in whatever people wanted him to, group costumes, solo ones, coordinated, he’s down! (his sister once tried to get him to wear a matching princess dress and he refused, but she did end up convincing him to wear a tiara with her)

- will carry everyone’s candy bags if they need be, also scolds ace every time he steals a child’s candy, taking it back n stealthily putting it back into the kids bag.

- (secretly adores the photos they take in costume and even posts some on magicam)

- at some point may also end up holding grim under his arm like a rag-doll when grim decides he doesn’t feel like going around anymore.

- he only keeps a little bit of the candy he gets, giving most of it to other first years, or ruggie later.

- he will give you some of his candy if he knows it’s your favorite and he doesn’t want it.

♞sebek♞

- definitely acts like he’s above dressing up for halloween. untilllll he overhears malleus discussing how excited he is for halloween, dressing up, all the festivities and suddenly sebek is over the wall for it.

- only goes out with the first years on halloween when lilia & malleus practically force him to.

- acts like he would rather be anywhere else doing anything else, but is actually having so much fun.

- thinks it’s odd parents just let their children run amuck.

- he brings back candy/treats for lilia, malleus, and silver that he’s sure they’re gonna enjoy. (considered bringing back trick candy that ace used on him for silver)

- the horror movies ace forces upon them, he lowkey cannot stand. he thinks the people are foolish because for WHAT REASON are they to walking around where they heard someone scream without any weapons??

(also @kasdan has some slay writings as well so you should check her out🥳)

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 28: Unnoticed

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

Enough with socializing. Enough with fighting. Thomas can have his kill but I’m through with watching grown men fight like children. Can we ever go to a single event without someone being shot? As I pass by the groups of men the trait that relates them all is their unbelievable arrogance- Wait. 

I stop walking and stare straight ahead. Those men in that truck- Those are Irish men. A volunteer force. What could they possibly-?

I gasp and push through the rest of the crowd. “Thomas-!”

A large man in a flat cap blocks my way. “Sorry, lass. Private business.”

An Irish accent if I ever heard one. “I know who you are. You should know who my uncle is! Ever heard of Edmond Colon?”

His eyes slightly widen at the mention of the name. “Aye.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Then you would know that if he hears that you’ve killed his niece’s boss you could run into some trouble in the future.”

The man begins to stutter an answer but another giant man turns me away. “Walk along, Ms. Steenstra.” He leans in and his voice changes to an English one. “No harm will come to Mr. Shelby, orders of Churchill. He will not die today.”

I protest further but it’s too late. I’m pushed back into the stadium and lose sight of the truck. What does he mean? Where’s Thomas now?!

“Fucking kings of the world!” I hear John’s voice over the noise and see him beckoning me over. “C’mon, Verena! There’s a celebration in order!”

“Lizzie’s alright?” I ask immediately.

John puts an arm around me and walks me to a table. “I talked with her. She’s better.”

So goes another wild game. It’s what I get for tagging along with the Peaky Blinders.

Back at the office Arthur shouts for everyone to quiet down. Thomas is still missing. It’s rather odd that his absence is labeled off as normal now. I can’t stop the worry pooling in my stomach no matter how many drinks John offers. One drink is all I take.

“Right! Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to make a toast!” Arthur announces. “To the Small Heath Rifles! To the Lee boys! And to the Peaky fucking Blinders!” Glasses are raised and cheers are shouted. “Who’s gonna stop us, eh?”

This is all fine and dandy but I have no part here. My ambition is for a partnership contract, not expansion. If only Thomas were here then a contract could be accomplished as he promised. 

“You’re turning in?” Finn asks before I reach the door.

“Yes.”

He doesn’t argue. Only nods his head. “I understand. I’m not a fan of our big parties either. I’ll meet you back in the kitchen.”

“Alright. I’m going to Thomas’ office to file a few papers.”

Glad to know I’m not the only skeptic of wild parties. Even back home they never appealed to me. All those drunken souls flailing about-

“Oh!”

When I open the door the sight of red is too alarming to go unnoticed. In the shadows I make out Thomas’ blood-splattered face. 

“You’re back,” I gasp.

“You look relieved,” he replies from his desk chair.

I walk to him slowly, almost like approaching a ghost. “I recognized those men. Before they drove off. I tried to…” I trail off, still staring at his unreadable face. “The red right hand never kids around, Thomas. It’s a miracle the Crown stepped in. I’m guessing that’s not your blood?”

“No.” Thomas shifts in the chair and looks up again, this time with devoted eyes. “Are you still up for another therapy session?”

Faith. Sympathy. Loyalty. Shards of emotions running through me all at once. Am I still staring? I need to answer. Thomas needs this. And he’s asking me. Not May, not Lizzie. Me. I need to help.

I take a seat on his desk and open my arms, surrendering to his words. “You know I’m always here to listen.” 

Those eyes. Eyes that seem to melt when he hears me. Thomas takes a quick breath and looks to be thinking over what to say.

“There’s change coming, love. I’ve got ideas I’m gonna pitch to Michael, since he’s staying. For you too. I’ve drawn up a contract for your family. Shelby Company Limited would love to partner with you.” He reaches over to take my hand. “Your loyalty to my family deserves proper benefits, Verena.”

My breath hitches. “Thomas, this isn’t all about money. The contract is to help us, yes. But it’s also proof.”

Thomas frowns. “Proof?”

“Yes. To show that I’m making a proper living for myself. Why do you think I’ve gone this long without my family disapproving? I’m here to help with the bigger picture instead of having my mother train me to be a meaningless housekeeper.” I squeeze his hand. “And I am here to help you face whatever demons haunt you.”

Thomas just stares at me. Then leans in closer. His smell of cologne and cigarettes makes my heart race even faster. 

“You are one of the most peculiar people I know. Even when you have your own ambitions they hold a deeper meaning for someone else.”

“I know I play a small part-”

“No,” he cuts me off. “Not small. Not to us. You help us remember to stay a family, Verena. And I promise these changes will make good profits for your own family. And…” He pauses and licks his lips, looking down to the floor. “We’ll need help with business overseas while I’m taking time off. I’m getting married.”

Crack.

Another piece of my heart is ripped away. You knew this was coming, Steenstra. He knocked her up, I’m sure of it. Now he will have his blushing bride and forget all about us. About me. Instead of looking to me to listen he will rely on her. Did I not just say I’m dedicated to helping him?

“That’s wonderful,” I whisper with a forced smile. “Matrimony in the eyes of God is always something to marvel at. Congratulations, Thomas.”

I pull my shaking hand away before he can ask what’s wrong and excuse myself for the evening. I shouldn’t be upset. He’ll be happy to have her as his wife. She should be happy as his bride. And little old me will keep to the side, unsatisfied. Is this what they call irony? I reach out and give my heart to him, only for him to discard it unnoticed. 

Let it go. Grace is… nice. Even after she lied. And hinted at threatening to expose my family ties. Could she still have hidden means for Thomas?

You’re concerned for him? Well, yes. He’s my boss. But you think of him as more than that? More than platonic? No! I wouldn’t… Oh God. Am I in love with Thomas Shelby? Ding ding! We have a winner!

@meadows5

[rachaelswrites]

First Premiere

Avengers Cast x ADHD!teen!reader

Word Count: 564

Requested By: Anonymous

another request here! again, avengers cast x adhd!reader. y/n first time of her being at the premiere, and the cast is keeping an eye on her, making sure she doesn’t get too distracted, being there on time, talking so sweet of her when they get to the q&n panel with the fans. avengers cast being really sweet, safely with her, caring etc :) 

A/N: Thank you for this second request! I’m having fun writing for adhd!teen!reader so feel free to request more

Tonight was your first premiere and your first Marvel movie. You were so excited you could bounce off of the walls, which is exactly why your team was handing you off to your co-stars to handle you for the night. You didn’t mind it, since you loved all of your cast mates and that made you even more excited.

After getting hair, makeup, and wardrobe done, you took a car to the hotel where Brie was staying. You two got along well and since she saw you as a little sister, she volunteered to take you under her wing for the night.

She met you in the lobby before the two of you were going to arrive at the premiere together.

“Are you excited?” she asked, already knowing the answer. She could practically feel you buzzing in the seat next to her.

“Of course I am! I have never had this much excitement in my life. I think if anything else happened, I might combust. I mean, I still might who knows,” you rambled.

Brie laughed a little before putting her hand on your shoulder, “Just take a deep breath and relax. And, if you do interviews, try to slow down a little bit.”

“But I’m so excited, Brie! I can’t contain it,” you explained.

She laughed at you and realized she wasn’t going to be able to stop you from being excited so she didn’t bother trying anymore, “Just stick with me and don’t wander off. If I lose you, your manager will kill me.”

~~~~~

Once you got to the venue of the premiere, you did the best you could in sticking close to Brie but there were a few times when you were needed for an interview but you were off talking to fans. As long as you were in eyesight of one of your cast mates you were fine.

When you were standing near the barriers separating the fans from the carpet, everyone was heading inside but you didn’t get the memo. Mark had to go off and find you and bring you back to the rest of the cast.

“Sorry I didn’t realize you guys were leaving,” you said as you and him tried to catch up to the rest of the group.

Mark shook his head, “It’s fine Y/n. We were all kind of prepared to watch over you.”

“You know what Sebastian and Anthony threatened to do to me last week?” you asked, changing the subject quickly on accident.

“What?” he asked.

“They threatened to put me on one of those stupid kiddie leash backpacks. Mackie even sent me a link to one asking if I liked it,” you explained, “I’m not that bad am I?”

“Well, you do have a tendency to wander,” Mark replied, earning a slap to the bicep from you.

“You’re supposed to say “no Y/n. They’re being ridiculous’ not agree with them,” you pouted.

“I’m kidding, I'm kidding,” he said, rubbing the spot where you just hit him, “Jeez you hit hard.”

“Oh yeah? You should see me run across this hallway right now. We should race to the theater,” you said, already taking off your shoes so you could run easier.

“No, let's not,” Mark said.

“Too late old man,” you yelled, taking off down the hallway.

Mark sighed, shook his head again and jogged to try and keep up with you.

Taglist

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Marvel

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[mikhailwrites]

Soaring Ever Higher 3 - Ghoap/Ace Combat 7 crossover

Previous chapter | This Chapter on AO3 | Next chapter

Ghost still owes Trigger that drink. However, it's not so easy for RAF and SAS soldiers to meet by chance. Or is it?

Two months after returning from Colombia, Ghost finds himself in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in Scotland, to supervise part of the SAS selection in the Highlands. He actually volunteered because it’s been either that or R&R, and he hates the leave much more than dealing with recruits.  

The weather is British or, well, Scottish, he supposes. Heavy clouds hang low, crying rivers over several dozens of trekking soldiers. Ghost doesn’t particularly mind; he would take rain and cold over humid heat any day. He’s on the tail of the group. He is casually noting who’s lagging behind, who’s breathless or sweating more than they should. For once, his mind takes a break, and he can take in the scenery. Harsh rocky terrain, hillsides covered in lush green grass and hardy shrubs. Ghost stops for a minute to take a few deep breaths, to taste the rain and the air. Momentarily, he looks back, just in time to spot… something flying in the distance. A bird, eagle, perhaps. But then it gets bigger and bigger, closing in fast. Soon, it’s clear that that’s no bird, or at least not one made of feathers and flesh. It’s a… jet? Every fibre in Ghost’s body tenses and senses focus on discerning if it’s friend or foe. It doesn’t make sense for it to be an enemy this far inland. How would they get here? And why? The jet closes in, rolling between the hills at high speed, manoeuvring with practised and deadly efficiency. Ghost realises the jet is flying even lower than he first thought. He can hear the aircraft now, too. The sharp, powerful whine will morph into a thundering roar once the jet passes.

As it closes in, Ghost frowns. That’s not the Typhoon. Nor the Lightning II. It’s bigger, sleeker, and weirder. And it’s dark, almost black. With three white strikes and claws painted on the tail fin. No way. Ghost’s breath hitches as the jet passes him. One person is sitting in the cockpit, and Ghost is pretty sure he knows them.

What are the bloody odds?

Later that day, when they return, and most of the people in selection end up immediately in their bed, he goes to the canteen, hoping to catch some locals there. He’s in luck; there’s an SAS sergeant currently engaged in a lively chat so that Ghost can pick up her Scottish accent. He gets a tea and waits patiently until she disengages.

He asks about the RAF bases around and is given a name: Lossiemouth Airbase. Apparently, the gal has some friends and even family there. Military runs in their blood or something. Ghost tries his best to be tactical and friendly at the same time, and he suspects he fails horribly in the friendliness department. It’s not that he’s a bastard or cold; no matter what people say, he’s just… not as good with words as he is with actions. It’s simple, really.

“You interested in a tour?” the Sergeant asks him with an easy smile, “I’m sure I could arrange something.”

“I’d like to meet someone stationed there,” Ghost admits.

“Right! Well, you should be able to get inside with your military ID. If yer lucky, you could even catch someone driving there who could take ye,” she shrugs and smiles, unperturbed by Ghost’s presence. It’s refreshing, but it makes sense; all sort of people try their luck in the selection; she must’ve seen weirder stuff than tall, broad and brooding Ghost.

He gets a couple of days off at the end of the selection. The last part are interrogations and he doesn’t need, nor does he want to be present for that. Instead, he hitches a ride to Lossiemouth.

His military ID gets him through the security checkpoint without any issues, just like the Sergeant said it would. After that, he’s a little lost. The base is big. It's not the biggest he’s been to, but it's big enough to warrant asking for directions. He also feels different. RAF is its own thing, with its own language and culture. Even though he only wears a plain black balaclava, he gets a lot of lingering stares. In the end, he chooses his victim: a wide-eyed young man.

He asks for the Strider squadron and then, specifically, for Trigger. The man, a Lance Corporal by the insignia on his shoulder, looks up at Ghost with poorly disguised surprise. “You a friend of Trigger’s?” he asks, searching Ghost’s plain attire for any indication of rank. He has a feeling he should be addressing the man as “sir”, but there’s no proof.

“Something like that,” Ghost answers without really answering, and he doesn’t clarify on his own rank, either. These are not his men, his people; why should he care?

RAF bloke nods and points to one of the large hangs further away. Ghost thanks for the help and goes on about his business.

The day is pleasant, with clear skies and sun that’s not too hot. It's a true rarity around here. As he nears the hangar, he notices the gate is open and, sure enough, there’s Trigger’s aircraft. Ghost strides across the tarmac, eyes set on his target. A shadow passes over him, and he pays it no mind. But then he’s startled by a deafening roar. He looks up, but the plane is long gone. Bloody madmen, these fighter pilots.

The path before him is clear, so he continues, noticing four Typhoons taxying on the runway. Nearing the hangar, he notices two people there. One is Trigger; his mohawk is easily recognisable. The other is a young woman with short, dark hair, clad in a grey overall and tinkering with something on the workbench.

Ghost comes nearer, stopping right at the entrance.

“Take a look at the starboard tail; it’s been acting up again,” John tells the engineer, motioning with his hands to illustrate the issue better. “I got a feeling it’s gonna jam one of these days. Maybe the frost issue, again?”

The engineer nods, scratching at her neck. “Listen, John, I know you love her. Believe me, I do, but it may be time to let her go. The tail, the flaps, the outer cockpit glass crack... I could go on. These issues? They’ve been stacking up lately. She will let you down one day, and I won’t be up there with you to fix ‘er up.”

“I ken,” Trigger sighs, brushing his fingertips over the edge of the wing; his voice is wistful. “I ken, Avril. But what am I gonna do?”

She cleans her oil and lubricant-stained hands and tosses the rag on the workbench nearby. “Fly something else, of course. The craft doesn’t define you. Do you think the brass doesn’t like you enough to get you the Lightning? Plenty of those down at Marham base. Or, hell, maybe some hush-hush deal to get a Raptor loaned?”

“I dinnae ken,” John shrugs, “that thing in Colombia is gonna stink for a while longer. Just… look at the tail for now. Please.”

“I’ll do the thorough maintenance, like I always do, love. Don’t worry. I’ll get the old Gray Ghost here all patched up and air-worthy,” the Scrap Queen smiles. “Just don’t go feeling sorry for saving someone’s life. You’re a good lad, John; don’t let the brass scream it out of you.”

“Thanks, Av, wouldnae still be here if not for ye.”

“That’s for damn sure,” she laughs as she picks up the toolbox and stepladder and goes around the plane. That’s when she notices Ghost, still standing by the entrance.

“Uh, John… you’ve got a visitor,” she calls out.

Trigger walks up from behind the jet with a mildly confused look. The frown deepens momentarily as he takes in the visitor in question. “Ghost? How did you... what are you doing here?”

Avril eyes him with sudden recognition; there’s a subtle smile on her lips as she pretends to focus on the machine.

 “I was nearby, and I still owe you that drink,” Ghost goes straight to the point. No greeting, no explanation. Simply stating the facts.

John visibly relaxes and chuckles. “That you do, but considering I stood you up, I guess we are even.”

“Duty called. Nothing you could do,” Simon shrugs. “So, I still owe you a drink.”

“Well, who am I to say no if you insist?” John inclines his head, blue eyes twinkling with mirth.

“I insist,” Ghost nods before he changes the topic. “I overheard her, something about old Ghost?” Ghost lowers his voice. He’s still unsure if he should feel offended or not. He’s not that old, after all.

Trigger takes a few seconds to connect the dots and then starts laughing. A bright, hearty laugh that causes Ghost to smile in return. Not that anyone could see it under the balaclava. “Come ‘ere,” Trigger leads him around the plane until he stops and points at something under the fuselage. Ghost looks, unsure what he should see there. Then he understands. Behind the front landing gear, on the cover that is now open, is writing in thick black lettering: Gray Ghost. “It’s her name. And thank you for spoiling that, by the way. I was saving that piece of trivia for when we’re at least the second, possibly even third, drink in.”

Ghost’s mind is reeling both because of the explanation and implication. “So... that Ghost saved this Ghost’s arse, eh? What are the odds?” Ghost shakes his head in amusement.

“Not massive, I reckon, but it is funny,” John agrees, then, suddenly, his smile freezes, “or... it’s fate,” he says in a low voice, almost whispering. The sparks in his eyes are proof enough that he’s only joking.

“Yeah, I guess as far as destiny is concerned, I could’ve ended up worse than a destined love made of steel and having some wicked angles and curves,” Ghost snorts, placing a palm on the nose. The metal is warm as the sun shines through the open gate. “I wonder where the ring goes.”

Trigger laughs, then feigns offence. “Oi! This lass is already taken! And you don’t have what it takes to be with her, anyway.”

“Oh, and what is that? Lack of common sense and self-preservation?” Ghost mocks him lightheartedly.

“Exactly! Anyway, I still have some stuff to finish here, so how about you walk around, see our lovely home, and I’ll meet you here at…” he looks at the wristwatch, “five?”

Ghost agrees and goes on to explore the base as suggested. He truly hopes they will get to enjoy that drink this time—that, and maybe something more.

Some useless trivia for you:

Soap, or, rather, Trigger, in this case, is flying Northrop YF-23. Two prototypes were made in the late 80's/early 90's to go toe to toe with (Y)F-22, one of them was painted charcoal grey and named Gray Ghost. And yes, that is one (but not the sole) reason why I decided he will be flying this cool af, weird-ass thing.

[in-every-reality]

“I don’t know what you do to me.” - Tam Song x Reader hc/blurbs

Hyperfixation go brrr

In which Tam is pining hard for you, but just doesn’t know why he’s feeling like this.

Tam Song doesn’t know how to respond when he first meets you, instantly standing out from the rest of the Black Swan and your group in his eyes.

Tam doesn’t know why he’s so warm, relaxed yet on edge, when he speaks to you during his time in Alluveterre.

Tam doesn’t know why his breath catches in his throat when he sees you dressed up for the Peace Summit for the Black Swan, in your intricate (yet semi professional) suit/dress that fits you so well—your hair still managing to fall slightly in your face, though not in the way of your eyes that always seem to put him in a trance.

Tam doesn’t know why he trips on his words as he manages to mumble out a quick “You- look nice..” as he and Linh wish you luck.

Tam doesn’t know why he’s constantly watching your back in the battle at Nightfall; he knows you can handle yourself, so why does his heart seem to momentarily stop when he hears a crash from your direction?

Tam doesn’t know why he’s suddenly so sweaty as you come to Tiergan’s house to study with Linh but almost always end up alone with him when she leaves for “a snack” for half an hour.

Tam doesn’t know why he’s always first to volunteer when you need someone to train with; making your spar a challenge but almost always getting distracted and ending up pinned beneath you Percabeth-style, willing his breathing to calm down as he stares up at you ,wanting nothing more than to bring his face up just a little closer to yours.

Tam doesn’t know why he instinctively moves closer to you when you attract the eyes of yet another Foxfire prodigy—it’s not like who’s into you matters to him..  *it’s not like you’re his.*

Tam doesn’t know why he gets so red when a subtle glimpse of your abs peeks out from your rising tunic as you stretch your arms over you; why those striking silver eyes of his trace your body, stopping right at your lips.

Tam doesn’t know why he can’t seem to stop asking Sophie about you, eventually ending up ranting about how impressive and smart and kind and badass and *gorgeous* you are— he just can’t think straight about you.

Tam doesn’t know what he’s doing as his eyes hold contact with yours, his hand running back through his hair to push his bangs out of his eyes when he tells you how you make him feel, how long he’s been desperately trying to hold in how weak you make him—

Tam doesn’t know what you’re doing before you pull his face down to yours, confessing your reciprocating feelings and how long you’ve wanted to do this as you give him a soft kiss (which he returns in full).

Tam doesn’t know how his heart can beat so hard without killing him as he pulls you in again for more.

He never really knows why he does anything when it comes to you.

[heterophobicdyke]

Earlier anon here ( the one about the labels / normies)

Full disclosure I’m a lurker. I wouldn’t even consider myself a rad-fem, maybe a sympathizer at best. Right now I consider myself an outsider looking in, so I don’t know how helpful this ask will be, but I hope any OSA or SSA women who see it gain something from it in regards to the current debacle. ( I had this written out before but the ask got deleted so sorry if this is less in depth)

Essentially, if not taking a action like removing men from your life they best you can (intimately or other) isn’t required to be a radical feminist, then what is?

What then separates radical feminism from other forms of it? ( I believe the community call these people libfems as a gotcha (see prev post))

A “normie” feminist can also choose to not shave, not wear makeup and volunteer/ build community. They’re already doing that. And yet these slightly above bare minimum actions do not a radical make.

Even recently there seems to have been an influx of people who are here just for the gender critical stuff. Your run of the mill Conservatives can point out transgender related issues, but that doesn’t make them gender abolitionists.

Plus there are multiple posts here with the firm belief that just because you call yourself something, doesn’t automatically make you one. If you can apply that logic to trans people, you can apply it to yourself and the others here.

Now to be clear I don’t believe activism is performed in the bedroom. You shouldn’t have sex with somebody to validate or enshrine your political beliefs. I don’t want political lesbianism. There’s already enough people believing themselves to be homosexual women when they aren’t, we don’t need a new wave of that. That’s not what this post is advocating for at all. I also don’t approve of the name calling by both sides. It’s childish and not the witty gotcha you think it is. I think more people need to adopt the mentality that if someone defaults to that in a serious topic like this, then their opinion should be discarded for the time being. It would save a lot of this he said she said nonsense, as well as keep the pot at a simmer yknow ? In the end this is a bit of an online debate. ( I don’t think anyone is going to attack their fellow volunteer IRL)

What I am asking is essentially, if these bare minimum actions aren’t radical, then what is? What makes anyone here a radical feminist and not just a “normie” one ? Posting isn’t activism. Having different opinions than the feminist near you at the community meetings doesn’t make you one either. Being SSA doesn’t automatically make you a radical feminist either.

If radical actions aren’t being taken by radical feminists, then what the point of even having the label to distinguish this from other forms of feminism? The labels exist for a reason and I think that there needs to be a step back on muddying the terms because you identify with it. ( the thing this group likes to point out when it comes others ) Having a clear definition to adhere to and sort out the radicals from the sympathizers will also help fix the issue of infiltrators coming in and de-railing the conversations. Was that post made by an actual community member or a troll? Is this person and actual radical feminist and if not, should their opinion apply here ? Is this person a feminist, or only here for the gender critical stuff/ to dunk on trans people ? Remember: if everyone and anyone can be a radical feminist, then no one is. That label becomes useless in meaningful discussions.

💯

[creative-frequency]

Astarion x Reader: Contradictions and Other Counter-Measures Ch.4

Summary: Finally you get someone around the camp who can cook. It's a shame that he can't take special diets into account. Word count: 2087

Previous chapter

CHAPTER 4: Sunbathing

After pulling the mighty Gale of Waterdeep from his self-imposed predicament (and slapping the wizard’s dangling hand before helping him, much to Astarion’s delight), your party of now five members takes a moment to rest and prepare in camp.

Everyone was quick to forget their initial shock of a daywalking vampire spawn and you think Astarion seems to be in a better mood with the heavy secret off his chest. Unfortunately, better mood in his case seems to correlate to being a pompous, exuberant and decidedly flirtatious asshat.

At least Gale seems to be the perfect gentleman, much to Astarion’s chagrin. The wizard is also quick to make clear his love for cooking, essentially volunteering to become the group’s designated cook.

You get to know each other in the midst of preparing supplies for a late lunch with Gale and Shadowheart. Lae’zel is out hunting. Astarion hangs back, pretending to read one of his books but you just know his ears are perked up, waiting for the moment the conversation turns interesting.

“Gale, do you know how to make potato scones? We have some potatoes left in one of these bags,” you say and rummage through a box to find the said bag.

“Oh certainly!” Gale perks up with a smile. “It would be my pleasure to cook them for you the next time we camp, my lady.”

He bows. You giggle in a manner that your noble-born parents would be proud of. Astarion sneers from behind his book.

“It was about time to have someone eager to cook here,” Shadowheart quips, reminding you how none of you have had a proper meal since being taken by mind flayers. Or well, maybe Astarion has.

“Say no more, Shadowheart. I shall take care of all your culinary needs henceforth,” Gale boasts, “But first, I’m going to fetch one of my favourite recipe books. Ladies, just a moment, please.”

Gale runs back to his tent. You and Shadowheart glance at each other with faint, accepting smiles. The wizard is a welcome addition to your group and his arcane knowledge will surely come in handy in the adventures to come.

Unfortunately, not everyone is as delighted about your new companion.

“What a charming fellow that magician of yours is,” Astarion says dryly, as if he has not been waiting for the chance to say a couple of choice words about Gale.

“Yes, if by ‘charming’ you mean polite, funny and very much helpful,” you reply and motion towards the ingredients.

Astarion’s eyes narrow and he slams the book shut.

“Don’t be so crestfallen, Astarion. You got, well…” Shadowheart shrugs and counts her fingers. “I guess one out of three depending on the circumstances,” she says coolly.

“I would’ve used ‘over-enthusiastic’,” Astarion continues, unamused. He turns away to retire inside his tent with the book.

You heave a sigh and rub your temples. Apparently vampire spawns could die from being co-operative and kind.

“Everything alright?” Gale questions as he returns with the recipe book. It looks well-loved and surprisingly thick.

“Yes. What would you need today for cooking? I’ll pack the rest away and seal it so it doesn’t spoil.” You glance one last time at Astarion’s tent and decide that trying to force him to be included in camp activities isn’t worth it. At least not yet.

“An excellent idea. Let me see…” Gale muses and opens the book.

His claims of being a wizard in both the occupational sense and in the kitchen prove themselves true when you finally taste the stew he created from whatever you had laying around. It’s a miracle you even happened to have cooking utensils and a pot.

“Gale, this is the best meal I’ve had in this camp,” Shadowheart praises and promptly proceeds to devour the food, disregarding all lady-like manners.

“Even though the standards were exceedingly low,” Lae’zel reminds her. “Eat quickly, we will still need to move before nightfall.”

“Yes, yes…” you hum in reply and weep at not having time to enjoy the lunch properly.

“Astarion, please, help yourself,” Gale says and motions towards the almost empty cooking pot.

Astarion scoffs at the offer and his turned up nose scrunches. “No, thank you.”

Gale’s brows furrow, but Astarion is not done. You strive to chew the food faster in case an intervention or a polymorph is needed.

“Such culinary delights are not exactly for me,” Astarion continues in a derisive tone.

“You look like you could use a hearty meal, though,” the wizard points out with a shrug. He seems more confused rather than irked at Astarion’s unfriendliness.

“Might I say, when I choose to have a meal, rest assured – it won’t be of your making,” Astarion says.

Gale’s brows furrow. “And might I say you’re ill-mannered and rude for refusing even to give it a taste, but to each their own, I guess.”

Astarion sneers at Gale and just as the wizard notices the suspiciously protruding fangs, you intervene. You step up in between the men and shoot a decimating glare at Astarion.

“Apologies, Gale, we forgot to tell you about Astarion’s special diet: he is a vampire spawn,” you explain.

“You can’t just go around telling people that,” Astarion screeches and glares back at you.

Gale takes in the revelation without so much as a blink.

“Oh. In that case, Astarion, I’d like you to know that I taste extremely bad. Also apologies for what I said about your manners,” he says matter-of-factly.

“No, he did deserve it,” you add in a huff before Astarion can graciously forgive Gale.

“So the tadpole allows you to walk in the sun. How curious.” Gale taps his chin, examining Astarion.

“Apparently yes, now if you’ll excuse me, I shall go enjoy the day up the hill where it’s less crowded.” Astarion turns on his heels dramatically and stomps away.

“Dramatic as always,” Shadowheart mutters.

“Excuse me,” you say to Gale and Shadowheart, pick up one of the food baskets and hurry after the petulant vampire spawn.

Astarion plops down on the lush grass at the top of the hill. The sky is cloudless and the sun casts its warming rays on his pale skin. Looks like he is almost glowing as he takes in the sunshine. It must be unimaginable to be able to leave the shadows and bask in the daylight. He reminds you of the cat that used to enjoy resting on top of the warm baking oven back at home. Though the cat didn’t have the tendency to try and bite you.

The hill is steeper than it seemed, so Astarion can definitely hear you trudging after him, trying to catch a breath.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have blurted your secret out like that.” Carefully, you sit down next to him. “But you could’ve been nicer to him.”

Astarion sighs and leans back on his hands, turning his face upwards to the sun. “No matter. At least Gale took it unexpectedly well.”

“Mm. Our next companion might not,” you continue.

Astarion glances at you.

“True. But we still have bigger issues,” he remarks.

Your tadpoles hum in recognition, but you’re quick to block out the connection. Since the initial meetings after the crash, you’ve done your best to stay out of your companions’ heads.

“What do you have there?” Astarion asks to change the subject, nodding towards the basket.

“Dessert. Sugar buns, bananas, pomegranate and sunmelon.” You glance at him, unsure. “I’m assuming you don’t want any?”

Astarion’s lips curl into that wicked half-smile and you brace yourself.

“Oh there is something far more tastier than bread and fruits.”

He takes your hand and brings it to his lips, slowly, with ample time and opportunities for you to draw back. His touch is cool; his body temperature is clearly lower than yours. You can see the small quiver as he inhales the scent of your skin; your blood.

“I’m not your afternoon snack, Astarion,” you say quietly, but at the same time realise how weak it sounds.

The corners of his lips curl up and he looks directly into your eyes. “No, darling, you are a five course meal.”

Your heart speeds into such a rapid pace that you feel faint. For a fleeting moment you think he is going to bite your wrist, but he only presses his lips on your palm and lets it go. The spot tingles after his touch.

You turn away and busy yourself with the contents of the basket to hide your burning cheeks. Astarion’s behaviour seems to be getting bolder with each passing day. You’re not sure if you mind or not. Biting at the slightly stale sugar bun, you sit in silence under the sun. Astarion’s eyes are closed, face angled to welcome the warmth. Like a cat indeed.

“What does it taste like? Compared to actual food?” you ask to break the silence.

“What, blood?” Astarions brows furrow in thought. “I… would not really know. One could compare it to wine tasting, but that misses the whole macabre point of it.”

He turns to look at you. The underlying sadness in his eyes makes you regret asking in the first place.

“It’s been so long,” he adds solemnly.

You nibble at the sweet dessert with your appetite lost. “How long has it been since you were turned?”

For a moment you think he won’t answer.

“Almost two hundred years,” he utters softly, but you gather that he doesn’t want to discuss the subject more.

Another silence falls and you’re left pondering Astarion’s answer. As a human, two hundred years is a timespan you can’t even begin to fathom. When you’re done crumbling the rest of the bun for the birds, Astarion speaks up in a sly tone: 

“Well, princess. I was honest with you, what do I get in return?”

You pick a pomegranate and a knife from the basket and start cutting the fruit’s top off. “What would you like to know?” you reply dubiously.

“Would you like some help with that?” he asks, eyeing the blade.

“No, thanks– Hells!”

Of course the knife slips and makes a clean cut to the pad of your thumb. The pomegranate rolls to the ground. Your first instinct is to look up at the vampire spawn in horror and wrap the hem of your blouse around your hand.

“Clumsy, are we?” Astarion asks and tuts, eyes glinting ominously.

“Don’t even start,” you grumble and apply pressure to the cut for it to stop bleeding as fast as possible. “What did you want to ask me?”

“To speak the truth, your life does seem rather tedious, but I could be persuaded to partake in your picnic,” Astarion remarks with a smirk.

Before you can ask what exactly he means, he grabs the wrist of your injured hand and yanks you towards him so hard that you have to clutch his chest to steady yourself. His other arm curls around your waist, pulling you intoxicatingly close to his side. The whole swift manoeuvre is expertly performed.

“Astarion! Quit joking,” you hiss, but he hushes you.

You watch as your own hand is lifted in front of your eyes. Astarion’s mouth opens just enough to reveal his fangs, hovering right above the bleeding cut. The blood is quickly creating a trickling course down your wrist. Astarion’s piercing red eyes hold your gaze and you can’t help but stare back, almost mesmerised.

“Stay very still,” he purrs.

You feel how the tips of his fangs touch your skin and his lips press around them. His tongue skims generously across the wound and a jolt shoots through your body.

A feeling is set alight in you and from somewhere in the back of your mind springs an explanation that you don’t wish to hear: It’s exciting.

You gasp in horror and pull your hand back.

“You–! You can’t bite people without asking,” you cry, full well knowing that his fangs barely touched you. The cut is still bleeding and making a mess of your favourite camp shirt.

“‘Bite’ is a bit of a stretch here,” Astarion notes and makes a show of licking his lips clean. “You taste absolutely divine, darling.”

You grab the basket and promptly shoot up from the grass. So much for a nice afternoon chat with Astarion.

“I was only trying to help.” He has the audacity to throw a smirk at you.

“Asshole,” you mutter and stomp back to camp, half-wishing he would even try to stop you but it doesn’t happen.

-

Next chapter

My Writing Masterlist

[waywardangel-wilds]

What do I HC the victors doing with their time post mockingjay?

Katniss: still hunts but not every day. She also runs an informal daycare / camp where she teaches kids about what plants are safe and how to sing. She doesn’t really have a formal job but she loves helping out however she can. She also volunteers a lot at the local orphanage. Those kids are never wanting any baked treat, Katniss provides. She’s also all up in Haymitch’s business about his health, she will not allow him to potentially fracture another hip. Sometimes she does front counter at the bakery, but it’s mostly because Peeta thinks she looks adorable with the milkmaid braid she wears (she doesn’t want to get hair on any of the breads). She is fully taking advantage of that, by the way. She has a small but very close group of friends. Girlfriends! For the first time! It feels very special and she’s very grateful. One of her friends is an RN so Katniss makes sure Haymitch can’t escape his healthcare provider. She’s made friends with the local butcher too - he really appreciates having access to fresh game and Katniss really appreciates not having to butcher her kills every damn time. No hunting partner tho, at least not yet. That kind of bums her out, but it’s alright.

Haymitch: he drinks when Katniss isn’t looking. Mostly just hangs out with the other ‘old dudes’ from town and argues about what exactly happened at the market 30 years ago. Plays a lot of chess, either at home or in the town square. Yells at kids to quit running just randomly. He’s also at like, every town hall meeting. He doesn’t let the mayor get away with anything. When he says something he doesn’t like, he stands up (like luke in Gilmore girls lol) and argues - if they tell him to sit down he goes “Thom, who got you your freedom?”

Peeta: he runs a whole business thank you very much. It takes a lot of effort to keep it from burning to the ground (it is literally fine, he’s just annoying). When he isn’t doing that he’s with Katniss, either helping her with her collection of non-jobs, or just spending time with her. He also spends a lot of time with his friends. His coworkers from the bakery and a few other people he’s met from being in town all the time. Sometimes they just hang out on the front yard of someone’s house. Other times they might play a ball game or something, they all have kids anyway might as well do something together. (Do not ask about the go karting incident). He also spends a lot of time hanging out with Delly and her family. She runs a farm about an hour out of town and does it in a perfectly chaotic way. He’s impressed. He also loves all the free shit he gets out of her chosen career path - prime quality flour thank you very much. Also some home brewed beer. Oh, I almost forgot, district twelve got their wrestling team back after Peeta kept nagging the high school principal every time they came by the bakery for a donut. Like, come on, the kids need enrichment! Plus, he already knows what to coach them on! He even has a mug that says coach on it just waiting to be used! He could double as an art teacher! (They said yes).

[moreespressoformydepresso]

So there’s an AU idea that I’ve had for a while…

TBOSAS fix it, of course, because when I’m not being horribly angsty I am a sap who wants their happy ending. One of the things that jumped out at me about the arena in the movie is the way the ceiling has been completely, utterly demolished. Specifically: the debris hanging down looks pretty climbable to me. So hear me out here, what if one of the tributes noticed the ceiling had been blown wide open and mentioned it to the other tributes later? Or what if, when everyone’s ran into the tunnels like in the books, they spread the word of possible escape and hide out of the camera’s sight while they plot.

While the idea of them escaping the arena seems completely implausible, the kids really need some hope to keep going. So, Teslee and Circ mention they’d be able to hack the doors to the arena since they’re mechanical. Treech and Lamina are both good climbers because district 7, so they volunteer to climb up first with something that the others can climb (like, say, a long flag? Maybe?) of course there’s the issue of peacekeepers, but someone mentions that if they can crash the cameras, the Capitol likely won’t think it’s their doing for a little while. Long enough for the tributes to get out, at least. So Circ and Teslee hack the doors first while Lamina climbs onto the poles and Reaper rips down the flag and pretends to negotiate a trade of food for protection from the sun with her to keep the Capitol’s attention (and have the escape rope ready).

Right before the cameras short out, Treech pretends to run at Reaper with something like a sword one of the other tributes had grabbed and taken into the tunnels. They don’t wanna waste time when the cameras are down because who knows how long they have? Also, Treech attacking Reaper will hopefully cover up the fact that they’re all in on a plan. Once they get the sign that the cameras are down he halts and he and Lamina both take one end of the flag. It’s too big and possibly heavy for one person to climb up with alone. Once they’re at the top they make sure to stay out of sight of any peacekeepers that may accidentally wander past below them. They throw down the flag and tie it around some debris, one holding onto the flag to be sure it won’t drop while the other acts as lookout.

Once they’re all up there, they hide behind the debris while Treech scales the building to find the safest way away from the arena. They pick him because he blends into the building more. Lamina’s hair and clothing (I cannot not see the movie versions of these characters) is far too bright red. Treech is a lot less likely to get spotted. Once he finds a good path that’s covert enough for the more noticeable tributes to take with as little risk as possible, he climbs back up and leads them down the side of the building. They rip up the flag into thin long strips so the other tributes can get past the harder areas, Lamina takes up the rear because she doesn’t need the help to climb down.

Once they’re on the ground, they book it as fast as possible. They either go underground or split up into smaller groups. If they pick the latter they steal some fancy Capitol tech and have Circ and Teslee hack it so they can easily communicate with each other without being traced. By this point their scheme has been uncovered and the borders to the city are closed off, so they basically start a small gang of organized crime. Some “shopping trips” later and they look nothing like their recorded images anymore. I have my ideas on how this shakes out (with an abolishing the games ending because I cannot stand the idea of these poor kids never being able to live normally with their families again) but I’ll leave it here.

[aplgy-girl]

THE QUARRY — bloodline ᝰ.ᐟ

~ fem!oc x jacob custos — fem!oc x max brinly 𝜗𝜚

CHAPTER ONE — prologue

TAGS ༉‧₊˚.

17+ !! suggestive, gorey, NOT PROOFREAD, cancellation of characters and/or dialogues, no caps friendly, lore is semi changed to fit into my characters plots! <3

no schedule — chapters might be short ྀི

────୨ৎ────

THE MOONLIGHT SHONE through the cracks of the van max borrowed from his mother, four young adults sat on the cushioned seats of it. all met from college classes, turned to study group, made into close friends. laura sat in the back with a veterinarian technician textbook in her sleep, whilst the purple haired woman, valerie, on her right side with her eyes closed, head bobbing softly to the soft music coming from her vintage ipod thrumming in her hand.

“okay, but seriously, max.. you shouldn’t be so stubborn and listen to me about directions.” a dark haired brunette cooed towards max, her hand holding onto max’s free hand, rubbing delicate circles on top his soft knuckles. max was noticeably anxious, driving into circles for what feels like eternity.

“sammie, hun, i tried. you told me two signs ago that we should go left… we are at the same sign.” he sighs, glancing towards his lover with adoration and agitation. they all decided to volunteer at a children’s summer camp over the season, to allow themselves “peace and tranquility” through the upcoming hardships they will have to encounter at university. it was also a farewell vacation for max and sammie, since they were moving universities to study abroad, or so what sammie said. max didn’t seem too keen on the plan, moving away from his childhood bestfriend, laura. sammie reasoned they will return to visit soon, since she would also be leaving her bestfriend, valerie.

valerie understood though, shes always supported samantha through everything. if you were a stranger to them, you would think they’re dating, but its quite the opposite. sammie and val always were like two peas in a pod, her mother being the sister to val’s, causing them to be close from the get-go.

they met max and laura in middle school, after sammie talked max’s ear off in aquatic science that she adored sharks, she introduced max to val, who then introduced laura to the bestfriends.

“i—ouch!-” val yelped when laura kicked her in a sleepy haze, causing val to lightly kick the girl in retort. the blonde stirred awake, eyebrows furrowed as she glares at val, in which she shrugs, kicking the blondes feet down from the seat to make more room for herself.

“whatever, whats going on guys? do you need a map, max?” she yawned out, stretching as much as she could in the confined car. she looked around the area to find the map, causing max’s attention to deviate to the movement.

sammie turned back to address max about what an offline book just experienced, before realizing he wasn’t paying attention. “max! road!” she groaned, lightly tapping his head as to signal it to turn.

he mutters a sorry, quickly turning to the road but sees a…. he doesn’t know exactly what he sees, but it’s big and most importantly, in their path. sammie’s eyes widen in realization as time feels to freeze, her hands flying to swerve the car to keep them from running over whatever that was.

the sudden movements pick up the attention of the two other women. the car thrashed wildly as you can hear sammie panicking while max tries to maintain the cars balance.

“ohmygodohmygodohmygod-” sammie rambled, one hand holding onto max’s shirt tightly, his once free hand now on the wheel to offer extra support, and the other hand holding the grab handles at the top of the car.

after what feels like forever for them, but in reality was 20 seconds, the tires screech to a pit stop. the only sound made was the panicked breathing of the group, eyes wide as saucers staring at each other.

“can somebody tell me what the fuck just happened?”