#//my favorite band in all existence

[gary-goodberry-biz-wiz]

Gary, have you ever heard of Ninja Sex Party? Great band. They have a song about you called The Unicorn Wizard.

- 🎸

Oh, have I?! I just love that Ninja Sex Party band, especially their newest album, These Nuts!

Gosh, I didn't realize The Unicorn Wizard was about me, but it makes sense! I always turn that shit up to 11! (out of a possible 5!)

[arosebyan0thername]

If there are a million Reeve Carney as Orpheus fans in the world, I am one of them. If there are only two Reeve Carney as Orpheus fans in the world, I am one of them (Eva Noblezada is the other). If there are no Reeve Carney as Orpheus fans in the world, Eva Noblezada and I are dead 😔

[frengerino]

"death kink" fontaines d.c., 2024 / "learn our crystals" mew, 2017

[mccoys-killer-queen]

All the Lovers In the World (1990)

"Since you touched me, I can't be free This is every lover's destiny."

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

MACCC!! for the fanfic ask game thing. ummm i don't know a specific word 2 send but i am intrigued. eyes emoji. (<<on computer and do not want 2 look up emojis just to copy/paste one) what r u writing!!! what's ur fav passage in it so far!!!! i wanna hear abt ur writing!!!!

omg whiskey i forgot we were not mutuals while i was in my fanfic writing arc. omg. i have not written a fic since we became mutuals holy shit !!!!!! absolutelyly insane . ANYWAY i write about my ocs all the time and also silly little self indulgent stories that i dont share bc theyre just for me. BUT. CURRENLTY. i missed writing fics so i am in a months long hiatus of a fic for mission to zyxx which is a silly improv comedy podcast that i was super into right before i got into trigun !!!!!!!! its my beloved ever. however the trigun brain worms overtook me before i finished my fic and i have not gone back to work on it much :( i WANT to finish it tho bc the fandom is very small annnd i literally read every single fic in the ao3 tag in the span of like a week. i need 2 add to it.

ANYWAY basics of the fic (spoilers for mission to zyxx incoming !!) :

the main character has a bug egg laid in his eye and throughout all of season 2 it just grows in his eye and makes it look all fucked up until the s2 finale where the egg hatches and another character pulls his eye out before the bug makes his head explode. << its not as fucked up as it sounds bc this is a full comedy podcast so everything is played for goofs and this moment only lasts a total of like 6 seconds but i am a sucker for body horror especially when it involves gross bugs so !!! i am judt rewriting that scene with my own headcanons ans making it scary and emotional 😌 hi my names mac ghostiezone and i love horror and gay people.

I HAVE TO REREAD MY ENTIRE WIP TO FIND A PART TO POST i cant believe ur making me do this (<< THANK U I HAVE NOT LOOKED AT IT IN WEEKS) apologies in advance for my setup i like 2 write on my phone in the middle of the night so my google docs is in perma-darkmode:

<< we love an alien mind contrrol parasite that makes a usually cowardly docile character behave like a monster 😌😌😌😌

[cha1cedony]

Normal and Hero song :(

[everysongineverykey]

🎧

If You Can't Beat Them- Queen

Ain't no use in you sitting all alone, hanging around / for someone to call / Ooh, they won't come knocking at all / Don't run and hide / even if it hurts you inside

[britneyshakespeare]

i listened to the fall out boy version of we didn’t start the first (listing 1989-2023 world events) and can i just say. first of all the original song is silly and not that deep in its commentary but at least it was like an original idea. there’s a reason your 11th grade history teacher played it in your class in the cold war unit, right? it sets a scene and a mood without even having to do anything but listing a bunch of pop culture and political iconography. but there’s also like, a sequence of events. fob’s really just throws events and names of things together sloppily in no particular order other than if they kinda rhyme. it has a lot less impact when thinking about the recent historical or present moment bc it’s just like “thing you remember, other thing you remember, other thing you remember” but from one object to the next they have no particular connection to each other in space or time. it’s poorly associated. 

[menagerofmischief]

Heart song (OP81)

summary: in the middle of dating rumors, current music industry hit, y/n l/n releases a love song which leaves no space to deny her relationship. -> based on this request

fc: olivia rodrigo

cw: bad language,

a/n: the only bands I listen to are a bunch of old men or a bunch of dead man, safe to say I don't know much about bands so I made her a solo artist.

liked by: oscar piastri, sabrinacarpenter, and 1,556,895 more

yourusername: something coming soon, or whatever

comments:

ynsleftshoe: oscar in the likes before me again

hooklinesinker: girl same! and I got notifications on cococroissant: the struggle of making it here before pee ass tree vrom vrom is real

ynupdates: mother is cooking and eating for real

sabrinacarpenter: so excited for it!

justonechange: the bond between two girls scorned by a man is unbreakable breakmyback: sabrina is so me right now

likealovesong: my hears are about to be blessed again! thank you god for answering my prayers

liked by landonorris and 1,345 more

f1wagupdates: seems like a new wag may be entering the paddock, showcasing papaya!

mclaren driver, oscar piastri, has been spotted being touchy and affectionate with pop star, y/n l/n. this is not the first time the two have been spotted together.

comments:

vroomyroom: what the hell is lando doing in the likes of a wag updates page

norrizzz: he's so messy fr

user454: seriously what's wrong with you people, leave them alone!

justanichident: oscar's lucky he's good that polite cat smile because those hands do be wondering

breakmyback: I too am no better than a man (I'd be touching y/n's ass all the time if I could)

user334: ow! they're so cute together!

user331: power couple vibes

user564: ew, he can do so much better

user887: SHE can do much better

liked by hattiepiastri, nicolepiastri, yourusername and 1.345.221 more

oscarpiastri: great vacation, lots of sun

comments:

macmylarens: if bwoah was an instagram caption it would be tht

rockabye: who does bro think he's fooling with that soft launch

dropstoproll: like sir, we all know that's y/n l/n, now give us some good content

landonorris: you really poured your heart out with that caption mate

ynupdates: I spy with my little eye, y/n in the likes

justonechange: so ... he's not that bad

user423: I get y/n, he's hot

liked by sabrinacarpenter, oscarpiastri, landonorris and 1.978.645 more

yourusername: Summer When Everybody Ever Thought, Love In Knowledge Existed, Yellow Orchids Unidentified

see you on august 19th ;)

comments:

ynupdates: NEW ALBUM ALERT!!!

breakmyback: I don't care if a man driving in circles for living inspired it, new music is coming!

sabrinacarpenter: that caption triggered my dyslexia

justonechange: no because same user332: I thought I was the only one!

dotsaredotting: hear me out, the aesthethic of this album is orange (so far), and there's a car, mclaren F1 team is orange ("papaya" or wtv), oscar piastri drives for mclaren, oscar is soft launching, they wore spotted together = they're dating

crazyonce: this is so delulu it may be trululu

ynupdates: in case you thought you were crazy for not getting the caption, every words starts with a capital latters and all the letters together spell SWEET LIKE YOU which is either a song on the album or the name of the album

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, hattiepiastri, and 2.021.331 more

yourusername: the way sun shines over beaches, the first taste of summer peaches, yellowed pages of a favorite book it may all be sweet but not sweet like you.

my new album, sweet like you, is now available to stream. this is such a special album for me which is why it's dedicated to such a special person. I love you, Osc, keep on being sweet.

comments have been turned off for this post

liked by yourusername, sabrinacarpenter, landonorris and 1.987.554 more

oscarpiastri: every day I'm grateful I get to have you. you're the sun of my morning, the stars of my evening, the breath of my lungs and the song of my heart. I love you, y/n.

comments:

landonorris: wow, you actually poured your heart out with this one

sabrinacarpenter: she was mine first car boy, remember that

hattiepiastri: I hope you know how much cooler than you your girlfriend is

yourusername: love you too, my sweet boy <3

comments have been limited on this post

[ode2rin]

1 | ANYONE BUT YOU .ೃ

summary. as lines get blurred, hearts get flustered, and a scheme ensues, your brother's best friend suddenly seems way more interesting than he used to be.

content/warnings. 5k+ wc (part 1/3) reader has little to no college friends | reader hates kaiser's guts | PROTECTIVE kaiser lol | | pet names (dollface) & a lot of profanity (it's kaiser) | minimal proofread

💭 masterlist | next part

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can go with you anymore.”

Your ears were ringing.

After the words hung over the line, a heavy silence descended, punctuated only by the dull thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The phone line seemed to distort, and the world beyond reduced to a distant murmur as a disorienting ringing filled your ears. Yet, despite the shock rippling through, you managed to maintain a facade.

“Ah, I see. It’s no problem. See you around!” Your chirped voice made you cringe internally, but it was a better front than sounding like a defeated kid whose mom said no over a piece of candy at a grocery store.

Before he could say anything else, you clicked the end button faster than he could spew some tacky excuse. Throwing your phone to the side, you settled onto your bed, lying on your back, staring at the uninteresting ceiling of your room.

Sure, it was no problem at all— the music festival was just six hours away, and your date had just canceled on you over the phone. It’s no big deal facing your college blockmates without a companion as initially planned, and it’s totally not a problem that you will most likely be a third– hell, a seventh wheel, actually, and have them talk behind your back – speculating about why you're going alone or if you were just making it up that you had someone to bring.

Yes, it’s not a fucking problem at all.

You don’t even like the artist lineup, anyway (maybe you’re mildly interested with one band that’s attending).  You wouldn’t bother if you weren’t just a sophomore still trying to find a group of friends you can call your own. It's embarrassing enough that freshmen even had it better than you. It’s not a race, for sure, but in college– the truth lies blatant that support systems help. A lesson you learned the hardest way.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Three soft knocks on your door and a muffled voice, surely coming from your older brother, interrupted your pity party.

“Yes. Come in,” you confirmed. The door creaked open, revealing a mop of magenta hair leaning over your door frame.

“There’s food downstairs. We ordered your favorite.”

“We?”

“Kaiser is downstairs.”

Of course, he is. 

Your brother’s best friend must have really taken it to heart when your mom told him he can treat your family as his own. Too deep into his heart, if you could comment. You see him around the house more than you see your parents, and if that wasn’t tiresome enough, he’s literally a damn superstar in your university. Every corner, every room, in halls and library, everyone can’t seem to be over his name like a broken record.

You wouldn’t be this annoyed, hostile even, if said man was just as nice as your brother. But instead, he was far by the most obnoxious, foul-mouthed, arrogant prick you’ve ever known. Alexis should have never kicked some ball with that conceited oaf a decade ago. Life would have been so much better. But no— reality is, the bane of your existence in the form of blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, is in your house’s kitchen, probably gulping down your favorite drinks in the fridge. 

If you can’t seem to have friends, your older brother seems to be goddamn bad at picking his.

“Hey, dollface. Missed me?” Speak of the damn devil and he shall appear.

The first thing you’re met with after coming down is a sight of Michael Kaiser, sitting high and comfortably on one of the counter’s bar stools. Your gaze trails down to his hand where you see a peek of his crown tattoo— and would you look at that? He’s holding a can of your Coke Zero.

“Oh, so that’s why my life was going sideways again,” you feigned a sigh in disappointment, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear, “because you’re back.”

In your unwanted years of knowing this guy, you’ve soon realized that none of your words, no matter how sharp or snarky they get, would ever faze him. Evidence would be how he just openly chuckled at your remark. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I missed you and your smart mouth, too. Don’t worry.”

“Trust me, worry is not in the list of emotions I would ever feel for you.”

“Well, does attraction make it to the list?”

Years ago, perhaps it would have. Not that he needs to know—no chance. Your silly childhood crush on him was your deepest, darkest mistake. You might be overdramatic, but this was Michael Kaiser, and god, you would rather get caught having feelings for anyone but him.

Rolling your eyes at him, you sneer, “You wish.”

“Oh, trust me, I do wish,” he mocks your tone.

“Fuck off.” 

“That won’t get rid of me, I’m afraid,” he shrugs before winking at you. You shook your head in annoyance.

You took the seat across from him and settled. You were about to lean to reach the box of pizza at the other end of the countertop, when Kaiser reached for it first and placed it in front of you.

You turned to look at him, half expecting a smirk or yet another wink from the blonde, but instead, he was preoccupied browsing on his phone as if his body moved on its own to attend to you.

You shrugged off the weird occurrence and turned all attention to the pizza and its heavenly scent sipping through the gaps of its box, just in time for Alexis to take the seat next to his best friend. You drowned the noise of their conversation as they started talking about last away games.

Your brother and Kaiser had been the most valuable players of your university’s soccer team for as long as you’ve remembered. They were two years older, so by the time you entered university, they were already making big names in the field. Rumors had it that there were already offers lining up at their feet.

If you come to think of it, it wouldn’t be this hard making friends if you would just be vocal about being Alexis Ness’ younger sibling, but the limelight and pretentious popularity it came with was something you wouldn’t wish upon yourself. You wanted real and genuine friends, not people who wanted to be around you because it was a step closer to your brother and his best friend.

Like earlier, Alexis’ voice came reaching your eardrums, snapping you out of your thoughts. After hearing what he had to ask, though, you wished you had a way to physically block out his words.

“Are you not going to get ready for the festival?” your brother asked, meanwhile, his dear friend seemed to take great interest in what you’re about to say as both of them peered over you.

“Not going anymore,” you said, as nonchalant as you could to play pretend.

“Why? You’ve been looking forward to it the whole week.”

Heat crept into your ears and cheeks as embarrassment filled you. Sure, you might not be prancing around being all excited about it, but if your brother was able to notice it, your enthusiasm must have been evident then. God, you felt like an utter fool now.

“It got canceled,” you looked away from them.

Alexis looked at you with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? It’s not–”

“My date canceled on me. I’m not going anymore to save face and not make a fool out of myself. There, happy?” you snapped.

Before you could even feel the guilt from bursting out unprovoked to your brother, you swiftly got up from the stool heading back to your room, leaving the two of them in the kitchen looking concerned contrarily. One with worried eyes glancing at your room hesitantly, and the other one with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

It seemed everyone was testing your patience today, as for the second time, your ears rang—not from a last-minute cancellation this time, but from the persistent sound of your ringing phone.

Your heavy eyes fluttered open, weighed down by the sleep from your ignoring-the-world nap after the exchange with your supposed date and your brother. Disoriented and groggy, you reached out, fingers fumbling to check the caller deserving of your unrelenting fury.

Kaiser, the screen read, and suddenly, the urge to throw your phone at the nearest wall almost overwhelmed your senses.

But you answered the call anyway, because logic says that he was still your brother’s closest, and sometimes, that warranted a call that might be about him.

“I swear to god this better be important–”

“Get ready,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“Look out your window.”

Groaning, you rose to your feet, moving your drapes aside to see what awaited outside.

Outside your house’s gates, a midnight blue sports car, all too familiar, was parked across the driveway. Its owner leaned lazily over its door, one hand in his pocket while the other held his phone pressed to his ear, looking right back at you with that shit-eating grin.

“What the hell are you on?” you muttered into the phone.

You instantly closed the drapes after meeting eyes with him.

It’s infuriating—He’s infuriating. But damn, does he look good when he smiles like that. And it’s not helping your case that he was clad in loose-fitting denim pants and a black shirt, sufficiently showcasing both his tattoo and his lean yet toned build.

It’s sorcery how he makes simple and ordinary clothing look like it was screaming high-end and luxury. Only he can do that, you admit.

“As I said, get ready,” he repeated over the phone, “We only have less than two hours before your music festival or something starts.”

He’s taking me to it? “Why?”

Only one word in response, yet the two of you understood what you’re pertaining to. Silence filled the line for a moment before you heard a subtle click of his tongue.

“Because you look ugly when you sulk,” and he hung up.

You should be irritated at him hanging up abruptly and calling you ugly, but for some reason you don’t know, it puts a smile on your face. 

The first one today.

Kaiser wishes he had a bigger car— which one would deem ridiculous, given that his car could easily match the price of two or even three minivans.

But if it meant having you sit not so close that your scent infiltrates his senses beyond his sound judgment, he’d gladly trade his lambo for a minivan any day.

You were intoxicating— not akin to the grip of liquor, because it would be inadequate in comparison. But rather intoxicating in the same way as the irresistible magnetism that beckons a madman to its vices.

And he must be really mad because you weren’t even sitting shoulder-to-shoulder close to him. You’re sitting comfortably at the passenger seat, a good distance in between, and yet he acts like a raging teenager who got locked up with his crush in the utility room. It is absolutely embarrassing, even for someone like him.

“Did Alexis ask you to do this?” you suddenly inquired, your gaze fixed on your side of the car.

Thank heavens you broke the silence first, because who knows what ungodly phrases he would come up with in an attempt of small talk with you?

“No. Though I bet he would have taken you himself,” he snorted, of course your brother would, “If our coach weren’t so pissed at him these days.”

Ah, so that explained why you hadn't seen Alexis around the house before hopping into Kaiser's car.

Momentarily, you turned to him. It was so swift that he might have missed it if he wasn’t so hyper aware of your every move in this damn confined space. “Is he in trouble?” you inquired to the blonde, your voice concerned and hesitant.

“Nothing you have to worry about, doll.”

“Stop with the nicknames,” you hissed, attempting to intimidate. 

Unfazed, he countered with a cheeky “Make me,” under his breath. His smirk practically audible, even without you glancing his way.

Silence overtook between the two of you once more. You fixated on the road ahead, noting the nearing destination as the glow of the festival stage lights peeked into view.

It’s your chance— your chance to release the words that have lingered at the edge of your tongue since he urged you to get ready almost an hour ago. You stole a glance at the man driving beside you. His eyes focused on the road, his left hand steady on the steering wheel while his timepiece-adorned hand rested comfortably on the gearshift. In another frame of mind, you might have found yourself lost in the rhythm of his long, slender fingers tapping against it. You snapped out of it before he could point it out.

You stole one last glance before turning away to whisper, “Thank you… Kaiser.”

Instead of saying welcome like a polite person would, your companion would of course, choose to say something as, “You owe me something now.”

Of course, you thought. Mentally rolling your eyes, you ask, resigning to his antics, “What do you want?” 

“Call me by my name.”

“Did you not hear? I said, thank you Kai–”

“The one you used to call me.”

Mikka.

It was a silly nickname you gave him– back when Alexis first brought him home for snacks nearly ten years ago. He and Alexis were eleven, and you were barely nine.

You remembered the blonde kid, all sweaty in his mud-stained clothes, clutching a worn-out ball by his hip, his gaze fixed on you with curiosity. “This is Kaiser,” your brother introduced, but the blonde stranger approached you, extending his hand.

“I’m Michael.”

“That’s… long.”

“What?”

“Your name– it’s long,” you echoed, looking up at him, “can I call you ‘Mikka’?”

“What?” Kaiser’s deep voice sliced through your reminiscence. “You had no problem calling me that before,” he pointed out.

“That’s before you beat up the boy you knew I like,” you scoffed at him, a familiar pettiness clouding your mind.

He chuckled at your retort, seemingly lost in his own memories. “Beat him up on the soccer field, you mean,” he corrected, though he wouldn’t particularly mind if it were an actual fight.

“Same thing.”

“Oh, come on! It was highschool!”

“Your point?” you countered.

“He was a snotface, anyway.” he rationalized.

“He was nice to me!”

“I suggest you rather get a dog instead— if nice is all you need. I heard dogs are fun to be around,” he sneered, “What do you think of pomeranians?”

You brushed off his question, preferring the depths of silence over the hypothetical responsibility of tending to a pup that bore more than a passing resemblance to him, both in appearance and, perhaps, in demeanor.

“I knew agreeing to come here with you was a mistake,” you sighed, exasperation lacing your words.

Surprisingly, Kaiser offered no retort. Taking his silence as a cue for your own, you settled into quietness, hoping for a peaceful remainder of the drive. Minutes drifted by until Kaiser broke the stillness with a whisper loud enough for you to catch.

“He was a slimy jerk,” he began, pausing as if hinting his careful choice of words, “and he was nice to you because he was trying to get into your pants.”

“How did you know?” you asked, meek and shy, fumbling with your fingers in your lap.  Seeking love advice and opinions from none other than the mighty Kaiser seemed absurd, but maybe, wisdom might sometimes fare well with age.

“Trust me when I say I know how boys can be,” he scoffed, a displeased furrow settling in his brows. “He wasn't the gentleman you thought he was.”

“And you? Are you a gentleman?”

Before you could stop your thoughts from escaping your rebellious mouth, the words spilled out like water through a breached dam. The lack of response from him compelled you to chew on your lip and fix your gaze on the road, refusing to spare even a glance his way, despite feeling his stare burning into the side of your face.

Meanwhile, Kaiser was aware he might be staring too long at your side for someone controlling a vehicle, but he couldn't help it. Not when you caught him off guard with a simple question, and especially not when you were trying so hard to avoid looking at him, your discomfort palpable in the air. You looked so cute—it made his mouth twitch.

Staring ahead at the road, he contemplated your question, needing no more than a minute to reach his conclusion.

When a man looks at his best friend's younger sibling in a way he shouldn’t, he’s not deserving of the title “gentleman.”

He was far from it, he concluded. With one last glance thrown your way before bringing the car to a full stop, he muttered in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

“Especially not one, doll.”

“Y/N! Over here!” a familiar voice cut through the cacophony, prompting you to scan the crowd until you finally spotted them.

Relief flooded over you at the sight of a familiar face amidst the crowd. Checking your phone had proven to be a wise decision; otherwise, you might have spent the night searching aimlessly through the vast expanse of the venue.

The venue stretched out before you was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that danced upon the senses. Laughter and chatter mingled with applause and the occasional roar of approval as performers graced the stage. 

Everywhere you looked there was movement and so much life. Yet amidst the bustling crowd and pulsating music, one figure occupied your thoughts more than anything else.

Kaiser's towering 6-foot frame loomed behind you, his broad shoulders carving a path of confidence through the crowd. He stood behind you like an immovable rock amidst a rushing river. And if your senses weren't deceiving you, you swore you felt the occasional brush of his hand against the small of your back, gently guiding you forward.

He was so close behind you that his breath on your nape soaked into your skin like ointment— warm to the touch, yet icy on your spine.

“Where's your date?” one of your blockmates inquired after the initial pleasantries were exchanged.

The question lingered, and suddenly, all eyes were on you. Mentally counting heads, you realized you were really on track to be the seventh wheel if you attended without a companion. Speaking of companions— you turned behind you with the intention of introducing Kaiser (not that they didn’t know him already), but your intention faltered when you noticed the scowl on his face.

“I’m the date, if you couldn’t tell,” he interjected. 

From his vantage point, he observed the widening of your eyes at his declaration. Yet, when he didn’t hear any immediate retaliation from you, he flashed you— and everyone else watching— a lopsided smirk. He sensed your blockmates’ curiosity lingering, some perhaps wondering if he was truly dating you. But none of them dared to probe further—maybe because he wasn't exactly the approachable type.

After a few murmurs of ‘oh’ and ‘really’ from your blockmates, they returned their attention to the stage, where the next performer was beginning their pre-performance monologue.

You, on the other hand, look like you were out for his blood from how you’re glaring at him. “Are you out of your mind?” you hissed under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Yes. Perhaps he was. Irrationality had seized him upon hearing the question. After all, he was there with you, visible for all to see. Did they not see him? Did he look like a fucking chair to those people? Common sense must be a luxury these days, given its absence in this situation.

Yet, a small voice of reason within him attempted to intervene, suggesting that the question might have stemmed from genuine curiosity.

As his best friend's younger sibling, seeing the two of you together wasn't an unusual occurrence for those who attend the same university. They likely concluded that your presence with him at the music festival was simply a matter of normal friendship (which it was, but they don’t have to know that, nor does he desire for these extras to reduce it to just that).

“I’m helping you save face like you said earlier,” he tells you, still wearing that annoying smirk.

“How does telling them you’re my date help me save face?” If anything, you'd be hiding on campus after his stunt. You could only hope words won’t travel fast.

“Would you rather I tell them I'm chaperoning you because some jerk canceled on you?”

Your words stalled at the base of your throat, unable to counter his remark. That shut you up, much to your chagrin. He was right.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he quipped, grinning at your silence. “Come closer, there’s a lot of people.”

You huffed in irritation and decided to ignore him behind you, determined to make the most of your experience here. You’d let this slide for now. After all, he was here because of you.

But it wasn’t too long before you realized that ignoring him would be as futile as trying to pluck roses without being pricked by the thorns. You knew very well that this man thrives in getting under people’s skin.

“You should be flattered.”

Genuinely appalled, you ask, “I’m sorry?”

“Accepted.”

If it wasn’t night time and the blaring lights were replaced by the sun, he could have seen the twitch that your eye did at his retort.

At this point, murder is a tempting option. Sure, he’s taller and much bigger in physique terms, but you have the rage for it. Just one more insufferable antic—one more word— from this man and the whole university will be mourning their star player’s demise first thing tomorrow morning. 

You took a deep breath to calm your murderous nerves, “Is that so? What part of telling people— oh wait, our schoolmates who are probably whispering behind our backs— that you’re my date, is flattering to you?”

The asshole had the audacity to shrug, “Calling me yours was.”

“Well then, you should be flattered. Not me.”

“You don’t know how flattered I am to be yours,” he mused.

If you didn’t know any better, his attempt at flirting might have sent warmth to your cheeks. But this was Kaiser— no one can tell when he’s being serious or just being his usual menace self talking shit like he’s employed to do so. Good thing you had better plans than spend it on his guessing games.

Just when you’re about to berate him once more, words halted on your throat because of a sight you least expected to see.

Han— the guy you’ve been talking to for almost a month now. The same guy who was your supposed date, to be more specific.

“What? Cat got your tongue, doll?”

If cats come in the form of a familiar man who’s a few good meters away, clearly having the time of his life dancing with someone, and clearly showing no signs of unavailability to go to a music festival he asked you to, then yes, it got your tongue.

You stayed silent far too long for Kaiser’s patience. Your lack of snarky clapbacks were starting to unsettle him more than he would allow. Shifting closer to you, he followed your line of sight to see what got you stunned in silence.

Recognizing what, or rather who, got your attention, he turns to you, his voice coming out too indignant, “Do you know that guy?”

“Do you?” you counter, picking up on his tone being all too casual as if they’re acquainted. 

“He’s last week’s opposing team’s goalkeeper,” or was it ‘striker’? He couldn’t recall, so he’s more or less incompetent to him. One thing he remembers, however, “and he hates me.”

You threw him a glance, “Not surprised.”

“And do I give a fuck,” he shook his head, “Why do you keep looking at him?” Don’t fucking tell me.

Your answer wasn’t any better to what he was starting to imagine, “He was… supposed to be my date to this music festival,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.

You didn’t want to see the look on Kaiser’s face, fearing you might see pity, and so you nailed your gaze to the ground. Totally oblivious of the man peering over you rather softly.

“Why can’t he then?” he asks, voice an octave lower.

“He said they had late notice training, so he can’t come.” 

“Well, that better be his fucking ghost yapping with a brunette then,” he scoffs, looking straight to the lying man who canceled on you.

Sick of his face and sloppy dance moves, Kaiser turned his gaze back at you, only to be filled with rage because of it.

You look sad— and it made his blood boil. Not towards you, but for you.

“Y’know what? Let’s go there,” he urged, head pointing at where Han was.

Is he fucking crazy? You immediately shook your head at his scandalous suggestion. You might be feeling a little betrayed and angry, but rationality still had its hold on you— and it’s saying to not let Kaiser go with his idea. 

Instead, you tug on his forearm, eyes still on the floor before looking up at him, “Can we leave, please?” 

Kaiser was taken aback by your sudden meekness. He wasn’t used to this— to you, being all deflated and zoned out. He was used to your deadpan expressions and your eyes that seem to roll every time he utters a single word. He was used to you being, dare he say, feisty. 

And he would rather have you stay like that all day long, even when he’s the receiving end of it.

But this? You, saying please to him, of all people? He doesn’t like it. 

If this is how he gets to make you say please, then he doesn’t want it. Fuck that, and fuck that guy. How dare he.

Kaiser didn’t say anything back at your request, but you felt big calloused hands grasp on your hand still resting on his forearm. The next thing you knew, you were walking with him, shoulder-to-shoulder while his other hand was on yours guiding you to walk out of the scene.

“If I see one—just one drop of tear, I swear I am turning this damn car around.” 

Your thoughts abruptly halted at the sound of Kaiser’s threat—his ultimatum, rather. It sounded more like a promise than a threat, and you knew this man well enough to understand that he never ate his words.

You shot him a glance and snickered. There was no way in high hell you’d ever cry in the same space where he was. It was the last thing you’d ever do, even if it meant convincing yourself that what you saw earlier was just a mere look-alike of Han.

“It's nothing. We aren’t even a thing,” you dismissed, your voice flat.

“But you thought you could be,” he countered, and damn if he wasn't right. “How do you even know him?”

“We're kind of talking, well, sort of—”

“Kind of? Sort of?” he scoffed.

“God—it's like a talking stage or something casual, Kaiser! There, got it?”

“That's not exclusive,” he remarked, adding insult to injury.

Irritation bubbled in your throat as his interrogation continued. But even before you could unleash your venom, you caught yourself. He was right. And while this man had never brought you good, it wasn't fair to make him the target of your bad.

“Yeah, it's not,” you admitted, a dry, humorless laugh escaping you. You recalled the brunette he danced with earlier. “I wasn't exclusive material for his reputation, I guess.”

What reputation? “That’s bullshit.” He gritted his teeth, his hand itching towards the steering wheel, clearly tempted to turn back to the festival.

“You said it yourself, he’s an athlete,” you pointed out, “You people never like to go exclusive with someone.”

“You people? Oh, please. Do not insult me by comparing me to the likes of him.”

The sass in his voice drew a chuckle from you. It was amusing how he said it with genuine horror, as if the mere idea of being associated with Han was an insult. “Why? Are you telling me you can commit to someone exclusively?”

“Someone like who? You?” He met your gaze briefly, “Absolutely.”

What the hell. “Stop messing around,” you snorted, effectively ending the conversation.

He was playing a dangerous game, saying that to you. Did he even realize what it did? Did he hear your stupid heart hammering in your chest? It was too loud, too obvious, a frantic drum solo against your ribs. 

And the realization settled— he made your heart flutter. 

His words, so simple, so casually tossed out, had landed like a bomb, sending shrapnel through your carefully constructed walls.

Michael Kaiser, of all people, made your heart flutter.

Suddenly, the air felt thin, the car an echo chamber amplifying the frantic rhythm of your traitorous heart. You knew you should scoff, dismiss it as another one of his infuriating jabs, but the truth was like a hot coal lodged in your throat.

“I’m not though,” he countered, eyes steady on the familiar road ahead. He sounded serious– too serious. 

As you were about to retort back, the car lurched to a stop, announcing your arrival. You glanced out the window, the familiar sight of your house doing little to ease the tension that had coiled tight in your stomach.

“We’re here,” Kaiser announced, his voice a low rumble.

Hurried and flustered by the unexpected shift in the conversation, your clammy hands fumbled with the buckle, the metal cold and unyielding against your sweaty palms. You tugged, then tugged again, frustration building with each failed attempt.

“Easy, doll.” 

Before you could protest, a large hand swooped in, effortlessly unlatching the buckle with a practiced flick. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you, making your breath hitch. You met his gaze, his eyes a blazing blue as he held your stare for a beat too long before turning away.

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself. You reached for the door handle, pushing it open and stepping out onto the familiar pavement. Before slamming the door shut, you paused, turning back to Kaiser with a newfound resolve.

Crouching down to meet his gaze, you surprised yourself with the words that tumbled out. “Be careful on your way home and,” you paused, “Thank you... Mikka.”

The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, leaving a blush blooming across your cheeks.

Before Kaiser could react, you slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet street. 

Mikka. He repeats your words in his mind.

He watched you disappear into your house, a slow grin spreading across his face. Only when you were safely inside did he start the car, the image of your flustered face lingering in his mind.

Damn it, doll.

Meanwhile, you hurried to your room, clutching your chest where your heart still hammered a frantic rhythm.

Why did I call him that? you asked yourself.

The use of his nickname, a name you rarely uttered now, was a stark reminder that the two of you weren’t as close as you were younger.

It’s not a big deal, you tried to reason with yourself. He literally said you owed it to him, and calling it quits would be in the form of a stupid nickname. It doesn’t mean anything. Right— you were just returning a favor.

Your obvious self-deception was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of your phone, tossed carelessly on the bed. Picking up your phone, you opened one of the notifications, your breath catching in your throat.

It was a post on your university's gossip page, and there, plastered on the screen, was a picture of you and Kaiser. 

The image froze a moment in time, capturing him standing protectively behind you, his arms caging you against a barricade. Panic clawed at your throat. This picture, out in the open, could be misconstrued in so many ways. 

What were people going to think? Who took this photo, anyway?

Your eyes darted down the comment section, scrolling through a sea of unimaginable speculations, desperately searching for clues about the culprit.

Just then, a knock on the door startled you.

“Y/N? Can I talk to you?”

It was your brother— and his voice suggested he needed answers too.

Shit.

note. first mini series lmao xD will add cw as i go!

[unsteddie]

Steve and Eddie are on again off again for years after the events of st4. It's never too serious, they have basically opposite schedules. Eddie tends bar and plays with his band, existing mostly at night. Steve gets a degree and moves onto being a school counselor, late nights are the bane of his existence. It's easier when they live together, but over the years they've moved in and out of the little place they share with Robin.

Eddie's moved cities a few times, tried living with the band, has been on and off tour. Steve moved back home when his parents divorced for about a year to help his mom out, moved in and usually quickly out with partners. He volunteered a few summers to live in low income rural areas and help with the schools summer programs.

They just never quite get the timing right to try anything other than casual. It's honestly tearing Steve apart, it's been the source of every break up he's had since meeting the man. Eddie however seems entirely unbothered.

Steve knows for a fact he's Eddie's favorite person. Even when Eddie is "seeing" someone else, Eddie's relationships are never serious, he still prefers to spend his time with Steve. He just doesn't get why Eddie doesn't want something real, but he doesn't push, doesn't wanna lose what he has

It's a full decade of this nonsense before the song Quit Playing Games With My Heart by The Backstreet Boys comes out. Steve doesn't really care much about the band, he likes boy band music well enough. It's fun and catchy and danceable. But he's picking Eddie up from the airport, back from a three month stint in LA recording and promoting with the band. And the air is tense as the lyrics spill out of the radio, and it makes Steve feel heavy.

The song ends but he's still pretty misty, it's only ten minutes back to the apartment. He can hold it back, and when they're home he'll just excuse himself and cry quietly on his bed. He's done it plenty of times before, this is no different, he's got this, he's good.

"Stevie?" Eddie asks softly, and his his voice sounds strained, like something's got him worked up too.

Steve can't respond, not with his voice, so he just sort of nods, doesn't look at Eddie, but can feel the weight of Eddie's stare.

"What is it about me that you don't wanna stick around for?" He asks quietly, but there's a solid quality to his tone, like this is a question he's resolved to ask many times, and finally got his nerve up.

Steve doesn't respond for a long time, as pieces slowly move into place. Eddie has always seemed so unaffected, even congratulating Steve when things got serious with someone else. But if he looked closely at Eddie's reactions now, in retrospect, with the way he asked his quiet question, it clicks.

Eddie never liked any of Steve's partners, always gave Steve an out of he needed it, was always a little petty about Steve's ex's after a breakup. The thought that maybe, for all these years, a decade now, they'd been wasting their time keep things casual was just...well it was fucking hilarious. Terrible and heartbreaking, sure. But it kick started ridiculous sounding giggles.

Giggles quickly snowballed into full hysterical laughter. He glanced at Eddie who looked hurt, which was absurd. Steve's laughter became unhinged, and he had to pull off the road. Eddie didn't look hurt anymore when he looked back, he looked furious, and he was wiping his cheeks. Steve hadn't seen tears, but the idea that Eddie was crying over him did nothing to quell the laughter.

The moment the car stopped Eddie threw the door open, and climbed out. Grabbing his duffle from the back seat. He managed to stomp a good distance away before Steve could get himself together enough to chase after him. He was still giggling when he caught up enough to grab the strap of Eddie's bag. He pulled it back hard enough to knock Eddie off balance, and had to reach out to steady him.

"Eddie please," he paused to laugh and catch his breath as Eddie struggled to pull out of his grip. "Please, baby, give me a minute."

Eddie froze at that. They didn't use pet names like that. Nothing so relationship-y. It was enough to make Eddie wait for him. Steve didn't let go though, terrified Eddie might run off without a proper explanation.

He didn't know how to explain it, the years of longing, the way he'd wanted to ask the same question so many times, how he ached for him. He certainly didn't know how to explain his reaction.

"I don't know why it made me laugh like that." He started once he had his breathing under control. "Some stupid pop song-" and he was laughing again because this was stupid. He threw his hands up in frustration, immediately grabbing onto Eddie again when his hands came back down.

"some stupid pop song had me on the brink of tears, because my stupid, broken heart-" more laughter, and Steve was getting really tired of this. "Aches for you, when you've, I guess-" laughter, "been feeling the same way. God Eddie how stupid are we?"

And with that the giggles were gone, his insides had gone suddenly still, and he felt the loss of the time they could have had.

"how long?" Eddie asked, quiet again, he was never this quite. When Steve looked at him now his face was hard to read, tears still brimming in his eyes, but the anger and hurt were gone.

"since the boat house probably, at least since the hospital, for sure. When you woke up and you were cuffed to the bed. The first thing you said was some joke about being flattered they thought you were that dangerous. I knew for sure then, but I think it started in the boat house." Steve flushed, his face hot and pink.

"God, no, that's ..we can't have been feeling the same way so long. Stevie, what have we been doing?" Tears were falling, both men crying on the side of the road, and Eddie was holding onto Steve now too.

"Didn't think you'd want me for real. Didn't think anyone-" Steve coughed around the lump in his throat. "Tried to move on, so many times. Never could, it always came back to you."

And Eddie was suddenly in his arms, weeping, getting tight words out between sobs. "Never. Anything. Compare. No one. Even close. Just you. My Stevie."

"Didn't catch all that sweetheart. You'll have to tell me the rest later." Steve whispered into his ear, and Eddie melted in his arms, nodding emphatically into Steve's shoulder.

The time they waisted sat heavy on Steve's shoulders, but he had Eddie now. Eventually they would joke about it, about pining after each other for a decade before getting thier shit together, but it was gonna hurt for a while still.

[lovemaybankk]

sweet - part 1: rafe cameron x kook!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x kook!reader

read part 2 here!

inspired by lana del rey's song, "sweet" ♡

summary: growing up with your protective older brother, topper thornton, has been challenging yet comforting. until recently, have you been starting to see your older brother's friend, rafe cameron, in a new light and your relationship with him starts to change.

word count: 2,324 words

author's note: thank you so much for reading this new series!! i sincerely hope you enjoy :)

p.s. next chapter includes smut!!

warning: cursing, mostly fluff!

"topper!" you called out, your voice sharp as it bounced off the walls of your large kitchen. "topper, where are you?!" frustration bubbled up as you roamed through your house, checking room after room. the faint thrum of loud music reached your ears, pulling your attention toward the home gym.

with a deep breath, you shoved open the door to the home gym, the music instantly blasting at full volume as if it had been lying in wait.

"topper!" you yelled, your voice barely cutting through the pounding bass that seemed to vibrate the very walls.

dumbbells, resistance bands, and foam rollers were scattered across the floor and in the center of it all, topper was doing bicep curls with his dumbbells, completely immersed in his conversation with his two friends, kelce and rafe. you had absolutely no idea how they could even hear each other with that loud of music playing.

"topper!" you shouted again, louder this time. he froze mid-curl, finally noticing you, and a little startled yet annoyed at his younger sister for barging in.

"what do you want, y/n?" he barked, as though you were the one intruding.

you marched straight to the speaker and turned the volume down to a level that wouldn’t have the neighbors filing noise complaints. the music dropped to a faint hum.

behind you, kelce was pumping through incline bench presses, his grunts in rhythm with his reps. rafe, meanwhile, was bent over a barbell, effortlessly pulling through a set of deadlifts.

"are you kidding me?" you snapped, spinning around to glare at your brother. "topper, you ate my food in the fridge! that was mine!"

he rolled his eyes, tossing the dumbbells onto the floor with a loud thud. "god, y/n, relax. it’s not a big deal. i'll give you cash and you can buy another one that's freshly cooked anyways."

"you’re so selfish, you know that?" you said, folding your arms.

he snorted. "chill out, y/n. here..." he pulled out his phone in his pockets and started frantically pressing the screen. you felt a vibration in your pockets and brought your phone lit up to your face to see a notification,

"'top' sent $100"

"that should be more than enough. go get yourself snacks if you want too. whatever will make you shut the hell up."

growing up, topper had a habit of finding ways to annoy you whether it was stealing your food when he knew you’d been saving it, blasting his music in the middle of your movie nights (with yourself), and even leaving behind his messes for you to clean.

and yet, in his own way, he cared about you. like the time in elementary school when you scraped your knee during a particularly bad fall on your bike. you’d been crying, more out of frustration than pain, and instead of teasing you for being "soft," he had come back minutes later with a band-aid, your favorite snack, and an awkward pat on the back.

there were moments when he let his guard down to be a good older brother. moments when he’d pick you up from sports practice, or buy you a bag of clothes after a long day, or cover for you when you accidentally broke the vase that one summer.

since then, topper had continued to care for you in his clumsy older-brother way. sure, your parents mostly favored him but their expectations for him still existed. they expected him to excel, to lead, and to be a perfect role model for you, especially since he was (exactly two years) older. topper carried the weight of their demands, which often translated into him pestering you with the same energy he’d picked up from your parents. like now.

"why don’t you just go and hop on your bike now, huh?" he said, cracking open his water bottle as though the solution was obvious. "go grab something to eat, chill out, and leave us alone."

"it’s literally freezing outside, topper," you shot back, already regretting coming into the gym.

"you’ll be fine,” he said, smirking as he leaned back against the bench.

and before you could deliver your next scathing comeback, rafe came in, setting down his barbell with a clang. "i’ll drive her," he offered, shrugging casually as he wiped his hands on a nearby towel. "it’s too cold for a bike ride, and she looks like she’s about to bite your head off, dude."

truth be told, you’d always kind of liked rafe cameron growing up. unlike most of topper’s other friends, who barely acknowledged your existence, rafe was the one who always made an effort to be friendly. he’d always greet you when he came over, ask how school was going, and sometimes even share a laugh at topper’s expense with you.

and then there was that one memorable time, back during the ninth-grade, when you’d gotten stood up for your first high school dance. you’d spent weeks picking out the perfect dress, building up the courage to say yes when a boy you liked asked you to go. but when the night came, he’d never shown up. you had sat on the couch, trying to hide your disappointment as topper and his friends teased you about your "special night".

rafe had been different, though. he’d walked into the room, taken one look at you sitting there all dressed up, and without missing a beat, said, "i’ll take you." you’d blinked at him in response, a little stunned. "what?"

"i’ll take you to the dance," he repeated, a faint grin on his face as he shrugged. "you’ve already got the dress and everything, right? might as well go."

topper had rolled his eyes and laughed, but rafe had ignored him. twenty minutes later, he was in a suit jacket, standing by the front door, waiting for you like a proper date.

that night, he made sure you didn’t feel out of place, even though you were nervous and embarrassed at first. he’d danced with you, cracked jokes until you were smiling, and even pretended to be your date when your friends asked questions.

when the night had finally wound down, rafe hadn’t dropped you off and gone home like anyone else would. he’d offered to take you out for a late-night snack. so, the two of you had ended up at a diner near the city, picking at plates of fries and sharing stories while the neon lights flickered outside. and for a brief moment, it made you forget all the times you felt like an afterthought in your family, while your older brother was the center of attention.

that night had turned into one of those memories that stuck with you dearly. and though rafe was still the same cocky, laid-back guy, he had an empathy that maybe only you saw. and by the way, your older brother made the decision to gather himself and his friends, including rafe, to "confront" that same boy who stood you up.

topper groaned, rolling his eyes. "fine. go, whatever. just let me and kelce finish our workout in peace."

luckily, rafe was already grabbing his keys.

"c’mon," he said, his voice low but firm. "i could use the break anyway."

as you climbed into rafe’s car, you glanced around the messy interior: empty water bottles, a stray jacket, and a faint scent of mint and cologne. he turned down the music as he started the engine, his movements smooth and unhurried.

"you okay?" he asked, glancing over at you as the car warmed up along with the slightly loud noises of the air conditioning. his tone was casual, but there was an edge of sincerity in it that comforted you. "yes," you muttered. "thanks for this."

he smirked, his eyes briefly meeting yours. "don’t thank me yet. topper for sure owes me for this one."

you couldn’t help but laugh a little, the tension from earlier melting enough to make the ride bearable.

as rafe pulled into the familiar parking lot, you realized where he was taking you: the same diner you’d gone to after the dance. the neon lights flickered outside, casting a soft glow across the empty lot. a wave of nostalgia hit you, and you couldn’t help but smile at the memory of that night.

inside, the warmth of the diner greeted you, and the smell of greasy fries and fresh burgers filled the air. you both slid into a booth, and rafe didn’t waste any time before he ordered. you hesitated, but eventually chose something simple, the kind of comfort food you knew would hit the spot.

"you know, this place actually isn’t half bad," rafe said as he looked over at you, his voice light. he gave you a quick smile before shrugging.

you laughed, feeling a little lighter. "it's actually really good!"

as the food arrived, rafe handed you his jacket, noticing you shiver. "here, you look like you could use it." you blinked in surprise, but his easy, nonchalant gesture made it feel completely natural. you draped it over your shoulders, grateful for the warmth.

the ride back home was quiet, the sound of the car humming as you leaned back against the seat. the warmth from the jacket and the full stomach made your eyelids heavy, and before long, you were drifting off, your head lolling against the window.

when the car finally stopped, you felt a gentle nudge on your shoulder. "hey," rafe said softly, "we’re here."

you blinked awake, your body delaying to respond. you looked like a complete mess with a little drool coming out and your hair bunched up, but he didn’t say anything. instead, he gently slid the seat back, helping you out of the car.

before you could protest, he had already scooped you up into his arms, carrying you with surprising ease toward the front door.

"rafe, what the....?" you mumbled, still half-asleep and confused, but he didn’t answer. he just chuckled quietly and continued up the stairs to your room. when he set you down on your bed, he tucked the blanket around you, his movements careful as if he were trying not to wake you completely.

"get some sleep y/n," he said softly, pausing at the door. "you’ll need it."

your eyes fluttered closed again, the warmth of your bed and the comfort of rafe’s care wrapping around you. you barely registered when the door shut, but you knew, even if you couldn’t thank him properly, he’d done something more than just drop you off.

you felt a sudden tug at your shoulders, and your eyes slowly blinked open to find your older brother standing over you, shaking you awake.

"oh my god, what do you want, topper?!" you groaned, trying to push the blankets over your head in a futile attempt to block out the morning.

"it's 10 am y/n," he said, his voice more annoying than usual, "you remember breakfast with our grandparents, right?"

you blinked a few times, still trying to shake off the fog of sleep. the memory gradually crept back into your mind, and you groaned again, this time more out of frustration than sleepiness.

"ugh, i forgot about that," you muttered, rubbing your eyes and sitting up. "why did you have to remind me? it's too early for this."

topper shrugged, unfazed by your groggy attitude. "because mom wants us there by 11, and you know how she gets when we’re late. i also know you take forever to get ready and clearly, you're not even close to ready."

you shot him a glare, already thinking about how this day was shaping up to be like every other which was full of reminders about family obligations. "fine," you grumbled, throwing off the covers and getting out of bed. "i’ll go. but this better be worth it."

"no wonder you're so tired," he said, clearly annoyed. "i bet staying out late with rafe last night did you in, huh?"

you groaned, sitting up a little, now fully aware of the teasing tone in his voice. "it wasn’t that late," you mumbled, trying to sound convincing, but you knew he wouldn’t let it slide. "and maybe if you didn't eat my food, i would've slept at a decent time. and your friend actually had the decency to help me get that food back."

topper raised an eyebrow. "sure..." he paused and gave you a concerned look.

"and i’m not exhausted because of that, topper," you snapped, rubbing your face. "i’m just exhausted because you woke me up too early."

he let out a little laugh, walking toward the door. he shot you a teasing grin before he left. "you know, if you didn't stay up snacking with him, maybe you wouldn't be like this right now."

"you’re a pain in the ass," you muttered under your breath as he disappeared, but you couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped. you knew he was just being his usual protective yet controlling self, and maybe, just maybe, there was a hint of concern underneath the teasing regarding his friend's relationship with his little sister.

you heard the door suddenly open again, with topper lingering by the hinge, his hand hovering over the handle. "by the way," he said, his tone still calm, "we go in thirty minutes. so be ready and at the car."

"i got it," you grumbled, not looking up from where you were half-draped over your bed.

topper didn’t wait for a response. he just turned and walked out, leaving the door wide open.

"topper, are you serious?!" you called after him, your frustration mounting. "close my door!"

but of course, he didn’t. typical of him.

you sighed in annoyance, getting up to close the door yourself. and with the door finally shut, you hurried to get ready. you took a deep breath, grabbing your belongings and heading downstairs, ready to face whatever the day had in store.

[wroteclassicaly]

Eddie Munson loves the way that you pick at the chipping polish on your nails until it’s dangling from the cuticle. Enjoys how you only shave the bottom half of your legs but let the top grow out. Oh god, and when you chew and bite your straw to an unusable puncture, leaving lipgloss all over. The times at lunch where you’ll find him to ask, “Can I play with your hair?” You aren’t in Hellfire Club, but the group has taken to adopting you as a seat mate.

Well… you had simply settled down there before Eddie’s group approached. He’d leaned in to inform you that this was a private table. To which, you shrugged and asked who usually sat where, following suit with finding your own space - which just happened to be right beside the dungeon master himself. You’d put on your headphones, took out your spiral, and began writing, everyone free to converse as you let yourself get lost amongst new company.

Soon… things changed. It went from, “What’s she doing here?” To “What are you listening to today?”

Eddie often lets his thoughts scatter from campaigns conversations, the band’s music — all because he ends up watching you get lost to yours. Ink pen tapping, eyes fluttered closed. Every single bit of cafeteria commotion ceases to exist, footsteps echoing, Eddie’s heart thrumming in his ears (fucking tinnitus).

Vibrating your way into everyone’s affections, Eddie remains awe struck & jaw slacked that you can’t see how easy it is to connect with you, to feel like everything is okay when you’re around, how there’s not one single person on planet earth and beyond that is like you. You wear what you want, model a personal style that belongs to you, have prepared more comebacks than he’s seen in his twenty years of life (that would shrivel any man’s ballsack and make all the other girls envious). It’s how you tried to make red, white, and black knit scarves to match their shirts for Christmas, and it ended with balls of fabric, your bloody thumbs, and Eddie helping you fix each one with a gentle hand (because everyone has to have something, Eddie). How can he forget that you’re not a baker, but your boxed brownies are Eddie’s favorite, especially when you wrap them in Christmas paper, serving hot chocolate to go along, making your way around the table to plop marshmallows in each styrofoam cup, that way no one is forgotten.

“Something for you and the group to have during tonight’s campaign. Oh! And my mom actually taught me how to make the hot chocolate in a crockpot, so…”

Eddie Munson has tried convincing himself that you’re just another sheep to protect. His stomach isn’t fluttering like a hoard of bats are shredding his insides, his knees aren’t growing weak everytime you smile, his breath isn’t getting caught on the wall of his chest on days that your full figure wears a skirt or a dress to accentuate features you love to possess, but can’t see their beauty with your eyes. He’s seen you in the morning, in the sun, in the rain, in the dark, and now, as it’s snowing outside the walls of this school. You’ll get up to retrieve something in the lunch line and Eddie will peer into your notebook, ringed finger scanning the lined page of your latest short story.

A guy and a girl, one small town, looking at the simplicity of various Christmas lights. It’s traditional, differing from what you usually let him read. You’re a sheep, lost from your flock in the manger. An angel so soft that feathers have nothing on you. A fucking Christmas star, shining so bright it burns the entire town to the ground.

By the time you’re carrying a bowl of cheese fries back to the table with two forks, Eddie has already picked you up in his van, a thermos full of his mom’s famous hot cocoa recipe. Eddie loves the way that you - oh… fuck… he loves you.

Merry Christmas…

[three--rings]

One of the largest projects I've been working on is this typeset and book version of 999: 9 Hours, 9 Persons, 9 Doors, one of my very favorite video games. (Which later became the first game in the Zero Escape franchise.)

The game is a visual novel and escape room game combo with multiple routes and endings leading to a true ending. So this version is structured like a Choose-your-own-Adventure book where you flip to different pages depending on your choices.

I also made it possible to skip all the less linear escape/puzzle sequences because they don't read very cohesively. But they do contain a lot of funny or revealing lines so I didn't want to eliminate them entirely.

I should also mention one of the reasons for doing this is that I wanted to preserve the original text of the game from the Nintendo DS version from 2010. When it was remastered/ported to PC and Switch a lot of the dialogue was rewritten very much for the worse. As well as making the novel sections optional, which destroys a lot of the point and atmosphere of the game.

The book is a full leather casebind, with stenciled titles. The leather was honestly a little too thick and required a lot of paring, which is terrifying because any slip could ruin it. And the final satin finish I put on made a lot of the leather flaws look worse and more obvious, which is annoying. It was my first time doing faux raised bands on the spine, and they came out nice.

My printer decided to fuck with me while printing this one and the color alignment is off. This is my second attempt at printing it and it's better than the first but still not great. But I wasn't gonna waste so much paper again.

And no, I'm not planning on doing the sequels. I can't imagine trying to deal with VLR's 28 endings when doing 6 was this challenging and annoying. And the sequels are perfectly represented by their existing playable versions, unlike 999.

[withbroombefore]

I saw a poll earlier about participation in regular in-person activities, with numbers that make me wonder if a lot of people don't know what the options are or how to find them. Here are some that I have always found welcoming to new people; for me, these are ways to leave my apartment and get some human interaction without having to make much conversation (there is a reasonable amount of that if you want it, but since it's understood that you are there to do an activity, the thing you are doing is the point rather than pure socializing). A search for "[activity] [location]" should tell you what's available in your area.

Contra dancing: This goes at the top and gets explanation because it's my favorite. I grew up doing this and love it very very much; I always look for local dances when I move somewhere new. Most dances are very beginner-friendly (though there are some exceptions), and zero dance experience is required to participate. Many will include a lesson for beginners in the half-hour before the main event starts, and there are always instructions throughout the evening. You truly do not need to know anything going in. The convention is to switch partners throughout the night, and it's completely okay to attend alone and ask people you don't know to dance. Try Contra Dancing has a search tool by zip code. Typically $8-15.

Community theatre tech: Acting is an option if that's your thing, but in my experience, tech is easier if you're looking for an activity because there's not usually competition--you often can just volunteer without needing to worry about auditions or casting. Roles like run crew (where you move set between scenes and such) don't require any prior knowledge, and plenty of the other tasks can be learned with a little training. If you turn up reliably, the word will spread--good techies are invaluable. Free to participate.

Community band or chorus: Prior experience in playing an instrument is necessary for the band; for singing, it depends on the type of chorus. Some are auditioned, others are just thrilled by any participation. May require dues.

Shapenote singing: A more niche one and another of my personal favorites (I ignore the religious lyrics and treat them as poetry). This can take some time to pick up, but many places have a small monthly sing that is very welcoming to new people. fasola.org has lots of information about the tradition and where to sing. Free, optional donations accepted.

Library events: Find your local public library's website and look for a calendar or events page to see if anything appeals. Typically free.

Crafting groups: Yarn stores and other craft supply places often have regular open gatherings (typically free) and/or classes (may cost money for teaching and supplies).

Games: If you have a local game store, check their website for events. Or search "[location] [chess club]" or whatever is your thing. Usually free.

Dance: Depends on what is available in your area. A studio where I am has a monthly swing dance, with beginner lessons before, for $10.

Sports: I don't really do these but they presumably exist and can be found like the other things.

The important thing is to just go do the thing. It will probably feel awkward the first time--that's normal! These are all spaces where the point is for people to show up and participate. They want you to be there, and they want you to come back! Otherwise they can't keep existing. Several of these (contra dancing, shapenote, a lot of crafting groups) are especially excited about new people and younger participants and will be thrilled to teach you how to do the thing. And the only way to make it feel comfortable is to plow through the first awkwardness and go back until you decide if you actually enjoy it or not. When you find a thing you like, keep going, and after a little while you end up with a community of people to see regularly who share your interests. This is what humans are supposed to do.