#[but I'm not telling anymore than that]

[honey-bird10]

Been reading the novel of tscir and I'm starting to think yoojin could call hyunjae a "motherfucker" and he'd just reply "yes mommy"

[yukipri]

Cody went to the vet for his annual today

Cats tag: #YukiPriASLKittens

[vanilla-bean-buttercream]

"Allies should be okay with hearing hard truths that we have been suffering through for years, because if a child has to experience it, they as an adult can take the time to understand it with their adult brain and their adult emotions, and if they cannot handle that, I shouldn't have to be okay with handling their feelings gently."

and

"Sometimes we go too hard on allies because they're the only person who benefits from the problem who will listen to us, and the anger that we have carried from being wronged for years should not be put solely put on the shoulders of people trying to help us, and they should not have to be okay with being mistreated with the same hatred that people have aimed at us."

Can and should coexist actually.

[unforced3rr0r]

THE DEAL || CA

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pt. 2, (previous part)

summary: Carlos hated having a PR manager, especially one who was his age. Convincing her to leave was the best plan he'd ever had, but what happens when he realises he doesn't want her to go?

pairing: carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

warning: diabolical tension

a/n: this is kind of all over the place because I’m trying to build up enough foundation before the tournament starts. I hope you like it (please tell me how much you like it, I need validation)

MASTERLIST

You sat in an uncomfortable silence typing away on your laptop. In your peripheral, you could see the Spaniard slowly moving to lie down on the sofa from his seated position.

"Don't fall asleep." A frustrated grunt came from Carlos as he repositioned himself slightly resting his head against the back of the sofa.

"Okay and if they ask you about potentially facing Djokovic?" Your eyes watched the screen intently scanning the prospective questions on your laptop.

"I tell them I've beaten him before and I believe I can again, especially with my new serve and resetting over the break." His tone was dull and his eyes watched the ceiling.

"Perfect, any questions about the back end of last season or concentration just try to redirect and talk about the work you've been doing over the break." Carlos nodded, scrutinising you're every movement with his gaze.

You wrote down notes that you could send Carlos on everything you'd been discussing. You leaned back against the sofa, gently falling into the cushions as you moved to sit cross-legged.

Carlos' eyes observed you as you intently stared at the screen, "D'you get bored doing this?" Your eyes flitted to the Spaniard briefly for the first time since you began going over questions,

"What do you mean?" You returned to doing work, shaking your head at the silly question as you watched the time in the corner of your screen tick by.

You were desperate to get this done so you could return to your room and sleep, doing your best to ignore the looming tension of the deal you had earlier agreed to.

"I get bored at you asking me questions, and I'm the player. Don't you get bored of writing up answers and managing my media presence?" You paused briefly, the condescending tone grating on you. You met the brown eyes that hadn't left your frame.

"I love my job, I get to see behind the sports in a way no one else does. Plus I'm good at it." He looked sceptically,

"I'd rather play." You shook your head in amusement, finishing up the final question.

"Unfortunately we can't all be professional tennis players Alcaraz." He smirked at your response, getting up off the sofa and heading to the kitchen area.

You emailed the Spaniard the work you'd done the evening, finally closing your laptop and letting relief flood your body.

"Luckily for you, we're done for the evening. I'd like some pyjamas and then I'll get out of your way." You stood up moving slightly towards the door, begging to leave the company of the man who held you with such contempt.

"Gracias a Dios" (Thank god) His thankful tone stung slightly, envying the time when your clients enjoyed your company, and you'd stay long after the work was done due to the friendships you had founded.

He disappeared down the corridor and you stood by the door awkwardly. The night had ended up being the easiest day you'd had since you started, and all it took was promising Carlos you'd quit.

You knew the next issue would be telling his team and Juan Carlos would no doubt try to convince you to stay. But the thought of enjoying your job again loomed in the back of your mind and pushed you forward.

Just over two weeks. That's all you had to get through and now with Carlos actually cooperating it should've been simpler.

You checked the time and the massive 00:00 glared at you on the screen. It was a busy day tomorrow that involved you waking up with the sun and the dream of a full eight hours sleep has slipped from your grasp.

Just as you began to mentally plan for the content and work you needed to do tomorrow, Carlos reappeared his 6-foot stature looming over you.

"I don’t have pyjamas, so this is just some joggers and a t-shirt." He handed you the clothing, his hand brushing yours which jolted through your nervous system. In the last six hours, you'd been closer to the Spaniard in the entirety of your time working for him.

You avoided the brown eyes looking down at you, taking the items and moving towards the door. "That should be fine."

You walked to the door, reaching for the handle and standing in the open doorway. Just before stepping out into the hallway, you turned to face the Spaniard, shooting him a small smile that he didn't return.

"See you tomorrow Alcaraz." He nodded and the door closed in front of you.

Defeated you trudged back to your room, slipping into the far too big-for-you shirt and joggers that the Spaniard had lent you. They were bathed in his cologne and the musky scent filled your nostrils as you climbed into bed.

As you lay there waiting for sleep to hit you, you thought of what this job would've been like had Carlos not hated you from the outset.

Watching him play was magnificent and you wanted to be a part of the team that helped him achieve greatness, not to mention his Spanish charm had won over so many.

Every cold glance he gave you cut deeper and as you drifted off to sleep you were haunted by the way he had looked at you the first time you met.

...

The sun beat down on the outdoor courts. You watched Alcaraz move diligently from edge to edge of the light blue tarmac. The heat permeated through your body as the light summer dress you wore did nothing to alleviate the temperature.

You gaze fixated on the Spaniard's taut muscles and how he slid to seemingly effortlessly receive the ball. You had your phone up, taking photos and videos to go on Instagram later, but really you found yourself distracted by each noise that left his lips.

Your sunglasses rested lazily on the edge of your nose, and as Carlos' arms hit the ball over and over, your eyes watched his biceps carefully.

You understood why he had a flock of women watching his every move, his physique and tennis ability pulling so many in. Then there was his annoying smile.

The ball hit Juanki's torso with Carlos letting out a loud laugh that echoes through your mind. Carlos looked to his team who also laughed over the moment and his eyes flickered to you.

When he saw that your eyes were already on him, he smirked. A smug look took over his face and he shot you a wink, your face turned red and you quickly moved your gaze back to your phone.

You sent the photo to Carlos and picked up your bag, heading onto the court.

"Alcaraz, interview time let's get going." The clock was ticking down and media day was calling, with Alcaraz lined up for a fairly full day of pre-tournament interviews.

"cinco minutos más." (five more minutes.) The Spaniard called to you calmly as he continued hitting the ball back and forth across the court.

"Alcaraz. Now. We're already late." Carlos rolled his eyes, Juan Carlos telling him to go. The Spaniard headed towards you, the smile long gone replaced with his usual grimace.

"Disfruta la vista allá atrás" (Enjoy the view back there?) he taunted, his large hands reaching down to grab his tennis bag that was by your feet.

While he bent down to grab the bag, he brushed your side, your breath catching in your throat as you felt his arms brush yours. Then leaning into your ear as he stood back up. "You were blushing."

"I was doing my job, you know, filming content for you. Plus it's hot out here, I was just flushed." Your tone stood strong, but your eyes were telling a different story. Your body was covered in goosebumps, the bench behind you stopping you from stepping away.

He finally took a step away, which allowed your shoulders to fall in ease. He began to walk off with the same smug look as before back on his face, "¿No tenemos una entrevista a la que llegar?" (Don't we have an interview to get to?)

You shook your head, annoyance for the man filling your body. Not only was he being difficult, but now he'd resorted to teasing and taunting which was somehow worse than his angry indifference.

You turned to face Juanki as you began walking off the court behind Alcaraz, mouthing 'I'm going to kill him' which elicited a laugh from the coach.

"Have fun you two!" He called out and was met with two frustrated groans. Carlos stood at the exit waiting for you to catch up and began trudging behind you.

Walking through the grounds, he smiled, waved, and took pictures with the multitude of fans who spotted him. You'd silently stand to the side or offer to take the photo when needed.

The consistent stopping slowed you down, but you didn't mind when you saw the giddy smile of every fan's face as they met with Carlos' warm demeanour.

You eventually made it to the conference room. Before stepping into the room, you grabbed Carlos' arm, pulling him out of the doorway. He turned to face you, his eyes analysing your fingers wrapped around his bicep.

As his gaze focused on your hand, you pulled away as if his skin had burned you. "Sorry. I just wanted to remind you of everything we went over. This is just pre-tournament chatter so you should be okay."

"I've got it. Why won't you just let me do it." His tone was sharp and you rolled your eyes, your arms crossing in front of your chest in annoyance.

"It's not that I think you can't do it, I just want to help." Carlos took a step back from you, scoffing at your plea.

"Well I don't need your help." He left your side, walking into the room before you had a chance to respond. You threw your hands up in pure frustration, but the Spaniard had his back to you so the action was mostly for yourself.

You moved inside the room and sat down in the front row, ready to take notes.

The questions started light and easy, talking about the Spaniards off-season, the changes to his serve, the added weight in his racket. He answered the questions diligently, following everything you'd been through the night before.

You couldn't help but smile as he answered perfectly time and time again, showing you how easy this job could've been and subsequently how needlessly painful the Spaniard had been making it.

But then it fell apart. The questions began to get more pointed. More trying, asking him about losing to Jannik, losing to players outside the top 20, another year of struggles at the US Open. Then the straw that broke the camel's back came.

"So Carlos, your performance declined rapidly at the back end of last year, especially after your loss to Novak in the Olympics. How does that affect your mentality coming into Australia knowing you could face him?"

Shit. You knew you'd prepared Carlos for the question but you also knew how painful the Olympics loss had been. You knew how he was dreading facing Novak and you knew by the look in his eye that he was caught off guard by the question.

Your breath shallowed while you tried to stay calm as he sat there looking from the interviewer to you, the unease clearly written on his features.

"Um." He paused, he caught your gaze and you tried to send him a reassuring look. He looked down to his hands, lifting his head to meet the interviewers' gaze.

"I think to say my performance declined rapidly is stupid." Shit. Your head fell into your hands and you held back an audible groan. Some in the press conference laughed but Carlos didn't join in.

"I also beat Novak at Wimbledon, so maybe he should be the one scared to face me, no?" The room fell into a tense silence. The stone cold look on Carlos' face put off any follow up questions.

Carlos stood up, his demeanour clearly agitated, ringing his hands at his sides. He left the room and didn't slow down for you like he usually did. You quickly left, thanking the interviewers and apologising for Carlos before you rushed after him.

"Alcaraz, wait!" He didn't turn around, instead turning a corner and disappearing out of sight. You turned the corner and found him resting against the wall, shoulders slumped and hands covering his face.

"What was that?!" You stood in front of him and he pulled his hands from his face.

"Oh come on Y/N, He was out of line!" Carlos raised his voice in frustration, a clear sign of how much the interviewer had got to him.

"And we had prepared answers, you didn't need to be an asshole about it." You rested on the other side of the hallway, your annoyed facade matching the Spaniard's.

"You have no idea what it's like to sit there and have everything you do, questions and torn apart." Carlos stood up straight, closing the distance between you with his angry ranting.

"Maybe I don’t, but I do know what it's like to have to deal with you being an asshole." His face was mere metres from yours. Your hands moved to rest on his chest as he moved his mouth down to your ear.

"Then it's a good thing you won't have to for much longer, isn't it?" His spiteful tone sent a cold chill down your spine as his hand slid to your waist.

"Counting down the days Alcaraz." His breath hit your neck and you snapped, pushing away the tennis player's large figure. He had a smirk on his face as he stumbled back slightly.

You moved away from him, turning away from him quickly and storming away from the interaction. Your heart was racing and your chest was pounding, unable to sense if it was blinding rage or maybe something else.

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taglist: @kcharlyy @champagnecoastca

[lyxchen]

Really somehow can't deal with how Gi-hun told Sang-woo "let's go home" after everything that happened. After everything Gi-hun saw Sang-woo do, after everything Sang-woo said to Gi-hun, after their fight where they were literally biting and stabbing each other. But then Sang-woo is lying on the floor helpless, with a gun pointed at him because he'll be shot as soon as Gi-hun wins the game and instead of doing it, winning the game, getting all this money, letting his friend who tried to kill him die.. instead he turns around and says "I'm done, I want to stop here" and "let's go home" like. we've fought enough, we have met people and lost them in the span of days and we have been turned against each other, they tried to make us kill each other, but we're done now. Let's go home now. Our moms might not be calling us for dinner, but still we're done playing so let's go Home

[canisalbus]

I was holding my dog's head like a burger when I suddenly thought of Machete so I now present to you

Machete getting his head held like a burger

.

[lesbiancarat]

if anyone wants a fun challenge, you can guess seventeen's entire discography (official and unofficial releases, total of 367 songs) on this sporcle quiz, it's updated as of this month (feb 2025), I think they update it pretty regularly too

[flickeringflame216]

.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

I think cancel culture has rotted my brain and I'm way too Law & Order pilled

[the-casbah-way]

i’m assuming jamie was written out for real-world logistical reasons but i don’t think he could or should have come back anyway. when the attack dog goes rabid and gnaws through his own fucking leash there's nothing much anyone can do but stand there and watch. you can train a dog to bite for you but once they've got enough of a taste for blood they're going to stop giving a shit about who they've got between their teeth so long as there's something to tear into. maybe malcolm never had jamie on a leash in the first place. maybe jamie didn't bite because malcolm asked him to. maybe he just liked the taste of blood. malcolm hired a loyal dog and got what he paid for because at the end of the day jamie stayed so loyal that it became the death of him. loyal to the party. not malcolm

[chronosbled]

{ Because of @hakusins, I now feel like properly expanding upon (female)Dickson's DoL variation after talking to her a little. I had the basics of an idea for Dickson, yes... her name is still Dickson because I don't like any female names I come up with for her and she will still go by the nickname Dick to others, but now after listening to a bunch of music and doing icons, I actively have a deeper idea for her. }

Basic Idea (that I came up with talking to @stestylius-arts): Dickson comes from a rich family where it's mainly just her and her grandfather. Said grandfather is a piece of shit though and does shady business in the city of DoL, also expecting her to do the same at some point and take up his company. But she's not really into doing bad shit just because. She'll do it for important things or just because of something she deems important to her. She's somewhat mentally unstable, but taking her medication keeps her from freaking out on others. Somewhat timid and has perfect grades.

Deepened Idea: Dickson comes from a very large rich family, but lives with her grandfather, guardian and half-cousin. Said grandfather is a piece of shit and does shady business in the city of DoL, also expecting her to do the same at some point and take up the company — said shady shit being human trafficking, black market trade, human experimentation, organ hunting, illegal drug production and sales, kidnapping, assassination, prostitution, and more. Instead of Dickson's grandfather or guardian being in charge of the dirty work, Dickson is the one who handles everything. Due to the way she was raised, Dickson has no problem getting her hands dirty whether it's slicing someone open and harvesting their organs or sleeping with rivals for information and killing them afterwards, everything is free gain to her. Additionally, she serves as a scientist within her grandfather's company and a makeshift doctor. She's extremely mentally unstable, but retains a perfectly normal reputation within the city of DoL, leading many to believe she is a compassionate person. She retains perfect grades at school and appears to be extremely friendly, but be warned, making friends with Dickson doesn't always end well for all those involved. Due to never experiencing any type of kindness or compassion in her life, she is prone to falling head over heels for those that try their best to look out for her — resulting in her to develop obsessive and possessive mannerisms towards her target of affection, often following them around without them knowing or bestowing them with constant gifts — but surely she has nothing to do with the sudden disappearances of those who are malicious towards you, right? There's no way Dickson could ever be a serial killer... right?

[sunspira]

the twee fandom is dying. all tweakers please share this post

[a-kinda-boring-writer]

Ok, fuck me, Hollyleaf Thoughts Time(tm) again... or random musings, rather...

I think her story ending in premature death, either immediately after the Leafpool and the deathberries scene, or during the fight against the DF, is technically still a "good ending" for her. Like, in the sense that, from her pov, she wins either way. She either dies with her zealotry intact and then eventually gets to be part of the system that enforces her beliefs, or goes the canon route where she's haphazardly redeemed and reconciles with her family before resting in peace.

This is really out there, and a bit incoherent, but I think that if you want a "bad ending" for her, what you do is... you have her live a long, long life, away from the clans. Instead of going into the tunnels, she runs away from the lake and moves into some distant farm, or gets captured by humans and made a pet, or (if you wanna have fun) joins The Sisters and travels far away. Or whatever. Doesn't really matter.

The point is, she lives a long, unfulfilling life, away from all she knew and thought good. It's miserable. It's empty. Nothing of what she does feels right to her (because she still believes herself a warrior... but she's not living by the warrior code anymore. what is she even doing? why does she still keep going? to prove something?). She never gets any kind of resolution, no closure, no catharsis. She just keeps steaming in her anger and betrayal and sadness. 15 years of that.

You know, paralleling this 👇 only, Holly doesn't get a choice.

And by the time she returns, if she lives long enough to return, barely anyone remembers her and no one recognizes her. Most cats she would want to confront are dead or have moved on impossibly beyond her. Her littermates are just as old, but more mature than her, even Jayfeather. Bramble is retired. Crow is deputy. Squilf is a clan leader. Leafpool is dead. Ashfur is double dead. Even the warrior code itself has changed! Rules removed, added or modified!

But Hollyleaf hasn't changed. She's still angry and feels wronged, but there's no one left to target with her tumultuous feelings. She dies of all age at some point, still unsure if she was right or wrong, the question eating bitterly at her, and with no way to get such a answer.

idk

[andrrrgynous]

you feeling your unfiltered emotions openly will never ruin someones life !!!! its healthy to get angry and to cry and to be upset and if someone truly cares about you they will let you express these emotions freely and safely!!!!!!!

[the-ellia-west]

Honestly, I love and despise the internet for the fact that emotion is really hard to convey in text

Because who can tell I'm Really really pissed off RN and sitting in the basement until it burns me down enough for me to just be depressed

But that doesn't matter, because that's an emotion I can get rid of with jokes and shows I used to like more than I do now

[secondhand-lions]

experimenting. tommy torini my beloved