#‘‘‘‘‘‘joke’’’’’’ because of course they’d never actually DO something like that /s

[capricioussun]

Sorry, I don't know if I'm late on the joke, if its an english expression, or a mafia thing, so I'm a bit confused... Why "to kiss" would have a "to kill" meaning for Boss?

Ah it’s np :*)

(In reference to these two posts I’m assuming)

Don’t really know what the origin is, if it’s based in truth, but it’s a popular thing in mafia fiction and it seems like the kind of thing the mf brothers would…“joke” about.

In hindsight I should’ve put a screenshot like the above on the original post bc, despite the lighting and tone, I think most people read it as flirting agdjdhajdj That, or ppl knew and were just down bad anyway idk I feel I’ve made my own feelings on Boss and Snare pretty clear lmao /lh

[parkersbliss]

if you’re willing to, how about 141 reacting to you saying “no one will hear you scream”? i know they’d all play the biggest uno reverse card, especially gaz because he just has such a sweet face you wouldn’t expect it.

I am always willing to!!! anon thank you for blessing me with this. you're so right like don't threaten the military men who are masters of stealth, now that's asking for trouble...

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x reader 

warnings: um, gaz threatening you? actually, all of them threatening you bc you threaten them

a/n: see me personally I would not mess with this. and certainly not price.

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

SEE TIKTOK HERE

—

Gaz:

It was easy to convince Kyle to come out here. In fact, he didn’t even think twice when you asked to go out on a hike. He had grabbed a light jacket, laced up his boots, and was out the door. He was an outdoorsman, after all, and any time he could spend with you was well spent. You weren’t going to hear an argument out of his pretty mouth. 

It’s nicer this time of the year. Not too hot and not too cold with the leaves changing into the sunset colors. Honestly, you were glad you had come out here, even if it was because you had other intentions than some fresh air. 

You were lagging behind Kyle, his hand flexing and calling for yours. You jog to grab his when you notice, swinging them as you approach a viewpoint. 

You can overlook the area below you, coming up on a small cliff that showcases the changing leaves and sun. There’s a slight breeze that ruffles your hair, making the tips of your ears a little cold. 

“It’s so beautiful,” Kyle breathes, taking in the view. 

You nod, gazing out at the leaves tumbling in the wind. Then, with a practiced ease, you say: “No one would hear you scream out here.”

Kyle steps back from the edge, whipping around to look at you. “What?”

“What?” You ask dumbly. 

“Don’t “what” me.” He points a finger at you. “I heard that shit.”

You step toward him, feeling guilty when you see his face. “Kyky-” you call. 

“Nope!” He grabs something from his pocket, pointing it at you.

You put your hands on your hips, scoffing and stepping back. “You brought a taser?”

“And I’m not afraid to use it.” He continues to point the weapon at you as you take steps back. You were messing with your boyfriend, but your boyfriend was not messing with you. 

“Babe, it was a joke!” You protest. 

He narrows his eyes. “Oh, not so funny now, huh? No one could hear you scream.” 

“Kyle!” You hiss at that, his point made.“Please put the taser away.”

“Please don’t threaten me,” he retorts, but relents and slips the taser back into his pocket. 

“Why do you even have that?”

Kyle shrugs. “You never know. As you just proved.” 

“Oh my god,” You said, walking back over to him tentatively. Once you’re close enough, he grabs your waist pulling you to his side. “Don’t ever say that shit again,” he whispers. 

You glance at the taser in his pocket. “Lesson learned.” 

Kyle smiles, kissing your cheek. “Ice cream?” 

Ghost:

You take a deep breath, letting the crisp autumn air fill your lungs. It’s cold, cutting through the skin of your throat, yet at the same time it’s comforting. It’s much better than the humidity-laced air of summer at least. Where each breath you took felt like you inhaled oven air. 

Simon glances over at you, cocking his head to silently ask what you were doing. 

“Just taking in the air,” You said. “’s nice.” 

He hums an agreement, walking along the stream you two were hiking. A few birds were chirping, leaves crunching under your boots, and the sound of water running over rocks. It’s a quiet you’re not used to from being in the military. That still doesn’t stop the idea from forming in your head. 

“No one would hear you scream out here,” You muse, falling in step beside Simon. You say it casually, not looking at him. You act as if you had just asked where he wanted to get dinner tonight. 

Simon, of course, is aware of everything. He stops walking, turning to you at an agonizingly slow pace. “Excuse me?”

You shake your head. “Nothing.” And continue along the trail. 

He doesn’t follow you. You can tell when his footsteps aren’t echoing yours, a little slower and more steady. Instead, they fall silent on deaf ears. You can’t hear anything and the hair on the back of your neck stands up at the sudden stillness of the forest. 

“Simon?” You call, turning to face him. And of course, he’s gone. You curse under your breath, spinning around to find him. You walk back to where he was, checking around the trees and the bushes. You shouldn’t threaten a lieutenant, the master of infiltration nonetheless. You peek around another tree, trying to get a view of him when a hand grabs your shoulder. You scream, throwing the hand off your shoulder and raising your fists. You come face to face with your boyfriend and drop your hands. 

Simon stares at you, a deadpan look on his face with arms crossed. “What was that about no one hearing me or, should I say you scream?” 

You swat at him. “It was a joke.”

“Damn right, it was. You think you could take me?” He begins walking again, offering his hand to you. He was a true gentleman even after he pulled that stunt. You really needed to learn to keep your eyes on him. 

You lace your fingers together, sighing. “No.” 

Simon is content with the answer, placing a soft kiss on your temple. “Let’s finish this hike without any other threats, hm, sweetheart?"

“It was a joke.” 

“Mine wasn’t.” 

“Simon—!” 

Soap:

Johnny took convincing to go out for a walk. He was more inclined to spend his days on the couch, relaxing next to you. Not some boring “walk for fresh air.” He would argue he’d already gone on plenty of walks while deployed. 

You dragged him out anyway, saying it’ll be good for him to do one without worrying about being shot at. 

So here you are, on a quiet trail in your local park, pointing at the various colored leaves and their unique shapes. 

“This is stupid,” Johnny said, kicking at a pinecone on the ground and sending it flying. 

You roll your eyes, squeezing his hand, which was intertwined with yours in his jacket pocket. “You could humor me a bit.” 

“What good would that do?” 

You huff. “I actually quite like it out here.” 

“‘m sure you do, love.” 

You tap your chin with your free hand. An idea forming in your head to spice things up a bit. Or at least raise the stakes for your walk. “Like, no one would hear you scream out here, you know?” A mischievous grin curls on your lips as you look at Johnny with innocence. 

“What?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed. He knew what you said, just hadn’t quite processed the implications yet. 

“I said, we can go get ice cream. As a peace offering.” 

Johnny removes his hand from yours, taking a step back. “I don’t think so.” 

“You don’t want ice cream?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. I’m actually tired. Thinking we should head back now.” 

You jut your bottom lip out, enjoying the slight panic on his face. “Already?”

He spins on his heels. “Yep! Right now. Let’s go. Back in public. With people.” He urges, walking away from you at a brisk pace. 

You laugh to yourself, jogging after him. He glances at you over his shoulder, clearly paranoid and you feel a little bad about it. His pace quickens and within seconds, he’s out of your line of sight and you sigh. Damn him. 

You exit the trail, and back into the regular park, squinting your eyes to spot your boyfriend. You can’t find him anyway, which is weird because his mohawk makes him unmissable. 

A hand taps your shoulder and you jump. 

“Oh, relax,” Johnny said, holding out an ice cream cone for you. “We’re out of the woods now. Everyone would hear you scream here.” 

You take the ice cream from him, glaring at him and his smug look as he remixes your words against you. “Not funny.”

“Now imagine how I felt. Except I wouldn’t really have a problem if people heard.” 

“We’re going home.” 

Johnny laughs madly, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “That’s all I wanted.” 

Price:

You stand at the end of your hike, overlooking the view beneath you. The cliff dips into a valley, scattered with red and orange trees, the telltale sign of the approaching cold. The sun sits high in the sky, blessing you with a little warmth as the clouds drift through the breeze. 

Price stands next to you, hands on his hips like a proud dad after completing the hike. He pushes his sunglasses to sit on his forehead, taking a deep breath. 

“We should do this more often,” he said.

“We should,” you agree, watching a pair of hawks circle and dive. “It’s so peaceful out here.” 

“So quiet,” Price added. 

You hum. “No one would hear you scream.” 

You knew the risk of saying something like that to your boyfriend, but you couldn’t help it. A little challenge for him. 

Price doesn’t hesitate, he takes a step back from you, putting considerable distance between the two of you. His eyes scan the trees, the valley below, the space behind you — he’s clearly checking for any threats. 

You take a step toward him and he holds up his hand. “No. Empty your pockets.”

“What?” You asked with a laugh. 

“You wanna say shit like that? Empty your pockets,” He said again. 

You stare at him, and you can see the serious look on his face. Within the minute you had uttered that sentence, you already regretted it. Leave it to John Price to take everything so seriously. Even when it was his girlfriend who could never hurt him. You sigh, dropping your phone, wallet, keys, tissues, and everything else. You stare at him. “Happy?” 

“Hands up.” 

“John!” 

“Not hearing you out, darling.”

You begrudgingly raise your hands as he steps towards you, patting you down and inspecting the things you’ve dropped. “It was a joke.” 

“Am I laughing?” His hands come to rest on your shoulders, squeezing them slightly. “Believe me, darling. You wouldn’t be able to scream before I drop you.” 

You spin around to face him, a shocked look on your face. He had gotten you there. Price wouldn’t be stupid enough to let you make any noise. 

“It was a joke,” He mocks you, a sly grin on his face. 

You purse your lips, grabbing your things off the ground. “Point made.” Price grabs the rest of your belongings, handing them to you with that sweet smile of his. 

“C’mon, let’s hike back down. We can go to your favorite sandwich place.” He places a hand on your back, leading you off the cliff.

“As long as you don’t slip poison into it.” 

“No promises.” 

-- END --

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[moonsgemini]

dress - rafe cameron

summary: she’ll always wish she could enjoy the midsummer’s celebrations instead of working at it, but her secret moments with the kook prince make the bad tips worth it

warnings: rafe x pogue!reader, typical classist stuff but not from rafe, fluff, angst, mutual pining, alcohol, kissing

wc: 3.5k

an: this is based off of dress by taylor swift but my own interpretation of it I guess. If you guys want a pt. 2 with smut let me knoooow, I’m such a s!ut for rafe cameron pleaaaase

our secret moments in a crowded room, they got no idea about me and you

Midsummer was probably her least favorite day of summer. You’d think that being a bartender on the day that the whole figure eight came to the country club would bring in lots of tips right? Well wrong. During midsummer’s the drinks were complimentary and there was just a tip jar for cash tips. Kooks don’t usually carry around cash, or really tip for that matter. Also seeing all the kooks dressed in their pretty dresses and cute flower crowns made y/n go green with jealousy. She desperately wished she could attend as a guest and get to dress up and enjoy the food. Y/n would be dreading this shift if she didn’t have something to look forward to.

She had looked over herself in the mirror a million times, making sure her dress still looked as good on her as it did in the dressing room mirror yesterday. The tag was securely tucked into her side because she may have run up her credit card to be able to afford it so she had to return it after. Bartenders didn’t have as strict as a uniform as the waiters did. Her manager allowing them to wear black dresses for the night, and of course she was going to jump at the opportunity to wear something nicer than her boxy polo uniform and tennis skirt.

Her makeup and hair had been done to the best of her ability, without it seeming like she was trying too hard. Y/n would never admit to any of her friends or family that she was dressed up in order to impress a certain kook prince. The same kook prince she had spent months crushing on, and he never helped make the crush go away because he would shamelessly flirt with her every time he was at the country club. It was more like banter, she had a feeling he never really meant anything he said. But it felt so good to feel wanted.

When Rafe would see her around the outer banks he would smirk at her or give her a nod as to say hi. At parties sometimes he’d go up to her and make some small conversation. Teasing her about what drink she had or making sure that she didn’t give her number to that guy that was flirting with her. They’d be making conversation and she would take a step towards him wanting nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms and his scent. But then her friends would come and think they were saving her from the kook prince and pull her away, sending a glare Rafe’s way. She’s look back at him apologetically and he’d just give her a tight lipped smile and walk to the other side of the party.

Rafe really liked her, he liked making her laugh and smile. He wished he could make her quit her job and just come live with him, he’d take care of her. She’d never have to worry about bills or rent ever again. His friends always made fun of him for flirting with a pogue but he didn’t care. They’d say he was scraping the bottom of the barrel, that he had already gone through all the girls from figure eight so now he was entertaining a pogue. Rafe never let them get away with their jokes. He’d glare at them and punch them in the arm or kick them in the shin. He’d defend her honor saying she’s different and she’s a better friend than they’ll ever be.

All Rafe could do was think about her while he was getting ready. He knew she’d be there and he wanted to look extra nice. Tonight felt like the night he would actually ask her out. Y/n was a good listener, she was always there for him. At first he thought it was just because she was stuck behind the bar so she had to listen to him, but then he’d see her at parties and she still had that look in her eyes. That look that she was listening to him, actually listening to him. He felt like he was on a cloud with the way she looked at him like he was the most important thing in the world.

When she arrived to the country club she started getting all her things ready, the guests would start arriving in a few minutes. Stocking up on scotch and the best wines, she knew those would be the popular drinks tonight. As she worked diligently her mind wandered to Rafe, like it always did.

She wondered if he’d be the same as always despite his family being here. She wanted nothing more than to spend the night with him, but not while she served him drinks. She wanted to dance with him and drink with him, and then go home together at the end of the night.

Guests had started arriving, her eyes looking out for the dirty blonde. She was so excited and a bit anxious to see him all dressed up, knowing he’d look extra handsome. An hour had passed and she still hadn’t seen him. The country club was now filled with kooks and her tip jar only filled with about $20 when she’s certain she’s made twenty martinis and poured just as many scotch’s.

As she was handing Mrs.Weatherby her glass of merlot smiling at the older woman her eyes caught her favorite blue ones. Rafe stood across the room with Kelce and Topper. He wasn’t paying any attention to what Topper was saying as he watching y/n from across the room. When their eyes met a lopsided smile formed on his lips. Her cheeks felt hot as he looked her up and down, as much as he could despite the bar being in the way.

Y/n begged with her eyes for him to come over, to save her from the boring night. He knew her better than she thought as he started walking over, saying something to the guys that he’d be back. But as he was crossing the room his dad stepped in front of him.

Ward put a hand on his son’s shoulder, “Rafe please, don’t start drinking yet. This is supposed to be a nice night okay? Lets take it slow.” He turned him around to walk out toward the patio.

“Yeah sure dad.” He muttered not wanting to make a scene. He followed him out but looked behind him to catch the eyes of the girl he was infatuated with.

His heart sank a little as he saw her bright eyes dull a little with sadness. She tried her best to put on a smile and not show her disappointment but he knew her better than she thought. Ward had no idea of Rafe’s crush and even if he did he probably wouldn’t care. He’d probably be disappointed in his son for liking someone like her, then he’d tell him that she probably only wants him for his trust.

all of this silence & patience, pining & anticipating, my hands are shaking from holding back from you

The first few hours of the night their eyes just met, hers pleading him to come over and talk to her. Give her something to think about tonight before she went to bed. His eyes begged her to forgive him for not giving her the attention she deserved, especially in that dress. He hoped that she wore it just for him, it made her look ethereal. Rafe’s legs ached from trying to stop himself from walking over and kissing her with everything he had.

As the night went on she was always on his mind. He hated this stupid midsummer’s stuff, mostly because he couldn’t share it with the one person he wanted. It was filled with snobby people and teenager’s getting drunk on booze they had snuck in.

Rafe kept getting stuck in conversations with his dad’s colleagues, Ward wanting him to be more involved in the business. Or he’d be with Topper, Kelce, and some other guys having a meaningless conversation about lacrosse or surfing. Whenever he got the chance he’d look over at her and she’d have a smile on her face handing some old dude a drink. He knew it wasn’t her real smile, then her eyes would look over at him and that’s when her real smile would come out.

“Uh I’m gonna get a drink,” Rafe said trying to excuse himself from his friends. His dad would be fine with him having a drink now, it’s been three hours since the night started. Three hours of his fingers tingling with the want of tucking that hair that kept falling in her face behind her ear.

“I’ll go with you dude. I need a refill,” Topper said holding up his empty glass. Rafe held in the urge to roll his eyes, he wanted to go alone.

y/n was wiping down the bar when they approached. She looked up meeting eyes with her favorite boy, but then she looked over to his left and their Topper was

“What can I get you guys?” She asked looking between them, smiling at Rafe.

“Long island,” Topper said placing his empty glass down.

“Can I get a rum and coke please?” Rafe asked, resting his hands on the bar.

“Of course,” she nodded with a grin.

Rafe watched her as she prepared the drinks. Topper was trying to talk to him about who knows what, he couldn’t care less. He couldn’t pay attention even if he wanted to with that dress she had on. It fit her so perfectly, he wondered what it’d feel like under his hands. What it’d feel like to push it up as he touched the expanse of her thighs. Wondered what it’d feel like to hold her waist as he kissed her. If her skin was as soft as it looked.

“Bro you’re not even listening,” Topped said as he hit Rafe’s shoulder.

“Long island,” Y/n places the drink in front of him.

“You’re right I’m not.” Rafe rolled his eyes.

Topper took his drink without even thanking her, “Whatever dude I’m gonna find Sarah.” Finally Rafe was alone with his girl.

She placed his glass in front of him, “So where have you been all night?”

“Uh my dad didn’t want me to drink earlier,” He shrugged. He knew it was a half assed excuse.

“You don’t need to order a drink to come see me.”

He ran a hand through his hair, “I-I know but my dad thought that I was just coming over for a drink.”

She laughed bitterly not at Rafe but at the whole situation, “When I’m with you I forget I’m a uh pogue.”

“That doesn’t mean anything to me,” He reached out to touch her lightly. She leaned into his touch slightly, yearning to feel anything from him.

Her manager walked in, “Y/n, take your fifteen.” Taking over he place behind the bar, Rafe pulled his hand away from her.

“Uh yeah,” She gave him a tight lipped smile before walking to the back room. Rafe sighed and walked back out to where his friends were.

if I get burned at least we were electrified, I’m spilling wine in the bath tub you kiss my face & we’re both drunk

Y/n stood in the back leaning against the wall. She hated this town. She hated the labels everyone put on each other, it made her life so much harder. It was so easy when she was around Rafe even if it was a few minutes at a time. But then there was always something that reminded her of who she was and where she came from. It was either Ward, her friends, Rafe’s friends, her bosses. Someone always had to remind her where she was and who she was.

She rolled her eyes at herself. She walked into the back, in search of a bottle of wine. She found one she thought she’d like, popping it open and pouring herself a glass. Y/n felt like she deserved it, especially after tonight. The night wasn’t going exactly as planned, so she might as well drink.

After three full glasses of red wine her break was over. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea to drink while on the clock because now everything looked a little fuzzy.

“I’m back,” She slurred to her manager.

Lisa eyed her suspiciously, “Are you drunk?”

“No never,” She gave her a toothy grin trying to hide her tipsiness. The alcohol affecting her more and more as the seconds passed.

Lisa sighed, “Y/n you can’t be like this here right now. You know how bad this would look. If you get one of these jerk offs orders wrong and they smell that merlot on your breath they’ll have you banned.” Lisa tried her best to look out for the girl because she knew she didn’t have anyone that was looking out for her.

Her eyes watered at the thought of losing the only job she had been able to get on this whole island, “I-I can’t lose this job. I need this.”

Lisa sighed, “Go home. I’ll cover for you, and you can still keep the tips okay? Only because I care about you.”

Y/n sniffled bringing the older woman into a hug, “Thank you Lisa, I owe you.”

“Get home safe okay, call someone.” Lisa said rubbing her back. She walked (stumbled a bit) to the back to grab her bag.

even in my worst times you could see the best of me

Y/n didn’t know who to call, her friends were all at parties probably drinking as well. Her parents weren’t in her life. The one person who could help her had been watching her from across the room. Concern written all over his face. She looked at him with teary eyes and he was already taking long strides towards her. She met him halfway, the tag from her dress itching her side.

“Rafe,” Her voice was shaky as she hugged herself looking for some comfort. She knew this was all her fault, she shouldn’t have had that wine. She felt like she was always making mistakes like this.

Rafe’s hands held her face, “What happened? Did someone do something?” He asked with worry and a bit of anger. If one of these kooks made his girl cry they’d have him to deal with.

“No no I did something. I-I drank some wine on my break. I’m drunk Rafe and Lisa told me to go home. She um she said she’ll let me keep the tips today but uh can you take me h-home?” She asked barely taking a breath.

He brushed her hair back, “Hey breathe, I’ll take you home okay baby.”

“I’m sorry Rafe, I-I shouldn’t take you away. I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. I’m glad I get to get away from this shit, especially if it’s with you.”

Ward had been watching the interaction from outside. He eyed as his son held the bar tender who he felt was trying to hard to look like she fit in with them, her dirty sneakers gave her away. In her defense you can’t really bartend in heels.

He walked over to them before they could leave, “Uh Rafe, what are you doing?” He didn’t spare a glance at the disheveled girl.

Rafe stood up straight, “I’m taking her home dad.”

“Who is this? The bartender? You can’t leave now. There’s still some guys I need to introduce you to.” He treated her like she was nothing.

“No dad I’m taking her home, this is more important.” Rafe wrapped his arm around her shoulders to lead her towards the exit.

Ward grabbed his arm as he tried to walk past him, “Don’t disappoint me son.”

He shrugged his shoulder to get him off, “You’ve made it clear plenty of times that it’s too late for that.”

They didn’t make a big scene but some people had been watching. They watched as the oldest Cameron led the girl outside, a pogue. Tomorrow word would spread all across the island just how cozy they were. Ward would berate Rafe about it but right now he didn’t care, he just wanted to get his girl away from everyone.

Y/n couldn’t believe Rafe had done that for her. He dropped everything for her, she really did feel like he was a prince.

only bought this dress so you could take it off

Rafe kept glancing over at her as he drove to her house. He was worried about her, she looked so sad and he hated seeing her sad. Her head was leaning agains the passenger window just looking out into the darkness.

“Sweetheart what’s wrong?” He finally asked breaking the silence.

She sighed looking over at him, “I feel like an idiot.”

“Why?”

“I put on this stupid dress that I can’t even afford and I got too drunk while I was working. I took you away from the party.” She shook her head at herself.

Rafe pulled into the driveway of her small house, her grandma had left it for her after she passed a few years ago. It was the perfect house for her but now she had to work overtime to keep up with bills.

“Lets talk once we get inside,” Rafe turned the car off and ran over to open her door.

They walked into her house, Rafe had never been there. This is the most time they’ve ever been able to spend alone, without anyone being able to interrupt them or pull them away from each other. He liked her house, it was very her. Warm lighting and pictures everywhere. She sat on the couch setting her bag onto the ground.

“You look amazing, this dress looks amazing on you.” He said as he sat next to her. She leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I wore this for you. I wanted to impress you, instead I embarrassed myself.” She closed her eyes thinking about the events of the night.

Rafe turned to her, “I would drop everything for you. I have been dying inside to spend this night with you.”

“Really?” She asked looking at him with stars in her eyes.

“Yes, baby. And this dress does look amazing on you. You look perfect. I’ve wanted you since the first day we met at the club.” He tucked her hair behind her ear.

Her face flushed at the compliments, “But why? I’m just me. I don’t have anything, I can’t even afford this dress. I’m just a bartender.”

He shook his head, “None of that shit matters to me. You actually listen to me and you care about me more than my shithead friends ever have. I only go to those stupid parties to see you.”

“Rafe, I care about you so much.”

He couldn’t take it anymore, he leaned forward and captured her lips with his. They were slightly swollen from the few tears she had shed earlier in the night. Her lips tasted like merlot she had downed. They moved in sync as if they had been doing this forever. He smelt like expensive cologne and she wanted to drown in it, she wanted to drown in him. His lips felt so good against hers, she had been dreaming about this moment for ages.

Her hands slid up his chest and into his hair. Pulling at the dirty blonde locks to encourage him. Rafe’s hands slid up and down her waist. Finally feeling the dress he had thought about all night. As the kiss grew more passionate he grabbed her hips and tugged her towards him. He pulled her to sit on his lap, her legs on either side of him. His fingers slowly slid up her thighs pushing her dress farther up, almost fully around her hips. Y/n’s thighs were just as soft as he imagined. His mind was racing with thoughts of everything he wanted to do to her.

The small whines that left her lips encouraged him to keep going. One hand moving behind her to give her ass a squeeze. He pulled away to press kisses against her neck making goosebumps rise on her skin. Her hands moving back and forth from tugging his hair to pulling at his blazer to get him impossibly closer.

“Baby,” He mumbled against her neck. She just hummed in return, too lost in the feeling of his lips on her. Tasting her like she’s always wanted him to.

“I want to keep going, but I know you’ve drank tonight. I want you to be be a hundred percent sober when I do everything I’ve always dreamed about doing to you,” He said looking up at her. He almost regretted his words and took her right then and there when he saw her swollen lips and hazy lust filled eyes.

She took a deep breath to get herself to focus. Her senses were overloaded on Rafe, “Okay, can you stay? Please?”

He leaned forward giving her another kiss, “Of course, I’ll always stay.”

[owliellder]

Two's A Crowd

College Bully! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5)

Description: College is proving to be a lot harder than you imagined. You cannot fail this math class. So when you've tried everything else, a well-known student is recommended to you by your professor for tutoring lessons, not really leaving you with much of a choice but to work with him.

Warnings: Not proofread, No Use of Y/N, Dub-Con, Unprotected Sex, Bullying, Yelling, Cursing

Tags: College AU, Bully! Leon, Shy! Reader, both are in their early 20's, Leon is Rude AF in the beginning, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Fingering, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mention of a Fight, Additional Tags to be Added

Author's Note: Ahh thank you for 1,000 followers!! I don't even know how that happened!! Anyways, I think it's a little anticlimactic? I just feel like since I am definitely not the kind to raise my voice, a shy reader wouldn't either. Besides, disappointment hurts more than anger, right?

Cross-posted onto AO3

Chapter 4:

Leon really did like you, honest. You were such a sweet girl, so innocent and clueless. Maybe it’s because he never gave his one night stands the time of day, or maybe it was just the sheer amount of time he had to spend with you to get this close, but now he knew he was a pretty terrible person for taking that bet

In the beginning he didn’t feel the slightest twinge of guilt due to the words the frat spewed at him. He knew all the right questions to ask, all the right things to say, the sweetness of it all had you under a spell.  It was also such a menial thing to get, a single pair of panties… You probably wouldn’t even know it was missing!

But as time went on, it got harder and harder for Leon to stomach just what he was doing. You’d opened up so much to him about your home life, how stressed you were, how much pressure you were under. Doing this would absolutely ruin you so he did his best to convince himself that he was being the nice one by waiting to complete the bet until you had finished all your finals. All that time spent together had him second guessing, triple guessing, even quadruple guessing his decision to go through with this. The good grades were important to you, he didn’t want to draw your focus away from that.

It was a shame his friends couldn’t keep the damn thing to themselves even if their life depended on it. He’d explicitly told them that it’s done and there was nothing more to it, yet of course they just had to snicker and make snide little comments to each other the next day when they saw you in passing.

Leon wouldn’t admit out loud that you’d really grown on him over the months, so he could only brush his friends off whenever they’d tease him about getting angry whenever the topic arose. Chris was the worst out of all of them, being his best friend, it seemed like his mission was to dance on Leon’s nerves any chance he got.

“Delete that.” A scowl graced Leon’s features as he glared at Chris, who’d stepped back from the agitated man. Almost the entire frat had posed with the panties Leon stole from you, all of them making some form of exaggerated pose and face. What was only meant to be goofy on their part was making the man responsible furious.

“Relax, it’s just a picture. I thought you’d find it funny.” Chris chuckled, bringing his phone back in to look at it again himself. “You’re acting real sour for nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You’re all acting like a bunch of fucking idiots and I’m sick of it. Now delete that damn picture before I smash your phone with a hammer.” The nonchalant attitude from Chris was driving Leon up the wall. He already knew he’d fucked up big time, and with the way everyone was acting would only get him into bigger trouble.

“Shut up, man.” Chris laughed, like this was all some big joke. Everything was a joke to him. “Acting like you’re gonna explode or something.” This man was an actual dumbass, never taking a moment to actually think about what consequences having photo evidence with the entirety of the frat’s members posing with something stolen would have.

Leon scoffed, holding his hands up before letting them fall dramatically to slap against the tops of his thighs. “No fucking way..” One hand came back up to cover his mouth, breathing out sharply through his nose. It was a sad attempt to keep himself from pouncing on the other man, seeing as not barely five seconds later he tackled Chris, hands scrambling to rip the phone from his hand.

Chris was a few inches taller than Leon, a bit stronger too, so the scuffle didn’t last long. Some punches thrown here, a few kicks there, and Leon had the wind knocked out of him at some point, thrown to the side and left to struggle to get up off the floor while Chris decided to make his way to a different part of the house, muttering under his breath all the while.

“God dammit-” Leon wheezed, on his hands and knees, one hand against his chest as he tried to catch his breath. Sure he reacted purely on instinct, but Chris could stand to be knocked down a few pegs in his opinion. The guy is an ass.

After finally collecting himself, Leon slowly spun around to rest his back against the foot of the couch, elbows resting on his knees. He coughed a couple times and let his eyes fall closed, eyebrows furrowed as he silently seethed. Chris was most definitely going to send that picture around since he obviously thinks it’s the funniest thing to ever grace this planet. You were going to see the picture. That thought alone had his head falling forward in defeat, breathing out a weak sigh and a few more coughs. 

If he had just followed his own shitty advice, he would’ve taken a second to think about it. Why didn’t he just tell you in the first place? Why didn’t he just go to the store and buy a random pair of panties? Why did he follow through on such a meaningless bet?

Now that Leon thinks about it, he was the dumbass in this scenario. A royal one.

He probably sat there for an hour with his eyes closed, mind racing a million miles a minute. Trying not to make another stupid decision, he decided the best course of action would be to tell you before you saw that picture. You should hear it from him and not a total stranger. It was the right thing to do. Right?

He let out a few more strangled coughs and wheezes as he stood up off the floor and threw his coat on, beginning the walk of shame to your building. It wouldn’t have taken that long, but the snow and sludge on the ground made it a bit more dangerous, he needed to tread carefully. In more ways than one.

The extended walk left him alone with his thoughts, seeing as he didn’t grab his own phone to bring with him. With every step his mind grew heavier, an involuntary grimace scrunching his face up as he mulled over what exactly he’d done. He was mentally beating himself up over how easy it would’ve been to avoid this situation if he’d just thought outside of himself for one singular minute.

What had he done? 

Leon stomped the excess snow off his boots once inside of the dorm building, hands hidden in the pockets of his jackets as he meandered over to the stairs to get up to the second floor where your dorm was. He took his sweet time, practicing what he wanted to say under his breath as he stared down at his feet while walking up the steps.

Your dorm was down the hall around the corner, allowing him the few extra seconds it would take to get there to get his heart under control. You would be mad, rightfully so, but would you forgive him? Is it selfish to hope that you would?

He stood in front of your door for a minute longer, hand hovering just in front of it, trying to bring  himself to knock. Licking his dry lips, he quickly hit the knuckle on his index finger against the door three times, his eyes downturned. As much as he wanted to be the bigger person, it scared him to no end. He’s never cared this much before, so why was he so worried about it now?

Leon’s eyes shot up at the sound of the door opening, immediately showing his confusion when it was Sky on the other side. They didn’t say a word, but they looked mad, or at least very irritated. “Hey, I really need to talk to-,” they cut him off by simply holding up the palm of their hand to him, taking in a deep breath. “We saw it.”

Those three words made his heart drop to his stomach, his eyes quickly darting to look through the opening in the door to see if he could see you. “Please, if you would just let me explain I can-”

“Don’t embarrass yourself. Just go.” Sky was just about to close the door before they quickly looked over their shoulder, shutting the door almost all the way. Leon could hear them whispering to you, and though he desperately wanted to listen in, he decided to take a step back from the door and wait patiently. It was the least he could do.

He looked side to side to make sure no one was walking through the hallways, not wanting anyone to eavesdrop on such a sensitive situation. The door reopened, only this time it was you standing in the doorway. You looked so sad, so disappointed.

Leon hesitated before opening his mouth, yet you cut him off before he could even get a word in. “I trusted you,” you rasped quietly, a shaky sigh passing your lips, “I-.. I trusted you… and this is how you treat me..?” His shoulders slumped as he listened to you. He didn’t think he could feel any worse about this, but here you were, reminding him just how much of an ass he’s been.

“All that time we spent together.. all those kind, encouraging words you told me.. were all a lie?” You sniffled, arms slinking around yourself tightly. Sky was standing out of his view rubbing your back, knowing you wanted, no, needed to confront him yourself.

“No- I-..” Leon stuttered, trying to find the best way to explain everything. And no matter how many times he formulated it in his head, the explanation would never justify his actions. Instead he settled on something that would probably mean and do nothing for you. It was worth saying, though. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m so sorry,” his voice fell to a whisper as he repeated himself, eyes remaining on yours. What else could he say?

Silence fell between you as you only stared back at him with glassy eyes, your every breath shaky as you held back sobs. Crying in front of him would only give him more fuel, was your thought process. In your mind, he couldn’t even be trusted with your trash. 

By now, Sky had walked over and grabbed your suitcase, rolling it over next to you. You were leaving a day earlier than you said you would, Sky having offered to drive you back home since your hometown was only a couple hours away from where theirs was.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response, instead taking the handle of your suitcase from your friend before silently walking out of the room, past Leon, and down around the corner. He only stood and watched you walk off with a deep frown, head turning back to look at Sky when he heard them lock the door behind themself. 

“You’re only sorry that you got caught.” They grumbled as they walked past him, giving him a quick yet harsh glare. They soon disappeared around the same corner you had, leaving him all alone in the now quiet hallway. 

You were the nicest, most considerate person he’s ever had the pleasure to know and he blew it. The worst part about it all was you didn’t even seem mad, just heartbroken. Disappointed in him.

You had put so much of your trust into him, even after he’d been so nasty towards you in the beginning, and what did he do with it? He basically spit on it, lit it on fire, and then flushed the remnants. He was only annoyed with you the first few times he had to help you study, the bickering the two of you shared easily becoming one of the things he liked about you.

Leon honestly liked you from the start, so determined to pass a class that you’d put up with what was basically harassment from him. When he told his frat buddies about you, they were quick to draw up that bet. Unfortunately, he’d known most of these guys since middle school, and you were just a girl he met on chance. His friends’ words blanketed his own morals, and because they saw you as a target, so did he, that subconscious need for peer approval leading him to make one of the worst decisions he’s ever made thus far.

If he was in your shoes, he’d raise hell, so your decision to leave was completely understandable. For some reason you’d let him off easy and he knew he didn’t deserve such light treatment. 

All he could do now was hope you’d come back next semester. He’d be fine just getting to see you in passing since you most likely wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him anymore, your friends would certainly keep him at a distance away from you. 

Would writing a message be okay? You need time before he approaches the topic with you. Should he leave you be? No, you deserve an apology, even if you don’t want it, nor accept it. 

Someone brushed by Leon, breaking his train of thought. He was still standing in the hallway in front of your dorm room. He needed to go and try to make this right, or at the very least rip everyone at the frat a new one. He wasn’t sure, maybe it was because he was angry at them and himself, but leaving the frat sounded like a pretty good way to start righting his wrongs. Not before he made sure that the picture was wiped from everyone’s phone and the panties he stole were kept far away from everyone there. 

Chris sent the picture to you, which means it was sent to a bunch of other people too. He’ll spend all winter break tracking down every last person it was sent to, tell professors what he’d done just so it didn’t spread any further. And if it meant he’d lose his scholarship, then so be it.

tags:

@kayotee4 @k-fallingstar @bobastayhigh @mi-zer-y @chasingkennedy @l30nva @espressonerd @jjouki @5tarx @bunnybreadloaves @whoisgami @cyanscribe @c4b3r1a @darichvep @mmmangel @kingtacocat @klee-iii @baby--vera @dakiniii @kenma-izhu @aliidarling @leonsmamacita @deadghxsty @nekoheist @dumbassmortal @cassiecasluciluce @iovewilliams @maeplayscello @deddiemunsonsblog @paranoid-but-android @mariesmain @tteokhwaa @bonnibuckets @eilonwykennedy @1dk-anym0r3 @papatyacikcik @animesnowstorm @lexi-zsy09 @mylifedoesntexist @ifeellikedying @yourmommylol04 @ravioli19 @dakiniii @papichulo120627

(few of your blogs won't work, i tried though 😭)

[howlsofbloodhounds]

headcanon that the thing that draws killer to color first is color's six souls situation. he wants to experiment on them so badly, but can never get to beat color so he goes plan b: pretend to befriend color then backstab him later. fortunately the plan backfires and the rest is history :)

also, i do wonder if killer has ever offered color to absorb his red soul. like, is killer's soul human enough? would color become a god after absorbing killer's soul? i think that would be a conversation color has to steer away, but killer can't stop his curiosity and self-destructive hypothesizing. color can become a god. color will be invincible. color can finally be safe like that. and like, maybe if color absorbs killer's soul, killer can finally communicate with the six souls and realize the horrors of raising six semi-children in your head as a single parent.

~ crowshipping anon

crow, how I’ve missed you. you and delta anon are the backbones of this blog btw.

And I absolutely adore the idea of how it started being that killer wanted to experiment on him lmao. Especially if its like “if this guys gonna keep lingering around, might as well make him useful,” and then he just keeps getting his ass beat over and over.

And then he decides to just go the friend route, play along and pretend he’s listening to the “bullshit” Color’s spewing, but color’s actually being genuinely nice. like, genuinely? hes not even trying to make killer stop or change, just firmly setting boundaries and redirecting killer’s curiosity on to something less destructive. and now, oh no, he likes him. hes fascinating.

and i think killer proposing the idea of color absorbing his soul even once is interesting, even if indirectly and possibly during one of his more self destructive or paranoid moments. perhaps if something happens that threatened colors life or somehow caused him to be hurt, or if something is just making killer think about them being separated. perhaps stage 1’s insecurity or just nightmares.

probably proposed it something like, “what if we became one” and color makes a light joke like “that would be awful, this heads already so full, dont you dislike children?” and then killer keeps going on with his line of thought. how color would be a god basically, how they’d be together, how maybe killers soul could help be a source of further power for color.

how hed be safe. killers soul is strong enough to rewrite entire timelines. color wouldn’t even have to worry about death.

of course killer may phrase it as something along the lines of how itd make color more powerful whenever he voices it, but color doesn’t care for more power and they both know that and color knows that he knows. color can read between the lines and killer knows that, too.

maybe this is even just killers way of expressing or wondering about how much closer they could get it, how much more there is to understand.

maybe killer less wants to know about colors souls now and more that he wants to know the souls because he wants to know color. maybe he wants to know everything he can learn about him; learn everything he can.

idk just the idea of killer being so intensely fascinated with and curious about color tickles me—something about it becomes less like scientific curiosity and more now that extremely rare desire to connect with someone. because color makes him feel understood and for the first time he feels safe being understood.

and perhaps if/when he becomes more aware of that, the intensity, is enough to cause killer to withdraw emotionally from color for a bit; even if he can’t stop mulling it over in his mind. maybe he even thinks if color absorbs his soul, then he’ll never lose access to that hope and happiness again. theres no threat of it. perhaps becoming a little lost in his fantasy for a bit.

[runnning-outof-time]

Hello! Can I request John with "Do you actually love me?"

Hi there @kpoploverxx-12 ! Thanks so much for sending this in! I’m sorry it took so long for me to write it! I hope you like what I did with it! This is my favorite John fic that I’ve written in a long time….it might even be my favorite fic of this celebration. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

Exactly Like That

John Shelby x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 683

Summary: Two friends become a something a little more than that when John lets those three words slip.

John and (Y/N) were sitting on the bank of the Cut, like they usually do. They’d gone there nearly every Friday for the last ten years, spare the years when John was away at war. Whenever he’d come home though, they’d somehow find themselves sitting there.

In a way, it became like their therapy. The calming sound of the water flowing became the backdrop that the two would share their goings on to.

It was there that these two became closer to each other than anyone else in their lives.

John just finished telling (Y/N) what was happening in his family. She was the one person who would listen to everything and not tell a soul. She did so because she knew John would do the same for her. They were both thankful for each other in that regard.

“You’ll get through it, John. You always do,” she said to him, a smile forming as she turned to face him. “And hey, if you don’t, I know that I’ve got a handsome amount of money coming my way,” she joked then, cracking up at her own statement.

John couldn’t help but laugh. Her laughter was like music to his ears. It always instantly put him in a better mood. “I love you,” he admitted once his laughter died down and he’d been watching at her as she came down from her fit of giggles from a few moments ago.

“Yeah,” she agreed, not really hearing what he said at first. Silence fell over them as (Y/N) looked down to the water again. Then it clicked. “Do you actually love me?” she asked, a seriousness present in her voice that hadn’t been there seconds ago. This conversation had essentially changed tones on a dime.

“Yeah, course I do,” John responded without a second thought.

(Y/N) froze for a moment, her heart rate quickening. “Yeah, well not like that, right?” she scrambled to ask while mentally telling herself to calm down and not get ahead of herself.

John’s eyes danced over her face for a moment, taking her features in before the slightest smile graced his lips. “No, exactly like that,” he spoke with sincerity, like it was the most important thing he’d ever said.

(Y/N) let out a breath, her eyes going wide as she quickly looked straight again. She was freaking out now, and she didn’t want him to see it. In all their years of friendship, she never thought that things would get to this point…where she’d make her feelings for him known.

Nothing was said as John reached over and gently took hold of (Y/N)’s chin so that he could guide her eyes back to his. They held eye contact for a few moments, the air around them holding this weird tension that neither of them had experienced before.

John just had to break it. “I love you, (Y/N). Have since you and I was kids,” he told her, speaking softly due to their proximity, but she heard every word clear as day. She also didn’t miss his eyes as they flitted down to her lips. There was no hesitation in her moving the slightest bit closer to him, showing him that she wanted exactly what he wanted. He licked his lips before continuing, “…been wantin’ to do this for a long time too,” he breathed, giving her no time to respond - if she even wanted to - before he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss felt exactly like those kisses that are described in the romance novels…the ones that sweep people off of their feet. (Y/N) was thankful that they were sitting, because otherwise she wasn’t sure if she could trust her legs to hold her up.

“I love you too, John,” she breathed against his lips once they broke the kiss. Her eyes were closed, but she was able to feel his smile, and that alone made her smile. Nothing else was said as their lips met again…nothing more was needed to be said.

**tags in reblogs so that hopefully they get sent

MASTERLIST

[galactic-magick]

But Then I Saw You: Adam Warlock x Reader

Summary: Adam can’t take his eyes off you and he doesn’t understand why.

Words: 0.7k+

Warnings: SPOILERS!!

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-

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Adam was slowly but surely learning to navigate his new life—a far different one than he ever thought he’d be living.

Between missions with the other Guardians, his new home is Knowhere. He has his own small apartment with an overlook of the city, and he’s been trying to inegrate himself into the community. It’s difficult, considering he violently destroyed the place less than a year ago, yet he’s made a decent amount of friends.

There’s one person he still hasn’t figured out how to talk to, though, and that’s you.

Adam sees you around town nearly everyday, and the sight of you always makes him feel something different. He doesn’t understand why he can’t just talk to you like he does everyone else, the nervousness always stopping him. He’s been made well aware that he left his cocoon too early, and therefore isn’t fully developed, but this feeling isn’t something he ever heard mentioned by his mother or his people.

“Ya know, it’s a good thing you don’t have laser eyes or something, because they’d be dead from all your staring,” Rocket jokes, catching Adam looking at you again.

“I don’t know why I can’t stop looking at them,” Adam says.

“Sounds like you got a crush, golden boy,”

“I am Groot,” Groot agrees.

“What’s a crush?” Adam asks, intrigued.

“Oh, geez, do I have to be the one to explain it to him?”

Groot steps up, wrapping a vine around Adam’s shoulders, “I am Groot. I am Groot, I am Groot. I am Groot! I am Groot?”

“Yeah, that makes sense. I guess we just don’t usually have those romantic type feelings in my species. We reproduce through genetic engineering and birthing pods, so we don’t have the need to be attracted to each other like that,”

“Okay, so what’s wrong with you then?” Rocket laughs.

“I don’t know,” Adam catches another glance at you. “But maybe it’s not a bad thing,”

“I am Groot?”

Rocket cackles again, “No way am I giving him dating advice, Groot. Go ask Drax or something, he’s the one who’s been married before,”

-

Adam doesn’t waste much time, so later that day he asks Drax how he should talk to you. Of course Draw tells him about how he met his wife, talking about his attraction to her in graphic detail. Adam hangs onto every word, taking everything in as if he’d be quizzed on it. He asks lots of questions, trying to figure out how best to express his interest in you. Eventually he thinks he has it down, so next time he sees you, he’s determined to make his move.

Fortunately, that time comes pretty fast, and he sees you sitting in the main square on his way home. He sits beside you, attempting to be somewhat covert and casual.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you reply with a smile. “You’re Adam, right?”

“You know who I am?”

“Well, yeah, everyone here knows who you are,” you shrug. “Plus I see you staring at me a lot so I’ve asked some people what your deal is,”

Adam loses his entire train of thought, quickly realizing his plan had already failed. He clearly already weirded you out by his behavior, and he didn’t want to further discomfort you.

“I’m sorry,” are the only words he finds to say.

“Why?” you laugh. “I’m not mad, I’ve just been waiting for you to actually talk to me,”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’ve been wanting to know what’s so interesting about me. Do I look like someone you knew or something?”

He’s relieved to know you’re not upset with his terrible social skills, but he still doesn’t know quite how to respond. How is he to explain how seeing you makes him feel?

“The truth is,” he starts, “I thought my people were supposed to be the most beautiful and perfect species in the universe...but then I saw you,”

Now it’s your turn to lose all words and thoughts from your mind. Is the Adam Warlock into you?

“I never meant to scare you, and I understand if you don’t feel similar feelings towards me,” he stand up, “I hope you have a lovely evening,”

“Wait, hang on Adam,” you stop him from leaving. “Why didn’t you just ask me out?”

“Out where?”

You laugh, his confusion endearing, “Anywhere, goldie. I need to get to know you better before I decide if I like you too, don’t I?”

“Ah, yes! Great idea,” he nods. “I will ask you out tomorrow, then,”

“Not now?”

“I need to go home now to feed my pet,”

“Of course,” you smile. “Tomorrow, then,”

He flies up into the air, leaving you to look forward to whatever he comes up with.

-

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Read this to make a Guardians request!

[popatochisssp]

IM IN LOVE WITH ALL THE NEW BOYSS!!!! I was wondering what hobbies they would have? Would any of them skate? What about make art? Play piano, perhaps?

Quick sidebar, it would probably be easier to ask who can’t skate than who can—at least regarding ice skating—because the majority of the skeletons lived/grew up in Snowdin and had plenty of time to practice their ‘don’t pratfall on the ice’ skills, so they’d (almost) all be at least passingly competent at ice skating, and then whatever learning curve is involved with slightly transferable skills to not-ice skating.

That said!

…You know, I realized I never did an accounting of all this, even with the first two waves of boys, so…

This is by no means a complete list of everything the boys might enjoy doing—despite the fact that this is huge and completely got away from me, oh my god seriously do not open the readmore on your dash—but!

Sans (Undertale):

He’s a goofy guy, so it’s probably no surprise that he’s into comedy. He’s a lover of puns and pranks and jokes in general, just…maybe not as casually as he makes it look. He does a little stand-up now and then, open mic nights mostly nowadays, but he’s played to larger audiences before at the MTT resort. He’s also got a pretty sizeable collection of comedic paraphernalia—rubber chickens, whoopie cushion, snapping gum, you name it—just on the off chance he might get to use it in a prime moment. He spends a lot of his free time reading joke books, watching other pros perform, and even, on occasion, don’t tell anyone, but… studying the science of humor, what people seem to find funny, how, and why. He doesn’t like to let on, because he thinks it makes him seems a little less cool and funny if you know he goes out of his way to research this stuff sometimes instead of just vibing on improv, but he genuinely finds the subject fascinating and likes to read about it. Alas, he’s a nerd…

And as such, he’s also very into physics. Quantum physics as food for thought in his downtime when he just wants to chew on some conceptually heavy stuff, but classical and practical physics make for some great experiments and demos, especially as party tricks or ‘hey, you wanna see something cool?’s for interested onlookers and he’s so all about that. Want to try an egg drop from the roof with popsicle sticks and straws? He’s got tape and a fresh carton right here. Maybe make a magnet out of a battery? Sure, there’s wire and nails around here somewhere… Or maybe you want to bet him he can’t hold up a water bottle with nothing but a string and three matches? C’mon, 10G—no, 20G. But really, he’ll take any excuse to do a cool demo of stuff he knows.

As for stuff that doesn’t demo quite as well… It was a little less apparent Underground, but there was a reason he had that telescope of his and it wasn’t just because he liked pranking people with paint on the eye-piece. He did love doing that, of course, but he also genuinely loves stars and space, learning about it and looking at it now that he actually has the opportunity to—he’s got his telescope to use on clear nights, a yearly pass for the local planetarium, and you better believe he’s subscribed to NASA’s newsletters for regular updates on the goings on out there. He tries to play it cool, but stars and black holes and nebulae are cooler, it’s hard not to get invested in everything to do with them…

Papyrus (Undertale):

Of course, he’s the master of puzzles, and not just your basic jigsaw! …Well, maybe sometimes a jigsaw, he’s not morally opposed to them but really, he needs a challenge for his intellect! He doesn’t mind a word puzzle here and there—as long as it’s not a crossword—but physical puzzles are his favorites, anything to employ his spatial reasoning and impressively fine motor skills. Rubik’s cubes are fun, linked wires, interlocking blocks, really anything in three dimensions that he can fiddle with and manipulate until it surrenders to his incredible greatness. He’s very proud of his solving ability and definitely brags about it, but he’s not just blowing hot air. He really does have a great knack for observing disparate pieces and fitting them together conceptually to see what they can be before ever starting to physically assemble them and the joy of bragging aside, he loves getting to exercise that particular mind-muscle and show his smarts.

In a similar vein, he’s also a big fan of model-making. Planes, trains, automobiles and the like, and no small amount of action figures, he likes to build them up piece by piece with his own two hands. It’s fine to populate his theoretical battle scenarios with gifts from brothers and Santas, or stuff he found at the Dump, but it’s definitely his preference to start with a kit and put it all together himself, watching it gradually take shape with his diligent effort. Maybe he’ll go off-book from time to time, a little bit, but customizing things to his own unique specifications just seems the thing to do when he’s already doing the rest of the making. All the gluing and cutting and painting and lacquering by hand… it’s the art of creation—and what nobler pursuit is there than that?

Well, there may be one other thing. As a truly renaissance man, he’s naturally well-rounded in his interests, intelligent and creative and yes, physically fit too! For him, there’s no better way to stay in shape than by playing sports, most any kind! Basketball, soccer, hockey, tennis, he’ll play any sport, just explain the rules and give him the ball—or don’t, depending on the objective and rules of the specific game in question as you’ve described it. The desirability of the sportsball does seem to vary quite a bit, so he’ll need to determine whether he wants to obtain or get rid of the ball, puck, shuttlecock, whatev—no, that’s the accurate term, it is not! Whatever you’re thinking! Stars, be mature… But! He likes games and being active and having friends, all of which are part and parcel of engaging in sports, so he’s really always up for a game.

Sky (Underswap Sans):

He likes to bake! He’s not a professional and in fact, he finds it to be quite challenging at times—there’s way more restrictions than cooking on how much to add of this, making sure to do that before the other thing but after this step, the oven has to be at exactly the right temperature… There’s a lot of steps and rules, but that’s kind of what he likes about it. He likes trying to see if he can make a thing, and then if he can, what tweaks he can make to flavors and textures without compromising the end result. He’s not always successful—he’s definitely ended up with sopping wet cakes, burnt pie crusts, overly salty muffins—but frankly, the experimenting to get it right is all part of the fun! He tends to make more tasty treats than he does failures and he’s happy to share those around with friends and family anytime. Baking may be an exacting mistress, but he loves to tango with her all the same!

Speaking of which…well, he may not know the tango specifically but he does love to dance! He’s got a lot of energy and a solid sense of rhythm, and that combo tends to result in at least a little shimmy of a two-step when there’s a good beat going on—and all bets are off entirely if there happens to be a dance floor and a favorite song playing. He likes dancing with a partner, or in a group, but he’ll dance all by himself if he’s feeling the mood, like nobody’s watching…or rather, like everyone’s watching and he wants to impress and lure out a little company to join him. He even has a tendency to put on music and dance in place a bit when he’s doing otherwise boring chores around the house, like dishes or vacuuming, and while he doesn’t mind doing his dancing solo then too, he’s always delighted to find someone who’s willing to dance along.

He wouldn’t turn down some company for a bit of outdoor exploration, either. A hiking trail maybe? Or some rock climbing? A nature trail or just a walk in the park wouldn’t go awry either if something a little less strenuous is required! He does like the exercise but it’s mostly the nature and all things green that he wants to see and be out in—trees and flowers and even grass. His house would probably be packed with greenery if he…hadn’t…killed every single plant he ever tried to keep…but! Since he does indeed have a deadly black thumb, he likes to visit the plants, in their natural habitat where he has no control over whether they live or die (so they’ll probably continue to live).

Paps (Underswap Papyrus):

It’s no secret that he’s a bookworm. He loves literature and always has—his brother will tell you he was reading before he was even talking, and as embarrassing as it is every time he brings it up, it’s not untrue. He reads voraciously, with a preference for fantasy, romance, and poetry, but he’ll read pretty much any book he can get his hands on. It’s probably no surprise that he’s been inspired to do a little writing of his own, over the years. He’s pretty private about his own work (especially the poetry, oh god, he’d dust on the spot if someone saw his poetry) but he still loves to talk about the written word and techniques used in its conveyance and form, and the struggles writers face in trying to communicate the ideas they have stuck in their heads. He’s great for reading recommendations if he knows the kind of things someone likes, but his go-to recs will always be his personal favorites.

Pride and Prejudice is one such favorite. He’s seen all the film adaptations and miniseries, and branched out from there, first into stuff inspired by similar works, then originals, and then…okay, he’s maybe a little bit addicted to period pieces in general now. Whenever a new one comes out, anything about regency or royals or the nobility in a dramatic setting, he pretty much has to watch it, more only a question of ‘when’ and not ‘if’ he’ll be checking it out. Naturally, he’s happiest when it’s coming out on a scheduled basis, because if an entire season drops all at once he’s going to sit there and binge it and it’s much harder to deny he has an addiction when he just pulled an all-nighter about it. He can’t help himself, he has to see if the socially mismatched couple can make it work and be wed in the end, love winning out over silly class divides…

When he’s not actively obsessed with either of those things, though, he dabbles a bit in calligraphy. He’d probably hesitate to call it a hobby, he does have a couple of those fancy pens and some nice paper and ink to use them with, and he’s decent at it, but definitely needs to practice more to be able to do the really fancy flourishes without blotting the ink or scratching the page. He can certainly do some simple, clean lettering if needed! Like…if you want a poster or a sign to look neat and professional, or…maybe you want the ‘To Do’ list on the fridge to have a fancy header or something? (His end-goal is to be able to do his own drop-caps and an elaborate cursive title for the cover of his book, someday, maybe, who knows…)

Jasper (Underfell Sans):

He likes working with his hands, making things and having something to show for his time and effort. (Knitting? No, that’s, that’s not a hobby, that was a necessity, just for special occasions now, he’s not…naw, c’mon…) He’s something of a car guy. He likes engines and wheels and pistons and how they all work together to make something that goes fast, and he likes understanding how all the pieces fit together and how to fix them if something breaks. It’s something he practiced Underground with busted old engines and bikes that fell down, and a career he pursued on the Surface, but even in his free time he likes tuning up his car, his bro’s car, restoring glory to a classic bike he got at a steal of a price and she’s gonna purr like a kitten when he’s done—he’s just…happy, with his hands buried in an engine and grease all over his face.

And speaking of grease on his face, he’s pretty passionate about food, too. Not so much the cooking of it, though he’s not too shabby in the kitchen when he puts the effort in, but more the eating of it and appreciating the flavors and textures. He’s got a lot of strong opinions on how done a steak oughta be (medium-rare), what belongs on pizza (anything but candy), and how to eat chips with your sandwich (in it, for that extra crunch of texture). ‘Gourmet’ sounds a little too snobby for his tastes, food doesn’t have to be expensive to be good and in fact, it usually isn’t—some of his best meals have been from holes in the wall—but he does like going out to such places to eat and socialize, maybe have a chat and give his compliments to the chef (and definitely not try to wheedle any recipes), that sorta thing.

But after all that, when he really wants to wind down, there’s nothing he likes better than a bit of gaming. He’s not much for multiplayer, he prefers doing his own thing at his own pace, but he likes having some kind of objective and making it happen. It gives a nice sense of accomplishment that he can get while sitting down—which is great. He tends mostly towards puzzle/adventure type games more than pure battle scenarios and beat-‘em-ups, he feels like there should be some strategy and skill involved, or the satisfaction of the win just doesn’t come through as strong. (Protip: do not watch this man defeat a Dark Souls boss if you are easily stressed out. He taunts between strikes and dodges at the very last second because he’s got the timing down to a science. Maybe try Pokemon or Zelda instead…)

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus):

His first great love is and likely always shall be the theater. He didn’t have too many opportunities Underground to go see live stage plays, but he’s long since broken the spine of the collected works of Shakespeare that got him started and memorized its contents, water-stained cover to water-stained cover. He can recite any of the Bard’s work by act and scene number, of which he is incredibly proud, but he’s at least passing familiar with a handful of other manuscripts or popular stage-to-film adaptations mass produced enough to have a chance of ending up in the Dump in decent condition. On the Surface, he definitely wants to see some things live and gets only a reasonable amount of excited about specific productions’ quirks and narrative choices. Joining in on local theater himself? Well…he’s very busy these days… (Maybe after retirement?)

Another passion of his pulled from the depths of the Dump is his guitar—a bass so sturdy and lucky that it made it all the way down without breaking a string. He thought it was cool as soon as he saw it and really wanted to have it and learn how to play. It’s been an uphill struggle since he’s entirely self-taught with regards to his equipment settings, guitar maintenance, and even reading music notes, but the few sparse instruction manuals he’s managed to find were helpful. His own stubborn determination to figure it out and be the kind of cool guy who knows how to play bass has taken him a long way, and he’s starting to make some deep, pleasant sounds that he’s very happy about… But he’s still nowhere near ready to play for anyone, he couldn’t possibly, not until he’s good at it!

And when he’s having a bad time at that, or anything else is ticking him off and there’s no better outlet to blow off steam, he knows he can always fall back on a good work-out. Even in a Kill or Be Killed sort of place, it’s not always a good idea to go picking fights and yelling and cussing and beating the stuffing out of other people—so whenever he feels like doing that, he’s in the habit of beating the stuffing out of a punching bag instead, or lifting weights, or doing one-handed push-ups, something strenuous. He may not be a machine made of meat that releases good-feeling chemicals after a successful exertion, like humans are, but he still feels great after getting to work out and clear his mind of everything but what his body’s doing so he likes to keep up a regular routine. You don’t want to see him after he’s missed a few work-outs, he gets very testy.

Mal (Swapfell Sans):

Pretty much from the moment he came into existence, he’s loved math. Call him a nerd all you like, but numbers are his happy place, where everything is straightforward and exactly what it’s supposed to be and if he doesn’t understand something, he’s probably only missing a variable and when he finds it, everything will make sense again. He has apps and workbooks around with equations for him to solve in his downtime like some kind of freak, but lacking those he’ll sometimes just make up his own math problems and try to solve them in his head—how long will it take for the water cooler to be empty if the tap is dripping at a regular interval of one drop every forty-seven seconds, should no one notice and intervene to repair it? The drum holds up to five gallons, but has already been emptied by approximately—

Okay, that’s enough math. He’s also into whittling, though he’s miles less confident about his ability. He’s not terrible, really, just very self-critical so he tends not to show off the things he makes, but he likes having something to occupy his hands while most of his attention is elsewhere, with the added bonus of having a knife in one of said hands should someone surprise him—self-defense is important, you know! In any case, he’s not as good of an artist as his brother, or even as good as he’d like to be, but it’s something to do and he can only improve with practice. Someday, with the proper equipment, he might even get into full-on woodworking, with chairs and tables and cabinetry and such that are far more straightforward to make than fiddly little figurines, but for now he just has a whittling knife and wood and too much stubbornness to quit at anything once he’s started.

As for something a little (debatably) higher-brow, he also has an interest in wine. He’s no sommelier, of course, but he’s run in fancy (royal) circles for long enough to have tried his fair share of fermented fruit juices. There are some he likes (dry reds), some he doesn’t (sweet whites), and plenty in between—but the topic makes for excellent conversation at lots of dinner parties and formal occasions, so he felt it helpful to learn a few things here and there so he knows (or can pass as knowing) what he’s talking about. On the Surface, he actually gets to take a wine tasting class and put a formal polish on his book-learning and first-hand experience, and makes a point of trying new brands that catch his attention. (He’ll never admit it aloud, but he’s far more swayed by a cool label or an interesting bottle shape than a high price tag—even cheap wine tastes just fine if you aerate it!)

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus):

He’s an artist, first and foremost. His most frequent medium is pen and paper—it’s what he started with and what he’s practiced the most—but it’s never really occurred to him to limit himself to only one thing so he’s tried out a lot of different techniques and utensils and can use most of them effectively. He’s not formally taught, seen some pictures and read some textbook entries of famous pieces and art movements, but everything he’s learned he learned by screwing around with it until he figured out how to make it look like he wanted and in the process, he’s built up a pretty strong base of skills. Mostly, he likes to draw (or sketch or paint) things he’s seen, recreating memories like a photo without a camera, but sometimes he goes on more abstract style experiments, trying to express a vibe or a feeling more than a moment. He finds it meditative, grounding more than anything else he’s tried to relax and it makes him happy to have a creative outlet.

As far as other ways to relax and have fun, something that’s really blossomed on the Surface for him is his interest in fidget toys. Not too many made it Underground for him to enjoy then, just a lonely broken palm-tangle and about a hundred Rubik’s cubes in various states of disrepair—sadly he got so good at solving the cubes that he doesn’t even consider them puzzles, just color-block-pattern simulators—but the Surface! There’s so many stim and fidget toys for him to get his hands on, and so many Ultimate Super Satisfying Compilation vids online to show him new ones. Poppers, spinners, chewelry, clickers…some hit better than others but he likes trying things out, playing with toys that are brightly colored, or feel cool, or make a nice sound. He keeps his favorites and sells or donates the rest, gotta make sure to leave room somewhere if he wants to get a new one.

He also makes a point of walking to the stores and donation centers and post offices at which he exchanges these items because—at the risk of making him sound like a dog—he loves going on walks! He was a shut-in for awhile, afraid of strangers outside, and to an extent he still is (social anxiety), but the Surface has different rules and for a lot of reasons, it feels safer for him to be out and about now, and he likes taking advantage of that. Fresh air and sun and slow, easy movement without having to look over his shoulder, free attention to spare to his surroundings and the chance to stop somewhere and check out a new place… He really likes it and tries to make time to go on a walk at least once every couple of days, destination entirely optional.

Slate (Horrortale Sans):

He’s a rock guy, and he’s not talking about the music genre—just rocks, or crystals, the kind you find in and on the ground. He likes the pun potential (ask any geologist, there’s a million) but also it’s just something fun and low-stakes to do, to collect and find and examine stones and crystals whenever he happens to come across them. A lot of his facts and knowledge base predate the head injury, too, so it’s something he tends to know a good amount about and can have a high-level conversation about at length, of which he’s very proud. Plus, having a bunch of rocks around doubles as both home décor and paperweights, so you gotta admire the versatility of it. He's always on the lookout for new stones to add to his collection, or to talk about and pebble—I mean, gift to his friends and family.

He’s an animal lover as well, which is…not much of a transition from the previous paragraph. He had a pet rock once, does that bridge the gap? Not really. Ah well. The point is, he likes critters, usually ones smaller than him but that’s not hard since he’s a pretty big guy. His past and the things he’s done don’t matter to animals, all they care about is whether he’s an immediate threat (he isn’t) and if he has food to give them (likely), and not having to worry about that is a heavy weight off his mind. He can be totally relaxed around animals so he likes spending time around them whenever he gets the chance—fur and fluff is a plus but he’s got nothing against scales and feathers, creatures come as you are and he’ll get you some water and a treat and maybe a scritch.

But if he must be around humans, or other sentient beings (he must, he’s not built for social isolation), then magic is the ace he keeps up his sleeve. Not the real stuff, of course… Though he’ll naturally be happy to show an interested onlooker a bullet or two, real magic is something any monster can do, even if they were literally born yesterday. He likes fake magic, sleight of hand tricks and misdirection—disappearing and reappearing coins, spoon bending, levitating cards—y’know, the cheap gimmicky shit. It’s fun to learn and easy to practice, works very well with a lot of skills he already had. It also has the additional plus of being disarming for anyone who might be a little…intimidated by him, his size and spooky appearance, especially if he can’t get a joke out quick enough to show he’s harmless, so he likes picking up new tricks when he can and showing them off when he’s got ‘em right.

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus):

He loves to cook! He’s gotten a lot better at it since the old days, trying to learn from Undyne’s lessons and it’s become a genuine passion for him to hone his skills in the kitchen and then (hopefully) show off to guests and friends and family who come over to share a meal. He considers it something of a puzzle in its own right—how to use these ingredients to get the most nutritional value with as little wasted as possible. He’s figured out a lot of ways to repurpose bits that usually get thrown out and in some cases, even make more tasty meals with the castoff pieces (his veggie-peel soup stock is to die for…not literally, but it’s very good)! His favorite part is naturally when people eat what he makes and shower him in compliments, but a close second is knowing that he’s fed his loved ones and they won’t ever leave his home hungry.

Since he does so much in the kitchen and, for the first time in a long time, he has an unfrozen yard for two or three quarters of a year and easy access to seeds, he’s also taken up gardening. Mostly, he grows his own vegetables and herbs but he has the space and the inclination so there’s plenty of colorful flowers in the mix too. He’s very attentive to his crops and flowerbeds and does everything his plants need to flourish and bloom. He delights in praise for his good work and the gratitude when he has a big enough harvest to share with friends and neighbors, or maybe to donate to the local food bank if they’re willing to take it. His garden is his pride and joy and no dirt or weather or pests will stop him from maintaining it!

Now he does have one hobby that’s just for his own enjoyment, not even peripherally related to others, and it’s pure unadulterated guilty pleasure: he adores watching soap operas. The more theatrical and contrived, the better, he can’t help but get sucked into the cheesy drama of it all. He started with just one hospital show and kept watching to tut and shake his head over inaccuracies, and then there was another show on after it that had a wild opening hook, and then…and then… Alas, he found the telenovelas. His enjoyment of them is only somewhat hampered by his inability to understand Spanish, but you’d be surprised how much you can glean from context clues and some things transcend language—it’s too late for him now, he’s recording every episode that airs during the day to watch later, he must know if Gloria’s twin sister will run away with her amnesiac fiancé!

Ash (Undergloom Sans):

Music’s the big one for him. He’s very low-energy and when you’re both depressed and physically fragile, it’s not always possible to go out to where other people are, even when you want to—but music can come to you, no matter how bad you’re feeling, and for that it’s become a huge pillar in his life. His favorite genre is classical (can’t get more classic than The Classics), but he’ll listen to most things, though he’ll always want a physical copy of it to keep if he likes it. CDs, tapes, even vinyl records, digital file only just doesn’t cut it for him. He plays his own music too, rarely with sheet music and mostly just riffing whatever feels right at the time. His trusty trombone is more than just a vehicle for incidental music, it’s like a pal that’s always been there for him even if he didn’t have the energy for it sometimes, and he makes sure to keep it in prime condition.

On his better days—of which he’s been having a lot more since reaching the Surface—he very much loves to be around people and one of his favorite things to get to do with those people is play games, board games to be specific. Monopoly might get a little too violent for his tastes, but stuff like Scrabble, Sorry!, Jenga, all up his alley. It takes a mix of skill and luck to win, which keeps things interesting, and barring a snack break or a celebratory dance of some kind, can be enjoyed entirely sedentarily, which is excellent. He probably shouldn’t be allowed to play cards (he counts them), and his brother swears he weighs dice (he doesn’t), but everything else is fair game and he likes having something he can shine at while also getting to hang out with friends.

But when he’s at home, or he can’t find a group to hang with, he spends a good amount of time cloud-gazing. Not star-gazing, though the sky and the stars are beautiful of course, but his interest is in the atmosphere, on the weather. There weren’t too many weather conditions to be found Underground—snow and rain and hot, basically—and the descriptions he’d heard and read of the kind of stuff that happened on the Surface had always captured his imagination. Clouds, storm cells, fog? It was interesting, and he read about a lot of atmospheric conditions without ever really expecting to see any for himself… but he’s actually up here now. And here, he’s the type of guy who owns a barometer, watches live Doppler radar feeds with rapt interest, and can tell you if it’s going to rain without even checking the weather app, just by taking a look up. His interest in meteorology actually has some practical applications now, go figure.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus):

He’s a cook, and though that may not be his job title, he takes it almost as seriously as if it was. For him, it’s both a passion and a language, a way to reach out to people and connect when there aren’t words—or when there are, but they’re not enough. He thinks of every meal he makes as a gift for the person he’s making it for and as such, it’s not enough for it to just be good food—it should be personalized to suit the recipient’s tastes, bespoke to what they like! That said, he primarily cooks comfort foods, stuff loaded with butter and cheese and salt because that’s what his depressed and struggling loved ones seem to like the most. It’s not always to his tastes, but it’s a point of great pride for him to have dinners at his home feeling like the end of Thanksgiving, everyone full and content and at risk of dozing off on the sofa.

He takes such pride in his cooking that he makes most everything from scratch, and that’s how he got into canning. To get to be such a good cook and to have such a discerning palate, you start to get a bit dissatisfied with store-bought spreads, and you start thinking of how you could tweak it, just a bit, and come up with something a little better. And well, of course he has a sweet tooth and doesn’t he deserve to gift himself a treat from time to time? Which is not to say he doesn’t share his jams and jellies and preserves when he gets to making them—which is anytime there’s a good sale on fruit—but at the risk of making him sound arrogant, he’s absolutely spoiled himself for even the big brands at the store. Sure, he could buy it, as-is, or he could make it and enhance the flavor with a bit of mint or cinnamon or whatever it’s begging for, exactly to his liking. …He does go through quite a lot of jars, though.

So it’s a good thing that he knows all the best home goods stores in the area to buy mason jars, and loyalty perks at every one that offers them because he’s such a frequent customer. He’s very particular about the way his home is decorated and spends a lot of time and effort into cultivating just the right homey, comfortable, clean vibe for the space, so of course he’s always thinking of ways to use his décor to do just that. He doesn’t like a static environment so he frequently moves things around, takes away old things, and adds new ones—scented candles, decorative bowls, accent pieces, really anything that catches his eye-socket. He’s a natural-born homemaker, really, it's a shame he doesn’t have a spouse to appreciate all his talents (yet~).

Brick (Horrorfell Sans):

Okay well now knitting is a hobby of his, now that he’s too big and scary to give a shit what anyone thinks about his yarn-crafting. It’s a skill from before the head injury (and the Everything Else) so it’s not like having to pick up a new skill and something you can be competent at is always nice. He finds it pretty relaxing too, if he’s honest with himself, and grounding—between the repetitive motions and the tangible product of his effort and time having passed, it’s a good go-to for him when he’s stressed and needs to calm down, or when he’s disoriented and has to reorient onto something real. It’s a pretty nice side-hustle too, selling what he makes online, but even if it wasn’t for someone, he’d still knit for himself.

…But it’s maybe not so much of a side-hustle because he doesn’t really have a main-hustle to be doing his knitting on the side of. He mostly hangs around the house as an unemployed self-employed bum. And if you’re bored, in the house, it’s probably only a matter of time before you notice something that needs attention, something broken or askew or in need of a fresh coat of something, and that’s what happened to him, and how he started getting into a lot of DIY home repair. He’s got a background in a lot of technical and mechanical stuff, the confidence to poke around in unfamiliar things, and he certainly has the time, so he’s become something of an all-purpose handyman, regularly sweeping the place to see if there’s something he can fix or tune up. Leaky faucet in the kitchen? Engine maintenance on his bro’s car? Heating ducts making a weird noise? No problem, he’ll check it out, probably an easy enough fix.

He doesn’t stay cooped up in the house all the time though. …Most of it, maybe, but he likes to sit out on the porch or hang in the yard sometimes and get a front row seat to all the wildlife lurking around. He keeps a bird-feeder topped up so the birds always come by, and he’s maybe not so diligent about making sure the bird-feeder doesn’t also become a squirrel-feeder, so there’s a few of them around, too. He has a bad habit of leaving food out for neighborhood strays—cats—and every now and again he’ll catch one and get it fixed, but the food’s also lured in a few other critters it wasn’t meant for. He shoos away the raccoons and possums and (on a couple occasions) foxes that end up on his doorstep, but he likes seeing them so he probably won’t ever really stop. There’s a local murder of crows who bring him offerings of bottle caps and buttons and other junk, and he’s half-convinced they worship him as a god but that’s definitely not going to his head or anything, don’t worry.

King (Horrorfell Papyrus):

He likes to meditate. That’s perhaps an understatement, he needs to meditate—even after abdicating his throne and resuming a civilian life, on the Surface with food and safety and funds aplenty, he has a lot of stress and on any given day, he’s wound tight as a spring. Old habits die hard, and old guilt and pain and fear die harder, and he has a tough time relaxing naturally. Having a set time and routine to sit and breathe and clear his mind, deliberately, is crucial for him. He’s got a room set aside just for it with only related paraphernalia—meditation music, incense holder, a zen garden—inside, a space empty of distractions where he can just relax and let everything else go. It’s either that or be more open and vulnerable in therapy and the latter’s not happening any time soon, so his meditation room is the only thing standing between him and a mental breakdown.

That’s a humorous exaggeration, of course. He also has his bonsai trees, which serve a similar function. He got his first around the same time he took up meditation, thinking it might just be a nice plant to set the ambiance, but as he started caring for it and cultivating it, it grew (pun not intended, how dare you?) into its own thing. He’s got lots of bonsais now and takes great deliberate care in their soil, their water, and meticulous pruning to keep them all growing healthy and strong and in exactly the way they should. There might be something to be said there about power and control and healthy, positive outlets to explore those needs, but for him they’re just his trees—his responsibility, his to keep alive, his to keep in line… And it’s nice to have plants in the house, they really add something to a space, don’t you think?

Something else he’s into that’s slightly more social is chess. He learned a lot about tactics and strategy during and in the lead-up to his reign, both from books and hard experience, and chess is a strategist’s game—all about studying the field of play and your opponent and thinking ahead to achieve your desired outcome. He started by playing against his brother, learning the game and gaining confidence, and then later against Toriel while he conspired to overthrow Undyne, which taught him more about thinking like a warrior monarch and how to strategize against one. Ever since, chess has been his preferred way to get to know someone and he finds the insight into a person’s thoughts (through their choices and idle conversation during the game) to be an invaluable asset. …It’s also somewhat fun, enriching he supposes, or else he probably wouldn’t keep so many chess sets in the house, or regularly go to the park to seek opponents at the public boards. But what business is that of yours?

Merc (Horrorswap Sans):

His physical…situation…is complicated. Until he gets his DT under control, he starts literally melting down whenever his emotions are too high which means that most of the things he would’ve done before for fun and exercise are out. His solution to that is yoga, a low-stress, low-impact way to stretch and move and keep his body functional, without the risk of upsetting himself and others by turning into a puddle! Going through the forms helps him focus his mind and ground him in his body at the same time, which he loves, and it’s something he can do solo or in a group, which is also great depending on his mood and need. He attends a studio at least semi-regularly, whenever there’s a class going on, and he loves it as a way to meet new people and socialize in a low-key way. Even after his melting problem gets sorted, he keeps the yoga as a part of his life and routine—it works for him, even when a lot of other things didn’t!

Escapism has also always been there for him: the sci-fi flavored genre specifically. He’s been in pretty dire need for distractions to take his mind off his condition and his frustratingly slow-going research, and fiction was a great fit, depictions of far-future times when technology is advanced but people are still people and the problems of today are all solved and done with—just the problems of tomorrow left to solve and there’s always hope somewhere out there in the universe. Yeah…he can use a little bit of that. Back Underground, he’d seen a few popular sci-fi series that managed to fall down—Star Trek, Star Wars, and a few others—but he falls back into it hard on the Surface when he discovers that the full collections are available, usually remastered and listed out in chronological order, and so many other fans to talk to about it, wow! And oh, the merch, so much merch… He’s only a mortal man, how is he meant to resist a phone case designed to look like a communicator from The Original Series? Or a replica of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s lightsaber? Or… Okay maybe he’s just enough of a nerd for it verge on a financial problem but he’s having fun, let him have this.

It's not like he’s not bringing in a paycheck, with his little home bakery business. He’s gotten serious about his baking and really ramped up his technical skill, and good flavor and texture is surely a way to keep a customer base, but he wanted to draw in the new customers and for that, he had to get good at decorating. As an amateur, he didn’t care so much if his frosting was a little messy, or really try to do anything at all beyond maybe some food coloring and sprinkles here and there, but in the interest of trying to elevate his business to the next level, he started experimenting more with design techniques—and he discovered he loves it! It takes a lot of skill and precision to execute on top-notch cake décor and he likes the challenge of learning something new and perfecting it until he’s ready to offer it as a technique to his customers. He’s the king of drip cakes, master of mirror glazes, and has the cleanest foil and luster work you will ever see. He’ll tackle geode cakes next, just you wait!

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus):

He used to hate spooky shit. Horror movies, ghost stories, creepy stuff meant to send a shiver up your spine and make your heart (if you have one) skip a couple beats—he couldn’t handle it and any hubris otherwise would leave him looking at pictures of kittens trying to forget about it so he could sleep. But then… Wouldn’t you know it, then he lived through a horror: a terrible creature from another world came to his sleepy little town and killed seemingly everybody they could find, and he survived but the world changed, and everyone went hungry, his best friend disappeared, his brother started melting and he almost died and then came back wrong… And now the fake spooky stuff doesn’t seem so bad. Actually it’s…kinda fun? Scary stories and creepypastas still freak him out, a little, but his tolerance for it has gone up considerably and now he seeks out the genre on purpose, to create and consume, because it feels a little good to get scared by something fake instead of all too real.

His new interest in horror turned him on to movies in general. Not that he didn’t like watching movies before, but being especially invested in a specific genre got him reading about analyses of themes and filming techniques, lighting and staging and all the behind-the-scenes choices made in casting and shooting, and he loves being able to point those things out. Watching a movie with him, any movie, will probably trigger a film-buff monologue about something—‘oh see that’s a long shot, they do that when they’re trying to…’, ‘that’s not cg by the way, it’s actually a matte painting and…’, ‘y’know that scene when he kicked the helmet, it turns out he…’ et cetera, et cetera. He’s not trying to be a bore or a know-it-all, he’s actually just really interested in the way all these things, choices or accidents, come together to make a movie and he can talk about it for ages…or complain about it, if it happens to be a crappy movie. He does so love to complain…

Throughout all of this, if his attention isn’t split by his laptop, he’s usually keeping his hands busy another way—with origami. He’s almost always got a lot of scrap paper lying around in reach and for lack of anything better to do, he’ll grab a piece and start folding it. He started screwing around with those notebook edges left over after you tear out a page, but those are messy and ran out of folds real quick, so eventually he looked up some deliberate things to make out of paper and even bought some origami paper specifically for practice and nicer looking results. He’s pretty good at hopping frogs and flapping cranes, and who can’t make a boat, but his go-to is definitely the little stars you make out of the long strips. He’s got a big jar of the stars and keeps making more to add to it, not for any reason, really, but…it’s fun to make ‘em and they look pretty so why not?

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans):

He’s a thrill-seeker. Not necessarily the death-defying stunt kind—though he cheated death once already and might be a bit cockier about his odds the next time around than he ought to be—but any thrill, even the cheap ones. He spent a lot of time Before hedging his bets and prioritizing just about everything but himself, and now he’s decided to spend the rest of his time doing the opposite, chasing excitements and novelties and things he was too cautious or restrained or just too spartan to go after. He seeks out new restaurants, trendy bars, relationships, activities, anything that catches his fancy at the moment. A lot of the things he tries out don’t stick, falling by the wayside after the luster of ‘exciting and new’ wears off—you really only need to try a PB&J burger the once, and if you’ve ridden one mechanical bull, you’ve ridden them all—but some things make an impression.

Boxing is one of the things that stuck for him. He always worked out to stay in good condition and it was a habit he kept up on the Surface, joining a local gym as soon as possible for access to the weights and the punching bag. Fisticuffs was a last resort for him when dealing with actual problems, but hitting things was a great way to blow off steam—and as repressed as he was, he had a lot of steam to blow off, so his form and footwork was always top-notch. He got noticed for it, invited to spar in the ring, and to keep a short story short, he loved it. It’s a challenge being blind in a fistfight, but in a very positive way for him, giving him a chance to use his reflexes and his soul-sense to take on his opponents and most of the time, win. It’s a visceral, almost primal pleasure for him to get to fight in a reasonably safe arena, with people who are also fighting for love of the sport and no aim to seriously injure or kill, like a dance but with someone who wants to knock you out and vice versa.

And speaking of dancing, he’s very fond of that as well for similar, yet less violent reasons. He doesn’t really dance solo, simply for joy of the music—his enjoyment is almost exclusively in the partnered activity, when he has someone to match steps and mirror movement with and combine his awareness of his body and theirs into a cohesive picture. He likes the give and take of it, the way that he can have a physical experience with someone, a conversation without a single word being spoken, all from movement and synchronicity with whoever’s signed his dance card. He knows a few formal dances already and hasn’t forgotten the steps so he’s well-prepared for a polite ballroom experience… but he’s also learned how to let his metaphorical hair down lately, and a bit of dirty dancing is hardly off the table, should his partner for the evening (or afternoon, morning, midnight) be so inclined.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus):

What happened Underground sent him into probably the worst art-block of his life. Even picking up a pen got hard to do with anything more than the intent to jot down a note for himself and he spent entirely too long with utterly dry wells of inspiration, not creating anything at all. In a desperate attempt to rekindle something creative, he ended up searching ‘art ideas’ online and discovered the vast world of craft projects. It was easier for him to actually make something when he had step-by-step guides and didn’t have to draw on his own (lacking) inspiration, and he quickly gained a liking for what he could make out of things he already had lying around the house and art supplies that were collecting dust—coffee-filter peonies, paper-straw wreaths, tin-can organizers, et cetera. He likes upcycling and getting to find use in things that might otherwise be discarded, and he really enjoys getting to put his own personal touch into crafts inspired from the internet.

He's proud enough of his works, in fact, that he wanted to show them off and—lacking real-life friends—he started posting photos of his crafts online. The response was positive but eventually, he started getting dissatisfied with the quality of the pictures he was taking, fuzzing details or altering colors, and he began looking into ways to improve the shots he was taking, lighting techniques, camera settings, angles and framing… By the time he invested in his own high-quality camera (and read the manual, front to back), he was seeing art everywhere, not just in the things he made but in the light through trees on a misty morning, in the waft of a curtain by an open window, in the people walking along the sidewalk out in front of the house. He has an eye-socket for it now and he’s always considering The Perfect Shot, how to capture the beautiful moments happening all the time with his photography. He’s good and getting better all the time, the more he practices his staging and editing.

He definitely wants to diversify his portfolio, though. Of course, he’s great at capturing domestic scenes, being a shut-in and all, but there’s more out there in the world, to see and photograph and be part of. It takes him awhile to get there but once he does, he’s very passionate about traveling. He spent such a long time stuck—first Underground, and then in his home on the Surface—and his scenery and his experiences were limited, but once he’s free there’s so much new and beautiful and exciting that he can access and he loves being able to pack up and go to it, right where it is. He wants to fill a passport and see unique vistas all over the globe, learn about cultures there, and make meaningful memories attached to every picture he takes.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans):

He likes stories, not the kind that come from a book, necessarily, but the stories people tell. The subject doesn’t matter to him much—folklore, local legends, big fish tales, ‘you’ll never believe what happened to me last week’s and more—it’s really the telling of it that he likes, how people describe what happened for an audience of their friends, family, or even strangers. He especially likes hearing the same story from different people to see how they tell it differently with their own perspectives or details that were unique to the version they heard. He’s always got a metaphorical ear open for a good yarn and a great memory for the stories people tell him, to the point that he can dispense them on cue whenever conversation’s slow, but he’s got plenty of his own experiences to make tales out of too, and the charisma and flair to make the telling entertaining.

This is a skill that comes majorly in handy for one of his other favorite hobbies, tabletop gaming. Whether he’s setting the scene for a D&D party he’s DMing for or keeping conversation going while he shuffles a deck for rummy, he loves having a table of people together to talk and play a game (or two, or three) with. It’s hard to get schedules to line up so he almost always has a few different game nights going on at any given time, in rotation depending on who can make what—and luckily, he’s a social butterfly so if someone cancels, getting substitutes to hang and make friends with over a game of something or other is never too difficult for him. He’ll go anywhere but his preference is hosting himself, he just loves having people over and showing them a good old fashioned time!

And speaking of old fashioned, his fashion is a little bit that as well. He’s a tad all over the place with it but nonetheless very interested in vintage and retro styles—the bold neon windbreakers of the 80s, the dated digital graphic tees of the 90s, the vinyl of the 00s, and even the holographics of the 10s. He tends to get a little confused about what was popular when and maybe that’s why he meshes it all together, but regardless, he loves his very eclectic wardrobe and adding to it. He makes a lot of trips to thrift stores and checks often on resale sites and gets very excited whenever he stumbles across a good find. Jackets are his favorite and he definitely has too many, but they spark joy and he’s probably not going to get rid of any or quit shopping around for more of the old school stuff anytime soon.

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus):

He likes scrapbooking! Maybe not too surprising, but as someone who mysteriously came into existence one day with no memory of his past, he doesn’t like the idea of losing memories—at least, not any more memories than he’s already apparently lost. He likes keeping records of things he does and that happen in his life as a tangible proof of his existence in and impact on the world. He stores things digitally as well but having the physical album feels weightier and more permanent, so he takes great care assembling and arranging everything in it. He keeps photos of outings with friends and coworkers, fliers from lectures he attends, even receipts from restaurants and movie ticket stubs. It’s all extremely well organized and annotated to the point that it almost reads like a scientific article, but he has fun with the cutting and pasting and aesthetic arrangement of it all—a neat and tidy accounting of (as much of) his life (as he can remember).

It's probably no coincidence that his scrapbook resembles a science journal, though, because he reads a lot of them. He also attends lectures and conferences when available and open to the public because, though he doesn’t have a career in any field of science, he’s still quite passionate about it! He loves learning about new advancements and discoveries, and when he comes across something he doesn’t know or only knows a bit about, he tends to do his own research into relevant readings on the topic until he’s better informed. He loathes misinformation and willful ignorance though, and as a result he’s ended up in a few small scale social media wars where he arrives on a post with thorough corrections, arguments, and sources cited and continues to present the accurate information until he’s respectfully acknowledged or blocked. It’s…usually the latter, but he doesn’t mind a good argument and ad hominem attacks slide right off him, so…as long as he’s having fun, what does it matter?

However…for all his love of truth and fact, he is also—regrettably—truly, madly, deeply compelled by the paranormal. If asked directly, he would say that of course he doesn’t believe in (non-monster) ghosts or aliens or the supernatural, there’s no evidence of such things! At least…nothing credible. He’s read the first and second-hand accounts, reviewed the blurry inconclusive photos, entertained hypotheticals of what could have really caused the sighting or scenario in question, accounting for variables and probing with his own questions to determine more information. He may occasionally be inclined to physically visit some ‘hot spots’ or sites of infamy, just to get a better understanding of the location and potential factors in what’s been claimed… But! Obviously, he’s a devil’s advocate in this only, as intriguing as some of these concepts are, that’s all they are—concepts. The fact that he spends so much time and thought on such things does not at all validate them and it simply means that he is a man of both integrity and science, the real kind!

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans):

He likes swimming! Er…well…maybe that’s not the right word for it. It’s not diving either, really, it’s… He likes going to bodies of water, walking in, and staying under for awhile, there, that’s a more accurate description of it. He’s waterproof and he doesn’t need to breathe, so ducking under the surface for a good few hours is not only possible, but a great way to get near-total peace and quiet for however long he wants it. He wasn’t much of a swimmer when he had an organic body, so it’s a bit of a novelty as well—seeing the way things look underwater, the way sounds change, the way animals swim around him in their natural habitat. He finds being in the water to be very relaxing and pleasant, almost meditative in nature, and whenever he’s feeling especially tense or in need of some space to think (or not think), he’ll head to the nearest body of water and go right in. It would be better if he actually took his clothes off before he did this, but he usually doesn’t and has weirded many clothes with lake or sea water.

He’s also into urban exploration. Not that he specifically calls it that, but he’s a wanderer and he likes to keep a low profile so sometimes, when he happens to be in the heart of a big city and there’s nowhere anonymous enough for him to blend in, he disappears into closed, abandoned, or condemned buildings. He likes the quiet of places like these and the reduced likelihood of running into anyone trying to interact with him because nobody else is supposed to be there. Obviously sometimes people are there anyway, but usually it’s people who mind their own business or actively avoid him, which he’s completely fine with. He does also enjoy having a look around when there’s time and he can, getting to see the remnants of the people who used the building before, what they left behind and imagining what it would be like if it were actively in use. A lot of the places he gets into have nice views of the city outside, too, and it’s pleasant to find a ledge or some rebar to sit on and enjoy it.

Jewelry making came out of his preferred hangout spots, as well. There’s a lot of junk lying around in abandoned or in-construction buildings—chain-link fences, washers, nuts and bolts—and when one is sitting around in an empty spot in the early morning, waiting for the city to wake up so he can slip through the masses undetected again, one gets to fiddling with nearby things in reach. He’s no master jeweler, his creations tend to be very simple, metal bent and twisted by hand in loops and curls, maybe a shape if he’s feeling ambitious, but he likes making them regardless. Sometimes he’ll keep an eye out for interesting stones and hold onto them to incorporate them into one of his pieces, or pick up a bit of nicer wire to work with if he’s going to be passing through a more rural area where it won’t be so easily available. He never keeps the rings and necklaces and bracelets he makes, though, just leaving them on tables and benches and railings for someone else to find later. It’s the making that’s the important part to him, he doesn’t need the thing.

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus):

He’s a proud and passionate DJ for partiers everywhere! He kind of fell into it, or at least into the idea of it when figuring out how to approach humanity and be a part of it, and he learned that it’s quite common for musical artists to have gimmicks that hide their real faces and identities. It seemed like it’d be easy to blend in, in a crowd like that, and when he found out about vocaloids and holographic performers he was all but sold on giving it a go. It didn’t take him long to learn how to mix songs and with a theoretically infinite track list to draw on, he’s a natural talent at playing the crowd and keeping the energy in a room high. He loves DJing for nightclubs and raves the most, but he’s starting to gain a bit of fame and notoriety for both his talent and his very advanced ‘avatar’ and might end up dropping some of his own music and playing to larger venues sooner than later.

In his spare time, of which he has a lot, he likes the challenge of hunting down lost media. He has full access to the internet as well as several archives he probably should not have access to, but it’s very hard to keep him out of anywhere he wants to be—luckily, he chooses to use his nigh unfathomable power for good, digging around here, there, and everywhere for things deleted, destroyed, or locked off from the public. It’s like a treasure hunt, following leads and connecting clues until he finds the impossible thing he’s looking for…or doesn’t. Sometimes things that are gone really are gone, but other times it’s just that no one else had the spare time and resources to try and excavate a mention of a grandmother’s VHS copy of an obscure, out of circulation film on a deleted forum post from ten years ago, track down the user, ask after the tape and offer to purchase it to convert to a digital format…and if that doesn’t pan out, the search begins anew! How exciting!

His do-gooding doesn’t end at tracking and restoring old tapes, though, and he likes to spare some time for bigger acts of justice now and again. He’s a part-time hacktivist—he takes note of ongoing crime and corruption in human society and when he can, he shines a light on it. Leaking emails, posting blacklisted videos, releasing incriminating financial records, he has little respect for the privacy of crooked CEOs and corrupt politicians and feels it’s only right that their customers and constituents know these things about the people they’re supporting. His intervention tends to lead to a lot of resignations and restructuring and legal action being pursued, so he tries not to overstep too much with the business of humans, especially not for any old small-fry in the pond…but the big fish, the guys in the news with allegations that don’t stick because of money lack of evidence… Well, he doesn’t mind digging up that evidence, if the proper authorities really lack the time for it—you’re welcome!

Xanth (Ascendswap Sans):

He’s very into spiritualism and all things mystical. His brush with the cosmically unknowable really expanded his perception and sense of things around him and he’s freshly fascinated by the things in this world beyond mortal comprehension, things he’s only glimpsed and felt more than he clearly understood. He loves reading or hearing about other peoples’ spiritual experiences—near-deaths, out-of-body’s, energies sensed and presences felt and many more—being let into the perspective of others who have been through things not easily explained and maybe getting a chance to share his own oddities in the process. He collects a lot of paraphernalia from the people and places he goes for these things, chakra bracelets, dreamcatchers, crystal pyramids and the like. He freely admits some of his items have stronger energies than others and theorizes that belief and intention in the creation of the object has an effect, you see the aura of this one feels—you get the idea, he could talk about it for hours.

He's also a very big fan of riddles! He knew a few before but has really gotten into them since, diving down the rabbit hole of riddles and tricky word puzzles. He finds the construction of them incredibly interesting, how specific words are chosen and phrases are structured to talk around the answer, carefully ringing around it to imply only and make the listener deduce the truth around its absence—just like how black holes are discovered by observing the warping of space around it! He has lots of riddle books and knows the answers to most of the basic ones out there, and he’s always open to hearing new ones, as well as coming up with some of his own from time to time. He takes his riddling quite seriously and will never look up the answer or allow anyone to tell him before he guesses—he wants to reason it out for himself, even if it takes him days to do it. If you manage to stump him, expect a call later on with the solution and exuberant praise for the gift you gave him!

A far more pedestrian and down-to-earth hobby of his, however, is pottery. Riddling and talking about the cosmos is all well and good, but it’s difficult actually meeting people to do those with—they don’t really have meet-ups for those sorts of things. But! They do have pottery classes, all over the place, welcoming beginners who are generally also open to making friends there, and he decided to go where the people were. It’s probably not something he would’ve been as happy doing before…Everything, reining in the urge to be great at it first try and do clean, neat work to impress people… but he doesn’t really think that way anymore, so he likes it! It's messy and mistakes are easy to make, both on the wheel and in the kiln, but that’s life and he’s learning same as everyone else. He gets to socialize, he gets to make stuff out of clay, and he gets so very many pots and mugs and bowls to give his friends and loved ones—a win-win-win!

Piper (Ascendswap Papyrus):

He never used to put much effort into his wardrobe. He was anxious and introverted and never wanted to stand out too much, so he always aimed for under, rather than over-dressed. …But things changed. He’s more confident, he wants to stand out, he wants to look his best and dress himself in all the nice clothes he always thought he wasn’t cool enough to wear—so now, he does. He keeps his eye-socket on modern fashion trends, subscribing to magazines and tuning in to designer runways so he always knows what’s in and can coordinate his wardrobe accordingly. He's not necessarily a brand snob, he doesn’t subscribe to the idea that clothes (and accessories) need a label to look good, but at the same time, he won’t compromise on quality and sometimes that means paying for it. Still, he has a lot of fun keeping in style and taking more care in how he presents himself, and it turns into something of a confidence feedback loop—feeling good because he looks good because he feels good because…

With his newfound confidence, he’s also gotten into the habit of singing out loud. He hums tunes every now and again, surely everyone does, but now he sings, sometimes softly and sometimes belting out lyrics at full volume to whatever song floats through his head. What can he say? He’s started to like the sound of his own voice and it makes him feel good to hear how he sounds, and to feel how freely and beautifully the notes come out. Maybe it’s a little prideful but he doesn’t see the harm in making music and feeling good about it, so he sings when he’s occupied, when he’s idle, when he’s asked to—no special occasion necessary save for the joy of sound.

Of course, this also gives him something in common with some of his favorite creatures on the planet: birds. He likes animals and tends to be great with them—especially if he happens to use his ‘trick’—but he’s particularly fond of the feathered ones and the pretty sounds they make. He started learning how to mimic bird-calls (now that he’s not too self-conscious to feel stupid about it) and found he has a talent for it, getting all kinds of flighted friends to stop by and sing back when he chirps. He knows a lot of calls and can identify most local bird species by sound and sight, and it’s a favored party trick of his to push a little intent into his whistles and get wild birds to land on his finger like they were trained. He’s actually looking to break into falconry too, so he can keep and train a raptor someday, but there’s a lot of training and regulation involved in that sport and he’s not in any special kind of hurry. Plenty of birds to watch and sing to and play with in the meantime!

Carmine (Underfell Fruition Sans):

He’s been on his own for quite awhile. Granted, most of that time was unconscious in a semi-lucid dream-state, but that still left him pretty bereft of any meaningful company for a long damn time. He’s a social guy, he’s gotta make some connections with people at some point or it’s just gonna feed into his main character syndrome, so he starts getting involved in competitive team activities pretty much as soon as possible. At first it’s gaming—multiplayers, with mic enabled of course—when he’s still building his physical health back up, but once he’s clear for it he’s joining up with just about every team sport he can find. The Surface has plenty of options for him to choose from. Paintball? Definitely, get ready to meet your maker. Go-karting? Can’t believe it took so long to ask, let’s go. Axe-throwing? Oh hell yes, you know it! He’s competitive but a mostly good loser and hardly sore winner, so whatever the game he’s all in, just happy to be able to play.

When he’s solo and not actively burning energy, he…probably should be. He overproduces magic like a sonuvabitch, and if he’s not using it, that’s a problem—for him and everyone and everything around him. If he’s lacking something to do with his energy, and no other ways to expend it, the easiest thing to do is make a bunch of bullets. This, naturally, solves one problem while creating another and out of the abundance of bones lying around the place came the elegant solution of building with them. He uses his bone bullets like some (frat house) people use beer cans, stacking them together to make thrones chairs, tables, and towers. Sometimes he’ll jenga these structures, knock ‘em down to reuse the bullets for something else, but sometimes, if he's managed to stack up something particularly impressive, he’ll put in the extra effort to make them structurally sound and keep them as-is.

For all that he’s good at building things up, he takes just as much pleasure in taking them apart. He likes working with his hands, always has, opening something up and poking around inside to figure out what goes on in there. Unfortunately, and he’ll never admit as much out loud, he is…not very strong, physically—the big stuff, heavy duty machinery that takes a decent amount of elbow grease to get into is…a little bit beyond his ability, at least comfortably. By default, that leaves him with the little stuff to tinker with, clocks and watches, TVs and blenders, anything he can get his hands on and pop open without too much work. Clockwork mechanisms are his favorites to work with, the very tangible cause and effect of motion inside, but he’s no slouch with a soldering iron and more fiddly electronics are hardly any trouble. He likes fixing stuff that’s broken but it doesn’t have to be for him to want to disassemble something in working order, just for a quick look. Don’t worry, he knows what he’s doing, he’ll put it right back—possibly in better condition than when he found it!

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus):

He has difficulty finding hobbies for himself, at first. Doing things he enjoys—much less expressing that he enjoyed them—was both forbidden and dangerous, so he’s in unexplored territory without explicit orders to do or not do something. Undyne gets him started with puzzles after noticing that he seemed to like solving them for her on patrols. A jigsaw seems as good as anything to start with, right? Well… yes, very much so, because he loves the medium instantly. One obvious solution (to assemble the pieces into a picture), no time constraint, and no way to do it incorrectly? It’s perfect! He graduates quickly from small, simple jigsaws to large, complex ones and loves being able to sit down with a few thousand pieces and slowly, steadily arrange them the way they’re supposed to be. He was given a massive, single-color monolith of a jigsaw once, as a joke…which completely didn’t land because it only took him a bit longer than usual and he loved it just as much. Go figure.

His brother gave him another hobby, upon remembering that he used to (as a toddler) like scribbling on paper, and gifted him a color-by-number book. It was a little juvenile, involved considerably less problem-solving than puzzles, but that’s really not a bad thing for him, giving him a task to do by rote that appeals to his creative side rather than the militaristic orders he got until that point. Eventually, as he gains independence and starts to feel more comfortable making choices of his own, he ditches the ‘by-number’ part but sticks with coloring, using watercolors and colored pencils to fill in pages of designs with whatever he wants. He finds it very relaxing and satisfying to do, and with encouragement even frames some of the pieces he’s proudest of. Friends and family may expect to receive them as gifts, especially if they’ve complimented one in particular—it’ll be theirs in short order without a second thought.

His most consuming hobby, however, is one he came to on his own: the care and keeping of fish. His first was a betta, a bright red fighting fish, drooping and still in a tiny little cup on a shelf—an impulse purchase he’d be hard-pressed to explain, especially with no animal experience whatsoever, much less specifically fish. But, he did it, and after that it was his responsibility to care for it, so he put in the research to determine its needs, the size of the tank, the pH balance of the water, the food and feeding schedule, environmental enrichment… It was a lot of work getting everything together but the reward in seeing the sad lifeless betta turn bright and active, thriving in the home he’d built for it, that was an addictive feeling. It wasn’t long until he was setting up more tanks, and buying lots more aquatic critters—tetras, cichlids, snails, guppies—to fill them with. He’s an extremely diligent and dedicated fish-dad and likes to sit and watch them swim the way some people watch TV.

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans):

He knows his way around a needle and thread. He learned to sew out of pride necessity, learning to mend ripped and worn garments rather than having to beg for new on his or his brother’s behalf. It started as the lesser of two evils for him, but eventually he grew to enjoy it—work, of course, to have to close holes and hem and take in this and that, but work that he was generally left alone to do and not bothered for other things. It’s still that, but now that he doesn’t have a panopticon of a mocking prick judging his every action, he’s branching out into a bit more personal flair. He tried felting, with…poor results…but embroidery and needlepoint is working out considerably better. He’s still not especially creative so he prefers to work off patterns rather than freehand anything, and most of the things he stitches aren’t exactly to his own personal style, so a lot of his work gets donated but some things end up on the wall, others as patches for bags and jackets… It’s something to do.

…Making booze is also something to do. He didn’t exactly see it coming, something he kind of fell into. Per his brother’s preference, they’ve made their home in a wooded, mountainous area, and per his own preference, it’s secluded, a ways away from the town proper. Grocery runs every time there’s no more alcohol in the house (because somebody had company over and left a thimble in the bottle without telling anyone) is irritating, especially if he’s just getting home late and nowhere nearby is even open. A lot of locals get around the problem by simply brewing, fermenting, or distilling their own, and after looking into the process, he decided it was more than doable. He’s not much of a beer-drinker and never bothered with that, but he makes some damn good fruit wines if he says so himself, and a moonshine that’ll knock you on your ass if you’re not careful. His little operation is technically illegal—his favorite kind of illegal—but it's all for private use and he keeps to himself when he’s in town so he’s flying pretty low beneath the radar.

He is out of town a lot, mostly for work purposes, and passing through unfamiliar towns on the regular exposed him to quite a lot of postcard kiosks. He would look at them, think about his semi-estranged brother back home and how weird it would be, with their relationship being what it is, to call or text just to say ‘hey’ and… Well, eventually he bought one, scribbled a curt (coded) message on it, and sent it home before he could think better of it. Neither of them ever said anything about it, but he found it later on his desk when he got home with a scrawled reply back to what he’d written, and it kind of just spiraled into a thing from there. Anytime he goes somewhere, he finds a place to pick up a postcard to mail back, and when he gets home he tucks it (and the inevitable addition onto it) away in a binder for safekeeping. He takes a lot of care in the choosing and preservation of these cards and has a sizeable, growing collection.

Hunter (Swapfell Fruition Papyrus):

He’s a runner. There’s almost nothing he likes more than getting outside and taking off, jogging full speed to nowhere in particular until he’s out of breath and covered in sweat. He was cooped up for a long time in between specific missions and keeping pace on a treadmill just can’t compare to the free feeling he gets when he’s completely off-leash and can just go, as fast and as far as he wants to. Sometimes he’ll spice up his runs with a bit of parkour, clearing obstacles or scaling trees to take the branches for awhile, but he’s happy as long as he gets to let loose—sky above him, earth below, and nothing to call him back but his own limitations when he’s totally exhausted or he decides to be done.

For similar reasons, he’s interested in foraging. He likes nature and the outdoors, prefers it to anything indoors bar none, and the longer he can spend out in it without having to make his way back to civilization, the better. So, he started learning about the plants he sees—what’s edible, what’s not, what’s poisonous versus medicinal and so on. A lot of the info about it is geared towards humans rather than bioengineered skeletons so there’s still a learning curve, and a lot of things he's taken it upon himself to test out. He was built with a high metabolism and some natural poison resistance so he’s too cocky to be stopped from doing it, really, no matter how many times he’s called a reckless idiot for touching and ingesting possibly harmful substances. He's made a lot of interesting discoveries with regards to the local flora and only hardly gotten sick about it, so he counts it as a win.

He keeps track of said discoveries in his journal, which he takes out with him whenever he leaves the house for a nature walk (or run). He likes having it handy to note down things he does throughout the day, places he goes, things he sees… He never really got into art, not the way he could’ve, if things had been different, but he can scratch out some decent sketches to fill in the margins of his journal—the path down to the stream he found, the deer that only shed one antler, that berry that definitely did not agree with his metaphorical stomach, do not try again… His memory isn’t bad, exactly, but his mind and feet are both prone to wandering so it’s nice to have a log of his activities to look over later and put together things he missed at the time, or be reminded of stuff he wants to revisit. Most of his journaling is done halfway up a tree, sprawled along a branch with half an eye-socket on the view from up high.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans):

He wasn’t especially interested in plants or flowers, at least not until one started altering him—and the rest of monsterkind—in mind and body. That’s when he got interested and started studying. First the echo flower, its strange properties nearest and dearest to him, but gradually branching out to golden flowers, forevergreens, water sausages, any magical plant he can get his hands on to examine. Non-magical plants are equally fascinating, especially in their potential effects on humans—he knows probably an unsettling amount of flowers and greenery that are toxic to humans, the symptoms caused by contact or ingestion and how long it takes them to appear. Thankfully, he’s not much for the care and keeping of plants as keeping things alive seems like an awful lot of work. Still, he finds them interesting and has lots of botany and anthology books lying around, with leaves and petals dried and pressed between their pages. Did you know that the echo flower’s bioluminescence remains for up to three years after the bloom’s been clipped? Fascinating stuff.

Less of a passion but still at least an idle hobby, he can play a bit of piano. He’s self-taught—plunking out keys on the piano in Waterfall while passing through to entertain himself (and a little bit to annoy Undyne)—but though he can’t read sheet music or play any full length songs, he can tickle out a short tune by sound once he’s heard it at least once. He’s got a good ear for notes, despite not having any actual ears. It may actually be some kind of perfect pitch thing going on in his head but he should not be informed of this ever because he will hang on the word ‘perfect’ and be utterly insufferable about it. Mostly, he just uses this to play a few random notes whenever he comes across a keyed instrument, or to abruptly switch to an impromptu recreation of iconic horror scores to catch people by surprise. The theme from Halloween or the tubular bells from The Exorcist are favorites, but he’s unpredictable enough to learn more if you turn your back on him too long.

What he probably spends the most time on, however, is quilting. Perhaps a bit surprising, with his…everything else about him, but he’s a skeleton who values his creature comforts quite a bit, many of which have been made considerably more difficult for him to enjoy due to the ways his body has changed. In this particular case, it’s his reduced physical sensation making it nearly impossible to feel warm. He’s never cold anymore, not really, but he’s never warm either and he takes that quite personally, almost offended by the uselessness of thin clothing and scraps that dare to call themselves blankets. If there are no blankets thick enough and heavy enough get him warm, he’ll just have to make them himself…and so that’s what he does. Any passingly usable cloth in his possession tends to end up part of a quilt, with little care for patterning or overall design—his only priority is thick and heavy and warm, and if he doesn’t feel like he’s in a panini press by the time he’s finished, then it’s back to the drawing board.

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus):

He maybe went a little bit nuts for awhile there after the human first left. Some might argue that he’s still a little bit nuts but he would agree he was pretty embarrassingly desperate in the first few years after. They were gone and they weren’t answering their phone and for everything they’d done, they had been his friend so…he was worried! But of course, monsters were trapped, with hope of leaving anytime soon soundly dashed, so he couldn’t just go look for them. He wanted to reach them, or just someone on the Surface who could relay a message. That’s how he started experimenting with radio, out of a misguided and impossible attempt to communicate out of the Underground with someone up there. He never reached anyone from down there, of course, but he found some comfort in trying—and eventually, enjoyment too! He likes fiddling with the equipment to tune into different frequencies, and the sound of empty static is soothing to him. It’s a lot more fun now that he’s aboveground and can actually hear other people, and he hopes to get his license to transmit himself soon!

Before the Surface, though, things were a little lonelier for him. Colder, darker. Too dark entirely—of course a dark environment was necessary to promote the growth of their staple crop and the artificial day-cycles were only making monsters waste more time sleeping than they already were, he understood the need for the dark…but surely, it didn’t have to be so complete? How was anyone to know that he was at home and available to host company if there were no warm, inviting lights in the window? Candles seemed the perfect solution, natural light from flickering fires that wasn’t too harsh, still a bit dim but plenty to see by! He started just collecting them so he would always have them on hand if needed, but eventually started making them himself with wax on the stove. Scent or color don’t matter much to him, but he really likes being able to customize the size and shape to his needs. And his needs…aren’t so much anymore, now that there’s regular sunlight, but candles are still great for when there isn’t, and when electric lights are little too intense. It never hurts to have more candles around, for emergencies!

He's also exploring a new hobby up on the surface, inspired by his and his brother’s new careers—bone collecting! Now, it’s not what you’re thinking, he’s not after human bones. Those are still very much in use by the deceased, and he's sure surviving loved ones would be very cross if tried to just take them! But his job was how he learned that humans and other organic, non-magical creatures all contain skeletons of their own and when they die everything but the bone rots away. He thinks it’s very cool and obviously humans are off the table to inspect more closely, but animals don’t mind. He takes note of any dead creatures he happens to find—mostly birds and squirrels—and after allowing the other local wildlife to have first pick at it, he collects the remains to take home. He isn’t overly fond of the smells and textures of rot and asked for his brother to help with the de-fleshing and degreasing with the first few things he brought back, but he's got a handle on it now and loves to artfully display his cleaned finds all around the house. Skulls are his favorite, but he has some lovely wishbones and plenty of vertebrae that he’s equally proud of showing off!

[airenyah]

Reasons Why I Need a Sexy JoongDunk BL

If you know me, then you’ll know that it’s actually kind of funny that I’m asking for this. Me. A sex-repulsed leaning asexual who, for the most part, tends to stay away from (overly) sexy and/or horny series. And yet I really want a sexy JoongDunk series. A messy, Only Friends-type of series even, perhaps.

Make no mistake, though. I don’t actually want it for me, oh no. No, I want a sexy JoongDunk series for them, for their sake. Because I feel like they’d have a whole lot of fun with it.

And here’s why I think so:

Reason #1: Dum Dum

Definitely the most obvious reason, but the LOL Fanfest Dum Dum performance: the fact that the choreography was like That. And the fact that it was their idea to switch up who bites who for day 2:

Not to mention the fact that Dunk actually bit Joong for real:

I'm just saying, they wanted “hot and sexy”, they chose this:

Reason #2: “We’ve never done this before”

The way they kept bringing up how Hidden Agenda is more mature than Star in My Mind and how there were scenes that they’d never done before*, it seemed to have been a big deal for them.

*see here for some eng subs (this video is unfortunately heavily edited)

Reason #3: “Favorite episode of Hidden Agenda? Episode 8!!”​

The way Joong immediately said episode 8 was his favorite, smiling expectantly at Dunk...

...and then was very adamant when Dunk couldn’t decide between episodes 7 and 8:

Considering their comments of how “episode 8 is special” because they’ve “never done anything like this before”... Well, dare I bet it’s their favorite episode because of the ending specifically. Unless maybe they were particularly excited about the stalker story line. I don’t think they’d done that before either.

Reason #4: Ep8 watch party live on Instagram

The way they actually sat down and went live on Instagram in order to watch, react to, and comment on the entirety of episode 8.

And considering Dunk’s comment at the beginning of this live about how it’s “something we've never done before” I’m absolutely convinced they chose ep8 to react to specifically because of the ending lmao. Unless, of course, they were extremely hyped about the stalker plot. There were no creepy stalker plots in Star in My Mind, nor do I remember any significant stalking in Joong’s other works. Or maybe the two of them were referring to the scene where Zo bites Joke’s arm. I don’t remember any biting from Star in My Mind, so who knows, it might be that. What else was special in ep8? Oh right, Joke punched the stalker. That can’t have been the “we’ve never done this before” thing, though, considering Joong was literally in a Mafia series before. Also, he punched Pepper in Star in My Mind. My theory still stands.

Reason #5: “It was more intense than this”

In that instagram live they also dropped that a lot was cut from that scene and that it was supposed to be more intense than this. Uh, boys...? What kind of choreography did y’all on set come up with for this scene exactly??

(I can’t stop laughing at Dunk's face when he agrees with Joong saying that a lot was cut. He looks like he suddenly bit into a very sour lemon lmao)

In conclusion:

Clearly they had a lot of fun with the Dum Dum performance and it seems that they were very excited about getting to do something more mature with Hidden Agenda, and also getting the the chance to do something that they’ve “never done before” in ep8 specifically. So my point stands: I think they’d have a blast playing a sexy series together. I want it for them.

Bonus: Vampire BL

Bonus points if this sexy JoongDunk BL that I’m asking for is a vampire BL!! Here’​s why:

You can find a more extensive list of vampire mentions in my JoongDunk Vampire Mentions Masterpost here.

[vintagebunnies]

silver springs

rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader (daisy jones & the six au)

Corroded Coffin is in a desperate need for a new female lead, ready to change it up. Open auditions are held, people come and go, get turned away, until you eventually show up. (6.6k)

fem!reader, enemies to lovers, drug usage/mention, alcohol consumption, swearing, some angst, eddie’s a major douchebag! 18+ only!

chapter 1: rock ‘n’ roll suicide.

ཐི♡ཋྀ

Corroded Coffin was finally hitting it off. They were selling out stadiums and albums left and right, now known as one of the biggest thrash metal bands of the 90’s.

The boys never thought they’d get to this point, the highlight of rock ‘n’ roll. Having an opportunity to experience it all, being able to get the hell out of Hawkins without looking back. Girls practically fell at their feet, a huge difference from High School.

They don’t get strange looks anymore. Now if someone were staring at them, it would be because they were recognized out in public instead of degrading names and harsh glares. Getting gawked at by men and women alike.

Eddie had just finished writing a new song for their new album; Circle of Death.

Despite the harsh title, the songs were nothing of the sort. Eddie wanted to try diverging into something a little different. More softer.

Nothing too soft of course, as that would completely take away from their scene. But every metal band has done slower songs once, right?

The album was solely based around their lives as teenagers, lost love, and anything else someone’s mind can wander to. During the time Eddie spent planning and writing for this album, he basically isolated himself from everyone else. He wanted time to think things out thoroughly, making sure everything comes out properly and entertaining for their thousands of fans.

“Damn, he’s been in there for the past hour and a half,” Jeff stood in their studio, pacing and waiting for Eddie to get out of his daydream in the next room over.

“Think we should check up on him?” Gareth questioned.

“Yeah, he’s wasting time that we could’ve spent recording-“ Jeff was cut off by the sound of a heavy door slamming open.

“I finally finished this shit!” Eddie yelled with joy on his face.

“Jesus Christ!” Jeff jumped back.

Eddie barely paid any mind, grinning from ear to ear at his new song creation.

“What’s got you so happy?” Grant asked.

“Here, read it yourself,” Eddie handed Grant his notebook, a closed-mouth smile on his face.

Grant started reading it over, noticing all of the words that could’ve been but were erased. Eddie’s handwriting was almost hard to read, if the guys weren’t in the studio with him while he was jotting this down, they would’ve thought he was in a rush.

“Shit man, this is actually pretty good,” Grant handed the notebook over to Jeff who was reading over his shoulder. “Are you gonna make this a duet or somethin’?”

“Pfft, no,” Eddie snatched the notebook out of Jeff’s hands.

“Hey-“

“I’m perfectly capable of singing this myself,” Eddie closed the notebook shut. “I’ve done it before and I can do it again.”

“That’s actually a good idea Grant, maybe we should find someone to sing this with you,” Jeff suggested.

Eddie threw himself down on one of the plush velvet couches, tossing his notebook on the cushion right next to him. “What? One of you guys wanna sing a love song with me?”

“Of course I do, Eddie-bear,” Gareth joked, making kissy noises at Eddie. Eddie threw a pillow at Gareth’s head.

“No dude, I mean like-“ Jeff picked up the notebook, opening to the wrinkled page with the lyrics. “-what if we held auditions? I’m sure there will be plenty of girls lining up for the part.”

Eddie had his arms crossed over his chest, staring at Jeff. He must’ve been pondering the idea as he looked completely lost in thought. Eventually, he did speak up.

“What happens if we don’t find someone?” He argued.

“Then it’ll just be a solo song, but hey, we’re fucking rockstars now dude, we have to change it up somehow.” Jeff declared.

The other guys agreed, this new album was supposed to be different from their other albums, it was supposed to contrast to their usual songs.

“Okay okay, fine, but you’ll have to ask Jim about it ‘cus he might not even agree.” Eddie grumbled out.

There were cheers filtering throughout the room, it was usually more difficult to get through Eddie and get him to agree with something, but the guys had a point. They needed to branch out into different styles, it’ll attract larger crowds.

So that’s what they did.

—

The next day rolled around pretty quickly, Jeff had already gone to Jim with their current idea for this new song.

Jim was their manager, he managed their music, he had the majority of the say on the do’s and don'ts of their music. He was mostly pretty lenient with them though, he thinks that whatever idea they all collectively have and agree on is a choice they can make for themselves.

He didn’t want to entirely make all of the rules for the band, letting them choose their own decisions.

So when Jeff came to him with the duet idea, he thought it was actually a pretty great idea. They’ve never done duets of this sort before, so it was bound to be a tad peculiar for them to do, but not necessarily a terrible idea.

“Alright boys, pull your pants up, auditions are in an hour.” Jim walked into the trailer that the boys shared.

It was nothing like the trailer Eddie lived in growing up, this trailer was much larger and spacious. There were only two rooms in total, but these rooms weren’t cramped and were just enough to fit them.

Eddie jumped up at the sound of Jim’s voice reverberating off the walls, he had a look of confusion on his face and his hair was all mussed up.

“An hour?” Eddie questioned.

“Thanks for notifying us in advance, man.” Eddie mumbled sarcastically.

It didn’t take long for the boys to get ready anyways, but Eddie would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least the slightest bit against the idea. He didn’t tell them his doubts, but he didn’t think that they needed another singer to make the band ‘different’.

He thought they were all perfectly fine with where they were at, content with the normalcy.

When the band arrived at the studio, there was already a line of people waiting to be let in. The message about auditions was just sent out yesterday, but since they grew such a large fan base, it wasn’t hard for the word to get around.

“Look at all these people man!” Gareth said excitedly.

Everyone except for Eddie was excited. This was their chance of change and trying things out.

They decided that it was best to let one person in at a time, as letting everyone in at once would be total chaos and strenuous.

Eddie was sat in a hard plastic chair right in the middle of the other guys. He looked disinterested and frankly uncaring for what was happening.

Some people sounded decent and some just sounded absolutely awful. You could pinpoint who exactly only came here to get into bed with the band. The line for auditions was getting shorter and shorter by the minute, and not one person has caught their eye.

They had no clue what they were looking for, but they just wanted someone good. Someone who had potential.

As they were calling the last of the names on the list, Eddie’s ears perked up at the sound of your name. You weren’t quite a prominent figure in the scene, but anyone who was in a band at the time at least knew your name.

You were a singer-songwriter. Anytime you’ve tried to release your first album, with songs already written for, you were turned away or always had someone trying to change up your own music. You became infuriated at the disrespect, most record labels only did it because you were a woman, and thought ‘this sounds better for you’.

That was bullshit. You knew what was better for you, and it was everything you’ve already had in your little journal you keep in your purse at all times.

When you walked into the padded recording room, it’s like everyone’s eyes lit up.

It was almost like you just had this orange aura surrounding you, you looked a lot different then the wannabe rockers that stepped into the studio that day.

You had these large gold hoops that hung from your ears, bangle bracelets decorating your wrists and jingling with every movement, these extremely short cut off denim shorts that showcased your legs, and brown suede knee high boots on your feet.

It was like you time traveled from the 70’s to the 90’s, this is what the band needed. If they wanted change then hell, were they going to get it.

When you sang, you drew everyone to you, just like a siren's song. It was impossible for Eddie to keep his eyes off of you. There was a slight raspiness to your voice when you sang, but still a soft honeyed undertone.

Eddie looked over to the boys next to him, they must’ve been lured in too, as their eyes could not leave you. He could practically read their minds and their every waking thought just by the looks on their faces.

You sang just a small snippet of Janis Joplin's Move Over.

When you spoke, it broke the trance they were in.

“Was that good?” You had your hands on the bulky headphones sitting on your ears, a slight smile on your lips.

The boys shared a mutual look. They finally found someone for the duet.

What better person than someone who was an aspiring musician anyhow?

Eddie was the first person to give you an applause, the first applause today for that matter. The guys all joined in, giving you approving smiles.

“That was definitely the best performance we’ve seen all day,” Jeff announced.

The boys all agreed, voicing their satisfaction.

They all made their way to the recording room you were in to greet you. You were absolutely over the moon, this moment felt surreal to you, your own career as a musician would finally take off.

Eddie didn’t really say much, just staying quiet the whole time. He thought you did great, just as the others did, but he still wasn’t sure about the duet. He felt that having someone else singing with him would throw him off, it also didn’t help that he just could not keep his eyes off of you.

“So, I’m gonna guess the applause meant I did good?” You asked.

“Yeah, absolutely! That was fucking awesome,” Gareth said exuberantly. “How ‘bout you Eddie?”

“Uh, yeah, you did good.” He was short with his words, giving a tight lipped smile.

All you did was slightly nod your head to his response, looking around the room. You could feel the tension, you didn’t want to just barge in on an already formed band, but they did have auditions. You weren’t going to miss your only opportunity.

Jeff slapped Eddie’s bicep with the back of his hand.

“Ow man, what the fuck?”

“So, Jim! Whatcha think?” Jeff turned to Jim.

“Well, she had the only decent performance today. It’s up to you guys,” Jim already knew you were going to be chosen for the spot.

Everyone but Eddie verbally agreed that you were perfect for the song, you had the look and the voice for it. You weren’t sure what was up with Eddie and why he was so distant from everybody, but you just chalked it up to that he just wasn’t a social person and went on.

This was just the beginning.

—

When you got back to your apartment later that night, you were elated. Everything went well, you were officially going to be able to release your own music now. If the guys like the way you perform in the duet, they were willing to let you in the band permanently.

It was perfect, you were able to set the future for young girls who aspired to become a musician. Being able to be that prominent figure in the scene right next to Joan Jett and Stevie Nicks.

The first thing you did when you got back was chuck your shoes off. You felt drained from the day you had, but you couldn’t complain. All you could think about was unwinding.

Your apartment was small, there were no hallways, everything was connected and separated just by thin walls.

When you got to your bedroom, you opened your bedside table drawer and took out a small baggie, taking it with you into your tiny living room.

You emptied the crushed powder onto your coffee table, inhaling it up your nose in one go. The burn hurt wonderfully. Giving you enough reprieve for the rest of the night. Everyone told you this was a horrible addiction, but you’ve heard it all already. You know.

But you weren’t going to let someone else run your life. This is what you wanted.

Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll.

Meanwhile, back at the trailer that the guys shared, Eddie was the only one who was still awake. He was drinking straight from the whiskey bottle, chugging large gulps after one another.

Eddie didn’t do well with change, he had enough of it for a lifetime. He didn’t want to do it again, so that’s why he refused to welcome you to the band with open arms.

He knew you’d do good during the actual performance on stage. He also knew what would happen afterwards. You’d be an official member of Corroded Coffin. It didn’t feel right to him.

Corroded Coffin was formed by four teenage boys who were trying to escape reality. They always dreamed of getting where they’re at now, but Eddie didn’t think they’d ever have to make room in the band for one more.

His only solution was to drink all of his problems away. He’d feel numb enough to finally fall asleep. Just like you, a fleeting moment of reprieve.

Eddie downed the last drop of the alcohol, it felt like fire in his throat, but filling up an empty spot in his stomach. He eventually succumbed to his fatigue, falling into sleep.

—

It was a Monday.

Monday’s are known to be the worst day of the week, but for the band, they’d probably say it was the best day of the week. They’re now able to practice and record as many songs as they possibly can, preparing for the long week ahead.

Eddie wasn’t so enthusiastic today though. For the entirety of this new upcoming week, you’d be officially recording the duet with him. He had really nothing to say to you, but his attitude spoke volumes.

The guys even realized his brooding mood, not once smiling, cracking jokes, or overall enjoying himself while doing the thing he loves the most. You started to become frustrated. You weren’t sure of what you did to be on whatever hate list Eddie has. Hell, the man hasn’t even fully gotten to know you yet!

If he was going to be that way, well, so were you.

“I think this line should be sung a little softer, I don’t think the screamo works for the lyrics.” You suggested.

“Softer? What about this band looks soft?” Eddie retaliated.

The both of you were standing in the recording room, side by side with Eddie’s tattered notebook on a stand for you to both read from. Eddie had to sort out which lines you were going to sing, and what he’d sing.

“I’m jus’ saying, maybe your fans would enjoy the slight change,” You said with a smug grin. You were trying to lighten the mood, unaware that you were just pissing him off even more.

“Well those fans, became fans cus’ of the ‘screamo’ you speak of,” Eddie put up air quotation marks with his fingers. “Besides, I was the one who wrote the song, so therefore I get a say on how it gets sung.”

“I’m not singing it then.”

“What?”

“You heard me. You wanted a duet partner so you’re going to get a duet partner,” You placed your hands on your hips. “Sometimes you don’t always get what you want.”

“Excuse me? Do I have to remind you that you were the one who chose to show up to those shitty auditions?” Eddie’s brows furrowed. You could tell you pulled a nerve.

“Do I also have to remind you that you were the one who also agreed to bring me into this? Why complain when I’m right here?” You stood face to face with him now. “I am the solution to this duet! If you don’t like my requests then fine, tell me to leave.”

Eddie was looking down at you, anger in his eyes and all over his face. He was actually really beautiful when you could see him this close. His freckles were like constellations on his cheeks and his nose, bangs resting lightly on his forehead.

He didn’t say anything, just scoffed and turned back to the lyrics in front of him.

“Fine, but that’s it. You start changing up these lyrics and you’re on your own.”

You smiled, delighted that you got your way.

Your cute little smile just irked Eddie even more. He was never this easy to negotiate with, but you were right. He did agree on letting you in the band for this song.

The both of you got right to rehearsing, not needing anymore time to have a dispute over the theme of the song. But you couldn’t help to notice that every time you attempted to sing, Eddie would just sing right over you even louder.

“Y’know, it would be great if I could actually hear myself,” You placed your hand on the notebook to catch his attention.

“It’s not my fault you can’t sing any louder.” Eddie mumbled, it was so quiet you just barely missed it.

“I don’t know what the fuck crawled up your ass today, but I highly suggest you pick it out.” You said with more irritation laced in your tone.

Eddie didn’t even respond, just placed his guitar back on the stand and walked towards the door, completely abandoning you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You questioned.

“Going to pick that thing you mentioned out of my ass.”

He just opened the door to the room and walked out, joining the other guys who were mindlessly fiddling with their instruments.

“What the fuck!” The guys in the other room looked up after hearing your muffled yelling from the next room over. You were standing there in the room alone, arms up next to you to display your annoyance.

“What happened in there, man?” Gareth asked.

“Nothin’.” Eddie said while grabbing a water bottle, then throwing himself down onto one of the couches.

Everyone’s attention diverted over to you when the heavy door slammed against the wall, and you stood there with a scowl on your face. Eddie didn’t even pay you any mind, keeping his concentration on the water bottle in his hands.

“You’re just gonna walk out like that?! We have yet to get anything done!” You yelled, the sound of your bracelets clanking together with every movement.

“Yup.” He popped the ‘p’, still not looking at you.

“You stormed out of the room over a stupid comment, I don’t know how the hell you made it this far in this industry with your huge ass ego.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

Your response seemed to throw him off guard.

“Oh yeah, ‘cus my ego brought me to auditions for a band right? Hopin’ to make it big through someone else’s fame. Hoping that maybe the songs in my notebook will make it further than the same four walls of my room.” Eddie stood up after that, throwing the plastic bottle onto the cushions.

You were speechless. Embarrassed. You didn’t want the other guys to think you were using them to boost your own music, but Eddie made it loud and clear how he thought about you. You weren’t sure you could take anymore of his cold attitude.

“Fine. Have it your way then, good luck finding someone else who will deal with you, ‘cus I’m fucking done.” With that, you turned on your heels and gathered your stuff, making your way to the exit.

“Hey! Wait!” Jeff tried to get you to come back.

You ignored their protests to get you to turn around, slamming the door behind you leaving a resounding ‘thud’ through the room.

“What the fuck man!” The guys were all visibly pissed at Eddie, you were their only chance at change, and they felt like Eddie blew it for them all.

“Dude, do you realize how difficult it was to find someone in this city who was actually good?!” Gareth was equally just as upset.

“We’ll find someone else, it’s L.A. It’s not the end of the world.” That’s all Eddie said to them, following right behind you and leaving himself.

No one chased after him, letting him go figure out this mess on his own. They didn’t know why he was being such an asshole, he was usually never like this towards anyone. Always giving everyone a chance and the benefit of the doubt. But he just couldn’t make an exception for you.

—

It’s been days since the guys have heard from you, you went completely silent. If only they knew what was really happening.

Since that day, you’ve fallen in a complete catatonic state, shutting out the rest of the world around you. Everything was for once going your way, and now it just crashed and burned. Eddie absolutely humiliated you, and showed no remorse for doing so.

You found solace in a bag of quaaludes you found in your kitchen drawer, it was the only thing among other drugs that calmed your racing mind. Right now you laid haphazardly on your couch, staring up into the ceiling. The world was spinning, but that was normal. You took more than usual tonight, but nothing beyond the point than you’ve taken before.

You wanted nothing more than to punch Eddie’s beautiful face, maybe tell everyone who adored him how he really was. He was nothing more than a douchebag.

Fame must’ve fucked him up, made him grow some type of superiority complex. He tells the same sad story of his childhood to get sympathy from thousands of people, but behind closed doors he’s nothing more than a narcissistic douchebag.

The few pills you’ve taken weren’t enough, you needed something else to take your anger away. Something to calm you down more.

You stood up on shaky legs, staggering over to your kitchen holding onto the counters as you go. You grabbed the half empty bottle of whiskey from your counter, drinking straight from the bottle. Your hands were just as unstable as your legs, barely able to hold the glass bottle.

You made the trek back over to your living room, right before your legs decided that they didn’t want to work properly anymore, making you stumble over your own two feet and dropping the bottle. The glass shards slid everywhere, the brown liquid inside creating a puddle. At that point, all you wanted to do was curl up and sleep for the rest of your life.

As cautiously as possible to avoid getting glass up your foot, you crawled over the couch and face planted into the cushions. Hoping by the time you woke up, you’d be reoriented enough to function properly.

You woke up what felt like days later to a heavy hand banging on your front door.

“Go away.” Your scratchy voice yelled out.

The knocking just got louder, not showing any sign of stopping.

“I said, fucking go away!” You lifted your head from the cushions.

“It’s me. Jeff.” His voice was muffled from the barrier of the door.

Hearing his name, you shot up. You’ve been refusing to speak with them since the argument, wanting to stay as far from Eddie as possible.

You sobered up since a few hours ago, the world wasn’t spinning as much anymore, making it easier to stand up and walk. You made sure to keep a look out of the scattered glass, staying physically aware of furniture around you.

When you got to the door, you unlocked the locks on your flimsy door handle, opening the door just enough so that he’d see you and not get a peek at your apartment's current state.

“Hi.” Your throat burned.

You were sure you looked like a mess. Only wearing a tank top and a pair of panties. Your hair was most definitely all over the place, and your makeup was smeared all over your cheeks.

“Hey,” Jeff’s eyes lit up when you opened the door. “Jus’ wanted to check up on you, you haven’t returned our calls,”

“Oops, forgot to pay the phone bill.” You tried to joke, but no smile found its way on your face.

“Can we talk? I didn’t have a chance to fully speak with you after, y’know..” He scratched the back of his head, looking away briefly.

You laughed through your nose, “After Eddie was a dick to me? Yeah, kinda wanted to keep my distance.”

“Uhm, ignore the mess..” You mumbled while hastily sweeping up the broken glass shards. The majority of the whiskey had dried up, leaving a decent size stain in the wood flooring.

“Oh shit- Lemme help with that.” Jeff went and grabbed paper towels, wiping up whatever liquid was left.

The clutter of glass was quickly cleaned. You’d have to get a rug to cover the stain.

“Sooo, what did you want to talk to me about?” You turned to him, throwing yourself onto your tiny sofa and crossing your legs criss-cross.

“Everything, really,” Jeff chuckled. “I feel like we left off on a bad note. With Eddie freaking out and then walking out, I couldn’t really say much to you.”

You were picking at a loose thread on the couch.

“Listen, we would love you to be in the band. Fuck what Eddie says. It’s three against one, his word means nothing,” He leaned forward, his hands clasped together in front of him.

“Eddie didn’t have it easy growing up, so anyone new that comes in his life, he has this habit of just sabotaging himself and his image. He didn’t mean it.” He had sincerity in his eyes.

“Sometimes he’ll be that way, but it’s just Eddie. He never really opened up to us about anything that’s goin’ on in his head, but that’s ‘cus he’s scared of being ignored.” Jeff looked down to his hands. “Please don’t tell him that I told you this.” He looked back up at you.

You just laughed, leaning back onto the couch and drawing your knees to your chest.

“I had a shit life too, but you don’t see me goin’ around and being a total asshole to people.” You said.

“My mom only had me to make another man jealous, to show him that she can get laid and have another man’s baby. She never loved me. By the time I was fourteen? My mom was gone,” You hugged your arms around yourself. “She ran off with said man who she tried to make jealous.”

There was silence, tension even. It was so thick it was suffocating, no one said anything.

“To this day she refuses to talk to me, trust me, I’ve tried. But if there’s one way to get her to hear me, see me, it’s this. I wanna show her I made something of myself without her shit parenting.” Your brows were furrowed, anger infiltrated your mind at the mere thought of your mother.

Silence again. You looked up to Jeff to see if he was even listening, and there it was. He was looking at you with pity. You wish there was a rewind button so you could just turn back time and not say anything at all. Just keep quiet and let him think Eddie is the victim. You hated the pitying looks you’d get, the last thing you need is for someone to feel sorry for you.

You’ve experienced enough sorrow.

“Anyways, I’ll come back. Eddie’s not gonna run me out, he’s gonna deal with me whether he likes it or not.” You said, sitting up straight.

Jeff’s face just lit up, akin to a child’s face in a toy store. He stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Thank you, you won’t regret this. I promise you this time.” He replied, making his way to the front door. You stood up and followed right behind him.

“You can come back on Saturday, the weekends are less hectic and Eddie is less likely to blow up,” He turned around to look at you, hand on the doorknob.

“And.. I’m sorry about what happened with you and your mother,” He placed his hand on your shoulder. “You’re going to go far, Y/N.”

He gave you a small smile and left.

Those words will replay in your head for the rest of the night. Hell, probably for the rest of your life.

You’re gonna go far, you’re gonna shove it in your mothers face and tell her, ‘I did it’.

—

Saturday came very quickly.

Maybe you were trapped in your mind, but you were nervous. You felt like a kid going to a new school. You aren’t new, though. You’ve been here before, you’ve done this.

Walking into the studio granted you a little relief, Eddie wasn’t there yet. It was only Jeff, Gareth, Grant, and yourself. It was almost like a weight was lifted off your chest. Sure, maybe him arriving and you already being there was worse than getting there when he was here, but the guys aren’t going to let him boss you around.

“We’re so glad you’re back, it didn’t feel right without you here.” Gareth voiced.

“Let’s hope I don’t regret coming back.” You said with a smile.

A few minutes in, and all of the guys were conversing with you. It felt like you’ve known them for years. You were so deep in conversation that you didn’t notice Eddie walk through the door. He just stood there in the doorway, staring at you.

“What’s she doin’ here?” He questioned.

“She’s here ‘cus we need her, you know that.” Jeff replied.

Eddie just rolled his eyes and walked in, walking right to the recording room. “Well? We just gonna sit here, or are we gonna get shit done?” Eddie questioned bitterly.

“Yup.” You rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag that was resting on the ground and grabbing the pill bottle inside.

The small pills rattled around in the bottle. Your drug of choice today was Dextroamphetamine. Different from the usual quaaludes, but it was all you had in your bag currently and you knew you were going to need it.

You quickly popped a few of the pills into your mouth, swallowing them with ease. Dexies help you focus more, and maybe you’ll be more calm throughout rehearsing.

You hurriedly made your way to the live room, not wanting to fuel the fire that was already brewing inside Eddie.

“We’re gonna need to start over, since you probably don’t remember where we left off.” Eddie said emotionless, not even looking at you.

“I actually do remember where we left off, but we should start from the top anyhow. You were the one who stormed out.” You were quick with your response, not looking at him either.

“That’s funny, ‘cus I’m not the one popping pills.” He lowered his voice.

Your hand tightened around the mic stand you were holding. You weren’t going to respond to him, no matter what you said back it wouldn’t warrant a great reaction from him.

The guys walked into the room with big smiles on their faces, laughing and fooling around.

“You guys ready to officially start this!” Gareth yelled out.

Neither you or Eddie really replied, both murmuring out a quiet ‘mhm’. At that everyone immediately took their places; Gareth at the drums, Jeff at the bass, Grant at guitar, you and Eddie both doing vocals while Eddie has his guitar as well.

The song started out slowly, no need for heavy instruments. This song didn’t necessarily require anything heavy anyways, but it was still nice to keep a few of the thrash metal elements to the music, no matter how fast or slow the song was. You had the majority of the vocals, but Eddie had a few.

Things were just a little different this time. You weren’t expecting Eddie to let you off that easily, he only asked why you were here and that’s it. You felt that was a major upgrade from last time. But of course, it wouldn’t be Eddie if he didn’t ignore you most of the time.

You could tell he was trying his hardest to not make eye contact with you. You were able to feel him glancing at you, but whenever you made the move to turn your head and look at him yourself, he’d quickly turn away, putting his focus back into the written lyrics or his guitar.

By the end of the first half of practice, your throat hurt. Your voice had a raspiness to it from the strain, but it felt great. You were on cloud nine. Everything was finally falling back into place, you felt that high that you’d only get when you smoked weed and drank, even though you only took a few pills.

“Holy shit! That was fucking awesome!” Grant shouted out.

“Hell yeah it was! This rehearsal was so much better than last time!” Gareth yelled back.

It was time for a much needed break, everyone made their way back into the main room of the studio.

“What did you guys think of that?” You asked while sitting on the red velvet armchair, taking a small sip out of your bottled water.

“That was even better than your audition, dude! I mean, not that your audition wasn’t good, but this was like, hundred times fucking better!” Jeff exclaimed.

You giggled at his enthusiasm. Jeff reminded you of a brother you never had, you’d picture this is what having a brother would feel like. Even though you’ve known him for a total of a week, he treated you like you’ve known him for ages. Never once letting the awkwardness of meeting someone for the first time appear between you both.

“Maybe once this album gets debuted, we can record some of the songs I’ve written? We can release it as an album for the band as a whole,” You suggested.

Eddie looked up at you at that one.

“Already planning that far ahead?” He asked. “We have yet to even perform this one, why don’t you wait before jumping to something new?”

You scowled. “No need to get so uptight, it was just a suggestion.” You bit back. His attitude towards you has been hot and cold all day, sending out mixed signals constantly. You were never able to tell how he was actually feeling, one minute he acted like he liked you at least a little, then the next he acted as if you were the worst thing to walk this planet.

“I’m jus’ sayin’.” Eddie had a bored expression on his face, as if your existence was an inconvenience.

You just rolled your eyes, not interested in getting into another heated debate with him. You chugged half of your water bottle, knowing that once you leave the studio today you’d have to stop at the liquor store to buy another bottle of whiskey, or maybe something stronger.

“Okaaay you two! Maybe we should end break early today, we need to practice as much as we can.” Grant suggested.

Jeff and Gareth both agreed, Eddie only nodding in response. You didn’t really care for the break, wanting to take up as much practice as you can.

Walking into the recording room was less exciting as it was before, it seems like Eddie ruined the mood once again with his comments towards you.

“Maybe we should find a certain part of the song to focus on, there’s some parts we need to fix,” You offered. Eddie seemed to hate that idea, as he scoffed.

“I thought the guys sounded fine, so I’m not sure what parts need fixing.” Eddie responded. The statement wasn’t outright rude, but it was just the tone in his voice that set you off. As if he was suggesting you were the problem.

“I don’t know, you wrote the lyrics, so you tell me.”

“It’s definitely not the lyrics, maybe it’s the person who’s singing them.”

“Okay, I get it. We left on a bad note last time, but I still don’t understand why you’re always such a bitch to me. I have done nothing to you!” You threw your hands in the air.

“How the fuck am I supposed to get anything done when you’ve had this, I don’t know, two-faced attitude towards me,” You were fuming at this point, you didn’t care the guys were watching. “One minute you seem fine with me being here, maybe even enjoying my presence, and then the next minute you’re just- you’re- an egotistical prick!”

“Let’s not do this. We gave you a second chance, you’re lucky you’re even back here. We have shit we have to get done.” Eddie surprisingly showed no want in arguing, but you knew deep down he’d love nothing more than to get under your skin. But you also didn’t want to argue. But you also couldn’t stand him shutting you out and trying to silence you.

“This is what I fucking mean.” Your response was less fierce. The ongoing back and forth between you two was tiring, it was getting hard to keep up with, and you’ve only been here for a day and a half.

You just sighed and turned your attention back to the sheet music. You knew when to continue fights and when to stop them, and in this moment it was best to just let it go for now. Mainly for the sake of the others, not Eddie.

The rest of rehearsal was a bit rocky, some pauses here and there and sharp glares exchanged between you and Eddie. You made sure you stopped to grab another bottle of whiskey before heading home for the night.

Next week was going to be a long, long week.

ཐི♡ཋྀ

[nobodysdaydreams]

Crack/Crangst idea you want to share?

Once again, a perfect anon, because in anticipation of Star Wars Day, my brain came up with a crack Star Wars AU and now I have an excuse to share it (it’s more crack than Crangst, but I hope you like it!)

This crack au features Anakin and Palpatine as semi-problematic grandparents in an au where Anakin never turns, but Palpatine is never discovered and keeps evilly plotting and cloning himself a son while Anakin and Padme raise their family together. Eventually, Anakin and Padme become grandparents to Ben and Palpatine becomes Rey’s problematic boomer grandpa who shows up at his son’s house on Jakku holidays in order to try to bribe is granddaughter with presents to get her to join the darkside.

Details of this AU include the following in no particular order:

Palpatine cloning himself a son and asking everyone not to question who the boy is or where he came from

Anakin and Padme congratulate Palpatine on his son. Even though Palpatine is fuming because his son is powerless but of course Anakin’s children are some of the most powerful in the galaxy, he has to pretend to be a good father, for the sake of public appearances. He’s really bad at it.

Palpatine initially plans on naming his son “clone attempt 53” or something until his advisors tell him it will look bad if he doesn’t give his son an actual name. Palpatine lazily picks the first name he thinks of and then forgets it and continuously calls his son by the wrong name.

Palpatine’s adult son has to give his dad multiple talks about boundaries and why he shouldn’t be telling his ten-year-old granddaughter Sith legends as bedtime stories

Palpatine (reading a bedtime story to five year old Rey): “Tell me child, have you ever heard of the tragedy of Darth Plageuis the wise? It’s not a story your weak and powerless father would tell you.”

Rey’s Father (yelling from the hallway): “Dad, you know I can hear you, right?”

When it comes to Rey, Palpatine is thrilled that his creepy evil Sith experiments FINALLY created a grandchild with the power he desires, only to discover that power comes with a force bond to, you guessed it, another Skywalker. (Palpatine’s hatred for the Skywalker family grows with every passing generation he fails to turn to the dark side).

Han would for sure make a comment about Sheev being old and say something like “isn’t it weird this guy never seems to die even though he was like super old when Anakin was a kid? And how does he randomly have a son? Where did that guy even come from?” These comments drive Palpatine crazy, but Han is Leia Organa (or Leia Skywalker in this AU)’s husband so he gets away with it. (Also Han regularly almost exposes Palpatine’s plans by making casual jokes. This is not on purpose, Han has no clue what’s going on, and he just sort of roams around the senate building while his wife is in meetings causing trouble and speaking out of turn without a care in the world, but Palpatine grows weary of him and constantly has to change his plans because he thinks Han must be onto him but really Han is just snooping around cause he’s bored).

To Palpatine’s utter disappointment, Rey loves the Jedi. An elderly Anakin specifically takes her under his wing, as she reminds him of a young Ashoka. Plus they both grew up in poverty on a desert planet (because Rey’s dad moved out as soon as he could) so I think they’d have a lot to talk about. I can see Anakin showing up to Luke’s Jedi school specifically to take the kids on fun and dangerous missions and Luke can’t say anything against it because it’s his own dad doing this. I like to imagine Anakin and Rey, impulsive little sand orphans that they are, running around on Jedi missions getting messy and ruining their clothes while Padme and Ben (who would bond over their love of fashion and dramatically stylish capes) always look like they’re trying to be on the cover of a fashion magazine. Also you can’t tell me Padme wouldn’t dress her little grandson, baby Benny, up in the cutest little outfits.

Little Ben, Finn, and Rey go to Jedi training together and Palpatine tries his best to get Rey to spill secrets on Luke and his other students to figure out how to turn them. He teaches her to use force lightening and tries to get her to use it against her classmates but instead Rey teaches her new trick to her friends, who accidentally zap Palpatine in the face. He is not amused. Han accidentally makes jokes about his appearance at a senate meeting in front of a microphone that was left on.

In a last ditch desperate effort to get his apprentice, Palpatine invites himself to Luke’s Jedi school, and when Luke is distracted, he tries to bribe Ben, Rey, and Finn into joining the dark side using the promise of things kids like, including toys and candy. He tried the same thing with Luke and Leia when they were young and it fails both times

There is a point where everyone (eventually) figures out Palpatine is evil, but by then, Palpatine is so old and out of it, it doesn’t really matter. There’s one time where he dramatically tries to stand up and take the energy from Rey and Ben’s force bond at a family party, but then his old man knees give out and he topples over and falls asleep in his chair. I’m not much of a Reylo shipper, but I do think it would be funny if he tried this during the objections portion of their wedding and Poe and Finn have to awkwardly and uncomfortably escort him out like wedding bouncers. I also think it would be funny if during this he yelled something like “Fools! I am all the Sith!” or “You will find that it is YOU who are mistaken!” or “Stand together… die together!” with zero context and shoots forth the teeniest weakest little flash of force lightening he can muster and everyone just writes him off as being an old person who’s starting to lose it.

Might add more later but I hope this finds its target audience.

[sleepingdeath-light]

relationship hcs ; timekeeper cookie

requested by ; anonymous (12/07/23)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; timekeeper cookie

outline ; “Hey there can you do dating timekeeper cookie headcanons!!”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

their love language is affectionate bullying — they always seem to have some sort of teasing remark or joke on their lips whenever they see you — but they have also been known to take you on the most unfathomably amazing dates whenever you’re free for them to take you (though they could just make the time themselves but they tend to respect your space when it comes to your schedule)

they always bring you trinkets, moments and gifts from their travels through time — be that something small that caught their eye or something more significant that they knew you’d love

amongst this amassed collection are: a large array of signed first editions of your favourite classical novels, cuttings of plants that have since gone extinct, clothes from your favourite periods of fashion (all custom tailored to your proportions, of course), films and other entertainment based media from the future (along with the tech needed to engage with them) and a number of small statues/figures, toys and jewellery

they rarely ever actually use your name and will instead make use of a large rotation of increasingly bizarre pet names — some from the forgotten past, some from the future and others of their own design that they felt suited you for whatever reason

they’re not the most physically affectionate person, but they won’t brush you off or turn you away if you lean your head against their shoulder or reach for their hand — they’re not touch-averse or ashamed of you, either, it’s just not something that comes naturally to them

when you’re feeling down they try and lift your mood by bringing you along to see what they deem as the most beautiful moments in time: the birth of the universe, the explosions of supernovae, the ocean when it’s freshly teeming with new life in the cambrian and more — just because they’re desensitised to it all doesn’t mean that you are, and they take full advantage of that fact

timekeeper will never admit this to you, but they’ve loved you for far longer than you’ve existed — having met first you in the far future when you were already taken with them and immediately having gone back to meet you for the ‘first time’ properly

they didn’t want to spoil anything else for themselves and it’s because of this that your relationship is the one thing that they avoid looking into when they travel forwards — they want to experience it with you, not be left looking beyond the now and leave you resentful in their wake

they sleep as stiff as a board and snore quite loudly, but if you cuddle up to them they’ll get this peaceful smile on their face and they’ll get ever so slightly quieter (but even then it’s like sleeping next to a muffled freight train)

protective to a fault and they have been known to obliterate anyone who might intend to cause you or your relationship harm — be that someone who was or was considering flirting with you, or someone who was or was going to become a threat to your physical well-being

they enjoy going on adventures with you and having fun — loving the sound of your laughter more than anything else — but they’ve also grown to appreciate the slow peace of domestic life, something they’d loathed before you

and even still they do prefer excitement — they’re just much more willing to set aside their thrill-seeking in order to spend that bit more time by your side

[winns-stuff]

LO RANT:

You know what I just realized? The rant I did for Persephone about her trauma can actually be said for Hades. I know what you’re thinking, “what are you talking about a big chunk of that section was speaking on how Hades’ trauma is treated better than Persephone’s!” which I’m not denying since I did state that, but I only really meant the Kronos stuff that Hades has been suffering through every other season. I’m talking about the relationship with Minthe and Hades.

Listen as much as I relate to and adore Minthe’s character I won’t ever lie or disregard that she was a shitty partner. They both were of course but no one has the right to put their hands on another person and shout all types of insults at them, no matter how much I hate Hades I’m not going to defend stuff like that. But with the presence of his very toxic relationship I think we were genuinely robbed of the effects that it had on him in the long run. We never got to see his thoughts completely and we didn’t get to see how it affected his everyday life, each time there was a toxic panel of Minthe and Hades we got transitioned to the next happy uwu romance scene like nothing ever happened. I’ve never been in a toxic relationship before but I have been through many platonic relationships that were utterly terrible, I know it’s not the same thing nor is it comparable but it’s the only thing I can really speak on that sorta correlates in some way. But toxic relationships, especially those that last a very long time, do indeed affect you and your behaviors you start limiting your emotions and stop doing things that the person you were in that relationship with dislikes. You change yourself entirely since you want to make something out of the scraps that they chose to give you and you’re forced to conform to their ways because you’re under this guise that they care about you and you deceive yourself by giving yourself the comforting thought that “they’d never do this to me” or “we’re friends/lovers so they didn’t mean it” or even “I deserve this treatment.”

These emotions and thoughts could’ve been easily explored during the Minthe arc since especially being a man and being a victim of mistreatment is rare in the media with romantic relationships. This could’ve been a great exploration of mental health issues with men and how getting their feelings and traumas validated should be respected and welcomed within our society, the things that Hades faced would’ve probably reflected that of other experiences that other people faced within similar relationships and it would’ve been a good door for representation for male abuse survivors. But sadly, all of that got overshadowed by the building and foreshadowing of Kronos and Persephone coming into Hades’ life to be the better woman and “heal” him instantly.

Did we see pieces of how Hades was effected by Minthe and the trauma it left him with? Yes, but the thing is we only saw it while we were gathering evidence for Minthe to be season 1’s villain and it felt like it was there for drama only. After Minthe slapped Hades and bruised him no one else should’ve put their hands on one another, I hated how this very serious moment got played for jokes and giggles throughout the comic when it’s obvious that the narrative was trying to argue against stuff like that. I don’t understand why Hades had to immediately be lovey dovey with Persephone as well, something like that happens to you I’m sure the very last thing you’d be worried about is a girl you met a few days ago that you started having feelings for. Maybe instead of that Hecate and Hades had a moment so that he could be properly comforted and talked to in a gentle manner (no I’m not saying use a baby voice or anything but just be a friend??) which would’ve been very powerful and empowering since a lot of men’s traumas do not get validated by others because of the “be a man” stigma. Showing people that men deserve to be sheltered and cared for like a normal human being, especially after something traumatic happened to them, would’ve been adding onto the theme of mens mental health.

Instead of that though we have Hades going over to Hera’s house and seeing Persephone after she lured him outside. Now listen, I understand that maybe he was trying to distract himself from the situation or even trying to forget about it in some way but throughout that whole time Hades never even mentioned or thought about Minthe. He got assaulted physically and a girl he barely knows keeps on touching him and getting close and personal without his content. It would be pretty stressful to deal with and it could’ve went to showcase how much damage this stuff does to people. Abuse is not just something you can forget about entirely to the point it doesn’t exist, you can try but like all trauma it’ll always be there and that’s what Lore Olympus gets wrong every time. They make something traumatic happen with the two characters and only ever validate it to either use it as drama, a plot, or to have a cute moment. And that’s entirely fucked up.

I don’t like how Lore Olympus used Hades being mistreated in his relationship as some one up. “I’m so much better than you because I don’t put my hands on people!” amazing I’m so glad that Persephone is a decent human being but why is that even in the whole “better woman” thing. It’s just weird how they’re using that as some crutch instead of giving the situation the respect it deserves. No one should be putting their hands on anyone and that shouldn’t be something that makes you better that should just be common decency. Same could be said with the whole Hades vs Apollo thing, it’s just depressing honestly that that’s being used as some sort of badge even though the comic should be trying to normalize it. These are normal things, no one should be doing any of that stuff to other people it’s sick and utterly deranged. Stop rewarding the bare minimum.

Anyways, that’s all I really have to say. It’s disappointing that it was used as a way to make a cute uwu moment and I hate how they glamorized it almost immediately after moving on completely. But I’m not surprised since it happens all the time.

[bbutterflies]

Happy halfway through @ninovember! Chemistry with him is still updating daily over on ao3, but day 16's chapter is one of my favorites, if not my absolute favorite, and it mostly works as a standalone so I wanted to share it here.

I'll be posting daily on ao3 for the rest of the month! There's a lot of super cute fluff in store ���

Read chapter 16 (Love song) below the cut

The practice rooms in the music building were a nice place to study, Nino had realized. It was quiet, and no one ever bothered him, and he could spread his stuff out across the floor and get comfortable. Especially when he stayed late, like he did today, and it meant he wasn’t hogging the rooms. He was pretty sure he was the only one here right now, so he didn’t feel bad sitting on the floor and working on his chemistry homework.

(He was resisting the urge to text Adrien for help, because he knew he’d instantly get distracted.

His phone was across the room, silenced.

Unfortunately.

He’d much, much rather be talking to Adrien than doing chemistry homework. Or just about anything else.)

He spent a lot of time with Adrien as it was. They found time to spend together most days, even if it was just lunch or walking to class together. When Adrien didn’t have to work, they’d do dinner or Nino would stay over, but Adrien was so busy it didn’t always happen. Which was fine, obviously, and Nino would be more than happy with any time he got, but he would also be happy to spend every moment of every day with him.

Adrien was just so easy to be with. Even in public when Nino had to keep his distance, he’d still rather be with Adrien than anywhere else. He loved his smile, and his stupid laugh, and how focused he got when he studied, and all of his terrible jokes. He loved kissing him but he loved just falling asleep watching TV together just as much. He was maybe in love with him, but definitely at least falling for him, and he wasn’t worried about that. He knew something about Adrien was different than anyone else he’d ever met. Adrien felt like forever, and usually something so permanent would be terrifying – but Adrien was a comfort. The thought he’d always be around was soothing more than anything.

Nino could almost imagine a future that did always have Adrien, and he liked it.

He turned his attention back to his homework with a sigh. He probably would’ve been more productive if he’d just met up with Adrien. He was distracted just thinking about him, but if he were here, he’d keep them both on track. He was responsible like that, and Nino could never tell him no, so when he said he was actually going to work, they did work.

It was cute, if a little annoying when Nino just wanted to kiss him.

He heard a knock at the door to the practice room and glanced up in time to see it open. It was Adrien, like he’d heard Nino’s thoughts, and Nino was thrilled to see him. “Hey! What are you doing here?”

Adrien shrugged as he came inside, shutting the door behind him. “I missed you. Thought I might find you here. Mind if I join you?”

“Of course not.” Nino was happy to have the company.

Adrien sat down next to him, leaning against his shoulder. “What are you working on?”

“Our stupid chemistry homework, believe it or not,” Nino said. “I’ve been at it for a while.”

Adrien looked over his notes. “You’re missing a bond on that carbon.” He took Nino’s pencil and corrected his drawing. “And then you’ll have the right number of electrons on the nitrogen. That should make things easier.”

“This is why I shouldn’t do this without you.”

“Dating me just for my chemistry knowledge?” Adrien teased.

Nino laughed, bumping his shoulder. “It’s one great perk.”

Adrien hummed, looking around the room. His eyes landed on the piano, situated in the corner of the room. “I didn’t know they had pianos down here.”

“Yeah, some of the practice rooms have them.”

Adrien stood up and walked over to it. He ran his fingers lightly across the keys, not hard enough to play any notes. “Do they keep this tuned?” he asked as he sat down in front of the piano.

“I think so. Do you play?”

“A little.” Adrien’s hands rested over the keys. “Come sit with me?”

Nino was happy to ignore his homework. He set his things aside and squeezed onto the bench next to him, and then Adrien played.

It wasn’t anything Nino recognized. It started off slow, a little simple, a few basic chords under an easy melody. Adrien’s hands danced over the keys. It was clear this was something he was familiar with, something he’d done a lot, by how easily he played. He was smiling as the song built, adding onto the phrases until Nino almost couldn’t believe it was just one person playing.

It was beautiful. It was perfect. Adrien was, obviously, an expert. He didn’t miss a single note as he played, and he didn’t seem to be struggling at all. It looked easy. It sounded incredible.

Nino never wanted Adrien to stop playing. He could listen to his music and watch him at the piano for hours. Days, probably. He never knew Adrien could play the piano like this, and now that he’d found out, he was absolutely enamored. He’d have to invite Adrien to the music building more often.

Adrien’s song did inevitably come to an end, much to Nino’s dismay. They sat in silence for a second or two before Nino found his words again.  “You said you play a little. Liar,” he teased. “You’re amazing.”

“I don’t really play that much anymore,” Adrien said. “I did a lot when I was younger.”

“That was incredible. What song was that?”

Adrien shrugged. “Just… something. Just for you.”

“You… you just came up with that? Just now?” Nino asked in awe.

Adrien nodded like it was nothing, fingers grazing over the keys again. “Yeah. I used to like to do that.”

“Wow, Dri.”

Adrien glanced over at him again. “Dri?”

The nickname had just sort of slipped out, but Nino liked it for him. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah. Definitely. I liked it a lot.” Adrien smirked. “We make such a great pair. I write love songs for you, and you come up with cute nicknames for me.”

Nino would’ve laughed – he would’ve – but… “Love songs?” he asked.

“Yeah. If that’s okay,” Adrien said softly. “It… it was. A love song, I mean.”

Oh.

A love song could mean a lot of things. It was too early, really, for Nino to say it, but… he liked the idea of that. He liked the idea of really loving Adrien. So a love song was okay. It was definitely okay. It was more than okay.

“Play me another?” Nino asked.

Adrien smiled, and he did. He played for a while, flowing between songs Nino recognized and songs he didn’t. It was clear he’d had real training, classical training, from the songs he played, and it was clear he’d trained a lot from how easy it all seemed to be.

Nino was in awe, and it only made him like Adrien that much more.

Eventually Adrien did stop, his hands leaving the piano to wrap around Nino’s shoulders instead. Nino snaked his arms around Adrien’s waist. “This is way better than doing my homework.”

Adrien laughed, hugging Nino close. “I can’t believe I’m being the bad influence.”

“It’s so unlike you,” Nino mused.

“Well, if I am being a bad influence… want to come over to my place?”

“Absolutely.”

“But we have to finish our homework.”

Nino groaned, lifting his head to pout at Adrien. “That’s no fun. You’re so responsible.”

Adrien brought his hand to Nino’s cheek, cupping it gently. His hand was warm and soft against Nino’s skin. “But, beau,” he said softly, “I can’t be your hot tutor if you fail out of chemistry.”

Nino hummed, pretending to mull it over. “You make a good point.”

“Of course I do. And I really want to pass chemistry.”

“All this talk about chemistry is really killing the mood,” Nino whined.

“You don’t think chemistry is sexy?” Adrien asked.

“Ew. No.”

“What? Not even atomic orbitals?”

“No!” Nino said, trying to pull away from Adrien, but Adrien wrapped both arms around him again and held him close. Nino laughed as he tried to fight back. “Adrien!”

“Hmm, oh, what about chair conformations?”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Nino laughed, still trying to wiggle his way out of Adrien’s grasp.

“What? I’m clearly failing you as a tutor. We learned that last week.”

“Guess I need more lessons.”

“Clearly.” Adrien adjusted his grip on Nino, arms sliding lower, and Nino could barely process what was happening until Adrien stood up and had managed to wrangle Nino over his shoulder. Nino laughed, knowing he was helpless to fight now but trying to escape anyways.

“What are you doing?” Nino asked through his laughter.

“Taking you home,” Adrien said sternly, “to do homework.”

“No,” Nino whined, still struggling in Adrien’s arms. “That’s so boring.” He managed to (or, well, Adrien let him) wriggle down until he was settled in front of him, legs wrapped around Adrien’s hips and Adrien’s hands under his thighs to support him. Adrien was smirking back at him, teasing, and Nino really just wanted to kiss him for the rest of the night. “How’d you get so strong?” Nino asked as his hands settled on Adrien’s shoulders.

“I do this crazy thing called going to the gym,” Adrien said with his usual dangerous smirk. “What, you like it?”

“Yes,” Nino breathed, and he captured Adrien’s mouth in his before he could make another stupid joke.

Nino loved kissing Adrien, and he was pretty sure he’d never be able to get enough. It was different to kiss him like this, with Adrien holding him up, but he liked it. He was pretty sure he’d like anything if it came along with kissing him, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that.

“Hmm, I think you’re right,” Adrien murmured as he broke away.

“About?”

“We shouldn’t do homework tonight.”

Nino kissed him again – as thanks, and in celebration. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

“You made a very convincing argument. But, I don’t know if I’m totally convinced.”

“You’re such a dork,” Nino laughed. “You could just ask me to kiss you. You know I would.”

“This is more fun.”

It was more fun. Nino was happy to play along. “What’ll it take to convince you?”

“I don’t know,” Adrien said thoughtfully. “Maybe a lot.”

“Dork,” Nino teased, but he was leaning in to kiss him again.

[letsgoplayhighfive]

Supernova - A Gandrew One-Shot

Garrett loves his new apartment for a multitude of reasons.

Most of those reasons, he knows, naturally come down to Andrew. As most things do.

(A silly little Gandrew story, written in three long, late sessions. Cross-posted on Ao3, which you can find here. A huge thank you to @lmnsdtexe, who inspired, proof-read, edited, and kept me on track to actually finish this fic. I genuinely couldn't have done it without them.)

Garrett loves his new apartment for a multitude of reasons.

Really, he does- the comments he’d off-handedly thrown towards the camera about it being a mistake or a bad idea were just bluffs to get a few laughs. In reality, he thinks taking the place for his own was probably the best thing he’d managed to do in years. No joke.

It’s old, the floors creak, the doors are thin and the walls even thinner, and of course it’s also extravagantly haunted, but all of those things just add the exact kind of character Garrett loves. He can’t imagine himself anywhere else in Spokane anymore. His uncle's house is a great place to crash- don’t get him wrong -but the feeling in this charming little building is unlike anything he’s ever experienced before, and likely something he won’t be able to recreate anywhere else.

He’s also grateful to have the memories there, as few of them as there are, so cross-linked with Andrew. He doubts he’ll ever forget that road trip, all 20 hours of it, and while they’d both ended up delirious and exhausted deep in their bones, he looks back on it with a soft and warm fondness that is reserved for Andrew and Andrew alone. He elevates anything that Garrett is doing, even if it’s something as mundane as getting Starbucks, and everything always feels brighter when the two of them are together. So, naturally, he brings Andrew along to most places, and Andrew never seems to mind. Even if it is his terminally haunted home. Even if that home does scare the shit out of both of them on a regular basis. Things never feel quite as scary when Andrew is there, anyway, and Garrett only hopes he feels the same way about him. 

Garrett is there to visit his niece for her birthday, still in awe at how fast time is passing and how old everyone is getting. Of course he’d sprung an invite on Andrew at the last minute and of course Andrew had also agreed at the last minute, so now they’re in his new living room, trying to ignore the strange little creaks and ticks coming from different angles around them.

The place has started to fill in with various Garrett-isms. The Xena poster from his 90’s room is up by the front door, a sword is mounted behind the TV, and Peter B. Parker has somehow found his way from Garrett’s truck up to the apartment windowsill. There’s a new spice rack in the kitchen, and he's picked out a set of vintage-looking barstools with Andrew from Wayfair that sit pulled up to the ledge separating the rooms. It’s slowly becoming a home around him, his home, and when Garrett thinks back to the first time they’d stepped inside together he can almost feel emotion tightening up his chest and clogging his throat. 

Because yes, the place is his- It’s his name on the paperwork, now, after all -but it’s also so very much Andrew’s, too. Enough so that it holds the same (if not more) associative intensity as the Beehive. They’ve picked out almost every piece of furniture in it together, and Andrew is still regularly sending Garrett links to various pieces he thinks will be a good match. It’s domestic. It’s perfect. Garrett savours every second of it.

There’s a bottle of wine on the coffee table in front of him- which is less of a table and more of an antique-looking chest he’d thrifted and lugged in the back of his pickup from L.A. -and while it’s just a cheap-shit Merlot it’s still their favourite and they buy three bottles at a time to keep the stash going. Two pizza boxes rest on the floor by their feet, picked apart and empty, only still there because neither are bothered enough to actually throw them away tonight. Some things just wait until morning, and pizza boxes are usually one of those things. 

They’d spent a good hour clicking through Netflix, then Prime, then Paramount, then HBO, and when they still hadn’t found something they felt like watching, Garrett had gotten up from the loveseat and found his speaker and suggested just putting some music on and going from there. Andrew had agreed, of course- and now he’s staring at his Spotify, scrolling through their playlist (collaborative, because they send each other so much music it starts to get confusing) with his brow furrowed just slightly and his free hand balancing the stem of his wine glass between his fingers. There’s a fireplace ambiance video on the TV, and the red-orange-yellow colours only serve to make Andrew look even better, adding more warmth to his skin and his hair and the flash of his smile.

Garrett takes a slow sip from his own glass, silently observing, face quirked up into a grin (and when is it not, when Andrew is concerned?). The ghosts and ghouls are mostly forgotten between them, especially with the bottle of wine half-drained, and a lot of it is just played off as the sounds the place just makes - as if it’s normal and expected and fine. And hey, he hasn’t been stabbed or shoved or possessed yet, so he figures it’s not too far from the truth. Whatever is in here, at least upstairs, seems like it doesn’t really mind either of them. It makes Garrett happier about the apartment, honestly, because there's a chance that ghosts get lonely and maybe them being there is helpful, not harmful, like he’d been scared it would be.

Andrew hums a little sound of confirmation, finally selecting a track, and the sounds of a Drake song start slowly rising from the portable speaker between them. They don’t have it too loud, at least trying to be respectful at the hour of 3:00 AM and not disturb the actual living and working people that call this place home, too. 

“ This is what I’m talking about, baby, yeah!” Andrew says, half-sarcastically, as the bass to ‘Fire and Desire’ comes in, thrumming low atop the chest-table. He discards his phone on the little stretch of cushion between them, letting it slip carelessly from his fingers. His head bobs slightly to the beat as he takes his own sip of wine, almost drained. 

Garrett watches the show from the other end of the loveseat, propping his tired and swimming head up with one hand, elbow pressed into the backrest, creasing into brown leather. He laughs, a little deliriously, more of a high-giggle than anything else. Andrew had just finished playfully shading him for the Mariah Carrey he played previously- though they’d still listened to the whole thing, and teasing aside, Garrett still doesn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed, like so many others have made him feel before. With Andrew it’s always just good and not much else.

Garrett tips his head back a little, looking at the speckled and slightly yellowed ceiling above them, wetting his mouth with the last sip of wine in his glass. He feels almost overwhelmed in this moment, in this slow and perfect little accumulation of good decisions, inside this unpoppable bubble with Andrew that they’ve built for themselves, one brick and stone and weird little stuffed animal at a time. The gratefulness presses against his chest, behind his ribs, and it feels ready to burst out of him. Garrett has a personal rule that he takes quite seriously- that if he has something nice to say it’s always better to say it than to refrain, so he does.

“Andrew, man- This is so cool. Sorry, like, the hardest and sappiest sidebar ever, but,” Garrett looks back down, reaching to set his empty glass aside with a gentle little clink, scanning his eyes around his living room that really feels more like their living room. “C’mon, this is just, y’know, only the most perfect thing ever.”

Andrew nods, tipping back the rest of his own drink, too, reaching across for the bottle to top them both up. Garrett watches as he takes extra care to make them both filled to the exact same line. 

“I mean, besides the horrifying basement ghost, yeah- no, this place is really coming together, when are we starting our, uh… decorating business? Interior design, or whatever.” He says with a waggle of the fingers on his free hand, leaning back into the loveseat, still bobbing subtly to the beat.

Garrett waves his own hand dismissively, shaking his head. “Not just the stuff, Andrew, though thank you because I think you told me about, like, at least half of the things in here. You would definitely run the business, obviously- but I’m the boy with the truck so don’t think you can just buy me out! The Camry can’t hold furniture, you need me!” 

Andrew laughs gently, and it’s as bright and bubbly and intoxicating as ever. Garrett joins him, even though he can feel his heart beat a bit harder in his chest, and he has to swallow the familiar ache in his throat. It’s nothing new to him, and he prides himself at how good he’s gotten at skimming over it and enjoying what he does have, rather than what he never will.

“No, I mean everything. This place is sick, yeah, straight fire even-” Garrett starts, a chuckle in his voice, and Andrew interrupts him with a single lifted finger.

“Lit, you could say.” Is all he adds, struggling to keep a straight face.

“ Lit, yeah, exactly bro,” Garrett responds, slipping easily into his straight-boy character, but only briefly- he really does intend on saying what he means, here, typical derailment be damned. “But also, y’know, look at us! We’ve done so much cool stuff together, and I’m just so damn grateful, man. Thank you, Andrew, for being here, even though most of the time it is absolute insanity.” 

When he settles his eyes on Andrew, he’s looking back at him, now, too. His eyes are crinkled into a smile, and even though they’re red and tired, there’s so much warmth in them that Garrett almost feels taken aback by it. Sometimes he wonders how he even has enough space in his chest for how much he adores Andrew. The thought stings like lemon in a papercut, but he shakes it off.

Andrew shrugs a shoulder, always playing it casual. He huffs a little through his nose, his smile ticking upwards another notch, like he's just thought of something funny that for once Garrett isn’t in on.

“I mean, yeah, it’s been insane, but- but good insane, like- I don’t know, dude, without any of this,” He responds, gesturing to the room around them, finishing by shaking his hand at Garrett, right at him. “I think I’d be insane by now. Bad insane.”

Garrett hums in agreement, nods, tries not to look into things too deeply. 

“Quarantine.” Garrett says simply, raising his eyebrows.

“ Quarantine, exactly, what would we have done? ” Andrew says back, and he’s laughing again, and Garrett wants to, too, but he can’t quite manage more than a little chuckle to cover up his silence. He wonders if Andrew will ever know what those months together really mean to him, and his brow furrows just a touch, inhibitions washy from the alcohol. 

Garrett copes by lifting his wine again, taking a deep swallow, trying to spread out the warmth behind his eyes. 

Andrew considers his own glass for a moment, swirling it gently, ever-careful not to spill a drop over the side onto Garrett’s (their) new furniture. He blinks down at it, and his smile slips, just a touch, matching Garrett’s own. 

There’s something different in the air now, all of a sudden. Garrett isn’t quite sure what to make of it, of the expression on Andrew’s face, the way the silence is dragging on between them in such a strange, alien way, interrupted only by the sound of another Drake song rolling over on the speaker. 

“You ever-” Andrew starts, and pauses. It’s jarring, really, and Garrett almost jumps at the sound of his voice. His smile is gone, now, and he’s second-guessing himself, Garrett knows. He can know a lot just by looking at him, usually, though there’s a sense of unease unfolding here that apparently he can’t quite pinpoint. “Do you ever have any regrets?”

Garrett tilts his head to the side, just slightly, a perfect picture of confusion, pausing with his wine raised halfway to his lips. He thought that he’d derailed the conversation earlier, but this is entering a territory he hadn’t expected. At all. 

“I mean- yeah, regrets, who doesn’t?” He responds, watching as Andrew continues to avoid his eyes, feeling his stomach twist and turn and his heart kick like a drum. “Not about this, though, if that’s what you mean. Like, at all. ”

He adds the last part in a rush, more than anything not wanting Andrew to think he regrets a single facet of their friendship or this little apartment of his (theirs) and the world they’ve built, all the while trying to quell the sinking feeling in his soul when he realises maybe that's what Andrew means.

“Yeah, no- no, me neither, not like that.” Andrew quickly scrambles the words out, and it does help, just a little. It’s genuine, Garrett can feel that much. “Not like that but, there’s… It’s…”

Andrew huffs, frustrated, like he’s angry at himself for his inability to find the right words. Garrett doesn’t really know where this is going, as terrifying as it is, and it’s giving him whiplash from the 180 turn they’ve taken from their happy, private little moment on the couch. His hand feels cold and clammy on his glass and he puts it down lest he drop Merlot all over the carpet. 

Garrett doesn’t understand the way Andrew is looking at him, doesn’t understand why it’s gotten so quiet, suddenly, and so suffocating in the silence, too, despite the music playing between them. He wants to say something, break the sudden unusual tenseness that’s entered the room, but it feels like the spit has dried up in his mouth and his tongue has turned to stone. The alcohol isn’t helping anymore- if anything, it’s made all of this feel even weirder, spacier, and all the more unreal. 

“You good, Andrew?” He says, finally, finding what's left of his voice amid his scrambled thoughts, unable to stand the burning behind Andrew’s eyes anymore. It’s making him want to get up and run and never move from this spot again, all at once, and he’s never been so lost with Andrew before. It’s terrifying, carnally.

Andrew thinks, furrows his brow, scans across Garrett’s face like he’s trying to commit it to memory or find something there that Garrett himself doesn’t know about. Or doesn’t want him to see. Or doesn’t feel like Andrew wants to see. 

Garrett watches as he averts his eyes again, almost relieved. Andrew tips back his drink, taking it all at once, grimacing because chugging wine is a vile, vile thing, and places the empty glass next to Garrett’s. He takes a moment, focused on the table, the little tarnished steel buckles and leather bands of the old chest, and Garrett can almost hear the gears turning in his head and see smoke coming from his ears.

Then, his eyes, again, on Garrett’s own- It could probably kill him, that look, if it hadn’t already. Maybe this is a dream, or an afterlife he isn’t aware he’s in, or some kind of personalised hell curated just for him. 

“Yeah,” Andrew responds, nodding slowly, never breaking gaze. There’s something new to him now that wasn’t there before, some kind of resolve that Garret doesn’t recognize. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Andrew shuffles, a little, on the couch, turning more-so to face Garrett straight on. The cushions are relatively small, close together, making the most of the little space there is to go around. 

“Garrett, I-,” Andrew pauses, looking to the side, and Garrett can see him biting the inside of his cheek. A nervous habit he's noticed a million times over. This is the point, usually, when Garrett would suggest they leave whatever stupid party or store they’re at, or ask what’s getting to him, or otherwise do anything in his power to make things just a little bit easier for Andrew. This time, though, it doesn’t feel like there's anything in the universe that can help. “I’m hoping this isn’t, like, completely out of pocket, here. But if it is just- it’s fine, totally, but just tell me, okay?” 

Garrett blinks over at him, trying to gauge the expression on his face and, for once, failing. But whatever is happening here right now, well- it feels important. Almost as much so as it is scary. It goes without saying that Garrett trusts him, and that isn’t going to change now. Or ever.

“Yeah, no- dude, of course. I got you, Andrew. What’s up?” He asks, and it's like swallowing sand trying to keep his voice steady and not let his apprehension creep onto his face. 

Andrew stares down at the space between them. Back to Garrett. Over at the fireplace on the TV, then Garrett again. His jaw is clenched, shoulders raised, and Garrett watches as he takes a deep, slow breath in and out through his nose. He forces the tension out of himself with it, expunging the anxiety from his body- some of it, anyway. Enough of it to ground himself, at the very least, something from therapy he’d told Garrett about some night long ago.

“You sure?” Is all Andrew says back. He’s looking at Garrett, but not in the eyes. His gaze is lower. Garrett can feel his hands start to shake. 

He nods- it’s all Garrett can manage, right now, with Andrew looking across the small space at him like that. On their couch, in their little spooky apartment, with their music playing softly in the silence. It feels cataclysmic. It feels like maybe they’ve been working towards this night for a long time; an accumulation of every video they’ve filmed, every drink they’ve shared, every valentines day spent at each other's houses and every time they’ve stayed up far, far past midnight only for the sake of being in each others presence- only to do it all over again the next day, and the next, and the one after that. 

Andrew nods, too- slightly, hardly noticeable. It’s almost as if he’s reassuring himself, trying to keep up with the confidence he’s trying to manifest that always seems to be one step ahead of them both. Garrett could try to do the same, but right now it's as if his world is imploding in on itself like an ancient star- an open, gaping black hole threatening to show its face, pull him inside and everything else along with him. He feels as though if he breathes it will be enough to set it off, atoms and particles colliding and accelerating around him, and there won’t be any chance to go back. For better or for worse.

When Andrew does pull forward, one hand moving to the tight little space of cushion between Garretts leg and the plush backrest to steady himself, Garrett almost leans away in response- even if it is the last thing he wants to do. He has an idea, now, about what’s going on here, but it’s happening so fast and so unexpectedly and it still seems like something he shouldn’t want, something that he intrinsically just cannot have and cannot begin to hope to have. He’s spent so long talking to himself in his head about how unfair it would be to Andrew, how it was okay to just have him as a friend, how worth it all of the pining and pain and sadness was if it meant Andrew still got to shine some golden light into the darkest, dustiest corners of his life. Now they’re here, and Andrew is closer than he’s ever been, and he’s only getting closer.

Garrett can see everything, now. He’s looked at him closely in the past, sure, but it had felt weird and creepy because it had been while Andrew was asleep, still and quiet and peaceful and perfect as ever. His lips parted just slightly when he wasn’t awake, curled under Garrett’s spare sheets or curtains or comforter, and Garrett would watch sometimes, fueling dreams of waking up together that he’d try to scrub off of himself in the shower the next morning. They stuck around in his head, no matter how much he wished he could forget them, no matter how much they burned deep in his chest. It still hadn’t stopped him, though. He doubts that anything ever could’ve.

This time, though, Andrew is awake and alive and breathing right in front of him, close enough he can smell the wine on his lips, can see the deep, twisting colours of his iris’, the delicate, light line of eyelashes surrounding them. It gives him a feeling of unreality, a sense of familiarity from the deepest, most burried of his dreams, and it’s somehow so much like them and so, so different at the same time. 

There’s a moment, a beat that passes between them, and it doesn’t quite feel like hesitation- more like Andrew is taking it in, feeling it out, pausing to exist in this proximity to Garrett that’s so unexplored but also just as natural as any other part of them together. 

And then he tips forward, and there’s a hand tangled blindly into the folds of Garrett's shirt, catching on a button, and lips pressed so, so delicately against his own. 

Garrett’s breath hitches in his chest, his ribs tight and hot and constrictive, and it feels like the apartment is spinning around him behind his eyes that have closed on their own volition. He’s never really allowed himself to think of how this would feel. Not sober, anyway -because he’d promised himself a long time ago not to get caught up in things so far removed from his reality -but now he feels a bit stupid. This, right now, is reality, a reality he’d missed before, allowed to pass by him like a bullet train, blinking every time it came around the tracks. 

He makes some little, pathetic sound in his throat, far from purposeful, and Andrew only presses in closer. Neither pull back- instead, Andrew brings Garrett forward by his shirt, and Garrett lets himself be led, and if his mind hadn’t just gone into another stratosphere he might stop to pinch himself now. 

It is everything . It’s tender, it’s soft, it’s caring and kind and slow and a perfect culmination of what Garrett has always loved about Andrew, everything he loves about him now. It feels like their history, their friendship, all of their time spent with no one else on their minds all put together in a moment just for them, and Garrett doesn’t pay mind to the little pin-pricks of moisture at the corners of his eyes. 

Andrew parts, slowly, hand still tangled up in Garrett’s flannel, eyes blinking open as Garrett does the same. 

There’s a moment, then, where Garrett feels scared all over again. His confidence has always been lacking and the sticky, evil part of his brain that insists on self-sabotage pipes up to tell him that this might not be a beginning but an end; Andrew might regret this, might hate it, might just be using Garrett as a little experiment that’s failing right in front of his eyes. Garrett knows better, knows Andrew wouldn’t do that to him in a million years, knows the love between them is genuine even if it is just friendship, but that beat of fear floods across him anyway, a tsunami just as overwhelming as the earthquake-kiss that has caused it to roll out of the ocean in Garrett’s heart. 

But then Andrew is smiling. Smiling and laughing, quiet and breathy, a few steps softer than his usual manic giggle that Garrett has always been so good at drawing out of him. And it’s perfect. It’s right. It feels exactly how it’s supposed to, how it was always supposed to be, like they’ve just found the last puzzle piece under the carpet after weeks of searching high and low. The satisfaction of a complete and beautiful picture in front of them, ready to be framed and hung and put on display for anyone who cared to see. 

“Woah.” Andrew says, simply, between little bouts of laughter that soothe the quakes in Garrett’s soul.  

Garrett nods, and he can feel the corners of his mouth turn upwards, too, and hopes the shakes in his chest are him laughing back. 

“Woah.” He confirms, trying to ignore the bead that does escape and tumble from his eye, running down his cheek.

Andrew doesn’t- he reaches up, swipes it away with his thumb, soft and uncalloused and so much unlike Garrett’s own. He doesn’t mention it, not out loud- he doesn’t need to. He knows why it’s there, knows it’s not a bad thing, knows it’s for him but from a place of happiness, of relief, of the dissipation of something that has been building inside for far, far too long. Andrew does know him better than he knows himself, after all.

Garrett thinks maybe he was right earlier in saying that his world was imploding and collapsing in like a dying star, irreversibly changing the fabric of his universe, their universe- and as terrifying as it had felt, now they’re past it; now it’s a supernova, expanding outwards, white-hot and exciting and fast and full of energy, of atoms, of incredible power and potential that has been there all along, waiting patiently, slowly reacting and changing until the moment of release. Crossing thresholds and boundaries in a slew of colours and light, rippling through them, through this beautiful little home, the Beehive, Garrett’s backyard in L.A., the tiny house, the trails in Spokane and the endless stretches of highway between it all. 

Garrett reaches forward, his hand shaking from how much feeling is breaking through the cracks now, how much want and time and pain and suppression that has been building up inside him for so long. Now finally free, wordlessly gathering and spilling out between them, making sense in the way they just simply and intrinsically do. Garrett doesn’t have words- and he guesses from Andrew’s response, the lopsided grin on his face, that he doesn’t have them either -but when have they ever needed words before? 

He places his hand, gently, on the side of Andrew’s face, mirroring the one on his own, and he can feel everything- every little hair, the tiny imperfections, the softness Andrew exudes. It’s everything he’s never allowed himself to want with any real intention. Still, he’s glad he didn’t. He’s glad he has been patient, has waited for Andrew, has held out for this perfect payoff. Something about it feels right, and he can’t possibly think of any time with Andrew as being wasted, no matter the nature of their relationship.

This is exactly where they’re supposed to be. He doesn’t know how he knows this, but it doesn’t make him any less sure of its truth.

It’s Garrett’s turn now to be swept up in it, to pull forwards into Andrew and everything he’s ever loved with such intensity before, to seal the deal, to feel his world shake again at the touch of their lips-

And then the bedroom door, down the hall, swings open. The creak is loud and jarring and they both jump halfway out of their skin, having let their guard down and forgetting about the incredibly active and horrifying ghost business they’re kissing in the middle of.

They both look over, frozen, gaping at the dark, open chasm of the doorway. Garrett expects himself to be scared, but he isn’t- just as he knows deep within himself how right this is, he knows this isn’t happening with any malice towards them. It feels more like a push in the right direction. Maybe it has been the whole time, and he simply hasn’t been allowing himself to see it.

Gently, as he always is when it comes to Andrew, Garrett guides his head back to face him, back to reality. Garrett is smiling, as open and wide and inviting as he possibly can be, and he can see the fear bleed away from Andrew's face, the way the softness returns to his eyes. He will never, ever take that for granted.

Garrett can’t help it- he starts laughing, and then he can’t stop, building in his chest and boiling over in a tirade, and of course it gets Andrew going, too. They’re used to getting lost in their feedback-loop of giggles, high and intoxicating and overwhelming, the end not yet in sight. With any hope, it never will be. Garrett tips his head back, lost in it, reveling in the sound of the both of them mixing in his ears. 

Andrew only laughs harder, his grasp once again finding it's way to Garrett’s shirt, one that's exchanged hands so many times before they can't remember who bought it in the first place (and really, that only begs the question of why it's taken them so long to get here, doesn’t it?). He tugs him forward, and Garrett crashes into him- he’s never one to back down from a challenge, even the ones he makes up for himself.

They fall, Andrew backwards on the couch, making some loud, very Andrew-esque exclamation between breathless fits. Garrett comes down on top of him, wrapping his arms around Andrew, pulling himself close, taking everything in in a blur of noise and colours and emotions.

“Garrett- NO!” Andrew shouts in surprise, still smiling and laughing and unabashedly happy. It’s far too loud for this time of night, breaking their personal promise to not be everyone's least favourite neighbours. 

“Oh, Andrew! Carry me away, like Richard Gere!” He says, high and sing-songy and as naturally Garrett as ever, if not more. He plants little pecs across his cheek, into his hair, wherever he can reach as Andrew tries to playfully bat him away, to somehow escape Garrett’s impressively tight grasp on him, and they both know he won’t succeed. It’s also understood that he doesn’t want to, not really.

He could stay like this forever, caught in the tide of Andrew, riding this wave as it crashes towards the shore, only to be pulled back out to sea again, endlessly looping and endlessly happy and fulfilled and beautiful. 

And, he thinks, he will- they both will. Their supernova, their space in the universe, their perfect explosion. It’s only just beginning now, after all this time, and the future is so, so bright and shining that Garrett wouldn’t change a thing. 

Not for all of the stars in the sky. Garrett already has his, after all. He always has, and he always will.

[veliseraptor]

it's 150 words meme time. fewer options this time because I'd really really like to finish something in the near sometime.

the rules: send me up to three numbers from the list below and I'll write 150 words in the project(s) of your choice. go forth and go wild

1. Our lives together, Xue Yang said, and an awful feeling rose in him, anger and something more sour that he didn’t want to name as jealousy. He remembered that glimpse, hearing Xingchen’s laugh, Xue Yang taunting him, Xingchen’s glorious smile turned unknowing on a monstrous murderer. The boiling hatred he’d felt; the fury and the determination that he must save Xingchen from whatever dreadful fate Xue Yang had planned, and Xingchen would never need to know the nature of the beast he’d allowed into his life.

Xue Yang said our lives together and it made him think of three years about which he knew nothing. 

He realized that for all Xue Yang’s vicious words, he had never spoken in any detail of that time. There was his mention of a garden, his assertion that Xingchen had been happy, and that one brief goading allusion to a relationship that he didn’t want to acknowledge. Other than that…nothing. It would, he thought, be an easy weapon for Xue Yang to use against him, to rub Song Lan’s face in the knowledge of their – friendship, however false it had been. 

And yet there was silence there. 

That’s not yours, Xue Yang said, like memories were something he could hoard, possess, like a stolen sword or – or a piece of candy. 

Aren’t they? The thought came to him quietly. Didn’t your memories sustain you, for those years wandering, searching… (Walking Far From Home)

2. Vegas jerked his head. “Forget it. It’s fine.” 

It wasn’t, obviously it wasn’t, but Pete wanted it to be and was seriously tempted to just let it drop. It seemed like that would probably be dangerous, though. Vegas probably wouldn’t actually let it drop, just chew on it in his own head for days on end and be in a bad mood the whole time. Only he had no idea what he was supposed to say. 

He inched closer to Vegas. “It’s not your fault either,” Pete said. “You could just as easily say I should’ve been paying closer attention.”

Vegas’s jaw tightened. “You’re not–” 

“Your bodyguard, I know,” Pete said, though he had his own thoughts on that that weren’t quite the same as Vegas’s. “But I still look out for you. Same as you do for me,” he added. 

Vegas’s expression remained stubbornly unhappy. “I can’t afford to be careless,” he said tightly. “And you shouldn’t have to always be on the alert.” Pete bit his tongue before he said but that’s what I do, that’s what I’m for. Vegas wouldn’t like it even if Pete knew he was right. (Drift)

3. “Does he have any friends?” 

“A-Qing!” Xiao Xingchen said sharply. “That’s unkind. Of course he does. I’ve - well, I’ve seen them, at least. He doesn’t think we’d get along.” Xiao Xingchen had mentioned something about wanting to meet Xue Yang’s other friends and he’d laughed. Yeah, no, he’d said, like it was funny. They’d eat you alive. 

He’d also said friends is kind of a loose term, anyway, they’re all bitches. Half the time I don’t like half of them and the other half half of them don’t like me, but he didn’t think a-Qing needed to hear that part, and he wasn’t sure Xue Yang hadn’t been joking, either. 

“Or,” a-Qing said, “he doesn’t want you to know the kind of people he hangs around with when he’s not with you.”

“You always say I don’t have enough friends,” Xiao Xingchen said, “but now that I’ve found one you don’t like him. And you still haven’t said why.”

“Friends, yeah, not a whole-ass red flag of a boyfriend,” a-Qing said. (Redux)

4. Did Chan suspect him of being a traitor? If he did it was weird that he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t brought Pete in for more questioning. He was still technically off duty, not medically cleared yet, but it wasn’t like Chan to leave a potential security threat loose.

Weird to think of himself in those terms. Pete knew he was loyal, knew he was where he was supposed to be, knew he would fight and die for the main family without hesitation. Wasn’t that what he’d gone in prepared to do? He hadn’t given anything up (Vegas had never asked). There was still something deep in his core that whispered that he was a traitor, that he’d betrayed the main family, that he couldn’t trust his own loyalty.

He could’ve run and he’d chosen to go back. He’d given Vegas pieces of himself nobody else had, he’d pulled him in and smashed their mouths together, offered himself up and he was still there, or at least part of him was, still with Vegas, still Vegas’s and he had a feeling he wouldn’t get it back. Which was – which was fine, he didn’t want or need that part of himself, he was better off without it, whatever it was that had made him do what he’d done. (jiggety-jig)

5. “So what’d you want to talk to me about away from sensitive daoshi ears, Wei-qianbei?”

“A lot of things,” Wei Wuxian said. He pulled out Chenqing and started twirling it around his fingers; Xue Yang took a moment eyeing it to decide if it was a threat or just a fidgety gesture. “One thing I’m really curious about is – how the fuck did you convince Song Lan not to kill you? Xiao-shishu I know you had the advantage he didn’t know who you were until he’d already got attached.” 

Xue Yang didn’t like the sound of that. Like he was some kind of stray dog who’d wandered into Xiao Xingchen’s house. Even if it was pretty much true.

“But that couldn’t’ve been the case with Song Lan. You blinded him, killed his entire temple. Whatever you said, it must’ve been pretty persuasive.”

“I’m just irresistibly charming,” Xue Yang said. Wei Wuxian laughed, and Xue Yang grinned. “Maybe I seduced him. You don’t know.”

“You’re certainly shameless,” Wei Wuxian said. “And you don’t like answering questions.”“I don’t like answering boring questions,” Xue Yang corrected him. “If you had more interesting ones maybe I would.” (demonic cultivator team up)

6. The door opened. “Vegas?” said Pete, sounding a little anxious. Vegas pulled his gaze off Porsche.

“In here,” he said. “We’ve got company.”

Pete slunk into the room; that was the word for it even if his posture was perfect and he was smiling. His eyes moved fast back and forth between Vegas and Porsche. “I know,” he said. “I saw the car. And the guards.” Vegas could see him trying to read the situation, assessing threat levels, though Vegas wasn’t sure whose. How dangerous he was to Porsche or the other way around? 

“Hey, Pete,” Porsche said, smiling warmly. “How’re you doing?” 

“Good,” Pete said, his smile making Vegas itch. “I’m good. Uh – I didn’t know you were coming over.” (post canon vegaspete long(er) fic)

7. *Zichen,* Xingchen had said, gazing at the fire. He was sitting too close to it; he was often cold now, as though his body remembered the chill of death and couldn’t hold the warmth of life. *Can I ask you something?* 

Dread materialized in Song Lan’s stomach, but there was nothing he could deny Xingchen anymore. *Anything.* 

Xingchen took a shallow breath and held it for a few moments too long. *Xue Yang,* he said. *Do you know…where he is?* 

Song Lan hesitated. The reluctance to speak the truth returned in force. Lie, it urged. It would be a relief, surely, for Xingchen to know that he couldn’t do any more harm. It could provide some sort of closure, help him move on. But there was a nagging memory at the back of his mind that heard Xingchen’s laugh, saw him sitting side-by-side with the man Song Lan had hated more than anyone in the world. The friend he’d killed to save.

He deserves to know, he thought wearily, and so he said, *he is dead.* (Life After Death)

8. It was Pete he thought of. Everything he’d done to Pete. Every way he’d hurt him, and Pete said it was fine, Pete said he didn’t care, it didn’t matter now, but Pete didn’t know how much he mattered so he wasn’t exactly a trustworthy judge. Vegas knew how somebody else – anybody else – would see it, looking at them from the outside, and mostly he didn’t care because Pete’s opinion was the only one that mattered but if he thought about it– 

What goes around, he thought in English, and laughed a little. Him dying here wouldn’t make anything better. Might make some peoples’ lives a little easier, but it wasn’t like it would fix anything that he’d already done. But maybe it wouldn’t make anything worse, either.

Don’t you dare walk away, Vegas, Pete said. Vegas, look at me.

His eyes slipped closed again and this time he didn’t try to open them again. Pete was going to be so upset. His bodyguard friends who hated Vegas had better take care of him. Better than Vegas had. (All's Fair)