#'punks' on here are into like green day and maybe against me if i really wanna give em the benefit of the doubt

[batjpeg]

"what do tumblr users even listen to" to be honest. it looks like it's just milquetoast white queer internet music, the bandom bands, video game soundtracks, and bruce springsteen. i guess

[octuscle]

Fatal shortcut

You know those days. The traffic is murder. You can't go another inch. Your destination is within reach, but it will take you three green lights and at least 20 minutes to cover the last 100 meters. Bloody hell! Honk the horn? It's no use… But now carefully pull onto the green lane, then cut across the high school parking lot and you're there. Why do you have your baby, the Mercedes G-Class, after all? I put on the turn signal, the car takes the sidewalk like nothing, carefully into the parking lot, look left and right and…… BANG! Damn it, the Mustang has clearly taken my right of way. This is guaranteed to take longer than 20 minutes… The two morons in the car look like they only have their heads to wear football helmets and pour beer through their mouths. The typical stereotypical football college jock bros. The day just keeps getting better…

"Yo, Chuck! Bro, did you see what that punk did there?" "Sure, Brad! He definitely took your right of way." I try to protest. But I'm way too caught off guard when the guy, who is obviously Chuck, stands up in front of me. God knows I'm not small. I'm a well-trained, muscular six foot two. But Chuck is easily ten centimetres and at least 20 kilograms taller than me… He grabs my balls. Damn it, I want to punch him, but Brad's already got me from behind. And Brad is barely smaller than Chuck. "There you go, you little faggot!" Chuck hisses at me. "Are you lying in wait for your wankers in the parking lot again? But this time is the last time!" He spits in my face and his grip on my balls tightens. Brad turns my head in his direction and spits again. Then the two of them get into their car, put it in reverse. And disappear.

I stand there a bit like an idiot. I'm far from being small or a faggot. And the last thing Chuck and Brad were to me were wank templates. I mean, I have nothing against gays… But thanks no, not for me… I'll take a look at the damage to the car. It's no big deal, the Mustang looked worse. I get back in the car, drive the last few meters into the underground car park, throw my keys to Stephen at reception and ask him to take the car to the garage. When I get off work later, I'd like to have it done. He puts his hand to his temple and says "Sir, aye, sir". Hehehe, I don't mind hierarchies being recognized.

"You little faggot"… I can't get that phrase out of my head. Shit, I'm really unfocused today. Maybe I just need a distraction. I go to the gym during my lunch break. Somehow I feel the need to look like anything but a faggot. I train bare-chested. Dressed only in compression shorts. Not really appreciated here. But I don't care today…

Shit, I'm not in top form here either… What I normally lift without any problems is all too heavy for me today. At least it's the cross trainer… Even though I'm not really the cardio type. When I get in the shower, my cock gets hard. Shit, that's embarrassing. But I also have to say that there's really only premium meat running around here today. And I'm one of them. Definitely one of them. Even the clean-shaven guy in front sees it that way. Clear body language. It doesn't take long before I'm leaning against the shower wall. And for the first time in my life I get fucked… And how! I can hear the angels singing. It feels so good as the stallion cums in my ass. To say goodbye, he gives me a kiss and a pat on the ass. And he says loudly to one of his buddies. "What a waste for such a submissive pig to have such a magnificent cock!"

The fuck was great, but apart from that I'm really not myself today. I feel like I've been missing the last year. For the life of me, I can't remember a lot of things that happened. It's like I wasn't there. I'm glad when Stephen calls me at around 5 p.m. to tell me that my car is back. I thank him, pack up my things and go down to reception. Stephen grins at me almost insolently and says that this service is an exception and that he now has something good on me. Completely confused, I say, "I'm fine, dude" and take my car keys. But there is no black G-Class in my parking lot. There's a baby blue Mercedes SLK, in good shape, freshly polished. But it must be 15 years old. I press the key. The doors open. What the fuck?

I just want to get home, this day is a disaster. As I park the embarrassing car and walk past the concierge, Michael calls after me, "Hey, Johnny boy, can you give Mrs. Smith from 2316 a lift?" I turn red. I walk back to the concierge desk. "So what, my name is Jonathan, but it's actually Mr. Hays to you. And why would I stop on the 23rd floor when I live on the 38th. Besides, I don't know Mrs. Smith." Michael grins at me with his one-million-dollar smile. "Rough day, John, uh, Mr. Hays? You might as well ask the old lady if her drain is still acting up. And before you try to break into the wrong apartment, I understand you live in 2304." He hands me a package. I drive up to the 23rd floor. I give her the package. She asks if I can plug in the new coffee machine straight away. "Of course, mom," I say. I ask if her drain is working again. She says it would be nice if I could have another look. I ask if she has any rubber gloves. She nods. I pull the dirt out of the blocked drain. She slips me a dollar. I go to 2304, open the door. And drop onto the bed. It's right next to the door. 2304 used to be the room for the lady's maid from apartment 2312. On the one hand, I feel very much at home. But on the other hand, I should be somewhere else. Somewhere with a view of Central Park. With more space. I pull out my cell phone and start working my way through Grindr. Maybe I just need someone to take me really hard again today

That was a night of really wild dreams. Really wild dreams. But obviously everything is fine now. I feel fit. My morning wood has never been better. I stroke my chest. Didn't it used to be hairy? I'm fantasizing again. What it would be like to be a real guy. Successful, at least 1.82 m. Well, I'm not going to grow any more. But maybe that's because of some Italian roots or something. That's where I got my hairy armpits and good beard growth. Shit, I'm still hard as nails. So routine like every morning: wank, jog, shower and then off to the office. I should be there at 07:00 so that the mail is distributed and the conference tables are all set before the Masters of the Universe arrive at the office. It's 07:05 when I walk in the door. Stephen grins and just says, "Subway?" "Don't ask, bro!" I reply, rolling my eyes. I didn't really need a bachelor's degree for my job. Jogging in the morning to stay in shape is more important. At the end of the day, I usually have 15K steps and 40 floors on my fitness tracker. And that's not usually the end of it. By the time I get home, Michael usually has a number of assistance activities for me. But hey, the address on the Upper Eastside sounds impressive, which I would never normally have been able to afford as a young professional. I'll even put up with the apartment on the first floor with a view of the backyard and the job as a temporary janitor.

Of course it's embarrassing to still live with my parents. But if I wanted to afford my own place, I'd probably have to move 200 miles away from Down Town. And I want to stay here. That's important to me. Also for financial reasons. The subway tickets alone would be too expensive if I had to travel further. I mean, the little bit of scholarship… And I don't earn much in the kitchen of the cafeteria. Stephen and Michael are good friends. If I didn't have them, I wouldn't make it. But they have good contacts. Stephen in the office, Michael at home. They always know someone who needs a massage with a happy ending. Or a greedy college boy face for a blowjob. The men are usually well-groomed. Too well-groomed, actually. That's why I always look forward to my part-time job as a trainer at the high school gym. If I'm lucky, I get to meet Brad and Chuck. I mean, they're not gay or anything. We never make eye contact. But I still get to blow them sometimes. Even though, of course, it's pathetic when you're a sophomore in college sucking high school seniors. But fuck, you won't find cheesier dicks with a more pronounced scent of musk and sweat anywhere!

Yo, have I even dropped my name yet? It's Janusz, 19 years young and repping as an exchange student up in the Big Apple. Just call me Jonny, keep it chill. Hailing straight outta a tiny village near Krakow, Poland, in case that detail tickles your pickle. Still wrapping my head around this English gig… But let me tell ya, my French game is on point, or so the bros claim. Thrilled to be out of the parental crib and living it up in this wild city. Dang, the possibilities here are endless! Senior year vibes, you know what I'm saying? And now that I joined the wrestling squad, it's like BOOM! More close body action in a week than I got in a year with the 'rents around! Truth bomb: I make most of my cash tagging along with my wingmen Brad and Chuck, the school heartthrobs. I'm like their trusty sidekick. It's lit! Hoping to snag an athletic scholarship next year, fingers crossed. Sure, these two golden boys ain't wrestlers (legends in the bedroom, though), but football studs. It'd be epic if we could keep the bromance alive in college. Purely platonic, of course. Or not… 🤷‍♂️

[itsyagurlchip]

HIII!!

i've come to bother you with requests that you totally don't have to do if you don't want to🫶🫶

Could i maybe possibly request a rise!Leo with an easily flustered reader- but the reader gets all snippy and snarky when they're flustered??

Like let's say Leo gives reader a hug (bare with me here) and the reader enjoys it but instead they try to push him off, i guess reader is kinda touch starved in a way lol.

PLEASE DONT FEEL PRESSURED TO DO THIS AND LMK IF YOU WANT MORE REQUESTS I HAVE A TON I COULD GIVE YOU🫶🫶

☀︎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･This Can't Be☀︎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings: cussing(!) rizzernardo(!) extra fluff(!)

ᯓᡣ𐭩When I first looked at this I was lowkey confused- but just pieced this together as best as I could! I always want requests! Just send em in and they'll come out when they do :) It doesn't even have to be a request either- it could just be a hi in my ask box. Interactions make me happy! I hope you all enjoy <33

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Who was this swuave boy? And why was he stealing your heart? Oh wait- it's just Leo...

You and Leo were walking down the street, crumbs of your favorite chips being swiped off and dropped onto the concrete. Only for you two to continue walking, being knee deep into the ridiculous words you threw back and forth at each other.

"And then I just- fwoosh!- sliced at 'em like he was nothin!" Leo said, jabbing at the air, making you chuckle a bit.

"Im sure you looked great doing it, pretty boy." You said back, rolling your eyes.

Your black hoodie was not a good choice for this summer, but you could care less. You weren't no punk. At least you weren't looking like the kid next to you.

Leo was wearing this stupid galaxy hoodie with the worst tacky khaki shorts on. Why was this the person you decided to crush on?

"Never better than you though! I'm pretty sure you could knock those uglies down with only one of those glitter bombs!"

You couldn't help but blush at the compliment, swatting at him for making your heart sway in such a way. Your brows furrowed as he took the hit.

"Glad your ugly mug couldn't surpass mines. Every time I see you, you look like a green blur- makes me think of boogers." You could feel your ears warming up aggressively, but you weren't willing to admit that.

Worst part is, he wasn't even flirting. Leo caught onto this quickly.

"No really! With your gorgeous face smirking down on those who try you- now that's hot!"

And somehow, with the sunset shining on his face at just the right angle. His smile looking down at you in amusement as you try to gather your thoughts. It was like time slowed. Were his mask tails flowing or was it just you?

"UUGH YOU FUCKWAD!!" You yelled, jumping at him ready to tear off that dumb mask of his-

"Hey!W- WaiT-"

You guys tumbled against the concrete, giggling and catching hits. You two tussled, trying to see who gets onto the ground first.

Unexpectedly, Leo brushes his lips against your forehead, stunning you for a moment. Next thing you knew, you were flipped over. Back on the concrete, flushed to the nines, and hair spread everywhere.

Leo leans slowly, grabbing your chin.

"Wasa babeh gurl 😏"

"EWWW UR SO CRINGE!!!! GET OFF OF ME!!"

-

BONUS SCENE:

Somewhere deep inside of you, you knew how much the fucking ass CHEEZY ASS action affected you.

And you couldn't help but yearn for more.

BONUS BONUS SCENE:

Mikey walked up to you the next day, with a sniggling face on

"I knew you were a simp- but not that down bad-"

"FUCK YOU!" -

I made this divider btw <333 im so cool 😎 🤡

I tried to make this as fluffy as possible- that last sibling reader broke my heart.

૮₍˶• .•⑅₎ა tags: @kittykittyanon @radicallxser @oleander-nin @towomatos @thealphagirl

૮₍˶• .•⑅₎ა @ziipzeepzop-eez @wheezdostuff @spongejuice @cyb3r-st4r @nuncscioquidsitamor-14

@voidthegod

if you would like to be added, check my blog. if you would like to be added, check my blog. SEE? I SAID IT TWICE!!

[brutallycarnage]

Tate Langdon x Reader

Payphone Memories (Episode 1)

TW: Gun violence, gore, Tate Langdon is a warning himself

Pair: Tate Langdon x Reader

Prologue 

The payphone is where I remember spending a large portion of my high school career. It was separated from most of the school, off in a hallway that led to a dead end. In fact, there were two payphones. It was a big fancy L.A school after all. The more popular payphone was near the cafeteria. Of course, this one had its fair share of use.. But, during classes, nobody really showed up around here. Which made it prime for hiding from classes. Tate and I spent a lot of time on this payphone. His mother didn’t work so it was typical of her to use up all their hours on their personal line at Tate’s house. At mine, however, we didn’t exactly have the money to make phone calls all willy-nilly. We really liked to make prank calls. Nobody was safe, and we especially loved to mess with his mothers boyfriend, Larry. Sometimes, I feel myself really missing those times. Leaning against the tiles of the wall, cold to the touch. Tate, his beautiful eyes - the way they crinkled up and shined in the light when he laughed. The dimples of his cheeks, sitting in his room at night, blasting Nirvana or Blondie. Man, Tate hated listening to Blondie. He owned it on cassette for me though. That’s what worked about Tate and I; our abilities to adapt for each other. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Nirvana! I’m just a sucker for punk music. As time went on though, we began to fight more. Tate got involved with some bad habits, so I tried to get him help. He didn’t want it though, he didn’t think anything was wrong. Eventually, he ended up just.. Snapping, at some point or another. I never wanted to break up with Tate Langdon, but after he changed from the sweet, innocent boy I grew up with, it wasn’t healthy for either of us to continue seeing each other. He grew more angrier, more hateful by the day. Of course, that was an effect of his addiction. He didn’t think I noticed the way his nose always ran now, and the rapid weight loss he exhibited. In part, I could understand why. His little sister Rose died from complications to her autoimmune disease a few years prior, and so did his little brother Bo. But obviously, it wasn’t an excuse for the way he treated me. Every little thing I did set him off. He screamed at me once for breathing too loudly. I try to push the fonder memories forward, like the time I caught him listening to Heart of Glass when I showed up to surprise him one evening. I never let him live it down.

Present Day

(Third Person)

Ring, Ring. Ring, Ring. Vivienne turned around to glance at the landline on the wall. The ringing interrupted her fruitful efforts to get the kitchen clean.  ‘Strange’ She thought to herself. ‘We never paid for a landline. Maybe Ben did without telling me? I know Violet’s into all that nostalgic stuff.’ Vivienne’s hand meets with the cool sage green plastic. She pulls it off of the receiver, and holds the phone to her ear. “Hello..?” Vivienne says with confusion. “Oh, uh, hi! Sorry, I was sort of expecting someone else.” A soft voice spoke up over the phone, one of female origin. Vivienne assumed it may have been one of Violet’s school friends or Ben’s patients. She sounded quite young.  The phone tone distorted her voice, making it sound crackly. “Oh, no worries sweetie! Who are you trying to reach? I can take a message.” Vivienne said, leaning against the wall. “Oh uh, an old friend used to live here. I was just calling to talk. Are you the new owners of their house?” “Uh, Yes! We just moved in a little while ago. Are you in the neighborhood? I think I have a daughter in your age range.” “You could say that. My parents are pretty strict, so I’m not allowed out of the house very often.” “Well, if you ever need a friend, my daughter Violet I’m sure would be happy to hang out with you!” “Thank you miss..?” “Call me Viv, Viv Harmon. And you?” “Y/N.” “Well, Y/N, it’s nice to informally meet you. I have to go now, but don’t be a stranger. Bye bye!” “Bye.” Click. Ben enters the kitchen, admiring his wife and the now clean counters and appliances. “Hey Viv, who were you talking to?” Ben says, wrapping his arms around Vivienne and looking over her shoulder to watch her wash the dishes. Vivienne gestures over to the landline, still paying attention to the dishes in the sink. “Oh, a girl from the neighborhood called. She was curious about who had moved in.” “Uh, the landline.. Works? Did you get it set up?” Vivienne turns around quickly, confused. “Uh, no. I thought you did? Yeah, she called it.” Ben walked over to the landline, pulling the phone off the receiver and test dialing on the keypads. Nothing. The line didn’t work. “Viv.. Are you.. Sure?” And thus, another argument broke out between the oldest members of the Harmon family.

Y/N leans against the cool tile once more, letting the phone hang off the receiver, listening to the ringing. She was desperate for some sort of mental stimulation that wasn’t the sealed-off school hall she currently sat in. Of course, it wasn’t actually 1994 anymore. Those memories she recalled have been rehearsed and repeated in her head for 17 years now, she wasn’t even sure if they were right at this point. Was Tate who she remembered him to be? Had he been that awful all along? Was she clinging onto something good to keep up hope? She wasn’t entirely convinced. Had she even ever existed at all? She hated when she felt like this. One more time, one more time she’d go over what happened. Then she’d stop, but she needed to do it one more time, just to make sure she still remembered all the details. Gunshot blasts, the smell of blood, Tate.. No.. No.. Tate, then gunshot blasts. Or was it blood first? She felt hopelessly lost as she anxiously picked at her blood caked cuticles. She inhaled, trying to calm herself. Tate.. Gunshots.. Blood.. Yeah, that feels right.

Trigger Warning: Gun Violence (will not impact the story if you skip it! Please keep yourself safe <3)

Y/N opens her eyes, she feels her heart hammer in her chest. She’s desperately loading change into the payphone, poking at the buttons. 9..1…1.. She feels a little bit of relief as the phone rings and picks up almost immediately. “911, what’s your emergency?” A feminine voice rumbles in her ear. Y/N keeps a hushed voice, eyes glued on the only entrance way into the hall. “Someone’s shooting in my school. We need the police-” The doors swing open. Tate. No, no.. Please, let him be okay. Why did he have blood on him? Did he get hurt?

Trigger Warning over!

Y/N feels a pair of hands on her shoulders, shaking her gently. A concerned looking Stephanie Boggs was greeting her gaze. “Hey, you okay? You were just.. Standing here?” Stephanie says, tilting her head. “Yeah.. Yeah.. It’s just.. The flashbacks are happening again. I called again, Steph. I don’t know why I did. Someone else lives in the house now.” She stammers, leaning into Stephanie’s firm hold. Stephanie kept her mouth shut. She didn’t know Tate before the massacre, she knew it was hard to deal with just dealing with being murdered in general. She couldn’t imagine it being someone she loved. Stephanie took a moment to take in her friend's appearance. Y/N had three visible gunshot wounds. The first being on the left side of her chest, second in her neck and third splitting open the side of her jawline. Her s/c was stained with dry blood, along with the ends of her h/c hair. “Everything is starting to get to me again. I thought I was okay with all of this now.” Y/N waved her arm in reference to the payphone, avoiding eye contact with Stephanie. “You always get antsy like this near halloween. Doesn’t help that you’re tethered to this fuck-ass phone 364 days out of the year. Just think, 4 more days and we can go do something fun during the day. Maybe this year is the year Langdon decides to speak up when we confront him. Closure, or whatever.” Stephanie tried distracting her, unsure if it was working. Y/N shook her head in a ‘no’ motion, “This is different, Steph. Something is going to happen. I haven’t felt this pull in a decade.” Stephanie frowned in response, letting go of Y/N and walking down the hall towards the exit. And just like that, alone again. Y/N remembers the first year the massacre had occurred. People she didn’t know stopped by a lot and left flowers and small trinkets as offerings. Each student that year got a vigil where they passed away on their birthdays. It was nice not to be alone. To see some life in these dark hallways. Of course, as the years went on, nobody visited much anymore. Just the occasional odd teenager looking to ghost hunt or write a history report. There was a plaque with her name on it next to the payphone now. With the rise of technology, she supposed there was no use for the payphone anymore anyways. She figured with the time she had to think until Halloween, she’d plan out what she’d say to Tate on Halloween.

A/N: Howdy! This is my first ever fic! I will be making the chapters longer as I get more practice. But I hope you liked it!

[thefreakandthehair]

Perspective flip for meeting you was coming home!!! I still absolutely adore that fic, Lex 🥰 take your pick of scenes bc I love them all

ahhh Jen!! I'm so glad that you still love this fic, it was so so so much fun to write for our exchange! 💕 I'm so sorry this took almost a week but I almost Midnight Sun-ed this entire fic and had to reign it in lmao. here's the beginning of Meeting You Was Coming Home from Eddie's perspective!

February 14, 2022

Eddie Munson has always loathed Valentine’s Day.  

A skeptic by nature, cynic by choice, and pessimist by way of personal experience, he’s never been one for the red and pink hearts, the teddy bears, the chocolates and flowers. He’s only ever had one Valentine: Greg Portia in the seventh grade. Greg got a handmade card and gimp bracelet he’d made with painstaking care, while Eddie got a silver skull ring from a gumball machine and a hug in the abandoned, poorly trafficked stairwell. A week later though, Eddie found the gimp bracelet left in his locker with a break-up note, ending a relationship Eddie hadn’t even registered as a relationship until it was over. Greg never hugged him again. 

It’s not something that Eddie thinks about often, but he does think about the pattern that’s emerged since: short-lived relationships that are over before they even really start, so Valentine’s Day just doesn’t mean anything to him. As far as Eddie’s concerned, Cupid is just another myth weaponized by Hallmark to make a quick buck and he’ll have no part of it, thank you very much.

In fact, the only reason he’s subjecting himself to the horror of the bar's annual Valentine’s Day Emo Night is to avoid witnessing Gareth and Chrissy’s rather excessive displays of affection. Watching Gareth stare aimlessly at the aisles upon aisles of kitschy cards with red envelopes in their local Walmart had been more than enough. 

And if he’s honest with himself, maybe he also left for the night to avoid the green monster that curls up in his chest when he’s reminded that love is out there, and it just hasn’t chosen him. But he’s not looking for honesty tonight, just a distraction and a drink or two, so he claims a hightop for himself in the corner of the bar and people-watches. 

It’s poor planning on his part, all but a few couples looking either entirely enamored or happily tipsy, and he’s just about to cut his losses and summon an Uber when he sees a man walking towards him. Bathed in the lights that swirl and strobe around the bar, he looks damn near ethereal, a heralding of some kind of… well, Eddie didn’t pay much attention to his Uncle when he talked about the Bible but he’s sure there’s something in there that could’ve described The Man better than his own feeble words could. 

A red tee-shirt hugs The Man’s chest in all the best ways, ways that leave little to Eddie’s imagination besides what he’d like to do should the offending shirt disappear, and a black and red plaid fleece hangs over his shoulders. Black jeans cuffed at the ankle and white sneakers cap off the ensemble, and Eddie’s too intrigued by the smile that’s somehow both confident and shy when they make brief eye contact to care that he clearly is very into Valentine’s Day. So understandably, he’s a bit stung when The Man bypasses his table in favor of the bathroom. 

Shit, Eddie thinks, sinking back against his chair, not realizing that he’d literally leaned forward to stare like an idiot. He turns back to his phone and scrolls back to Uber. Somehow, in the minute that’s passed since closing the app, all of the prices shoot up and he groans to himself. Insult to injury, Eddie thinks.

The song changes to something less pop-punk and more punk-punk, so he bobs his head up and down as he considers how terrible walking back to his apartment would be. Or maybe there’s another bar nearby? A diner? Maybe I can convince someone to give me a free omelet if I look sad enough– 

Eddie’s thought process is cut off by the sound of a chair scraping against the concrete floor, and The Man slowly comes back into focus as he saddles up beside him. 

“I couldn’t help but notice you’re sitting over here alone, and that just doesn’t make any sense to me.”

unusual fic-specific asks for authors!

[heytheredelulu]

✨WIP Wednesday✨

I was tagged by @flowersforbucky to post a snippet from my current WIP. I’m actually on a break from writing FF so here’s a snippet from a chapter in my book I’m hoping to self publish next year. We are currently in a very rough draft stage. 😅

“Damn, Jay got you good this time.”

“Shut the fuck up, Michael.” I growl at my cell mate, falling backwards onto my cot. Once the comment slips from my mouth I immediately feel remorse for it. Mike’s a good guy, he’s had my back since I transferred in from juvenile detention and he shouldn’t have to take the brunt of my anger just because he happens to be the closest available person to take it out on. I scrub a hand down my face before offering my hands up in apology. “Sorry, Mike. That wasn’t-”

“Nah, I get it, it’s cool.” He replies, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. His expression softens and gives away the impression he really isn’t offended, despite his body language.

Mike flashes me a sympathetic smile, flipping his dark, overgrown hair back off his face. I can’t help but shake my head every time he does that goddamn hair flip. His entire physical appearance screamed ‘punk’, from his hair to his stretched earlobes that hung oblong without plugs since they were confiscated in processing. If I had ever run into Mike on the outside we definitely wouldn’t have been friends. Then again, I probably would have never run into him in the first place, since he likely spent his time hanging out at the docks of a shitty midwest mall, smoking trash marijuana in a Green Day t-shirt and dirty Chucks while drinking Four Lokos that he lifted from a Circle K.

But as I learned on the inside, you take your friends when you can get them. I stopped making assumptions based on appearance from pretty much my first day here, as I learned relatively quickly that people don’t fit the stereotypical build for their crimes; especially the particularly fucked up crimes. Those guys look so normal that it’s a daily reminder that monsters really do walk among us as men.

“I scored some smokes, I’m happy to share.” He offers as if that’s supposed to make me feel better and it was all a part of his master plan to cheer me up after having my eyebrow split in half. “I don’t smoke.” I reply, staring up at the ceiling.

“Maybe you should start.”

“And maybe you should stop.” I counter and he barks out a laugh, raking a hand through his hair. “We all got our vices, man. At least mine’s harmless.”

“It’ll kill you.”

“I’m already dead inside.”

Okay, he’s not punk, he’s a goddamn emo.

“I really am, you know.” He says quietly in my lack of reply and I close my eyes so he can’t see me roll them. I’m really not in the mood for an unsolicited therapy session. I know Mike’s torn up from his crime but does he have to lay it on so fucking thick?

Oh woe is me, to have seen what I have seen, to see what I see!

There’s some irony in the fact that I of all people would immediately think up a Hamlet quote in response to Mike’s recurring self-pity.

I’d like to think it’s because it’s fresh in my mind due to the lack of variety in reading materials in prison and not some strange parallel my brain is trying to establish. I certainly hope that as the son who carried out a revenge murder I don’t create a domino effect that causes myself and those around me to descend into madness.

I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.

Jesus Christ, Jay must’ve hit me harder than I’d thought.

💋 Sj

No pressure tags: @lokisgoodgirl @drabblesandsnippets @targaryenvampireslayer @mrs-illyrian-baby @thezombieprostitute @sarahowritesostucky @longlivedelusion

[envihellbender]

Victor Zsasz is the underground punk messiah of Gotham and Oswald is the rich aristocrat who decides he wants to Keep him

Fandom: Gotham

Characters: Victor Zsasz, Oswald Cobblepot

Oswald sipped at his glass of red wine that was dwarfed by his piggish, bloated hand as he watched the young man who’d been trespassing around his estate be dragged into his dining room. He was terrifyingly thin, with bright green eyes, and a defiant smirk on his lips. He wore a black mesh shirt underneath an obscenely torn Hanatarash t-shirt, a BDSM harness on top of it, a spiked choker around his neck, leather trousers with bondage straps, and a pair of blood stained Doc Martens. Oswald’s plump lips spread into a predatory smile, he licked his teeth, brushing against his lips. Contrastingly, Oswald wore an expensive dark purple velvet blazer, a white shirt, and black waistcoat that strained over his gut.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the little brat that’s been causing trouble around my ancestral estate,” Oswald said placing his wine glass on the large, oak dining table in front of him. Victor snorted in response and rolled his eyes.

“Right, right… your ancestral estate, Penguin.” Victor crossed his arms and his eyes looked Oswald up and down, eventually resting on his belly.

“You’ve heard of me?” Oswald grinned, almost preening in response. “I suppose the most powerful man in Gotham has quite the reputation.”

“Uh-huh,” Victor sighed in boredom as he began to get distracted by the large, ostentatious portraits all over the walls.

“And who has been rummaging through the corpses beneath my home exactly?” Oswald was impatient and irritated as he noticed he’d been losing Victor’s attention.

“Me, a raccoon, the occasional stray cat…”

“What’s your name, brat?”

“Oh. Victor Zsasz, duh.”

“You… I know that name.” Oswald thought for a moment, lounging back in his chair with his thick black eyebrows furrowed. “The infamous street rat. What brings you here?”

“You know I’m only here because I let your guys catch me, right?” Victor said with a shit eating grin plastered over his face. “If I really wanted to escape, these two would be dead.”

“Really now, and why would you want to be caught?” Oswald asked, shuffling back in his large armchair at the head of the table and rubbing his belly that strained against his shirt. Victor simply shrugged before responding.

“You’ve got a nice little mausoleum, nice place to hang out… maybe I just wanted to see the Penguin of the manor,” he teased.

“And why do you keep hanging around my family’s mausoleum?” Oswald continued to press, his jealousy oozing through his body even if it wasn’t clear as to why.

“Your family, huh? We’re gonna pretend your actually related to these dead guys?”

“Answer me, brat.” Oswald deliberately avoided answering the question, there were rumours that disputed Oswald’s claim to the estate, but none of them had anything of any substance.

“Nothing much,” Victor shrugged. “Hang around, have a rummage around looking at the bodies, smoke, jack off… the usual.”

“Hm, well,” Oswald replied clapping his hands together which sounded similar to a large slab of meat being slapped. “Today is your lucky day. Now you can go to the mausoleum whenever you like.”

“I already can, what’re you getting at?” Victor narrowed his eyes and his body stiffened as if looking for a way out at any moment.

“Access to it without a lockpick or climbing over my gate, obviously,” Oswald scowled.

“Why?”

“I’ve taken a liking to you. You’re mine now.”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” Victor snapped. Oswald raised one bloated arm and beckoned Victor closer. He refused to move, tightening his fists.

“Come now, I think we can have this be a mutually beneficial relationship. You get a nice allowance, as much money as you like, access to whatever corpses downstairs you find, any of your… extracurricular activities, let’s say, swept under the rug, and a nice room in my big estate. All you have to do is submit to me.” Oswald had an infuriatingly smug look on his face, an obvious and arrogant look that annoyed Victor. However, he didn’t reply he just stood and thought for a moment.

“Can I have a basement?” He asked.

“Absolutely.” Oswald’s face lit up, his chubby bloated cheeks causing his hazel eyes to narrow into a squint.

“Deal. So, what, do you want me to suck your chubby little dick? I can do that,” Victor shrugged, he approached Oswald, and the lustful glint in his eyes and smirk on his lips almost seemed genuine.

[fvckyouimaprophet]

green day's "american idiot" for the album thing? and/or "21st century breakdown"

I have to admit that I listened to Green Day a lot in middle school and high school (particularly American Idiot and Dookie), and there are select songs I continue to listen to, but in terms of albums, I haven’t listened through in a while!! I’m also much more familiar with American Idiot than 21st Century Breakdown.

American Idiot:

The best song on the album: Holiday. Could there be a more perfect lead-in to Boulevard of Broken Dreams? A great anti-war protest song. The guitar!

My favorite song on the album: Boulevard of Broken Dream. Is it a generic answer? Maybe. But I have such nostalgia around this song!

My least favorite song on the album: She’s a Rebel. Nothing against it. It’s just a little repetitive.

The most overrated song on the album: American Idiot. Maybe it’s a cop out because it’s the title of the album. Realistically, it might be Boulevard, but ✨the nostalgia✨prevents me from putting it there.

Most underrated: Extraordinary Girl. Look, is this the best? No. But people act like it’s the worst on the album, and I just don’t think that’s remotely true! It’s a great song.

The banger of all bangers: St. Jimmy. It goes hard, and I just find it fun!

Rate from 0-10: 7/10. I think @sirdorkalot said this recently, but it embodies the Bush era. It’s one of the biggest concept albums, and it’s a pop punk classic. It doesn’t really do filler either, which I appreciate. It took me back to middle school listening to it all the way through again!

21st Century Breakdown:

The best song on the album: East Jesus Nowhere. It’s catchy, great lyrics, excellent outro, just a blast overall.

My favorite song on the album: Peacemaker. Hands down. (See below.)

My least favorite song on the album: Christian’s Inferno. Great inclusion of the laugh in the song, but doesn’t otherwise hit as hard. Also, Last Night on Earth. It’s pretty, but it’s too long and gets a bit boring.

The most overrated song on the album: 21 Guns. Like with American Idiot, it’s not a case of me not liking the song. It’s just the one I’ve heard the most off this album, so that’s why it’s getting put here.

Most underrated: I don’t have a good enough sense of the whole album to say that. That said, ¡Viva La Gloria! isn’t one I see talked about a lot, and it has a great intro and then picks up in a way that reminds me of MCR and other bands of the era.

The banger of all bangers: Peacemaker! This is the only name I’ve heard for the genre, so apologies, but I love this g****y punk vibe of the chorus so much. It just makes you want to shake your head along to it!

Rate from 0-10: Don’t come at me, but, as an album, maybe 5.5-6/10? It’s solid and cohesive and has its standouts (Restless Heart Syndrome is another one I didn’t get to mention), but other songs blur together for me. Not necessarily an album I’d go back and listen to a lot in one chunk, but songs from it will continue to be a part of my playlists!

Send me an album, and I’ll tell you what I think.

[storiesofstratos]

Chapter 13: Close Encounters

Daniel takes to the streets, and gets a little more than he bargains for when he meets someone new...

You know that moment, when the clock strikes three on a fateful day in June? When the bell rings for the last time, and you walk out of school knowing you won’t have to go back to that hellhole for a whole three months? When the burden of all those tests and homework and all that just slides off your back, and you take that first deep breath of the warm summer air, and it hits you that you get to enjoy it however you want?

That’s how I felt, standing on the roof of my favorite pizza joint for the first time, looking over one of Stratos City’s many bustling streets. It was like a moment straight out of a superhero movie. Minus the pouring rain and brooding, deep voice.

"Okay, take it slow today. I know you wanna go all out but these people don't know who you are," Nico's voice echoed in my earpiece as I started moving from rooftop to rooftop. "You gotta introduce yourself slowly. Show that you're here to help." 

"I got it, I got it!" I retorted as I looked all around. Someone in danger maybe... an old lady crossing the street, some real boy scout stuff or something like that. “Look, would you just relax? I got this!”

I was able to jump from rooftop to rooftop without much effort. Keeping a bird’s eye view was nice, at least when it came to watching out for anyone plotting something… villainous? Criminal? I dunno, something bad. Which is exactly what I saw. Some guy, probably around my age… god, he was young. Mostly shaved head, save for a mohawk that was dyed toxic green. On the taller side, he wore a leather jacket over a white t-shirt, and some jeans, looking like a stereotypical punk in an 80s movie. Decently athletic build, looked like he knew how to handle himself in a fight.

At least, that was the conclusion I came to when I saw that he had someone pinned against the wall of an alleyway. The guy was pretty badly beaten too, they must have fought recently… but the punk with the green hair barely had a scratch on him. So either it was a really one-sided fight, or this was…

I dropped down the fire escape of the building I was on, working my way down the stairs until I was on the ground behind him. “Let him go.”

“Huh?” The punk turned to me, looking me up and down. “The fuck’re you? It ain’t Halloween yet, pal. Get outta here.”

I put my fists up. “I’m not gonna ask you again. Let him go, and walk away.” I tried my best to sound intimidating, but dammit, I was nervous. I’d never been in a fight before! I just hoped that my strength would carry me where I had no technique.

To my surprise, he did in fact drop the guy. That was… easier than I thought it would be. “Okay, good. Now, just get out of-”

The wind picked up suddenly, knocking Daniel off his feet. The sudden collision against the brick wall of the building sent a shock up his spine before he crumpled to his knees. Shaking his head, he tried to get to his feet quick, putting his hands up just in time to block another blast of compressed air.

“What the hell?? You have powers too..”

Daniel leapt out of the way to avoid a second blast. Stumbling as he got to his feet, he rushed his opponent, throwing a quick jab, only for his fist to connect with the wall behind him, cracking the bricks that made it up. A stabbing pain hit Daniel’s abdomen, the young man barely able to register the liquid seeping into his clothes before another blast sent him flying up into the air.

He was able to twist himself in the air, just enough to avoid the arcing electricity blazing by him. “You got lightning too?? Come o-”

His words were cut off by a blast of cold air from behind, sending him hurtling into the pavement below. Reeling, he threw a wayward punch, which managed to make contact. He could hear the prominent sound of cracking bone- ribs. Dazed, and still somewhat confused, he managed to connect another blow, and then another, sending his assailant into the wall.

But before he even had a chance to collect his thoughts, he felt the ground beneath him disappear. His assailant had grabbed him, flying both of the boys up into the air, before he was unceremoniously dropped.

I hit the ground hard. I couldn’t tell what was left and right at that point, but I sure as hell could feel the pain. I got up, shakily, and leaned against the wall for support. I had blood on me.. But was it just mine? I couldn’t tell at that point, honestly.

I finally collected myself enough to figure out that the bastard who attacked me had fled. Did.. he fly?? I couldn’t do that.. How the hell was I supposed to fight him like that? At least my mind was made up. If another superhuman was out causing trouble, I couldn’t just sit idly by, could I?

“Daniel,” Nico’s voice came in through the communicator, “Come on man, answer me!”

“I’m here,” I finally answered. How long had she been talking to me? “I.. I think I need to return to base. You guys are gonna wanna hear about what I saw… and… I think I need a serious bandaid.”

[lovelybarnes]

flustered- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader warnings: very flustered reader, not sure if i exaggerated it too much but i think i did im so sorry about: requested by the lovely stefi!! flustered reader basically lol part 2!

it’s one of those nice kind of days—where the sky is leadened with gloomy cotton balls and the heat of the sun is muted. the grass beneath you is fresh and smells of petrichor in anticipation of the rain, already cold between your fingers and needling through your jeans.

a breeze flutters your lashes, urging your eyes open and your hands to splay like a starfish into the ground. something else pricks at your skin, pulling your eyebrows together.

“hey,” someone says behind you. bucky, you realize.

“hi,” you respond automatically, lolling your head back to catch sight of him. he’s tall and solid and upside down when you blink up at him, eyes just as piercing as they observe you.

“it’s gonna rain,” he informs, stepping over to stand next to you. “y’gonna come back inside?”

“no,” you answer definitively, staring back up at the sky. “maybe when the lightning starts.”

“lightning?” he repeats, grunting when he lowers himself gracefully onto the ground. his knee pokes into your thigh, but he doesn’t move it away.

you go still, concentrating on not shifting weirdly. “it’s pretty, but it makes me nervous.”

“what if i stay out here with you?” he offers.

“what are you going to do against lightning?” you ask, laughing. “maybe if it were thor—”

his own laughter is rough, genuine. lightly, he nudges your shoulder. “punk.”

you grin, a little pleased and a little flustered. “what?”

“i’m offering my protection. super-soldier protection.”

“oh, i’m sorry,” you apologize. “i didn’t realize you guys could control weather.”

“you are…” bucky begins, searching for a word. “incorrigible,” he finishes, teasing.

you bark out a laugh, meeting his eyes. “incorrigible!”

he nods. “‘s okay, though. it’s part of your charm.”

bucky turns to observe your profile, silently scanning your features. your thumbnail goes to trace the nailbed of your index.

you clear your throat, watching the clouds as they roll in the sky. “thank you,” you reply. it comes out a little strangled.

bucky clearly hears it, but his eyes crinkle. he hums. “s’my pleasure. i get to talk to you and see you, y’know, be impossible.”

you nod, not sure when to stop. you’re still stuck on his previous compliment, like a thread caught on a hook and you can’t help but pull, let your sweater unravel green and greedy and coarse.

“i didn’t know that was a charm,” you start unsurely. “or that i had charms, more like.” it’s not smoothly said, a little halted in that you want to explain further, only encouraged to by the chaste curve of his lips, amused and patiently heartening. you urge him to silence you. “or charm? is it just charm, singular? i think of charms more like the bracelet things, but charm could encapsulate the entirety of the—” you crane your fingers and move your hands as if they’re cupping something large. “the idea. which i guess is what you mean and it implies a lot more than one, right?”

you’re rambling, you know.

bucky is grinning, though, purely amused and bastardly pleased. he nods along to your words as if he’s listening closely to each rise in your voice, paying attention to each word.

you clear your throat and attempt to relax your tense shoulders. you’re not uncomfortable, you remind yourself. your anxiety carries none of the unpleasantness associated with it, instead something so largely gracious and massively salubrious that it makes you slightly ditzy, spilling out like honey and sneaking into the cogs of your brain.

it makes the wheels stagger and slow, your mind lagging to dig up something more to say. so, you say: “i bet you were really charming back then. you know, because you were so popular? like steve and everyone says.”

bucky chuckles. “were, huh?”

you know he’s teasing. he’s only ever teasing, but you stammer to take it back. “are! are real charming! really charming. i mean—i meant that it was just, like, a lot back then. not that it isn’t anymore, just… just different?” you have to explain, having piqued his actual interest. “back then, it was smoother? from the way people talk about you, i can’t imagine it wasn’t something automatic. now it’s, it’s more deliberate, i think.”

you’ve been talking for so long.

“but, obviously it still works, right?”

he smiles something small, crinkling the edges of his eyes lightly and mischievously as if he’s caught you in something. “why do you say that?”

you shake your head as you look for a response. “uh…”

bucky decides to take pity on you, moving away from the topic to stretch his torso. a sliver of skin peeks from behind his shirt, gleaming and distracting as you try to look anywhere but there. you fail, obviously, your focus betraying you.

“you look real nice today, you know,” he says, a smidge more serious and totally sweeter.

you heat up immediately, ears burning as you squeeze the lobe between your thumb and index. “you too,” you force out, overwhelmed with the compliment, skin prickling with its genuity.

bucky observes you for a few seconds, eyes slow and deliberate as they take you in from a foot or so away, and then he settles a few inches closer.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, but he doesn’t really want to know, isn’t truly asking in the words’ definitions. there’s a pleased mask in his expression, hiding something flustered from your attention from your scrutiny.

you only blink and shrug, the weight of his gaze increasing with every second he stares. the blue of his irises has always been gentle in a sharp way, deep and crushing and grand like the ocean. warm and comforting like the sun that it reflects.

you swallow when he leans in, close enough for you to be sure he’s being entertained by how flustered he’s making you. you can’t think, you realize after a blank moment, mind crowded with the way his fresh scent interrupts the petrichor.

he’s smiling when he finally pauses in front of your face, nose nearly brushing against yours close, close enough that you can see the stars in his eyes and count each charcoal lash.

"you know you don't have to be so nervous around me?" he whispers.

you shiver, unable to help yourself as you dig teeth into your lips and your attention flickers to his.

they twist up when they notice, only crawling further when you choke out an affirmation. “yeah, yeah. i’m not—”

your reply dies on your tongue when he swoops in, noses nudging when he kisses you. your eyes stay wide open for a moment before they flutter shut, your body frozen before it melts inevitably, slackening into him. one of his hands moves to hold your waist, lips smiling beneath yours as he pulls away.

you swallow, attempting to blot away the haze his kiss has glossed over your mind. his grin isn’t helping, blinding you and chasing away the breath that kisses your lungs.

“i’m not nervous,” you finally force out. “you’re just—just really—”

“i’m really?” he urges.

you frown. “mean,” you finish.

he laughs, and you’re dizzy again.

[sichengtual]

baby, i'm yours | jh. s

— summary: johnny might still not know much about life on earth, but he knows one thing: you're what makes it worth it.

— pairing: johnny suh x reader.

— genre: fluff; demon!johnny, wizard!reader, magic café, part of the love potion universe!

— word count: 1,439 (1.4k)

— warnings: none.

— song: just like heaven — the cure.

— a/n: a gift for the bestest bestie ever, @svtxsoju! i'm proud of you today, tomorrow, and every single day for the rest of time! 💞

There are a million things that Johnny loves about life on earth. They’re so many, he can’t even begin to count them with his fingers.

Sometimes, when it’s late at night and he’s tired after a long day of work, he looks up at his ceiling and tries to think of them as bullet points inside his mind: the way the sunlight seeps in through the big windows of the café every morning, breaking past the curtains and reflecting upon the delicate leaves of the hundreds of plants he’s set to tend to day by day. Your laugh whenever Lucas tells a dumb joke, traveling through the space and into his ears, coming inside his head as the most beautiful song he’s ever heard. The calmness and steadiness of a Sunday morning spent in bed. Your voice on the other side of the phone. The foam that collects at the top of his freshly-brewed morning coffee. The warmth of your body on his skin when you accidentally bump into him while walking past.

Johnny has known, from the very first time he saw you, that he’s in love with you. He had been brought down by accident, a failed spell from Kunhang’s book summoning him right as he was about a chess match against Jaehyun, one of his best friends. In the days he had arrived on earth, he still couldn’t believe such a clueless wizard could have summoned him, a powerful demon, without even meaning to, but once he met you, he started wondering if maybe fate had played a part.

He’d always found it funny — a demon, believing in fate? He’d believe in anything as long as anything meant you.

“It’s good the weather kind of picked up,” you say as you walk up the steps that lead to the rooftop. “If you had planned on taking me out there in the rain, I think I would have asked Kunhang to brew you a duck transformation potion.”

Johnny gasps, (harshly and loudly) slapping a hand to his chest. He’s walking right behind you, and you can almost feel the warmth of his breath against your neck.

“Quack,” Johnny breathes out, giggling.

It had been completely unexpected; Friday night, you had been drinking a cup of peach-infused tea as Lucas and Johnny set to clean up the kitchen after a long day, when the latter had held your hand and walked off with you following behind. He kept saying he had a surprise prepared for you, something to celebrate the news you had just received a little earlier, and although he wouldn’t budge in telling you what it was, his freshly ironed black button-up gave you an important clue.

“You should have told me I had to dress up nice,” you say, breathing out a little more relaxed once you’re able to see the door leading to the rooftop up ahead. “I’m in jeans!”

“I’m also in jeans, baby,” Johnny laughs. He reaches up, placing a palm on the small of your back, fishing the keys from his pocket with his free hand. “And anyway, you look as beautiful as ever.”

You don’t answer, too focused on the fact that the closer you get to the door, the more you can hear music playing faintly — except the more you walk, the louder the sound becomes. Is Johnny playing Baekhyun’s Candy?

“Now, close your eyes,” Johnny whispers as soon as you reach the last step. He leans against you to open the door, and you catch a wisp of his cologne when you hear the keys dangle loudly. “Don’t peek! It’s a surprise!”

“Johnny, we’re here already!” You say, but you oblige, closing your eyes just as Johnny twists the doorknob so you can walk outside. “Okay, just tell me when you can open them. I don’t want to bump against a wall or something.”

“I wouldn’t let you,” he whispers against your ear as he helps guide your steps. “Ivy would never forgive me… which means Kunhang would probably bewitch me when I’m showering or something.”

A gust of air meets your face as soon as you step outside. Senses are immediately overwhelmed, and you try to make sense of everything you’re feeling, but it all comes together to simply send your heart on a frenzy before Johnny can even give you the green light to finally see what his surprise is all about.

You try to piece everything together; the music playing from a speaker nearby, the sweet smell that resembles freshly-baked pastries, the city sounds rising from the back and mixing in with the music, the feeling of Johnny’s hand on your back.

“You can open your eyes now.”

And you’re not completely sure what you’re seeing is real. It’s like a scene that has just come out of a movie, or a dream, because the more you see, the more you’re convinced that what you’re seeing is romanticism brought to life. The rooftop, deeper than it is wider, is covered in multiple series of fairy lights that hang from side to side, completely illuminating the entire space. There’s a table and a couple of chairs set near one of the furthest corners, and every single centimeter next to the edges of the rooftop are all traced with tall, colorful bougainvillea bushes. Next to the table stands a bar that’s decked with food and drinks; you can’t quite make out all of the dishes and concoctions that await you, but the mix of smells that reach you don’t fail to make your mouth water.

“Johnny,” you whisper, spinning slowly to make sure you catch every single detail. A rose bouquet rests in the middle of the table, and you can feel your voice threatening to break when you begin to speak. “You did all of this?”

“Had to celebrate my baby,” he says, quickly pecking your cheek as he moves to walk in front of you. “It’s not everyday you get offered to co-own the café, is it?”

Taking your hand in his, he guides you over to the table, and the song changes to a soft Ariana Grande tune when you finally reach it.

“Still, I can’t believe you actually pulled this together, I’m just ​​— when did you even have the time?”

“The boys helped earlier today,” Johnny winks, moving so he can pull the chair back for you to sit. He’s decided to top the surprise by being the textbook definition of a gentleman, and you don’t miss the slight smile on his face when he sits down in front of you. “You would have thought I paid them, with how excited they were setting the lights up and everything.”

“What, you didn’t pay them? Kunhang helped you for free?”

“Yeah, something about loving love, or whatever,” he waves a hand in the air. “Lucas though, he still owed me for last week’s pizza.”

“You owe me for last week’s pizza, you punk!”

“I thought the kisses made up for it!”

The world stops when you begin laughing, time hanging from your mouth in a delicate thread that threatens to break if only disturbed ever so slightly. It’s almost like earth spins solely for and because of you, its rhythm finding and matching yours. He knows his world does, at least, and that’s all he cares about.

“I’m really grateful for this, you know?” You say. “For everything. For this, for you being there, for you feeling proud of me when I don’t even know what I’m doing half of the time. All I know is you’re there, next to me, and that’s anchoring enough… even when you join Kunhang’s TikTok recordings instead of actually helping me manage the café.”

“Baby, there will never be a day where I’m not feeling proud of you. Of everything you do and everything you are. I love my life here simply because I love you being in it.”

In that moment, standing on the colorful rooftop of the café, Johnny can’t help but notice everything around him, and remember some of the things that are not. Everything that make you and him, you and him. Your smile as you look up to the sky. The sound of water bubbling up inside the kettle. The feeling of your hand on his. The smell of freshly baked raspberry pastries. The weight of your head coming to rest over his shoulder.

The sound of his beating heart, thumping loudly against his chest the moment a smile breaks upon his face.

“And come on, deep down, you know you also want to join Kunhang’s TikTok recordings.”

There are a million things that Johnny loves about life on earth. On that list, you’re always number one.

[hamsterboos]

Shining in the Darkness

I've had to rework this plot about 3 times because I started this earlier this year and then restarted it a few weeks ago and then re-restarted it yesterday lmao I hope you guys like it

Word Count: 1699

Read on AO3

Rowaelin Month Masterlist

Day 13 of Rowaelin Month Prompt: Florist/Tattoo shop AU

~~~~~~~~

“Ugh,” Aelin groaned, “look at them pretending to be all high and mighty with their all-black, emo, punk tattoo shop.” She turned away from them in annoyance, instead taking in the bright and beautiful flowers around her.

“I mean, I hope you didn’t expect a tattoo shop to be all sunshine and rainbows,” Elide laughed as she wiped down the counter where bouquets were made.

Aelin sent her a withering glance. “You’re only saying that because you’ve been staring at Mr. Tall-and-Dark ever since they started moving in.”

Elide sent her a sweet smile in response. “As if you haven’t been staring at Mr. Tall-and-Blond? Plus, this is the perfect opportunity to go get that tattoo you’ve been talking about for ages.” Elide gasped and suddenly pointed the rag at her, “You should go by and give them a welcome present! It’ll brighten that dreary place up too!”

Aelin glared at her, “Don’t you have some work to do?”

“Uh-huh, sure, kick your favorite cousin out for having such a brilliant idea.”

Aelin rolled her eyes at her, “Aedion’s going to take offense to that. Technically, you aren’t even my cousin.”

“I don’t care, and Aedion can suck it,” Elide cackled. “Go get them one of the potted plants. Probably a succulent or two, since it doesn’t look like they can keep anything else alive,” she said as she walked into the storeroom to take inventory.

Aelin sighed as she turned back around to watch the two men wipe down the clear glass panels and windows of the store. Her floral shop, Kingsflame Florals, was right across from The Cadre, a tattoo shop that was apparently opening tomorrow, and she was understandably frustrated at how everytime she looked out her own shop’s glass panels, she saw the dark and gloomy exterior of The Cadre. There was enough darkness in her own brain over the last few years after her parents had passed away that she didn’t exactly need to see it constantly as soon as she looked out of her shop, but Aelin also knew that it was strictly her problem and that she really couldn’t take it out on the shop owners.

Elide was right, though. The only decent thing about the entire place was the fact that there was a Mr. Tall-and-Blond, except his hair glinted so brightly under the sunlight that it looked almost like platinum silver. Even from across the street, she could see his muscles rippling under his black shirt as he wiped down the windows, (this man did not care about the burning sunlight, and she had no idea how he could bear it), and Aelin could see the vague swirls of a tattoo down his arm and on the back of his neck. If she was being honest, she wanted to go see the design up close, maybe get some inspiration for what she wanted, but did she really want to deal with all that doom and gloom?

As she chewed on her lip, she decided that maybe her parents were worth facing that - and she would never admit it, but Elide was onto something with giving them succulents -, and so she turned back around and picked up one of their potted succulents that was there especially for the store. Aelin grabbed their water sprayer, gave it a few spritzes, fluffed her open hair, smoothed down her blouse, and walked out the store.

“Hey, neighbor,” she called out as she crossed the road. Aelin was definitely feeling slightly intimidated by how black everything was, but she could deal. She was out of her emo-depressed phase after her parents had died, and a black tattoo shop couldn’t change that.

The dark-haired man wasn't there, but the man with the silver hair turned around, and she was weirdly excited to realize that he had bright green eyes. It was like a surprise of sorts - the man who seems to prefer black had silver hair and green eyes, exactly the opposite of his personality. He was incredibly attractive, though. Gorgeous eyes, pretty hair, sharp jawline, and the tattoo swirling up his neck, almost creeping up his jaw.

“Hello,” he responded, a slight tilt to his words thanks to an accent. Aelin blinked at first, trying to remember how to breathe again because holy crap, the man was suddenly even more attractive, and this was so not fair.

She put on her best, charming smile as she responded, “Welcome to the street. Your shop looked a bit too doom-and-gloom so I decided to bring over some flowers from my shop!”

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at the plant in her hands. “Doom and gloom?”

“Well, yeah, your entire shop is black, which is quite an achievement honestly. How do you make something so dark when the front part of the shop is entirely glass which lets all this sunlight in?” she joked, but from the way his lips turned down into a scowl, she figured he didn’t exactly share the same sentiments.

“It’s a tattoo shop,” he stated in a manner-of-fact tone, “so yes, it’s a lot of black.”

“Um, right,” she awkwardly responded, her bravado effectively gone, “I just wanted to come by and give you a succulent to keep at the desk. I’m Aelin, by the way, I own Kingsflame Florals.”

He looked down at the plant again before looking back up at her. “I figured you owned the shop, but I’m Rowan. You can come in, if you want, and show me the prime location for that so it doesn’t look all doom-and-gloom.”

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

“Not at all,” he responded with a wry smirk on his face. He opened the door to the shop, and she followed him inside, immediately blasted with the cold air from the air conditioner.

She took the chance to look around the shop, and she was taken aback by the variety of designs posted around the walls. There were the simple designs like flowers, birds, dreamcatchers, and butterflies, while there were also insanely intricate designs of swirls and lines that created abstract art and distinct images, and all of it was just pure talent.

"These designs are beautiful," she breathed, setting the succulent down near the computer.

"Thanks," he replied, leaning an arm against the desk. "Interesting?" he asked, and Aelin could tell from his expression that he expected her to say no.

"Yes, actually," she replied with satisfaction as she watched Rowan's eyes widen slightly. "My cousin says that your shop opening up here is a prime opportunity for me to get the tattoo I've been talking about for ages."

"What’s stopping you from becoming our first customer then?" Rowan asked. Aelin shrugged.

"Lack of inspiration, I suppose?"

"Any ideas about what you want it to be?” Aelin shook her head, to which Rowan continued, “A reason behind getting the tattoo might help with the overall design.”

"We're not that close for me to share that part of my life with you."

"Really? I'd say these past five minutes makes us best friends," he spoke, leaning into her, mischief shining in his eyes.

Stifling a snort, Aelin rolled her eyes. “You should already know my tragic backstory then.”

“Same for you, Ms. Flowers,” he responded.

“No, but you see, I never claimed to be your best friend.”

“Ouch, that hurt,” he responded, a hand covering his heart with fake pain. Aelin’s lips quirked upwards at that with the realization that they had been leaning into each other during that entire conversation, and she was flirting with this man. She hadn’t even noticed how dark everything around her was because within that darkness was this man with bright green eyes that reminded her of pine trees from back home and silver hair that glowed like the moon,

“Fair enough,” she laughed lightly. “It’s for my parents. The shop was actually my mom’s idea for something to keep them busy after they retired, but they, uh, died in a car accident a few years ago. They never got to open it, so I did,” she said, looking out the clear panels to her own shop. It was years of hard work and pain, but she’d gotten through it. “I always wanted to get a tattoo, but now it’s more for them.”

She looked back at Rowan and was surprised to see that there wasn’t any pity shining in his eyes. No, it was understanding and compassion. He understood her decision, and it wasn’t something a lot of people were able to relate to. They would simply pass it off as a nice gesture she wanted to do, but it went deeper than that. It was a way to ensure she would never be separated from her parents, and from the way Rowan had let himself smile genuinely in front of her, she knew he understood.

“The tattoo you were staring at earlier,” he started, pointing a finger at his neck, and Aelin flushed realizing that she hadn’t been as subtle as she thought she was, “is about my wife and daughter that had passed away, also in a car accident. I understand your need to connect to them, so how about I draw something for you? You can take a look at it and make any adjustments as needed, but I can help you start off with something.”

Aelin looked at him, and she slowly exhaled a breath because maybe this was exactly what she needed. “Okay. I wanted it on my ribcage, if that works?”

“Yeah, of course, just be aware that you will have to at least take your shirt off,” he teased, and Aelin was so shocked that she barked out a laugh.

“Wow, Rowan, at least buy my dinner first.”

“Happily,” he replied.

Aelin sent him a bright smile, and she knew that she was never going to live it down from Elide that she had gone to the tattoo shop with the intentions of giving the grumpy men a succulent and had instead left with the man’s phone number and a beautiful tattoo design amazingly created with Old Language letters and a Kingsflame flower.

[regalserpent]

Prompt 17 - 31 Days of Horror

Cassette

Original Fiction

Teen Rating

no tw, mention of minor injuries

Sometimes I really wonder why I took this job. Working weekends at the old car yard. With cars so old they probably haven't moved since glam punk was popular, cars coated in so much dust there's probably a whole colony of bunnies in there someone. Not to mention the spiders that surely cover almost every inch of free space.

Surprisingly though that’s not the strangest thing here. It's the old beetle tucked down by the fence corner, mostly covered by the slightly dead bushes determined to hide it. My boss told be to never venture down there, down a well beaten path that takes you away from the hoard of cars. I did find it rather weird that no other cars were placed near it, even though there is a tonne of space. I questioned my boss about it and he simply told me that it is for a reason. Helpful. And not any good at quelling my curiosity.

So of course that’s how I find myself here. Locked inside the car yard after closing as the last of the Sun's rays are absorbed into the Earth. The vines growing out of the car were not something I expected. Nor the way they curl, twist and bind themselves to the car, like they're somehow stopping it from running away. Besides that the car itself seems to be in reasonable condition. Well reasonable for this car yard, there is rust on it but at least the rust hasn’t caused any holes. I reach for the silver handle, maybe I'll find something interesting inside.

The green upholstered seats could certainly use a wash, though again at least they are in one piece. The vines are also in the car, they must come through the floor of something. Well I think that until I glance at the dash of the car and down to the cassette player, the vines are growing out of it. Like out of the machine, where you would put the cassette. The buttons are still visible, slightly worn out but like they would still work. I hear a creeping sound behind me, probably just my weight as I lean further into the car.

Against all better judgement I hit the play button on the player. The car isn't on so it's not exactly like it'll work. Except it does. It starts playing, some horrendous concoction of notes, both in and out of tune. It grinds against my ears, my brain. My hands move of their own accord to cover my ears, the extra protection doing nothing to stop the screeching. My legs fall out from underneath me, knees smashing into the car floor. Falling sideways I pull my legs to my chest, simply willing for it to be over.

Something grabs my ankle and pulls. I pull back, my ears might be bleeding but I am not about to be taken by someone lurking in the shadows. The car lights up, the headlights turning on with a buzz. I see green around my ankle, the vines. Its pulling me, and harder this time I can't stop it. It drags me towards the open door of the car and a flail, quite ungraciously but no one is here to see it. The vines pull me out of the car and drops me into the dirt. Quite hard. Dead bush digging into my shoulder.

Another vine grabs my arm and drags me through the dirt away from the car. Arm getting increasingly scratched as I move. I end up away from the car, the vine seems to be helping me, far enough away that I can stand again and slowly can begin to walk away.

No wonder I wasn’t supposed to go there.

[collecting-stories]

Book Club - 90s!Luke Patterson

Summary: Reggie books a gig at a suburban mom’s book club and Luke takes full advantage of the situation to flirt with you. 

A/N: I’m literally writing two other Luke fics right now 😭😭

Julie and the Phantoms Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The third Thursday of every month belonged to your mother. It was her day, when she demanded not to be bothered, when she spent hours out of the house socializing with the women’s group that she belonged to. And, out of all those Thursdays, there were always the very special few when it wasn’t her leaving the house but everyone else. The group rotated their meeting time, everyone for a blue moon meeting at your house, meaning, of course that you were expected to stay out. Staying out was not a difficult thing to do, in fact you relished the opportunity to spend a few more hours with your friends. 

It was one of those Thursdays, when all the ladies that your mother loved to lunch with were spending the afternoon at your house and you were making yourself scarce, that arguably the weirdest but maybe best thing happened. Your mom had told you before you left for school that morning that she expected you to stay out, and you would have, if you had remembered your wallet. But you’d left it in your room, on the edge of the vanity, and you didn’t want to be the one owing money when your friends went to lunch. A quick stop home should’ve been easy, the stairs were right off the kitchen and the side door was right there, giving you the opportunity to shoot upstairs and grab your wallet without her being the wiser to it. 

The whole thing would’ve gone off without a hitch except that when you walked through the side door and into the kitchen you came face to face with four boys from your school. You recognized them more for the fact that you didn’t hang out in the same circle; most of your friends held a certain level of contempt for the four guys that made up Sunset Curve. You didn’t necessarily dislike any of them, you didn’t necessarily even know them, though you would be lying if you said that the lead singer, who occasionally sat in front of you in math, was seriously making you rethink a deep dive into all this rock music. Luke, Reggie, Alex, and Bobby were standing in your kitchen. They were the Green Day/Nirvana worshipping, head banging rockers that ditched school regularly and got into worlds of trouble and they were standing in your kitchen.  

Bobby was the only one who looked up from snacking on leftover hors d’oeurves, saying your name in surprise as the other three all stopped to look at you too. Alex gave an awkward little wave as he set down the small sandwich he was eating.  

“Uh...what are you guys doing in my house,” you asked, looking between the four of them.  

“Your mom tapped us to perform for her ladies club.” Luke explained, dropping his food on the plate and wiping his hands against his black pants.  

Your mom had invited these four to sing for her conservative ladies’ group? You tried not to but you couldn’t help the smile that crossed your face when you thought about it. Whatever your friends said about the guys, you weren’t ashamed to say you had taken one of the free demos that Reggie handed out and had been listening to it on repeat for a while now. “My mom wanted you guys to play a gig for her and her friends?” You clarified.

“Until we started playing,” Reggie replied, and you couldn’t help laughing.

“I bet...you guys aren’t exactly...suburban mom rock.” You joked, “though I totally would’ve loved to see their faces when you guys started singing.”  

The grin on Luke’s face was unmistakable though you missed it as you nabbed one of the sandwiches on the plate near Alex. It was probably some really stupid cliche, him liking one of the popular girls. Cute, cheerleader, future prom queen. You hung out with people who listened to Britney Spears and Spice Girls, any knowledge of the rock scene they might’ve actually had was only for the sake of making dumb jabs at him or his friends. Still, Luke had a massive crush on you and he wasn’t so embarrassed to admit it. Bobby joked that he wanted to “bring you over to the dark side” and maybe that sounded cynical but he thought he wouldn’t mind seeing you look a little less perfectly put together if it had something to do with him. Hearing you mention his music almost had him doing a back flip from excitement.  

“So you’ve listened to our music?” Luke asked, moving closer to you, leaning on the counter beside you. Behind him, Alex rolled his eyes.

“Reggie gave out demos like...last month.” You shrugged, trying to play it off. You’d been excited to listen to their music, see if it was any good and had discovered that you actually loved it. They were talented guys and you felt surprisingly connected to the songs. “I might’ve listened.”

“I did!” Reggie piped up, “I gave demos to all the-” he stopped, mouthing instead, as if you wouldn’t understand him when he said ‘all the cute girls’.  

“I hate to ask but...don’t you think like, actual clubs would be better places to promote your music? I don’t think the middle-aged moms are really a target audience, unless you’re into that kind of thing?” You said, peering down the hallway when you heard the familiar squeak of a floorboard. If the boys were still here than there was no doubt in your mind that your mom had told them to stay for some reason or another.  

“You gotta start somewhere.” Luke replied, unfazed by the hint of judgement in your voice.  

“My living room?” You asked, jokingly.  

He smiled, “actually, we’re playing a club on the strip tomorrow night, we could, maybe, get you on the guest list?”  

“We’re opening for someone else,” Bobby cut in, bringing Luke back down to reality, “I’m pretty sure no one’s ever even heard of the band we’re opening for.”  

Luke glared at Bobby, sticking his finger in his mouth and then jabbing it into Bobby’s ear, a smile of success immediately lighting up his features when Bobby recoiled in disgust. “So what’d ya say?” Luke asked.  

“I mean, I guess technically every band deserves girls screaming for them, so sure…I’ll go.” You agreed, eyes on Luke the entire time.  

The last concert you had been to wasn’t even for you, your mom had dragged you to a Beach Boys concert up in San Francisco for her birthday weekend when your father refused to indulge her so-called ‘terrible taste in music’. “There are just some things we will never agree on and music is one of them.” He had insisted back then. It was the same thing you felt like telling your friends when you declined a party invitation in favor of heading down to the strip to see the guys play. You could’ve maybe played it off casually, as if you were heading down there anyway and Sunset Curve just happened to be opening but Bobby was right, you’d never heard of the band that was performing after them.  

Not to mention Luke decided to show up for a least a quarter of the day just to mess with your head. You had spotted him in the hallway between classes and smiled when he looked your way, a split second before the sea of students scrambled to get to their lockers. Your own best friends appeared by yours, looking more and more like carbon copies of the Heathers every day. You kind of hated them, truth be told, but you didn’t have too many other options.  

They were badgering you about the party as you tried to wrack your brain for an excuse that sounded convincing when Luke stopped, right in front of the three of you.  

“Hey, I’ll see ya tonight?” He asked, whole body turned to face you and completely ignoring the looks of disdain and shock cloaking your friends faces.  

You felt like a deer in headlights. Say yes and your friends would probably ostracise you, say no and you could just imagine the look on Luke’s face. Anything but this absolutely sincere and hopeful smile was something you didn’t want to be responsible for. You really liked him looking at you like that.  

“Yeah, can’t wait.” You nodded.  

When he stepped back out into the traffic of the hallway he touched your waist, as if he was anchoring himself for a second and you bit your lip, letting yourself watch him disappear before turning to face the firing squad.  

“Luke Patterson?” Both of your friends spoke in unison, one breaking off to elaborate, “you’re ditching a party at Max Turner’s house for Luke Patterson?”  

“His band is playing at some club on the strip.” You replied, shutting your locker and heading toward your next class. “They invited me to come watch the show.”

“And you’re going?”  

You hadn’t been to anything smaller than a stadium concert before and the implication of a concert at a local club venue, right on the strip with all the ‘riffraff’ that were hanging around trying to make it big like their 80’s punk rock idols wasn’t exactly your scene but, Luke had looked so cute asking you to go and you had the tiniest, maybe delusional, feeling that he’d come to school just to remind you that tonight was the concert. How could could even consider some suburban house party to that?  

“Yeah, why not,” you shrugged, trying to play it off like it was nothing, you could see your social status flashing before your eyes and your mom’s voice desperately begging you to reconsider. “Besides, Luke’s hot.”

“Did you have some kind of Freaky Friday switch when you woke up this morning? Luke is not hot.”  

“Okay,” you drew the word as if disbelieving. He wasn’t some 90210 reincarnate but he was definitely one of the hottest guys in school, not to mention the sleeveless shirts were an added bonus. “Well, I said I was going, so I’m going.”

And, despite the continued protests of your friends throughout the day, you did go. You promised your parents you were spending Friday night studying at Terri’s house and took the bus down to the strip to wait in line for Sunset Curve and whoever was headlining. You stood there twirling your fake ID in your hands, listening to the two girls in front of you (who didn’t need fakes) talk about some drummer that wasn’t anyone you’d ever heard of and tried to look as mature as possible. If Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Bobby could play this venue, surely you could get into it.  

Whether the ID worked or the bouncer at the front door just didn’t care, he let you through, admitting you into a pulsing crowd of people making their way through the small vestibule and into the venue. You slipped your way through the crowd until you made it to the front, pressed against the railing and inches away from another bouncer who seemed just as disinterested in you. The drumkit that was already on the stage had the Sunset Curve logo on it. You ran a hand through your hair and fixed your shirt, maybe it was silly but you were sort of hoping that even in the silhouetted lighting of the venue you Luke might see you. Maybe a little pathetic groupie on your end but he had invited you.  

And he did see you. Halfway through Now or Never when he looked down over the crowd, he caught you, dancing along to their music, the smile on your face as you mouthed the words was infectious. It was the combination of seeing someone singing all the songs back to them and that person being you, mixed with the adrenaline of the performance, that had him pushing to give his absolute all. You’d actually come and he was determined to make this a great concert for you.  

Alex was the one to announce that they would be in the vestibule during the lull between bands, they got the occasional straggler who dared to leave their post long enough to say hello or great job but usually it garnered nothing more than the four of them splitting some pizza and relaxing by their merch table. Tonight, as they headed off stage to an enthusiastic crowd, Luke chanced a glance back but he couldn’t find you in the sea of people. Reggie grabbed his arm, pulling him the rest of the way off the stage and throwing an arm around his shoulder, going on about how awesome the show was, Luke quickly returning the jovial compliment.

“We were fire, man, that sounded so rad tonight!” He cheered, following Alex and Bobby as they made their way through the small hall that wove back into the vestibule.  

“It was insane!” Reggie agreed.  

You had made your way back through the venue after Luke mentioned being at the merch table, slipping back passed the bouncer at the inside door, flashing your stamped hand. Their table was set up in the corner, a little way away from the headlining band’s. You stepped into the vestibule at the same time as the boys, waving at Alex when he looked your way. He nodded, reaching over to tap Luke’s chest with the back of his hand.  

“That was incredible.” You admitted, walking over to their table. Luke’s smile instantly widened as he walked around to your side, not even thinking as he hugged you, your shoulders hunching at the feeling of sweat that encompassed you. “Ew.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Luke apologized, pulling away and putting his hands on your upper arms for a second before dropping them to his sides. “Still going off the adrenaline.”

“That’s okay,” you promised, “you’re cute enough to get away with it.”

“Yeah?” He leaned against the table, trying to look cool. He felt like he was grasping for words and he didn’t want to start stuttering or sounding dumb, Bobby would never let him live it down if he made a fuck up of himself. The other three tried not to laugh and ruin his moment.  

You seemed to recover from the moment first, glancing at the other three before landing on Luke again. “You guys are totally a live band though...like that was so good.”  

Reggie came in with a save, letting Luke off the hook for a moment, “Are you heading back in to see the headliner?”  

You grimaced, “don’t really know them...not really interested.” You replied, keeping your eyes on Luke, hoping that was hint enough that you’d come just to see him.  

It clearly was because, as a few girls stepped into the vestibule and looked like they were coming your way, Luke grabbed your arm, nodding toward the doorway for you to follow him. You did, walking with him into the hallway so that it was quieter, the sounds of the house music and the chatter of people outside being drowned out in the small corridor.  

“So, uh, sorry I’m still wigging out that you came.” He admitted.  

“I said I was going to, twice. Did you seriously think I was lying?” You asked.  

“I mean, I heard your friends giving you a hard time when I walked away, figured you might back out.”  

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t, seriously Luke, you guys are amazing. You’re so talented.” You replied.  

“Guess I was right when I told Reggie to take that book club gig huh?” He said, fiddling with the rabbit’s foot on his keychain.  

“Why’s that?”  

“I thought maybe if I was lucky, I’d catch a glimpse of you...having you come here and watch us though? Better than I could’ve imagined.” He replied, grinning at you.  

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah, don’t act so surprised.” He said, “you gotta know how insanely cool you are. And you look beautiful tonight, by the way.”  

“Thanks,” you bit your bottom lip to try and keep your composure, “I uh...damn, you’re making me super nervous.”  

“Yeah?” He stepped a little closer to you, his hands brushing against yours as if he was going to hold them. You couldn’t help wishing he would.  

“I should probably let you get back to your fans,” you pointed out, glancing back out the door to where a few more people had gathered. If you stayed in this hallway with him any longer there was no way you were letting him back out.  

“Hang out? We could grab some pizza or something after?” He asked.  

“Yeah, absolutely.”  

When he walked back through the door you followed behind him, hanging back so you weren’t hovering around them as they chatted with and signed stuff for the group of people that had ventured out between sets. It didn’t matter though, as he talked, he kept looking back at you smiling as if you were both in on some sort of secret.  

[sashi-ya]

interested to know what you're thoughts are on how law's character arc will end in op? his alliance with luffy, his ability to obtain the one piece, anything really.

i'm convinced he's going to die. idk why, and i really feel like it'll have something to do with the eternal life surgery. hopefully i'm wrong! but as resident law lover, i want your opinion!

Hi babe!! thank u for asking! It is a liiiilte bit (a lot) long so I hope you don't mind ♥

Well, first in first I HOPE HE DOESN’T DIE because Idk if I can handle losing him. That being said, let me tell you what I think…

As much as Law tries to hide it, Law is Luffy’s friend. So no need to have an alliance anymore. He has found in Luffy someone who wants the same as him. Law is not interested in the One Piece treasure at all. His true motivations are a little different from being the “pirate king”. Let me tell you why….

Spoilers from “One Piece Novel: Law” (canon) and Manga under the cut. -And a LONG theory -

The novel tells us about what happened after Cora’s death, how Law managed to cure himself and how he ended up meeting Mr. Wolff, Bepo, Shachi and Penguin. In the novel it is stated that Law didn’t really care about being a pirate, but his true reasons to set sail were no other than taking down Doflamingo (What Law believed was Cora’s purpose). So, in order to fulfil Cora’s will he spent two years training not only his df powers but also as a surgeon working at a local hospital. Bepo, Shachi and Pen did the same, of course. So, to be honest, I don’t think Law's first purpose was in no way to become the Pirate King.

After the battle of Dressrosa, once Doffy was defeated and Law spoke to ex admiral Sengoku, he understood that;

First, as we all know, Cora’s love was beyond any type of revenge or plan against Doffy.

And then, the unknown meaning of the D. That meaning he was probably not really interested in until he saw how Doffy reacted knowing he was a D. And of course I’m sure he asked himself a lot about why Luffy has the same secret name? Is he supposed to do something similar to Mugiwara-ya? What does that D hide?.

Then, in Wano… he states his intentions to know about the meaning of the D clearly on ch. 995 of the manga. He even asks Robin if she knows about it.

But, let’s discuss something else here. His relationship with Smoker, X-Drake and Koby. (And ofc his step grandad Sengoku)

So, as you may know before the alliance with Luffy, Law was a Shichibukai right?

So, what happened in the two years of time skip for him to become a warlord? Most of the people accepted the quick explanation that this little emo doctor one day appeared at Marineford with a box of 100 PIRATE hearts and so the marine said “Oh amazing, let’s make him an ouka shichibukai”. Weird, right? Specially when it comes to One Piece. And mainly because how the fuck did they check if those hearts were from pirates? And what does that even mean? Did Law want to show the Marine how strong he was? or...

In the same chapter Law is presented as “Trafalgar D. Water Law, Surgeon of Death & Mastermind of the Rocky Port incident”. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT? WHAT HAPPENED THERE?

So, the only information we have about it till now (+10 years) is that it also involves Koby. Koby was decorated as Hero and Captain of the Marine after that because he “saved many civilians' lives”. So, we could say that if Law was the one who planned the incident and Koby fought in it at least they have met each other -at least once-.

And of course we all think Law was probably the bad guy, right? But, there are NO proofs of it whatsoever. What if Law AND Koby worked together against the 100 pirates Law left heartless? What if Law is not a real pirate, but perhaps has something to do with the Marine? Maybe the idea of creating this incident was to show fake information to the Marine. One possibility is that they wanted to show Law as a rival to hide his connections with some marines (Koby, X-Drake, Smoker) or maybe just the opposite, like "hey, this guy helps the marine" let's give him the Shichibukai title.

And by this I’m not really saying Law is a Marine. I don’t really think so. But, maybe he has something to do with the S.W.O.R.D. project where Koby, X- Drake, probably Smoker and Tashigi and Kuzan are involved.

From here I think it is important for me to clarify that -in my opinion- there are two sides of the Marine. The “bad guys” who let’s say are represented by Akainu; people who use the word “justice” WRONGLY. Those who work in the Marine just to protect nobles and tenryuubitos. And then the "good guys" those represented by Smoker, Cora, Bellemere, Koby, Garp, X-Drake, Ishoo who fight for TRUE JUSTICE. Even though if that depended on fighting with and not against some pirates.

A good example and I think Oda wanted to show this as a foreshadow of the future big war was these specific moment at Punk Hazard

Marines + SWORD + Pirates together against people sent by Doffy (a former Celestial Dragon). Or even during Dressrosa!

Aaaand what about Law’s relationship with Smoker? Remember how Law saved Smoker ass during his fight against Vergo? Remember how Law told Smoker about Green bit? Why the fuck would Law tell a marine about his plans? There is some info missing here that I hope Oda will enlighten us with it sooner.

Another of the many reasons Law might be involved in the SWORD project is his relationship with X-Drake. Back to Dressrosa arc, specifically during Cora’s flashback, X-Drake literally saved Law’s life indirectly. How? Well… the Ope Ope no mi was stolen by Cora from X-Drake's father. Little Drake was there too.

When Doffy heard the Marine radio stating they had found a child he thought it was Law and so they escaped. But in reality, the child was no other than X-Drake. Drake was adopted by Sengoku, just as he did with Cora and became a Marine. Drake and Smoker TRAINED together.

And then again, up until the current arc, with the help of Drake I think Law was able to escape Wano prison and attacked Hawkins.

And why would Drake help Law to escape if after all his dad was killed because of the events that involved little Law?... well, maybe because they are more than fellow supernovas… and what's Drake? A marine from Sword like Koby.

(Not to mention how Drake got even with Law because of his past by hitting the shit out of him during the “acting” at Wano prison in from of Hawkins).

So… to not make this text endless (even though I have many other reasons to believe Law is not a pirate at all) I'm sure Law FIGHTS for TRUE JUSTICE (besides him wanting to know about the will of D) for many reasons; 1. To avenge his family deaths, 2. To end up with the endless night the WG has brought into the world… after all he is a D, right?

But if you ask me about what's gonna happen with Luffy? I don't think he will get mad when he learns the truth about his precious Torao. After all Luffy is used to fight with the good marines against injustice! He even accepted X Drake to join them during Wano raid (Ch.990)

About his possible death, I really hope he doesn’t die, but to be honest, Oda has the power to decide it so… let’s pray this won't happen. And as he said many times “the moment someone makes a theory that’s true I will change it”.

So I could make this theory ENDLESS but for the sake of your sanity I won't go any further hahaha.

Thank u for asking, darling! ♥

[dragonblobz]

I'm on my bullshit again. No lemons. Just Shinigami goodness. Wrote this to In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth 3 by Coheed and Cambria.

Ryuk has been around for such a long time. Ever since she had found that notebook sitting on that tree stump years ago. Cover soft looking and beaded with dew. It had looked as if it had been there some time. And, although the pages looked weathered and yellow, there was no mold or outward damage.

Surprising given its location in the middle of the woods. She’d only even seen it because she’d stopped and knelt to retie her shoe. Just an alien black square looking sharp and unreal sitting on that stump just off the jogging trail.

She can remember how the thing had felt when she’d picked it up. Soft in texture. Like careworn leather.

The words “Death Note" emblazoned on the cover had made her feel a little unsettled. Eerie out here in the predawn misty quiet.

A silent voice inside her mind had whispered that maybe she should put it right back down on that stump and keep running. As far and as fast as she could.

Another voice, vapid and cunning, had laughed at the absurdity of such a book, with such a title, being left out here in the middle of nowhere.

She hadn’t left it there. Without opening it, she’d tucked it under her arm and continued on her morning run.

She performed all the menial tasks of her daily life, forgetting all about that Death Note leaving dew marks on her dining room table.

Breakfast was bland. Work was tedious. No different than any other day. Even when she’d reentered her home and plopped her work bag next to the thing, her eyes really didn’t focus on it.

It was the tall bony Shinigami standing in her kitchen that finally arrested her fuzzy mind from the blandness of living.

He hadn’t even been looking at her. Instead, the spinous processes of his vertebrae pressed onto the dark material upon his long back as he leaned over her counter. Observing a bowl of fruit as if it were a still life masterpiece.

She hadn’t moved. Was utterly frozen. Just watching this creature as it looked at her food.

“What’s all this junk? Taking up room that could be used for perfectly good apples.” It’s voice, low and yet raspy, grated on her eardrums as it lifted a hand and poked a claw into the ripe flesh of an orange. The movement causing several pieces of fruit to fall out of the over filled bowl entirely.

With a deft movement, the creature caught the only apple which had exited the bowl. Rubbed it with the pad of it’s thumb as it finally lifted it’s face to look at her.

It’s face………

Cadaverous. Eyes beady and large and yellow. Nose squashed. Like a mummy who’d decided to affix it’s hair for a punk rock concert. It was even sporting a dangling silver earring on one of it’s little ears.

At her gawping expression, it had smiled. Wide thin dark mouth sporting a row of razor teeth appearing aged and yellow.

“No screaming, eh? Hiya, Y/N.”

She hadn’t bothered to question how this thing knew her name.

“Um…….. hi?” Her own voice sounded dry and distant in her ears. “And you are?”

It bit into that apple, it’s eyes closing. As if savoring the fruit. A stray drop of the juice dribbled down onto it’s chin.

It said a word. But muffled thru a mouthful of apple, it nearly sounded like a retch.

“Ex….Excuse me? I didn’t…… I didn’t quite understand that.”

“Not a good listener tho. Ah well. Nobody is perfect.” It’s long tongue snaked out to swipe at that bead of juice as the creature had studied her.

Raising it’s free hand, it extended a long bony finger. She noticed now the rings glinting on his hands.

“I. Am. Ryuk.” He said it very slowly. As if she might have been a child who might not understand. But there wasn’t a trace of sarcasm or ill temper in it’s behavior.

“So….. Ryuk…… why…… um…. What……. What do you want?”

At this, it’s smile had widened.

“I’m just here Y/N. YOU are the one that picked up the Death Note.”

Imagery of that notebook popped up in her head.

“I….. I did……”

“Yes. You did. And I’ll be with you until you die now. Or I do.” It was leering now. “Whichever comes first.”

“I see….” She didn’t really see. Turned from him and went into the dining room to pick up that notebook. Opening it. Reading the first thing written on the inside of the cover out loud.

“The human whose name is written in this note shall die.”

It had been frightening in retrospect. Not those words. Not that Death Note. Not even the monster standing in the doorway happily crunching it’s way thru a second apple and watching her.

What had been utterly terrifying was that she had not blanched. Had not set this note down and backed away. Had not told that creature to take it and go.

Instead, she’d stood there. Continuing to read. A name and face already coming to mind.

A face belonging to a monster who’d put that apple eating shark mouthed monster to utter shame. The man who’d killed someone she had loved.

Without looking away from the Death Note, she’d reached over and started rummaging thru her work bag. Fingers shaking and fumbling at keys and change.

“Never can find what you’re looking for if your bag is too full, Y/N.” Ryuk looked vastly amused. “You’re not even going to question the validity of the Note? That’s what you humans usually do.”

She hadn’t answered. Simply gasped as her fingers had clutched onto a great fistful of bullshit in her bag. Lifting the whole mess out to drop carelessly on the table. Chapstick and a tampon scattering across the surface.

And there, rolling and coming to rest against an old broken key chain, had been a blue ink pen.

She’d looked up at Ryuk. Eyes wide, almost manic.

“Any person?”

He smiled again. Repeated her words.

“Any living person.”

There had been no eloquence. No artfulness nor ritualistic care taken in that first death. She had scratched the name onto the paper. And a way to die. Almost stabbing it in. Breathing coming out in ragged desperate gasping.

After the deed had been done, the pen clattered to the floor as she’d wept. Fingers numb.

It hadn’t occurred to her that there would be no way to instantly verify this death. Not until that moment. And so, with a frustrated cry, she’d slapped the Death Note onto the table and fled into her bedroom. Right over to the dark corner to collapse, wrap her arms around her knees, stuff her face into her knees, and cry as a child. Ryuk following her, tilting his head quizzically at this suffering.

“Why are you crying? You couldn’t have liked that human if you wanted them to die.”

“Please…… please go.”

But he didn’t. Simply had sank down. Knobby knees on either side of his ghastly face as he sat across from her.

“I told you. I’m here till you die, Y/N.” There was no camaraderie or sympathy in his voice. It had been matter of fact. “But this surely will get boring very soon, won’t it?”

“When will I know if he died?”

Ryuk smiled again. Leering.

“My my. Impatient aren’t you. Actually that’s a quality I like about you humans. As for your question, I guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself.” His eyes glint as his smile turns wicked. “You could always write a name belonging to someone closer. If you’re seeking validation, of course.”

“There isn’t anyone else I wanna kill.”

“Then this is going to get very boring very quickly, Y/N.”

She hadn’t had to wait long. Two days later, she’d received correspondence that her presence would no longer be required at a hearing. The defendant was dead.

A quick Google search verified that the person had died just as she’d written.

Setting the phone down, fingers numb, she'd simply looked up at her Shinigami.

She knew that’s what he was now. She’d been peppering him with questions about himself and his kind. And about the Death Note. He hadn’t answered many of them. At least, not until she’d given him an angelic grin and revealed a bag of bright green apples.

“Your apples can be green???” He'd looked absolutely delighted. And had been far more forthcoming.

“He’s dead. He’s really……. Gone…….”

Ryuk merely grunted in visceral enjoyment as he popped the core of that Granny Smith into his maw.

Without warning, she’d reached forward, patting at another errant drop of juice on his chin with a Kleenex she’d just snatched from the box. The action was mainly impulsive. And she’d laughed.

“You’re so messy.”

The Shinigami had frozen. Utterly motionless. He didn’t breathe himself. Statue still. Simply looking at her.

The years passed by like this. The shock and relief provided by this first killing soon giving way to an almost comfortable routine. She didn’t go on a wholesale slaughter. And often targeted those who hurt children. The pain of such cases resonating with the events of her own life.

And there were so. Many. Apples. Loads of them. Ryuk loved all kinds. Although he did seem preferential to Honey Crisp. She never once could get him to try another fruit. And she DID try. Not even a damn orange.

“It’s yummy. Ya know, for somebody that says he gets bored easily, you sure are picky.” She waggled the bright fruit.

“I’ve watched you peel one of those things. What sort of food makes you work so hard? Now THIS……” He'd held up his half eaten apple. “THIS is the pinnacle of crisp and juicy. Now leave that orange wherever you found it, if you please.”

Time was littered with conversations as simple as these, intermingled with serious discussions in which he was as non informative as ever.

It was one of these more serious conversations which followed an observation on her part.

She’d noticed changes in him. Very slight. But she was simply around him so much that she could see them. His movements had become slower. More careful. His speech slowed as well. As if he might be thinking more carefully. Or even forgetting things. She never once pointed this out.

Not until, one day, after clearing 6 entire apples, he’d actually groaned as he’d flopped upon her couch. Long booted feet hanging over one of the arms.

She plops next to him. Poking at one of the skulls on his belt. He’d long since stopped being surprised by her impulsive touches and nearness. Her humanness. Simply tolerating it.

“Are you hurting, Ryuk?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Oh. No reason.”

“I’m dying, Y/N.”

For once, it is she who freezes.

“I thought Shinigami lived a long time.”

“We do. My time is simply running out.” He’s just watching her.

“You’d said….. you’d said that you guys get more years by taking ours.”

“We do.”

She stops toying with that skull entirely. Turns her body so that she’s facing him directly.

“Is it time, then?” She’s oddly unafraid.

“Time for what?”

“For you to….. ya know…… write my name in YOUR Death Note?”

At this, he chuckles.

“I’m not going to write your name.”

She looks confused.

“But….. why not?”

Now he’s actually laughing.

“Do you WANT me to write your name in my Death Note?”

She chews on her bottom lip. Reaching out to pat his chest. Once again, he doesn’t react.

“I don’t want you to die.”

He laughs again. But there is no more true mirth in the sound.

“Why?”

She counters.

“Why won’t you write my name?”

“I am not entirely sure, Y/N.” The slight confusion in his voice gives credence to this answer.

“Well. I am sure.” She’s staring intently at him. “Everything ends, Ryuk. Nobody ever stays. Nothing is constant. I’ve never had a single person ever remain in my life. Except….. except you.”

He sighs. Patiently repeating himself.

“I will be with you until you die.”

“I don’t care if it’s because you have to be here. You’re still HERE……. Will it be soon?”

That same, toothy leer.

“You know I won’t tell you your lifespan, Y/N.”

“I don’t mean me.”

He just looks at her. She’s never seen his face so expressionless. Then repeats yet again.

“I will be with you until you die. Or until I do.”

“I will write my own name then. Will that do it?”

“Stop being foolish. Be a dear and get me another apple won’t you?”

“Yeah….. I will. But I’m not done.”

“I’m sure you’re not.” He chuckles.

It is as if this conversation opens a chasm in this inevitable process. Everything about Ryuk is changing. And so quickly.

Already emaciated and pale, even his dark lips turn papery and light grey. His hair grays too. Yellow eyes growing filmy where they had been so keen before. As if, when the aging process actually begins in a Shinigami, it is accelerated.

It is barely 2 weeks after this conversation that he gives a defeated grunt, sprawled on her bed as she’s on her laptop.

“I can’t get up.” He barks out a laugh. As if this is genuinely funny to him.

She closes her laptop and rises from her chair. Turning and walking over to the bed to flop next to him. Staring at the ceiling just as he is.

“You want another apple?”

“Thank you, Y/N. But I do not.”

“That close, huh.”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Will the Death Note still work? When you’re gone I mean.”

“Yes.”

Her voice is oddly cold.

“Do death gods go to hell? I cant go to heaven or hell. What about you?”

He doesn’t answer for several minutes. She doesn’t speak either. Finally…

“I suppose we will end up in the same place, Y/N.”

“I'm glad.” She turns her face to look at him. “I’ll need something before you go.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“The Shinigami eyes.”

At this, Ryuk turns his face as well. And they just stare at each other.

“Clever greedy impatient girl.” The insult is almost affectionate. “Are you truly that afraid to die alone?”

“Nobody should die alone. And this way, neither of us will half to. Half my lifespan for the Shinigami eyes. We’ll die at the same time.” She looks back up at the ceiling. He does too.

When he feels her fingers intertwining with his, as always, he doesn’t react.

“I never actually made that offer to you. Merely spoke of it.”

“I don’t care. I want the Shinigami eyes.”

He turns his face to her.

“Who am I to turn down such a lucrative deal?”

She sees his hand coming towards her face. Closes her eyes.

When she opens them again, the picture of her and some old friends on the wall is noticeably different. One face, the face of the friend who’d committed suicide years before, is clear and unblemished. The other faces each have a name and numbers above them.

And when she looks back at Ryuk, she sees that his hair is once again jet black. Eyes just as clear and sharp as she remembers. He leers at her. Squeezes her hand as she’s squeezing his.

“I’ll take that apple as well. If the offer is still there.”

She grins.

“You got a new lease on life and you STILL won’t try an orange?”

He scoffs.