#62 days left

[kojo-is-adorable]

Honeymoon?

so earlier in filming people say pictures of Jenna Dewan with a white dress on under her coat so its safe to assume that bailey and Nolan get married in season 6 and recently Nathan and Jenna have been spotted filming at the beach. From the lack of specialised equipment or camera men its safe to assume they are on holiday and are video calling someone who's in L.A

[fraeuleintaka]

Raymond Shields' new name: Eddie Fender

This is the 19th post in the Ace Attorney Investigations Collection Countdown: 62 days left until release!

Today's topic: Eddie Fender aka Raymond Shields!

I'm going to be honest: Ray isn't among my favourite characters. I do like him, especially for the role he plays in Investigations 2's story, but I'm not the biggest fan of his personality. I like his interactions with many characters but I'm not all that attached to him for his own sake so I basically would not have cared whatever his name in the official localisation would've been.

I like "Raymond Shields" as his name with "Shields" fitting to Miles' "Edge" in "Edgeworth" (similar to how their Japanese names have the meanings of "shield" and "sword" respectively) and "Raymond" coming from Proto-Germanic meaning "advice" and "protector" which handily fits his role in the game and his job as a defense attorney in general. Going from "Raymond" to "(Uncle) Ray" as a nickname also works really well.

From what I've seen "Eddie Fender" is only really a play on "a defender" which also references his defense attorney position but doesn't do much else. In that context I definitely prefer his fan translated name, it seems to have more meaning behind it. I don't know if he will also refer to himself as "Uncle Ed" or "Uncle Eddie" in the official localisation but somehow that sounds... dirtier than "Uncle Ray"? I'm not the biggest fan of his hug gimmick anyway (except that one time where Patricia Roland "out-hugged" him 😂) so I hope they won't make it worse. (I assume his "full name" is "Edmund" even though he'll only be called "Eddie" to make the pun work - similar to how Gumshoe's actual first name is likely "Richard" with "Dick" being a nickname but "Dick" has the detective reference so that's what he's called - so we'd have a similar nickname situation to "Raymond" and "Ray".) I don't care about his character enough to be particularly upset about the inferior name - and while it's less good than the fan translated one I don't think it's horrible either - but if I had to pick, I'd definitely go with his fan translated name.

[ishighrollerbackyet]

29/1/2024:

no

[ma7moudgaza2]

I don’t love Gaza, and I want to travel?!!

I was born, lived, grew up, and learned in northern Gaza. In its streets, I fell in love, and among its houses were my sweetest memories. My friends, my family, my cousins… everything beautiful happened to me in this country, and everything unpleasant happened to me as well.

I lost my friends. My house was bombed. My family’s home and my memories are gone. I live in a nylon tent. My family and I are hungry, unable to find a loaf of bread to eat. I have literally been devastated in this country. But I won’t allow anyone to tell me: “You don’t love Gaza, and you want to escape from it.”

I was completely against the idea of traveling.

Before the war, and people who know me can attest to this, I was wholeheartedly against traveling. Gaza, despite all its problems, was my home, and I believed that no matter how high I reached or how wealthy I became, there was nothing better than sharing my happiness and achievements with my family and people. I used to say: What good is it to be very rich if I can’t laugh a heartfelt laugh with my friends? What good is it to be a doctor if I can’t return home at the end of the day and see the pride in my mother’s and father’s eyes? Everything I did was to live a simple and happy life with those around me.

The war changed everything.

Until the war happened and destroyed everything. I became afraid to return to northern Gaza, not from the bombing, but from the sorrow over the destruction that occurred.

That’s why, with all the pain, I decided to travel with my family and leave the country.

Why did I decide to travel?

There’s nothing beautiful left for me here. Everything beautiful is gone. My family is hungry. The cold has taken a toll on our little children’s bodies. When I see the face of my niece “Hayat,” I fear losing her to hunger or cold. “She’s the little girl with me in the picture.”

The situation here is frightening. I can’t bear to lose anyone else. I want to get out of the country.

Gaza is in my heart despite everything.

This country is my blood, and its soil is the most precious thing in my life. But I’m not well, and I know I won’t be able to help it in this situation. Because I believe I will return with young people like me, and we will rebuild it anew. But to do something real, I have to travel. Because if this doesn’t happen, I might not even exist—maybe I’ll be dead—or missing.

The donation campaign has reached 62%.

Thank God, we have reached more than half of the goal of the donation campaign to evacuate my family from Gaza as soon as the crossing opens…

There isn’t much left, and I need you for the final push so I can live and start anew.

Help me. The donation link is here. 👇

If you can’t help financially, your help in sharing this post is the least you can do.

Also here is my PayPal link for those who can't donate to my campaign above.

@appsa @tsaricides @schoolhater @buttercuparry @feluka

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@tiredguyswag @gothhabiba @slydiddledeedee @kingskrazzyart @a-shade-of-blue

[drdemonprince]

It’s true that America has one of the lowest voter turnout rates in the industrialized world, with only 62% of eligible adults turning up to the polls on a good year, and about 50% on a typical one. But if we really dive into the social science data, we can see that non-voters aren’t a bunch of nihilistic commie layabouts who’d prefer to die in a bridge collapse or of an untreated listeria infection than vote for someone who isn’t Vladimir Lenin. No, if we really study it carefully, we can see that the American electoral system has a series of unique features that easily account for why we find voting more cumbersome, confusing, and unrewarding than almost any other voters in the world.

Let’s take a look at the many reasons why Americans don’t vote:

1. We Have the Most Frequent Elections of Any Country

Most other democratic countries only hold major elections once every four or five years, with the occasional local election in between. This is in sharp contrast with the U.S., where we have some smattering of primaries, regional elections, state elections, ballot measures, midterm elections, and national elections basically every single year, often multiple times per year. We have elections more frequently than any other nation in the world — but just as swallowing mountains of vitamin C tablets doesn’t guarantee better health, voting more and harder hasn’t given us more democracy.

2. We Don’t Make Election Day a Holiday

The United States also does far less than most other democracies to facilitate its voters getting to the polls. In 22 countries, voting is legally mandated, and turnout is consequently very high; most countries instead make election day a national holiday, or hold elections on weekends. The United States, in contrast, typically holds elections on weekdays, during work hours, with minimal legal protections for employees whose only option to vote is on the clock.

3. We Make Registration as Hard as Possible

From Denmark, to Sweden, to Iceland, Belgium, and Iraq, all eligible voters in most democracies are automatically registered to vote upon reaching legal adulthood. Voting is typically regarded as a rite of passage one takes part in alongside their classmates and neighbors, made part of the natural flow of the country’s bureaucratic processes.

In the United States, in contrast, voter registration is a process that the individual must seek out — or more recently, be goaded into by their doctor. Here voting is not a communal event, it’s a personal choice, and failing to make the correct choice at the correct time can be penalized. In most other countries, there are no restrictions on when a voter can register, but in much of the United States, registering too early can mean you get stricken from the voter rolls by the time the election rolls around, and��registering too late means you’re barred from voting at all.

4. We Make Voters Re-Register Far Too Often

In countries like Canada, Germany, and the Netherlands, voter registration updates automatically when a person moves. In the United State, any time a person changes addresses they must go out of their way to register to vote all over again. This policy disadvantages poorer and younger voters, who move frequently because of job and schooling changes, or landlords who have decided to farm black mold colonies in their kitchens.

Even if a voter does not change their address, in the United States it’s quite common for their registrations to be removed anyway— due to name changes, marriages, data breaches, or simply because the voter rolls from the previous election year have been purged to “prevent fraud” (read: eliminate Black, brown, poor, and left-leaning members from the electorate).

5. We Limit Access to Polling Places & Mail-in Ballots

In many countries, voters can show up to any number of polling places on election day, and showing identification is not always necessary. Here in the United States, the ability to vote is typically restricted to a single polling place. Voter ID laws have been used since before the Jim Crow era to make political participation more difficult for Black, brown, and impoverished voters, as well as for those for whom English is not their first language. Early and absentee voting options are also pretty firmly restricted. About a quarter of democracies worldwide rely on mail-in ballots to make voting more accessible for everyone; here, a mail-in ballot must be requested in advance.

All of these structural barriers help explain why just over 50% of non-voters in the United States are people of color, and a majority of non-voters have been repeatedly found to be impoverished and otherwise marginalized. But these populations don’t only feel excluded from the political process on a practical level: they also report feeling completely unrepresented by the available political options.

6. We Have the Longest, Most Expensive Campaign Seasons

Americans have some of the longest campaign seasons in the world, with Presidential elections lasting about 565 days on average. For reference, the UK’s campaign season is 139 days, Mexico’s is 147, and Canada’s is just 50. We also do not have publicly funded campaigns: our politicians rely upon donors almost entirely.

Because our elections are so frequent and our campaigns are so long and expensive, many American elected officials are in a nearly constant state of fundraising and campaigning. When you take into account the time devoted to organizing rallies, meeting with donors, courting lobbyists, knocking on doors, recording advertisements, and traveling the campaign trail, most federally elected politicians spend more time trying to win their seat than actually doing their jobs.

Imagine how much work you’d get done if you had to interview for your job every day. And now imagine that the person actually paying your wage didn’t want you to do that job at all:

7. Our Elected Officials Do Very Little

Elected officials who spend the majority of their hours campaigning and courting donors don’t have much time to get work done. Nor do they have much incentive to — in practice, their role is to represent the large corporations, weapons manufacturers, Silicon Valley start-ups, and investors who pay their bills, and serve as a stopgap when the public’s demands run afoul of those groups’ interests.

Perhaps that is why, as campaign seasons have gotten longer and more expensive and income inequality has grown more stark, our elected officials have become lean-out quiet quitters of historic proportions. The 118th Congress has so far been the least productive session on record, with only 82 laws having been passed in last two years out of the over 11,000 brought to the floor.

The Biden Administration has moved at a similarly glacial pace; aside from leaping for the phone when Israel calls requesting checking account transfers every two or three weeks, the executive-in-chief has done little but fumble at student loan relief and abortion protections, and bandied about banning TikTok.

The average age of American elected officials has been on a steady rise for some time now, with the obvious senility of figures like Biden, Mitch McConnell, and the late Diane Feinstein serving as the most obvious markers of the government’s stagnancy. Carting around a confused, ailing elderly person’s body around the halls of power like a decommissioned animatronic requires a depth of indifference to human suffering that few of us outside Washington can fathom. But more than that, it reflects a desperation for both parties to cling to what sources of influence and wealth they have. These aged figures are/were reliable simps for Blackstone, General Dynamics, Disney, and AIPAC, and their loyalty is worth far more than their cognitive capacity, or legislative productivity. Their job, in a very real sense, is to not do their job, and a beating-heart cadaver can do that just fine.

You can read the rest of the list for free (or have it narrated to you on the Substack app) at drdevonprice.substack.com!

[freeabortionslol]

broken heater (a lake house series fic) ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pairings: quinn hughes x reader, slight jack hughes x reader summary: reader gets cold because of the broken heater and goes to quinn warnings!! cursing, cuddling (ofc) a/n: love love love love love and I can't stress this enough, LOVEEE the requests/opinions on this series wc: 1.5k anon: "her room is freezing cold during christmas and she knows out of everyone quinn runs the warmest (also just the own she wants to go to.) and she goes to his room and quinn offered to cuddle her and they cuddled together all night , best sleep for both of them"

Another night during the christmas trip at the lake house meant another night freezing cold in your room. No matter how many blankets you had on your bed, you were still shivering, trying to find even the smallest pocket of warmth. Luke came into your room not long before, complaining about the same thing. You graciously offered him two of your blankets, being the people pleaser you were, but now you were left with even less heat than you began the night with. You really tried to deal with it, squirming every so often to find a warm spot on the mattress, but it was nowhere to be found. Quietly, you stood up from the bed, in hopes that Jack would offer his. You opened your door slowly, stepping out and feeling the cold hardwood on your bare feet as you made your way down the hall. You stopped in front of Jack’s door, knocking on it twice before stepping back to wait on him. You heard the rustle of the blankets, the blankets that sounded so warm and cozy, as he made his way. When he opened the door, he was shirtless, looking frazzled- yet his eyes softened when he realized it was you.

“H-Hey,” He said quietly, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Everything okay?”

You licked your lips, rubbing your eyes from the exhaustion of the day. “My room is like 62 degrees, can I sleep in your bed?” You yawned, covering your mouth with the back of your hand as you waited for his response.

Jack let out a light chuckle, one more nervous than humored. “Uh- not tonight?”

You blinked in surprise, your eyes widening. “What? Why?”

Jack turned his gaze away, rubbing the back of his neck. “There's uh…” He said, his voice barely above a whisper. “There’s a girl in my bed.”

Your shoulders slumped, sending him a look of disappointment. “Jack,” You groaned quietly.

“I know, I know-”

“Is it the same girl from the other day?” You asked, whispering to not wake anyone in the house.

Jack clicked his tongue, his gaze centered on the floor. “It’s um…” He paused, looking up at you for a split second before glancing at his bed. “A different…girl.”

You furrowed your brows, your head tilting to the side slightly. You ran your tongue across your bottom row of teeth as you crossed your arms, sending Jack the same disappointment-filled glare. “Fine,” you whispered, turning your body slightly. ���Do what you want, I'll just…go somewhere else.” 

“Night, princess.” Jack said before shutting his door, leaving you out in the hallway by yourself. You stood there for a moment, the cold creeping back in as Jack’s door clicked shut. The hallway seemed quieter now, the faint sounds of the wind outside barely reaching your ears. You felt a strange mix of frustration and disappointment stirring inside you, but you weren’t sure if it was more about Jack’s casual dismissal or the fact that you were still freezing cold, alone in the dark. As you turned to head back to your room, you were reminded of the fact that you shouldn’t have gone to Jack in the first place. There was someone waiting for you downstairs who you knew wouldn’t have someone in their bed, someone completely willing to give up some of their space for you. You let out a sigh, fixing your posture as you headed towards the stairs. The railing was cold on your hand as you made your way down, each shiver a gentle reminder of how long this trip would be. You descended the stairs slowly, trying to ignore the chill seeping into your skin. The house was eerily quiet at this hour, the only sounds being the occasional creak of the wood under your feet and the soft whistling of the wind outside. When you reached the bottom, you looked back up at the stairs, half-hoping Jack might come back down to get you. With a reluctant sigh, knowing he wouldn’t, you made your way to Quinn’s door. You knocked twice, no response. You knocked again, no response. You huffed out your breath, slowly turning the doorknob as you left one last knock. You cracked the door just slightly, catching a glimpse of Quinn asleep in his humongous king-sized bed. You and everyone else knew it was the comfiest bed in the entire house, seeing as Quinn had it decked out with some fancy mattress topper, and an even fancier duvet. 

“Quinn,” You whispered from the door, trying to wake him just slightly. He stirred slightly, the soft rise and fall of his chest indicating he was deep in sleep. You hesitated, not wanting to disturb him too much, but you had no other choice. The cold was unbearable, and you could already feel your teeth chattering again as the icy air seeped through the hallway. "Quinn," you whispered again, a little louder this time, your voice slightly pleading. "Quinn, wake up." At the second call, Quinn's eyes fluttered open. He blinked a few times, clearly disoriented, before slowly sitting up in bed. His hair was messy, and the pillow had left an imprint on his face, but he still managed to look effortlessly good. 

"Hey," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "What’s going on?" 

You stood in the doorway, trying not to look too desperate, but it was hard when you were shaking from the cold. "The house is fucking freezing," you admitted softly, your voice almost embarrassed. "Could I sleep in the bed with you tonight?" 

Quinn glanced at the bed, then back at you, his expression softening. He shifted his blankets and patted the space next to him, giving you a knowing smile. "Of course. Sorry, I know I need to get the heater fixed." He chuckled quietly, his voice warm and teasing, but there was no hint of annoyance. "Come on, you’re not bothering me."

“Thanks,” You said, climbing over him to get into the bed. “I’ve literally covered myself in blankets. I think I just need to be held.” You giggled softly, your voice still a whisper. Quinn’s eyes flickered with a hint of amusement as you climbed into the bed, and his grin softened at your words. He adjusted the blankets around you, making sure you were comfortable as he shifted beside you. The bed was spacious, but the warmth from his body was immediately reassuring, like a welcome haven against the cold. Quinn shifted onto his side to face you, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. You wrapped your arms around his body, tucking them underneath his as your face settled into his shoulder. Quinn's warmth enveloped you instantly, his body radiating heat that seeped into your chilled skin. The soft rhythm of his breath, steady and calm, was like a comforting lullaby, a perfect contrast to the cold, silent house around you. He adjusted slightly, pulling you even closer, his arms now fully around you, ensuring you were snug against him. His chest pressed lightly against you, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath you. 

"You good?" Quinn murmured, his voice low and soft, a hint of concern lingering despite the ease of the moment. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle, like he was careful not to disturb the peaceful stillness that had settled between you. 

You hummed quietly, pressing your face deeper into his shoulder, the scent of him, a mix of fresh air and a hint of cologne filling your senses. "Yeah, much better," you whispered, your voice muffled slightly by the fabric of his shirt. The warmth of his body against yours felt like a weight lifting, and you allowed yourself to melt into his embrace. 

Quinn's grip on you tightened just a little, his hand resting lightly on your lower back, pulling you closer still. "Good," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't mind being your personal heater." 

You chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against his chest. "I think I might take you up on that offer more often." 

Quinn laughed quietly, his chest moving with the sound. "Anytime," he said, his tone playful but sincere. "Just...next time, don’t wait so long to ask." You smiled against his shoulder, feeling a warmth that wasn’t just physical, but something deeper, a comfort you hadn't realized you needed until now. There was a quiet, unspoken understanding between you two, something that made the stillness feel comfortable rather than awkward. As the minutes passed, you could feel your body slowly unwinding, the coldness from the night fading away as Quinn's embrace became a sanctuary. His breathing remained steady, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest under your cheek was like a steady anchor, keeping you grounded and at ease.

"Goodnight, Quinny," you murmured, your voice drowsy as your eyelids fluttered shut. 

"Goodnight," he replied, his voice softer now, as though he, too, was already slipping into the peaceful quiet of sleep. The world outside the warmth of the bed seemed far away now. In Quinn's arms, you found the kind of peace that let you relax fully, the kind of warmth that only comes from being held by someone who genuinely cared.

[wonderjanga]

Respect

Captain Marvel is a marvelous hero. He was one of the first. He was a a brilliant man who helped all over the country, not just his hometown of Fawcett. And although this went for about every other hero that churned out of Fawcett as well, This man helped with construction, the wars, the people. He was revered. He was respected. He was powerful. But most importantly, he was kind. That was what won over a majority of the American peoples soon after his debut. That was what made him the hero of that time. That’s why when he and the other Fawcett heroes suddenly disappeared, the people were distraught. There was memorial after memorial for them all. Most were for the Captain though.

So yes, it’s been established already that he’s had a big impact on America, but one could argue it’s way deeper than that. He was, and still is the blueprint for how a hero should act or look like. When the hero Superman first made his debut, people, especially older people liked the similarities they shared. When Flash debuted he was also well liked among older people for his similar costume to the Captain. When Americans found out Wonder Woman was related to the Greek Gods, she was liked too because the Cheese got his powers from the Gods.

Old Man: “You’re the daughter of Zues?”

Old Lady: “Wasn’t Captain Marvel the son of Zeus?”

Old Man: “No, no, he just got his powers from him. At least I think so. It was in the newspaper some many years ago.”

Wondy: “Who’s this… Captain Marvel?”

Old Lady: “One of the best men to come from this country.”

Old Man: “That doesn’t explain anything, Gertie. He was a wonderful hero from when we were children. He disappeared in about ‘62 last I recall.”

Wondy: “A hero that drew power from Zeus… How could he have disappeared?”

Old Lady: “No one knows.” *shrugs* “One day, he and the other Fawcett heroes up and disappeared along with the city itself.”

His impact wasn’t just on heroing of course. This extended to multiple other things. Middle schoolers have a history unit dedicated to the Fawcett heroes. He was honest to God, the beauty standard for men during a resurgence in the 90s. There are posters and photos in a multitude of places from the Whitehouse to a random Ihop in Los Angeles. There are schools named after him and other Fawcett heroes.

Couple: *looking around the lobby of an ihop and spots a photo on a bulletin board* “Is that Captain Marvel…?”

Hostess: “Yes! He came here in 1959. He apparently got some breakfast with some of his hero buddies and took the photo with the owner. Your table will be this way.”

Couple: “Gosh, I used to think he was so cool as a kid.” *follow after the hostess*

When the time bubble finally popped, the entire country was blindsided by the fact that their hero was back in the flesh. He looked exactly the same, acted exactly the same, and still had that exact warm smile.

Marvel: “It’s wonderful to meet you, Mr. Superman Sir.” *puts hand out for a handshake*

Supes: *inner fangirlling because oh my Rao, this guy is practically his idol and he just called Clark both Mister and Sir* “It’s wonderful to meet you too.” *shakes his hand*

The hero worship wasn’t exclusive to just heroes who were kids. No, no, kids, teens, adults, elderly, most heroes think he’s absolutely amazing. Even Batman! They look up to this guy just as much as the regular elderly civilian who was alive before Marvel had been caught in Suspendium.

The most interesting part about all of this in some people’s opinions are that it was like the Cheese had never even left. He still unknowingly evokes respect whenever he walks into a room. He could still make kids smile with a glance. His power had certainly never waned either during the time he was gone. He was still just a marvelous hero.

.

.

.

Meanwhile during all of this, Billy is internally confused at everything in the modern world and is just trying to handle it the way he normally would. It seems to be working.

[fenrislorsrai]

Seven months of searching for her lost son brought Bettersten Wade to a dirt road leading into the woods, past an empty horse stable and a scrapyard. The last time she’d seen her middle child, Dexter Wade, 37, was on the night of March 5, as he left home with a friend. She reported him missing, and Jackson police told her they’d been unable to find him, she said.  It wasn’t until 172 excruciating days after his disappearance that Bettersten learned the truth: Dexter had been killed less than an hour after he’d left home, struck by a Jackson police car as he crossed a nearby interstate highway. Police had known Dexter’s name, and hers, but failed to contact her, instead letting his body go unclaimed for months in the county morgue. 

GEE I WONDER IF THESE ARE RELATED

The decision to call the police was difficult for Bettersten. She did not trust them. In 2019, her 62-year-old brother died after a Jackson officer slammed him to the ground. The officer was convicted of manslaughter but is appealing.  Her family filed a wrongful death lawsuit accusing Jackson officers of excessive force and attempting to cover up their actions, and accusing the city of failing to properly train and supervise the officers. The city has denied the claims and said it isn’t liable for what happened. The officers’ lawyer said they acted responsibly and lawfully. A federal judge dismissed some of Bettersten’s claims; others remain pending in state court.  Bettersten said her mother advised her not to call the police about Dexter.

The whole thing is worth reading, its not that long. But other key points: the coroner IDed Dexter within a few days and gave the info to the police to notify the family. After months of no info, officer in charge of missing persons retired. Within two weeks, the replacement officer notified her of the death and took her to fetch the body from a paupers field where coroner buried unclaimed bodies.

[genericpuff]

LORE | REKINDLED EPISODE 62 DELAYED

Hey y'all, bad news: I got hit hard by a cold / flu wombo combo, I've been functionally bologna since Thursday, this is the first time since then I've even been able to stay out of bed longer than 10 minutes.

There isn't much left to get done with tonight's episode but it's still gonna be delayed by a little bit. Ideally it was supposed to have been done between Thursday night / Friday morning but this thing really got the better of me. All I ask for is your patience while I fight through this, I am thankfully starting to enter the upswing but it's still touch and go, mostly just taking it an hour at a time, drinking lots of fluids, cycling between painkillers and decongestants (I haven't been on my ADHD meds in about two days either so that they wouldn't conflict with the cold meds which has been... fun) and getting a lot of rest. The next episode isn't necessarily long or as exciting as the previous one (we gotta come down from the vibes of the eye-pulling incident LMAO), so I don't want to make y'all wait a whole extra week - so I'll be trying to get those finishing touches done with ASAP so that the wait isn't super long <3

Thank you all so much for waiting and for being such awesome readers <3 In the meantime, have this lil' preview!

[balsamibrahim]

400 Days of Suffering, Deprivation, and Loss 😢💔

€19,197/100€k

My campaign was vetted by @bilal-salah0

And Gaza Family Funds

Line #62

It has been over 400 days since this relentless suffering began. 💔 The days pass slowly, but the pain only grows.😭 We continue to endure and hold on for life, but we need a helping hand.🇵🇸🙏

My family and I, like so many others here, face daily challenges to secure the most basic needs—clean water, food, and safe shelter. In these tough circumstances, we are reaching out for help.💔🙏

Every contribution, big or small, makes a real difference in our lives.⛺️⛺️

If you can help or know someone who can offer support, please help us share our story with the world.🙏❤️🇵🇸

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[occasionalsnippets]

I Read FD!Mc and I love them, awh, how cute, It is stated that FD!Mc is not a constant in the universe since thier alternate self didn't exist but what do you think thier alternate self woild be like if it did exist?

— 🦊 Anon

I did do a couple of little au ideas at the end of the outline but here’s elaboration of Wayne enterprises intern au!

Taglist:@dragondevinity, @lonely-star2044, @sheep-from-rad, @ilxandra, @thethingwiththefeathers, @star-wars-lycanwing-bat, @sackofsadstuff, @zonked-times, @paastaboi, @venfia, @fantasy-angelo, @linaisadream

You get an internship at Wayne Enterprises and it’s pretty great. It’s only supposed to last half a semester but then um. Jason died. The company went to hell for a bit, your supervisor transferred to another department and no one signed your internship annulment form. So, you’re trapped at Wayne Enterprises for the unforeseeable future.

Tim sneaks out one night and ends up becoming Robin. You had told him to wait for you but apparently you were taking too long so he left on his own. Ugh. Teen rebellion. You knew it was going to happen at some point.

The company gets less on fire. Mr. Wayne starts showing up again. It's summer and you are still working at Wayne Enterprises. Fuck you hate it here but at least you're still being paid.

You think that at some point, they just… forgot you were an intern? People keep giving you tasks. You keep doing them. You don't know who your new supervisor is or who to go to anymore.

Tim goes to you for advice on how to take care of a grown ass man. You tell him he should just let you into the Wayne manor so you can do it yourself but he thinks it won't go over well. Fine. Whatever. You help out in the background.

At some point, Batman starts getting better and Tim becomes Robin officially. Mr. Wayne, still pretending to be as ditzy as ever, mistakes you for someone else (an assistant or something?) and brings you along to a board meeting.

You dutifully take notes and watch him run circles around everyone else. At the end of the meeting, once everyone has left, he turns to you and asks "And who are you again?"

You give your name, no last name, and ask if there's anything else he needed. He waves you off. You can already tell he's going to stalk your employment history.

The new intern supervisor's contact information is buried under 62 emails and 5 link portals. You call so you can finally quit. They respond with "You've been promoted". "What?". "You're been promoted". "By who? When? For what?". "By Mr. Wayne, two days ago, to executive assistant."

You complain to Tim as you examine the case he brought back to you for help. He is entirely unsympathetic to your plight.

The things that happen after are mainly just shenanigans.

You know that they know that you know Mr. Wayne and co are vigilantes but in a "professional work setting", you are determined to never directly bring it up. If they want to talk about it, it will be over your dead body.

Later, when Batman gets lost in the time stream and Mr. Wayne mysteriously "retires". Tim breaks the news to you.

"Congrats, you've been appointed CEO."

"What?" you respond in horror.

"You're the new CEO." He's not even hiding his laughter.

"Traitor," you hiss at him as he breaks and laughs directly in your face.

[alieinthemorning]

Low Temperatures [Sylus]

Content: Fluff, Established Relationship, Sick Character, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

“Why is it so cold in here?” The moment your bare feet grazed the marble floor of Sylus’ room, a sharp chill ran up and down your body.

“Did you know that you should sleep with the room temperature at between sixty and seventy-two degrees?”

“So fucking freezing and freezing?” You padded your way over to the thermostat, turning it up to 75. “Don’t touch it.”

“It’s my thermostat.” You rolled your eyes at Sylus’ pout, heading over to the bed. 

“Well now it’s our thermostat since I’m sleeping in here tonight.” Throwing the covers back, you flopped down.

You should have known simple words wouldn’t have stopped Sylus. You should have walked out the moment he brought up that cold ass “correct” temperature bullshit. All you wanted was sleep, a quick rest, a simple rest of the eyes. But now here you were, cold, cranky, and cuddled up against the culprit. 

“Why is it so fucking cold?” Your voice was rough, you sure were sick. 

“It feels quite comfortable to me.” Despite being burrowed deep in the covers, you could hear the smug smile. “You were holding onto me so tightly…am I to assume it was because you were cold and nothing else?”

“Shut up—” Your words became a wet, garbbed mess of coughs. 

You felt Sylus shift closer. “Are you seriously sick?”

“Did you seriously touch my shit when I told you not to?” Another string of harsh coughs. 

Silence blanketed the room, for once he had nothing to say. You untangled yourself from the blankets, making your way to the thermostat. You could feel Sylus’ gaze on your back, but you ignored it. 

It was at 62 degrees. 

You headed for the door.

He didn’t try to stop you. 

You hated being sick. You hated being away from home, and sick. You especially hated being away from home, sick and living under the same roof as the person who made you sick as a fucking gotcha (or whatever). 

“Man, you’re weak.” 

“Yeah, sixty-two degrees isn’t even all that cold.”

“Get out.” 

You were not in the mood for Luke and Kieran shenanigans because if they were gonna shenan once, they would shenan again.

“No can do.”

“The boss gave us explicit orders to watch over you.” 

You groaned (mistake, turned in another bad cough), and rolled your eyes. “Then watch me quietly. I want to sleep.”

“But you’ve been doing nothing but sleeping this entire time.” Kieran pointed. 

“And that’s boring.” Luke agreed with a nod. 

“Yeah, we should—”

A ping cleared the air, cutting Kieran off. Luke slipped his phone from his pocket, glancing at the message. 

“It’s boss. He wants to see us.” 

“Really? I thought we had the day off.”

“Good, hurry up and don’t come back.” You would have physically pushed them out, but your body was aching, so you hoped a fierce glare was enough to get them moving. 

It wasn’t. They took their sweet ass time leaving your room, but at least they were nice (see: being a nuisance) enough to turn the lights off as they left. 

Finally, peace and quiet. Well, peace, quiet and pain. But with a commentary video on in the background, you were able to lull yourself to sleep. 

The next few days went by slowly, and uneventful. The twins never came back after Sylus had called for them. You were both grateful and a bit annoyed (you would have liked to have a bit of entertainment as you were getting better). Then you were fully recovered, and the twins still hadn’t reared their masked heads. You rolled your eyes, turning on your heel and headed for the reason why.

Entering the room, you immediately beelined it for the thermostat.

It was set to 75 degrees. 

You headed for the bed.

He didn’t try to stop you nor move from his spot.

You snuggle into the bed, happy with the comfort that surrounded you. You were content with the silence, not really expecting him to speak to you, and you weren’t willing to extend the olive branch. But then he spoke,

“I’m sorry.” He sighed, as his book clapped shut. “For disregarding your words, and getting you sick.” 

You let the apology settle in the air for a moment before responding. “I don’t like that you did that—I’ve got a weak constitution.” You paused, toying with your bottom lip. “...but I should have told you that before just changing something and expecting you not to change it back. So I’m sorry too.”

“Now that we’ve both gotten the apologies out of the way,” You felt him lean over you, “Will you return to the bedroom?”  

“Oh? Was someone lonely without me?”

His lips grazed your ear. “Of course I was.”

“Oh.” You shuddered. “What should we do about our loneliness then?”

“I can think of a few things.”

For the first time ever

NSFW Continuation

Everyone thank my friend and Sylus for this.

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us Part II: table of contents

Summary: After the farm’s devastating fall, you’re forced to confront not only the dangers of the open landscape but the emotional weight that presses down on you day and night. The distraction of survival left little room to process the pain and guilt that now linger beneath the surface, but when the group discovers the prison, the urgency to survive finally eases, and the flood of emotions you’ve buried starts to rise. With the adrenaline gone, you’re left to face your grief, guilt, and shifting dynamics within the group. Relationships are tested in the wake of loss, and your inner struggle feels heavier than ever. Yet, through it all, there’s one bond you can always rely on: Daryl. Steady, unwavering, and your constant in a world of uncertainty, he might be the only thing keeping you grounded as you fight through the fog of grief and find your way back to yourself.

warnings: canon typical violence including walker deaths and gore, mentions of depressions and ptsd, (canon) character deaths, violence against mfc

PART I

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

PART II

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Epilogue

[lostintransist]

Chiseled Heart | Part 2

CW: Suspisions of stalking

AO3

You liked the look of the big man at the gym. He never stared at you and offered help only when you really needed it. When you had last seen him blood had run down your arm from your smashed finger. The trip to the Instacare, thankfully, had not led to stitches but did require steri-strips, and the doctor advised you to take a week off from the gym as the swelling in your hand reduced.

It gave you time to clean the handkerchief the man had let you borrow. Honestly, you didn’t even know people still carried them around. The fabric, soft and clean against your fingers, doesn’t smell like him. Such a shame, you imagine he is a man who smells good. Mentally smacking yourself from the daydreams starting to stir you tuck the handkerchief into the top of your gym bag and go about getting ready for work.

Work involved being an actuary for an insurance firm. Yes, you often felt like the devil shat on your flesh when you left work but you had to survive capitalism somehow. Stumbling into the profession had been a stroke of luck. A job fair at your college campus in the early days of your general ed classes had sat between the two buildings where your classes were held. You had always been good, comfortable, and confident in math, and a job that would always be needed somewhere that let you dink around in Excel all day? Well, there were worse things to direct your life toward. You refused to work for health insurance companies. You needed to survive, but you didn’t need to be the reason someone died.

Audiobooks and your favorite forty-six-hour playlist (that did grow nearly every time you found a new song or band to obsess over) kept you company as you toiled away your minutes at the overly light computer. No matter how many times you flicked off the overhead lights your boss would turn them back on with every chat. It reached the point you were sure he was fucking with you. He didn’t work in the small office flooded with natural light. No, he worked across the building. You would hate him if that didn’t require giving any emotional energy toward the vampire.

Being the only non-man on the team led to some interesting reactions from people who floated by the office or dropped by to confirm the numbers on a file that had been sent out. They all filtered to you first. Every. Last. Visitor. It got so bad that you had taped a 62-point font two-page spread to the back of your monitor that read “NOT IN CHARGE ASK HIM” with an arrow pointing to your supervisor’s desk. It helped a little.

The gym between the office and your apartment had become a refuge from the corporate curve to your spine and the ache in your ass from your chair. It never seemed to fade no matter how many hours you switched from sitting to standing. Hip exercises though? Now those aches faded and left you fitting better in your slacks.

Staring at your frozen lunch in the microwave at eye level you toy with the waiting plastic fork at your lips. Mind drifting with the monotonous spin you find yourself thinking of him again. The man who wore a mask no matter how sweat through his top might be, who never stared, and walked with the slightest of limps. He had been kind, if a bit reluctant the few times you had interacted. Maybe reserved would be a better word for his actions. Nothing about his help had been reluctant toward you; more as if he battled within himself before deciding.

Maybe you should offer him a cupcake from the local bakery? Or take him to coffee as a thank you? Somehow the idea of his large hands hiding a paper cup as the heat seeped from it didn’t appeal. He couldn’t drink anything warm with a mask firmly in place. Doubt crept along your shoulders. You needed to say thank you. Handing the clean folded piece of cloth and your sincerest words didn’t satisfy the need ingrained from childhood.

Settling on offering to buy him a take-home dessert or a takeout of his choice you nod once to yourself. If he declined the offer at least you had put the effort in to truly articulate your thanks for his help. Today being Monday you set the goal of asking him when you returned his belongings. The rest of the day slips by easily; reports are completed on time and fired off by email. You didn’t even forget to add an attachment today.

When you are leaving the parking lot you notice it, that car that always leaves at the same time as you. It’s not terribly unusual. Building management did try and stagger off times to avoid parking lot traffic but the same car for the past three weeks had been pulling out directly behind you every time you left. The blue peeking through the rust of the bug started to give you Dahmer vibes. It had been a concern on your radar. Your panic didn’t increase until tonight. Instead of taking a turn before you got to your destination, the bug followed you today, parking at the back of the gym parking lot. You were able to snag an opening under a light pole and close to the entrance.

Scurrying from your car you sneak through the front door as the clock shifts to eight and they lock behind you. Heaving a sigh of relief you lift your bag further up your shoulder and head for the locker room. It isn’t hard to spot the man you are looking for when you let your eyes drift across the gym. He has headphones on today as he does squats. Man had a flat ass but he sure as hell never skipped leg day.

Dressing, you mentally run through the steps of your Monday routine. Stairmaster is first, then after you are warmed up today you would focus on back and chest. The man who helped you, damn you really needed to get his name today, didn’t notice you until you were nearly done with your last exercise. He often arrived before you and left after. When your eyes caught in the mirror that spanned the length of the gym he nodded once at you before continuing to put away his current weights.

Finishing your last set you speed through putting your own weights away and slipping into the dressing room to grab the handkerchief you needed to return. You are able to corner him in what everyone refers to as the stretching corner. Feet spread wide, head down he slowly walks his hands from one leg to the other. You do your best not to drool over the stretch and bulge of muscles as he does this. Chewing on your lip you wait patiently for his movements to be finished.

When his hands reach the middle he drops one knee and then the other, pulling both beneath him as he prepares to stand. He looks up after getting one foot on the ground. You are startled at the blue eyes that peer out at you.

“Ja?”

You blink a few times before offering his item back with both hands.

“I wanted to say thank you for your help and offer to buy you take out one of these days,” your words are nearly not understandable with how they all rush over each other to get out of your mouth. Taking a deep breath you give your name before noticing you are still holding on to the handkerchief.

Letting go you give him a wincing smile and step back a smidge.

Your eyes trail up with him as he stands, he is tall. You weren’t short for a woman by any means but you didn’t quite crack six feet. He had to be well over that number.

“I know you wear a mask so I would also be happy to get you a gift card. This isn’t me trying to pry or force you in any way I just thought a thank you wasn’t really enough you know?”

Now you are rambling. You shut your mouth with a slight click, barely managing to get your tongue out of the way before you crushed it. You stare at him as he stares at you.

“König,” he offers a hand.

You take it and shake it before tucking your hands behind your back to keep from embarrassing yourself further.

“I will decline the food offer, but danke,” he inclines his head with this thanks.

“You’re welcome, I didn’t think you would but I would feel bad if I didn’t at least offer.” Shrugging once you can feel this conversation coming to an end. Stepping back once more you can’t figure out the best way to end this interaction. “Thanks again, for the help.”

He nods once and you skitter away to the locker room for your bag. You studiously avoid looking for him as you head toward the front doors. The sight of the stalkerish car still sat in the same stall in the back of the lot. Turning to look at the front desk you only see two young women chatting away. Can’t ask them, they would be in just as much danger.

Cursing the bastard that was maybe stalking you under your breath you make your way back to the stretching corner. You wait again for König to take notice of you. When he does he lifts a brow in question.

“Sorry I know I’m awkward and probably annoying at this point but is there any chance you could walk me to my car?” You point over your shoulder as if he doesn’t know where the parking lot is. “There is this weird car I have been seeing over the last few weeks and they followed me here tonight and they are still in the lot.”

He nods and stands, walking by your side before holding open both the inner and outer doors for you.

“Will be back,” he says to the front desk gals in passing. They nod and thank him for the heads up.

The fresh air and trickle of water from the creek that runs next to the building are refreshing after the slight sweat-tinged air of the gym. The engine of the little blue bug starts up as you appear. It proceeds to peel out when they notice the mountain of a man at your side. König keeps pace with you, his silence is comforting as you breathe a sigh of relief.

Reaching your car you drop your duffle bag in the back seat and turn to look up at him as you lean back on the door.

“Okay, now I really do owe you dinner. Will you be here Wednesday? I’ll bring a gift card since I doubt you would like to have dinner with me and my socially incompetent self.”

“Nien, no need,” he waves a hand between you as if the help he provided is nothing. “I am also���awkward.”

“Well, nothing you say will prevent me from buying you a gift card.” You smile up at him, grin wide and bright. “Thanks König. I’ll see you Wednesday.”

With that you climb into your car, shutting and locking the door before driving off into the night. König waves to you as you stop before pulling onto the road. You wave back despite knowing he can’t see you in the dark.

Chiseled Masterlist | Masterlist

[aakeysmash]

Roommate or boss?

Pairing: f!reader x Katsuki Bakugou.

Previous part: part 4.

Next part: part 6.

A/N: High School Musical references (watch the movies!!!). I recommend you to read part 1 again, because a lot of references I made here are also said in the first chapter. This could look like a filler chapter, but it’s really important for future developments!

Word count: 2.2k.

You’re relaxing on your bed on a deserved day off, brand new AC on and a cold glass of orange juice in your hand. You’re scrolling on your phone, chuckling at various memes and sending most of them to Ochaco, who will probably complain about finding 62 videos from you and having to react to each one. You’re planning on doing absolutely nothing today, just munching on snacks and sleeping. Maybe you’re going to put on that show you’ve been wanting to see. This is the life, you think.

“FUCK THIS SHIT!”

You’re startled out of your mind, again. Katsuki has been screaming at the top of his lungs since this morning, but you don’t even know the reason why. You hear his stream of curses from the wall between your rooms.

You’re very annoyed: he’s ruining your perfect day off. How dare he. You throw punches on the wall for the upteenth time, hoping he will stop or go outside to do whatever is bugging him.

“Stop fucking doing that!” He screams back at you, and you get even angrier. You decide you had enough, so you get up from your bed and march towards his room. You throw his door open without caring about his privacy.

He snaps his head towards you, scowling worser than usual.

“D’you ever heard about fucking knocking?” He barks at you. He looks disheveled: his usually spiky hair is a mess, and you assume he keeps on yanking it; you can feel his eye bags, and he probably didn’t have a good night of sleep in two weeks.

“Damn, you look bad” you mumble looking at him from head to toe. You lose a bit of your anger and almost feel bad. Almost.

“Well, I don’t care, you’re ruining my perfect day, so if you need to scream go out” you say glaring at him.

“This is my fucking house too” he snarls. “If I want to scream because I don’t want to do this shit, then I’m gonna do it. You’re free to leave and never return” he responds looking you up and down. He’s got a point.

You scoff. Sometimes he really has the audacity to speak when he shouldn’t be speaking. “What are you even doing? What’s this big thing that’s bothering you so much?”.

He grits his teeth and stays silent. The way he doesn’t want you to know the reason why he’s so angry just makes you become more curious. Oh, I’m about to get so annoying when I find out. Just so you wait, Katsuki.

“Come on, don’t be a kid. Let’s make a deal: I’ll make you a cup of hot chocolate if you tell me” you try to bribe him. In one of his nicest moments, he complimented the way you know how to “make it just right”, just to take it back immediately after noticing those words left his mouth. Also, your roommate likes to eat and drink hot things even if it’s summer. He’s a weirdo.

He looks conflicted. He really wants a sweet treat, and he knows that he’s not capable of doing it the way you do (he already tried and failed). He blames it on the fact you keep on saying that you add a secret ingredient that he doesn’t know, because there’s just no way he’s not good at doing everything he puts his mind into. He ponders about it for what feels like 3 minutes, where you both stay completely silent.

“I’ll even add whipping cream.”

You try suppressing your grin: he’s sold, you see it in the way he grits his teeth even harder. “I’m revising my thesis’ grammar.”

You instantly become smug, all your anger forgotten. Bingo. “The big buff Bakugou Katsuki is mad about some grammar? Really? I thought you were stronger than that, pussy” you tease him with a smirk on your face.

He tries throwing you one of the books he keeps on his desk, but you dodge it. Then you lean on his door and cross your arms, while he goes on and screams “GET OUT! You’re bothering me even more”.

“Stop screaming, oh my god”, you whine. “What would it take for you to return being the quiet kid at the back of the class? You’re so annoying like this” you say exhausted. You get one day off in 3 weeks, there is no way he’s ruining it. You’re finding joy in annoying him, though, it’s so fun.

“I was never the quiet kid, I ain’t no loser like you. Get the fuck out of my room” he bites back. He doesn’t need to know it, but you were indeed the quiet kid.

“Well, guess I won’t help you then” you reply, shrugging. You didn’t even ask if he wanted your help, and you didn’t come in his room to help him, but now you’re just rubbing in his face that you can go and do absolutely nothing for the rest of the day, while he boils himself away in his despair.

You start closing his door, yawning and teasing him some more. “Continue screaming while I go and watch Love Island without you”. You have to turn around to hide your expression.

You hear him curse under his breath. “Fuck, wait, I really wanna see that”, he says, sounding desperate. “Aren’t you enrolled in literature or some shit?”.

You face him with the biggest devious smile you can muster. “Yeah, why?”

The vein on his forehead is about to pop. “How good are you at correcting grammar?”, he says.

You look like you won the lottery. “Ooooh you want my help? Do you want me to revise your little thesis for you? Little ol’ me? Weren’t you saying to get the fuck out?” You say walking towards his still sitting form. He’s super rigid, like asking you to help him is requiring him all the strength of the world and the planets and the solar system together. He closes his eyes and rubs his temples. He tries the breathing exercises they taught him in highschool to manage his fury, when he really started managing his anger issues. You’re getting on his last nerves, but revising all he wrote in months is also getting on his nerves.

“Can you at least pretend to not enjoy this as much as you currently are? You’re a devil” he spits out. Well, he could’ve said something meaner, so the breathing exercises must have worked a little.

“Mean. I guess you don’t want my help then”, you respond, feigning innocence.

“Let’s make one thing clear: I’m a boss at doing shit like this. I’m just tired of doing it, ‘cause I’ve been at it for a day straight. I’m good at everything, so you’ll probably find a comma that I forgot to type, not much more than that”, he adds, glaring up at you. You’re now standing next to him, but the fact he’s still sitting has you staring at him from above. This simple act is driving him insane: if he’s not in control he gets antsy, and you seem to know it, because you’re standing really proud.

You decide on dropping the facade a little, because you enjoy revising things. And he does look exhausted.

“Sure, send me the file and I’ll look into it” you say. Now you’re going outside of his room to make his chocolate, but he thinks you’re just running away.

“Wait. What do you want in return?” He says squinting at you. There’s no way she’s doing it because she’s nice, he thinks.

You look at him, dumbfounded. “Huh?”

“Don’t fucking “huh” me. What do you want? Why are you doing this?” He responds, serious.

You raise one eyebrow and stay silent for a bit, then you tell him “Because I’m nice? Have you ever heard about kindness? Not everything is a transaction, business man” then you close his door without waiting for an answer, leaving him confused and somewhat angry.

You start doing his hot chocolate while singing to yourself, when suddenly his door is thrown open and he exits it, staring at you.

“Tell me what you want” he says coming closer to you and crossing his arms. It sounds more like a statement than a question.

You look at him and respond “Tell me what you neeeed”, singing.

“What the fuck are you saying?”

“High School Musical? That one scene in the second film where they all sing in the kitchen? Really?” You ask, and he looks confused.

“I’ve never seen those films. They look pathetic.” He responds, rolling his eyes and looking at you putting whipping cream on his hot chocolate. You look shocked, and you hang your mouth open.

“You’ve never seen High School Musical?!” You almost scream.

He winces, rubs his ears and then proceeds to say “What’s so weird about it? It’s not like it’s a cult or something”.

“Yes! Yes it is! You know what? We’re going to watch it right now. And you can’t refuse, or I won’t revise your thesis” you tell him while poking him in the chest. Soft.

He kisses his teeth, huffs and goes to sit himself on the couch.

“I knew you weren’t doing it for free, manipulator” he glares at you.

You shrug, while putting his cup in front of him and bringing him some cookies. He mumbles a thanks, relaxing.

“I was going to help you regardless, but if I can make you suffer it’s funnier” you tell him, positioning yourself next to him and stealing one of the biscuits you brought for him.

“You’re such a bitch.”

“A bitch who’s going to do your work, so shut up and watch people fall in love in highschool” you bite back. You both roll your eyes.

Neither to say, he hates the movies with a passion. He thinks that high school is portrayed poorly, that Gabriella is the real villain, that they’re all pretentious bitches, that Troy should’ve went away because none of them were truly his friends since they weren’t supporting him.

You keep on huffing while he tells you all these “that”s.

“Katsuki, it’s not like it’s reality. It’s a musical. Just focus on the songs and the love, damn” you whine while throwing a punch at his bicep. He doesn’t budge and your hand hurts.

“That’s not my definition of love” he simply states.

“Yeah? And what’s your definition of love?” You ask him, curious.

He raises one of his eyebrows. “Why would I share something like that with you?”.

“Because I’m doing your work. And we’re friends. Sort of. And you like my chocolate” you respond, while blushing a little. You know you tend to be a little too curious and nosey, but it’s just because you pay a lot of attention to details. Details are everything to you. You’re quick to backtrack seeing his hostile behaviour towards this topic, and you start saying that it’s not a big deal and you should’ve minded your business, when he interrupts you.

“And what is your definition of love?”

He looks relaxed, like asking this isn’t that bothersome. Like he wants you to know you too. Like he cares, in some way.

“Love is a lot of things for me” you resort to say. Just how much can you be specific without scaring him away?

“Yeah, you’re waiting for me to talk about it first. I get it, dumbass. I’m not very good with words on this aspect though, so I’m sorry, but your curiosity won’t be quelled” he responds, rolling his eyes. From the start of this conversation he hasn’t stopped breathing normally, almost as if this is a regular conversation for him. He hasn’t stopped looking at you, too, but you’re trying to ignore that.

“Then let’s make a deal. Saturday we’re picking a thing that we think helps us explain what we think about love” you burst out. He’s about to protest, but you’re not finished.

“Love as in general love! Love can be outside of romantic relationships too, so let’s settle on love between friends! I’d never go out with you like that” you add. You jump out of the couch. You feel like you might catch on fire if you stay near him one more second. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you like you’re something he wants to dissect.

“Okay” he simply responds. You’re dumbfounded.

“Really? You’re okay with this? I thought you were going to say no” You say.

“Yeah, but let’s say that we can both decide on either going out or staying in. This is not a date, you said it yourself, so I don’t see a problem with it. It will just be like one of our movie nights, it’s not like we never spend time together, dumbass” he says, getting up and stretching his hand towards you.

“So? Are you in? Or are you scared of doing something much less meaningful than me?” He tells you, smirking.

You glare at him and compose yourself. Then, you stretch his hand.

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

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@perfectsukii @sleepykittycx @what-the-jams @bakunianadecorazon @vensunzy @eyesforbkg @bffrrufr @imas1mpp @cold-deep-water @peonies-and-teacakes @berryvioo

I couldn’t tag the ones in pink :(

[writinground2]

62, 70 with Alessia Russo please :)

62 - Did we meet?

70 - Let's have some fun

Good Paying Customer - Alessia Russo

“Ms. Russo,” the hostess slipped the blonde a slip of paper with a coy smile as the players made their way to their reserved room for a team dinner. 

Alessia ignored the varying looks the girls gave her, shrugging off Beth shaking her shoulders smiling at her. She discreetly opened the note. 

LET’S HAVE SOME FUN

She supressed her laugh when she saw the note scrawled in marker, the paper looking like it had been torn harshly from receipt paper.   

“Get some digits Less?” Lotte tried to read over her shoulder while she shoved the note in her pocket. 

The blonde just shoved her away as they continued to make their way through the restaurant. With the national team players leaving for the camp in a couple days, so Arsenal reserved the back room of a popular restaurant for a night of fun. 

The room had a small separate bar with large tables spread out. They had a personalized menu for the players to choose from. 

Players mingled, keeping the bartenders busy as they all enjoyed the night off, many well at tipsy by the time they were called to be seated and order their meals. 

“Oi! Settle up so she can take your order!” Kim shouted at the loud players while the waitress attempted to take peoples orders. 

The waitress smiled and thanked the captain for controlling the busy group. The players all remained silent while each politely spoke their orders. 

“Oh, uhh, she knows what I want,” Alessia smiled to the waitress. Everyone gave her a confused looked, while the waitress just smirked and moved on. 

The room erupted in noise as soon as the waitress left the room, several jumping up to the bar to top up their drinks.

“I’ve eaten here a few times,” Alessia shrugged while the players bombarded her with questions. 

“This place is widely exclusive, no one gets a table here,” Leah protested. 

“Yeah, you’ve never brought me here!” Lotte started to lean heavily into the blonde, speaking loudly into her ear, the cheap bar catching up to her.

Alessia ignored her, knowing they would all be distracted soon enough. Which was true, they all quickly moved on to something else. 

The room quieted again while everyone’s meals were brought back in. Each quietly thanking the staff as dishes were placed in front of them.

Alessia felt a hand gently brush her shoulder while hers was placed in front of her, glancing up, she made eye contact with Y/N. The blonde quickly brought her hand up to grasp Y/N’s wrist before her hand was pulled away. They squeezed hands briefly before parting. 

“Evening ladies, I’m Y/N, head chef and owner here. Thank you all for coming here tonight. Enjoy your meals, I’ll be out later to check in again,” Y/N smiled to the group, waving slightly before leaving. 

“She looks super familiar,” Lotte watched her leave. 

“And was very interested in little Lessi here,” Leah teased.

Alessia hid her blush, focusing on her plate in front of her.

“Hey! That wasn’t an option on the menu!” Lotte leaned over, attempting to pick food from the blondes’ plates. 

Alessia used her fork to knock Lotte’s out of the way, “I told them she knew what I wanted.” 

Lotte continued to try and stab at the food, eventually Alessia just shoved her away with a firm push to the shoulder, knocking the table and several drinks over in the process. 

The two pushed their chairs out from the table to avoid getting wet as the liquids dripped off the edge of the table. Lotte shot her fork back over, spearing gnocchi off the blondes’ plate. 

 “Damn that’s good!” 

They players around scowling in her direction, Alessia flushing under the attention. 

The bartender rushed over with clothes and napkins, quickly wiping up the mess, before it got too big. 

Alessia glared when Lotte scooped her plate up, beginning to eat it as her own. Huffing, she left the room to find a bathroom to clean the wine off her arms. 

The striker returned a few minutes later in a much better mood. Y/N following not long after with a fresh plate of food. Gently squeezing her shoulder while she set it down. 

“Oh, that looks good too!” Lotte started to lean towards Alessia’s plate. 

“That won’t be necessary,” Y/N halted her, a waitress following behind, placing a similar plate in front of her. 

Lotte danced happily in her seat, quickly taking a bite of her own plate, moaning at the flavour. 

Y/N chuckled and left the room again. 

Alessia slowly cut into her chicken, sighing as she chewed her new meal. She ignored the curious looks a few players were giving her. 

“How was everything tonight ladies?” Y/N returned, folding her hands in front of her, smiling at the crowed. 

There was a chorus of everyone agreeing the food was delicious. Lotte speaking loudly about how good her second supper was. 

“How come Less got a special meal?” 

“Oh, she’s a regular,” Y/N placed her hands on the blonde’s shoulder, winking down at her. 

“Did we meet before?” Alessia teased, glancing over her shoulder. Y/N flicking her ear harmlessly in response. 

Y/N was called away from another staff, apologizing quickly to group. Giving Alessia shoulder a squeeze, she winked and left the room. 

“Lessi Lessi Lessi, I think you have some explaining to do,” Leah leaned back in her chair, smirking. 

Alessia tore her eyes away from the door where she had been watching Y/N leave, “Y/N’s my wife.”

She winced, waiting for the backlash of her announcement. 

The room was silent for seconds while everyone processed what she had said. Then it seemed everyone spoke at the same time, speaking over each other, shouting questions. 

Alessia gave them time to react, biting her lip, trying not to laugh at some of the questions being thrown. She rolled her eyes when she heard Beth trying to say she already knew. 

When they finally quieted down, she waited another second before speaking, “we got married a few months ago, after dating for a few years.”

She paused when Lotte started smacking her arm, she held her hand to stop her. 

“How could you not tell me?” the brunette looked hurt now. 

“We weren’t hiding it or anything. I talked about her all the time, you guys just didn’t figure it out,” she tried not to laugh at the pout Lotte gave her. 

“I put in the transfer for Arsenal when she opened her new restaurant here. We’ve been doing long distance too long to waste any more time. It’s been great, this is the first time we’ve been able to live together. Not travelling constantly to see each other, or scheduling months in advance just for a weekend together.” 

Y/N leaned against the doorframe, silently listening. 

“Getting to be this close to her is amazing. I honestly am a regular here, I usually sit at the bar for dinner while Y/N finishes late. When it slows down, she’ll come eat with me sometimes.” 

Leah smirked, spying Y/N watching from the doorway. 

“What she means is, she’s taking a seat from good paying customers,” Y/N pushed off the wall and approached the room. 

Alessia whipped around, smiling as her wife.