#AND BUY SOME FOR ZE!

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

HE TROLLED THEM SO HARD WITH HIS T-SHIRT THAT THEY GOT SUPER ANGRY I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

[divorcetual]

I am happy because everyone loves me ^.^

[fandomchaosposts]

wanna make stuff

[tiktaalic]

JERRY: Well! I'm bisexual.

GEORGE: Bisexual! Oh, well that's just great. As if it wasn't enough that you were rubbing all these beautiful women in my face. Now it's beautiful women! Beautiful men! Beautiful androgynous ze/hirs!

ELAINE: No you're not.

JERRY: Wh-sure I am!

ELAINE: Nah. I don't buy it. I mean, Jerry, I slept with you. There's no way you're bisexual.

JERRY: So a bisexual man can't sleep with a woman? Get a load of this! I've been bisexual for 30 seconds and I'm already experiencing biphobia!

ELAINE: No, dummy. Remember when I asked you if we could try, you know [raises her eyebrows, moves her head around].

JERRY: Oh, that.

ELAINE: Well, a bisexual man wouldn't say "No, that's kind of gay."

JERRY: Fine! I'm not bisexual! Just don't tell my agent.

GEORGE: So no beautiful men?

JERRY: No, George, no men.

GEORGE: Heh. Right. I'm gonna.... [points to the door and leaves without another word]

ELAINE: So why's your agent think you're bisexual anyway?

JERRY: I made a stupid joke. Some reporter asks if I sleep on my back or on my side and I said, you know, I go both ways, depends who I'm sleeping with, and next thing I know there's a PinkNews tweet about me.

ELAINE: Why not correct them? They're the ones who assumed.

JERRY: Because I got a call from my agent. They want me to stay out. They said I'm the fresh new face of comedy. And it'd be great if the fresh new face of comedy was a queer man.

ELAINE: And you're doing it?

JERRY: What's the alternative? Say no, actually, I'm completely average. Not a gay bone in my body. I'm just a comedian who made the worst joke of all time. While straight.

[spadecentral]

😘 My Heart is Your Home | Misc. TWST

>> requested: no >> a/n: i got bored aha

>> masterlist: ramshackle (misc.) >> summary: your skin starts to deteriorate from the exposure to magic >> characters: deuce; ruggie; azul; kalim; idia >> warning(s): sad LMAOOOOO

Deuce Spade tries to ignore the fact that your body's breaking down. He doesn't want you to die. He tries so hard to not notice the cracks in your skin. But when you've fallen for the second time in those ten minutes, complaining about your ankle, he could no longer ignore it.

Deuce, now fully aware of your situation, would try and keep you home at all times. Keep you in as little pain as possible. He would go to your classes that he wasn't in and ask for the notes. He would make you food, and buy you a wheelchair to keep your limbs from being stressed.

Anything to ease the pain.

Ruggie Bucchi was not unaware of your decay. He could smell it before he saw it. He knew how your skin cracked and caved. He bought candles and perfumes for you in hopes to mask the smell of your skin breaking.

Ruggie would steal Leona's valuables in hopes to get a doctor that could fix you. But, no one could. No one helped and everyone took his money. Crying was his last option. And he knew you didn't want that. But the end for you was near, and he couldn't help. Like his friends in the streets of Sunset Savanah, death would come slowly for you.

Whether it be starving or exposure to substances you aren't used to, everyone dies in the end.

Contracts. Azul Ashengrotto tried to find a contract that could cure you. Tried to make one that could magically cure you. Something that could help you. It will help you. He denied that you were unhealable for the longest time. Almost until you weren't there to help anymore.

He would stare at you from your doorway, unsure whether to approach. Frail and bedridden, the cracks and blemishes on your skin almost scared him. Scared him of what would happen when you wouldn't be there.

But some things can't be solved with one sliver of magic.

Spending all of his available funds, Kalim Al Asim scoured the world for the best doctor. He tried to find someone who could reverse the damages to your skin. He saw you shake as you lifted your pencil in class, how you tried to hide your blackened veins under long sleeves and a bright smile.

It hurt him to watch you smile through the torment. He hurt when you accepted the outcome. He would spend his entire inheritance if it meant you would be healthy and happy again. But if you can only be happy, then goddamn he would buy you everything in the world to hear you laugh and giggle.

Although laughing is not some almighty medicine, he wanted to believe it was.

Secluded in his room, Idia Shroud only learned of your deterioration after his brother told him so. Immediately, he went to the cameras that he had placed around the school, looking for you. He knew it was you once he found you, aside from the way your nose lifted from your face and how your lips were just the right size, he also noticed the limp that was slowing you down while talking to Grim.

He asked for Ortho to go to you, and assist you as you moved from class to class. While he was out, Idia went to work. Metals would have to be ordered as well as a new soldering kit, but he would get his new project done. Calling Ortho, he asked him to ask you normal things such as your favorite food or color, your shoe size, or what you would prefer to do on a rainy day.

Unfortunately, robots could hardly ever mean the same thing to someone as the real person.

>> twst taglist: @tulipluvlettr | @ghost-hyacinth | @oseathepebble | @ventisaircurrent | @epelys | @pastelmages | @xphantasmagoriax | @atlasnessie | @divinesapph | @ze-maki-nin | @booming-spam | @flqyd-is-lost | @queerlordsimon | @kyraxiyn | @rayisalive | @ruggiethethuggie | @v-anrouge | @oepionie | @ravenlking

[three--rings]

You should read Little Mushroom

Hey guys! As followers know, I've just finished reading this cnovel and I'm here to do a formal rec of it.

What is Little Mushroom?

It's a chinese danmei (BL) novel by the author Shisi, originally published online, now available in official English translation from Peach Flower House.

What's it about?

This is a post-apocalyptic dystopian sci-fi novel where the protagonist is a mushroom.

What??

Yeah, he's an actual mushroom. Most of the Earth is a wasteland of radiation and mutated monsters, which means things are WEIRD AS FUCK. He comes from a particularly weird and dangerous place, and somehow he achieves sentience. His spore (child? infant? egg?) is stolen by a human and he finds a dying human called An Ze so he takes this human's form and memories and becomes human-shaped and calls himself An Zhe. Then he goes seeking out more humans to find and save his spore.

Okay, and this is a romance? With a mushroom?

Yes. Though this is honestly one of the danmei I've read that is lightest on the romance. Really the star of the show is the world-building and questions about humanity and ethics.

Characters:

An Zhe: The most adorable mushroom ever. You will love him. Everyone loves him. He's just a little mushroom trying to navigate a weird human world without the humans discovering he's really a "monster."

Lu Feng: The Arbiter, a judge authorized to kill anyone on sight that he suspects of being contaminated with xenogenic (monster) genes. And he does, a lot. Seemingly cold and unfeeling, hated by many if not most of the human population because he, yanno, keeps killing people, even if it's necessary to protect what remains of humanity. He spares An Zhe, though.

Other characters: Well, most of them don't last long. It's a vicious world. There's a lot of death. There are some nice side characters towards the end, though.

Why should I read this?

Look, it's just a really great book, okay? It's a book about a fairly grim future for humanity, and the things humanity is forced to do to survive, and dystopian elements and the struggles that result. It's about big ethical questions and big existential questions about whether humanity deserves to live and what the point of struggling to survive is...whether there is any hope for humanity and whether there's any point to hope at all.

And it's all told through the POV of a mushroom. Come on!

For all that, it's not a dark novel. The first half in particular feels pretty light, mostly because of the POV, granted. It's really funny in a lot of parts, but the undertone, the background is always this fairly grim stuff. Really unique juxtaposition. The second half gets deeper and really digs into the existential questions. And yeah it made me cry towards the end.

Minor spoilers from here on

But it does have a happy ending for the main characters and the romance, and a hopeful if not entirely happy one for humanity as a whole.

The romance is fairly light on the ground in this. An Zhe is a mushroom and he doesn't really understand sex or romance or have much interest in it for most of the book, despite people constantly trying to GET him interested. Lu Feng is clearly in the background developing feelings, but An Zhe is oblivious and just worried about his mushroom concerns, yanno? Eventually there are feelings-realization and they end up together, but it's still doesn't feel like a traditional romance. I'd say it's very ace friendly even if there are hints of sexual off-screen stuff.

Other reasons to read it:

It's short for a cnovel, and it flies by. This was my main vacation reading that I took to the pool and it was perfect. And I FLEW through vol 2 in a couple of sittings.

It's got a very nice translation and you should support this lesser known novel getting an English publication from a publisher that isn't Seven Seas.

Where do I buy it?

Both physical volumes are available from Peach Flower House. Or you can get ebooks from various ebook sellers, including Amazon. (Right now Amazon also has the paperbacks, but when I was buying they didn't.)

More Info.

[fuctacles]

Here's an excerpt from chapter 2, chapter 3 will be posted later today :) once again, dividers by @penny00dreadful, beta @dragoon-ze-great | read on Ao3

After a walk around the overgrown backyard, and strolling down the musty hallway, it hits Steve, that all of this belongs to him.

He owns a house. 

He's been vague with Robin about his decision for the past two weeks, dodging questions while packing his life into boxes and wrapping things up with their old landlord. Maybe in some way, he wanted to prove he could do it by himself, no world-saving party needed. The urge to spill it all to his best friend had been eating him from the inside, and now he could finally give in. 

He rushes to the phone to dial the number he has memorized, regardless of the early morning hour, but when he puts the receiver to his ear, he doesn't hear the dial tone.

He jabs the numbers anyway but puts it back on the cradles when nothing happens. The landline was supposed to be set up for his arrival, and while it is an inconvenience, he doesn't let it piss on his mood. He fixes himself a quick breakfast and starts the list of groceries and necessities he's missing. Add's 'contact the phone guys' at the bottom. Tucking the notepad into his pocket, he climbs upstairs to start his journey in house flipping.

After opening the windows to let in some fresh air, he removes the paintings, deciding to relocate them to the library, where their fantasy theme would be more fitting. Maybe he'll find something more to his tastes, so he could leave the nails in and simply replace them. With a sudden thought, he pulls out the notepad to add nails to the list. He should have some simple tools in one of the boxes and get whatever will be needed as he goes. 

The walls used to be a dark burgundy color, as the squares revealed by the paintings would suggest. Steve never gave much thought to what color he'd like his bedroom to be and Robin would kill him if he decided without her. He refrains from adding paint to the list and writes down ' contact Robin ' instead. 

He likes the canopy and manages to take it down gently to wash it later. 

laundry soap

look for a lighter bed canopy (white?)

His first and obvious thought is to throw the bedding away, but upon touching the fabric, he can't bring himself to do so. It goes into the laundry pile along with the canopy, because while the dark colors may not be his thing, sleeping in silky smooth sheets certainly could be.

The shelves are mostly empty, and he'd need a box to put the few items away, so he rolls the round black carpet, puts cleaning supplies on his list, and walks to the laundry room. 

The machine seems to be in working condition, but he won't know until he actually attempts to wash something so he leaves the sheets there and takes a lazy stroll around the house to put down anything else he might need. When he goes to close the bedroom windows, his fingers catch on a remais of a cobweb. He shakes his hand in distaste and gets a better look at the window screen. It's old but seems to be holding up well.

He remembers the amount of bugs he'd encounter on camping trips and writes down 'bug spray, check the screens'. 

He should have expected the loud, undignified screech that shakes his eardrums. But all he can do now is appease his friend.

"I promise I'm only buying necessities to clean up and fix whatever needs fixing. The porch is falling apart and I spoke to this nice guy at the hardware store who could come over and tell me what I need. But of course, you can pick the colors."

"I fucking better," Robin seethes into the receiver. "How was sleeping in the haunted house?"

"Uneventful." Steve shrugs, leaning against the side of the phone booth. He briefly considers mentioning the fridge magnets though he feels insane just thinking about them, let alone speaking of them. But then again... "Hey, do you remember what the magnets on the fridge spelled?"

Robin is quiet long enough that he thinks he's lost the connection, but eventually, she speaks up.

"'Get lost' , I'm pretty sure. Why? Has it changed?" Her tone is not worried enough to Steve's liking. She sounds like a thrilled conspiracy theorist. Nancy has been a bad influence on her. 

Steve hums, a sense of worry creeping up on him. 

"I'm pretty sure it said 'get out' before I left today."

"I could have remembered it wrong," Robin offers, but both of them know it's unlikely. She clears her throat, and Steve can hear the springs in her bed creaking as she straightens up. "Do you think it's actually haunted?"

Steve sighs. 

"I hope it is. We could call the party and they would science it out of existence. I'm afraid it could be a good old-fashioned squatter." He rests his head on the side of the booth with a thud. "I still don't have the key to the basement, after all. Anyone could be down there."

They stay silent for a while until Robin speaks up again.

"You could take the door off its hinges, you know?"

Steve promises he'll pick her up as soon as she's free on Friday, so she can help out with the renovations. He gives her his landline number, in case it starts working later (the company claims it's been set up and should have been working this morning), and checks off the rest of his list, along with some groceries. 

Soon, he's back, watching the laundry spin in the washing machine that is, thankfully, working despite its age. He won't have to get a new one just yet. He gathers all the cleaning supplies into a bucket, and walks to the master bedroom, determined to spend the next night in a real bed. But when he enters, something isn't right. 

He can't put his fingers on it until he opens the windows and turns around. 

The paintings are hanging on the walls. He could have sworn... He could have sworn he took them down to carry to the library later. Led by a strange feeling, he leaves the room and walks downstairs to the kitchen, to stand in front of the fridge. 

Rude

Steve stares at the word for an embarrassingly long time, processing the implications of it. Someone was in the house when he was gone. 

He's dealt with squatters before, so he doesn't panic. Hell, he's fought literal monsters, so even if it is the rumored ghost, he feels a sense of purpose washing over him. Because he already has a whole group, a Party if you will, of people ready to deal with the otherworldly stuff. And if it is a squatter, well...

He has a bat in his trunk. 

And there's only one place in the house where someone could still be hiding. 

He walks back to his car, keeping on high alert and quietly cursing the washing machine that started making a ruckus upstairs. He'd rather be able to hear whatever is happening around him and not just a thud thud thud of it bumping against the floor. 

Regardless, he approaches the door to The Dungeon , his bat in hand, and bangs against its sturdy surface.

"Hey! Anyone there? I just want to talk! I'm the new owner and if you need a place to stay, I can help! We can have lunch and a beer, we can talk it out!" As he expected, there was no answer. He shifts his grasp on the bat and looks around for something to leverage the door. 

"If you don't open up, I'll have to take the door off!" he warns, grabbing a crowbar from his box of tools. It's shiny new, just bought today, and he's not one hundred percent sure how to use it for such a task. Regardless, he rests his bat against the wall and inspects the hinges. They are a bit different from the ones he's seen in his life - sturdy, stylized to look more rustic, like the door itself - made with visible planks of wood instead of a singular, heavy piece. 

"Last chance!" he warns, slotting the crowbar under the door. When he gets no answer, he pushes on it, making the door pop up. They're heavier than he expected, but with some maneuvering, he manages to get a grip on them and haul them up and off the hinges. 

He rests the door against the wall, wary of the darkness he just uncovered. He quickly grabs the handle of his bat but realizes, he doesn't have a flashlight. Cursing himself, he backtracks, trying to keep his eyes on the basement. Once in the entry to the living room, he jumps to grab his duffel bag before rushing back to the hall. There's been no movement from the darkness he's eyeing. With his left hand, he rummages through the necessities he's packed in his bag. Among them, he can finally feel a flashlight, and he grabs it with a wave of relief before straightening up and walking up to the doorframe. 

"Okay," he breathes out, leveling his heart rate. He turns on his flashlight and it reveals surprisingly pretty wooden stairs, some dust, and cobwebs. He sees a hint of a green rug below them, but nothing more. 

read full on Ao3

[kaiasky]

one of my favorite political tendencies to run into is the like, 1960-1970 obsession with like, the revolutionary potential of the prank or that the schedule is the ultimate killer. "'Repent, Harlequin!' Said the Ticktockman", "Chronopolis". Situationist International, a revolutionary movement whose philosophy might be summed up as "how could capitalism stand up to the might of Some Funny Shit Happening On Your Commute?" and then yknow, accidentally became the theoretical backing of '68 in France. Discordianism "maybe if we do weird shit people will realize that it's ALL fake" (sorry discordianism for attempting to boil it down to a coherent point.) the legacy of culture-jamming and everyone on tumblr really believing in the revolutionary potential of the graffiti tag.

like... i don't think its a particularly useful leftist revolutionary politics-"ugh! ze sheeple, zey do not even look at my living statue performance en zeir way to work. ze proletariat, zey buy the téléviseur and the téléviseur tells them what to buy next, eh?" but also like. despite it all being quite silly i do see the appeal. repent, harlequin!

[sapphire-heart-tippy]

Sugar Crash Void Bash: The Fanfic!

CWs: Parents arguing, drug mention, anxiety mention, childhood trauma mention

chapter 1 chapter 2

Chapter Three: Licorice Laced Lies

chapter 4 chapter 5 chapter 6 chapter 7 chapter 8

“Hm?” Ramón jolts awake. The teenager rubs his head, scratching gently at his scalp. His fingers get caught a bit in the little pink curls resting upon his head. His mouth feels uncomfortably dry and chalky, lightly rubbing his tongue against the roof of his mouth. 

“Why do I always get so thirsty at night?” He mumbles, lazily rolling out of bed and climbing down the ladder.

He sneakily opens his bedroom door so as to not wake his fathers, suddenly he sees the light is on in the kitchen and shadows moving around. He gets startled and glitches into the void, just in case they might see him up so late.

“Vanilla, stop it.” Tippy sounds exasperated.

“I’m not kidding around.” Vanilla speaks with irritation, “We hardly have enough money as it is to keep ourselves alive, let alone live in this house.” He rubs his forehead and rests his other hand on the center island. Ramón listens in, feeling anxious… My fathers don’t fight… do they?

“Vans, seriously. I can pick up some extra hours at the studio and-”

“God damn it, no.” Vanilla’s voice isn’t raised, but his tone is harsh, “You work yourself to the bone and you have no energy to spend time with your family. I’ve seen you burn out so badly that you sobbed hysterically on your knees after work. I don’t want you to be in that state again, Tippy.”

“It’s either that or you and I could skip dinner. We’ll just tell Ramón that we already ate before he gets home from school.” Tippy tells him.

“We don’t need to go that far, you’re going overboard. We just need to save money in every way we possibly can.” 

“Then stop buying every single thing our son asks for. He doesn’t need all of that stuff anyway!” Tippy argues.

“No. I’m not going to neglect my kid, I want him to have a better childhood than I ever did. You know that. I had nothing growing up.” Ice gulps, “I had nothing… I want him to have everything.” Ice pushes back. “I grew up without a family, without anyone to look to or lean on, and I’ll be damned if my own child grows up feeling unloved and neglected.”

“What the hell does that have to do with you buying him all this useless shit?! You’re not neglecting him by telling him, ‘No, we can’t afford that right now.’ You need to set basic boundaries with our kid.” Tippy tries not to raise zeir voice, but there’s still venom.

“There’s no point in you arguing with me. I’m not changing my mind. I’ll give him whatever he wants. I’ll pick up a second job if I have to.” Vanilla speaks.

“No! You will not do either of those things!” Tippy hisses.

Ramón’s heart races as he listens to his parents argue. This is all my fault… Papa does everything I say… he probably didn’t even tell dad about how I slammed the car door or called him by his first name.

“This is ridiculous. I’m not fighting with you, Gratuity.” Vanilla uses Tippy’s full first name… Tippy’s brows frown, giving a completely distraught look as ze stays silent. The brunette man walks over to one of the cabinets and rummages around.

“Where is it?” Ice mumbles.

“What are you looking for?”

Vanilla gives Tippy a desperate look and his shoulders drop. Tippy analyzes Vanilla’s expression for a moment then quickly speaks,

“Oh no. No, you can’t be serious. You said we’re not about that life anymore, Vans.”

“We have no other choice, Tippy… we’re stuck.” Ice sighs and looks around, “Where did you put it?”

Ramón trembles, his heart pounding and adrenaline shoots into his veins, are they going to do drugs!? What is happening?! 

Ice looks around through drawers and cabinets until finally he rests his hand on the very thing he was searching for. He is about to take the object out until,

“Vanilla, wait…” Tippy touches zeir husband’s arm. Ice relaxes and looks into his husband’s eyes. “We don’t have to do this…”

The brunette keeps his hand on the object for a while… he retracts his hand and wraps Tippy up into a hug, 

“You’re right… we’ll get through this together. We’ve been through a lot worse… but…” He looks back to the drawer, “Think about it. Really think about it, sweetie.”

Tippy is silent for a few moments. Ze looks at the drawer for a while then speaks,

“Okay, big fella… Y-you’re probably right.”

Ramón is very relieved to know that his fathers are no longer arguing… although this entire argument seems rather strange in the first place. What else is going on?

A few days later

“Yeah, they’ve just been acting really weird lately.” Ramón is on a video call with his friends. Jared speaks up,

“What happened exactly? I uh, didn’t understand any of that.”

“That’s the thing, I have no idea. The fact that night my papa was reaching for something in one of the kitchen drawers really freaked me out.”

“Did you ever find out what it was?” Alex asks, getting closer to the screen.

“I tried to. But I guess whatever it was, Vanilla or daddo must’ve moved it or already taken it out before I could get to it.” Ramón plays with his hair, “On top of that, whenever I walk into the room while they’re talking… they immediately stop and pretend like they weren’t talking at all.”

"V-Vanilla?" Alex stutters quietly. She is ignored.

“Well, that’s freaking weird.” Jared snickers. “Oh, hey, did you hear about what happened to Ryan?”

“No, but I noticed he hasn’t been messing with me anymore. What happened to him?”

“Let’s just say he apparently got drunk one day and started texting everyone really weird stuff!” Jared laughs, “He even emailed the headmaster something like, ‘SUCK MY BUTT CHEEKS, OLD LADY’! Oh my god, it was awesome. I’m surprised nobody’s told you yet.”

“Huh…” Ramón remembers the fact that his papa had given his dad Ryan’s cell phone. He realizes that his fathers most likely destroyed Ryan’s reputation so badly that it caused him to finally get in trouble, and go silent.

“Karma, am I right?” Jared chuckles. Alex speaks up,

“It’s about time! Now you don’t have to get into fights anymore!” She snort laughs. “Oh yeah, and Cobie was worried about you the whole entire time.” Ramón sits up,

“They were?”

“Yeah!” Alex says. “They were sticking up for you with us, obviously.”

“But to be honest, they were probably the one to be the most defensive.”

“Wow…” Ramón lies down on the floor, feeling his cheeks heat up and his heart skip a beat.

“I legit think they like-like you, Ramón.” Jared tells him.

“Haha… yeah…” Ramón sits up and looks at his friends, “Y’know, maybe I don’t really have that much to worry about after all.”

Suddenly his door opens.

Ramón is startled, sits up in the criss-cross position, and turns around to see his fathers at the door, both smiling but looking nervous at the same time.

“Sorry! Sorry.” Tippy waves zeir hands around and chuckles awkwardly. Ice clears his throat,

“Uh, Foofy. May we speak with you for a moment?”

“Hm?!” Ramón looks to his friends on the video call. Jared immediately hangs up and Alex nervously goes,

“Uuuuuhhh, hi! Uuuhhh… bye!” Then hangs up. Ramón gives his fathers a confused and worried look,

“So… what’s up?”

“Foofy,” Ice approaches the boy and smiles warmly at him, “Your dad and I are so very proud of you.”

“It’s true, mi hijo.” Tippy tells him.

“So… we decided to get you a little gift.” Vanilla hands Ramón 3 tickets, “We should have given these to you sooner, but now is better than never.” The teenage boy gasps and takes them,

“W-what?! Are these tickets to Die-Saccharide?!” Ramón looks up at his fathers with wide, excited eyes, “Th-this is my favorite band of all time! Y-you guys remembered?! Oh my god, thank you!”

Vanilla and Tippy hug their son, then gently help him up and push him to the door.

“Wait…” Ramón looks at the tickets and his heart skips a beat, “Guys, these tickets say the show starts at 8pm… tonight.”

“That’s right!” Vanilla chuckles nervously, “So you better get going, Foofy. Go tell your friends and get a move on.”

The teenager can’t help but feel suspicious. Everything about this interaction is… off.

“But wait… right now? There’s no way Jared and Alex’s parents would let them come with me, especially not this late at night.” Ramón tells his fathers, looking a little worried. Vanilla and Tippy glance at each other then look back at their son. Ice smiles and rubs his son’s head,

“Don’t worry. We already had it taken care of, Foofs.”

“But- wait- what? How did you-? What do you mean–?”

Tippy presses Ramón’s back and Vanilla hands him his shoes,

“Please be safe and call us if you need anything, mi hijito.”

“W-wait. But-but how will I know–?” Ramón looks back and forth between his parents with startled confusion. Tippy and Vanilla look around outside, presumably for someone. The sun is starting to set, sending strands of light rays across the sky over the magenta clouds and bright orange sky. This reminds Ramón of rainbow sherbet. They send their boy off. He looks back at his fathers, then hops into the glitchy void with Sugar Crash, texting his friends on the way to the bus stop.

At the concert

Alex sips her drink and fidgets with her concert wristband, “So your fathers somehow just randomly got these tickets, huh?”

“Yes, Alex, I told you six times!” Ramón tells her. Alex continues sipping her drink,

“Maybe they didn’t realize it was for tonight! I’m just lucky my mom let me join even though it was on such short notice!” She giggles.

Jared chuckles and raises his eyebrows up and down,

“Or they probably wanted to keep you out of the house tonight so they can get it on.”

“Ewwww! No! Shut up!” Ramón gags and shakes his hands around, “Never say that again, Jared!” The tall teenager just laughs and rests his arm on top of Ramón’s head. 

The concert starts, thousands of people yell, “Die-Saccharide!” and cheer when the emo clad band members appear on stage. The lead singer, a person with short hot pink hair and heavy eyeliner lean into the mic and speak,

“Are you sugar fiends ready to get sickly sweet?”

Ramón, his friends, and the rest of the crowd scream in excitement. The electric guitarist strikes a heavy chord, then the song starts playing,

“Laughing nasty, talking back, I’m addictive like cigarettes,

Breaking bones, fighting back … I’m addictive like sugar crack.

I have your heart wrapped around my finger,

I’ll put your sugar skull right through the ringer,

To your elegy I’m the lead singer…

Take one step closer I’ll pull the trigger

You! Can’t resist my candy venom.

You! Get strangled by my serpent charm.

You! Like the way I do you harm.

You! Have fallen for my diamond eyes and you… keep clinging to my scaly lies.

It's irresistible, the taste of my cherry cola conscience

It is just terrible, how you fall for my candy coated nonsense

Be careful not to choke on my diabolical… candy venom.”

Meanwhile

Ice is pacing back and forth in the kitchen, fidgeting with his left bang and biting the inside of his cheek. Tippy nibbles on the skin around his nails, but zeir husband takes his hand gently,

“Don’t do that, sweetie.” 

The brunette moves the three wine glasses around on the table, then reads the label of red wine. He moves it around the kitchen island a little bit.

“So, uh… why is he taking so long, Vans?” Tippy asks.

“I don’t know…” Vanilla looks out one of the kitchen windows facing the road, “but he had better get here before Ramón comes back.” He shakes his head slowly.

Two Hours Later

The crowd is going bonkers. The lead singer, their eye makeup running down their face from sweat, speaks breathlessly into the mic,

“That was syrupy sweet, sugar fiends… You have been a great audience! Goodnight!” 

Ramón and his friends, exhausted but still wired from having seen their favorite band, cheer loudly. The three of them take a bus back to their neighborhood, say their goodbyes and all head back to their respective houses using their stands for safety. 

Ramón dips into Sugar Crash’s void with his head poking out, and floats back to his home.

“Huh?” Ramón pauses Sugar Crash. “W-why is there a hearse here?” Something isn’t sitting right with the teen. He sneakily glitches inside of the house, careful to be extra silent. A voice that sounds strikingly familiar rings in the air,

“Once again, my deepest apologies for showing up so late. You know how it is with the ultraviolets and my complexion.” 

Ice watches the man take a drink of his wine and nods,

“Indeed.”

Ramón can only see the back of the man’s head. Silky, golden locks cascade down the back of a pasty, alabaster skinned man. This man is sickly pale, almost translucent, as if he were a reanimated cadaver. Ramón narrows his eyes while glitched in between the wall’s existence and Sugar Crash’s void. The blonde man speaks,

“I’m thrilled that you two have decided to contact me during this time." He pauses for a moment, "I'm also happy to note that the little spell book I've gifted you has managed to work, even after all these years. Supernatural communication is quite the convenience, hm?" The man chuckles,

"What a delightful coincidence that we both needed help from one another, yes? Let’s make a deal, shall we?” He swirls the glass of wine around a bit, “I am more than willing to pay you as much money as you need, plus a bonus if you get rid of somebody for me.” He pauses for a moment.

Ramón listens closer, trembling a bit from anxiety. The young boy can’t put his finger on it but, yet again he gets this strange sense of familiarity when he hears this man’s voice. The blonde man continues after a sip of wine,

“It won’t be a team of morons like last time. It’ll be just,” He puts his finger up, “One. Person.” 

With that, he stands up and walks around the kitchen island and goes to the fridge. The man’s face is still obscured by the long strands of blonde hair. He fiddles with the fridge magnets a bit,

“Oh, that’s cute…”

Suddenly he turns and seemingly faces Ramón. Even though Ramón knows he is hidden, this makes the teenage boy’s heart stop for a moment. The man’s face is eerily familiar, which sends chills down his spine and a strike of adrenaline into his heart. It looks as if this man is staring directly into Ramón’s eyes. The blonde man smirks,

“What a lovely little family you all are.” He reaches up on the wall and takes off the picture that was hanging. The blonde walks over to Vanilla and Tippy,

“He’s… 15 now?”

“That is correct.” Ice nods. The man lazily sets the family portrait in the middle of the island counter and walks around to the couple. He gets uncomfortably close to Ice, nothing malicious, it’s as if he simply doesn’t understand the concept of personal space,

“Does he have a stand?”

It’s very tense and silent. 

“Why do you ask?” Vanilla replies.

“I think you know why I ask, Mr Ice…” Dio tells him, “He does, doesn’t he?”

The man holds his glass out to Vanilla expecting him to fill it, to which Vanilla reluctantly does. With a chuckle, the blonde looks at his drink and speaks,

“I will allow you to stay in my manor once again. It’ll be an easy task for you two to fight on my behalf and take care of this… ‘little problem’ of mine.” He takes a sip, “After all, I know how much you both have been struggling financially. Consider everything paid for, your flight, your housing, food, and other necessities. All it takes is for you to get rid of this little pest.” He sets the glass down and continues,

“Bring your son along. He can think of it as a um… oh what’s the word…? A little ‘field trip’. He’ll get a glimpse of yet another part of his fathers’ cultural background.” 

Ice lightly touches Tippy’s back, gently giving zem a reassuring rub. Tippy does the same right back to zeir husband. The blonde man sighs dreamily and looks at the wine glass, admiring his own reflection,

“It’s my understanding that your son has been to Mexico to see Gratuity’s relatives, hm? So it won’t be his first time flying in an airplane, correct?”

“Yes, Dio… that is correct.” Ice tells him.

“Grand.” Dio smirks and takes another drink of wine, “I certainly hope he has an easier time than I do when flying. I much prefer to cruise on a ship. But perhaps that’s just my age showing.” Dio chuckles and glances over at Tippy. The blue haired one nods,

“You don’t look a day over 21, Dio.”

“Ohohohoho! You’re such a lamb.” Dio grins, showing his sharp, pearly white canines. He finishes his wine and hands the glass to Ice. The blonde grabs his bag, and walks to the front door,

“I knew I could count on you two once again… although,” He looks off into the distance, “Last time your little antics cost me my head!” He cackles, “Or better yet… my entire body.” He flips his hair over his shoulder and looks at the couple, “I must go. I don’t want to keep my chauffeur waiting. You all have one week to get everything ready. I’ll meet you at my manor… don’t dawdle.” 

Dio makes his departure and leaves the couple in their home. Ramón waits a little while before sneaking back onto the front porch and opening the door with his spare key. Ice and Tippy are seated in the living room, they both jolt when they hear their son open the door.

“Ramón! You’re back already, pequeño?” Tippy asks. Vanilla makes his way over to his son,

“How was the concert, Foofy?”

“O-oh! It was awesome! Alex got so excited, she screamed so much that she lost her voice, haha!”

His fathers chuckle and nod. Ice gently touches his son’s shoulder and looks down at him with a sweet smile,

“Hey, little one… how would you like to…” He glances over at Tippy then back at Ramón, “Take a little vacation and learn about your papa’s heritage this time?”

To be continued…

[wacuoms]

i finally set up an inprnt store!! please consider buying some of my prints and supporting me 🫶🫶

[vanoilette]

CHRISTOPHE DELORNE DATING HEADCANONS ✔︎

warnings; swearing, mentions of smoking, small mentions of nsfw and mentions of hand to genital contact.

authors note; i love this frenchie, yeah hes not dead here, also yes. There is not enough stuff abt him.

Dating this guy is an interesting experience, make sure to get used to the smell of cigar and pet names.

That may have made it sound bad, but i swear he’s not that bad. Christophe matures and actually takes care of himself here.

It was midnight, and you’ve just escaped your residence to go wander off to an abandoned building - soon the aroma of a lit cigar and oddly pleasant smelling perfume filled your nostrils.

You were met with a heavily accented, tall, brunette boy who seemed to not like the disturbance at all.

“Who ze hell are you?”

Yeah, he didn’t like it at all really. But you didn’t care at all either, because you stood there. Why? You didn’t know, you simply felt like annoying someone tonight.

So the next night after that you went to the building again, and the night after that, and the night after that night, so on.

For the first few months of knowing you he told you to just call him; in his own words - “Ze Mole.”

Eventually, he did tell you his real name, Christophe. He wasn’t fast to catch feelings, though he did sort of get used to your irritating yet enjoyable presence every night.

As said in the beginning, get used to the smell of cigars.

When it came to one developing feelings for each other you fell for him first. He was aware of that and decided to just use it against you.

Until he himself actually started liking you, he started calling you names like “Mon Amour”, or sometimes, “Ma Cherie.” Stuff like that.

The pet names soon grew to be normalized in said friendship, but you were getting tired and neither of you two wanted to fess up to the other.

So it stood like that, for about half a year. After a long, painfully slow half year. Finally - you confessed to him first. Surprising yeah i know.

Obviously he was surprised, but he didn’t care. He accepted either way, in s very odd where where he laughed either at you, or just out of nervousness.

Gene kelly kiss on tiktok or youtube, just look.

Once you guys start dating, is when he actually isn’t so much of a jerk, but more of a open jerk, but its progress. Somewhat at least.

Hes very touchy i believe, or just pretty affection. He doesn’t do PDA much though, he’s pretty private.

Although he is private, when he is in private, he could say some pretty suggestive things to you just to see your reaction.

Especially in public - as said, not PDA but he absolutely loves how embarrassed and vulnerable you can get, he thrives off of it.

Once fingered you in the back of a car because he felt like it.

— Moving on from that, he’s pretty much always around you, he’s not exactly social and prefers to be by himself or with you. So he likes having you there for social situations.

The attachment that he grew on you in the beginning of your friendship, the attachment grew even more when you two started getting involved with each other romantically.

Not clingy, but also is clingy. Its in between. He likes his personal space but he also likes being around you. But still always finds himself around you.

His hair is literally tangled sometimes, so you often just help him brush it out because he’s either just too tired or just wants you to do it because he likes you touching his hair.

Since he’s usually just out wandering outside at like 2 AM he literally looks like a drug dealer.

I do believe he grew to be pretty tall, or just really tall. Even if a majority of french people are short, i dunno. He’s just one of the taller people in South Park.

This is gonna sound really corny, but he fully believes that you’ll wed in the future, like he’s fully convinced. Which is really, really shocking coming from him.

He buys you stuff a lot, or he said he bought it. Who knows really, you just get a lot of gifts.

As much as he enjoys his personal space, like i said, he still finds himself around you 24/7 without even realizing it 4 hours into it.

With how late he sleeps, and how he always walks around, he falls asleep with you a lot, or just on you.

Sometimes just comes into your house through your window after 5 attempts at knocking. Yes this has happened on multiple occasions, and he says you should’ve opened the window.

Suspiciously good at lockpicking things.

Pretty much half immune to getting sick and stuff because he ate tons of dirt at some point as a kid with digging.

He basically lives with you at this point, he’s always at your house, or just around you.

When he’s alone though, he just naps. Or smokes, or goes outside on walks.

[tzyuki]

[ 김규빈 ] ONE & ONLY ꒰ K.GV x F!READER

021. ijbol president | smau + written (299 wrds)

IN WHICH ✶ — Rumors about Y/n pursuing a Zerobaseone member backstage at music bank start floating around the media after she and ZB1 member, Kim Gyuvin are seen talking behind in one of the episodes of ‘Eunchaes Star Diary’. Some netizens believe it and some don’t, some hated her for touching his shoulder and some didn’t care. Y/n went live to debunk the rumors, saying she wasn’t interested in a relationship at the time. The thing was, the rumors were true. She secretly was pursing Kim Gyuvin, or at least she wanted to. Ever since she first saw him backstage at M Countdown when ‘Love Killa’ team got to perform she was starstruck. She saw him at the vending machine and wished him luck in ‘Boys Planet’. She actually never had watched an episode of the survival show at all, she said it would be too painful for her, but that was the night she started to watch and most importantly, vote for Kim Gyuvin.

Y/n posed for her fansites, putting on different kinds of cute headbands and staring into different cameras. She liked talking and meeting her fans, but found fansigns a bit tiring and draining, she couldn’t wait to go back to their dorms. Especially since some of her fans would have weird requests.

“Good luck on your exams, oppa!” Y/n said as she handed the now signed album back to her fan. “Hi!” Y/n waved as the next fan moved to sit in front of her. “You’re so fake, acting all nice. I know in reality you’re just a pick me, sucking up to every man you know, even your fans.” The “fan” said even more before Y/n could even process what was happening.

“I’m sorry, what?” Y/n bursted out laughing, the event manager walked over as soon as she heard the other raise her voice at the idol. “You heard me, you’re a pick me slut.” The “fan” crossed her arms.

“Excuse me—.”

“No, it’s fine. Let me talk to her.” Y/n cut the manager off, wanting to speak to the girl. “You’re rev, right? user gyuvinate? I think you’re so funny, buying our albums, getting into a fansign, just to insult and cuss me out.”

“Let me see your album, let me do you a favor.” Y/n grabbed the album from the girl's hands, not caring about her response. “Here, you’re welcome.” Y/n crossed her face out of the album and handed it back to her. “Surprised you didn’t do it yourself.” Y/n laughed. “Have a nice day, I can’t wait to see you tweet about me and then waste your hard earned money trying to get into events just to cuss me out.” Y/n smiled at the girl.

m.list — previous — next

taglist (closed) 𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ @yerimse @whoschr @str0l0gy @sieuneo @enhaz1 @weoris @deafeningtyrantmilkshake @jiawji @trsrina @esc6pism @aerivrs @jiaant11 @latriii @annoyingbitch83 @pwarkj @sleepingisweak @beomibeom @seosracha @sparklingsjy @ahnneyong @mioujon @whippedforbeomgyu @wonqr @lunavixia @y7n2394-ze @wtfhyuck @lcv3lies @mangowonyo @nyujjan @chaeryvips @tocupid @chanlixed @svtglitch @wonluvrbot @wondering-out-loud @igotkpoops @jeongintwt @samvagejkflxhrt @daydreamer5006 @loverickyyy @andsjun @soobiverse @ivrousae @akari-saka13 @loverb0yz @alwayswook @bobariki @bbangricz @j4dorebooks @dimplewonie @redm4ri @moonlightjungwon @enhapocketz @catsyoon @hyeoniez @hoey2k @vernonburger @eternallyhyucks

[emeritus-fuckers]

lesbianism? say no more, my touch starved dyke ass is here

could i please get hcs for the ghoulettes with a enby lesbian goth reader? (sfw or nsfw, whatever you prefer!!)

Ghoulettes with a nonbinary lesbian goth s/o

Cirrus (she/ze)

Cirrus's style is a mish-mash of butch, punk and goth (but in the baby bat way) with comfort being the most important.

You share some stuff if you'd like. Mostly jewelry and make-up, since it's the most gothic part of zir wardrobe.

Cirrus likes to occasionally make her own jewelry, so if you're into that, you two make jewelry together.

She likes Scary Bitches, so if you listen to those, you have karaoke parties together with Cumulus.

Correct people on your pronouns why repeating their every word and then using the correct pronouns, putting an incredible amount of pressure on them, while looking directly in the eyes of the person who used the wrong ones.

Cumulus (she/her)

Cumulus goes primarily for comfy clothing, aesthetic doesn't really matter to her all that much.

But she does admire the people who commit to a style or a subculture. And that includes you, of course.

She'd love to go look for more clothes with you, whether you buy or thrift.

She becomes really fond of the music, to the point of humming some of her favorite songs and using a few of them as a small vocal warm-up.

Corrects people about your gender and pronouns (whichever you use).

She adores the jewelry.

Sunshine (she/her)

Sunshine likes a few songs, but no specific bands.

Her style is more... scene kid meets tomboy metalhead.

But she does like gothic make-up, so she'll absolutely let you mess around with her looks.

Just mind the piercings! She loves her piercings, you know!

She'll proudly wear anything you might gift her and tries her best to find things for you, too. Especially on tour, there's always some cool stuff on the festivals they all play on that you would probably like.

We already know Sunshine's a biter. She likes biting you affectionately... but she also bites others.

Willing to bite the face off of anyone who misgenders you. Just say the word.

Aurora (she/they/fae)

While Aurora doesn't really identify as a lesbian per se, she does identify as femme and loves everything feminine.

She doesn't fully understand what goths are, but once you show her a few kinds of goths, she instantly falls in love with faerie, pastel, perky, fetish and cabaret goth styles, so bonus points if you're one of those.

They start experimenting with faer own style, settling on a combination of her previous femme style with pastel and cabaret goth style.

She loves goth dancing, fae thinks it's absolutely fun and adorable. Giggles every time.

Acts confused and asks a lot of questions if someone uses the wrong pronouns on you. That's not what your pronouns are, why are they using different ones? It doesn't make sense!

Mist (he/she)

He likes how it looks on you, but wouldn't go out of her way to change her style.

Mist is a metalhead. He likes a different kind of music than you do, but she does like Sisters of Mercy, so if you like them too, you guys can chill out to it together.

You both wear a lot of dark eyeshadow and lipstick. She'll let you add the typical goth eye-liner to his look. She quite likes it, really.

Goes to concerts with you and has a good time, but wouldn't listen to the music outside of them.

Willing to start a fight if anyone even tries misgendering you.

~

Written by Nosferatu.

Taglist: @charlie-is-a-menace @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @randominstake @callmeicaro @thecuriouss @nuntia @dio-niisio @ethereal-maniac @mamacarlyle @mybotanicaldemise @igodownjustlikeholymary @natoncesaid @plaquerat

[copperbadge]

Radio Free Monday

Good morning everyone, and welcome to Radio Free Monday!

Ways to Give:

oloriel linked to a fundraiser for Sean, who is close to his $5K fundraising goal for a liver transplant; he needs a healthier environment to live in once he has the transplant and they're raising the funds for a new place and at least some partial furnishings. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

gwydion's very elderly car broke down in late October; the repair, to a cooling hose, has cheap parts but expensive labor, and ate most of zir budget for the month. Ze can't do without a car, being disabled, but can't afford to replace it either; ze's raising $280 to help cover bills and the repair. You can give via PayPal here.

nivchara-yahel and her sibling rivalconga are raising money for rent, medicine, and living expenses; they need to pay November rent by the 10th to avoid eviction. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

Anon linked to a fundraiser for The Environmental Conservancy of North Port, Florida, who are trying to raise $14K to purchase a parcel of land that will protect a group of gopher tortoise burrows from being forcibly relocated, which could stress or kill the tortoises, a threatened but keystone species in Florida (their burrows are often home to numerous other species). You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

Buy Stuff, Help Out:

francescaswords is dealing with some worsening health issues which are preventing her from working as she completes her degree, which has had funding cut because she's dropped to a part-time student. She's raising funds by sharing her latest novel, the YA contemporary fantasy Rotting Trees, on Patreon between now and December 2024, where patrons can read the book in installments for as low as $1.50/month. The novel follows a girl with a cursed family necklace and the antiques shop she visits to try to break the curse. You can read more and reblog here or join the Patreon here.

Recurring Needs:

rusty-chevy is very close to her fundraising goal after her work cut her hours and thus her ability to cover bills from her reduced paycheck; she's hoping for one final push to reach goal. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

gwydion linked to a fundraiser for Squirrel, a good friend who has recently lost his job and needs to raise about $800 to cover bills and food; Squirrel has had a lot of interviews and believes he will have an offer but won't start work until December. You can give via paypal here.

rilee16 is raising funds to cover November rent and possible late fees after an aggressive roommate hiked their utility bills; Rilee is now sick and also needs to be able to pay to have medication delivered. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

And this has been Radio Free Monday! Thank you for your time. You can post items for my attention at the Radio Free Monday submissions form. If you're new to fundraising, you may want to check out my guide to fundraising here.

[spadecentral]

💐 Fuck You Flowers | Jack Howl x Reader

>> requested: sort of >> a/n: happy birthday @thomanok!!!!! slay bestie >:]

>> masterlist: here!! >> summary: you (the local florist) had fallen in love with jack (a regular). unfortunately, it seems like he had already found someone else to love. >> reader prns: they/them [unused] >> warning(s): none(?)

You had fallen in love with the white-haired, bushy-tailed male that came into your flower shop every week. He was a caring soul. One that despite his huge frame, he would always treat everything that came across his path with care and respect.

Jack, as you learned his name through one of his calls—you never meant to be nosy, it was just kind of hard not to listen when he was the only one in the shop and his calls were on speakerphone—always had a keen eye for the cacti you kept in your shop, although when he went to the counter to check out he had never bought one. Instead, he would buy a bouquet of red tulips. But sometimes it would be carnations if he noticed you only had a few bundles left.

A week ago, Jack bought his first bouquet of roses from your shop. Red roses. That's when you knew you had no chance. You were hoping that those flowers were just for a friend or something, but when he bought the roses... your dreams were crushed.

This week though, when Jack came into your store, his mannerisms were completely different. He was squeezing his phone tightly and had dark eye bags.

Instead of wandering back to the cacti section like usual, he sauntered up to the counter in a grouchy manner before slamming down 20 thaumarks.

"Uhm... sir...?"

"What's the best 'fuck you' bouquet I can get for 20 thaumarks?" his voice came out rough, like he had been crying the night before. And you knew you shouldn't be excited about him potentially breaking up with someone, but you couldn't help it.

"Oh I have the most perfect idea," you smiled at him, leaving your spot from behind the counter. "We'll just need some geraniums, foxglove, meadowsweet, yellow carnations, and orange lilies."

And as you watched him leave your shop, you couldn't help but stare in longing. Maybe this time. This time. You would have the chance to capture his flower-filled heart.

Tulips/Carnations - Love Roses - Passion/Endless Love Geraniums - Stupidity Foxglove - Insincerity Meadowsweet - Uselessness Yellow Carnations - You Have Disappointed Me Orange Lilies - Hatred

>> twst taglist: @tulipluvlettr | @ghost-hyacinth | @gh-0st-y | @ch3lun | @oseathepebble | @ventisaircurrent | @epelys | @pastelmages | @xphantasmagoriax | @atlasnessie | @divinesapph | @ze-maki-nin | @ruggiethethuggie | @v-anrouge

[niobe-loreley]

Heaven Is In A Shortcake {xvii}

AND NOW~ IT WAS TIME~ FOR TUMBLR TO DROWN IN THE SWEET SORROW OF THIS FIC'S 17TH CHAPTER

disclaimer: The Gray Man and the characters are NOT mine, even the reader. I only own the plot and the reader's character lol. Pictures used in the fic are NOT MINE, but only the edited version (u can msg me if u ze owner); credits to the rightful owners and canva + weheartit. Additionally, I am not a Subic/Zambales native, so my apologies for any wrong locations, descriptions, or languages.

Six x F!Reader / Courtland Gentry x Female Reader

warnings: moderate amount of swear words. some filipino dialogues. slow burn. fluff. trust issues. dramaramramamama. comedy if you use a magnifying glass. culture shock. word count check. slightly proofread/revised.

CHAPTER SELECTION IS IN THE ✨Masterlist✨ Chapter 16 was the icon Chapter 17 is the legend

word count: 3.9k (N/N) = nickname *Kiara = Clare *Kurt = Court *cover names = reader doesn't know YET (except you do know #wreckthe4thwall)

This has got to be kidnapping.

Yet how can it be when you're not even verbally struggling to escape?

The only physical binding you have is your sprained ankle. If you didn't have that, you can easily jump out of the car.

But you dare not anger Court any further. He might not let you leave them until you ripen of old age.

Would that be so bad, though?

You blush, sharply averting your gaze out the window as if it would throw the thought away. Being with Court and Claire in less than three hours for thrice a week should be enough for friends hanging out.

Right?

So, why are you wishing for more time?

Why are you always at the edge of your seat waiting for them?

Why is it always hard to watch them walk out of the cafe without you?

The answers are obvious. You just don't want to indulge them again, especially after what happened tonight.

"Home runnnn!" Claire shouts happily as she races through the garage. She certainly looked like she batted a ball out of the field, arms raised overhead, open-mouthed grin, and keys dangling noisily.

You and Court stay silent as Claire unlocks the door. He has you in his arms again, but you don't breathe a complaint this time.

"Want to take a bath, (N/N)?" Claire asks when the three of you entered the guestroom.

You nod. "Sure, that'd be grand."

Court gently sets you down on the bed. "Do you, um, need help?" he questions with a red face, "Taking a bath?"

You laugh. "I'm not that incapacitated, dude. Just get me a chair, towel, and clothes."

"Here's a towel!" Claire gets one from the closet and deposits it on the bed in a flash, "I'll go get a plastic chair!"

She's out of the room before either of you can blink.

"What a proactive teen," you comment amusedly before the silence becomes awkward.

Court snorts in agreement, looks at you for a few seconds, and turns away. "Hey, listen, you can borrow my clothes for the time being."

"Do you have my kind of underwear this time?" you tease.

"About the underwear.. we can buy some tomorrow morning." Court awkwardly rubs his nape, "There's a— what do you call this.. a small market at the park tomorrow. It's always there every Saturday, from 6 AM to 10 AM."

"A tiangge?"

"Yeah, that!"

"Alright, it'd probably be good for me to walk around tomorrow."

"Who says you'll be walking around?"

"Uh, I did?"

"No, you're staying in the car."

"What?"

"My house, my car, my rules."

You chuckle. "Court, seriously.. what are you doing? This is rather sweet and all, but you're lowkey scaring me." you swiftly add to ease his growing anxiety, "It's scary in a funny way, actually. But I'm getting worried that you're over-worrying about me."

He glances down at the floor. "Isn't this what friends do?" and peers at you with eyes so dubious it's as though he doesn't know the meaning of friends.

"Yeah, it is.. and I would do the same for you, it's just that…" you look straight into his eyes, "This kind of overworrying feels different. I can't help but think it feels different. This, us, we.. feel different. But I don't want to think it does, I want to know." 

You're quick to realize what you just said, their weight and meaning, so you let out a loud laugh. Hopefully it will dispel your statements.

"Or maybe it's just me!— Me being silly ol' me," you snicker.

Yet Court is looking at you as though he understands the facade you're wearing.

"What's so funny?" Claire drags a monoblock chair into the room.

You shake your head. "I was just mimicking Flint Lockwood."

"You know Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs?!"

"Know it? I've watched it a hundred times!"

"There! Good as new!" Claire declares, satisfied.

After taking a bath, the father-daughter duo helped you with your wounds again. Claire has just finished bandaging your elbow. While Court went to get another compression bandage after leaving an ice pack on your ankle.

"Kiara.. may I ask you something?"

She snorts. "Of course. And no need to be all formal."

"How did you and Kurt find me?"

Claire freezes, the look on her face somewhat resembles a search engine loading continuously due to a weak internet. "Um, well.. we were going to invite you to watch a movie with us," she smiles sheepishly, "It's Friday. And it's been a while.

"Anyway, we knew you were going to Lillia's, so we turned around and drove to the hotel. We got there just as you were being chased."

You resist a shudder when you hear derisive howling in your ears. You wonder how long those guys will be in your mind, their laughs and hoots bouncing back and forth, reverberating your skull.

"I'm glad you two turned around," you smile at Claire with glassy eyes. "Thank you, Kiara."

She's stunned until tears brim her eyes. But Claire doesn't let them fall. "Don't just thank me. It's Six who beat their asses," she snickers.

"Who?" you ask.

"What?" Claire replies and freezes in realization.

"(Y/N), are you hungry?" Court inquires, sidling in the room.

"No, thank you." you glance at him from head to toe, "How about you? Didn't all that ass kicking got you starving?"

"Not really." Court sits on a chair at the edge of the bed. He takes off the ice pack from your ankle, which he towel-dries before he mindfully wraps a compression bandage around it.

He's too focused on your sprain while you're so engrossed watching him that neither of you notice Claire sneaking out of the room.

"Hey, can you come over here and hand me the ice pack?"

Court just finishes bandaging your sprain. Yet he wastes no time obliging you. This, again, neither of you notices.

"You found another welt on you?" he asks, sounding like he's half-joking (but he's not).

You snatch the ice pack from him and press it up against his left jaw. Court is monumentally unprepared for the "assault" that he winces in pain.

"Nope! Found a bruise on you, though." you say, snickering.

Court lets the astonishment wash over him. "You notice that?" he asks, somewhat amazed.

"At first, I thought it was a tattoo."

"Really?"

"No, I'm joking."

"Oh.."

You snort. "Doofus."

"Twerp," he fires back, flaring.

You double over, laughing. But you still have the ice pack steady on his jaw. "Sometimes you're a sore loser," you examine his face for any more injuries, but it's hard when he's scrunching it up to a scowl. "No, scratch that, you are one."

"And you're just infuriating. All. The. Time." he remarks with hardening emphasis.

"But you love me," you intone jokingly.

Court stares at you, astounded. And as the blood creep up his face, your laugh dies down in shame.

He knows you're joking, right?

You know you were joking.. right?

Sure, you like-like him, but you wouldn't call it love. Infatuation is more like it. Or stirrings, as Captain Jack Sparrow termed it.

Your inner self gives you an unimpressed look.

'Ok, fine.. feelings.'

Court calls your name.

"Huh? What?" you snap out of your stupor.

Court grabs the ice pack from you and off his jaw. "I asked if you want to call somebody." he says with genuine concern.

"Oh… I don't think I can talk to anybody about what happened just yet."

"Okay," he pauses, "Sorry.. I thought you'd feel better if you talked to Mindy. Or maybe Erick."

You chuckle. "I would if we were still dating."

Court blinks at you.

You elaborate. "I mean, we were only dating. He's not really my boyfriend in the first place."

"So… You two aren't dating anymore?" Court asks.

"That's right." you nod and pretend like your heart is not leaping up your throat because of what you plan to say next. "I told Erick I can't  date him anymore because I realized I already like someone else. Even before him."

"So," he hums inquisitively, "You're dating this someone now?"

You shake your head, smiling sadly. "No, I haven't told him I like him yet."

He gulps. "Why is that?"

"Because after what happened tonight, as much as I want him to know.. I don't want him to think it's because he saved me."

Court is looking at you like you're a thousand-piece puzzle.

You blush. "I know I've liked this guy for a long while now. And I know this isn't the right time, but.. I'm idiotically still trying to tell him. That I like him."

Silence spreads to every corner of the room. And if it weren't for the crickets serenading outside, the silence would be awkward the way it should be.

Court is still saying nothing. He has his eyes on the floor and you have no idea what's going on in his mind.

Typically, you're that friend who advises their other friends to just say it— do it!— Don't ride the merry-go-around.

Yet here you are, dangling on one of the carousel horses as it spins for all eternity.

"You should get some rest." Court says finally.

"Huh?"

"I said, you should get some rest."

"Oh… That's what I thought you said."

He hauls out something from his jacket pocket. "Here.. the channel is all set," he nods at the walkie-talkie, "Keep it open and call me as soon as you need me— or anything."

"Sure," you grab the device absentmindedly. "Good night."

"Good night."

And then he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

You look at the transceiver, place it on the bedside drawer, and expel a hefty sigh. "Ang tanga mo talaga," you tell yourself, forcibly lying down. "Stupid, stupid, stupid! You should've just told him!— Why didn't you tell him? Oh right, because I'm an idiotic, no good, shit for brains, twat!"

A sharp twinge rises up your leg as a scratching pain erupts from the rest of your body. "Ow, ow, ow," you stop thrashing, slowly placing your sprained ankle atop the pillow it was on. You sigh exasperatedly, "I'm such a dumbass."

"You're such a dumbass!"

"Excuse me?" Court glares at Claire over his shoulder as they climb up the stairs.

She rolls her eyes. "Her message was as clear as the archipelago sun!"

"Whose?"

"(N/N), duh!"

He furrows his brows. "What message?"

She snaps her fingers. "And that's why you're such a dumbass."

"Fine. Whatever. Just get to bed."

"Fine! Let's all see how this stupidity between you and (N/N) plays out!"

Claire storms in her room and noisily shuts the door before Court can retort. He ponders what she's got to be mad about.

He takes a short bath, sets another set of clothes aside for you, and checks the house's security.

No one's after you three.

That's not just why Court suggested you stay with them for a few days. This is better than you staying all night at the cafe alone. And like hell he'll ever leave you alone after what happened tonight.

Court checks the handgun under his pillow as he looks at the guestroom's feed.

If someone did come after them, he'll have no choice but to take you with him and Claire.

Suddenly, he recalls what you said earlier as he lays on the bed.

"...as much as I want him to know.. I don't want him to think it's because he saved me."

You're not talking about him, right?

"I know I've liked this guy for a long while now—"

There's just no way, right?

"—And I know this isn't the right time, but.. I'm idiotically still trying to tell him. That I like him."

Court abruptly sits upright. "Fuck!" he breathes out, wishing he can do the same to the heat in his cheeks. "Don't do this to yourself, man. You're 100% uncertain."

Maybe you were just delirious from the trauma.

Yeah, that's plausible. 

But also worrisome.

Court glances over to his desk, where the security feed is showing any events live inside, outside, and ten meters around the house. But he's focused on one feed: the guestroom.

You're fast asleep already. And how you're so unmoving sets paranoia ablaze in his veins. 

He has the right to worry, right?

So, it's okay for him to switch on the guestroom's camera audio and cranks it up until he hears your breathing, right?

He puts on one earbud and doesn't dwell on the fact that what he's doing is downright creepy.

Setting up a tablet beside him on the bed, Court finds the security feed on the device. He then lies back down and tries closing his ends. Not after a minute, he ends up watching you on the screen.

'Hopeless..'

He ignores his demons snickering at him.

As he continues eyeing the security feed of the premises, particularly you, Court doesn't realize he fell asleep.

Until he hears you scream.

"NO! NO! STOP— PLEASE!"

Court practically becomes The Flash. He bolts down to the guestroom before his eyes can fully open.

He shouts your name as he bursts in the room. Opening the lights, he finds that you have no (external) attacker.

You're sitting down, yet you looked like you ran a marathon. "Hey, Kurt," you wipe the cold sweat off your brow. "I'm so sorry for waking you."

He stammers. "No. Not really, I.. I just got up to get some water."

You glance at the time, 1:35 AM. "Still, sorry for disturbing you and shit."

Court sighs. "Stop apologizing. How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Maybe 99 more to get it through my thick skull?"

"That's probably not enough."

You laugh, shaking your head, and you scratch behind your ear. "Did I wake Claire up, too?"

Court glances out the door when he hears footsteps. Claire carefully rounds the corner, armed with a handgun dipped towards the floor. 

"No, she's still asleep." he blankly says as he turns back to you.

You heave a brow. "Why are you lying?"

Court is taken aback. Was he that obvious? No one can usually read him, not even Claire; although, Donald and Margaret used to.

"Oh, Claire!" you holler in a singsong voice.

The teen reluctantly peers in the room, hiding her weapon behind her. "H-Hiya," she smiles nervously.

You chuckle. "The two of you should get back to bed. I'm sorry for getting you out of there in the first place."

"It wasn't your fault you had a nightmare, (N/N)." says Claire. "Would—"

"Would you like some company?" Court asks just before the teen could. He looks at her in befuddlement, while she sneers maniacally at him.

"No, you two should rest." you give a small smile, "I'll be fine."

Except you didn't get to be.

For the past three hours, you've woken up from several nightmares. Only a few of them did you wake up screaming. Sometimes you can't even sleep immediately because it takes you back to the same bad dream. 

It takes all of Court's might not to barge back in the guestroom, lay down next to you, and kick all those nightmares in the ass.

After your first nightmare, Court hasn't slept a wink. He returned to his room and watched you through the security feed. When you've had your second nightmare, he quickly sets up the sandbag in his room and starts whaling on it.

But there's only so much that he can take from hearing your cries. He tried muting your security feed, yet for some reason, it's worse than before.

So, Court has selfishly decided that you need someone with you tonight. Whether you like it or not. 

He waited until you're back in deep sleep after a nightmare.

Without little to no sound, Court sneaks into the guestroom and places a chair beside the bed. And as he sits there, it just hits him that he doesn't know what the fuck to do. You'll probably have a heart attack when you wake up and find him staring at you.

How should he comfort you?

He pinches himself when the first thought he has is to get in bed with you. There's got to be another way other than that— it'll be the last resort.

You suddenly let out a grunt, stirring, and Court flinches, readying to flee. But you're still asleep. It's another nightmare.

Court spots your clenched fist and tightens his jaw. He looks at your grimacing face, and for some reason, it's similar to your concentrating face. Now, here's a thought: what if you're suppressing yourself for him and Claire? So that you won't wake them up because of your nightmares.

He chuckles in both disbelief and admiration. That'd truly be you. Even when you're having trouble, you're still looking after them.

Breathing in and out, Court takes your balled hand in both of his. He strokes your fist, tracing patterns on your skin until he feels your muscles release their contraction. Gently, he unfurls your tightened fingers and soothes them one by one.

Compared to his, your appendages are small and smooth. It astonishes him how a hard worker such as yourself has dainty hands. But he stands corrected when he feels a few callouses. Nevertheless, your hand fascinates him.

What would it feel like to hold both of your hands in his own?

The thought is cut short when he feels crescent marks on your palm. Court frowns at that and then at you. "Idiot.. stop taking on everything by yourself," he whispers and carefully holds your hand in both of his. "I'll be here for you, (Y/N). I am here. You just.. gotta see me."

For the second time tonight, Court has fallen asleep watching you.

And once again, you're the one to wake him. But not with a scream this time.

"Court," you softly call, tugging on his hands.

With his name like a feather on your lips, everything within him stirs wildly into life. But he doesn't show that effect you have on him.

He slowly rises from slumping on the bed. "Hey, sorry, did I scare you?" he blurts out with one eye still closed.

You chuckle. "No, you didn't."

"Get back to sleep. I'll just be here."

"Why don't you..?"

"Hm?" Court blinks at you curiously.

You fight back the blush, scoot further in the bed, and pat the space beside you. "I don't think you're comfortable there. Why don't you sleep here instead?"

He gulps. "Aren't you gonna ask me what I'm doing here first?"

"Will you answer me honestly? Or tell me to shut up and rest?" you question amusedly.

"Both?" he stifles a grin.

You shortly laugh before you tug him towards you. It doesn't take long for him to fold. Just you holding his hand is enough to make Court roll over for you.

He worriedly climbs in the bed—

"Oh, wait!"

"What?!"

"Let's switch."

".. Why?"

You redden. "I don't want you sleeping on my sweat, man! Understand?!"

He looks at you for a few seconds and sputters out a laugh. "Alright, fine," he says before you can chastise him for laughing. You scoot over as he rounds the bed, "There. Happy?"

"Very," you nod and settle down.

"Oh, wait!" he exclaims this time.

"What?!"

Court returns to his room to retrieve his clothes that you were going to wear later in the morning. "Change. You stink." he chucks them to you, sneering.

"Go away, then." you snarl.

"Like hell I would."

"Just turn around, moron!"

He obliges, snickering, and when he faces away from you, horrific realization strikes like vicious lightning across his chest. 

You're undressing. With him still in the room. And it's just the two of you. Has he mentioned that you're currently undressing?

His demons are biting into the side of his neck, yanking at him to look over at you. This is bad. His self-control is losing a lot of blood.

"Need any help?"

Yup, that's significant blood loss right there.

"No, I got this. Thanks, Kurt."

After an eternity (minute) of suffering..

"Done!" you exhale, relieved.

And so did Court. 

He rigidly gets in the bed without glancing at you. His self-control needs recharging, it doesn't help that you're half-an-arms length away. But even just a visual on you is lethal.

The two of you are staring at the ceiling. Until you turn your head to Court, just as he risks a glance at you. His self-control can't charge anymore.

You grin apologetically. "Sorry for keeping you up. Let's get some rest," and roll on your side, facing away from him. "Good night."

"Yeah, night." he replies, staring at your back.

Before horrendous thoughts can start invading his mind, Court notices something amusing. 

He stifles a grin, his shirt is like a blanket on you. The way it hangs on you with too many folds screams that you're wearing an extremely baggy top. It'll never not be entertaining to have you in his clothes. What's more, only ⅓ of your feet are sticking out the hem of his joggers.

This time, Court doesn't fall asleep watching you. Because with you up close, he's granted visual acuity to scrutinize you evenly.

Your hair doesn't appear damp despite the cold sweat you're experiencing from the nightmares.

The curve of your shoulder somewhat displays tenacity and elegance simultaneously.

How can such a tiny body hold so much strength and carry such burdens?

Eventually, the nightmares are back. And Court is ready for them.

As soon as you're stirring abnormally and moaning in fear, Court props onto his elbow and carefully grabs your shoulder. He calls your name, shaking you gently.

You jolt awake, breathing heavily. "Court," you look at him, the fear in your wide eyes diminishing gradually. "Did I wake you?"

"No," says Court, steeling his resolve. "Come here."

You almost didn't understand what he said. Until he pulls you to him. And you move compliantly.

Court shimmies his arm under your head, while the other clutches your waist, pulling you closer until there's no space between your back and his chest.

You stifle a squeak when he slips a leg between yours. "Sorry," he says in your hair, "Just gotta get this.."

He clasps the edge of the pillow with his toes and carefully reels it. "Lift your left leg up," he tells you, and you oblige. He leaves the pillow between your legs and grabs the one you lifted. "You can put this down now."

He helps you in setting your sprained ankle down on the pillow.

"Good girl."

Oh, damn..

Thank the heavens you're not facing him right now. He'd probably mistake your face for a stove.

"No nightmare is getting to you now."

"Huh?"

You feel him moving his face against the back of your head.

"I said," he pauses, voice low, breaths fanning on your ear. "No nightmare is getting to you now. Because I'm protecting you."

Your heart finds it hard to go back to its place after cartwheeling up your throat. And when it's reminded of the position you and Court are presently in, your heart threatens to roll out your mouth.

"The nightmares are in my head, though." you chuckle, placing a hand on the arm you're resting your head on, you reach for his hand. "Thank you."

Court watches, with fireworks gleefully exploding in his chest, as you intertwine your hand with his. When the festivities calm down, he gives your hand a squeeze.

"You're always welcome, (Y/N)."

A/N: these chapters will be all FOR NOW~ I am continuing this fic y'all, albeit it'll be from time to time (ehem month to month huhuhuhu)

The door to Chapter 18 is blocked

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