#I can't say it enough: thank you so much you guys

[alllgator-blood]

'FOGGY STREETS AND CHRISTMAS LIGHTS'

(part 3/3)

I'm gonna infodump about the backstory of this comic, don't feel obligated to read it because it's not cotl related it's just personal stuff, I just want to be able to write about it somewhere cause I can't really talk to anyone about it.

As always, thanks for reading this far, sorry my stuff has been such a bummer so consistently. This comic goes out to all my "christmas induced depression" homies, I left my house maybe like ~5 times all month and it was NOT pleasant hearing "IT'S THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR!!" on the radio when I'm so ready for it to be over. Gonna take it reaaaaal easy til the year ends, you guys take it easy too!! Got some asks I have to respond to when I'm more stable but probably no new comic pages til january

Alright uhhh so this part of the comic is pretty much taken directly from the last time I saw my great-grandma alive, a few days before christmas. She didn't remember me, but at the nursing home there was a piano, and I sat down and played some stuff because I didn't know what to say. I was really into lisa the painful rpg at the time, and I played that "I've got the joy" song that the villain sings without realizing it was an old christian campfire song. She didn't really say much or move that whole night, just kind of gave me a polite blank smile, but started singing the words when I played the notes to that song.

I kinda stopped in shock, my dad frantically asked me to keep playing, so I did. While the comic I made is way more sappy than the actual moment was, I wish I'd cherished the moment longer. I didn't know it was the last time I'd see her alive. Every family christmas was held at her house when she was around, so it's been weird the past few years. I actually lost another dementia-addled grandma to cancer on christmas eve in 2009, so the holiday was already kind of weird for me on top of everything else that makes me sad this time of year. That's what part 2 was about, I'll spare the details but I wrote leshy to act out how I felt back then. Why are we all sad? This is supposed to be a happy time, all the decorations are up and we're almost all here, so why is everyone smiling yet everything feels so wrong? I feel like since leshy's canonically the most ignorant one to things lurking below the surface, he'd be the one to try and make everyone feel better but not quite understand why everyone is so miserable. My first memory of having self injurious behavior came from then, hence why I had leshy pull his leaves off in the last comic. It was confusing and frustrating and I was just old enough to comprehend something was wrong, but not old enough to understand the depth of it, it DEFINITELY didn't help that nobody helped me back then so I made leshy's siblings actually come in clutch instead of grabbing him/yelling at him.

That night with the piano was something that's stuck with me the few years she's been gone, but I felt kind of strange when I asked my dad and my sister about it and neither of them remembered it. The room we were in was completely empty so nobody else witnessed it but us three. I myself have a history of head trauma and memory loss (plus, native americans are disproportionately more likely to develop dementia... lucky us) so if I ever forgot about that moment, there'd be nobody left to remember it. Sometimes when I do comics, it's my way of going "this happened at some point, and the only evidence it ever happened was me witnessing it, so if something happens to me I want the memory to stay alive in some form."

Anyway. The autistic urge to overshare, am I right? Idk what my religious ass great-grandma would think of me drawing demonic comics about my last memory of her, she'd probably think it's funny though cause she raised my dad whose interests have always been "death metal and devil worship". I'm not sure if anyone read this far, I just hope my dumb comics can convey the things I can't say with my voice and struggle to say through text. None of this was supposed to be "feel bad for me!! Woe is me!!", it was supposed to me more like...cathartic? Healing? I almost didn't post this comic because it felt kinda weird, but seeing people connect with it made it worth it imo. Thank you

[morganaawriterr]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Showering with Sunghoon;

Pairing; fem!reader and boyfriend!Park Sunghoon Synopsis; You love showering with Sunghoon. He is the best boyfriend, takes care of you even in the shower, not letting you lift a finger. Not even to wash yourself ;) Genre; Fluff (a bit suggestive) Warning; None (?) Sunghoon is a true GENTLEMAN!! Kinda horny!Sunghoon because you are just too hot (?)

A/N: This is the Sunghoon version of the, 'Bathing with Ni-ki' scenario. When i was writing the Ni-ki one, i already had the idea for this one heheheheh. I can't tell each one of them is my favourite, but... a man like Sunghoon (at least the one in this story) is my dream!!! I hope you guys enjoy it, likes and reblogs are always welcome, thank you so much <3

Also, happy Christmas eve, my loves ♡♡

If there was one thing you loved doing with Sunghoon, it was showering together. Everyone knew he was a gentleman—always opening doors for you, making sure you weren’t cold when you went out, and keeping his eyes on you to ensure you were safe and comfortable. And when you shower together, nothing changes.

Sunghoon knew you better than anyone else. He understood how you always put others before yourself (blame it on being the older sister). So, whenever he could, he took it upon himself to care for you. When you showered together, he refused to let you lift a finger—washing your hair, using all your scalp products, and gently cleaning your skin for you.

So, when he got a text from you saying you’d be taking a quick shower, he rushed home. Stepping into the foggy bathroom, he heard soft music playing—Cigarettes After Sex, as usual. Sunghoon quickly discarded his clothes and approached the shower. Before stepping inside, he paused to admire you.

Your sweet voice carried softly with the music, your head tilted back under the hot water, the droplets cascading down your body like a sculpture brought to life. To him, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he couldn’t be more grateful to have you.

When your back was turned to the door, he finally stepped in. His tall frame came up behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. You jumped slightly in surprise but quickly giggled. You loved it when Sunghoon was clingy.

“You should’ve waited for me…” he murmured into your ear, resting his face on your shoulder as the hot water poured over both of you.

Turning your head slightly, you pecked his cheek. “We have to be quick, baby. I promised your mom I’d meet her at the mall by 3 p.m. We’re picking out new things for her kitchen,” you explained to your handsome boyfriend. Then, you turned around fully to face him.

The water had completely soaked his hair, and he ran a hand through it, pushing it back. You gazed into his eyes, captivated by the view in front of you. His pale skin was drenched and shining before your curious eyes.

“Why didn’t she call me?” he whined, wrapping his arms around you again, as though he wished he could be under your skin, just to be closer to you.

“I’m the one with the interior design degree…” you joke, resting your head against his chest, savoring the warmth of his skin against yours and the hot water cascading over both of you.

Sunghoon doesn’t respond; he simply kisses your hair and holds you close for a few minutes. The bathroom grows even steamier, the air heavy with humidity. You look up at him, captivated by his handsome features— his big nose, juicy red lips, adorable moles, and the depth of his brown eyes, completely drunk on love.

He gazes back at you with equal intensity, his mischievous fingers trailing along your side, sending goosebumps across your skin. The way you look at him—those beautiful, pleading puppy eyes—are enough to drive him crazy. Slowly, Sunghoon leans in and captures your lips in a slow, loving kiss, his soft lips molding perfectly with yours.

Your arms wrap around his neck as your fingers weave through his black hair, gently pulling. His tongue teases its way into your mouth, and the kiss quickly deepens, turning hungry. The sensation of your wet, nude body pressing against his is intoxicating. You finally pull away for air, your foreheads resting against each other as you both catch your breath.

“Turn around so I can wash your hair,” Sunghoon says in a breathy voice, regaining his composure and focusing on taking care of you. His hands remain firmly on your hips as you turn, your back facing him—a sight that makes him momentarily wish his mom would forget about your plans so he could have more time with you.

Noticing he hasn’t moved, you glance back over your shoulder, only to catch him staring at your body with a sly grin, his hands gripping your waist a little tighter making your skin turn white.

“Hoonie…” you call, snapping him out of his trance. A soft blush spreads across his face as he realizes he’s been caught.

“Sorry, princess, I got distracted,” he mutters in a low voice, quickly reaching for your favorite shampoo to get started.

You turn your head forward, giving him better access to your scalp. When his skilled fingers begin massaging your hair, it feels heavenly. He always has a way of being so gentle yet confident, and it makes your knees weak every time.

Sunghoon has a habit of massaging your neck while washing your hair—one hand steadying your head while the other works on your tired neck muscles. You gulp and bite your bottom lip. Today, for some reason, his touch feels even better than usual, making you momentarily regret agreeing to plans with his mom.

“All done. Let’s rinse you off,” Sunghoon says softly, holding your hand as you turn to let the water rinse your hair. As the warm stream flows over you, Sunghoon notices your quickened breaths.

“You okay there, princess?” he asks with a knowing smirk, fully aware of the effect he has on you.

You don’t answer, just nod, your eyes still closed. After rinsing your hair, he applies a bit of conditioner to your ends, gently scrunching them to enhance your waves. While the conditioner sets, he grabs your loofah, squeezing out some of your body wash before carefully lathering it.

You let him take over completely, utterly under his spell. His hands move with precision and tenderness, washing every inch of you—from your neck and arms to your chest and belly. He even kneels to wash your legs and feet with the same care. You watch him with hearts in your eyes, completely smitten by his loving attention.

When he stands again, you turn around, brushing your hair to one side to expose your back. He resumes his task, one hand holding your waist affectionately while the other traces gentle circles over your skin as he cleans you.

Sunghoon smiles when he’s finished, admiring the way your skin glistens, still covered in bubbles. He leans in to press a quick peck on your lips before turning the water back on to rinse you off. Stepping back, he leans against the cold tiled shower wall, his mischievous eyes tracing the path of the drops as they slide down your body.

Noticing his gaze, you smile and gently take his hand, pulling him under the warm stream. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you rest your head against his chest, craving the comforting sensation of his skin against yours. The two of you stay like this for a while, soaking in the moment, until your hair and body are completely rinsed clean.

“Do you want me to wash your hair too?” you ask, looking up at your handsome boyfriend. He returns your gaze with a soft smile.

“No, princess. You can go see my mom. I’ll finish faster if I do it myself,” he says, his thumb caressing your cheek affectionately. You laugh, knowing he’s right. If you stayed, things would likely go far beyond just washing his hair.

“I love you,” you confess shyly, placing a lingering kiss on his perfect lips before stepping out of the shower.

“I love you more,” Sunghoon replies sweetly, his heart swelling at the sight of your radiant smile. “I’ll be waiting for you…” he adds with a playful wink as you close the door, your laugh echoing softly in the steamy bathroom.

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[v1rtualsalvat10n]

𓆩♡𓆪 for the first time

― luigi thinks of you in his cell. that's it that's the fic.

notes :: thank you for all the support to show my appreciation i would like to throw a rusty screwdriver into your hearts i love u guys!!

The thing they don't tell you about prison is that it's really cold.

No, seriously. It's really fucking cold, even here in NYC where it's already cold to begin with - it's like you're in the back of a deep freezer in a shitty jumpsuit, because you kind of are. It's cold enough that I have to curl up into a ball on my "bed", knees to my chest in order to try and stay warm.

And because I have nothing to do, I find myself staring at the white, emotionless wall, and doing that sort of thing is kind of a surefire way to get your mind to wander. One of the tried and true methods, if you will.

It's lonely here. Sure, the inmates like me, they're nice, but I mean... I'm not really in the mood to socialize with anyone. This whole ordeal has sucked the energy out of me. I've been being thrown around the country for days, ever since they found me.

I don't even want to think about what's happening outside of this place, either. I'm sure people have lots of thoughts and things to say about what I did.

I wonder if she saw it.

The news, I mean. Of course she saw it, who didn't? I bet her and all my old classmates and friends are probably talking about it, about me, what I'd done - right now. Trying to pick apart my motive, maybe grieving about the life I'd thrown away. Guess I had a lot ahead of me.

Can't help but wonder what she's thinking. I wonder if she's disappointed in me. Or maybe proud. Why am I thinking so much about what she thinks of me? It was one fling, from ages ago, I can't even remember when... at one of countless parties, and yet I still see how she looked underneath me so clearly.

It wasn't really just a fling. I talked to her about it - about how the system was falling apart (if it was ever together to begin with) and I felt the need to put all this privilege I'd been granted to good use. How I felt like I had to do something. She told me about herself, too, how she'd been fucked over time and time again and how she knew countless others who felt the same way.

Actually, yeah, we spent a lot of time together, thinking back on it. She'd come over on those cold winter nights I remember so fondly and we'd keep warm together, whatever way we could find. She was kind of... below me, I guess. Lower class. Not that I cared that much, though. Didn't make her any less of a lover.

And then I went radio silent. Then I figured out exactly what that thing I had to do was, and I put all my effort towards it. I didn't have time for love anymore. I had to take the chance I'd been given and fix things.

So I started leaving her on seen, stopped answering my door, even when she'd yell that she knew I was there, stopped showing up at the places I'd loved before, I stopped everything. Dropped off the map and left nothing but a ghost in my place.

She probably hates me.

I'd like to think that maybe this brings her solace... that maybe the idea that "it wasn't because you did something wrong" made her feel better, but I doubt it does.

When I get out of here, if I even do, she'll probably have forgotten all about me, because everybody forgets. I'll be old news by the time that day comes, and everything we did, everything we wanted to do - would just be a hazy memory.

I still remember seeing her for the first time. I remember the way her eyes pierced through my soul, and I remember how it made me feel inside.

I wonder if she remembers that too.

[rafesbangs]

was literally just reading all your work and you write so well!! new fav blog fr, i was wondering (if you're interested) if we could have some rafe x kook bestf!reader fluff, angst kinda one-shot story? thank youuu !! <3

thank you soso much ml !! ofc ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

req! 𝜗𝜚 kook!reader sneaks out to a boneyard kegger, & bsf!rafe gets pretty protective.

c!w; fluff ! for once, bsf!rafe, soft!rafe, possessiveness, overprotective guy friend, icky males, drinking, a brief physical fight, tiny mention of blood, mostly very fluffy with a tinge of angst ! notes; i can't believe this is my first fluff work lol ! i kinda wrote loads oopsie, i hope you enjoy <3

you sneak out of your house, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards. the night air is cool against your skin as you walk through the empty streets, the buzz of the kegger ahead growing louder with each step. it’s just past midnight when you reach the boneyard, the ground is uneven, the sand mixing with beer-stained grass, and the smell of salty air mingles with the faint scent of weed and sweat.

you grab a red solo cup from the keg, its warmth feeling strange against your fingers. your eyes scan the crowd, taking in the sight of everyone laughing, shouting, and dancing—people you mostly know but can never remember their names the next day. you slip into the chaos, easing into conversations, letting the alcohol dull the edges of the night. everything’s blurry, but in a good way, like you can finally breathe.

“hey,” a voice says, way too close to your ear. you turn, finding some random boy—a touron, probably. his blue eyes are too wide, his grin a little too eager. “you’re cute. want a drink?”

you arch an eyebrow, taking a small step back. “no, thanks. i've got one,” you say, trying to keep your tone light. you’re not interested, but you don’t want to be rude.

he doesn’t get the hint. instead, he takes a half-step toward you, leaning in as though he’s trying to get into your personal space. “oh come on, don’t be like that. one drink won’t hurt.”

you cross your arms and take another step back, annoyance creeping up your spine. “i said no, okay?”

he just laughs like it’s some kind of game, and that’s when you start to feel the frustration bubble up. you don’t want to make a scene, but it’s clear this guy doesn’t know how to take a hint. every time you move away, he follows.

“seriously, i’m not interested,” you snap, voice growing more annoyed. “go find someone else.”

the boy’s smile falters, but his hand comes out to touch your arm, a move that feels more possessive than friendly. before you can even say anything else, a shadow cuts through the crowd, and you hear a familiar voice bark, “hey, man, leave her alone.”

you glance over, relief flooding you when you see rafe, your best friend, pushing through the crowd, eyes narrowed and jaw tight. his presence has always been a kind of shield for you, and this time, it’s no different.

the touron boy looks up at rafe, sizing him up like he’s about to say something smart, but rafe doesn’t wait. he steps closer, his voice colder than you’ve ever heard it. “i said, leave her the hell alone.”

the tourist smirks. “or what?”

before you can even blink, rafe’s already moved. his fist connects with the touron's jaw, knocking the boy off balance, and the crowd around you steps back, forming a ring. it’s over before you can process what’s happening—a punch here, a shove there, and the guy crumbles. rafe doesn’t stop. another hit to the stomach, and the touron goes down, blood trickling from his lip.

you’re frozen for a moment, shock settling in your chest, but when rafe finally steps back, you see the blood smeared across his knuckles and the red pooling around his nose. it’s not much, but it’s enough to make your heart stop for a second.

“oh my god, rafe,” you rush to him, your hands hovering at his shoulders as you try to figure out what to do. “are you okay? your nose…”

he swipes at it with the back of his hand, but it only makes it worse. his eyes narrow, his face flushed with anger, but his voice is rough, like he’s trying to convince himself he’s fine. “yeah, i’m fine. it’s just a scratch.”

“rafe…” you trail off, frustration mixing with your worry. you want to help, but he’s already brushing you off, turning his back to you to walk away.

“let’s get out of here,” he mutters, walking toward the edge of the party. you follow, watching him, unsure of what to say. your stomach twists, unsure whether to be relieved that it’s over or angry that he’s hurt, again, because of you.

the two of you make your way down the beach, the sounds of the party growing distant behind you. it’s too quiet, and you can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.

“you shouldn’t have done that,” you say finally, breaking the silence. you’re still angry, but your voice cracks with worry. “you didn’t have to get into that fight. you could’ve just-”

“and you shouldn’t have snuck out in the middle of the night to get drunk at a kegger alone!” rafe snaps, his voice rougher than usual, and you flinch at the bite in his words. “what the hell were you thinking? you know i worry about you.”

you swallow hard, the sting of his anger hitting you like a slap. “i didn’t mean to… i wasn’t trying to-”

“you’re reckless,” he interrupts, throwing his hands up in frustration, and you step back, feeling the weight of it settle deep in your chest. his words cut through you, sharper than you want to admit, and you stare at the sand beneath your feet.

“i’m sorry,” you say quietly, your voice small now, “i didn’t mean to make you worry. i didn’t-”

rafe stops walking and turns to face you, the moonlight catching the blood on his hands and the jagged split on his knuckles. he looks at you for a long moment, his expression softening just a little.

“it’s not just that,” he mutters, the words barely above a whisper. “i care about you. i don’t want anything to happen to you.”

you feel your chest tighten, your heart fluttering unexpectedly. you step closer to him, unsure of what to say, but then your arms are around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“'m sorry rafe. thank you f'caring, so much about me” you whisper into his shirt, the words soft, sincere. you feel the tension in his body for a moment, like he’s not sure what to do with this closeness, but then he wraps his arms around you too, just a little hesitantly at first, before he holds you tightly.

“don’t thank me,” he mutters, his voice breaking a little. “i’m just... doing what you deserve.”

but when you pull back to look at him, his eyes are full of something else, something that feels a little more vulnerable. you reach up, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, and that’s when you see a tear, slipping down his cheek, a quiet, unexpected crack in his facade.

“rafe…” your voice trembles. “what’s wrong?”

he swallows hard, avoiding your gaze. “it’s just… no one ever thanks me for caring. they just expect me to always be the one looking out for everyone else, but no one ever... gives a damn about me.”

you blink, heart catching in your throat. “that’s not true,” you say, pulling him back in closer, holding him tighter. “i care. i always care.”

he sniffles, his shoulders shaking just slightly as he pulls away, his expression softening but still strained. “dad doesn’t love me 's much as he loves sarah. he’s always telling me how proud he is of her. he- he never says it t'me. and i try so hard. i do everything f'him, everything to make him proud. 'm just invisible to him”

the weight of his words hits you like a punch to the gut, and you squeeze him tighter, not knowing what else to say. “’m so sorry, rafe,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion. “i can’t imagine what that must feel like. but you’re not invisible t'me. you never will be.”

his breath hitches, and then, finally, he lets go. tears slip down his face now, the kind he’s always kept hidden. you hold him as he breaks down, your arms around him, offering what little comfort you can.

you both sit there in the sand for a long time, the sound of the ocean surrounding you, the night stretching on like a long, quiet exhale. finally, rafe pulls back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“thanks for being here,” he says, voice still rough, but softer than before. “for… f'caring.”

you smile at him, your heart full. “always, rafe. i’m always here for you.”

when you finally sneak back to your house, you help him up to your room. in the soft glow of your bedroom light, you clean the blood off his hands, gently tending to his wounds. rafe watches you, the affection in his eyes evident as he gazes at you with a softness you don’t see often.

“y'always so damn careful with me,” he murmurs, his voice full of something unspoken.

“'ts because i care,” you whisper, holding his hand in yours, feeling the warmth between you that has always been there.

[sports-on-sundays]

Oh...! Maybe you can make a part 2 of the fic Mama's Boy when they're on date or make a new one with the same trope because this is so cute and I can't stop reading it! 😆

mama's boy / Héctor Fort / Part 2

Summary: Héctor x best friend!reader - Héctor takes you on both of your first dates, his clear, awkward, huge crush on you funnily apparent. Link to Part 1!

Requested?: Yes! Thank you!

"...Héctor...?!" Lamine suddenly says louder, gently slapping Héctor's shoulder, snapping Héctor out of his deep thoughts. "Did you just hear any of what I just said?" the seventeen-year-old asks in slight exasperation.

"Uh... yeah, of course," Héctor replies, looking at the younger guy like a deer in headlights.

"Then what was it?"

Héctor sighs. "Alright. Maybe I didn't hear you. Sorry. What was it?"

Lamine shakes his head. "It doesn't really matter. Not really, in any case. But what's your problem lately, man?"

"What do you mean?" Héctor asks a bit too defensively and quickly.

"I don't know. It just seems like you're always zoned out and stuff. Is there anything going on?"

Héctor sighs, shaking his head, standing up to go. "No, no, it's nothing. Just got a lot on my mind. Anyway, I've got to go now. Bye, Lamine!" and he leaves before the boy can press him any more on the subject.

Because the truth is, he does have something on his mind. Something really big. And he hasn't been able to get it off his mind literally all week.

But it'd be awkward to tell Lamine the thing that's making him literally check out of conversations is all centered around a girl. And if Héctor knows Lamine enough, he also knows Lamine would never let him live that down.

Well, tonight is his date with you. Ever since he asked you out about five days ago now, at your house, in your room, all he can focus on are the nerves of that. You, the girl he's known for years, the girl that's always been so close yet so untouchable. He is taking you out on a date.

And you actually like him back.

Just the thought of that makes his chest tighten. How on earth is he going to survive a date with you, no matter how excited he is for it?

"You've been awfully quiet this car ride," Héctor's mama says in the car seat next to him.

Héctor sighs, shrugging. "Yeah, I guess so..."

"Aren't you excited for your date?" his mama says kind of teasingly, giving him a little nudge.

"Of course! I guess I'm just..." he trails off.

"You're just a bit nervous, but that's something you'd never admit to anyone out loud, huh?"

Héctor just smiles awkwardly, shrugging, and lets his silence be the answer to that question. After a few seconds, he sighs, unbuckling his seat belt, and saying, "I just hope I don't screw it all up."

"Hey, trust me, Héc. Look here for a second," his mama says.

He looks up, meeting his eyes. "Yeah. What?"

"You won't screw it up. I'm sure it'll go great. You've known that girl since you were both born. And I have, too, by the way. And if there's one thing I can tell, it's this: she likes you just as much as you like her. She's just less of an awkward idiot about it!" His mama laughs, giving him a little pat on the shoulder.

"Hey!" Héctor snaps back, unable to keep the smile from breaking out on his face at the tease from his mama.

She gives him a little pat, saying, "There's my boy's real smile. Now, go on, and have fun, Héc!"

He smiles and nods, getting out of the car, feeling a lot better than before.

Héctor replayed this scene in his head over and over, all week, perfecting it every time, until he was sure what he would do and say, in order to be perfectly smooth and charming, without being too corny, either.

The scene where you would walk up to him, and he'd take you inside the restaurant, and you'd sit down, and it would all go just the way he wants it to.

But all the sudden, as he sees you walking towards him, he feels his heart begin to pound in his chest, and the moment you reach him and say happily, "Hey, Héctor!" all other thoughts and plans of what he would say next fly right out of his head.

His mind goes blank, and instead of the smooth comment he thought he'd make right here, he just smiles stupidly and says, "Hi. I'm glad you came!"

You smile softly. "Well, I am, too. Let's go inside."

So the two of you walk in, and Héctor internally beats himself up at how much he's 'already messed up.' At least according to himself, that is.

So in an effort to fix his mistakes, as the two of you are escorted to your table, he suddenly gently slips his hand into yours and looks at you with a sweet little smile.

You smile back, blushing a bit, and squeeze his hand gently.

That's when he blurts, "You look really good today. I mean, like... I mean, you look beautiful... Uhm..." he clears his throat. "You look good every day, obviously, I mean. I just mean to say... you look especially pretty today."

You smile, feeling how awkward he's being. But regardless, you think it's cute. He's cute. And he's being sweet. So you say simply, "Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself." You can tell he's tried to look his best for this. His clothes are perfectly ironed, his shoes clean, every hair on his head perfectly in place. You can't help but smile softly when you think about the effort he must've put into all that as you both sit down across from each other.

You both begin looking over the menu, and as you do this, you say with a little smile, after you catch him giving you little glances for the fourth time, "You really like me, don't you?"

He smiles a bit and says, "There's a lot to like about you." Finally! Something that was at least half-smooth! his brain screamed, like as if he'd just scored the winning goal. Which is actually quite funny, considering the situation itself.

You smile and say, putting a hand to your chest, "Why, thank you!"

And he grins back at you, his eyes softening in some sort of deep affection that further tells you just how down bad he is for you.

"So, what are you going to get?" Héctor asks, beginning the small talk of the night, which, honestly, you're thankful for.

As the date goes on, though, you both settle into being more and more comfortable with each other, until it seems at the end you've both forgotten this was supposed to be any different than any other time you've just hung out and had fun with each other.

Until the time for you both to get going is nearing, and suddenly Héctor, apparently getting a newfound spark of confidence, reaches across the table to take your hand in his own. You look up, watching him inhale slowly, before meeting your eyes with his own and saying in a gentler, more serious tone than the teasing one that had lingered most of the evening between the two of you: "So... have you liked it?"

You smile as each of your hands seem to naturally entwine in each other's. "Liked what?"

"Tonight. Our date."

You beam. "Oh, Héctor, I've just loved it."

"Really?" he asks, his eyes sparkling.

"Don't you know that any time I get to spend with you is amazing? Come on now, Héctor," you gently tease.

He beams back at you, squeezing your hand.

That's when you finally feel comfortable enough to ask the unabating question that's been on your mind all week: "Héctor... how long have you liked me...? You know, in this way."

He seems hesitant. Maybe slightly taken off guard. But he doesn't let go of your hand, and after some silence, finally responds with, "The truth is, it's been longer than I've even known."

You can't help but laugh a bit at that, maybe a little nervously, saying, "What does that mean?"

Héctor smiles softly. "It means that I'm starting to think I've felt like this towards you for years. Like, at least five."

Your eyes widen at that as your heart rate begins to quicken. "Oh... my goodness, Héctor, that's so sweet...!" It really is. Hearing those words from him is so... touching.

He smiles awkwardly, glancing away from your gaze, before asking, "How long have you liked me? I mean, you do like me, right?"

"Héctor! Of course I like you! I like you a lot!" you exclaim, liking the way he happily looks back up at that. "I mean, I guess it hasn't been as long as you, but I've probably liked you for, like, at least eighteen months now."

He seems to be satisfied with hearing that, and says, "It kind of seems perfect, doesn't it?"

"What does?" you ask, your expression softening further.

"The way we've known each other... forever. Our families love each other, we have the same interests, we know all the little things about each other. It's almost as if..."

"...we're meant to be?" you finish after he trails off.

His eyebrows happily shoot up. "How'd you know that's just what I was going to say?"

You chuckle. "I guess we're just on the same wavelength, too, on top of it all, huh?"

He squeezes your hand, before daring to bring your hand up to his lips and gently kiss it, saying, "I guess we are, my princess."

You stare in awe at him, suddenly feeling like he's just shot you in the heart with an arrow of love, regardless of how cheesy that all seems. You can't help but giggle and tease, "Oh my God, Héctor. I didn't know you had that in you!"

He beams, admittedly seeming quite pleased with himself.

Soon, then, he pays for the meal, and the two of you stand up to head out. As you walk, Héctor links arms with yours, and once you're outside, he turns to grab your shoulders gently, face you, and look into your eyes. All you can see in them is simple, beautiful, complete joy. It's then that he whispers, "I hope you know... how much this means to me. All of this."

You stare at him. He so... close. It's not like you haven't been this close to him before- you have, many times.

But this time? This time, it just feels... well, different.

This time is different.

His thumb gently rubs your shoulder. The tenderness in his dark brown eyes...

You swallow.

"You're so beautiful... I'm so glad I get the privilege to be so close to you. I'm so glad you're my best friend."

"And I'm so glad you're my boyfriend," you suddenly blurt with a silly little smile, your heart pounding at the words you just let slip from your lips.

His eyes immediately widen. "You... You really want to...?"

You lean in close, gazing up at him, "I'd love to, and I know you would, too."

He grins, before it slowly dies down to a simple, soft, dreamy smile. "I sure would..." he barely murmurs, moving his hand up to gently cup your cheek.

You chuckle breathy as he lean in, tenderly planting a kiss on your cheek, before moving close to whisper in your ear, his cheek almost touching yours, his gentle, warm breath on your ear, "Well, I guess I've got to go now... But I'm excited for next time, huh?"

You grin, whispering back, "Oh, Héctor, I hope you know I can't wait."

He grins back and whispers, "Good. Me neither. Now, bye bye, Y/n!" He leans away again, pecking you on your cheek, closer to your mouth this time, and waves as he starts heading off.

You beam. "Bye bye, Héc!"

And this time, he doesn't seem to mind you calling him that. In fact, he might actually like it. Just a bit.

[ravixen]

heyy! may i ask for vocal term ver of svt meeting your friends? 👉🏼👈🏼 (btw i am the same anon who asked for the performance team ver of it hehe)

svt + meeting your friends (pt 3)

➔ requested || reaction || vocal unit

➔ warnings: none || 0.8k words ➔ notes: fluff ; heya! i hope you liked the performance unit version of it; it was fun to write, so i hope other people love it, too. here's the vocal team version of the same prompt. please reblog if you enjoyed! i love reading all of the comments. thank you for sending in my last request!! :)

JEONGHAN: he was just going to drop you off and head home, but your friends needed someone for their pick up basketball game—just until the last person of your friend group got out of traffic—and they heard that he's pretty athletic. "just a little," he allows, stretching his limbs. he doesn't have to stay, but he doesn't have much else to do at home and this is the perfect chance to make a good impression on your friends. everyone goes around quickly introducing themselves in a circle, and that's all the team-bonding they get before finding positions on the court. for the first game, you and jeonghan are on opposite teams, so he takes it easy, jogging around and making simple plays to get a feel for his team's rhythm. it's so laid back that it annoys you, the one who knows what he's capable of. respect you and your team enough to put in effort? he gives you a cocky grin. sure. when his team huddles during the break, he tells them his plan and your best friend whistles lowly. "I mean...they did ask for it," they say with a shrug. the second game immediately puts him on his team's good side and your team's bad side. maybe he'll make a better impression off the court.

JOSHUA: posted in part 1!

JIHOON: they know that he's famous, but man, are all celebrities this effortlessly cool or is it just him? he's not doing anything in particular, and in fact, he's quite friendly; he made sure to shake everyone's hand with both of his when they introduced themselves, and he said that he's lee jihoon, as if your friends haven't seen his name plastered on billboards across the city. he doesn't talk too much about himself, preferring to sit in the background, but the way his simple t-shirt stretches around his shoulders, the way his pushed back sunglasses act as a headband for messy black hair, the way he puts his arm on the back of your chair and leans in to share a menu...hot, humble, and sweet with an unmistakable aura. you really snagged a good one. and when you ask for the check only to find out that jihoon's already paid for the table? you whirl around and level him with a look, but one of your friends, the one across the table from you, laughs. "dude, I thought you looked suspicious on the way to the bathroom. did you even go?" hot, humble, sweet, rich, and generous. they'll keep an eye out next time to prevent him from paying in the future, though.

SEOKMIN: it takes him a long time to meet your friends, and they're getting antsy. but no matter how much they pester you about seeing the golden retriever boyfriend himself in real life, even jokingly accusing you of hiding him from the world, you can't do anything because he's refusing to meet your friends. it's the reason he gives for not guesting on lee mujin's show...he doesn't feel like he's good enough, and there's so much to unpack in that simple admission. that's why the first meeting inside a newly opened bakery and cafe is entirely accidental. you see the nervousness in his posture as soon as they recognize you and wave. then they turn their gaze to him, and he reaches for your hand, clasping it tightly to his side. "hey guys," you say, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "this is seokmin." there's something in the glint in your eyes that reminds them to play nice. luckily, this is the icebreaker needed to get him comfortable with a planned second meeting that goes so much better. he doesn't wander from your side, but he fully participates in the conversation, and your friends conclude that you're right. they do need sunglasses to look at his mega-watt smile.

SEUNGKWAN: he's professor boo of kpop for a reason; he's got room in his pretty head for all sorts of niche information, so of course, he's been filing away facts about your friends over time. when he actually meets them, he ends up bringing the perfect gift. "oh wow," your friend says, gaping at the bag he handed over. "I've actually been eying this for a while but didn't tell anyone! how did you know?" he shrugs as he kicks off his shoes at the door. "it just seemed like it would suit you," he says easily. the world can't sing his praises enough. there's a reason why so many people love him and invite him everywhere. he uses the information he's collected to perfectly navigate conversations: what topics make people light up and lean forward in interest? what topics should he avoid to prevent awkward silences? deep down, he feels like he has to make a good impression because you chose him and he wants to prove to everyone that he deserves you, even though no one is thinking that in the slightest. (in your eyes, it's him that deserves more than the world can give him.)

[criswritessometimes]

the hand has 27 bones, each of mine misses each of yours.

contents - gn reader, no use of (y/n), reader can't sleep, fluff

author note // i recently got a rammie plush as an early christmas present and, it inspired me to write this; enjoy!

to: schlatt <3

going to bed. love you, big guy. 

delivered: 11:36 pm

this was the longest you and schlatt had been apart in your almost 3 year relationship. he was in japan for a month filming a project with jack manifold and ludwig. he wanted to bring you with him, but between the amount of time they were going to be filming and your work schedule, it just didn’t work out. so, here you were in the middle of the night alone, laying in the bed that you share with him, alone. you stare at the text on your phone and look at the clock on your bedside table. it read 4:04 am. you weren’t staying up for schlatt to text you back; that would form an unhealthy habit. however, you were tossing and turning, so you decided to look at your phone for a bit and hopefully fall asleep while using it.

screen time be damned, you swipe back to the text left on delivered. your fingers hovering over the keyboard, thinking of something to say, anything. you click on the top banner and click the call button. your phone shows the photo you took of him cuddling with jambo on his chest while they were relaxing on the couch a few weeks ago. you put the call on speaker, so you’re not holding it to your face. it rings, it rings again, and once more until it clicks, “hey this is schlatt! sorry i missed your call, text me if it’s important or i’ll try and call you back when i can. thanks!” it was his voicemail. you hang up. just listening to his voice was enough for now. you put your phone back on the nightstand to try to get some sleep and not get upset over how much you missed it. holding onto the rammie plushie that schlatt gave you early in your relationship, you roll away from your phone to sleep on your side. you can’t help but feel the lump in your throat that’s squeezing it at the same time, your lips sharply downturn, or the tears welling in your eyes, and it all comes out. you silently cry in your hands and the plush that you were holding and squeezing tighter and tighter. you try to wipe your tears, but they keep falling as you try to calm yourself down. as you do, you hear the silence of your shared home. schlatt wasn’t snoring or recording late at night.

you take a few deep breaths as you try to prevent yourself from having another meltdown over the situation. you hear a scratching at the door and a tiny ‘meow?’ at the door. jambo and soup liked cuddling with you and schaltt, so by this time of night, they were usually in bed with the both of you. you sit up in bed and get out of it, padding to the door in the dark to open it. you open the door very slightly, and Jambo pokes his head in meows, looking up at you; he comes in and winds his tail around your legs. you giggle, wiping some more tears, and bend down to pick him up. holding him like a baby, you walk back over to the bed, leaving the door open in case soup wants to join the party. you sit back in bed and put jambo on top of the covers, and he curls up almost immediately, being comforted by the smell of the sheets. as you’re about to pull the covers up, you hear your phone buzzing. turning it over to see the screen, it’s lit up by schlatt's contact poster. you answer it, putting it on speaker as you settle into bed and pet jambo.

“hey toots!” he greets; you smile hearing his voice, “you ok? sorry i missed your call, we were looking at footage from today.” “yeah i’m ok. i just missed you. the bed is too big without you in it. i'm swimming in it.” you tell him, trying to get him to laugh at the last part. he does, “awww honey, i’ll be home soon. how many more days was it? 4?” “yeah,” you nod. “but are you ok doll? you sound exhausted.” he asks, in a more serious tone and concern lacing his words. “i haven’t been sleeping super well without you here,” you admit, a little ashamed, “i know it sounds silly but you help me sleep more then you probably think.” “you sleep like a rock with me.” schlatt agrees. you sigh into the phone, “yeah.” there’s a pause, and you can feel schlatt thinking. “have you slept love?” he asks. “not tonight.” you tell him hesitantly. you hear him sigh, “aww baby, isn’t it almost 5 over there?” “yeah but i have the day so i’m just gonna tough it out today, like sleep wise.” you confessed. “i hate that you have to do that doll.” he says. “it’s been worst but since you’re coming home in a few days i feel better, and i have jambo and soup so it’s not all bad.” you tell him trying to not make him stress out to much about you. “hey tell you what, i just hung up my michigan hoodie before i left, sleep with if it still smells like me. i know that’s the main reason you steal my hoodies.” he offers, you can hear his smile at the end of the sentence teasing you. “ok maybe you’re right,” you admit, albeit in a better mood than when you answered the phone, “thank you baby.” “of course toots, i’ve gotta go to dinner, give jambs and soup a kiss for me alright. i love you, talk to you later.” schlatt says, ending the call. you agree to his request and tell him you love him before you hang up.

you throw the covers off and walk over to his side of the closet. when opening the door, you see the navy blue hoodie. grabbing it, you hold it and shove your face into it, smelling it deeply. you could tell he didn’t wash it as it still had this smell on it. you throw it over your head to put it on and are enveloped in the warmth from him. you walk back over to the bed and cuddle back up with your rammie plushie. jambo is curious to see what you have, coming over and sniffing you. he also smells schlatt on it and walks on top of you and curls up on your chest, purring away. chuckling at the sight, you were glad you weren’t the only one missing schlatt. 

[crystaljellie]

Ithaca saga spoilers!! (me ranting about telemachus) I know i said i'd post this when the livestream comes out but I can't wait i'm too insane about it. The songs have dropped on spotify its good enough...

WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE LIKE WENT OUT OF HIS WAY, TO SAVE THE SUITORS??? Like okay sure maybe he was like "throw down those weapons" just to convince them to stop and he'd kill them anyways.

But just!?! the idea that these people. these awful people. who hurt him. hurt his mother. dictated most of his life. these people who he's afraid of. he wants to spare them, he WANTS to save them. And mind you!! telemachus is very eager to fight people!! We've seen him in previous songs! we know what he's like. But the fact that he throws that to the side for whatever reason, maybe it's kindness maybe it's something else. maybe it's the fear of seeing them dead maybe he doesnt want to cause his father any more problems.

Maybe its because he doesn't know what he'll do next once it's over.

But he goes out of his way to offer them peace. And not only. do they say no. but then they try to use him as bait to get to his father!?!?

the ONE thing that he wants in life, is to be just like his dad, for his father to admire him, to be LEGENDARY. and now they're attacking him, using him against his father. God and in his eyes he must feel so so pathetic, so useless. He's meant to show his father how strong he is, how he's cool and still worth loving, and now he's being even more of a problem.

And god maybe he's going to die here, and maybe he's okay with that.

But he sounds SO desperate and so scared.

"Get off me! Get off me!" He's only 20, and over a hundred men must be chasing him, stabbing him, hurting him making a show of him. He's so scared and he can't do anything, because he's just one guy.

AND I HAVE BEEN LOOPING THAT PART AND IM SO SURPRISED NO ONE HAS TALKED ABOUT IT YET.

Like the first Get off me, sounds so angry and the second one sounds so afraid, hes not sure he can keep up this charade anymore.

They ARE holding him down, They ARE breaking him. and it's everything he fears.

And then his father shows up. and saves him?? and in a way that makes it even worse for him. because now his fathers first time seeing him. in 20 fucking years, is him pinned down and bleeding thanks to the people he's just let run around in his fathers place.

And then he's expecting his father to be mad at HIM, but he's not?! he's just worried for him, and misses him, and telemachus doesnt know how to process that because just like Odysseus, he is so used to being. alone.

I've literally only seen people talking about Athena showing up in telemachus reunion song with his dad and like??! WHY LOOK AT THE POOR BOY!!! LOOK AT HIM!!! HE'S SO DESPERATE TO SEE HIS DAD!! HE'S SO UNSURE OF HIMSELF AND INSECURE!!

20 years of waiting, and now he finally has a chance, at living this time. He no longer has to wonder, what it would be like to not be alone. He's been through so much, but his life is, really only just beginning.

[blackenedsnow]

I can't think of anything but I would think it would be nice to see something with Movie Dude :'3

paradise blues

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Postal (Movie) Dude x Reader

NOTE: I love him SO much!! I love writing for him. Thank you very much for this ask :D

SUMMARY: In the desolation of a dying city, you share coffee and fleeting hope with a stranger whose honesty feels like a mirror to your own loneliness.

The Arizona sun slashed the horizon into jagged golds and bloody reds. It baked the cracked pavement underfoot, curling the heat up in shimmering waves. Paradise City—a joke in name and reality—choked on its own dust. The streets were mostly empty now, save for the flicker of lives barely lived: a junkie rooting through garbage bins, a mutt with a limp nosing at an old burger wrapper. You walked, as you often did, letting the desolation wrap itself around you like an old, threadbare coat.

Some ginger guy crossed your path in this haze of a city that refused to die. You didn’t know him yet, of course—not more than anyone here was known, faces passing like blurs in a bad dream.

But he walked differently than the others: stiff-legged, shoulders hunched, his head dipped as if some invisible weight bore down on him. His thrift-store collar shirt was loose and wrinkled.

His hair glinted like copper wire in the dying sunlight. Something about him caught your eye. Maybe it was the way he muttered under his breath, hands stuffed into his pockets like they might keep the world at bay, or maybe it was just the sheer lack of pretense. He wasn’t trying to be something he wasn’t—because he’d clearly stopped trying at all.

"Hi," you said, because you were reckless like that.

His head jerked up, surprise written into every sharp line of his face. His expression—brows up, eyes wide, lips parted—was almost cartoonish, like he couldn’t quite believe someone was speaking to him. "Oh," he stammered. "Uh. Hi."

Your lips quirked. "Rough day?"

He barked out a laugh, bitter and abrupt. It sounded like something he hadn’t done in a while. "Yeah, you could say that. Just got out of an interview. Didn’t go well."

His voice had a certain twang, not quite local, though you couldn’t place it. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, his hand smudged with the faint residue of grease and ink—probably from some pitiful résumé he’d scrawled out on his last ten bucks' worth of paper.

"Job hunting?" you asked.

"More like job dodging me," he replied, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Can’t really get rid of this curse of being ‘not what we’re looking for.’ Which is so weird, since I’m desperate enough to be anything."

There was something about his honesty—raw and unpolished, no mask to hide behind—that made you keep the conversation going. Maybe it was that same loneliness you recognized, like catching sight of your own shadow in a stranger’s posture.

"You look like you could use a break," you offered. "How about I buy you a coffee? If we’re both stuck like this, might as well be miserable together."

His gaze softened, the weight on his shoulders lifting just enough for you to catch a glimpse of something else beneath it. Hope, maybe. Or just gratitude.

"Yeah," he said, his voice quieter now, almost shy. "totally, that'd be nice."

The café wasn’t much to look at—faded linoleum tiles, a bell over the door that didn’t ring anymore, and a menu board missing half its letters. But it was quiet, and the coffee smelled more or less like coffee.

He hesitated when you gestured to a booth near the window, his hand gripping the strap of his pants like he was ready to bolt. Then he slid into the seat across from you, his movements stiff and uncertain, as if he’d forgotten how to sit comfortably in someone else’s company.

“So,” you started, breaking the silence as the waitress brought over two chipped mugs and a pot of coffee. “What kind of job were you interviewing for?”

He chuckled darkly, stirring a sugar packet into his cup. “Oh, you know. The usual. Something soul-crushing, minimum wage, probably involves wearing a name tag and pretending to care.”

Your lips twitched. “And they didn’t think you were qualified for that?”

“They said I lacked enthusiasm,” he said, deadpan. “Like that’s a requirement for stacking shelves or flipping burgers! Who the hell gets enthusiastic about stacking shelves?”

You snorted, nearly choking on your coffee. It wasn’t that funny, really, but the way he said it—with that faint edge of incredulous bitterness—had you laughing anyway. His eyes flicked up to yours, and for a moment, his expression softened.

“You’ve got a nice laugh,” he said, almost absently. Then, as if realizing he’d spoken aloud, he ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. That was—uh—random.”

“It’s fine,” you said, smiling. “It’s not every day someone compliments my laugh.”

“Well, I’m not every day, I guess,” he muttered, his voice tinged with self-deprecation.

You leaned forward slightly, resting your chin on your hand. “What’s your name?”

He hesitated, as if the question had caught him off guard. “Uh, Dude.”

“Dude?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged.

You tilted your head, studying him. There was something endearing about the way he deflected, like he didn’t quite know how to handle being the focus of someone’s attention. “Well, Dude, I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, as if testing how it felt on his tongue. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

The conversation drifted into easier territory after that. You learned he’d lived in Paradise for a while, though he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—say why. He talked about his bitch of a wife, odd jobs he’d had over the years, each one more short-lived than the last, and you shared a few anecdotes of your own.

Despite his self-proclaimed lack of enthusiasm, he had a knack for making you laugh. His observations about the absurdities of life in Paradise were sharp and strangely charming, and you found yourself forgetting, if only briefly, the weight of the city pressing down on you.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the café in dusky shadows, he glanced at his watch—a cheap, battered thing that looked like it had survived more than its fair share of disasters. “I should probably get going,” he said, though he didn’t move to stand.

“Where to?” you asked, and he gave a half-shrug.

“Nowhere in particular. Just… home.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world outside the window seemed quieter than before, the streets bathed in the faint glow of neon signs flickering to life.

“You know,” you said finally, “if you ever want to grab coffee again… or just talk… I wouldn’t mind.”

He looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a small, genuine smile crept across his face.

“Yeah.. sure, okay,” he said softly.

And with that, Dude stood, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. He hesitated at the door, glancing back at you one last time.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said, his voice low but sincere.

And then he was gone, swallowed up by the night and the city’s endless sprawl. But for the first time in a long time, you felt a spark of something—hope, maybe—that you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

Sometimes, all it took was a chance meeting to remind you that Paradise wasn’t entirely lost.

[headstrongblake]

@thewholecrew: grant, octavia & nick. / verse: all american.

"i'm not dope sick," nick replied to grant's clarification with less of his harsh venom, acknowledging that it's his own mind playing tricks. neither of them have blamed him, nor have they accused him of being a drug addict strung out looking for the next hit. no. that's simply how twisted he feels inside. it's not grant or octavia berating him. it's his old man's voice ringing in his ears, taunting him for being the weak little boy he always knew he'd be.

nicklas forced out another tense breath, shaking his head as he listened to them pleading with him, begging him to see reason. to see that the drugs he's chosen to manage his pain could end with him in a pine box. "a'ight, alright!" nick snapped again, "damn, you two don't fucking quit," he muttered, lifting his trembling hand to scratch through his beard. "i get it, a'ight? i'm home, you're home...there's no need for this street crap, i'll get in to see my doc about the nerves, and if that shit doesn't work, i'll see hunter, alright? that make everyone feel better?" he asked, dark hues scanning between grant and octavia with a lift of his brow.

while a bit of relief trickled through octavia because it finally seemed they were making more sense to her brother, octavia knew they had barely scratched the surface. nick agreeing to go back to a doctor now that he was home, it's a start. a great one where the doctors can help if he actually is suffering, but in her experience, it's never that easy. "yes," she snarked toward nick with a roll of her eyes. god, is this how she's sounded to bellamy any time she's snapped at him for simply giving a damn? "thank you...i need you to be okay nick..." octavia spoke honestly, grief still shining in her gaze because after everything...octavia can't lose him. she can't lose any of them.

regret pooled in the pit of his stomach, hearing the sadness drip into octavia's tone. she's been through enough, and the last thing he wanted to do was be the source of any more of her pain. he'd done that enough by blowing up all their lives with garrett. "i'll see the doc, o, i promise." he said as he approached both grant and her once more. "i hear you guys," he told them as the corner of his mouth ticked upwards, a foreign smile tugging on his features. slowly, his hand reached out to rest on grant's shoulder, giving him a friendly squeeze. shaking his head, "i don't hate you, but hey, guess you were listening to me...s'good to know." he added as his grin grew. how many times had he yelled at grant that grant could fucking hate him, but he wasn't going anywhere? "alright, i'll see you guys later, yeah? i got shit to do." he said vaguely, letting his hand fall from grant as octavia's brows furrowed together with confusion. "we're not leaving nick...neither should you...i don't know how much you're using but without it, you're going to be just as sick as i was." if not more she feared, but didn't say.

nick had only gotten a step or two away from the two of them when octavia threw another wrench in his plan. his fist coiled at his side, twitching with impatience. they've searched his home, but he knows they would not have been able to get into his safes. let alone find them all. he just needs them to fucking leave. "i don't need any fuckin' babysitters like i've been saying, not all of us are addicts who need a whole ass program to save themselves. i'm not fuckin' weak. so thanks for all this, but grant, o, you two can see yourselves out." he said, glaring daggers toward them to let them know how serious he was before he turned, retreating into his home. they have to leave. they have to leave. they. have. to. leave!!!

@headstrongblake: grant, octavia & nick. / verse: all american.

brows furrowed as what he said seemed to trigger nicklas again, how nick then shouted at him, telling him he knew nothing and while grant could agree to some extent, he trusted octavia and her experience, and if she said something very wrong was going on, then there was. plus, though grant wasn't an expert by any means on the drugs and medication his brother was taking, it was impossible to ignore both the physical changes and the unstable, emotional outbursts. how aggressive he was in a way he had never been before towards octavia. it kept grant tense as he stood beside her with a protective step forward. though his hands appeared relaxed at his sides he would be ready in a moments notice if he would have to restrain his brother once again.

"no one said or thinks you are using it for kicks, nick..." he clarified, with a slow shake of his head, watching carefully as nick stalked away to put out what was left of his smoke. how painfully ironic was it now that he was on the other side of this, that it was grant who was desperately trying to help someone he cared about. how he was where nick was standing not more than a couple months ago, hatred shining in his eyes as he spat venomous lies to try and get octavia and his brother to leave him be. to think he didn't care about them, to think they had never been as close as they thought. to degrade them for daring to come after someone they loved. and here nick was, trying to distance himself from them as if nick hadn't done the exact same thing when octavia had been struggling with her own addiction.

lips parted to speak but he paused when octavia's desperate plea escaped her. the look on her face killed him, honey eyes shining as he shared her pain, as he agreed to her statement. as she reminded nick that she thought he was dead and how it tore grant on the inside both for the fear octavia must have felt having found nick like that but also the horrifying thought of if nick hadn't woken up. his jaw clenched then after the brief pause, as octavia continued, reminding nick how they hadn't wanted to lose grant, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest for all the grief he had caused them. swallowing the lump in his throat he nodded slowly, "we don't want to lose you nick. no one does. i promise you, we will figure something out for your pain, but what you're doing... nick, it can kill you."

he took a step closer to nick then, honey eyes searching for some sliver of acceptance, of acknowledgement that he truly could die from this. "you can hate us all you want; me, you can hate me with everything you have. but i won't let you die, brother." he never had before and he never will. everything he had done, getting him back from garrett, to leaving, to being downright terrible to nick -- he had done it to try and keep him safe, but first and foremost, he had done it to keep him alive.

[magitekhearted]

//Alright, I'm finally getting around to doing this, because I've been putting it off for too long while being like "Maybe things will change", or "Maybe I'll get back into it", and neither have been the case. SO! As you've undoubtedly noticed, I haven't been RPing really at all on here for a while now -- and every attempt at coming back to writing on this blog has been met with failure.

Don't get me wrong, I still love Menenius. He's always going to be one of my favorite XIV characters, and I'll always, always love Bozja and its entire storyline. But I'm tucking this blog away because unfortunately, loving a character and their story, and wanting to write them does not always mean you're going to be able to sit down and do it. This is one of those cases for me, and I don't want to string anyone along or keep anyone waiting any longer for replies, starters, etc., when I have no idea when I'd be able to get out of this funk and produce them.

There is one roleplay blog I'm going to be keeping, and that's this one here. So if you'd like to give writing another try with me, I'm more than happy to interact with you on there. Or if you'd like to keep in touch, you can shoot me a DM on there, or on this Twitter account, or my Discord is Vonny#8720 ! We can also hang out in-game if you’re feeling that instead!

Thank you guys for so much fun and for so many opportunities to share with you one of my all-time favorite characters! It really has been a blast!

[iwantmochisoup]

- september 2024 sketch dump -

(i added the sketch from my last post too! hope you like them :3)

[ask-pakistan]

Ummm!! So i went on a little trip with my family to some mountains nearby, this June,,, and i took some pictures of the scenery i felt that were very aesthetic ! (Atleast to me, because i LOVE taking pictures of a beautiful sky) So, i felt it would be a waste to NOT share some of my favourites with you guys :D

Heres some of the scenery from Pakistan , brought to you by your very own Mun! :-

(This one is my ABSOLUTE favourite ajsnfikridhj because there was a sudden blackout when i snapped this, which makes it look like this came straight out of a horror movie! Haha)

(Mid-Drive smudge but atleast we captured the sunset!)

(and idk but i felt like having just the moon shining your path at night has a vibe of its own. I like that vibe, it's very nostalgic for me)

(Tumblr is making them look grainier ;_; oh)

[coollyinterferes]

The unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching begins to fill the air. Whoever is coming seems to have brought some company along…

They are getting closer… and closer… and closer…

…and closer…

……until..................

"Goooooood evenin'!!" Comes the loud greeting from a certain blond man. A big smile on his face and all.

"We beg your pardon for our prolonged absence. It was completely beyond our control..." Then adds the gentleman standing by his side, apologizing on behalf of both, offering a genuine smile along with the apology.

"...BUT! We're back!" And hopefully for good this time…

[wayfinderships]

I'll be so doomed the day I ever get a girl f/o

[volivolition]

dude the TOP song you posted (truce) fucking kills me and the way you described the animatic is??? so good???? I'd bawl actually /pos

I need to know if there's any other TOP songs you relate to the furies/any DE character really, or any slower songs even if they aren't by TOP

OH AGREED ABSOLUTELY!! TRUCE MY BELOVED... and THANK YOU!! we are imagining animatics and crying together! /pos :'] <3

ooh!! well, i havent listened to a lot of TOP in a while, so i don't have many recommendations there unfortunately :'] but for other slow, soft songs, let's see... i'll put them under a cut with all my explanations, but ☀️ "See The Day" by The Altogether (Volition song!), 🍃 "Rounds" by The Oh Hellos (Shivers song!), 🦋 "Would You Be So Kind" by dodie (general skills song, Suggestion primarily!) are the best contenders!

Pretty sure you've seen it already, but from a different ask, i recommend "Almost (Sweet Music)" by Hozier! (and "Like Real People Do" if you want to cry and yearn with me, though my DE ideas for it are very loose hkjhg) these are slow ones i like hkjhg <3

"Goodbye" by The Altogether is a Harry and Dora song :0

"Soldier, Poet, King" by The Oh Hellos is one i specifically relate to Volition (my beloved protector/motivator/crownhead blorbo! [picks him up and wiggles him!!!]), but i would make one of those animation memes for it with every skill slotted into a "soldier" "poet" or "king" position.

☀️ "See the Day" is both another The Altogether song and another Volition song! a real "the worst is over. we made it through. we're going to survive this. it might not get easier yet, but we'll come out the other side and we'll be alive" song. it makes me cry hkjgh

🍃 "Rounds" by The Oh Hellos is a soft Shivers song, though the lyrics don't start until halfway in. ough my god listening to it makes my heart ache (/pos) <3 La Revacholiere singing to Harry in the wind. "Will you start when I end? Yeah, I'm long in the wind..."

"Northern Star" by Dom Fera, a song Harry would sing for karaoke and dedicate to Kim, and then they'd waltz a little clumsily on the dim, starlit sidewalk on their way home for the evening... <3

🦋 "Would You Be So Kind?" by dodie BUT SPECIFICALLY THIS VERSION, because i love everyone's crowded but earnest vibes. this one is led by Suggestion ("oooh you wanna fall in love with us so bad right? right???") and makes me grin, you GOTTA imagine all of the skills squished together in the front of Harry's brain all trying different tactics to get Kim to fall in love with them, (rhetoric: "I HAVE A QUESTION..." ency: "let's write a story! be in my book!") at 2:35, after all the skills singing together loudly, it's just Harry himself singing to Kim, with all the skills slowly backing him up. the ending is all of them fucking ECSTATIC celebrating when harry finally kisses kim hkjhg jesus this'd be so cute hold on i have to go plan this out i have so many thoughts hkjdh

"Seven" by Sleeping at Last would be a sweet Reaction Speed song (ironic that im adding react speed to a list of soft, slow songs though hkjgh) "I'm ready for whatever comes next!" <3 Reaction Speed is a fast, restless little fella who can't sit still for long, always loves moving, acting, doing. he's like the personification of a verb hkjhg <3 i would also accept an interpretation for echem <3

"Cosmos" by Jawbreaker Reunion is a song that The Furies recently suggested to me as a jean song and it's so right for that, very soft and i like it very much :'] (you should also ask The Furies if you want to, it's much more musically inclined than me, i feel hkjhg <3)

awuahg thank you for asking and for reading!! i appreciate it!! <33

oh and here's links to all of the songs in the tags: Come Together Now, Two, Four, Five, Six, Eight, Nine, RPG Animation Meme (<- homestuck lmao)