#I mean not the first time I’ve spotted typos

[hautecouturegirlfriend]

Now who is responsible for this 😭 please

[solbaby7]

Jolene

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: swearing, quick little blurb, angst w/no comfort, probably typos

summary: [ shoutout to Jolene by Dolly Parton for the inspo but me personally? i would’ve shot jolene ]

—

Envy, the killer of joy.

A feeling that turned even the most pure souls into something cruel and corrupt.

Azriel’s usual routine slightly altering to accommodate the newly Made and barely adjusting Archeron sister. At first you’d found it noble; charming—a testament to his morals and obligation to his High Lord and Lady.

But as time passed and Elain slowly got better, Az got more distant. Less talkative and unable to bring himself out of the doting nature he’d slip into when around her. “Az, my hands work. I can put my own cloak on.”

He knew it was a joke. “I know, it’s just that—nevermind.” Still didn’t stop his mouth from pulling into a barely there grimace, hands pulling away as if you’d bit him and the teasing smile you wear falls.

It’s just that, Elain always lets him put hers on and waits patiently as he ties it securely at her neck.

The step you take back is involuntary but the message is sent perfectly clear when your expression turns to stone, painful realization settling in your bones and it takes everything in you not to buckle on the spot. You’d heard stories, about one-sided mating bonds and the pure turmoil that ensued during the time it took for the others to snap but this—the Mother had a sick sense of humor. Leading you believe that Azriel could ever truly love you without it; a fate more cruel than you could’ve wished on your worst enemies. “You know what, I forgot something upstairs. Why don’t you go on ahead without me and I’ll meet up with you shortly.”

He seems hesitant to comply, brows furrowed as he tries to figure out what had changed so suddenly. After a few beats of time he relents, pressing a farewell kiss to your mouth but he’s gone before you can wonder if he felt your lips tremble.

The safety of solitude allows you the comfort to let the tears fall, shoulders shaking as sobs pull from your chest. You weren’t sure how anyone could bare it; watching the one meant for them love another more than they ever did you.

Manicured fingers curl under the constrictive necklace, tugging it off to make room for the heaving breaths you take and a choked cry fills the space when Elain stands before you. “Gods, I’m so sorry,” You stumble trying to catch your footing and embarrassment burns beneath your skin at the true beauty of her. Perfectly put together in pale pinks and pure white lace. Hand sewn jewels are smattered about the bodice of the finest fabrics, accentuating the warmth of her hair and the glow on unblemished skin. “I thought everyone had already left.” Your arms curl around yourself as you make distance between you, pulling away from her outstretched hands as if they were coated in burning flames.

“Are you alright?”

You laugh thickly but there’s no humor in it. “No,” Your heart won’t stop hammering against your chest and knots form in the pit of your stomach. It’s pathetic, your inability to even appear the slightest bit worthy in the presence of your competitor. But, what was the point when she wasn’t even trying and was still so far ahead? “I’ve been thinking about a million different ways you and I would have this conversation and I assure you, this was not in one of those scenarios.” A poor attempt at a joke but even in the midst of such conflicting and all-consuming feelings, you had no interest in being mean—it wasn’t Elain’s fault. “Forgive me for what I’m about to ask you but are you and Azriel—“ The words clog in your throat, refusing to come forward and you have to turn away from her to wipe your tears. “Are you?”

Elain’s brow furrows and you wonder if that doe look in her eye was the first thing Azriel fell for. Such purity and grace. “I don’t understand.”

“Please, don’t make me say it.” Her heart breaks at the agony in your tone, the defeated sag of your shoulders in the beautiful dress that felt less than lovely when touching your skin. Everything felt wrong the longer you looked at her. So many differences—too many for Azriel to possibly love you both without having a preference. “I love him, Elain. With every breath I take, I love him and I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of it but you—“ Mascara trails down your cheeks and the disgust you feel towards yourself is palpable. “The way he is with you, even I don’t know what that’s like.” A deep shuddering breath to prepare you for the answers to your questions. “So, please, just tell me the truth.”

“He’s been helping me adjust,” Her hands fidget before her, obviously uncomfortable and searching for a safety net but the distance you’ve made hasn’t been broken. You haven’t yelled or accused and the longer Elain stared the worse she felt. “I hadn’t considered how that might affect you but nothing ever happened.”

You shift in place, ankles screaming in your heels and you’re distantly reminded that you promised Az you’d only be a few minutes and this was starting to feel like eons had passed standing in the foyer. “Nothing?” Your voice is lifeless, fresh tears welling in your waterline as your hands grip so tight on your arms your nails bite into soft skin. “He says your name in his sleep,” Elain’s breath catches at the confession and you wonder if Azriel had ever wished to pull that sound from her. Possible scenarios of chaste touches and almost kisses flash behind your lids and the turmoil absolutely eats you alive, gnawing at your flesh and grinding at your bones until there was nothing left. “Reasonably so, your beauty is beyond compare,” Your gaze sweeps over the softness of her hair, the delicate point of her ears just barely peeking through. Soft, feminine features with curves where it mattered and none where it didn’t.

Subconsciously, you take another step back, attempting to hide the endless insecurities in the shadows casted by dim lights but the self-hatred doesn’t cease for a second when she calls your name with such pity.

“Do you love him?” You ask meekly, terrified for her answer and you’re certain she can see you trembling. The tears just won’t stop, blurring your vision and preventing you from breathing normally but something inside of you demands to stick around for her answer. “Because, I can understand how you could easily take him but you just don’t know what he means to me.” Your palm rubs at your chest subconsciously, yearning for a comfort that that hadn’t yet been created—not yet fully formed. “Maybe, it would hurt less if you loved him too—really loved him. But if you don’t, Elain please. Please, I beg of you not to take him from me just because you can.”

Elain remains rooted in place, every flawless feature laced with guilt and shame. She reaches out for you, an attempt to comfort but once her smooth hands reach you skin the sobs wrack your body uncontrollably. She’s too good; too kind and sweet, too innocent and fragile to be touching such stained hands.

It made sense. Azriel loving her. He’d always taken a liking to delicate things.

But Elain had a mate. Had a bond that was mutually shared no matter how hard she fought it. She calls your name once more, full of urgency and remorse when trying to console you but there’s no use. The dam has broken with no tools in sight to repair the damage done.

“You could have your choice of men but I will never love again.” Too much time has passed. Someone will come looking; if not for you then certainly for the High Lady’s sister and the realization has you yanking your hands back. There’s no saving your makeup and Elain can’t fight the tears that fall down her own cheeks as she watches you stumble in the heels, bend over to rip them off and cradle them close as you retreat to the staircase. “He’s the only one for me.”

“Please, I am so sorry.”

The sincerity is appreciated but the words don’t register how they should. “I had to have this talk with you,” It’s barely above a whisper, without the fae hearing Elain was sure she would’ve missed it. “—my happiness depends on you and whatever you decide to do, Elain.”

[badnoahmens]

I took your keys, it was me

Noah Sebastian x Reader

A/N - One of the longest fics I’ve written. Please let me know if it is too much drabble (but also please be nice because I am a fragile little person) and also I’m sorry if there’s typos because I just do that sometimes.

Based off of something that happened at a Bad Omens show, how could I not write about this fantasy? Watch the first few seconds of this to get what I mean. https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSLYKGjCV/

The night had finally arrived, the concert that you had been waiting months for. For the first time, Bad Omens was playing in your city, and it didn’t matter how much tickets were going to cost you or how long you would have to work to build your funds up again, there was no way you could be stopped from going. Your friends like them too, and shared the excitement, but you would never admit how much their music had a chokehold on your life. Whether it be the thrashing drums of ‘Artificial Suicide’ pumping you up for the day, or the moody solemn tones of ‘The Fountain’ that made you cry at 2am, this band was a big part of who you were.

Your outfit was planned, a classic you always felt confident in, and your schedule for the night was mapped out. The easiest way was to drive yourself there, meet up with your friends, and then make your way into the venue. With the price of VIP being way out of your budget, you couldn’t bring yourself to justify it. Seeing them live would have to be enough, and of course it would be.

When the night came, the stars seemed to align for you. Finding a car park nice and close, only a 5 minute walk to the venue, as well as somehow magically not being late to meeting up with your friends. The energy inside of you was buzzing and you had a bounce in your step as you walked up to see your friends all huddled at the end of the line. They welcome you with embracing arms and you all talk about how you ‘can’t believe the night is finally here!’

“What song are you most looking forward to?” your friend asks, now about an hour into waiting in the line, sitting now with legs crossed and looking back at the growing line behind you.

“I’m really hoping they play Miracle. That song's progression and build up is just something else. Can you imagine what it would be like?” you reply with enthusiasm. The conversation continues for the remainder of the evening as you wait patiently for the show to begin.

After more time has passed, the line begins to move. The doors have opened and people are starting to funnel their way into the dark room. Although it was calm before, the energy of everyone waiting to see this sold-out show picks up instantly and the volume begins to grow with excited chatter.

Your group splits up, some heading into the crowd for a good spot to watch the show, others head for the merch line, and at least one headed straight to the bar. You opt in for the crowd. Being a seasoned concert-goer, you stuck to the right hand side, knowing this is where a lot of movement happens and it was more likely you could get a closer view.

The supporting band started and the crowd lurched forward, still not reaching the maximum capacity as people were still floating about. Your legs trip a little underneath you before you finally find your footing. A familiar riff begins to play and the opening band takes their turns making their entrance to the stage. The light was dim so only silhouettes could be seen, but it was a thrilling way to start the night. The band continued to play an entertaining show, interacting with the crowd and thanking everyone for coming to see them. With about a 30 minute set, they truly put in all their effort by playing crowd favorites, new songs, and even a call-back to their earlier music that was a personal favorite.

By the end of their allocated time, they thanked the crowd, tossed out their remaining guitar picks and drum sticks, and then headed off backstage. There was quiet music playing off the speakers now while everyone in the crowd used this time to catch their breath. Others needed a break from the sweaty mosh pit, and left to take care of whatever business they needed to. The group in front of you decided to head out, and kindly offered you their spot. You obliged, barely even hearing them ask if you wanted to move up, and slipped by them as they made their way out. By the time you manage to steady yourself, you realize it is only a single row back from the front of the crowd, the barricade almost within your reach. You didn’t want to push it though, knowing how long some of these people waited to have their spot up front, you just stood your group and hoped there would be an opening at some stage.

Even without any band playing, the crowd was still moving quite a bit, to the point where people were getting a little rowdy. It seemed as though some were growing more impatient as time went by and were trying to move around and gain a more advantageous position. Throughout this movement, someone was shoved, acting like dominoes into your direction, knocking a few people over. As you start to feel this happening, your hand instinctively throws itself to the barricade, reaching between two people to stop yourself from crashing down on top of the people next to you. In doing this, you catch the person who falls on you, a teenage boy by the looks of things. He looked a little embarrassed and even a little flustered, but thanked you and righted himself quickly. Those who were in front of you saw that you had reached up to help yourself, and then did their best in the crowded space to assist you where you coud. Two nice strangers parted just enough for you to stand upright and motioned for you to join them along the front. WIth all the movement occurring, you thought it was probably the safest move to have something to hang onto, not to mention it was the best spot in the house.

Almost as though it was timed, just as you got into your new position, the lights dimmed and the crowd absolutely roared with cheer. You could feel the crowd move in waves behind you with pressure crashing into you. In what looked like slow motion, figures began to grace the stage with their presence, with the soundtrack of a low, slow and suspenseful drum beat starting to fill the room. It was almost hard to hear the guitar and bass begin over the noise the crowd was making, some sounding like caged animals as they screamed bloody murder.

The lights lifted in time with the melody that began, and lo and behold, Noah was standing in front of you. His eyes were shut with one hand pressed up to his ear, a microphone held in his other hand. Jolly was next to him with a stoic look on his face, and Nick Rufilo on his other side, looking down as he strummed the tune being played out. Nick Folio was behind them all, sat up on a raised box adorned with his drum kit, gently beginning to build the heartbeat of the song.

It took you a moment to truly wrap your head around what was happening, Bad Omens we’re finally playing in front of you. In person. Barely a few feet away from you. It’s mere seconds after this happens that electricity runs through your body and you’re immediately jumping along to the hook of the song, ‘Nowhere To Go’. The barricade in front of you was a saving grace as you could feel the swell of people behind you tossing themselves around, breaking apart spaces to dance and thrash about. It didn’t take long before crowd surfers began to topple over you, falling into the arms of security guards that dappled the empty space between you and the stage. You were shoulder to shoulder with strangers, but it didn’t matter anymore. These people were your people because you were in a space where nothing even mattered other than the performance you were witnessing.

The first song comes to a close too soon, and the next begins, each member of the band not missing a beat. You could see it in their eyes that they were just as excited as you were for this show. Noah in particular seemed to be in a good mood, shuffling, dancing and bopping around on the stage, seemingly less serious than normal. He was blowing kisses to his bandmates, to which would send them right back to him. They laughed and joked during the performance and it made the whole show that much more entertaining.

More songs came to a close, and it seemed like Noah himself needed a break from the high-energy show he was putting on. The crowd was starting to settle down, still swaying with the songs but the initial throw of bodies had started to slow. During this rare break in music, your hand swiftly brushed against your pocket and you noticed the lack of contents that should have been there. Your car keys, that you literally needed to get out of here, were no longer clipped and safely tucked away in your pocket. A panic begins to wash over you and your eyes dark around the crowded space as best you could. Leaning over the barricade, you check to see if you can see them, if they had somehow shimmied down and onto the floor there, but to no avail. Your feet are shuffling around in the hopes to maybe, just maybe, kick them or feel them in some way, but there is nothing but other people's shoes and the odd drink can that had been carelessly discarded.

It was then when your ears pricked at the sound coming from in front of you.

“Are you okay? You drop something?” and then nothing followed. Amidst your panic your eyes dart up, meeting those of Noah looking down at you. His chest was still heaving slightly, seemingly out of breath himself, but he seemed genuinely concerned about the state you were in. “You alright?” he asks, with the crowd looking around with confusion.

“My keys,” you call back, trying to break above the sound barrier that was the chatter of the crowd around you. Noah looks perplexed as he tries to decipher what you’re saying. It still hasn’t quite hit you that Noah was checking in on you, and you can tell he didn’t quite hear you, so you repeat yourself again. “Keys!”

“Keys! Oh, we need those” Noah retorts, and leans over his perch on the stage so that he towers over you in the crowd. He seems to peer down at the space in front of you, and then drops down into the photo pit right where you stood. It was starting to dawn on you that the singer of your favorite band, the one you had been waiting so long to see, was standing in front of you, at his own concert, paused, for your own benefit. It wasn’t long that you shared this space with him, as he jumped back onto the stage, throwing one long limb up behind the other back to help him get back to his position.

“You’re staying here forever, with us!” he jokes, but there was something to his voice. It seemed odd that he seemed to help for such a short amount of time, even at all. But it was understandable, he had a show to run, and you were just attending said show.

As Noah paced to the side of the stage, he was swinging a small trinket in his hands, curling his long fingers and then catching it again in the palm of his hand. The familiar glint of one of your keychains sparkled in the red lights shining down on them as they were tossed in Noah’s hands, spinning your car keys tauntingly in front of you. Unbeknownst to you, Noah had helped, he had found your keys, and then, being the pesky prankster he was, had stolen them right from you.

“I took your keys! It was me” he admits, finally dangling them and then tossing them to a crew member side of stage in one fell swoop. It took you longer than you would like to admit to closing your mouth after it hung ajar with shock, and Noah laughed to himself at your reaction. Bewildered, and honestly shocked at what had just happened, Noah couldn’t seem to wipe his shit-eating grin off his face. He was proud of himself, but you? Honestly, like, come on dude, those are your keys, you really need those. How were you going to get them back? Who even had them? What if you really can’t get them back? Questions circled your mind as the world around you continued to move on.

“Alright, so anyway…” Noah moved on, giving instructions to the crowd on how he wanted them to interact with the following song, to which they of course obliged. You on the other hand were still so perplexed, that honestly, it made it difficult to focus on what was happening. Despite this occurring, the rest of the night continued smoothly, no more disruptions from crowd-members misplacing their shit, and the band performed an incredible show regardless of your confused state that slowly lifted the further on in the show you got.

By the time the show came to an end, the encore had played out, and the band was waving their goodbyes, it came to your attention that you really needed to do something now about getting those keys back. But before you got their attention, all four members of Bad Omens were walking away from you with their backs turned in your direction. You called out again, leaning half of your body over the barricade, but to no avail. Defeated, your face falls into your hands, elbows propped up on the cool metal in front of you.

What now? Do you call a cab? Did you even still have your phone, or was that lost too? More and more questions circled your head, making you feel dizzy and overwhelmed. The strangers who neighbored you in the crowd asked if you needed help, but you thanked them and sent them on their way. This was your mess, plus, your other friends were here somewhere too, so surely they could help you out instead. You turn now, leaning back against the barricade, and start scanning your eyes at the emptying venue. A small tap on your shoulder brings you out of your concentration and makes you jump a little. With your head whipping around, you saw it was someone unfamiliar, but obviously a person with the credentials that allowed them to be on the other side of the metal barrier.

“You the one who lost their keys?” he asks, a quizzical look on his face, voice slightly louder than the background music now echoing in the venue.

“Yeah, that's me. Although I think it’s more like having my keys stolen” you retort with a laugh and a little disbelief still. The man opposite you laughs at the remark and looks off to the side.

“Look, if you’re quick to jump over, you can come get them. I think I know who took them and they’re around the back.” His hand motions to the side of the room towards the end of the stage, and there is a clear, small opening that you could fit past. Disregarding any ‘stranger danger’ knowledge from growing up, you trust this man and slip past the barricade, feeling a little out of place after being home in the crowd for the majority of the night.

“I’m Miles, it’s nice to meet you. Did you have a good time?” he asks as you start to follow him around the side of the stage, clearly trying to entertain you with small talk and ease your obvious nerves just a little. You answer him, including by introducing yourself and explaining the pickle that the key-stealing-fiasco has put you in. He seemed genuine, sharing stories of other pranks he had seen the band pull off, but did apologize after knowing that it made you feel worried during the show.

Your concern starts to grow the longer you follow this man, despite his tales of being the band's manager, and sharing some of their antics. You tell him about the lead up to today, and how long you had been waiting for this show to be announced, to which he apologized again, explaining some conflict they had with touring schedules and whatnot. It all seemed pretty genuine, but it was distracting to the point where you had no idea where you were now amongst the maze of hallways and doors. Even though the anxiety started to dissipate, the curiosity is what was growing to take its place.

You round one more corner, following the stranger blindly, and are met with a room with a low ceiling, black walls, and the hum of the fluorescent lights above you. Not only that, but there were people here too. Many people. Maybe 10 bodies in this room, make you suddenly aware that the air was thick with sweat and the antiperspirant trying to hide the same smell. Most of the people in front of you had their backs to the door you just entered from, engaged in a conversation they all seemed too excited to be a part of.

“Noah! Care to return the keys you stole?” Miles calls out, and you felt like a little kid hiding behind their mother with the way you stood behind him. With his call out, most of the bodies turned and looked in your direction, to Miles, and all looked shocked at his sudden interjection. Although he used a lighthearted tone, and you didn’t even say anything, it still felt like you were overstepping.

“Key girl!” You hear being called in a familiar voice. “Yes! Let me find them…” the figure continued, coming from the back of the crowd, followed by the sound of rummaging. About a minute ticked by when he started walking through the crowd, a head taller than the others around him. Noah Sebastian, the same vocalist from the band you just saw was right in front of you, a smile sheepishly adorned on his face as he may you at the door frame.

“I swear they were just here” he says guiltily, with eyes darting from yours to then back at the room he was standing in.

The tightening in your chest felt so unnatural, but it was intimidating seeing him this close, in person, and without the veil of a performance in between the two of you. Your eyes are looking into his warm gaze, and although as annoying as it was to lose your items, this was something you never expected it to come to.

He looks away as he pulls out his phone, promptly making a call whilst looking back over his shoulder.

“Hey! Those keys I threw at you during the show, where did they go? I could have sworn I saw them in the green room…” he trails off to the unknown contact, followed by some “Mmhmm”’s. He looks at you again, meeting your eyes, making a guilty expression and biting down on his lip.

“I see, would it be okay if someone brought them back here? They’re ready to be collected” he states, and you may have been mistaken but was that a wink at you?

He ended the conversation, stating “they’re on their way”, and then stood to the side of the door. “Please come sit down, it’s the least I could do” he pleads, motioning with his arm for you to enter the room.

Your throat was tight and you could feel the awkward heat starting to flush your cheeks as you stood there a little embarrassed. How could you say no?

“Thanks for finding them for me anyway” you state, walking past him and trying your best to swallow the ever-growing lump in your throat.

“I mean, I’m sorry that I took them. I just thought it would be a funny bit. And then I completely forgot about it” he said sheepishly. He followed you into the room, taking a drink from the mini fridge and offering you a bottle.

“Drink while you wait?” He asks, as though he is trying his best to be a good host.

You take the bottle in your hand, while pulling over one of the black plastic chairs to sit down on, as other members of the band started to do the same next to you.

“Honestly, I had no idea what he was doing,” Nick Folio called from behind him in between gulps from his water bottle. He then leans forward and holds out a hand to you. “I’m Nick '' he says with a wide grin. You shake his hand and then twist the cap off your own drink as you reply with your name.

“Neither did I” Jolly joined in, “I thought he was just pretending” he joked as he leant up against the table.

“I see what you did there!” Nick Rufilo said, pointing at him and smirking at the joke you were sure they had heard thousands of times before, also sitting down in the social-circle that was starting to form.

You couldn’t help but smile at the interaction, and a warmth swelled in your heart as you glanced at Noah, who was sitting opposite you on a lounge against the wall, and who had a smile spread across his face as he watched the banter between his bandmates. It almost felt intrusive that you got to share this moment with them, it seemed intimate in a way that only close friends got to see this side of them. This band was largely a mystery, keeping to themselves and presenting as a theatrical showcase spectacle when on the stage.

“Thanks again for your help” you say sheepishly, in an attempt to continue the conversation. “I think it would still be looking for them if you hadn’t grabbed them. That, or they’d be crushed”.

“Yeah, that crowd looked fun! Was it rough? I kind of miss those days'' Jolly asked, curious to know how the show was from the other side.

“It was crazy, but everyone loved it. Honestly, the show is fantastic. What kind of things go into organizing that kind of performance?” You ask, half being polite, half being nosey.

“It’s a lot of trust in the right people” Noah stated, looking over at some of the crew who had just joined you.

“And having a perfectionist of a vocalist overseeing every detail that goes into the show” Rufilo remarks, teasing his band mate.

“So I want to give people the best show of their lives! Sue me!” Noah flails his arms and slumps back into the lounge.

The conversation continues, branching off into music influences, tales from the road of touring, and embarrassing stories from the group that probably shouldn’t have been told to you.

It had been some time, and the keys were still not located. It was something that still was on your mind, but you weren’t upset at how long this was taking. Your drink was empty, so you absentmindedly played with the bottle in your hands as you listened attentively as Folio shared a fond memory from earlier on in the tour.

Noah noticed your toying of the bottle, and stood up to walk towards you.

“Care for another?” He asked, whilst holding his hand out to take the empty.

“Thank you, but maybe not. Still need to drive, remember?” You answer with a stifled laugh.

“Oh shit, that’s right. The whole reason you’re here. Where did he go…” his whole demeanor changes from a relaxed, cool being, to a more frantic and concerned expression.

He strides over to the table Jolly was now sitting atop, picking up items of clothing and shifting bottles around in an attempt to find your keys.

“Noah!” Someone called, to which he spun around to, flinching at the sudden sight of keys being tossed in his direction. With a quick response, he catches them in one hand, smiling at the effort.

“Keys secured!” He calls, looking in your direction with a gleeful smile. He walks over to you, once again brushing his hair back with his hand, and holds them out to you.

As you look down at them in the palm of his outstretched hand, it’s almost like they taunted you like they did earlier in the night with the way the light bounced off of the metal. You reach out and take them from him, trying to be polite but also suddenly aware of the closeness between you two.

“Did you park far from here?” He asks in a quiet tone, the softest you’ve heard him all night.

“It’s only about a 5 minute walk. Thanks for the hospitality, it’s been nice talking” you reply, looking up at him, very aware of the height advantage he had over you.

“I’ll walk you to your car, can’t have you be murdered after what a great night it’s been” he laughed, eyes crinkling at the sides as he looked over his shoulder. “Be back soon, just making sure key girl doesn’t get murdered!” He calls out to the room, referring to you by your new nickname amongst the group. An earlier conversation had made it stick, after Rufilo mentioned it sounded like it had a James Bond-esque vibe to it.

“Don’t kill her yourself, Noah!” Folio calls back with a humorous tone. “But really, don’t. I can’t be bothered going through getting a new vocalist when you get your ass in jail” he continued, face dead-pan.

“Shut up,” Noah replied, rolling his eyes.

You wave to the room, thank them again, and then turn to walk out, Noah closely following.

“You really don’t need to do this. It’s not far” you argue.

“No, it’s okay. It’s nice to get some fresh air” he mentions as you find one of the doors leading out behind the venue.

There was a small crowd of people loitering off to the side, oblivious to your presence. Noah sees it, and hesitates to walk forward. You catch on to this, then also see the group.

“You can go inside if you don’t want to see them” you offer.

“No, it’s not them, I’ll come out when I get back to talk to that group. It’s just… maybe we go the other way? Otherwise we will be there all night” He asks, tucking his hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Of course, it’s not that much longer” you reply, turning and starting to walk with Noah down the street, in the opposite direction.

As he walks, he pulls the hood up on his head, keeping him protected from the cool night. You, on the other hand, notice the goosebumps rising and a shiver starting to happen. Trying your best to mask this, you try to talk as a distraction.

“What’s it like?” You ask suddenly, trying to hide the chatter of your teeth. Noah looks at you, frowning slightly as he doesn’t really know what you’re asking.

“You know, the fame, the touring, the music… all of it. What’s it like?”

“I really can’t complain. I’ve wanted this forever, and we’ve all worked our asses off for this” he smiles as he looks at his feet walking next to you. “That’s not to say it has its hard days though” he continues, this time looking over at you.

You respond with an understanding head nod, despite not even understanding a little bit. “What are those harder days like?”

Noah thinks for a moment, scrunching his nose and bobbing his head side to side as he tries to find the right words, eyes lifting to scan the sky for an answer. “It’s frustrating” he lands on. “It’s like… you know what needs to be done, but there’s some force stopping it from happening.”

“Do you mean when it comes t-to music?” You chatter back.

Noah glances at you again, looking away from the stars, and down to meet your gaze up at him. He saw the way your arms were crossed tightly over your body, and the rigid way you were standing. Without speaking, he stops in his tracks and yanks his hoodie from behind his head. It slips up his back and over his arms, tugging up his black t-shirt underneath just a little, making the coloured tattoos decorating his torso exposed to the night air. You couldn’t help but watch as his long arms tower upwards, graceful even in the most mundane of things.

Whilst you were still a little hypnotized, he yanks the hoodie off his head, and without warning slips it over your head. The warmth was immediate, the residual body heat from Noah made it feel like a blanket of warmth wrapped around you. The sudden change in temperature took you off guard, as well as the encapsulating fabric restricting your arms.

Noah laughed at your reaction, looking down at the black hoodie you now adorned, large red letters of ‘OMENS’ printed on the front, and the sleeves hanging idly at your sides. It was so long on you, like a dress wearing you instead of you wearing it. You couldn’t help but laugh at the size of it.

“Looks good on you.”

“What size even is this? How long are you?” You ask without even thinking, and then laugh again at the sound of your absurd question. Long?

Noah was laughing too, now with his arms open to the air you could really see the details and color in the illustrations that covered them, right up to his neck. His hair was now ruffled, a mess with strands standing every which way, showing the undercut of his hairstyle.

You were a little entranced looking up at him, both of you standing still and stifling your giggles like a couple of school girls.

“You seem different in person,” you blurt out. “I mean, different to when you were on stage” you state, not sure if this was crossing some kind of unknown boundary.

Noah thought for a moment, a smile dwindling but still upturned. “I guess I don’t need to play this… character… when not on stage” he responds, tattooed fingers coming up to imitate air quotes to emphasize his words. He thinks about what he says next. “I just don’t want anyone to be disappointed when they come to see us play” he remarked, now looking down at his feet, hands going into the pockets of his black pants.

“I really don’t think anyone would ever be disappointed” you reply, with an undertone of confidence. Noah sighs and smiles in response.

“I’m serious!” You call, slipping your arms into the oversized sleeves and playfully whacking him with the extra material hanging from you.

Noah turns his body, bracing for the light impact, and laughing at the futile attempt to seem demanding. It helped to lighten the mood a little, as you were worried you’d stepped into a personal space he wouldn’t feel comfortable in.

The two of you look ahead, down the dark street, and then start walking again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry” you state.

“Not prying, don’t apologize.” Noah shook his head and looked down at you again. Every time he did this it made you forget how to breathe. Seeing him this close made you appreciate all the little things you never noticed about him. The marks from piercings from a past life, freckles that dotted the side of his face, even to the uneven stubble that was starting to grow on his jaw. Up close, he was normal, not this enigmatic figure performing. He was himself, vulnerable and insightful.

It made you think about what he was like all the time, if he was serious, if the goofy side ever came out, or if he was quiet and content like now. Maybe a mix of everything? It was astounding to see him so comfortable already with someone he just met, a stranger, and a fan at that.

“Do you often escort your fans back to their cars after shows?” You question, bringing your own thoughts to words.

He laughed breathily before answering. “Not particularly. I’ll usually go out and meet some people after the show once we’ve calmed down. But I can’t say that this is a… common occurrence” he enunciated the last few words in his sentence. It sounded like he was avoiding the lisp that snuck through earlier on in the conversation. “I like to be able to meet people. Thank them. Talk to them like normal humans talk” he explained. “I feel like I can make a real connection with them that way.”

“That makes sense,” you reply.

He continued to tell you stories that involved interacting with fans, and then drifted into interactions with other bands. He told you of his fondest memories while on a festival lineup in the UK. He met an idol of his, and being able to talk to them was something he’ll never forget. The way his eyes lit up when he was talking about this made you smile and it seemed genuine as though he was catching up with an old friend.

“Thanks for being cool with my little prank,” he changed the topic. “Actually, thanks for just being cool in general. It’s been nice to talk to someone new like this. I haven’t done it in a long time. It’s hard to meet new people who have good intentions.”

It took you by surprise how he spoke about you. “I think this is going to be a good story to tell” you reply, also trying to think of a way to say you’re grateful for it because you got to spend this time with him.

You could see your car in the distance, safely parked exactly where you had left it. The walk had taken you longer than expected, but neither of you were rushing to make it end anytime soon. Noah seemed to be the one slowing down the pace, regardless of his lack of warm hoodie.

With the last few steps up to your car door, you come to a halt. “This is me” you point to your car. Nothing too flashy, but not something to brag about.

“Nice wheels” Noah eyes your car. “I like how round all 4 of them are,” he says through a laugh.

You laugh too, looking at the car, and then back to him. “Thank you. This has been really special.”

He goes shy again, looking at his feet while scuffing up some of the grass. “Can I ask a dumb question?”

Your mind jumps to the hoodie you still wore, the smell of him enveloping you as a reminder that it was not yours. “Oh, sorry” you state, hands gripping the hem to lift above your head and give back to him.

“No no no, not that,” he catches the hoodie in your hands, “keep the hoodie, I have so many.” his hands let go after pulling it back down over your head.

“If there's anything I can do in return, please say so Noah” you respond, feeling like you were in his debt. Not only did he give you a great performance, he helped find your keys, gave you his drinks, entertained you with wonderful conversation, walked you to your car, and then even gave you the clothes off his back.

“I really don’t want you to think less of me because of this” he said, a hand rising to rub the back of his neck. He was still avoiding eye contact and looking at the ground. It started to make you think you did something wrong.

“Noah, I’m sorry if I ruined your night” you admit, guilt starting to make your stomach do flips inside you. In a flash his eyes were on you.

“No, you didn’t ruin my night, promise! I… I was just going to ask for your number.”

Number? Phone number? You stood there stunned.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I look like a creep now and I-”

“Of course you can,” you finally answer, understanding why he was so shy and hesitant before. It wasn’t every day that he would ask for this, and it's a big risk coming from him.

He pulls the phone from his back pocket, opening his contacts and then passes it over to you. Your heart was thumping inside your chest like it was trying to break free as you typed in your digits, adding the contact under ‘key girl’. You hand it back to him, looking up at his face. A smile spreads across as he reads the name, letting out a huff of a laugh.

“Will you be back in this part of town any time soon?” you ask, trying your best to hide the bundle of nerves and excitement brewing.

“We’re heading to the next show tomorrow, but coming back this way on our way home.”

“Well, if you need someone to show you around, take you on a personal tour, I know someone with a car with 4 nice round wheels, and a good story about how she lost her keys at a concert once, that could help you.”

“I think I will take you up on that” he replied through a smile. You couldn't help but smile back. The two of you stood there for a moment, relishing in what had just happened.

“I think I should-”

“Yeah, you should go. It’s been a big night” Noah interrupts. You click at the button on your keys, the light flashing behind you in response.

“Thank you Noah, for tonight. And the hoodie, of course.” You step into your car, looking up at him once more.

“It’s been my pleasure, honestly.” He closes the door and watches as you fasten your seatbelt and start to pull away, waving a long arm in the air gently as you do the same back to him.

As you drove, the figure of Noah started to disappear into the veil of darkness that was night. You could barely see him begin to walk back towards the venue and back to his normal nightly routine after a show. Your mind spirals into a replay of the events that have happened tonight, and that led you to driving away from what seemed like a fantasy.

The drive home wasn’t too long, and it seemed to fly by the time you pulled up in your own driveway. Still processing, the key to the door unlocks easily and you walk in, heading straight for bed. Sitting on the edge of the soft blanket-covered mattress, you pull out your phone for the first time tonight, flicking off the ‘do not disturb’ feature, and scrolling through the flood of messages and missed call alerts from your friends. You laugh at some of the remarks made in the group chat, knowing full well they had no clue what had occurred. Some joked about running away and joining the band, others were betting that your phone was lost.

After a quick message to them all letting them know you are alive, a contentedness starts to fall over you. Did all of that really just happen, or are you just taking part of some kind of dream? As you ask yourself this, a light buzz comes from your phone, alerting you of a new message. It came from a number not saved previously.

Hope you got home okay. Thanks for giving me a story to tell too. Will definitely hit you up for that personal driving tour - Noah

You stare at your screen, looking at the words he chose to use. You tried not to read too much into it, but there was a spark that threatened to roar into a fire inside of you that made you believe he could actually want to see you again. Before getting too ahead of yourself, you type out your reply.

Home safe and ready for bed. Thanks for being my key savior. You hit send, but quickly see a response.

Happy to offer my assistance. Next time I promise not to steal any of your belongings.

Next time? You sure hope to god there is indeed a next time.

Part 2

[steddieas-shegoes]

I didn’t feel like this post was enough of the Steve and Chrissy friendship so please enjoy the prologue ficlet I just spit out faster than a person actually can (please excuse typos!!!)

--------------------------------------------

“You ever think about leaving this place?”

“What, Hawkins?”

“Yeah.”

Steve and Chrissy were hiding under the bleachers, waiting for the school to clear out for the day. This was only their second time hanging out together, but Steve hadn’t had this much fun in years.

“I guess. It just doesn’t seem like it’ll happen for me.”

They were sitting across from each other, whispering in case there were any stragglers in the gym, Chrissy still in her cheerleader uniform from practice and Steve freshly showered from basketball practice.

Jason had left with his friends a while ago, so there probably wasn’t much of a reason to stay hidden, but neither of them wanted to deal with him if he came back.

“I have to get out.”

She said it so seriously, Steve wasn’t sure how to respond at first.

Luckily, she continued to explain before he had to.

“If I stay, my future is picked out for me. I’ll graduate, marry Jason, work as a secretary somewhere and have two or three kids that I don’t want. I won’t even get to go to college.”

“Do you want to?”

Chrissy blushed and looked down.

“I wanna be a vet. But my mom told me I can’t. Too much school and she thinks Jason will find someone else and then I’ll be alone.”

“You could find someone at school! That’s so stupid. Your mom sounds stupid.”

Chrissy gave him a small smile in agreement.

“She thinks it’s the life I want.”

“Well, let’s say you get out of here and become a vet. What else does your life look like?”

“Hm.” She tapped her fingers against her knee, then beamed at him. “I’d marry Eddie Munson and he’d bring me backstage on his tours.”

This made Steve pause.

“Eddie Munson? Why him?”

“He’s amazing. He’s cute, and nice, and different. He wants to leave here and be someone. He’s brave.”

Steve agreed. Of course, he didn’t know how to say so without giving away that he’d had a crush on Eddie for months. That was new for him; liking men, admitting that he liked men, knowing the man he liked was Eddie.

Chrissy was looking at him expectantly. He didn’t know what to say.

“What do you think about him?”

Something about the way she asked set alarm bells off in his head. Nobody knew about him liking guys the way he liked girls. It wasn’t exactly safe for others to know.

“I mean, he seems a little odd. But yeah, he seems nice.”

She squinted her eyes at him before looking away, her eyes finding a spot behind him to focus on as she spoke.

“You know I have a cousin, Brad, who has a partner a lot like Eddie. He’s not allowed at family stuff, but I write him letters sometimes and he sends some to me through a friend.”

“Oh.”

“So if you maybe thought Eddie was cute too…”

“What? What makes you think I think he’s cute?”

“Hey, calm down. I was just saying if you liked him, I’d be a safe person to tell, that’s all.”

Steve’s body relaxed. He didn’t have to know Chrissy that well to know she wouldn’t lie about that.

“I-”

“You also don’t have to tell me or anyone. It’s up to you.”

“I do think he’s cute. In an annoying way.”

There. That wasn’t so bad.

Chrissy was smiling at him, reaching a hand over to his knee to squeeze it.

“You should ask him out.”

“What.”

Okay, Chrissy was a smart girl. Surely, she understood why he couldn’t do that.

“Yeah! I bet he’d say yes. Who wouldn’t?”

“Any guy I ask out!”

“Not Eddie. I’m pretty sure he’s into both.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Just a hunch,” Chrissy shrugged.

“Do you have evidence for your hunch or are you just hoping I get punched in the face?”

Chrissy rolled her eyes at his dramatics. Maybe he was being dramatic, but not that dramatic.

“Not exactly. I’ve just seen him at a bar that’s known for being a safe place for people who may swing in different directions.”

“And what were you doing there?” He raised a brow in question.

“I was testing a hunch.”

“You and your hunches.”

“I was right about this one!”

“And what was that hunch?”

“That I liked girls.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. Chrissy Cunningham was like him?

“Oh. So you’re…”

“Yeah. That’s how I guessed you were. And how I’m guessing that Eddie is too.”

“Maybe. I think you’d have a better shot, though.”

Chrissy shrugged. “I think you should ask him out at graduation.”

“What? Step on stage to get my diploma and declare my love? That sounds like a move he would do, not me.”

“No. But after. Maybe invite him to the diner to celebrate.”

“What about you?”

“What about me? I’ve got Jason. Eddie’s gonna be out of this place as soon as he can. He shouldn’t have to wait on me.”

“You have just as much of a shot with him as I do.”

Chrissy thought for a moment before she gave him a soft smile.

“I think you two have a chance at something. Pinky promise me you’ll try?”

Steve held out his pinky and latched it with Chrissy’s.

He would try for her, but he wouldn’t let himself consider a future with Eddie.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

i dont know if youre taking requests but if youd like to, would you write a comfort fic with nathan bateman where the reader has really severe anxiety and panic attacks? i really love your nathan fics and barely anyone writes him, especially not the way you do

I am and thank you so much for the request! (I have such a soft spot for this silly man.) And thank you so much for your kind words (I am so terrible at expressing how much comments mean to me.)

(Also I am assuming you suffer from panic attacks, as do I, I hope you're okay and are doing well💚)

Any Time

Nathan Bateman X GN!Reader Rating: T Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged? | request info

Warnings: Panic attacks, swearing, typos! Railroad sentences! Soft!Nathan being a big softie, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 683

_______________________________________

You weren’t sure what set it off. Whether it had been one thing, or a combination. At the very least, if you had been sure of the cause you could try to avoid it in the future. 

But here you were, in the middle of the kitchen, clutching the countertop so tightly that you probably could have ripped the marble in two. 

You knew what it was. Had had so many by now that they should have been routine. The fact that you knew it was a panic attack should have been enough to calm you, to settle your breathing and the crushing weight in your chest. 

Instead the air caught in your throat and somehow didn’t seem to make it to your lungs. The dread built and grew until your bones were shaking under the weight of it. 

This was going to last forever. This wasn’t going to end. This was-

“You okay?” Nathan’s voice cut through your internal dialogue like an air horn. It was too much. And only added to sickening compression around your throat. You didn’t want him here. Didn’t need him to see you like this.

Talking was practically impossible. 

You shook your head, and managed to release the counter just long enough to wave your left hand dismissively. I’m fine.

“Hey, hey, hey,” you didn’t hear him walk towards you, but you felt his hand on your clammy shoulder. Warm and cold at the same time, too heavy, too much.

You shrug him away, looking down, trying and failing to control your breathing. To get a hold of yourself. 

“Sorry, hey, sorry,” he held up his hands. “Look at me okay?” 

You shook your head. Little spots of swirling colours were starting to appear at the corners of your vision. You were going to be sick. You were going to fall down. You were going to be-

“Look. At. Me.” 

The firmness of his voice seemed to pull at your limbs, moving you before you even had the chance to register what he had said.

“You’re okay. It’s alright.” He nodded, keeping his voice calm and soft. “You’re gonna breathe with me alright,” he took in a breath through his nose. Over exaggerating the action and holding it for four seconds before he breathed out through his mouth. 

He repeated the process, composed and sure. Breathing in, breathing out, breathing in, breathing out. 

“You’re doing great, you’re okay,” he repeated between breaths. 

Breathe in, breathe out. 

“Doing so good, baby.”

You missed the pet name, didn’t see the flicker of self consciousness that flashed across his face at his slip of the tongue.

“You’re safe, nothings gonna happen.”

You tried to match him, at first failing miserably. But slowly both of your chests started to rise and fall in rhythm. 

He continued to talk while you started to calm, the shaking in your hands lessening. 

“You know how many panic attacks I’ve had?” He didn’t wait, or want a response. Just letting you focus on your breathing. 

“So many. Hundreds, thousands maybe.” Nathan continued. “One always sticks in my head, I’d messed up some really basic coding. I was tired and stressed and it was really fucked up. And I just… broke.” He shrugs. “Panicking all by myself at half four in the morning.” 

He smiles. “Thing is, the coding was just for a project I was working on. No deadline, no one else was gonna see it. I wasn’t letting anyone down, no one’s life was at risk and still… it was like my body was crumbling around me. Just,” he motions towards his chest. “Imploding. Suffocating me.” 

He smiles again, but this time it’s at you. One of those rare, soft Nathan smiles. 

Your breathing is a lot better, a lot closer to normal.

“Can I get you some water?” 

You nod and Nathan helps you to sit at the kitchen table before he brings over a glass. Ice cubes are floating at the top. 

He sits down next to you as you gulp half of the water down. 

“Thank you.” You whisper.

“Any time.” 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading! Want to be tagged?

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[milksockets]

i recently had a very heartwarming exchange… about a typo.

to start at the beginning, at some point during my first couple of weeks at this job, i stopped by my supervisor’s office to mention that i’m very good at spotting typos if that’s something that would ever come in handy. i was referring both to the blizzard of daily emails as well as the information system program we use for documentation. he laughed and said he appreciated it, but also that a lot of people - including himself - are writing emails and whatnot all day and don’t necessarily have the time or ability to catch such errors. i remember thinking “yeah, that’s something i hadn’t really considered” and went on my merry way. note: his office door was open during the exchange because the discussion was not super private or confidential so why the fuck wouldn’t it be.

so the next day, i am summoned into his office, with the door closed this time. turns out some lurking busybody cunt with nothing better to do was hovering around and overheard the conversation, and decided to report it to both him and the supervisor above him that it was inappropriate and “who is this nurse who just started here talking about typos.”

i was flabbergasted at the time, but since then, it’s become apparent just how many things of that nature happen in offices (or mine at least; i’ve never worked in one before). when it comes specifically to pointing out a panoply of constant typos, i am not doing so in a manner that translates to “you’re a fucking idiot and i want to make you feel bad about it.” i guess i foolishly thought people might be open to hearing about ways they could improve their writing to avoid miscommunication.

there have been other instances of this ilk, namely that this woman moved into the office with a door next to me (the rest is an open plan type deal) and never has her door closed, whether she’s screaming into her phone, having an irl meeting, or blasting a podcast. like go figure, that’s sort of distracting and wearing headphones is not a solution because then i can’t hear if someone is trying to get my attention (or sneaking up behind me while i’m online shopping). it soon became very apparent that simply asking this lady to close her fucking door because other people do work here - but in nicer words - had the potential to cause a dramatic upheaval in office politics. i also had said that i would hope anyone in the office with a similar issue with me or my team would feel comfortable simply bringing it up for resolution.

it’s insane to me that these instances of direct communication about practical matters affecting other people are almost taboo and that i’ve been considered “inappropriate” on several occasions for relaying such remarks. also don’t say you value feedback if you actually don’t. let’s not play pretend here.

anyway, yesterday i passed a piece of street art that said “fight facism” and the artist tagged their IG handle so i just messaged them to say i thought they might like to know it’s misspelled. they were so fucking grateful, and said they’re glad someone pointed it out so nicely so they can fix it for the next batch. truly the antidote to the fragile, wretched office bullshit and evidence that i am doing god’s work.

so the moral of this story is that i need to find a way to get paid for finding typos. i mean, i spot them in just about every published book i read, too. and, friends, there is a solution: me.

[sailorsplatoon]

I have two big announcements!!!

No, I’m not going on vacation again, these two are actually really exciting.

The first is…

We’ve reached 52 followers! I missed exactly 50 so I’m celebrating 52 instead! 

Thank you so so so much to everyone who made this possible! It means so much to me that there are 52 people out there who saw my blog and thought they would follow me. I feel like I should do something to celebrate, so if anyone has a suggestion, feel free to share it with me!

Now for the second announcement…

The dedfour fanfiction is finally ready to be posted!!!

After months of me saying “it will be done soon” it is finally actually done!

It will be posted both on this blog under the dedfour tag and on my ao3, so you can read it wherever you prefer.

The prologue will be posted this Friday, May 10, with Chapter 1 being posted the day after, Saturday May 11! I will then post one chapter per week every Saturday. (Timezones might screw this up since I don’t have a specific time in mind for when I’d post it.) There are 10 chapters in total, not including the prologue.

I’m really hoping I managed to catch all the typos in it. If you spot one, please tell me!

I’m very excited to share this with all of you! I’m sorry it took so long for me to be ready to post it, but I think (or at least I hope) that you’re going to like it!

Also, I’m going to prioritize posting chapters over answering asks, so if you notice that it’s a Saturday and I’ve posted a chapter but haven’t answered your ask yet, don’t worry, I will answer it soon!

Again, massive thank you to everyone who has helped me make both of these goals happen! I cannot express my gratitude enough! You all are amazing!!!!!

[beewolfwrites]

Magnetism - Part Three

Request: 

I really enjoyed this chapter! Would you please consider making a part 3?

Here goes! Sorry for any typos or mistakes! This is also the last Magnetism chapter I’ll be doing too, so hopefully it’s cute enough to give you the giggles!

(Chishiya x GN reader) 

A panic attack features too, so if you’re sensitive to reading about them in case they trigger one, this is your advanced warning :)

____________________________________________________

‘I’ve never seen a giraffe before!’ 

‘Is it really worth seeing?’ 

You pulled a face. His words were blasphemy. How could he even suggest such a thing about such a unique animal? He smirked and approached the giraffe enclosure, reading the brass information plaque closely. 

Strolling around Ueno Zoo with Chishiya was nothing short of surreal. Despite his complete disinterest in the variety of animals and creatures you encountered, you were still drawn to his side. You wanted so desperately to discover exactly what this connection meant. It had to mean something. 

So far, you had seen the zebras, flamingos and chimps, and now it was your first time seeing a giraffe in the flesh. They grazed, magnificent, in their tall enclosures, chewing peacefully on tree leaves and foliage. One giraffe ambled towards the wire fence where you watched on in awe. 

‘Woah! It’s so close.’ You placed a hand on the wire fence, wishing you could touch those dizzying hexagons on its coat. 

Hexagons…

Now that you were looking at them closely, there was something unsettling about the clusters of hexagons. A rush of dejavu left you wondering where you might have seen a giraffe skin pattern in black and white. Why black and white? It was such a strange thing, but you just couldn’t remember. 

Does Chishiya feel this too? 

You glanced over at him, your heart jumping when you realised that he was already watching you closely.

‘What is it?’ 

You hoped he would reveal a hidden piece to your jigsaw memories, but he simply said, ‘I’ve seen giraffes before,’ and walked off without a backwards glance. 

‘Hey!’ You took off jogging. ‘Wait.’ 

You caught up to him easily, lingering by his side but not too close. He didn’t seem that fond of physical contact. His hands were tucked firmly in his trouser pockets, and it didn’t look like he had any intention of taking them out again. You had an overwhelming urge to slide a hand in there and try to lace your fingers together, however it would only spoil the moment. 

He was gazing into an enclosure, his silvery hair shifting in the summer breeze. Following his gaze, you spotted the glistening black physique of a Jaguar as it slunk between a line of trees. There was grace in its raw power, the predatory pad of its feet as it waited, ears twitching, by the trunk of a tree. Then it lifted its head, setting its bright yellow eyes on you. 

A fierce pain cracked through your temple. 

‘Argh.’ You rubbed your forehead just as another jolt of pain hit you.

‘What is it?’

You were blearily aware of Chishiya’s question, but his words were foggy. Distant. The pain thumped murder against your skull, and you didn’t register your knees buckling until you heard Chishiya’s asking you once more what was going on. The enclosures bent in on themselves, the path suddenly overgrown with moss encroaching between the bricks. The world turned blurry. 

Wait. 

What world is this?

The zoo was quiet. Too quiet. The enclosure in front of you was destroyed, having been torn open by invisible claws. Only the stars and moon of the night sky above lit the empty walkways. No matter which direction you looked, there wasn’t a soul in sight. Around each enclosure, the wire fencing had rusted over and was entangled in ivy. In fact, there was greenery climbing up the lampposts and railings. This was surely the same Ueno Zoo, but a parallel image. And here you were, still sitting on the ground, alone and waiting. For what, you weren’t sure. There was a pool of dread in pit of your stomach, and you knew there was something out there hunting for you. Spying on you. 

A rustle of leaves sounded from the bushes. Silence. And then a twig snapped. 

Your breath hitched, fingers trembling, as you watched the bushes closely, too afraid even to blink. Something was out there, even if you weren’t quite sure what. A shadow shifted down in the foliage, and there was a soft, feline puff of air. Your eyes widened. 

A set of yellow eyes glowed from deep within the leaves. And they were trained on you. 

You flinched, mouth open in a silent scream, as the Jaguar sped towards you, footfalls soft on the grass yet swift and smooth as it lunged with a guttural growl. 

No!

You blinked, suddenly finding yourself back in Ueno Zoo, curled up on the pathway with Chishiya crouched by your side and a group of concerned onlookers asking how they could help. Your heart thumped wildly. Erratically. No matter how much you gasped and breathed, the air just wasn’t going in. Your throat tightened, as if there was a band wrapped around your neck. You immediately tried to claw at the collar of your t-shirt, but nothing helped. Your throat was closing up, and you needed air. You needed it now. 

Why can’t I breathe?!

The group of onlookers whispered amongst themselves, and you stared at each of them in turn, silently begging for aid, but nobody stepped forward. You sucked air in, one hand clawing at your chest and feeling the pounding of your heart. You were going to die here. You were dying right now, and nobody was listening.

‘Look at me.’ The voice came from next to your ear. Chishiya was there, eyes trained on you with a clinical precision you had never seen from him before. He wrapped one hand around your wrist, pressing his fingers on the inside as he checked your pulse. ‘Keep your eyes on me.’

You forced yourself to look into his dark, catlike eyes, as he told you to inhale for five seconds, hold for two, and exhale for seven. You followed his instructions blindly, but even this now, the softness of his fingers against your wrist and the depth of those eyes, it triggered another wave of dejavu. 

A new memory. Chishiya sitting beside you on a bed, in a room of an unnamed hotel. No, it had a name, but it wasn’t its real name. A beach? Tokyo didn’t have a beach. You were cross-legged on the soft linen, an open box of medical supplies next to you both. Your forearm was burning burning burning, but a hand on your wrist kept it steady, even if your fingers contracted and stretched, trying to cope with the agony. Chishiya was holding a needle and surgical thread, his fingers poised above your arm, but despite the fierce pain you were already in, you didn’t feel scared. Not with him around. And then, eyes on yours, he spoke. 

‘Look at me.’

You were pulled back into the present as Chishiya’s hand snapped away from your wrist. He was staring intensely at the ground, his eyes moving back and forth just like they had in the hospital. As you watched him silently, you realised that your heart was returning to its normal rhythm, and that band of tightness around your neck had eased off a little. You could breathe once more, or at least better than before. Was it the memory itself, or Chishiya’s presence, that had such an effect on you?

He stood up, sliding his hands back into his pockets. And only then did you notice that the crowd of onlookers were still lingering, asking you if you needed an ambulance. Your cheeks warmed, and you scrambled to your feet, swaying slightly as your body slowly recovered. Your head still spun, but you managed to bow, muttering several embarrassed apologies and reassurances to those who expressed their concern. But then Chishiya made a noise of discontent and sidled off, leaving you alone. 

Chishiya…

Had he seen that last memory too? It wasn’t unreasonable. He had shared your other memories too. Breaking away from the dispersing crowd, you took off after him. It was a struggle to keep your breathing steady, and there was still a lingering tightness in your throat, but you caught up just enough to grasp the pale sleeve of his cardigan. 

‘Chishiya.’ He stilled, turning his head halfway. And even though you only saw a sliver of his eyes, you could read him like a book. ‘You saw that too, didn’t you?’ 

The moment stretched on, then he said, ‘I don’t know where that memory is from.’ 

‘Neither do I,’ you replied. ‘But you don’t need to run away.’ 

Chishiya’s mouth twisted into a sneer. ‘I’m not running. And I’m not the one who had a panic attack at the sight of a Jaguar.’ 

Your fingers slipped, letting go of his sleeve. His words burned. It had already been embarrassing enough with so many people watching, and although you had experienced panic attacks once or twice before, that didn’t make it less frightening. ‘I… Yeah, I did kind of have a panic attack. But it’s because I saw something.’

His gaze flickered with interest, but it vanished in seconds. ‘We both did.’ 

‘No,’ you explained. ‘Not those memories. When I saw the Jaguar, I remembered this zoo. Except it wasn’t this zoo. It was the same place, but the enclosure had been ripped open, and there were no people. Everything was dark, and the whole place was overgrown.’ 

‘With plants?’ He asked. 

‘With ivy. And the enclosures were all rusty. It was like a different world, but I’m pretty sure it was Ueno Zoo. I’m certain of it.’ 

‘Right.’ 

He didn’t seem troubled by this. But perhaps he would be, especially with what you were about to say next. 

‘Chishiya…’ You looked at the ground, envisioning moss creeping through the cracks. ‘I think wherever this place was, whatever world we went to in that one minute our hearts stopped, you and I were together.’ He didn’t blink. He didn’t move. And so, you continued. ‘I know you remember too. There’s no point in trying to deny it. It’s why you asked me to play chess with you, and why you agreed to come here with me.’

His eyes remained glued on the fence opposite. ‘I remember,’ he said. 

‘Then you feel it too?’ 

After a moment’s hesitation, he mused quietly, ‘when I saw you in the trauma group, you looked familiar. But I’m certain we’d never met before that day. However, there are certain memories…’ He trailed off, but you knew what he meant. 

This is it. 

He felt this connection too, so it was now or never. Steeling yourself for rejection, you clasped your hands together, trying to don a mask of confidence. 

Let’s do this! 

‘I’m not sure I want to talk about that world. Whatever it is, I can learn more about it later,’ you said. There was a slight tremor in your voice as your nerves betrayed you. ‘But right now, what I want to know is whether or not you’ll come and get boba with me.’ You paused. ‘And not just as two patients.’   

He stared off into the clouds. ‘I don’t like boba.’ 

‘Oh… okay.’ Your heart sank. Of course he would shoot you down like this. It was to be expected, after all. ‘That’s… that’s fine. Just let me know if you want to play chess again.’ 

You stood there, waiting for him to walk away so that you could wave him off and hopefully end this day on a happy note. You’d already dragged him to a park and through a zoo even though he was still injured, so obviously boba was just too much. However, he remained exactly where he was, staring at you. 

‘Are you waiting for me to go first?’ You asked, frowning. 

His catlike eyes simmered with amusement. ‘Well, I assumed you were going to lead the way.’ 

Your eyes widened as it sank in. You held your sleeve over your mouth, hiding your smile beneath a subtle cough. ‘I know a great place not far from here, you know. They do all kinds of flavours.’ 

‘That’s fascinating, truly,’ Chishiya said, nonchalantly joining your side as you walked back down the path towards the exit of the zoo. ‘But I still don’t like boba.’ 

[m1ckeyb3rry]

LMAOOO nah dw abt embarrassing me it must be done….Id rather you see it than have me send it to someone who doesn’t match my freak and have them think im insane

Omg Karasu in the lead?? Guys…….Mira you’ve fr cultivated Karasu nation LMAOO but no you’re so right I remember seeing a poll awhile ago from someone and ofc there were the fan faves like Nagi Reo Kaiser as options and I was shocked to see Karasu there?? Ofc he was dead last in the results but not unexpected ig….also BAROU THIRD GUYS!!!! Barouism rising too??

No seriously Isagi would be sooo cooked if Nagi wasn’t there….trust I know that Nagi goal in u20 is gonna make him skyrocket I’m imagining all the edits to it now LMAO

It’s just the miraverse of content….new genre it’s called “would Mira watch this?” The parallels do go hard though I wasn’t expecting to find so many LOL

HAAHA SHIDOU lowk that’d be really funny….imagine like a 200k wc fic of Shidou shenanigans and sus quotes

Maybe I’ve been too desensitized because when you said too extreme I was expecting a lot more violence LMAO you got the perfect amount though I think when you said extreme I was thinking of Shidou level oops

NO FR?? Like he’s not gonna ever take the top spot but lowk I’ve grown to appreciate him….youre so right though LOLL closeted sweetheart >>> closeted asshole bro wait the grape candy scene was so cute I forgot to mention….its so funny how he kinda just gives it to her without saying anything about it like how people would do secret deals or something but no it’s just grape candy LMAOOO

THREE bro….the aura is crazy…to the dude who wanted your insta you should’ve been like “if you buy me a $50 cupcake I’ll give it to you” /j lowk investing in a bodyguard does not sound like a bad idea tho

OOOOOOH very excited for everything….also the whole masterlist layout for the oaeu>>>>>>>> the visuals look so CLEAN omg but guys look it’s aiku on Mira’s blog!!!! I saw the poll and have not touched it like wdym I’m supposed to choose???? Let’s see if I can be decisive for once but just know I was debating between tabieitaken and barou….speaking of im kinda curious to see which idea of mine will spark inspiration first LMAO take ur time tho im being so well fed with everything in the lineup so far

Im also laughing missing the cutoff is so funny to me because (unless I didn’t read something) it’s like if you didn’t safely get something in before the impending arrival of aiku you’re in for the long ride LMAOOOO

Ok actually real time update I just put them into a random generator to pick and voted LOL because there’s no way I’m deciding in time but I needed to show some opinion somehow….ok but anyways the main point I came back for was why is Nagi tied with your vote tracking option LMFAOOOOO I’m ngl I’ve never set up a poll here what’s the purpose of that…I just know that people aren’t supposed to pick it but I’m crying why does it have more votes than otoya and yuki

- Karasu anon

HAHA okay that is fair i will def keep you posted on any future typos 🤩 honestly they add to the experience though i mean what is a translator without occasional goofs (/j but also as someone who read a 1.5 million word novel translated online from korean #orv i am very used to wading through odd phrasing to get to the heart of a story so ngl sometimes my mind just skips over typos entirely and i don’t even notice)

unfortunately karasu nation has fallen…he’s in second now (w barou as a very close third) because SAE ITOSHI has a healthy lead 😭 honestly it was expected that man just has too many fans 😓 and most of the other characters on there aren’t AS popular (i’m sure there would’ve been more of a split if rin kaiser or isagi were included but honestly none of them were screaming oaeu to me…sae is kinda in the same category as them for me but he had strong oaeu potential hence why he’s included despite not being a miraverse all star like nagi karasu and barou)

I AM SOOO HYPE FOR THE EDITS PLSSS karasu and otoya edits from third selection?? nagi edits from the u20 game?? BAROU EDITS FROM THE U20 GAME 🤤⁉️ AHHH it’s going to be so good i just know those editors are going to cook up so many delicious concepts i’m actually hype (barely one more month we’re so close!!) and LMAOO no literally iirc nagi scored like four of the five goals against barou and naruhaya or something like if he hadn’t done that isagi would’ve had the naruhaya treatment and been out for good 😭 tik tok fans forgetting who the og goat of bllk was 😢 okay but honestly that’s why i love having nagi AND barou as my favs because one or the other is always up!! truly no losing there (and bllk bros automatically respect anyone who loves barou because most of them are barou glazers as if barou is ANYTHING like them 😒)

i guess part of it is also probably just kaneshiro using typical character archetypes too?? like girly dude white haired dude flirty dude etc etc the nagi dragon art was insane work though like what was the reason for that except to cater to us specifically

nah because yk i’d cook even for shidou 😭 but he would not be my first choice (or my second, or third, so on and so forth) HAHA he’s just a bit too chaotic plus like we’ve mentioned i don’t really find him too attractive even though ik some people do?? LMAOO omg idt i could ever write a character as violent as him especially not kiyora…like he’s chill for the most part just not hesitant to punch someone if needed i guess is how i interpreted it?? whereas shidou would just do it for funsies

I HAD FUN WRITING THE GRAPE CANDY SCENE IT JUST FELT SO HIM like the way he gives her a piece after she successfully swallows a pill as if she’s a dog or smth it’s just so innocent 😭 meanwhile reader is like “wow our tongues will match 😏” FBXJFKDS and him writing his number on the empty box so he doesn’t have to throw it away OR actually give her his number in person for fear of rejection…kiyora my underrated goat fr 🥹

JFNFJDDJSJ PLSSS just drop a quick “erm have i known you since you were four years old?? yeah i didn’t THINK so!!” and move on…i fear writing has made my standards very high hence why i’ve never been in a relationship but you’ll never catch me settling fr 🥱 if they’re not like bfb karasu or peregrine nagi or white butterfly hiori I DON’T WANT THEM 🤣 or ig someone like seabird sae would work too HAHA i’ll sacrifice the pining for a man w money and a sense of humor 🤩

OMG YAYYY I’M GLAD YOU LIKE IT i was inspired by those dollar store self help books as well as rom com movie covers when i was making it and i think it turned out well!! and then i saw one of the graphics accounts i follow had posted the green and purple hearts divider and i was like holy shit this is PERFECT it matches so so well w his entire aesthetic…also peep oliver and aiku being diff colors like his heterchromia 😮 LMAOO genuinely this is probably aiku’s first appearance on my blog (besides his cameo in the last part of fwtkac) but ahhh i’m trying to figure out which req to do next myself!! i have a few to choose from so there’s def a bit of variety…i’m thinking of your requests i’ll probably do chigiri?? because barou is part of the oaeu and idk if i feel connected enough to bachira to write for him yet 🙂‍↕️

NFJDBXSNK no because that’s literally what it is…after the gagamaru req my inbox was pretty stagnant in terms of new reqs so i was like ok let me just get these ones cleared out and then i’ll go back to posting my own things again as well 😭 literally the two hiori requests are from my 500 follower event so from back in JUNE like i need to wrap these up and post them 😭 but idm making the newer ones wait like they can go on the crazy oaeu ride w all of us in the meantime 😩

OMG WHO DID YOU END UP VOTING FOR (unless you want to keep it a secret because if so i understand 🫡) also omg that annoys me sm like fr a pet peeve…basically no one can see the results of a poll until they vote but that includes the creator of the poll?? so if you don’t want to skew the results you just make another option so you can keep track of the poll while it’s still open 🤩 but i absolutely HATE when people pick that option like are you seriously that desperate to know the answer that you pick the option that literally says it’s only for me?? it doesn’t matter what you put people will vote on it but it’s so annoying ughhhh i can’t stop putting it because i’m nosy and like to know what’s going on with the poll in real time but it fr irritates me that people pick it like literally just choose a random option if it’s that deep 😒 i think part of what annoys me is like it so clearly says don’t pick it…and then people still pick it…like were you all dropped on the heads as children or smth…ANYWAYS sorry i feel like i’m so chill normally but there’s random things that genuinely make me crash out for no reason 😭 ALSO POOR YUKI AND OTOYA they’re still behind the FOR MIRA ONLY OPTION (me rn: 🤬😡) atp i’m not going to do polls anymore…like damn sorry i tried to get you all involved why are you being stupid and illiterate rn

actually tbh it’s not that deep idk why it enrages me sm 😰 but uhhh i fear it does for some reason

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

All right, I didn’t want to do this, to dignify this bullshit with attention, but I’m going to be annoyed about it anyway and if I write the annoyance down and post it somewhere then I can move on from thinking about it. That’s pretty much why this whole blog exists – write the thoughts down, put them somewhere outside me, then I can move on from them.

Many days when I wake up, I check Chortle like it’s the morning paper. It’s not a perfect website. In many ways, it’s rather a shit website. The frequency of the typos is genuinely amazing, for a website that people get paid to make. But I’m not on Twitter (and I don’t think going there would be a good way to find fewer writing errors in my way of getting comedy news), and I want to know what’s going on in British comedy, and that’s a good way to scan the headlines.

I’m not doing a Chortle headlines roundup this morning, where I post the actual headlines. I almost linked to their top story today, and then decided I shouldn’t, and this is the first time I’ve ever thought I shouldn’t link to Chortle. Because Chortle’s imperfect, but it’s not evil, a link to there is not going to drive traffic that’ll be used for nefarious means, it’s not like linking to the Daily Mail or some shit.

But I still don’t want to link to this one. Throughout the Edinburgh Festival this year, I got annoyed when they posted an article about it pretty much every time Graham Linehan left his house. Why give this attention? Why treat this like it deserves any relevance? Why play directly into his hands, by constantly covering what is very, very clearly a contrived publicity stunt? Why write an article about how this is a transparent ploy for attention, when the writing of that article clearly rewards it with the exact attention he wants? (For anyone who didn’t follow it, basically, Graham Linehan got himself booked on a gig that got canceled so he could shout about being canceled, and then he did his set anyway in the street. It really isn’t that interesting.)

Well, we know what it was all for now. Everyone who said it was a publicity stunt was right, and everyone who publicly said it was a publicity stunt did, in fact, contribute to further publicity for what was definitely a publicity stunt. And not just some general publicity stunt to garner attention for the general concept of Graham Linehan – it was a specific guerrilla marketing campaign for this book. And everyone played into his hands.

That’s the Chortle top story I’m not linking to – today’s announcement that he’s written a book about how he got canceled. I realized today that, as annoyed as I am about everyone giving him the attention – I still clicked all those Chortle headlines this summer. And I don’t click every Chortle headline. I click the ones that interest me. But I clicked every one that mentioned Linehan, because I was curious. Thereby letting Chortle know that they can get the click-based attention their business model requires by continuing to give Linehan the attention he needs to market his book. What a fucked up state of the world. I’m not trying to, like, cancel Chortle or anything. I’m still going to read that site and link to it when I think there’s something interesting. But I can at least avoid linking to their Linehan articles.

That’s what’s in it, though. Graham Linehan has written a book and it’ll be published next month. The book is the type of thing that should really be a relic by now, shouldn’t it? It’s been a cliché, at this point, for comedians to make jokes about the provocateur who gets a book deal and TV spots and uses them to talk loudly and publicly about how they’ve been silenced. That joke’s been done to death, we’re all now aware of how absurd that is. So how on Earth are people still doing it unironically? It would be like someone doing an unironic, unsuberverted “What’s the deal with airplane food?” joke in 2023.

If that were all this was, I’d have read the article, rolled my eyes, and moved along. Because like I said, I don’t want to give it attention (though I’d argue that my tiny tiny Tumblr blog giving attention to something does not make me hypocrite for complaining about one of the biggest websites in comedy giving it attention – it’s not the same thing). But this article listed the quotes that have been lent in support of the book. Andrew Doyle – obviously. Simon Evans – no surprise, don’t care, though I’d say this might push him from “really shitty right-wing comic but I guess he’s sort of just barely on the slightly more acceptable side of right-wing, and therefore it’s not totally unconscionable that that they have him on The News Quiz sometimes, a bit like Geoff Norcott as much as Geoff Norcott fucking sucks”, to “seriously, if the BBC keeps booking this guy, I might go beyond just skipping his episodes and be done with The News Quiz altogether”.

Then there’s Jonathan Ross, which is slightly more notable because he’s still out there in the mainstream respectable side of comedy (well, light entertainment, at least), but not a surprise. I think he’s already publicly expressed support for Linehan, anyway. Also, he married his wife when he was 28 and she was 18, after meeting her when he was 26 and she was 16. Who cares about anything else about him?

That’s a bit how I feel about Frank Skinner too – why is there any debate about whether he’s a good guy, when he married a teenager who was ten years his junior (though in Skinner’s case, there’s the added fun element that he was her teacher)? This isn’t some vague rumour that he might have fucked a teenager, where we can pretend it might not be true, like with Noel Fielding. He definitely did it, they got married. They had a ceremony with witnesses and legal documents to formally acknowledge that he definitely fucked that teenager. I don’t care what else he’s done, that should be enough to end the conversation about whether we like this guy.

I’ve thought before that it says something about standards and values in the 00s that Jonathan Ross had a very successful career in the public eye for many years after marrying a teenager, no one minded that, he only got in trouble with the BBC after he made some lewd phone calls (I think those phone calls are the thing that have landed Russell Brand in the most actual hot water as well, despite those being much less bad than the crimes he’s confessed to in public, not to mention the ones that he hasn’t). Around the same time, Frankie Boyle said a bunch of horribly misogynistic and racist shit on Mock the Week, and that was all fine, he only got fired for a joke that was insufficiently reverent about the queen. Interesting where the BBC draws its lines.

Anyway, this has gone very off topic, but the point is that I don’t care what Jonathan Ross has said, because I never liked him anyway (I mean, he is also really annoying, but that shouldn’t be the main reason to dislike him in light of the fact that he married a teenager). That leaves just one person who gave a supportive quote to Linehan that counts as a surprise or disappointment, which is Richard Ayoade.

“Graham Linehan has long been one of my favourite writers - and this book shows that his brilliance in prose is the equal to his brilliance as a screenwriter. It unfolds with the urgency of a Sam Fuller film: that of a man who has been through something that few have experienced but has managed to return, undaunted, to tell us the tale.”

Normally, I would not hold a pull quote on a book against anyone. I know those things don’t mean anything. I know that much of the time, the person who wrote the quote didn’t even read the book. I know they were just asked to say something so they did, or maybe they even just let their publicist write something and then signed off on it. But in this case, even if that’s what happened, that doesn’t make it better. The unconscionable thing here is lending any support to Linehan in 2023. You can’t even make some argument about separating the art from the artist, because this is the artist. It’s not an unrelated stand-up comedy set, it’s a book about how his views are fine and he shouldn’t have been canceled for them. Even if Richard Ayoade never read that book, he signed off on having his name attached to a statement that a book on that subject is okay.

The only thing that would justify this is if it turns out they took a quote he said years ago out of context, or if they made it up entirely. The former seems unlikely as he seems to be talking directly about this book, referring to Linehan's ability to write prose. The latter seems unlikely as inventing this seems like an absurd thing to do even by Graham Linehan’s standards, and if he had, you’d think Richard Ayoade would make some statement denying it.

God damn it. I mean, it’s not the end of the world. I’m not quite emotionally invested enough in being a fan of Richard Ayoade to have that much difficulty in saying, “Okay, I’m definitely done being a fan of that guy now.” But I did like him. I’d love to revise history and say I never liked him, but that wouldn't be true. I can claim to have been on the right side of history a little bit, in that I always thought The IT Crowd was overrated. I first watched it when I was in high school because all my friends loved it and I wanted to see what the fuss was about, and I didn’t think it was that great. I re-watched it in 2020, and thought some of it was funny, but it didn’t deserve to be as revered as it was. Once I learned more about Linehan, I became pleased that I took that viewpoint (I also never got into Black Books, tried one episode years ago and didn’t much like it). I guess I have another reason to consider that the right side of history now. But I can’t pretend I never liked Richard Ayoade.

Garth Marenghi’s Darkplace is a fucking masterpiece. I thought Question Team was great. The IT Crowd was sometimes funny. He was funny on Mighty Boosh things. And I always find him funny on panel shows. Any episode of Catsdown or Big Fat Quiz or Buzzcocks or anything like that will be funnier if Richard Ayoade’s in the lineup. He’s quick and he’s sharp and he plays his persona brilliantly. He's funny. I liked him enough to feel disappointed about being done with him now, but not enough to feel conflicted about it.

Though on the subject of the persona… look, if Richard Ayoade really thinks it’s fine to dedicate your life to insisting that everyone should have to remain exactly what they were when they were born and cannot ask people to see them as anything different from that, then I’d like to point out, it’s not his real voice.

Which is fine, it really is. I’ve shared those things before to laugh at the contrast between that version of Richard Ayoade and the guy we know now, but I don’t think it means he actually did anything wrong. Comedians using personas is totally normal, though Richard Ayoade took it farther than many do. He played one really nerdy character in about 2006, and then got stuck having to continue playing that character on every TV appearance for the rest of his life. Which you’d think he might consider limiting, but I guess it did also make him large amounts of money, which might be why the limiting nature of the persona he took on did not stop him from feeling destructive levels of loyalty to its creator.

He just... you didn't need this, Richard! You absolutely did not need to do this! Why couldn't you have just kept doing what all the other apolitical comedians like you do: shut up about it, and let us all assume your political views are probably basically fine, even while we vaguely know in the back of our minds that probably if we ever heard you tell us what you think about everything we wouldn't be able to like you anymore? You know, like we do with possibly some of your Cambridge contemporaries? (David Mitchell, I'm going to need you to shut your mouth very tightly about this, as tightly as you shut your mouth when you were next to Robert Webb in that interview where he was refusing to walk back his transphobic comments, because as long as you continue to not actually say anything, I can continue to like you.)

I understand why some comedians go right-wing. Small ones, struggling to build a career in the mainstream, do a Comedy Unleashed show so they can compete in the smaller and less competitive market of right-wing comedy. And/or they say something horrible because it might get them on the front page of Chortle and even negative publicity still helps them build a brand.

But Richard Ayoade did not need to do that. He fucking won in the mainstream comedy arena. He can get on the front page of Chortle any time he wants. He did not fucking need this. I was trying to think of the best way to describe this situation, and I have to give @lastweeksshirttonight credit for being, as usual, more concise and clear about things than I am as they used the term "unforced error". There's no a better way to put it than that. There was no reason for this.

Okay, those are my thoughts, I have written them down and put them somewhere, and I shall now move the fuck on and stop paying attention to it. But fucking hell, this is annoying. I did like the guy. Why taint the legacy of Garth Marenghi this way?

[aforestescape]

kyle ‘gaz’ garrick - lending a hand

a fevered daydream i had while on a particularly achey monthly dip into satans spawn pool and realized that my choco cookies were expired :( anyways, you can imagine for yourself whether reader and kyle are in a relationship or simply friends helping friends out :)

content includes: gender neutral to an extent, blood, the barest mention of period sex, maybe a typo or two

periods are always a pain. even on a good month, when your cramps don’t appear, levels of soreness are low and you’re freshly stocked with period snacks. and this month isn’t as bad as it could be but still a pain. you’re stuffed in a cozy fall sweater, fighting the cold air and the occasional hot flash. snuggled up in a throw blanket on your couch while kyle sits next to you.

your favorite cartoon on which kyle insisted you didn’t need to turn off on his account. you’re enjoying the re-run, laughing and rolling your eyes as if it’s your first time watching this episode. you’re in the middle of giggling when another cramp strikes, a sharp twist of discomfort low in your tummy.

you let out a breath, trying to get through the pain until it subsides. fist clutching your blanket in your spot. kyle looks over to you, eyes immediately filled with concern. he shifts closer to you, hand resting on yours.

“you alright there, love?” you can hear the concern pressed in his voice but don’t reply until the pain is finally gone. you let out another breath, first unclenching as you look over at him.

“‘m fine. just a cramp.” his concern look doesn’t drop as he moves his large hand up to move a few stray strands out of your face.

“you should’ve told me before i came over. i would’ve brought you some snacks and nelson.” nelson being the stuffed bear you won at a fair together some months ago. he flip flops between your apartments like a child of divorce, the poor bear. the thought makes you let out a pained groan.

“don’t say that, now i’m mad. i’ve been craving chocolate and these cramps fucking hurt. and don’t get me started on my damn hips and thighs and back. so damn sore.” you start grumbling, an annoyed look on your face. lips pouting as you think of the ice cream and crackers you could be eating right now.

“i can order some for delivery, we’ve got all day.”

you let out a sigh at his words, frustration growing a bit. “i mean you can but it won’t be here for a whole hour. and i’m legit seconds from crying for some ice cream. and chips. and- oh i’m just doing it to myself now.” he lets out a laugh at your turmoil, that pretty smile of his blooming on his face. you just glare over at him.

he pulls you close to place a peck on your forehead before pulling out his phone. your eyes shifting back to the television screen in time to monologue along with the characters on screen during a scene you love. only paying attention to him again when he wraps his arm around your tummy, applying gentle pressure and lifting the fat of it up to relieve some of the pressure. you let out a sigh at the action, feeling lighter.

he brings his phone up to show you the screen and you see he’s been adding your favorite snacks and drinks to a cart as well as some stuff for him. including a stuffed bear which makes you snort. you nod your head and thank him as he orders it. a few more minutes of idling watching your show until the episode ends.

“alright, pretty. up you get.” you groan at him and look up in confusion as he moves off the couch to stand in front of you. his toned arms stretched out to help you up which you take even if you’d rather be a couch potato right now. “what do you want, garrick?”

he places his hand over his heart with a bright smile on his face. “‘lemme lend you a hand, love. c’mon. to your bedroom.” you let him lead you to your bedroom and gently sit you on your bed. watch as he goes about your room, grabbing your candle lighter and your favorite oils. “lavender or rosehip?” he asks you.

and then he’s helping you out of your sweater. you don’t have it in you to be overly embarrassed, you’d seen each other in less before. namely that one trip up the coast with the rest of the gang to a cabin. you all going skinny dipping and laughing in the warm water under the moonlight.

with the candles lit he turns off the bedroom lights and sets to work. warming oil on his palms before starting on your shoulders. his large, slightly calloused hands adding a delicious pressure to your muscles. you can’t help the moans of approval that slip past your lips.

more spilling as those deft fingers and hands continue to massage over new aches in your body. you could fall asleep like this, with him kneading your skin like dough. and as his hands reach your lower back you find yourself cursing in how good it feels. “mmm kyle- you’re definitely giving me massages more often.” he just chuckles and replies, “only if you make these pretty noises for me, yeah?”

he asks you if you want him to continue, needing permission before he strips you from your sweats. he shushes and placates your worries by slipping a towel under you. you don’t say anything when his fingers graze your tits during the action. just enjoy the feeling of his hands finding your skin again. massaging your ankles, calfs, your thighs.

you have to ignore the pleasure that drums up. the wetness you’re sure is growing between your thighs. and kyle doesn’t seem to mind the possibility of blood, letting his hands work steadily higher and higher up your thighs. you bite your lip, turning your head so you can peer up at him.

his eyes moving from your ass to your face. and there’s that adorable, dimpled smile. it should be illegal for anyone, let alone a man, to look so fucking attractive when smiling. if his slicked up hands that we’re dangerously close to your core weren’t enough to get you wet, that smile definitely is. and he knows it, you can tell by the glint in his eye.

you shiver and turn your head back so you don’t have to see the smile. a shame but you’re trying to control your hormones running through you. that’s when another cramp hits and you let out a pained noise, fingers gripping your duvet. kyle helps lift your hips up and then he’s putting pressure again on your lower abdomen. it feels good, his slick fingers helping alleviate the cramps.

when it’s gone he keeps massaging it for a bit before going back to his previous task.

the massage lasts for some time. kyle taking his precious time to warm up the oil between big palms before moving on to another section of your body. you let out an indignant noise when the next spot happens to be your ass.

“i’m being thorough, you deserve the best massage, pretty. if you’re worried about the stains i can always slip these underwear of yours off.”

and fuck, why’d he have to act so nonchalant about it. his hand already slipping your underwear to one side, kneading the flesh between warm fingers. you relent and lift your hips to help him pull the fabric away. thankful for the towel even more now that you were bare on the bed.

he doesn’t waste anytime, going right into massaging your ass. and if his fingers accidentally graze your puffy cunt, well it was just an accident pretty, he’s sorry. never-mind that when you turn your head again you can clearly see the erection he’s got. your eyes drifting up to his and his hand slipping to graze your cunt again. you let out a sigh, closing your eyes and letting him finish his massage. letting him feel you up, not minding the blood, to his content.

already slipping back into a slumber like state again when he asks if you’ve ever gotten head on your cycle.

possibly, most likely a p2 w just smut and ending fluff

[dreamy625]

So I'm going to do Comfortember 2023. In the hopes that it might batter down the writers block one sentence at a time! As you know, I'm usually a reeeeeally slooooow writer, so it probably won't be everyday, just teeny snippets when the prompts appeal, and not so carefully (obsessively, endlessly) edited, so apologies in advance for any typos and generally crappy writing!

I don't have much time during the week, so this is the first four prompts, and they're all for Steve (Clark) and Alice (OC) of This rockstar life:

1. Safe

“I can’t explain it, it just feels so… safe when he holds me. I mean, I know it shouldn’t, he’s the most unstable person I know! But I feel... understood. And protected; those scrawny arms wrap round me and it’s like the rest of the world can’t get me, you know? I’ve never had that before. Not ever, not even as a kid. I hope I can be that for him too, he really is the most precious thing to me.”

2. Sweater weather

As Alice descends the stairs in search of coffee, she notices the temperature dropping precipitously as she reaches the ground floor. It’s always warmer in her study up on the second floor than it is downstairs, unless they’ve got the fire lit, but it is particularly chilly today. Poking her head around the livingroom door, she spots her boyfriend kneeling by the back wall with a paintbrush in his hand. One of the many projects Steve had started since his ‘retirement’, redecorating the front room had actually stuck. To everyone’s surprise as he had previously shown little interest in home decor, he had decided to do most of the work himself and had discovered that he found sanding and painting soothing. With the repetitive actions calming his restless mind, he occasionally caught himself spontaneously humming new melodies that he then had to stop and scrawl down on the margins of the newspaper sheets that covered the wooden floor.

“Why is it so cold in here?”

“Mmm?” He looks up and smiles at the interruption, “Oh, I had to open the windows because of the paint fumes. Skirting boards, so that’s gloss, which stinks.”

He stands up, wiping at a splotch of white on his thumb with a rag, as Alice makes her way across the room, dodging the paint cans and discarded rollers, to inspect this latest stage of the process. This wall is painted rusty red - chosen to look good with the classic gold-toned flamed maple Les Pauls he’s going to hang on it - and he’s neatly taped the edges with masking tape before starting on the woodwork (amazing what you can learn from a visit to the DIY section of the library). 

“Ooh very professional.” She looks around the rest of the room, “It’s looking good. You must be nearly done?”

“Two more walls of this, then I’ve got to do the windows, which’ll be fiddly. But yeah, that’s the last bits. Oh, and whatever we want to do with the floor I suppose.”

She turns back to face him and her appraising eyes light on the oversized ratty-looking sweater he’s wearing, “Where did you get that? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before?”

He looks down, “Err, dunno, I just found it behind the sofa in my studio. Maybe someone left it here? Oh well, it’s mine now.”

“It’s huge, you could fit both of us in there!”

To demonstrate her point, she lifts the hem and wriggles up inside; there’s plenty of room in the body, but the neck is too tightly knit for her to get her head through. 

“Help, I’m stuck!” she giggles as Steve wraps his arms around her.

“I feel like a kangaroo!” he laughs, squeezing tight.

3. Leaves Changing

Steve arrives in the café where Alice has been waiting for him (her tolerance for grotty basement record shops running out way before his) in a flurry, the door slamming shut behind him. He makes his way over to her corner table, shaking himself like a dog.

“Wow, it is wild out there! Real flying farmhouse weather!”

The wind has whipped his hair into a crazy bird’s nest and, as he sits down and starts to check that the rain hasn’t got to his precious LPs, Alice reaches over and picks a bright orange beech leaf out of the tangle of blond.

4. Warmth

Alice squeaked as the hand on her waist slipped under her jacket, “Why are your hands always so cold?”

“Cold hands, warm heart, my Grum always used to say.”

“Cold hands, should wear his damn gloves, my gran would say!”

[twilightmalachite]

Big Ocean - Repayment Fes of Thinking and Being Thought Of 3

Author: Nishioka Maiko (with Akira)

Characters: Hinata, Tetora

Translator: Mika Enstars

"Hm? Hinata-kun, isn’t there something kinda off ‘bout this event?"

Season: Winter

Location: In Front of Yumenosaki Academy Bulletin Board

The next day…

Tetora: Hmm~… What should I do for today’s training~?

First we warm up by running the perimeter of the academy… After that, we do stretches, and then muscle training…?

Hinata: Heey~, Tetsu-kun!

Tetora: Hm? Ahh, Hinata-kun! ‘Sup~☆

Hinata: ‘Sup~☆ Just happened to spot you. Thanks about lunch yesterday!

I’m lucky you called out to me—yaaa-aawwnnn…

Oof~… Sorry, sorry. That was a shameless yawn…

Tetora: Getting able to spend time with you was more than enough! If either of us needs help, we got each other’s backs! Though, Hinata-kun, you look pretty sleepy.

Hinata: Mm… Probably ‘cuz I was thinking about the live ‘til late at night~. I’ve been going to bed late…

Tetora: Live? Is 2wink planning a live?

Hinata: Yeah, but not through ES, for Repayment Fes. We started planning just yesterday.

Tetora: Ah, so that’s what it is. Amazing, yesterday at noon it was like you had no idea what to do. We also gotta get down to business!

Hinata: Hmm, though we haven’t done much more than exchange ideas about the stage and outfits.

We ended up having differing opinions about the stage.

Tetora: But it’s amazing you were able to get a start! When I get to work, I always have to crunch.

I have no free time to read manga like I usually do.

Hinata: Ah! That’s right! Manga, it was manga! There’s a manga that’s super popular I wanted to recommend to you. I’d been meaning to tell you about it.

Tetora: Whoa~, so it’s that good?

Hinata: Mhm! I read it after it was recommended to me, and it was lots more interesting than I expected, so I highly recommend it~!

I ended up buying the entire series. So if you wanna read it, feel free to borrow!

Tetora: Wow, I really wanna read it, if you’re praising it that much!

Hinata: Okie~☆ Then I’ll bring it over to your room tonight!

It sure is convenient to live in a dormitory together at times like this! I can give you a heavy stack of manga with no hassle! ♪

Tetora: I know right~… Hm?

Hinata: ? What’s up? You stopped in front of the bulletin board, did something catch your eye?

Tetora: Hm~, not exactly. It’s more like, I just realized I hadn’t checked out the school bulletin for a while.

‘Cuz y’know, with ES, all the news gets delivered through HoldHands, yeah?

Hinata: Honestly, I’m guilty of that too. I used to come here all the time looking for on-campus jobs, but now, I mainly work for ES…

Are there any good jobs up here?

Tetora: Hmm~… I probably would’ve wanted to do this if I were a first year.

Hinata: Ah, I agree! It looks fun, and seems like it’d be a hot topic. I’m sure people are scrambling to get that one!

Hmm? What is this one…

A bulletin from the student council. Concerning the White Chocolat Fes event…

Hm, so there’s an event called that. I’ve never heard of it, so it must be new.

Tetora: What’s the event about?

Hinata: It’s not written… Ah, details will come out later. I wonder if the student council will talk about it at the next school assembly or something?

Tetora: Talk ‘bout a blind bargain~. You can’t just announce the name and date of an event and call it good.

Hinata: Given how suddenly this event was made, I wonder if they’re just nowhere with their preparations?

Tetora: Hm? Hinata-kun, isn’t there something kinda off ‘bout this event?

Hinata: Huh?

Tetora: Look at this. The date of the event coincides with the date for the Repayment Fes.

Hinata: Ah, you’re right. Why would they do that? Does this mean the White Chocolat Fes will be held at the same time as the Repayment Fes?

Tetora: Ehh? Isn’t that way too much? You’ll just exhaust the participating idols at that point!

Hinata: Right~? So what’s going on? Maybe it’s a typo?

Tetora: …Wait. Could it be that there’s actually no Repayment Fes this year?

Hinata: Eh, H… How could there be none? There’s no way there wouldn’t be one, y’know… Right?

Tetora: I honestly don’t think that’s the case either, but…

Hinata: ……

Alright! I guess we’ll just have to go to the student council and ask them ourselves!

← prev | story directory | next →

[eyesontheskyline]

bestie you excel at one of the things i personally find the hardest and what makes a difference for me whenever i read any book: the dialogue!!!! If I dont feel like it is natural in a book I’m reading or that the character would never say it, it completely turns off something in my brain and I can’t focus the same. This is all just to say that your dialogue and the character voices are spot onnnnn! And may I say I dont think your plot has any issues, I am very fond the way you write the action and how everything unfolds. Again, this might be a very selfish opinion because I just click with you as a writer (and me a reader), but the events never feel rushed, I always feel like everyone gets to say what they want to say without it being forced and overall it just makes me want to read more and more. I understand that you obviously know yourself the best and you know your work the best, but as a humble reader who stumbled upon your work, I was immediately a fan, it was everything I’ve wanted to read and more. If I could magically be any good at writing and be gifted enough to write a criminal minds fic on hotchniss and somehow have my thoughts scanned into words, your fic would be the exact depiction of what I would imagine it to look like. You are doing an amazing job!

This is VERY LOVELY and I appreciate you so so much!

By the time I hit post on a new chapter, I'm usually happy with it. Like, I obsessively reread and edit and I've only posted a chapter that in retrospect I wish I'd spent more time on once - apart from typos (there are always a few when I first post), I'm usually happy* with what's out there, or it wouldn't be out. But yeah, I'm super aware of the stuff I have to work harder at. It's like that meme that goes around sometimes of the back of a piece of embroidery. Everyone else sees the final product, but when you made it, you know the messy process of getting there. And as a writer you know all your own shortcuts - I edit out a lot of characters doing the same little gesture so many times that if they actually did it in the show you'd be like 'wait did they just play that same half second of footage of her making that face for the eighth time'. Most of the time I catch it so it doesn't make it to the reader's impression of my writing, but it means every time I do it, I'm like you're doing it again!!!

Some things I'm happy to just be like 'well this is my level and it's enough to say what I'm trying to say', and there are some things I'm excited to work more on with my next thing. . . And some in betweens. Things I think will improve with practice, probably, but we'll see. I like writing. I like feeling like I can get my ideas across well enough and like I can get better at it. And I couldn't do it for so long for various reasons that finding this place in my brain again has been the biggest gift so I'm just very grateful to not only be writing words again but to have people actually reading them (because otherwise I would've 100% given up again ngl).

Anyway THANK YOU, and if you have any desire at all to write a thing, you should write a thing. Nobody can do it until they do it, you know??

(* the word happy was missing when I posted this, as if I was making a point about typos)

[mars-ipan]

TEETH OUT MOTHERFUCKERRER

[moemoemammon]

Following that "least favorite" request could we get their reactions to being to told that they're their favorite, but to not tell the other brothers so their feelings don't get hurt? Maybe because they relate to them the most or just get along really well. Thanks!

You're My Favorite! But Don't Tell the Others-

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

There are no words to explain the overwhelming satisfaction ion Lucifer’s face after you tell him that. Of course, it’s only natural that he would be your favorite, all things considered.

The Avatar of Pride won’t ever forget this moment. He carefully considers your words and agrees not to tell anyone, as much as he’d love to bring it up, because he knows more than anyone what kind of chaos would ensue should the others (especially Mammon) find out.

But they can tell something’s up when the eldest has been heard humming all day. He moves about the house with even more grace than usual, and hasn’t scowled even once.

But the REAL shocker was when Mammon tried hiding a bill right as Lucifer walked in... and the eldest let him off with a warning. A WARNING! The brothers thought the Devildom must’ve frozen over, but you and he knew different.

“MC, I would like you to accompany me to Le Pluvier this afternoon, once you've finished your studies. I've already made reservations, so be sure to get ready on time. I've made sure to consider the things you might like to eat, so I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself. Don't be late." "...I'm grinning? I don't know what you're talking about."

Mammon

The gigantic grin on Mammon’s face is so bright, it could rival the sun. You’ve seriously made his day. No, his year. Actually, he’s pretty sure he could ride this high for the next millennia! There’s nothing in this world that could dampen his spirits right now! 

He feels like he just won big at the casino! Of course he’s your favorite! He WAS your first demon, and now he’s gone and claimed his rightful spot as your number one! Good luck trying to keep him from saying anything. Mammon’s gonna throw it around in everyone’s faces for as long as he can milk it.

And you thought he was clingy before, just wait till you see how he treats you after hearing that. Despite always calling you his ‘servant’ or his ‘human’, you’d  think your roles were reversed. Mammon spoils you every chance he gets, buying you clothes and trinkets, filling the spaces in your room with the things he knows you like, monopolizing you completely until nearly everything you own is a gift from him.

Your words also help soothe that jealousy of his a little. Only a little, though. It’s easier to watch you talk to other demons when he knows he’ll always be your first man.

“Didja really have to stay after class that long? I know you were talkin' to that demon that lent you a book, but you outta ask ME for stuff! Tch... you're lucky I'm in a good mood today! But I guess I don't have to worry about some low level demon like that, seein' as I'm your favorite!"

Levi

Wait wait wait....Come again? Did you seriously just say what he think you said..? That had to be a mistake! Some kind of...uh..verbal typo! Because there’s absolutely, positively, NO WAY in all of the nine layers that he could be your favorite demon. And yet you still insist that you’re telling the truth, and Levi feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. 

Red faced and stammering up a storm, Levi looks like he might die. Is it really okay for a shut-in otaku to feel this giddy? Seriously, he hasn’t felt like this since he got his hands on a signed copy of a Ruri Hana audio drama! No no, this definitely beats that!

You’ve managed to inflate his nearly nonexistent ego, and now he feels like there’s nothing he can’t do! Maybe he could even go to Majolish right now?? THAT’S how good he’s feeling!

Almost as bad as Mammon in keeping it a secret. He doesn’t tell anyone right away, but they’re suspicious when they notice how much time he’s spending out of his room. And then when he and Mammon get in another petty argument, he drops the bomb that he’s your favorite demon in the entire Devildom, and you can guess how things go from there.

“Uuuoooo...!!!!! I've decided..! Since I've got a serious stat buff, I'm going to open a booth at the next convention coming up..! I'll sell my Ruri-chan fan art and spread her influence all over the Devildom! I'd never have the guts to do it normally, but I feel like I could do anything right now! Y-you'll go too, won't you MC?"

Satan

You nearly made this man spit tea all over his book, and now he’s coughing and spluttering and trying to figure out what could’ve prompted what he’s taking as a confession. You.. do realize what you’re saying, don’t you? And you know the kind of effect your words have on him?

Satan isn’t the type that wears his heart on his sleeve, so you have to look for his subtle expressions to tell how he’s feeling. But there’s nothing subtle about the redness of his ears and how he’s begging you not to look at him right now. For the sake of his sanity, give him a minute to recoup.

When he does recover, he agrees to keep it a secret for obvious reasons. And it’s hard to tell that he’s in a good mood, other than the fact that he hasn’t tried to pull any pranks on Lucifer lately. But Asmo sees all, and literally hounds him into spilling the tea.

He tells him a lie of course, but now the other brothers are noticing just how happy he is. Satan's smiling way too much today, isn't he? And he didn't even get mad when Beel got whipped cream on his jacket! Well, not THAT mad, anyway.

"Haaah... everyone's been harassing me all day, claiming I'm smiling a lot. I'm sure I look the same as I always do, but I'll admit that I've been happy ever since you told me that this morning. Wait.. you did think I've been grinning too, do you? I have??"

Asmo

Asmo always jokes about being your favorite and announces it as if the two of you are married, but when you actually confirm that his longing for you isn’t one sided, he ends up smearing lip balm across his cheek in shock. Did you... really say that just now? He knew it all along, but hearing it like that is just...!

Ooooh, he’s so happy he can hardly contain himself! Asmo throws his arms around you, peppering your face in kisses until you feel sticky from lip balm, wipes your face clean, then marks it up all over again. Good luck getting rid of him, because he might never let go.

Immediately posts it to Devilgram. Did you really think he’d let such a momentous occasion go unannounced? You must not have been paying attention to the kind of person he is! Asmo would put you on a pedestal in front of the world like a precious jewel if he were able, but this’ll have to do. He won’t hide his love at all!

Of course, the others don’t take too kindly to it, not that he cares. He never leaves your side, pampers you like crazy, and has even attempted to get you to move into his room. Lucifer put an immediate stop to that, though. Boo...

“I just can't get enough of you, MC! Just being near you gets me so excited that I can hardly stand it! You'll take responsibility for what you're doing to me, won't you? And in exchange, I'll take my time showing you just how much I love you. After all, you're my favorite, too!"

Beel

Beel never has a problem with choking while he eats, and it comes as naturally as breathing. Unfortunately neither of that applies right now, since you just made him choke on a meatball sub.

He usually takes your words with quiet acceptance, but this might be the most emotion you've ever witness from the stoic demon. His eyes are wider than that time that laid on an entire gingerbread mansion, sparkling up with such deep emotion you wouldn't be surprised if he cried. Instead he softens up and immediately embraces you.

...And doesn't let go. Sandwich long forgotten, he's been carrying you around all day, and ignoring any questions or protests from his brothers. Also insists on feeding you throughout the day. The food tastes better when he can enjoy it with you, so why not just bring you everywhere?

When he isn't carrying you, he's following you around subconsciously, either close up against you like a protective wall, or just far enough that you're within his line of sight. As far as not telling anyone, he... tells Belphie immediately. It was an accident though, since there's not much he keeps from his twin.

"MC, I won a meal ticket for Godevil Chocolatier. Let's get something for dessert today. Ah, you can get as much as you want, too. I really want to see what things you choose. They might become my favorites."

Belphie

There's nothing in this world that can wake Belphegor from his sleep, unless he allows it. No loud noises, no amount of shaking or smacking, and not even dragging him around the house. But the moment you whisper that he's your favorite demon, the Avatar of Sloth is wide awake.

Hey, you're not just saying weird things to get a reaction, are you? Because if so, this is a new level of cruel. Yet you confirm that you mean it and swear him into secrecy, and Belphie tries his best not to show how happy he is. A smile keeps creeping up on his face that he struggles to force down. It's annoying...

As funny as it’d be to tell everyone the news, he's good at keeping secrets. Instead, you've noticed that he's been sleeping a little less that before. When he does take one of his hundreds of naps, he finds some way to be closer to you. He's even been seen sleepwalking to your exact location somehow-

It's hard for him to believe that you're not teasing, though. How could HE be your favorite demon here? Belphie doesn't do anything special to win you over, yet after everything he put you through, you like him enough to deep him your favorite?

"You're weird, MC. I mean... me? I won't deny that I'm really happy though, but I guess I'm in disbelief. You should spoil me even more until I believe you. Lend me your lap for a few hours, okay?" "...I wonder what Lucifer would think if I told him, heheh."