#I’m not getting the “oh look at these cool smart guys” feelings I’m getting “shut the fuck up” feelings

[caterpillarinacave]

cop shows are ruined by the fact that I don’t like cops lmao

[pucksandpower]

Worlds Apart

Max Verstappen x Sargeant!Reader

Summary: everyone seems to have something to say about your relationship with Max, but at the end of the day all that matters is the two of you

Warnings: Jos Verstappen

Based on a request by @butterflyexe

The sorority house is pulsing with noise — music, laughter, the clink of plastic cups. You weave through the crowd, feeling very much out of place amongst the scantily clad co-eds. Your sundress and sandals seem prudish in comparison.

“Y/N! There you are!” Chelsea, your big sister in Kappa Alpha Theta, comes barreling over with a few of her friends in tow. “We were just talking about you.”

You eye them warily. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, like how you’re totally wasting your college experience pining over some old race car driver instead of playing the field.” Chelsea’s friend, Brittany, smirks as she takes a sip of her drink.

You bristle at that. “Max is not old! He’s only 26.”

“Exactly,” Chelsea says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “You’re a sophomore dating a whole ass man who’s nearly 30. It’s weird.”

“No it’s not!” You protest, shrugging off her arm. “We’ve been together over a year. I really like him.”

“Like him?” Brittany scoffs. “Wake up, Y/N. He’s an international celebrity dating a little college student. You’re just his side piece.”

The words hit like a slap to the face. “That’s not true!”

“Then why does he never post about you on social media?” Chelsea counters. “I follow him and you’re never on his accounts.”

“We just value our privacy,” you mumble, but her words have sown seeds of doubt.

Chelsea gives you a pitying look. “Honey, I’m just trying to watch out for you. There are so many great guys here on campus that would treat you right.”

Your eyes narrow at the dig. “You mean like those meathead frat bros that never shut up about their high school glory days? No thanks.”

The girls all gasp in mock offense. Brittany steps closer, using her height advantage to loom over you. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, talking about our men like that.”

“Yeah?” You stand your ground, hands on your hips. “Well maybe if they acted like men instead of immature little boys, I wouldn’t have to.”

A hush falls over the nearby crowd, all eyes on your confrontation. Brittany looks murderous until one of her sidekicks tugs her sleeve, murmuring “Let’s go, it’s not worth it.” She sneers at you one last time before stalking off, leaving you and Chelsea alone.

Your big sister sighs, rubbing her temples. “Why are you so hell-bent on making this hard on yourself, Y/N? Max is a world away, both physically and in terms of life experience. You could have any guy at this school eating out of the palm of your hand. Why not take advantage of that?”

Her words are salt in the wound. You blink back tears, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Because I love Max. He makes me incredibly happy. And yeah, the distance is hard and he’s older and more established in his career. But he’s kind and smart and we just … connect, you know? I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”

Chelsea shakes her head pityingly. “I’m just trying to watch out for you. I’d hate to see you get your heart broken over some long-distance fling.”

“It’s not a fling!” You’re sick of trying to convince everyone. Pushing past her, you storm out of the suffocating house and into the cool night air. Gulping it down, you sink down onto the steps, chest heaving with anger and hurt and frustration.

Alone at last, you let the tears come. You know the doubts eating at you are unfair — Max has been nothing but devoted and caring throughout your relationship, even with his insanely busy schedule. But the fears voiced by Chelsea and her crew have burrowed under your skin. Maybe you are just a naive little plaything for him. Maybe he’ll eventually get bored and move on to someone more sophisticated and on his level.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket — a FaceTime call from the man in question himself. You fumble to answer it, swiping hastily at your damp cheeks. “H-Hey you.”

“There’s my gorgeous girl!” His bright smile fills the screen, momentarily banishing your worries. “I only have a few minutes before FP1, but I couldn’t wait to see that pretty face.”

You can’t help but return his warm grin, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I miss you so much, Max.”

His brow furrows at your tone. “What’s wrong, liefje? You sound upset.”

You want to brush it off, but maybe this is your chance to finally get those nagging fears off your chest. “It’s just … things have been rough lately with the girls. They keep saying I’m wasting my time with you, that you’re going to leave me for someone else, that I’m just a naive little girl you’re using for fun.”

He’s silent for a long moment, then curses under his breath. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That must be really hard to deal with, on top of the distance.”

“It is,” you admit, blinking back fresh tears. “And as much as I try to ignore them and have faith in us, their words have started to get to me. I mean … why don’t you ever post about me on social media? Do you not want the world to know about me?”

A shadow crosses his features. Clearly he’s heard this criticism before. “My reasons for keeping my relationships private have nothing to do with you, okay? I keep that part of my life off social media to avoid a media frenzy and protect the people I care about.” His expression softens. “But you better believe everyone important in my life knows about you — my family, my closest mates. Hell, the whole Red Bull garage is sick of hearing me go on and on about how amazing my girl is.”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears, some of the weight lifting off your chest. “Really?”

“Of course!” He chuckles. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Y/N. No matter how far apart we are or what anyone else says, you’re the only one I want.”

Your cheeks flush at his heart-melting words. In that moment, you don’t care about your snotty sorority sisters or the distance or anything else — just being completely in love with this amazing man. “I wish you were here,” you murmur, drinking in every detail of his face. “I miss holding you so damn much.”

Max’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Maybe you can show me how much later tonight, when we’re all alone to video call properly?”

You giggle and smack your hand over the camera, feeling suddenly shy. “Max Verstappen, you incorrigible flirt!”

“You love it.” His voice takes on a deeper, huskier tone that sends tingles down your spine. “And you’re going to love what I have planned for your next visit even more ...”

You spend the next few giddy minutes shamelessly flirting back and forth, soaking up precious moments of intimacy through the phone line to sustain you until you can be together again. When his race engineer appears in the background, beckoning him to the track, you’re both full of regretful sighs.

“Duty calls,” Max says wistfully. “But I’ll call you later, okay? We can pick up where we left off ...” He waggles his eyebrows mischievously.

You can’t stop your face-splitting grin. “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

“Bye schatje. Love you to the moon and back.”

“Love you too!” You clutch the phone to your chest after he disconnects, completely lovestruck. All your insecurities have melted away under the heat of Max’s devoted words and that heart-stopping smile.

It’s going to be okay.

He chose you — Y/N Sargeant, sophomore student, for all your flaws and relative immaturity. And you’ve never felt luckier.

Spirits lifted, you bound back into the house and upstairs to your bedroom. You’ll ignore Chelsea and her nasty friends for the rest of the night, instead losing yourself in daydreams of the next time you’ll be wrapped in Max’s strong arms.

Your relationship may be a long-distance whirlwind, but you’re all in and you’ve never been happier. Let the other sorority girls whisper — you’ve snagged yourself a keeper.

***

Max drains the last of his water bottle as he exits the Red Bull garage, sweat still beading on his brow from the qualifying session. He stretches his arms over his head with a satisfied groan — even after all these years in Formula 1, there’s no better feeling than pushing a car to its limits on the track.

“Max! A word, if you please.”

He cringes at the familiar bark, turning to find his father bearing down on him like a storm cloud. So much for basking in the post-qualifying glow. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jos’ mouth presses into a grim line, eyes smoldering behind the lenses of his sunglasses. “Well, for one, I saw that interview of yours from yesterday making the rounds online.”

Max fights the urge to roll his eyes. Of course his old man would find something to criticize. “And? I thought it was pretty standard, nothing controversial.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t mean it to be controversial.” Jos sneers the word like a curse. “But dodging questions about your girlfriend and claiming you prefer to keep your private life private? It’s only going to stoke more media speculation and rumors.”

“Is that so bad?” Max counters. “I like to keep things out of the spotlight as much as I can. You know how ravenous the press is.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, son.” Jos steps closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous hiss. “I know exactly who this girl of yours is.”

Max feels his hackles rising at his dad’s dismissive tone when speaking about you. He opens his mouth to retort, but Jos barrels on.

“First it was that damn Kelly Piquet and her baggage, and now you’ve upgraded to jailbait? What is it with you and dating either old hags or naive teenagers, Max?”

“That’s enough!” Max snarls, feeling his face flush with anger. “How dare you talk about them like that, especially Y/N. She’s an incredible woman, and our age gap means nothing.”

Jos scoffs loudly. “Come off it, boy! She’s just a child, a nobody playing at being a WAG. You were born for greatness, bred to be a champion. Why on earth would you hitch your wagon to some college bimbo barely out of nappies?”

It’s like a red mist descends over Max’s vision at his father’s vile words about you. Before he can stop himself, his fist lashes out and connects squarely with Jos’ jawbone, sending the older man stumbling back.

“Don’t you ever speak about her that way again,” Max seethes, cradling his throbbing hand. “Y/N is ten times the person you’ll ever be. Smart, mature, driven as hell —she’s going to accomplish incredible things someday, whether you respect her or not.”

Jos regains his footing, clutching the blooming bruise on his cheek and glaring daggers at his son. “How dare you strike me, you ungrateful little shit! I gave you everything — the training, the opportunities, the sacrifices to get you to this level. And this is how you repay me?”

Max refuses to be baited, meeting his father’s glare with stony resolution. “Maybe if you didn’t insist on being such a hateful, miserable bastard all the time, I wouldn’t have to. All I want is for you to be civil and show some respect. Is that too much to ask?”

He huffs out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “But that’s not your way, is it? You’d rather condemn me for daring to find happiness with someone, just because she’s younger or doesn’t fit into your narrow ideas of what my life should look like. Well, I’ve got a newsflash for you. It’s my fucking life and I’ll live it however I damn well please.”

Jos opens his mouth, undoubtedly to fire off more vitriol, but Max cuts him off with a raised hand. He’s said his piece, expending the last of his energy and patience dealing with his father’s bullheadedness — at least for today. Right now, all he wants is to retreat somewhere quiet and let his thoughts drift across the ocean to you.

“Save it. I’m done arguing.” He turns on his heel and stalks away, Jos shouting insults at his retreating back.

Don’t react, don’t react. His jaw clenches almost painfully as he navigates the familiar path back to his driver’s room, typing out a quick message.

You free to chat soon, gorgeous? Need to hear your voice.

The reply comes almost instantly. For you, always. Give me 20 mins? ❤️

He can’t stop the surge of warmth at your words, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. That’s his girl — always knowing exactly what he needs, even from thousands of miles away. And isn’t that what matters most of all?

After showering and changing into casual sweats and a t-shirt, Max sinks onto the small couch placed against the wall, pillows arranged just so to prop up his aching back and shoulders. He picks up his phone and dials your number, heart rate kicking up a notch in eager anticipation.

After what feels like an eternity but is surely only a few rings, your face fills the screen. You must have just gotten back from class — your hair is tousled and loose, your makeup-free skin flushed and glowing in the South Florida sun.

“Well hey there, handsome.” Your teasing smirk dissipates as you get a better look at him. “Max? Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

“I am now,” he manages, relief already washing over him at the simple sight of you. He drinks in every last detail like a man parched. “Just had a bit of a run-in with my dad and needed an escape.”

Concern flashes in your warm eyes. “Oh no, what happened?”

So he tells you — the interview rumors, his dad ambushing him and lobbing insults, the explosive fight that caused him to lose his cool and strike the first blow. You listen with sympathy, every encouraging nod and murmured reassurance calming his frazzled nerves until the story is spent, leaving him strangely at peace.

“Thank you for sharing all that with me, babe,” you say once he’s finished. Your voice is gentle but firm. “I’m sorry Jos was so out of line, but you were totally right to stand up to him. Nobody gets to dismiss our relationship or talk about you like that.”

Max blows out a long breath, raking a hand through his shower-damp hair. “I know, I just … I hate letting him get under my skin like that, you know? No matter how much I try to rise above it, he always finds a way to trigger something deep down. It’s exhausting constantly needing to defend myself and the people I care about.”

“But that’s not your burden to bear alone, Max.” You shake your head adamantly, jaw set in that stubborn way he loves. “Let me help shoulder that weight, even if I can’t actually be there physically yet. I’m on your team, remember? We’re partners. I’ve got your back.”

Your words loosen a knot of tension he didn’t realize he was carrying. Of course you get it, you always do. He knows in that moment how lucky he is to have found his teammate, his shelter in the storm that rages on no matter how successful he becomes.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” His voice comes out low, thick with emotion. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

Your radiant smile could power entire cities. “By being you, silly. And for the record, your dad is way off base. There’s nothing wrong with you wanting a mature, driven, accomplished partner — even if she happens to be younger.”

“Age shaming goes both ways, apparently.”

“Apparently,” you agree wryly. “I had my own fun today ...”

As you launch into explaining the shenanigans that occurred during your morning lecture, Max feels himself relaxing further and further into the couch, a dopey grin spreading across his face. On and on the two of you go, playfully trading stories until his father and the endless pressures of his career have fully melted away, replaced by this perfect bubble the two of you inhabit.

When you hit a lull, stifling a yawn behind your hand, Max reluctantly decides to let you go for the night. “Do you have some time before your next class? You should get some rest.”

“Aw, I’m fine!” You protest through another jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m not done talking to my favorite driver yet.”

Max chuckles fondly. This stubborn streak of yours will be the death of him someday. “We both know that’s a lie. I can practically hear your bed calling your name for a nap from here.”

“Hmph, fine.” You stick out your full bottom lip in an exaggerated pout that makes his heart skip. “I guess if you insist on being all reasonable and stuff.”

“That’s me, a real fun-sucker.” He matches your playful tone, though his eyes are serious. “But before you go … can you just say it? For me?”

You immediately soften, gazing at him through the camera with so much tenderness, it almost winds him. “I love you, Max. More than anything.”

He exhales heavily, as if your words have physically lifted a weight from his shoulders. “I love you too, Y/N. And your love, your belief in me … it’s everything. Never doubt that, okay?”

“I won’t if you don’t,” you promise with a wink. “Good luck, babe. I’ll be dreaming of you.”

“Sweet dreams, liefje.”

Even after disconnecting the call, Max sits there for several long moments, staring at the now-dark screen with a besotted grin. His chest is pleasantly warm, full to bursting with the soul-deep reassurance that only you can provide.

Screw whatever toxic nonsense his dad tries to peddle about your age gap or his career. You’re the beating heart that sustains him, the sun around which his entire universe orbits. No disapproving authority figure or rumor mill gossip could ever change that fundamental truth.

So let his father rage and splutter all he wants about how “inappropriate” your relationship is. Max has tasted the extraordinary, found his home and partner in the most vibrant woman he’s ever met. All those lonely, empty years without that missing piece suddenly feel like a hazy, long-forgotten dream.

As Max sips his energy drink and prepares for another demanding few hours at the track, he can’t keep the dopey smile off his face. You’re worth enduring a thousand more shouting matches with his dad, worth traversing any distance just to hear your laugh again.

Max is the luckiest bastard alive to have earned your heart, and he’ll never take that gift for granted.

***

You shoulder your backpack and push through the double doors of the lecture hall, finally free from classes for the summer. The late afternoon sun bakes the quad in a warm glow as you pause for a moment, breathing in the sweet semi-tropical air.

For two years, this campus has been your entire world. Endless cycles of classes, parties, study sessions, and chaos with your sisters from Kappa Alpha Theta. But now, as you glance around at the laughing students basking in the first days of freedom, you feel a strange sense of restlessness settle over you.

Like there’s some place — somewhere — else you’re meant to be.

Shaking it off, you start heading for the student parking lot to meet up with Chelsea. You only make it a few steps before unusually loud cheers and shouts draw your attention to a small crowd forming near the front entrance.

Rows of parked cars block your view, but the distinctive growl of a high-performance engine cuts through the commotion. Your pulse instantly kicks up a notch as your mind puts it together.

That’s no ordinary car.

That’s a multimillion dollar, 800 horsepower British rocket. Sleek, powerful, luxuriously elegant.

Just like-

“No way ...” you breathe out, books slipping from your slackened grip as the glossy green bodywork of an Aston Martin DBS Superleggera slides into view. Because draped over the driver’s side door in that achingly familiar display of casual arrogance ...

“Max!” You shout his name in disbelieving joy even as your feet are carrying you toward him at a full sprint.

His head snaps up at the sound and your heart nearly stops at the way his whole face ignites with radiant delight. That brilliant smile you’ve ached to see in person for so long now stretching those full lips in the most heart-stoppingly beautiful way.

He pushes off from the car, hands outstretched, and in the space of a single frantic heartbeat you’ve flung yourself into his arms with a breathless laugh.

“What are you doing here?” You demand giddily as Max’s strong arms engulf you, swinging your frame around in a tight circle. You’re vaguely aware of the other students going nuts, people shouting and whistles piercing the air, but you only have eyes and ears for this incredible man holding you tightly.

Max just chuckles warmly, murmuring your name with raw affection before crashing his lips to yours in a scorching kiss that leaves you dizzy. You melt into the fierce embrace, parting your lips eagerly to taste the slight sweetness of Red Bull and dark chocolate that is so distinctly Max.

“Surprise, schatje,” he rumbles against your smiling mouth between heated, openmouthed kisses. “Thought I would swing by and pick up my favorite student myself.”

“Oh my god!” You laugh delightedly, cupping his chiseled jaw to drink in every perfectly imperfect inch of his beloved face. The strong jawline, the dimpled chin, those piercing blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he beams at you.

“When did you … how did you …” You’re at a loss for words, overcome with giddy euphoria at having Max here, warm and solid and real in your arms again after so many endless months.

A fresh wave of cheers and hollers suddenly cuts through your joyful bubble as half the crowd seems to recognize the celebrity in their midst. Dozens of camera phones whip out to capture the unexpectedly intimate reunion between you and Max.

“Who is that guy?”

“No way, that’s Max freaking Verstappen!”

“Y/N, how do you know Max Verstappen?”

The shouts and questions reach a fever pitch, finally breaking through your amorous fugue. Blushing furiously, you pull back just enough to murmur against Max’s chest.

“Well, much as I’d love to keep making out with my insanely hot boyfriend in the middle of campus, maybe we should take this somewhere a bit more private?”

Max gives a deep, rich laugh at that, the sound vibrating pleasantly against you.

“You are a wise woman, liefje,” he praises in that deliciously accented baritone. He presses one last, searing kiss to your smiling lips before reluctantly disentangling himself. “Though I would have thought you might like to give all your classmates one more delightful bit of inspiration to remember you by before you depart for the summer?”

He leers at you playfully as a chorus of whoops and whistles greets his flirtatious suggestion. You can’t help but bark out a laugh, shoving his chest lightly in mock admonishment even as heat rushes to your cheeks.

“You’re impossible!”

“No, just hopelessly in love with you,” he counters easily, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. The tenderness in his voice and touch instantly gentles your teasing mood into something infinitely fonder.

This remarkable man, so genuine and caring beneath the roguish exterior cultivated for the cameras. You’re struck by a sudden lance of melancholy at the thought of how little the world really knows of the real Max Verstappen.

But then his eyes crinkle in that way that speaks of unabashed adoration just for you and the feeling passes. Because you know him better than anyone. And he sees you just the same. Two souls intertwined by a rare, precious understanding.

Max’s hand slides around to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly over your thundering pulse point. The tender motion instantly sets your nerves alight with renewed longing.

“So,” his voice drops to an impossibly deep bedroom octave meant only for your ears. “Shall we give the good people at the University of Miami one last show before I whisk you away for a few months of long overdue privacy?”

There’s the barest hint of a filthy promise underlying the words. You swallow thickly, unconsciously pressing closer as Max’s velvet tones wash over you like a physical caress.

“And just where will you be taking me?” You manage to tease back, forcing a bravado your hammering heart doesn’t feel.

“Well ...” He leans in until his lips brush the delicate shell of your ear. You shiver helplessly at the heated puff of air ghosting your sensitive skin.

“First,” he begins in a heated murmur, “we’re going to swing by your sorority house to gather your belongings.”

“Okay ...” You nod faintly, hyper-aware of Max’s intoxicating proximity.

“Then I’ll be driving us straight to your parents’ place in Fort Lauderdale,” he continues lowly. “Per the strict instructions of one Logan Sargeant, of course.”

You can’t help the surprised laugh that bursts forth. Trust your brother to strong-arm his way into Max’s surprise plans.

“He didn’t give you too hard a time, did he?” You ask through your giggles. “I can only imagine the threats he must have ...”

You trail off at the feeling of Max’s talented mouth blazing a trail of kisses along the slender column of your throat. Every exploratory brush of his lips and insistent swipe of tongue steals the breath from your lungs.

“Max ...” You whine out his name without conscious thought, going pliant against the solid wall of his body.

“Shhh,” he rumbles against your overwrought senses. “Let me finish first.”

There’s a maddening pause where the only sounds are the rushing waves of cheers and chaos from the delighted crowd watching your every move, hungered gazes drinking in every scorching caress Max bestows upon you. Under any other circumstances, the thought of being so shamelessly devoured by hundreds of strangers’ eyes would have you recoiling in embarrassment.

But Max’s presence, his heated touch and low, sinful voice have you spellbound, uncaring of your audience.

“After we’ve satisfied your family’s demands to see us with their own eyes,” he purrs. “We’ll be boarding my jet bright and early for someplace much more ... pleasurable.”

Your skin prickles with delicious tension as Max continues in that low, rough whisper.

“We’ll spend a few lazy days lounging on a private beach in Aruba, just the two of us.” His large hand roves provocatively down the curve of your spine to boldly grip your backside, pulling your hips flush against the insistent bulge in his designer jeans. “Catching up on all the things I’ve been dreaming about for months, schatje.”

A tremulous whimper escapes your parted lips at the blatant promise underlying Max’s words. You flatten your palms against the firm planes of his chest, feeling his powerful heartbeat thundering in time with your own.

“A-And after that?” You somehow manage in a breathy rasp, scarcely daring to hope.

Max’s only response is a low, thrumming chuckle that you feel vibrate across your heated skin. His chin dips, molten blue eyes searing into yours with naked hunger.

“After that?” He husks, stealing the breath from your lungs with a devastating grin. “Well, then I’ll finally get to introduce the world to my favorite girl.”

And neither of you can wait.

[elderwisp]

◁ || ▷

Dan: They only onboarded me today and I have orientation tomorrow. Hopefully I get to meet some of the animals.

Ares: Oh so that’s why you have those goofy shoes, I thought you were leading the girl scouts for a second.

Dan: You’re buggin! Frances said they were cute.

Ares: It’s not a bad look, it makes me feel like we’re going on an adventure.

Dan: I bought you a boba and this is how you treat me?!

Ares: [ snickers ] Where are we going, captain?

Dan: I hate everything.

Ares: Ok, ok! You’re right I shouldn’t treat sugar mamas like that.

Dan: Ares! Shut up!

Ares: [ whispers ] I think the whole store is looking at us.

Dan: And?? Let them look. 

Ares: Wait, wait, make sure my hair looks good.

Dan:  You’re so…

Ares: Well?

Dan: It looks fine. 

Ares: I am proud of you by the way.

Dan: Really?

Ares: Yeah! It’s cool, graduation’s around the corner and you have this sick job to look forward to.

Dan: Oh! Neat.

Ares: Did I say something wrong?

Dan: Not at all, I guess I want to feel the same excitement as my friends do. 

Ares: Ah, I see. Well, you know it’s alright to feel that way, right?

Dan: I know. Walk me to the train?

Ares: [ nods ]

-

Dan: My mom would project all of her dreams onto me. So success doesn’t ever seem real to me. Like there’s always some sort of ladder to climb.

Ares: You ever think you haven’t found the right one? 

Dan: I do but then again I worry if anything truly is satisfying enough to try.

Ares: Then maybe that’s the issue.

Dan: What is?

Ares: We’re too busy measuring things by success rather than happiness.

Dan: Ahh, I see the vision. 

Ares: Maybe take this step as the thing that’ll allow you to build a future you want. Like a platform. 

Dan: I guess I’ve been under the impression that a career was the end goal not the foundation.

Ares: Felt that.

Dan: Yeah right.

Ares: Dan, I don’t know what I want to be. There’s music, photography, going back to school. I feel like I’ve spent more time trying to pick something than actually doing it. You have something to work off of.

Dan: So do you. Plenty of things. 

Dan: Look, you should listen to your advice as well. There’s a lot of good stuff in there. 

Ares: Hey, don’t move.

Dan: Noo. I hate having my picture taken.

Ares: Then act like I’m not here.

Dan: That literally changes nothing.

Ares: Oke I’m taking it now.

Dan: Ugh.

Ares: Shit. You might’ve blinked.

Dan: Seriously?!

Ares: [ laughs ] No. Not at all.

Dan: This dude. 

Ares: You should catch your train now.

Dan: That would be smart. 

Dan: Ares?

Ares: Yes?

Dan: You’re a pretty cool guy.

Ares: Ah. Nice, nice.

Dan: Awkward as fuck too.

Ares: PFFT I’m leaving now.

Dan: Bye.

[artist-issues]

Reminder that making Loki and Sylvie romantic was not a huge mistake. It was very smart and very in-character.

Not because they love themselves. That’s just a very clever writer’s play on the Loki-Trope-words.

Because she’s the most not-him person that there is. He wants to be the center of attention. She wants to live a quiet life left alone. He wants to take thrones and rule. She wants to topple thrones and rulers. He wants to tyrannize and enslave. She wants to set whole realities free. He sets traps to defeat his most hated foes. She just runs up and stabs them. He never shuts up. She’s stoic and quiet.

To people who believe it’s weird or gross because “they share DNA” or “they’re siblings…” Yeah. They share the same DNA, clearly—just like the Alligator Loki! 🙄 And they share parents, clearly—oh, except they don’t, because Loki’s parents were the kind of people to hide his true origins from him, and Sylvie’s parents were as different from that as you can get. They don’t share DNA, they aren’t the same gender, they don’t share memories or a similar history, and they don’t even share a name. They’re not like the same person, and they’re not like siblings.

The places where they’re similar? Like Sylvie’s chip on her shoulder against those who’ve wronged her? They’re all the places Loki has grown out of, or is in the process of growing out of when he meets Sylvie—and she’s been hellbent on avenging herself against those who’ve wronged her for her whole life.

He’s in love with her because of the—say it with me—“Idea of Potential” that she represents.

It’s just like how Ariel is in love with Eric, even before she gets to know him, because all she needs to know is that his character traits match up with everything she’s always hoped humans could be like. All Loki needs to know about Sylvie is that her character traits match up with everything he’s always wished he could be:

Confident instead of pretending to be confident; heroic instead of pretending to be heroic; secure in who he is regardless of what people think of him; able to focus on something bigger than himself; etc. Loki’s never been able to be those things and even convinced himself he’s proud of pretending—but Sylvie genuinely is all those things.

And Sylvie? Since she was stolen from her home and family she has made no connections, had nobody care about her, and focused only on her mission. If she ever had dreams outside of that, it probably revolved around the idea of freedom. Then in comes this guy who not only expresses care for her, but is the type of guy who doesn’t let anybody tell him what he is or what to do—he can relate to her feelings of hurt, and eventually, tries to help her grow beyond them, too.

They both represent something that the other person has always wanted to do or be, and they both challenge each other, and they both have this big existential hole in their hearts of “nobody wants me or likes me” to relate to each other with.

How is this a mistake? It’s literally the smartest way they’ve ever had Loki make a connection with someone outside his adopted family. (Mobius is cool and all but he’s a Thor-stand-in for this Loki, who’s been ripped out of Thor’s timeline.)

I’m going to stop beating the dead horse, but basically, if you think Loki and Sylvie as a romantic couple is weird, try and look at it the way it actually is, instead of superimposing “female love interest bad” or catchy Internet memes like “Loki Show Approves Incest” over everything 🙄

[hanjisungslag]

attack on titan headcanons #6

## - random things you say say to each other

genre - crack (?)

pairing - aot x reader

word count - 0.1k

warning - none!!

notes - hai hai ( ^ω^ )

- EREN JAEGER

minus talking about being free and killing all titans, he 100% talks about all the imaginary fights he’d have with the higher ups.

“i think i could beat levi up y’know”

“eren be so for real right now. i know he’s small but goddamn..”

“NO BUT, IF I PUT IN ENOUGH EFFORT LIKE—”

“eren.. SHUT UP RIGHT NOW STOTPTPP”

you slapped your hands over his big mouth because levi was literally walking right past you guys.

- MIKASA ACKERMAN

“i think i could kill a titan with a spoon”

“oh. i-i believe in you babe!”

- ARMIN ARLERT

you always make shit weird.

“i wonder what the ocean will feel like between your toes”

“i mean like i can recreate the feeling….”

“y/n. PLEASE STOP”

- JEAN KIRSTEIN

he also talks about beating people up, thinks he’s so cool (humble him). he does talk about omelettes, working with the royals and you a lot though.

“nah, y’know that fight with eren? i was just tired honestly likeee…”

“jean.”

“I WAS THOUGH, I TRAINED HARD OKAY”

“I COULD TAKE HIM IF I WANTED TO”

“shhh… eat your omelette.”

- SASHA BRAUS

talks about really weird food combinations.

“what if i dipped some fruit in some meat juice and had bread with it”

“… actually.”

“what?”

“i’m down to try that one!”

so, you both ran off and tried some 😄

- CONNIE SPRINGER

talks utter shit

“if the beast titan was a lot smaller, he’d be a pretty cool pet.”

“you mean.. like a monkey?”

“YEAH A MONKEY, OH MY GOD YOU’RE SO SMART!”

“…”

- REINER BRAUN

talks about how big and strong he is. picks you up at any given chance.

“so, y/n…”

“REINER, IF YOU ASK ME FOR ANOTHER PIGGYBACK RIDE ISTG”

“PLEASE IM JUST SO BIG AND STRONG, PLEASEEEE”

- ANNIE LEONHART

she walks around like she’s a 6’6 buff man.

“annie babe, you look like you’re walking with something up your ass.”

“i’m just asserting dominance around here”

- BERTOLT HOOVER

all of his stories relate to another (in some way, he says at least) so he just rambles and rambles.

“.. and then you’re really short which reminds me about stems and y’know what reminds me of stems, some long, some short? grapes. and i hate grapes—”

“HOW DID WE END UP HERE”

- ERWIN SMITH

says hubba hubba. unironically.

“lets see the outfit for date night, babe”

“okay, here i come” you stroll out the bedroom in a beautiful long, silk dress that hugged every one of your curves perfectly.

“hubba hubba..”

“haha..thanks.” you said trying not to rip your own hair out due to the cringe that you felt.

- LEVI ACKERMAN

just a lot of shit talk. like literal shit talk.

“how long does it take to get ready? i could’ve had at least 3 shits by now.”

“actually, at this rate, maybe even four.”

you finally walk out, ready for your day of shopping.

“how do you actually calculate that?”

“you don’t wanna know.” he said coldly.

- HANGE ZOË

definitely need to be diagnosed with something.

“how dare titans be killers! imagine if they just didn’t eat us, and were nice - we could keep them as pets!”

“well yeah..”

[ghosttotheparty]

‘hey, how’d it go?’

‘uh. not great.’

‘shit. tell me.’

‘ well, it started kinda fine. she kept, like, looking at my neck, but she didn’t say anything. but we got along pretty well.’

‘ did you hook up?’

‘ well. we were going to. but it was… i don’t know. weird.’

‘weird awkward?’

‘yeah. like it just… jesus, i don’t know. it felt wrong? but not, like, wrong wrong, just. weird.’

‘sure.’

‘it was like we didn’t know what to do.’

‘how far’d you get?’

‘we made out. but when i went to take my shirt off, she said— i’m not exaggerating— oh my go-od.’

‘jesus, steve.’

‘yeah. honestly i don’t even know why i fucking bother.’

‘what do you mean?’

‘ i dunno. guess i knew i’m fucking ugly now, i guess i just kinda… i don’t know. hoped it wasn’t that bad. but i’m an idiot, so.’

‘jesus, steve, shut the fuck up.’

‘huh?’

‘you’re not— fuck, there was so much wrong with all of that, oh my god.’

‘eddie.’

‘no— okay, alright. steve. you’re not ugly.’

‘she recoiled, eddie.’

‘okay, well, cindy alden is a bitch. i remember her from school, she’s always been awful. don’t laugh, i’m serious, she’s terrible.’

‘okay, eddie.’

‘you’re not ugly.’

‘i’m…’

‘steve. you’re not ugly. your scars are cool.’

‘think you’re the only one that thinks that.’

‘well my opinion is the most important, so.’

‘okay, eddie.’

‘look. your scars are metal as fuck. even if you don’t think so.’

‘…’

‘when you see my scars, do you think they’re ugly?’

‘wha— no, of course not.’

‘so why do you think yours are ugly?’

‘…i dont know.’

‘have you actually looked at your scars? taken a really good look?’

‘i don’t really want to.’

‘look at them. now.’

‘eddie.’

‘come on, stevie, humour me.’

‘…okay. i’m looking.’

‘have you noticed how they, like, kinda swirl a little bit?’

‘…noticing that now.’

‘don’t they kinda look like storm clouds?’

‘…’

‘steve?’

‘yeah. a little bit. guess that’s… kinda cool.’

‘and the colours? aren’t they pretty?’

‘you’re trying to make me feel better about myself.’

‘yeah. i am. aren’t they pretty?’

‘…yeah. i guess.’

‘and our scars match. that’s pretty cool. they’re like friendship bracelets.’

‘some fucked up friendship bracelets. but yeah. it’s kinda nice that i’m not the only one.’

‘you’re not ugly, steve. even with your sick-ass scars, you’re ho— you’re so cool.’

‘yeah? you think i’m pretty, eddie?’

‘…anyway. don’t worry about what cindy alden has to say. you’re good. and you’re not an idiot.’

‘okay, eddie.’

‘don’t okay, eddie me, i’m serious. you’re pretty smart, steve.’

‘okay, maybe i’m not an idiot, but i wouldn’t go so far as to say i’m smart.’

‘well, it’s a good thing i’m not asking you, isn’t it? don’t sigh at me. you’re smart.”

‘eddie, i don’t mind being the dumb one of the group, it’s fine.’

‘no, it’s not, steve. you’re not the dumb one. just because you’re not a science nerd or something doesn’t mean you’re not smart.’

‘in what way am i smart?’

‘you’re observant as fuck, steve. i’m serious, you are. dustin and robin told me about how they only realised the russian code was coming from hawkins because you were the only one that recognized the music in it.’

‘…’

‘we only figured out we could communicate from the upside down because you heard dustin. no one else heard him.’

‘you guys thought i was crazy.’

‘yeah, until we heard him too, and then i thought holy shit, this guy’s got ears like a fuckin’ bat.’

‘…’

‘you knew how to drive that rv right away.’

‘didn’t have much of a choice.’

‘what i meant was that you’d never driven an rv before.’

‘…‘s true.’

‘you’re really smart, steve. you’re… resourceful. and intuitive, and observant, and it doesn’t matter if you don’t know science-y shit.’

‘…okay.’

‘and even if you weren’t smart, it wouldn’t matter. you’re more than your body and brains, stevie.’

‘what else am i, eddie?’

‘jesus, where should i start? …okay. you’re really sweet.’

‘sweet?’

‘so fucking sweet, steve, you’re one of the nicest people i know. even in high school, you were nicer than the other douche bags. and now you’re… you’re kind, steve. even if you’re being bitchy. you’re kind, and considerate, and patient when you need to be.’

‘…okay.’

‘and you’re… you’re funny. i know all the kids make fun of your jokes, but i laugh at all of them.’

‘thanks.’

‘you’re a good friend.’

‘am i?’

‘remember what i said about you being observant?’

‘yeah?’

‘i swear you can walk into a room and just… know. like, if anything is wrong, you pick up on it immediately, it’s insane. and you always know exactly what people need. you’re… safe.’

‘…safe?’

‘yeah. safe. everyone’s totally comfortable around you. the kids fucking adore you.’

‘really?’

‘yeah. the other day we were hanging out while you and robin were at work, and erica sighed very loudly and complained that she missed you.’

‘erica said that?’

‘erica fucking sinclair said, and i quote, i miss steve.’

‘…that’s really nice.’

‘you’re a good guy, steve, seriously. you’re selfless and brave and kind, and i love how you look after everyone, and how your eyes light up when talk about your sports, and how you get all mushy about the kids when they’re not around, and—’

‘…’

‘look. you’re, like, the best. and it— it breaks my fucking heart to hear you talk about yourself like you’re some piece of shit.’

‘…’

‘steve?’

‘…’

‘fuck, are you crying?’

‘…no?’

‘fuck, steve, i’m—’

‘eddie?’

‘yeah?’

‘i… i have to tell you something.’

‘what is it? are you okay?’

‘…i’m falling in love with you.’

‘…what?’

‘i’m sorry, eddie.’

‘no, don’t hang up, stevie— you’re— are you sure?’

‘yeah. i’m sure.’

‘but you… what about the girls?’

‘i was… i was trying not to— to fall for you, but you… fucking christ, eddie, you’re so…’

‘so?’

‘so good. you’re so perfect.’

‘fuck.’

‘im sorry, eddie.’

‘don’t apologise, stevie, i’m— i’m in love with you too.’

‘…say it again.’

‘i’m in love with you, too.’

‘holy shit.’

‘are you okay?’

‘i’m okay. i’m… can you come over?’

‘…to yours?’

‘or— or i can go to yours, i just— i wanna see you.’

‘you do?’

‘i wanna… i wanna kiss you.’

‘fuck. fuck, fuck, ow, okay, i’m—‘

‘what just happened?’

‘i fell off my bed, i’m fine, i can be there in a few minutes.’

‘are you sure?’

‘holy shit, steve, yes, i’ll be right over.’

‘okay.’

‘okay.’

‘wait, eddie—’

‘yeah?’

‘…i love you.’

‘fuck. i love you too. i’ll be right there, stevie.’

‘okay.’

[theonemeathead]

Hello!

Unsure if your requests are open—if not, disregard this—but if I could request something that’s Medic x reader. SFW is my only real request, but hurt/comfort, fluff, a bit of angst, anything you’d like!

Have fun with it. I’ve read your sniper fic and your spy fic, and I absolutely loved both of them.

You’re doing amazing! I’m excited to read anything you make in the future <3

Medic x Reader, "Harsh"

hello! omg im sorry this took so long, ive been so busy working. i love medic, i hope i wrote him well, it's my first time! warning for light gore and some hurt/comfort angst. enjoy!

"You failed!"

The Administrator croaked, her voice ringing out through the speaker. The fight had been gruelling, all of you were exhausted. The other team had pushed you all back into your base, beginning an onslaught of terror. You were blown to pieces by an enemy Soldier, the enemy Demoman was using you for easy kills, and the enemy Engineer had sentries set up out the wazoo. You had been sent through Respawn countless times, your frustration growing everytime you were taunted as you died. At one point, the enemy Sniper had shot out both of your legs and then proceeded to point and laugh as you tried to crawl away. It was safe to say you didn't get far before your brains were strewn, unceremoniously, across the battlefield.

Back in the locker room, it was obvious nobody was happy. Normally, your teammates weren't sore losers, save for a few exceptions. But today had been so exhausting that even Pyro was in a sour mood. You sat down on one of the benches, rubbing your aching muscles as the other mercenaries cleaned themselves up.

"Man, that frickin' sucked!"

Leave it to Scout to break any amount of peace and quiet. You didn't feel like arguing with the wall, otherwise you'd tell him off for not staying on the point. You were bitter with multiple of your teammates, but none of them had quite pissed you off quite like Medic had today.

"AGREED, MAGGOT. I AM FILLED WITH SHRAPNEL AND CANNOT FEEL ANYTHING FROM THE WAIST DOWN."

"Yeah, well, that wouldn't be the case if we could've gotten some healing from, y'know, the one guy who's whole job is to heal." Your words came out passive-aggressive. You knew it was immature, but you also knew everyone had the same gripe you did. You instantly regretted even mentioning it as the locker next to yours slammed shut. Medic was unstable when he was upset, and he seemed to be the most torn up about this loss out of everyone. Silence overfell the locker room, yet again.

"None of you understand how tedious my job is," he began. You could hear the grit in his words, the emotions that were brewing and starting to boil over. Medic liked to praise himself as one of the more rational mercenaries, talking about how you must always have a cool temper when you're a doctor. Yet, here he was, his face slightly flushed from frustration.

"Your job wouldn't be as tedious if you did it properly," you challenged him. You stood up straight, as you folded your hands across your chest. You eye twitched slightly as you scowled at the back of Medic's head. You could feel other gazes, followed by various murmuring and receding footsteps; it was probably smart to leave before this escalated.

"Oh, really, maus? Well, if that's the case, then I no longer see why I'm needed on this team. Auf wiedersehen!" He forced a smile as he turned on his heels, hastily stomping off towards his quarters. He pushed past you, making a point that you were in his way.

"Fine! Be that way!" you called out, but your yells fell upon deaf ears. You looked around the locker room at whoever was left, making eye contact with Scout, who flinched away under your gaze.

It was going to be a rough night.

-

It had been hours since you and Medic had last spoken, which was unusual. You two were nearly inseparable, but enough time had passed for Engineer to start prepping dinner. You leaned against the counter of the kitchen, absentmindedly observing the tinkerer as he began slicing various vegetables. Engineer had always been a mentor, of sorts, to you; A beacon of wisdom. He was one of the few people on this godforsaken team who wasn't batshit crazy. He seemed to have picked up on your quietness, opting to fill the spaceless void instead.

"Y'know, sweetheart, I think tensions were just high earlier. Ain't no sensin' both of y'all bein' upset, why don'tcha be the bigger person and, I dunno, apologize?" He asked, earnestly. He looked up at you, smiling. His expression was slightly unreadable, due to the goggles he was wearing, but it was warm nonetheless.

"I guess, but—Everyone agrees that he was slacking on the field! I'm not in the wrong!"

"I know, darlin', but everyone has their off days. Hell, even I have those rounds where it feels like I can never catch a break from that damn Spy sappin' my sentry." He chuckled to himself, low and comforting. Engineer's laidback atmosphere was always so calming. "I reckon you have your days too. Last thing you would want is for somebody to point out how you missed a Heavy, who was about an arm's-length away."

"You saw that?!" You gasped, embarrassed. He was right, you didn't do too well either today. Maybe you were unfair to the doctor earlier. You pushed yourself off the counter with a sigh. "You have a point, I'll go see what I can do."

The journey to the infirmary was nerve-wracking. It wasn't full of anticipation and excitement to see your lover, no, it was anxiety-ridden and nauseating. You felt horrible, like you were wearing cement bricks, rather than shoes. You reached the sterile area of the base, the cold air of the lobby immediately sending goosebumps through your body. You took a deep breath, shakily knocking on the steel doors of the actual operating room. You were met with silence, although you could hear the various shuffling of papers and the familiar cooes of his doves.

You hesitated, pushing on the door slightly. You opened it, just enough to peak your head in. The sight before you was disheartening, to say the least. He was surrounded by multiple forms of paperwork, his hair slightly messy and his movements erratic. He seemed to frantically be searching for something, flipping between books and whatnot. You cleared your throat, the echo of the sound stopping him in his tracks immediately. He froze, not daring to turn and face you. "Medic...?"

"Ah, of course. I'm busy, can't you see?" His tone held a faux sweetness, as if he was one snap away from losing his composure completely.

"Medic, I— I'm sorry. I was mean to you back in the locker rooms, I let how I felt get the better of me. I was harsh on you and I shouldn't have been," you started, your voice shaking slightly from your emotions. He clicked his tongue, humming slightly in response. Although, he seemed to relax his posture, yet still refused to look at you. "Medic, we need you... I need you. You're a good doctor, I can't imagine anyone else fit to surgically implant baboon hearts—"

"Mega baboon hearts."

"Right, mega baboon hearts... into people. I love you, Medic." He swiveled his chair around, one leg crossed over the other as he had his arms crossed over his chest. He faced you, seeming to finally scan your features. He tilted his head, giving you a small smile. He tsked, pleased by your apology.

"Ah, schatz, you are forgiven." He beckoned you towards him, opening his arms up wide for a hug. You happily obliged, tackling into his large chest. He caught you, holding you and rubbing soothing circles into your side. "Ich liebe dich auch."

[zappedbyzabka]

Prompt: Serial Killers

for @ckhalloween23

(Scream au. Lawrusso. Little fast paced. Just one of a couple variations I’m going to make and build on. Wonky timeline)

Johnny slams the fridge closed dramatically, huffing and stomping towards the ringing phone. He’s pissed all day about various things. One is the fact that no colleges have gotten back to him yet. Is he really that…dumb? He could have sworn despite the various times he’d skip classes in school and flunk, that all the debutante bullshit Sid forced him into would at least work for something. Bobby assured him

(“Oh, come on, Johnny. I don’t hang out with stupid people—“he glanced at Tommy and Dutch, then back at him “Actually, scratch that. All I’m saying is that you’re not *educationally* a dumbass, alright?”)

It helped yet didn’t at all. Of course Bobby isn’t stressed, he and Jimmy have always been the smart ones. Johnny would go as far as to say they’re Harvard material. That comfort was fine and dandy, but Dutch was never good at reading the room, he was always just even more affectionate when Johnny was struggling. Arm around his shoulders as Johnny vented about it all. He just wants to get out of his stepfather’s hands, maybe become a doctor, make good money, and be on his own. Make a family at some point. How can he do that if no school wants him? What if he ends up as a plumber? Dealing with shit for shit money. What if he has to strip for perverts? And he wishes he could stop fucking thinking about that annoying little worm, LaRusso. The fighting and tournament are all over yet he seems to run into him everywhere…he can’t even say he hates it. He almost feels excited every time he sees him, especially when Ali isn’t there—so much less tension. So much more time to chat civilly with less filter. He finds himself hoping they broke up and not because he wants her back. Every date he’d been on recently never called him back. It’s like no one wants him except the cobras—and god is he thankful for them even when they say he’s wrong

(“Hey, at least you look cool even when you’re acting like a total diva.” Dutch teased, and Johnny stiffened. They always called him that and he usually scoffs, but right then it just felt like a way to tell him he’s over reacting.

No, it WAS. “I’m not being a diva. Why do you always say that shit?”

“I think you meant drama queen—“ Tommy started, mouth snapping shut at Bobby’s firm look. “Sorry.”

“What’s so great about college? Can’t you just, I don’t know, work at a diner?” Dutch shrugged

Jimmy raised his brows and nudged Johnny’s shoulder with his, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Don’t listen to him. We understand, okay?”

Johnny smiled at him. Jimmy once said he was one of the only people who never made him feel irritated, even with all his chaos. He’d even let him snag one of his grandpa sweaters, which he was usually such a prissy princess about, and just rolled his eyes when Johnny showed up to school one day wearing one. The day they met, he and Johnny were more alike than different, and that always stuck.

Johnny pushed Dutch’s arm off him hard and Jimmy’s off gently. Dutch frowned as Johnny walked to his bike, the other cobras watching and sharing looks.

“What’d I do?” Dutch all but whined to Bobby who smacked him over the head. “Don’t leave, man, please?”

Johnny shook his head and straddled his bike, grabbing his helmet. “Thanks for the pep talk, guys. I’ll see you later.”

“Call me when you get home!” Bobby shouted as Johnny sped off.)

It must be one of them. Dutch or Bobby in a coin toss. Dutch calling with a sheepish apology, asking if he can bring a pack of beer over. Bobby calling to cheer him up a little and give him tips on making better applications. Maybe Jimmy calling to talk about some movie or book, focusing on the action because he knows Johnny likes it most—a great storyteller. Or maybe it’s Tommy with a laugh in his voice, ready to make him cackle so hard his stomach cramped.

He picks up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi,” A strange voice answers. It’s like they’re using some sort of modulator.

“Uh, who is this?”

“If I tell you, will you give me a chance?” the voice croon.

A chance at what? “Sure, whatever. Who the hell is this?”

The man chuckles, “So feisty. I always liked that about you.”

“I…what?”

“What's your dating life like? Wait, Let me guess, not going so well?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“What’s your fucking problem?”

“Hey, hey. I’m just curious, you never tell me about those kinds of things when we talk.“

“I never tell you?….Who is this?”

Johnny swears he hears something in the background. Something like wheezing, scraping.

“You wanna play twenty questions?”

“You wanna stop playing games and get to the point or did you want to keep prattling?” Johnny counters, walking back to the fridge with the phone pressed to his shoulder.

“No, I want to play with you for a long time.”

Johnny’s face heats up. “Maybe I’ll let you “play” with me if you tell me more about yourself. Like your name, for example.”

Why is he enjoying this?

“Well, sure!” the voice answers cheerily. “What do you want to know? Other than my name. If I gave you it now that’d be no fun. ”

Johnny thinks about it. It's someone semi-close to him at the least with how he speak. Must be some lame prank.

“Do you…live with your parents?”

“Interesting choice. Yes. My ma was very adamant that I stay until I have everything together.”

Johnny’s ears might as well have physically perked up. “Ma”. He knows a lot of people call their moms that but…

“You know, the way you talk reminds me of a boy who’d be *dead* if this were him.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. This prick from New Jersey….Kind of changed my life. Mostly for the worse I’d say.”

A hum. “You don’t sound like you hate him all that much for someone who change your life for the worse. Do you?”

Johnny stops pouring the coke staring at the half-filled cup and chewing on his lip “It’s not your turn to ask me things yet.”

“Oh, come on. Humor me.”

“Well, I guess not anymore. I kind of… appreciate him. I’d have stayed with him if he never came around. My buddies too.

“Him?”

“My teacher. Bad guy. Tried to kill me.”

“Should have killed him.” he sounds angry. surprisingly so, like a switch had been flipped.

The mansion is so…eery without his mom and Sid there. Unsettling in a different way than when they’re home. He rests his elbow on the counter, pulling his sleeve over his cold fingers. Will he get drilled into it for turning on the heat? Racking up the bill. “Great idea but I don’t really want to go to jail because I’m actually trying to have a life.”

“I wasn’t talking about you killing, I was talking about me.”

Johnny goes silent. So he knows all about it—what Kreese did—and only so many do.

“You look pretty in that sweater, Johnny.”

It takes Johnny’s brain a moment to process that and when it does he stands up straight, looking out the windows he can see.

“Wha—How do know what I’m wearing?” He changed after he got home. There’s no way he could know that unless…

“Are you all alone?”

Yes. Painfully so.

“I—I’m over this. Bye.”

“Did you lock all the doors?“

Click. He practically slams the phone back in the holder, nerves haywire all over again. He dumps his drink out in the sink in favor of some of the scotch stashed in the cabinet

Pouring it hurriedly then going upstairs to get loose and pass out for a good night's rest.

——————————————————————————

Johnny startles awake, his eyes darting in the direction of the sudden cracking noise—heart jumping in his throat when he sees someone successfully breaking into his room. How did he not wake up sooner?

A big white face with a gaping mouth, gloved hands pushing open the window and stumbling in: clumsy.

Adrenaline hits him like a train.

He slinks off his bed and onto the ground just as the intruder's feet meet the floor

They’re not exactly tall, and their flowy black attire makes it hard to determine their stature

He stands up quickly and runs toward the person but a glint makes him stop in his tracks.

The person tilts their head like a dog, bringing out a kitchen knife smeared with blood.

They step towards him, and he steps back, that pattern continuing until Johny only has the corner of the wall behind him, nowhere to escape. He was taught better than this—maybe he can still run.

The intruder sweeps his legs causing him to fall on his back and lose all his breath, lungs feeling like they were punched, his head knocking on the floor making him see stars. The person gets between his legs easily and puts a hand on his chest to hold him down (though it feels more like a grope) and the blade still held in warning

Maybe he could get it away from him. Maybe he can get himself to move if he just takes a deep breath. Wills away the dizziness.

Heavy breathing comes from the mask, and he trails the blade down Johnny's body slowly. Toying with him. Staring at him with big black eyes. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d catch yourself better, you’re usually such a cat….” he leans in “You’ve been drinking again, haven’t you? Bad boy.”

“Are you going to kill me? Johnny asks, voice high and tight.

“Are you scared?” his voice is strange like he’s impersonating someone, like they’re going as deep as they can. Breathy.

Johnny grits his teeth, eyes on the blood smeared on the mask.

“I…I’ll give you whatever you want of mine. Just please don’t take my parents’ stuff—“

The boy shakes his head. “Don’t be scared.”

Johnny’s hands tremble where they’re clutching his sweater. He could wrap his legs around his waist and squeeze tight, roll him over, and surprise him enough to escape.

But the knife—but the butterflies in his stomach.

He was always fascinated by knives. The way they reflected things. He used to play with the switchblade his dad left when he was young. He hid it from his mom until the day he accidentally sliced his hand and needed stitches. She was furious, he was thinking about just how dark his blood was. Not at all like the movies he’d watch that looked like ketchup. He thought it was beautiful

“I know you like blood on your hands but — “ The intruder swipes the red off his mask with a finger, leather shining with it. Johnny’s eyes follow widely, “Is it like I do?”

He almost sounds hopeful. Vulnerable. Johnny’s heart thumps loudly. he hates murder. Murder is wrong. It’d make him a bad person if he sometimes thought about going further than a strike. More than just his hands and high kicks and words. He says nothing, and the boy tuts his tongue, wiping the blood on Johnny’s lips like some sort of fucked up lipstick.

“I think you do. I know you, Johnny. Better than you think I do. Better than you know me.”

“No. No. I don’t like it.” Johnny chokes out, tongue threatening to peek out a lick his lips clean.

He can just sense he’s smiling. “Okay, pretty boy.”

He knows him. He *knows* him.

The intruder covers his eyes, shushing soothingly when Johnny goes tense

“No more dates for you. ” he whispers, and Johnny flinches when he feels the heat of their mouth hovering over his. “I’ll keep making sure of it. And since you *don’t* want blood on your hands, you should probably just give up because next time, I’ll stab them when you’re still there.”

It clicks in his head like a phone getting hung up: All the failed dates, they’re dead. All because of him. All because this man is… is what? Obsessed with him?

He kisses Johnny out of no where and it’s eager, rough like he had been waiting forever. Like he’s trying to eat Johnny like a blood-glazed cake lips first and he just lays there and takes it. Opens his mouth and tastes his tongue: iron and mint. Something interesting.

He turns his head abruptly, hand still covering his eyes firmly, and the kiss breaks with a wet noise that has Johnny’s feeling warm. He breathes through his nose, tears welling at the corner of his eyes. He’s striking first and Johnny hasn’t struck him once

“Aw. I’m disappointed you’re done so soon, but that’s okay. I’m not pushy. I wasn’t even sure you’d let me…You chew on things so much, you have no idea the things I think about you.“

A rustle, then the moonlight filling Johnny’s vision again.

The murderer gets up and saunters to his bedroom door, looking back at him with his hand on the knob

Johnny sits up his elbows, licking the roof of his mouth to savor.

“One day, I won’t have to make calls, ‘cause you are instead,” he tells Johnny like a promise before he opens the doors with a creak and steps out.

Johnny lays back again, shaking with it all. No want in him to close his window or see if the boy is burglarizing the mansion or just going out the front door like he owns the place.

He might ask someone out tomorrow.

[gabriel-xander]

Don't Forget

[Sans x Female!Reader]

27: DJ KHALED!!!! (Another One)

♪────✿⁠(⁠✧◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕✧⁠)✿⁠────♪

You unlock the door to Sans’ workshop, and you are pleasantly surprised that it actually worked. He did say it was the key, but still. Maybe you have unresolved trust issues? Ah, but that’s a problem for a future you to worry about.

Sans is already inside, sitting in the pink beanbag while lazily writing some things down in that journal of his. That reminds you, you didn’t actually get to read anything from it yesterday night since you were too preoccupied with something else.

He doesn’t look up when you enter, though you notice him tensing up and faltering with his writing for a moment. You make sure to lock the door behind yourself, smiling awkwardly at him.

“Hey there, bone boy,” You toss the key in your hand, “Did you want this back now?”

Sans raises a bone brow and finally looks up at you, “huh? no, i… i made a spare for you. that’s yours if you want it.”

“Really?”

“figured i can… i trust you enough for you to have it. ‘sides, if we ever need to talk about serious stuff or whatever, we can just do it here now. don’t gotta worry about undyne finding you and thrashing your ass.”

You hum softly while making your way to the other beanbag. “Aw, that’s a shame. I really liked that place in the Waterfalls.”

“oh, uh…” His cheeks flush a very soft pink, barely noticeable were it not for you looking at him so intensely, “then… i guess we can do that. and–you can use this place for anything else, you know? if you just want to chill… by yourself or together. it’s whatever.”

God, he’s so awkward sometimes. You’d think he’d be better at this stuff, but no he’s just as emotionally constipated as every other man you’ve ever spoken to.

“anyway,” The Comic snaps his book shut, “you’re back early, huh?”

“Yeahhh, Pollux noticed I wasn’t all there and basically told me to leave to focus on myself. Seriously, I think you’d like him, he’s really nice! You should come with us tomorrow night and get to know him.”

Sans grimaces at the suggestion, “i think i’m good. one of us gotta be the actual loner.”

“And you’re up awfully early. Papyrus was sure you’re snoozing away right now.”

“heh, can’t blame a guy for getting excited about his old toy working again. but hey, you okay? you said you weren’t all there.”

“Mhm, I guess I was just anxious thinking about that Gaster thing from last night. I couldn’t focus on anything else,” You tell him honestly.

“great, ‘cause that’s what i wanted to talk to you about.”

With a sigh as if it causing him great inconvenience, Sans gets up from the beanbag to get closer to the machine. It was still on, but the screen was showcasing something different that you weren’t sure how to describe. You might be a smart cookie, but you’re not Sans smart, and you’re certainly not smart enough to understand the things he specializes in.

“i was messing around with it this morning–a little after you went to work. pretty cool, right? look at me go, being productive and all that.”

“Wow.”

“anyway, i realized that it’s not… 100% working just yet,” He leans an arm on the console of the machine, looking at it longingly like it’s an old friend, “i still need to do some fixing up on my part. on the bright side, it really shouldn’t take too long to get it to proper working order. i’m pretty sure gaster did most of the work, the rest of it is pretty superficial.”

You nod along to his words, not really getting the deeper meaning behind them but hoping he feels heard anyway. No, actually you can comprehend enough that it’s not fully working, but that’s about it.

“That’s great, right? That means you can boogie and do your thing soon.”

“half right. based on the set number of coincidences, and perfect alignments that involve you, i think it’s clear that both you and myself are supposed to use it together.”

“Ahh, okay. So, we’re gonna get roped up in some wacky adventures!” You stand up and put your hands on your hips, “Quick question, bone boy.”

“‘sup?”

“What exactly does it do? Er–what is it supposed to do?”

“it was a personal passion project of mine before gaster… you know. anyway, i call it the dj.”

“…The DJ.”

His grin turns mischievous and full of schemes: “the dimensional jumper.”

“…Okay, fine. That one was good,” You grin back, “Wait a damn minute. A Dimensional Jumper? This machine…!”

“yeee-up. this bad boy can take us to different alter–or in your words, different au’s and different timelines. once i get it fixed up, you can expect us to visit our first au, so you gotta be ready for that.”

You blink owlishly like a frog, “Are you serious?! Isn’t that a little…”

Isn’t that too fictional and crap? You can come to terms that you’re practically living that fan-fiction life, but going to different Au’s?! Also, is that even safe for you two?! What about the laws of time travel and crap!!

“Wait, why do we have to go there in the first place?” You ask him, because you know, that’s a vital point of this in the first place.

To your horror, Sans just shrugs, “no clue. but…”

Sans has to remove his gloves to use the terminal, stuffing his cute pink gloves in his pockets. Whatever the fuck he types makes the screen change, going back to the previous screen from last night that showed the different AU’s and timelines. The flashing dot was still there, blinking away lazily.

“my theory is that gaster is trying to lead us to somewhere, to this au. i don’t know what what we’re supposed to do or how we’re supposed to do it, but whatever it is we’ll probably figure it out once we’re there.”

You wince, “That sounds really risky. What if it takes us days or weeks to do what we need to do? What are we gonna tell our friends? What about Papyrus?”

“one thing at a time, [y/n], don’t stress it. the dj isn’t even working yet, so let’s worry about all that stuff later,” The skeleton then bumps your arm with his bony hands. “on the plus side, papyrus isn’t completely clueless on this stuff, either. he doesn’t care about all this like i do, but he’s caught up with my space and time shenanigans.”

…Oh yeah. In the Pacifist route, there was a secret you could get about Sans’ room that let you learn about the workshop in the first place. Papyrus saved you from the treadmill saying how Sans liked to prank across space and time.

Cool facts.

“Sounds good but, Sans,” You gesture to the screen, “Which AU is this? I mean, I know about a few of them, but at a very surface level.”

Sans fingers are hard and pointy, and when they press against the buttons it makes a very satisfying clicky-clacky noise.

Nice.

The screen zooms into that enlarged into that particular AU. Folders and folders appear on the screen, and when Sans hovers over one it opens up and even more files jump out of it for you to read. The text was too small for you to really comprehend what you were seeing, but Sans was kind enough to just tell you anyway.

“oh, this one is one of the older au’s. everyone’s personalities and roles gets swapped with each other.”

You widen your eyes and smile big, “Oh, my gosh! Wait, this is UnderSwap!”

“pfft–ah-ha ha ha! wow, you’re also a huge dork too!” He snickers, “of course you’d have a name for the au.”

“Okay, I get it, I get it,” You roll your eyes, “But anywho, the first stop is UnderSwap?”

“yeah, sure. do i gotta tell you the important rules of dj-ing, or do you know the gist of it?”

“Dude, the most I know about anything related to time travel or universe jumping is Back to the Future.”

“…so, no?”

“So, no.”

“hmm.” Sans leans against the machine, careful not to press against any buttons, “it’s not really as complicated as they make it in the movies, i swear. also, this isn’t time traveling per say, so we don’t got as many rules, either.”

You raise an eyebrow and smirk knowingly, “‘Per say,’ but there is a grey area.”

“look at you, einstein,” Sans smiles cheekily while patting your shoulder, “i really don’t think we gotta worry about that now, especially in this au. so we’ll get back to that later.”

“Alright, alright. So, the rules?”

“unless it’s another me, or in this universe, i guess it’d be papyrus, no one can know about the au’s. seriously. don’t tell ‘em where we came from, who we really are, or how we got there.” Sans pauses for a moment, “actually, it’s best if we avoid the other me altogether. if they found out we got our dj working, they might try getting me to do the same to theirs.”

You hiss, “Oooh, and it won’t be that simple…”

“right, cause my guess is, they don’t have a you,” Sans crosses his arms, “i guess… wow, yeah. this is an au…”

“An AU or timeline? I think this is an alternate timeline, no? There’s nothing else that’s different so far, only that I exist.”

“...i think you’re right. this timeline changed irrevocably the moment you were inserted. but the fact that we will be going to the other au’s with you existing, does that not make this a whole new au in itself?’

“Okay, Socrates. Let’s not think too hard about that before we just go in circles or implode,” You pat his back with a sympathetic nod, “Short story long, avoid the “you’s” in the other AU’s and timelines, and just keep our DJ-ing secret in general.”

“yep, yep.”

“But what if we need help? Oh-ho! Or what if the fucking goal of the mission is some metaphorical shit like: ‘friendship was the real treasure the whole time’?”

The monster snorts and shakes his head, “if it really is something corny, then we’ll figure it out once we get there. next rule… hm, never stray too far from me. i get the feeling you’re no push over, but we don’t really want you to have to go too far if you need to protect yourself.”

“Aww, so you’ll be my knight in shiny, tinfoil armor?” You bat your eyelashes dramatically while clasping your hands together by your head, “Oh, Sans. You’re so romantic.”

He shrugs with a blush, going along with it, “i do okay.”

“Next rule?”

“uhh… oh. don’t do anything that would dramatically affect future events of the au or timeline. i feel like that’s a given, but it’s harder than you’d think. after all, take us for example. i know you changed a lot just by showing up.”

You puff out your cheeks, “You’re right, I guess… Man, I didn’t realize-”

“-don’t tell me you’re gonna fall into a self-pity party. come on,” Sans nudges your arm, “it’s not your fault you’re just so cool and amazing, you can’t help but fuck up a timeline just by walking in a room.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…”

Is Sans… Was that Sans’ attempt at flirting?

“Were you just trying to flirt? Was that flirting?”

His face flushes a deeper pink, his eyes avoiding you while his smile wobbles.

“oh, come on. was it that bad?”

You laugh, unable to help your teasing, “It wasn’t baaaad, but I know you can do so much better than that. Put more backbone into it.”

“ouch,” Sans puts a hand to his chest, “i guess i gotta up my game. and here i thought you liked it better when i was fully authentic.”

“Mehh, a little fairy-tale romance is nice,” You playfully shake his shoulder, “Anywayyy, we keep getting off track. Any other rules I should know about DJ-ing?”

“not that i can remember. you make me head empty.”

…Sure, that one was a little better.

“Alright, little buddy.”

“please don’t call me little buddy when i’m trying to flirt with you.”

“How about lil’ bro then?”

“that’s even worse, actually.”

“You never like my ideas.”

“when have i ever-”

“-SANS!”

“oh, my god–what?”

“Focus.”

He sighs in defeat.

“no, i really can’t think of any other rules. but in the meantime, i suggest you start prepping to get ready for an adventure. at this rate, i’d give us…” Sans pulls back his sleeve but the man isn’t even wearing a watch, ”about another two to three weeks before i have this working.”

“Awesome possum, I’ll talk to Grillby and Pollux about giving me a vacation. Eugh, not a good look to ask for vacation days already, but it is what it is. Oh!” You clap your hands together suddenly, making him flinch, “By the way, I wanted to ask about that notebook from yesterday? I never actually got to read it since we got so distracted.”

Again, he blushes and looks away, “yeah, about that. i uh, i changed my mind. i only gave it to you in case i needed to convince you that i wasn’t lying about the timeline and resets and all that.”

“Oh? Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed about it.”

“ah-hem. so, you said before you have two brothers, right?”

What a terrible transition to topics. Still, you’re nice and merciful, so you let it slide. Besides, you love talking about your precious brothers and abuse any opportunity to yapp about them.

“So true, bestie. Let me tell you about the time Alejandro and Noah accidentally stole a couple of penguins from the Zoo.”

“…wait, what?”

Taglist:

@lemonboy011

@adriixboo

@fluffyart5000

@fetusbaconegg

[enter-the-phantom]

Some time ago you asked me about my angel Gabriel and I am here to return the favor, PLEASE tell me about your gabriel when you have a moment 👀

- @starshine-selfships

Can’t believe I am just getting to this, I am the worst.

YES LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MY AWFUL BEAUTIFUL BOY!!

This is my Gabe and he makes me feral and insane. ❤️❤️❤️

How do I begin to describe Gabriel. He’s crazy smart and just plain crazy and a tiny short king who is also terrifyingly strong and powerful. He has no off switch, never shuts up, runs off of sugar and spite, has the world’s cutest dimples and the most beautiful golden eyes and is just annoying and hot and wonderful.

This sexy bastard is one of the most powerful and ancient archangels and was one of the first fallen angels, he left/was kicked out because he refused to join the infighting and corruption in his family. He was tired of watching his siblings tear each other apart so he ran off to take the place of one of the pagan gods (Loki, if you can believe it) and ended up with his powers—sort of a pseudo angel/Trickster God hybrid. He’s a chaotic neutral silly boi who likes to wreak havoc by killing nasty people in creative ways and looks really hot doing it.

In my canon, he’s also my guardian angel and not super happy about it at first but he catches feelings and it’s all very bittersweet bc he knows I love his brother and he wants me and Cas to be happy so he’s willing to step back and let us be together, even though it tears him apart inside. Instead he just follows me around acting vaguely annoying.

In my happy little headspace though we’re madly in love and all over each other constantly and it’s very gross. We are the OG chaos couple, we enable each other’s insanity and annoy everyone but it’s okay bc we love each other so so much ❤️

What’s funny and stupid is that he was a platonic f/o for a long ass time but I was not platonic about him at all and just didn’t realise it and it was cringe and pathetic. We actually meet him before we meet Cas, and from the moment he showed up I was like “that guy.” Don’t learn his name until like season 4 but every time he showed up I’m like “oh my god it’s my fave it’s the trickster he’s back I hope he’s in every episode ever he’s great omg” and then I learned he was an angel and not only that he’s this universe’s Loki and I lost my shit and made him a platonic right then and there but also couldn’t shut up about how cool he was (srsly look at my Gabe tag, it’s pathetic 💔) and eventually had to face facts and felt stupid. Now we kiss a lot.

Anyway he’s hot and stupid and perfect and he can be so charismatic and flirty or so gentle and sweet and he is everything and I love him and I want to cry.

Also here’s a fic about our first meeting if anyone is interested 👉🏻👈🏻

[pleathewrites]

bellow the fire into my deadened lungs

chapter 4 excerpt — aizawa & class 1a on what makes a villain read full story here

‘PRO-HERO ENDEAVOR TURNS HIMSELF IN FOR THE ATTEMPTED MURDER OF HIS ELDEST SON: IS THIS OUR SYMBOL OF PEACE?’ 

An article of Dabi and Endeavor’s arrest gets leaked Wednesday morning. Every station, paper, and social media platform picks at the exposed meat of it like vultures to a fresh carcass, fighting over favored limbs and surprise bites.

Class 1A has never been so loud. There’s chatter everywhere.

“Oh my Gods, did you hear — ”

“ — about Todoroki-san —”

“ — his own father — ”

“ — and can you believe Dabi — ”

“ — that crazy villain is Shou’s — ”

“ — brother! The guy who kidnapped — ”

“ — kugou, hey, Bakugou!”

The gentle hand on his shoulder shakes Bakugou from the one-sided staring contest he was having with, ‘that fucking Half ‘n Half — coward hasn’t looked up from his desk the moment he sat down.’

It’s Kirishima, the boy who rescued him, the boy who doesn’t leave his side, who holds his hand and smiles like Bakugou hung the moon and the stars and everything in between.

The boy Bakugou had unknowingly given strength to when Kirishima needed it the most.

“I’m fine.”

Red eyebrows curve upwards in worry, and, ‘fuck,’ Bakugou hates worrying people, “You sure? It’s ok if you’re not. I don’t think anyone is.”

Kirishima looks at, ‘that fuckin’ Half ‘n Half,’ with those same sympathetic eyes, and Bakugou feels something ugly bubble up inside him. 

He scoffs, “Please, he’s known this entire time — fuck him!” 

Kirishima’s eyes squint, “Why do you think that?” 

“Because, if I knew, then there’s no fucking way he didn’t!”

That gets Todoroki to look up, both eyes blown so wide, Kirishima can see his scar visibly stretch, “You knew?”

Kirishima smiles fondly at the angry blond, “Bakugou’s smart like that. Of course he’d figure it out before any of us.”

And, well, Bakugou was about to run up and punch Todoroki in the face right then, but the way Kirishima is looking at Bakugou roots his feet to the ground he desperately wants to sink into. He breathes in deeply, counts like his therapist taught him, and with his exhale, his pounding heart starts to settle into something that feels more like stability. The only thing he’s got the energy left for is to huff and cross his arms, mumbling a pathetic, “Damn straight,” and leaning into Kirishima’s broad shoulder. 

Ironically, Kirishima’s warmth cools the fire in his chest. 

Todoroki shakes his head in something like disbelief — which, ‘Fuck him, because who is he to not believe me?’ — and asks, “When did you figure it out?” 

Bakugou didn’t notice until now how the whole class had quieted down.

He rolls his eyes, “Like, the minute you told Deku and I about Touya at your family’s sad ass dinner. Between that, Dabi’s deranged speech to me, and spending two minutes with Endeavor, it was pretty fuckin’ obvious.”

“Why didn’t you say anything!” Todoroki looks like his eyes are about to pop out of his head.

And, ‘oh,’ Bakugou rolls his eyes. He is so done with this conversation, “I just said, it was obvious. ”

That gets Todoroki to shut up and slump back into his chair. 

‘Hm. Fine. I guess IcyHot didn’t know. I can still blame him for being an idiot.’

At the back of the class, Sero chews the end of his pencil and wants nothing more than to offer Todoroki a hug, a cigarette, some kind of an out, but he feels as if he’s been taped to his chair by the paralyzing shock of a lost piece shoved into a puzzle he didn’t know until now remained unfinished — ‘everythin’ makes so much sense now.’

A minute later, Aizawa Shouta walks into his classroom, and prepares for the lecture of his life. Quite possibly, his last.

‘Depending on where Principal Nezu’s loyalties lie,’ Shouta thinks to himself, ‘Well, I’ll find out soon enough.’

The students quiet down with his presence, looking more like deers caught in headlights, waiting, waiting for —

“Everyone, take a seat,” He instructs, and as his students do so, he writes the lesson of the day on the board: Why Do Villains Exist?

Before the last squeak of his underline, before he even turns around, a myriad of answers fill the classroom.

“Free will?”

“Greed?”

“The Devil?”

“Shitty families, apparently…” 

Shouta holds up a hand, “I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I was not asking you all, directly. At least, not yet.”

His students sheepishly settle into their seats. A flurry of swished notebooks to clean pages hiss and evaporate into a long beat of silence. 

Shouta takes a deep breath, and a mental note of the way Todoroki Shouto’s shoulders are hitched up to his ears. Shouta cannot imagine what the child is going through. The minute Shouta saw those articles first thing in the morning, he knew his students would have so many questions — and as their teacher, he has a responsibility to answer them the best he can.

He doesn’t know what is going to happen, now that the secret of Todoroki Touya is out, but here, in these four walls of his classroom, he has a control and a capacity to at least prepare his students for the changes to come — the hopeful good and the anticipated bad.

“I understand some, quite frankly, shocking news has come to light. I know you all have many feelings about that news, and probably many questions.

“I was going through your Hero Curriculum over the last few days, and I’ve realized something — our school does not provide one social class. We teach you all how to fight, how to strategize, how to build your image and your portfolio, but we don’t teach you the ways our society functions. The way it was built to function. You learn Quirk history, but you don’t learn about the very social movements that have gotten you, and me, to where we are today. Our society has a twenty percent non-quirk-user population, yet we don’t teach you about their history, psychology, or sociology. 

“We separate the pre-quirk era and the present day, but every study shows that our society functions in the same way, more or less. That’s a bit odd, don’t you think? For our society to be so similar to the pre-quirk era? There’s a saying from that era. ‘Those who refuse to learn history are — ’”

“‘— doomed to repeat it’,” Midoriya finishes. 

Usually, Shouta would reprimand Midoriya for speaking out without being called on, but today, a small smile ticks at his lips. 

“That’s right. Everyone, write that down. I’ll put it on the board.”

He does so while thinking of the frightening duality of identical blue eyes; resolved azure and guilty cerulean. He turns around and spots a yearning cobalt, surrounded by the thick scar tissue of why he’s doing this. His fingers clench around the marker.

“Today, I’m going to throw a lot of information at you guys. And I know when you hear this information, you all will feel many different emotions, as did I. I want you all to know my classroom is a safe space, and there are no wrong feelings. However, I want us all to respect each other to the end,” Shouta looks at both Bakugou and Todoroki when he says, “We are on each other’s team.”

He waits for his students to nod and give him their go-ahead. 

“Now, legally, in my contract, I am not allowed to... theorize to my students — you guys — the relationship between the rise of villainy and a, vastly, failing society. Bit strange, don’t you think? We ask you all, everyday, to risk your lives for this society, but you are not encouraged to learn about it. And I am not allowed to teach you the ways in which this society operates. 

“Well, that doesn’t sit right with me anymore. Today, I am going to risk my job. And in return, I just ask you all to listen with open minds.”

There is a collection of distressed ‘Aizawa-sensei…’s that fill the room. It pulls together the pieces of his broken heart.

Shouta starts to write on the board, “Our society is based in cycles — wealth cycles, abuse cycles, poverty cycles, etcetera. Note, I am talking about the majority, not the single bootstrapping underdog. Now, I am asking you all directly — are people born bad?” 

Bakugou pipes up, “Fuck, no.” 

Shouta witnesses the small uptick of Todoroki’s lips, and nods in approval.

“Correct. Reality is, we look at people who have committed horrible crimes, people like Chisaki Kai. We see a fraction of the pain he inflicted on Eri — and the twisted thing is, he most likely was given the same treatment when he was of that age. Fortunately, with the help of our young heroes, we managed to save Eri from that environment.”

He witnesses the pride in Midoriya’s smile and the dignity in Kirishima’s posture. Shouta prays his lesson will not strip them of it.

He rhetorically asks the class, “But, what would have happened if she wasn’t saved? If she stayed in that environment for another five, ten, maybe fifteen years?” He is answered with blinking, waiting eyes, “Trauma physically changes the brain, especially during your developmental years. Does anyone know when the brain fully develops?”

Kirishima tentatively raises his hand, and Shouta calls on him, “Well, I mean, if we’re considered adults at eighteen, is it because that’s when our brains are fully developed?”

“You bring up an excellent point, Kirishima,” Shouta commends. “Society considers you full, functioning adults when you reach the age of eighteen. However, studies from both pre-quirk and our era state that the brain finishes development as late as age twenty-six, even longer for people with common neurodevelopmental disorders, like ADHD.”

“Wait, shit, I have ADHD — ”

“ — Dude, me too — ”

“— does my sister, that makes so much sense — ”

Shocked murmurs flitter around as Ashido raises up her hand, and cuts through the noise, “Wait, Aizawa-sensei, then why do we use eighteen as the age of being an adult? That’s the age when we’re allowed to make so many life-changing decisions…”

The murmurs stop.

“Why, indeed? You’re asking the right question, and you deserve a truthful answer. Because eighteen is such an important age. It is the age you vote, the age you register to become a Pro-Hero, the age people join our civilian military, the age you are allowed to engage in intimate acts with people older than eighteen… And it is the age you are tried as an adult for any crimes committed.

“Which brings me to my next point — has anyone ever heard of the term, ‘private prisons’?”

To Shouta’s surprise, it is Sero who answers his question, “They’re prisons that’re bought by corporations. Don’t have to follow all the government policies, can make up their own rules and stuff. Profit off the prisoners, too — I read somewhere that it’s compa-comparable? To slave-labor. Is that true?”

Sero Hanta is a student that Shouta would argue is actually immensely intelligent, despite his limited vocabulary. Sero’s file states that he comes from an unremarkable school within one of the lower-income districts, but through the academic year, Shouta has learned that Sero’s knowledge is oddly vast.

Shouta hums in approval, “In a nutshell, that is true.” 

He goes to the board and begins to explain the prison industrial-complex using diagrams and metrics that blew his mind the first time he researched into it.

“ — Various people will argue how private prisons are the solutions to overcrowding in federal prisons, ignoring the root causes of mass incarceration, like what we’ve already discussed — police bias, three-strike policies, harsher sentences for non-violent crimes, politician bribery, and so on.”

Kaminari raises his hand, “Is Tartarus privately owned?”

Shouta feels the grim pull of his expression, “Yes. Any guesses as to who by?”

Bakugou answers, “Probably the HPSC.”

Shouta nods, “Correct,” and writes down a grotesquely large but accurate number on the board, “This is how much the HPSC profits off Tartarus, annually.” 

Amongst the scritch and scratch of his students’ furious note-taking, Yaoyorozu’s hand shoots up, “I have a question about what you said earlier, that perhaps ties into what you’re teaching now. Are you saying any traumas we endure up until age twenty-six will physically change the way our brains develop? And if so, in what ways?”

“Thank you for noticing that connection, Yaoyorozu. That brings us back to my example of Eri, and if she had stayed in that environment, raised by Chisaki Kai. Anger and hurt feeds the soul just as love and affection does, but the needs of that person changes based on what they are given. What if Eri had grown up to be one of the villains you face? Would you still want to save her, or would your first instinct be to lock her away? You wouldn’t know who she is, where she comes from. You’d only know her crimes, but never what brought her to that point.” 

“Sensei... It’s really not fair to use Eri-chan in this example. She’s just a child,” Midoriya defends.

Shouta nods in understanding, “So was every single villain I’ve ever arrested,” His mind goes immediately to that day in the interrogation room with Dabi, the scarred-villain fighting for Himiko Toga’s immunity, the reminder that she is a child before she is a villain.

“But, we can’t excuse villainous actions!” 

“You’re right, Midoriya,” Shouta confirms, “Actions have consequences.”

“So…” It is Tokoyami that speaks up this time, “What’s the solution?” 

Shouta shrugs, “What is the solution? Two-hundred years of hero-society hasn’t figured that out. Two-thousand years of human society never figured out how to stop their own criminals.”

Silence.

Shouta knew it was a shit answer, but, well, he only started this research a few days ago. His conclusion is that the solution will take a collection of heroes to figure out, and it won’t happen in a day, and most devastatingly, not in his lifetime. He believes in planting the seed, though. He believes in his students to water it with the information he’s given today, believes in them to let it soak in the rays of enlightenment he wished he’d bothered to bathe in twenty-odd years ago.

He believes in his students, in this generation, so much more than his own.

“You are here to learn how to be heroes. You’re not here to learn how to fight — yet, somewhere along the lines, we’ve all forgotten what being a hero meant. So,” He writes on the board: What Does it Mean to be a Hero?

“Saving people!” Kaminari.

Obvious, but — “Good,” He wrote it down, “Saving who?” 

“Innocents!” Ida.

“Hm,” This is where Shouta will have to make his poor students think deeper, “Why just the innocent?” 

“Because they don’t deserve to be hurt,” Ida answers.

Shouta nods, “So, when does someone lose their innocence?” 

There’s a moment of thinking before Asui tries, “When they’ve hurt someone who didn’t deserve it?”

‘Deserve’ is the interesting word here.

“Who deserves to be hurt? Is abuse something that is earned? Who gets to make that judgment, and on what basis?”

Uraraka is the brave one to weakly ask, “Police?” 

“Ah,” Shouta almost facepalms, “I realize I never assigned proper reading for this topic, my apologies. Right after class, I will email you all some studies that have mostly been kept underground. Here are only some statistics pulled from those studies. I’ll write them down now.”

‘70% of villains come from abusive homes and below the poverty line.’

‘40% of policemen self-reported to being domestic abusers - how many unreported?’ 

‘80% of sexual-assault offenders are not arrested, despite evidence that murder convictions have been sentenced for less on.’

‘73% of federal prisoners are serving time for non-violent offenses and have no history of violence.’

‘60% of the top fifty heroes have committed criminal acts, yet remain unpunished.’

He waits as his students write down these statistics in their notebooks. He only continues when every single face has looked back up at him.

“Earlier on, I spoke about how people’s needs change, based on what they’re given. It is against the law to steal. However, basic necessities like food, shelter, water, diapers, pads and tampons are not free. Everyone needs to work in order to make money, yet our society’s job markets are often closed or extremely restricted to convicted felons, equally for both violent and non-violent offenders. 

“The law makes no difference between someone shoplifting a luxury handbag, and shoplifting a sandwich. So, what our current justice system is essentially telling our society is that people should starve, because of pre-defined morality. That people should let themselves descend to slow death, because that is what our society has deemed is ‘right’. 

“I am not trying to make you all feel shame for the way our society works. You’re just kids. You are all incredibly gifted, and incredibly privileged, kids. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. To pick yourself up from your bootstraps, you first need to have a sturdy pair of strong leather boots. Many are born without.

“Everyone wants to be a hero to ‘stop villains’. What I want you all to think about is prevention. How can our society lower these numbers? How can we stop a crime before it’s committed, rather than immediately punish someone once that crime is committed? How can we help reintegrating convicted felons into our society, so that they don’t end up in these prisons a second, and a third time? 

“And I want you all to also question — who actually benefits from a criminal being punished? Our society, our governments, or our heroes?”

His students look conflicted. Worried, sad, betrayed, afraid and confused. 

Shouta looks at the clock and realizes he’s almost out of time.

He puts the marker down, “I want you all to do the reading I’ve emailed you, and write a one-page reflection on how you would like to be a part of villain prevention once you debut as a Pro-Hero. No goals are too big or too small. I encourage you all to use your imagination, use your empathy, and use the information you’ve learned from me, and your classmates. Does that sound alright?”

His students slowly nod.

“Alright. Thank you all for listening. My door is always open if you have questions or just generally want to talk. Class dismissed.”

read full story here

my other works

[quodekash]

IM BACK WITH MORE MSP INCORRECT QUOTES BUT THIS TIME THEY’RE (mostly) SHIPPING QUOTES BC I SAID SO 

(also it’s mostly soundwin bc theyve taken over but there’s also tiwpor and tinngun and like one yonook quote lol) 

Win: Hey, are you okay?  Sound: Yeah.  Win: You don’t look okay...  Sound: Then stop looking. 

—- —-

Win: You know, when I first met you I thought you were a real bitch. Sound: What changed your mind? Win: Oh, I still think you're a bitch. I've just grown to like that about you.

—- —-

Sound: You know, when I first met you I thought you were a real bitch. Win: What changed your mind? Sound: Oh, I still think you're a bitch. I've just grown to like that about you.

—-(this quote works both ways lmao)—-

Gun: Can I have a private talk with you? Pat: Okay, as long as it’s not about tampons because I just don’t understand them.

—- —-

Sound: Hey, Gun? Can I get some dating advice? Gun: Just because I'm with Tinn doesn't mean I know how I did it.

—- —-

Tiw: So… I’ve seen you’ve been spending a lot of time with Gun recently. Tinn: No, Tiw, it's not what it looks like, I swear. Tiw: Oh really? So no reason for me to be jealous? Tinn: No! You’re the only one for me. Tiw: Is that so? Tinn: I promise! Gun and I are just dating, okay? He's my boyfriend. Tiw: So there are no best-friends-feelings involved? Tinn: You are still my one and only best friend! They’re just the love of my life, nothing more! Tiw: But I’m still the platonic love of your life, right? Tinn: Of course bro! Tiw: Bro... Gun: What the-

—- —-

Sound: H-how do you ask someone out? Por: Well, first- Tiw: Don't ask him, he asked me out in a McDonalds parking lot. Sound: ...And you said yes?

—- —-

Sound: I still have no idea how I’m attracted to you… Win: Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me, and no take backs, honey.

—- —-

Yo, sweating: Nook, there’s something I need to ask you- Nook: Finally! You’re proposing! Yo: How’d you know? Nook: Yo, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner. Nook: I even picked it up once.

—- —-

Tiw: Hey Win, wanna third wheel on my date with Por tomorrow? Win: Sure. Tiw: Sound! Wanna third wheel on my date with Por tomorrow? Tiw: Great! I've always wanted to go on a double date! Win & Sound: … Por: Tiw...

—-(the only reason any of them get anything done is bc of tiw)—-

Sound: You have to apologize to them Win. Win: Fine! But I must warn you that this might make me a better, nicer person and that is NOT the person you fell in love with!

—-(PLEASE let this be how the fight happens)—-

Por: Guys, I’ve been meaning to tell you… Tiw and I are dating. Tiw, Gun, Yo, Win, Pat, and Sound: *gasp* Por: Tiw, why are you surprised?!

—- —-

Tinn: Gun is playing hard to get. Tinn: Little does he know, I'm a master at playing hard to get rid of.

—- —-

Tinn: I’ve been dropping him the most insanely obvious hints for like a year now. No response. Gun: Wow. He sounds stupid. Tinn: But he’s not. He’s really smart actually. Just dense. Gun: Maybe you need to be more obvious? Like, I don’t know… “Hey! I love you!” Tinn: I guess you’re right. Hey Gun, I love you. Gun: See! Just say that! Tinn: Holy fucking shit. Gun: If that flies over his head then, sorry Tinn, but he's too dumb for you. Tinn: Gun.

 —-(this is literally how episode 6 went)—-

Tiw: Ooh, somebody has a crush Win: Pfft, I don’t have a crush on Sound I just think he’s cool, it’s not like I stay up at night thinking about him. *Later that night* Win, very much awake: Uh oh.

—- —-

Gun: *yawns* Tinn: Yeah, being that pretty must be tiring. Gun: Then you must be exhuasted. Pat: Will you two shut up? Some of us are lonely.

—- —-

*playing twister* Tiw: Right hand red. Sound: *ends up on top of Win* Win: You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? Tiw: I stopped spinning like 15 minutes ago. Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't notice.

—- —-

Yo: Why doesn’t Nook find me sexy when I bite my lip? Por: What do you look like when you bite your lip? Yo: *bites lip* Por: ...Have you considered biting your bottom lip instead?

—- —-

Sound: My hands are cold. Win: Here, let me hold them. Sound: My lips are cold too. Win: *covers Sound's mouth with his hand*

—- —-

Win: I owe you one. Sound: That’s ok. You can just date me and we’ll call it even.

—- —-

Tiw: My future partner must be brave, strong, intelligent, successful and organized. Por: *steps on a caterpillar and proceeds to drop to their knees and sob while apologizing profusely* Tiw: That one. I want that one.

—- —-

Sound: The stars are so beautiful... Win: They're just giant balls of gas. Sound: You know what, if you're just going to ruin this, then- Win: And yet none of them are as huge as my love for you. Sound: Oh...

—-(IM CRYING PLS LET THIS BE HOW THE REVEAL OF WIN’S FEELINGS HAPPENS (like sound attempting to flirt with win and win cutting him off with his own cheesy confession line and djfdjjfdjdfj))—-

Win, throwing his head into Sound's lap: Tell me I'm pretty! Sound, lovingly stroking his hair: You're pretty fucking annoying, that's what you are.

—- —-

Win: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine. Sound: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again. Win: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns?? Sound: Is it working?

—- —-

Win: You are the love of my life and I would do anything within reason to make you happy. Sound: I would be happy if you ate, stayed hydrated and got a reasonable amount of sleep. Win: I said within reason, Sound. How about I murder that guy? Sound: So murder is in reason but proper self care isn't? Win: Well, duh. What kind of question is that?

—- —-

Sound: Are we fighting or flirting? Win: I'm pinning you against a wall with my hand around your neck- Sound: Your point?

—- —-

Sound: I love you. Win, not paying attention: What was that? Sound: I said I’m selling you to the zOo-

—- —- 

conclusion: i love soundwin way too much and need to get a grip on myself like a grip as strong as the grip sound and win had on each others shirts at the end of episode 9 im so sorry ill stop now 

[chaiisms]

NERDY PRUDES MUST DIE PROMPT LIST - PART 2.

prompts taken directly from the transcript of the musical - please go support starkid and their work! this list covers the library scene to the dinner scene with the chastitys and includes "cool as i think i am".

THE LIBRARY.

" Let's make like Newton, and get this physics project in motion! "

" I got it on good authority that I’m actually… pretty funny. "

" Funny looking, maybe. "

" I’m trying out a new look, okay? "

" Who are you trying to impress? "

" I was wondering if you coud meet me here and help me study? "

" What’s the matter with you guys?! You just told me not to get my hopes up. "

" Look, I’d ask one of my friends, but I’m actually the smart one in the group, if you can believe that… "

" Well, could you ditch those nerds and help me out? "

" They don’t call it a “cram-session” for nothing! "

" You’re telling me I gotta be funny again?! I didn’t do it on purpose the first time! "

" You've been given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, "

" Someone’s willing to tolerate your presence for a whole evening. This may never happen again! "

COOL AS I THINK I AM.

" I bet you’d call this luck, "

" Well, that's your perspective, "

" It's as cool as I think I am, "

" What if all my thoughts were were stronger? "

" What if my beliefs were taller? "

" Why did she pick me? "

" I hope I don't know the answer. "

" Then again I'm deranged! "

" But what if I was wrong? "

" It's only in my head, "

" What if people see me as someone other than who I am? "

" If I can finally be cool I'll know that I'm not a loser. "

PARKING LOT OF PASQUALLI'S.

" Ooooh shut up!! "

" You think you're better than me cause you come from money? "

" Look, I know what you want me to do. "

" You want me to grovel. Run, so you can chase, "

" We’ve been doing this song and dance since the fourth grade. "

" Well... I'm sick of your shit. "

" Well Shit. If she’s cool with kid, then maybe I’m cool with him too… "

" I don't seem scary to you? "

" How does that feel? Does it feel like I lost my power? "

" I willed it into existence. "

" I bring order to [location]. Light to darkness. "

" I’m your God. Now on your knees, bitch. "

" It's time to say your fuckin' prayers! "

DINNER WITH THE CHASTITYS.

" I’m afraid I’m going to have to cast a longer rod, "

" It’s haunted. Everyone says so. "

" You will not believe what that [name] said to me today. "

" I wasn’t much older than him when I started carrying your books, "

" Me and [name]? In carnal embrace? That’s ridiculous. "

" Oh criminy! "

" What are you doing in my bathroom of all places!? "

" I couldn’t stay away. I’m hungry. "

" This is wrong. This is so wrong. "

" Everyone’s got their secrets and this is mine. "

[temunitu]

John Bishop, 2012 Irma, Rise Karai, 1987 Donatello

ooh, a bunch!

John Bishop (i assume you mean 2003?)

First impression: woag. cool government guy :] tryna slice my boi D:

Impression now: oh my god holy shit. he’s the coolest guy ever and the most intimidating (sorry shredder)

Favorite moment: uhhh the train one. y’know. or like the battle over splinter. just. wow. love that guy. y’know what i don’t HAVE a favorite moment all of his moments are good

Idea for a story: hhhhhhngf i would like to know more about his past so. i’d probably do that. OR i would do the concept of the canceled FF episode where he teams up with turtle titan. if done right, their dynamic would be hilarious

Unpopular opinion: i have mixed feelings on his redemption. on the one hand, it feels natural for him to become President, but on the other hand, i don’t really like it how one of the coolest villains got redeemed??? he seems so set in his ways and i get that it’s possible he’d have a change of heart, but it would have to be BIG and i don’t really feel like it was in FF, y’know?

Favorite relationship: he’s kinda a lone wolf so there’s not many options…? the gay little look he and stockman give each other in fast forward was GREAT though

Favorite headcanon: body horror body horror body horror boDY HORROR. i mean it’s canon but it’s so good

-

2012 Irma

First impression: oh cool! another iteration of irma!! :] (please don’t be a love interest, please don’t be a love interest…)

Impression now: fine, i guess? good that she’s not a love interest. the utrom council take was new, which was kinda a cool concept.

Favorite moment: probably the reveal for kraang subprime. i love his VA and the panic of Irma’s head swiveling was funny.

Idea for a story: human irma moves to town. shenanigans ensue

Unpopular opinion: i liked evil irma more than “rook” or whatever the utrom council’s codename/rank was.

Favorite relationship: there’s not really many options... it was nice for april to have a normal friend for once i guess

Favorite headcanon: what. what headcanons? does anyone have any???

-

Rise Karai

First impression: whoa!! could it be???????? my queen my darling the light of my life?????? IT IS :D

Impression now:

Favorite moment: ALL OF THEM SHUT UP but especially when mikey gives her the drawing 🥹

Idea for a story: i need to be honest. i had an idea for a story BEFORE we knew about karai in rise - i made a version of her that was heavily based off 2003 karai. except she was part of a prophesy and said to wield the armor. this was back when season one hadn’t even completely aired. ANYWAY now i would do just about anything to get the canceled episodes we were PROMISED BY NICKELODEON of the boys bonding with gam-gam karai

Unpopular opinion: my only complaint is that we didn’t see more of her. i know that’s not unpopular but it’s all i’ve got

Favorite relationship: hm…

Favorite headcanon: i think she should slay at air hockey idc if she was trapped for years she’s just that good

-

1987 Donatello

First impression: haha NERD

Impression now: oh wait he’s. Unhinged

Favorite moment: in the ninja sword of nowhere, they’re in battle with shredder and donnie tries to bat a watermelon at shredder with his bo. he just ends up covered in watermelon bits fjsjfhs why did he think that would woRK (maybe not my fav moment but it’s the first that comes to mind that sticks out)

Idea for a story: heard a tidbit from the show where donatello has a monologue about how they’re “outcasts from society” so i’d either do an angsty thing like that OR put that kid in the theatre he was killing it with the drama

Unpopular opinion: 87 in general gets a lot of complaints cuz people don’t wanna sit through 10 seasons (which tbf i’m still tryna get through) but like. it’s SO entertaining. i am a little disappointed that turtles forever took the route of making fun of 87 :/ donatello is no less smart just cuz his world’s logic is cheesier than other iterations

Favorite relationship: donnie and raph in 87 are like. so fun together

Favorite headcanon: i’m not well versed in the 87 side of the tmnt fandom but i think donatello is a theatre kid and no one can tel lie otherwise. put him in a lil costume and send him out on stage ok he has a LOT of pent-up drama and sass

[stargazer-sims]

Celebrity Crush

Haru: Mmm… look at you, baby. The Watcher must’ve put every ounce of artistry she has into creating you. I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful in my entire life, and you’re super talented and even sort of famous. But, would you take a second glance at me? Like, would I even be in your league?

Taiji: What’s up with you, Haru?

Haru: Hmm…?

Taiji: I just said your name like four times.

Haru: Oh. Sorry. I was distracted.

Taiji: I can tell. You’re staring at your computer like you want to make love to it. What’s that all about?

Haru: I think I just met my new boyfriend. Well… not ‘met’ exactly, but I’m stalking all his social media accounts, so I feel like I’m getting to know him a little.

Taiji: Yeah… that’s not creepy at all.

Haru: What? The internet is a public place. I can follow whoever I want and look at their pictures.

Taiji: Shopping centers and train stations are public places too, but you wouldn’t stalk anyone there, would you?

Haru: That’s different. That actually would be creepy. Anyway, I’m not just following him on his socials. I sent him a message on Simstagram.

Taiji: Did you? Was it appropriate?

Haru: Of course it was, and I used my best English.

Taiji: You are aware your English sucks, right?

Haru: I know, but I didn’t know if he’d understand if I wrote it in Japanese. I mean, his socials are mostly in English or Korean, so…

Taiji: Okay. Fair enough.

Haru: He already replied, and his English is so good. Like, I feel dumb and ugly in comparison to him, ‘cause he’s so smart and beautiful and delicate and… ahh! He’s perfect.

Taiji: Are you looking at his Simstagram now? Let me see.

Haru: Just look at this sweet, sexy baby.

Taiji: That’s a guy? Looks like a woman to me.

Haru: He does not look like a woman! Here, look at this picture. Does this not scream ‘sex appeal’? Look at what he’s wearing.

Taiji: is he figure skating? Weird.

Haru: it’s not weird. He’s won medals at world-class events. Okay, here’s another picture where you can see his angelic little face. My heart… I can’t handle the exquisiteness.

Taiji: Wait… I think I’ve seen him before. Isn’t that one of the people from our new hair and makeup guy’s portfolio?

Haru: Yeah. It’s his brother, actually. Remember, Charlie told us that?

Taiji: I guess I wasn’t paying attention.

Haru: His name is Eden. Isn’t that totally fitting? I looked it up, and it means ‘paradise’ and ‘a state of perfect happiness’.

Taiji: Uh… cool?

Haru: You could try to show at least a little enthusiasm. I mean, I get that you’re not into boys, but you know I’m into sexy people of pretty much any gender, so like, maybe make an effort to support my interests?

Taiji: Which are, specifically?

Haru: Um… wild sex, mostly. But, I think maybe I could have something more with this one. I could get to know him and like, actually be his boyfriend and not just his boy toy.

Taiji: You know what they say. It’s good to have goals.

Haru: I have to meet him, Taiji. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and I feel like I might lose my mind if I don’t get to see him in person.

Taiji: I think you’ve already lost your mind.

Haru: Shut up! This is serious.

Taiji: So, when Charlie officially starts working with the stylist team, why don’t you ask him to introduce you? Or maybe just ask what’s-his-name directly, since you’re apparently already messaging each other on Simstagram.

Haru: It’s Eden. His name is Eden. You think he’d want to meet me? I mean, he’s kind of a celebrity.

Taiji: Seriously, Haru? Are you even listening to yourself right now? You are a freakin’ celebrity, dude. This guy’s practically nobody.

Haru: That’s not true! He’s a world famous athlete, and he’s definitely somebody.

Taiji: Okay, whatever.

Haru: *dramatic* I’ll find a way to meet him and win his heart somehow.

Taiji: Good luck with that.

Haru: You don’t care about my fragile heart, do you? Ugh… you’re so mean.

Taiji: Does that mean I’m not invited to the wedding?

Haru: You’re definitely not invited. Only people who respect our love will be invited to our wedding.

Taiji: Here’s a thought. How about you meet him first. If it does turn into something and you actually do get married some day, you can think about my extremely logical suggestion of asking Charlie to introduce you. Maybe then you’ll change your mind about whether I should be invited or not.

[d0ntw0rrybehappy]

journallllll 5/21

now that i’m moving out it’s gonna be harder to see my mom cause i’m further away and she’s gonna be sooo sad. i worry about my mom bc inside she is the world’s most lovable sweetest well-meaning person but she has less self-awareness/emotional control than most people so people judge her rly hard. i always want to be like guys just roll your eyes and let it go and let her know she is loved, she just has some weird kind of like, specific mom dementia/brain glitch, and deep down you KNOW this so lay off. there are so few people my mom lets in or will actually listen to. she was this kid runaway who built a life for herself in the art world copping designer clothes and flying to paree like a fucking pirate and then she had me instead of getting married and i’m one of the like MAYBE 3 people she actually likes. lol. nails & teeth metaphor “you’re the only one she’ll listen to” or “you’re the only one who can talk to her.” i miss her friend jaime who was an indubitably brilliant depressive semitic russian translator who never once judged my mom and they had this kind of relationship where they’d lie feet-to-head on a couch and just chat chat chat. she was my favorite of my mom’s friends. she died from cancer and self-neglect basically. bullshit. shauna’s friend alex reminded me of her the last night and i was like ugh i miss jaime. i wish my mom still had jaime!!! what am i gonna do? i have to have my own life but i have to protect my mom. stupid WASPs be like “you can’t take on your moms problems” shut the fuck up WASP you don’t know shit. other kids be rolling their moms around in wheel chairs and don’t complain you piece of individualist propaganda. nails & teeth metaphor the ignominious but resolute fighter (the progeny) lol.

so anyway this isn’t a post about my mom this is a post about henry cuz then i remembered henry lives on the west side like my mom. henry whom i’ve been on two dates with and have a major crush on. not a normal crush, a “oh you’re about to buy a horse son” level crush. and i imagined when i come to the west side, henry joining me for dinner on the days i visit my mom. not because that sounded like oh so much fun to him but because it was a way for us to spend time together. there are ppl who are married who do that kind of stuff for each other. it made me want to cry bc that would mean so much to me. this is fantasy henry not real henry but probably he would. i’ve only been on two dates with him and everyone is like avaaaaa don’t have too many expectations and like I KNOW i know i’m in it like ?? what’s the phrase? in it like jarvin? lol. besides if he dumped me i would DESERVE IT!!! i got fuckin’ KARMA to pay baby i broke more than a couple hearts the past couple years THIS IS WHAT THEY FELT LIKE?!? THEY FELT LIKE THIS?!?!?? wow FUCK

um but yeah obviously i would survive and if we break up it’s cause we’re not a match and there’s nothing *wrong* with me, duh, duhhhhh, totally notttttt a completely unhinged and slightly unhygienic individual, plus now i know what to look for - kind!!! stable!!! people!!! people i have a lot in common with!!! smart!!! part of the same world as me!!! people with a vision, a goal, passions!!! who take care of themselves!!! okay there’s gotta be lots of guys like that. so if it’s not henry FINE. but guyssssss guys i could actually see a future with him wtf was i doing before??? wowww i played so many games without realizing. 

anyway so we’ve only been on 2 dates so far but i am fully smitten with him (with spells of crushing doubt) and if one more person tells me to play it cool and not have expectations i WILL bite bc bitch I KNOW can you give me SOME OTHER KIND OF ADVICE PLS i have obviously not TOLD him any of this so stop putting more pressure on me to act or feel a certain way trust me I GET IT. and i think it’s dumb this is the advice given to women anyway.

also i’m going to europe probably for an entire month and as long as i don’t lose my job i’m gonna have a fucking amazing summer. losing job doesn’t seem that plausible, however, terrifying thought, bc i’m on my own now and need the moolah. and was a little uneven the past few months but that’s just a learning lesson ig. plus there’s always more jobs. right??? right. *sailor moon handhold sparkle fx*

ok thanks for being witnesses to my online diary my friends anxietyposting on here actually kind of helps, really excited for the future, it’s amazing that i’m getting these opportunities and the reason i’m so anxious is bc i care and i have something to lose. !