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arjaandsimoni · 2 years ago

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Simoni

Arja had a rough time talking her dad into going to London. Plane flights, especially international, weren’t cheap… but her mother had spoken with Akul about the plan and had a few words of her own with Rajesh and he finally had to admit it was worth the risk.

He wasn’t willing to toss Stephanie to the proverbial wolves by any means, but he had to work within society’s expectations and such, and having one’s home attacked by a mob of sword-wielding Irishmen would probably cause complications, especially when it came to ‘why did a bunch of Irish people come here? Did it have to do with the one person in your house who has pale skin and red hair?’

Stephanie wasn’t even sure she could use the Wulfshead to pull that stunt again. She’d gotten lucky guessing the passphrase that time, but she also remembered Dawn telling her once that the place where the doorknob appears also checks to see if one is on the ‘banned’ list and if they are then they find out why it’s called the ‘Wulfshead’ Club as the door manifest’s a wolf-like muzzle and bites the offending hand off.

Stephanie didn’t THINK busting in unannounced and immediately leaving would do that… but she did like having two hands.

Still, he did admit that after those assassins it may be a good idea to leave the country for a while, and once Iravati explained Stephanie’s idea he… well he expressed concern at how permanent it was, but Iravati pointed out that so was having your head chopped off by an insane Patriarch so, yeah, take the one you could survive.

As the flight neared London Stephanie was showing Arja pictures on her phone. “That’s my brother, Nelen, and his friend Dawn.” she said, showing them the picture Dawn texted her of them with a suspected ghost and actual bank robber sandwiched between them, both of them grinning and Nelen holding a rubber mask in his free hand while Dawn took the selfie and gave the peace sign. “They deal with supernatural threats on a case-by-case deal out of the Wulfshead Club and, well, apparently every so often it actually does turn out to be some guy in a mask and costume. The club apparently has a standing policy, ‘Get Scooby Doo’d’ and you drink free for a week.”

Arja cackled at that, pointing at the robber, “Oh jeez look at his face!” she grinned, the robber sweating and staring towards Dawn, the Cheshire’s glasses and hat gone to reveal she was, basically, a humanoid cat. “He had no idea any of that was real, did he?” she chuckled.

“Nope. Nelen put in an anonymous tip to the cops after they left and apparently he was going to serve ten to twenty for attempted bank robbery, but after shouting about blood magic and teleporting cat people he was declared unfit for trial and is in a mental hospital.” she giggled.

Arja snorted at that, shaking her head, “Jeez, sounds like a fun life…” she nodded, “Why didn’t you tell him about what happened?” she asked.

At this Stephanie hesitated, “He… well… he’s a good brother, but knowing him he’d either make me go back home or insist on staying near me, and with two of us together and Franklin wanting us both gone…” she nodded.

Arja frowned, “I get it… your grandfather wouldn’t just send ONE group of killers after you.” she replied.

“Exactly.” she nodded, “I don’t even wanna tell him or for all I know he’d show up at your doorstep too.” she muttered.

Arja snorted, “Oh no, a strange westerner would appear at my doorstep, how horrible…” she teased.

Stephanie blushed brightly, glancing away, “… sorry… I just…”

Arja nodded, “I get it… everything just fell apart all at once and you panicked.” she sighed, putting her arm around the girl and giving her a hug, “Lets just hope this works…” she nodded as the plane descended.

A quick cab ride into town and they were dropped off outside of Buckingham Palace, a popular tourist destination to say the least. Arja regarded it after paying the cab fare and said, “Think we have time to swipe the crown jewels?” she asked.

Stephanie smirked, smacking her arm, “Pretty sure they’ve got some SERIOUS guards on those, even by our standards.” she nodded, “Besides swiping them would probably get us on Franklin’s radar and I don’t want him to know we’re here.”

“Oh whatever, they were ours first anyways. I’d only be stealing them back.” smirked Arja, following next to Stephanie as they walked towards Big Ben.

As they did her phone suddenly beeped and she pulled it out. “Huh… that’s weird, the map app is open? Must’ve bumped the icon.” she shrugged, slipping it back into her pocket and walking along to a wall. “Okay, Dawn told me once how to do this…” she looked around, then spotted some chalk sitting nearby on what was once payphone post. She picked it up and walked to the wall, then scrawled out a sentence in English on it.

Arja raised her eyebrow, “… ‘Daigon Alley is for Pussies?’” she asked, “Stephanie, please tell me this isn’t just a jo- EEK!” she yelped, letting out a monkey-like screech as the wall suddenly split from top to bottom, then slid open to reveal a tunnel into darkness. “… huh…”

Stephanie shrugged, “Whoever set it up had a sense of humor I guess.” she replied, walking into the tunnel. A few long moments later they emerged, and Arja’s eyebrows went up.

“… I… didn’t expect this from how you described it.” she murmured.

“Yeah, it’s my first time too, but Nelen said that he lived here when he first hid out from Clan Fullmoon and that they had everything there, including what I told you…” she replied, walking along the street.

The Nightside spread out before them, the dark hidden heart of London, and as always it was a twisted and warped version of reality as if it were stretched and distorted in a funhouse mirror.

They walked past a group of zombie girls who were all sharing what at first glance looked like a tub of chicken fingers… except upon closer inspection they weren’t chicken.

Across the street they saw a man in a tattered tailcoat and a worn and beaten top hat slumped against the wall next to a bowl, a staff with a human skull at the top and several colorful feathers hanging from it helping to prop up a sign reading ‘Lost my mojo, please help.’

A woman in a long flowing cape, high heels, and spandex strode past, fingering what looked like a batarang on her belt, and it was only a second glance that told Stephanie that they’d just walked past the Nightside’s personal crimefighting superheroine, Ms. Fate. Apparently, her secret identity was REALLY secret… given that she was, according to Dawn, a male transvestite.

Three pug dogs sat on a porch next to a storefront, smoking from a hookah in turns, one of them sniggering as they walked past.

The stores were every bit as esoteric as always too. A painting gallery sold a selection of prints done by Adolf Hitler from an alternate timeline where he had been accepted into art school, while a restaurant called Ticktacks sold blood in a bag to the local vampire population.

Up the street a busker with eight sets of arms did a REAL one-man band in an impressive feat of fractal ambidexterity, though it was slightly spoiled by the fact that the song he was playing was ‘Uncle Fucker’ from the South Park movie.

And of course, in the sky was a full moon, ten times larger than any you’d ever see on earth, shining down impassively over the chaos.

Arja stared around her as they went, Stephanie rather impressed too, almost to the point that they nearly missed it when they arrived at their destination. It was one of the main draws to the Nightside, and clearly signposted.

Infront of them loomed a massive building, so huge that it almost hurt to look at… like its dimensions were wrong somehow, that it was bigger than it should be.

The Mammon Emporium

The shopping mall to end all shopping malls. A shrine to commerce, commercialism, and capitalism so blatant that not only was it named for the Archduke of Greed himself but he actually attended the grand opening as a guest of honor (reportedly he was very impressed by the canapes they had for the celebration too.)

Stephanie walked in with Arja, walking over to the mall’s map. “Okay… um…” she muttered, then walked around it. The map wasn’t a sign, but rather a huge three-dimensional hologram that seemed to keep shifting… then she saw a spot near it that said ‘place phone here.’ She did so and her iPhone let out a small wail before beeping and saying ‘map daemon installed.’

“… uh…” she looked at the store list, under cosmetic services, then opened the new app and typed in ‘New U Clinic.’

The app flickered, then said “Head three lanes north, then take a right.”

Arja just stared, “Did… did your phone scream when you did that?” she asked.

The app replied, “When you download the map daemon in the Mammon Emporium, we do not mix metaphors. I will be exorcised upon your exit from the mall (all hail Lord Lucifer.)” Then it paused and said, “Ignore that last bit, old habits.”

Stephanie shrugged at her, then they followed the map past several more bizarre shops including a Head Shop that sold actual new heads, a body shop that did repairs for zombies and other creatures whose limbs may not always match the rest of them, an esoteric bookstore with a copy of ‘The King in Yellow’ in the shop window with a large sign reading ‘We accept no responsibility for any despair, depression, suicide, mental illness, or other negative effects caused by reading this book. Customers must sign a waiver absolving us of all liability before purchase AND NO READING IT IN THE STORE! We’re not a bloody library.’

Eventually however they arrived at the clinic which, despite the strangeness of the building, looked like just another dentist’s office save for the pictures on the walls. Stephanie walked up to the desk and put her name down, then shrugged to Arja, “Dawn told me about this place, said that she and Nelen helped some political refugee get here a few years back.” she explained.

Across the way from Arja an attendant called out a name and a wizened old man who had to be at least pushing ninety got up and hobbled into the clinic.

They sat and waited, watching the TV in the waiting room for a bit, which was showing against all the insane logic just old Tom & Jerry reruns. As they did Stephanie did a bit of googling on her phone.

After a bit the clinic door opened and a young girl skipped out wearing a bright gingham dress with her hair in pigtails. Of the old man there was no sign.

Then the receptionist called out, “Stephanie Fullmoon?”

“Right here!” she said, getting up and nodding to Arja, “Shouldn’t be too long I hope…” she nodded, going inside.

Arja hesitated, almost wanting to follow her, but Stephanie shook her head and pointed to the sign. ‘Patients ONLY beyond this point.’

So Arja just huffed and waited… and waited… and waited some more.

Meanwhile, in the Nightside proper

The tunnel entrance cracked open and two figures raced into the madness of the Nightside, looking around frantically. “I don’t see her anywhere! DAMMIT!” cursed Nelen Fullmoon. “Dawn! Go to the rooftops, try to spot her, look for red hair!” he nodded, then he raced off through the crowd.

Back in the Clinic

Finally, Arja got fed up. She was getting worried now, what if Franklin had sent a goon in to watch for her, replaced the doctor, and taken her out while she just sat there!

She growled, getting to her feet, then paused as the door opened.

The girl who came out was wearing Stephanie’s clothes, but her skin was as dark as Arja’s and her hair had gone from red and wavy to black and straight down to her waist. Her build was similar, but her features were of a more Indian cast, but her eyes… most people in India did not have green eyes.

Arja stared, then walked forward, “… Stephanie?” she asked.

The girl blushed, “Not anymore… Grandpa can’t find me if I’m not the girl he’s looking for.” she nodded, “Um… I googled some Hindi names while we were waiting… I mean I don’t think I really look like a ‘Stephanie’ now… how does, um, Simoni sound?” she asked.

Arja blinked, then snorted, “… um…” she giggled, “Going for the ironic definition?” she asked.

“W-what do you mean ‘Ironic?!’ The website said it means ‘beautiful!’” she blushed, looking hurt.

Arja shook her head, “Noooo, ‘Saloni’ means ‘beautiful.’ ‘Simoni’ means ‘obedient or dutiful.’” she grinned back.

The newly remade Stephanie blushed brightly, “… f-fine then! If it means that then it’ll REALLY throw grandad off!” she huffed.

Arja grinned, “Fine fine, Simoni it is… got a surname picked out? Something involving feet?” she teased.

Simoni frowned, “You’re never going to stop teasing me about that are you?” she asked.

“Nope.” grinned Arja.

“Well… I got an idea from when I saw all the vanara that night… why not just use your last name, ‘Barjar?’ I mean your family huge! Would Clan Fullmoon even notice one more kid?”

Arja thought about that, “Hide a leaf in the jungle…” she muttered, then grinned, “Good idea!” she nodded, then walked out of the store after they paid for the service using a credit card her father had given her. “So, now what? This takes care of one problem, but unless ‘Stephanie Fullmoon’ goes home…”

Simoni nodded, “Yeaaaaaah, about that… Dawn said there’s all sorts of shops here, and apparently one of them makes super-convincing body doubles…” she said.

“… um… that sounded a bit ominous.” commented Arja.

Simoni nodded, “Yeah… I know.”

Out in the Nightside proper

Dawn blinked from rooftop to rooftop, scanning the crowds, “Nope… nope… nuh-uh… too old… too many heads…” she hissed angrily, then teleported away again.

Nelen had already checked all the bookstores, clothing outlets, and other places his sister would like that he knew of… sure he didn’t know WHY she was in the Nightside but it was all he had to go on!

Back in the Mammon Emporium

The store that Arja and Simoni arrived at said ‘Fine Fetches’ and under it, the tagline ‘Be You and Your Shadow!’

Arja tilted her head, “… fetch?” she asked.

Simoni shrugged, “Guess the Fair Folk aren’t as big a deal in India. But sometimes faeries will come and abduct humans in the West, and when they do they sometimes leave behind fakes made out of random junk and covered in magic to look human, the better ones are even convinced they ARE human.” she nodded.

Arja looked at her, “Uhhh… they do what with humans?” she asked.

“Oh its fine! The ones in the Nightside are here because they got kicked out of Arcadia!” she replied, walking into the store. “They sell fetches for all sorts of reasons, we’re going to have them base one on how I used to look and send it back to my family to make them think I’ve come home!” she nodded, then stumbled to a halt as her eyes went big.

Seated at the counter, flipping through a magazine with a bored expression, was a small childlike faerie that looked like a young boy in a white teeshirt and slacks, their head seemingly covered in huge cracks and held together by some sort of magic. His eyes were like two jet black marbles.

“… buh…” muttered Simoni, then she cleared her throat and walked up to him, “Um… h-hi… I wanna get a fetch made to look like this girl.” she nodded, taking out her phone and showing it to him, a picture of her former self standing next to her cousin Stephy, grinning with her arm around his shoulder.

The fae scowled, “Something… about her… annoys me greatly…” he frowned, tilting his head as the bits rattled against each other like broken porcelain, “… but… I can’t remember…” he grunted, then shook his head. “Very well…” he nodded, filling out some paperwork on the appearance, noting down any distinguishing features, then walking into the back room.

A moment later there was a loud echoing scream and the smell of burning leaves and fruiting corpses filled the air, and he came out with what appeared to be a rather listless and confused Stephanie Fullmoon! “That… will be… five hundred pounds… or equivalent…” he muttered, “… sorry… head hurts… always hurts…”

She nodded and after they paid she led the fake out into the hallway. “This is freaking creepy…” muttered Arja.

“That’s the Fair Folk in a nutshell.” she replied, snapping her fingers infront of the fetch’s eyes, “Okay, listen up. You’re Stephanie Fullmoon. After Jacob and his men attacked Arja’s father told you that you can’t stay because you’re risking his family’s safety and told you to go back to Kentucky. You’re going to take this plane ticket…” she slipped a ticket they’d bought out of her pocket and handed it over, along with her wallet with her old ID and passport, “… and go to London International, then fly to the United States and go back home. Understand?” she asked.

The fetch’s head bobbed slowly, “… I’m Stephanie Fullmoon…” she murmured in a faraway voice.

“Supposedly they’re a bit loopy when they’re still new.” she whispered to Arja, then turned to her again, “Well, go on then! You’ve got a flight to catch.” she gave the fetch a little push and it stumbled away, blinking sleepily. “We’ll hang out a bit longer, maybe grab dinner or something. I wanna make sure if grandpa has anyone watching the entrances to the Nightside they see ‘me’ leaving alone.” she nodded.

Arja nodded in agreement, still staring a bit at the fake Stephanie as she followed her out of the back to the entrance, the map daemon leading the way.

“Exit in thirty meters… are you sure you wouldn’t like to browse some more?” it asked.

“We’re fine thank you.” replied Simoni.

“Exit in twenty meters… perhaps a lovely pretzel?” it suggested.

“No, I think we're good.” she added.

“Exit in ten meters… I hear the bookstore is having a sale!” said the daemon, a bit of a desperate edge to its voice.

Simoni paused in mid-step, then shook her head, “Tempting, but no.”

“Er… um… er… w-well how about…” it started as they crossed the threshold, and as they did the door buzzed in the exact sound of churchbells, “AAGUUGUHYHHOGHAAAAITBUUUUURNS! IT BUUUUURNS! BY ASMODEUS’ NINTEEN BALLS IT BUUUURNS! THANK YOU FOR SHOPPING AT THE MAAMMOOOOON EMPOOOORiuuuu...” it wailed as the daemon was exorcised from her phone.

They both stared at it, “… I thought he was speaking figuratively…” muttered Simoni.

Outside in the Nightside

Nelen Fullmoon raced through the mad reflection of London, his feet pounding against the pavement as he shoved others aside, the warlock growling under his breath, “Dammit girl answer your bloody text messages!” he snarled.

As Nelen ran along he almost collided with a pair of Indian girls, the warlock stumbling, “SHIT! Sorry, comin’ through!” he shouted, rushing off.

The two watched them go, then Arja paused and said, “Hey… wasn’t that…”

Simoni shook her head, putting a finger to her mouth, then quickly ushered her companion on, glancing over her shoulder as he ran through the Nightside. “Let him go… like I said, he can be a bit… stubborn about stuff.” she nodded, “C’mon. I heard about a good place up the way from here.” she grinned.

The Hawk’s Wind Bar & Grill had sat in the Nightside since the 1960s… sort of. Technically the restaurant was a ghost, haunting it’s own premises. It was so beloved by the people of the Nightside, such a major tourist spot, such a huge hangout for everyone from the average joes to the big power brokers of the time, that it had gained a sort of semi sentience and awareness, becoming an entity in its own right.

It had burned itself down April 10th 1970, in protest to the Beatles breaking up… but the love of everyone in the Nightside anchored it down and there it remained, a fully functioning restaurant to anyone who looked close. Even necromancers, sin-eaters, and others who deal with (or were) dead couldn’t tell.

Simoni walked in with Arja, grinning at the sight. It was hard to stay worried in there. The entire bar was lit with psychedelic lighting, the jukebox playing ‘All the Young Dudes’ by Mott the Hoople, and the place was packed. Thanks to its slightly unstuck in time nature you could see quite the cast on any given night, if you weren’t careful you might bump into yourself trying to skip out on the bill next week or so the rumors went.

“Huh… why is everyone wearing plastic?” asked Arja as a waitress walked by in thigh high Go Go boots and a shiny white dress.

“Dunno, guess it was the fashion in England at the time?” she tried, shrugging, “I heard they do an amazing burger though.” she nodded.

Arja paused, then put her hand on Simoni’s shoulder, “Ummm, Simoni… do you mean a hamburger?” she asked.

Simoni stopped, looking back, “Uh, yeah. Why?” she asked.

Arja sighed, “Simoni… you REALLY need to think about stuff if you wanna convince people you’re Indian.” she smiled, shaking her head, “We don’t eat beef. Its taboo.”

Simoni blinked slowly, “Oh… huh… I guess… yeah I did hear that once… huh, um…” she looked at Arja with a bit of anxiety, come to think of it her meals with the Barjar family had leaned heavy on the veggies. She gave Arja the look of a girl who thought she’d never have a proper hot dog again.

Arja snorted, “Other meats are fine! We had chicken masala last night remember?” she laughed, patting her shoulder.

Simoni let out a sigh of relief, “Right, yeah…” she nodded, then paused, her eyes going huge. “Wait… I can’t have chili anymore?!” she winced. Cincinnati was famous for its chili and before all this Simoni had been a big fan of the Skyline franchise. It was a point of national pride for her home city.

Arja shook her head, “Not as long as you’re trying to fit in back home in Jaipur.” she replied.

Simoni stared at the wall with a deadpan expression, “I’ve made a terrible mistake…” she muttered.

Arja snorted, “Oh stop being so melodramatic! I can see at least five people eating chicken fingers from here.” she grinned, “We still got options. Now lets grab a booth.” she smirked.

London, England

The tunnel opened with a crack and ‘Stephanie Fullmoon’ walked out into the London evening, looking around before heading down the road. She stopped at a main road, hailing a cab and heading to London International. As she went a man who was unobtrusively reading a newspaper nearby watched her go, then took out his phone and texted… ‘SF London 20:00. Cab Northbound. Air?’

Back in the Hawks Wind

Simoni did have to admit that her beef-product-less future looked less bleak with a plate of freshly fried chicken fingers and chips infront of her, along with a large coke.

Arja grinned at her across the table, the monkey girl having her own deep-fried fish. If there was one thing that the British knew how to do, it was just fry the fuck out of everything. She had a coke as well.

“See? Not so bad. We have TONS of chicken recipes. Fish too, and lamb and goat. You’ll live without ever having to even look at another cow… and I’m suuuuure we’ll find a way to balance out the bad karma for a few years’ worth of big macs.” she teased.

Simoni snorted a bit as she took a drink from her soda, coughing and rubbing her nose at that. “Oh jeez am I gonna have to…” she started.

Arja shrugged, “I won’t insist you convert, but I mean you will have to come with me for religious observances to keep up appearances. Besides, some of them are really fun! Holi is a blast, we get to run around throwing powdered paint at each other and make a huge mess.” she grinned widely, taking a sip from her own coke, then coughing a bit. “Woah…” she blinked, looking into the glass.

Simoni giggled a little, “Yeah, Nelen told me about this place. They serve the original stuff here before they ever came up with ‘classic’ or redid it and such. He’s really… loud about how much he prefers this one. Personally I can’t really tell.” she shrugged, having another sip, “It does taste a little different…”

Arja smirked, “A bit yeah, but honestly culture-wise we’re not super different from the West in most ways… except our roads aren’t always marked great. If you hear a motorcycle its best to get the heck out of the way, scooters too.” she nodded.

Simoni blushed, “Well, I mean… I really didn’t even consider it when I ran away from home. Before I got to India I thought everyone wore sarees and stuff there…” she admitted sheepishly.

Arja grinned back, “If it helps, when Dad first took me to America I asked him why everyone was so fat.”

Simoni snorted her drink, giggling frantically as she wiped at her face with a napkin. That was the thing about American Cinema, it really didn’t depict Americans accurately at all. Give Captain America a beer belly and bad knees, there you go.

She coughed a bit, then put her coke down and sighed, “Yeah, just… I’m still scared. I can learn to behave and such, but unless I find some way to learn Hindi like… STUPID fast… I’m going to really stick out.” she frowned, “That or I gotta pretend to be mute…”

Arja raised her eyebrow, “… um. Simoni?” she said.

Simoni looked up, “Yeah?”

Arja grinned, “Tell them the truth, you’re from America. Its not unbelievable that you could have just lived abroad and moved back to India. If they think you have a REASON for not knowing Hindi they’ll just shrug it off.”

Simoni blinked slowly, “… huh, I guess that would work wouldn’t it?” she muttered.

Arja nodded, “You think my people haven’t had to think up excuses for generations for why we all have trapdoors in the roofs of our houses or why monkeys seem to like us so much? C’mon, aren’t you a hunter? Tricking mundanes should be easy for you!” she giggled.

Simoni blushed and smiled a bit, “Yeah, I know… its just…” she sighed and leaned onto the table, her hand resting near the middle. “Its just… scary. This was all on impulse and now I’ve got a whole new body… its like I’m running across a lake on really small stones in the mist. One wrong move and I’m drowning… but I can barely see where the next stone is.”

She looked up as she felt a warm hand take hold of her own. Arja was leaning onto the table as well, smiling at her, “Hey. You’re not gonna have to do it alone. Yeah you were dumb to pull this stunt and yeah you’re lucky my dad didn’t insist you go back home, but whats done is done. You can’t change the past, just try to focus on the future. Right?” she asked, giving her hand a squeeze.

Simoni blushed, “The future…” she nodded, moving her hand so that her fingers slid between Arja’s. The monkey girl glanced down, then back up, but didn’t stop her or try to pull her hand away.

“Yeah. Future. Whatever it holds we’re going to do all we can to make sure you’re safe. Even if this doesn’t work Grandpa Akul was right. You came and helped me fight off that naga assassin without even knowing who I was. You could have run, you could have stayed back, and nobody would have blamed you. You didn’t, and if you had I might have rejoined the cycle.” she nodded, “You protected me, and I’m Hanuman’s heir. If I turned you away, I’d bring shame onto Lord Hanuman’s name. I won’t do that… besides…” she blushed, glancing away.

Simoni looked at her curiously, “… besides?” she asked.

Arja blushed, then grinned a little, “There may also be the teeny tiny detail that I really do rather like you, a lot.” she replied, her cheeks reddening.

Now it was Simoni’s turn to blush, the girl smiling shyly and glancing away as she held Arja’s hand a bit tighter. “Um… w-we should go…” she muttered. "Its late, and the fetch probably made it to the airport by now. But… um… y-yeah… I do… um… you too…” she nodded.

Arja grinned, then stood up with her and paid for their food, the two leaving. “So, um… about that kiss back in Cincinnati though…” she asked, “I checked online, isn’t that illegal in India? Public displays of affection and all?”

Arja shrugged, “Yeah, it is… but one, me and my parents travel a lot so I’ve seen plenty of countries where that wasn’t illegal and, two…” she grinned, then pulled Simoni into a quick one arm hug and kissed her cheek again, “Pretty sure its not illegal in England either.” she grinned.

Simoni didn’t really say much on the way back to the hotel, but Arja did notice it was very windy when they got out of the Nightside.

As they left however a homeless man looked up from his squatting point. He slid a rather battered phone out of his pocket, then texted. ‘AB London, +1. Unknown, Indian. F. Same or close age.’

A Rather Upscale Hotel in London

Simoni flopped onto the bed in the hotel, the girl still a bit blissed out from the kiss, though Arja was beginning to get a bit worried there. Until she gave Simoni’s nose an experimental poke and heard a faint ‘eeeee’ sound, then heard the windows rattle. “Okay, as flattering as this is, snap out of it.” she smirked, reaching down and tickling the girl’s belly with both hands.

Simoni shrieked and flailed, “AAAACK! STOPPIT STOPPIT STOPPIT!” she squealed, squirming back against the head of the bed, blushing. “Jerk… lemme just enjoy that…” she pouted.

Arja smirked back, “Oh c’mon, we can do that whenever we want back at my family’s place. Its only illegal in public.” she teased as Simoni huffed and took out her phone, then looked at the screen.

“Oh, hey, I just realized I never turned messenger notifications back on after I ran away from home…” she said, going into the settings and turning them back on.

A cacophony of message dings came up, about fifty from her mother, a dozen from her brother, and several VERY colorful ones from Dawn…

Arja peeked at the phone over her shoulder, “Wow… that Dawn person sounds really pissed off.”

Slowly, Simoni went back into settings and re-muted her notifications. “… yes, she does.” she replied in a small voice. She did look the part, she was worried that she was doing something really WRONG somehow, but at the same time the alternative was sticking out like a sore thumb in India until her grandfather killed her or going back home and likely getting killed by her grandfather there instead.

This was… unconventional… but if Franklin was looking for Stephanie Fullmoon the safest thing to be was Not Stephanie Fullmoon. She’d blend in and disappear and, maybe eventually, India could become her new home.

#supernatural adventures #modern fantasy #fiction #lgbtq

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akaraboonline · 2 years ago

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Everyone lies on the first date

It takes a lot of energy to date. And a critical one. You go out with someone you met on Tinder who might be catfishing you or is just really obnoxious. Additionally, if you end up falling for someone, they can have the opposite sentiment and bail on you after the first date. People have therefore invented some small, white falsehoods to make themselves look better or to subtly let the other person down in order to get through that first date. 1. Making up information, such as saying someone is the first person you've spoken to on this dating app or that you don't go on many dates. Basically, any phrase that is similar to "I don't do this often." 2. Claiming to have a busy weekend or an early morning. No, you just want to leave so you can do something more enjoyable, like cuddle up with your cat and watch TV. 3. Claiming to be full at a restaurant or placing an order for food you aren't particularly craving. the depressing and meaningless experience of only eating a salad when you're really craving some lobster and tiramisu.

Everyone lies on the first date 4. Making a show of not kissing on the first date. Perhaps you're trying to be sneaky because you like a guy a lot, or perhaps you don't want to kiss him at all. 5. Giving the justification that the train took an extremely long time or that there was a lot of traffic for your delay. Instead, you were deciding whether or not to meet this Tinder man at the pub while shooting a selfie with your roommate. 6. Slightly embellishing your job to make it seem less dull - there's nothing wrong with exaggerating how happy your job makes you. 7. Tell us when and why you split up with your ex. You most likely say it is a year, whether it is a few weeks or a few months. Because you want people to know that you're prepared, but you don't want them to assume you're angry or crazy, so you don't tell them how.

Everyone lies on the first date 8. When he lends you his hoodie or jacket and claims that he is not cold. He's truly shivering, but because he likes you, he's willing to catch a cold in order to keep you warm. 9. How much makeup you applied before that day. Of course it's sexy to make the guy think you just got out of bed looking that way; little did he know you thought about your clothing, hairstyle, and cosmetics for hours. 10. Stalking on social media and online research. You have to pretend to be surprised when they reveal details about their life that you already know are spooky after you had googled them to make sure they weren't a serial killer. Read the full article

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darkdevasofdestruction · 4 years ago

Text

An Angel and A Demon ~ Pyramid Head x Reader

Update 2: My laptop restarted when I was in the middle of writing this, and trust me when I say it, I am positively pissed off, and I want to end my days, that's how bad of a day this was.

And I didn't leave the house.

That says a lot about today...

Update 1: But, without further ado, I was half-way writing this story, and I received this ask, and let me tell you...

helloooo, i absolutely adored the fanfics you wrote about kazan and danny🥺 could i request one where pyramid head is just really whipped for and in love with the survivor! reader but he doesnt know how to announce it to them so he brings her random ,,gifts" in and outside the trials and protecting her bc well, im pretty sure he cant speak so he doesnt really have any other options on how to express his feelings??

I live for it.

Bless you for sending me this, it's the reason I'm still sane right now.

I love you, baby-cakes.

Update 3: I want to kill myself so bad. Just smash my head on a wall until it explodes or sth. I was so happy with how this imagine turned out, only fuck fucking tumblr to just fucking delete EVERYTHING just as I was about to put the last gif and hit POST NOW.

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For the 5th time writing this :

FUCKMEDADDY - but this time - FUCKMYBRAINSOUTPLEASEIWANNADIE

Thanks.

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Hell - What was that place, anyway?

Some would describe it as an infinite ocean of flames and lava, where it's eternally melting-hot, and a bunch of hooved, horned, tailed red demons torture you with acid, with their red pitch forks, or boil you alive in their cauldron for soup. Or maybe you just get tortured by Stalin, who knows?

But never would have anyone thought that 'Hell' could look so...Normal. Well, normal in a very demolished, desolate, ravished way, but still...Normal, by human standards. Albeit, the never-ending loop of madness, anguish, agony and desperation of getting killed in different gruesome ways or fleeing for their lives and feeling a myriad of emotions pumping adrenaline through their veins so badly that their anxiety-meter skyrocketed to abnormal levels.

All this darkness, this hatred, this...Everything...It changed all the survivors. They became selfish, stubborn, rude, some even went as far as to sacrifice their fellow survivors in trials, just so they could survive. It was a complete mayhem that defied all kinds of reason, normality, morality or even ethics. Everyone became devoid of any laws that used to bind them to their humane sides, and now, you weren't sure if the killers were saner than the survivors or not.

But even in this abyss where you couldn't even see your hand in front of your very eyes, there was a little star - A beautiful angel radiating brightness and warmth, someone who was somehow able to guide everyone's straying souls with her benevolence.

In reality, she was merely a survivor, not the little lantern from an angler fish's head, but she treated everyone with such an untainted kindness...It was beautiful, and yet, unrequited for most parts. Everyone was still putting their own lives above all - And who could condemn them? - Perhaps their cowardice, for the girl preferred to save her fellow survivors as much as possible, even if that oftentimes assured her place on the hook, to be a sacrificial lamb for the Entity.

On the other hand, she rarely ended up on the hook - Most killers prefer to kill her themselves, instead of letting her become pray for the horrible Entity who tortured so many of them for refusing to cooperate - The Trapper, Evan MacMillan - He knew the best, with those hooks digging into his flesh, impossible to extract. He was the first to protect this girl. It wasn't much, but if he had to, he'd rather give her a swift, painless death, than seeing her without that serene, angelic smile on her face, as the Entity feeds on the last bits of her soul's beauty, the last parts of her humanity.

The other Killers were confused at the Trapper's actions, but little by little, they began to understand why this girl was so precious and special - And this domino effect hit Rin Yamaoka next, with Y/N stopping in the middle of a chase and taking off her jacket, just as Rin was about to butcher her with her katana, and she smiled, extending it to her. 'You must be cold' she said, realising that the Spirit was merely wearing a few bandages, not even her school uniform, or her kimono.

The ghost girl was shaken up by this, and told the others at the killer camp, but they just shrugged it off - Rin was a little girl who faced close to no kindness, they weren't surprised she was so taken aback by such a feat. That is, until Adiris, in a particularly terrible day, when everyone at the camp was staying away from her, as her profane censer wasn't able to cover the stench of rotting flesh - Y/N came over, taking out a small yet elegant glass bottle with pink liquid on it, spraying some on her - And now, The Plague smelled of roses and vanilla - 'You can come to me for perfume whenever you want, I always carry some with me!' she grinned at the Babylonian High Priestess, before leaving back to the survivor's camp site, leaving the ancient God symbol to stare with her mouth agape at the girl.

These words began to spread, and it was no surprise when the killers saw Susie clinging and begging her Legion friends to spare Y/N, for she was there to hug away her worries more than once, to tell her sweet words, to play with her hair and play the guitar whatever songs she wanted to hear, to get reminded of her home - She was so home sick that she freaked out, but now she was better, thanks to Y/N - 'I know you miss home, but sometimes, home is where your best friends are, and all three of them are here!' she tried to encourage the cute pink-haired girl who could only squeal and hug her new friend.

Even Ghostface wasn't exempt from falling to her charms, and they would often take silly selfies and mess around, making fun of the old horror movie tropes and doing lots of puns and pranks - So much that she even got his trust to be told about the Danny/Jed thing, and how he began his killer profession - 'You're a very talented photographer, Danny! You deserved all that recognition you got, both as a journalist, and as a killer!'

And very soon, Y/N found herself in the crushing arms of an overprotective Anna, humming her mother's lullaby together with walking through the forest, Y/N making flower crows for all the female killers at the camp site, and little by little, she somehow managed to worm her way under everyone's skins.

Y/N was the survivor with the highest survivability percentage, and maybe the Entity sometimes got pissed off, but at least she still got killed sometimes, so who cares? Well, that was soon to change as soon as a new Killer was added to this sick game - Pyramid Head, the terror of Silent Hill, as Cheryl, the new Survivor, called him - or The Executioner, as he was known now. He was ruthless, merciless, grotesque - He had his own criteria of killing, his own moral compass, ethics, conscience and understanding of the concept of life and death. Nothing that could compare to the visions of humans, clearly - Everything was gravitating around Divine Retribution and Justice, but the from the outside, he was nothing but a killing machine.

He would kill everyone and anyone that crosses his path, without fail.

Y/N felt like her fortune ended completely the second she found herself in the new, overly cramped map, with Pyramid Head as the killer - She couldn't help but run around like a spazzic meerkat, trying to find and fix as many generators as possible, without having to get face to face with the walking hazard...

Only to run past a stuck Pyramid Head.

Slowly backtracing her steps, she saw the mountain of a man with his metal pyramid stuck in the frames a low window which he tried to walk over. He was trashing like a raged bull trying to attack a matador, but it was clear he was getting nowhere with this.

"H-Hey, u-uhm...Need some help?" she asked in a soft, careful voice, almost like a meek cat trying to test the waters, but in return, he started groaning even louder from the wrath he wanted to unleash upon the whole world. "Okay, uhm...I think I saw a can of vaseline in one of the chests around. I'll go fetch it and I'll come back for you. Don't move." she said, only to then realise how horrible that sounded, considering the situation, and it only seemed to anger the killer. "...I'm sorry, ignore me, I'm an idiot." she slapped herself pretty harshly before bolting out of there trying to find the chest.

However, Y/N cursed herself for not having perfectly memorised the whole map by heart already, since she found the vaseline can after the 3rd chest, and then, it took quite a while to find the bloody window that got the killer stuck - And by the time she got there, she was dead tired. "Okay, I'm here, I found the vaseline! Let's try to get you out of here." Y/N muttered as she put her feet on the low window pane to get to his level. "If it's not too much trouble, could you please hold onto me? I can't balance myself with both hands occupied, and I'd rather not fall." she explained as she opened the vaseline can, only to shiver as she felt two big, strong hands getting a firm grip on her hips. It was almost...Endearing, were she not too busy trying to get the killer unstuck. She kept massaging the metal edge, trying to push and pull, also praying to whatever deity that existed in her human world that she had her tetanus shot done on time - Until finally, she was able to get hear a loud screech, like a pop, and the killer got unstuck, and in the process, he stumbled backwards, while Y/N fell down on her butt.

"Ouchie..." she muttered, rubbing her back and sides to take away the pain surging through her body. "Are you okay?" she asked, almost intuitively, without realising it at first, until she heart a low grunt that brought her back to reality. "O-Oh...! You have glass shards stuck in your side! And you're bleeding too! Hold up, let me help." she hurried to his side, while the killer merely stiffened, feeling her delicate, slender fingers tracing his body, while he heaved and slouched his shoulders from the repressed wrath. "It may sting a bit, and I'm really sorry, but I promise it will be better soon." her voice was so motherly and warm, which also resonated in her actions, as she gingerly took a water bottle and imbued some tissues with it, to wipe away the blood smearing down his skin as she extracted the glass shards, and then..."This is grandma's marigold ointment. It's really good, and it smells nice." she explained as she carefully smeared a thick layer of the yellow ointment on the biggest wounds, while the little ones were covered by smiley-flower patterned plasters. They were cute, and colourful, and they never failed to make her smile. "Okay, there we go, all better! I hope you'll feel better very soon!" her voice got a tiny bit more cheerful and upbeat.

It made the Killer think about a trillion things, as he stepped in front of her, towering over her like the Empire states building next to a smiling pomeranian. What was with this girl? Why did she help a killer? And why did he feel so...Warm inside? He could sense a foreign kind of luminosity, a naivite and innocence that he only witnessed in children and animals. This woman in front of him was untainted by the darkness and evil of the world.

It didn't matter how many hardships she's been through, or how much sadness she had to endure - Her soul remained as pure as any snowdrop, as the first snow of winter, as the fleece of a baby lamb who let out its first 'meeeeh' to its mamma sheep.

He couldn't allow this human to be maimed in any way - Not by the world, not by the Entity, and certainly not by him. - Screw the Entity, Pyramind Head kills by his own rules, and now, he was blessed to be faced with a human who bore no real hatred for her peers, or for the world, despite the horrible situation she was thrown into.

He didn't understand, obviously, especially as he remembered the myriad of abominations that lurked through Silent Hill, all of them created by the torment of humans - The very torment that distorted their own reality, which resulted in him needing to solve the purpose as The Executioner - Eradicating the world of all evil.

"Th-This sword is so heavy...H-How can you carry this around like that...?! Your muscles must be so strained and sore...Y-You really need a massage, I'm sure." she stuttered as she tried to lift the much taller and heavier sword from the ground, only for the brute to simply bend and pick it up with extreme ease, putting the girl to shame with her complete lack of strength. "Hehe...You're really strong. I'm embarrassed now." she chuckled softly, scratching the back of her neck.

Before she could leave or do anything else, Pyramid Head picked her up by the throat, careful not to hurt her or restrict her air intake - I mean, how else was he supposed to carry her so he wouldn't hurt her with his metal head or sword? - and it was pretty clear she didn't feel any malevolence from him, as she clinged on his forearm, trying to keep herself up, only to be dumped on top of the hatch, as the killer pointed towards it, so she would leave.

"O-Oh...! Thank you so much! You're really kind! I really appreciate this...I-I know it probably doesn't matter much to you, since you'll be doing this over and over again with all the survivors...But I really appreciate you for your kind gesture, and I appreciate you for being so nice with me. Thank you. Take care!" her dazzling smile lit the whole place up, but he couldn't talk, nor could he tell her how he should be the one thanking her for showing him that, despite the hundreds and thousands of years he had to roam the 'Earth' and execute the injust, miracles still existed.

As soon as she reached the survivor's camp, everyone cheered for her, asking how in the world could she have escaped the wrath of the butcher. "Oh, but he wasn't that bad. In fact, he's much more humane than I anticipated! I think he has a beautiful, blooming heart!" okay, she's lost it - the other survivors thought - but even so, she's always been a bit...Out of it, so who cares?

It took quite a while for the other three survivors to reach the camp, all bloody, in fact, like the new killer, who dragged himself with the same menace to the Killers' camp. "How the hell did you manage to survive?!" they yelled at her in utter shock, seeing that she got out of there unscratched. "Oh, you see...I found the hatch." she shrugged simply, not wanting to give away that the person who massacred those three was a soft one and he basically threw her down the hatch to her safety.

As she took a twig to roast a marshmallows, she noticed how Pyramid Head was standing much farther away from the rest of the killers - She knew that silent killers were bound to stay away from the more obnoxious one, remembering how Michael Myers almost killed Ghostface and The Legion at least a dozen times - But this time...He seemed kinda...Lonely? So Y/N took the matters into her own hands, roasted another marshmallow in another twig, and when it was done, she went to the killer's camp, calling out the lonely one's name - She has no idea why, but he actually followed her, pushing her further deep into the forest, until he was sure nobody was going to hear, see or interrupt them...

"Hey. You seemed pretty lonely out there...I thought you could use a friend. Thank you again for what you did at the trial...Here, this is a marshmallow. I don't think you've had many before...Cheryl told me of that horrible place you had to live in...So I hope this will make your day a bit better!" Y/N extended one of her hands towards him, so he could take the marshmallow - And a long, black tongue erupted from underneath the pyramid, snatching away the fluffy marshmallow and gulping it in one go.

What the hell was he turning into?

A towering man built of pure muscle, wrath and divine justice, with a pyramid representing the evil of humanity burdening his body, and a sword taller and heavier than the average human being constantly dragged in one of his hand...He now was a slave to a cute, innocent girl who was putting flower plasters on his minuscule wounds that would heal in a heartbeat regardless - He saved this girl who was now offering his these soft, squishy things that tasted overly sugarly, just like her upbeat and cheerful personality - If he could eat her, he was sure she would taste even sweeter than this - A sickish kind of sweet, that is.

She was indeed a beautiful angel in this tragic hell. But he didn't wait to snatch the second marshmallow either.

"Ah...! You liked it, didn't you? Well...Next time, I promise I'll give you more!" she grinned at him the same way a princess would to her chivalrous knight who saved her. The since he couldn't talk, silence took over them - It wasn't an uncomfortable one, per se, but it made it feel as if the conversation was over. "W-Well...I'll guess I'll see you around! Take care and I hope to see you again soon!" she waved cutely, trying to turn around back to her camp, only to feel a rough hand on her shoulder, turning her around and urging her to stop and wait for him and he went deep into the forest, leaving her alone and undefended by the potential malevolent forces of the forest.

When he returned, however, he stepped right in front of her, creating the perfect shade as he towered over her - Then he kneeled in front of her, so he would reach her eye sight, then he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and put a beautiful pink flower - As pink as the blush that started creeping on her face - He wanted to see her luminous face better, to highlight her dazzling smile and her glimmering eyes as the warm, silver light of the mother moon caressed her face.

Y/N felt her heart picking up the pace - It was beating so much faster than ever before - But this time, it wasn't out of fear or anything negative...It was something good. Something she never felt in her life, especially with her human acquaintances from back home. None was as chivalrous and gentle with her as this butcher of tormented souls - The bringer of justice, the merciless Executioner who was supposed to end the life of every living being that would cross his path.

It was insane how every Yin finds its Yang, even if that comes in the form of a little lamb of a small, frail girl, and a huge abomination of a brute man who knows nothing but death, bloodshed and carnage. It was truly crazy how opposites attract, and here she was, holding the killers large hands and gingerly putting them on her face, leaning into his touch - She felt safer now than ever in her life - Now, in the arms of an ancient killer.

An Angel and A Demon brought together in a perfect union.

As she leaned down, she touched the metal of the pyramid where she anticipated his forehead would be with her own forehead, and closing her eyes, she finally felt herself calming down. There was no need for words, actions spoke louder than anything, and she appreciated it...She appreciated him.

"Thank you." she whispered to him, knowing that yes, even though nobody else would hear it anyway, it was much more intimate than anything she ever experienced.

She was hooked.

Hope you liked my completely shameless pun, I couldn't stop it, especially after the pain I went through trying to write this...3 freaking times.

Yay.

#dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight imagine #dbd #dbd x reader #dbd imagine #silent hill #silent hill x reader #silent hill imagine #pyramid head #pyramid head x reader #pyramid head imagine #red pyramid #red pyramid x reader #red pyramid imagine

1K notes · View notes

lavenderboneswrites · 3 years ago

Note

it’s me, kitty 🥺

👉🏻👈🏻 Shizuo and Izaya having a self care day?

they try face masks, watch movies, do their nails, eat junk food, anything that comes to your mind 🥰

Maybe they even have a bubble bath together 👀👀

I LOVE YOU BB YOURE THE BEST 💖💖💖💖💘💘💘🥰🥰🥰

Of course my beloved got her request in first <3 <3 I hope you enjoy it bb, I tried to fit as much as your fav tropes in as I possibly could. Thank you for always supporting me and letting me share my ideas with you <3 <3

I Feel it Coming

Words: 5352

Rating: Explicit

Tags: smut and fluff, shizaya, established relationship, self-care day, possessive Shizuo, light dom/sub (please check AO3 for a comprehensive list of tags)

AO3

When Shizuo gets home Izaya is nowhere to be seen.

It’s been a long day of chasing down debts and deadbeats. Shizuo sighs as he toes off his shoes at the entrance and loosens the clip on bowtie. Making a trail up the stairs and to his bedroom, Shizuo pulls off his vest off along the way. He takes care to hang it gingerly on the hanger behind the door, certain he can get a few more wears out of this one before it needed washing.

He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows, loosened buttons showing off a white undershirt and the hint of defined pectorals. Most of the lights in the apartment were on, the bedroom lit by low lamplight. Izaya is obviously around, and yet he normally greets Shizuo boisterously; often from his desk because he’s forgotten to stop working.

Shizuo untucks his shirt, slipping out of his pants and letting white fabric slip below his thighs. He’s thinking he needs a shower, or maybe he’ll just fall straight into bed, but he follows the sound of running water to the en suite.

Izaya really has a ridiculous apartment. His bathroom is off his bedroom, and if you pass through it you’ll find yourself in a large walk-in wardrobe. For someone who only wears the same ugly coat everyday Izaya sure has a lot of clothes. Shizuo’s not complaining, when Izaya wears that cream oversized turtleneck it does things to him.

Shizuo follows the rush of water to the bathroom. Steam clouds the air, mixed with a pleasant floral smell. It’s dark in here, the only light an illumination of candles on the basin and other various other spots. Water is filling the bath, a mix of bubbles and rose petals on the surface. Heated tiles warm Shizuo’s feet and he can’t help but feel the tension of the day lifting slightly at the relaxing atmosphere.

Until he almost has a heart attack.

Standing in the entrance to the wardrobe is a man with a white mask over his face.

Shizuo stumbles back, heart racing a million miles an hour as the figure emerges from the dark.

“What the fuck!?”

Shizuo clutches his hand in his shirt as he tries to force his rabbiting heart to calm down.

“You look like a fucking serial killer!”

He’s still trying to calm down from the shock as the masked man attempts a grin.

“Welcome home to you too, Shizu-chan.”

Izaya’s dressed in a maroon bathrobe and on his face is one of those stupid beauty masks he loves so much. Though, the serial killer look is slightly dampened by the fluffy white headband with cat ears Izaya wears to keep his hair back.

Izaya slinks up to him, arms going to wrap around his neck and Shizuo’s hands automatically go to his waist. It’s almost like a pavlovian response at this point.

“I’m not kissing you when you look like this,” Shizuo grumbles out to which Izaya replies with only a chuckle.

It’s disconcerting. The mask has holes for his mouth and eyes, and a slit for his nostrils, but other than that he looks completely macabre.

Shizuo ignores his own words when he allows Izaya to place a small peck on his lips.

“What’s all this?” Shizuo asks, rubbing circles into Izaya’s hips absentmindedly.

“Mm?” Izaya makes his usual noncommittal noise. “I thought Shizu-chan would like some pampering after a long day at work.”

Honestly, that sounds absolutely wonderful to Shizuo right about now. He eyes the bath off, noticing two glasses of lemon and mint infused water on the hob next to it. No doubt one of Izaya’s own ‘self-care’ creations.

Izaya doesn’t do anything without an ulterior motive and a sprinkling of manipulation, Shizuo thinks with his eyes narrowing back to his currently psychotic looking boyfriend.

“What’s the catch?”

“My, my … can’t I just be doing something nice for my boyfriend?”

“No,” Shizuo deadpans back to Izaya’s fake as shit voice.

He attempts to pout, but he can’t move his face muscles well without messing up the mask.

“Boo Shizu-chan, you’re no fun.”

“And you’re a pest,” Shizuo says as Izaya hangs off him like some sort of dramatic leach.

Izaya leans his head back, giving an over top groan as if Shizuo’s inability to react in the way he wants is his greatest annoyance.

“Come on,” Shizuo leans closer, mouth almost touching skin as he whispers low into his ear. “The sooner you tell me what you want the sooner you’ll get it, flea.”

Shizuo can feel the way the body in his arms tenses up momentarily, almost like a shiver going through him from the low tenor of Shizuo’s voice. Really, Izaya was pretty easy to handle once he learnt a few tricks.

One being that he was an incredibly horny fleabag.

Izaya is sliding his hands down Shizuo’s back, sweeping over the curve of his ass as he finds the hem of Shizuo’s shirt. He runs his fingers along the seam before sneaking under white fabric to press at his upper thigh.

“Hmm,” Shizuo pulls back to find copper eyes among a sea of white. Izaya’s hands on his skin are slightly distracting and just a little bit ticklish. “I want Shizuo to do a face-mask with me.”

“And?” Shizuo presses, digging the points of his thumbs into Izaya’s hips lightly.

“And have a bubble bath.”

Shizuo just pulls Izaya closer, pressing a swift kiss the crown of his head. “Alright louse, I guess that doesn’t sound so bad.”

Shizuo has a quick rinse off in the shower, afterwards changing into the navy bathrobe Izaya had brought to match his. It feels good to wash away the remnants of a long day, water beating down on his shoulders almost like a massage. Izaya’s shower had out of this world water pressure, honestly Shizuo was in love.

One face-mask later and the bath has finished filling. Steam is coming off the water, and Shizuo knows it’s still way too hot for either of them to get in. Though Izaya will probably try to early like always. He really was like some cold-blooded reptile, always trying to soak up as much heat as possible … usually from Shizuo himself.

Shizuo lets Izaya put his mask on. It was the best choice, considering the wet paper like cloth needed delicate handling and Shizuo would no doubt rip it immediately with his ‘monster’s paws’, as Izaya had said. He made sure to smack at Izaya with his monster paws for that comment.

The mask isn’t horrible. It’s wet and his vision is kind of obscured, and he doesn’t think it fits properly cause one side keeps curling down at his temple. Izaya had given him his own kitty ear headband to hold his fringe back, and the louse pesters him to take a few selfies together. Shizuo can’t help but snort at how ridiculous they look, kind of like a mannequin had a baby with a hockey mask.

They sit on the edge of the bathtub next to each other, sipping their drinks the best they can with the masks in the way. Shizuo eventually gets fed up and rips the sliver of paper between his nostrils and upper lip and Izaya almost chokes on his stupid lemon water laughing.

It’s cute.

It’s nice to just sit and talk, to take stock of each other’s day and catch up. Izaya plays footsies with him the entire time, and at one point Shizuo almost falls backwards into the bath trying to capture the louse’s calf between his feet.

Izaya’s hand is also rubbing once again against his thigh, sliding up under the material of his bathrobe. He massages his fingers into the muscles, pressing with precision into the knots hard enough to make Shizuo groan.

Izaya has a thing for his thighs. Shizuo doesn’t know why, but something about them makes the little pest go feral. They are thick and muscular, almost double the width of Izaya’s own legs and even if Shizuo didn’t see the appeal himself he’s happy to let Izaya have his fun.

Watching Izaya fuck himself against only his bare thigh really was a sight to behold.

After about ten minutes the face masks come off. Shizuo never could keep them on as long as Izaya; after a while it started to get too annoying and almost itchy. Still, Shizuo would be lying if he said it didn’t feel completely satisfying pealing the paper away from his skin.

He scrunches the mask into a ball, using it to rub the excess moisture of his face. Izaya folds his own mask much more neatly, leaning towards the mirror to inspect his skin as he wipes away any remaining excess.

Like every inch of that skin wasn’t flawless to begin with.

Shizuo rubs at his cheek, taking in how soft the mask has left his skin. He wasn’t that into self-care like Izaya was, but even he couldn’t deny these masks were magical.

Better was Izaya skin, which normally soft to the touch, became like silk under Shizuo’s fingertips. He can’t stop himself from reaching out, from cupping the flea’s cheek and rubbing his thumb against ivory skin.

It’s nice to finally see his unobscured face.

“Hey,” Shizuo’s turning that his to meet lips like satin in a soft kiss.

Izaya lets Shizuo set the pace to something slow and unhurried. He parts his mouth, tongue licking at the seam of Izaya’s lips before the other is turning to let him deepen the kiss further.

Shizuo licks into that wicked mouth with a careful consideration, letting Izaya’s taste flood over his tongue. There’s a hand twisting into the back of his hair and another once more kneading the flesh of his thigh.

Shizuo breaks the kiss slowly, dazzlingly eyes of whiskey alight with muted heat blinking softly back up at him.

“I’m home, Izaya.”

Izaya grins at the domestic phrase, rubs his nose against Shizuo’s and the little kiss is so cute that Shizuo can feel the tips of his ears go red.

“Welcome home, Shizu-chan.”

Izaya breath is like a whisper over his lips and Shizuo can’t help but mirror his smirk with a grin of his own.

Shizuo slips into the bath by himself, letting out a groan as the heat immediately relaxes the muscles in his back. It’s still way too hot. So hot that he can’t help but shiver, heat skittering almost painfully over sensitive nerve endings. And yet it feels like heaven, all of the tension flooding out of his body after a long day. He closes his eyes, letting his head lie back on the hob as he just soaks in the moment.

The patter of feet signal Izaya’s return. Shizuo opens one eye to see him standing before him with those same kitty ears and nothing else.

Izaya’s body is stunning. He’s lean and long limbed, but there’s a subtle grace to the way he holds himself. Shizuo always thinks of him as some kind of jungle panther. Light-footed. Slinking around like a predator. His waist is slim, and yet there is slight definition around his muscles, and his ass-, shit, his ass is a gift from God. Chasing the flea all those years had definitely paid off for him; and Shizuo was happy to enjoy the spoils too.

Izaya places a hand to Shizuo’s bicep as he steadies himself and steps into the water. Shizuo’s arm comes up to the small of his back automatically, ready to catch him at the first sign of a slip, but knowing Izaya it wasn’t necessary.

The flea slips into the space between Shizuo’s parted legs and leans back against his muscled chest. He lets out a little sigh as he submerges himself into the water up to his shoulders, obviously enjoying the heat sinking deep into his body just as Shizuo had. The noise is nice, something breathless and almost non-existent, something Shizuo is so attuned to he thinks he can almost hear it in his head rather than any physical sound.

Izaya’s leans his head back against his shoulder and Shizuo can’t help but wrap his arms around his waist, pulling him tighter against his front.

Izaya body fits perfectly against his, and not for the first time Shizuo is certain that flea was made for him.

The candles flicker with steam, and Shizuo thinks he could fall asleep right here and now.

Fwua!

A loud slapping sound breaks through his peace and Shizuo can feel giggles vibrating through Izaya’s back.

Opening his eyes again, Shizuo is met with the sight of Izaya scooping bubbles into his hands. He smacks them together quickly, the bubbles exploding into the air with his delighted giggles.

It’s too fucking cute.

“What are you, four?”

Izaya answers by twisting his neck to look over at Shizuo, a hand of foam raised and Shizuo’s barely has time to raise an eyebrow before bubbles are being blown into his face.

“Oi,” Shizuo hacks a cough, swallowing a great deal more soap than he ever wanted to. His eye twitches at the cheeky look in Izaya’s eyes and his grouchy tone really doesn’t match his own fond smile.

“Do you want me to drown you in this tub?”

Izaya pouts, “Shizu-chan don’t be mean.”

The pout cracks as his lips twitch up at the corners. Water splashes, the flea suddenly turning around fully and scooping up more bubbles.

“Shizu-chan let’s make you a bubble beard.”

“Haaah?”

“Haaah?” Izaya mocks, “come on old man.”

“I’m younger than you,” Shizuo quips back, trying to grab skinny wrists that keep trying to slap foam to his chin.

Wasn’t this supposed to be relaxing!?

Izaya’s attempts don’t ease up and he giggles as a ball of bubbles land delicately on Shizuo’s nose.

He narrows his eyes at his nose, as if the bubbles have personally offended him, and before Izaya can even get a yelp out Shizuo is shoving his head underwater.

Water goes over the sides of the tub and Izaya’s arms splash comically as Shizuo’s entire palm covers the crown of his head. He only gives it a few seconds before he lets up.

Izaya pops back up, hair sopping and stuck to his forehead as his kitty headband hangs pathetically around his neck. He splutters and coughs, attempting to glare at Shizuo as he rubs at his eyes.

Shizuo only gives a cocky raise of one eyebrow, as if to say ‘you started it’.

“Did you just try to drown me?” Izaya asks, his outrage fake as shit.

“You wanna go back under?” Shizuo threatens, but the tone is ruined by his wide smile.

Izaya grins, one shoulder coming up in a half-hearted shrug. He pulls off the headband around his neck, pouting at the state it’s in before flinging it over the side of the tub to the floor.

A glint flashes in Izaya’s eyes. It’s the only warning Shizuo gets before two hands are pressing down onto his head.

Shizuo plants his feet firmly on the bottom of the tub to stop from sliding, and Izaya’s wicked looked turns disappointed as Shizuo doesn’t budge an inch.

“Oi.”

Izaya’s eyes narrow into a look of determination, and he even gets to his knees as he tries to add even more force to Shizuo’s head.

“Why, won’t, you, die?”

Shizuo answers by letting himself suddenly slip under the water. The sudden loss of purchase has Izaya floundering and Shizuo swears he can hear him yelp through water.

Shizuo almost swallows an obscene amount of bath water from laughing before he pops back up. Izaya has slumped atop of him, arms around his neck as he holds his own head above water as if to keep himself from completely submerging.

Shizuo likes that. The way Izaya will always grab onto him, cling to him, whenever he loses his footing.

“Shizu-chan is so mean. Jail for a thousand years!”

Shizuo just chuckles, pushing Izaya’s fringe away from his forehead as he looks at him. He’s doing the face Shizuo loves, the one where his nose scrunches up oh so cutely. Shizuo loves that face, he wants to hoard it all to himself and never let anyone else see it.

If it got out Izaya was this cute Shizuo’s sure he’d have to beat off interested parties with a sick.

Mine.

Shizuo sits himself up, shaking his head like a dog to get the water out of his hair. Izaya squirms in his arms, but he doesn’t let go. Instead he manhandles the flea back into the same position they started in, with his back pressed to Shizuo’s chest, sitting between his legs.

There, Shizuo thinks triumphantly, Izaya’s wriggling getting less and less by the minute. He squeezes his thighs around the flea’s hips, wrapping his legs over the top of Izaya’s until he’s practically in a joint lock.

He’s really no match for Shizuo’s superior strength when it comes down to it. Still, it didn’t stop Izaya from trying to wrestle him daily.

“Have you calmed down you damn water rat?”

“Hmm,” Izaya hums as if he has no idea what Shizuo’s talking about. “Shouldn’t I be a water flea? Shizu-chan don’t you know it’s bad to mix metaphors?”

Shizuo just snorts at such a bratty response.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Izaya relents and relaxes back into his body and Shizuo can’t help but rub his nose against the back of his neck.

“You’re ridiculous,” Shizuo snorts into his skin, and he doesn’t need to see to know that Izaya is smirking.

He lets his lips and hands do the rest of the talking. Soft kisses trailing from Izaya’s neck to his shoulder and back again. He rubs his hands at the flea’s sides, making a path up and down slowly as he maps out every inch of creamy skin.

Izaya makes that soundless noise again, lips parted slightly as closes his eyes, focusing on sensation of Shizuo’s hands and lips on him. Shizuo’s touch is light, almost ticklish as he brushes fingertips across Izaya’s ribs, the water turning his path slick and easy.

Shizuo kisses are barely a press of lips to skin, so soft that it’s only the feel of his breath blowing out that makes Izaya’s skin erupt into goosebumps. Shizuo watches fascinated as that alabaster skin reacts before his very eyes.

Izaya’s got the faintest of freckles splayed across his shoulders, almost impossible to see unless this close. Shizuo loves to pick out each individual mark, a constellation of stars for his mouth to trace and follow. To worship and pay tribute to.

Shizuo rubs his hands from Izaya’s sides down to his hips, thighs, and back up again to his waist. Every time he trails down he moves a little bit further. Inch by torturous inch he teases skin until Izaya starts to squirm a little.

Heh.

Shizuo’s grin is wicked as he presses it under Izaya’s ear. His lips move up to brush against his pulse point and Izaya lifts his chin to allow Shizuo greater access.

Shizuo’s chuckle spills over skin for real and shivers are erupting once more over Izaya’s skin.

“Mmm?” Shizuo whispers a questioning noise, hands dipping past the heated flesh at Izaya’s inner thigh. “You like that flea?”

Izaya does a little jerk of his head, eyes closed and it really is too cute.

“Does it feel good?”

Shizuo breath is hot at his ear before he gives a playful nip to the flesh. He can feel the way Izaya’s breath hitches, the motion going through his back and making Shizuo’s own chest thrum with something primal and satisfied.

Shizuo’s rubbing his foot against Izaya’s calf muscle, feeling the way he squirms at the touch.

“What’s wrong?” Shizuo cheeks actually hurt from how wide he’s smiling. “Do you not like it?”

Izaya’s head shakes, the action almost frantic, and Shizuo rewards him by sliding the flat of his tongue over the muscle where his neck and shoulder meet.

His skin tastes clean and fresh, and Shizuo feels his mouth salivating with the desire to bite into that milky flesh. To see it bruised dark with his claim. He holds off though, content with just feeling Izaya beneath his hands, feeling the way his breathing goes a little faster at every dip closer to that heat between his legs.

“Does it feel good when I touch here?” Shizuo brushes his fingertips over Izaya’s ribs, taking in every little shudder as he whispers into his lover’s ear. “What about when I touch here?”

Shizuo’s hands trail inwards, and Izaya’s lips are parting in a gasp as his knuckles brush against the side of his cock.

“Ah, is there someone you want me to touch you flea?”

Shizuo rubs his fingers between Izaya’s thighs just above his knees, so close and yet so far, if the little whimper that escapes his lips is any indication.

Shizuo feels like an addict. There is just something about having Izaya in his arms, squirming and desperate for his touch and just … taking his time with him.

Dragging it out nice and slow.

Shizuo continues licking and sucking at the flea’s neck. Izaya has his hand trapped between his legs in a vice grip, and yet Shizuo still continues his slow, sweet touches.

He lets his touches turn rougher, digs bruises into pale skin as he sucks harshly on that spot beneath Izaya’s ear; the spot that makes him moan open-mouthed.

“Shizuo.”

His name is like a prayer on Izaya’s lips. Breathless and needy. Shizuo doesn’t know whether he’s begging for him to stop or begging for him to keep going, either way the sound sinks deep into his gut.

“Shizuo please.”

Shizuo’s grin goes impossibly wide, mouth gaping like a predator’s with its prey in its grasp. His lips find Izaya’s earlobe. He pulls the flesh into his mouth and sucks harshly.

It’s a dizzying juxtaposition. Wrenching his hand from Izaya’s thigh-crush, Shizuo grazes the tips of fingers over the head of his cock, the softest, slowest touch all night and it makes Izaya jolt.

“Fuck.”

Shizuo sucks hard at the flea’s neck, finger tips trailing down his shaft and to his navel. He rubs at the soft flesh there, relishing in the annoyed whine that Izaya makes as he moves away from his reddened cock.

“Shizuo,” he can hear the pout in Izaya’s voice.

“Look at you,” Shizuo releases Izaya’s ear with a wet sound, “I haven’t even played with your tits yet and this worked up.”

That whine becomes louder, more painful if possible, as if Izaya’s gritting his teeth together.

“Shizuo you better fucking touch me or I’m going to destroy all your stupid bartender outfits.”

It’s astounding. Izaya’s gripping his wrist so tightly Shizuo’s sure there will be indents of his nails left behind. How is it possible for him to still sound like such a vicious little thing when he’s desperately trying to put Shizuo’s unbudging hand to his leaking cock?

“Oi,” Shizuo growls low and Izaya’s body shivers fully at the sound. “Do you want me to drown you again?”

“Heh,” Izaya lips are quirking up, eyes hooded as he speaks out like silk and satin, “if you drown me there won’t be anyone around to suck your cock.”

Shizuo should’ve expected this. Expected Izaya would try to play dirty.

He was the definition of little brat that needed to be put in their place. Still, the words make his own dick jump, and he can’t help but press his erection harder into the swell of Izaya’s ass in warning.

“Oh?” Shizuo lets his tenor lilt upwards, “you wanna suck my cock that bad flea?”

Izaya snorts, and Shizuo can’t help but rub his nose against his neck in an overly affectionate gesture.

“Hey Shizu-chan,” Izaya’s turning his face, lips meeting lips in a sweet brush as he releases his death grip on Shizuo’s wrist.

Shizuo stares into dark, deep eyes; lets himself drown as Izaya presses his forehead to his.

“Yeah flea?”

Izaya eyes close, his mouth turning soft as he gives one of those rare smiles reserved just for Shizuo.

Shizuo’s eyes slip close, Izaya in his arms and his breath spilling across his face in a steady rhythm. It’s like an abstract concept become physical, a peace that Shizuo can literally hold within his hands.

Izaya dips his head to Shizuo’s neck, lips against skin as he whispers.

“I want you to tell me how badly I want to suck your cock … while you touch me.”

Shizuo’s eyes blow wide. His smile is going predator-like before he can even realise it.

Izaya was absolutely perfect.

Shizuo pulls Izaya’s body back with his, getting comfortable as Izaya settles himself in against his hold, nuzzling into his neck. Shizuo can’t help but shower his back in soft kisses.

“You want me to talk you through it baby?” Shizuo asks, letting his voice go softer. He’s cock is aching as Izaya shivers at the pet name. He forces it to the back of his mind, focus zeroing in on the body in his arms. “You look so good right now.”

Izaya just sighs and Shizuo rewards him with a kiss to his lips. It’s chaste and sweet, with the promise of something hotter simmering just beneath the surface.

He lets his hands slide through the water and up that irresistible body once more. This time when snakes his hand downwards he palms at Izaya’s cock lightly.

“Aah,” Izaya’s lets out this little moan, relief and pleasure all in one. As if not being touched had been painful, had been torture.

“That feel good? Being touched here?” Shizuo whispers a sonnet against Izaya’s neck. His eyes are wide open, mesmerized as he palms his hand with more force against the flea’s cock.

His hot in his palm, positively boiling compared to the cooling temperate of the water surrounding them. Shizuo enjoys the feel of him in his hands. Hot and heavy. Izaya has a nice cock, it’s long, not as thick as Shizuo’s but it curves nicely and his mouth waters at the sight of it.

“You’ve got such a pretty cock … for such an ugly flea.”

Izaya actually chuckles at the underhanded compliment and Shizuo feels himself flush at the sound.

Izaya was anything but ugly.

Shizuo’s certain even the most wicked of devils would repent at the beauty of his flea.

Mine, mine, mine.

Shizuo lets his touch stay slow and steady, matching his earlier exploration of Izaya’s body. He closes his fist around the shaft experimentally, the water making his slow pull even rougher.

Izaya’s head is thrown fully back onto his shoulder now. Eyes closed as he pants open-mouthed. His hips are doing these cute little jerk, moving in time with Shizuo’s hand, and every brush of his ass against Shizuo’s cock makes him want to groan out loud.

“Look at you, I bet you’re imagining it aren’t you?” Shizuo fists the head of Izaya’s cock with the barest of pressure and the other is whimpering. “My cock in your mouth … the taste of me on your tongue.”

“Ah-ah.”

Shizuo’s pace is increasing, fist going tighter as his words climb higher.

“You look so good with your mouth stuffed with my cock, baby,” Shizuo’s whispers are turning harsh in his ears. “God you feel so good around me. So wet.”

Shizuo’s eyes are closing and he can feel it. That warm wet heat enveloping him, almost overwhelming in its sensation.

“You want it so badly don’t you? Tell me how badly you want my cock.”

“Y-yes!” Izaya’s voice comes out high pitched and desperate. “I-, I want your cock … I-I need it.”

Shizuo rubs his hard dick against the crack of Izaya’s ass, in time with the flea’s desperate thrust. His lips are wet and wide against Izaya’s neck, kisses turning careless as he sucks and bites with abandon. Izaya’s body is going taunt in his arms, toes curling against the tub, abdominals clenching so tight it almost looks painful. His body is on the edge of trembling, pulled so tight Shizuo can feel that tension almost about to snap.

“Fuck baby,” Shizuo lets his voice go rough, lets it go needy.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Shizuo gives a feral growl, Izaya’s squirming and splashing in his arms as he sets a relentless pace against his cock. Shizuo twists his fist as he pulls up, water sloshing over the sides at his frantic pace. He fists the head tightly, twisting in a way that makes Izaya keen out like he’s been kicked in the gut.

“N-need you, fuck I need you baby.”

“Ah-, ah-, Shizuo!”

Shizuo’s desperation sends Izaya over the edge. The body in his arms tenses, like an electric current is running through it and then he’s shaking apart, moaning long and loud as Shizuo strokes him through his orgasm, never letting up as his cock spurts white into water.

He keeps stroking him. Izaya’s breathing is ragged as he collapses boneless atop Shizuo.

Eventually he slows his motions, letting his hand come to a steady stop as he feels all the little aftershocks shivering through the body in his arms. Izaya’s eyes are closed and Shizuo thinks he might have fucked him stupid.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Oi,” Shizuo presses a kiss to Izaya’s temple. “Don’t fall asleep flea.”

Shizuo can’t keep the smile out his voice. He has literal perfection in his arms, had that same perfection coming and calling out his name. His heart feels fit to burst…

His cock definitely is.

“Mm, Shizu-chan is such a sadist,” Izaya finally mumbles a response. He sounds dazed, like he’s intoxicated and on the verge of blacking out.

“Guess it’s a good thing you’re such a masochist then, huh?” Shizuo says between kisses to the smattering of stars over Izaya’s shoulder.

“Hmm,” Izaya’s eyes are cracking open, staring unseeing at the ceiling as he brushes a hand through the water absentmindedly. “The bath is dirty now.”

Shizuo snorts, “and who made it dirty, louse?”

“Shizu-chan should take responsibility, after all, it’s all his fault,” Izaya quips back, turning to press a smirk into Shizuo’s neck.

“Youbetter take responsibility,” Shizuo grumbles, pressing his still raging erection against Izaya’s backside in case he’d somehow forgotten about it.

Unlikely.

“But I’m tired,” Izaya whines pathetically, and Shizuo half kind of wants to drown him again. “Shizu-chan’s torture was relentless!”

Shizuo chuckles at that, the deep sound vibrating through his chest and into Izaya’s back.

“Surprised you just didn’t slip it in mid torture,” Izaya lilts with his usually vulgarity and yeah Shizuo should definitely drown him.

“Too tired,” Shizuo deadpans, “you do some work flea.”

“Heh, be careful what you wish for Shizu-chan.”

They end up in bed, barely dry as Izaya’s swallows down Shizuo’s cock like a man starving. Shizuo’s exhausted, splayed out on the bed as he hovers blissfully between the edge of sleep and the pleasure of Izaya’s hot mouth wrapped around him.

It doesn’t take long for him to come. Not long until he’s body is shaking apart and he’s calling Izaya’s name. He trembles as Izaya sucks him dry of every, last, drop.

Shizuo feels hazy, his skin hypersensitive from the aftershocks of his orgasm. He’s drifting off to sleep, Izaya snuggling in beside him and pulling the blanket up.

“Shizu-chan has tomorrow off, right?” Izaya asks innocently, and Shizuo thinks he brushes his hand through the flea’s hair but he’s not quite sure in his half-awake daze.

“Yeah.”

“Will Shizu-chan make me breakfast?”

Shizuo’s eyes are slipping closed again, the sight of Izaya tucked under his arm and snuggling into his neck the last thing he sees.

“Yeah flea,” he’s mumbling in his sleep, “do … anything…”

#shizaya #orihara izaya #heiwajima shizuo #writing request #fanfic request #oneshot #drrr #durarara #orihara izaya x heiwajima shizuo #please read tags carefully #fluff #self-care day #this was so fun too write

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brywrites · 4 years ago

Text

Flight Risk VIII

Summary: An answer to the age old CM question, “who’s flying the plane?” And the story of a pilot and a profiler. Part V: In which a profiler and the stars have something in common, and a pilot has a decision to make.

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All Saturday, Reid struggles to focus. It is the fault of one particular pilot, who has suddenly taken up much of the space in his mind. He loses his place in his books. He forgets about the leftovers he’s put in the microwave so long they get cold. He doesn’t realize he has neglected to put sugar in his coffee until he brings it to his lips and tastes the bitterness. And how can he think straight when he keeps replaying memories of the night before? When he asked to talk, Y/N didn’t even hesitate. She listened to him. She comforted him. She even shared part of her own heart with him. With her, he forgot about the case and the fight with JJ and all of his doubts. With Y/N he could just be himself.

And he hasn’t stopped thinking of the couch in her apartment. Where he shifted his fingers ever so slightly to touch hers. Touch isn’t easy for him, but it is a commonly accepted manner of expressing comfort or gratitude. He felt both of those things with her. And he had wanted her to feel them too. So he let his hand rest on hers. It took him by surprise when she rested her head on his shoulder, but he was even more surprised to discover he very much liked the sensation. So he put his head on her own and everything in the world was quiet and perfect and right.

Some time later, as Audrey Hepburn was singing “La Vie en Rose” for Humphrey Bogart on the television in front of them, he realized she had fallen asleep on his shoulder. With one hand he had grabbed for the remote, trying to remain still, in order to turn the volume down, so as not to wake her. Amelia, Y/N’s golden tabby cat had walked into the room at stared at him with big green eyes, as if quietly judging him. What are you going to do? she seemed to ask him.

And what was he going to do? Reid hadn’t been sure, not until Y/N shifted. In her sleep, she wrapped an arm around his waist. His heart thudded in his ears. Y/N had buried her face into his sweater and smiled. Smiled. As if simply being close to him made her happy. And oh what it did to his heart to think of that.

Reid had realized her found her attractive in a uniform, but looking at her now, she was utterly adorable. Her breath soft, her heart so fast and fluttering. Like a bird. There was still time now. He could nudge her gently and wake her up. He could leave the apartment. Leave her. End the moment before it could begin. There were things he was not allowed to feel. Things he was not allowed to do. But in spite of himself, he put his arm around her and lay his head back on hers. Falling into place. Like a puzzle, the pieces fitting just right. It felt so right to be by her side. And so he let himself fall asleep, too.

It is the memory of drifting into dreams with the feeling of her body against his own that continues to follow him long after they have parted ways. The smell of her shampoo. The soft smile on her face. He doesn’t want to ever forget it.

The days that follow are both slow and busy. They’re swamped with paperwork and consults, but there aren’t any cases out of state. Which means that he doesn’t see Y/N for two weeks, having no reason to be on a plane and no time to meet her outside of work. They text when they can, but it’s not the same. He replays that night. The starlight reflecting in her eyes in the car as she drove. The soft noise of the television. Audrey Hepburn singing that song again, slowly. Humphrey Bogart staring at her, saying, “Suppose I asked you to – well I suppose I’m just talking nonsense.” And he supposes that it will have to be enough, this memory.

When they finally meet again, it’s in the Quantico hangar, preparing for a case in Minnesota. She’s re-reading Peter Pan and it pulls at some spot in his heart to remember the day he first met her.

“Well hello, stranger,” she teases.

“I’m sorry it’s been so long,” he says, sitting down next to her on the bench. “But it’s good to see you again. I missed you.” What an understatement that is.

“I missed you, too.” She puts a bookmark in the book and sets it aside. “Not to worry though, I stayed busy. Yeeqin and I had our friends over, I got through two new books, and I even found my way to one of the famed BAU Girls’ Nights.”

“Oh did you now?” he asks. He’s not sure if famous is the right word – infamous, perhaps. Girls’ Nights are known for raucous laughter, magnificent hangovers, and all the secrets he doesn’t want to know. “How was that?”

“It was actually really fun,” she laughs. “I definitely was not prepared for the amount of alcohol that would be consumed. But Garcia and Kate and JJ are so much fun, and they were so welcoming! There were some fascinating facts exchanged, but I was sworn to secrecy.”

“Even with me?” he asks. And it’s true, most of the time he doesn’t want to know what happens. But that Y/N was there. And he can’t help but wonder if she heard anything about him. If she said anything about him.

“Oh, especially with you,” she says. She looks up at him with a sly smile on her face. “You make it too easy to spill my soul to you. Besides, I’m sure you could profile most of my secrets anyways.”

Reid knows the feeling. He’d tell her anything at all if she asked him. If he thought it would make her stay a little while longer talking with him or make her laugh or earn him a smile that dances across her beautiful lips. The lips he reminds himself he isn’t supposed to be staring at right now. He just can’t help it. Pretty girls have always had a knack for making a flustered mess of him, but she has a special talent for devastating him. Y/N is more than just a pretty face – she makes him feel lighter, unburdened by all the knowledge that he finally seems to find a use for when she asks him questions or wants new book recommendations. She reassures him. She trusts him. Bit by bit he’s come to know her mind and her heart and the places she calls home. And he can’t help but want to make himself at home in the warm feeling that washes over him each time she says his name or glances his way.

“What if I tell you one first?” he asks.

“Perhaps a deal could be arranged. It depends on the secret.”

A thousand response he can never voice aloud whiz through his mind. Feelings he doesn’t want to even acknowledge to himself. After a moment of forcing them down, reminding himself that he can’t say them, that she can never know because she’ll never look at him the same way again if he tells her what he feels, he offers, “I’m absolutely terrified of the dark.”

Nodding, she pretends to weigh the value of his words. “An interesting discovery,” she says. “But I don’t know if it’s quite on the proper level of secrets. However, I’m willing to let you think on it and give it another try later.” She winks and his heart skips a beat. “I’ve got to get ready for takeoff. See you soon, Doctor.” As she walks away, she touches his shoulder for just a moment and he thinks his heart might stop entirely.

The flight to Raleigh is brief and easy. They immediately get to work on the profile of a sexually sadistic killer. He most certainly has a pattern. Young professional women, all abducted at or near their workplace. All in broad daylight. And all killed within four hours from the time of abduction. This unsub has no use for them alive. It’s the act of taking their life that gets him off, of possessing every part of them. And he has a type. Staring at the bulletin board of pictures – workplace headshots, family photos, social media selfies – Reid swallows hard as he realizes every one of them looks vaguely familiar. Their hair is of slightly lengths and their facial features have some variation, but they all look as if they could be sisters, cousins at the very least. And if you put Y/N’s photo up, she would fit right in.

The realizing makes him want to pull his phone out on the spot and call her to make sure she got to the hotel safely after leaving the airport. Why don’t they travel together? Why are the pilots always separate? He needs to know they’re safe. He needs to know that she’s safe. His fingers find their way into his pocket. They wrap around the hard metal of his phone. The faces on the board stare back at him. It’s not his job to keep her safe. It’s his job to find out what happened to these women. Reid lets go. Takes a breath. And gets back to work.

Still, it is an immense relief when he walks into the hotel lobby and sees her. Y/N is sitting a table with Captain Dobson. His first instinct is to walk over and greet them both, but he falters when he realizes that the conversation they appear to be having isn’t quite so friendly. Y/N is leaning in while Dobson holds his ground. Her expression appears almost pained, his is firm but frustrated. Little adjustments in their body language betray tension that their hushed voices do not convey. Y/N says something. Dobson sets his jaw and replies. Her brow furrows and her lip curls. The next thing he knows, she’s standing up and storming away. Dobson stares after her, quietly exasperated. Then, he turns and spots Reid. Sighs. As though resigning himself to some sort of defeat. As though whatever just transpired is the doctor’s fault somehow.

Reid shifts uncomfortably under his gaze before hurrying after Y/N. The doors of the elevator she’s just stepped into are about to close but he manages to throw his hand between them just in time to stop them. The ding of silver panels sliding open once more startle her, and she looks at him with wide, unreadable eyes.

“Hi,” he breathes. “Mind if I join you?”

She shrugs. He decides it’s as good an invitation as any and steps in. “What floor?” she asks.

“Whichever one you’re going to,” he replies. They ride up in silence. When they reach the fifth floor he follows her down the hall to her room. The door clicks with the swipe of her plastic keycard and she lets him inside to a hotel room that looks and feels like so many he has been in before. Neat and organized. Nice enough to be appealing but never cozy enough to feel like home. A distinctly, albeit neutrally decorated, liminal space. White blankets and pillows that would get dirty too fast at home. A single framed painting that neither offends nor inspires. A place that lets you pretend you’re anywhere in the world, just not in a place of your own.

It is in this liminal space that she tosses the keycard on the counter and sits down with a huff on the corner of the bed with too-white blankets. There’s only one bed and not knowing quite what to do, Reid stands awkwardly before her.

“I’m guessing you saw me talking to Arthur.”

“I did. Is everything okay? You two looked… tense. And you don’t usually.”

Y/N shrugs out of her blazer and undoes her tie, quickly pulling it off and tossing it onto the bed beside her. Reid bites his lip and tries to maintain a straight face. There’s something about the uniform that still gets to him but he knows that she’s upset. He’s never seen her like this before – usually so cheerful and calm.

“Flying has always been my first love,” she says. “Like I told you – it’s all I ever really wanted to do. And no matter what else has changed in my life, it’s remained the one thing I love more than anything. I’ve worked so hard for this job, and I’ve set goals, and I’ve had dreams to keep moving forward. And I thought that’s all I wanted but now I just don’t know.”

“What’s changed?”

“You know the IRT?” she asks.

“The International Response Team? Yeah, that’s Jack Garrett’s unit.”

“Well as the name suggests they travel a lot. But you already know that, of course. You know everything,” she laughs, but the sound is mirthless. “And they have a really nice plane. A custom made C-17. Her name is Betsy. The captain of said plane is retiring. And neither of the first officers have enough hours logged for a promotion. So the Bureau has offered it to me.”

“To you?” Is that why Dobson was upset? Was he sad to see his co-pilot leaving already? It’s clear they trust each other, and he knows it stings each time he loses a colleague.

She nods. “There’s some command training I’d need to complete, and a simulator of course. Train with the captain before she retires. But I’ve flown commercial liners and planes of that size before. I’ve done long flights. And I’ve had all the other qualifications for a while.”

“But – but you just got here,” he says. It hasn’t even been a full year since she started flying for the BAU. It’s too soon.

“I know.” She sighs. “Arthur wants me to take the promotion. That’s why we were arguing.” The opposite then. He completely misread the situation. But if they disagreed and the Captain wanted her to take it that means –

“You don’t want to?” he asks. She looks down at her hands and Reid sits beside her on the bed.

“I should take it,” she says. “It’s what I wanted. I’d be a captain. I’d be traveling all over the world in an incredible aircraft. It’d be more time in the sky. More adventures. A chance to advance in my field. All the things I want. Arthur knows that. And he wants to see me succeed, I know that. I just…” Y/N blinks, the words caught in her throat. “I guess I’m just not sure if that is the most important thing to me anymore. And if it’s not, what does that mean?”

The air in the room shifts, as though the atmosphere itself can sense that this is dangerous territory. There are questions that, once asked, can’t be taken back. There are terrifying, reckless wishes. And against his better judgement, he asks, “Like what?”

“Like… like finding someone who makes me happy. Someone I really care about.” She turns to him and that look in her eyes is electricity. Everything hits him all at once, like lightning. It takes his breath away for a moment as things he’s been trying not to pay attention to all come to the forefront of his mind. “Like you,” she whispers. He wets his lips, and for a split second her confidence falters. “I mean, you feel it too, right?”

“I thought it was just me,” he says quietly. All this time he’d convinced himself this feeling, this quiet but consuming affection he harbored for her, was unrequited. It couldn’t be requited.

The short laugh she gives actually sounds like a laugh this time. “Spencer, come on. I’ve been falling for you for a while. Why do you think I’m always waiting earlier than I need to be at the hangar? Or breaking Arthur’s rules to spend more time with you? Why do you think it’s so easy for me to tell you things?” Her hand comes to rest over his. “You make it all so easy. It doesn’t even feel like falling with you. Just floating.”

This is everything he’s wanted to hear. This is everything he hoped he never would. His heart is soaring. His heart is aching. He needs to say something.

“You shouldn’t make this decision based on me,” is all he manages.

“I know,” she says. “I’m not foolish. But I mean it’s not just about you, there’s a lot of other reasons I think I might want to s-”

“No,” he interrupts. “I mean, I shouldn’t even be a factor in how you make this decision.”

“What?” Her eyebrows knit together in confusion as she stares at him. It’s so hard to get the words out when she looks at him like that. But the photos on the board flash in his mind and he knows he has to.

“Y/N, I care about you a great deal. More than ever I planned to. More than I know what to do with. I want you to know that,” he says. His fingers interlace with hers. He’ll allow himself this small moment to be close to her. He’ll break the rules before he forces his heart back into line. “But I can’t – I can’t be with you in the way that you want.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You asked me to tell you a secret,” he says. “My girlfriend, the one who died? I know that the only reason she’s not alive anymore is because I loved her.” Y/N just continues to stare at him, as if she is trying to look straight through him. “She didn’t just die. She was murdered. She was murdered in front of me by an unsub, a stalker who became obsessed with her and then with me. If you ask anyone on my team, they’ll tell you that the unsub did what she did for a million different reasons – because of trauma, jealousy, mental illness, an environment of pressure created by the presence of armed agents, a miscalculation. But I know. I know that the reason why she killed Maeve is because I loved her.”

Y/N’s mouth has fallen open but no words come out.

“The people I love get hurt. And you can say that it’s just a pattern or an overreaction, but I know it’s not. My mother got sick. My friend was stabbed. My mentor’s partner was killed. Hotch’s lost his wife to an unsub. JJ was tortured. I’ve watched more friends than I thought I would leave this job for one reason or another, but always because something hurt them in a way that couldn’t be fixed. Statistically speaking, the odds aren’t good for anyone I care about.”

She looks back down at the carpeted floor. He can see the saltwater rising in her eyes and the knowledge that he is hurting her just by saying this is enough to make him wish he could take it all back. He wants to promise her that he’ll make sure it’s different with her. Wants to tell her that he’s been falling hopelessly for her since that day in Nebraska when he went to apologize to her and that her smile and the simple beauty of her jacket falling off her shoulder in the rain made him lose all sense of direction for two whole blocks. Tell her how he can’t stop thinking about the moment she fell asleep beside him on the couch or how he almost said I love you the next morning when she dropped him off outside his apartment before he caught himself.

But Reid can’t take it back. And he’s learned his lesson. In this life, he can’t let himself be happy, not like that. Anytime he gets too close to someone, cares too much, something awful happens. The only way to keep them safe is to keep them at a distance. Keep himself lonely.

“This job is dangerous,” he tells her. “And I’ve seen it take too many people away. I don’t want to be the reason it takes you, too. You should have a future. A bright one. A beautiful one.”

“What if I want one with you?” she asks.

Reid shakes his head, wearing a rueful smile. “I’m not worth it. You have a dream, Y/N. You should follow it. I’ve never met someone with so much passion for their job. I can see the way your eyes light up when you talk about flying. It makes you so happy.” Her joy in those moments is contagious. “I want you to be happy. Which is why I can’t be anything other than your friend.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

He winces at the bitterness in her voice. “Because I never imagined that you’d feel the same way.” Looking back now, he should have seen it. But all those little signs he managed to convince himself were only the markers of a close friendship, of a kind person. Because it would have hurt more to admit to himself that the person he couldn’t have wanted him too. It was easier to believe that he could love someone safely out of his reach. “I’m sorry.”

“What happens now?” she asks him. They sit there on the bed in a discomfortingly comfortable room, hands barely brushing.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But I think you have a big decision to make. And I think maybe Arthur is right. I don’t want you to leave. But I don’t think you should stay if it means passing up the job of your dreams.”

She pulls her hand away from his. He immediately feels the sting of absence as she inhales slowly. “Yeah. You’re right. I, um… I need some time to think about this. Alone.”

The word is the sound of a closing door. It aches. But he knows it’s better this way. He can’t ask her to give up everything she’s worked for for him. For someone who might cost her everything.

“I understand,” he says. Reid stands slowly from the bed. He walks across the room. With his hand on the doorknob, he turns back for one last glance at Y/N. At his pilot. And then he steps back into the hallway, the automatic lock clicking behind him. Reid stands there in the hall, feeling completely unmoored. He thinks of the Amelia the cat staring at him with those wide green eyes. Of Humphrey Bogart in that car on the television screen, supposing that everything could be different with the girl he loved if he were not himself. And of Y/N, driving through DC under the stars. She knows so many of them by heart having used those points of light to guide her course before. It’s some kind of magic, what she can do, soaring above the earth like that.

And he thinks then of Peter Pan, the book sitting in her bag, and a particular line J.M. Barrie wrote so long ago. Stars are beautiful, but they may not take part in anything, the must just look on forever. Y/N is a plane twinkling in the night. A bird, soaring to impossible heights. But all he can do is look on. Loving her from afar. Forever, if he must.

#fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #flight risk #brywrites

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bakubitch-minusultra · 4 years ago

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Writing Prompts

here is a shit ton of writing prompts(none of which I own). anyone is open to pick any prompts for a headcanon, one shot, or short story. I write for the animes mha, haikyuu, kakegurui and banana fish yeeet

i still dont have a masterlist smh

In a world where you can’t physically hurt your soulmate, you become a serial killer in order to find them

You accidentally kill a person. You instantly absorb all of their memories, intelligence, and talents. You find it feels euphoric and quite addicting

Your father is forcing you to marry someone you have never met. The night before your wedding you tie your sheets together and make your escape through the window. Half way down you make eye contact with someone doing the exact same thing a few windows over

You lost your sight - along with everyone else on earth - in the great blinding. Two years late without warning, your sight returns, as you look around, you realize that every available wall, floor, and surface has been painted with the same message - don't tell them you can see

You just moved to a new neighborhood and you hear the music of an ice cream truck coming down the street. As you and your family walk outside you notice all your neighbors rushing inside and locking their doors and windows

You are starting to get really sick of your cat always knocking stuff out of your hand. Little do you know your spouse is constantly trying to kill you with traps and poison and the cat is saving your life.

Start your story with a sentence that is genuinely happy and upbeat, no double meanings. End it with the same sentence but this time it’s chiling, dark, horrifying etc.

“I don’t sleep. My mind has the scary capability of being dark and demented." “You’re afraid of your dreams?” “Yes,” he said quietly.

When people are born, they are assigned a soulmate. They have an original song in their head that only them and their soulmate know. A person just broke into your house and you’re pretty sure they’re here to murder you. They’re humming your song under their breath

The scarecrow and tinman realise that dorothy has a heart and brain

Out of all possible familiars you are “graced” with a human. While legend says that they are beings of great power, yours just makes sarcastic comments and pranks people

At a party, a round of truth or dare starts, and you’re dared by someone to “go home.” Not one to back down, you comply and leave, though you’re pretty bummed. That is, until the next day you find out everyone at that party died mysteriously. Everyone except the person who dared you to go home.

Long ago the legendary sword excalibur was melted down and lost to history. The mythical blade’s steel ended up in your butter knife, with all its properties intact.

He is a weapon, a killer. Do not forget it. You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature

It’s 3 am and an official phone alert wakes you up. It says “do not look at the moon.” You have hundreds of random numbers sending “It’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.”

He pulled against the ropes with all his might, but they wouldn’t give. “Don’t bother,” a voice said. He looked up to discover a thin girl bound with the same rope. Although it was dark, he could see her bruised eyes and bloody wrists. “I already tried”

There is a beautiful statue of a person in the middle of a large city, and the rumor surrounding the statue is that when they touch hands with their soulmate, they will become human. Naturally, it becomes a perfect photo and video opportunity to pose while holding its hand. One cute selfie attempt results in an empty statue podium and you just barely catching a very confused person in your arms.

One night you awake to find yourself in a mysterious forest for what seems like an eternity, you reach an ancient oak at the heart. Upon its bark are carvings of the name of an old forgotten god. The name that's inscribed is yours.

“Don’t ever try to get inside my head,” he snarled, slamming me against the wall. For several beats we stayed there, his grip crushing my wrists. Finally his eyes softened. “It’s too dark for you.”

“What are you doing here??” You push him away. “It’s against the rules!” “Well shit. Rules are meant to be broken, now can I get the kiss I came here for?”

“Who are we to each other?” “You tell me.”

Broken glasses. A crying kiss. Running Water

Barbed wire. A scrap of blue fabric. Howling Winds

A storm. The old oak tree. A scar.

The world goes through 2000 year natural cycles of magic and non-magic. The non-magic cycle is about to end any day now.

A villain kidnaps the hero’s sidekick, only to realize the hero has been badly mistreated by them. And decided to take the sidekick under their wing

Create 10 lovable characters. Kill 9 of them

She wiped the blood from her cheek and picked up her sword. His eyes followed her blade as she pressed it against his neck. “Don’t. Move.”

“Never trust a survivor until you find out what they did to stay alive.”

“There’s only one reason to be singing that song at night”

Legend said her gun was alive. It never missed. It knew your name. And what you’d done. And how afraid you were to die.

“It’s okay,” he said, wrapping his arms around her as she shook with terror. “It’s over now.” “No it’s not,” she whispered back. “It hasn’t even begun.”

“Cookies? You’re bribing me with cookies? I mean, they’re good, but not that good.” “No, we’re bribing you with the antidote. You have three days until the poison kills you. Think about it.”

Be a veterinarian for dragons, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

Since you're looking I'll put on a show

shopping with your sugar daddy

"Don't say a word, just dance with me."

"The shadows betray you because they serve me."

"Damn right I'm pretty." "I said petty."

"Please don't tell me you're bringing her!" "She's harmless." "She shot you twice!" "It was an honest mistake."

"Dance with me and pretend the world doesnt exist," he pleaded. And after that, there was no going back.

"How dare you! I trusted you!" "Sweet, naive little girl. Trust is for children. You my dear, are a soldier."

Dirt and leaves tangled in your hair as he pushed you to the ground. He pressed his hand over your mouth and whispered, "Hush or they'll hear you."

When she pulled into the driveway she noticed the door was ajar. She wasn't scared until she saw blood on the handle.

----

yee feel free to request any prompt/characters k bye

#writing prompts #mha #bnha #hq #haikyuu #requests #im tired #my back hurts #k bye

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thatringboy · 5 years ago

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All of my other TWST HCs

Because my Twisted Wonderland Headcanons have been my most popular posts, here I am giving the mob what they want! An almost complete list of Headcanons I have about every character and house!

This is by far my longest post and it took me three days to type, so I hope you guys get a laugh out of it!

WARNING: THESE ARE MY PERSONAL OPINIONS ABOUT EACH CHARACTER. IF YOU DON’T AGREE WITH ONE, PLEASE DON’T ATTACK ME OR OTHERS WHO SUPPORT MY HCS. JUST DON’T BE A DICK.

Heartslabyul

The word “Queen” is gender neutral

Frequently allows students from other houses to study with them

Recently expanded into two buildings dedicated just for dorms to house all of the students

Actually lots of words are gender neutral

Riddle

Does rebellious things with Trey sometimes

Actually struggled with gender for a while because of his mother and responds to all pronouns (he/she/they), but identifies as male

Sometimes uses the label “Androgynous Male”

Is attracted to Trey, but he can’t tell if it’s because of his childhood or because he genuinely likes his Vice DH

Has Tea Time TM with Vil

Abolished gender roles in NRC despite it being an all guys school

During Summer Vacation he wears jean shorts and mint green tank tops with red flip flops

Has a pet crab that is red and named “Queen” despite Riddle not knowing Queen’s gender

Queen is the mascot for Heartslabyul despite being a sea creature

We stan Queen the Crab in this house.

Trey

Enjoys breaking the rules with Riddle, even if it’s not very often

He dyed his hair green as a joke with Cater during his first year, but decided to keep it

Has fallen for Riddle. Hard.

But between his dignity, his position and him not knowing if Riddle likes men, he won’t say anything that could ruin the friendship

Rook found out by accident and actually helps Trey try to work up the courage to ask Riddle out, but Trey always backs down

Invented a type of Tea that soaks clover leaves and it tastes like vanilla mixed with mint

Cater

#SELFIE

Not really a drama queen, but will egg on fights for views

Sometimes his clones will develop different accents and that’s how you tell them apart

Has a pansexual flag in his room

Spends more time partying in Scarabia than in Heartslabyul

Is close friends with Kalim and actually crushed on him for a bit, but got over it once he noticed the way he looks at Jamil

Actually gives good relationship advice

Deuce

Was Bi-Curious during his Pre-NRC days and actually tried to put it behind him like everything else

However, like, everyone at NRC is some flavor of gay

So he gave up on his internalized homophobia and now lives his full authentic life!

Still uses the labels Bi-Curious and Questioning and often goes to Cater for advice

But his buddies love and support him no matter what

Is a huge feminist

Cater fully believes that Deuce likes Ace, but he actually doesn’t

Deuce admits when men are attractive, no matter if it makes them uncomfortable or not

Didn’t go over well with Jack

But the two are cool now

Ace

Probably one of the straightest guys you’ll ever meet besides Rook

Actually learned what the different teas smell like so that he never messed up again

Enjoys his fights with Grim, even if Grim is a little shit

Like seriously Grim is a little flying rat shit turd fuck but that’s just my opinion

Almost never learns from his mistakes and always pays the price

Chaotic Good.

Loves going on adventures with the Prefect and Grim!

Has never gone back to the Mostro Lounge without Jack or the Prefect

Also got really into Mermaid culture and regularly goes back to the Atlantica Memorial Museum to talk with that one guard

Has memorized the script from the Little Mermaid

Can sing You Pour, Unfortunate Soul in a perfect baritone vibrato despite his high voice

Also takes singing lessons from Azul, but only if someone else is in the room with them

Savanaclaw

Throws pool parties regularly

Octavinelle is almost always invited

Magift between the two houses is insane

Leona

Raging Bisexual, need I say more?

Goes to great lengths to find loopholes and just be lazy

Also goes to great lengths to help Ruggie

Hates his brother, but loves Cheka and his sister-in-law

Can’t properly digest seafood, but eats in in front of Azul and the Leech twins just to be a bitch

Is kinda clingy

Even if he doesn’t want to, he goes to all of the Savanaclaw vs Octavinelle vs Pomfiore karaoke battles

Can’t sing for shit, but likes to watch Ruggie and Jack duet and destroy everyone

Constantly reminds Malleus about the time they swapped robes

Actually swaps clothing with Malleus quite often on purpose to see how they feel

Ruggie

A good singer

But kinda self conscious about it??

Also a Raging Bisexual

Play flirts a lot with Leona, even though they don’t like one another like that

Is FtM Transgender, fully transitioned, and wears his scarf to cover the fact that he doesn’t have much chest hair and his scars

Only Leona and Crowley know

Gets a little dysphoria because his voice is still so high and because he’s shorter than everyone in Savanaclaw, but takes one look at Riddle, Lila and Ace and forgets about it

Jack suspects, but the two make a killer duo during karaoke!

Jack

Is straight, but won’t get in your face about it

Actually learned how to become a fast swimmer just to flex on Jade and Floyd

Has memorized almost all of Heartslabyul’s rules just because he didn’t want to be disrespectful

Arm wrestles with Floyd often

Helps out in the Mostro Lounge pretty often when he’s bored

His karaoke skills are out of this world!

Also has memorized the layout for Ramshackle Dorm just so he wouldn’t get lost in there

Tsundere? Maybe.....

Knows something’s different about Ruggie, but can’t figure it out

Respects privacy like crazy

Just a cool guy to be around

Octavinelle

Hosts the karaoke battles

Now pays their employees in the Mostro Lounge

Gives free singing lessons

Azul

Choir Gay TM

Aromantic Homosexual

Constantly has Boss Bitch by Doja Cat in his head

Actually has shit handwriting and it made his Golden Contracts all the much more powerful

His handwriting is beautiful underwater, though

When he’s feeling lazy, Azul transforms into his Merman form and uses his 8 extra arms to do things for him

Has a single picture from his childhood that he has not edited (or tried to edit)

It’s of him, Jade and Floyd graduating Junior High

All three of them are linking arms and smiling brightly

It sits on his nightstand in a golden frame

Gives most of the singing lessons

But doesn’t participate in the karaoke battles

“I’ll join if Leona joins.”

Petty about the karaoke

Jade

Once swapped clothing styles with Floyd for an entire day and was just chaotic towards everyone

Does this more often now just to relieve stress

Only the Prefect could ever tell them apart

Not even Azul knew they had swapped

Is Pansexual and liked Azul during Junior High, but got over it once they started at NRC

Can scare someone so badly that they tell the truth regardless of Jade using his magic

50 students were asked who they’d rather have to fight, 42 of them said “Floyd all the way! No way am I fighting Jade!”

Was actually popular in Junior High, but turned down opportunities to be more popular to spend time with Floyd and Azul

Can cuss in 8 languages

Floyd

When he swapped clothing with Jade, he actually enjoyed being calm and responsible

Loves to do things like that for Jade

Raging Homosexual, need I say more?

His Bakugou impression is on point

There are several videos of him just standing at the end of a dark hallway laughing and whispering “Die, Deku!”

Also really likes Volleyball despite being on the Basketball team

Takes Bean Day a lot farther than it needs to be

Flirts with Riddle a lot, knowing it upsets Trey

But doesn’t know that Trey actually likes Riddle

Has sea related nicknames for everyone

Scarabia

Everyone has to help take care of Snake

Monthly competitions where Kalim hands out free vacations

The competitions involve taking care of Snake

Who is Snake? You’ll see.

Kalim

When he learned what Pansexual was, he went around Scarabia clapping pans together to come out

Cater was the one who explained it to him

Loves to party and flirt with Jamil, but can be serious if needed

Sometimes holds group therapy for his dorm residents

But also PARTY 24/7 IF IT HAS ALCOHOL WE CHUGGIN’ TONIGHT!

PARTY ROCKERS IN THE HOUSE TONIGHT

Named his magic carpet “Jamil Jr.”

Flexes on Azul with Jamil Jr.

Is open about his attraction to Jamil, but also respects Jamil’s personal space

He and Lila sneak out at night to mess with people

Jamil

Has a pet snake that he never named

Just calls the snake “Snake”.

When Jamil’s busy, other residents take turns taking care of Snake

There is an entire chore chart and half of the chores involve Snake

Snake isn’t even the dorm mascot, he’s just Jamil’s pet

Tsundere TM

The only reason he doesn’t accept Kalim’s professions of love is because of his family obligations to serve the Al-Asim family

Takes family and traditions very seriously

Internalized homophobia? Maybe....

Petty as well

Has poured sand into people’s shoes and hidden scorpions in beds

Pomfiore

Usually wins the karaoke battles

Unless Ruggie + Jack join

Make up tips

Vil

I’ve said most of my HCs about him

But I’ll retype them

Wine Mom TM

Musical Theatre Gay TM

Tea Time TM

Fashion Police TM

NRC James Charles

But also respective of people’s sexualities

Has poured water into people’s makeup

Has attempted to give Rook a make over, but Rook is more acrobatic then he looks

Has never actually sung in public

Likes to keep people guessing over his singing voice

Has a cherry apple tree in the school garden that he spends time every day taking care of

Runs NRC’s GSA

Rook

Heterosexual TM

Wears Doc Martens sandals with beige cargo shorts and white polo shirts when not in uniform

Can be seen back-flipping away in this outfit while Vil chases him around the dorm

Is allergic to strawberries

Epel’s bodyguard

Throws rotten fruit at people and calls it a prank

His bangs were by accident

But decided to keep them

Pretends to hunt, but can’t shoot for shit

However does go on fishing trips

Has to have some Heterosexual Hobbies TM

Epel

Is an actual Prince

Like owns land

Everyone in the dorm protects him

Is actually like Honey Senpai

Will put you in your place.

Like fr is a top.

Despite being so small

I don’t know what his sexuality would be

Probably Bisexual

Can lower is voice a lot if needed

Ignihyde

There’s magic inside of the dorm that turns all fire blue, but the fire turns back to normal once outside the dorm

Doesn’t apply to Ortho’s hair, though

Has the most LGBT residents - even more than Pomfiore surprisingly

Actually, not surprising - have you seen Disney’s Hades????

Iida

Cat-sits for Professer Trein

Everyone believes he can set his hair on fire, but he actually can’t

His hair is naturally that fire-y color

Loves to prank people, but never in person

Social Anxiety? Personified.

Before he rebuilt Ortho, Iida had a robot he controlled from his room that went to class for him

The robot was named “Meg”

Now he just uses his screens

Owns a crop top that has a cat face on it that Ortho made for him

Actually wears it a lot, but nobody ever sees below his shoulders on his screens

Oh yeah, also constantly questioning his sexuality

Currently likes guys, but that might just be because he goes to an all-guys school

Ortho

Has tons of cat plushies in his room despite not needing to sleep

Also has a mini library in his room, but he memorized all of the books

Burns things with his hair

Also sews a lot

Spills tea about the dorm residents with Trey, Jamil and Lilia

Has a couple pictures from before he became a robot, but doesn’t remember taking them

Has a bulletin board where he hangs pictures of his friends and family

Actually takes photography classes from Cater

Doesn’t focus on sexuality, so he just goes with “Queer”

People assume he’s scared of water because of his fire hair, but he loves playing in pools

Once cosplayed as Alphonse Elric and Iida was Edward from FML

Has pictures of that as well

Diasomnia

Basically one big family

Even more-so than other dorms like Ignihyde

Has a vault of hard liquor that has been sitting there for centuries

Malleus

Responds to Tsunotaro

Smuggles hard liquor into Scarabia despite not being a drinker

Has a YouTube account where he visits old buildings

Floyd ruined his Ramshackle Dorm video by standing at the end of a hallway and laughing

Can turn into a Dragon

His horns aren’t sensitive

Lilia once hung Christmas lights from them and Malleus didn’t notice for the entire day

Sometimes Lilia jumps and pulls on Malleus’ horns when he’s being dumb

Polysexual, but leans towards men

When he looks surprised by something - he genuinely is surprised, not faking it for someone else

Doesn’t believe in hiding emotions

Is actually like 300 years old, but was frozen for a good amount of it

Also immortal and is stuck at being physically 18

Damn Fairy magic

Oh and he didn’t mind wearing Leona’s ceremonial robes that one time

They were comfy

Enjoys swapping clothes with Leona a lot

Also had a crown made of thorns that is uncomfortable to wear

He burned it, but hasn’t told anyone yet

Takes the term “mom friend” to another level

Just ask Silver

Lilia

Only calls Malleus “old man” to be a prick

Is like 500 years old

Has gone through high school many times

Can undo stitches in people’s clothing without them knowing until their clothing falls apart

Asexual Homoromantic

“Who needs sex when you can be a bitch?” - Lilia Vanrouge, 2020

Is Malleus’ royal advisor

Spills tea like crazy

Has catfished people

Is the cool dad

Sebek

Is a Malleus fanboy???

He named his horse Draco

I don’t have many Headcanons about Sebek actually

Probably drinks tea with Riddle sometimes

Oh and definitely a bottom

Is he Bi? Poly? Pan? No one knows

But he’s a power bottom

Silver

Doesn’t have a last name because he was raised by Lilia and Malleus

Is indebted to Malleus because of this

and Lilia too, but like I said, Lilia is the cool dad

(he is actually indebted to Malleus in canon, but idk if it’s for this reason or not)

just let him have two platonically gay dads that go to school with him

Once in a Diasomnia/Savanaclaw sleepover, he and Leona passed out on each other’s shoulders while Ruggie and Lilia took photos

The photos haven’t been seen in a while, but are still around somewhere

Actually has several photos of him falling asleep with his head in Lilia’s lap

His bed stretches across his entire wall, forming a bench almost

Owns a suit of armor

It has a sword

He can use the sword if needed

Can he just get a nap????

Because of his relationship with Malleus, seeing fireflies calms him down

Is this guy wholesome? Yes.

Is he a Bisexual top? Also yes.

Can’t make everything wholesome

Holy fuck my fingers hate me. If you managed to read this far, I hope you enjoyed my headcanons for Twisted Wonderland students and houses! I don’t know enough about the teachers to make headcanons for each them, but I do have one for the staff:

Sam and Dire Crowley

Married

This is the only reason Sam runs the school store

Sam is not qualified for anything else

But Dire loves him too much to fire him

Forget the wholesomeness between the Dorm heads and their Vices

This is the most wholesome pair

Okay seriously - I need to stop making these headcanons it’s midnight at my house. I’ve spent probably close to 13 hours (give or take with a lot of breaks) writing these down and doing research on characters just so that my headcanons don’t seem completely out of the blue. Also, don’t be afraid to post your own headcanons, even if canon doesn’t always support them. That’s the thing about fictional characters - they’re open to interpretation!

And now to the long list of tags....

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roguish-gallery · 5 years ago

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Rogues + Internet/Social Media HCs!

Hello!!! this was requested by @geniusbee I struggled a bit with the initial prompt, so I kinda broadened the question, I hope you don’t mind! Once I got the ball rolling with this one, it was super fun to work on! Thank you again for your request!

If anyone wants to, feel free to send me send me more requests! I’d love to do more of these!

Everything is under the Read More bc this got LONG AS FUCK. (Slight TW for sexual references!)

Bane:

Doesn’t use social media. point blank

He’ll surf the web mostly for research or for communication purposes, but that’s mostly it... That being said sometimes he DOES look up stuff for fun because he’s a naturally curious guy who had limited access to education for the first 20-ish years of his life. It sends him down a rabbit hole of researching weird shit and sometimes you’ll catch him up at 4:00 am looking up how bread was made in Ancient Rome or what Cock and Ball Torture is bc he heard Joker say it once and he’s never EVER fucking heard of those words strung together like that before

Also… his fingers are simply too beefy for most keyboards. Dude tryna sit down and send Scandal Savage some fun cookie recipes she could try with her GF like

Catwoman:

Not a lot to say here but tbh she probably has the most normal internet habits of everyone. Helps to promote cat shelter’s web pages, and will use some light hacking to find the locations of fur factories and animal abusers but that’s mostly it?

If she isn’t already an influencer, she has definitely considered it. Will sometimes post selfies of her wearing stolen jewelry just to flex. Has a legion of simps.

Clayface

Unknowingly gets into kin drama without trying to

He has... so many theather blogs, musical blogs, and obscure film blogs... someone help him... somehow he regularly adds shit to ALL OF THEM.

He’s that one bitch who hoards all the canon URLs and there’s nothing you can fucking do to stop him.

Harley Quinn:

Her computer is slow and buggy as shit because she’s got so many viruses from trying to download flash games. Edward refuses to fix her computers at this point because he knows it’s a lost cause.

She vlogs sometimes, actually! And she’ll drag her hyenas or any of the rogues/batfam/GCPD she’s hanging out with atm into it.

She likes to go onto anxiety or depression forums and anonymously leave nice, helpful advice :)

Joker:

Mostly on the dark web, doing… things that you do on the dark web...

If he’s ever on the clean web I promise it’s only to start kin drama or to dm fucked up shit to random people he finds.

Has been known to catfish when the mood strikes him

Also? He jumps onto RP forums and either plays the SHITTIEST Batman, or an eerily accurate Batman.

Killer Croc:

He likes looking up funny videos online!!! Also! Art tutorials!!

He likes to post his artwork online under a pseudonym. He doesn’t expect anyone to really pay attention to his work, but it’s always a very pleasant surprise when someone likes or leaves a nice comment on his art.

He genuinely cherishes all of his followers and the kind interactions he shares with them.

Mad Hatter:

It’s just hat porn and hentai. I’m sorry.

Mr. Freeze:

Normal internet habits tbh. Doesn’t really go on the internet that often because he doesn’t particularly care about keeping up to date with what’s happening.

He used to have a Facebook where he’d post pictures of himself and Nora, but he can’t really do that anymore due to obvious reasons.

Penguin:

Lightly dabbles in dark web shit (for business purposes) but otherwise he’s like an old man on the internet. Checks the stock market and shit. Responds to his emails in a timely manner. He keeps track of everyone’s internet presence but that’s mostly because he enjoys drama and he doesn’t want to be out of the loop in case Eddie starts something again and he needs to know WHY Jervis and Pamela can’t be in the Iceberg at the same time without trying to kill each other.

He REFUSES to make a social media account for the Iceberg Lounge!!!! It is too classy for that!!!

Other than that, though… don’t tell anyone… but he keeps some tabs open on some 🥺🥺🥺 some bird forums and uh 🥺🥺🥺 m🥺🥺🥺 maybe some blogs he has that are all about Jane Austen and Star Trek: The Next Generation 🥺🥺🥺🥺 n-not like he LIKES Star Trek, though!!

Also in Batman #448 it shows that him and Batman canonically play chess with each other online and you know what? That’s cute as hell so I’m gonna say that they still do that.

Poison Ivy:

Surprising no one… she mostly blogs about botany

Will ONLY go onto other parts of the internet to like and share Harley, Selina, or Waylon’s posts and THAT'S IT!!!!

She is not above getting petty in the comment section!! If she finds a video of some clown over-watering their ferns she will absolutely let them know and she will not be polite about it.

Riddler:

Canonically has the best hookup and 100% is the most active online. Like yeah he does a lot of hacking shit but he uses the internet for legit stuff too.

PURPOSEFULLY looks himself up and will argue with anyone who talks smack about him on literally any of the search results. He WILL remember your username and he WILL publicly mock you for it when he freezes your laptop or when he takes over the broadcasting waves in Gotham again.

You KNOW he has a social media account for everything. He WILL talk about how smart and sexy he is and he WILL get around any attempts made to get him blocked, suspended, or banned.

“You fool… I have 70 A L T E R N A T I V E A C C O U N T S”

He is the self-proclaimed tech-guru of the Rogues. He WILL harass you if you are using the wrong web browser or if you have TOO MANY FUCKING TABS OPEN FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU.

He calms down somewhat once he becomes a P.I. He’ll take selfies at crime scenes and livestream himself when he’s finding clues or chasing someone down! He’s absolutely obsessed with it and he gets super popular. He knows that he shouldn’t broadcast himself solving crimes... but... the clicks... the views... his stans...

Enjoys gaming and modding whenever he has free time.

Scarecrow:

He hasn’t been in a classroom in years but if you looked at his internet habits you would think he’s still teaching psychology at Gotham U. Responds to emails responsibly (but NOT on weekends or after 10 pm!!)

Probably wouldn’t blog these days, but when he was younger he had a page where he would discuss his psychology work.

He mostly uses the internet for research or to order chemicals but he’ll often get swept up in some inane message chain with Harley and Eddie and he HATES IT.

He has like two dozen tabs open on his computer because he forgets about them and even though some of the tabs have been there for so long that he GENUINELY can’t remember why they were there, he keeps them because it makes Edward break into hives every time he tries to watch what he’s doing online. Giving Edward Nygma anxiety sweats is easy and free and should be done often.

Two-Face:

He uses incognito mode… whenever he needs to google embarrassing questions…

He likes to peruse the dark web but sometimes he enjoys hopping onto r/legaladvice and r/relationships and reads that shit like it's the Sunday paper.

If he’s bored or is having a bad mental day, he likes to look up all the Google doodle games that Google keeps archived. they’re all really cute and are a lot of fun to goof around with whenever he’s wanting to play something light and quick!

#headcanons #rogue gallery #Edward Nygma #Harley Quinn #Jonathan Crane #Oswald Cobblepot #Bane #Selina Kyle #Basil Karlo #Harvey Dent #Waylon Jones #Pamela Isley #Victor Fries #Jervis Tetch #the joker #dc comics #dc headcanon

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bobasheebaby · 5 years ago

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100 New Girl Prompts

So many prompts, most of which are funny. Break at 15 cause it’s mega long.

1 "I'm using my bride/groom card!" — Cece

2 “Can we just take a minute to celebrate me?" — Schmidt

3 “So many emotions." — Nick

4 “I'm totaling my assets. It's really bleak." — Jess

5 “Look at those horny horny hippos.” — Nick

6 “I got mozzarella sticks for fingers." — Nick

7 “Every moment you're on this Earth is a moment I know where you are." — Nick

8 “It is my Secret Santa alias." — Winston

9 “Friend face." — Winston

10 “It's perfectly fine to watch TV all day." — Nick

11 “If I were off my rocker, would I take a weekly selfie with my cat?" — Winston

12 “I can't find my driving moccasins anywhere." — Schmidt

13 “Believe it or not, that's not the first time someone's broken my feeling stick. I have a travel size." — Jess

14 “Put on some pants, or at least some really high socks." — Jess

15 “You like me? You like my personality?" “I was surprised, too.” — Schmidt & Cece

16 "I just wanted to listen to Taylor Swift alone!" — Jess

17 “That's like the president and the vice president not being best friends." — Winston

18 “I'll take the strongest drink you have, and also a wine spritzer on the side in case I don't like it." — Jess

19 “You have the right...to remain hugged." — Coach

20 “If you are for one second suggesting that I don't know how to open a musical, how dare you!" — Schmidt

21 “I was sabotaged by my baby box." — Jess

22 “We are literally the most embarrassing people on the planet." — Jess

23 "It's a weird life, but it's where I'm at right now." — Nick

24 "You gave me a cookie, I gave you a cookie." — Nick

25 “Go put a dollar in the jar right now." — Coach

26 “This is my jam." — Coach

27 “Saturday is a day for sleeping, and damn it, you will not take that away from me!" — Winston

28 “Are we eating or are we not eating?" — Winston

29 "Eating cookies and avoiding confrontation." — Jess

30 “Because it's a great story, and I'm a teller of stories." — Nick

31 “I like being weird." — Jess

32 "This is the worst thing to ever happen to me. I've lived a very fortunate life!" — Jess

33 "I don't like it. It's too much responsibility." — Nick

34 “Are you cooking a frittata in a sauce pan? What is this – prison?” — Schmidt

35 “I hate your mustache because I miss your upper lip.” — Schmidt

36 “He’s/She's got that giant heart that's part compass and part flashlight and he’s/she's just the greatest person I have ever met.” — Nick

37 “Who's that guy/girl? It's NAME." — Jess

38 “Watch your front because we've got your back!” — Cece

39 “Picking lint off of a man's/woman’s sleeve is the most intimate gesture.” — Cece

40 “Blast from the past, how's that ass?” — Jess

41 “I hate this. I just wanna sit around and do nothing, but that is not hot.” “That's hot to me. You add some sweatpants to that and that is better than porn.” — Kai & Nick

42 “Look at that font! What is this? Amateur hour? At least use Palatino.” — Nick

43 “I’m like a sexual snowflake. Each night with me is like a unique experience.” — Schmidt

44 “Where have you been? I am having a major life crisis, and you guys are, what, just driving around, French kissing each other like a couple of Dutch hookers?” — Schmidt

45 “No sig oths.” “Just say ‘significant others.” “Maybe you have that kind of time, but I’m on a tight sched.” — Schmidt & Cece

46 “I know this isn’t gonna end well, but the whole middle part is going to be awesome.” — Nick

47 “NAME, you’ve been staring at this guy/girl for 5 minutes. Please tell me you’re checking him/her out, otherwise you’re a serial killer. Which would explain a lot.” — Schmidt

48 “This is a horrible neighborhood. There are youths everywhere!” — Schmidt

49 “Guess whose personalized condoms just arrived!” — Schmidt

50 “I’m really gonna need you to step it up tonight, okay? When I see you, I wanna be thinking, ‘Who let the dirty slut out of the slut house?’” — Schmidt

51 “Can someone please get my towel? It’s in my room next to my Irish walking cape!” — Schmidt

52 “Have you seen my sharkskin laptop sleeve?” — Schmidt

53 “Don’t pretend to know my pain.” — Schmidt

54 “Do I regret it? Yes. Would I do it again? Probably.” — Nick

55 “I don't know what I'm doing emotionally or -- let's be honest -- sexually.” — Jess

56 “What if I have some idea of love in my head and it’s just totally wrong?” — Jess

57 “Life sucks. And then it gets better. And then it sucks again.” — Nick

58 “I like getting older, I feel like I’m aging into my personality.” — Nick

59 “You know, sometimes I feel like I’ve never really felt love.” — Winston

60 “When you care about somebody you do what's best for them even if it sucks for you.” — Schmidt

61 “Old people freak me out. With their hands and their legs. They’re like the people version of pleated pants.” — Schmidt

62 “I’m gonna have to run all the way home, and I have my slipperiest loafers on.” — Schmidt

63 “Downstairs neighbour put a password on their wi-fi.” — Nick

64 “You were denied a cell phone because you have the credit score of a homeless ghost.” — Schmidt

65 “I’m only attracted to guys/girls who are afraid of success and think someone famous stole their idea.” — Jess

66 “This place is fancy and I don’t know which fork to kill myself with.” — Nick

67 “Without sex, he’s/she’s not your boyfriend/girlfriend. Okay? He’s/She’s a friend you buy meals for.” — Schmidt

68 “I feel like I wanna murder someone. And also, I want soft pretzels.” — Jess

69 “So when I do the chicken dance, I do it a little differently. Instead of doing claps, I like to do a peck. It’s more realistic.” — Jess

70 “NAME doesn’t have a life plan. He/She doesn’t have a day plan. I once found a note that he/she wrote to himself that said, ‘Put on pants.'” — Jess

71 “I don’t want to kiss and tell, but I ruined my dresser during intercourse. Will you go to Ikea with me?” — Jess

72 “Can I get an alcohol?” — Nick

73 “I want to kill you, because I respect you. NAME! I think I understand hunting!” — Nick

74 “Look, we’re not trying to be mean. We just don’t want you to be yourself… in any way.”

75 “I have decided to give up on men/women and put all of that energy into tomatoes.”

76 “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? No, a summer’s day is not a bitch!” — Nick

77 “I only wanna make a drink a coal miner would want. Straight forward. Honest. Something that says, ‘I work in a hole.'” — Nick

78 “I’m not convinced I know how to read, I’ve just memorized a lot of words.” — Nick

79 “I like chipmunks more than squirrels.” — Nick

80 “I can’t believe I’m the sober one. That’s actually never happened before in my life.” — Nick

81 “Beans are nothing but soggy nuts.” — Schmidt

82 “Can I interest you in some white noise?” — Winston

83 “Those are pickles in progress.” — Winston

84 “Who’s talking to you, Depression-era garbage man?” — Coach

85 “I need everyone to shut up.” — Coach

86 “Your asses belong to me now.” — Coach

87 “That’s what’s up, that’s what’s up. No doubt. Diggity.” — Coach

88 “I hate when Schmidt cries. He sounds like a ghost singing ‘Hey Ya.'” — Coach

89 “I’ve made out with half of the guys/girls in this room.” — Cece

90 “You always see the worst in people.” “Yeah, because people are the worst.” — Jess & Nick

91 “I’m sorry we’re not going this weekend.” “But It’s free.” “Did you say free?” “Yeah.” “We’re 100% in. I’ll go pack now.” — Nick & Jes

92 “I’m going to end up alone. I’m going to be a single old man/lady flashing people on the subway.” — Jess

93 “I’ve got two perfectly good forks on the end of my arms.” — Nick

94 “If we needed to talk about feelings they would be called talkings.” — Nick

95 “When you question my pajamas, you make me question our entire friendship!” — Jess

96 “Why can’t I have the things that I want?!” — Schmidt

97 “Bathtubs are medieval filth cauldrons.” — Schmidt

98 “They don’t hate me because I’m old. They hate me because of my personality.” — Schmidt

99 “It’s like you’re ripping the side block out of my mental Jenga.” — Schmidt

100 “I’m not actually quite sure how to stop this.” — Schmidt

#new girl prompts #new girl quotes #writing prompts #dialogue prompts #drabble prompts #jessica day #nick miller #cece parekh #winston bishop #winston schmidt #coach #long post #read more

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post-itpenny · 4 years ago

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The Challenge

So this is completely ridiculous but I’ve had the idea for a while and just really wanted to try writing some Dead By Daylight.

Yeah this is definitely ridiculous.

There were few things they could take comfort in while trapped in this never ending nightmare that the survivors called “The Game.”

The first being that despite how twisted and horrifying the game was, it did still have some semblance of a set of rules that both survivors and killers alike had to follow.

The second being that for some reason, despite coming from different countries and languages, they could all understand each other. They heard each other in their own languages except or obvious accents. It was strange and unnerving, something that became more disturbing as more and more survivors came claiming to be from different decades.

Jane speculated it was because they were dead, explaining to the others the last thing she remembered was flying off the road thanks to some black ice. Adam added that he had been in a train crash which he was certain he should not have survived. It was Kate that pointed out she had been literally yanked out of reality by The Entity and dropped by the campfire. Several others could attest getting lost or just walking into the fog by complete accident.

Perhaps it was another rule they didn’t fully understand. But then again, communication was vital during a trial. Regardless of the reasoning of The Entity the survivors all agreed it was a small comfort being able to speak with each other.

Which led to how everything started.

Dwight, Claudette, Nea, and Jeff had been pulled into a trial. The anxiety that came with waiting for those in a trial to return never lessoned. There had been a handful of survivors that only lasted a few rounds before completely breaking, dying in a trial and not returning to the campfire. No one wanted to think about what may have happened to those few but the fear someone else would break was always present.

Fifteen minutes in and Dwight had appeared, his clothes muddy and torn. The look on his face said it all- a mori.

“Ghost Face,” he groaned, “‘Dette was hooked and I ran to help her. Should have known it was too easy since he had already gotten me once.” Dwight sighed as he shrugged off his shirt and took the offered needle and thread from Quinten. The Entity could repair broken bones and gored flesh; heck, it even fixed Dwight’s glasses more than once. But it was apparently not a tailor.

From across the campfire Bill shook his head as he took a drag of his cigarette, “how the hell did he get you so fast boy?”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Dwight snapped back with a slight whine in his voice, “I spawned in right next to the guy. I didn’t have a chance.”

Half an hour later the other three came back, Claudette seemed…. dumbfounded.

Nea was laughing hysterically.

“I would have paid anything the see his fuckin’ face!” She cackled. “You guys, guys! You won’t believe it!”

Apparently Nea had also tried to come to Claudette’s aid, hanging back in the tall grass as she saw Ghost Face pounce on Dwight. But then-

“So he’s fishing his camera out of a pocket and to take a picture and- an-“ Nea couldn’t continue, breaking into another fit of laughter. Claudette, who had seen everything, continued.

“Ghost Face took a selfie with Dwight’s body and Nea photobombed it.”

“He sat there for two minutes just staring at the stupid screen!” Nea screamed between fits of laughter, Dwight gave a huff of annoyance and half-heartedly shoved Nea off the log she sat on and flat on her back in the dirt, tears in her eyes with laughter.

Bill took another drag of his nearly dissolved cigarette and scowled. “That was bold but stupid, what if he turned around and stabbed you?”

“Oh come off it old man,” Nea scoffed, “pass me a cig from wherever the hell you get them from.”

“Nope, you’ll ruin your lungs.”

“Bill you-“

“So what's a photobomb?”

It had been Nancy that had asked, which considering it had been the 80’s last time she and Steve had checked no one could blame her. Confusion about slang did not change even if they could understand each other, the time gaps not helping. So it was explained what it meant to photobomb someone and as the realization of what Nea had done really started to sink in, most of the group could agree, it was hilarious.

But then two days later Ace decided it would be funny to sing “I Only Have Eyes For You” to the Nurse, leaving the apparition coming to a halt in her chase with Meg. He made it through the first verse before she seemed to pull herself together and swing at him with her bone saw. Ace died pretty quickly that round but that night at the campfire they were all in better spirits than they had been in a long time as they listened to Ace and Meg recount the story.

And so, the challenge was born.

There were several like Bill, Tapp, and Jane who saw it as reckless but even Claudette who was arguably one of the most level headed of them all pointed out that it wasn’t like anyone would die permanently. Plus, if it raised everyone’s spirits then wasn’t the risk worth it?

Even the survivors got bored with the monotony of one trial after another, so anything that could spice things up was welcomed by most.

It took some time to explain what a “meme” was, several failing since the best they could do was give examples that not everyone understood. But the idea got across soon enough and quickly led to Steve screaming “is that a cat?!” As the Demigorgon charged his way which led to Feng Min screaming “yeet!” As the Huntress threw a hatchet in Bill’s direction.

The Huntress didn’t seem to appreciate the humor as much as Feng Min did.

Perhaps the boldest came from Laurie who had at first been very much against the idea of taunting the killers in such a way. But she had been inspired, and there were very few things that could bring her as much joy as giving her brother any form of grief.

Kate and Quinten has been trapped in a corner of the ironworks, Michael staring them down as he prepared to strike-

But they were far more interested in Laurie who was standing an arm’s length behind him.

Michael lunged and they split in separate directions; Kate apparently being the unfortunate chosen as Michael chased her out of the ironworks and Quinten watched as Laurie followed right behind, just as stealthy and quiet as her brother could ever be. She followed him like this for nearly the entire match and when Michael did finally turn around to spot Laurie he skipped the usual protocol and went straight to a mori.

It was amazing and Quinten was well convinced Laurie could be just as dangerous as her brother given the right circumstances.

Many of them took turns playing like this, even at the risk of an early death the survivors found it worth it for just two minutes of a good laugh. They now had stories to share around the campfire aside from the mournful accounts of what they missed from their old lives. Even Jane eventually joined in, propping her arms up on a window ledge and holding a thirty second mock interview with an extremely confused Wraith with an imaginary microphone held out for his response.

They started repeating the antics of each other which infuriated some of the killers to no end. The Huntress especially really did not seem to like it when someone screamed “yeet.” But a challenge was still a challenge and the ultimate goal was to outdo each other.

Dwight often did not feel like a proper leader even though he somehow had found his way into the role. He didn’t like the idea of the others willingly throwing themselves in harm's way for the sake of a laugh. It already worried him to no end when Meg or someone else would lead a killer on the chase so the others could work on a generator. The theory that they would always come back as long as they had hope felt shaky to him at best. If The Entity could bring them back on a whim then surely it could just get rid of them if they proved too troublesome. It did make the rules of the game after all.

And yet…

Dwight was running as fast as he could, the leader of The Legion right behind him. He turned a corner and dashed for a pallet, hoping the killer had not reached a frenzied state yet. Dwight lept to the other side of the pallet and slammed it down in the killer’s face. He stood there for a moment as some speck of sanity seemed to snap and his brain went to autopilot.

Dwight dabbed and took off running again.

From behind him came a roar of laughter, spotting Nea he gave a grin as he dashed off into the cornfields of Coldwind Farms.

Later on he somehow made it out of the trial alive, giggling like mad as he sat down next to Nea.

“Did you see? That was amazing!”

“Y-yeah I saw you,” she stammered.

Dwight frowned, “look I know it’s not the most impressive but you still laughed-“

“That wasn’t me.”

“... what?”

“Dwight, that wasn’t me laughing. I was hiding in a corner, I wasn’t laughing.”

It was then Dwight realized the laughter he had heard was distinctly male.

Dwight slipped off the log in a dead faint.

#dead by daylight #dbd #just thought it would be funny #may do a part two if this gets received well enough

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itsblissfuloblivion · 5 years ago

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metanoia

A/N: surprise holiday gift from @gryffindormischief & @fightfortherightsofhouseelves. Hinny Muggle Modern AU for your reading pleasure :)

FF and Ao3

_____

Honestly, if Sirius wasn’t the estate lawyer for Mrs. Figg, Harry probably never would’ve known about the shop. About his shop.

Because Mrs. Figg loved two things - cats and pizza. And apparently thought Harry should too.

It just so happens Harry’s most recent assignment has wrapped up - with a significant number of deranged menaces to society locked away. Though not enough. Harry has been victim to the knowledge of just how horrible a human can be since he could barely spell his full name.

And now, just about thirty years later, he’s bagged his fair share of serial killers - including the one that started it all. At least for him. He’s studied, tracked, and caught them with an endless supply of motivation. Motivation that Sirius has on more than one occasion called an ‘obsession’ or ‘avoidance.’

Harry likes to think of it as a positive outcome from a highly traumatic childhood. And saying it that way makes him sound like a well adjusted adult so he sticks with it.

Though in the privacy of his own mind, it sounds less and less true with each passing day.

Which is probably why the shop feels like a set up. A glass half full type might say kismet or destiny, but again, childhood trauma and possible suppression of feelings.

Sirius sighs. “You were rabbit trailing.”

Harry grunts. “Was not.”

“Tell me what I just said.”

“Pizza shop.”

“You are a terrible godson.”

“No family discount for you,” Harry says with a grin, swirling his coffee.

Rolling his eyes, Sirius resumes his explanation. “Arabella loved you in her own strange way and this is her even stranger way of showing it.”

“But - why ? I said I liked her pizza. But she literally has a photo wall of her herd of cats - do I look like someone who wants to stare at that all day?”

Sirius fiddles with his empty Splenda packet, tearing it to bits and sighing a little. And when he does speak it’s not really an answer. “They would want you to be happy.”

Harry blinks.

“Your parents.”

“I gathered.”

A herd of teenagers bustle into the coffee shop, bringing an icy wind and puddling rain with them. Harry really hasn’t missed London’s general greyness. Psychotic murdering crime syndicate aside, Majorca was warm and sunny .

“I’m good at it, Sirius,” Harry says after a moment, “Protecting people, catching killers, don’t I owe it to them, to everyone, to keep going?”

“Don’t let that arsehole steal your whole life - you got justice,” Sirius frowns, “However much you could, that is. You don’t owe anyone, any of us.”

Harry’s quiet a moment. “Well I guess we should go take a look at my new shop.”

The first red flag really should’ve gone up when Sirius told Harry the walkthrough could wait. When he coaxed Harry into taking a post-travel nap . Then he makes his chicken alfredo pasta bake for supper and pours him a large glass of chardonnay, which was when Harry began to feel suspicious. But, just as Sirius wanted, Harry’s too pliant with rich food and heady wine to question it and ends up falling asleep without even realizing.

Yet, when he wakes, he is in pajamas and tucked in bed, mouth a bit stale. Apparently Sirius draws the line in his babying at toothbrushing. It’s just after one in the afternoon and Harry would bet fifty quid Sirius is currently the person buzzing his mobile off the bedside table.

Harry swipes his thumb across the screen and presses the phone to his face.

“Wake up lazy bones.”

“You’re the one who plied me with wine and pasta.”

Sirius’ laugh is a huff. “You’re such a lightweight.”

Harry flops back on the bed and sighs. “Ever hear of jet lag?”

“Nobody likes a whiner.”

There’s some grumbling on Harry’s end and some grouchy barking on Sirius’ end and after what Harry will fully own as whining, he agrees to a greasy breakfast and a tour of his new acquisition right off.

Halfway through his third slice of bacon - deliciously crispy and oily - Harry glances at a mysteriously quiet Sirius. “So what is it?”

“What is what?”

“The catch, the surprise, the thing you’re going to ruin my breakfast with,” Harry answers around the rim of his coffee cup.

“Breakfast? It’s well past two. Don’t know how things are on the continent but - ”

“Breakfast is the first meal of the day,” Harry asserts, “Now answer.”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Eat your breakfast .”

Knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, Harry lets the issue drop with a lingering look. Or at least on the surface. Internally, he’s still in full Inspector Mode and highly suspicious of every glance Sirius gives him and every word he says.

But odd as his godfather’s behavior is, it’s not particularly helpful in any information gathering sense. Which isn’t to say it’s not a nice meal. Clinical as Harry may paint himself at times, workaholic though he can be, he loves his godfather and getting caught up doesn’t take twisting his arm.

So yes, he drops the issue for a time, but by the time they’re walking down to Arabella’s, Harry can’t resist any longer. “Don’t you think you should give me fair warning for whatever I’m about to encounter?”

“Since when do I do things like give fair warnings?”

Sirius pushes the door open, overhead bell ringing their entry, and shepherds Harry inside.

Distracted as he is by the display of gallantry, Harry takes a moment to zero in on the figure behind the counter. And when he does, everything clicks together.

His voice is a low hiss, “What the hell, Sirius?”

“Didn’t I mention?”

“You have problems,” Harry grumbles, low enough that hopefully their conversation remains private , “I officially fire you as my godfather.”

Sirius straightens his Santa-themed scarf, jauntily tossed over his shoulder and a bit at odds with the punk vibe of his leather jacket. All of which is at odds with his profession but that’s an issue for another time. A time when Harry’s not less than four paces away from his not-so-secret celebrity crush. Ginny Weasley, star striker for the Holyhead Harpies.

A crush that is complicated all the more by the fact that she’s also his best mate’s sister whom he has not seen since they were almost something. Back when he was a dumb teenager with an axe to grind and entirely too much angst for his awkward green bean-esque body.

“You can’t fire me. It’s outside the scope of your authority.”

“I’ll - ”

Harry loses whatever he was about to say to the ether, well that and Ginny’s eyes as her attention shifts from her final customer to the new entrants. Her patented customer service smile slips into place and she’s halfway through her welcome when her eyes light in recognition. “Harry! Sirius. I wish you’d warned me.”

Ruffling his hair, Harry manages to steel himself and wander closer. “Sirius doesn’t do warnings.”

Ginny nudges the register closed and passes the customer the receipt once it’s printed. “Yeah, I guess that checks out. So we’re business partners now, yeah?”

Harry leans against the counter, taking in the half-full shop, Arabella’s catered shrine to her cats. Which reminds him. “What about the cats? We’re not - ”

Grinning, Ginny tilts her head toward the empty barstools and pours a few sodas. “That was my first question. We are not feline parents.”

Sirius nods. “Arabella had a lady in her quilting group - she’s a cat lover. Took the lot.”

“How will all this fit in - aren’t you busy?” Harry asks, turning his attention to Ginny.

She shrugs. “Somebody’s #1 fan status is in danger, I am officially retired.”

“Shite I - injury?”

“Nah, just felt like time. I’m not getting any younger - in sports years - and I’d rather go out on top than limping if I can help it,” Ginny explains, “On top and in love. The magic was still there but I could feel it fading.”

“Time for a new dream, eh?” Sirius puts in.

“Someone’s been watching too much telly with Teddy,” Harry teases and glances sidelong at Ginny, whose cheeks are a bit flushed, “My godson is quite the fan of Rapunzel.”

Ginny chuckles. “I learned that on very long afternoon of babysitting Victoire and Ted.”

The conversation peters out and they linger a bit uncomfortably until the chef passes a couple of pizzas through to Ginny. With a spared smile for her companions, she grabs the two pies and heads into the dining area to deliver the orders.

Harry can’t help but watch as she turns on the charm, poses for a selfie with a nervous looking little tween at the table, and heads back their way.

Sirius nudges Harry’s arm. “Nice surprise, eh?”

Things pick up at the shop, so Sirius orders a vegetable laden pizza to go and blusters about something important he’s just got to do and disappears as soon as his pie is ready.

Leaving Harry to feel awkward and out of place, not sure he can leave and even less sure he can stay. The latter more a thing about sanity.

He might not be a huge ‘be open about your feelings’ person but Harry’s at least somewhat self aware. And Ginny Weasley, cheeky and fit as ever, wielding the power vested in her as a co-owner of a pizza shop like a queen with a very doughy throne - well it’s not good for his state of mind.

The last forty-eight hours have been highly confusing and unexpected and Harry really feels he’s handled things with admirable elegance considering the post-assignment haze he generally experiences coupled with the usual jet-lag. Well he’s a bit out of it and that means his already low ability to filter and process emotions is severely impeded.

All of which leads Harry to feel he should be cut some slack for his awkward exit - chosen at a time where he can’t do more than offer Ginny a passing wave and earn narrowed eyes in return.

So when he finds himself off the clock two days later and somehow standing in front of Arabella’s, Harry’s really not sure it’s a good idea. Or even what the idea is.

It’s late, yesterday’s snow already either shuffled to the side by plows or trampled by Londoners tramping through the streets, and Harry’s simultaneously hungry and too terrified to be so.

Because if Ginny Weasley’s angry at eight and a half because he and Ron put snails in her sock drawer was terrifying, Harry can only imagine he’s in for a dangerous evening.

The overhead bell beckons his entry and Ginny’s voice calls from the back, “Just a sec - we’re actually - “ she pauses wiping her hands on her apron as she emerges from the kitchen, “Closed.”

“Is it ever closed for me ?” Harry asks.

Ginny scowls. “Dunno we haven’t really discussed any of this, have we?”

“I-”

“You’re not starting off as a particularly enjoyable business partner.”

“It’s been less than a week, give a bloke a break, yeah?” Harry defends, twisting the lock on the door and claiming a seat at the counter.

Ginny pins him with her stare. “If you’re going to hang about after closing, help me clean up.”

Harry accepts the rag she tosses at his chest and follows her minimal, and gradually less angry, instructions. It’s congenial, and Harry finds himself beginning to relax like he hasn’t - maybe ever. At least not without the aid of some sort of sleep-inducing medication or a couple shots of whiskey in his system.

And somehow, Ginny manages to pull him out of himself, her easy chatter draws him in and somehow he finds himself making it more of a conversation. Hell, he’s having a good time and Harry would want to thank Mrs. Figg if he wasn’t still just a little ticked at being manipulated and at the fact that an octogenarian knew his interests better than he did.

Regardless, he returns most nights, sometimes after a day off, sometimes after a long shift he just wants to forget.

Ginny’s always there delivering a cheeky rejoinder or a prod to his shoulder when he’s ‘not putting in enough elbow grease’ scrubbing the dishes. And sometimes, he begins to hope, her teasing gets just a tinge of flirtatiousness.

After a month, Harry finally asks, “So you’re here alone?”

“ That’s not something a serial murderer would say,” Ginny says with a smirk, refilling another napkin holder.

“No, I mean, for closing.”

Surprisingly, Ginny flushes a bit, her voice only wavering a bit as she begins to speak before strengthening as she squares her jaw, daring him to comment. “Well, that first night, my - our - help called in sick. And then eventually you were so regular I figured why make Francis stay and pay someone when we handled it fine enough.”

“So you’re taking advantage of my free labor.”

“Hardly free partner ,” Ginny teases, filling another holder.

Harry laughs and the shop falls into silence as they go through the motions of closing, now something of a choreographed dance between them.

It’s comfortable and yet Harry feels a weight on him, words running up his throat from somewhere he’s not even really conscious of. Repressing it begins to feel pointless - why wouldn’t he just say it? What’s the harm? Part of him wonders at his trust of Ginny after only a month, but it’s really longer than that, when he thinks about it. And if he spends one more day of his life living in constant apprehension of betrayal, of someone else leaving him or letting him down - maybe Sirius was right.

Bastard.

“Ginny?”

She rises from her crouch behind the counter, ponytail askew and a slash of flour across her cheek, hiding her freckles in a dusting of powder. “Yes?”

“Did you ever - how did you know when to retire?”

Ginny pushes flyaways from her face and disappears into the kitchen, which is really not a particularly fun reaction to receive after finally drumming up courage to ask. But she returns soon enough with a few mismatched slices of pie. “We can eat the mistakes - or the rejects I suppose - and have a chat,” Ginny smiles and gestures to one of the tables without the chairs stacked, “Grab a seat.”

Harry does as she instructs and sighs. It had been a long day, more death, more horror, more of the worst of humanity. If he’s honest, which is something Harry’s really working on, it feels like that’s all his life is. Arabella’s is an escape of sorts. And Ginny is - something else entirely.

“So my retirement? You’re not investigating me for some murder, right?” Ginny asks, pulling a slice from the tray and biting into it with a sigh, “We make good pizza.”

“No, I - I’ve just been thinking,” Harry fiddles with his napkin and finally selects a slice of pizza absently, heedless of the mushrooms he really doesn’t like. Maybe the fidgety nature of pulling them from the pie will calm his nerves. “I’ve been realizing maybe I’m not happy.”

Ginny raises her brows but doesn’t interrupt as he continues, “Before I felt like I had a purpose, a reason to be doing what I was doing. Beyond just being good at it.”

“Even after?”

“Yeah - I felt a pull even after we caught Riddle, like my work wasn’t finished,” Harry answers, thoughtful, “But lately it feels more like a placeholder, like I’m just doing it to do it.”

“You’re unhappy.”

“I mean - it feels odd to say it ever made me happy ,” Harry laughs, dry, “But I was fulfilled in a strange way, had a purpose, you know?”

Ginny shakes some red pepper flakes onto her pizza and considers him for a moment, her eyes softened, before she responds. “My career wasn’t the same as yours, but I think you know when it’s time for a change. Even if you don’t want to see it. Even when it’s scary to see. You invest your life, you devote everything to being the best. It feels mad to leave it all behind.”

“And yet you did.”

She scoots her chair closer and leans her head onto his shoulder, like they’re meant to slot together. “Isn’t it madder to leave things the same and stay unhappy?”

The shop looks different by daylight, Harry notices. Less intimate. And it’s odd too. He’s never been in a shop completely alone during the day. Or really at all, since his nights spent at Arabella’s are never without Ginny except when he takes the rubbish out.

Dull considerations like the oddity of sitting alone are all he has to keep his mind busy, to prevent himself from bouncing around with wild energy or calling and taking everything back.

But he’s not one for backpedalling, especially when he’s spent so much time and energy in moving forward.

And yet, it feels like a part of him is missing. But instead of the fear of a phantom limb, he feels weightless, like he’s thrown away everything holding him back.

Back from what, he’s not really examining too closely, so for now - well it’s -

The door opens with a ring of the bell and Ginny’s low, warbling hums reach him in the dining area. “Alright Gin?”

“Fu- ” Ginny drops her keys and grumbles, “You scared me, arsehole.”

“I tried not to.”

“Sure,” Ginny drawls, “Now what are you doing here? Please don’t tell me someone was murdered in our kitchen.”

Harry laughs and nearly chokes on his tongue when Ginny presses a kiss to his cheek. “Nah, I’m on holiday.”

“And you’re here.”

“I heard this place has the best garlic knots,” Harry says, following Ginny as she moves toward the combination supply closet and back office.

“Surprised you know how to find this place in daylight,” Ginny teases, jabbing her elbow into his side.

“Arabella’s cats are a bit creepier in the full light.”

“Don’t I know it,” Ginny says, wry, “I think Gingersnap’s eyes follow me.”

“Did you ever ask why a black cat was named Gingersnap,” Harry asks as Ginny opens the safe and pulls the register tray free.

“Maybe Arabella was so bad at making ‘em they always burnt.”

Harry laughs and in the privacy of his mind admits he follows Ginny around like a lost puppy as she preps for the day. So he’s pretty close behind when she turns and tosses a pinny in his face. “If you’re going to hang about at least pull your weight.”

“Where’s Franny?”

“Don’t bring her into this.”

“I just worry after the wellbeing of those in my employ.”

Ginny scoffs. “She’s on holiday from uni, went home to Kent.”

“Just in time to miss London’s lovely Grey Christmas,” Harry laughs, wrapping the apron strings around his middle and glancing out at the looming clouds overhead, the puddle riddled streets.

“Posh boy used to wintering in exotic locales, can’t handle a good ol’ fashioned London winter,” Ginny teases, “Keep your complaining inside and pitch in, put that fit body to good use.”

Shoving Ginny’s shoulder, Harry disappears into the kitchen and begins checking the prepped dough and running down Ginny’s list of morning tasks.

He’s just finished warming up the espresso machine when Ginny returns from her paperwork in the back room. Their gazes lock for a moment and Harry feels like he’s been caught out at something, not that he was even doing anything. Except perhaps daydreaming a bit about Ginny returning his sad secret feelings and ending their usual teasing banter with snogs instead of flicks to the nose.

But it seems Ginny is not clairvoyant, or at least not owning it quite yet when she says, “S’nice having you around. I actually get paperwork done before eleven at night.”

“Well,” Harry takes a deep breath and ruffles his hair, “Get used to it.”

“Get used to - ” Ginny narrows her eyes and steps closer, “Why?”

“I had a lot of vacation time saved up,” Harry begins, focusing acutely on the grinder, “And I wrapped that case - the human trafficking one,” Ginny nods her understanding and Harry continues, “And so I called in my days and uh. I gave notice.”

She gapes. “You - ”

He puffs out his chest, feeling accomplished at rendering Ginny nearly speechless, “Done. I’m out. That was my last one. Just a few exit interviews after the New Year and then, adios.”

Ginny considers him for a moment, unreadable as she almost seems to reach for him, and then shakes her head. “You’re such a stalker.”

“Excuse me?” Harry yelps with a grin, pressing his palm to his chest.

“Everyone knows you were a Ginny Weasley super fan,” Ginny raises one finger, “And that you had a thing for me back before uni,” Harry flushes as she plows ahead, “Add in the fact that your godfather orchestrated this little ‘surprise’ partnership,” she shakes her head, “You’ve probably been collecting my hair for a doll at your flat.”

“Excuse me, it’s a puppet.”

“How’s my godson slash entrepreneur?” Sirius barks as he pushes the front door open with his hips.

“Working like a dog, paying for any sins I may have ever committed,” Harry growls, hands elbow deep into dough.

Sirius scans him head to toe with an ever-growing smirk, “You’re welcome.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot high up into his hairline, fists already constricting around the piece of dough he’d been working on. If there’s ever anyone’s fault for what he’s been feeling over the past weeks, the tension and frustration battling in his chest, in his mind, ready to explode in his face the next time she smiles or says something cheeky or simply exists in his presence.

“Don’t start making faces,” Sirius points a finger at him as Harry’s on the verge of snapping back, “I know you when you’re happy. I changed your nappies, don’t you forget that you ungrateful godson of mine.”

And to that Harry doesn’t have much to say. Sirius is right, as much as Harry’d like to deny it.

“So you quit,” Sirius plows on after a pause.

Harry takes a moment then shrugs, “Yeah, it was time, I guess.”

“Good for you. And now - how are things?”

“What do you mean?”

Sirius quickly looks at Ginny absorbed by paperwork and winks, grin, and ultimately nudges Harry.

Harry’d like to send dough spiralling at his godfather’s head.

He’d like that very much indeed.

“There’s nothing there, Sirius,” he mutters.

“Aha,” Sirius snorts. “Then tell me this: if you’re not fueled by sexual frustration right now then why are you groping and playing with that roll of dough like it’s something else?”

Harry feels himself go scarlett, blood boiling in his ears.

“Out. Now.”

“Don’t I get a pizza for my efforts?” Sirius grins.

“Out before I kick you,” Harry barks, wipes his hands on a piece of cloth, ready to take his godfather by the collar before he mocks him even further.

No one pushes his buttons quite like family.

“What about my family discount?”

There’s a freshly baked pizza sliding down the front door as Sirius leaves in a fit of pleased laughter, Harry fuming on the other side of the shop.

“Should I ask?” Ginny raises her head from around the stack of papers, eyebrows raised, pen in her mouth.

“No,” Harry says, clipped, and marches back to his station.

Naturally, they thought hanging a Buy one, get one free sign on their door would be splendid for their business and any small business owner’s drive to build a faithful community around their shop.

It proves, however, that as great this move is for their business, it is also horrid for their poor wrists, as they hurt after rolling pizza after pizza, for their cheeks (Harry fears that fake smiling 24/7 might give him a paresis), and, if everyone’s being fair, for their mental health and general libido levels. It should be noted that tension, as well as flour, can be cut with a knife.

“Think we should hire help?” Harry asks after the upteenth time he coughs on flour.

A relieved sigh, “Thought you’d never ask. We definitely need one of those people that can naturally smile non-stop, know what I mean? Because if I have to grin like a loon for one more customer, I’m officially out.”

Harry scans her closely and pouts a little.

“Would you really?”

“Would I what?”

“You know, leave me?”

She doesn’t spare him a glance, fully concentrated on adding extra cheesy on an already cheesy pizza.

“Are we together now, Potter?”

“Let’s not hide behind those floury fingers, Weasley, I saw you checking out my arse,” Harry huffs, watching her curiously out of the corner of his eye.

Ginny laughs wholeheartedly for a beat, cheese and pizza forgotten.

“Harry, Harry, if that’s how easy it is for a girl to get you, then you must’ve had a million relationships because that bum is super tight.”

Harry feels himself blush, chest warming on the inside.

“So’s - erm, so’s yours.”

“Well, if we’re doing this,” Ginny grins cheekily, “so are your eyes.”

It’s Harry’s turn to grin, he’s very pleased.

“My eyes are tight?”

“Don’t be a prick. Your eyes are pretty,” she sticks out her tongue at him, resuming her pizza making.

A pause, tense and vibrant.

“So is your hair. And your freckles. And the way you look when you’ve got your mind set on something,” Harry mumbles at first but manages to finish in a more confident note, eyeing her from behind his round specs.

Ginny takes a moment for herself, rubs her nose then turns around to look at Harry with the very look he mentioned. That hard, blazing look that starts a fire within him and sends his thoughts twisting and turning into dangerous places.

“Your messy hair, your little smirk when you’re pleased with yourself. You.”

Harry’s completely forgotten about customers trundling in, orders upon orders to be delivered or anything else for that matter. All he has the wit to say is a feeble “oh.”

A wall of tension thickens and threatens to crush them, each staring at the other, each holding their position, feet firmly on the ground, cheeks flushed and hearts beating wildly.

“It’s hot in here,” Ginny remarks, dry.

“Yeah. I know.”

“So bloody hot,” she speaks again, still yet daring.

Harry can hear himself breathe hard, “The - uh, ovens.”

A minute passes and, as it drags its heavy legs to the finish line, Harry hears rather than sees Ginny laugh a bit to herself, throw away the piece of cloth she used to clean her hands and stride over to him.

“Yeah, I can’t handle it. Thought I could, but I can’t,” Ginny sighs and informs the room at large.

“So why are you unbuttoning my shirt?” Harry manages to underline before his brain explodes at the touch of her smooth fingers over the skin of his chest.

“Helping?”

She’s undeterred as she speaks, rather absently while her fingers work every button, one after the other until his shirt lays open and their gazes lock.

Harry barks a laugh, “Try again?”

“You’ve got a spot,” Ginny shrugs, fingers mapping the length of his chest.

Harry closes his eyes, draws in a breath. He lets it out in a shudder.

“So’ve you.”

There’s barely a second between his words and the moment Ginny’s legs lock around him, his hands supporting her on the table top, they’re mouths kissing hard and fast. Kissing, licking, grazing, biting in a tangle of hair and flour and pizza everywhere.

Harry’d like to say something clever and sassy but he’d like to keep kissing Ginny even more. And more. And more until her tongue is in his mouth and her palms moving in circles on his bare chest and his fingers knotted in her ginger hair.

He feels they’re melting into each other, limbs glued together like mold, fire blazing, scorching.

It’s more than any of them can take.

“Move this elsewhere?” Ginny gasps between kisses.

“Do we really have to?” Harry breathes, pants.

“Unless you wanna risk a citation from the Health Department,” she giggles into his ears, giggles that turn into full on laughter when he lifts her in the air, carries her into the pantry, locks the door.

Laughter that turns into moaning when their lips meet again behind closed doors.

#itsblissfuloblivion writes #hinny au fic #hinny au #hinny fic #hinny #harry X ginny #harry potter x ginny weasley #christmas au #muggle au #modern au #sirius black

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isometimeswrite132 · 5 years ago

Text

Imagine my OTP

This is gonna be using my two OC’s Mia and Lucian. Sometimes they’re dating, sometimes they’re just friends, its a on and off thing. But, not matter what, they are both adorable little beans, so take these headcannons (technically they aren’t headcannons since this is my universe but still). Also, since the original universe is an apacolypse, this will be a human!au.

1. Acts like they’re dying when they have a cold.

Lucian doesn’t get sick often, but when he does he acts like u the end off the world. He constantly over exaggerates how sick he is, especially when he has to work that day. Luckily for him, Mia is a good sport, and an even better nurse.

2. Gets mad at the TV and throws the remote.

Lucian is no where near “tech savvy”, unlike Mia. He was very sheltered as a child, his family very extreme in their beliefs about technology. Something as simple as a television gets him a little peeved. Neither of them throw the remote around though.

3. Gets the worst road rage.

Mia holds a lot of anger in, afraid that if she shows the littlest bit of irritation, she’ll end up like her mother. So, she bottles it up when around other people, especially at work. On the drive home she yells at anyone and everyone, getting pissed at even the smallest driving error. When she finally gets home, she feels free to vent to Lucian.

4. Spends too much time in the bathroom on their phone.

Mia sometimes gets caught up in being on her phone that she just sits on the bathroom counter and scrolls through her phone sometimes. Lucian on the other hand spend way to much time taking mirror selfies. They’re both big offenders in this category.

5. Packs the whole closet for an overnight trip.

If you called for “an over prepared nerd” you’re looking for Lucian Cain. He will pack the entire house, enclosing the kitchen sink. Mia usually packs for him, knowing that he can’t pack by himself.

6. Hates the in-laws.

Mia is the only child to an abusive mother and a deadbeat father, the former of which is currently in prison. Lucians parents are fanatic cultists who are extreme in their beliefs about race and marriage, and cut contact after Lucian married an African-American woman. They both equally hate their in-laws.

7. Hits the snooze button…11 times.

Mia Cain Hayes her job, and she is not a morning person. Safe to say that even though Lucian also isn’t a fan of mornings, Mia definitely hates them more.

8. Makes the other late for work.

As I just mentioned, Mia hates her job. So, she is in no rush in the morning. She constantly begs Lucian to just stay in bed for a few more minutes, distracting him with kisses and compliments.

9. Uses the television as a babysitter.

Mia and Lucian both have their reservations about kids, definitely not wanting any of their own anytime soon. So, whenever either of them are baby sitting for friends, they have no idea what to do. Plunking them down in front of the TV should work fine.

10. Takes in the stray dog.

“Mia, we have two cats, one dog, one rabbit and eight rats, we don’t need anymore animals of any kind” -a tired and frustrated Lucian.

11. Suggests a 3am trip to McDonald’s.

Ever since Lucian discovered fast food (when he was nineteen) he was in love. If their pulling a late night to finish on of their projects, Lucian always suggests they go out for food or drinks, no matter how late it is.

12. Leaves their shoes out for the other to trip over.

Mia loves her shoes, she has about seven pairs of different heels, running shoes, and hiking boots. Pair that and Lucians constant clumsiness, and it’s a disaster waiting to happen.

13. Can’t make up their mind when it comes to dinner.

It’s very obvious to anyone looking in that Mia wears the pants in the relationship. So, when out to eat, wether it be fast food or a fancy restaurant, Mia always orders for both of them.

14. Needs to be reminded of all their appointments.

Mia has a slight short term memory thanks to head-trauma as a child (thanks mom) so she sometimes forgets basic things like where she was going or what day it is right after being told for the fifth time, so imagine how hard it would be to remember an appointment she booked three weeks ago.

15. Bribes the other into doing chores.

Mia is the queen of getting out of chores. She almost always has an excuse at the ready for when Lucian asks her to do a few things, and when she doesn’t she has other ways of persuading him (😏). But, she is happy to run errands outside the house.

16. Picks the movies.

I’ve already established that Lucian is indecisive as hell, and Mia and headstrong and stubborn. Match made in heaven. Mia pick the movies, Lucian makes the popcorn.

17. Takes the safety steps when building a pillow fort.

Surprisingly Mia. Lucian tried to make sure the pillow forts they made were secure, but every time he tried, they’d cave in after a few minutes. Mia had taken it upon herself to set them up from that point on.

18. Kisses the other’s injuries better.

Lucian is a very affectionate man, and so is Mia. They both kiss injuries better, Mia just gets injured more so Lucian does it more often.

19. Is addicted to angry birds, game of war, candy crush, temple run, or flappy bird.

Despite his inability to figure out technology, Lucian loves the little games on his phone. He could play them all day, and he often does get distracted before Mia brings him back to earth. His favourite game is temple run, no doubt about it.

20. Kills the spiders.

Mia is a cold blooded killer of spiders and anything creepy crawly. She hates them with a burning passion and she takes it upon herself to personally take them out of this world. Lucian either leaves them alone or puts them outside if the weather was good.

21. Hogs the blankets.

Lucian get super cold at night. He doesn’t mean to hog all of the blankets, he just wants to keep warm in the middle do the night. Mia usually lets him, but if he’s getting to much, she just snuggles up next to him to keep him warm.

22. Takes pranks too far.

Even though Mia was an only child she did plenty of pranking, and she knows how far she can go and for it to still be funny. Lucian, however, has no way of gauging how far his prank is going to go.

23. Makes the dirty jokes.

Oh my god, the amount of innuendos that come out of this women’s mouth is unbelievable. She constantly makes sexual jokes and advances in public or private just to see Lucian blush. This woman has barely any shame, but she’ll stop if Lucian asks her.

24. Keeps a piggy bank.

Lucian. He’s had one ever since he was a kid, and being able to keep his own stuff in his piggy bank was one of the best things about his childhood.

25. Has no problem having ice cream for breakfast.

Mia. I feel like I shouldn’t have to explain at this point, but I’m going to anyways. Lucian often doesn’t have enough time to eat in the morning (thanks to Mia). So, Mia is left with an empty house, and she’ll eat ice cream if she wants to.

26. Gets a tattoo when they’re drunk.

The literal story of how Mia got her first and second tattoos. She got wasted one night, and got a tattoo of a heart on her shoulder. The second time it was a sappy quote about love on her thigh. She’s had both covered up since then, and she never talks about them.

27. Trips over their own feet.

Lucian is a clumsy boy, and he trips over everything. Only when he’s in their workshop does he make sure to be careful, because he doesn’t want to get impaled if he trips.

28. Makes the other go for a walk.

Lucian always asks Mia to walk to dog for him, and she usually does. There is something tense between Lucky and him, as if their competing for Mias attention. Lucian gets along better with their rats anyways.

29. Whines until they get what they want.

Neither of them really whine often, mainly because of their strict upbringing. They both argue their points and bring facts and logic into the discussion. The only time either of them whine is when their tired/just woke up.

30. Tries to act tough but really isn’t.

There have been multiple time where Mia was cat called or harassed on the street, and Lucian tried to be the big guy and act tough. Mia usually tells Lucian to cut the crap and she deals with it herself. Lucian finds it hot and Mia finds it adorable.

31. Talks the most, says the least.

Lucian could ramble on for hours and hours about essentially nothing. It’s a skill he learned when doing school presentations, making it seem like he did a bunch of research when he only did a ten minute look through a textbook.

32. Talks the least, says the most.

Mia does say a lot, especially when it comes to Lucian. She prefers action over words, going for a kiss on the lips instead of an “I love you”. Lucian sometimes wishes she would express herself to him more, but he accepts its hard for her.

#original #original character #ships #shiping #love #imagine #imagine your otp #imagine your ocs #writing #creative writing

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codenamesazanka · 6 years ago

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Short Spinner Fic!

Well, more like meta/headcanon turned prose. Sorta. unbeta’d, terrible grammar prob, very on the nose, but I just had to write something that dealt with what we learned about Spinner’s past.

1,615 words. Set right after Stain got captured, with all that fun stuff about discrimination.

The night Spinner saw the news report that would change his life, he had spent ten minutes lingering outside his landlord’s door, trying to work up the nerve to knock.

From his third floor apartment to her home on the first floor - that short walk took three minutes maximum, but in that time the heat and humidity of the May evening had already made his hair damp and the collar of his shirt slightly darken with moisture. By the dim glow of the streetlight, Spinner tried to use his phone’s selfie camera to see if he looked too bad, but his nervousness at appearing sloppy only added sweat to his sorry appearance. The snickering of a couple of kids that passed by him hadn’t help.

He should be fine, Spinner had muttered to himself, tried to convince himself, shoving the phone into a pocket. He was fine. She wasn’t going to even notice.

But of course she did. When his landlord opened the door, he saw her smile fade slightly at the sight of him; then the curve of her mouth disappeared completely as her eyes swept over his messy hair and landed on his hand that was discreetly trying to stop his shirt from sticking to his skin.

It was only downhill from there.

He had stammered, had tried to keep a smile on his face until he realize he was probably looking like crazy dumbass; then he had worried too much about the appropriate distance he should be keeping (His landlord was a petite woman that barely reached maybe 5 foot, and he was a 6-foot lizard man. Standing too far away would be weird, and standing too close meant, besides the obvious, that he would have to look down at her, which he thought might seem disrespectful).

When he told her about the broken AC, she had asked if he wasn’t enjoying the warm weather, and Spinner had let the silence drag on too long as he wondered what she might have meant by that. Such an innocuous question, but it made his pulse quicken. Was she making a comment that assumed he was more comfortable with heat because he looked like a lizard (answer: no, because he wasn’t cold-blooded; so no, he didn’t like the heat; and yes, he can get heatstroke, so if the AC wasn’t going to get fixed in time for the worst heat of July...)? Did that mean she wasn’t going to do anything about it, if it didn’t seem like a serious matter?

Or was he being paranoid? Insulting, even, for this unfounded accusation?

So the talk had achieved nothing, except maybe giving his landlord an even worse impression of him. He hadn’t even told her about the suspicious grey spots that was covering more and more of his ceiling with each passing day. (Monsoon season sucked.)

Back at his apartment, Spinner opened a can of beer and sat slumped against the wall, using his phone to look up ways to remove the mold himself. He clicked the first link, found himself immediately redirected to a product page that flashed it’s 5500 yen deal at him, and promptly gave up.

That was when he opened his Tweetr feed for some mindless scrolling and saw the internet aflame with news about an attack on Hosu.

All day at work, Spinner kept checking for updates on the Hero Killer Stain, so much that his boss threaten to break his phone and fire him. But even that couldn’t clear the cloud of obsession that had developed inside his head.

At first it was simply fun to watch and rewatch the video of him rescuing a kid, how cool it was to see the man escape from the ropes that bound him, zoomed past the Heroes, leapt into the air to take down the winged beast with a single stab to the brain. Those blades and that red scarf, snaking through the air behind him. All in a matter of seconds, and all that not being his quirk. Pure normal human ability.

From there, it was reading the articles that kept coming out - that happened in Hosu, who Stain was, what he had done.

What he believed in.

There was once when Spinner wanted to be a Hero. What kid hadn’t? He dreamed of it. Being able to wear an awesome costume, beating up bad guys and bullies and saving people, getting to be on TV and making lots of money. Heroes were amazing and they could do anything. Heroes had all sorts of different quirks, the only thing that matter being how well they could use their ability. Heroes could be anyone - even mutants like him.

And as dreams do, that faded when he grew up and woke up to real life.

Watching the viral video that someone had made of the Hero Killer, though, Spinner realized Stain kept his dream. Forced it into reality, undaunted by hard work or danger or the law. He saw something wrong with the world and decided to change it. Just like that. It was badass. It was admirable.

It was Heroic.

So how ironic and slightly disappointing it was, that Stain was now called a Villain, that it turned out he was working with that group that attacked those UA kids a few months back. Spinner found the grainy zoomed-in clip of the two guys standing on top of a water tower, watching the chaos in the city below. He found all he could about the UA incident and the man the news named as Shigaraki Tomura.

He was part of this group that Stain joined, and Spinner wondered if maybe, like Stain, he wasn’t just a Villain. Like Stain, he was out to change the world.

In the origin story of Spinner, Villain, would be the cup of tea that made a crucial decision for him.

His landlord’s apartment was ten times the size of his tiny one-room apartment, and Spinner felt almost agoraphobic sitting in her living room. This was a proper home, well cared for, housing a family. The last time Spinner had even spoken to a blood relative of his was years ago. He was intruding.

But the landlord had done a surprise inspection while he was at work, and she was concerned about the mold on his ceiling. In his zeal over Stain, Spinner had completely forgotten about dealing with that. Now he got to do a redux of the talk from a few days ago, and he had a feeling this might go even worse.

He never would find out if that was true, nor would he find out what would have been done about the mold. A few words into the small talk that preceded the actual conversation, his landlord’s young son had tried to be helpful and brought tea for both his mom and Spinner. Kid was probably only in elementary school, but so polite. Too much so.

Spinner watched as his landlord shifted uncomfortably in her seat, eyes flickering back and forth from the cup of tea set in front of Spinner, and Spinner himself.

It felt unbearably hot and suffocating in the room.

(Once, a cousin told Spinner that regardless of how much DNA would prove they were human, they weren’t. Not really, not in practice, not to the people they live among. They looked like lizards, so they’d be treated like lizards. Like animals, and you wouldn’t feed your pet using a bowl you would use, right? It’ll be dirty, no matter how much you washed it. That’s why there’s food bowls specifically for your dog, cat, whatever.)

It was much too late to for her to take back the drink without seeming astonishingly rude. Maybe Spinner should help her save face and decline the tea, have the kid take it away. Maybe he can use this as leverage for the mold problem. Maybe--

--he shouldn’t have to put up with this. There were people out there right now, ready to face down Heroes and police and society, ready to create change, ready to take their lives and fate into their hands and shape it to their liking. Stain hadn’t allow himself to be trampled down.

Spinner shouldn’t either.

That was when he stood up and left without a word.

The leader was different than what Spinner expected.

In the small private bar that the broker had taken him to, Shigaraki Tomura sat on one of the stools, young and bone-thin, dressed so plainly in simple black shirt and pants. Not quite the criminal mastermind Spinner imagined. Yet all attention in the room was held by him, and he wielded that authority with ease.

“Shuichi Iguchi… Spinner.” Shigaraki spoke and Spinner anticipated each word. “Our fight is for all the right reasons, but the world is going to hate us for it. Condemn us. Try to destroy us. We’ll have to return in kind. We’ll have get our hands dirty, we’ll have to sacrifice a lot.”

Shigaraki shifted his head, and suddenly all Spinner could focus on was that one red eye looking through the fingers of the severed hand on his face, filled with all the same rage and desire and intensity that Stain had. Its gaze pierce through Spinner, making him wince as though he was physically cut.

Hatred was nothing new to him, though, and he had nothing else in this world than this newfound will. He’d do anything, all for Stain. All for his new comrades. All this, Spinner said out loud.

Shigaraki grinned at him, a smile so wide and vicious and-- happy, that Spinner felt his own face mirror that excitement.

“Welcome to the League of Villains.”

So my Spinner goes from a nervous mild-mannered guy trying to live a life, to a terrorist ready to murder kids in like three short days. I should figure out his characterization better next time lol

#nalslastworkingbraincell #nalwrites #Spinner #Shigaraki Tomura #Shuichi Iguchi #Stain - sorta #fanfiction #microaggressions and housing discrimination and dehumanization oh my #am i just set on making the bnha universe a pile of crap #perhaps #oops #we don't know if it's this bad but #i'm gonna let my imagination go wild #League of Villains #as for my other story...#it's getting beta-read!#i'll have it out by friday prob #my apologies

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eldritchsurveys · 5 years ago

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519.

do you sing in the shower? >> I sure do. do you think money makes people happy? >> I think knowing that your basic needs are cared for contributes greatly to overall well-being. I also think being able to buy a bunch of cool shit that you like can make you feel happy. So, yes, money can make people happy. what’s your relationship status? >> Married in outworld, bonded in inworld. what time is it? >> 7.28p CDT. what emotion are you feeling right now? >> I’m not feeling any emotion right now. I feel pretty good, I guess.

do you have netflix? >> Yes. have you ever traveled outside your home country? >> No. coffee or tea? >> Tea. shower or bath? >> Shower. what’s your favorite pizza topping? >> Usually I get a veggie pizza, because that has the most toppings I enjoy. Pepperoni can be good too (especially if the pepperoni is crispy). what’s something that makes you happy? >> Watching the Addams Family (either the show or the movie). do you have siblings or are you an only child? >> I was raised like an only child, since all my half-siblings were a couple of decades older and therefore didn’t live at home. what’s your favorite instrument? >> The pipe organ is cool. what’s your favorite food? >> I’m not even going to try with this one. what is something you are always losing? >> The ability to give a fuck. are you good at spelling? >> I am. what is one goal you have? >> I haven’t made any lately. did you get a flu shot this year? >> Yes. what’s your favorite Disney movie? >> Lilo & Stitch. are you bored? >> Not right now. what are you listening to? >> Nothing, but the television is on. I’m doing this during commercials, because I hate commercials. what’s your favorite foreign language? >> --- what do you do when you can’t sleep? >> Read, usually. Or browse Reddit. do you like cats or dogs better? >> Dogs, generally. do you have any piercings? >> Septum and ears. what’s your favorite vegetable? >> Not going to try with this one, either. do you eat meat? >> Yes. what’s the best concert you’ve ever been to? >> I’ve been to a lot of amazing shows. what’s your favorite season? >> Autumn and spring. do you still write letters? >> No. what would make you really happy right now? >> I don’t know. what’s your favorite song? >> Turbo Killer by Carpenter Brut is one. are you good at giving advice? >> It’d depend on what I’m being asked for advice about. what’s your favorite hobby? >> I don’t know if I have any hobbies. do you prefer to talk or text? >> Text. what’s your favorite pair of shoes? >> --- how often do you read? (as in books) >> Rather often. Most days a week, I’d say. do you have any pets? >> I personally do not. what’s your favorite day of the week? >> Wednesday. are you in college? >> No. are you/have you ever been in a long distance relationship? >> I have been in them. how do you typically listen to music? >> Through Spotify. do you like going to the beach? >> Yes. did you make any new year’s resolutions? >> No. how old are you? >> 32. do you know anyone who is blind? >> Not fully. who is someone you admire? >> --- do you have a good singing voice? >> It does the job. are your nails painted? >> Yeah. are you an introvert or an extrovert? >> I don’t know, none of that shit really matters to me. what are you having/had for dinner tonight? >> We had dinner at Pere Antoine’s in the Quarter. I had a burger -- well, half of one, because I wanted to save room for pecan pie, lol. do you ever write in a journal? >> Yeah. if you could time travel when/where would you go? >> Meh. what’s your favorite animal? >> Capybaras are cool. what’s your favorite kind of cereal? >> I don’t eat cereal. how was your day? >> It was great. do you ever listen to classical music? >> Sure. what inspires you? >> I don’t know. I don’t ever recall thinking “I feel inspired right now”, so I might not be able to recognise the feeling. do you have a hard time making decisions? >> Not usually. how many pillows do you sleep with? >> Two. how many hours of sleep do you need? >> Between six and eight usually does the trick. do you have big or small feet? >> On the small side. what’s the weather like where you are? >> It was sunny and mild today. It’s chilly now because it’s nighttime (still not as chilly as it is in Grand Rapids, though). what’s the most interesting thing you can see out the window? >> I can’t see anything out of the windows down here on the ground floor of the vacation house, because they’re all frosted for some reason. does/did your high school have a school song? >> I don’t remember. what month is your birthday in? >> May. what’s your dream job? >> --- are you excited for summer? >> I mean, autumn just started, so the winter ennui hasn’t set in. Ask me again in 3 months. what foreign country would you want to live in for 6 months? >> What foreign country wouldn’t I want to live in for six months? did you have to go to school today? >> No, because I don’t go to school period. win a million $$ or never have to pay for anything again? >> Hmm. do you throw coins into fountains? >> No. do you have a trampoline? >> No. what’s your favorite song lyric? >> --- what did you eat the last time you went to the movies? >> I didn’t eat anything. I drank a french toast stout I’d sneaked in, lol. do you ever measure time in songs? >> Yeah, I do that a lot. do you know how to play chess? >> I don’t even know how the pieces work. what’s your favorite game? (any type) >> I play too many games to have a favourite. do you enjoy traveling? >> Yeah. The process of travelling can be obnoxious and boring, but I like going to different places. do you tend to wait til the last minute? >> It’s not a tendency of mine, no. have you ever owned a goldfish? >> No. how do you relieve stress? >> Talk to Can Calah, cuddle with King Crimson, lay under my weighted blanket and listen to music and play a phone game, watch a show or movie, that sort of thing. without looking it up, guess the outside temperature? >> I’m going to say low sixties. now look it up - how close were you? >> 69*F, so I was a little off. do you prefer digital or analog clocks/watches? >> As long as I can read it, I don’t care. do you prefer to shop in stores or online? >> I prefer to shop in stores when it comes to clothing, but I don’t care much when it comes to other things. do you enjoy coloring? >> Yeah, I do. do you like to dance? >> Yeah. have you ever owned a horse? >> No. do you take selfies? >> I rarely take them nowadays. do you ever listen to music in languages besides English? >> I sure do. have you ever cried from listening to a song? >> Yeah. what’s your favorite song from a movie? >> Death is the Road to Awe by Clint Mansell for The Fountain is one. do you prefer headphones or earbuds? >> Headphones. who was your favorite music artist when you were 10? >> I have no idea. when was the last time you had to go to the dentist? >> It’s been a couple of years. I do need to go again, but I have to wait until I get some insurance. can you speak Spanish? >> Not fluently. what’s the last thing you watched on youtube? >> I don’t remember. now what time is it? >> 8.20p CDT (I’m only doing this during commercials, like I said, so it’s taking me a while lol). do you ever watch musicals? >> Yeah, I like them. do you know anyone who’s a twin? >> No. do you ever get carsick? >> No. what’s your opinion on wolves? >> I love wolves, they’re the best. when you’re sad do you prefer sad music or happy music? >> I prefer music that’s familiar, is all. The mood of the music itself doesn’t matter. do you like seafood? >> Yes indeed. do you enjoy going to the zoo? >> Yes. are there any celebrities from your hometown? >> It’s highly likely, but I don’t know who. do you shower in the morning or at night? >> In the morning. do you prefer to work alone or in a group? >> I guess it depends on the activity and whether I have a good group or not. do you go to the gym alone or with a friend? >> --- do you like coconut? >> I do. who is someone you’re jealous of? >> --- what’s your favorite place to go out for breakfast? >> --- do you still have your christmas tree up? >> No. do you have a favorite type of bird? >> Corvids, definitely. have you ever had an overnight flight anywhere? >> No. don’t you hate it when you hear a song that’s familiar but you can’t remember what it is/how you know it? >> Yeah, that’s so aggravating. if you use them, tell me 5 of your recently used emojis >> --- do you know anyone that plays the violin? >> Not that I know of. how much money is in your wallet right now? >> The only cash I have is a $20. anything you’re looking forward to tomorrow? >> I have no idea what we’re doing tomorrow, but I’m sure it’ll be a good time. have you ever auditioned for anything? >> No. did you have a webkinz when you were younger? >> No. how would you describe your aesthetic? >> Lazy/broke goth metalhead. have you ever been told you look like a celebrity? >> Yeah. when was the last time you rode a bus? >> Last week. if you saw $50 on the ground what would you do? >> Take it. do you know how to play any unusual instruments? >> No. are you an early bird or a night owl? >> I don’t think I’m either, really. have you ever had trouble understanding someone because of an accent? >> Yeah. do you ever go to Massachusetts? >> No. do you personally know anyone who is transgender? >> I know quite a few people who are transgender, including myself. what was the most memorable rainbow you’ve ever seen? (if any) >> I haven’t seen any that were particularly special. do you remember anything from when you were 5 or younger? >> Vaguely. do you need to do laundry? >> Yeah. do you know anyone (including yourself) who actually enjoys math? >> I’m pretty sure I know someone who enjoys maths. I think it’s pretty cool, I guess. do you have a favorite poem? >> Ozymandias is one. if you were from somewhere else, would you visit your town on vacation? >> There is literally no reason I’d want to visit Grand Rapids. I don’t understand how it has tourism at all. where would you spend $100 if you had to spend it all in one store? >> Probably Meijer or another big-box department store like that. Or maybe World Market. Or Horrock’s! would you rather go to Japan or Greece? >> Either would do fine. now what song are you listening to? >> --- what are you wearing right now? >> Lounge pants with aliens on them and a Dark Tower t-shirt. any fun plans for the weekend? >> This coming Saturday is the day we return home, and Sunday we’ll probably just veg out at home and recuperate a bit. It will definitely be fun to be back in my own room again -- oh, and I will probably buy The Outer Worlds and start playing that, so that will definitely be fun.

#surveys #survey #random survey

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