#Sorry this starter kinda sucks ugh. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

palbabor-writes · 3 years

Text

Latibule pt. ii

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, kinda heavy petting? we still going slow up in this ride, adult language, eventual SMUT, oh & Kiyoomi being a blunt asshole

Words: 12,880

His usual spot at the cafe is taken, and he’s already decided to keep walking on, but somehow, somehow, he manages to catch your eye.

His feet are slowing, a stuttering breath stagnating in his lungs, all at once hopeful and bewildered, but before he can examine his fluttering emotions, you’re alongside him on the noisy sidewalk, passing him his usual evening drink, a pleased smile on your soft lips.

Suddenly, the world smells like velvety pine and heady bergamot, and he can’t stop staring down at you.

Notes: me: try to keep it at 7,000 words, also me: what’s a word count?

i owe my life to @wickedfaerytale & @albinoburrito for their edits and suggestions on this monster. i love you both & appreciate you to the moon and back.

Latibule

pt. ii: Four Set

a high set to the strong side/outside hitter

[ pt. i: an opening ] ||

[ You: 4:35pm ]

Hey! It’s me– from the coffee shop. Wanted to see if you were busy this evening? Maybe we can meet up when I get off?

[ Sakusa: 5:02pm ]

I know. Sure.

[ You: 6:21pm ]

Great! I’m off at 9:30. Want to meet at the shop?

[ Sakusa: 7:10pm ]

Read at 7:10pm

“Is he coming?” Kane asks, following you out of the coffee shop and pausing under the shallow awning, twisting his head, watching your back as you turn the key in the door. You tug against the handle, testing the hold, your hands heavy against the cool metal.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, eyes peering into the darkened depths of the cafe lobby. “It says he read the last text, but he didn’t respond. He’s likely busy. I have no idea how long they practice; he’s a professional athlete, and after seeing that game...well, I can only imagine how intense his training schedule is. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone move like that before it was so fluid, like watching quicksilver.”

“Eh? Quicksilver? What is this, a poetry slam? Who describes people like that? Still, I bet he does, like, 20,000 sit-ups a day. You can tell, even under that baggy jacket, that he’s crazy fit,” Kane ruminates, leaning against one of the stacked sets of metal chairs. “Damn. It’s kinda crazy to think about, you know? You and a hot pro athlete going out on a date.”

You huff out a laugh and give him a playful scowl. “Ugh, shut up, you’re so rude, Kane. And I wouldn’t say it’s a ‘date.’ We just exchanged numbers. That’s all.”

“Oh? I’m sorry. You’re totally right. All those googly eyes must have happened with someone else. Definitely not you and that six-foot monster of a man. I mean, usually the guy just sits at his seat and ignores us, watching those videos on his computer and taking his notes, or he gets his coffee and is on his way, but today he was practically sitting on the hand off plane, and staring at you.

Don’t gimme that face! You know I’m right. And–awe, look at you! So bashful! Oooh, you like him, don’t you? That’s so cute! Come on (Y/N), that’s so––ow!”

“Didn’t you say you had a paper to write?” you grumble, shoving your knuckles against his shoulder again. “There was so much whining from you tonight. Way worse than usual. So many, ‘hurry up, (Y/N)! I need to get home. What if this makes me bomb my paper! What if I fail the class because of this?’ What happened to all that? Huh? Suddenly you’ve got time to suss’ me out on the sidewalk?”

“Yow! So touchy! And this is totally workplace harassment, ya’ know! Jeez, that’s a mean right hook you’ve got. You didn’t even warn me! Eee, I’m gonna be bruised tomorrow!”

“Oh, shut up. You completely deserved that. Now go away and go finish your paper, you soon to be fail––”

“You said 9:30, right?”

The sound of Sakusa’s low voice startles you and you spring away from Kane, head whipping around and eyes wide. He’s standing a few feet behind the two of you, his shoulders curved into their usual hunch, eyes dark behind his fringe of curls. Under his golden jacket, a crisp white shirt is stretched across his broad chest, the bottom tucked carefully into the front of his jeans, and his MSBY bag is hanging against his back. His onyx hair looks heavy and you can see some lingering moisture, no doubt from a recent shower, glistening against the raven waves.

“Hey!” you call, unable to bite back the elated grin that’s suddenly curving the edges of your lips. Kane is right about one thing, you think, stepping closer to Sakusa’s stiff form. This is kinda surreal. “We just finished closing up. Uh, this is Kane,” you wince, gesturing to the smirking face of your coworker.

Shit. Stop it. You sound like an idiot. He knows who Kane is. You’ve seen them talking at the register before, but the rambling introduction keeps tumbling out of you. “He works here. He’s usually at the register, he’s learning, um, the bar and–uh. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, you’ve seen him before, uh, probably...definitely...ha, but, er–”

“And that’s my cue,” Kane chuckles, shaking his head at your janky attempts to introduce him properly to a man that he’s known, in passing, for over a year. “Nice seeing you Sakusa-sama,” he bows, tossing you a cheeky wink from his polite curve, “you guys have fun.” And with that, he’s gone, leaving you and the impassive Sakusa alone on the empty street.

A hushed quiet falls over the two of you as you adjust the straps of your purse, eyes lowered. Stop freaking out, you chide yourself, taking a deep inhale of air into your lungs, fingers padding aimlessly over the leather slings of your bag. Just talk with him. It’s always easier when you ask the questions first, since he’s not much of a talker. So ask him about something he can answer.

Volleyball. Yeah, ask him about that. It’s not exactly a groundbreaking conversation starter, but it will work.

Strategy set, confidence mounting, you open your mouth.

“So, how did your practice–” “How was your day–”

He speaks when you do, and the two of you clatter directly into each other, words smattering into nothingness as you both fumble into an uneasy silence again.

Hopeless, you’re both hopeless. It’s kinda funny, in a horrifically awkward way.

“Uh,” you grin, eyes finally lifting to his. “You first?”

The gentle thud of his heart echoes against his ears and his breath is hot under the cover of his mask. You’re so close. If he wanted to, he could reach out and touch you, could drop his hand from his pocket and let it slip into yours again. That thought makes his palms feel itchy, and he scrapes his nails down the skin, easing the ache.

Not yet.

He watches you as you shake your head, a glowing smile breaking across your lips. You’re not just pretty, he thinks, unconsciously drifting closer, you’re captivating. It’s like you’re some kinda homing beacon.

He’s a cautious guy, always has been. But something about you makes him want to blindly reach, to be nearer to you.

“Practice was fine. Where did you want to go?” he murmurs, fingers lifting, tugging his mask down his face.

He wants to kiss you.

It’s been on his mind all day, through the training, through the practice games, hovering over him, shrouding him with the foggy remembrance of the pressure of your lips. He’d fucked your first one up and he wants to try again, to do better. But it’s different when you’re expecting it, when he can see your gaze following the downward pull of his hand, your eyes hooded and watchful as he reveals the lower portion of his face to you. When you bite your lip into your mouth, teeth pressing before slowly letting the plump flesh spring free again, he nearly groans aloud.

He wonders if you’ll let him do it, let him kiss you, and that thought makes him feel lightheaded. You’re so close––No, he gulps, jaw clenching and shoulders straightening, his back arching upward and right foot jerking a step, pulling away from your tempting openness. It’s too much, it’s too soon.

Just wait, he reminds himself, be patient. Not now, not yet.

You notice his shift and look up at him curiously, popping your weight onto your other leg, one hand braced against your hip, but you still smile up at him, acknowledging his unspoken cues for distance. “Well, I was going to see if you wanted to get a drink.”

“I don’t like bars,” he blurts.

Your eyes widen and you suck a sharp breath into your lungs, lips falling into a half-formed ‘oh.’

No. He didn’t mean it like––Damn it.

Kiyoomi flinches, nose wrinkling and mouth pulling into a thin line. He’s not good at this.

“Mm, well, this is less of a bar and more like a gastropub. It’s small, laid-back. Plus, it’s a Tuesday night, they’re gonna be slow, and if they’re not, we can leave and try something else...”

“It’s fine,” he rectifies sharply. Again, he sounds too harsh. “I don’t care about any of that. If it’s slow or not. If you want to go, we’ll go. I didn’t...I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, I didn’t think it was rude.”

Kiyoomi jerks his chin up, his mouth pressing into a pursed frown, peering skeptically at you, eyes narrowed. You let out a laughed exhale and tilt your head, quickly shrugging your shoulders, attempting to mollify his mistrustful stare. “I mean it!” you insist, waving your hand. “I’ll take someone who’s blunt any day of the week. It’s exhausting trying to read people who are good at hiding behind smiles, or false facades. You always know where you stand when someone is straightforward. Seriously,” you continue, grinning up at his abashed expression, “it doesn’t bother me. Be yourself. Besides, I like it. It kinda makes me jealous…”

“Jealous?” Kiyoomi echoes, watching you step past him and down the darkened street. His heart is beating out that uneven tattoo again, and it feels like he can’t catch his breath. What do you mean, ‘you like his bluntness’? No one’s ever told him that. No one’s ever told him to ‘be himself’ either. And, as if that wasn’t enough for him to chew on, now you’re casually saying that you’re jealous of his unapologetic retorts. It doesn’t make any sense.

“Sure,” you nod, slowing your footfalls, letting him catch up with you as you stride down the sidewalk. “I always lean on the polite side of things, likely because I’ve spent too many years in customer service, haha. So it’s refreshing to hear someone just speak their mind. Besides, you don’t strike me as someone who’s careless with what they say to others; you’re candid, but careful, you just don’t mince your words. Nothing wrong with that. Anyway, I’m babbling, again. Looks like you kinda have that effect on me, huh?”

His lips quirk at your admission and he steps a little closer, the fabric of his jacket wicking across your clothed arm as he matches your pace. “Is it far?” he asks after a time, watching as the lights of the main street twinkle between the lumbering edges of the buildings.

“Not much farther. But you might wanna put your mask up, we’ll go past the cross street and that area is always a little busy this time of night.”

[ Damn. That’s––The fact that that thought would even cross your mind–– ]

His hand is out of his pocket before he can blink, seeking the soft warmth of your curled fingers, cupping over your knuckles as he heeds your advice with his other, tugging his mask up and pinching it securely over the bridge of his nose. He can feel your eyes on him, but he doesn’t pause, doesn’t look down. He likely should have asked. After all, he doesn’t know you that well. But you ease your digits against his, your thumb curling over the joint of his ring finger, and his lips twitch into a smile.

You greet the girl behind the hostess stand with a hug and a few other members of the staff walk up to the table that you select, big grins and booming voices calling out jovial ‘hello’s’ and ‘good to see you’s’.

“You come here a lot?” Kiyoomi inquires, slouching against the cushions of the booth, obsidian eyes peering around the space. The table is off to the side, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the main dining area and bar, and is half covered by a glass wall that provides the two of you with an extra buffer of privacy. It’s an ideal spot, and he’s inwardly grateful that you’d chosen it.

“I used to work here,” you answer, lifting your purse onto your lap before fishing around for something within the depths of the leather. “I–ah! Here it is. I always lose stuff in here, it’s like a black hole, no matter how many times I organize it, it goes right back to being a mess. Price you pay when you have a big bag, I guess.” You lift a small bottle of hand sanitizer out and dollop some onto your palm. He blinks, following the rapid motions of your hands as you clean them off with the solution. That’s...nice. Nice feels like a strange word for this observation, but it’s true. You spy his gwaping expression and hold the bottle out, nodding your head at his coiled fingers. “Want some?”

“Thanks,” he rumbles, mimicking your motions as he eases the cold sanitizer against his chapped hands. “So you worked here?”

“Yeah! I did this and the coffee shop for a while. I was behind the bar, mostly. It was a good job, but when things picked up with my degree plan, I had to drop it.”

“Ah,” Kiyoomi hums, pulling his mask off and tucking it carefully into the pocket of his jacket. “That’s why you knew it wouldn’t be busy.”

“Yup! Tuesdays and Wednesdays are always slow. This is likely the busiest it will get. They have food here too, if you’re hungry. Got some good sushi and the agedashi tofu is one of the best in the city.”

“I already ate.” [ Shit. ]

“Ohh-kay. Well, I’m probably going to get something. They’ve got non-alcoholic drinks as well. Should be at the bottom of the menu.”

“I said I don’t like bars, not that I don’t drink.” [ Fuck. ]

“Fair enough,” you shrug, cocking your head at his clenched jaw and averted eyes. “You see anything you want?”

“Sorry,” Kiyoomi sighs, lifting the paper menu and scanning the side that lists the specials.

“I told you,” your voice is soft, and he glances up at you, glad to see that you’re still smiling happily at him, “I don’t mind. Tell you what, if you go too far I’ll let you know, sound good?” You stretch your hand toward him, bunching your fingers, except for your pinky, which is waiting, outstretched, and reaching toward him.

“What?” he asks, chin dipping and heavy brows furrowing as he eyes your hand suspiciously.

“Whaddya’ mean, ‘what?’ It’s a pinky promise. You’ve never done this before?”

“I’ve never done this before,” he deadpans, blinking slowly.

You guffaw and the burst of joyous sound makes him snicker too, his shoulders easing from that all too familiar hunch, his head ducking, the faint stain of a blush seeping over his cheeks. It’s just a laugh, he reasons, annoyed by his flushed skin and twitching fingers. Why is he getting worked up? He takes a second to refocus, but when he does, you’re still waiting for him, your pinky wiggling, blithely enticing him.

“It’s easy,” you promise. “You just hook your smallest finger with mine and we shake once on it and boom, that’s an unbreakable promise. And, well, if it kills you then I guess you’ll go down in a book of world records or something.”

Kiyoomi scoffs at your jab and lifts his arm onto the table, holding his pinky out, waiting for you to make the last move, rolling his eyes at your dramatically slow approach.

Your touch is gentle, finger ghosting over the middle joint of his pinky, curling slowly, teasingly, before it wraps around the width of his digit. Then you give him a quick squeeze, swiftly bobbing your joined fingers in a mock shake. It’s over in an instant, but you maintain the touch, gradually untwining your crooked digits. “Your fingers are long,” you observe, eyes catching his before traveling back to that lingering connection, distractedly easing your fingertip down the line of his hand and pausing against the base of his wrist.

It feels like his entire arm is electrified and a fine shiver of goose flesh breaks across his warm skin. His mouth is open, lips parted as he sucks in a shallow drag of air and he can’t stop staring, wholly enraptured by your flirtatious strokes. When your eyes rake upwards to playfully find his, that pleased smile soft against your lips, he thinks he might just lurch forward and grab you.

“There,” you beam before pulling away. “Now that that’s done, what are you gonna’ order?”

He lets you place your drink order first, saying he needs to keep looking, that it has been a while since he’s had a drink, and he’s never been all that sure of his preferences, anyway.

It’s an unexpected admission.

If there’s one thing that you’ve been relatively sure of, it’s that Sakusa is a man who doesn’t hesitate. In the two years that you’ve known him, granted from the other side of the counter of a coffee shop, he’s always known what he wants and is confident in his selections. He can rattle them off by rote, by flavor, by taste, by temperature, so seeing him this off balance, a little frazzled and out of his depth, is a bit of a surprise.

He’s not fidgety, his hands are resting placidly in his lap, feet evenly placed on the floor, but you can tell there’s an underlying thrum of agitation behind all those half ducked glances he keeps giving you, his obsidian eyes sharp, gleaming like flints each time they linger against you. He’d laughed once, before you’d squeezed his pinky with yours, and then promptly fallen back into that sullen silence, answering your questions with one word quips or hushed murmurs.

It made you feel guilty.

He said he hated bars, so maybe you should have taken that admission a little more seriously. But out of all the places the two of you could go, this late at night in downtown Osaka, you’d figured that this was likely the quietest, the one where he’d feel the most comfortable.

“So you’ve played with them for two years?” you ask, giving your server a quick thanks as they sit your drink down. “That’s impressive. But you said you went to school for four? That’s different. I bet most players skip college and go right for the pros, so why didn’t you do that?”

“Volleyball isn’t everything,” he answers, tone clipped, matter of fact, as he watches you take a sip of your drink, waiting for the clink of the ice and the gentle clatter of the glass as you set it back down on the table before he continues. “I’m not invincible. Someday I won’t be able to play. And it makes sense to have a backup, something that I can do later.”

You pop your chin into your upturned palm, lips resting against your curled fingers. “True. You’re very thorough, you know?”

Sakusa’s forehead creases, and those two perfectly stacked moles lower over his right eyebrow. “I like to do things properly, that’s all. It just feels right. To take things one step at a time. I do that with everything. I guess most see it as something repetitive, or monotonous, all those basic tasks that you do day in, day out, but I like it. And if you think of them as mindful tasks, rather than mindless, then you can get to that point where those little things become pleasure, instead of drudgery. I know that I’m not guaranteed anything, but, if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to go out, to leave volleyball, satisfied. Knowing I did my best.”

It sounds stupid to his ears, pompous, and as soon as he finishes his preamble, he lets out an inaudible sigh, teeth worrying against the soft flesh of the inside of his mouth. Damn it. Why did he say all that? What’s the point? You’d only asked him about college and here he is, rattling off his ideologies and distant thoughts. Why did he–

“That’s...that’s a cool way of looking at it.”

His jaw is gritted, his face covered by a sheen of impassive blankness. But he looks up when you say that. He wants to see you, even if it’s only to take in your bewildered amusement. But you’re not giving him some piteous smirk, no, you’re looking at him like he’s helped you solve a long awaited puzzle, and your face is filled with the softest, haziest glimmer of ardent happiness that he’s ever seen. Your smile broadens, and he looks away, fingers feeling blindly for the pulse in his lowered wrist.

His heart’s pounding.

How do you do that? Then, as he tries to steady his shaking breaths, you lean back, lifting your glass to your parted lips to take a quick sip, a distant look in your eyes.

“You know, I’ve never really thought about it that way, but you’re right. I always have so much trouble explaining that mindset to new hires. Like, how do you tell them that, yeah, while this seems like a stupid thing we have you do, to keep busy during the slow period of the day, it matters in the long run. Take our cleaning routines, if you don’t clean something, and clean it diligently, then the gunk and grime builds up, and it’s harder to get out later. Things harden, become set in their ways, and I guess the same thing can happen to the pros too. It seems like most don’t go to school. They just slip right into the sport–after all, if you’re good enough to make it onto a division ranked team right out of high school, then there you go, that’s your end goal, right?

But I like that you took the little steps, the ones that people ignore, or try to bypass. It’s another sort of preparedness, really. Others may not see it that way, might think of it as wasted time, but you did what felt right for you and I know it’ll pay off. It’s–oh! Sorry! I’m babbling again! Ha, God, I’m gonna stop, okay?”

“You don’t have to,” Kiyoomi utters, arms lifting from his lap, pressing against the smooth wood of the table, ignoring the racing of his heart. “I liked it. I’m glad that you...I liked it. Keep talking. I like hearing you talk. And, uh, can I try your drink? I know nothing about gin, or whiskey, or whatever that is. I usually just stick to beer and sake.”

You bite your lip, a soft chuckle falling between the two of you, and press two fingers bashfully against your nose, covering your giddy smile and pushing your drink forward, toward his open palms. “It’s kinda nice to know that I’m not the only one who’s flustered. Hmm, but here. If you don’t drink much, then you may not have had this before. Sorry if it’s strong. Also, I go for brown liquor, so it’s got rye for the base.”

“Rye’s a whiskey, right?” he asks, pushing the tiny black straw aside and taking a careful swig from the rim of the glass. It’s got a smooth flavor, almost like the caramel notes of his doppio con panna, but without that cloying sweetness that sometimes sits against the back of his tongue when he’s finished. Instead of the hum of sugar, there is only a shiver of bitterness and then the quick bite of the alcohol is gone, passing over his teeth and down his throat in a single gulp.

It’s good.

Better than he expected. And he passes the glass back, his fingers holding against the cool surface, waiting for yours. “I’ll get that,” he tells you, an impish smirk lifting his lips. “It’s perfect.”

After that-and a second round of drinks-the night went a little smoother. He did his best to not lapse into unsociable silences and you did just as he’d asked of you and kept talking.

You traded the basics, where you were born, talked about your family, your education, degrees, pets, and, slowly, the uncertainty simply faded away.

You were easy to talk with, impossibly so; always ready with another question, a congenial quip, or an antidote about your own life. Soon he was regaling you about his cousin, Motoya, the latest antics of his teammates, his hopes for the upcoming season, for the 2021 Olympics, for anything that he could think of, anything to keep you in that seat, to keep you chatting with him for just a little longer.

[ It’s late, but that doesn’t matter. Keep talking, ask her something else. ]

Is it supposed to feel like this?

He’s never really had a relationship; not when he was in high school or college, and any of his half-formed attractions always fizzled out before they ever really started. He was too busy, too one track minded to notice, [ to care ] to find the time [ to make the time. ]

It’s certainly not love, [ Tch. Love at first sight, who believes in stuff like that anyway, this isn’t some movie, plus he’s known you for years, so it’s not first sight either ] not yet, but there’s another feeling that’s laced within this humming excitement that keeps bubbling to the surface, that has him hanging onto every word that passes from your lips.

It’s want.

He wants more, greedily so, and he hasn’t experienced that feeling, outside of volleyball, in a long time.

“I’m not too far from here. I’ll just hop on the train and then be back in my district. Easy-peasy.”

Sakusa nods at your jovial reassurances, hoisting his track bag higher against his shoulder, following you toward the lights of the street. It’s late, later than he’s used to, and his eyes feel heavy. The lull of the alcohol isn’t helping either, so he shuffles closer, bumping unevenly against you every few steps. You twist your head toward him, a faint smile on your lips, eyeing his lumbering form skeptically. “Sure I don’t need to walk you to your station, Sakusa? You look dead on your feet. Sorry I kept you out so late.”

“You didn’t,” he sighs, his words rasping past a yawn. “I wanted to stay. I’ll regret it tomorrow. For now, I’m fine.”

“Pfft, okay, well, I’ll look forward to receiving your annoyed text about me keeping you out past your bedtime in the morning then.”

Huh? Text? You want him to text you in the morning? Can he do that? Be the first person you think of when your notification lights up your dark screen, the first one that you reply to. Shit. What–what does that mean?

Sakusa slows, his hand reaching for you.

He misses your arm and snags your purse instead, jerking the straps, and by association you, a little harder than he intended. [ Damn it. His coordination’s off. ] You stumble backwards, shoulders bracing against his broad chest, and you blink up at him. You lift your face, looking at him curiously. He’s already peering down, and the glow of the distant street-lamps makes the onyx of his irises morph from jet to a rich blue. For a long breath both of you simply stare, content to watch the other, waiting for some kind of advancement in this stalemate.

You cave first. “Um, you alright?”

“What are we?” he asks pointedly, large palms running up the sides of your arms, his head tilting, dropping raven curls over his brow.

“Friends?” you reply, but it feels more like a question than an answer and you let the word hang, unsure what else you can say, what else he wants to hear. You feel a bated breath leave his lungs. It dips you back as his chest falls, slipping you minutely closer even as his hands droop limply from the curve of your shoulders. His eyes shift from yours and his lips fade into a thin line as he steps away, letting you slip from his grasp. The air between you changes, hardening back into that early uncertainty, and by the time you turn to face him fully, his hands are re-tucked into his pockets and his slouch has returned.

“What’s wrong?”

You know, but you don’t want to assume. You’d warned him after all; you’re not good at being blunt.

He gives you a frank stare, dark brows creasing, furrowing his expression. “Friends means I can’t kiss you.”

For a moment you can’t feel your heart. You know it’s beating, still diligently pumping blood through your body, but as that declaration leaves his lips it’s like your entire world has narrowed. He wants to...how can he just say that? Just blurt out whatever comes into his head and not care what happens after. Where do you find confidence like that?

You flash your gaze upward and he’s still looking at you, his unmasked face open as he stares, dark eyes watchful, half veiled behind his lashes.

He waits. He’s good at that, you think, feeling a smile creep across your face as your tongue passes over the swell of your lower lip. He instantly tracks the movement and takes a shallow step forward. You can hear his fingers coiling and uncoiling inside of the slick lining of his pockets, but that simple, near silent admission of his nervousness makes up your mind.

“Well,” you begin, eyes lowering, easing closer, pressing until you can almost feel the heat of him against you. Your hands lift tentatively, passing over the flat, honed planes of his chest until they come to rest against the top of his stomach. His nostrils flare at the tempered stroke but the rest of him remains stock still, wholly rooted to the spot, listening, observing, a glimmer of distant hope cresting against the back of his mind.

[ Yes. Keep going. Don’t stop. ]

Then, those final, all important words are leaving you, cast into the air.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Before you can look up at him, his hands are hovering beside your ears, the ghost of his touch urging you upward as he lowers himself over you.

His lips meet yours with a gentle tap and you can feel his unsteady exhale pass over your mouth as he allows himself to linger against you. It’s more like a press than a proper kiss, but you indulge him, gripping your impatient hands against the thin material of his jacket, giving him time to adjust. He’s featherlight, his lips scratchy, but the lubrication that your swiped tongue has left behind eases the touch and he gasps when you lift to meet him, your lips gliding over his.

Then he’s wavering; like he can’t decide.

He shifts away, only to return moments later, lips never fully leaving yours, caressing until you’re doggedly chasing after him, a poorly concealed groan slipping from your throat. He hums appreciatively at your enthusiasm and steps impossibly closer, his fingertips tapping under your jaw and down your neck.

On one of his shuddering pulls you slip your tongue over his lips, tracing the seam, wordlessly asking for him to deepen the kiss. The sound he makes in return is garbled, caught against his throat and lost in the shuffle of his hands, his breath, his want.

His arms are like steel cables as they twine around your waist, holding you to him as he finally opens, his teeth clattering against yours in his rush. You smile against his eagerness and pop onto the tips of your toes, hands releasing his jacket, sliding up his face before you let your fingers coil into his obsidian curls, your teeth nipping against his dampened lip. He lets out another hushed gasp, the flat of his palm warm against your shoulder blades as he urges you upward.

“You’re — mmm, you’re too tall, Sakusa,” you complain, finally easing away from his greedy kisses, and grinning when he follows.

“Kiyoomi,” he insists, hands cupping, thumbs tracing the edge of your jaw, dropping another kiss against your upturned lips. “Call me that. I want to hear it.”

You laugh and he huffs impatiently against you, brows folding into that deep crease. “Not joking,” he grumbles, lips and breath hot against yours, “I want to hear you say it.”

When you manage, at long last, to pull away from him again, your eyes bright, lips kiss shined and swollen, he knows this image of you will be etched into his mind for weeks to come. It’s perfect [ you’re perfect ] and all he can think about is that he wants so much more.

“Kiyoomi,” you call, head canted at his staggered expression, eyes glittering with fond amusement. “You’re kinda bossy, aren’t you?”

He scowls at your question and tugs you back, kissing you until your laugh fades away and his name comes a little easier.

[ You: 9:18am ]

You sure you want to go there? I don’t care if we do something else instead, your call.

[ Kiyoomi: 10:54am ]

Got the tickets. See you after your shift.

“Bringing your phone onto the court–ballsy move Omi,” Atsumu leers, dropping his bag beside Kiyoomi’s, a troublesome smirk on his face.

“Shut up,” Kiyoomi snaps, darkening the screen with a click and placing the device beside his trainers. “At least I know how to keep it hidden. And you’re the reason we’re banned from bringing them out here at all. You and your stupid snapchat stories.”

“Omi! Ya’ big jerk! Be quiet, ya’ know yer’ not supposed to mention that app where the coaches can–”

“Miya!” a booming voice calls from across the gym, “You better not be doing what I think you’re doing! If I catch you on that phone, you can expect to do a hundred serves at the end of this practice match! Got it?”

Kiyoomi scoffs, a lackadaisical grin ghosting over his lips as he neatly dodges Atsumu’s elbowed jab. “See? I’m not the problem here.”

“Such a jackass. It’s a miracle (Y/N) is even giving you the time of day.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kiyoomi bristles, heavy brows creasing.

“Means I don’t know what she sees in ya,’ you big dummy. Where you taking her this week?”

“Why do you care?”

“Damn it. Why do I bother? I mean really, am I some kinda masochistic or something? Yer’ terrible to talk with, but here I am, attempting some harmless small-talk. Cut a guy some slack, would ya’?”

“What are you talking about?” Kiyoomi stares, onyx eyes narrowing at Atusmu’s haggard expression.

“You! I’m just trying to have a conversation, you know, checking in, seeing how yer’ doing. Making sure you haven’t screwed things up yet. Ya’ know, being polite!” Atsumu glowers, golden hair falling over one umber eye as he flashes Kiyoomi a fixed glare.

“What would I screw up?”

Atsumu lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head. “Tell you what, ask me that question again when you do, how’s that sound?”

“Miya–”

“Bringing your phone to practice, coming in late, or right before things kick off, yeah, you got it bad, don’t cha’? You better watch yer’self Omi.”

“The hell you talking about?” Kiyoomi sneers, chin lowering, steeling himself for one of Atsumu’s long-winded tangents.

“God, yer’ so dense, especially with shit that’s not volleyball. Come on, Omi, use your head. The coaches, the managers, they’re all gonna try and make you pick. That’s what they do. She’s a nice girl, and I’d hate to see her get caught up in all of that bullshit. Stop gaping at me like that! Like I’m not making any sense! I’m trying to look out for ya’! Not that you deserve it, being such a prickly asshole, and all...”

Kiyoomi sighs, lips pursing into a sharp point, his shoulders slumping forward, arms hanging limply against his sides. Fine, he’ll engage. Whatever. If it’ll get Atsumu to explain whatever the hell he’s talking about before the practice match, he reasons, then it’ll be worth it. “We’re going to the museum in Tennoji Park.”

Atsumu stares. “Damn. You agreed to go to a public park? In the daytime? That’s real big, if true.”

“I’ll serve every ball directly at the back of your head, don’t think I won’t.”

“Alright, alright,” the setter laughs, propping his hands against his hips. “Shocked yer’ not just staying close to that one restaurant. You seem like a, ‘this is what I like and I’m sticking to it’ kinda guy. Not one to branch out. You know, boring.”

“How do you know about the restaurant?”

“She told me about it?”

Kiyoomi curls his lip over his teeth. “When did she do that?”

“The other day, went by for a coffee.”

“Ugh,” he huffs, swinging one arm across his chest, stretching out the muscles of his biceps. “What else did she say?”

Atsumu grins, bracing his forearm against Kiyoomi’s shoulder, waggling his brows mischievously. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Fine. I’ll just ask her.”

“Ughhh, zero fun. That’s what you are. Tell me, ya’ got a mode that’s not: ‘Sakusa Kiyoomi, ‘the world’s most boring man’,” Atsumu groans, head dropping as he lets his body hang limply off of Kiyoomi’s stiffened form.

“Shut up. What we do isn’t your business anyway, so enough with the questions. You’re just poking your nose in shit that doesn’t concern you,” Kiyoomi accuses, shrugging Atsumu’s heavy arm off of his, glaring.

Atsumu straightens, a quiet scoff puffing between his smirked lips. “Fine. So touchy today. And you think this crap ain’t gonna bleed into your playing? Yer’ way–”

“Line up!” the assistant coach booms, silencing Atsumu’s bristled retort. Kiyoomi opts to hold his tongue, letting the setter pace away from him, eyes narrowing while sucking in a steadying breath before he follows.

Damn it. He got so caught up in––Atsumu never told him what he meant.

It’s early afternoon and the broad concrete pathways of the park are mostly empty. The spring flowers are in bloom and the ginkgo trees sway in the crisp breeze that dips in from the sea. It’s a beautiful day, but Kiyoomi can’t shake himself out of his head.

He’d stared dutifully at the portraits in the museum, read the placards that rested below the painted screens and pottery, and listened when you asked him questions, or answered his own. He shouldn’t be like this, he fumes, adjusting the ear straps of his mask as the two of you step out into the bright sunlight once more.

Who cares what Atsumu was trying to imply. It was vague and unhelpful; likely meant to get under his skin, something that–

“You alright?” Your voice shakes him out of his thoughts and he looks down at you, brows unknotting, eyes softening as they rake over your curious face.

“Yeah. Miya said something at practice that I’m having trouble forgetting.”

“Oh? What?”

He tells you, and it feels like some of the tension leaves his shoulders. It’s nice.

Usually he’s guarded, quiet. Sure, he’ll let others know what he’s thinking with little finesse, but that doesn’t mean they know the truth of what’s on his mind. This is different. With you it’s easy to disassemble, unexpectedly so. It’s only been a month since the two of you started seeing each other, but in that time he’s opened up more to you than he has to anyone, outside of his family, and he’s still not sure if he likes that.

[ That’s a lie. He likes it; he does. He’s just not used to it. ]

“Make you pick?” you ask, skimming your hand over the red railing of the bridge, head cocked thoughtfully to the side. “He actually said that?”

“Mentioned it. Like I said, Miya talks in circles. I usually just tune him out, but this felt...different.”

“Hmm,” you ponder, easily keeping up with his long strides, your body close to his. “Well, maybe he means they, the coaches that is, don’t want you to be distracted? I could see that. I mean, you are playing at an extremely high level and next year is the Olympics. Damn, it feels strange to say that. I know someone who’s playing in the Olympics…”

“I know that. And I’m not distracted,” his tone is clipped and his chin ducks, his side swept curls fanning over his left eye.

You look over at his tensed expression and puff out an exhale of air. “Well, maybe he’s just messing with you? You said he likes to do that.”

“Told you, this felt different.” The words are sharp, punctuated by his clenched jaw and the forward roll of his shoulders, and you suck your teeth softly, staring across the shimmering surface of the pond as the two of you cross the last stretch of the bridge. You’re on the back foot here, a little unsure of how to reassure him, but you can tell he wants to shake this off, so you press the issue, hoping it’ll help ease that stiff tension that’s building in his shoulders.

“Okay, it felt different. How so?”

The words come without hesitation. [ This isn’t normal for him, but it’s also so damn nice to know that he can be this comfortable with someone. ] “Miya usually babbles. Goes on and on about the most inane things. But he also loves to chatter about his reasoning, and this time he didn’t. Instead of answering my question, he gave me that shitty smirk and changed the subject to something he knew would distract me––why else would he say he’d gone by the coffee shop?”

“I mean, I don’t know him as well as you do, but he seems like the kinda guy who likes to provoke–to see if he can get a reaction out of you and...I know it’s not much of a reason, but maybe that’s all that it was?”

Kiyoomi gives you a curt nod and picks up his pace, his hands coiling into clenched fists within the confines of his pockets. You follow him, unsure if you should strike up another line of conversation or let him simmer for a bit. You opt for the latter and turn your attention to the scenery of the parklands, quietly studying the picnicking couples and laughing clusters of children that jostle beside a nearby set of monkey bars. No matter his mood, it’s a lovely day and you’re still glad he’d agreed to come with you to the park.

But when the trail reaches the main street, you pause. “Hey, you wanna call it a day?” you ask, a soft smile on your lips. If he needs time, you rationalize, then you can give him that.

Kiyoomi jerks to a stop, his heavy brows furrowing as he stares down at you. “What? No,” he grumbles, voice muffled by the fabric of his mask.

You raise your hands in a gesture of supplication, palms facing his looming form. “It’s just...you seem like you’re upset...”

“I am upset,” Kiyoomi answers frankly, his breath heavy.

His honesty never fails to catch you off balance, and you laugh cheerfully at his stoic expression. Kiyoomi promptly fixes you with a perturbed stare, his eyes narrowing. “Kiyoomi, if you’re upset, then we should head back. You don’t have to stick around me if you want space, I totally–– ”

“I don’t want space. I want to be here, with you,” he bites, stepping closer, watching as your grin fades into a perplexed gape.

For a breath you’re flabbergasted, lips parted, eyes wide, but with a shake of head you step forward, your arm twining with his, and dipped forehead pressing against the sleek material of his jacket. “Alright, then stay with me,” you smile, hands squeezing against his coiled muscles, a pleased warmth spreading up your joined arms before flowing downward, into the pit of your stomach.

The contact, as muted as it is by the shell of his track jacket, makes him shiver and he can feel the thump of his heart speed up. It presses against his ribs and makes his chest feel tight and his head light, and when your fingers slip into the warmth of his pocket, your smooth digits tracing the knuckles of his hand, he lets out a contented sigh before lightly brushing his chin over the top of your bent head.

“Come on,” he murmurs, the rich tone of his deep voice dampened by the stretch of his mask, but you can still hear the creep of his smile within the clipped words, “I’ve got an idea.”

You’ve walked past the training facility plenty of times, so many that it’s a blip on your radar now, its jagged silhouette falling into the category of mundane, but never, not in a million years, did you ever see yourself actually passing through those glass doors.

It’s a massive space.

The blazing down-lights scatter brightness over the finely polished elastic flooring. You’d worn comfortable shoes to the park, but they still scuff loudly against the unfamiliar material so you stop gawping and look toward Kiyoomi’s arched shoulders.

“Uh, are you sure we can be in here?” you ask, trying to keep your voice down, but it reverberates around the vast space and you wrinkle your nose at the sharpness of the sound.

“Yes. I work here,” Kiyoomi answers simply, tugging his mask down and stopping just short of one of the white lines, cocking his dark head at your question.

“Okay,” you snicker, rolling your eyes playfully at his static features, “let me rephrase that, are you sure I can be here?”

“Why would you being here be a problem? Practice is done for the day. It’ll be fine. Worst case, Bokuto or Miya might show,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders, a faint smile passing over his lips. “So what do you say, you wanna try to play?”

A full-throated laugh bubbles out of you, and you shake your head frantically. “No way! You’ll either kill me with one of those terrifying spikes, or be bored out of your mind trying to teach me the ropes. Besides, I haven’t played volleyball since middle school, and even then, I’m, uh, not sure a quick rotation in a 40 minute P.E. class counts as playing. It was more like all of us kids screwing around and testing out how many times we could annoy our teacher.”

He snorts at your explanation and strides over to a dark red cart, digging one of his long arms into the depths before straightening and returning with a yellow and blue Mikasa ball that’s perfectly balanced within his broad palm. “Humor me,” he smirks, one brow quirking upward.

“Tch, I’m not wearing the right clothes...or shoes,” you bemoan jovially, but you’re already letting your purse slip from your shoulders.

“So whiny,” Kiyoomi tuts, stepping away from the cart and tossing the ball rapidly between his spread hands. “That doesn’t matter. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

“Oh, you will, will you?” you tease, a beguiling smile lifting your lips. He looks so good in here, you think, admiring the flex and bounce of his hands, the lean coil of his powerful neck that peeks from underneath his track jacket, so different from the stoic man who walked beside you in the park.

As soon as he touched the ball, his entire demeanor changed. Within the space of a few seconds he’d gone from hunched and brooding to dauntless and firm, all of his early agitation and uncertainty forgotten as he slipped into the comfort of his element.

“All right, coach,” you sigh with mock dejection, “where do you want me?”

“On the other side of the net. See that line? The first one past the netting? That’s the attack line. Stand there.”

He’s clear-cut in his instruction, telling you where to plant your feet and how to stand with the correct form. You listen intently, nodding or asking one or two clarifying questions, and he’s patient with your queries, answering you swiftly and thoroughly, obsidian eyes keen as they follow your movements across the net.

“Alright, that looks good. We’re going to do a simple drill, the catch and throw. Don’t worry about setting the ball, or receiving it with your arms, see how it feels to position yourself under it, just make sure it never gets behind you, and catch it with both hands and toss it back to me. Try and keep it in an easy arc.”

You blink at him, pulling your lips into an exaggerated frown. “Just catch it? That sounds too easy…”

“It’s meant to be. It teaches you how to see the ball. If you’re wanting something harder, I can always up the speed as you get better at it. Now, you ready?”

You nod and the ball lifts from his fingers in a flash, gliding over the net cleanly, and you shift back, arms outstretched, feet planted firmly against the slick flooring. You catch it neatly and mimic his overhand toss, sending it back to Kiyoomi’s half crouched form. But the arc isn’t controlled and the ball paps against the tape of the net, screwing up the trajectory and sending it shuddering toward the gym floor.

“Shit,” you curse, wincing at your clumsy return, but he’s already moving, his form a blur. He slides under it easily, back curved under his well-muscled legs, all ten fingers spread, as he neatly catches the ball, sending it prettily back to your side.

You’re so mesmerized by the fluidity of his supple form that you completely ignore the returning ball and it slaps against the floor with a crack. Always the professional, he’s intently watching the ball’s trajectory and doesn’t notice your open stare at first, but once his dark eyes flash back to yours a faint blush seeps across the well-cut apples of his cheeks and he ducks his head, obscuring his flush with a cascade of onyx curls. “That’s one point for me,” he sighs, his voice low, tone gruffly catching over the words as he studiously avoids your awed expression.

“Points?” you repeat dumbly, snapping your mouth closed before popping your hands on your hips, forcing yourself out of your stupor. “Hey! You didn’t say anything about points.”

“It’s a game,” he counters with a shrug of his broad shoulders, “of course there’s gonna be points.”

“Pfft,” you chortle as you walk toward the discarded volleyball. “What happened to this is just a drill?”

Thirty minutes later your hands are aching and you move sluggishly as your feet squeak over the polished flooring of the court. Kiyoomi, on the other hand, looks perfectly at ease, his eyes hungrily stalking the track of the ball as it flies to his side of the court. When you miss the next lightning quick toss that he sends your way, you drop your head and lift your hands, palms flattened and facing toward him, signaling your defeat as a heaving exhale leaves your straining lungs. “I think that’s it for me. I’m about to collapse onto the floor, like seriously. This is not a joke.”

Kiyoomi huffs out a bemused laugh and ducks under the netting, pausing beside your half crouched figure. He peers down at you through the lazy waves of his hair. You look staggered from the constant shuffling and overhand tosses, but you smile up at him and he can’t help but return it.

“I may be down for the count, but it looks like you wanna keep going,” you say coyly, eyes shining under the brilliance of the lights. [ You’re so pretty ] He [ wants to kiss you again ] sucks in a shallow breath and mutely nods at your assessment. [ Don’t go. ]

“Well,” you begin, lips falling into a thoughtful pout, arms twisting behind your back, “In that case, I’ve got some things that I need to finish up, anyway.”

[ No. Don’t go. Not yet. ]

“I left my laptop at the cafe, so I’ll head that way. Maybe I can see you–”

“Use mine.” The words leave him with a sigh, his voice hushed, but you hear him and your head whips up.

“What–I’m sorry, what?”

“Use my laptop. It’s here, in my locker.” [ Should he have said, please? He’ll say it, if that will get you to stay a little longer. ]

“You don’t...that’s not necessary–– ”

“I know. I want to,” he closes the distance between the two of you, his hand ghosting up the line of your arm. “Stay. If you want to.”

You contemplate his request, tapping a finger against your bottom lip, the flicker of a grin catching at the corners of your mouth. Finally, you nod.

[ Good. ]

He can feel his pulse against his eardrums and he feels jittery now but through that excited haze he tells you he’s going to change into his gym clothes and grab it, that there’s an outlet under the scorer’s table that sits at the edge of the court, and that he’ll be right back. He’s not sure why he feels the need to elaborate, that’s not like him, but he’s doing a lot of things that don’t feel like him these days.

He likes you; he thinks as he steps toward the double doors that will take him into the locker room.

He likes you so much.

When he returns, he’s wearing a dark pair of shorts and a bright yellow shirt emblazoned with the words Itachiyama VBC across his left pectoral. The laptop is propped under his muscled arm and he walks slowly toward you, dark eyes watching you thoughtfully. But you’re not meeting his gaze. No, your regard falls to the curve of his calves and the sharp jut of his ankles before you track back up to his thighs and linger over the ripple and pull of the corded brawn that peeks from under the line of his shorts, and it takes him clearing his throat to lure your eyes back up to his burning face.

You’ve seen him in his MSBY uniform, and you’ve seen him in various outfits over the last month, but the way you’re watching him right now makes his skin prickle and the air around the two of you feels charged, like the smallest push could create some kind of reaction.

He pauses beside the table and waits for you to sit before he leans down, one leg shaking restlessly under him as he clacks his passcode across the black keys. He’s lifting his right hand to click ‘enter,’ when you cup your hand under his jaw.

Kiyoomi quavers under your touch, a low shiver slipping up his spine as he twists to face you, his heavy brows arched and onyx eyes wide. He’s perfectly level with you and so close he can faintly smell your lavender shampoo. It’s a nice scent, lulling and woodsy and he wants to shift closer, but before he can act on his instinct you’re already leaning upwards and using your fingertips to dip his head forward, your lips pressing a chaste kiss against his topmost mole, breath warm against his heated skin.

“Thank you,” you purr, delicately resting the tip of your nose against his curled hair.

It feels like his body is sputtering to a halt, his arms heavy, his head desperately following your touch as you shift back, a half groaned sigh tight against his split lips. His fingers are twitching against the cool surface of the table and he knows he must look like an absolute idiot when he lifts his eyes back to yours, but he doesn’t care.

He’s glad you’re going to stay.

“Question for you,” you ask from your perch on the scorer’s table, your fingers flying over the computer keys as you clatter out another email. “How the hell do your hands do that?”

Kiyoomi smirks at your curious amusement and flips his wrists deftly upwards, easing onto his haunches, flicking his fingers out and rolling his newly stretched wrists as he finishes his final cool down routine. “It’s called joint hyper-mobility. Most lose it when they get older, I’ve been lucky.”

The two of you have been at the training facility for hours. You’d dutifully finished up some last-minute work enquiries and partially outlined the basics for your upcoming grant proposal, while Kiyoomi worked on his spin rotation and spikes.

You’d watched him intermittently, teeth plucking at the swell of your lower lip each time he lept into the air for a jump serve, or dropped low to the ground as he dug another ball up from his hit to the nearby wall, so you’d noticed when he’d finished his first water bottle. He’d set the plastic down, the tap ringing hollowly over the quiet gym, and rose from your folding chair, making your way over, already asking him where a water station was.

When you’d returned, passing the newly filled bottle back to him, your fingers stroked up his arm and swirled faint patterns against his clammy skin as he steadied the plastic in his grasp. And later, when you’d refilled his second water bottle, you’d pushed some of his raven waves back, lifting onto the balls of your feet to tuck the dampened strands behind the shell of his ear.

He was a sweaty mess, but that didn’t bother you.

Usually he didn’t like for others to touch him when he was like this. Something about the sheen and prickle of the salty perspiration bothered him, [ disgusted him ] so he actively shunned his teammates when they sought high fives during a game, but this was different.

The instant your fingers alighted against his skin he’d felt a jolting lurch of electricity, but instead of pulling from it, he’d leaned into it, draping his broad palm over your tracing digits, or resting his warm cheek against your open hand, eyes half lidded as they watched for your reaction.

He liked this.

“Hey, Kiyoomi? Uh, hello, Earth to Kiyoomi! You listening?”

The sound of your voice jerks him from his musings, and he glances at you. “Hmm?”

“I said, how do you feel about a low-key dinner?”

“I’d prefer it,” Kiyoomi replies, easing from his haunches to his feet, rolling his long arms over his head as he stands.

“Yeah, but I mean...low-key, low-key.”

He fixes you with a flat stare, his face falling into that well practiced blankness, obsidian eyes dimmed. “What does that mean?”

“Well, I’ve got some things that I’ve been meaning to cook and, uh, I guess what I’m trying to say is...did you want to maybe have dinner at my apartment? I know you’re picky about how your food is prepared, so if you wanna go out instead, that’s fine too. I won’t be offended. I just wanted to– ”

“I’d like that, but...can you cook?” he rumbles, a teasing smile coiling against his lips.

“Oh, I see. No, you got me. Totally can’t. I just wanted to know if you’d suffer through burnt rice, and then lie and tell me you’d liked it, or some shit,” you threaten, sticking your tongue out and scrunching your face at his blatant leer.

“Don’t worry, I’d definitely tell you.”

“Pfft. You’re the worst, you know that? Now go shower. If we wait too long, we’ll hit rush hour at the station and I bet that’s pretty high on your list of things to avoid at all costs.”

Your apartment is small.

Well, compared to his. But his place is an empty shell, brittle, almost sterile in its vacant emptiness. He’s not there often, so why fill it with more than the bare essentials? It’s got what he needs, and he’s never been bothered by the Spartan coldness of the tiles and dark wood, that is, until he steps into your space.

There’s so much color.

The living room is blanketed in a mix of cheery yellows, warm reds, and deep purples. It’s not displeasing, but it makes him pause within the confines of the genkan, onyx eyes wide under his raised brows. It’s a difference. Now there’s an unexpected worry that’s pricking at the front of his mind.

“You coming?” you ask, poking your head around the cut of the wall that divides your living room from your kitchen, peering curiously at his tense expression.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, easing his trainers off of his feet. This place reminds him that there’s still so much about you he doesn’t know.

So, to alleviate himself from his lingering trepidations, he peers curiously around the apartment.

Most of your furniture is Western. And while there is a traditional chabudai beside your kitchen and a familiar kotatsu that rests beneath the glass doors of your balcony, the rest of the room is decorated with cushioned couches, stiff-backed chairs, neatly organized shelving units, a large tv and stand, and several side tables that hold a mixture of lamps, artfully stacked books, picture frames and candles.

He’s still gazing over the plethora of things when you appear beside his elbow. “I’m going to shower. Make yourself at home. The remote for the tv should be on the kotatsu. You alright with soba stir fry and okonomiyaki for dinner? It’s easy, well, quick...”

“That’s fine,” Kiyoomi breathes, voice muted as his eyes rake over one of your bookshelves. “You could have taken one at the gym, you know...a shower.”

“Oh-ho, sure! Like a shower at your gym doesn’t come with the awful possibility that one of your teammates or, god forbid, coaches could have walked in. Yeah, no thanks,” you chuckle, shaking your head as you pad over to the small hallway that separates your kitchen and living space from the rest of your apartment. “I won’t be long. Please do not rob me, kay’?”

Kiyoomi blatantly scoffs at your remark but doesn’t look up until he hears the click of your bathroom door. Instantly, his feet carry him toward your collection of books and miscellany, one long finger tracing up paper spines. He will not miss this opportunity.

He’s curious, ravenously so.

There are small bowls that are filled with a mismatch of silver and gold jewelry, peeling bound novels with English titles printed down their spines, and asymmetric jars that carry the weight of seashells that gleam translucent and bright against the dimming sunlight.

Beaming smiles radiate from your collection of pictures. Some are snapshots of you and others who look enough like you he assumes they must be your family, while other images are older, with people dressed in vintage clothing, the photos sheened in dull greys and time blown sepia rather than vibrant, modern colors.

Then there are the books. The room is littered with them. Most are organized within the confines of the shelves, but a few are stacked on the kotatsu and he flips open one cover, eyes scanning the orderly lines of Japanese that dart down the pages.

There’s just so much here, so many little pieces of you that are scattered about, and he wants to see...no, he wants to ask you about all of it.

Dazed, he leaves the open space of the living room and steps toward the kitchen. It’s less cluttered in here, and he can smell the faint tang of bleach and lemon as he moves onto the dark tiles. Clearly, the fastidious habits you’ve displayed at the cafe are ingrained into your daily routines.

Cleanliness and routine. You’ll always have that in common.

His roving observations falter at your fridge. It’s covered in a scattered array of playful magnets, pinning down lists and newer Polaroids and he steps closer, index finger extended once more as he glides the digit down the faded ink and shine of the photos. Resting atop one of the larger check-lists is a crisp slip of cardstock. It’s clearly been given pride of place and Kiyoomi curves himself downward, somber brows wrinkling as he reads the print.

The departments of Anthropology, History, Languages, and Education invite you to attend:

The Deans Meeting

10th Annual Conference & New Faculty Welcome Event

Thursday, April 23rd

6:30 - 9:30 p.m.

Graduate School of Human Sciences, Osaka University

(Number Attending: ____ *limit of one guest per invitee)

Kiyoomi straightens, raking a hand up through his loose curls. The 23rd? That’s a month...no...almost five weeks away. He slips his cellphone out of his jacket, thumb tapping over to his calendar. It’s a Friday...but good, there’s no game that day–however there is a team meeting. If he asks now, he should be able to be excused from the meeting and maybe the mid-day practice as well. You haven’t mentioned this event to him, he muses, fingers rapidly tapping the date into his reminders, but it looks important and he wants to go with you, if you’ll let him.

He hears the telltale shudder of your shower’s cut-off valve and he turns, ready to walk back to the neutral safety of your living room when he spies a haphazardly cracked doorway that clearly leads into your bedroom. His feet are carrying him around the low base of the chabudai, and before he can justify his impulsive [ curious, hungry ] reasoning he’s already leaning in, unabashedly looking over the space.

The room is dark; the dusky light of the sunset is muffled by the curtains that drape over the large window, but Kiyoomi marvels, obsidian eyes whisking over the small space, greedily taking in the neat folds of your downy comforter, the soft pillows that nestle under the headboard, and the fan that sits atop the tatami mats. It smells like you in here; the chilled air holds the gentle scent of rich florals and spice and he wants to step closer, but then his hand is catching against the doorframe and he jerks back, hurriedly gulping down a sharp breath as his black hair slumps over his hooded eyes.

It’s...it’s not...he shouldn’t have looked. It’s not polite, but damn, he almost doesn’t care.

What would it be like to step past that threshold? To walk into something that’s so saturated with you? He feels like his skin is too close, too heavy, and he wants nothing more than to stretch out on the cool sheets of your bed to ease that simmer that’s thrumming under his heated flesh.

Wait. A bed. You have a bed.

Shit.

Kiyoomi’s always been content with his futon, satisfied with the simplicity of it. He’s always considered beds to be a waste of space, unnecessary, after all, he’s just sleeping on it. Why did it matter?

Unanswered questions whir around his half cocked head. What if you don’t like futons? If you think they’re uncomfortable, or inconvenient? Besides, now he’s picturing laying with you on a bed, [ this bed ] not a futon. Kiyoomi wants to see you stretched out beside him, comfortable and happy, with that tantalizing smile and those playful eyes watching him, waiting for him. What side do you prefer? Right? Left? And then? What happens when you’ve picked your spot and settled in?

Would you want him to shift closer? Could he run his palms past your arms and down the sloping curves of your hips? Would you do the same for him? What would your nails feel like as they scratched faint lines along his sides, over the muscles of his abdomen, or down his back? You’d be so close. So close that every sigh that passed between your lips would be shared with him and he’d inhale every sound, his lips rough against yours. And if you arched into him, your hands urging him to straddle himself over your intoxicating softness, your thighs spreading as he lowers his hips––

The bathroom door clicks and the fevered daydream fades, his feet cumbersome and tangled as he lumbers back to the living room, his heart pounding in his ears. He doesn’t like this breathlessness, doesn’t like that his hands are trembling as he stuffs them into his pockets. Any second now you’ll be in front of him and he wants to hold you, to let the pull of your hands and the sleek drag of your lips satiate the feel [ throb ] of his unexpected [ visceral ] arousal.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to take that long, I just–– ”

The distance between the two of you is closed within a heartbeat, and his outstretched fingertips glide down the smooth line of your neck. You suck in a sharp breath, your body rigid under his hold, [ damn it, too fast ] and he drops his hands, easing you into the suddenness of his movement with lazy kisses against your warm cheek and neck, grinning when you lean into him at last.

[ Yes. Perfect. ]

You want him to kiss you properly, and you do your best to chase his lips, your arms folding around his bowed neck as you tap a few impatient kisses against his lowered forehead. But he ignores your temptations, not ready to move away from the intoxicating fragrance of your freshly cleaned skin. That soothing smell of peppermint and fresh lavender is near ambrosial, and he greedily digs his nose against you as his muscular arms drape over your sides, and his broad hands pause against the small of your back.

His sharp exhales against your shower dampened neck make you shiver but he maneuvers you closer, rubbing his lower lip against the dip of your shoulder before lifting to catch his teeth on your pulse. He knows just what you like now; he thinks smugly, tracing the flat of his tongue over a line of gooseflesh that bursts over your slicked skin.

In the last month he’s gained a steady mastery of your preferences when it came to his kisses. You preferred to start things slowly, to have him cup your face and stoke you up steadily, but once he eases down the intricate line of your neck, well, all that softness and coy sweetness would bleed into something else entirely.

You liked it rougher then; liked for these caresses to be charged with lightning fast pushes and pulls, your fingers alternating between the sides of his jaw or the coiled thickness of his hair as you swayed him closer, and that shift never failed to set his heart racing and often sent his tightly reigned control spiraling. But that’s not what he wants, not right now, so he’s careful to keep you at bay, distracting your breathless twists with a fresh set of nips and unhurried pecks against your throat.

He wants to lose himself in you; to blank out all the other worries. The differences don’t matter, not when he can hold you like this.

“Hey, Kiyoomi,” you gasp and only then does he stop his incessant assault, arms tensing as they clutch you to the broad slope of his chest, his dark waves falling heavily against your kiss glistened shoulder.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, his voice reverberating against your wet skin.

“What...what’s gotten into you?” you falter, distracted by the hum of his low tone and the soothing pass of his hands as they curve along your spine.

“Dunno, just felt like kissing you,” he lies impassively, lifting his head from you, obsidian eyes shielded by his mussed curls, the tops of his cheeks aglow.

You exhale a tight laugh at his serious, but utterly flushed expression. “Okay–so why did you stop?”

“Liked it that much, huh? I’m hungry,” he clarifies, a smirk curling his erubescent lips and you laugh, melting that jaunty grin into his usual straightlaced frown. “Tch,” he tries again, sliding his dark eyes away from your open bemusement, a pink blush staining the bridge of his nose. “It’s not that I...hmph, come on, don’t act like you’re not hungry, too...”

You were an excellent cook. Not that he’d fully meant his droll quip at the gym; after all, why offer to do something if you’re not good at it? But he’s glad he agreed to a home cooked meal.

Besides, there is something soothing about the whole thing.It was nice, watching you deftly maneuver around your tiny kitchen, turning on burners, setting timers, and arranging the ingredients in simple bowls and plates; it reminded him of the coffee shop. And he’s always liked watching you work. Your movements were always smooth [ elegant ]. You kept your hands close and your elbows in, so confident in the motions of your ingrained routines and the tidiness of your space, that you could easily carry on a conversation with him, your eyes careful to meet his over the top of the espresso machine.

But this is better than watching you in the coffee shop. There’s no divider now. There’s just you and him. It’s comforting and he wants to experience it again and again.

You let him set the plates out, chop the vegetables, prep the soba, and asked him to pick out some beer from your fridge, saying you trusted his choice and chuckling good-naturedly when he padded back to your side, four cans sticking icily to his palms as he asked a few [ five or six ] clarifying questions about the brews.He enjoys your cheerful teasing; he thinks as the two of you sit at the low chabudai; it makes him feel like he fits in, like he can be part of this side of you. You tuck your legs to one side as you sit, your shoulder gently bumping against his as you ease into a comfortable position on the tatami mats and Kiyoomi leans closer, indulging himself in the press long after you’ve picked up your chopsticks–a shared meal of of cabbage and onion okonomiyaki and salmon stir fry resting between the two of you.

It’s a simple thing, all of this touch, but Kiyoomi can’t get enough of it. Every time your arm brushes against his, or you ask him to pass you something from his side of the table, he wants to prolong the contact, to keep his fingers beside yours, or feel the warmth of your thigh and the jut of your hip as he shifts nearer.

He didn’t think he enjoyed being touched.

He always did his utmost to avoid it, shunning the clapped backs and constant high fives that always seemed to be prepackaged and expected in the contact heavy sport of volleyball. Not because he didn’t like his teammates [ sure, sometimes– eh, most of the time ] they were too much, but he genuinely liked playing with them. But he didn’t enjoy the balmy heat of skin on skin contact, or the worry of shared germs. Touching meant weakness. It allowed things to spread from person to person; it created variables, and more variables always meant things could slip out of his control. No, Kiyoomi valued the predictable, the known, the cleanliness and routine, and touch threw most of that out of the equation.

He doesn’t like touch.

Yet he’s craving yours.

It’s another thing that isn’t like him, he contemplates, passing his empty bowl to you, already missing that pleasing closeness you’d shared with him as you walk back into your kitchen and that stark absence makes him stand. It’s an urge, a compulsion, and it’s not something he wants to question so he listens to his instincts, feet planted firmly beneath him as he follows you, his hands lifted, reaching for you. When he tugs you against his chest, his dark head dropping beside yours, jet curls fanning beside your cheek and along your neck, he feels the ache within him settle and he lets himself wallow in the familiarity of crisp peppermint that sits against your skin. [ There. He can worry about the rest later, right now this is all he wants. ]

“I should go,” he whispers, the tip of his nose cool against you. He locks his forearms around your waist and sighs when you rest your temple against his.

He [ doesn’t want to ] should go.

“Yeah,” you echo, cupping your fingers over his crossed arms and stroking them over his goose-fleshed skin. “I work in the morning. So I need to be up early.”

His steady breaths match yours and he pulls you closer, humming contentedly as the curve of your back falls into the hollow of his chest. “I’ll go,” Kiyoomi stalls, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the slope of your neck. He really should. There are only a few more trains tonight, but he can’t let go.

So he lingers, his heavy body leaning against yours, full lips dragging along your pulse as his arms loop tightly around you. You twist your head and he lets you return his caresses, groaning against the sweet pressure of your lips. You’re gentle with him, your kisses filled with restrained desire, and the gossamer touch makes him reach for more. When you pull away, your eyes shining in the gleam of your kitchen lights, he brings you back, his broad palms turning you to him as his chapped fingers tilt your chin, his arms cupping you so close he can feel the thud of your heart against his.

He [ doesn’t want to ] should go.

notes: @kugutsuu made me these lovely lines. aren’t they pretty! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

230 notes · View notes

posi-pan · 3 years

Note

'nother thing i don't really get in the queer community is double standards being all over the place and generally people being so weird about their whole "who deserves to be bullied and who doesn't" criteria

With the whole mspec lesbian discourse happening rn. I have only ever seen mspec gay people get hate when they're being lumped in with mspec lesbians. Like. Almost as if they're an after-thought? It feels as though the real hate is for mspec lesbians, and then people remember oh yeah mspec gay people probably exist too I should attack them. Which just sucks because it really shows that it is mostly hatred for mspec lesbians, which kinda shows it's even more of a terf dogwhistle/rhetoric thing to hate them. I feel like a lot of things (but not all things obviously) that get labeled as "lesbophobic" end up being a terf dogwhistle and it makes things feel really bad and sad. I saw someone mention recently how hard it must be to be a lesbian nowadays, because it seems like terfs are everywhere both in and out of the lesbian community. As someone who used to id with lesbian and even sapphic, it hurts to see what's happened to my home since I've been gone. It's like hearing your childhood home was broken into and set on fire while you were gone.

But, yeah, double standards seem to be a really weird and annoying thing in the community. Who can say/reclaim what is another big issue I've noticed. Especially with things like dyke, butch, femme, and, of course, queer. Good lord the discourse over queer is exhausting and perplexing. I once saw a terf (of course) say that queer can't be reclaimed by people who aren't same sex attracted, but it also can't be reclaimed period because it's a slur and will always be a slur. But yet dyke is something I see so many people use? And the f-slur/word? Weren't those harmful too? Weren't those used as weapons against us? Until we starter self-identifying as them and took away that power? Can't we do that with queer too?

Seriously, these double standards help no one. And I hate that they're seemingly so common place nowadays. I feel like people should go all the way, or don't bother at all. Especially if they're going to be assholes about it.

(also this got super long sorry,,,)

lesbian separatism really fucked the lesbian community. the amount of lesbians i see parroting queerphobic/terfy talking points that originated in separatism without any care or awareness and arguing that it's Good Actually is kind of sad.

and ugh i hate slur "discourse". don't get me started on how utterly pointless it is.

#asks #anonymous #mspec lesbian antagonism #mspec gay antagonism #terf mention #lesbian separatism #queer antagonism #long post

38 notes · View notes

hostess-of-horror · 3 years

Text

A Day at the Diner

[M.B. is my Cadetsona OC, Sean and Nyarly belong to @drusb, and M.J belongs to @sleepy-heads-blog]

---

Sam: "See, I told you hiring a new Cadet would be a good idea!"

Max: "Ugh! Alright, alright! I get it! Sheesh..."

Sam: "The kid's honestly been doing a pretty good job, at least with the errands. M.J. and Geek have warmed up to her rather quickly."

Max: "Yeah, but just wait until something happens where the plot shifts into a devastatingly emotional turn where we all somehow get into a heated argument because of something she did and we decide to split up...." *mumbles* "Hopefully by then it doesn't end with our 'friendship' rekindled."

Sam: "Jesus, Max, what's the big deal? She hasn't even done anything to you."

Max: "Like I said before, I'm territorial, and she's in my territory!"

[Sam sighs. The bell over the Diner door rings. There enters M.B., the new Cadet, all dressed in black from her nails and makeup down to her boots. Her dirty blonde hair is completely shaved on the right side of her head, and the rest fall onto her shoulders. Along with her dark attire is a pair of magenta tea shades, fishnet gloves, and spiked jewelry. She is carrying a small pastel purple coffin backpack, which is covered in multiple pins. M.B. looks around the Diner until she sees Sam and Max in their booth.]

M.B.: *smiles and waves* "Hey guys!"

[As M.B. goes to join them, Sam begins to notice more things about her appearance. It was almost androgynous, a mix of both feminine and masculine. Her clothes are baggy - a pair of cargo pants and a black t-shirt with the words "Dracula" across the front. Below the title was the famous image of Count Dracula holding a fainted woman, ready to sink his fangs into her neck. M.B. sits down across from him and Max, placing her coffin backpack down.]

Max: "Hey Lumpy, where's your coffin? The sun is out! And I think you're at the wrong place." *points to the window* "Hot Topic is that way."

Sam: *bumps Max's head* "Quit it, pinhead. Sorry about that, kid, just ignore him. Anyway, I figured it would be a good idea to have you introduce yourself, get to know you a little better. Meeting each other while in the middle of a monster attack wasn't exactly the best way to introduce ourselves. You know about us obviously, but we don't know a whole lot about you."

Max: "Other than the fact that you kinda suck at the obstacles."

Sam: "You'll get through them." *shoots a dirty look at Max* "I'm sure of it."

M.B.: "Well... for starters, I'm not from around here."

Sam: "Oh yeah, M.J. mentioned something about you being from a... uh.. basically another universe?"

M.B.: "My Paracosm?"

Sam: "Yeah, that. What is a Paracosm?"

M.B.: "A Paracosm is a heavily detailed imaginary world inside one's mind. To put it simply, I came from a universe that I created from my imagination."

Max: "So... you live your life daydreaming and pretend your in a fairy tale land. How... depressing."

M.B.: "I mean, not exactly. It's real, for one, at least for other universes like yours. Almost everyone has a Paracosm. They're just mini universes inside larger universes. In my Paracosm, I'm basically a goddess. I create everything within it. But when I'm outside it, my powers are extremely limited."

Sam: "Powers?"

M.B.: "Yeah! They're illusions essentially, and I can do some pretty neat stuff. I defended M.J. from Brenda one day with my powers. I totally scared the sh*t out of her! I don't think she'll ever mess with him again."

Max: "Brenda? Isn't she that snobby little b*tch that insulted my kids at school?"

Sam: "I think so. How did you scare her?"

M.B.: "I summoned a couple gremlins to chase after her and then cornered her into a massive, decaying wall of flesh where she gets bombarded by large newborn maggots."

Sam: "...."

Max: "...."

M.B.: "Oh, and I also gave myself bat wings."

[A moment of silence. Sam and Max are stunned.]

Sam: "Uh-huh... and, uh... can you still use your powers now?"

M.B.: "Yep! Here, I'll show you."

[M.B. holds her hand up and forms a tiny ball of aura in midair. Sam and Max marvel at the sight; M.B. smirks. She then bends the aura, twisting and bending it with her fingers.]

M.B.: "With this, I can make whatever I want. Although, my personal favorites are anything that's related to horror movies."

[M.B. clutches the aura tightly, focusing her attention into its light. Then the aura transforms into a Glazed McGuffin.]

Sam and Max: "Woah!"

M.B.: "Pretty cool, right?"

Sam: "So this is what Geek and M.J. we're talking about! M.B., this is incredible!"

M.B.: "Heh... I kinda kept all of this to myself at first... mainly because I thought you guys would think it's weird."

Sam: "Kid, we're talking animals that have a human, an alligator, and a fusion of our DNA as our adopted children. Not to mention all the cases we go through!"

Max: "I have a brother who's married to an eldeitch being, for God's sake!"

Sam: "What you have is not weirder than what we've seen before. It's new and we've never seen someone like you before, but in the end, we don't see you as strange."

M.B.: "Really? I guess it's just that... my Paracosm, my powers, and the whole illusion thing are kinda difficult to explain to a lot of people. So, I get anxious.... nervous about being misunderstood. So, I have to keep it to myself. Sometimes. But when Brenda was harassing M.J., I just couldn't hide it anymore. I can't stand harassment and I always wanted to be a protector of sorts. Only in my Paracosm and other universes like yours will I ever make that happen."

[Sam and Max look at each other. M.B. picks up the Glazed McGuffin, twisting it back into its aura form. She plays with it a little. Max sighs, crossing his arms and looking from the booth towards the floor.]

Max: "...."

Sam: "Max?"

Max: "Um... Lumpy... Thanks for... helping M.J. out there. And for being his and Geek's friend."

M.B.: *looks up from the aura* "You're welcome. I'm really glad to be their friend." *gently smiles*

Sam: "Wow, Max. That's the first time you became genuinely nice...."

Max: "Tell anyone about this and I will personally make you into a dog pelt so I can use you for napping, and have Lumpy as my witness."

Sam: "You crack me up, little buddy."

#IDK I just wanted to dabble on M.B. a little bit more #M.B.#the Cadet #Cadetsona OC #Sam and max freelance police #Sam and max freelance husbands #Sam and max this time it's virtual #This Time It's Virtual #Sam and max

17 notes · View notes

hime-memes · 3 years

Text

( Requested ) This is selection of starters is from Season 3, Episode 84: The Boy King and the Prince. ( I will be making 1 more part to this to finish the episode ! ) Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Trigger Warnings for: Sexual content, Violence, Suicide Mention and Swearing. Feel free to change anything within these starters that you see fit to make it work for your muse and the receiver’s muse ! ( Some sentences have been modified for length, understanding, or to give fuller context. )

“ Don’t bring up the sky. Do not bring up the sky ! “ “ Man, you’re kinda uptight. “ “ If you talk about the vacuum again - you’re gonna die, son. “ “ Okay, well - I think I have a lot of claim to this kingdom. “ “ Just because you’re on some coin, suckin’ on boob - doesn’t mean that you have any of the powers to govern. I, sir, know how to govern ! Through fear ! Through forcing people to fight ‘til the death ! Through demanding people bring you delicious treats, like ______________ ! “ “ Well, there’s parapets over there ... “ “ Is that too much to ask ? “ “ How about this: a ________ quiz ! “ “ Can the _____________ have its own sound effect ? Having the same one as your last segment makes me feel cheap. “ “ Okay, I love it. “ “ Yeah, I like that one ! “ “ I can take just as good as I can give. “ “ First question: What would you call a stick, with markings used to measure something ? “ “ Okay, I see what you’re doing here. “ “ You know what puns get ya ? They get you torn apart by the villagers because they don’t respect you ! “ “ I just remembered I have to sit down and lay down for a minute. “ “ _________, you’re in real danger. “ “ If you spend your entire day punin’ around, you will make the villagers ornery and they will drag you out of the castle, and they will draw and quarter you in the town square. “ “ Real ________ quiz ! “ “ _______, I don’t know what to do, I scrambled over and got them a __( insert delicious treat )__. Now, I’m afraid to give it to them ! “ “ Do you have my animal stuffed with another animal ? “ “ It’s an ear-dog ! My favorite ! “ “ Oh shit ! ______, stand in front of me ! “ “ _________, you’re gonna die this episode ! “ “ I’m with you so far ... this hypothetical is great ! “ “ You’re lounging on your cushion: being bathed in various milks ( and by maidens of various heights ) ... “ “ So far this question is relaxing ... “ “ You feel something creep in --- the boredom of having your every whim met ! ... What do you do ? “ “ What do you do, tough guy ? “ “ Let’s see, I run away from responsibility - join an acting troupe - then hide away with my friends - then, I become a woman named ‘ Lady Parts ‘, become the Baron’s girlfriend, agree to marry him, I run away and then go become a spy in the _____________ and then write a book ... and then make my way back home. “ “ ... Close, but super wrong ! “ “ You make your Uncle kill your Aunt ! “ “ Jesus Christ, that wasn’t even a hard one ! “ “ Why would I do that ?! “ “ ... Because it breaks up the day !!! “ “ It makes the boring day where you’re having your every whim met, just a little more interesting ! You use cruelty ! Ugh, geez - you want this guy to rule ?! “ “ Now, _____________, you must know that I respect you as a sovereign ... but you must understand what caused you to lose your first kingdom was that you made them all kill each other, or, themselves ! “ “ Oh, yup. “ “ So, have you learned any lesson ? When you rule over a kingdom perhaps you should not -- “ “ Okay, well I shouldn’t --- I mean, that first time was a fluke. “ “ What I’m going to do is try to seize control of this kingdom where there is no ruler, and still people, um, instill fear in them ... and then, um, yeah - Hope it works out this time ! “ “ Well, I’ve got some bad news for you - because hereditarily speaking: you’re not poised to seize power over this kingdom, because I’m on the coin sucking a boob. “ “ That could have easily been me ! “ “ No, look at the back of the head ! That’s me ! “ “ Take the coins to the smelters, add a little crown that’s slipping down over his eyes, ( ‘cause it’s a little too big ) --- and that could be me. “ “ No ! “ “ If you want to make it look like ___________, you could unbutton that one little button of his butt flap that’s always, like, hanging down so you can see his adorable little butt ! “ “ It’s really cute. “ “ Okay, okay - it is cute, but don’t point it out, alright ! “ “ Ugh ! This is worse than that time I went to the beach and that dog grabbed my little beach shorts ... “ “ I mean, obviously you are next in succession - you’re the rightful heir to the throne here - but, he’s a pretty adorable little boy king. Like, I could see that being enough for him to slide into becoming the king ... right ? “ “ The people are smarter than that ! “ “ They don’t just vote for something because it pleases them. People do their research ! “ “ Alright, I didn’t want to go here: but, my cuteness is my cross to bear. “ “ I had a spell put on me and i am forever a boy so my reign will be longer, blah blah blah blah blah ! “ “ Well, then don’t be here !” “ ... and yes, it does make it a little difficult to be taken serious, but if it will get me the throne ... I will eat a bowl of spaghetti really messy, and dump it on my head, and slurp up the last long noodle ... “ “ What did you say ?! “ “ Sorry, I meant: Pasghetti. “ “ Fucking, thank you ! “ “ Listen, look, I’m sorry - but I have to ask: will the last noodle kinda slap ya in the face ? “ “ If that’s what it takes, yes. “ “ If that’s what it takes to seize power and instill a reign of cruelty that will last a thousands of years, yes. I will let the last long noodle slap me in the face. “ “ ____________, this is a compelling argument. “ “ Yeah, especially if after he does that - he’s gonna turn to nobody, shrug and say: ‘ Hims did it again ! ‘ “ “ Don’t give him positive advice ! “ “ ... I’m still a little loopy from dentist chemicals. “ “ I will rule with a cute fist. A cute wittle fist ! “ “ I’m starting to get a little bit nervous. “ “ You’ve got a plan as to how you’ll become king/queen ... right ? “ “ It might be i could bite you and you could start crying ? “ “ ... Then, the entire kingdom comes ‘round to support me ? “ “ I can’t rely on a cuteness competition. “ “ You don’t know shit about cute, dude ! “ “ Oh, I don’t know shit about cute ?! “ “ You’ve got this weird look on your face. “ “ ... okay, so you go sexy. “ “ He goes cute, we go sexy. “ “ What you do is you stand on top of a carriage, and you’re washing the carriage ... and the suds start to froth up ... “ “ That’s your solution to everything ! “ “ Does anyone recognize a celebrity here ? Anyone !? “ “ Didn’t he die ? “ “ Okay, alright - I don’t want to hear about my mum ! “ “ You are fucked my friend. You are fucked ! “ “ You’re fucked like a sky hole. “ “ ‘Cause I got cute for fuckin’ days. “ “ Drop out of the monarch election ! “ “ ... and in that three minutes, I saw it all. “ “ I saw my life as a 40 year old and enjoying the music of Eric Clapton ... “ “ If I were a 40 year old man - I would have loved that joke, but I fuckin’ hate it now. “

#sentence starter meme #sentence starters #roleplay meme #rp meme

1 note · View note

rpmemestorehouse · 3 years

Text

Monster Island Buddies Starters: Season 1

Change wording as needed

“I’m finally gonna do it. I’m gonna ask [name] out on a date.”

“I’m gonna cut off my own DICK!”

“Today I baked muffins!”

“I was wondering if tonight, if you’re not too busy...”

“Oh my GOD! The rumors are TRUE!”

“Hey, uh, how you doin’?”

“He has three heads! Every time they make love it’s an orgy!”

“I warned you about the nuts!”

“I’ve been worried about my best friend, [name].”

“Leave me alone!”

“Don’t touch my stuff!”

“Can’t find the bathroom.”

“Put that down! PUT THAT DOWN!”

“You guys realize we really suck, right?”

“The hell if I care, he’s just my stepson.”

“Come on everybody! Let’s sing!”

“I’ll be your dick. What’s up?”

“I wasn’t looking for trouble. But that night, trouble sent me a friend request. And I accepted.”

“When the lights go out, it’s usually not the investigator who dies...”

“One and a two and a three and a four-”

“Hey, you guys!”

“Uh, sorry [Name], but the band’s full!”

“We’re friends, right?”

“You guys? Amirite?”

“You’re not metal enough for our band.”

“You want metal? I’ll show YOU metal.”

“Yeah, yeah, sit your ass down.”

“How come I never see you do anything with your kid from your first marriage?”

“Because we don’t talk about him.”

“Taking over Earth was easier than I thought it would be.”

“Hey, isn’t that your old college roommate?”

“We are leaving! I need a drink.”

“Oh, no, dude, no, dude, I’m dead serious. I love you man. You’re my best friend.”

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my old college roommate, [Name].”

“Have you heard? My career’s taking off again.”

“What have YOU done lately?”

“I’ve never this much drunk before.”

“I did it! Las Vegas, Nevada! Here I am!”

“You call THAT a robot? Psssh, get outta here.”

“It reminds me so much of home...”

“Okay, I brought ONE dollar, let’s see how far I go with it.”

“Guess I’ll just go wallow in the hotel room.”

“Ugh, god, kill me...”

“Oh my god...she’s beautiful!”

“So...you wanna get married?”

“Let me think about it.”

“I-I’m tellin’ you, man. One day, time travel will be possible.”

“If in the future I ever get my hands on a time machine, I’m coming back to this moment and getting us outta here.”

“[Name]. I feel like there is something you should know...”

“It’s true. He was with another woman.”

“Eh, what’re you talkin’ about?”

“It had three heads! I got confused!”

“I’m back from Vegas! And I want you to meet - my wife!”

“I want an annulment.”

“Technically I AM a disease.”

“C’mon, you can do it! Just one more!”

“I’m gonna deduct one from when you dropped the weight on the floor, so, negative one.”

“How are we gonna take on [Name] if we can’t get back in shape?!”

“When I was young, I could’ve won this fight easily.”

“Drugs? What drugs? I just got a natural supplement here!”

“Augh, it smells like crap!”

“Is it working? What do you see? Tell me everything!”

“Can I get my twenty dollars now?”

“Somethin’ weird going on...”

“What happened to HIM?”

“We didn’t know anyone else who might be able to help...”

“Just do whatever you can to save him!”

“Uh, is this a fuckin’ joke?”

“I play banjo.”

“That’s it! I’m going in!”

“Rivalry? Actually, I always kinda liked you.”

“I’ll give you the first shot. Let’s see what you got.”

“You can’t run for long! I’ll find you! And we’ll finish this!”

“Gotta go back in time~!”

“Aw, that kinda hurts!”

“Huh, that was awesome!”

“Fuck you, kid.”

“Man, who writes this crap, anyway?”

#ask meme #ask starter #sentence meme #sentence starter #original memes #source: youtube #rp meme #rp starter #rp prompts

1 note · View note

papergirllife · 5 years

Text

Cheers To Us

A Mark Lee Oneshot

Part 1

" Stop looking like you're in the verge of death. "

" But I am, I'm getting bored to death. "

We didn't used to need to do this. My mom and I used to spend Christmas watching old movies in the living room, drinking away mugs of hot cocoa.

That is until she got married, my mom was exhilarated to be married, it's not that the bloke she chose isn't a good one.

It's the family Christmas gatherings that suck. They really don't lack formality when it comes to it, and a pinch of drama here and there.

" You should really stop being this anti social and get to know our family. "

" Your family, mom. I'm just here because you threatened to cut off fifty percent of our WiFi. "

" Hi Charlotte! "

There she goes, leaving me to fend for myself in this sparkly hell hole for some aunt of someone.

After she left her seat, someone plopped down the sofa.

" Hi I'm Mark. Nice to meet you. "

The boy in front of you has fluffy black hair and glittery eyes, dressed in an oversized sweater and sweat pants.

" Y/N, and I have no idea how you're supposed to be related to me, so enlighten me. "

" Supposed? Well if you like to put it that way. Your mom married my uncle, so you're supposedly my cousin. "

" Right. Since you're around my age, I'm just going to be curt. I'm a bore and I don't like fake socialising with people that I will probably only see once a year. So it would be better if you found someone better to talk to. "

" But I don't feel like talking to people that I would only see once a year either. That's why I'm here. "

" How are you so sure that you would be seeing me more than once a year? "

" Because your step dad and my dad are quite close, and we live nearby your place too. "

" Gossip much? "

" Your mom was really keen on getting to know me is all. "

" Of course she is. " You said with a roll of your eyes.

" She's nice. Way better than Aunt Karen. "

" The one with rine stones on her glasses? "

" That's the one. "

" She judged my whole being when she saw me, and all I did was yawn. "

" When she saw me she said ' Mark Lee, your hair is messy as usual, and underdressed . ' "

" What a bitch. Did you say anything back to her? "

" I told her that the other relatives complimented my good looks, and that her glasses are the ones that are messed up. "

" Oof. "

"She gave me the worst stink eye I've ever seen. "

After dinner, the both of us went to the backyard as the people inside were starting to get on our nerves.

" It's always the same questions. ' Why don't you have a girlfriend yet Mark? ' ' How's school, Mark ? ' "

" Don't they always. "

" Hey, you wanna go clubbing later? Since we live close by, I can pick you up. "

" Sure. I'd love to sneak out the house with you. My mom can't even get angry at me since she made me attend this. "

" Sounds rendezvous. "

" It's nothing compared to my other adventures. "

" Y/N?! It's time to head home. "

" Coming mom! "

" See you later. "

" Can't wait. "

" You look different. " Mark said as you open the door of his car.

" Good different or bad different? "

" Neither. You look nice in both styles. "

" Thanks. "

" My friend and his cousins will be there afterwards, is that alright? "

" Why not? The more the merrier. "

" Y/N, meet Johnny and his cousins, Wendy and Yeri. "

" Hi, nice to meet you guys. " I said as we shook hands.

" It's nice to finally have another girl in the clique. Your other guy friends just suck, it's either they want to get into our pants or talk about beer kegs. "

" They aren't that bad, sis. "

" I don't care, Y/N is an upgrade from that loud guy you introduced to us. "

" Lucas? He is really loud, can't defend him there. "

" Come on guys, let's get a table and do some shots for starters as we have a new warrior amongst us. "

Johnny, I realized, is pretty extra.

" You better not get the cheap ones that taste like shit. " Yeri said as we sat down.

" Yes, ma'am. That was 2 years ago. "

" So Y/N, are you single? "

" Yeah. "

" Wendy, you should save the questions for truth or dare. "

" Oh my jesus. Not that again, Yeri. "

" Yes, again. "

" Okay, same rules johfam. If you don't answer a truth, one shot. If you don't do a dare, two shots. " Johnny announced as he came back with two trays of shots and an empty beer bottle.

The first question asked was about Yeri's wildest rendezvous.

" So you're saying that you and a guy you picked up at Disney had sex during one of the shows you watched? " Mark asked with wonder .

" Yeah, cuz it was kinda boring that one, and we sat far behind, so no one was at our row. "

After a few slight mundane questions it was the first dare of the night when Wendy dared Johnny to seduce a man.

Johnny was so good at it that he had to apologize and leave at one point, faking he had an emergency at home.

As the game went by, funny memories were made and many shots downed.

" Y/N. Truth or dare? "

" Dare. "

" I dare you to give Mark a lap dance. "

" Good one sis. " Yeri high fived Wendy.

" Easy. "

As I sauntered my hips to Mark's seat, his eyes had a hint of panic and curiousity.

I gave myself a mental pat on the back for wearing shorts instead of a dress.

I dropped my body in a near sitting position in front of Mark's slightly spreaded legs.

My clothed crotch and his were nearly touching. I wrapped my hands around his neck and started rotating my hips while going upwards.

My eyes traced his body from his crotch till his face to see that he had his bottom lip in his teeth, it made me wanted to take a bite at it as well.

I made a turn and faced my back to him, I dropped the upper half of my body down to my toes and slowly dragged my hands up my thighs, my fingers slightly pulling at the holes of my fishnets.

As a finish up act, I lowered my butt slightly to twerk a few times, then pushed it up just right under his nose.

After my little act was done, Mark sat frozen at his seat, his boner hard against his washed jeans.

" Mark, she's your cousin. "

" It's only through marriage Johnny, shut up. "

" Does that make you feel better when you guys get laid? "

Mark just hid his face in his hands, too embarrassed to answer Johnny's snarky remarks.

" Lay off him for a while Johnny. Look at how he's already suffering just from the show. " Wendy said.

" Fine, now if you'll excuse me ladies and gentleman. I'm going to look for a one night stand candidate. "

" Ugh men. Come on Y/N, Wendy, let's go dance on the dance floor. "

" You guys go first. I still want to catch my breath from my action back there. "

" Sure. "

I sneaked a peek at Mark, he was looking down, hands clasped together.

" Mark? You okay? Too many shots? "

He gave a light chuckle, red was dusted against his cheeks as he looked up to you.

" No I just um, I didn't want you to see this. "

His eyes shot down towards his crotch. He quickly grabbed a pillow that was laid on the sofa to cover up his boner.

I got up and stood in front of him.

" Why not? "

I took Mark's hand and dragged him to the dance floor before he could answer me.

" Wait, no Y/N, we don't have to do this. "

" Relax. We're just going to dance. " For now, You thought.

Mark was barely able to function on the dance floor, he kept being flustered by the way my hips move.

His moves stilled whenever I gave him a sultry look of my eyes. After I moved my way towards him, I placed his hands on my waist, and wrapped mine around his neck.

It felt nice, just to have his body swaying next to mine. I shifted my eyes to his, I just noticed how big and bright they look .

Then I dropped my gaze to his lips. Those oh so kissable lips were so tempting.

I quickly moved my eyes back up, not wanting to make Mark too uncomfortable.

As I looked up, I saw Mark staring at my lips as well.

" Mark, my eyes are up here. "

" Sorry, I was just-- Actually, can I kiss you? "

" Sure. "

The kiss was feather light at first, the both of us still shy.

It started escalating deeper as Mark pulled me closer. A hand went lower and placed on my butt, the other went up to my cheek, holding my face in place.

He bit my lower lip, distracting me as we fought for dominance. His tongue sliding into my mouth, exploring an uncharted territory.

My head started to get dizzy from the lack of oxygen, Mark must've felt the similar feeling as we both began to pull away.

A trail of saliva connecting the both of our lips formed.

" Sorry. That's a bit messy. "

He wiped our drool off my chin, a slight grin playing on his lips.

" Why don't we get a drink? "

Mark nodded at your request, and took your hand tightly in his, leading you to the bar.

77 notes · View notes

ts-2020-olympics · 5 years

Text

EPISODE 3 - “Am I Old?” - Sarah

So far Shosha and Yujo haven’t lost any challenges, if we keep winning until the swap i fear that the other tribes will target our people because we’re all still intact. Maybe it would be a good thing to maybe lose one? I dunno

ちくしょう 😉

FUCK the hosts for this how many hours can you put in challenge this early in the game, i'm literally fucking pissed, FUMIN love! i knew we were gonna lose from early on but i still put in the time and hours to distract myself from this bitch ass boy who curved me yesterday night, whatever. i'm just so exhausted like of the constant losing, the tribal council, ugh. i haven't been on a losing tribe like this in SO long. and i'm so.. over it. i can't stand losing and i can't stand that emma is immune right now because deciding who to vote off is going to be impossible and people are going to be coming for me so i'm like, probably most definitely gone or whatever. and that means i'm going to have to do the arena challenge and NOT have a day off which... ugh....... dont get me wrong i know that ORGs are time commitments but usually i win the premerge challenges so THIS IS NEW OKAy kdhfnsdkfndkfndf. i'm just annoyed and i'm so over my tribe... and i didn't find any advantages at the olympic village i finally remembered to search in. anyway i dont even wanna THINK about tribal rn so this is just me saying fuck this challenge and ughhh i'm so TIRED just so fatigued of everything, i'll like come back tmrw and strategize or something. *throws a rock at the cameraman* fuck this shit i'm out, give me the osake RIGHT! GOD DAMN! NOW! (alcohol for all you non duolingo-ers)

i'm kinda happy that bailey was evacuated from the game, she would have been voted out regardless and this gives our tribe better odds at survival. even if we had gone to tribal i would've been comfortable, but now i feel like it's better than i try to prove my value as a player by competing in the arena! kinda excited.

tribal three times in a row check! 😍✨💋 LMAO no one is wanting to actually talk to me about it so i’m hoping that i can still sway the votes in my favor but we’ll see! i think landen would defiantly do his best to help keep me from going, but it’s all a matter of who would we send instead. so! we’ll see! at least i can say i did my best

So, for starters, the past round went pretty much as expected. Kathy was the vote off from my tribe, and she lost at the arena, as well, past round I found nothing yet again at the village. Now, right now in terms of this round, my tribe didn't win immunity, but Bailey ended up getting medically evacuated due to getting three inactivity strikes, so the tribal got cancelled for my tribe, and Beck ended up volunteering to do the arena. So basically, just awaiting to search Olympic Village again, and hoping to goodness there is a tribe swap next round, since right now my tribe is just my alliance with Ben and Beck, which will make things rough come another loss with no swap.

yep worst case scenario happened. My tribe lost with me sitting out and Will, my one main ally, not showing up to the challenge at all!! I was hoping it could be an easy vote so i didn’t have to vote and I could get the advantage but now it seems like my tribe is ready to boot Will and if I want that advantage I need two of those other three to vote against each other! God this is gonna be hard...

I’m in a tough predicament here. I could either A. play it safe, agree with everyone to vote will or B. try to save my ally and my advantage at the same time by getting Sarah and Eve to vote out Nik, risking my whole game. Godddd I don’t know!! aaaagh!

it's 10am, tribal is in 10 hours, and i've had about 10 separate heart attacks throughout the morning. i don't know what to do tonight. i'm really struggling to figure out what's right. my heart says jacob, that's definitely where i'm leaning. juls is my closest ally at this point, and after the whole debacle with Billy, voting him out, then instantly starting to bond with him and all that, and apologizing, and him sticking by me even after I voted him out first, I would feel terrible voting for him again and I want us to prove to eachother we can trust eachother. but the fact he said juls' name.. if that's who he's going to go for, i simply can't prove to him i will vote with him. i'm tight with juls, she saved me even over emma, and i just really feel a bond with her. we're both the youngest in this cast, we both have lots in common, it really do feel like we're the same person at times. at the same time, my head tells me jacob is good in challenges, and will be ok in arena, but that i really don't need a 3rd person upset at me for going to the arena, and if Emma is still coming after me, she could probably use me coming for Jacob to her advantage, but I don't even know where she's voting or what she's thinking. i'm torn about this vote, and it's all the more annoying that if emma just hadn't fucked up at the last challenge, we wouldn't be here without someone to vote right now. we'd all be able to agree on emma or jacob probably, and it would just... it would still suck complete ass, but it wouldn't be as complicated as it is now. with a tribe as tiny as 5 people, going to tribal THREE times, with all the same 5 people.. it's just not something we can afford. our tribe is being torn apart and... whew, i just need the swap. give it to me rn. as of now, i'm thinking i'm going to vote jacob, and i hope i can get billy on board for that and take his mind off juls. that's where my head is at right now... tribal is making me sick to my stomach

What the f does I stan you even mean? Am I old? And I no longer hip and down with the lingo? Bogus, man...

Our first tribal is tonight... I hate to say it, but I'm voting for Will. Nobody has heard from him in days, or for the last challenge, and tonight will be a second strike if he doesn't come back for tribal. WILL I'M SORRY. I definitely would not have voted him otherwise, he did great on the other challenges and is a great personality to have around. Come back for the next season Will..

I am the swing vote again lol Juls got blamed for messing up last vote by Emma and Billy, which considering Juls is beloved by everyone, PERFECT But now since we lost I need to pick a side, Landen and Juls or Emma and Billy. I like Emma, Billy sketches me out. Landen is the perfect meat shield for eternity. He's a bit of a blabbermouth. I watched the tapes of the live tribal, he sold me out unknowingly in front of Billy. How am I supposed to both sides these people now!? I could get sold onto a Landen vote, but that's not being sold, so WELL, who do I screw over. I feel so bad voting out Juls, but that's a reason to vote her out too, gah. GAH. Do I pick a side and lowkey goat, or do I make my control of the tribe forefront (but not evident because everyone hates each other) Time will tell. 1 Hour until tribal, and I have no idea what to do. inb4 voted out

why the FUCK does emma have immunity? she's literally so useless and does nothing in challenges... and the fact she already turned on juls, this quick, over practically nothing? im sick to my stomach, love. i know i said that already, but you know what? I must have the flu, because my nausea is neverending with this tribe and our constant spins at tribal council. as emma once said, we're basically taking turns sending people to the hellish arena. but the twist is so complex because you can't send someone you like there, because there IS always the very real chance that they lose the challenge. going there could be a good risk if you're smart with it, but it could be a risk that puts your entire game in jeopardy and i'm a KNOWN safe player when it comes to game mechanics ^_^ the only risks i take are in emotional labor! speaking of, myself and juls have both been working very hard to keep her safe from billy and emma's focused target on her, but i don't see it happening.. Billy and em seem to be tight now and it seems like they've convinced jacob to take out juls. The really horrible thing about all this, is that if i want to save juls.... i'm likely going to have to vote billy. and that is going to be aching, because i really like the guy, and i was being 100% honest and genuine with him saying i wanted to be on his side, to prove to him i have his trust and that i will be loyal to him and want to work with him til the endgame and be his ally. but if he's going to go against juls and i have to choose between the two of them..... i mean, i can't choose billy. it would be bad. so there's 30 minutes left and i don't have a clear idea of what's happening yet and any choice i make will permanently damage a tight connection that I thought I had heading into the later game. I guess in good news, Sammy, Caeleb, and a new friend, Jordan, ALL messaged me saying good luck at tribal, and talking to me a bit about it, saying they hope I'm safe. Forming those cross tribal bonds could be crucial in surviving the next stage of the game, which, god please, is happening VERY soon... *i bind myself to the cross* Give me strength to get through this, Japan. Onegaishimasu.

So far the game is makin me p sad, I’m super tired of going to tribal and having to send people to arena. And that Japanese challenge was so damn frustrating

so tribal last night.... i mean, uh, i guess my power, huh? lmao........... MESS!!! IM A MESS MY GAME IS A MESS THIS WHOLE DAMN THING IS A MESS. Someone get me a MOP rn because Sonkei-Matsing tribe is STRUGGLING and it's all EMMA'S FAULT!!!!! On the other hand, I'm very grateful Emma is an idiot, because Billy got to be safe!!! So let me explain what happened in that bonkers tribal council, from MY perspective... When I heard that my closest ally Juls had her name coming up, i was like, oh HELL. NO. So I put in the WORK to get Jacob and Billy to vote for eachother. Don't get me wrong, Juls worked hella hard on this too, she is a bad ass bitch and she deserves credit. But I do believe I was a major factor in swaying their votes as well as I'd built pretty close relationships with each of them in terms of strategy. But with Billy, that relationship wasn't a tight trusting one, more of a, please, I like you a lot, let me prove to you that I can be trusted and we can work together. Let us prove that to eachother. But here's how it happened. Even though Jacob and Billy DID vote for eachother... NEITHER OF THEM TOLD ME THEY WERE VOTING FOR EACH-OTHER. BILLY LED ME TO BELIEVE HE WAS VOTING JULS THE WHOLEEEEE TIME. And initially, I was fine with it, and i was STILL going to vote Jacob off with Juls!! Thinking there was nothing I could do and she would go 3-2. But then, 5 minutes into tribal, you'll see me furiously typing... Because Jacob FINALLY told me he was going to vote for Billy (and that's on Whispering!!! #LiveTribal!!) So from my perspective.... Billy and Emma are voting Juls. Juls is voting Jacob. Jacob is voting Billy. It's 2-1-1... and if I vote for Jacob, then Jacob and Juls can't vote, and Billy and Emma have the majority to send Juls out, saving Jacob on the revote. BUT if I vote for Billy, then Billy and Juls can't vote, and now me and Jacob have the majority over Emma. That was the thought process behind my initial vote for Billy. LITTLE DID I KNOW BILLY ACTUALLY WAS VOTING WITH ME AND NOW I FEEL HORRIBLE FOR VOTING FOR HIM AND I JUST WANT TO MAKE IT UP TO HIM BUT HE DIDN'T TEXT ME WHEN HE GOT OFF AND UGH, I NEED TO MAKE THIS RIGHT!!!! Emotional labor is the most annoying thing, and I'm really bad it. I'm terrible at apologizing and owning up to things, maybe that's why I just let my friendships fall apart in real life instead of doing the actual work to save them once a problem happens. because emotional labor is fucking annoying, exhausting, and stressful! I don't got time for it! But now, I need to have time for it, because our tribes are FIVE PEOPLE strong, and at the next tribal council, if I don't get my relationship with Billy in check, I WILL be gone. It is his vote that I need to help make sure Emma's psycho ass goes home, and if he, Jacob, and Emma all think they're on the bottom... Yikes. I hope Billy understands that I was absolutely disgusted it came down to him or Juls and I thought I was doing everything I could to save an ally.. I even swayed Juls to help save him with me, when she felt uncomfortable with him. He totally screwed up by like... not telling me he was voting with me, he said in tribal people just need to be real with where they're voting, and I agree! I wish he had just followed his own advice with me, because he would still be here right now. But his screw up does not at all compare to Emma... what the FUCK was she thinking, self-voting like that...? Like, HELLO? She throws out Juls' name all round, for I don't even know WHAT reason, since they were supposedly close, but it's implied she throws out Juls' name for getting 4 crowns on the challenge... Um, YOU STUPID BITCH YOU LITERALLY ONLY GOT ONE MORE CROWN THAN HER AND BEFORE THAT DID NOTHING ON THE SLIDE PUZZLE CHALLENGE OR THE TRIBE CHANT, DESPITE US KNOWING YOU CAN PUT IN THE TIME WHEN YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT IN THE ARENA :) Headass.... Then, after doing that all round, she SELF-VOTES??? WITH IMMUNITY AROUND HER NECK??? Girl you MUST be crazy, cus this is psychotic. Headass, deadass, she is gone the next time we lose tribal, which, lbr, is probably next time because we're LIT RALLY matsing. at least caeleb thinks i'm denise though. i feel like i have the same amount of wrinkles as her, after the stress of this game like 3 rounds in. imagine how tired i am.

Round 3's over! That's fun, innit? Glad we got rid of some dead weight in Bailey. As for friendships and alliances, I'm still slightly on edge about Darcy - I trust Beck over him. Got acquainted with Karen - they seem nice, but I'll keep an eye on them, too. Other than that, Nicole and Tommy are the people I'm mainly corresponding with. Seems like fun! :) Here's to a fun Round 4!

Okay so we won this round which is fun! Tommy went to the arena which gives me, Karen and Kevin a good chance to bond because Stoner just isn’t paying attention ever. I wonder if he has even made a confessional. Anyway, I’m going to be real annoyed if we lose and he whips out an idol. Also going to be mad if after this round there’s a swap and I’m swapfucked. I don’t think it really COULD happen to me though, because I’ve talked to at least one newbie on each of the tribes. Unless I’m stuck with Nik, Emma and Billy who have no interest in speaking to me, I think I’ll be fine. Speaking of newbies, I find myself talking to Ben a lot but I’m under the impression he talks to a lot of people. He reminds me of a lot of friendly pure men in this community like Joey, just very social and very nice! The only thing is sometimes he will say something in a conversation and I don’t necessarily know where to go with it. For example right now he’s having a full conversation with me in the village chat about pizza. I don’t know what to do with this and rather not be so vocal in the village chat. While the other newbies are increasingly hard to talk to, and sitting around all day waiting for the arena stuff is boring, Ben is a very nice person to talk to but I just wish we would talk like...about the game not what I’m eating. When it comes down to it I want to know I have an ally or two to bring to the end that might offset my immediate threat of being a winner, but not give them so much power that they win over jury votes. He seems to be showing his social side and not giving me any game info at the same time, which I have to look out for. All of the other newbies I’ve spoken to have talked game. He’s either playing a really good game by doing this or a really transparent one, I can’t tell yet. We will have to see!

youtube

Last night proved something that I’ve been wondering about Landen for a while. He truly is a snake. I unintentionally made a really good move in keeping it mysterious on who I was voting. In order to make the vote go his way and to keep Juls, he instead changed the vote to ME and got Jacob to do the same. Sneaky mother fucker 😋 thank god Juls stayed the same though. I know for an absolute fact now that I won’t be able to trust him. As for Jacob, I do hope he comes back, because now that I know where the tribe stands I know I can get him on my side.

I don't know if I ever had such a frustrating round for challenges first duolingo and now the arena I was in the lead in front of everyone until the last clue and I lost it all I didn't get a medal. I'm so pissed, you really don't wanna @ me anytime soon because I'm at the point where I wanna go off on someone.

Love the tribe, so happy we 5-0d the last tribal!! it was a cute moment!! hehe, we seem to be very together as a unit

So Will’s gone, well he’s at the arena but i think he died so he’s probably out for good. Now that he’s out that leaves me on the bottom of my tribe as the next to go, my only hope is getting as close to sarah as I can and crossing my fingers for a swap! Due to that triple tribal I think it’s going to happen next... hopefully!

Ughh i keep forgetting to make confessionals until right before the round ends so im always like oh shit and then dont really know what im gonna talk about so its not good. hows things in the life of jordan pines? great thanks for asking, while i still feel on the bottom of my tirbe i definitly see a swap coming soon which i think depending on how it goes would be pretty good for me. Id ideally like to stay with most of the people ive been with plus new ones, becuse i think im seen as like an expendable numebr to caeleb and Jacob. I want them to keep thinking of me like this while I go out and start forming stronger relationships, keep bringing in those jordan pines minions, i got my sights set on billy right now, i like him but he makes me look as humble as they come and ive i could definitly turn him into a goat for me with the right coaxing. Im hoping will survives the arena cause hes for sure a number for me, but hes also a lil innactive so maybe he peaced. Im starting to build relationships with Landen who I like. I havent even looked at the all winners tribe holy shit. Karen and Stoner are gonna be my biggest obstacles as they dont necesarily love me. Im gonna try to work with Nicole for a bit if i can tbh. Thats really all im feeling right now. I think best cast scenario is people use me as a number and carry me just a little too far that I can turn shit around and fuck em over. It's definitely gonna be an uphill climb to the finish line, but the only way to do it is go step by step.

I feel like I am in a great position on my tribe! I trust Sarah and Eve a lot. Pete says he has my back so we can only hope that in the case of another tribal council, I will be safe! I’m still going to work my ass off and play my ass off to stay safe and not have to go to another tribal! This game is long and hard and I’m trying to see big picture. And within that big picture is a flashing sign that’s telling me there’s a tribe swap soon! Hopefully I’ll be able to work some magic and avoid being on a tribe with individuals that don’t like me. But overall I’m feeling pretty good after the last tribal!

youtube

#zestypowerfuluniqueflavorfulhealthy #confessionals

1 note · View note

rp-meme-central · 6 years

Text

Sanders Sides - Virgil/Anxiety - sentence starters

1. “Oh, I’m sorry. Was I not wanted at this exact second?”

2. “Look, it’s my job, okay? A little blood pumping’s good for the old circulatory system.”

3. “Get over it. You’re the least popular character and you know it.”

4. “Give it up. Resolutions are nothing more than empty promises to yourself. Shouldn’t even try.”

5. “You sicken me. You can’t always rely on a catchy tune to solve your problems.”

6. “What? I know your limits, that’s all I was saying. Stop looking at me like that.”

7. “I’ve got an idea. Don’t. Don’t even try.”

8. “Um, rude much? I was just touching up my eyeshadow.”

9. “And when in doubt, remember that everything we do is all pointless anyway.”

10. “That was dark even for me.”

11. “I gotta say, you do impress me... by being a clueless moron all the time.”

12. “And I’m... not gonna tell you my real name, because I don’t have to.”

13. “One option, and I’m just throwing this out there, is to hide under the covers until the sun goes away.”

14. “You tried. You failed. Let’s go to sleep.”

15. “I would write an angsty sonnet illustrating my contempt for you, if I actually cared enough about what you were saying right now.”

16. “You know what? I’ve had enough of this. None of this makes any difference, you know why? Because I’m right and you’re wrong, that is why!”

17. “I gotta say, I don’t really know how to react to you complimenting me. I kinda thought you didn’t like me.”

18. “I’m not alone on this one? Nice.”

19. “That’s what a birthday brings, sadly enough. The awareness of the passage of time, how far you’ve actually come, how little time you have left. I mean, who knows? Any day could be your last.”

20. “You look like the Man. I fight the Man. I wanna fight you now.”

21. “I was going to bring that up, but it would have been too much work.”

22. “Small, dark, and empty. Like the cavity where my heart would be. If I had one.”

23. “No, I didn’t. Whatever you asked me to do, I didn’t do it.”

24. “We have a bubble. The bubble is nice here. And anything you need to do, you can get done in your familiar bubble.”

25. “It’s no use, _______. Nothing beats the real thing.”

26. “What are you doing in my room?!”

27. “I removed myself from the equation. I quit. Decided it wasn’t worth it anymore.”

28. “Okay, it’s real sweet that you all decided to come for a visit, but if I wanted to stand around being insulted, I would have shown up in person like I usually do.”

29. “Let’s just face facts. You’re better off without me.”

30. “I actually think you were right to not want me around. I’ve always aimed to protect you, but lately... it feels like I’ve been keeping you from doing anything.”

31. “Being anxious about the idea of growing more anxious. Yeah, that sounds like me.”

32. “You’ve kind of made me want to open up to you, but, big surprise, I’m really anxious about it.”

33. “I’m at least glad that I can offer some help, even if sometimes I can be... hard to deal with.”

34. “I guess there is sort of a dark edginess to it, like one of those Crayola crayon Halloween packs.”

35. “Wait. Am I the first one to show up? That’s not good.”

36. “Are these all your old journal entries and stories that you wrote in middle school? These are so cringy, why would they be here?”

37. “Stop. Please. Too much. Embarrassing.”

38. “Old poems you wrote? Ugh. You were trying so hard to be edgy. I feel like I’m an archaeologist that dug up an ancient cringe compilation.”

39. “Get rid of it! Get rid of the phone now!”

40. “What the heck was that? Disappearing on us? Don’t you dare try that stunt again.”

41. “Is it too late to be an outcast again?”

42. “______, buddy, um... an insult doesn’t really have that punch when you have to explain it afterwards.”

43. “Are we good? Like, we did the holiday stuff. Can I go back to my room now?”

44. “Great. I’m feeling the spirit of Christmas welling up inside me. Or maybe that’s vomit.”

45. “You know what won’t be enjoyable? Those three ghosts that are going to be visiting you later tonight.”

46. “What? It’s my favorite Christmas story. Let me be an individual, _______.”

47. “Nice gloves. Did you just finish washing some dishes?”

48. “Look, I’m not choosing sides here. All I’m saying is that you both suck at what you do and I’m tired of having to keep lighting fires under your butts.”

49. “This is part of the problem. We keep having this same problem, but instead of facing it and fixing it, we just... find a distraction.”

50. “That just proved it. Loops are the worst.”

51. “This situation is pretty cut-and-dried, isn’t it? You guys just cut it out.”

52. “No, stop. No one is getting naked.”

53. “Wow. You are unbelievably extra any chance you get.”

54. “Yes, I am a puppet, here to take you on a magical adventure through your feeli - aw, this was a mistake. I can’t do this.”

55. “Jeez, ________, that was pretty rough.”

56. “Maybe you won’t have to understand your feelings if you fix the problem.”

57. “Jeez, you sloppily eat some jam, accidentally make a few puns, and now you’re all sensitive about not being taken seriously?”

58. “I appreciate what you bring to the table and all, but what you just recommended would be a massive change in ______’s life, so... I kind of hate a little bit right now and shut your dirty mouth.”

59. “______, don’t start. I have plenty of hate to go around.”

60. “You once knew me as real gloomy, this weird spooky, broody _______, because I knew you’d listen to me as too scary to ignore.”

61. “You’re lost. It’s okay. I was lost once too, but thanks to all of you life sucks less now.”

62. “Oh, don’t hug me. I’m scared.”

63. “Thank God, I can move my arms again.”

64. “I don’t always like when you talk about me like I’m some innocent, harmless angel. It just, it kinda makes me feel weird. Not - no - not weird, not in a weird.... It takes away some of my, uh... thunder.”

#rp memes #sentence starters #Sanders Sides #Virgil Sanders

157 notes · View notes

ralfstrashcan · 5 years

Text

3x16 Reaction / Commentary

Alec “Proud Puppy” Lightwood

THAT FACE HAHA. Also crêpes man I'm jealous.

Rude man, don't rip him away from his hard earned waffles.

This is so hilarious to me, okay, this prompting hand flick Alec does (which you can't see here because I can't gif, only screenshot ahahaha) man I love it. Sadly I didn't find a gif of this yet, so I can't put one :( I can't even put into words why it's so hilarious to me. And Magnus's sceptical gaze hahaha.

Edit: I FOUND ONE

HAHAHA HELL YEAH

I mean we all knew this was fake, not least because it implies Magnus is wearing the same outfit two days in a row and obviously this would NEVER happen, but also because in no universe does Alec have smooth dance moves. It's a law of nature.

lol is this an innuendo or something because I don't get it, pls help

Tiny waist touch is spotted and highly appreciated.

That scene transition was brilliant and there is nothing else to say about it. I lost count of how many times I've rewatched it because it's awesome. The way Alec's voice sounds slighty off, the way Magnus gets heavier in his arms, the way everything spins out of focus, and Alec's last “Stay with me” sounds almost hard with urgency.

When I first saw this I was legit yelling at the screen why the hell Alec is just shaking him instead of, idk, doing CPR but I did him a grave injustice there because he actually does and I really appreciate that. (Though, if he learned first aid I wonder all the more about 3x12 (or was it 3x13, I lost count lol) where he just lets Sentry Guy die without even trying to save him.)

That being said, I'm really happy we got to see the immediate aftershocks of it because I was half afraid this episode would just start with Magnus in the infirmary bed. Still, I have a question. Who called Catarina? Izzy? Because why is she then so shocked when she learns Magnus is not breathing? When she presumably first entered the room to receive the instruction to call Catarina, did she not... wonder why Alec was cpr-ing him? Or did Magnus not immediately stop breathing after collapsing but just, faded slowly while Alec had already told Izzy to call Catarina? I kinda wanna know the mechanics here.

I mean, no surprise there if you keep killing them?? Ahahaha.

My fangirl brain: What, General Amaya from the Dragon Prince is gonna appear? Sign me the hell up!!!! My rest-brain catching up: No this is not a crossover and no, r is not y and just, no. My fangirl brain: :<

........ignoring the fact that summoning her is super stupid, there's also the tiny detail that they don't have leverage why would she help them are they just gonna say “pretty please”?? I can't believe them.

lol Bohemian if you see this, this panel is only for you to haunt your dreams XD hehehe sorry sorry but I just couldn't resist XD

Wtf I can't believe those words just came out of his mouth. Jace, you're gonna start with a pep talk? You were possessed and forced to do things against your will, you should know better than this. Honestly.

The way his voice goes up, just kill me now.

THIS DETAIL OH MY GOD

I absolutely loved this scene, in terms of acting it was perfect and it was painfully in character for Alec to blame himself for everything that's not going alright with someone he loves. The problem I have however (because come on, there's always a problem with me) is that they genuinely want to tell me that Alec didn't realize Magnus was faking it? Magnus loses his magic and he “doesn't think twice”? I mean, that's either really really insensitive or really really stupid. And Alec might be insensitive sometimes, but not like that and he surely isn't that stupid. So, uh, I don't really like that bit. Again, if he was secretly happy that Magnus's immortality is gone that's one more thing to feel intensely shitty about, I get that, but being secretly glad how things turned out and not realizing the other person is suffering from how things turned out are two entirely different things. And just, tf Alec. He can't possibly be that dense, can he, that he genuinely thought Magnus was okay with this. Even if he thought this was something Magnus could get used to in the long run, he didn't expect him to need some kind of settling-in period? Really??

HELL YEAH I STAN CAT SO HARD IN THIS SCENE. And I'm so glad she's the voice of reason in this.... after deigning to appear at long effing last ahahaha sorry not sorry for that dig XD Look it's not her fault, it's the screen writers'.

I got a soft spot for Simon calling her Fray. Also, high-key loving how they're all sitting there waiting for news and finally acknowledging that something's up with Magnus.

LOL CLARY TELL US HOW YOU REALLY FEEL. Kidding. It was the Evil Rune at work again, even though she's nowhere near fire. Maybe it was the hypnotic neon lights? In any case, this is becoming a real problem lol. (No, tbh I found that outbreak totally hilarious XD)

.............................*sigh* I mean, your fierce determination doesn't change the fact that this plan is doomed to fail and you still don't have any leverage over Lilith, but sure. Go off.

YEAH BECAUSE AS SHE PROVED SHE HAS COMMON SENSE. Though I really hope she also told Alec about this dumb-ass request by his dumb-ass parabatai so he can intervene. But, tbh I don't really expect that to happen. *sigh*

Kill herself and then revive herself, hoping a short moment of death is enough to severe the connection? Or maybe, uh, try to use her rune power to cancel her Evil Rune instead of summoning Lilith??? Just for starters.

WTF I CAN'T BELIEVE I'D SEE THE DAY WHERE J A C E IS THE VOICE OF REASON WTF COLOR ME IMPRESSED I LOVE IT

“See, I infused it with a strong dose of Plot Convenience, so that shouldn't be an issue.”

THE PORTRAIT IN THE BACKGROUND HAHAHAHAHAHA

“Why? Why do you hate him so much?” “It's simple. All my life I've had to sit by and watch...”

Thanks for 100% confirming my headcanon, I do love that :)

BAM!!!

I really like the detail that he's so out of breath from the magic, it shows that it was probably more harmful that just a shove back? Oh the questions I want to ask.....

Bitch you're 484 don't round down so much hahaha

Is Lorenzo actually gonna be swayed by this????????????????????? uh

Edit: Ahahaha we later learn he actually is and obviously I had to write a ficlet about it, so uuuuh whatever I'll put it at the end with all my other shameless self promo I'll include in this thing XD

OH YEAH I remember the “Different outfits for different occasions” comment from 2x19 I wonder what she'll wear? The same, or even older??? Btw why does she share a smile with Meliorn as if this is a private joke? Because, like, it isn't.

I mean that's touching and all, but that doesn't change the fact that Lilith loves you and seeing you dead would absolutely tear her apart, thus making this a fitting revenge. Wtf Jonathan this is no sound counterargument.

Hm. Tbh I liked her youngest self best? But she's still cast very well. And I recognize that her talking face to face with Jonathan would have been a little ridic if she only reached his navel XD

Ugh, Bohemian, can you see me rolling my eyes?

lol at least this was funny

OMG Luke could you be any more dramatic, are you actually kidding me. I'm gonna be sick soon if you don't cut the bs.

Wow the first sign of Sizzy that didn't suck, yay! XD this was actually pretty sweet.

Oh you mean that time that Raphael was feeding on her and they were indulging in mutual addiction? Because as soon as Izzy was clean she steered clear of Raphael.

..............................................what happened to “scumbag ex”? Why am I even asking?

?? Yeah? What happened to “While Saia lasted it was the best thing ever?” Then again that was what, three episodes ago? Can't hold him accountable for something that happened so long ago, right.

Hahaha okay that was cute.

1) LOL how hilarious would it be if they summon Lilith and just get her corpse plus Jonathan holding the sword still sticking out of her chest. 2) Jonathan is a true sadist, making her wear those heels. 3) Who's that wheelchair for? I mean, Lilith designed this apartment for her disciples, right?

.................which she doesn't need, since she's no warlock and her powers come from her angel blood, not ley lines. So, points for trying, show, but please don't mix up your races. Makes you look so unprofessional. (Except if this is a hint that shadowhunters also run on ley line energy, have ley line magic flowing through them etc. but honestly I'm not even entertaining the thought because then I'd have a conniption.)

Wtf it's literally standing twenty seconds of intense mindnumbing pain, why the hell would you need a coach for that? Just hold it together and endure it. Also, if they attempt it, 20 bucks say he'll die for some dramatic Sizzy “Oh shit you could really have died, too” moment.

Awww you can really see the love in that touch. <--- sarcasm.

Awww you can really see the love in that touch. <--- no sarcasm.

Honestly, Magnus's touch is natural and familiar (btw love the uncoordinated grabbing) while Alec turns Magnus's chin as if he's trying to make as little physical contact as humanly possible. Is a hand on his cheek really too much to ask for? *sigh*

lol you'd think he'd start with that immediately after Magnus wakes up instead of taking risks (it's what I would have done) but whatever.

He's.... actually there to help? For free? Or is Alec gonna have to hand over the Institute's keys to him when the job is done? Lol. (Also that suit jacket could be straight out of Magnus's closet.)

Oh my God Alec just say he could die. Why sugarcoat it? Say it how it is, and Magnus might listen to you.

.........yeah. This is so relatable and I love how he delivers this line. The desperation is clear, but he's also determined about it. Also, quick question, why didn't Alec get Catarina to be there when Magnus wakes up instead of Lorenzo? I'm not saying it would have changed the outcome but it might just have made Magnus feel less shitty about being exposed to his nemesis in this weak state. Then again I get it, Alec is running on panic and instinct, so consideration is the last thing on his mind.

This scene was amazing. Or, lol, this part of the scene. Magnus's performance is stellar and FYI the next thing he says, the “Look at me! Can you honestly say you like this?” was improvised and that's just ugh so good. Coincidentally this is also where my issues with this scene begin. They're not about how the characters act, I found that part very very fitting; it's meta.

The issue Magnus is having isn't about some fear that Alec won't love him anymore now that he doesn't have his magic anymore. Magnus is projecting. His issue lies within himself. He feels differently about himself, he can't say he likes this, and it's only in conclusion that he assumes it must be the same for Alec. But Alec isn't the root of this issue. But of course it's easier to pretend it's about Alec than to openly admit his severe self-image issues, so that's what Magnus does. Perfectly ic to me. The problem I have here is that if we take what Magnus says at face value it appears that Magnus only wants his magic back so Alec will keep loving him (sidenote: even more if you cross out Harry's addition and just focus on the “You fell in love with the High Warlock of Brooklyn. Can you honestly say you don't feel differently about me?”) and the solution to that is clear: Alec drops some wedding vows, problem solved.

But that's not the problem here. Magnus would literally rather be dead than without his magic and no amount of Alec waxing poetry about him is going to change that. And honestly, I'm so grateful for Harry's addition because that made it abundantly clear to me that Magnus is projecting. His bewildered “Can you honestly say you like this?” is an admittance of “I see what I am now and I can't bear it, so how could you?” If that scene had been about Alec, that would have been so uncalled for.

And also loooool but uuuuuuhhh I found Alec's speech less than impressive? I'm sorry, I know he tried but it just didn't work for me? I felt like it really wasn't up to his usual par. Lol I honestly rolled my eyes when he started about the spark that lights up the room XD It felt impersonal, kinda. It's hard to describe. Of course I can cut him some slack on that, because he was emotionally severely overchallenged in that moment and had to make it up on the fly, but uh. Yeah.

Anyway what I really didn't like was his closing line because it kinda sounded as if he was making that decision for Magnus and that's not his place. It might be dangerous and stupid and “not worth the risk” but Magnus isn't in a place where he should have his authority revoked, so. Kept from gambling with his life, yes. With sound arguments and empathy, yes. With dictation, no. So that didn't go over too well with me. Anyway I channeled that into a ficlet already, too, which I'm also advertising at the end.

......has she just been sitting there for six episodes? Btw I wonder, if Jonathan is happily manipulating Lilith by faking positive emotions towards her I don't get why he totally fell for it every time Clary did the exact same thing to him.

THAT MALICIOUS SMILE HAHAHA THE LITTLE (S)ASS

1) SO SHE'S LITERALLY BEEN SITTING THERE FOR SIX EPISODES?!?!!?!?!

2) Why hello there Plot Point XD srsly why tf would Asmodeus use Magnus's magic instead of his own if, need I remind you, his own demonic magic is stronger than Magnus's, Magnus's wasn't even enough to destroy her demonic possession on Jace.... so why would Magnus's magic be enough to bind Lilith, the mother of that possession, to a room? Uh, lemme guess... Plot Convenience? So when, theory time!, Lilith is slayed he has no need for it anymore and can return it to Magnus?

“...to kill you while you were weakened.”

WOW WHAT A DELIVERY AMAZING

........I gotta be honest, I was really confused at his submissive behavior but then I realized... they have a 10 year history of these mechanisms, and slipping back into the pattern of things must be so easy. Also, I mean, that paints a really wonderful and peaceful image of his formative years, right?

Jimon Shipper Moment <3 ;) Look I don't even ship it, but their bickering is high-key amusing to me.

Instead of just standing between them from the get go? Why?

?????? I guess the incest runs in the family, pun not intended?????? Btw Jonathan's weird incest-y obsession makes so much sense now. If this is literally the only way he ever learned how “familial love” (Lilith Greater Demon Edition) is expressed I have no questions anymore. Seriously, he's so screwed over by everyone and it's just unfair. (On that note, glad we never had to see him make out with Valentine. Some things are just too terrible to envision. Damn, why did I say that, I should just shut up for all of our sakes.) Anyway, back to our favorite tortured soul here, I'm honestly not even sure if I can hold the incest thing against him any longer. His entire life consisted of being raised by Valentine, who kept him in a hut in the woods where he never got to see anyone but him, and then Edom where there was Lilith and demons. It makes a horrifying amount of sense that normal human norms mean nothing to him. He's never lived them, he's never witnessed them and maybe he doesn't even know them. So yeah. I guess I'll just add the incest thing on the long long list of things that are due to the stellar parenting he enjoyed, and not entirely his fault.

Damn so close to see my prognosis come true. Then again, I guess this was just the perfect timing because who knows if Lilith won't even help them now kill Jonathan because betrayal bla bla.

1) No need to twist the knife, then again this is Lorenzo so what am I even expecting.

2) WTF ARE THEY REALLY NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT THIS SOME MORE?!?!?!??!?!

3) If it's like a transplanted organ being rejected by the body, just, idk, look for a different warlock whose magic fits Magnus better? There must be tests for that kind of thing? And even if there isn't, if you go slow and don't immediately portal all over the world plus end an encanto-coma you should be able to tell the magic doesn't fit pretty quickly without going into cardiac arrest. Magnus only got some nosebleed at first, remember, and it got worse only because he didn't slow down. I'm just saying, there would be Ways.

Wow I never realized before that he's actually got an undercut. Makes his hairstyle look even stupider.

Wow I believe this even less now than I did in 3x12.

“Let's hug in these trying times, but please make sure your face doesn't touch mine, otherwise people might draw the absurd and outrageous conclusion that we're in a relationship or something.”

Honestly. Their portrayal of casual intimacy is abysmal and I hate it.

1) The infirmary is very weird and open space for a place that should be easily closable if you need to contain, idk, sick people and their viruses and keep it sanitary. 2) I've been wondering since the start of the episode, did Lorenzo's pony tail get shorter? Wasn't it longer before? 3) At least Malec managed to make their feet intersect minimally, so yay for small mercies.

“One dose of Plot Convenience, coming right up.”

They're just.... gonna torture her? Really? I don't even have words for this. Oh no, I do:

Seriously. It's as if morality isn't a thing, and torturing a sentient being isn't always and under all circumstances a Wrong and Bad thing to do. Because clearly if the person receiving torture is just Evil Enough then it's okay. Thanks for standing by and doing nothing Simon, this is exactly the reason I hate your inconsistent streak on this matter. I don't even expect better from the born shadowhunters, and Clary is way to un-reflected to even twitch but. Ugh. Why am I even wasting my breath (my typing capacity?) on this. It's pointless.

Wow this is pointless, too. I mean, why is Izzy not interfering? She literally just fell down. She shouldn't be out of comission by this. Ugh.

Also ugh to Izzy slinging her whip around his hand instead of, idk, his whole upper body and his arms.

Also ugh to Simon waiting to attack Jonathan until the last second as a heroic saving move to save Izzy which, ugh.

But this here

#AwkwardGrownUpSquad

I'm honestly lol'ing so hard right now. Hahahaha this is just hilarious to me. Then again, who knows, maybe now they'll team up with Jonathan to kill Lilith and I'll get my hopes up again for a redemption arc XD

......................HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Btw I bet you she copied that move from Doctor Strange.

lol another thing I didn't see coming.

1) Hello Hannibal lol 2) Who went in there and put restraints on him? 3) Who's gonna pay that Seelie actress now??

This scene was actually nice? I know, I'm surprised myself.

How convenient. I mean, good thing he didn't say “Glorious” otherwise Izzy might have thought he was asking for that one ESC song to be played at his funeral.

Please, Maryse, don't flatter yourself, all you had to do was scratch Elliot's corpse from the floor boards, the rest was already completely furnished.

..................................................................................................................bye

Look, while part of me is undeniably thrilled at the prospect – because while I was totally rooting for a Malec Wedding I was pretty sure it was an unachievable dream, just like hoping for Sheith – this is exactly what I mean with taking things at face value. Alec takes Magnus at his words (that he has doubts Alec will still love him now that he lost his powers) and so he thinks that a grand gesture of commitment will fix it.

But it won't, because that's not the problem. Or at least I hope it's not the problem, I mean if I lost my arm my main worry would be “Holy shit how am I gonna cope without my trusty appendage” not “What are the neighbors gonna think? Will I still be able to rock my favorite outfit without that limb?”

Anyway. I don't think this'll go over too well at this point in time. And honestly, Alec just realized at the beginning of this episode that he was fooled by Magnus's coping facade and tricked into thinking Magnus would be fine without his magic. And now Magnus has lost is magic again and Alec just... makes the same mistake again, blindly believing the words coming out of Magnus's mouth instead of taking a look for himself and seeing how Magnus is faring? Did he learn nothing from this? Alec. Why are you like this.

Anyway, conclusion time: This episode was way more reasonably paced than the last, the shit decision making was kept to a minimum (except for the part where they, y'know, summon Lilith back to earth) and Jace gets a diligence starlet for displaying common sense.

And now, self advertisement time! I wrote three ficlets: a) a continuation of the scene with Alec and Lorenzo b) a gap-bridging Malec scene set after the “I won't lose you” line and finally c) a what-I'd-like-to-see-happen-in-3x17-fic where Alec tells Izzy about his proposal plans.

I'd be thrilled if you checked one of them out. Until next time XD

(Gif Source)

#shadowhunters #3x16 #alec lightwood #jace wayland #magnus bane #clary fray #isabelle lightwood #simon lewis #jonathan morgenstern #lorenzo rey #lilith #luke garroway #maryse lightwood #malec #reaction

22 notes · View notes