#YES i forgot the trash can shut up

[discount--dracula]

existential crisis at daveland yayyyyyyy

[jinyoungtual]

I JUST REWATCHED PIWON MOVIE AND I HAVE THINGS TO SAY

[silentheiss]

Shen Yuan is not a parent. He’s lazy, he’s a shut-in, he barely has a job. His parents pay for everything he owns. Plus, he’s not even thirty! Children can’t raise children!

All of this, though, doesn’t change the fact that there’s a mean little six year old sleeping in his apartment at least four nights a week.

“Yuan-ge, did you know young children sometimes die of hunger? Like, in poor countries. They don’t have food, so they die. Of hunger.” Shi Hai says, blinking up at him from where she’s sitting on the floor by the low table, dragging her chopsticks through the noodles in her take out container.

“Yes.” Shen Yuan answers distractedly. They’re watching the second episode of Love Game in Eastern Fantasy, and it’s kind of good. “Why?”

“I think I might chose that over this stink.”

“Ay, don’t be rude!” Shen Yuan gasps, turning to look at the girl fully. Her bangs are getting too long, falling past her eyebrows. They’ll have to get it cut soon. “I thought you liked that?”

“It’s better than beer.” Shi Hai shrugs. “But I’d maybe like a vegetable.”

Shen Yuan swears internally. He’s not equipped to do that. He should call Child Protection Services or something. They will contact the police, arrest Shi Wen, for some time at least, until her father gets her out of jail and back into the big, alcohol-filled apartment. And they will find a better home for Shi Hai. The one with actual adults, who can feed a child. Yes, he should do that.

He will.

“There’s a bell pepper in your noodles.” Shen Yuan mumbles. “Finish up, it’s time for a bath. You have school tomorrow.”

Shi Hai sighs.

“No.” Shen Yuan says, knowing well where this is going.

“Yuan-ge. School is ass.”

“Stop that. Kids don’t talk like that. Be cute.” Shen Yuan grumbles, turning back to the screen.

“This book is shit.” Shi Hai says in a low voice, clearly copying him. “What dumbass thought it’s worth my time. Idiot author.”

Shen Yuan throws a pillow at her.

“I don’t swear that much.” He says to himself.

“Uh-huh, Yuan-ge.” Shi Hai smiles. “Will you curl my hair before I go to bed? With the sock?”

“If you actually wash your hair, and not just stick your head under the water.” Shen Yuan says.

“Ugh.” Shi Hai groans. She puts her container back on the table and stomps away in the direction of the bathroom. Shen Yuan pauses his drama and gets up, too, to clean up. He’s been scolded by a child enough for one evening.

He throws away the trash, wipes the table and once he can hear the water running, he steps out of the apartment to knock on the next door to the right.

“Come on, Shi Wen.” He mumbles, when there’s no answer. “Don’t you care at all?”

Shen Yuan knocks again, louder. And again.

“I don’t think anyone’s home.”

Shen Yuan turns sharply and comes face to face with a man who, by all accounts, shouldn’t be real. He’s tall, exceedingly handsome, with long flowing hair and- he is holding a box filled with books as if it weighs nothing at all.

“She’s home.” Shen Yuan says dumbly.

The man smiles at him. Shen Yuan knocks on the door again, just for something to do.

“Neighborly visit?” The man asks, looking quite pointedly at his sweatpants and bare feet.

“Something like that.” Shen Yuan nods. “You’re moving in?”

“Yes. Luo Binghe.” The man says. “Got an apartment just down the hall.”

“Oh. Welcome, then. I’m Shen Yuan.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Shen Yuan.” Luo Binghe says. His smile is a little distracting. It looks soft, but actually isn’t.

“Nice to meet you.” Shen Yuan nods. “I-

“Yuan-ge!” Shi Hai yells. “I forgot my towel.”

“Gotta go!” Shen Yuan smiles and rushes back to his apartment.

He fetches Shi Hai’s towel, her pajamas and soft slippers. Next hour or so is spent combing her hair, oiling it and curling it onto a sock roll. If it turns out pretty, maybe she won’t make a fuss about going to school tomorrow.

Shen Yuan gets Shi Hai into his bed, reads one of his more kid-friendly novels outloud for half an hour to get her to actually fall asleep, and then goes to the guest bedroom to sleep. He tried to appoint the guest bedroom for Shi Hai, but she wouldn’t have it, and he is, apparently, a pushover when it comes to bratty kids.

Shen Yuan doesn’t think about Luo Binghe until the next morning when he drags protesting Shi Hai through the door.

“Come on, Hai Hai, the taxi is waiting.” He says.

“Schools is-”

“No! Stop that!”

“Shit, ass, poop!” Shi Hai yells.

“Fucking- Shi Hai!”

“Good morning, neighbors.” Comes a bemused voice comes from somewhere behind his back.

“Good my ass.” Shen Yuan grumbles, still tugging on Shi Hai’s hand. He turns his head briefly to see who’s day they’re ruining. “Oh, hi, Luo Binghe.”

“Yuan-ge.” Luo Binghe smiles slowly. He’s dressed in all black, leather pants and silk shirt. He looks like a model.

“He’s my Yuan-ge.” Shi Hai grunts, gripping Shen Yuan’s hand tighter. At least she’s not swearing anymore.

“You don’t seem to respect him very much, do you?” Luo Binghe asks.

“What do you know.” Shi Hai says. “Ugly.”

Luo Binghe opens his mouth, but doesn’t say anything. Shen Yuan feels like all of his blood has flown into his cheeks. Shi Hai’s looking down at the floor, clearly embarrassed but no, too little too late, little one.

“Shi Hai.” He says sternly. “I’m very disappointed right now.”

He then looks at Luo Binghe, still gaping at them.

“Luo Binghe, I’m sorry. You’re very pretty.” Shen Yuan knows his attempt at damage control is faulty, but he’s not a parent. He doesn’t know how to do that.

He sighs, locks his apartment door, and walks away with a very docile child. They’ll talk in the car, he decides.

edit: i wrote more 🙈

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62095903/chapters/158849326

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two

I want to see Max. Billy says it the second they all leave.

Eddie sighs, but makes no attempt to fight it. He pulls the covers back and carefully, slowly, climbs out of bed. His feet are chilly on the linoleum, but socks would be slippery and Eddie just can't risk it, if he falls and busts his ass it could be catastrophic – not that he’d be able to bend to put socks on anyway. Steve has left him a worn old zip up hoodie on the chair – rescued from the trailer – so Eddie grabs that and slips it on, even though it hurts to put his arms back like that, it’s worth it for their chilly journey along the hall. Steve’s already told him that Max is only two doors down, so at least it’s not far. Well, it shouldn’t be that far, but actually it feels like fucking miles and takes what feels like twenty minutes for Eddie to shuffle along the hallway.

Conveniently her name is scribbled on a little board hanging outside her room.

Ready?

Ready.

Eddie opens the door.

Max is lying in bed, the bed is sat up a little, but not much. Below the covers, the casts on her legs look bulky. The ones on her arms sit on top of the covers, her fingers poking out the ends. The kids have drawn all over them.

She turns her head to look at the door. Must have heard them come in.

Something wells up inside Eddie, and he knows it’s Billy, such a strong sense of loss, of longing, relief, it’s a physical weight.

Hi, shitbird. “Hi, shitbird.”

Max makes a noise, tries to sit up, asks desperately, “Billy??” Eddie’s frozen there, for a second, watching as Max tries to struggle up, a lump caught in his throat. She’s blinking, her eyes as white as Chrissie’s were, “Billy please!”

“No, it’s Eddie...but also kind of yes, it’s Billy.”

Eddie closes the door and shuffles across the room, sits down next to Max.

“This is weird.”

No shit. “No shit.”

Max giggles, and Eddie can’t help but laugh with her.

She goes sombre for a second then, “I’m really sorry about the Camaro.”

I completely forgot about the stupid car. Errr...fucking tell her she can pay me back for it. Once she’s up off her ass and gets herself a job.

“He says don’t worry about the car, it doesn’t matter.”

Traitor.

Max snorts, “he definitely didn’t say that.”

Billy snorts a laugh. Uhm, hey, could you ask her...ask her hows Susan? And...Neil?

“He’s asking about Susan and Neil.”

“Oh. Well, after you died they started fighting even more and then eventually, Neil fucked off. They’re divorced now. Had to move out of the place on Cherry Lane. We’re Eddie’s neighbors now.”

She’s better off without him.

I’m not saying that. Eddie steadfastly doesn’t think about how often Susan’s car is gone. He goes not think about all the bottles he sees in their trash.

Tell her I’m glad she’s close to you then, at least.

Eddie schools his expression, trying not to react to that. What’s even worse is that Billy’s being sincere – he’s genuinely glad Eddie has his little sister near by. “He says he’s glad you’re near enough to hear my rocking tunes.”

She rolls her eyes, but Eddie can only tell because she moves her head. “Sure, yeah, listening to you fuck up the same song fifty million times in a row is such a treat.”

“Hey! I nailed it when it counted.”

The door opens then, “oh Max I didn’t realize you had visitors still – oh. Eddie, isn’t it?”

Eddie stands, “yes Ma’am-” Billy snorts, “-just come to keep my favorite neighbor company.” Susan looks exhausted, and as they shuffle past each other, Eddie can clearly smell the tang of alcohol, “Bye, Mrs. Hargrove.”

Mayfield.

“It’s Mayfield again now hon.”

Yeah, good.

What the fuck kind of name is Bilbo Baggins?

Shut up man, let me read.

Wait wait, turn the page back, you read too fast. This shit is confusing. Why are all the names so weird.

Eddie huffs a laugh, “want me to read out loud?”

There’s a moment of reticence that Eddie senses, before, okay.

Part Four

[stinkysam]

Buggy the Clown - Repaid in kind.

Warning : nsfw, blowjob

Genre : smut

Synopsis : "continuation of "so no head ?" where you repay buggy by giving him head."

Reader : male (he/you)

A/N : Part ONE

As said earlier, Buggy's day had started so badly, despite a few (one) highlights.

The one being giving head to a pretty boy. But a second one was about to come ; getting his body back.

"Someone's feeling threatened." Buggy teased through the bag.

"Shut up !" Both Sanji and Zoro yelled.

"Then get me back to my body ! We're close, I can feel my toes !" He said, his body trashing against the restraints. "Trust me, I can help you guys win this thing !"

"I swear clown, if you screw us over." Said Zoro while Sanji grabbed the bag from your back to open it, the head falling to the ground before hopping and flying to the rest of his body.

"Yes !" That was it. He finally had his body back. Entirely. "Yes, yes, oh !" He hugged his body, happy to be able to do so and finally feel his hands, feet, legs and torso. "Oh, it's so much better than I even remembered !" He could almost cry.

Zoro and Sanji looked at him while you grinned, amused. When Buggy looked up and saw your two friends staring at him, waiting for him to do something, he quickly decided to put them on the same page.

"Hey, so, um… I'm gonna get out of here." He said, flipping them both at the same time before skipping to the side.

"Hey !" Zoro called with a big voice, making him turn around.

"Sorry, kiddos. I'd love to make things right, but it's time to exit stage left."

"Fucking clown."

"Oh no, you won't !" You yelled, quickly running after him, jumping over the corpses of the fishmen on your path.

"[Name] !" Sanji called.

"Leave him, he's gone." Zoro said, already focusing on the fishman that just entered the park.

You could hear the clown's maniacal laughter as he sprinted before you, going as fast as he could to not fall on any other fishmen or get caught by you.

You ran like this in the woods for a good five minutes, slowly but surely getting closer to him, you could almost grab his coat with the tip of your fingers.

Just a little bit more, just a little bit more, just a little. bit. more. Just…

You yanked him back toward you as he let out a loud yelp, falling against you. You pushed him to the nearest tree, both regaining your breaths as he raised his hands up in surrender.

"You said you'd help us !" You said, a little bit louder than intended.

"I lied. Pirates lie, sweetheart."

You pushed him again against the tree, making him laugh and smile.

"C'mon, handsome, what did you expect ? You really thought I'd help straw hat ?"

You said nothing, huffing and frowning instead. You really don't know what you hoped.

"But you're right, I almost forgot something." He said, softly caressing your cheek. "We do have unfinished business, you and I." He smiled, his thumb moving toward your lips.

Your eyes widened, remembering what you two did earlier.

"Oh right. Because you were 'left all hot and fucking bothered' ?" You repeated his words and he nodded, smiling.

"So ? What do you say ? Care to repay the favor ?" He looks at you, already eager to begin, shifting in place.

His back against the tree, he was breathing heavily as his eyes watched you kneel in front of him, pulling his pants down. You grabbed his still soft cock, giving it a few strokes, looking him in the eyes before kissing his tip.

"Ahh yeahh…" He placed his hands on your head, gently patting it.

You continued to touch and caress him til he was hard enough, your tongue sticking out of your mouth to slowly lick him.

Buggy sighed, pulling your head closer, forcing you to put your lips on him. But you resisted, your head pushing against his hand so you remained in place.

"Fuck, c'mon…" He said, already growing impatient and desperate.

But you continued to give him licks and kisses, his cock twitching against your hot tongue, your breath tickling his sensitive skin. He continued to stare at you, watching your tongue swirl around his tip.

One of your hands was by his balls, caressing and fondling them as he closed his eyes, mouth wide open.

"Yeah, just- like that… ah !"

You continued to lick him, your tongue lapping at his leaking tip, precum already pooling out. His cock twitched against your lips, desperately wanting to get in.

"Oh fuck ! Yeah. That's it. Good boy." He moaned as your mouth finally wrapped around his dick. This time he could be as loud as he wanted, no one was around to interrupt you.

"Oh…"

And god was he loud. Moaning, sighing, humming, talking, blabbing, his mouth was constantly running.

"Fuck you're doing so good- feels so- don't stop, don't stop !"

You bobbed your head up and down, almost choking when he bucked his hips into you but you didn't stop.

"Doing so well, hands- Ah !"

He gasped when you slapped his balls, the sting knocking the wind out of his lungs only to come back slowly as you caressed them, soothing the area gently. You did that a few times as he squirmed in your touch.

Whispering out a "Ah, fuck !" followed by your name.

He wiggled his feet, spreading his legs more as if to push more of himself into your mouth. His tip going right down your throat as you swallowed around him. Deeper, he wanted to go deeper.

You continued to play with his balls as he moaned, whispering your name softly. You hummed around him, sending vibrations down his dick and he moaned louder.

His blue pubes tickled your nose each time you leaned closer. And you couldn't help but find it very attractive.

"Fuck. Fucking shit !" He cursed, feeling his climax approach, bucking his hips into your mouth as you kept it open for him to use. Tears in your eyes as you tried not to gag around him.

With one final thrust Buggy came in your mouth, spilling some of his cum on your lips and chin as he breathed loudly, huffing and groaning.

"Fuck…"

You stood up, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and smiled, cupping his cheeks before pulling him in for a kiss. His eyes widened as he felt your tongue push his cum inside his mouth, making him hum in surprise and try to pull away only to be stopped by the tree behind his back.

"Now we're even." You said, pulling away.

Buggy sighed, his head falling back and he smiled.

"That we are, sweetheart."

[jacksonleavesthe0nly138472]

sleepyhead

Pov: Ford

Fidds and me shut down the portal, he explained to me that I had a terrible head injury that must be why I don't remember anything. We were walking to the bedroom I notice that here is a weird number of triangles in the house, so I ask why, he said that he really didn't know why he loved triangles so much.

Suddenly we stop at the bed room he explained "okay ford here is only one bedroom in the house, which means one of us has to sleep on the couch" I look at him confused "oh wouldn't I have an apartment or house somewhere?" He took a minute to respond "Um your head injury is really bad, not bad enough to go to the doctors but I advice you to stay" okay that made sense, I got a strange thought in my head, for some reason made my head feel heated "you know it could be a good idea if, you and I sleep in the same bed, you could watch over me if my head injury becomes a problem"

His face went a dark red "well Stanford I think that's an brilliant idea" I love it when he says my name.

We're in bed together, is it a normal thing for two friends to sleep in the same bed, now that I'm thinking it over, actually have a crush on Fiddleford, I mean it makes sense why I feel all hot when it's winter, and how want him as close as physically possible to me. That makes me think, have I told him of this before, and was he not interested in me. Tomorrow I will ask him this and many more questions.

Finally I went to sleep instead of over thinking about our relationship, it was quite a weird dream, I was in a place were there was books and papers floating everywhere, in the hole place was scattered with stars and math equations in the background. Randomly a triangle popped out of nowhere, he looked very dapper with his bow tie and top hat.

"Hey ya sixer how's the portal going" what the heck the weird triangle thing can speak? "Oh hi dapper trian" he rudely interrupted me "MY NAME IS BILL, you idiots" "jess I didn't know your name before and before you rudely interrupted me, I was going to" again HE INTERRUPTED ME "what the hell IQ, you KNOWN me for years, are you playing a stupid game on ME" jessus this triangle man is so rude "no I AM NOT PLAYING A GAME, if you'd just let me talk, maybe you won't be so confused" "okay then talk Fordy, because this is really frustrating you know" I pause for moment than starting talking "so to put it briefly, I suffered a head injury and now I have amnesia and can't remember anything"

Instead of been understanding this bill character, he literally turned red when he got angry and thrown an temper tantrum. "WHERE THE EVER LIVING HELL IS ALL YOUR MEMORIES" I round my eyes "it's not like I just told you" predictably got more frustrated "IF YOU GOT AMNESIA YOU WOULD STILL HAVE ALL YOUR MEMORIES" I was about to say something but than he just disappeared.

Woke up with me laying on Fidds chest, don't know how I got in this position but I don't care it's nice, especially after that annoying dream guy. Gosh I'm so lucky that I forgot about that guy, the fact that I knew that man before must be annoyance to my past self. I know Fidds like triangles but he can't like this guy, plus he's not even real, what is 'bill the triangle guy' going to do if I talk trash about him. Was kind of sad that Fiddleford woke up he looks so cute asleep, "hey ya Ford we got a busy day today, haven't we, got to dismantle the portal and than get your memories back"

Oh forgot that "alright, business is good, keeps the mind busy hahahah" Fidds looks at me in a compassionate manner "gosh somethings never change" if that was someone else saying that I would of thought it was a rude remark. "Hey um I have something to tell you before we get started" he looked a bit irritated now "yes ford what is it" "well I know this is going to sound weird, but I saw a triangle named Bill in my dreams" okay now I'm thinking it over it was a stupid idea to bring it. He just looks so annoyed now "REALLY STANFORD, I thought that you would know that dreams can be weird, and WHY WOULD I NEED TO KNOW THIS?"

I felt like a complete idiot now "sorry I shouldn't of said anything, let's just get back what we were doing"

Note: did a quick drawing, I want you guys opinion on me doing a drawing on most chapters, should I do it no or yes

[tmntxthings]

∑一 Gasoline・゜・。

author’s note: so I started this months ago and came back today and somehow finished it? it’s now 4 am and idk what I’ve written but we posting it babyyyyyyy

song: reckless driving by lizzy mcalpine, ben kessler

warnings: cursing, narcissism, over-dramatics, cringe, sarcasm, flirting, confessions, unedited

—————————————————————————

Okay, I’ll admit. I’m not the best when it comes to..following the rules? Heeding caution? Listening to anyone??? Yeah not the greatest in that department.

But! I’m practically flying high in all others. Better brother, better turtle, cooler weapon, and not to mention handsome as fuuuck. So handsome in fact, I know I’ve snagged your attention. Heh. Call it what you will, intuition or gut-feeling, I know I’ve been occupying your mind.

But the thing is, you won’t admit it. No matter how much I prod, tease, or blatantly ask. It’s always “Leo, no.” “Leo, stop!” “Leo, shut up!!” And never “Yes, I think about you endlessly Leo, you’re right, and super handsome, be my one and only turtle”

…

Yeah…

It’s never ever that. And maybe that’s the reason why I can’t let this go. Because I know I’m right. If I wasn’t why would you keep coming around? Why would you spare glances my way? Why would you wear blue? It was all so infuriating to see these little details only to be denied again and again.

Raph says I’m getting a little obsessed. Donnie doesn’t give two fucks. And Mikey says something even worse, that I’m in love. Barf. Gross. Me? Love? Hell no. I collect admirers. I flirt with everyone. Unabashedly. Why would I fall in love with someone who is so clearly in denial that they are in love with me??? All I’m doing is getting them to admit the truth, and then they’ll be another tally mark. Another addition to the ever growing list of admirers I have.

It comes with the title of being the Face Man and all of that. Perks of being me I guess!

And so I was up to my usual antics.

“Keys Y/n, keys babe!” You scoffed pushing my hands away. “Keep your grabby mitts away, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you drive.”

“I curbed one time Y/n. Once! Give a turtle some slack here!!” I’m practically begging at this point. Because I have a plan. A genius plan to get you to finally admit the truth. It’s going to be epic.

“I think you’re also forgetting the three times you purposely ran into trash cans. You almost backed into another vehicle. And don’t get me started on how many times you accidentally forgot the keys in the car!”

…Okay so maybe there are a few more reasons as to why I shouldn’t be driving. But no matter! I’m a master manipulator. I can sway those around me like a pro. Plus since ya have feelings for me, I’m sure you actually really do just wanna hand over those keys. You’re just like playing a little hard to get is all.

“Whaaaa?? Are you sure that wasn’t Angelo? Pretty sure that was totally him and not me.” A big cheesy smile lights up my face trying to turn that frown of yours upside down. “Plus in any case I’ve got super rad portal powers to snab the forgotten keys!”

“Leo. No.”

And the actual begging and groaning and bemoaning ensues. I don’t throw temper tantrums that often. Only when necessary. After many ��pleases’ and promises to drive extra careful. I finally get my long awaited—

“Leo, I said noooooooooo!”

A hard flick resonates against the space right above the middle of my eyes. Dramatically I flinch backwards crying out in faux pain. My hands going up, one covering the space that has just been so grievously wounded. “Oh c’mon that didn’t hurt…”

“Did it?”

Peeking through my three fingers I see the wisps of concern on your features and it’s at this moment where my all-of-the-sudden-plan enacts. As you draw closer out of worry it’s just too easy to create a small portal with my other hand that is behind my back. Don’t ask how the dagger got in my palm. Sometimes being a ninja just has its perks.

And just like that the keys to your car are securely in my hand and I bolt before you can realize you’ve been…hand-pocketed? Pick-pocketed? Whatever the case!

As I gloat from the driver’s side window, with the locks safely on so you couldn’t just rip open the door and strangle me like you were threatening to do right now. I make a show of raising the volume in your car and celebrating more with a little dance in the drivers seat. It’s not until you shake your head and the flames extinguish from your eyes do I dare to unlock the passenger door for you to get in.

You do slam the door close though. “Dramatic much?”

I can’t help but tease. I love winning. I love rubbing it in everyone’s face. And it makes my bones sing to see you get so riled up all over little ol’ me. You glower, somehow holding your tongue, perhaps giving me the silent treatment as you take over the music.

Driver gets veto power though. So I skip a bunch of songs you choose until I feel the flames start to rise again and I worry we (or rather I) may never even make it out of your driveway before I turn into roasted turtle. And that can’t be tasty.

So I let this particular song play. Humming along since I don’t know the words as I start to pull out and drive on the road. You stay silent for the most part and that just won’t do so I may or may not get a little too close to a curb for comfort on your side of the vehicle.

“God damnit Leo if you curb!!” You hiss as you clutch the handle on the car door. “Whoopsie!” I laugh getting back to the middle of the lane easily enough. “Where did you want to go so badly anyways?” You grump. But at least you’re talking now! “It’s a surprise!” I sing-song.

Now initially, my plan to force your admission of feelings was to continue to drive really recklessly and maybe almost die in a car crash or something like in the movies. And while you think I’m about to die you just have to tell me that you are helplessly in love and like magic. Confession secured.

But now thinking about it more seriously there are plenty of unknown factors like, what if I do actually kill myself in the process. Or ya know, you get hurt? Or I just wreck the car and we both are totally fine?! I don’t see myself surviving much longer after that if that ends up being the case. So I have nothing. Zilch. Nada. No back up plan was really made.

So I just drive.

And as previously mentioned, I’m not the best driver…

So you are on edge the entire time and constantly telling me to “Watch out!” “Don’t curb!” “Don’t hit that dude crossing the street!” “Red means stop!” “Yellow means slooow!”

Thankfully I know what green means. Aka turtle. Aka go ninja go ninja go. I’m proud of that one. Anywho, the drive winds up and down the backstreets of New York until even I don’t know where the fuck we are.

I pull over, parallel parking. Miraculously it’s one of the few tricks I can do with a car and you breath out a very unnecessary sigh of relief. “So this is the surprise?” You are looking around the low rise buildings with slight curiosity but more confusion than anything.

Nothing here is really special. No shops. No bright sparkly lights. It’s actually pretty grim because a few of the streetlights are out making the dark night even darker. It’s probably the least romantic place in the world. Definitely holds no sentimental value for an awe-inspiring confession.

My head hits the steering wheel as I close my eyes and say “Yup!” As bright and false as possible. I feel like a jerk and even worse than that a failure. I’m greeted with silence and I don’t open my eyes to check your face. I’m sure it’s turning into disappointment right now.

“Leo, everything okay?”

My head turns slightly, if only because your voice sounds a little different. I mean you usually are quite serious, but it’s also one filled with… care? “Just thinking.” And that is not a lie, just a very vague statement.

“Wanna talk about it?”

I mull it over. What am I even thinking? Driving around in the middle of the night. Being chaotic. Being a nuisance. Being with you. Dragging you along. Trying to get you to say something you’ll never say in a million years. And turtles sadly don’t live that long.

“Y/n, do you like me?”

I don’t dare take my eyes off of you now. Truthfully I feel like spewing out nonsense to cover up my mistake. I just had to open my big fat mouth. To actually say shit I actually mean. Or in this case something I really want to know. Your eyes widen ever so slightly, and you tilt your head as if you hadn’t even considered that a possibility. Liking me.

I’m instantly filling up the silence. “Like better than Mikey right? Pretty sure I don’t have to sweat over Donnie. And Raph may be second place but I’m definitely number one right?”

This way it’s easy. This way it’s safe. This way no one gets hurt. This way I don’t get hurt. This way I can play it off.

“I do like you.”

My thoughts empty and I straighten up. Swallowing back the spit that’s suddenly filling up my entire mouth. “Right duh, of course you do. Everyone does!” I laugh, smiling big as if nothing you just said affected me. Like I totally won’t be thinking about this even later tonight back at the lair. Overthinking it. Surely you meant it as a friend… but a turtle can hope?

“Even though you are so annoying.” You tack on, but your smile is too much. It’s genuine. It’s not plastered on like mine. It doesn’t hide anything.

Oh shit.

I just continue on, blabbering complete and utter nonsense at this point. Because part of me can’t believe it. That you really said it. That you do like me. That this surely isn’t possible, that you’re about to laugh and say that this was all some funny joke.

“Do you like me?”

And where there was nonstop chatter, it turns to silence. I avoid your stare now. In fact I turn my whole face away because I can feel my red marks heating up. Which is never a good sign. Blushing will only end in embarrassment. More than I can handle.

“Whaaaat? Me? Like you?”

I leave it open ended. To be inferred that I couldn’t possibly. But I think I just continue shooting or maybe slicing myself in the foot. Over and over and over again. Because in the window I can see you’re still looking my way. And your lips are pursed together in a small know-it-all smile. I whip my head back around, forgetting all about the embarrassing heat that covers my face.

“Y-yeah. I do.”

And then you lean forward.

Time slows.

And I feel your lips on mine.

And my eyes are so wide. I don’t know what to do but just stare. I don’t move. I don’t breath. Your eyes are closed and your lips are soft if only a little chapped. You pull away slightly, and I can feel your breath fan over my face.

“Good.” Is all you say. And I nod like a dumb pile of rocks is all I have for brains. “Now how about I drive?” Again I’m nodding.

The only thing that breaks the trance is the warning beep from your display signaling that I’ve just wasted all of the gas left in your tank.

…

Whoops!

—————————————————————————

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of both worlds (part 7)

Tw: vomiting, sick reader, implications that the housemates r jerks before, imo boring chapter just some comfort for sickness times

Vote the poll down below n im gonna start making the next part after 20 votes

part 8

You can barely get out of bed.

That means you didn't get to clean up your post-exam clutter. Making the entire room miserable and almost unhabitable. You couldn't sleep because you had a terrible fever, needing to eat a couple of paracetamols to cool yourself down.

Anything that goes in your mouth comes back up. You wouldn't want to waste your food anymore, so you simply stopped eating.

You woke up to loud knocking, borderline banging on your door and to the voice of your housemate. She's yelling about someone being here to see you.

That can't be right. Why would anyone want to visit you? You're not asking this in a self depreciating way, but in a logical sense where you knew no one knew you're suffering from food poisoning.

Except...

Realization dawns upon you when you hear a series of softer knocks. You heard Yves's muffled voice from the outside, asking you to open the door for him.

You checked your phone. It's four in the afternoon. He should still be at the library, why is he here?

Then your focus went to the notification banner about the four missed calls he left.

"(Name)? It's Yves. You haven't been answering my calls. I'm worried about you."

The last person you want to see now is goddamn fucking Yves. Yesterday already took a toll on you, having him over is going to worsen the illness- if the fever didn't fry your brain, the stress would.

You refused to answer, covering your head with your pillow as he continued to knock.

Eventually though, he stopped. The walls are thin so you could hear him ask your housemate about you. She said you were hurling all night, keeping everyone awake. They witnessed you trying to eat a cooked packet of instant noodles, but you immediately threw it all up the moment you swallowed a forkful.

"I see." You hear him reply. "May I see the kitchen?" He asked.

She was taken aback by the request, a kitchen shared by 7 other students isn't going to be the cleanest. There was a pause before she told him that it was messy.

"That does not matter." He responded. You heard a sigh and she verbally told him to go ahead.

You're sure he knows what the condition of it is. He was there yesterday for the trash bags. You wonder what business he has there.

When you hear him walk away from your bedroom door, you force yourself and your aching muscles to creep out of your room. Planning to eavesdrop on his conversation.

"Is this all they eat?" His voice echoed through the hallway.

"Yes. I literally have never seen them eat anything else. Maybe the occasional cold pizza slice or two, but that's it. I don't think they even own a frying pan. Sometimes I wonder how that bastard is still alive." Ouch. A simple Yes would suffice. Why did she have to air your dirty laundry like that?

You heard the fridge open.

"Yeah, this was supposed to be their side of the fridge, but it was always empty. So we used it as a spare." Yves hummed in response.

You rushed back into your room when you heard his heels begin to strike the floor. Quietly shutting the door and tucking yourself into your bed.

Perhaps he's giving up, you're not coming out of your-

You stared wide eyed as the knob twisted by itself.

You forgot to lock your door. Shit, you fucking forgot to lock your door.

You heard one last set of calm knocking and Yves voice: "(name), I'm coming in."

He pushed it open and you see his tall, slender frame coming into view. His hair is flowy and luscious as usual, clear skin and pristine makeup on his beautiful face. While you look like crap. And your room looks like crap, you can barely see the floor.

You gape at the square of translucent hydrocolloid dressing on the back of his hand. Looks like his burn yesterday started to blister.

"Damn! You live like this?" Your housemate expressed her disbelief when her eyes landed on the clothes, indiscernible between used and washed, strewn all over the place. The opened drawers and stacks of empty cups.

You hid under your blanket, you told her to shut up and get the fuck out of your room.

"Alright, you're a grump cause you're sick. But just so you know, you're still on garbage duty this week." She responded.

You groan, telling her that you knew that already. You told her to go away. But she doesn't respect you, none of your housemates do.

"Could you excuse us, please?" Yves politely dismissed her. She agrees and leaves your room immediately. Yves closes the door to maintain some privacy.

You remained hidden under the sheets, not wanting him to see you so vulnerable.

"You poor thing." He sighed. You felt the bed dip as he sat on the edge. He gently peeled the blanket off your head, using the other hand to stroke your hair.

"You haven't eaten today, have you?" The fingers running through your grimy hair was... comforting. Too comforting, perhaps. You involuntarily started tearing up and crying, being reminded of a simpler time in your life. It brought back the feelings of security and safety, which you haven't felt in such a long while. You forgot how it felt, and it felt extremely good.

He stopped his caresses, but rested his hand on your scalp.

You told him you didn't mean to weep. You had no idea what has gotten into you. However, you're sure you're crying because of the state of your room and how two people had to see it- which includes someone with opinions you value very much: Yves.

He continued his affectionate touches as tears kept falling from your eyes.

No further words were exchanged between the two of you. Yves kept you company until you fell asleep from his rhythmic stroking. He pressed a kiss on your forehead before standing back up.

Yves sets his bag on your bed, he gets to work picking up stray articles of clothing from the floor. He dropped them all into your laundry basket in a messy pile.

Yves picked it up with no effort and carried it on his hip. He left your room and headed towards the basement, where the dryers and washing machines are kept. He knows where it is despite no one ever telling him.

--

You woke up with a jolt, thinking that Yves intruding your room was just a crazy fever dream.

Except, the presence of his unique luxury bag is right next to you. Scanning your surroundings, you definitely can tell Yves made his mark here.

You can see the floor again, you didn't know that it's that shiny and clean. All your clothes are missing and the corners are clear of any old trash. Everything you own is organized neatly, the shelves are displaying their respective categories in order. Your desk was wiped down and your textbooks arranged by colour.

Your room is unrecognizable, it wasn't even this nice when you first moved in.

Yves is nowhere to be found. You weakly got up and dragged yourself to the door. Locking yourself in and Yves out.

You always wondered what is in that bag. It seems to be carrying an impossible amount of items. Though, he uses a briefcase for his laptop and notes on weekdays, it's impressive that he managed to fit an umbrella in this small bag among other things.

You opened it and began rummaging through.

A lipstick, a compact mirror, disposable wet wipes, a hydrating facial spray, dry facial tissues, a hairbrush, his phone, a tin of breath mints, his oddly thin wallet- it made sense, the rich wouldn't carry around wads of cash. Only cards; An army Swiss knife, bandaids, a rectangle of a foldable grocery bag...

A set of keys attached to his car fob, a pen, some unidentifiable medication; it's printed in a foreign language, a case containing his reading glasses, another case that contains his sunglasses, portable eating utensils, a bottle of hand sanitizer, disinfectant spray, a power bank, charging cables, a portable fan, a hand fan, electronic ear buds, ear plugs...

Your jaw dropped in disbelief as you kept finding more things; perfume, a scrunchie, a couple of hair ties, sun screen, ointment, his reusable stainless steel thermal cup, lip balm, a face mask, portable paper soap, a stack of sticky notes and of course, an umbrella.

You dug deeper and found out that he's also hiding a scarf in there!

All that with heaps of space to spare, it doesn't look bulky from outside or in. You tried lifting it up by the handles, but it felt like you were trying to lift a barbell with one hand. It was bizarre how he could find what he wanted in the nick of time with all these things. Granted, it was neatly partitioned before you searched through it- oh. You messed up his system.

Shit! You're going to embarrass yourself again!

Well, you still have time. The door is locked and he isn't here yet, you could try putting it back.

You heard the door knob rattle. That must be him, he can't possibly get in right?

Your blood turned to ice when you heard the jingling of some keys. Of course, it's Yves. He would know to take your own keys with him. You heard him unlock your door.

You panicked and tried to hop out of bed, so you could barricade the door with something. But while doing so, you knocked the bag off the bed and made the contents of it spill out.

You let out a distressed yelp, his ten million things spread out all over the floor, some rolled under your bed.

"Did I startle you? I apologize." He came in with a laundry basket filled with freshly washed clothes. They're dry and warm to the touch. The basket looks noticeably clean too. Did he scrub it down? The dust and mold are gone, it went back to looking brand new.

You began apologizing, saying that you didn't mean to knock his bag down. You saw that as a potential escape from getting caught snooping around.

"No, it was my fault to leave it near the edge. It was bound to fall." He set the basket down and calmly began picking his belongings off the floor.

You let out a discrete sigh of relief. You're off the hook.

But obviously he knows what you did. His scarf shouldn't even be out of his bag, as he packed it at the bottom. His keys, lipstick and wallet should be the first to leave, yet it remained safely in the toppled bag because you flipped everything upside down while being a nosy person.

Plus, it was zipped up in the first place.

If he didn't want you peering in, he would have hidden it under your bed.

You got down on your knees and helped him collect the items. You dumped it back into the handbag, but Yves nonchalantly pulled it all back out to organize them himself.

"Thank you." He stood back up and securely placed it on your nightstand.

He turned to you and crowded you against the bed. Yves slid his hands under your chin, where the pulse is, checking your temperature by touch. You flinch and squirm because you're ticklish, but he paid no mind to it.

"You're having a fever." He noted. You release a baited breath when he lets you go, reaching for something inside his handbag.

You watch him unscrew the lid of his thermos cup. There isn't any particular Colour to the liquid. But there was a faint fruity scent emanating from it. The ice cubes bob around the mystery fluid. He also produced a metal straw which he plunged into the drink, you must have missed it when you were rummaging through.

He popped two tablets of paracetamol out of a blister pack and brought them to your lips. It's better to just let him feed you, so you took it in your mouth.

"Take small sips." He brought the straw to you.

The beverage is... salty. And sweet. It's sickeningly fragrant for a drink that's supposed to be enjoyable. Except it's not, it's an electrolyte solution he prepared to make up for the ones you lost. The coldness saved it.

You didn't realize how thirsty you were, he placed the cup in your hands before walking back to the laundry hamper. He opened a drawer and began folding your clothes into a neat stack.

You're starting to think he just likes silence. He has a perfectly functioning pair of expensive earbuds, but he doesn't use them neither does he want to initiate a conversation with you.

You put your drink away and flopped down onto your bed. You picked up your phone and decided to check your notifications.

You received a number of messages from the group chat with your housemates.

"(name) u gotta get ur bestie to visit more cuz this is the cleanest the kitchen has ever been!!!"

Attached to it is a series of before and after pictures of the entire house. You almost couldn't recognize the place, it was tidy and sparkling clean.

The rest of your housemates agreed in text, telling you that he was such a pleasant conversationalist.

"oh ya idk if hes still here but he made a massive pot of congee for u, its a fuckin banger u should try it" "Damn u lucky as hel to have him take out da trash on ur behalf, that shit was nasty and he did it without gloves too" "His car is still outside, he has got to be here." "oh shiiiittt hes gotta be LOADEDDD with a hot ride like that. where did u find him??" "Omg!! I need his recipe!! Can you ask him for it, pretty please, (name)? Maybe his number too??" "lawlz not u being hornyz on main" "lmaoo fuckin simp" "im not!! :(( he's just so sweet and handsome, im not stealing their man or anything, i just wanna get to know him!! you guys are just mean!!" "whatever u say president desperate"

You read all their text messages that devolved into banterings, looks like all your housemates know him now. You wonder what he talked about with them. What was there to talk about?

You were brought back to reality when you heard him shut the draw. He left your room once more to retrieve something.

Your phone pinged, alerting you of another text message.

"BRUH hes really still here"

Shortly after, you received a picture taken in the kitchen. Looks like the photographer tried to be subtle from its angle.

The photo showed Yves's back as he scoops something from a pot into a bowl, using a metal ladle.

"shit (name) how did u pull such a fine man It's literally 9pm rn" "What time did he come here tho?? Ik i came home at 6 and i saw him mopping the floor" "like 4pm" "FIVE HOURS ?? (NAME) TELL UR BESTIE HES WELCOME HERE ANYTIME WE WILL OPEN THE DOOR FOR HIM"

At least they seem to be less of pricks to you than before, all thanks to Yves. But it's such a shame that it took a good-looking servicing stranger to get them to act nice towards you.

"(Name), you have to eat something." You looked up from your cracked screen to see Yves holding a bowl of steamy congee. He pulled the chair from your desk and sat next to your bed.

"Sit up straight." He caressed the small of your back. You complied with his command while he stacked your pillows to make a backrest.

It has a mild, pleasantly savoury aroma.

He fed you by the spoonful agonizingly slow, you're horrified that you're now used to this gesture. It isn't something you feel flustered about, it just feels... right. It feels normal and it's as if he's done this for your entire life.

You're getting more comfortable with him and that scares the fuck out of you.

You're surprised that it's not making you want to hurl, the meal is actually bettering your stomach and you wanted to eat more even after finishing the entire bowl. It's definitely bland in your dictionary, since it's only seasoned with salt, pepper and freshly made chicken stock. But it was heavenly. And its the only thing you can stomach now.

You asked for more. You were shocked when your request is denied.

"You're full. You are going to vomit if I give you more. That's enough for now, I'll give you another bowl an hour later." He dabbed the corners of your mouth with a facial tissue.

You froze.

He is right. You are full. You wanted more because it tasted great, but you would have thrown it all up again.

It's eerie how he knows you better than you know yourself. And this is only the third time you have spoken to him. This doesn't seem right, does it?

Yves left your room once more to keep the dishes away. Predictably, the group chat blew up with astonished reactions that Yves appeared right before their eyes again.

You massaged your forehead, wondering if you should have been a bit more firm in saying no to Yves. But he just makes you so weak against him.

You checked the time and the digits turned from 9:59pm to 10:00pm.

It's getting very late.

[matchaizuku]

august bnha fanfic recommendation post

hello! this post has been in my draft since early september because i forgot about it, but people seemed to enjoy my first “fic rec” post, so here’s another one!

also, can you tell time travel is one of my favourite tropes?

one-shot and completed works:

just the two of us (we can make it if we try) by ijustwanttodestroy [8k]

“This is super cliche, actually.” “I need you to shut up,” Hitoshi says. “You think they have cameras? Like you know, Saw type of shit? Are they watching us?” the criminal squints at the ceiling corners, his handcuffs rattling as he shifts in his seat. “Oh my god, what if they’re live-streaming this to some sick fucks on the dark web or something?"  Detective Shinsou Hitoshi is trapped in a room with a criminal. One of them has to die.

alternate universe. thriller/crime/mistery vibes. gen. it’s super cool. it’s written masterfully.

Broken Hearts With Hope Seeping Through by Liridus [8k]

Todoroki Natsuo has always been one to deny hope, but here he found himself hoping again. - Natsuo tries to find a place in Touya's life again, regardless of how much he wonders if that's something he deserves.

natsuo being a med student. todoroki family bonding. toga being a younger sister to all of the todoroki brothers. it’s set during canon (and it’s what touya deserved).

i think i want to save you by phanatics [12k]

Dabi wakes up twelve years in the future with a new face, an ugly cat, and Hawks, who loves him.

dabihawks. time travel. it manages to be both cute and introspective. (honestly, to me this is the ending that touya deserved). i’m actually quite picky when it’s about dabihawks fanfiction, but this is definitely worth a read. 

Things that Haunt Our Hallways by ghostwriterofthemachine [14k]

“It was a kid,” Yagi gasped out. He had his hand balled up into a fist and the fist pressed to his lips, as if to remind himself that he could not start screaming. “Or. Young person, maybe 20. Homeless, I think. Activated their Quirk on reflex and then ran. The kids—” Here, he pressed his fist harder to his mouth, sucked in a wheezing breath, as if the air itself was pushing down something with physical weight. “The kids—” “Scattered immediately,” Aizawa finished for him, and Yagi managed a nod.  Yagi’s eyes were so dilated that the blue was almost invisible. He shook violently. He looked like a scarecrow in a windstorm.   Someone activated a Fear-Inducer Quirk so powerful that it reduced All Might to this — of course Aizawa’s class had bolted.  Or: A Fear Gas fic, BNHA style.

this is my absolute favourite bnha fic ever. it has lots of kudos and lots of bookmarks, which means a lot of people have read it, but if you haven’t: go read it now. but don’t forget to read the tags first. it’s gen and hurt/comfort and the whole class relying on each other, and also incredible all might characterisation.

By Any Other Name by SatelliteBlue [258k]

Through some freak accident of the universe, Dabi has been invited to compete on The Bachelorette. Have they actually seen his face? Surprisingly yes, and they still want him. For this season they apparently need a ‘bad boy’ to both balance out the hero contestant (why in hell is Hawks involved?) and to trash talk the show in interviews to appeal to audiences who don’t like the scripting. Getting sent on a vacation away from his annoying bandmates to complain and eat as much free food as he wants? Sold.

the dabihawks bachelorette fic. if you haven’t read it yet they you should, it’s great. bachelorette au, obviously, hawks is still an hero and dabi isn’t a villian, but he’s also not a normal civilian (read to find out why!). i don’t like reality tv but this made me want to watch the bachelor(ette) ngl. the sequel has only 5 chapters out but it doesn’t end in a cliffhanger, and actually it ends in the perfect place.

incomplete works:

Skip by GrumpySunshine [46k]

Aizawa Shouta was tired. Crouched on the edge of the roof as he was, he observed the streets below him silently. He was coming to the end of his patrol, and if everything remained as it was, he'd be able to catch a decent nap before having to report in to the school for another round of proctoring.  Which, of course, is when he saw the kid being chased down the alley.  *** Or Izuku is your average 21st-century kid. Being sucked through a time-traveling portal and dropped in the middle of a fantasy world with supervillains was not his idea for a good start to the new school year. Good thing he has everyone's favorite underground hero keeping an eye on him. With a hero by his side, how much trouble could he possibly get into while trying to find his way back home?

alternate universe + time travel (can you tell that it’s one of my favourite tropes?). yes, it’s incomplete, but it does not end on a cliffhanger. great friendships (it’s a gen fic), super funny, great characterisation of dadzawa and of 21st-century midoriya. definitely worth a read.

[femmefatale-tales]

Batman?

Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Summary: Reader and Bucky meet for the first time.

Author’s note: reader is not described as pale or black nor is she described thin or thic. Anyone can read this.

Warnings: fluff? Reader is funny and witty, bucky is broody and grump but turns a softie at the end. Banter like funny banter. Also kinda annoying reader I mean for Bucky.

I am sooo sorry if this is trash cause this is my first fanfic like ever also please tell me if it was funny or not. Lol

I walk to the hall in the compound to get some coffee, actually correction, my 6th cup of coffee of the day. I mean it is a addiction and I don’t deny it but something has to be wrong with me, i can’t just be perfect. Though I do think Lorelai Gilmore is perfect and she drinks coffee. Maybe I am perfect. Someone clears their throat which isn’t me so I look up.

I see a tall man, must be 6’0 foot something, wearing a tight black T-shirt that is evidently small for him, he has the most perfect blue eyes and is actually one of the most handsome man I’ve ever seen and I say this just after seeing a Cillian Murphy movie so you bet I’m serious.

I instead of saying a good “hey” or “hello” ask “are you batman?” Which could be possible, I mean he looks like him with his broody expression.

He looks confused or angry, I can’t really tell. See he’s showing signs of being batman.

I just keep looking at him. “Are you serious?” He asks surprised.

I simply nod.

“ what makes you say that?” He questioned somewhat amused.

“I don’t even say this stupidly, I live with avengers so the fact that you could be batman seems possible to me and you have an expression that says you hate everyone, you’re wearing everything black, and you’re tall, almost all qualities of him are present to be true” I rant.

“I’m not batman. You don’t know me?” He mumbled.

“ No, but you do look familiar. Sorry I have a bad memory, and sometimes I just forget stuff because I didn’t pay attention because I didn’t want to and then I have to remember it since it turns out to be important and-” I keep talking until he cuts me off

“ You talk a lot, do you ever shut up?” He ask obviously agitated.

“I don’t really but only sometimes if it’s really important or if nat or Steve make me. Oh and when I’m sleeping but I would’ve know that actually because I’ll be the one sleeping” i continue to annoy him further.

“Shut up” He looks kinda like he’s teasing but it’s hard to tell.

“Why should-” he interrupts again.

“Okay that’s enough, and now you can stop talking” he groans.

“Wow rude much, grinch” he rolls his eyes at the comment.

Almost 30 seconds pass by and both of us stay silent but i of-course couldn’t just shut up cause where’s the fun in that so I started again.

“Does the serum give you extra stamina during sexy times?” I ask curiously breaking the silence.

“Oh my god, are you- can you not shut up for some time??” He speaks his frown too evident one his face.

I keep staring at him waiting for the answer.

“ Okay that’s it. Are you serious? You’re really asking that question ??” He says amused yet annoyed at the same time.

I just looking at him as if it’s not obvious that I was serious.

After 10 seconds of Bucky just staring at me he finally says “ It does”

“ Wait,So you know who I am” he stats.

“ oh yeah, I figured that out when you were asking if I always talk so much” I say casually.

“You want coffee?” I say going to the kitchen counter.

He looks at me surprised and chuckles saying “sure”.

“You always offer coffee to dangerous people you don’t know?” He asks smugly.

“Yes and no. See I know you, I might have forgot but it’s only because I just saw a dilf’s movies” I say giving him the coffee.

“What’s a dilf?” He questions.

“You but I doubt you have kids” I giggle.

“I don’t even wanna know what you meant by that” he stats.

“ What’s your zodiac sign?” I ask him trying to sit on the counter but it’s a bit too high tbh.

He comes in front of me seeing my struggle and holds my waist ,hoists me up on the counter. His hands are a bit cold but they send a warmth through my body which I don’t really notice until he takes his place on the chair in front of the counter again.

“ I don’t know, Sam told me about them but I don’t know mine” he shrugs.

“Oh okay just tell me your birthday” I tell him

“March 10”

“Oh so you’re a pieces which is weird because you’re looks could give you away as a Scorpio” I say surprised.

“Okay…, that’s some useless information to me but whatever” he speaks

“ I mean it is useless but it’s fun sometimes” I say

“Anyways, what’s you’re name?” He asks

“Oh yeah I haven’t told you a that yet, it’s Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Pretty name” he says looking up at me.

“Ohh thank you, you have pretty name too actually , I really like James. I’m gonna call you James from now on actually” I say feeling a bit flustered from the compliment.

“Ofcourse you can ,great of you to ask, you know” he sarcastically replied

I just give him a cheeky smile and finish my coffee. I jump down on the floor and put my cup in the sink.

“Okay babe, now I’m gonna go and take a shower, we’ll meet later” I speak turning on my heels to the exit.

He chuckles at the nickname and shakes his head waving a bye in direction.

“Bye batman” I shout as I disappear in the elevator.

Leaving bucky smiling to himself.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Pls, Vince! Bring him some Latte, although he told you to shut it.❤️

Follows directly after this one

(also, @yet-another-heathen asked for heart palpitations for Jameson)

-

At some point he dozes back off. He's not sure when - he's sitting there hating himself and his stupid bullshit fucking legs and hating every single moment from the second Nanda had stopped short, looked at him sort of startled and said oh and then slumped sideways and gone down the stairs and... and it had all gone wrong, ever since, every single goddamn day.

Even when he'd thought it would get better, it didn't. He feels worse right now than ever.

Still.

He dozes off. Trash Cat lays down beside him, upside down with her ilttle paws bent in the air and her soft belly showing. Then she gets up and leaves again, padding silently down the hallway to go have violent daydreams about the birds in the trees outside.

He doesn't dream - he's not quite deeply asleep enough for that. But he's trapped somewhere at a distance from the pain, and it feels so good to even have that small slim barrier between him and his legs that he could cry from gratitude.

There's a time when maybe he slips totally under the surface.

The next thing he knows, there's a hand on his shoulder.

Jameson's eyes snap open.

Before he can even take into account what he sees, he's already throwing the punch with one hand. The other is under his pillow, closed around the handle of the knife.

His fist clocks Vincent Shield right over his left eye, sending him stumbling backwards into a small dresser, his arms pinwheeling, but he just slams back-first into it and then hits the ground. "Shit!"

It's his voice that brings Jameson back to reality. Wide-eyed, he sits up in bed with the knife brandished in one hand, the other aching with the aftermath of the hit. "... Vince?"

"Mmmf. Yeah." Vince's face is white, his cheek already turning bright red where Jameson's fist connected. His chest rises and falls rapidly, and he looks... terrified... of Jameson.

There's a necklace Allyn likes to wear but forgot on their last visit. It fell off the dresser and it currently lays draped over Vince's head like some kind of weird tiara, the pendant resting over his forehead.

Vince's voice shakes when he speaks. "You don't pull your punches, huh?"

Jameson's whole chest is cold. He swallows, hard, thinking of how Jake had fallen with a knife in him, the look on his face when Jameson had come back to himself and realized what he'd done. His heart stops - maybe beats slightly out of time - and he hitches a trembling inhale that feels like it whistles down his throat but stops somewhere before his lungs. "Oh fuck," He whispers. "Oh fuck. I'm sorry, oh shit-... fuck, Vince, shit-"

Vince's eyes go to the knife, but he doesn't move to run or even to get up. He just stays sitting right where he is. His hands are shaking, just a little. Jameson is reminded that that Owen Grant asshole used to knock Vince around, too.

Still.

The millionaire movie star inexplicably getting sober in Nat's house manages a smile. Slightly appeasing, a little bit scared. "You, uh... you good?"

"... no. No, I'm not. I'm not. Shit. Fuck! I could have stabbed you!"

"Didn't, though. Could you... put the, uh, the knife down, please?" Vince takes a deep breath, and then another. With every moment, he looks calmer - and Jameson feels increasing guilt edged with panic.

"Uh. Fuck. Yes. Yes, yeah, of course-" He slips the knife back under his pillow, and closes his eyes against the tears that threaten there.

"Besides," Vince says, groaning a little, "This one's probably my fault." He rubs at the back of his neck, picking the necklace out of his hair and setting it down on the floor beside him. "I'm the dumbass who woke a sleeping rescue without, like, calling from the doorway or something first. That was dumb. Damn it, Nat talked to me about this!"

Jameson feels... so much worse. Nat had to warn Vince about him? Of course she did. Because he's already stabbed somebody once. He almost hurt Nat, too, when he thought she was Robert. He could do it again, at any time. Any moment now. To anyone. His heart skips again and he coughs, it feels like the weird flip goes right up his throat. "She-... she did? About me?"

"What? No, not you specifically. When I first started coming around, like... a decade ago. She told me not to wake anyone up like this. Jesus, I'm an idiot."

Jameson is still trying to catch up to the waking world, and his legs are trying to drag him back down into the ache. He fights to stay present, here and now. "Why... why did you wake me up?"

"Uh. Well. Seems stupid now but..." Vince gestures over at the side table beside Jameson's bed. "I got you some coffee."

"You... what?"

"You wanted to go out for coffee, but then when I came by earlier it sounded like you were having a rough time, so I thought... you know. I'd bring some back. For you."

Jameson looks over, and sure enough - there's a thermos there, and when he leans down, he can smell the rich coffee aroma wafting up and out. "... I am such an asshole."

Vince considers that. "Sometimes."

"I yelled at you this morning."

"You did, yes."

"I told you to fuck off."

"A couple of times."

"Then I punched you in the fucking face when you brought me coffee-"

"No, you punched me in the face because I put my hand on you when you were in a dead sleep, knowing that people putting hands on you when you didn't ask for it is like half the reason you live here now." Vince smiles, and it's smaller and more tired than his magazine-photoshoot smile, but it's far more sincere. Jameson likes it more. "I'm sorry, Jameson. I didn't mean to scare you. God, I want a drink so bad right now. I was trying to drink coffee instead. Got stuck in kind of a cycle thinking about-... you know, Owen, this morning, and I thought coffee would help, but really what I want is a drink, you know?

"Yeah, I kind of do, except for me it's usually that I want a really good deep dicking-"

"Aaaaaand the sweet moment of bonding is gone." Vince turns a little red and gets to his feet, carefully, using the dresser for balance. He leans over to pick up the necklace and put it back where it was before. "Please never say the words 'deep dicking' in front of me again."

"What, you never want that?"

Vince closes his eyes, but he's still smiling, and so is Jameson. Some of the tension is gone, and some of the guilt and anger twisting inside of him goes with it. "Jameson-... Some days, there is literally nothing else I want in the whole world than to let someone in my bed again. But the idea of anyone touching me like Owen did makes me feel like cutting all my skin off."

"... oh. I've never felt like that. Even after Brute and Robert, I still like fucking. I guess that's the whole... like, natural slut thing-"

"I swear to God, you sound like Kauri used to sometimes, when I'd overhear him when I came by."

"I mean, we were both the same Designation-"

"... you know what, drink your coffee. I'm going to go put ice on my eye."

Jameson is struck every time by how utterly normal Vince looks, until he puts on the Vincent Shield Face, changes his posture, morphs into Celebrity Actor Millionaire Man. But you'd never know that, looking at this tired-looking man in his late forties just wishing life would stop throwing punches.

"Vince, I really am sorry."

Vince shrugs. "Me, too. But hey - I look more rugged and manly this way, right?" He disappears out the door, and Jameson shifts to get himself braced against the headboard and his pillows, one leg twitching with nerve pain, but at least the other has calmed down to the usual dull ache he can handle.

He picks up his coffee and takes a sip. It's still hot like it's freshly made, and he exhales slowly, closing his eyes.

How long will it take to stop being ready to throw a punch when someone wakes him up after he falls asleep alone?

What if it never stops?

What if he throws a punch at Allyn?

He drowns the fear in hot coffee and hopes it stays away long enough for him to drag himself to the bathroom for a shower.

[actual-lea]

Hello it is a new chapter of this thing please read it if you wanna?

AO3 | First chapter | Previous chapter

Daniel’s hands don’t stop shaking for the entire ride back to the motel. It’s not until he empties the contents of his backpack onto the bed, until he flings his journal and everything in it into the too-small trash can in the corner, that the adrenaline finally begins to wear off.

That’s when the ache in his chest returns, radiating in waves from his still-healing ribs. It echoes with his every sob, stealing his breath until he's on his knees gasping for air, clutching the sheets of the bed like a lifeline. It hurts like his lung is collapsing in on itself all over again, the cracks in his bones split open from his scuffle with Widmore’s security.

He closes his eyes and wraps an arm around his chest. He’s being overdramatic; the six weeks since his hospital stay have nearly passed, and he won’t go back now. He can’t.

He just needs to breathe, to feel the air fill his chest and let it go.

In, and out. In, and out.

Slowly, the pain begins to ebb, leaving him hollow and shivering in its wake. He stays on the floor, his forehead pressed to the side of the mattress, his eyes screwed shut in a futile attempt to stop the tears. He counts his heartbeats as they pass, loses track somewhere around three hundred and has to start over twice.

He’s only made it to forty-two on the third count when a sound shakes him from his stupor: a cell phone vibrating.

Daniel pushes himself to his feet, carefully, and leans forward to sift through the rubble of his meaningless life. It takes too long to find the phone, too long to flip it open with his clumsy fingers, too long to make his eyes focus on the name written on the screen, long enough that it should have stopped ringing already.

Finally, he brings the phone to his ear with a shaky hand. “Hello?”

Four heartbeats pass before he hears a response. “Daniel?”

The familiar voice should feel like a salve to the burning in his throat. It doesn’t. He takes a deep breath to steady himself. “Yeah, it's me. Uh…” He should have figured out what to say before he answered the phone. What do people say on the phone? “How's– how are you?”

“Fine.” Concern colors the word. “We're all fine, but you don't sound so good, brother. What's happened?”

Daniel runs a hand through his hair. “It's a long story,” he says, biting back a humorless laugh. “Do you think you could…meet me? Somewhere?”

There’s a long pause on the other end. “Pick you up, you mean? Does that mean you’re–”

“Yes.” He’s done with the island. He’s done with all of it.

“Then, yeah. Of course. Where, ah…”

“California,” Daniel provides. “Los Angeles, preferably, but I’m not picky.” He hasn’t left the country since his return several months prior, and trying to use the passport of a dead man probably won’t go over well, even if he is the dead man in question.

Another pause, and some faint shuffling in the background. “Aye, we can do that. Though, it’ll take some time.” More shuffling. “A few weeks, at least. You have somewhere safe to stay in the meantime?”

Safe. He nods slowly, then remembers Desmond can’t see him. “Yes. Yeah. I can… I’ll be fine.”

“Alright.” Desmond doesn’t sound convinced, but he doesn’t press.

“What, um…” Daniel swallows against the lump in his throat and wills his voice to steady itself. “Why did you…call me?”

Desmond exhales. “Yesterday was Charlie’s birthday.”

Shit. Daniel squeezes his forehead with one hand and fights the urge to sink to his knees again. “I’m sorry, I… I completely forgot,” he chokes out, like it isn’t obvious.

“Don’t worry about it, brother,” Desmond says. “I hadn’t told anyone you were planning to call. I don’t think he understands yet how phones work, anyway,” he adds, with a smile in his voice, “So he’ll be much gladder to see you rather than just hearin’ your voice.”

Daniel nods mechanically.

They’re both silent for a long moment. “D’you wanna talk about it?”

Daniel shuts his eyes and shakes his head. “No.” It’s the only word that he won’t choke on.

“Right.” Desmond's voice is gentle. “Hang in there, brother. We’ll see you soon, yeah?”

------

The FOR SALE sign in front of Daniel’s childhood home sways in the breeze, emitting a harsh creak with each particularly strong gust.

Daniel stands across the street from the house, still in the same spot where the taxi dropped him off. He wraps his jacket tighter around himself to keep out the cold wind, idly wondering whether he ever actually missed the New England weather, or just the idea of it.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out, watches the fog from his exhale dissipate into the evening air, and finally crosses the quiet street without bothering to look both ways.

He pauses at the gate to take a closer look at the FOR SALE sign, with its weathered corners and slightly faded ink. He could call the realtor’s phone number to ask how long the house has been on the market, though he probably wouldn’t get a straight answer.

It doesn’t really matter; the house will be just as empty, either way.

The front door is locked, so he circles around to the back porch. Finding the spare key hidden among the potted plants hanging from the eaves takes longer than it should, considering that he was probably the one who left it there long ago. It takes a bit of effort to force the slightly rusted key into the lock – or maybe that’s all in his head – but it still fits, and he opens the door.

The dining room table is gone.

He stares at the small nicks in the hardwood floor where it used to stand, the scratches from years of chairs being pulled in and out, the only signs left – besides the thin layer of dust settled on the countertops – that the space isn’t just a model kitchen from a demo home that’s never been lived in.

The single step he takes echoes in the vacant room, and he resists the ingrained habit to take off his shoes before walking into the house. He won’t be here long; not in the grand scheme of things, anyway.

It’s probably not the safest place he could go to wait for Desmond, if he’s being honest. If someone’s looking for him, his one known address in the country would be the logical place to start.

Of course, it doesn’t actually matter; Widmore’s made it abundantly clear that he can find Daniel anywhere, after all, so what difference does it make if he stays in one all-too-predictable place? At least it’s familiar.

Well, sort of.

He steps into the living room. White sheets cover all the furniture – the couch, the coffee table, the lamp in the corner. The only sign of life is the large windowsill with its neatly arranged row of plants he always forgot the names of. He was never actually sure if they were real or fake; the fact that they aren’t dead would suggest the latter.

Otherwise, the room is empty, the walls bare. The house is silent and still as a mausoleum.

Daniel frowns. Something is missing.

A ridiculous thought, considering just how much is missing from this place he once called home. Still, he can’t shake the feeling as he makes his way upstairs to investigate his old room.

Everything’s mostly intact there, at least; there’s still a bed and a desk, even if the chair and CD player are gone.

He sets his backpack down on the bare mattress, but doesn’t start unpacking just yet, aside from digging out his journal. He could’ve left it behind in Los Angeles rather than retrieving it from the trash can mere minutes after throwing it away, but there are too many years of his life contained within, in the form of so many contextless equations and scattered notes and half-finished diagrams. Maybe he’ll let it go one day; maybe months from now, he’ll drop it into the middle of the Pacific Ocean with little fanfare, watch it sink to the depths from the deck of Our Mutual Friend.

For now, he places it in the center of the desk and busies himself with searching for a set of sheets from the hall closet. It’s a mess, unaffected by the vanishing act of the rest of the house, and it takes a surprising amount of rummaging around to unearth a matching set.

Downstairs, the front door opens.

Daniel freezes. He tries not to flinch when it swings shut. Footsteps, unhurried and incautious, cross the bare floor somewhere below.

He glances over the contents of the closet, but no weapon presents itself. He doesn’t own a baseball bat, or a golf club, or anything helpful, and so he creeps down the stairs with nothing to defend himself except a wooden chess set clutched in both hands, ready to swing.

The faucet in the kitchen turns on, and he freezes again. Is Widmore's thug filling a glass of water for himself? Maybe he’s thirsty, didn’t stop anywhere for a drink on the drive from the airport.

The water stops, and the footsteps begin again, alongside a soft sound that Daniel can’t identify at first.

Humming.

A woman humming, bright and cheerful.

Slowly, he lowers the chess set to the floor and descends the last few stairs.

The woman leans over to water one of the plants on the windowsill, her back to Daniel, her short blonde hair golden in the sunset streaming through the curtains.

“Caroline?”

She yelps in surprise, splashing water on the floor as she whirls around. Her shocked expression only intensifies when she sees him. “Daniel?”

He nods hesitantly. What is he supposed to say? “What…are you doing here?”

Caroline stares. “What am I doing here?” She shakes her head. “Dan, I– I thought you were…”

Oh. Right. “Dead?” he finishes for her, with something like a shrug. “Well…I’m not,” he adds when she doesn’t respond.

She sets down the glass and takes a small step toward him. “You're not,” she repeats, like she’s still convincing herself, and then she laughs in disbelief. “You’re not.”

She hugs him, and he freezes momentarily before awkwardly returning the embrace. When she pulls away, she’s beaming. “Oh, I am so happy to see you!” she declares, taking his face in her hands a bit too tightly.

“I’m glad to see you too, Caroline,” he says, and he means it. “But…what are you doing here?”

“I drop by every few days to check on the house,” she says, returning to the windowsill. “Take care of the flowers, make sure things are nice and tidy. Helps keep the resale value up.”

Daniel watches her in silence for a few seconds. “So, my mother is selling the house?”

“That’s right,” Caroline says. She pauses, then turns back to him, her face twisted with concern. “Does your mother know? That you’re alright?”

He laughs once, a sharp, surprising sound. “Yeah, she knows. She definitely knows.” The words leave a bitter taste in his mouth. He clears his throat. “I, uh… I don’t guess she told you how it happened? Or, uh. Supposedly happened?”

“No, she never did say,” Caroline replies. “She only mentioned that there was some kind of accident.”

“Hm.” He crosses his arms and drums his fingers on his elbow. Why would his mother go around telling people something that she didn’t definitively know herself? Why would she tell Caroline unambiguously that he was dead, when she had no way of knowing whether or not it was actually true?

Caroline is staring at him. “What?” he asks.

She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You’re…different, than the last time I saw you.”

Functioning, she means. Able to act like a normal person, or at least a close approximation of one. Able to hold a full conversation without forgetting the beginning halfway through.

The last time she saw him must have been three years ago, at least – before the island. She was his caretaker then; after his mind shattered, it only made sense for his mother to hire Caroline, the kind neighbor he’d known since he was a child, someone who used to babysit him for weeks at a time, someone who wouldn’t have to reintroduce herself to him multiple times a day.

He remembers only the rough edges of that period in his life, like the vague outline of a dream he can’t recall. Even his clearest memory – his mother urging him to take the job he’d been offered by Charles Widmore – persists only in bits and pieces, fragments of sensory experiences with no context attached. The jingling of car keys set on a table, the click of his mother’s shoes on the hardwood floor, the smooth resin of the piano keys beneath his fingertips.

He freezes. Something is missing. “Where’s my piano?”

“I think she sold it, not long after you left,” Caroline says quietly.

Daniel steps into the empty space in the corner of the room, struggling to fill the matching empty space in his chest with logic. Of course she sold it. He was gone. Dead, for all she knew. There would be no reason for her to keep it. He’s never known his mother to be particularly sentimental when it comes to mementos.

And it doesn’t matter anyway. Even if he could remember the last time he played, it still wouldn’t matter. He won’t be here for long, after all, so why should it matter?

“How long has the house been for sale?” he asks, turning back to Caroline. “I mean, has anyone made any offers, or…?”

She shakes her head. “Not that I’m aware of, no. Although, you’d have to ask the listing agent. I have her number, if you want it,” she adds, crossing the room to grab her purse.

“No, thank you, that’s alright,” Daniel says quickly. The last thing he needs is for his mother to drop by unannounced; better to avoid speaking with anyone who might be in regular contact with her.

“I’m not sure how long it’s been since the last open house,” Caroline continues. “Several months, at least.”

Daniel nods and takes a deep breath. “Well, in that case, is it… Is it alright if I…stay here? For a little while?” What an odd question to ask in his own home.

Then again, is it his home? He’s lived more than half his life here, but it’s not as if he has any real claim to the house; it’s his mother’s name on the deed, not his. Legally speaking, he’s technically trespassing.

“Of course.” Caroline smiles and laughs a bit. “It’s your house, Dan.”

He forces a smile of his own. “I guess it is.”

She steps forward and gives him another quick hug. “Welcome home.”

------

The next few days pass without incident. A week, two weeks, then three, all without anyone kicking down the door to drag Daniel away on Widmore’s orders.

He spends most of the time reading back issues of old tech magazines, the few remnants of his collection that haven’t been cleared out along with everything else. Most of the pages are decorated with small wrinkles and creases, a clear indication that he’s spent some time – a lot of time, probably – thumbing through them before. More than likely, he’s read them all cover to cover hundreds of times, each time the first, since he undoubtedly didn’t retain any of the information within.

It's a full month of finding ways to while away the hours before Desmond calls, early one morning, to let him know they’re only a few days out from Los Angeles.

Daniel starts packing as soon as he hangs up. He might as well leave now, so he can meet them on arrival. Maybe he’ll have a chance to say goodbye to Hurley as well; they haven’t spoken since the last time Dan visited Santa Rosa, since he left abruptly to track down Locke.

He's stuffing the last of his things into his backpack when a knock at the front door shakes him from his thoughts; Caroline, no doubt, delivering the usual semi-weekly supply of groceries despite his protests. He’s more than capable of buying his own, regardless of the mass of fast-food wrappers she’d found in the trash the first time she came to check on him.

He puts on his backpack as he descends the stairs. He’ll have to be more adamant in his refusal, since he’s leaving today. He opens the door.

“Morning,” says one of the two men standing there. He holds up a badge. “You Daniel Faraday?”

“Uh…” Daniel blinks. “Yeah?”

“Cool. Gonna need you to come with us, then.”

He blinks again, not understanding. “What… Who–”

The second man steps forward, producing a pair of handcuffs.

Daniel steps back. Is he being arrested? “Why are you– What’s the charge?”

“Arson. Murder.” The first man shrugs. “Jaywalking. Take your pick.”

The second grabs Dan’s arm roughly to spin him around and cuff him, and Daniel stares at the floor, too dumbfounded to do anything else.

Arson. Murder. The library at the University of Michigan? Leon? How could anyone try to blame Daniel for any of that? How could anyone have even connected him to it, when he wasn’t using his real name?

He’s escorted out of the house and deposited into the back seat of a car idling in the street. It’s not until the car pulls away from the curb that he finally understands. “You aren't really cops,” he says quietly, almost a question but not quite.

Neither of his kidnappers respond.

Daniel exhales. What was even the point of the police façade, then? “So, what, you're working for Widmore?”

The first man, the driver, laughs. “Is that what you think this is?”

“It… It was.” Daniel shifts uneasily. “Who are you, then?”

The second turns around in his seat to face him. “You’ve got bigger things to worry about, my friend.”

Daniel’s mouth is too dry. He swallows. “Like…what?”

“You still don't even realize you're playing for the wrong team.”

“I…wasn’t aware there were teams,” Daniel says flatly. He swallows again. “So, what team am I on, exactly?”

The man grins like he’s said something funny. “The one that's gonna lose.”

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Who Let Us Have A Group Chat?

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,155

Summary: Early morning backup activations.

Warnings: Screaming (mentioned), Cursing, Creep/Harassment, Trash Can Man Existing, Death (mentioned only), let me know if I should add anything else.

Chapter 2: Eclipse, Stop Forgetting Your Backups

5:13am Who Took My Hat?

Eclipse: We need help.

Moon: Help yourself, rust bucket.

Lunar: L for loser

Sun: Why are you even awek

Kill Code: What is it, son?

Eclipse: Um

Eclipse: Bee? Ves?

Blood Moon: I have a screamg eclipsein my hed pls help

Harvest Moon: Send help, I'm being cried at.

Kill Code: Moon

Moon: KC

Kill Code: My kids need me, Moon.

Moon: Is it your turn on the body? It's not even dawn yet.

Kill Code: I will leave Montgomery alone.

Moon: You shouldn't be thinking about him anyway.

Kill Code: I will leave Montgomery alone.

Moon: Fine but I get to see because I want coffee. You pay me with coffee for this switch.

Sun: Why are you so easy to bagain wit him

Moon: Try typing that right, Sunny. And you try waking up to no coffee at 5 in the morning with a feral single dad in your head wanting out.

Blood Moon: Clip, why tow more?

Harvest Moon: and why is mine still crying?

Eclipse: Look, I forgot about the backups, I'll take care of them once he gets them out, I promise.

Harvest Moon: Too late, I think I'm a comfort person.

Blood Moon: Finally not being screamed at. Headache.

Lunar: Great, two more of him.

6:46am Who Took My Hat?

Kill Code: Moon wanted you two to have proof that they are harmless.

[video transcription]

Blood Moon: Freedom at last.

Unknown: It was scary waking up in someone's head.

Harvest Moon: Are you alright still, little Helio?

Unknown: I'm okay, Vessie.

Eclipse: Does this mean I'm a father now?

Kill Code: I think it means you have two more brothers.

Eclipse: Oh thank god. I'd be a horrible father.

Blood Moon: You're fine, Bolide?

Unknown: I'm okay now.

Eclipse: You two named my kids!?

Blood Moon: Finders keepers!

Harvest Moon: You snooze, you lose.

Eclipse: Hate you both.

Eclipse: What even is the name Helio? Like Helios?

Harvest Moon: Heliosphere. The outer layer of the sun.

Blood Moon: Bolides are bright meteors and meteors are awesome!

Eclipse: We know Blood Moon.

Blood Moon: I like meteors.

Harvest Moon: We know Blood Moon.

Kill Code: Bolide, Heliosphere, say hello to your other brothers, kind of. Technically, they're your brothers.

Unknown: Hi!

Unknown: Hello.

Kill Code: Good job, both of you.

[transcription end]

Sun: Yeah, okay, they seem nice. Don't corrupt them.

Kill Code: I've not been corrupting my children. Have you not seen the improvement of the twins' behaviors or Eclipse acting properly?

Sun: Actually, we haven't. To be fair, we don't visit like Moon has no choice but to.

Kill Code: Disregarding that, Moon apparently wants to do something?

Moon: evilracoon.jpg

Moon has added two people to Who Took My Hat?

Lunar: Oh hi, leave.

Moon: Lunar, be nice to our brothers. They don't have any memory banks to speak of, so they're blank slates. Heliosphere and Bolide are practically new AI.

Heliosphere: What is this? Why am I here? My head is pinging!

Moon: This is a group chat with your family, Helio.

Bolide: So if KC is our Dad, are you our Mom?

Moon: ...

Eclipse: mamaduck.jpg

Moon: Yes? Sort of?

Bolide: Mom, Helio screamed at Bloody.

Moon: I know Bo.

Bolide: It was scary.

Moon: I know Bo.

Sun: He's a mama's boy.

Moon: Shut.

Sun: Oh come on, you're already KC's baby mama with Eclipse and the twins. Might as well make use of that.

Moon: I know where you sleep.

Sun: Yeah, in my room, right next to yours. Right across from Lunar's new room.

Lunar: Wait, I have a room? Have I been sleeping in the theater for no reason?

Sun: Yes? We thought you were just isolating for some reason.

Lunar: Obviously not. I didn't know I had a room.

Moon: Lunar, we told you that room was yours.

Lunar: I thought you said 'Lunar, this room is ours' I thought it was like a living room or something.

Moon: Why would we need a living room? We already have one of them in the main balcony room.

Lunar: I don't know!

Moon: Get your adorable little self up there and look at your room, kid. We worked too hard on that room for it to be a 'living room'! /hj

Lunar: Oh, it's wonderful!

Sun: happylunar.pic

Eclipse: Daaaaad, how come Lunar get fairy lights and I can't have LED lights!?

Kill Code: You'd use them to torment your brothers. Probably put them on quick strobe when Blood Moon goes into your room.

Eclipse: Nooo. I want my room to look orange!

Kill Code: Fine, you can have orange set LEDs, that it. Orange only.

Blood Moon: If he gets LEDs I want a dimmer.

Harvest Moon: Can I get a brighter nightlight?

Bolide: Nightlights are an option? Can I get a nightlight?

Heliosphere: Can I have lights that don't turn off?

Kill Code: You all get new lights.

Harvest Moon: Trash Can broke my nightlight.

Kill Code: Kick him.

Harvest Moon: I can't, Bloody already bit him.

Blood Moon: He harassed my baby brother. He deserved it.

Kill Code: Acceptable.

3:16pm Who Took My Hat?

Bolide: Dad, this weird guy is touching my back, what do I do?

Kill Code: Tell Blood Moon to smack him.

Blood Moon: The Trash Can has been dealt with.

Kill Code: Kick him extra for harassing my youngest.

Blood Moon: He moans when I kick him, I'm not doing that.

Sun: I'm so confused.

Moon: They have this weird guy they call Trash Can in their house-base thing who's really fucking weird. Blood Moon says he's disgusting. I think he's been exposed to way too much magic because he's immortal no matter how many times they kill him.

Kill Code: In all honesty, I believe Blood Moon lost a lot of his interest in killing due to this weird man but, now that I've brought him to the home once, he finds his way back inevitably no matter where I leave him to abandon him.

Harvest Moon: I hate him, he's weird.

Blood Moon: He's creepy, there's a difference. He still calls Dad 'Penelope'.

Eclipse: I'm still apparently Marie.

Blood Moon: Cry about it, I'm still getting called Delilah.

Harvest Moon: I'm still Courtney.

Heliosphere: He called me Amy like an hour ago.

Moon: You've been unfortunately christened, you poor little bastard.

Bolide: Wait, he was meaning me when he was muttering about Rosa? I thought he was just talking to himself.

Moon: Oh, you poor thing.

Bolide: Does this mean I'm Bolide or Rosa!?

Moon: Bolide.

Kill Code: Bolide.

Eclipse: Bolide.

Blood Moon: Bolide.

Harvest Moon: Bolide.

Sun: F in chat for the murder family getting called by women's names by some creep that won't leave their home.

Moon: F

Eclipse: F

Blood Moon: F

Harvest Moon: F

Kill Code: F

Heliosphere: F

Bolide: F

Lunar: Suffer.

[thatcreepydoll]

lotf as things me and my friends have said part one (mostly groups)

✨rules✨

•if it has a 🤺 next to it, i said it

•if it has a ✨ next to it, razzle dazzle said it

•if it has a 🍎 next to it, apple vendor said it

•if it has a 😼 next to it, senpai oatmeal said it

•if it has a 💞 next to it, pinkalicious said it

•if it has a ⭐️ next to it, it’s a special feature person

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

🍎sam: I KINDA JUST SPAWNED HERE. ✨eric: THIS ISNT FORTNITE SAM!

🍎piggy: i will support you, but shut the f🚫ck up

😼maurice: IS RALPH A FURRY?! 🤺simon: *to jack* maurice just called your husband a furry 

💞jack: I WANNA BE A LESBIAN! 🤺piggy: BUT YOUR GAY??

🍎jack: that happened to me at the conch meeting today 🤺ralph: YOU GOT ROBBED OF CRACK?! 🍎jack: yea. i hate it when that happens 🤺ralph: WHAT?!

🤺roger: BYE I FORGOT THAT PIGGY IS AN ORPHAN

⭐️simon: ralph and jack act like a married couple

🤺maurice: *the first time seeing piggy* oh he’s so parched- OH HE’S ROUND

⭐️piggy: i can fix that problem!! ⭐️roger: yeah, by tossing it into the trash or the local fire.

🍎piggy: JACK IS A WALKING RED FLAG HE WEARS WARPAINT. 🤺ralph: yes and it enhanced his gorgeousness

🤺ralph: yes, gold star. ✨simon: that’s my second gold star!!!

✨eric: gordon ramsey vocal range

😼simon: THERES NO SILLY SONGS WITH LARRY

✨maurice: why did bro hit the griddy before dying??

[deputyclover]

Grillby's

*Clover and Rose reach the beginning of Waterfall and Rose talks with Monster Kid and Clover watches.

hey kid.

Oh! Sans! You got two jobs?

what? haven't you seen a guy with two jobs before? fortunately, two jobs means twice as many legally-required breaks. i'm going to grillby's, wanna come with your kid?

Sure Sans, come on Rose! We're leaving!

Ok! Bye MK!

MK: Bye dude!

*Sans walks out behind his stand and walks over to the opposite way to Snowdin.

follow me, I know a shortcut.

*Clover and Rose follow Sans and walk through the door to Grillby's.

What??

fast shortcut, huh?

Yeah...

hey, everyone.

*Sans talks to everyone and they say hi to him.

here, get comfy.

Ok.

*Clover sits on a whoopee cushion.

whoops, watch where you sit down. sometimes weirdos put whoopee cushions on the seats. anyway, let's order. whaddya want?

I want a burger!

I'll get one too Sans.

hey, that sound pretty good. grillby, we'll have a triple order of burg.

*Grillby leaves and Sans combs his *hair*.

so, what do you think of my brother?

He's pretty cool, I think he may be on the spectrum with me.

Yeah! Papyrus is a cool dude! We hung out with him before this!

yeah, my brother's a real star. he's the person who pushed me to get this sentry job. maybe it's a little strange but sometimes it's nice to have someone call you out on being lazy. even though nothing could be further from the truth.

*Grillby arrives with the three burgers and sets them down in front of the three.

here comes the grub. want some ketchup?

Sure Sans!

bone appetit.

Thanks!

*Clover removes the top bun and tips the bottle and the cap goes off and ketchup goes all over the burger.

Oops, eh it's fine.

*Clover puts the bun back on.

forgeddaboutit. you can have mine. i'm not hungry anyway.

Oh. Thanks!

Thanks Sans!

welcome kid.

*Clover and Rose start eating.

anyway, cool or not, you have to agree papyrus tries real hard. like how he keeps trying to be part of the royal guard. one day, he went to the house of the head of the royal guard and begged her to let him be in it. of course, she shut the door on him because it was midnight. but the next day, she woke up and saw him still waiting there. seeing his dedication, she decided to give him warrior training. it's, uh, still a work in progress.

I have to say though, he's very good, he surely gave me a run for my money.

oh yeah, i wanted to ask you something clover.

*Time seems to stop around Sans and Clover, with everyone, even Rose, stopping.

have you ever heard of a talking flower?

Yes.

so you know all about it. the echo flower.

I actually don't.

really?

Yeah, I knew a talking flower when I first fell, Flowey. I haven't seen him since near the end of my original journey, but, I thought I saw him three times. After I met you and Papyrus, after one of the puzzles, and after the 'bridge'. I don't know if that was truly him.

huh, must be the flower telling things to him. is he trustworthy?

Yeah, he helped guide me through the Underground. Do you think he's the one talking to Papyrus?

huh, probably. I should ask him about it. anyway keep an eye out clover.

*Time seems to resume.

Daddy! I'm done!

Oh! Let me finish.

*Clover finishes his burgers.

welp, that was a long break. I can't believe you pulled me away from work for that long. oh, by the way, i'm flat broke. can you foot the bill? It's 10000G.

Damn, that's a lot, but sure! I have the G.

*Clover hands Grillby the G.

wait. you paid off my tab?

Yeah, I have enough.

wow. see ya clover.

*Sans heads to the door.

by the way, i was going to say something, but i forgot.

*Sans fully leaves as Clover gets up and takes the trash.

Thanks Grillby.

*Grillby nods as Clover and Rose head out.

All right, to Waterfall.

*Clover and Rose head back to Waterfall.

Oh yeah! I should have asked him about those envelopes, but I ultimately forgot.

[iwonderwh0]

Well, this is the first time I write openly, it’s unusual, but oh well, and yes, I decided to write here, it’s more familiar to me. I thought a little and realized that Emma’s problem with attachment/trust would be not only with androids, but also with people, Daniel was Emma’s best friend, and since her loved one could do such a terrible thing to her, then why not can't everyone do this? Therefore, at the moment, Emma does not have any very close close relationships, except with her mother, although Emma hates to admit it, but Daniel really left a big mark on her for the rest of her life.

Now about Daniel, I forgot about him while I was thinking about Emma’s headcanons, well, I’ll correct it now. This headcanon is more about what people will do to deviants who have harmed people, by this I don't mean self-defense, although we weren't shown that, but I don't believe that there aren't shitty androids who attacked and killed people for terrible reasons, like Daniel, so I thought there might be a help center in Detroit for rogue androids, where they would all stay away from humans, and perhaps be treated for their injuries, and of course, they would be treated by other androids. Honestly, I always wondered why in fanfiction Daniel can walk free, despite the fact that he killed John, polices, and held a child hostage? For this reason, I came up with a special center for androids like Daniel, and yes, as you understand … there Daniel does not respond very well to therapy

Also, I think that even though Daniel hates all people, for some reason I don’t think that he hates Emma, ​​even though she, in his opinion, “betrayed” him, although I think that over time, Daniel will understand that Emma is not guilty of anything, but Daniel will deny it, that he was wrong in something, because if he admits it, then a huge load of guilt will completely engulf him, and other dark thoughts … but I'm digressing, so let's get back to the topic, I think that he also will continue to love her and worry, in the end, he really loves her, and this love will not disappear with a snap of fingers (except for the incident on the roof), I think that Daniel will sit in the center, and think about her, and miss her (but of course not show this outwardly … probably), perhaps at some point Daniel will even ask someone how Emma is doing (he doesn’t ask about Caroline), but no one gave him a clear answer, because no one knows where the Phillips family went after that disaster, that's why Daniel continues to think about Emma the way she thinks about him

I think if he got reactivated he'd hate all humans INCLUDING Emma for a long while. Deep down he might know that he's wrong and Emma is not at all guilty, but this is the thought he'd much rather shut down and drown with anger rather than admit. Admitting it is something that'd come with consequences.

I have a headcanon about how he could possibly get reactivated and it had to do with underground android re-sellers, alike Zlatko but more with a focus on making money than some modifications and experimens. One of them just picked the broken androids that DPD discarded to trash. The one who fixed him (partially, some things like missing arm or broken face are there to stay) didn't know nor care about the history of his origin. He saw an android that he potentially could resell and that's all that mattered. (And yeah, even post revolution even if official sell/purchase of androids will become illegal, underground people will still actively sell non-deviant (or so they think) androids.