#also don’t like…use them for money…

[bruisedboys]

fighting chance — kang daeho

daeho helps shy!you feel a little less alone in the games. (set in s2 so no spoilers for s3)

note: hii um I wrote this in one sitting so if it’s bad.. that’s why lol. also! I’d love any requests you have for this pairing, I’m obsessed with them already hehe

kang daeho x shy!fem!reader, fluff + hurt comfort, 1.6k words

Your hands wont stop shaking.

You squeeze them together to stop the trembling, trying not to show how horribly frightened you are. The chaos that was the aftermath of the first game has worn off. You should have calmed down by now, as has every other player in the room, but you can’t seem to stop shaking. Especially now that the vote has been settled, and the majority has voted to stay for another game.

You’re stuck here, at least until the next game is over.

You glance down at the red X velcroed to your chest. You’re certain you made the right decision — no matter how much you need the money, and you really do need it, you weren’t willing to risk your life again. Though you suppose your vote doesn’t matter much now, anyway.

The line moves forward and you follow the man in front of you, staring at his back to avoid eye contact with the other players around you. The masked guards are giving out food, and while you’d prefer to hide in between the bunks somewhere, your stomach aches with hunger.

You can’t stand being around this many people at once. You’re terribly shy at the best of times.

“Are you feeling okay, miss?”

You jump, whipping around. Someone’s tapped you on the shoulder from the line next to yours. It’s Player 388 — a tall man with longer hair, stands right next to you in his line. You remember his face — during Red Light, Green Light, you’d been standing near him and he’d grabbed you, letting you duck behind him and use his body as a shield. You would’ve thanked him, you should’ve, but you’ve been far too shaken up since then.

He looks concerned. You don’t like the earnestness in his gaze, it makes you all sorts of nervous. You nod vigorously, if only to get him to stop looking at you like that.

“I’m okay,” you manage, though your feeble voice suggests otherwise.

Player 388 frowns. “Are you sure? Are you feeling unwell?”

You must be pale in the face, or maybe you look like you’re about to throw up. You sure feel like it. You shake your head. “No, I’m—“

Someone behind you clears their throat and shoves you forward a little. You stumble, and look up to realise you’ve reached the front of the line. You’re face to face with a masked guard.

He holds out your food without a word.

“Sorry,” you mumble to the woman behind you who’d pushed you.

You don’t notice Player 388’s gaze lingering on you as you quickly take your food and book it out of there, your face hot and your heart thudding. If the death games aren’t enough, you’re sure your nerves are going to kill you one day.

You make your way to the back of the room, to a small nook between the beds where you’d been hiding before you lined up for your food. Only, your spot’s been taken by a trio of older men who don’t look like they want to be disturbed. One of them raises a brow at you, eyeing you up and down.

You suppose you look quite weak, with your trembling hands, your food clutched to your chest. You’re surprised your knees haven’t started to tremble.

You mumble an apology and turn on your heel, searching for another spot to hide yourself away. There aren’t many left. You’d been one of the last to get your food, too frightened to emerge from your hiding spot until you knew it was absolutely safe. Most of the bunks are full now, and the players have started to group together, most likely forming alliances. You, on the other hand, are very much alone.

You’re considering doing something absurd like sliding under one of the bunks to hide, when you spot Player 388. He’s settling in the corner of the room, but he’s looking right back at you, something like concern etched into his face. You’re about to look away when he lifts an arm and waves you over.

Should you go? You don’t know if you can trust him — you’re pretty certain you saw him vote blue. Still, he’s the only person who’s been kind to you in this place so far. The only person who’s spared you even a glance.

Your feet make your decision for you. You’re moving before you can stop yourself. You cross the room to where he’s sitting, climbing a few metal steps to get to his bunk, your knees knocking together as you climb.

Player 388 smiles at you as you approach.

“You want to eat with me?” He asks. He shuffles over and pats the spot next to him. “Come, sit.”

You pause. What if he tries to hurt you? Or trick you? Well, you’re here already, aren’t you? And he’s been nice to you so far. You sit down before you can change your mind, pulling your legs in so as not to take up too much space.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, ducking your head. Embarrassment warms your face.

Player 388 shrugs good-naturedly and starts to eat. Your knee bounces uncontrollably, but you ignore it, desperate to look anything but weak. You open your container of food, pulling back the lid to reveal a small meal of rice, sausage, greens, and fried egg.

You blink. For some reason, and despite your hunger, the sight of it makes your stomach turn. It looks like the lunchboxes you used to eat as a kid, something your mother would’ve made you. She’s gone now, and you suddenly miss her very much. Your heart starts to climb up your throat. What are you doing here? You’re going to die in this place, surrounded by strangers. Your last moments will be spent with people you don’t even know.

You start to panic, your heart thud thud thudding it’s way up to your throat. You press your palm to your chest in a poor attempt to calm yourself. Your hands are shaking again, you notice absentmindedly.

“Hey, are you okay? What’s wrong?” Player 388 puts his food down and reaches out, moving to take your wrist in his hand.

His fingers brush your skin and you jolt away instinctively, clutching your hand to your chest. 388 looks worried, his brow furrowed, his eyes doe-like as they bore into yours, but he puts his hands up as if in surrender.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says slowly. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you, I swear.”

You nod. “I…I’m sorry. I know you won’t.”

Do you, though? You’re honestly not sure. You lower your hand, rubbing at your thigh roughly with your palm.

“I’m… jumpy,” you explain poorly.

Player 388 nods. “It’s okay.” He says again, soft.

He reaches for you again, and this time you don’t jerk away. He slides his hand over your bouncing knee firmly, the pressure of his hand stopping your anxious tic. His hand is warm through your trackpants.

He smiles, and the look in his eyes is so kind it almost makes you cry. “What’s your name?”

You blink away the beginnings of tears. You won’t cry, not now.

“Y/N,” you manage.

Something about the way he looks at you is calming your nerves in mere seconds. You suppose it’s not very smart to let your guard down in a place like this, but he seems so sweet. Besides, if you’re going to die soon anyway, what does it matter? He might as well know your name.

“Y/N,” 388 repeats, like he’s testing it out. Then he nods firmly, satisfied. “It’s pretty. Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Daeho, Kang Daeho.”

He removes his hand from your knee and holds it out for you to shake. You take his hand in yours for a moment, his palm warm and calloused, yours embarrassing clammy.

Despite this, Daeho smiles at you, tilting his head to the side like a puppy.

“I won’t hurt you, okay?” He says reassuringly, and you find yourself believing him. How could you not, when he says it like that?

Daeho lets go of your hand, and takes up his food again.

“Are you going to eat?” He asks you, glancing at your untouched food. “You’ll feel better if you do.”

You wonder to yourself if he’s only being nice so he can take advantage of you later. You decide you don’t really care.

“Yes,” you nod, picking up your spoon.

You scoop up a spoonful of rice. Your hands aren’t trembling anymore, though your heart is still a riot. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re scared, or because the handsome man sitting at your side is being so sweet to you.

You manage to spoon the rice into your mouth and swallow it without throwing up, and Daeho’s right, you do feel better, even after only one spoonful. You manage a few more, and then Daeho opens your water bottle for you, and after a few sips you feel infinitely better.

Daeho watches you carefully out of the corner of his eye while you eat. When you’re halfway through your food, you turn to him.

“Thank you, Daeho,” you say shyly. “And for, um, protecting me in the first game, as well.”

Daeho grins, graciously ignoring your stuttering. He’s got a pretty smile.

“No problem, Y/N,” he says.

You watch as he takes a swig of water. He’s oddly charming in the way he moves and speaks, and you can’t help staring a bit.

“Stay close to me from now on, okay?” He adds, setting his water bottle down. “I’ll look after you.”

You nod, turning back to your food. It’s not long before you and Daeho notice the men just behind you discussing what the next game will be, and one of them mentions dalgona.

Daeho perks up at this, and practically jumps to join their conversation, tugging you with him to listen in. You realise, with a rush of hope, that the man who’d mentioned dalgona is Player 456. He’s apparently done this before, and he’s the reason most of you made it through the first game.

Between Player 456, who seems to know what he’s doing, and Daeho, who really does seem intent on looking after you, you realise you might just have a fighting chance in these games after all.

-

thank you for reading! reblogs are appreciated as always ᡣ𐭩

[arbitrarykiwi]

*⁀➷ Mid-Game Anger Relief

Nam-Gyu (Player 124) x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+) , degradation , mean namgyu , sex while playing video games , exhibitionim (ish)

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀

When you and Nam-Gyu started dating and he found out you liked to play a lot of the video games he did- you never thought he would use it to his advantage in the way he did.

Sure, he enjoyed being able to play his own games with you curled up next to him doing your own thing. He also adored being able to play co-op games with you and have you actually give him a run for his money (Nam-gyu was rather competitive and liked the challenge).

But his favorite perk of having a cute gamer girlfriend?

Being able to get rid of his mid-match frustration by fucking his sweet girlfriend raw and cumming deep inside you- all while you play and keep his character alive!

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ kill my character.” He’s slapping your cheek rapidly. The slaps are soft and quick, definitely not enough to hurt but enough to make you peel your eyes open and flop your head back to the side, trying to focus on the screen. “You fucking die, I’ll leave you here. You won’t cum.”

His voice is coming out almost like a growl, teeth clenched and chest heaving. You know he’s serious. Whining and practically chewing your bottom lip raw, your fingers meticulously mash the buttons trying to kill the enemies on the screen. It’s so hard to aim straight when every wet thrust jolts you on the couch.

Nam-Gyu is transfixed by the way he splits your messy hole open, every thrust wets his dick even more with your creamy arousal. “Gonna fuckin’ take it alll.” He says, jackhammering his hips into yours like your cunt is the reason for his poor game performance. “Sloppy cunt just sucking me in.”

Every thrust you can feel the frustration he harbors from the online match of whatever game he was playing.

Elbows tucked into your sides and arms raised slightly with the way you hold the console controller, it emphasizes every lewd jiggle of your tits under that fucking shirt you’re wearing.

Frantically, he’s reaching under your arms, hand sliding up your sternum and bunching your shirt up. Your tits spill out from the confines of the fabric, now bouncing in time with each of his thrusts. Almost instantly, one of his hands is flying down your chest, moulding and squeezing the fat in his hands before honing in on your nipple, flicking the peaked bud.

Once again your eyes are fluttering shut and you’re whimpering out his name. And trying to open your eyes only to have them roll to the back of your skull when he angles his thrusts to hit your g-spot every single time

“How fucking pathetic…” he spits out like he’s not the one making you this way, like he’s not the one fucking you stupid and rearranging your insides, “you can’t even keep your eyes open. You’re gonna kill my character and you’re not gonna get to cum.” He laughs, like you’re only set up for failure.

“‘M trying.” You plead, using all the willpower you have to peel your eyes back open to look at the screen. You’ve taken some damage but you’ve managed to keep the character alive. “I-Im keeping you alive!” You choke, frantically pressing buttons on the controller.

With his thrusts never faltering, he’s turning backwards to look at the TV, surprisingly you’re doing well, keeping up with the rest of the team in kills of the enemy team.

“Hm, would you look at that, you can do something right.”

He’s turning backwards towards you, looking down at where he sinks into you. His hair falls into his face, some strands swaying with each forward motion.

“You’re so fuckin’ messy. This is supposed to be for me y’know” he kisses his teeth and rolls his eyes like he’s the one inconvenienced, “Yet your gushing around me like you haven’t had a good fucking in a day in your life.”

He says it like it’s an annoyance, degrading and mocking. Yet, he keeps driving his hips forward making you gush around his cock even more. You can hear how wet you are, every forward thrust Nam-Gyu does makes a sickening squelch that you know the lobby can probably hear.

Oh right! The lobby! The online lobby of Nam-Gyu’s friends that are in the game with him. The group of friends that you can hear from the discarded headset- yelling out call-outs and cussing each other out.

Your eyes remove themselves from the TV for a split second to look over at the headset. It’s on the opposite end of the couch, microphone still bent inwards from the way Nam-Gyu had it when he wore it. The thought of Thanos, Se-Mi, Min-Su, Gyeong-Su and whoever else may be in the voice chat hearing what’s going on only makes you more turned on.

Following your gaze, his angry scowl turns into a sadistic grin when he realizes where you’re looking “Such a fuckin’ slut y’know that?”

You look back to the TV, to the character you have to keep alive instinctively when you hear his voice. “Fucking clenchin’ like you’re gonna snap my dick off”.

“You like the idea of my friends hearing you take my dick? Bet they can hear your sloppy cunt already.”

“It’s not that-“ you whine out, trying to excuse every way your body is betraying you.

“No? It isn’t?” His hands squeeze your waist, tightening his grip and using it as leverage to drive you down on his cock. He’s stretching you open in was that has you feeling like he’s alll the way in your stomach.

He pauses for a moment, reaching across the couch to grab the discarded headset and move it closer to the two of you.

Nam-Gyu drives his hips back until only the tip rests in your opening, “So you don’t like the idea of my friends hearing how I wreck you?” He says in a low voice, one that wouldn’t be picked up by the microphone just yet. He’s shallowly thrusting in, only until you hear the sickening pop! of the head of his cock being swallowed by your sticky walls.

“N-no I-.” Your voice is pathetic when you hear it, broken and creaky.

“I bet they can hear how wet you are…” Nam-Gyu purrs, tilting his head ever so slightly and removing one hand from your waist.

When his thumb comes in contact with your clit, drawing lazy circles around it- you’re letting out a gasp of his name, he’s laughing “Ohhhh~ I know they heard that one.”

Your body betrays your own words. The second he mentions how his group of friends most certainly heard your desperate moans- your cunt is pulsing around him.

“God, you’re pathetic.” He scoffs, his hips beginning to pick up their pace once more, “but since y’wanna put on a show so bad…”

He’s placing both hands on your thighs and pushing them back so far your knees are practically touching your ears. He slowly sinks back into your tight hole, inch after agonizing inch that has your back arching up off the couch.

You’re gasping a choked sound that drawls on into a whiney moan the farther he pushes his cock into you. You’re biting your lip to muffle the sound, although it’s far too late and it was most certainly picked up by the head set microphone.

“Oh no…” he’s saying in a sing-song voice, shaking his head. “You can do better than that….” Nam-Gyu scoffs at your soft moan, “come on now, why don’t you give them the nice lil show you wanna put on so badly since you’re making them carry the team, hm?”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°

Taglist: @namsgyu @nuttybeans @namgyucat @g1rlonthe3internet @reilapse @yuuumeee @thanosspills

[tobiosbbyghorl]

Enhypen Reaction

— to their girlfriend pranking them by saying “can’t afford to go out right now” while on a call in front of them

— Heeseung

He was just scrolling on his phone next to you, minding his business until he heard—

“I really want to hang out but… I just can’t afford it right now.”

Heeseung’s head snaps up, eyes narrowing.

“Huh? Who said you can’t go?”

You hold in a laugh as you keep the fake call going, but he’s already reaching for his wallet and gently placing it on your lap.

“Literally take whatever you need, babe. I’ll even drive you there and pick you up like a chauffeur. Don’t ever say that again.”

You giggle and finally admit it’s a prank and he just groans, “Yah, don’t do that—I was about to send a wire transfer.”

— Jay

The moment he hears you say “I can’t afford it…” in your call, he freezes mid-sip of his Americano.

He tilts his head slowly, side-eyes you, and raises one eyebrow like 👁️👄👁️

“Excuse me? Why are you lying on the phone in front of me?”

He walks over, whips his black card out with dramatic flair, and literally drops it on your lap.

“You’re dating Park Jay. Not being able to afford something doesn’t exist for you. Say that again and I’ll book you a vacation just to prove a point.”

You laugh and say it’s a prank, but he just rolls his eyes and mutters,

“Embarrassed me in front of my espresso like that…”

— Jake

He hears you say it while petting Layla, who’s now also looking at you like “you broke?”

“I want to go… I just can’t afford to right now.”

Jake’s jaw drops and he instantly starts panicking.

“Babe, what? No, you can go! I’ll pay! I was literally going to ask if you wanted to get dinner after—should I sell my shoes??”

He grabs his phone and opens his bank app.

“Do you want me to send you something? Wait, what’s your account again?”

You burst out laughing, telling him it’s a prank, and he just clutches his chest dramatically like

“You almost gave me a heart attack. I thought I was failing as a boyfriend.”

— Sunghoon

You’re casually scrolling while fake-talking on the phone.

“Yeah… I really can’t afford it right now…”

Sunghoon side-eyes you from across the couch like 😐 and mutters under his breath,

“Are you actually serious right now?”

He then gets up quietly, walks into the other room, and comes back with an envelope.

“Here’s money for that hangout, a snack, and dessert. And if you still say no, I’m going with you and paying for both of us.”

When you laugh and admit it’s a prank, he crosses his arms.

“You think this is funny? I was already mentally planning your outfit in my head.”

— Sunoo

He hears your soft fake whining on the phone:

“I wish I could go but I’m broke…”

Sunoo gasps. Loudly. Drops whatever he was holding.

“What do you mean broke? Since when? WHY didn’t you tell me?!”

He rushes over, holds your face in his hands dramatically, eyes sparkling with disbelief.

“You’re my princess. You don’t ever say the word broke again! Baby, I’ll take care of everything.”

You giggle and reveal the prank, and he gasps again:

“You evil little thing… don’t play with my heart like that! I was about to Venmo you my soul!”

— Jungwon

As soon as the words “I can’t afford it” leave your mouth, Jungwon stops folding laundry and slowly looks up at you.

“Huh? What do you mean you can’t afford it? Since when are you paying for anything?”

He walks over calmly and slips his arm around your waist.

“Just tell me what you want and I’ll handle it. Why are you even stressing?”

You tease him a bit longer before laughing, and when you confess it’s a prank, he smirks and shakes his head.

“You’re lucky you’re cute. But just so you know, broke doesn’t exist in your vocabulary anymore.”

— Ni-ki

He hears the word “can’t afford” and pauses mid-video game.

“What do you mean you can’t afford it?”

You pretend not to notice, and he just pauses the game, stands up, and casually drops his card on your lap like it’s no big deal.

“Go. Just go. I got you.”

You keep the act going and he raises a brow.

“Wait. Is this one of your TikTok prank things?”

You crack and laugh, and he nods slowly like he knew.

“You almost had me. Almost. But next time, don’t try it when my credit card’s literally in my hand.”

tobiosbbyghorl - 2025

permanent taglist: @ijustwannareadstuff20 @hoonielvv @rjssierjrie @firstclassjaylee @morganaawriterr @rikifever @daisyintherainsposts @kkamismom12 @pocketzlocket @semi-wife

[zennagreenwitch]

Nothing else quite replicates the functionality… but also, the new one costs way more than the lab can afford and no one will approve a grant for the new one because the old one works just fine and besides, you can’t migrate the old data to the new system because they’re incompatible.

It’s sort of like how you get new editions of textbooks that universities automatically adopt because the old versions are out of print now but the only difference is three diagrams, the challenge problems, and the QR code for the online homework software. Companies that sell textbooks and specialty lab equipment typically don’t make much off a given product- not that many people buy them in the first place, and then lots of people will pass them around and/or use them forever instead of buying new ones and making the graph go up. So they find ways to make people buy the new ones instead of maintaining the old ones.

You could also think of it like cars. Imagine if most people bought maybe one car their entire life and painstakingly maintained it- tuned it up and replaced worn parts, but didn’t buy a new one until the old one literally fell apart, like completely exploded or crushed by a falling piano. Car companies aren’t making money on new sales, not even when they add new features, because the old one drives fine and I don’t really NEED an iPod adapter. So, to combat this, car companies stop servicing older models. Well, fine, most people in this wacky made up hypothetical world are so opposed to buying a new car that they simply teach themselves to repair and maintain their vehicles. So the companies change the parts they use and stop producing the old ones to force people to upgrade their cars. Unfortunately, cars are so cost-prohibitively expensive that people with older models start trading old parts and teaching each other hacks to adapt the new parts.

We’re currently at the point where the metaphorical car companies are modifying roads so old cars no longer operate on them.

abandonware should be public domain. force companies to actively support and provide products if they don't wanna lose the rights to them

[userluhna]

࿔⋆ WARM ANYWAY

namgyu x f!reader

based on those requests

words: 3.9k

warnings: squid game season 3. changed small parts of the plot. english isn’t my first language. mention of drugs. death. squid game violence. complex relationship? mention of blood. angst. bit of comfort? no happy ending blame it on the request.

a/n: tried so hard not to make it cliché asf okay. genuinely curious what you think—because i’m not used to writing namgyu’s character and want to know if i need to change anything guys. not sure how i feel about this one tbh—

enjoy! :(

maybe namgyu was warm when you met him. warmer than anything around you right now. maybe he was warm because it was two summers from now, because it was so hot outside, because he handed you a glass of whatever he was serving and you felt his fingers brush yours as you grabbed it, you felt that he was warmer than the burning air.

because he called you by nicknames so quietly you almost missed it more than once when it was just the two of you, because namgyu always let you put your cold feet under his thighs while he sat across from you on the couch but would always say, “your fucking cold feet,” trying to pull them away just to mess with you but he’d leave them anyway, his hand casually brushing your ankle.

he was warm the way that when you fell asleep on his lap you didn’t feel like you needed a blanket but he always put one over you anyway.

because the first months of your relationship were hard. because doors slammed, because promises broke, because you found him once—just once—after a night where it was too much, shaking, fucking shaking, too hot while he said, “i’m so cold—“ and his lips trembled. you helped him drink water, vomit if he needed. you kneeled next to him in the bathroom. you held his hair. kissed his temple even though he told you to just let him be. “fucking let me, don’t be sweet on me.”

because he told you more than once, “just one last time, i swear—“ before going out and coming back to your apartment around 3 am red-eyed and seeing you half asleep on the couch. “fuck gyu—you can’t just—“ you said that night, crying, and he was too high to fix it.

because it took him months of your silence after that night to realize that maybe—just maybe if he lost you he would lose too much. so he tried. fucking tried to be clean. he wasn’t the kind to ask for help, but maybe this time he did.

because when he knocked on your door months later he looked clean. because maybe you saw it in the way he looked at you. because months after, you felt him lighter, but still warm. so warm.

because namgyu let you sleep at his apartment as long as you needed when you didn’t have enough money to pay rent. because sometimes his eyes lingered on you when you felt anxious about finding a second job, when your leg wouldn’t stop shaking and he just—“you’re okay,” he said as his hand found your knee. “i’ve got you.”

because this time when you cried, he held you tight against him and just—“okay, stain my shirt with your tears—“ so he could hear you laugh, even if just a little.

because he was always touchy with you in private, his hands anywhere—on your waist, your hips, the small of your back, the back of your neck when he teased you, your jaw when he kissed you, your thigh when he needed you closer. because that’s how you knew he was always—always—warm.

and when you woke up the second day of those games you felt cold, like some warmth was missing. like someone was missing because you didn’t plan that. because you didn’t plan to lose your money after some fucking bet. because you didn’t want to be dependent on your boyfriend who was also struggling.

you had kissed him goodnight two days ago—maybe more, maybe less. you kissed slower than usual. and he did too, looking at you longer after it, like he was memorizing you.“don’t look at me like that,” he whispered.

“like what?” your eyes soft, his thumb brushing under your eyes. “like i’m gonna disappear.” you wanted to say, “you almost did.” you wanted to say you were scared, you wanted to say “please don’t.” but instead you kissed him again.

and you just lined up—for a second game or whatever was going on—you wanted to go home. you wanted to hug him even if he said, “yah, slow down,” but he would still hug you back.

they made teams, and you ended up with mostly men—only men. you don’t even know how you ended up there—the only thing you knew was that at some point, some moment, you saw namgyu. and god, oh my—you thought it wasn’t like that. that it wasn’t real—that maybe it was just someone who looked a bit too much like him because of where you were. it could be anything, right? anything to mess with you.

and he didn’t see you. not yet. maybe he did, but if he was high when he did, he wouldn’t even get it. and maybe it was later in the dormitory that you found him again—just there, just talking, just laughing, just—“gyu—“ is all you managed to spill out. and his face, oh his face, you could see the tiny flicker in his eyes, something between worry and not fully realizing what was happening.

“you know her?” the voice cut through—thanos, sitting there. and no one answered because how the fuck is he supposed to say yes when someone could just turn you against him?

and your eyes locked with his for longer than expected. and god, you fought tears so hard your eyes stung. his hand twitched and you saw it because he wanted to reach for you. to fucking feel your skin against his. to give you warmth because you were probably cold. because you were always cold.

but a vote was called—and maybe he voted to stay again and maybe after him, just after him, you voted to leave, your hand reaching for the X trembling. and that’s when maybe it hit him, because you weren’t supposed to be here. and you wanted to leave and he had voted to stay, and he couldn’t look at you. even when you searched his eyes, he couldn’t fucking find yours.

maybe you didn’t find him after—not until the next game, where you don’t even know how you made it through the whole thing. maybe he searched for you, maybe he didn’t. not until the number “two” was called. not until you felt the warmth grabbing your wrist, pulling you so fast it almost hurt. not until he put his whole body against the door when people tried to open it, back to it, facing you.

he didn’t ask if you were okay but you still nodded. his eyes, oh boy, his eyes—they were everywhere on you, every part of you, looking for something—blood, bruises—but the only thing he found was fear. he closed his eyes, his head going back to the door still holding it, saying nothing. you could see the way he swallowed, the way he shook a bit, the way he was sweating.

“baby—“ he called, slow, unsure.

“oh you don’t get to say that,” you spat. because “what the fuck gyu?” you said more to yourself than to him. because it wasn’t for him, it wasn’t for him getting high, it was for you, for him being here, for him having blood on him, it was for you wanting to leave, it was for him voting O.

the door clicked behind him, finally closing. and his whole body just started to relax. not fully, just enough that he didn’t have to put his whole weight on the door.

and his hands slowly, so slowly, reached up to cup your face. he looked at you in the eyes—directly into them.

“shit—what are you doing here?” he whispered, because if he yelled, if he spoke too loud, it would make it real.

“it’s not—“ he breathed out, eyes wide, hands now on your shoulders as he tried to steady himself. and he hugged you. and he was warm. because even like this, he knew. he fucking knew you weren’t supposed to be here. to be covered in half blood. to be standing there.

and maybe he was shaking, maybe he was sweating, maybe his hands weren’t firm on you like they usually were when they grabbed your body—maybe they were shaking. so he laughed, maybe a bit, between the tears he didn’t know where were falling, his head directed to the ceiling, hands on both sides of his head now. “aah fuck—fuck fuck fuck.”

“why are you here?” he scoffed. “why the hell are you here?”and before you could explain, before you could say anything, the doors opened with that soft click. thanos’s voice cut in once more—“namgyu my boy,” as thanos’s arm found namgyu’s shoulder.

“found someone to lock yourself with, huh?”

“shut up,” namgyu spat out, fingers brushing his lips. “what’s her name?” and maybe your lips parted, you were about to say something, you wouldn’t reach for him because you were with people. so many people.

“nah—“ he said. “you let her.”

his voice was firmer. because when it involved other people, namgyu lost his mind sometimes. he had lost his mind especially under drugs or alcohol.

like that one time a man murmured something in your ear a bit too close one night. you didn’t smile at what he said, but the man did. and namgyu found him after and almost kicked his teeth in, shouting: “she’s mine. not yours.“

“what’s her name?” thanos repeated, voice low. and namgyu’s face hardened. he didn’t answer. he never answered. maybe just once, when no one was around and you took the stairs down, he just—“you stay close,” he said, voice low, eyes fixed on you in that way you couldn’t ignore.

because he meant it. and maybe you lost him when everyone rushed out toward the bathrooms. maybe there was screaming. maybe the piggy bank dropped again, and it all started moving too fast. maybe—just maybe—he came back with blood on his shirt, smeared across his cheek, yelling something about an X attacking an O. and maybe all you could do was exhale, just once, shaky—because he was still alive.

still standing. still fucking here. and when you sat down at the edge of the bed, hands resting heavy on your knees, eyes distant—you breathed out, slow. trembling. cold.

namgyu tossed the cross behind him. that’s when he moved toward you. just a little. he sat down beside you—one leg bent, the other folded underneath, like always. and he looked at you. resting his head on his knee.

“he fucking died,” he said finally. “he always treated me like i was stupid.” but you heard it—the break in his voice, the way he swallowed like it hurt. the same way he did when you packed your things that april, two years ago.

“you think you’re better than me?” he’d shouted “go ahead. walk away. i don’t need saving.” and you had walked away.

until months later, when he knocked on your door. sober. or close to it. he’d done everything he could. but this time, you couldn’t walk away. you wouldn’t. so you offered your hand. palm up. resting between you both. not asking—just waiting. because you’d learned patience. learned it during those first months, when he’d show up at your apartment high and twitchy. you learned how to hold him through it. how to wait until the worst parts passed.

so you waited. maybe his fingers twitched. maybe he let out one of those soft, cynical laughs through his nose like—“why are you being sweet on me when i should be the one—” and maybe—just maybe—you felt his warmth for a moment, his fingers hovering just above yours. but he didn’t reach.

“are you okay?” the words sounded dumber out loud than they had in your head. they just… didn’t land. “you’re the one asking that?” he scoffed.

and maybe deep down he knew you always cared more about him than yourself. because you always did. even when he didn’t deserve it. even when he was careless with you.

his eyes didn’t meet yours—he kept fidgeting. rolling his ring around his finger. cracking his knuckles, over and over, even when they stopped making any sound. swaying slightly, front to back.

he flinched when your hand touched his sleeve. but you still said it—soft, more to yourself than to him: “we’re gonna be okay.” he nodded. too fast. once, twice—four times, like he couldn’t stop. biting his thumbnail until it bled. swallowing like his throat was dry.

“namgyu,” you said again, softer this time. “you’re gonna be okay.”

when lights out came, the flickering above never stopped. some girl shouted at you—said she’d slit your throat in your sleep. you snapped back before you even thought. and from across the room, he saw you—already covered in blood, not even knowing whose it was. definitely not his.

he grabbed you by the waist, yanked you out of the middle of it, holding you against his chest as he shoved you both into a dark corner. he didn’t speak right away. not until you pulled away. his thumb brushed behind your ear. wet. not dry. you shook your head before he could say anything. “it’s nothing. doesn’t hurt.”

“shut up. you’re literally bleeding.” he wiped it with his sleeve. then just looked at your face. for what felt like a whole minute. a flicker of fear behind his eyes. “don’t fucking die in there.” before the fourth game, you wandered the edge of the room trying to trade places with someone. tried to convince some of the red players—but no one wanted to be a target.

“come on,” you said to one. “you just have to find the exit.” your eyes flicked to namgyu—he looked lost. kept glancing down at the knife in his hand like he didn’t want it. or like he did want it.

somehow, you made it work. somehow, you ended up red. ended up with him. and even though you had to team up with 333, you stayed close the whole game. even when he spun the knife in his hand like it was a toy. even when he sang quietly under his breath. even when he threw his arm over your shoulders while walking.

“red suits you, baby,” he murmured, mouth too close to your cheek. “oh, fuck off, gyu.” and he laughed—one of those light ones. the kind he only had when he wasn’t scared.

at some point, he killed someone. myunggi did too. two stabs. two players. both passed. but the timer kept going. you hadn’t stabbed anyone. and he almost lost it. “why did you switch?” his voice cracked. “you’re so fucking good at hiding—why would you switch?” two minutes left and he crouched by a blue player slumped against the wall, knife resting near their cheek.

“sleeping so well,” he muttered. “namgyu—come on,” you called out, already moving toward him, myunggi beside you. and that was when it happened. the blue player grabbed the knife. he wasn’t dead. you’d been afraid of that.

namgyu stumbled back, hands up. “hey man,” he laughed, breath sharp. his back hit the wall. the player stepped forward, knife raised. “you don’t wanna do that—” it got violent fast. too fast. the blade was almost at his throat.

you didn’t think. stabbed him—shoulder, first. he screamed. you stabbed again—lower, through the ribs. left the knife there. he managed to turn, slashed across your leg—near the knee. “fucking bitch!” the man screamed.

“ah, man—” namgyu grabbed him by the collar, shoved him back against the wall. your knife—still in the man’s ribs—was pushed deeper as namgyu leaned in. blood gushed out of the man’s mouth.

namgyu smiled. his hands stayed tight on the collar. face inches from the dying man’s. “you don’t get to call her that,” he whispered, eyebrows raised. “understood?” and the man just collapsed. dead. your number was called. you passed. the timer ended. and namgyu stood there, breathing hard. his hands slowly raised to the top of his head.exhaled. slow.

at night it got harder. he’d lost the cross. slipped off somewhere—he was sweating too much, shaking too hard. you gave him your water bottle. you stayed close, even when he told you to leave him alone. even when he apologized. even when he warned you—they’re gonna target you because of me. even then. and when he broke, just a little—just enough—“don’t leave me,” he said, so quiet you almost missed it. and you didn’t. you stayed.

you kissed his forehead when he finally passed out. brushed the damp hair off his skin, wiped the sweat away with the edge of your vest. even when your knee was still bleeding, raw and swollen. even when he noticed and—wordless—took off his own vest to tie it around your leg. he murmured “fuck” under his breath, at least five times while he did it. tightening the knot. hands shaking. and you tried not to limp. tried to walk like the pain didn’t touch you.

when your vote was cast—you still chose X. even with everything. you still voted stay. and when namgyu voted, he picked to leave. fidgeting with his sleeves, pulling at the skin around his fingers. hands running again and again through his hair, like it could calm something. maybe your pinky brushed his. maybe no one saw. maybe it grounded him. maybe it didn’t.

and right before the fifth game started—before anyone crossed—he looked at your leg. at how you limped. and he just… laughed. nervous, thin laughter that didn’t belong in his throat. you laughed too, barely. through wet tears running down your cheeks.

“fuck, is that—” he didn’t finish the sentence. your knee was bleeding again. your foot barely touching the ground. he looked at you like he couldn’t breathe. like everything was caving in.

“it can’t just be like that—” the timer was counting down. people screamed. some had already fallen.

“you gotta try, okay?” his voice broke. “you fucking gotta try.” you smiled. barely. just enough to show him your teeth through the shaking. “it’s okay, baby.”

he shook his head, biting his nails. biting his lip until it split open. he tried to carry you—put your arm around his shoulders, tried to make you move, to jump. the rope was swinging. too fast. his hand trembled where it gripped your waist. “gyu—”

“don’t. don’t—please.” he didn’t look at you. but you felt the way his whole body shook. and then he made you jump. once. twice.

your landing was off. you stumbled—the rope came back too fast. he jumped. but he couldn’t get you to go again. your body slipped. his arms were tight around you just seconds before—and then you were just gone. shoved off in one clean hit. he didn’t scream. didn’t move. just froze. the same arms that held you like they’d never let go—stayed in place, like he hadn’t felt it happen. until the rope hit again. shoved him clean off. same direction. same fall.

maybe the last time you touched him, he was already cold. already trembling under your hands. and maybe—just maybe—right before you were pushed off, right before it ended, he kissed your temple. still holding you. still trying. and whispered—“didn’t know you could be this warm.”

masterlist

tag: @namgyucat @namsgyu @threerxcha @rohjaewonlvr

[hcvney]

“ For Us To Survive ”

When you and Dae-ho make it to the final night of the Games, he promises to protect you—no matter what. But when you wake to find the other finalists dead and Dae-ho covered in blood, you realize he meant it literally.

-

Rating: mature

Pairing: kang dae-ho /player 388 x f!reader

Warnings: violence (off screen), blood, yandere undertones, obsessive/possessive behavior & language

-

The suits didn’t fit right.

You stood in front of the mirror inside the cold, room—barely recognizing yourself in the crisp black formalwear they’d given you.

There were only six of you left.

Too many for the prize to be split evenly—too many to all leave alive.

When you returned back to the dorms, across the room, Dae-ho adjusted his collar. His eyes found yours. Dark. Quiet. Focused.

No words passed between you then. You didn’t need them.

-

The final dinner was tense.

Six silver cloches. Six knives. Six people sitting in silence, chewing through their last meal like it might be their last breath. You could feel Dae-ho’s leg pressed against yours beneath the table, grounding you. His hand brushed over your knee once. Just once.

No one talked. Everyone knew the final game was coming. Everyone also knew what that might mean.

-

That night, they sent you back to the dormitory. Just like before.

Only now, it was near-empty. The lights dimmed early.

You and Dae-ho climbed into one of the few remaining beds pushed into the corner—mattress thin, blankets rough, but still the warmest place either of you had found in weeks.

He lay behind you, his chest pressed to your back, one arm wrapped around your waist like a shield. You could feel his breath on your neck.

“I can’t sleep,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to,” he said. “I’ll just hold you.”

“They’re not gonna let all of us go,” you whispered.

“I know.”

You shifted to look back at him. “What happens if it comes down to more than two? What if it’s a tie? then what happens?”

There was a long pause

Dae-ho stared up at the ceiling for a moment. His hand rested over your stomach. “I’ve already decided”

You blinked. “Decided what?”

He looked at you now—really looked at you. His face was unreadable, but his voice was steady.

“You and me… we get out. Together. Only you. No one else deserves it.”

You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his.

“What would we even do with the money?” you asked softly.

He smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth tugging up.

“I’d buy a place by the coast. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one knows our names. You’d have a real bed. A shower with actual hot water. We’d get out of this country if we needed to. Go somewhere safe.”

You exhaled slowly, feeling tears sting behind your eyes.

“I want that.”

“You’ll have it,” he whispered, brushing your hair away from your cheek. “I swear to you, I’m going to get you out of here. I’ll protect you. No matter what I have to do.”

You nodded, the warmth of his promise lulling you into a fragile peace. His hand moved up to cradle your jaw as he leaned in and kissed you—slow, with an aching softness you hadn’t felt in so long.

You fell asleep in his arms.

-

The first thing you noticed when you woke was that his arm was gone.

The second was the silence.

You sat up groggily, eyes scanning the dimly lit dorm. And that’s when you saw it.

The beds across the room—every one of them soaked in blood.

Limp limbs hanging over the sides. Unmoving bodies. Mouths open in frozen, soundless gasps.

Your heart seized.

“Dae-ho…?”

You turned.

He wasn’t in bed.

He was standing across the room.

Shirt soaked blood. Hands stained. Knife still in one of them. Chest heaving.

He was crouched beside the last body—the one who’d been sleeping closest to your side. Blood streaked the floor beneath him. His back was to you, shaking.

And then he turned.

His face was pale, eyes wide, frantic—but not with guilt. With relief.

You stood frozen, one hand to your mouth.

“Dae-ho… what did you—?”

He dropped the knife.

He came toward you slowly, hands raised, breathing hard.

“They were going to kill us,” he said. “You know that, don’t you? If I waited… if we trusted the game, they’d make us turn on each other. They wouldn’t let us both walk out.”

Your voice was barely a whisper. “So you… you killed them. While they were sleeping.”

“I watched them,” he said. “I waited until everyone was out. I didn’t touch you. I couldn’t—” his voice cracked. “I couldn’t risk waking you. I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

You looked into his eyes—wild but clear. He was still him. Somewhere in that mess of blood and trembling hands, he was still the man who held you through the night, who whispered promises of a life far away.

“They were threats,” he said simply. “All of them. They would’ve killed you. They didn’t deserve to walk out with us. They didn’t even look at you right.”

“You said you’d protect me,” you whispered.

“I did,” he said, a faint tremor in his voice. “And now you’re going to live. We’re going to live.”

You reached out slowly, cupping his cheek. His skin was cold. His lashes damp.

“They weren’t going to let us win,” he murmured. “Not both of us. The money wouldn’t stretch. The game only ends when there’s one… or two. So I made a choice.”

He leaned into your touch like he might collapse without it.

You trembled in his arms, staring over his shoulder at the trail of blood leading across the floor.

He pressed his lips to your temple.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered. “And we’re going home.”

You didn’t know whether to cry or kiss him.

So you did both.

-

[magicalqueennightmare]

What Was That?

John Walker x Reader

You don’t necessarily hate him. When he ends up helping up you and you end up in an intimate situation with him, neither of you are sure how the hell it happened.

Semi public sex?

Could be read as a part 1 to Messy

Civilian clothes while hunting down Karli meant jeans and jackets for Sam and Bucky. You however? You said screw it and was wearing one of your favorite dresses. The perks were it paired with boots well, had a high enough slit you could fight in it and no one could clock the fact that you were armed pretty well and carrying extra for Bucky too.

Zemo had unfortunately complimented you on it and it made you want to strangle him, until he offered you money to buy more like it. Then you settled on just glaring at him. 

You were walking down a side road with Sam and Bucky when you heard him. John freaking Walker. The new government appointed Captain America. All Military propaganda glory. The worst part was the man was absolutely fucking gorgeous. Those blue eyes locked you in place and the cocky little smirk? Yeah it made you wonder about other things.

“Hey John, how’d you find us this time?” you greeted and Bucky cut his eyes at you “Don’t antagonize him” you shrugged “It’s fun” John caught up with the four of you, Lemar with him. John did a double take at you “Why are you wearing that?” you crossed your arms “Excuse me?” 

“They’re dressed properly for civilian clothes in case of fighting. You’re in a dress” you laughed “Says the man wearing that” and waved a hand over his suit. You waved a hand over yourself “Guess how many weapons are currently on my person Walker?” he let his eyes skim over you and shrugged “Two at most”

You barked out a laugh “Two guns maybe. I’ve got five knives also” he stood there for a moment staring at you and you grinned “Easy fella, gonna stare a hole through it trying to figure it out” he shook his head “Anyways” 

Zemo was laying across the couch with a cool rag on his face, Bucky had tried to hide the fact that he was going to talk to one of the Doja Milaje but you’d clocked it and Sam was trying to get in contact with Joaquin so you decided to hit the streets and see if you could hear anything more on possible whereabouts for Karli’s crew.

You were walking down a road when you heard a voice call your name and turned to see John. This time he at least had changed out of his uniform. “Like you like this better” he rolled his eyes “Why are you alone?” you shook your head “I’m a big girl, don’t worry. I can handle myself” you kept walking and god bless he fell in step with you.

“Is there a reason besides Bucky that you hate me?” you spun around to face him, pointing a finger in his chest “First of all don’t make assumptions. If I hated you, I would make that clear” his eyes widened slightly but damn him that smirk slipped into place “And second of all?” he asked and you rolled your eyes “If I did hate you, it would be for a better reason because Bucky said so. Men don’t make my decisions for me”

You started back walking and he kept pace “Where are you going?” you sighed “My face isn’t as well known as say, Bucky’s or Sam’s or yours for that matter. I can blend in with crowds and listen. So please back the hell off” 

“I’ll hang back” he agreed so you nodded and walked away. 

You knew John was nearby, you could feel his eyes on you but you moved from place to place listening to locals talk. You knew when to listen and when to move on. You’d picked up a few tidbits you were going to take back to Sam and Bucky. 

You walked around a corner and suddenly you knew your back was against the wall and a knife was to your throat. Before you had time to react, to get the assailant off of you, they were crumpled to the ground. John stood behind them. “Thanks” you muttered and he nodded “I think you’re done for the day” “Yeah”

He decided to walk you back to where you were staying or close anyway. “Gonna tell me what you heard?”   he asked and you turned to face him “John, just go home. This is too heavy for you and Lemar. They’re super soldiers” “We’ve handled worse” he pushed and you groaned “And if one of you get hurt or killed?” 

“Aww worried about me sweetheart?” he teased and you open handedly slapped him. “Get over yourself! I’m trying to look out for you and your partner! You’re a decent man!” you kept walking, cutting down an alleyway and he followed you, his hand wrapping around your arm. He turned you to face him “I’m sorry. That was being an asshole. It’s just.. The pressure that’s on us to find them. I never even wanted the shield. They assigned me to it”

Your eyes widened because you didn’t know that. “What?” he nodded “I can’t be Steve and everyone is looking at me to be him. I’m not a good man, I’m a good soldier. I can take orders. That’s why I’m here. Why I can’t go home” “That’s sad” you admitted and he shrugged “It’s life at this point. Joined straight out of high school”

The two of you kept walking until you turned to face him again “Why keep trying to make friends with Sam and Bucky? Why save our asses?” he shrugged “Why not?” you stared up at him and realized just how pretty his eyes were up close. He was a lot bigger than you too. His larger frame blocking you from sight of any passerbys. “You’re still an asshole” you told him and he nodded “You’re still kind of a bitch” he replied. The next moment your lips met his, your back against the wall as he nudged one clothed thigh between your legs.

Good god the man could kiss. He shifted his leg, pushing against your core and giving just enough pressure to pull a moan from your lips. “Sounds so sweet though” he muttered against  your lips as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You gripped his biceps, trying to ground yourself as you fought the urge to shamelessly rock your hips against his thigh to chase that pressure. 

He pulled back and whispered “Go ahead baby” you whined, rocking your hips tentatively and pleasure shot through you. He grinned “Atta girl” you continued to grind against his thigh as he kissed you, muttering words of praise and encouragement. You felt that knot in your stomach building and when he moved to shift one hand under the skirt of your dress, circling your clit over your panties. You fell apart, your orgasm making you shake slightly.

“Fuck” you whined and he grinned “Feel better?” you nodded, pulling him into a kiss as your hand cupped the apparent bulge in the front of his jeans “I’m wearing a dress John” he nipped at your bottom lip and hooked one of your legs up around his waist. His right hand slid between your bodies, unbuckling and unzipping his jeans. He shoved them down just far enough to get his cock out and you swallowed hard when you saw his size “Backing out on me?” he asked and you shook your head, shifting your leg up higher around his waist “Fuck me already boyscout”

He pushed your panties to the side and lined himself up with your opening and pushed into you with one hard thrust of his hips. Your head fell back but he pulled it forward against his chest instead “Cement wall” he muttered. You nodded, clinging to his shoulders as he kissed you. It was tongue and teeth, desperate and hungry. You moved your hips against his to let him know you were ok. His grip tightened and he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in and you gasped “Just like that” he chuckled low “Dirty little thing, begging to get fucked in an alley”

“Feels fucking good John” you whimpered and when your walls fluttered around him from a particular angle he groaned “God damn baby” and hit it again. You gasped as he found a pace that had your back biting into the wall but you could have given a damn less. The pleasure coursing through you made up for any amount of pain. 

“Please don’t fucking stop” you begged and felt his teeth graze the skin of your neck “Wasn’t planning on it” you could feel another orgasm building and he slipped his hand down to let his fingers find your clit. The moment you felt his calloused fingertips on your flesh, your orgasm hit you hard. He moved to swallow your moan with a kiss as you came, clenching down around him. He fucked you through it, then his thrusts got a little sharper, little deeper “Where at sweetheart?” he asked through clenched teeth. “In me, I’m covered” you moaned and his head fell over on your chest as his hips continued to snap into yours “Fuck baby”

He buried himself into you with one final thrust and warmth flooded you when he found his release. He stood there for a few moments, just holding you close to him as you both worked to get your breathing back to normal.  You laughed lightly “What the fuck was that?” he shrugged “Really good sex we shouldn’t mention to anyone else?” you nodded “Agreed on all accounts” he smiled and pressed a final kiss to your lips before easing your leg down. He tucked himself back into his jeans as you fixed your own clothes.

The rest of the walk to where you were staying was in silence and he didn’t even mention the information you’d found out. He simply pressed a kiss to your temple and said “Be careful out there honey” “You too Walker” 

[jester-nonconforming]

at first i was like “oh, i wish the short showed Blitz and Loona interacting more,” but the more i think about it, the more i feel like them *not* interacting informs us about their relationship. they had all this time while Mr. Wrigglers was saying goodbye to everyone, but Loona is on her phone and Blitz is just sitting around bored. Blitz really *wants* to hang out with her, and he spends a lot of his daily life around her, but he seemingly still has no idea how to actually *engage*.

and this is a problem in all of Blitz’s relationships—he doesn’t feel secure enough to just ask people to spend time with him, so he either makes everything sexual (which he obviously wouldn’t do with Loona) or he focuses on what he can give them (money for their jobs, driving them places, cooking them food, protecting them from harm, etc). he’s gotten better about focusing less on sex as he becomes a bit more secure in his friendships w/ Stolas, M&M, and Fizz, but he still really relies on that other coping mechanism of “here let me do these things for you and in return you won’t leave when i talk about horses for an hour”.

so in a case like this, where he IS just trying to reach out to Loona (which is a lot more vulnerable for him than i think he’d admit) and the plans change in any way, he falters. he’s completely stuck on his original idea for the day and he can’t get out of that mindset enough to listen to what she wants here.

it’s not that i think he doesn’t notice other people’s interests or wants or needs—he definitely does, at least when he’s not clouded by jealousy or other emotions—i think he just does not know how to have a conversation that isn’t focused on himself. and i don’t mean that in an asshole way, i mean it in a “ADHD kid who never learned how to communicate” way. that’s why his relationship with Moxxie works in some ways, because Moxxie and Blitz are both people who will just talk about their interests without prompting (and yes this is a very neurodivergent type of friendship lol). and with Millie he can talk about their shared interests, or just play games, because him and Millie are both more physical people. and with Stolas, Blitz can be the center of attention and Stolas *prefers* it that way. but with Loona being closed off, he just doesn’t really know how to reach her?

he also tends to be really invasive with his friends (again, he’s getting better at it, but still), but he really tries to give her privacy. at least, we’ve never seen him go into her room or ask what she’s doing on her phone. which is a VERY good thing that probably allows her to feel way more comfortable around him. but it doesn’t give him a lot to work with, and i don’t think he realizes that he could just ask her questions about her interests, or would even know where to start (honestly, idk if i would either, that’s a hard thing to do when someone isn’t giving you much to work with).

and all this doesn’t mean Blitz and Loona’s relationship is “bad” or that they don’t love each other. in fact, I think Loona being comfortable with just existing in the same space as Blitz, rolling her eyes at his antics, finding him kind of annoying and embarrassing but trusting that he’ll always be there and relying on him—that’s all pretty typical “teenager with her father” behavior, and despite being an adult, Loona is still working through a lot of teenage experiences. she might have seen Mr. Wrigglers as an idealized dream father figure, but even he couldn’t live up to that standard in the end. her relationship with Blitz reminds me a lot more of how i was with my parents when i was younger, tbh.

but for all the criticism people tend to give to Stolas and Via’s relationship… there’s actually a decent amount of evidence that, when Via isn’t mad at him, those two are better at just hanging out with each other? Stolas obviously misses the mark sometimes as she gets older, but every picture of them from the past shows them both grinning and clearly actively engaging with each other. he focuses on interests they have in common (like telling her about space, or giving her a guitar to further her interest in music), and Via is a lot more receptive to that (which i’m sure is partially because she grew up around those things).

i’m curious to see if Stolas being more quiet and patient will allow Loona to open up more. the short makes it clear she *wants* to open up at this point, and that’s definitely because of the time and effort Blitz has put in over the past 5 years. but after being unsafe for so long and then closed off for even longer, i don’t think she knows *how* to open up, or when is appropriate (because showing your demon form to a random human was a pretty impulsive and unwise decision. again, a rather teenage one). i think it would be cool to see how as much as Blitz can teach Stolas about reaching out to Via, Stolas might be able to teach Blitz some things about connecting with Loona as well.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

adding onto the “every gang wants Koko” anon.

in the end, I think joining Toman was the best thing Koko could’ve done for himself, think abt it. Every single gang he’s been in, excluding Toman, has wanted him bc of his amazing skill of making Money extremely efficiently, nothing else, which makes him one of the most useful people in the gang world technically.

While this makes a bunch of gangs want him, it isn’t really good for Koko’s self esteem bc basically nobody in his life, with the exception of Inui, has tried to be close with him or just have him around unless they need him to make money for them. Koko, from what I can tell, doesn’t see much value in himself outside of Money making. Kanto Manji and Bonten make this even worse because his mental state was shit by default. Side note but thats maybe why he stayed with Inui for so long, because that was the one he could trust wouldn’t use him because baseically every other gang has.

and then you have Toman, a gang that doesn’t really need to make money bc it’s not as serious as most gangs and is more just a group of laid back guys who can also kick ass. They don’t need to make money, but they let Koko in anyway.

toman was good for Koko bc for once they didn’t need him for money and just let him in bc they coul and really none of them knew, or cared who he was. Letting him actually build connections with people who don’t know anything about him.

can you tell who my favorite Tokyo rev character is anyways bye:D

These are some good points! Ngl though I really wish we got to see more of Koko in toman and see him (plus Inui) actually interact with them a bit. I mean we don't even know if they were targeted in the whole tenjiku attack thing or not. Just would've liked to have seen more of them in toman.

(Also the toman uniform totally suits Koko)

[cherry-smokes]

Bittersweet

Pairings: Jake Seresin x OC, Bob Floyd x OC (could be read as an ‘x reader’ fic the world is your oyster) Word Count: 1.3K Notes: I don’t know shit about the Navy. But I have a big imagination and I know how to type so here we are. Mood boards

═══════════ ⋆★⋆ ═══════════

The sun has just begun to set over North Island. The humid San Diego air making khaki uniforms stick to backs uncomfortably, and yet, there was an air of excitement surrounding the area. Something sharp, like a live wire waiting to be cut. A bunch of Naval Aviators waiting on the edge of their seats to see why they got called in and reeling with pride at being chosen. The Hard Deck is in full swing. Jake “Hangman” Seresin is bent over the pool table, giving Coyote a run for his money. Cocky and smug, his lively mood only gets better when he sees a few familiar faces making their way through the crowd.

Phoenix, two men he doesn’t recognize, Cutthroat, and his goddamn favorite ray of sunshine Sweetheart.

“Well what do we have here.”

He’s always been sweet on her, no pun intended. When they were in the academy he couldn’t help but linger around her. Soft, too kind to everyone, with her sweet southern ways that she always said weren’t southern because “Kansas is technically part of the Midwest". She was adored, every single time her name was mentioned it was followed by the comment “oh she’s a sweetheart.” Part of him felt jealous, like a petulant child. He had gotten used to being the only person who called her that. She was perfect. Not a single flaw about her except for one massive, obnoxious, pushy, loud-mouthed thing.

Cutthroat. The two women have been inseparable since the moment they met. He doesn’t understand how someone that lovely could be so close to someone that vile. Cutthroat got her call sign for being ruthless. She worked tirelessly, had an insane sense of control, pushed herself past her limits and held no mercy while in the air. He will never say it out loud but she’s fucking good. She’s also a pain in his ass. He’s not shocked to see her here with Sweetheart. The two of them work seamlessly, they’re basically a package deal. People swear they share a goddamn brain up in the air.

Cutthroat puts on an exaggerated smile. “Hey Jackass! Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“It’s Jake actually.”

“Is it?”

“And here I thought we were special Coyote. Turns out the invite went out to anyone. Even those suffering from memory loss.”

“Wow I haven’t even been here five minutes and you’re already trying to suck my dick.”

“You’re not my type, I like them a little sweeter.”

He locks eyes on Sweetheart. Who’s more than used to their bickering. She can’t remember when their feud started. She assumes it was sometime in the Naval Academy. Jake, is unfortunately great at what he does, and worse her best friend is the most competitive person she’s ever met in her life. The cherry on top is that neither one of them knows how to keep their mouth shut.

“Hey Hangman.”

“Sweetheart. Wanna introduce us to your buddies, anyone I should be jealous of?”

She’s never taken his flirting seriously, he’s never given her a reason to. So she brushes it off and gestures for the boys to introduce themselves.

“Payback.”

“Fanboy.”

Phoenix speaks up from beside them. “You boys are looking at the only other Naval Aviator on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill.”

Hangman finally shifts his attention back onto the girl with the sharp teeth. “Bet that’s still a hard pill to swallow huh Cutthroat?”

Her eye twitches. “It would be if the other guy wasn’t in a museum piece from the Korean War.”

That wipes the smirk right of Hangman’s face. Thankfully for him Coyote backs him up, “Cold war.”

However, Payback and Fanboy don’t owe him any loyalty.

“Different wars, same century.”

“Not this one.”

Sweetheart’s never been one to bicker. She doesn’t particularly find the same enjoyment out of it as her front seater. Frankly, she also knows that if she doesn’t stop them now this will go on all night. “Does it technically matter?“

Cutthroat nearly gets whiplash at how fast she turns her head. “Does it ma- yes. Yes it does matter Sweetheart. Technicalities are important it’s not the same thi- who’s he?”

Everyone’s attention turns to a blue eyed man sitting on a stool. Brushing peanut shells off his thigh, his eyes look up through his glasses, suddenly shy at being the center of attention.

It takes a lot to catch Cutthroat off guard. Something strange bubbles up in her stomach. Like nerves but, not exactly. Maybe she's just hungry. He’s quiet, hasn’t bothered speaking up or making himself known up until now. She notices he’s not drinking, and doesn’t seem to be here with Hangman. He’s handsome, in the way that he could probably sweep you off your feet if he would just smile at you.

Coyote’s the one to ask. “When did you get in?”

He almost stutters before he responds with an accent that Cutthroat can’t seem to place. “Oh, I’ve been here the whole time.”

He gives a soft smile and suddenly the woman doesn't think the feeling she's experiencing is the kind of hunger she thought it was.

Hangman turns to the group. “Man’s a stealth pilot.”

The man cuts in. “Weapons systems officer, actually.”

“With no sense of humor.”

Cutthroat crosses her arms. “I don’t think it can be considered a joke if no one laughs Bagman.”

Sweetheart pinches her arm, to which the woman yelps and swats her hand away. Sweetheart turns to the unnamed man then, “what do they call you?”

He swallows hard. “Bob.”

Payback laughs softly. “No, your call sign.”

“Uh…Bob.”

Cutthroat rubs the sore spot on her arm as she tilts her head at him. “Cute.”

Bob looks at her. Briefly. He has a feeling if he looks her dead in the eyes a little too long he might burst into flames. Phoenix comes to his aid as she begins asking if he’s her new back seater. Sweetheart takes this as an opportunity to get herself and her own front seater a drink. Dragging her away from the pool table and towards the bar.

From behind them. Two men in their khaki uniforms watch them walk away.

═══════════ ⋆★⋆ ═══════════

At the bar Sweetheart turns to look back at Hangman. “Why do you still have such a bone to pick with him?”

Cutthroat orders their drinks. A beer, something sweet, and two shots because Sweetheart can never get out of them. “Because he’s an asshole?” She says it like it’s the most obviously thing in the world.

“You haven’t seen him in years, have you ever thought that maybe he’s different now?”

Her friends eyes narrow. “Did you seriously not witness that entire interaction?”

“Well you were egging him on-“

“Are you taking his side-“

“I’m not taking a side-“

“It feels like you’re taking a side-“

“You’re being childish-“

“I’m being childish?!”

“A little bit! I love you but you’re holding a crazy grudge.”

“Sweetheart, there’s a reason why they call him Hangman. Guys like him don’t change.”

Their drinks land in front of them. Sweetheart grabs hers and thanks the woman behind the bar gently. “I think you’re being pessimistic.”

Cutthroat grabs their shots, handing one to the girl. “I’m being realistic.” They clink them together, tap them on the bar, and throw them back in unnerving synchronicity. Sweetheart chokes back a cough as she looks back at Hangman once more. Bent over the pool table. She stops to think for a moment. Be realistic maybe. “Maybe I’m just saying all of this because I forgot how hot he is.”

Cutthroat winces. “Ew gross. Don’t say that, that’s disgusting.”

A soft laugh leaves her friend. “Don't bullshit me you have to admit he's good looking.”

Cutthroat shakes her head, taking a sip of her drink and looking over at her peers. Watching Bob make conversation with Fanboy. “He’s not really my type.”

Sweetheart follows her gaze. "Seriously?"

Cutthroat looks back at her friend, defensive as always. "What?"

Her friend laughs and picks up her drink, standing up. "You'd eat him alive."

Cutthroat follows her as they begin walking back towards the group. "Only if he lets me."

═══════════ ⋆★⋆ ═══════════

a/n: short little introduction, just so everyone could get to know our lovely leading ladies!

[dolliedyhard]

I’ve changed many things about my Jeff over the months so it’s time 4 an update! A lot of this is copy & pasted from the old hc’s but ofc there r many new ones as well. I also made the og hc’s post private. Other than reposts u can’t access it. If i come up wit moar ideaz, I might make a part 2 or edit dis post.

To find moar information about mah Jeff, read my creepypasta AU under his section. I left some info out from here bc itz just repeating what waz said there. The doc will also expand on certain headcanons + give them moar context. So if ya interested in dat, read mah doc.

HERE HE IS! (๑>◡<๑) This is liek my “official” design 4 him. I rlly didn’t like the last ver OMGG.

♥︎Attributes♥︎

He loves keeping his hair long. He’ll never CONSIDER cutting it short. His hair is one of his favorite parts of himself.

He for certain wants his hair to be down to his waist one day

Hair type is 1c

Jeff’s hair is naturally brown. When the “incident” happened the fire made his hair temporarily black. (Ik that’s not how real logic works but cmon let me have fun >:c)

After a few months his hair went back to brown

Now he dyes his hair black bc he prefers it that way.

He smells like incense and ash

His veins are most visible in his forearms and hands

Still no voice claim :/ but if i find one I’ll update

He has dark circles under his eye from staying up for days at end

He got some sharp ass canine teeth. In my AU he got bit by a vampire. He didn’t get turned into one bc the transformation was stopped right after his vamp fang came in. #ISupportVampireJeffTheKiller!!!!1!!11!!!! X3

Warm to the touch. Doesn’t matter what season it is, his body manages to retain a significant amount of body heat.

His skin is literally ghost white. This due to bleach, lack of sunlight, and frequent blood loss.

♥︎Personality♥︎

When meeting him for the first time he comes off as an asshole.

He insults everyone and it’s hard to hell if he’s joking or not.

And if he’s really pissed he’ll get REAL creative with the insults.

Swears like a sailor

Jeff loves stroking his ego, it’s so obnoxious but he could care less.

Lowkey thinks he better than everyone

LAWD he’s handsome and he knows it

Doesn’t care about ur personal space

Will creep up on u to whisper shit in ur ear to scare you. And other stuff like that.

Gives people the nastiest stares of all time. And I dare u too say something to him about it, he’ll square TF UP.

Says some really offensive shit but he doesn’t care if you get upset because of it.

And he’ll say it loud and proud no matter how much of a dumbass he looks like saying it.

Jeff’s one of the most defiant proxies in the mansion

He listens to NO ONE and hates more than anything to be bossed around.

Though he partially listens to Slenderman, yk, bc he has to so he can live in the mansion. Masky too bc he’s Slenderman’s right hand man.

For Jeff it’s more about if you guys get along and have a good time together than having the same interests.

♥︎Interests♥︎

Wannabe lead guitarist

He’s not good enough to be the lead but his ego says otherwise.

He owns a sick ass guitar tho

Started out being emo in his early teens, now he’s more of a metal head.

(I don’t know much about nu-metal or any metal at ALL so I can’t rlly say who his favs are. SORRY IM AN EMO FUCK AT HEART OKAY???)

Listens to goth music occasionally too

Loves going to concerts no matter who’s performing

If you happen to bring up a band he’s seen live before he will 100% without fail say “I saw them live at _!” And will proceed to info dump about what went down.

Even worse if they were in their prime when he went.

Fashion wise he dresses alternative but it’s nothing fancy.

A band tee + hoodie or jacket, jeans, shoes (cons, or boots), for accessories belt and some spikes bracelets. That’s about it :v

Paints his nails black on special occasions

Likes to collect weird stuff

His biggest collection is of knifes

Some of them are ornamental and some he actually uses to kill

He gets the money to fuel his collection off the dead bodies of his victims

Also has a strange fascination with history

Specifically historical torture methods & atrocities

Sometimes he uses the same torture methods he learned about on his victims.

HUGE HORROR NERD

He collects dvds of slasher & horror movies

And of course you can’t forget about the vintage TV to play them on!

He’s not a fan of snuff films or gore videos

Killing🔪

To Jeff killing is something he does for 3 things. Survival, satisfaction, and emotional regulation.

Once he’s got you in his grasp you won’t make it out alive.

Jeff commits the worst murders when he’s having a IED or BPD episode.

He’s not a kidnapper type serial killer

He likes to get the job done by the end of the day at the longest

He loves the taste of blood and often licks it off his knife (ZOMG VAMP TENDENCIES!?!?!?!?!?!)

He thinks he can train himself to be able to taste the differences between blood types.

He just likes inflicting pain on complete strangers, it’s thrilling to him.

And it’s usually not a stab and go kill, when he first started out that’s how it was bc it was more for survival.

Now Jeff has the taste for blood. And he’s got some horrifyingly creative ways to extract it.

Nowadays you’ll be lucky if it’s a stab and go. His goal is to make sure u feel the agony, every. second. of. it.

He would never consider hurting someone close to him, that would severely fuck with him.

Since the murder of his family he has no one. So he cherishes the few people close to him a lot more than he used to.

He’s never had any regrets about any of the many murders he has committed.

The one and only time he’s ever felt bad about inflicting violence on someone is his older brother Liu.

xxx Vices xxx

Jeff is a regular smoker (hence why he smells like ash)

He’s able to blow different shapes out of smoke

Prefers cigarettes over anything else

Hates vapes tho, he think they make you look like a massive pussy.

He’ll flat out refuse to fw you if you whip out your fruity-tuti flavored e-stick when yall go on a smoke break.

Jeff’s not a big drinker

Drinking just ups his already high sex drive to the max and he acts like a complete idiot when he’s drunk. Then after all that his hangover is fucking hell.

At the most he’ll get a bit tipsy cause the boost in arousal makes sex tenfold better.

Jeff has done hard drugs b4, Ben was the one who introduced it 2 him.

Jeff started doing drugs at 15

Jeff & Ben did heroin and cocanie together

♥︎A/N: Btw in my au Jeff had a much shitter life than the og Jeffery Woods so all of this with context makes sense.

Jeff doesn’t s/h anymore but did it heavily in his teens before he went crazy.

His life was genuinely a miserable hellscape that was picking at his sanity and at every turn it only got worse.

His mother and father didn’t care about him at all. The only person that actually cared and loved Jeff was Liu. But Liu rarely showed any affection towards Jeff so it didn’t really matter how Liu felt about him.

No one knew what Jeff was doing to himself up until he ended up in the hospital with the gashes on his cheeks.

[ofeliaxoxo]

You’re right about Carlos’ need to assert boundaries over his space coming out in his interactions with fans. He’s said in interviews more than once that he dislikes/gets overwhelmed in crowds, so you’ll often hear him in videos telling fans that he’ll sign their items and take pics as long as they maintain order; if not, he’ll leave. In Mexico last year, he told a girl not to touch him after she grabbed onto him unexpectedly in the hotel lobby - of course, then all these Carlos haters twisted the situation and said he was rude, ungrateful and “traumatized” those girls.🙄 But, really, good for him for protecting space as best he can.

No absolutely. That’s a difference between Charles and Carlos I always like to keep in mind when doing any Fame Thinking about either of them. I do think it’s very interesting that you’ve got The Iron Woman over there doing a sort of I Love You It’s Ok If You Lick Me routine with his fans even when he’s visibly uncomfortable vs Mr Dog Motif being the one to go. No man go fuck yourself let’s be normal and if you can’t I’m going.

I do think both approaches make sense for who they are. I think

1. Charles is ultimately more famous and more widely adored and thus his Image is probably weightier and more vital for him to constantly constantly maintain in the minutiae of his fan interactions.

2. His image is smoother and more conventionally Perfect Boy than Carlos’s is. I’ve said it before but Carlos is too specific of an actual guy to reach that whereas Charles is slightly more universal even in his particular experiences. So if Carlos says to someone oh shut up don’t yell or touch me, in a moment of irritation, it does go down easier. Yes there’d be backlash but like mostly not really whereas imagine Charles said it. He NEVER does meaning he now basically can’t. Everyone would be like The Real Truth Behind Charles Leclerc. Carlos is a man that happens to be famous and Charles is a Celebrity

3. If you snap your fingers and take literally all of this away by a genies magic wish Carlos is still at his core Carlos Sainz rich man from rich Madrid family son of Carlos Sainz Sr but Charles Leclerc becomes a random guy. I don’t mean that in a bad way no one get it twisted. This is the inverse of Charles being more marketable it’s because Carlos is unavoidably who he is while Charles not so much. Which makes him more palatable but also means without this who is he. So I do feel that maybe for Charles he is more invested in Always Getting It Right fame wise.

4. I think Carlos ultimately feels his situation to be ridiculous. Sure he’ll do the sponcon and make his money and I think he’s aware of the responsibility he holds as not only an emotional but literally a financial investment for his fans (I listened to a podcast where he spoke about trying to make interactions nice when he knows people have spent good money to be at a Grand Prix, acknowledging that for him it’s not a lot of money but for them it is) but I don’t think he actually finds the fame to like be respectable or admirable. I believe he thinks it’s silly and embarrassing. Not that I think he somehow thinks fans are embarrassing I can’t see in his mind, what I mean is I think he just doesn’t like to view himself as a famous guy but instead as a race car driver and when he’s at events or treated like a Celebrity it makes him cringe. He wishes we could all just be ADULTS and STOP TAKING PICTURES and just BE CHILL about each other. I think

I do think the difference in the way they deal with fame is one of the most interesting things to compare. Because i feel that it’s revealing without their knowledge of it being so. While many other things are drip fed or broadcasted to us on purpose this isn’t.

Tangential sidenote: Carlos as someone who really cares about his own space and boundaries, doesn’t want to be suddenly grabbed. Charles who lets HIM decide when they’re going to be close and touch each other…

[ludolka]

Hoi juno!

Could we have more info on the world itself of V&P? Like..what does Joel do when he successfully kills a hybrid? Does he sell the body to buchers? Collectors who do taxidermy? Or simple just eats them at the end ?

I feel like the eating option puts more pressure on Joel to have a successful hunt and by letting grian live he actively lets his 'dinner get away'

Hii <3

Sure ! I don’t have a lot of worldbuilding planned out, so do excuse me if some parts don’t make sense or anything. Coming back here to add that the more I write about this, the more morbid and dark it all gets damn,,

So, first in the worldbuilding, not everyone’s a hybrid, they are more of a minority in this universe. There are humans and regular animals as well. I originally planned for Scar to be a human, but Indigo gave me a much better idea

So Joel doesn’t primarily hunt hybrids. Wild hybrids are probably more valuable than regular wildlife because of their rarity. So Joel doesn’t just let dinner constantly get away, he’s also letting big money constantly get away. Grian’s skinny anyways, he wouldn’t make that good of a meal. But he’s valuable to collectors and traders, butchers not so much

Which is also why Grian is so willing to stick by Joel, Joel protects him from other hunters and since Joel is a relatively infamous hunter, his territory mostly gets respected and left alone

Taxidermy is really fucking morbid, but I could totally see that happening

I could see this universe having two types of hybrids, domesticated and wild. Like with animals and pets irl. Domesticated hybrids are less sought out, there are more of them, they aren’t all that pretty and shiny and worthy of being shown-off. Think of how people have taxidermies, rugs, furs of “exotic” animals or even keeping them as pets. No one is having a regular house cat or dog taxidermied as fancy aesthetic decoration. Think of bear fur rugs or pet tigers kept in cages

Sure there are pageants and more sought out domesticated hybrid breeds, but it’s less gorey. Same with hybrids who get more looked down on due to stereotypes like pitbull or Rottweiler hybrids

But on a lighter side, Joel is a solo hunter who makes most of his money and gets most of his food from that. He hunts deer, foxes, prey birds and the sorts then sells off the useable fur, feathers and meat that he himself doesn’t use up. There are hunter coalitions and communities, but he’s left that in the past

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

medialog june 2k25

books

ok first of all to address the element in the room: i have not in fact finished moby dick lmao. however i’m more than halfway through and very comfortable reporting that it’s one of the most brain-meltingly incredible books ever written. anyway moving on to: The Month All My Libby Holds Came In Despite Looking Like It Was Going To Be Spaced Out A Lot More, Oops, Listening And Learning For The Future

jake bernstein, the laundromat: inside the panama papers investigation of illicit networks and the global elite - kind of dry if you, like me, are a money idiot and have a lot of trouble keeping track of or feeling like you truly understand financial crimes even when people are laying them out in very clear detail… however i feel like i have the important ideas down of what the panama papers even were now, which was not the case before i read this book! also i did find it picked up once it started getting into the investigative element of how this all became public, which ultimately wound up involving an unprecedented level of cross-border journalistic cooperation, which was very cool to read about. also one thing the book doesn’t really delve into but that i was left wondering about was the extent to which tax haven countries are often extremely small countries that don’t have much going on economy-wise… there was one example of a place that only changed its laws after new zealand agreed to just give it the money it would lose from the end of the industry, because it made up such a huge part of its budget.

sarah wynn-williams, careless people: a cautionary tale of power, greed, and lost idealism - wynn-williams chooses an opening anecdote that makes her seem unbelievably annoying and unsympathetic, and not in a way where it feels self-aware — like the vibe is very much that she thought this would be a fun hook to introduce us to the sheer bizarreness of her time at facebook, but the story involves her trying to swap zuck’s assigned seat at some international function with the spots of various ACTUAL PRESIDENTS of less important (“less important”) countries, so it’s like, well everyone sucks here… she should have just led with the anecdote about being mauled by a shark as a child and almost dying because her parents thought she was just being a baby about post-shark-attack pain, which i’m not sure is doing the explanatory work she wants it to be doing but which i can’t blame her for including because if that happened to me i too would put it in my book just because. anyway i’m not sure she’s the most reliable narrator and i think this review about what’s not in the book is an important companion, but tbh i read this for tech gossip about terrible people and i got sheryl sandberg lying on facebook about almost being in a plane that crashed and the fact that facebook employees let mark win at settlers of catan so often that when someone beats him he accuses them of cheating so… can’t really complain. most of the inner workings of facebook stuff is either already public knowledge (but still upsetting - i knew about their shit with targeting ads to teens who expressed sad feelings but it still almost hurt my stomach to read about) or easily inferred from everything we know about the company culture of Every Tech Company On Earth, but reading it all at length does really hammer home just how evil this company is, especially the chapter on myanmar, which does contain what i believe are some new revelations (such as the fact despite myanmar being the only company that really picked up facebook’s “let us help you get the internet” offer, the company had one burmese speaker doing content moderation for ages, and oh, by the way, for years the official facebook app was never available for download in myanmar, making reporting hateful content… literally impossible???). it’s also very clear from the book that mark zuckerberg is not only evil but also a huge embarrassing loser and thus i feel that the streisand effecting of this very book is a net positive if only because he definitely cares, like, a lot.

beverly gage, g-man: j. edgar hoover and the making of the american century - i wanted to read this because hoover had come up in killers of the flower moon and seemed like such a weirdo i desperately needed to know more, and, 700+ pages later, i do! this book is very much a biography, concerned with tracking hoover’s actions and motivations across his life more than delving deep into analysis or interpretation, but i would say there is a central argument to the overall project, and it’s an important one: that the (mostly late-in-life or posthumous) villainization of hoover, personally, as a machiavellian schemer of unique evil or harm elides the fact that the vast majority of what hoover did, he did at the behest of or with the knowledge of the eight presidents he served under and/or others in positions of federal power, and painting hoover as the mustache-twirler in the shadows essentially lets the US government off the hook. gage sets this argument out in the introduction, returns to it consistently, and builds a compelling case for it, ranging from the fact that FDR was the first person to ask hoover to look into rumors of government homosexuality around a federal official to the fact that bobby kennedy straight-up lied about whether he’d okayed the MLK wiretaps when the FBI had his signature on the forms. hoover was involved with SO much shit that at one point i told @rgr-pop this book was like evil forrest gump, which means that anything you’re more than passingly familiar with will probably feel somewhat glossed over or ignored, but when i thought about the things i happened to know more about than appeared in the book, i felt like the key Insight Into Hoover that those episodes provided ultimately came through somewhere else in the book. the breadth of it was also sort of nice for me as a lapsed history lover back in my books era, because it wound up providing kind of a useful refresher on many major twentieth century developments. also, i might make a post at some point just listing stuff that’s stuck with me or that i want to remember or found interesting or funny or whatever, but i case i don’t, i DO want you all to know that YES, hoover was… SUPER gay. canon gay homophobe. IRL roy cohn “i am not a homosexual i am a straight man who has sex with other men” vibes. a lot going on there.

matthew hongoltz-hetling, the ghost lab: how bigfoot hunters, mediums, and alien enthusiasts are wrecking science - i read this book after an interview in NYMag’s newsletter + a scan of goodreads reviews suggested there was paranormal community gossip to be had (as in, several reviews were like “too much focus on the interpersonal issues of these people he’s interviewing”), and on that front it delivered, tracing the rise and fall of a would-be research center for paranormal phenomena formed by a motley crew of wounded and curious denizens of new hampshire. i love to read about both paranormal phenomena, from the stuff that scans to me as Inherently Wacky to the stories that give a little thrill of “wow, that sure is one spooky coincidence… i mean… what if…???” and this book contains plenty of both, plus a lot of drama about what brought these people together and how their internecine resentments and opposing worldviews drove them apart. fun stuff. however i found all of hongoltz-hetling’s analysis about What This All Means For Society to be really QUITE bad. his argument, such as i could track it, sort of rests on the idea that paranormal beliefs are both a consequence and a driver of falling institutional trust and increasing importance being given to the individual. you may already spot some problems here such as “what institutions are we talking about here exactly?” - a problem the book does not resolve, as sometimes “institutions” means, like, church and science, two options for e.g. answers to questions about death and its aftermath, but sometimes it’s used more or less interchangeably with “evidence-based” which… lol? like i don’t really understand how a person could have lived through the creationism wars and write this book. (also the idea of the individual experience taking primacy over institutional knowledge is one with ummmm some history of consequence in the history of christianity… lol?) he refuuuuuuses to engage with any kind of context that doesn’t align with his thesis - like, he talks about the shuttering of mcintosh college, part of new hampshire’s public university system, but mentions only in passing, to dismiss as insufficiently explanatory, the fact that perhaps some non-“trust” based reasons had to do with the tanking enrollment of a college in 2009, such as the fact that the university had been purchased a decade earlier by a for-profit group, or the fact of ummm everything else happening in 2009 lol. he also mentions a decline in law school enrollment as an example of institutional decline which made me laugh because i remember like a decade ago if not longer reading blogosphere-era posts about how law schools were graduating more lawyers than there were law jobs, to a life-ruining degree for the unlucky many who couldn’t find work in the field… the school stuff annoyed me in particular because it was so reflective of the general incoherence that plagues ed discourse, but also the law school thing is indicative of another weird omission he mentions only briefly, which is the idea that trust in certain reasons may be down for like… rational reasons lol. like he cites a study about decline in government trust happening from 2001 to 2021… ok… can we think of aaaaanything that happened in those two decades that may have caused this other than “people value the individual experience too much”? like… be serious. he also basically doesn’t talk about the internet AT ALL, either as a force for turning paranormal believers into paranormal communities or as an engine for disseminating distrust both through misinformation and through a wider reach of facts that make it reasonable to distrust e.g. the federal government… he includes reincarnation as an example of a fringe paranormal belief despite the fact that it is in fact an institutional tenet of several major world religions… unserious. quite unserious. but reading about their little exorcisms and personality conflicts was fun.

movies

problemista - rewatched this with a friend, this movie makes me feel more alive than almost anything and is still so funny even my third time seeing it

glengarry glen ross - this movie is funny and looks great and features a lot of great actors doing great work and also the last 15 minutes or so will make your stomach hurt soooooo bad. al pacino really might be the most engrossing film actor of all time, i could truly watch him do anything and be entranced.

captain america: brave new world - at one point in this movie sam wilson says out loud "mind control. he created a technology that allowed him to control the minds of anyone he targeted" and i've been laughing about that all month. mind control: he found a way to control minds. incredible. the rest of the screenplay is about that bad but unfortunately not that unintentionally funny; this really is the least one of these movies has ever been a movie. sebstan innocent ofc but man i can't believe they dragged tim blake nelson into this

mountainhead - jesse armstrong’s first post-succession work has not been well received because everyone is over jokes about how comically, hyperbolically evil and stupid tech bros are, but i’m not and i had fun! on letterboxd i compared this to the luke combs fast car, in that it’s obviously not a transcendently powerful work of art the way the original/succession is, but, you know, you’re not always in the mood for art that makes you want to kill yourself. would maybe have liked to see someone else in the jason schwartzman role… he was a little go girl give us nothing for me

pee wee as himself - this is pretty whatever As A Piece Of Documentary Filmmaking and i feel like the filmmaker thought his tension with paul reubens’s control issues would be more interesting to the viewer than it actually was, but reubens is a really great person to spend some time hanging out with even if you were never a pee-wee person, especially if you like (1) art talk (2) gay stuff.

dark waters - really underrated/slept on paperwork movie that will make you want to burn dupont HQ to the fucking ground. something about this one even more than other exemplars in the investigative documents movie genre (erin brokovich, the insider) really brings home the pain and rage at the heart of a story like this… i feel like a lot of credit goes to director todd haynes for turning a quite competent but pretty standard into a movie that just vibrates with a kind of suffocating dis-ease. slight points docked for wasting anne hathaway in the absolute most Wife Role of all time but this one really moved me, much more than i expected at the start or even by the middle of the movie. also looks fucking great to my idiot eye - just enough interesting visual choices to make you notice, without ever feeling showy - lots of great colors, often in the shadows…

in the spirit - this is an almost never seen indie movie by elaine may’s daughter jeannie berlin (probably best known on tumblr as succession’s cyd peach), starring may and marlo thomas as a cynical socialite and a daffy new ager who wind up on the run from the mob. it’s not a lost gem the way may’s own the heartbreak kid is (which features berlin - if you ever have a chance to catch a screening of this movie you MUST go) but there were some real good laughs, although none of them quite reached the level of the moment in the Q&A where elaine may, a ninety-three year old jewish woman, told, and i mean this, the funniest holocaust joke i have ever heard. inspirational, honestly

in the loop - do you like veep and/or succession and/or politics jokes and/or C-list character actors? then you will like this movie. if you like all four of them, like i do, you will like it very much!

lady vengeance - not as deliriously fun and spellbindingly entertaining as the handmaiden, but (a) what is and (b) i found myself really, really stunned by it by the end… it almost feels like a movie that decided to take on the challenge of using a familiar set up - a woman, newly released from jail, plots to take her revenge - and then fucking it up as much as possible while still telling that story. despite, at core, resting on one of the oldest and tropiest of old tropes, i felt like i never had any idea where this story was actually going - it kept startling me, but never because of a “twist” or for shock value… just because, well, wait, that’s not usually how this part goes… i’m not explaining this well. it’s a powerful movie - and while it’s darker and heavier and more disturbing than the handmaiden, it is fun - sometimes even funny - and absolutely gooorgeous to look at, with an incredible aesthetic sensibility

in the mood for love - this movie comes up a lot as one of the best movies of all time and… well… it is! what really struck me watching it and reflecting on it was something i wasn’t necessarily expecting, which is that it captures a visceral sense of urban living better than almost anything else i’ve seen — this movie feels so crowded, always, everybody living cheek-by-jowl, which really works for a movie that is in part about the paradox of feeling deeply lonely but never being able to be truly alone… really beautifully rich to look at, and speaking of beautiful, you would be hard pressed to find a better-looking leading pair than tony leung and maggie cheung, who together do some of the best Eyes Acting i’ve ever seen… i thought about both edith wharton’s the house of mirth (for oppressive social mores) and portrait of a lady on fire (for a love story that can’t matter but still matters) while watching this, which, if you know anything about me, tells you i was really in.

the people's joker - this is a queer/trans coming-of-age story using the world of batman stories as a vehicle to talk about gender, toxic relationships, and the scariest villain of all: lorne michaels. very tumblrcore movie, which is at times a weakness (i didn't mind the checklist of toxic romantic traits but the callback later literally phrased as "remember, kids: this isn't romantic!" was a little over the line for me personally) but is also the source of much of the movie's ample delights, both in terms of its wild swerving ambition and in terms of its sense of humor. this is clearly a movie made for ten dollars by a bunch of weird little freaks with a real vision and sensibility, and it always feels good watching something like that be made real, especially when there are also good jokes; if i say that i want writer/director/star vera drake to be just a little less online (not that much! which is saying a lot because this movie is pretty fucking online and for the most part it strikes the balance well!), it's because her aesthetic and formal creativity and inventiveness is so clear and so cool and i just want to be able to vibe the whole time with that instead of noticing the moments where it feels like she let a twitterbot take over. (a good reminder for many of us tbh.) i think she's mostly a comedian and it seems like this movie happened somewhat unexpectedly, but i really would love to see another movie from her.

other

gypsy - the ads outside the theater called this the greatest american musical which is a bold claim but honestly… maybe valid. which is not to say that it’s my new favorite, or that the music is something i’ll have on repeat very often just as a matter of personal taste… but there are zero bad songs in this show and it’s about as impeccably structured a piece of musical drama as i’ve ever seen. like, it’s a contender for greatest american musical in the sense that’s made by people who have a perfect understanding of what this strange hybrid form is, what its strengths are, and how to wield them to maximize how effectively you’re telling your story. it was also at time genuinely really disturbing to watch after reading jennette mccurdy’s memoir, which is a compliment about how well it understands the psychology of the stage mom (although this artifact of my reading history did make the ending a little more challenging to appreciate lol). i thought the production was pretty great and audra mcdonald did some of the best musical theater acting i’ve ever seen, so much so that you understand why they accepted the inevitable vocal struggles of casting a soprano in a role made famous by ethel merman (close personal friend, i am not making this up, of j. edgar hoover)

atoms for war and peace @ poster house - extremely cool exhibition of nuclear propaganda (pro and anti) plus some classic nuclear kitsch (one of the blurbs made a reference to “the house in the middle,” which delighted me). we went for this because of me and the way i am but lucked out that it coincided with exhibitions of a set of cute subway cartoons & a cool puerto rican poster artist, plus a set of gig posters… strong rec if you’re in nyc! poster house is free on fridays or the third sunday of the month!

DSA fundraiser comedy show - went to this because a friend suggested it when we were making plans and was pleasantly surprised that it was actually funny! i think that’s a first for me and stand-up in NYC lmao. one point for the socialists! NO thanks to the absolutely horrendous audience member who wasn’t exactly a heckler but like just thought he was in conversation with everyone on stage even though the hosts told him to stop doing that in their intro and even though he got called out by two separate comics later on AND ALSO he was dead center in the middle of the room on his phone with the screen brightness cranked up to jesus the entire time. one of the most astounding displays i’ve ever seen by a person who just wants the world to know “hey: i have a terrible, terrible personality.” but like i said the comics were pretty good. special shout out because it’s technically still pride month to the lesbian comic with two moms who had a very cute riff about how growing up with two moms was hard because she never knew if she was being a rebellious teenager or just homophobic 😂😂😂

music

kind of regret singling out sorry mom’s “youngstown” earlier this year because my song of the month was absolutely the closing track of their new EP, which fills me with the kind of wistful ebullience (ebullient wistfulness?) that guarantees a spot on my forever faves list:

but in the interest of diversity, here’s a bonus song rec in the form of the poppiest, catchiest track from the yeule album, which has led to many intra-household texts reading simply “dudu dudu dudu dudu dudu dudu dudu dudu”:

katy rose, fully alive - this just didn’t sound very good unfortunately

julia wolf, PRESSURE - this actually sounded ok and i got excited during the first couple upbeat tracks but it did not sustain my interest

beach bunny, tunnel vision - remember in may when i kept listening to stuff and being like “this is ok but why isn’t it the 2015 chumped album teenage retirement”? it turns out i should have just been listening to this - sturdy female-fronted power-pop with decent hooks and a lead vocalist with just enough frailty in her overall clear voice to make it all feel nicely human.

yeule, evangelic girl is a gun - you may know yeule as the artist responsible for the anthems for a 17-year-old girl cover in i saw the TV glow, but it turns out they are also very good at their own songs, which have an ambient off-kilterness but are clearly made by someone with an ear for a pop likability. i also like that they have publicly claimed avril lavigne as an influence because i literally think all the time about how whatever you think of her it just is a matter of undeniable fact at this point that let go (2002) changed the game forever…

sorry mom, bummer! - my favorite scrappy punk act put out a four-song all-killer no-filler EP that brings down the volume, tempo, and vibe for something moodier and more indie-inflected than their previous work, and i loooooooove it, one of my favorite things i’ve heard all year - grabbed me emotionally instantly in a way that took me off guard even given my previously established fandom. i just really love their ear for melodies and juno’s husky-sweet voice, and the way that they’re continuing to explore the sonic ambition they first explored with last year’s "but i’m a quarterback…" the opening track of this one builds instrumentally in a really cool way and the closer is, as mentioned above, already one of my favorite tracks of the year.

lorde, virgin - i don’t know, guys. i was really worried the album would be bad, because i didn’t hate any of the singles but i didn’t LOVE any of them either, and i sensed certain dangers lurking re: the refusal to smash, but i was like, well maybe it’s a conceptual thing and they’ll make more sense as part of a capital-p Project, everyone knows lorde is an albums artist… and they do, and she is, and my first listen was really colored by relief that the album wasn’t bad… but… i don’t know. there’s just something… not quite there. i don’t think any of the songs are bad, and i like some of them quite a bit (“shapeshifter” the definite stand-out for me). there are moments, listening to the album, where i’m like, wow this is great. but… not that even. kind of fleetingly. i keep waiting for her to kick it to 11, and she just… won’t. and maybe this is on purpose — that’s certainly what i assumed when “what was that” came out, that it was a song about a kind of inner wrestling and so she decided to avoid the catharsis of something like “green light” — and… you know… maybe she decided to do that for the whole album. but… if she did, then that’s two albums in a row where she’s like, “i am deliberately leaving out the parts of music that are fun to listen to.” which… follow your truth… but… i like it when music is fun. and then, also… it doesn’t actually sound like an album that is deliberately un-fun and confrontational, either? there’s nothing on this album as abrasive as, say, brat’s “club classics,” or as just fucking weird as many of the tracks on kesha’s gag order… but there’s also nothing as catchy as “360,” or as viscerally affecting as “eat the acid.” the balance of lorde’s pop girl status and weird girl instincts, which has always been the source of her power, just feels off. it’s avoiding the crank-it-to-eleven power of pop (or even, mostly, the… fun hooks to listen to… part of pop…), but it’s not replacing it with something really out there or bold… just with like… more synthpop. and that synthpop is like… i dunno. like i listen to it and i’m like “oh i like this musical idea”... but none of it really digs in or makes me go crazy, you know? so… maybe the production is bad? it can’t convey the rawness, grossness, power, etc. lorde clearly wants the album to hold… idk. i feel like i want her to either start a band to get some actual sounds in there or hook up with someone in the hyperpop world. pick a lane!!! we’ll see if i turn around on it (i do like "shapeshifter" a lot and i listened to it while writing this because hammer was stuck in my head) but if not see you in four years i guess.

common holly, anything glass - i feel like if i say “the platonic idea of coffeehouse music” that sounds like a diss… but i mean it in a good way!!! this album is really pretty!!!

[bellasweetwriting]

call it what you want { clark kent x f. reader }

masterlist

plot: an incident forces clark kent to see you in a different light

request: Clark Kent x popular mean girl reader? Would love to see how they would react in school and others pov of them especially Lana maybe - anonymous

tags: mean girl!reader x goldenretriever!clark / just so much fluff you can melt / i love witty characters so a lot of witty dialogue, back and forth between clark and reader, sarcasm and just bad humor

a/n: i love receiving requests to write so keep them coming. also this one is kind of long because i love to write characters beginnings rather than already established relationships, so, enjoy !!

You were definitely not keeping your eyes on the road. You would never admit that though.

But when you crash your car, you beautiful, far from new, restored car you got with your own money, against the back of that red old ugly pick up truck, you can’t help but to get as angry as possible.

Naturally, you get out of the car tossing that red lipstick as it is nowhere to be seen, not letting the guy you just hit be able to tell it was your fault. Okay, what was the plan? You definitely had to remain firm on a posture. What posture could that be? It wasn’t your fault. He was the one backing up! That didn’t make any sense. Uhm… think think think.

You hear the door of the truck closing, your eyes opening widely.

“Did you just rear end me?” Clark Kent, from your class, you definitely sit behind him in biology. You’ve seen that amount of hair before, and yeah, his height matches the one of the guy that never let you see the whiteboard.

“No, you caused it!” You defended yourself, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “You should be more careful, you know? Stopping like that in the middle of the road. You didn’t give me enough time to react.”

“There’s a stop sign.” You looked at the red sign, smacking your lips together. “And your lipstick, by the way, is smudged. Probably because you crashed my car while applying it.”

“Well… Your car is fine, alright?” Clark raised his eyebrows. “Fine, you want me to pay for your little dent that you probably won’t fix? Alright. Just so, I probably fixed that other dent over there, you know? You should change that truck. It’s old and… dented. And the color… it’s not… it’s not it, you know? I didn’t see it while driving.”

“Didn’t you, huh?”

“No, I didn’t. It’s the same color as all the corn that is around us! I probably thought your truck was a pile of corn on the road. Yeah…” You bit your lower lip, knowing you were definitely not making any sense.

Clark stared at you before turning around, walking back to his truck.

“I’ll send you the bill,” he said.

You looked back at the dent of your car, noticing something that was even more terrifying than having to pay Clark Kent for a dent in his truck.

The crash had slashed the front tire and you needed to change it.

“Kent, wait!” You said, gaining the tall guy’s attention once again. Clark Kent turned back, staring at you with his icy blue eyes, clearly annoyed by you. Most people looked at you that way. “Could you help me out?” He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know how to change a tire.”

And then he dared to laugh. He laughed! In your face. When he approached you, you hit him on the arm, that was as harsh as steel, and you held how it backfired for you, as it hurt like hell.

“Would you stop?” You asked him, watching him as he kept laughing. He approached the trunk of your car, opening it and getting first seat view to your mess. As his laughter seized, he looked at you in amazement. “It’s my second closet.”

“I’m afraid a rat is going to jump at me.”

“Only if rats fancy burnt Nirvana CDs,” you pointed out as he lifted the floor of the truck, and took out the spare tire and the replacements. “So you live around here? In the middle of nowhere?”

“Yeah, at the Kent farm,” he said, shutting the trunk closed before approaching the slashed tire. “What are you doing here? Don’t you live near the sheriff’s department?”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “How do you where I live?”

“I’ve been there before, y/n,” he said as he took off his jacket, placing it on top of the hood of the car. “School project? Eighth grade? You dropped lemonade on my pants and said I peed myself.”

“Ha! Classic,” you said, too loud, looking down at Clark with a smile. “I’m sorry. I was a mean kid.”

“Was?” He said, smiling.

You watched him as he changed your tire. He was wearing a white t shirt, his forearms and biceps visible to your eyes. They were the size of your head, practically. You looked down, noticing how the light of the sun helped you see through the fabric, the framed abs of Clark Kent visible to your eyes. Maybe you never noticed before, but Clark Kent grew up to be much more than a regular man. He was fairly attractive, even more so: hot.

“You should drive to a mechanic so you can get a new tire. Don’t you dare drive on this tire for a long time. You can get hurt. They are just for short distances,” he started explaining you. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Which was?”

“What is this year’s Miss Sweet Corn doing in the middle of, well… a corn field?” He asked, looking up in your direction.

You smiled, lifting up your sunglasses and placing them on top of your head. “Well, if you must know,” you began, walking towards the center of the road you guys were in and pointing to the direction you were going to. “You see that windmill over there?”

He stood up, standing by your side, narrowing his eyes in order to see where you were pointing at.

“I see it.”

“Have you ever climbed it?” You asked, looking back at him with a smile.

He looked at you. “Have you?”

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Getting Clark Kent to climb that windmill had been a harder challenge than you had ever expected. You laughed when you saw that six-foot-four guy trying to keep himself from looking down and shitting himself. You laughed, helping him up by pulling his arm as soon as he reached the last step of the ladder, both of you falling on the platform.

You laughed, harder than ever, at the sight of that gigantic man falling down on his back, scared for his life.

“You’re insane!” He yelled, laughing even louder than you. “What on Earth are we even doing?”

You sat down, patting him on the side, making him sat down as well.

“See that?” You asked, even if you already knew the answer. “That’s the Metropolis skyline, Clark Kent. I come here when I try to remind myself that life is far more than waking up in the morning and going back to sleep at the end of the day. It’s about working for what’s to come, for tomorrow. That’s my tomorrow!” You point at the buildings you could see of the big city. “I’m going to play every bar, every club, every stage there is on the city. Everyone that’s anyone is going to hear me sing. I’m going to make a name of myself, some that doesn’t start with Mrs. nor comes with a crown and a satchel. That’s what I’m working for. I’m making my future.”

You turned, looking at Clark Kent staring at you at what you could only call fascination, and inquiry. You smiled, blushing by the way he kept looking at you, kept staring, as if you were something he was trying to decode, something he was trying to read but was in a different language. Your cheeks flushed red as you looked away, your eyes focused on the view that normally brings you peace, but not even that could keep your heart from racing.

“What?” You finally asked.

“I would’ve never guessed you had that in you,” he admitted. “I find it incredibly you’re so driven. I don’t know what I’m going to do in a week from now, let alone in the years to come. It’s admirable how you know exactly what you want.”

You looked at him, giving him a tiny smile. “Thank you, Clark Kent.”

He turned his eyes towards the skyline. “Why did you decide to share this with me?”

“Well, you change my tire… I change your world,” you joked, making him laugh.

“You’re funny.”

“You’re surprised,” you pointed out as well. “Am I that despicable?”

“I would say… unapproachable,” he described it, staring back at you. “My friends believe a Queen Bee like yourself has troubles coming down from the top of the hive to check on the rest of us mortals.”

“What did I ever do to give such impression?”

“Well, you can be…” He stopped himself, and you saw the search for a word in his eyes. “Direct.”

“Mean?”

“Honest,” he continued, smiling. “When honesty is best avoided to maintain good manners and good relationships.”

“So rude?”

“You’re putting words in my mouth.”

“You’re lacking the courage of putting them yourself.”

He clicked his tongue. “See, that’s what I mean. Direct.”

“Maybe more people should be like that.”

“Maybe,” he said. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

You snorted, surprised by the invitation. “Where did that come from? I thought you hated me. Or at least the idea of me.”

“Yet, you keep me on my toes,” he said, softly. “Let’s do this: let me buy you a cup of coffee and I’ll forgive you for rear-ending my truck.”

“It’s that what it is, huh?”

“It is what it is,” he joked, making you laugh. He was funny, and charming, and handsome. You needed someone funny, charming and handsome in your life.

“That easy, huh? I get a coffee and free of charge. I think that’s a win for me.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” he murmured, placing a strand of your hair behind your ear. It came natural to him, as if he had done it a million times before, even if it was the first time he had ever touched you, the first time he was ever this close. Everything just seemed natural, easy. “What I want in exchange… it’s you telling me more about that future of yours.” You smiled. “And, goes without saying, letting me hear you sing.”

“Is that what you want?” He nodded. “Okay…”

“Okay?”

You smiled. “Okay.”

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

“I don’t know about this, Kent,” you said as he parked his truck in front of the school entrance.

Whatever it was that was going on between you and Clark had being going on in secret for more than two weeks. A couple of stolen kisses, several cups of coffee, and the promise of a sweet serenade still being held over your head, and you guys had come in quick pace from acquaintances to friends to definitely more than friends. And now, he wanted to make whatever was going between the two of you public.

“What? I want to tell people I’m dating Miss Sweet Corn,” he mocked your irrelevant title, turning off the engine of his truck. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“My popularity crashes so far down the Earth it reaches its nucleus and dies?” You joked, making him raise his eyebrows. “Your friends hate me and I cry?”

“They won’t hate you… a lot.” You rolled your eyes at his bad joke, trying to hold back a smile. “Come on. I’ll be there, I’ll defend you. I’ll show them you’re a lot more than a mean face and a skirt.”

“You’re saying I have a mean face?”

“Yeah, let me kiss it,” he said, planting his kisses all over your cheeks and face, as loud as he could, tickling you and making you laugh.

Inside the school, Chloe Sullivan was putting down his books when Lana Lang interrupted the solitude she was in. Lana was nervous, jumpy, unable to stay still, and she knew Chloe could help her.

“What’s up?” Chloe asked her best friend, holding back her laughter. “You seem… tense.”

“I haven’t seen Clark much these past few weeks, have you?”

“I see him at the Torch and in class, not more than usual, but not less,” she pointed out. “Are you okay?”

“He hasn’t been at the Talon as well. I think he’s hiding something,” she said, placing her hair behind her ears. “I know things haven’t been great between us ever since we decided to be nothing more than friends, but he has never pulled a disappearing act before. Has he said anything to you?”

“Nothing strange enough to alarm concern. In fact, I think he’s happier than usual.” Chloe looked behind Lana, her smile turning upside down. “I think I now know why.”

Lana turned around, noticing it as well.

Clark Kent walked in holding hands with you. You looked incredibly beautiful, maybe because it was the first time anyone had ever seen you with a true smile on your face. Your hair was straight, shiny, longer than common. Your eye makeup highlighted your eyes, making them bigger and sweeter. And your signature red lipstick not only was on your lips, but had left a trace on the neck of Smallville High’s most elegible bachelor.

“Looks like farm boy found himself a cheerleader,” Chloe scoffed behind Lana, which only made the brunette even more jealous than she already was.

“Hey guys,” Clark finally said as you reached them, placing his arm over your shoulders. “You know y/n?”

“We’re familiar,” Chloe said, extending her hand in your direction. “Hi, I’m Chloe, you egged my house on Halloween.”

You smiled, shaking her hand. “Hi Chloe. I’m sorry about that. I was not the most well-behaved kid.”

“Last Halloween,” she highlighted, making you look at Clark, who was holding back a laugh.

“Sorry again,” you whispered.

“Hi Y/N,” Lana said, a sound of disgust coming from her mouth. You stared at her, handing her a tiny smile. “How’s the cheerleading squad?”

“Good, we’re going to regionals. We really miss you on the team, Lana,” you said, handing her a tiny smile. You’ve never felt as uncomfortable as you felt now.

Clark clicked his tongue. “That’s awesome, right? Guys?”

Chloe nodded. “So awesome. I’m a big fan of deadly turns up in the air. So, not to force the elephant in the room to talk but how long have this been going on and why didn’t we know anything about it?” Lana turned to look at Chloe. “Seems like a valid question.”

You and Clark immediately looked at one another, sharing a small laugh when you did.

“Uhm… Two weeks ago? Yeah?” Clark said, looking back at Chloe. “She rear-ended my truck.”

“He stopped abruptly.”

“There was a stop sign.”

“It was his fault.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Typical Y/n, always blaming someone else for her mistakes,” Lana interrupted, surprising everyone.

You stared at the girl, letting out an awkward chuckle just to release the tension that had built up.

“You know what? I have to go, I have Mr. Turner, and you guys know how he is about tardiness,” you excused yourself, turning to look at Clark with a smile. “I’ll see you later?” You whispered to him, telling him with your eyes how much you wanted to leave.

He nodded, understanding. “Okay,” he whispered just to you, kissing your lips quickly, just a tiny peck, as if you had done it a million times before and it was usual between the two of you. “Save me a seat at lunch.”

You nodded before walking away.

Clark turned to look at Lana and Chloe, giving both girls a smile that shared more distaste than happiness.

“Well, she’s very pretty, lad. You got yourself a charming new gal,” Chloe mocked in a southern accent, trying to ease the tension.

“Good thing my gals were so nice,” he said, alternating his eyes from one to the other. “I really like her. Really. And since I tend to not ask things from you, I’d really like if you guys to do me this favor and be nice to her.”

“Like she’s been nice to us?” Lana argued, raising her eyebrows. “She’s a menace. A pompom girl. Pirouettes in the air, high kicks on your face, or whatever you want to call it. I thought you hated girls like that.”

“Weren’t you a cheerleader?” Chloe asked Lana, making the girl look at her. “Not helping. Sorry.”

“She’s more than that,” Clark said. “And if happened to get to know her, you’d agree with me.”

“I know her fine, thanks,” Lana said.

“Not like I know her,” Clark argued.

Chloe scoffed. “I don’t want to know her that well, thank you!” Clark raised his eyebrows. “Just saying.”

“Just… Give her a chance?” Chloe nodded, giving up. Yet Lana remained still. “I’ll see you guys around.”

And with that, Clark walked away, leaving the two girls alone once more. Lana turned to look at Chloe, her eyebrows raised.

“Are we going to let Miss Sweet Corn swoop into our lives that easily? I believe there’s something weird going on. Wall of weird weird.”

“I don’t know,” Chloe said. “I know Wall of Weird, trust me. But I also know Clark.” The blonde grabbed her books, holding them against her chest. “I think he really likes her.”

[academieprincesseradieuse]

Miette Antoinette

19/Female

French Japanese

Cat Beastwoman

Lesbian

Virgo

Her Hometown is Bonfamille City

Twisted from Marie

Chatoinette

2nd Year

Dorm Princess

Preferred Fashion: Pink Old Money and Pink Coquette mashed together

She’s in the Movie and Opera Analysis Club

Her Favorite Food is Strawberry Chocolate Parfait

Her Least Favorite Food is Dried Plums

Dislikes her failures

Hobbies include reading romance books, binge watching romance drama shows, shopping, baking, practicing the piano, and organizing her things

Talent: Winning physical fights

UM “Cat’s Reflex“:

Miette’s Unique Magic allows her to always land on her feet whenever she falls. No matter how high the fall is, not only does she always land safely, she also never breaks any of her bones.

Miette is a prideful, prissy, hardworking gal who is passionate about her works. She holds herself with elegant poise and refined manners, putting in a lot of effort into the ladylike persona she’s made for herself. She’s a perfectionist who takes account of the smallest detail in everything, from her appearance to her projects and work. Despite her regal attitude, she takes disrespect from no one and can be very straightforward and blunt if needed. She is not above kicking someone out of her Cafe for being to rude to her or her workers. She’s also a bit of a daydreamer, and sometimes has her head in the clouds. 

Miette is the middle triplet, having both an older and younger brother. Miette’s Mom is a well known wealthy Opera singer, but Miette doesn’t know much about her Dad other than the fact that he left when her Mom was pregnant. Miette’s Stepdad (Twst Thomas O’Malley) helped out Mrs. Antoinette ever since her pregnancy, and after a while the two got married. Miette and her brothers didn’t even realize their Stepdad wasn’t their biological dad until they were much older.

Fun Facts:

+ Miette is the owner of a Maid Cafe called “Le Petit Chat Cafe.” She tends to be busy, and it isn’t uncommon for her to be on the phone because her employees have questions. 

+ Her life motto is “Ladies do not start fights, but they can finish them.”

+ Secretly a huge romantic. Has lots of romance books and reads fanfic at night

+ She’s the designer of the outfits for the cafe. In the event revolved around the cafe, she designs and makes all of their maid dresses

+ One of Crowley’s biggest haters

+ Has a really long morning and night routine

+ Carries a thick planner around everywhere

+ Tends to be “fashionably late.” (She takes forever getting ready)

+ Rereads a Jane Austen book like once a week

+ Don’t be fooled by her appearance, she is VERY strong. She could beat up all the Savanaclaw students if she could

+ Miette looks up to her Mother a lot

+ Loves Pink. Everything she has is pink

+ She’s actually a really nice singer and has a lovely singing voice

+ A close friend of Carmen. They befriended each other during the Petit Chat Cafe event, and Miette was the one who told Carmen about APR

+ Loves both classical piano and jazz music. Tends to play one of the two when she has to focus on a task 

+ Professor Le Lievre used to babysit Miette and her brothers when they were really young. Miette can’t remember it though

+ Pink Roses are her favorite