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sports-on-sundays · 4 months

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lucky strike / CL16

Summary: Charles x American!female!reader - F1 comes to Sin City and you unexpectedly run into a certain someone.

Warnings: gambling, alcohol, cussing, use of pet names (A LOT), flirting, one moment of implied jealousy

Requested?: Sort of! Thank you to everyone who voted for Charles in the poll!

Author's Note: Charles won out in the poll, so here you go, everybody! (Of course I HAD to use The Charles Vegas Podium Picture). Also, I listened to Lucky Strike by Maroon 5 while writing.

one in a million ; my lucky strike

Well, you thought the whole F1 thing was absolutely ridiculous. You couldn't care an ounce less about Formula 1, so you certainly weren't happy about all the complications of it coming to your city.

You would call yourself an all American girl, and you're proud of it. If any racing, NASCAR. Football is the sport with the brown ball you throw- NFL, not the white and black ball you kick. That's soccer. You have the greatest food, the greatest mix of cultures, the greatest weather. If you didn't know better, you'd say you have the greatest country, too.

You watched a Formula 1 race when you realized the whole Las Vegas Grand Prix thing was actual, and when you saw that (firstly) it was honestly pretty boring, and (secondly) the only American driver is basically the most sucky one, you decided it would be pretty hard to get into it.

You're a Vegas girl, and you're proud of it. You're actually from Los Angeles, California, but you moved to Vegas to chase your dreams and live the life you dreamed of a year ago with your boyfriend, and it was so worth it.

Now you identify yourself with Vegas even more than you do with the Los Angeles Rams, despite the fact that your boyfriend broke up with you seven months ago and left to go be a prodigal son in New York City.

You decided Vegas was perfect enough for your clever hand, and you'd continue to be a prodigal daughter right where you're at.

But now the Grand Prix is the newest thing, and you don't like it at all. All these people flooding in, like as if there's not already enough people. Just to watch some cars drive around in circles, closing up main roads? No, you're not into it.

Your girl friends all seem to think this is just the best thing, and you discuss it across the table with two of them. One says, "Honestly, the McLaren duo are the hottest."

"No way- Ferrari! Have you seen Charles Leclerc?" your other friend disagrees.

You snort in disbelief and say sarcastically, "How about neither? So you guys only care about this because the racers are hot? Give me a break."

"Well," one of your friends starts, crossing her arms across her chest, "They are hot. At first, I wasn't so sure, but, I mean, come on! Maybe we could get glimpses of them when they're in Vegas!"

"Or meet them!" your other friend pipes in.

You scoff. "Good luck with that. Aren't these guys self-focused millionaires with too much money for their own good? Probably all greedy idiots who hook up with every half-sexy girl who comes along. So if you're into that, sure, waste your time trying to meet some hot plutocrats, with the one percent chance you might get f*cked like crazy for a night before they forget about you and move back to their mansions across the world! F*ck, is race car driving even a real sport? It's f*cking driving cars. I could do that!"

Your friends don't really argue with you, because you're right. And clearly, they do only care about the hot racers, because you figure any real fan of the sport would argue with you.

Two days before the Strip is supposed to be closed up for the Grand Prix, you find yourself submerged in the vibrant energy of Wynn Las Vegas, the dazzling lights and sounds of the casino floor swirling around you. The scent of alcohol lingers in the air, a reminder of the drinks you've indulged in throughout the night.

You slip between two people to reach the roulette wheel, holding your newly bought chips, with money you've earned earlier in the night.

Bets are placed around the table over and over, as you earn more and more chips. You feel someone nudge your shoulder, and a cocky male voice comments next to you, "You're having a good night, huh?"

"Every night is a good night," you remark back, not even glancing up at the man talking with you. He seems to have some sort of accent that you can't place. Perhaps French?

Which means he's probably from Louisiana. Possibly Quebec.

Probably some rich idiot F1 fan who can afford to travel half way across the country for the Grand Prix.

You don't plan to even give him the light of day.

"Until it's not," he says as you watch the roulette wheel spin once more.

You smirk and feel his eyes on you as you collect more chips.

The game goes on, and you think he's gotten the message that you don't care to converse with him, because does shut up.

But now it's the last bet of the game. You take a sip from your glass and feel a stupid, risky streak in you.

Some idiot part of you that's drunk and wants to push her luck way too far.

You place a straight-up bet, all your chips on the number sixteen.

You can feel eyes on you, and the same man next to you from earlier says, "Are you stupid?"

You chuckle. "Possibly."

"You're going to lose all your-"

"No, I won't." You straighten your back, staring at the wheel. It's true, you've earned a lot of money throughout this game.

And honest, it is true that you're stupid.

But it's also true that for some reason, you're confident.

"So you're overconfident and risky? I like that," comments the guy next to you. "But you're going to lose all your money. All that good luck for nothing..."

"You'll see," you breathe, ignoring his little flirt. "It's going to land on sixteen."

"Sixteen, huh?" This man's hazel eyes sparkle, and something in you tells you that you've seen this guy's brown locks, bright dimples, and perfect stubble before.

You've seen him somewhere. Recently. Like some guy you could haven't been drunk with, but the memory is fuzzy.

But you weren't drunk with him.

Despite being sure you've seen this guy before, you're also sure you've never met him before, either.

"Yeah," you nod, looking away, staring as the roulette wheel begins spinning. "It's my lucky number."

You're not looking at him, but you can feel him grin next to you. "Your lucky number, huh? Just so happens, it's mine, too."

You snort, rolling your eyes. "Is that some lame attempt of a flirt?"

"No. It really is my lucky number." By his tone, you can tell that grin has downgraded to a smirk. "But if you'd like to see a lame attempt of a flirt, that's an option, too..." His voice lowers as you feel his arm snake around you, and his hand land on your waist.

You gently shove it off as the wheel begins to slow. You hold your breath, watching, this stupid French boy no longer even a fraction of your concerns. All focus is on your slight potential lucky strike.

And then the world stops as the wheel stops, too.

On sixteen.

And then it all comes flooding back. "Oh my God!" you squeal stupidly, covering your mouth as there's rounds of, "You've got to be kidding me," "No way," "It's impossible!" and "How lucky is this girl?"

You feel surges of shock and pride as you collect all your money. Once you've received it, after such luck, and earning a fortune, you decide you're going to have a drink. Or more than just one.

But when you turn, there's that guy again.

"What's up?" you ask, the grin on your face impossible to wipe off.

"How did you know it was going to stop on sixteen?" he questions, and he looks a little more handsome than he did before as this time he succeeds in taking your waist.

"Are you trying to pick my pocket?" you question warily, though, shoving his hand away.

"Not at all," he chuckles, "But you're a smart girl, aren't you? And I think I might be a lucky boy. Come on- I'll buy you a drink."

You snort. "No way, pretty boy! I can buy my own drink, after what just happened! How cocky are you?"

"Call me cocky, or call me rich, but either way, you're too sexy to have to pay for your own drink."

You scoff at this, but figure that you can't really let down an offer of free stuff. You'll be the first to admit you're greedy. Once of the biggest reasons why you gamble is because you want money- duh- and as much of it as you can get.

So soon, you're sitting at a table with this random guy, looking into his eyes, holding your drink in your hand. After barely a moment of hesitation, your curiosity finally gets to you, and you ask, "Who are you, anyway? I could have sworn I've seen you somewhere recently."

He gets a smug look on his face, which you don't like, before he says, "You really don't know?"

Your nose crinkles up in confusion, and for a second you feel ultra worried. Is this someone that I've met, that I should remember? Am I a terrible person for not knowing who this is...?

But then he says simply, "My first name is Charles. Charles Leclerc."

You stare at the taller individual, knowing you've heard that name, trying desperately to wrack your brain of it.

And then, suddenly, it hits you.

Loudly, in your head, in your friend's voice, in the exact tone she said it, 'No way- Ferrari! Have you seen Charles Leclerc?'

"Wait-!" you say in shock. You can see the satisfaction on the man's face, Charles, as you realize. "So, you're one of those F1 racers? Like, you race for the Ferrari team?"

He snorts and nods. "I'm surprised you didn't recognize me right away. Do you live here in Vegas?"

"Yeah," you say simply, taking a sip of your drink.

"So I take it you hate Formula 1, then? Because how else are you living in Vegas right now and don't know my name, or recognize my face?"

"You sound awfully prideful."

Suddenly, he smirks, and drags his finger across your jawline, pulling your face to look up at him in the process. "Maybe so. But clearly you're not so much better yourself, Miss Bet It All On Sixteen."

You cock an eyebrow at him and return his smirk with a challenging grin. "Sure, but I was right. I won what I wanted."

"Hmm... Well, what if I'm about to win what I want?"

"Oh, yeah? And what is it that you want?"

He leans in closer, so you can feel his hot breath tickle your ear as he utters simply, "You, baby."

You smirk. "We just met, buddy. I'm not that stupid."

"I think you're just playing hard to get."

"Or maybe it's just hard for you to get me," you counter.

"Well, I like your spunk. And your good luck. I think I might need a little bit more of that." He leans away a bit, and comments, "And I think I foresee a little bit more of luck in your future."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," he smirks, leaning in closer. In barely any second, his lips meet yours, and though you know you should, there's no way you're pulling away now. He wraps his arm around you, urging you to lean into the kiss. You melt, letting him.

You don't know what it is.

But in this moment, you gently let your lips part, inviting his tongue to slip in between your lips, allowing yourself to, yes, make out with basically a stranger.

It wouldn't be the first time, but it also isn't something you do for fun whenever you feel.

When you finally force yourself to pull away, the first thing you breathe is, "How did you do that?"

He grins, and is clearly red in the face. But there's a look of shock on his face, too. As if his flirty cover was just confidence, and not because he gets tons of girls like this...?

Or maybe you're just reading too much into his expression.

Either way, he responds with, stroking your cheek, "No idea. Maybe I just have a way with you?"

You roll your eyes as you check your purse. No, he didn't pickpocket. He meant to kiss you. You stand up and say simply, "Well, I better get going n-"

"Sorry, what?" he suddenly snatches your arm back, pulling you back down to sit again with a surprised chuckle. "You just met a famous millionaire race car driver who bought you a drink after you won big money in roulette, let him make out with you, loved it, and now you're just going to casually walk off?"

You grin. "What? Do you think I was impressed by you? Think again, honey. Just because you drive cars fast and make ridiculous amounts of stupid money for it, and that you're insanely handsome- none of that means I'm any more impressed with you than I am with any other guys I meet on my night outs."

"Hm," he raises an eyebrow, and says, "What if you could get more from me, missy? Clearly, you're out for yourself and will do anything for a good deal. And you're f*cking sexy about it, too. So what if I had something else to offer you?"

You let yourself sit down at this, looking at him expectantly.

He smirks, clearly loving that he's 'won you over,' before saying simply, "Would like a free pass to the whole weekend, and a pass for the paddock?"

Your eyebrows scrunch together, and your eyes widen. "I- what?"

His smirk grows even bigger. "You heard me."

You inhale sharply, but cross your arms across your chest and come out sharply saying, "Unfortunately for you, I couldn't care less about Formula 1. In fact, I'm starting to dislike it a lot. But thanks for the offer."

His jaw drops, and his eyes practically pops out of his head, which gets a chuckle from you. For a moment, he's actually speechless, before he finally gets out, "Are you aware of the offer you just refused?"

You raise an eyebrow, not able to keep the cheeky grin off your face. "Probably not, but that's okay. Why, anyways, would you give a stranger such an opportunity in the first place? You probably have ulterior motives, and I think I can pretty much guess what they are, mister. You don't even know my name yet."

"Oh, God, you're right," he laughs, taking another sip of his drink. "Well, what's your name, princess?"

You roll your eyes, and tell him.

He grins. "It's been wonderful meeting you." He digs in the pocket of his light blue jeans, and pulls out a pen and a restaurant receipt. "I know you think you'll be able to forget me so easily, princess," he starts, scribbling something on the receipt, "but trust me- you'll be wanting this." He takes your hand and presses the receipt into it, before standing up just like that, and saying with a wave as he turns to walk off, "I'll talk to you later, angel."

You look down at the receipt to see a phone number scribbled on it in chicken scratch. But the numbers are clear. And though you walk out that night rolling your eyes at this Charles's boldness and cockiness, with an abundance of money you've earned that's a lot more worth the stupid grease-stained receipt, the moment you get back to your apartment, the first thing you intend to is putting that stupid number into your phone.

"This is stupid," you comment as you slide into the backseat, next to Charles.

He just rolls his eyes. "You won't be saying that by the end of this experience. Besides, you were the one who decided to text me, like I said you would. You were just playing hard to get."

You scoff. "Oh, shut up."

"You look lovely, by the way," he comments in a lower voice. "I like that skirt." You look down at yourself. You're wearing a matching crop top shirt and short skirt, your sunglasses holding your hair back away from your face, and brown sandals.

"Thanks," you snort, crossing your arms and looking out the window, turning your gaze away from the Monégasque driver. (Yes, you did, despite yourself, look him up last night, just to know who the heck this guy even is.)

(You also were sure to look up his salary.)

(Ridiculous.)

(But also intriguing.)

Soon enough, before you know it, you're walking alongside him, about to enter the 'paddock.'

Makes it sound like a bunch of horses racing.

But when you're there, surrounded by it, in the moment, you don't think rude comments like that.

You stop, taking in the high life atmosphere. The revving car noises, the lights of The Strip on the 'racetrack,' the crowds, the music, the richness, and the challenge.

Your breathing falters, and your heart beat quickens as your hand involuntarily finds Charles's wrist and grips it as you gasp, "It's... extraordinary."

You glance to Charles's face to see him softly grinning. His hand slips down to hold yours as he comments, "You seemed like the type of girl to love it."

Your smile widens. "I've been here so many times. On The Strip. But... it's not the same. How did they do it?"

He begins walking, pulling you along by your hand as you look around. "That's just Formula 1 for you. There's nothing in the world quite like it, Y/n."

He leads you by the hand toward the Ferrari garage. Once you're there, he says, "Want to meet my teammate, Carlos?"

"Don't know who Carlos is, but sure..." you say vaguely, taking in the large piece of machinery- the Formula 1 car- in front of you.

He chuckles. "You're f*cking adorable," he murmurs, before leading you away to see Carlos.

He's a well-built man with fluffy dark hair, tan skin, big brown cow eyes, and stubble. Pretty much looks like exactly how you'd imagine a Formula 1 driver to look.

He nods respectfully. "Hey, Charles," he says, and shakes your hand with a friendly wink. "This your new girlfriend?"

You look up to see Charles smirk. "Not yet."

One of Carlos's thick, dark eyebrows cocks up, and the suggestion of an amused smirk travels on his lips for a second. "Ah, I see."

"Charles!" you snap, your eyebrows scrunches together. "Not ever."

"Well, we'll see about that. So far, I've been the right one, now, princess, haven't I?"

"Pfft. I was right about sixteen, wasn't I?"

He rolls his eyes as Carlos says with a chuckle, "Well, it will sure be interesting to see how this plays out," before moving on with his life.

Charles takes the time to show you around, and halfway through the tour, you blurt suddenly, "So, this is all the Italian team and stuff. Isn't there an American team?"

"Hmmm," Charles snorts as his eyebrows travel farther up and he fights off a seemingly somewhat mocking smirk. "There is."

"Why don't you show me them? Don't they have an American driver? Like, Carlos is Italian, right? Isn't it protocol or somethin'? Anyway, isn't it called Williams, the American team, or something? Some guy named Logan something that's an American racer on there-"

At this, Charles can't seem to hold it together anymore, and doubles over laughing, essentially, at you.

"What?!" you demand indignantly.

"You really are clueless!"

"I-"

"Alright, alright, Y/n. Haas is the American team. They don't have an American driver- German and Danish. No, Carlos is not Italian; he's from Spain. Williams is British, and yes, Logan Sargeant races for Williams, and he is American. About the only thing you got right."

You roll your eyes with a shrug. "I told you I don't give a damn about this stupid sport."

"Whatever you say, Miss Starry Eyes."

So, first Charles takes you to Haas, where you learn, surprisingly, that not all the racers are young hotshots like Charles and Carlos at least seem to be. They're friendly enough there, but really don't care much to give you any of their time, so then Charles suggests to go to the Williams garage and see if there's Logan to bother. You agree to that, so soon, you're entering Williams.

As soon as you see Logan, you know he's the American. You can see it in his stance. You can see it in his golden blond slightly sweeped hair, gray blue eyes, and strong jawline. "That's Logan, isn't it?"

"How'd you know?"

You shrug, breaking off from Charles to Logan. "Hey! You're the only American 'round here?!" you ask with a friendly grin.

"Huh?" he asks, looking up, in the most United States of America way. "Oh, hi," he says in what you perceive as dumbly, with a friendly smile. Ah, that's more like it. None of these posh Monacan boys and hot Spanish men- this guy is just like home sweet home!

You can practically hear the eagles cawing over the Rocky Mountains!

"You're Logan Sargeant?"

He nods. "I am. And you are...?"

"Just some Vegas girl dragged here by Charles."

"Ah... so you know him?"

"Well, now, unfortunately, yes."

His eyebrows furrow, but he chuckles at the same time. Though this guy isn't nearly as handsome or charming as Charles, there's something about him you like a bit more-

Suddenly, a hand is on your waist, and hot breath says in your ear, "Got to be getting back to Ferrari now. Come on with me?"

You blush and nod. "Right, Charles."

You have no idea what to think of him.

"Podium?! Uh- is a podium good?!" you ask, eyes wide as Charles brings it home in second.

"Yeah, yeah, it's good!" some guy you don't know wearing red near you says.

"Oh- Alright, well- That's good, I suppose!" you respond a little manically.

As soon as Charles as the chance, he finds you. He still has champagne on his race suit and his face is glistening with sweat, and there's no way you can deny it- he's sexy. When he reaches you, he wraps his arms around you, and his stunning eyes seem to burn into you. He can't fight the grin off his face as he says lowly, "Get why my lucky number is sixteen, baby girl?"

"Ah, stop with that," you snap, your voice cracking. You don't know, but this seems- all this seems-

Way too important.

You reach up to touch the number sixteen on his hat, before taking it off his head and slipping it on your own, backwards, on impulse.

He grins. "You can keep it. Not like you'll need a keepsake. You won't forget me."

You bite your lip, giving a quick nod, still studying his handsome face. Your eyes linger on his light pink lips, which arch into a perfect cupid's bow, as you murmur absently, "You seem pretty confident about that, huh?"

"Of course I do. Looks like you might be my little good luck charm, hm? Can't be letting you run away from me, can I?"

"Hm. Well, we'll see about that."

"Still playing hard to get?"

"Not playing. I just am hard to get."

"Whatever you say, darling," he comments with a shrug, walking off.

The French accent is pretty sexy.

Your eyes flutter open, and the first thing you see are the big earnest eyes of Charles Leclerc, staring back into your eyes. "Morning sunsh-"

Your immediate reaction is to scream and promptly slap him across his pretty face.

He grunts as his hand flies to his cheek to cover it up, and he says, "Hey, hey, calm down!"

But your eyes scan the room. It's clearly a hotel room. There's only one bed: the one you and Charles are laying in right at this moment. You're wearing a large black T-shirt and big blue gym shorts very tightly tied to fit your waist. Charles is dressed in a grey hoodie and jeans with a white T-shirt underneath, his regular jewelry, and white sneakers. So clearly, he's already showered and gotten dressed. He smells like his rich cologne, and his hair is all washed and fluffy and clean. If you weren't in a slight panic right now, you'd have wondered if you could touch his hair and feel how soft it is.

But!

As you're about to gasp out questions, Charles sits up and gently sets his hand on top of yours. You become aware of the pounding in your head as you bite your lip nervously. Charles looks at you earnestly, and says calmly, "Hey, you don't have to worry. It's okay."

"What happened?" you exhale.

"Nothing," he soothes. "We went out. You got more drunk than any of us though you should. I didn't know where you lived, so I took you to my hotel room. Gave you clothes to change into, and we went to sleep. Nothing more."

You swallow an anxious lump in your throat. "How do I know I can trust you? Please, just be honest with me. I won't be mad. You didn't know any bet-"

"I didn't do anything. We didn't do anything. Okay?" he leans in closer, and reaches to cup your cheeks in his hands. "'Kay? Can you just trust me?"

You bite your lip, but slowly nod. "I suppose that's the only thing I can do."

Over six months later, you stand on the boat, staring out at the Mediterranean Sea, smelling the salty breeze in the air, feeling content, wearing a loose button down, light blue jean shorts with a brown belt, your slew of bracelets, white sneakers, and a headband holding back your hair.

Suddenly, Charles is up next to you. "Hey, princess." For months, you've had what you stubbornly call a 'situationship,' whilst Charles calls you his girlfriend.

Because you love Vegas more than you love Charles (or at least that's what you like to say), you refused to leave when Charles did. You like taking risks. Just not the 'travelling halfway across the world for a hot guy' kind of risks.

But you stayed in touch. Charles made sure of that.

Well, he meant it when he said he'd make sure you'll never forget him.

But then Formula 1 came back to the States, to Miami, and you knew you'd have to make the trip. The flirty comments and romantic tension thick enough to cut ensued as soon as you and Charles set eyes upon each other, like as if it hadn't been six months or so since you'd last seen each other last.

It just felt like-

Somehow fate is involved.

Well, when Charles invited you to the Monaco Grand Prix, that was an offer you felt you couldn't let down.

And, boy, was that the best descision of your life.

To see Charles win his home race like that, and to be there? Just thinking about it now gives you goosebumps. Charles had wrapped his arms around you after the race, his eyes a little damp, and you felt something more.

Like he really cared.

If you didn't know better, you'd say it was like he really loved.

Loved you.

But, no. Of course not. That can't be.

Can it?

Well, all night you partied. You were in on the fun. You also made sure to pay a visit to the Monte Carlo casino, as you obviously must.

You had amazing luck, once again.

On this thought, as you feel Charles approaching from behind you, you comment into the wind, "You know, I'm starting to think you're my lucky charm, honey."

He chuckles, coming up next to you. "Oh, yeah? That's what I said six months ago when I first met you, you know. I've been starting to think the same thing about you."

You snort. "Maybe so, Monaco race winner."

He smirks, and you can feel the pure joy radiating off him. He slips his hand into yours as he murmurs, "I was so lucky to meet you."

I smirk. "I am pretty awesome."

He rolls his eyes, but squeezes your hand. "So, do you like it here in Monaco?"

You nod vigorously. "Gosh, Charles, it's amazing."

"Better than Vegas?"

"Well- I don't know if anything is better than Vegas..."

He leans in closer and speaks lower. "Well, would Monaco be better if your good luck charm just so happens to reside here?"

"Hm..." you smirk, flushing a bit. "I'd have to think about that, prince."

"Yeah," he nod, his tone softer. "Why don't you."

There's some silence, as you watch the sun begin to set, reflecting off the sparkling water.

Charles leans even closer to you, his hands gliding around your waist, pulling you towards him. He leans down, gazing deeply into your eyes. Then that stupid flirty grin appears on his face again. "F*cking gorgeous you are, one in a million. I struck lucky with you. My lucky strike."

He closes the distance between you, his soft lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. The heat of his body against yours sends shivers down your spine, igniting a spark between you as your tongues dance together in a sensual embrace. Connected.

Maybe it's not fate.

But it is most certainly luck.

And in this moment, with the lips of the winner of Monaco sucking on yours, you feel like the one who struck it lucky.

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massivewonderlandtragedy · 7 months

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Some of the many thoughts I had whilst reading the Silmarillion:

"What the fuck?!", "you can't be serious", "DON'T DON'T!", "oh dear lord", "hear we go", "you absolute idiot", "Why? Just Why?", "Well I'm now depressed", "Oh I like him (dies) OH F*CKING COME ON", "(another character dies) another bites the dust", "does no one here have a brain cell?", "well maybe it can't get any wor- JESUS WEPT HOLY SH*T!!!"

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bleucaesura · 6 months

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STOLITZØ - TWO

“F*ck! Moxxie! Get off my a** already. Unless you want me over there on yours *wink* *wink*” Blitzø sassed into the phone as he sat in his van outside of Stolas’s.

“Ew! No! Satan’s sake, Sir! All I’m saying…” Moxxie started.

“I know what the f*ck you’re saying!” Blitzø cut Moxxie off. “See you tomorrow at work.”

Blitzø hung up the phone. He stared down at the screen.

What f*cking business is it of yours anyway, Mox? Just cuz you and Millie have the perfect f*cking marriage, don't project that sh*t like you know anything about me and my life.

Blitzø sighed, feeling a little guilty about his sh*tty thoughts towards Moxxie. Mox was a good guy. He really needed to cut the guy some f*cking slack.

Blitzø rubbed a hand down his face trying to wipe away his exhaustion. He wasn't ready for this sh*t. He looked at his phone and thought of canceling. Just dropping the grimoire on the front steps and leaving.

Just then a text came in from Loona

“Octavia’s mom is being a c*nt so she's coming over to hang. So don’t f*cking come home. Not that you do on the 🌚🍆💦. I don't want you f*cking embarrassing me”

Blitzø smiled to himself. What a sassy little b*tch his Loony was. She made him so proud.

“Huv fun! ❤️😘❤️😘” he responded. To which he got many middle fingers and eye rolls. Yup. That was his Loony. He beamed inside. Satan, he loved that pup.

He sighed and smooshed his cheek onto his steering wheel. Sulking, he looked across the van, out the passenger window to the looming doors of Stolas’s mansion.

Guess there's no backing out now.

Blitzø grabbed the grimoire, opened his door and practically fell out of his van - junk from inside tumbling after him. He walked around the van, then stood leaning against the passenger door, staring up at the mansion. His heart slamming against his chest.

Stop it you stupid f*ck. He said it was no big deal.

Blitzø felt like he couldn't breathe…

And you brushed it off like you always do. Pretended like it didn't hurt that he rejected you in front of everyone at that club.

It did hurt. But it doesn't matter. He's never cared for me as anything more than a f*ck-doll.

Then why did he come to Earth to save you? Why call you, comment on your photos, ask you how your day was, or laugh at your stupid f*cking jokes when it's not part of your contract? Maybe he does care? Even lo-

It doesn't matter! Everyone I’ve cared for or loved gets f*cked over, hurt, or dies!

Grow a pair you f*cking coward! Just TALK to the guy! Look what happened when you actually f*cking talked with Fizz. He doesn't hate or blame you anymore. You were f*cking honest and you got your best friend back after fifteen years!

That… That's different.

And Moxxie. You opened up to the little f*ck and you finally know he cares and won't leave just cuz you're a chuckle-f*cking idiot.

Mox is a tender little sh*t. He’ll forgive anyone. Except his dad I guess… But that dude is f*cked up. Anyway, Fizz and Mox have nothing to do with Stolas!

If you DON’T say anything to Stolas you could lose him and your ticket to the human world.

F*ck off. It’s not about the book. I’m not that f*cking petty.

Oh? You actually care? And yet he almost died and you weren't there.

Shut the f*ck up.

You almost lost him and you were still too selfish and scared to go see him in the hospital.

“I said, shut the f*ck up!”

Blitzø startled himself out of his panicked spiral when he realized he'd yelled aloud. He'd slid to the ground, knees to his chest, clutching the grimoire, tears streaming down his face. He was gasping for breath.

He quickly stood and brushed himself off. He looked up at Stolas’s mansion.

“F*ck it”

He wiped the tears from his face and eyes then stomped up the steps to the looming gilded doors. He hesitated a moment, remembering he was actually pretty early, then he lifted his fist to knock.

The door cracked open, Stolas’s tiny imp butler stepped back, and gestured for Blitzø to enter. When the butler gestured to Stolas’s study, Blitzø nodded politely and headed in that direction.

Blitzø liked to act like he was better than everyone, but in this place, he certainly didn't like being rude to any of the imps on Stolas’s staff. It felt demeaning. To both him and them. He felt ashamed to be served by them in any way.

Blitzø reached the study doors. Normally he would have just burst in. But today he couldn't breathe. He was nervous. His palms were sweaty. His heart was beating out of his chest.

Swallowing the lump in his throat., Blitzø decided to knock. He waited. He knocked again. Nothing.

He pushed one of the massive doors open a crack.

“Helloooo?” Blitzø called quietly into the study.

He dipped his head inside and called again. No one answered. He pushed the door open further and slipped inside.

Stolas’s desk was straight ahead in the center of the room. It looked like it filled the entire room with the golden rising staircase that led to a platform behind it. The waxing and waning of the moon was a repeated motif gilded across the desk and up the staircase.

What's with this bird and the moon?

Usually, Stolas was seated in the high-backed throne of a chair behind his desk. So it looked strange sitting there so tall, stark and empty.

I wonder where he is?

Blitzø had been in Stolas’s study before, though only briefly, so seeing it now, without Stolas’s room-filling presence felt overwhelming and awe-inspiring.

Busts and intricately framed portraits of the Goetia family lined the walls and door passage that lead into the study proper. Blitzø discovered the room itself was larger than his apartment and office put together.

F*cking rich-a** royals…

Books filled shelves floor-to-ceiling on either side. It was more books than Blitzø had seen in his entire life. Beautifully bound. Well cared for.

Stolas loves his books.

Blitzø thought back to the first time they'd met. The adorable little f*ck had been so excited about all his books. Showing them off like Blitzø actually gave a sh*t about anything he had to say then. Blitzø blushed thinking about how cute Stolas had been as a kid. And how much fun he'd ended up having that day, in spite of himself.

Blitzø smiled to himself as he reminisced and looked blankly up at the books. When he saw a shimmer of light on the spines of the books he turned to the far wall to find its source and he realized it wasn't a wall. It was a floor-to-ceiling stained glass window. It began at the top of the small, balcony? Platform? Blitzø wasn't sure what to call it. Another level of the room that sat behind Stolas’s desk that had two sets of stairs leading up to it that looked as if they were arms protecting Stolas’s desk. It seemed to serve as a platform to reach the crazy a** chandelier that hung in the middle of the room.

As Blitzø’s eyes trained up on the chandelier he almost stumbled and fell backward when he saw the chandelier led up to what he - at first - thought was the night sky. It took a moment for him to realize it was just a painted ceiling. Constellations and the deep blue of space. Blitzø crossed to Stolas’s desk in awe, transfixed, never looking away from the ceiling. He felt like he was falling into the beautiful void of space.

Is this what Stolas does? He said he studies the skies and their prophecies. He never said it was this beautiful.

Blitzø stood in wonder. He began to feel small.

He's so important. To be in charge of something this beautiful… So f*cking powerful.

Blitzø hugged the grimoire tightly to himself like a shield. Remembering Stolas’s rescue and his full demonic manifestation. Blitzø had thought he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. But he'd been terrified at the same time. Not of the fact that Stolas could hurt - even kill - him easily with his power. No. It wasn't Stolas’s power he was afraid of. Blitzø was petrified of how Stolas had made him feel. Safe. Wanted. Worth saving.

How the f*ck could he care for scum like me? When he has all of this?

And then Stolas had rejected Blitzø in front of everyone.

He's ashamed of me. His dirty little f*ck doll…

Tears welled in his eyes. He fought them back as he tore his gaze from the ceiling and the infinite beauty and sorrow he'd found there.

Blitzø’s eyes slammed shut in pain as he remembered Stolas’s tail feathers passing by overhead. The gurney. The hospital. The crowd. The shouting.

“Stolas got hurt bad.” Millie’s words rang in his ears like an echo in a haunted well, beckoning him into its depths.

“He can get hurt?” Blitzø had heard himself say. He’d felt like the earth beneath his feet was sand slowly trying to pull him under. Nothing made sense anymore. Stolas is Goetia. Goetia don’t get hurt. Goetia are basically gods. Weren’t they?

What did I do? Stolas is really hurt. I should have been there. He called me. ME. And I blew him off. I could have rescheduled Loona’s appointment. The f*ck was I thinking?! Oh f*ck. F*ck f*ck f*ck!

Blitzø’s heart hammered in his chest. Remembering that day and every day Stolas had been in the hospital ripped at his heart.

Stop it. Satan f*cking dammit. Get your sh*t together you stupid f*ck. You decided to talk to him so you'll f*cking talk to him you f*cking p*ssy!

Blitzø pried his eyes open and took deep measured breaths trying to calm himself. Once he’d gained his composure, he released the death grip he hadn’t realized he’d had on the grimoire and took another quick look around the room to see if there was anywhere Stolas could be hiding. Or maybe reading and too involved to notice his surroundings.

Blitzø chuckled to himself remembering the times he’d scared Stolas because he’d been too beak deep in one of his books to notice Blitzø sneaking up on him.

But no. Stolas really wasn’t there.

Blitzø stood by Stolas’s desk wondering what to do. Stay there? Go look for him?

Then something caught his eye. A box.

The f*ck is that?

Blitzø looked about the room shiftily. He checked the door to make sure no one was coming. Once he was satisfied, he tiptoed around the desk to get a better look.

It felt strange being on this side of Stolas’s desk. In a strange way it made him feel both smaller in station and yet closer to Stolas.

Blitzø tossed the grimoire on the chair and heaved himself up onto it. For a moment he just sat there. Feeling smug.

So this is what it feels like.

Blitzø ran his palms along the edge of the desk, feeling the richness of it. He felt unworthy.

Sighing, he turned his attention to the box.

There, in the middle of the desk, sat a beautiful blue box. Blitzø reached for it but pulled back abruptly like he’d been stung.

Is that?

Blitzø’s heart began to race as he reached out a shaking hand and picked up the box. He traced the glowing sigil that adorned the lid.

Asmodeus…

Blitzø’s ears began to ring and the whole world dropped away as his vision tunneled on the box in his hands.

He could hear Verosika whispering in his ear, “I told you what this is.”

Blitzø gulped, hands shaking, cold sweat dripping down the back of his neck.

“You know what it does” Verosika purred with venom.

Blitzø slowly opened the box’s lid.

Please don’t let it be… Please, no…

Blitzø’s eyes stung with tears as he looked down at the Asmodeon crystal nestled inside the silken lined box. One of the Lust Demon Lord Asmodeus’s all-access passes to the human world. Usually reserved for his succu-b*tches to do their lust-sucking work on the humans. Stolas wouldn’t need something like this to traverse realms - Blitzø had seen that himself. That meant…

Verosika cackled “Oh you pathetic f*ck! You know what it means! He’s done with you! Throwing you away like the trash that you are!”

Blitzø shut the box, slamming it onto the desk.

No. No no no no no… This can’t be right. We have a deal…

Blitzø started shaking. He gathered himself onto the chair, trying to make himself as small as possible. He wrapped his tail tightly around himself and looked up at the ceiling as tears stung his eyes.

He doesn’t want me anymore. I can’t believe I ever thought… and now he’s just f*cking throwing me away.?

“No…” Blitzø whispered as he stared wide-eyed and unblinking at the ceiling; letting himself be swallowed by the void.

*****

#helluva boss #stolitz #blitzø #stolas #fanfic #vivzieverse #vivziepop #vivienne medrano #brandon rogers #helluva boss asmodeus #verosika mayday #helluva boss stolitz #stolitz fanfic #stolitz angst #helluva boss fanfiction

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samuelthesilly · 8 months

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*Puts on autism goggles*

So fun fact, V1 never participated in the murder of humankind. This isn’t just a headcanon either, this can be backed up with actual facts. When you first start the game, you’re presented with this:

A hallway with planks over it. In order to enter hell, you need to break these planks with your fist, a simple way of implementing a tutorial. Right?

WRONG.

If V1 had to break those planks, that means that it was the first being to enter Hell after it had been closed off by humanity.

If all the machines in ULTRAKILL run on blood, (and they do, every single one gives blood when hit, plus the terminal entries confirm it) surely after depleting all blood on the surface, they would venture into Hell where there’s more in order to survive.

V1 being the first to enter Hell implies that at some point, for one reason or another, they were turned on and set free/escaped into the world.

“But Sam, V1 could have entered Hell first and also killed the humans”

NOPE!

Look at your health when you first start the game. 10/100. V1 runs on blood, so surely after massacring even just one human, they would be much higher health. No, to me this implies that V1 was purposely kept on low health at whatever lab/storage facility it was at (considering V1 never made it out of the prototype phase).

Another thing is the main objective; ‘find a weapon’. If V1 had engaged in the killing, it would have absolutely scavenged a weapon to help kill better (we know it definitely isn’t above stealing things from other machines). If you want to, you could write off the breaking of the planks as nothing but a tutorial. However, this still doesn’t make sense. If it entered Hell after humanity was already dead, what was stopping it from scavenging/stealing a weapons before venturing downwards?

Anyway, my theory, which probably doesn’t even matter, is this;

V1, for whatever reason, was powered on/released before the massacre of humanity. Maybe a few hours, or even minutes beforehand, it can’t have been long considering the whole game takes place over the course of like 24 hours. Also, we literally see the mass influx of souls in the river Styx. (This also implies that the Ferryman was saved by Gabriel pretty much right before we meet them, which is kinda sad. Imagine getting saved, then either dying to a robot or a f*cking leviathan. I’m not sure how they had time to carve the statue of Gabe, so I’m gonna cautiously assume they made it before meeting him IRL.)

That’s pretty much all I have. I don’t know why V1 entered Hell in the first place, all I know is it wasn’t responsible for humanity’s extinction. Feel free to theorise/tell me i’m an idiot in the tags/replies.

#samuel screams #ultrakill #gabriel ultrakill #ferryman ultrakill #ultrakill v1 #ultrakill theory #ultrakill lore #v1 ultrakill

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markjelol1112 · 7 months

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Mark his drinking problems a Mark and Karina story P2

Warning: 18+ drunken failures sex spanking fingering

Mark was asleep same as Karina but while he is sleeping he was thinking about s*x so he try something but what he did was for Karina amazing she was sleeping for a moment while Mark try to find his d*ck to do something everyone was sleeping so they don't even hear or even see it so Karina don't even mind it but Mark found something but he didn't notice that he is In Karina her p*ssy and he started fingering in Karina her p*ssy and she started moaning

Oh yeah it feels so good." Karina said while moaning

And Mark was fingering deeper in Karina her p*ssy that's se moaned loud but nobody heard anything of it Mark was fingering so good in Karina her p*ssy that her p*ssy was getting wet

I'm going to c*m." Karina said again

And all of her wet p*ssy came out of it

Oh yeah that was great oh my god." Karina said again

The next morning Mark had a headache of being drunk yesterday and finding out that he was fingering Karina in her p*ssy last night

What the f*ck have I done oh f*cking lord." Mark said again

As Daniël came in and was in shock

Mark what the f*ck happened here the floor is completely wet what have you done." Daniël said again

I don't know the last thing I remember that I dreamed that I was having s*x with someone else to make Ningning jealous on me that's all." Mark said again

As Mark and Daniël cleaned everything up before the others know what happened Killian came downstairs and saw that Mark and Daniël where cleaning the floor

Guys what the f*ck are you cleaning." Killian said again

Mark I think you can explain what happened I guess." Daniël said again

I don't remember it what happened idiot." Mark said again

As everything was clean Giselle Winter Thomas and Ningning came downstairs to see what's going on

Good morning guys." Thomas said again

YOU I WILL SPEAK WITH YOU FOR A MOMENT." Mark yelled again

Uhm is he still drunk." Thomas said again

No just a headache now." Mark said again

That's because you where drunk yesterday idiot." Daniël said again

I don't drink alcohol you idiot." Mark said again

You drank 15 bottles of beer yesterday because of Ningning." Daniël said again

Oh shut the f*ck up." Mark said again

Guys can you be quiet Karina is still sleeping I don't know what happened to her but I think she had her best night ever yesterday when we were sleeping." Ningning said again

Shut the f*ck up you I didn't tell you to talk." Mark said again

Mark calm down." Thomas said again

And Mark slapped in Thomas his face

YOU STOLE HER FROM ME YOU F*CKING IDIOT NOW YOU MAKE ME THINKING OF A OTHER PERSON." Mark yelled again

STOP IT OKAY IT'S NOT MY FAULT THAT ME AND KARINA BROKE UP YESTERDAY BEFORE I WAS WITH NINGNING TO A ROMANTIC MOVIE NIGHT FOR US 2 THAT AND IN FACT THAT I NEVER LEAVE KARINA BEHIND ME YOU SON OF A B*TCH." Thomas yelled again

Guys please let me sleep." Karina said again

And she opened her eyes and realised that she did something

Uhm why am I half n*ked can someone explain this." Karina said again

While the boys turned around and Karina put her underwear and pants back on she felt weird

Well why you all looking at me." Karina said again

Maybe you should where cleaner clothes." Winter said again

As Karina go to her room and thinks what happened last night while she is undressing herself Mark has a little problem in his pants

Uhm Mark something down in your pants is looking at you." Daniël

What do you mean with AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH oh my god I need to go to my room." Mark said again

Instead of running to his room he runs upstairs

Mark your room is there not upstairs." Killian said again

Karina was still looking at her n*ked body grabbing her t*ts sometimes and still thinking who did something last night but she didn't lock her door of her room and all of the sudden Mark stormed in her room without knocking

Oh my god what's going on and Aaaaaaaaaah oh sorry I didn't notice that you where here and n*ked I'm gonna leave you bye." Mark said again

Wait maybe I can help with that problem from your d*ck in your pants." Karina said again

And she locked her door of her room and put Mark his pants of and his underwear too

Karina what are you planning to do." Mark said again

Just a little thing." Karina said again

And she started to s*cking Mark his d*ck and Mark grabbed Karina her hair and make it go faster

While Karina was s*cking Mark his d*ck she was also fingering herself after she s*cked Mark his d*ck Karina throwing Mark on her bed and put his d*ck in her wet p*ssy and started moaning while having s*x with Mark

Oh yeah do you feel good bby." Karina said again while moaning

Oh f*ck yeah I feel I need more and more and more do it bby do it bby." Mark said again

The end P2

#aespa #ningning #giselle #karina #winter aespa #aespa smut #kpop #kpop smut #aespa karina smut #aespa winter smut #aespa ningning #karina smut #aespa winter

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solticeenery · 6 months

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I have this crazy headcanon that (maybe) completely ignores all rules and canon characters of this universe, but what if (it always starts with these words) Lucy found a way to bring Skull back to the living world. Some kind of incredibly dangerous and risky but promising ritual. Something with giving part of your life to the Other Side and you can't decide how much, it should be some other ghost who stands between two worlds and accepts the deal. Something maybe with blood, almost unaliving themselves and very complicated sigils. Some kind of risky dangerous shit so the Skull could mock Lucy for being a brainless idiot because "what were you thinking, you could f*cking die, Carlyle!"

So Lucy finds this ritual, successfully finishes it (even without any terrible injuries) and when the dealer comes she sees... Jessica. It's Jessica Lockwood. She looks at Lucy, asks, why she is doing all that stuff, and nods. "I'll take one minute from your life. That's the least I am allowed to take. Be happy, little star, guide them through their journey, they both need you." And disappears. Lucy wakes up in real world again, sees Skull already back in his body and staring at her with all judgement and anger and sharp words he ever tried to hold back from saying. And then the sun reaches Skull's face and he stays there, doesn't evaporate from any tiniest amount of light. And he is confused and kinda happy but angry at the same time because he knows this ritual and he was scared to death that Lucy might die during it. And Lucy is just happy. Exhausted, but happy. She finally can punch Skull for silly comments, shut his mouth whenever he tries to tell any dirty joke or hug him (at least try to, he isn't really comfortable with it yet) after difficult cases.

And the type of bond created between these two is something like siblings-mentors-lovers. They are definitely more than simply friends or colleagues. They teach eachother day by day. They are important to eachother. They both are ready to sacrifice everything for eachother and whatever the other one wants to protect. So for example Skull is ready to sacrifice the whole world to save Lockwood because he is important for Luce. And the same for her, she is ready to sacrifice the whole universe if needed.

Noone in "Lockwood & Co." can understand this bond and Lucy and Skull can't explain it. It's something so deep and warm with so much trust and comfort behind it, that it's impossible to put in words.

Of course Lockwood was jealous at first. He was doing his best to keep his feelings in secret. But then Skull just dares Lockwood to confess these feelings to Lucy. Smiling reassuringly and promising that everything will be alright. Skull loves Lucy more than anything and wants her to be happy. And he knows that these two children will be happy together. And he will be happy just being somewhere nearby. Being a part of this little but loving found family. Being alive again. Being someone important. Finally being his true self for the first time in two lifes.

Sorry not sorry, I'm sobbing because this lives rent-free in my head and idc if it's ooc, I'm too emotional atm

#lockwood and co #skull #lucy carlyle #headcanon #locklyle #skullyle (maybe?? idk???)

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justali-anne · 2 months

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All this talk about Sans breaking his promise and all that. No no, I have an idea. He seemed to genuinely think he did a good job at protecting you when he was talking about it at the MTT Resort.

(If you haven't died up to this point)

And the fact that he literally had to ask himself if he was wrong about him doing a good job at protecting you if you died makes me think that this belief that he did well was genuine.

(Bless his soul)

So I was just thinking that maybe there was some behind the scenes stuff going on when it came to Sans' protection. Like, can you imagine Sans successfully managing to stop a threat from getting to you, only for another threat to come and kill you while Sans is giving himself a pat on the back?

Sans: (after successfully stopping someone from attacking Frisk) aw, heck yeah. i'm doing such a good job at this promise thing. that deserves a celebratory hot dog.

Frisk: (f*cking dies behind his back)

Sans: (oblivious) i'm the best.

Listen, Sans is very smart and observant, but even he tends to miss some crucial details. Like his special attack? He failed to consider that maybe using up all his energy to fight and THEN doing the special attack wasn't really the best idea? Or even just fighting in the first place? I wouldn't put it past him if he missed out some potential threats when trying to protect you/Frisk. Either that or he prefers to let you fight your own battles. Or both. It could definitely be both.

You know, I'm just gonna go out in a limb here and say that Sans deserves the title of being the smartest dumbass in the game. He's a very very clever idiot. Good job, Sans.

#undertale #sans #my thoughts #tibia honest if i were in frisk's position and he asked that i would just give him a thumbs up and go #“yyyyyyyup! yeah! you did a g-great job sans! definitely. n-nice work!”#oh sans #really smart #really observant #but still he's a dumbass

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mtqcomic · 2 months

Note

decided to make some mtq incorrect quotes and thought that I'd put them here (sorry if they're out of character- incorrect quotes tend to do that sometimes no matter how much you shuffle the names to get the right characters ToT)(also I censored the swears in the quotes just in case)

Gendaen: Operation no more distractions is a go! not even 10 seconds later Gendaen: Oh, look! A butterfly! -

Gendaen: Ocàyuu, you risked your life to save me! Ocàyuu: And I’d do it again! And perhaps a third time! But that would be it.

alternatively:

Gendaen: Mysta, you risked your life to save me! Mysta: And I’d do it again! And perhaps a third time! But that would be it.

Eth: May Destiny (and this picture of Gendaen eating shredded cheese at 3 in the morning) be with you.

(they probably won't interact in canon BUT)

Gendaen: gets a text Oh! It’s Malvox. Zaïl, excitedly: Did it get me the stuff? Gendaen: Yeah, it says it got you the clown costume, the power drill, and 12 gallons of blood. Zaïl: Wow! Where did it find 12 gallons of fake blood? Gendaen: You wanted fake blood? Zaïl: Gendaen: I’ll go call Malvox.

(okay but this one might be canon /half joking)

Malvox: I am literally evil incarnate. Malvox: I’m not actually, I just enjoy being evil. Malvox: Which I think actually makes it even more evil because I’m making a conscious effort.

(he's thinking about his newest building project Eth, let the man think /lighthearted)

Eth: Are you listening to me? Gendaen: nods Eth: What did I just say? Gendaen: nods Eth: …

Malvox quotes are really fun because it is just so mean to everybody and there's a surprisingly large amount of quotes in the generator that are like that

Malvox: Let’s write Eth a friendly note, shall we? Dear… Incompetent… Dumb*ss…

based on that one post of Eth (you know which one)

Mysta: Question, how difficult would it be to bowl in a bee suit? Gendaen: Not that hard, I don't think, as long as you can move. Eth: I'd assume as hard as it is to bowl in a maid outfit. Eth: Wouldn't be any harder, but you'd get some WEIRD looks. Mysta: Are. Are you speaking from experience. Eth: No! Eth: Eth: ….Maybe.

Gendaen: Malvox, please calm down. Malvox: I asked for two large fries! Malvox: dumps fries onto table Malvox: But all they did was give me a MILLION F*CKING LITTLE ONES!

Zaïl, texting Yele: I’m a theif. Yele: Thief. Zaïl: Theif. Yele: I before E except after C. Zaïl: Thceif. Yele: No.

(the reunion, silly edition)

Eth: You gave me up, you let me down, you turned around, and deserted me. Gendaen: But did I make you cry? Eth: cries on the spot Gendaen: …Sh*t.

Zaïl: I’m a fool, not an idiot.

Eth: We always used to do the Wordle rather than take notes in class. Eth: To stop us the teacher would always threaten to tell us the answer if we didn’t pay attention.

(to be honest I have no idea what this quote is saying I got lost halfway through-)

Eth: I’m taking a look at your numbers, and it doesn’t look good. You have a lot of measurements. Quite a few variables. Mysta: Is that… bad? Eth: Variables are the #1 risk factor for outcomes. The past is a big contributor to the future. Mysta: Isn’t that just causality? Eth: Causality is the leading cause of death in this country. Mysta: So what are my odds? Eth: Do you have a family history? Mysta: Of what? Eth: Just, in general. Mysta: …Yes? Eth: Oh no.

Yele: Zaïl! I thought you were dead! Zaïl: No, just in deep cover. Yele: …But it was an open casket. Zaïl: It was very deep.

Mysta: I have an idea. Zaïl: A good idea? Mysta: Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Zaïl: An apple a day keeps the doctor away! Malvox: An apple a day can keep anyone away if you throw it hard enough.

Everyone is giving advice to Mysta Eth: It's okay to ask for help. Gendaen: You're not a burden. Malvox: Murder is okay. Yele: Your feelings matter.

Zaïl, over radio: Testing. Testing. Yele, can you hear me? Yele, standing next to Zaïl: I’m standing right here. Zaïl: You’re coming through good and loud. Yele: ‘Cause I’m standing right here.

Malvox: Regular soda is too sweet! Ocàyuu: Diet soda has a weird aftertaste! Malvox: No! Ugh, oh my goodness. Diet soda is THE BEST! It doesn't have sugar! It's SPICY! Ocàyuu: It has other weird stuff in it! I'll take REGULAR sugar in my REGULAR soda! Malvox: It's SO SWEET like it's a dessert though! Diet feels more like a drink! Ocàyuu: I'm going to physically attack you. Malvox: Which is better, Gendaen? Gendaen: Oh, I usually drink water! Ocàyuu: Wha- NO! Malvox: DISGUSTING!

Eth: I think I need a hug… Gendaen: Good thing I'm hug shaped! 45 minutes later Eth: You… you can let go now. Gendaen: No, I absolutely cannot.

I feel like if anybody were to be the therapist friend it would be Ocàyuu. She seemed pretty chill from what we've seen of her

Ocàyuu, looking at the squad: Okay, so I need to become a therapist faster.

Zaïl: Dang it, the printer broke while printing out Gendaen's birthday invitations. Eth: Well, what are they supposed to say? Zaïl: "Gendaen's birthday". Eth: So, what do they say instead? Zaïl: "Gendaen’s bi". Eth: Eth: Works out either way.

I hope that everybody teams up someday it would be SO fun to watch-

Zaïl: So don't panic but one of us is possessed by an owl…. Yele: …. Gendaen: ….. Eth: …… Mysta: ..Who? Zaïl: That's the thing we don't- Everyone stares at Mysta

would Zaïl play video games

Zaïl: You… you said I could trust you!! Zaïl: You said you were a GAMER!!! Malvox: Zaïl… I only play mobile games. Zaïl: NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

why do I feel like Gendaen was a bit of a chaos gremlin on top of all the paragon hero stuff

Gendaen: Remember that time you dared me to lick a swingset? Eth: No, I said "Gendaen, don't lick that swingset" and you said "Don't tell me what to do" and licked the swingset.

during the Nelun Soma'o fight

Eth: …I'm pretty sure that shield is fire-proof, or something. Mysta, eyeing the boxes of explosives: Alright, but is it explosion-proof?

wise words, Zaïl

Zaïl: Fruits that do not live up to their names; passionfruit, grapefruit, honeydew and dragonfruit. Zaïl: Fruits that do live up to their names? Zaïl: Orange.

Gendaen: I think I did fairly well on my anatomy quiz! :) Mysta: I forgot I was doing a test. Gendaen: Mysta. Mysta: I said the vertebrae was the back stick because I thought it was funny…. Eth: Mysta.

Gendaen: Three of the four elements are represented as types of hockey. Air hockey, ice hockey, and field hockey. Fire hockey needs to be a thing. Eth: Fire hockey absolutely does NOT need to be a thing. Mysta: Do you care NOTHING for the balance of the four elements?!

to be fair she is a giant hivemind brain thing

Gendaen: I'm very scary. Ocàyuu: You're about as scary as a wet kitten. Gendaen: Wet kittens are cute, at least I've got that going for me. Ocàyuu: And small. Gendaen: Gendaen: …Yeah, yeah. I guess.

Mysta: Okay. Hypothetically speaking, how mad would you be if I burned a hot pocket so badly it could probably fall off a ten-story building and be completely fine? Yele: Mysta, what did you do? Mysta: Take a guess.

Malvox: I’ve been described as a ‘heartless villain’ and a 'little sh*t’, but I prefer… 'has alternative ways of having fun’.

Eth: Um. What kind of tea is this? Mysta: I boiled gatorade.

Yele: We just ate. Why are you making pancakes? Mysta: For the dogs. Yele: Why are you making pancakes for the dogs? Mysta: They don't know how.

Mysta: Let's all agree that going up the stairs on all fours is actually the best experience on earth. Gendaen: Conversely, going down the stairs on all fours is actually the most terrifying experience on earth.

Gendaen: I made lightly fried fish fillets for dinner. Eth: Gendaen, It’s 1:15 am, what the f*ck. Gendaen: Do you want the lightly fried fish fillets or not. Eth: Well, I mean yeah. Gendaen: So come downstairs while they’re still hot. Eth: Wait, you just made them? Gendaen: Yeah, I wasn’t tired so I decided to make lightly fried fish fillets. Eth: Say lightly fried fish fillets one more time Gendaen.

I can never figure out what the possessive for the it pronouns are *faceplants* (/lighthearted)

Ocàyuu, about Malvox: Its covered in blood again. Why is it that its always covered in blood? Gendaen: Well, it looks like it's its own blood this time.

Mysta: on the phone Hey Eth, do you know my blood type? Eth: Of course, it's B-. Mysta: Oh, I guessed wrong. Excuse me, nurse-!

for some reason some of those quotes are giving Legend of Maxx energy. I can absolutely imagine Maxx saying "slunchy"

Gendaen: Problem, I can't tell if this food is over-sauced or undercooked. Zaïl: Solution, just pop it back in the oven for another 10 minutes. There's at least a 50% chance that'll fix it, right? Eth: Result? Food has somehow become unpleasantly soggy and unpleasantly crunchy at the exact same time. Mysta: No better time than this to pull out my favorite word! Slunchy! Yele: …put it away.

Zaïl in these quotes is kind of giving cool cousin energy

Yele: It’s Pride Month, you know what that means! Mysta: I get to eat as many Skittles as I want? Eth: What? No! What has Zaïl been telling you? Zaïl, walking in, pouring Skittles into their mouth: Taste the rainbow, b*tch.

I mean they do canonically have a gun

Zaïl, holding a gun: If the conspiracies about life being a simulation are true WHOEVERS CONTROLLING MY SIM I JUST WANNA TALK.

Malvox: I refuse to apologize for being weird or off-putting or slightly evil (or more than slightly evil). That’s actually your problem. I’m having a fantastic time!

Eth: We need a plan to beat them. Mysta: Okay, listen up. First, we fill their shoes with wet cat food. Eth: Mysta: Judge me all you want, I get results.

what kind of conversations do you think they'd have

Malvox: Sometimes I like to place my hands on someone’s cheeks, look into their eyes… Malvox: …And violently jerk their head until it snaps. Gendaen: …That took an unexpected turn. Ocàyuu: So did their neck.

Eth: What do you three have to say for yourself? Zaïl: Gendaen: Mysta: Oops?

Gendaen, to the Squad: The real secret to immortality? Not dying. You want to be immortal? Okay, that’s easy. Just don’t die. That’s it. Refuse to die. There you go. Mysta: But how- Gendaen, ignoring her: “But how”, you may ask. Well, easy. Just don’t do it. Refuse to. Say “no thanks”.

Gendaen: Don't quote me on this, but I believe murder is illegal!

if Gendaen somehow convinced Eth to wear a cat maid outfit then I think this isn't entirely out of the realm of possibility either

While planning to break in somewhere Gendaen: Hey, let's do "Get Help!" Eth: What? Gendaen: "Get Help." Eth: No. Gendaen: C'mon, you love it! Eth: I hate it. Gendaen: It's great! It works every time! Eth: It's humiliating. Gendaen: Do you have a better plan? Eth: No. Gendaen: We're doing it! Eth: We are not doing "Get Help!" A Minute Later Gendaen, carrying Eth: Get help! Please! He's dying! Help him! throws Eth at guards, knocking them out Gendaen: Ahh, classic! Eth: gets up I still hate it. It's humiliating. Gendaen, laughing: Not for me, it's not.

aaand that's it for now I will be back with more

maybe

byeeeeeeeeeeee- *disappears in a puff of smoke*

Certified Canon ✔

#obviously not everything here is in character per se but honestly most of it is surprisingly accurate #even the gendaen ones and he's barely said anything all comic #i also really appreciate the malvox ones. i think you get why it's my favourite character to write dialogue for #and wow you actually typed the diaeresis in Zaïl's name every time. good work #really appreciate this!#ask #ask dk

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sleepdeprivedsimp234 · 9 months

Note

Do you have lyrics for Texas?

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG BUT WHY YES OFC I HAVE LYRICS FOR MY BOY TEXAS-

—————————

-"Well maybe I'm the f*ggot America! I'm not a part of a redneck agenda. Now everybody do the propaganda! And sing along to the age of paranoia!~" (from “American Idiot” by Green Day)

-"It goes, all my troubles on a burning pile! All lit up and I start to smile! If I catch fire then I change my aim! Throw my troubles at the pearly gates!~" (from "Burning Pile" by Mother Mother)

-"It's no big surprise you turned out this way! When they close their eyes and prayed you would change. And they cut your hair, and sent you away…..You stopped by my house the night you escaped! With tears in my eyes, I begged you to stay! You said, "Hey man, I love you, but no f*cking way!~" (from "Twin Size Mattress" by The Front Bottoms)

-"Just blow out the candles! Oh little boy, when will you learn? You don't play with fire, unless you wanna get burned!(Wanna get burned)Just blow out the candles! Oh, how the tables they've turned! You don't play with fire, unless you wanna get burned, You wanna get burned!~" (from "Burned" by Grace VanderWaal)

Explanations:

1. Honestly, the entire song fits him, but it’s SPECIFICALLY that verse. Cuz y’know, he’s gay and trans and it’s hella frowned upon by a lot of America AND his government. He "doesn’t fit into the agenda". Heaven forbid his handlers/caretakers find out.

2. I feel like Texas often sets aside his problems and acts like they don’t exist or they’re not that bad. And eventually, his problems and anger and sadness all build up and he breaks. Am I projecting? Yes. Shut up-

3. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. RELIGIOUS. TRAUMA. This doesn’t need to much of an explanation I don’t think. Just know that he has religious trauma revolving around his mental health diagnosis’s and his being part of the LGBTQIA+. Mexico is an asshole. Texas doesn’t hate Christians tho unless they’re using it an excuse to put others down just cuz they don’t like their way of living. Then he has a problem. Again, projecting? Yes. Yes I am.

4. This song gives the vibes of him giving Mexico repetitive warnings before the Mexican–American War happened. Just giving him a clear warning that he needs to stop treating them all like sh*t or else there will be consequences. Did the bastard listen? Nope. Cuz ofc he didn’t.

#welcome to the table #welcome to the statehouse #ben brainard #wttt #wttsh #wttt texas #wttsh texas #ty!! <3

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ask-ticklish-goopnoot · 9 months

Note

This blog has been dead lately 👁👄👁

Are you looking for questions?? If so here you go! 10 questions👍

How much do you love your brother?

2. Are any of the bad sans clingy sometimes?

3. I remember you telling me that dust is at the same ticklish level as you soo if both of you went into a tickle fight who would lose ?

4. Has anyone ever jump scared you before?

5. If you were to tickle one of the murder time trio in front of everyone who would it be?

6. Why is Dust Killer's main target whenever it come tickling?

7. If you kiss error on the cheek how would he react?

8. Give everybody you love a hug

9. Ask your loved one if he want a hug then if he says yes trick him and start tickling him!

10. What do you prefer to be called?

Im done writing questions😭 okay have nice a day byee!!

( oh wow that's a lot-

And yes my ask box is always empty 🥲 )

NM: I don't really know, we're on better terms since the truce but we still need to work on a few things, so I guess maybe 6 out of ten ? I don't hate him but it's not love either, it's more like... I appreciate him

NM: yes, especially Killer, since he gets bored easly when he's alone he often chose someone to stay with for the day and doesn't let them go

NM: Dust would definitely lose and the simple reason to that is because I have tentacles and he wouldn't be able to concentrate enough to use his blue magic on me

NM: Every. F#cking. Day. With these idiots living in my castle. I litterally can't catch a break.

NM: I guess Killer because he seems to be very immune to embarrassment so he probably wouldn't even mind

NM: because Dust has the funniest reaction, he's the most ticklish out of the three and since they're mostly always together he's the most accessible

NM: blush a little and smile I guess, we worked a lot on his aphephobia, he doesn't have any problem touching me anymore, it's still complicated with the others tho

NM: okay here's how it went:

- Error hugged me back

- Hate was very confused

- Killer slapped my ass so I slapped his

- Dust didn't do anything at first but ended up hugging me back

- Horror hugged me back and didn't let go for an entire hour because he thought I was sad

NM: oh God okay here's how it went:

I hugged Error and when he hugged me back I tickled his ribs, of course he yelled because he wasn't expecting that, and that's when I regretted it: he pushed me and tied me in his strings before tickling me in return

10.

NM: Nightmare ? I mean- just call me by my name ?? You can also call me your majesty tho

#don't want to see my post ? block me !#ask #danineedshelp #tickles #undertale au tickle #ticklish nightmare sans #nightmare sans #dreamtale tickle #dreamtale #undertale tickle #killer sans #horror sans #error sans #dust sans #ticklish dust sans #ticklish killer sans

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totalswap-official · 9 months

Text

Nipper McCorp Silva

"Darken your clothes and strike a F#CKING VIOLENT POSE!"

Participant 1. The south American idiot.

Age: 19

Acception Token:

Nipper is ... Problematic, he's the problem! And he doesn't care on people blaming him on anything, and he knew this since he was born.

But surely the worse thing that he did in his entire life was when he tried to kill his neighbor, the name of the case is "Caso Apesar de Você".

Basically, Nipper broke into his neighbor's house at 31 of October on 02:00 AM to try to murder him cuz his neighbor poisoned and killed his cat "Helena".

But too bad, the unic thing that Nipper did to hurt him was Only stab his hand and then someone from Nippers Neighborhood called the police and was arrested for attempt of murder, but after 2 months his parents paid a fiance and he was sent free. After the events of his crime, he asked to fhis parents to live in a other place and started to have a peaceful life.

But will he still have a peaceful life after the reality show? Find out on Total Swap Island!

Why he entered in the reality?

Because he parents told him to and because he wants to stay away a bit from the city. And because he wants to know more people.

What he wants to do with the Money?

He said that he will give some of his money to his parents his parents (even knowing that they surely don't deserve) and then live at a other place to live peacefully and Alone.

Nipper's Past:

Nipper did alot of bad things, because of his "anger issues"

Nipper confirmed that he just gets annoyed easily, and because he always make enemies (expecificaly with guys) and because he always wants a excuse to beat the shit off someone.

When Nipper was younger, he always saw his parents arguing, but his parents always told him that was just "a discussion".

Like that, he got raised being slightly Agressive, and always arguing with the "ah, bad boys" from his class.

but he actually just did that to guys, he always get more comfortable next to girls from his age (maybe because of how his mother treated him better than his dad) seriously, in his entire life he always got Alot of girls as his close friends.

Additional information:

Nipper always act as Rebel, especially to Adults.

He is obviously Brazilian.

Nipper's level of "being rebel" got bigger after listening to the American Idiot album by Green day.

Nipper gets kinda of 'feminine' when he is next to girls, especially when the girls are his friends (besties, as I can say)

Nipper always hides his feelings and emotions to his parents. but he always Vent, Talks and Gossips about his life for his friends

Musical References:

The "corp" part in Nipper's second name is a reference to Ken AshCorp. And Ken AshCorp has Alot of things related to this gay loser called "Nipper", Some Nipper's Personality are a reference of the aesthetic of mostly of Ken AshCorp's songs; Dirty minded, Loud and sometimes competitive.

The Rebel personality that he have is a reference to "she's a Rebel" by Green Day. yeah I know, Nipper is a guy, but change the feminine pronouns to male pronouns then BOOM, Nipper theme song.

And his in-game name "south American-Idiot" is a reference to American Idiot by Green day

#total swap island #official tsi post #official tsi art #total drama #total drama au #tsi nipper #Spotify

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sports-on-sundays · 6 months

Note

OMG!! run away part two please?

run away / Marc Guiu / PART 2

Summary: Marc x girlfriend!reader - Things have gone wrong, but searching for a solution seems difficult. Angst.

Warnings: getting drunk to ease pain, mention of sex, smoking, censored swearing, mention of being touched sexually by strangers, vomiting, headache, despair, mention of suicide

Requested?: Uh huh

Author's Note: Gosh sorry this kind of looks really dark. Link to part 1

Yes. It's like how everything was, years ago.

It's like how everything was before him.

Your Marc, who now you're avoiding like the plague.

You're a wreck, and you know it, and you'll admit it. But you've been here before, so no matter how terrible it is, and how much you hate it, at least you know you can make it through.

Hopefully.

You blocked Marc's number, and everyone else's and you're alone.

Literally.

You have no one to rely on, and nothing to get you through but alcohol.

Well, you do have a new friend, but not a real friend. She's just the kind of person who has sex with every guy who's half hot and smokes cigarettes to look sexy. The kind that will tell you to indulge, let loose, calm down. Try something new and risky, and stop caring about what your conscience says in the morning.

Now she stands, arms crossed, leaning against the cold outdoor wall of the club you hate going to but still end up at anyway, covered in sweat and glitter, taking a long drag from her cigarette.

You don't even ask about the glitter.

"I saw I guy you might be into in there. Come on. I know your cash for the week is out, but I'll buy you a couple more drinks. I think you'll have fun with him."

You frown. "I don't want to mess with some guy."

"You'll feel f*cking better. Isn't that what you want?"

"I don't know," you murmur breathy, hitting your head against the back of the wall.

"Well either have some fun and wash your tears down with alcohol or actually get your life in order, because clearly you're miserable in this in-between place," she comments casually, blowing smoke out through her mouth.

You swallow. You know it's not right, but you let her take your hand and drag you back in the club. You let yourself drink all you want. You let yourself lose your mind like the idiot you are. You let men touch you that you would never, ever let sober.

But it's all in the name of fun, right?

Maybe you're choosing to run away from your problems, but maybe it's more fun that way.

And having fun is all that matters.

Right?

You stumble out of the club, not even aware of how used you've been, how disgusting you should feel. You don't even know where you're going, because your "friend" left you when some creep was touching you however he liked, and there's no way you're getting a taxi now, even if you could, since all your money is out.

You can't go to your parents like this, and you've sworn off ever seeing Marc again, which means the only thing you can do is either fall asleep in some alley or somehow walk yourself back to your one room apartment.

You trip on the curb and bend over, practically mindlessly vomiting into a storm drain, and are about to keep walking when suddenly, there are strong arms wrapping around you from behind.

It's nighttime. You're drunk. You're in a bad part of the city.

You gasp and scream, aimlessly thrashing, tears that constantly threaten to fall beginning to stream down your face, "Let go of me! Help!"

But suddenly you freeze, when you hear a familiar voice practically shout in your ear, "Calm down! It's just me!"

You breathe a little slower and calm down, putting your hand on the strong around wrapped around your middle. You know that voice. It's someone good, you think. Someone who wants to help you.

The person gently turns you around, and you freeze when you see who it is.

"Marc... Let go..." you breathe, your vision wobbly.

"No..." he breathes, and the last thing you remember is the horrified look in his glimmering eyes.

Your eyes slowly blink open, and you know you've been here before.

You're laying on Marc's couch, in his living room, in his home.

Emotions hit you like a bullet train. Guilt, fear, regret, anger, despair.

You groan softly as you sit up, becoming aware of your pounding headache. You're still wearing the tight, uncomfortable clothes from last night, and as those cursed memories come flooding back, all you want to do is tear off the wretched clothes and wash off all that shame in a warm bath.

But the first thing you have to do is get the f*ck out of Marc's home.

You can't admit to yourself that Marc is the answer. After how much he hurt you? He can't be.

You don't know what the answer is, and you know it's not what you're doing right now, either.

You're starting to think there is no answer.

And then you look up, to see him walking in. He's so strong and perfect. Literally no blemishes. Perfect body, perfect hair, perfect, face, perfect everything.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

Nothing like you.

But not a perfect personality, you remind yourself.

But just being in the presence of him, and knowing how he saw you last night- the shame is almost too much to bear.

Marc sits down next to you and takes your shaking hand, which you don't like.

"We never officially broke up, you know. We just had that argument, and you left, and cut me off completely. You disappeared, Y/n. Not even your parents knew where you were..."

You look up, and see the pain in his eyes.

Oh God.

"Y/n," he says softly. His voice quivers slightly. "I didn't know if you were alive... And..." You're surprised to hear his voice crack. "I thought that could have been my f*cking fault."

You stare, mouth hanging open. On the first few tries, you can't even speak, before you manage softly, "You thought... I killed myself?"

He sticks his thumb and pointer finger in his eyes seeming to be pushing the tears to stay inside as he slowly nods. "I didn't think it... I just worried... maybe..."

He swallows hard, and you see the tiredness in his eyes now.

Suddenly, just like that, you break down. You bury your face in your hands in start crying. About how terrible you've been, and about how terrible you feel, and about how much you still can't imagine staying with Marc.

It's not like you don't cry often. But you never run out of tears, either. You're not sure if you love Marc's hand slowly rubbing your back or hate it.

Finally you swallow gaining more control of yourself, and Marc gives your back a little pat, saying, "Those close don't look very comfy. I'll get you some."

So soon you sit, staring tear-stained and vacantly ahead, warmed by Marc's clothes on the outside, but cold as stone in your heart.

"You're the one who started this all, anyway..." you breathe, barely a whisper, hating the words coming out of your mouth. "What if I had killed myself? Maybe you f*cking deserve that pain."

He holds his face in his hands now. Sits next to you silently for a few second, before saying, his voice cracking, "Oh, God..."

"Well?" you stare, face hard.

He swallows and says, "I'm sorry... I love y-"

"If you did, you wouldn't have-"

"I do love you! In a relationship, we're going to have to work through things! If you refuse-"

"Shut up!" you suddenly scream, plugging your ears and letting out a dry sob.

When you unplug your ears, you can hear Marc breathing heavily. He keeps his face buried in his hands, but you're not stupid. You know he's crying. Then he mutters through tears, "I don't want to hurt you. But you'll be harmed even more if we don't work through this. We can't pretend it's all okay. And running away won't do you any good, either."

You stare ahead, silent.

"I know I'm in the wrong, too," he breathes, his voice cracking. "Y/n, I thought you f*cking killed yourself. That's what I was worried about. Panicking about. That because I was a bad boyfriend, you killed yourself. I've thought about what I've been doing wrong. I have. I'm too harsh with you sometimes. A lot. I start discussions at the wrong times. Instead of arguing, we should be discussing. I should be gentler with you. You're delicate."

"No I'm f*cking not," you whisper.

"Yes, you are. And it's okay. You've been through a lot. We're all f*cking fragile. I just want to take care of you. Help you. Keep you from cracking, breaking more." He swallows. "But not discussing anything isn't how to do that. Discussions will help us grow. Facing problems will help them be fixed. Ignoring them, turning your back to them, will just make it easier for them to catch us off guard when we're not looking. Then our relationship really will be ruined." He hesitates, before finishing with, "Don't you f*cking see we need each other? You're a wreck without me, and I'm a wreck without you. We both need f*cking therapy, but the first step is communication."

You nod slowly, hesitantly, before whispering, "Why do you still want me?"

"What do you mean?"

"After seeing me so drunk and disgusting and-"

"Because I f*cking love you."

Just those words hit you like a shot to the heart.

You breath in sharply.

But then you stand up, murmuring, "Can- Can I get going now?" You start heading from the door.

"No!" he suddenly says, rushing to grab your arm. He turns you around and buries you in the biggest, warmest, most loving hug you've ever felt.

And he buries his face in your shoulder.

His voice cracks again as he murmurs into you, in pure desperation, "Please, Y/n. Stay. For your own good. I need you."

You swallow, slowly, awkwardly, weakly wrapping your arms around him back.

What other option do I have?

What good am I really getting out of the stupid clubbing? Every night I have fun, but every morning I'm sick.

"I just want to wake up content and go to bed content," you whisper.

He squeezes you tighter. "If we work on it, someday, we can reach that. We can. Together. Please."

You swallow.

He's my last and only chance.

You swallow and nod. "Alright, Marc," you breathe. "May- Maybe. Yes. Just, please... don't break me."

"Not in a million years," he breathes, and you feel like he might never let go of you.

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oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat · 10 months

Text

Prompt I

"But why me, exactly? I'm not... you don't like me that much."

Person B hesitates for a moment. They sigh, a little exhaustion seeps through their voice.

"Person A, I'm gonna be honest here."

"That's new-"

"Anyway. Listen, I... you don't belong here."

"No duh, idiot. I'm the wacky bastard, remember? A fun little sidekick!"

"No, that's not- look. You aren't meant to be with us. You shouldn't be with us."

Person A looks almost taken aback, wide eyes and awful gleam of hurt.

"I- what?"

"We don't want you here, okay? You don't belong with us. You're annoying, reckless, and you never seem to listen to what we say. You've almost got us killed multiple times. We can't afford to lose each other!"

Person A can only stare, bare and vulnerable.

"So yes, it has to be you. That's why it's you."

Person B turns around, ready to leave, as Person A keeps staring.

"...you don't want me?"

Person B halts, hearing the break in the other's voice. A small sniffle, and Person B's heart clenches. They knew it wouldn't be easy, of course, but... well, it's not like it's the others.

Maybe it's best that Person A is gone.

"You- you're gonna leave me?"

Person B sharply turns, rolling their eyes to fake indifference. This a decision made by the others, one they agreed to. There's no backing out now.

"For f*ck's sake, Person A! Of course, we don't want you. Yes, we're going to leave you! Stop being a baby about it and grow up. No one stays forever. You knew that when you joined the team, didn't you? You're an annoying brat! There's no use in keeping you if you insist on being so f*cking weird all the time."

"Wha- I can't just stop being like that! I struggle with things; you know I do. I told you! I told all of you! You said you'd never leave me for that. That I was safe and cared for. So, what the f*ck is this?!"

"Well, I lied."

"Of f*cking course you did. You always lie! You won't tell anyone sh*t, and then expect us to tell you everything? F*ck you! This why the team doesn't trust you!"

"Oh, yeah? Well, at least my weirdness didn't get my brother killed!"

Person A freezes, tears springing to their eyes as they pale. Person B freezes as well, knowing that's too far.

"That's not fair. I didn't mean for it to happen, I... it's not my fault. It's not my fault."

Person B simply turns and leaves, really leaves this time, as Person A cries to themself. They hear soft sobs as they leave their former sidekick behind. The team will be pleased they're gone, they remind themself. For the safety of the team. Who else is there to appease Big Bad?

Them, the team would say if Person B asked. We don't trust you. Why would we keep you? And they know it. They know how easily the team would leave them behind if they don't gain their trust.

And this was the only way to do just that.

You did great, Person B! The team will congratulate them as soon as Person B arrives back at the safehouse. They were so annoying. You did the right thing, honestly.

If this is the right thing, then why does it hurt? It feels wrong. It doesn't feel okay or right or good. Not at all, in any capacity. Person B exhales a shaky breath as they arrive behind the doors of the safehouse. Regret pools in their heart, their stomach, their entire being. A realization hits Person B just before they collect themselves and open the door.

They just left the only person who trusted them, understood them, to die by the hands of a cruel evil.

No wonder they call me a snake, they think as they put on their mask of indifference, never letting themselves close to another again.

Snake.

#prompt idea #writing prompt #angst prompt #ok to rb #can use if ya want!#pls tag me if ya use it so I can see your wonderful work!!#anyway - have fun with this #:D #fanfic writer #fanfic prompt #fanfic idea

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gravityfallsweirdgirl · 2 months

Text

DARKWING IN: Freddy vs Jason

youtube

these teens were have a party that was next door to the mallards.

"Marry, f*ck, or k*ll? Your choices are-- your choices are the Three Stooges. Go, Kia"

"Oh, God...Which one had the super-bad toupee hair?"

"Harry, Mar-- No!"

"No, no, no. It was Moe"

"Either one, I'd k*ll him"

"OK, who'd you f*ck, then?"

"This is stupid, y'all"

"Come on. Come on"

"Oh, God. Whatever, look. I'd f*ck the bald guy, and I'd marry Larry. Jesus. Is this what we're doing all night?

'Cause, y'all, this is really stank"

"Hey! Gibb, what are you doing? I thought you were gonna quit"

"I only smoke when I drink now"

"But you're always drinking"

"Yeah, well, I'll work on that next Hey, OK. I got another one. Fred, Scooby, or Shaggy?"

"Oh!"

"I'm not answering that and neither is she. Do you guys think I should get a nose job?"

"Oh, my God"

"Oh, please, Kia, what you need is a lobotomy"

Then suddenly as it was raining outside the lights started flickering.

"I think I'm gonna get some candles"

"I'm gonna get some beer. Do you guys want anything?" As the girl threw her cigarette out, it hit the hockey mask of legendary killer: jason voorhees, an otter with a machete.

"Are you sure you should be driving?"

"I'm so under the limit, Lori." As she opens the door her boyfriend came out.

"Surprise" and behind him a friend.

"Oh, Trey. You answered my prayers. Thank you"

"Whoa, babe! What'd I tell you about kissing me... after you've smoked, huh?"

"Lighten up. They're menthols"

"Yeah. I brought Blake. Where's Linda?"

"It's Lori. This is her house, so don't be a total cocksmith"

"Whatever"

"Where are the ladies?"

"Relax, they'll be here"

"I'm relaxed, man"

"I'm just wet"

"Did you know they were coming over?"

"Listen, you gotta be quiet. Hey, we knew you were be here all alone this weekend. Blake's cute"

"He's not my type"

"Oh! Who is? No one's ever gonna live up... to the fuzzy memory of your first love, Lori. You were f*cking fourteen, so get over it"

"Yeah, I know we were young... but what Will and l had was real"

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong... but didn't Mr. Real just drop-kick your ass... without so much as a good-bye handshake? He ever even call or maybe even write to you after he moved? Send you an e-mail?"

"No"

"You see my point? It's time to leave the convent, Lori.

You need to meet a guy"

The lights went out and two of the teens started making out making Lori to bring in the candles.

"Hey, Lori...I like the... flow of your place. Got good feng shui"

"Yeah"

"You know about feng shui?"

"Oh, oh! Oh, you should see her bedroom! Hmm?

Great flow in there. Lori, why don't you go upstairs and show Blake your feng shui?"

"Shut up!"

"I got a kink in my neck. Come on. You can massage it out for me"

"I think I need a few more drinks... before there'll be any massaging"

"What do you see in him?"

"I don't know, but he has a cute ass"

"Babe, don't make me ask you twice, OK?"

"So, Lori... am I gonna get that grand tour or what?"

"Yeah. You know, why don't you start in the kitchen... and get us some beers?"

"Cool"

"Oh, my God, Kia, he is a total idiot. Get him out of here"

"Oh, Lori, come on, give him a chance"

"I don't like him"

"You know what? You don't like anybody. I mean, Lori, you've barely gone out since--"

"Since what? Since my mom died? Yeah, well, you know what? My dad needs me. So I can't just go out with guys all the time... and if I did, it would not be with somebody like Blake"

But then the back door was open and someone was creaking upstairs.

"Your back door was open. I closed it"

"Mmm"

"Babe, you know I don't like to be touched after, OK?"

"Fine. I'll go have a shower then"

"Good. Your hair smells like menthols, anyway"

"assh*le"

As the guy lay in bed, he turns to see Jason there, who starts stabbing him in bed multiple times and once tray has enough, Jason closes the bed crushing him.

"Trey!" The girl steps out of shower, "What the hell are you doing?" She steps on a puddle of blood.

And when she saw his deceased body, she screams but Then it turns out to be gosalyn screaming, she wakes up from a nightmare.

After she wakes up, drake comes in to comfort her after he hears her screams.

"Gosayln? What's wrong?" He sits by her bed cupping her shoulders.

"It's nothing dad just a nightmare"

"Well you're safe now" he says.

But the nightmare just begun when next door they see the neighbors screaming and panicking running out of the house, the two look through the window to see the police arrived.

"What do you think's happening" gosayln asked.

"I don't know but I better go check it out" he changes to Darkwing.

"We need to lock this down now. Keep it contained, you hear me?" A agent named grizoff says.

"k*lled in bed. Jesus. It's even the same damn house.

It's gotta be him, right? It's gotta be Freddy Krueger"

"Hey! Don't even say... that son of a bitch's name out loud. Let's just keep it together. We've been through too much to let this thing spread now Take all the kids down to the station. Keep them separate.Do it now"

"What's going on?" Darkwing asked.

"It's nothing important, just a little accident"

"From what I heard it didn't sound like a accident"

Gosayln ends up waiting at the police station while Darkwing investigates.

"Anything?" Grizoff says.

She doesn't know anything.

"They don't know anything. None of them do. Pretty sure we're good"

"Ugh, very well, Good work there tonight, Darkwing.

Right place, right time. But we'll take it from here, all right?"

"Alright I guess I'll get going now"

Darkwing approaches gosayln, "Do they know who did this?" She asked.

"No, not yet sweetheart but we're working on it"

"But I thought I heard... one of the officers mention a name"

"You know, to tell you the truth, sweetheart...this is my first murder case but if they have a suspect, I'd be the first to know"

"But why did they asked me all these really weird questions...Like about my dreams--"

"Look it's been a long night for both of us why don't you wait here I'm gonna get dressed and we'll leave" Darkwing heads to a private room with no cameras.

"What was the name? What was the name?" Then gosayln remembered, "Freddy"

Then she finds the entire station empty, "Hello? Darkwing? Dad? Anyone here?"

She looks around and on the wall were posters of missing kids and blood started falling on the ground it came from nowhere.

She walks passed the wall when the kids looked at her.

Then she sees a little girl, "hey little gurl, Are you OK? Are you lost?"

She turns the little girl around only to find her eyeballs have been cut out.

"AH!"

"His name is Freddy Krueger... and he loves children, especially little girls. Freddy's coming back. Soon he'll be strong enough. It's OK to be afraid. We were all afraid. Warn your friends. Warn everyone"

Terrified the wall turns to her house, she backs up into the door all scared.

Then blood poured down, she looks around to see little girls singing his rhythm.

"One, two, Freddy's coming for you Three, four, better lock the door Five, six, grab a crucifix Seven, eight, try to stay up late Nine, ten, never sleep again One, two, Freddy's coming for you..."

"Who's Freddy? Dad? Anyone?" Then out of nowhere a A disfigured and burned badger with bladed claws jumped at her.

"AH!" She screams then Drake shook her.

"Gosayln wake up" she awoke to find it was only another nightmare.

"What" she stammered and was confused.

"It's ok, it was just a nightmare" she holds on tight to him as he carried her home.

"Let's go home"

Meanwhile another teen was gonna get a visit from Freddy.

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