#fuck me i meant to say video games but i'm rolling with it

[ggswaywardgifrepository]

Shang Tsung is the Albert Wesker of Mortal Kombat. Trust me. Wesker was a cool character in RE1. His look and cool facade were appealing, the heel-turn made the climax of the game that much more impactful. And then when he "returned" in Code Veronica, he was elevated to this almost untouchable badass. He came back from the dead, he's got superpowers now, he's got a weird sexually charged rivalry with Chris now. It was good. It lasted a long time, and RE6 proved that a game without him, or an equally magnetic antagonist, was dead in the water.

Shang Tsung and Mortal Kombat are very similar. The first game was just so unlike anything I'd ever played before that the whole cast of characters are iconic to me. But it was the 1995 film that elevated Shang Tsung to these unreachable heights. Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa owned that role and his is forever the version of Shang Tsung any other Shang Tsung will be compared to.

The biggest of props to Alan Lee for MK1 Shang Tsung. He manages to embody everything Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa brought to the character without it ever seeming like a cheap impersonation. His Shang Tsung is probably my next favorite behind OG movie and MK11 Shang Tsung.

But the thing with both of these characters is that their respective franchises have reached this tipping point where they can't craft a compelling and engaging narrative without leaning on them, and that's not a good thing.

IDK where I'm going with this. I've been drinking. But Shang Tsung and Wesker are goats who now serve as their respective series' crutches, too.

[takes1]

bokuto flirting with inexperienced!reader

nobody asked for this but i can't get this idea out of my head. second time i've written a kuroo's little sister thing and it just seems to read well imo?

warnings. nsfw themes, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / kuroo's little sister!reader / touchy!bokuto / flirty!bokuto / corruption kink!bokuto / virgin!reader / nerdy!reader / kuroo cockblocking / house party / protective kuroo / bokuto being a bad friend / bokuto crushing on you / 2.7k nsfw to follow, reply to be added to taglist

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. my request box. part two here. part three here.

"The guys are comin' over at twelve." Tetsurou informed you with a flat tone. He didn't even look up from his phone as he swiped a banana from the counter.

"Don't care."

Your parents were gone on another business trip, meaning this weekend was a free for all. Your version of fun wouldn't sway far from your usual path, staying up, playing games on your laptop after you were done studying for finals; your older brother gravitated towards more social hobbies.

"Sooo, like," He spared a glance to see what you were doing, "Fuckin' scram. Before then."

Papers, handouts, and notebooks littered the breakfast counter. Your laptop played an educational video from one of your classes and you had propped your phone to look at another online text. One highlighter hit the floor a while ago but you hadn't picked it up yet.

When you didn't acknowledge him, completely in the zone, he scrunched up his nose.

"Did you hear me, dumbass?"

"Shuuuut-the-fuck-up-I'm-doooiiing-somethiiing."

In a colored pen, you inked in a corresponding bar from a practice problem so you could visualize the axes.

If you had checked the time, you would know you had maybe ten minutes before twelve to 'scram.'

One could smell the attitude coming off of him from a mile away. Though he didn't say anything to you, it was made crystal clear in the way he sucked his teeth at you and shoved a chair before he walked upstairs.

It wasn't, and would never be, explicitly spoken, but the reason he didn't want you around was because he knew some friends were just too weird around girls. Kenma was the only friend he trusted to be alone in a room with you, and that was because he didn't like anyone. The roster of guys coming over to play some Xbox, play a match in the backyard, drink up your parents' liquor, and sleep over could've been a suspect line if was asked to judge their moral character.

Your slow, neat line of pen for your next graph became a scribbled mess in less than a second as the doorbell started ringing in a slew of rapid presses.

DINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDING

"Get the door!" You yelled to the stairway, frustration waning only after a nasty sigh.

There was too much to move to your room. You didn't have enough space on your desk for a spread like this, even if you moved every current thing off of it.

Footsteps padded swift back down the steps, not even getting the opportunity to do what he intended to upstairs, and he jabbed a finger at you but you couldn't see.

"Hey!" He shouted. Like he was offended you raised your voice at him to grab the door.

You slammed your palms on the counter and took a breath to yell, just before he called to you from the door, incredibly stern, "Fuck off somewhere else."

"Get the stick out of your ass!" You rolled your eyes and, then and there, decided to not move for anything.

Tetsurou gritted his teeth and pulled open the door, but it didn't nothing to stop Bokuto from pressing the doorbell. Next to him was Akaashi, patiently watching the button-pressing. It was raining, so that meant no practice match; they would have to stay entertained inside.

His big, cheesy grin was hardly a relief, "Hey hey heyy, buddyy!"

"Hey," He said, distracted, thinking about how disastrous this might turn out. He wondered if it was too late to reserve space in the gym, or even cancel.

"Woah-ho-ho," Bokuto giggled at his less-than-enthusiastic greeting and squeezed past him, unwilling to wait outside for any longer, "Don't sound so excited!"

The big, hulking presence stopped in the doorway, hastily removing his wet jacket and shoes. He retold the events of getting here in the rain, sparing Akaashi a few seconds in between to fix his embellished details. He was speaking to Tetsurou at such a volume that you had to search for your earbuds to drown his loud mouth out.

DINGDINGDINGDINGDING--

Maybe all of his stupid friends would ring the bell the same way. Thankfully, he was right there to open it and tell the next two groups to stop.

Soon, your living room was filled with almost all of Nekoma (only a few of which you could recognize from the handful of his games you had attended), and some guys you had never seen before.

It got so loud, so fast.

Your stubborn streak wasn't serving you well. Despite the separation you got from the one wall between you and the entryway, all the sound still poured into the kitchen through the open layout. Your technology wouldn't hold up to how loud a bunch of high school guys could get.

Tetsurou slinked into the kitchen, slow, quiet despite you both staring at each other.

He slid next to you, elbow scrunching one of your precious papers. He had that shitty, low-lidded smirk on his face.

Another boisterous laugh sounded through from the other room and your wince was only proof of your predicament. It sounded like they were fighting, or wrestling, or something that needed to be done outside.

He whispered, "Are you ready to give up?"

"Once you drop dead," You whispered back, clicking your pen ready.

His nostrils flared at your resilience. "You aren't even studying--,"

"Sooo! Where's all that liquor you promised, Kuroo?"

You watched your brother freeze up at the new voice coming into the kitchen. It was genuine distress that flashed across his face for half a second - you wouldn't have had the chance to see it, if he wasn't so up in your business. You turned just in time to watch a guy who didn't go to your school strut in.

"Woah!" He looked straight past your brother, right to you, "Who's thiiis?"

Tetsurou put his hand on your shoulder, something he never did, so you brushed it off as he started, "This is my--,"

"Heyy, Pretty," Bokuto sang just to you, big eyes trailing up, down, and back again, blatantly ignoring his friend.

You laughed at the interaction between them and his nickname for you. He was super hot. It left your brother impatient.

He closed the distance to shake your hand, unable to keep his eyes on just your face.

"This is my little sister," Tetsurou asserted, louder, this time.

The palm on the guy was so huge that you couldn't grip it. His hand could've easily crushed yours but he chose to shake it gently, then held it with both hands when he closed more distance.

"Hmm," He chuckled, "Hey, little sister. My name's Bokuto, but you can call me Ace."

You told him your name in an enamored giggle- biting your lip when he cupped his ear to hear it again, so you repeated it, surely less intelligible.

"(Y/n)?" He asked, jovial, like he was trying to make you keep laughing. He succeeded, "That's nice, but I like Pretty better."

Tetsurou moved himself between you, not a big enough presence to make Bokuto stop touching you or talking in the slightest.

"It suits you, yeah?"

Your brother cleared his throat so loud that it sounded cartoonish. Your fingers slipped from his hand, despite his attempts to keep them all to himself, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, looking down and away. His anger was tangible.

Tetsurou stepped in front of you and faced him. They went just outside of the open doorway. It left you to clean up your papers, laptop, pens, highlighters, books. He muttered many things, but you only caught:

"You serious?" Met with: "Relax, dude!"

"Do I need to worry about you the whole fucking weekend, bro?" Answered with: "Obviously not!"

"This is a line. Don't- don't cross it." Satisfied with: "Have some faith in me, bud, come on."

His friend drama wasn't your problem, but it was oh-so-entertaining to listen to. You fixed up your belongings very slowly so that when they came back, you didn't look so suspicious.

To your dismay, only Tetsurou came back in. He squinted at your gathered things.

"Good. Go upstairs," He said, so simple, with half of his attention on you, half on his friends horsing around in the living room, as if it was normal- as if you had ever tolerated him speaking to you like that before.

You threw a pen at his face, laughing loud with pure delight when it left a streak on his jaw. You had incidentally left it open.

There were few times you had seen him so indelibly angry.

The speed at which he nabbed the pen off of the the floor and hurled it back at you was worthy of a world-record. You only managed to dodge it because you knew what he was going to do before he did.

It shattered on the cupboard, ink exploding all over the floor, staining the counter.

There was almost no time to make a smartass comment, because as soon as you conjured one and inhaled to say it, something crashed in the living room. It sounded eerily mother's-favorite-vase-like.

He was teeming with contempt.

You didn't say anything back when he held his hand up, silently forbidding you from following him to investigate the now-silent room.

It was all his fault, when you thought about it. He dug his grave, since he decided on his own to have all of his rowdy friends over. It wasn't on you that he broke a pen, his friends broke a vase, and his best friend was so sweet to you in the first thirty minutes of the weekend starting.

While you could have left the mess for him to clean up, you didn't want to go upstairs just yet. Once you did, you'd have to justify coming back down. So, you pulled out some cleaning supplies under the sink and started picking up the little sharp plastic pieces of pen.

"Woah, what happened in here?"

You perked right up at the voice, somehow embarrassed to be found like this.

Bokuto threw a look over his shoulder before he fully came in. When he decided to enter, a big smile took up his whole face, making all his handsome features super friendly-looking.

He wasted no time sliding over the tile to squat next to you and inspect the damage.

"Tetsurou threw a pen," You said, quiet, avoiding his attentive stare.

He shook his head, disapproving, and started collecting the pieces with you. He gladly took your hand in his so he could place them in your palm. It was so unnecessary, but it made you giggle again.

"You like studying?" His head dipped to see more of your face, eyes bouncing around to take in all of your features.

It made you shy away and stand to throw the pieces out. But he followed just to watch you, amused at your mannerisms.

"Not really-," You squeezed past him, beginning to spray at and wipe off the ink, sparing a glance to your stuff on the counter, "I mean, there is something nice about it- but,"

Bokuto was too entranced by your lips to properly listen to you ramble. He glanced up to your eyes only on occasion, otherwise sporting an intense stare at your cute mouth, or the way you used your already busy hands when you spoke.

Soon you had told him too much, and there was no ink to clean up anymore, so you returned to sit on the stool next to the counter.

"I didn't know Kuroo had a sister," He sighed.

He chose not to sit, but to stand over you, just so that you had no option but to look up at him.

"Especially not one so cute," His knuckle grazed your warm cheek as you smiled at the floor, "God, you really are such a cutie, huh? You got a boyfriend?"

Your body braced at his touch. He took a step forward, one hand on the counter behind you.

"Mm-mm," You tried to meet his eyes, but it was impossible.

Staring at his body wasn't a bad deal, though. His shirt fit him nice and tight at the shoulders, then loosened, a little flowy at his waist thanks to his impressive build.

"That's good," His fingers dipped to your chin, gently bringing your face to look at him.

This you could only stand for a moment or two. You pushed his forearm down so he would stop touching your face, making you look this way and that.

He sighed, keeping his arm near you in case you wanted to keep your hands on him, but once he understood it wouldn't happen, he put it on the other side of you.

"I've- never had a boyfriend," You admitted, breathless at the pressure of such proximity.

It was mostly as a way to excuse your bashfulness, in partial hopes that he didn't take your hesitation as a sign of rejection.

You loved the attention. It was difficult to keep up with, but it didn't mean that you didn't want it.

His knuckles were white against the counter behind your back. His breath shallowed out. He had a hard time catching it, left recovering from the carnal reaction to such a perfect opportunity sitting before him.

All he heard was the chance to be unrivaled- a white knight of the bedroom, in a sense. To drag out that cute, adoring look on your face for as long as it took to break you in. His jaw tensed, his friendly smile faltering at the thought of what he could show you, teach you, be the very first to do to you.

He grinned, "No wonder he wants to keep you locked up, then."

♕VIP♕

@integers @yuchacco

my masterlist. my request box.

reply to be added for future parts!

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 33 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Getting through your second presentation feels like a battle of wits against your own body. Then after weeks of barely being able to stomach anything, you are presented with the most enticing dinner. But it's the food that's alluring, not your dinner mate, and Bradley has a few things to say about the mess you get yourself caught up in.

Warnings: Swearing, adult language, pregnancy topics, angst, fluff, phone sex, masturbation

Length: 5800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

You slept like a lovesick log after your long drive back to the hotel from the cemetery. Exhausted from throwing up in the shrubs, you curled up in bed and watched the video you took for your son or daughter. You had recorded yourself reading both headstones and having a little conversation with your in-laws about the baby. It was just meant to be something you and Bradley could watch one day with the nugget, but it brought a smile to your face. 

You were decidedly no longer smiling when you woke up on Wednesday and had to race to the toilet. "Why is this happening again?" you asked the bath mat as you curled up in a ball. You had another, longer presentation to give. You had admirals to chat with. You had a whole lot to get done today. You didn't have time for this right now.

Even brushing your teeth was a chore. Changing into your uniform was an issue. At least your pants felt a little looser today. You honestly could not keep up with the way your body was bloated half the time and normal the rest of the time. 

You realized your makeup was pretty much the only thing holding your life together at the moment as you swiped on some mascara. Then there was a knock at your door, and it felt like you were doing the same thing all over again today, because essentially you were. You and Cat had to struggle with the bin of equipment. You had to fight to stay awake in the rental car. The nausea was turning  your life into a game of sheer determination to keep the bagel that you ate from coming back up. 

"Are you okay?" Cat asked you a few minutes before the presentation was about to start. 

"Of course," you told her in what you hoped was a reassuring tone. "Why wouldn't I be?" You shrugged and smiled serenely at her. 

"Because you're sweating bullets. And you've been pacing around the hallway."

You cleared your throat and insisted, "It's just really hot in here."

"It's not," she replied. "Please. I'm begging you. Just keep it together for another ninety minutes, okay? After that, you can do anything you want. Hell, I'll do anything you want me to do. But we need to get through this presentation." 

Her voice sounded panicked, and now you were looking around the hallway for a garbage can. But it was too late. The two of you were being called into the presentation room. Commander Patterson and Admiral Klein were sitting in the front row smiling at you. Shit, more admirals were here today. Oh fuck, all of these people wanted to hear your extended presentaion. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of your neck, past your shoulder blades and along your spine. You wanted Bradley. You wanted Bradley to hold you and let you throw up everywhere and tell you that you were still pretty and that he loved you even if you cried on the toilet and ate crackers while you lay on the floor. 

Tears burned your eyes, and Cat looked like she was going to scream. Pull it together. Ignore the sensation. Clip the microphone onto your shirt. Start talking. 

"Good afternoon. Lieutenant Coleman and I are back to expound upon our research presentation from Monday which covered communications engineering at Top Gun. You can find a copy of our slides in the information packet in front of you. Please hold your questions until we pause for a break. Let's get started."

--------------------------

Bradley really wasn't doing well without you at home. He was barely eating anything besides cereal and sandwiches, and he was going to bed hungry at night. The only fun he'd been having was slowly filling up that pink and blue notebook with his musings for the little nugget.

He was having a hard time sleeping, and he didn't like how quiet the house was. Even Tramp kept looking for you, occasionally running to the front door and whimpering. "We'll see her on Friday," he told the dog as he had potato chips and coffee for breakfast on Wednesday morning. "Two more days of this bullshit." 

When he got home from work on Tuesday, he broke down in tears as he looked at the photos you sent him from the cemetery. You even took a video where you were talking to him and the nugget and his parents. He still couldn't believe you took the time to drive there and make it so special for him. After he finished crying, he made his way back up to the attic where he took the half wall down to the studs. Then he realized that he really needed to call some contractors before you came home and saw the mess he made. 

While he drove to work in the red Bronco, he left messages, hoping to get some estimates in the next week or so. One thing that he'd been slowly coming to terms with was the fact that you didn't need him to take care of you by paying for everything. Both of your incomes were going toward the mortgage payments and all the necessities. You'd both been saving money for the future, and he figured the future had arrived since there was a baby on the way. 

When he parked in the garage on base, he noticed he had some new texts from you.

Baby Girl Bradshaw: I miss you. I'm struggling today. I think the nugget hates me. I'll call you later after my presentation and all of this other shit is over. 

He wanted to text you back, but he didn't want to be a distraction, so he tucked his phone into his pocket and ran his fingers through his hair. He had been reading every pregnancy article online that he could find, but none of the tricks he saw were helping you with the nausea. You were probably just going to have to wait it out. He would be ready to rub your shoulders and put a cool washcloth on the back of your neck when you got home.

Bradley walked the long way around to the classrooms since he was early and didn't need to stop in the locker room to change. When he passed the stairwell that would have taken him up to your office and the engineering labs, he swore he heard Bob's voice. He paused, and he definitely heard Bob's laugh. When the door to the stairs opened, he heard Bob say, "We can always find out later tonight if you want to invite me to your room again." And then there was a very familiar, feminine laugh before Bob appeared ten feet ahead of him.

He stared at Bob, and Bob stared back as the door closed, leaving the two of them alone. Bradley thought back to the way Bob and Maria were looking a little cozy at brunch last Sunday. This was interesting.

"Hey, Bob," Bradley said with a grin. "How are you enjoying your new apartment with Maria?"

His cheeks immediately flushed pink, and Bradley bit his lip to keep quiet as Bob started stuttering. Frankly, he was proud of his friend for sounding so much more self assured a few seconds ago when he was tucked inside the stairwell with Maria. "I-I d-don't know... are y-you... I d-din't think that..."

Bradley let him flounder through a few more partial sentences before he said, "If you're hooking up with Maria Wilson, then good for you, man. Well done."

Bob cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses and ran his hand along the back of his neck. "Thanks," he muttered as he stared at the floor. 

"You want me to keep this information to myself?"

Bob's blue eyes went wide as they met Bradley's. "Please." He swallowed hard. "I don't think she wants anyone else to know." His voice was just a whisper as he said, "I'm sure she'd be embarrassed if people found out."

Then he turned and left Bradley standing there alone. He'd been in that position before with you. Before you made things official. And he had been miserable. "Poor Bob," he muttered as he followed him at a distance. The best case scenario would be if Maria confided in you when you got back from Annapolis. Bradley would have to be cool about you going to brunch on Sunday even though he already wanted you and the baby all to himself again all weekend.

-----------------------

You made it. Somehow you got through the full hour and a half. You nailed your parts, and so did Cat. You and she answered questions for at least an additional thirty minutes, and now she was packing up the equipment while you sent a quick text to Bickel. 

"Your research is very compelling, Lieutenant Commander."

You looked up into the eyes of Commander Patterson, and he smiled warmly at you. Unfortunately, the only thing you could really think about was the way you'd been picturing Bradley's cock the last time you talked to him. At the moment, you were so fucking horny, you felt like rubbing yourself against the wall and crying until you got some relief.

"Thank you, sir," you managed to say while you tried to focus on his face and his words. "It has really become a passion project, trying to keep actual aviators in the air versus the drone agenda. Real people making real decisions based on their surroundings and the immediate threats they are facing will always win out against a laboratory manufactured software protocol."

"I couldn't agree more." He took a step closer and said, "And the way you presented your findings made it so clear that you're eager for others to understand how important that is as well."

"Absolutely," you told him with a smile of your own. "And the funding for communications research is so important." 

You were probably going to have to go to the cocktail hour tonight just to get your face out there since you skipped the previous one to drive to Virginia. But you were almost instantly saved from having to do that as Commander Patterson said, "I'm planning on having dinner this evening with a few of the admirals if you'd like to join us. Cocktail attire. Overpriced steaks. You know, the usual." 

His slight eye roll had you laughing and agreeing immediately. That sounded a lot better than trying to ditch champagne flutes all night. You'd still be able to chat with some superiors, and right now, you were actually hungry. "That sounds great. I'll see if Lieutenant Coleman can join as well."

With that, his smile wavered a bit, but he told you the name of the restaurant, and you promised to be there at seven o'clock. Cat had all the equipment packed up, and she was ready for you to help her carry the bin. "Hey, you want to come eat an overpriced steak later? With Commander Patterson and some others?" you asked as you tried your best to lift with your legs.

"Why didn't you tell me before? I already agreed to some stupid happy hour with a handful of admirals, but I love overpriced food when you don't have to pay for it."

You laughed and said, "That's probably better. We can divide and conquer this way. Bickel will like that."

As the two of you hoisted the bin into the rental car, Cat smiled and said, "You know what else he'll like? The fact that we nailed the presentation again today. I'm sorry I doubted you."

"Don't do it again," you told her with a smirk. Of course then you promptly started falling asleep while she drove back to the hotel, and when you got to your room, you passed out in bed until it was time to get ready for dinner. 

It was only three o'clock for Bradley, and even though you wanted to call him, you decided to wait a little longer. You inhaled a pack of peanut butter crackers while your stomach growled loudly. "What is with you today?" you asked the baby. "You're finally hungry? Or are you going to make me barf again?" You got a loud rumble in response. "I know you like Daddy better, and we'll be home in two days. Relax."

As you redid your makeup, you started thinking about Bradley. And then you thought about how delicious he smelled right after he finished a workout. And then you thought about how nice and big his cock is. And then you thought about all the sounds he makes and the way me moans your name when his cock is inside you.

"Oh hell," you whined, pressing your thighs together. You needed to get some relief with your toys until you could get back home, but you didn't have time for that right now. The combination of being so hungry and so horny was almost too much to handle, and you ended up calling Bradley on the short drive to the restaurant. It was barely four there, so you were surprised when he answered. 

"Hey, Sweetheart."

Two words. He said two fucking words, and you were moaning and having a hard time focusing to drive. "Roo. Oh my god."

"What's wrong?" he snapped immediately. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," you gasped, parking the car and squeezing the steering wheel. "I'm just so horny. And Commander Patterson asked me out to dinner, and I seriously need to get fucked, Bradley. Like you have no idea how bad it is right now."

You could hear him mutter something, and then you thought you heard Jake's voice before Bradley quietly said, "Baby Girl, I'll fuck the absolute shit out of you all weekend. In fact, I can't wait to do that. I'll take care of everything you need."

"Daddy," you moaned, realizing you should have masturbated instead of taking that nap.

"But please tell me who the fuck Commander Patterson is. All I know is that you said he's that guy who asked if Top Gun aviation is the right fit for you?" Another moan escaped your lips as you thought about being a tight fit for your husband. "Yeah, you sound wrecked, Sweetheart," he crooned in that raspy voice. "I don't think you should go to dinner with some guy I don't know. I don't care what his rank is.

You sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It's not just with him. Some admirals are coming too. I need to meet the admirals, Bradley. And I'm already at the restaurant." When you looked further up the block, you saw Patterson heading inside.

Bradley made a frustrated sound. "Text me when you can? And call me when you're leaving later?"

"I will," you promised as your stomach growled. You were so excited that the nugget seemed to want to eat this steak, you almost hung up before you said, "I love you."

You straightened out your black cocktail dress as you practically ran down the sidewalk in your high heels which you rarely ever wore except in your bedroom with your husband. The delicious smells from the restaurant were wafting out onto the sidewalk, and you were going to cry if there wasn't some bread or something already waiting on the table. 

"There you are, Lieutenant Commander." 

Patterson was waiting inside the entryway where at least the sound of the air conditioner blasting and the conversation around you was blocking out your growling stomach. He was smiling as his hand found the small of your back. "Our table is ready. We can go right there." 

When he applied some pressure with his hand, you lurched forward. Perhaps he was just trying to help you navigate through the crowd, but he could keep his hands to himself. He must have known you were married. You decided to make a show of pointing out some hideous artwork with your left hand, practically shoving your rings in his face. "That's a lovely painting, Commander," you told him, but he just smiled and nodded at you before pulling out a chair at a table set for four.

"Please, call me Derek," he told you as he sank down into the seat across from you, and then he started using your first name without permission. The one blessing was the fact that there was an enormous basket of bread sitting right in the middle of the table along with a variety of spreads and dips. 

You moaned softly and had to bite your lip as you reached for a soft looking roll and the chive butter. Derek was staring at you with parted lips and wide pupils. Had he never seen a woman eat before? Had you ever been this hungry before? You licked your lips as you spread some of the butter onto the roll, and then you took a bite and moaned again. 

Holy. Fucking. Shit. 

After weeks of feeling miserable, you finally knew you could stomach this meal right now. You were still so turned on, and yet your exhaustion was bone deep at this point, but the bread was like a lifeline to normalcy, and you were grabbing onto it. 

Derek cleared his throat as he watched you take those first few sumptuous bites. "I've got to know," he said smoothly, "exactly what would lure you back to Annapolis for good?"

You popped the rest of the roll between your lips and chewed it up before you said, "Nothing."

"There would have to be something. Better research facilities? Your own lab? Both of your degrees and your work are so impressive, you must know there would be endless possibilities for you here."

You were shocked. Running your own lab was your dream. The idea of being in charge of a research team made your skin prickle with desire. You hoped that could be a possibility someday, but you weren't even thirty-five yet. You figured maybe ten years from now when Bickel was getting ready to retire, you'd be able to take his place. 

"My own lab?"

Derek smiled, all white teeth and handsome expression, and then the waitress arrived. You wanted to jump out of your seat and hug her when she asked if you'd like to order any appetizers.

"Do you know when the others will be here?" you asked Derek. "Should we wait to order?"

He shook his head vaguely. "They'll be late. We can order. Get whatever you want."

You almost laughed giddily as you ordered three appetizers and then a steak dinner complete with garlic mashed potatoes and two vegetables. "We can share the appetizers," you said when he looked at you in surprise, even though you didn't want to. You placed your hand on your belly, trying to subtly thank the baby for cooperating right now. 

When the waitress finished taking his order and then departed, you asked, "Which admirals are joining us?"

"Hmm? Oh... uh, Rivera and Silverman."

You were not familiar with either of them which made you panic slightly. You should have done more research on who was attending each of the lectures. Why hadn't you done that? Oh, right... because you were too busy throwing up. The bread basket called to you, and before you knew it, you'd eaten more than half while Derek droned on about how amazing you'd be running your own lab. He didn't even know you, which made this more annoying than anything else, but your stomach was holding up spectacularly, so you could overlook it. You could have kissed the waitress when she came back with the appetizers.

"So, do you live alone?" he asked as you dipped two mozzarella sticks into some marinara sauce. You paused before shoving them into your mouth so you could chuckle. 

"No. I live with my husband and our dog." Then the fried cheese hit your tongue, and it was like you were living in a world of color after weeks in black and white. Your stomach gurgled pleasantly, finally accepting food once again. Tears of joy stung at your eyes as you took a forkful of crispy brussels sprouts and a potato skin.

Derek laughed and asked how old you were, but your mouth was full, so he said, "Let's just say, my career in Annapolis outlived my bad marriage. And that's been the case for many, many officers."

You swallowed the potato like it was a lead weight. That had definitely been the case for Cat, unfortunately. And you'd heard a lot of stories, sure, especially when you were at the Naval Academy. And perhaps that was part of the reason you fought against the mere idea of being with Bradley at first. One officer in a relationship with a civilian was bad enough, but two officers trying to make it happen together usually spelled disaster.

But you felt stronger with Bradley. The two of you worked hard to get through your struggles and end up in a better place. You and he were going to be parents, for fuck's sake. 

"Just sharing my two cents with you," Derek added, still smiling. "You're young, and you haven't lived it yet, but I can tell you that you'll go farther here than in San Diego. Especially if you're already open to the idea of having more."

You wanted to check the time on your phone; you must have been sitting here for over half an hour by now. The other two chairs were still empty. Derek was starting to get under your skin. 

"I'm open to the idea of pursuing my career at Top Gun along with my husband."

"He's an officer as well?" Derek asked with a laugh. "I'm sure he's having a great week back in San Diego without you."

You felt heat flame up your neck and into your cheeks as your steak dinners arrived. "Yes, he's an officer. He's a Top Gun aviator."

"He deploys?" Derek asked in disbelief before laughing harder. "You should make the move back to the east coast now, before he ruins your life. If he hasn't already."

He had gone from complimenting you to trying to humiliate you in a matter of minutes. You'd been blinded by the glorious meal, but the truth hit you square in the chest. As he picked up his fork and steak knife, you asked, "Why did you lie to me about two admirals coming? Do Rivera and Silverman even exist?"

Somehow his smile was still persistent as he said, "Sure, they exist. They went to the cocktail reception on base." You watched the knife sink into his steak as he added, "You're gorgeous. I wanted to get you alone. Let you know how much better things could be. Offer to set you up for a one-on-one meeting with Admiral Jennings tomorrow if you come home with me tonight. It's on the table if you want it."

In one quick movement, you snatched his plate away from him with the fork still stuck in the steak. "Okay, well fuck you, Derek," you snarled, standing up and waving for the waitress. "You're disgusting and delusional if you thought I would even consider going home with you."

"Can I get you anything?" the waitress asked cautiously, and you realized you were causing a bit of a scene now in the crowded restaurant. 

"Yes. I need boxes. Like a whole bunch of takeout boxes," you told her. "I'm taking all of this food with me."

"Right," the waitress replied, her gaze drifting to Derek who looked very unamused. 

"I'm taking his meal, too," you snapped. "Hurry up with the boxes."

She scurried away as you piled all of the food onto one plate and said, "You're so fucking stupid, Derek. I already have Admiral Jennings' phone number. I met her last year. I told her to her face that I'm staying in San Diego."

"Well then you're making a bad choice," he told you.

Then the waitress set down some takeout containers while you practically tossed the empty plate back at Derek. You scraped as much of the food into the first box as would fit before moving to the second one. "He's paying for dinner," you told the waitress. "And I'm taking one fork and one steak knife with me. He'll pay for those as well." You shoved the rest of the bread into the last box and then stacked them all up before meeting Derek's eyes. "You just ruined the first meal I've been able to stomach in weeks, asshole. And my husband is a nice man. Very sweet. Treats people with respect. But if he were here right now, you'd have a bloody face and some broken ribs." 

You picked up the boxes, grabbed the utensils, and made your way toward the exit. You went straight for your rental car and climbed inside before cranking the engine. Then you took a massive bite of garlic mashed potatoes before cutting off a piece of Derek's steak while you called your husband. 

-------------------------

Bradley was working out in the garage when your ringtone cut across the playlist you made for him. He practically dropped his barbell to the cement floor to get his phone from where it was sitting on the tool chest. "Sweetheart. I wasn't expecting to hear from you quite yet. Didn't we just get off the phone?" he asked with a smile as he ran his forearm along his sweaty face. "Not that I mind one bit." He was about to ask if you were done with dinner, but then he realized that you were crying. The sweat on his skin turned ice cold as he quickly asked, "What's wrong?"

"Roo," you wailed, and he started looking around the garage as if there was something out here that would help both of you calm down. "He ruined my fucking dinner!" you sobbed.

"What are you talking about?" he asked as he paced the length of the garage, running his fingers through his damp hair. "Who ruined it?"

"Commander Patterson."

Bradley honestly could not fathom how that guy had ruined your dinner. All he knew was that you told him you were horny as hell when you got to the restaurant, and that he didn't trust guys he didn't know around you. Most men were disgusting, and you were lovely and also pregnant with his child.

"Can you explain what happened so I can understand?" he asked as calmly as he could.

"Yeah," you sniffed, and he heard a car engine start up in the background. "The nugget and I were both really enjoying the food. Like really enjoying it, Bradley. You know how I've been, and this was delectable and exactly what we both wanted. Like it was so good, if you'd been there with me looking super sexy, I would have probably had an orgasm in the middle of the damn restaurant."

Bradley swallowed hard as he stood in the garage, wondering where the hell this was going. "I understand. You haven't been able to eat much, so that must have felt amazing. Now can you tell me what's wrong?"

"He ruined it!" you replied loudly. "He lied to me! There were no admirals planning on joining us. He tricked me into meeting him there, and then he gave me fake compliments and accolades about my work. He told me that I could get ahead with a career in Annapolis if I slept with him, all because he wanted to fuck me!"

Bradley almost dropped his phone. "Did he touch you?" he growled, switching to speaker phone as he rushed through the backyard toward the house and looked for flights to Maryland at the same time. "Did he fucking touch you?!"

"No!" you practically shrieked. "No, he didn't touch me! You think I'd let him get anywhere near me after he ruined my dinner?"

"Where are you now?" he demanded. "And what's this Commander fucking Patterson's first name?" 

Bradley was seeing red as he walked inside and slammed the sliding glass door behind him, and Tramp ran whimpering into the spare room. The earliest he could get out of San Diego on an eastbound flight was a red eye that left at 9:30, and that was nearly four hours from now.

"I'm not telling you his name," you said softly with a little sniff at the end. "I'm afraid you'll strangle him."

Frankly, if Bradley got his hands on the asshole, he'd probably wish all he got was strangled to death. "Where are you now?" he asked again, trying to keep his voice calmer.

"In my rental car."

"Alone?

"Yes!"

"Good," he replied as he clenched and unclenched his fist and headed for the shower. "Go back to your hotel room, and text me the address. I'll stay on the phone with you until you get there, and then I'll be out on a red eye that lands in Annapolis at 5:55 tomorrow morning local time. And then you'll tell me his first name, and I'll beat the shit out of him for ruining your dinner and acting like my wife is his for the taking."

"Bradley," you said firmly. "I do not need you to come out here. I already feel better now that I told you about it."

"Well, I sure as fucking hell don't," he grunted, peeling off his sweaty clothes in the bathroom. "Does he know which hotel you're staying at? And where the hell is Cat?"

You groaned and said, "No, he doesn't know. And Cat went to the actual cocktail reception with the actual admirals. I seriously hate Commander Patterson. But I did steal his dinner, so that's making me feel a little bit better."

His thumb was hovering over his phone screen, ready to purchase a seat on this flight. "Wait, you stole his dinner?"

"Yes. I took it. When I tell you the food was that good, Bradley, I am not joking. I housed most of the appetizers and the bread basket, and then I took his plate before he even got a bite of his porterhouse. I dumped all of the food into takeout boxes, took some silverware, told the waitress he'd pay for everything, and then I left."

Bradley burst into laughter in spite of himself. He could actually picture it so clearly. The haughty expression on your face. Your biting wit once you figured out what was going on. The way you must have looked dumping the steaks into the containers. "You're a damn force to be reckoned with, Baby Girl. Are you driving back to the hotel with all the food?"

"Yeah. I mean I did eat a few bites when I first got back in the car, because the baby was demanding it, but I'm absolutely going to eat the rest in my room. Fuck that guy. He doesn't even deserve his overpriced steak. It's mine now."

Bradley cradled his forehead in his hand and laughed. "Do you really not need me to come out there?"

He heard you take a deep breath before you said, "I miss you a lot, but I really do not need you to come out, okay? The nugget and I are fine now, ruined dinner aside."

"Alright," he murmured. "If you change your mind, you have two hours to let me know, and I'll be knocking on your door by 7 in the morning."

You moaned and whispered, "God, that does sound good. I'm back at the hotel. Heading up to my room now. Any chance you feel like having phone sex before I eat my two steaks and roughly four pounds of potatoes?"

"Fuck," he grunted, his cock already getting hard as he looked down at himself. "Yeah. A hundred percent. Let me just get in the shower here."

"Okay, Daddy," you muttered, and Bradley was practically tripping over himself as he started up the spray of water. Once you were safely inside your room, you told him, "I'm ready when you are."

-------------------------

You got off twice to your vibrator and your husband's sexy voice. It was so easy to imagine him in the shower with the sound of the water in the background. You could picture the steam snaking around his body while he held his thick cock in his hand. You could practically taste his skin and smell the body wash he was definitely using as lube. 

"That's my sweet girl," he crooned as you started to peak for the second time. "When I get you home on Friday, my mouth is going to be all over that pussy. I miss you so much. I want my wife and my baby with me."

"Bradley," you whined, legs bent and shaking as you got closer. "I need you to fuck me. I'm so goddamn horny for you!"

He grunted right into the phone and said, "Keep it up, and I'll break your new car at the airport, too."

And then you came. Hard. Your chest was sweaty. Your back was arching off the bed. The vibrator rolled out of your grasp, and you stroked yourself with your fingers and whispered his name over and over. 

"I'm about to come," Bradley moaned. And you could hear the exact second he was probably making a white mess all over the tile wall. You imagined it on your belly instead. 

You just wanted to go home, and when your back finally settled against the bedding you said, "I need you to promise to fuck me at least twenty times between Friday night and Monday morning."

"Make it thirty, Sweetheart," he crooned as he panted. "At least. I fucking need it, too."

You turned your head to the side where a photo of him was still pulled up on your phone. "Sounds perfect. Don't forget, I'm having dinner with my mom and dad tomorrow, so please FaceTime when you're walking out of work if you can."

"For the love of all things holy, please don't talk about your parents when I'm still holding my cock."

You giggled, and then he laughed. "I won't do it again," you promised as you sat up in bed, eyeing the takeout containers on the desk. "I love you, Roo. I'm going to eat Derek Patteron's steak, take a shower, and then pass out."

"I love you too, Baby Girl. Can you put your phone down by your belly?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed, pressing your lips together to keep from squealing at how sweet this man was.

"And I love you, too, my little nugget. Be nice to Mommy."

---------------------------

BG is all over the place... Roo probably has whiplash. Derek should be punished for ruining that meal for her and the baby. Just a few chapters left, and we'll have another series for them in the books! Thanks for reading! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 34

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[enhasrii]

Teenage crush: my bestfriend's brother | yang jungwon

Pairing: yang jungwon x female reader

Word count: 1002

Genre: bestfriend's brother, teenage crush/love

Warning: none

Note: this will have another part or parts. happy reading:)

"YOU GORRA HEAR ME OUT. I'M SO PISSED RIGHT NOW." just when you opened up the door of your bestfriend's, jiwoo, room, you were greet with her whining. Her brows furrowed in exasperation.

"okay. Let's hear you." You closed the bedroom door of her room.

With a heavy sigh, she collapses onto the bed, lying on her back and glaring irritably at the ceiling. You approached her and then lay down next to her, waiting for her to launch into a tirade.

"He is so fucking—" you interrupted her.

"language."

"—so damned annoying. He doesn't know a thing. I am so furious. He is always playing video games. He doesn't care about me at all. I hate him" she rant her hear out. You look at her.

"No, you don't." -was your only reply.

"fuck yeah, I don't." She agrees. you give her a stern look, when she spits out again, she simply rolls her eyes at that. "How can he not pay any attention to me? His own girlfriend, huh loser. I'm so mad i swear to god." she whine.

At the moment, she was meant to be at her boyfriend's house. When she abruptly called you to her house, you thought they must have gotten into a fight.

"did you try talking to him, about this." You asked her, knowing her, you already know the answer. "What happened, though, you did not even properly tell me." You said.

"Nah. First of all, he invited me to hang out at his house. Then totally ignored to me to play online like a loser with his bestfriends. Secondly, I have no doubt that man is still completely unaware that I had left." Her statement caused you to frown and give her a startled look.

"Wait- what do you mean he— jiwoo did you even told him you were leaving?" You asked her, half-amused by her absurdity.

"No." she replied. You give her a glare. Here you were making assumption that they may had a fight or something, It turns out that she did not even speak to the man she was complaining about. Your glare makes her slightly flatter. "I had enough of him okay." she claims.

Her phone rang just as you were ready to reprimand her. It was on the bedside table and she reached for it. The ID of the caller was "jaehyun💥💘."

Conflict, she looks at you. You urge her to take the call. She put it on the speaker after doing so. Now you both sit upright on the bed.

"Jiwoo babyy wheree didd youu goo" jiwoo's boyfriend, jaehyun's voice was heard and just like jiwoo, he was whining.

"Oh so now you notice that I have left huh!" Jiwoo grumbly asserts. Jaehyun makes a loud whine over the phone. Despite the fact that you guys are the same age, you would mistakenly believe that to be a child.

"I'm sooo sorry babyy."

"I don't wanna hear it."

"Please baby come over. I promise I'll make it up to you. Please." jaehyun plead from the other line

"No." She ignores his pleades. And judging by the way she looked, she seemed to be having fun while he begged her. You shook your head at her behaviour.

"Please baby, please." Jaehyun persisted.

You stopped her in her tracks by nodding "go" just as she was about to say no again. She mouthed the word "not yet" and shook her head frowningly. You give her a stern look while mouthing the word "goo." She pouted before nodding.

"Okay." was all she said.

"Yess! I'll even get your favourite ice cream." Jaehyun cheer on the other side. And his girlfriend was so excited by his offer that she hurried out of bed.

"Okay! I'm on my way." Now she spoke with excitement. Before running out of her bedroom, she gave you a kiss on the cheek and waved good-bye. You smiled back.

You exhale. The room was silent except for the sound of the ceiling fan. After getting out of bed, you left her bedroom.

You heard the front door opening as you were making your way downstairs, only a few paces from the living room.

Before seeing him, you heard him.

"sleep tomorrow but tonight go crazy." His voice echoed loudly throughout the house. Him, your bestfriend's brother.

Yang jungwon.

"all you gotta do is just meet me at the—" assuming by the look on his face he got startled seeing you here and stopped singing (obviously). "Oh. Hi. I didn't knew you were here" He sheepishly said and streched the back of his head, embarrassed that you must have heard him when he was loudly singing.

"Hi. Uhh.. I was just leaving." You were attempting to conceal the smile that was starting to appear on your face due to his agitated state by focusing on the ground.

He gave you a nod and stepped aside. maybe your delusional mind was playing tricks on you but you swear you saw his eyes tracing your features and form. He gives you a little "bye" wave.

You wave back. Almost took a step but stopped. doubting whether or not to say it. Say it! your mind tells you. common Say it—

Then you turn around towards him. "You really have a nice voice" you said before leaving.

omg. omg I just said that to him Oh. Am. Gee. You covered your face with your hands, squealing quietly to yourself. relax it's not like you confessed to him or something. "Yess. Control yourself, y/n." You gave yourself a quick slap on the cheek, clearing your throat, and proceeded to walk normally, avoiding expressing your emotions. The yang's house was right next to yours, so you quickly reached your place.

You were too anxious and agitated to notice the shy smile that appeared on Yang Jungwon's face cause of you. (when you complimented him and simply by being there.)

Is that how you feel when your crush compliment you?

© enhasrii, 2024, Do not repost or copy in any way.

NOTES, COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

[elliesmainhoe]

Procrastination

Streamer!Ellie X Reader

Summary: While Ellie leaves her office for a moment, leaving her stream unattended, you sneak in.

Contents: nothing really, pure fluff, kisses, pet names.

This is a part 2 of Player Two.

My Masterlist

You'd been watching Ellie's steam from your shared bedroom, using it as a distraction from your assignment you had meant to be completing. But as a chronic-procrastinator any excuse is a good excuse.

So here you are, laying in bed, your original word document being abandoned for Ellie's stream. She was doing a pretty chill stream, playing various video games and chatting on and off with her chat.

Ever since you had officially been introduced to her stream, they had been talking about you non-stop. Her subs seeming finding teasing Ellie and making her go bright red fairy amusing.

"Yo guys." Ellie spoke, breaking the steady pace if the conversation she was having with her viewers "I need to go, I'm gonna be back in five minutes okay? Please don't start a cult while I'm gone? Okay thanks." She joked, taking off the head set and leaving it on her set.

A smirk on your face as you spotted the perfect opportunity. You got out of bed, quickly fixing your hair and throwing on a sweater before you creeped stealthily across the hallway to Ellie's now abandoned office. You creaked the door open, the harsh blue light making you squint.

You walked into the room, hiding off screen until the last second were you clapped into the mic, grinning as the spam typing of

"Oh Fuck!!"

"That was unnecessary"

Fled through the chat.

"Oh look it's my favourite people in the whole wide world" you giggled, sitting in Ellie's blue gaming chair.

User2: OMG😭

User3: Yay!!!!

User4: Hi Y/N 💙💙💙

"Hiya guys" you waved at the camera, a small ginger flurry of fur jumped into your lap "oh Garf, you gonna join me?"

"meow".

"yeah, yeah alright"

User5: I love Garfield so much

"I know I love Garfield aswell, don't I baby?" You laughed scratching the cat underneath his chin.

"How are you all doing?"

User6: Really good actually!

User7: epic

"Good, good. I'm glad to hear that." You hummed. "Oh-!" You exclaimed a thought coming to your head.

"The other day I was laying in bed ,scrolling through TikTok while I was waiting for Ells to wake up and I saw an edit. OF US!"

User8: I know all my favorite twitch editors edited you. It was so cute 😭

"Hold on let me pull it up," you say tapping the screen if your phone, clicking on TikTok and then favourites. "Right, okay, so it was this one" you said, you turned your phone around showing an out of focus video of you and Ellie edited to the song 'Glue Song' by Beabadoobee.

"When I tell you that when I saw this I cried. I am not kidding. Ended up waking Ellie up cause I was sobbing" you laughed once you finished, shaking your head at the ridiculous memory.

User9 donated $30 'Buy Garfield a new toy'

"aww thank you~" you smile scratching the purring cat between it's ears "You hear that baby, your gonna get a new toy'".

"meow"

"He says thank you and says he appreciates you and thinks your amazing".

You began talking about everything and nothing, talking about different goings on in your lives and thanking donations, all while swiveling around on Ellie's chair, stroking your cat like a bond villain.

"You look... Threatening" a voice you could tell was trying to stifle a laugh came from behind you.

"Ellie baby~ Hi~" you giggle turning around a stupid smile painting onto your face.

"Yeah, hi babe" she laughed in reply, be ding down and pressing a brief kiss to your lips. "What are you guys doing?" She asks looking into the webcam suspiciously.

"Oh we were just chatting"

"and why are you, my gorgeous beautiful smart girlfriend, talking to my chat instead of finishing the assignment you've been procrastinating about for a whole week, hmm?"

"uhhh I plead the fifth" you said, smiling sheepishly at the woman.

Ellie rolled her eyes. "Right guys I'm gonna have to end this stream here. If I don't babysit my girlfriend she will wonder off, forget about her work and end up being upset when she hasn't done it. So, girlfriend duties call, bye"

She clicked a few buttons, the screen changing and then switching off, "c'mon baby, let's get to bed" she hummed her arms wrapping around your torso and lifting you out of the seat.

------------

Just a quick one before I go to bed 💙.

Taglist: @aunslie @lonelyfooryouonly

Join my taglist here

Part 3

[collidescopeeyes]

Time is a Roulette Wheel

Viego: Pt 3

League of Legends | Viego x F!Reader

Chapters: Prologue | Viego: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Crossposted on AO3 here

SFW

Summary: Turns out that Runeterra isn't the only place that has a Void. Plucked from your world into one of a video game with nothing but stolen time powers, an inability to die and a middling recollection of lore, you're prepared to do just about anything to get back home again. You just have to find the right Champion to help.

Viego doesn't follow you while you're in public. That's probably a good call, considering his past, and especially considering you've found yourself in Bilgewater. You finally tracked down Ryze, and he had approximately fuck all useful to say. You spend the week trying to decide whether you should just steal the World Stones and hope they magically give you some insight on how the fuck to get out of here, but you're also pretty sure taking those things out of this world would end it, and you're not that far gone. That doesn't mean you’re not so miserable about the decision you spend the next few days drowning your sorrows in the most moderately priced swill Bilgewater can offer. If there's anywhere a girl can get bed, board and booze for a reasonable fee, it's here.

After Viego showing up almost daily for the last two months, you kind of miss him. Maybe that's why you get shit faced drunk on overpriced wine alone in your tavern room that night, instead of going to a bar like you have been. You have no idea if Viego has some way of knowing what you're up to before he shows up, but you're halfway through the bottle by the time his boots appear in your periphery.

“What are you doing?” He asks dryly. You blink up at him.

“Is it not obvious?” You drawl, taking a sip from the bottle before offering it to him. He stares at it, brow furrowed. “Oh, don't tell me you've never tried getting drunk, either.”

He rolls his eyes and takes the bottle. “I have. It didn't work.” He drinks, then grimaces. “What is this swill?”

“Maybe you just didn't have enough?” you suggest, ignoring his other comment. Of course he'd have opinions on wine, the elitist. He drinks again, so it can't be that bad.

“What I meant was, what are you doing drowning yourself in cheap wine?” Viego reiterates. You make grabby hands at the bottle, and he passes it back to you empty. Bastard.

“It was not cheap,” you insist, and then have the bright idea to rewind the bottle to full. “Aha!” You crow when it succeeds.

“Iso,” he says, in a tone that is attempting to be patient.

“I'm just–” you stop, take an excessively long swig, and then slump back against the wall. Your cramped room doesn't have anywhere to sit save for the bed. Maybe you should've gone to a bar. “I'm stuck. I'm stuck in this shitty world and I'm never going to get back home because no one fucking knows anything and I have tried everyone. I've tried the mages, the Voidspawn, the chosen of the fucking gods, I've tried you–” you gesture agitatedly at him. “--and no one knows a single goddamn thing that can help me! And even if I could figure out how to get back into the Void and survive a second trip, I'd probably just end up in some other shitty fucking world!” You fail your arms out emphatically, and Viego takes this opportunity to snag the bottle from you before you spill it.

“How did you come to be here?” He asks. “In this world?”

Your lips thin with discomfort. “I can't tell you,” you say reluctantly.

He looks almost offended. “You have been inexplicably aware of my most painful and humiliating moments, even ones I myself do not remember, and you refuse to share your own story?”

“That's not–” you cut yourself off with a frustrated noise. “I mean I literally can't tell you, it doesn't…” he looks like he doesn't believe you. You sigh deeply. Maybe it'd work this time. It's not like he's alive, after all. “Alright, have it your way, but I'm only trying this once. I was–” and there it is, the burning, stabbing pain rending your throat into ribbons. You gag on your own blood, and Viego lurches towards you as you begin to cough up the shard. His hands are on your arms as he drops to his knees before you, looking so fearful you almost feel bad for him, even though you're the one eating glass right now.

It passes quickly enough. You grimace as you wind your timeline back to before your little demonstration, the blood and pain vanishing in a heartbeat. Only the mirror shard remains, which you cast aside with disgust.

He looks stricken. “I–are you injured? What was that?”

“I'm fine now,” you assure him, a little sheepishly. “It's just…my powers have rules. That's one.”

He lets out a breath, hands lowering from your biceps to rest on your forearms. “Do not do that again,” he orders harshly. “I do not care what the circumstances are.”

“You don't have to tell me twice,” you say with a shrug.

He gives you an unimpressed look. “Don't I? Why in the name of good sense would you possibly do that, simply because I asked?”

You shift uncomfortably. “I thought it might work this time,” you say, and your voice sounds small. “And if anyone could understand what I went through, it'd be you.”

He just looks at you for a moment, but you can't quite bring yourself to meet his eyes. Then, he stands, only to throw himself onto the bed next to you. The wine is in his hand again, though you have no idea where it went before. “Have you tried writing it?” He suggests.

“Doesn't work,” you say morosely, only to squint incredulously at his big armored boots. “Boy, get your fucking boots off my bed.”

He blinks at them like he's only just remembered he's wearing them. “Apologies,” he says, passing you the wine. The whole armored shin debacle is apparently held in place by a few buckles, and somehow seeing Viego's socks is more surreal than the fact that he's here at all.

“Have you considered wearing something that isn't what you died in?” You suggest, poking at a frayed lapel.

He blinks at said lapel, picking at the tattered clothing with a frown. “Is that what happened?”

Right. He didn't remember. “I mean, I assume you weren't rocking the half shirtless look for fun,” you say, poking him in the exposed midriff. He's not cold like you were expecting–save for being as pallid as a ghost, he feels perfectly human. You do it again, because huh, he's actually built, which you knew because of the shirtless thing and the abs and all but it's a little different when his abdomen feels like a fucking rock–He catches your hand, and you realize that oh yeah, you're drunk and should probably be thinking better of harassing the guy with the giant sword.

“Iso,” he says warningly. That's a new look on his face–Viego is no stranger to inner turmoil, but this time he also sort of looks like he can't believe this is a situation he actually has to deal with. Which, same.

You pull your hand back with a shrug, sipping your wine instead. “Just saying.”

He gives you an unreadable look, then demands the wine with an imperious beckoning gesture. “I must be able to summon the Mist unimpeded in battle,” he says before taking a sip, gesturing to the pitch cavity in his chest.

“So we bring you to a tailor who can make you a titty window,” you say easily. Viego chokes on the wine and then on his laughter. He's handsome when he's happy, you note.

He's looking at you oddly, his expression somewhere between strained and flustered. “I said that aloud, huh?” You note.

“How much of this have you had?” He asks, holding up the bottle and swishing its contests. You're grateful for the change of subject.

“Uh. Most of it?” You shrug. “I don't hold my alcohol well, historically.”

“Can't you just…” he makes a spinning gesture you realize is meant to evoke a clocks hand.

“If I wanted to be sober I wouldn't have gotten drunk,” you point out. To prove your point, you snatch the bottle back.

He does a little mouth shrug. “A fair point.” For a moment, he just looks at you, and hell if you've ever known what goes on in Viego's head but he looks almost discouraged. “Is it so bad, staying here?”

You slump. “I…” you don't know how to answer that. You scrub a hand over your face, trying to find an answer you're allowed to give. “The only thing that's kept me going is getting back to them. To my family. Everything, the pain and the endless fighting and all the times I thought I couldn't get back up again and then I did, it was for them. And now I…” your breath catches.

“You don't know how to live without a purpose,” Viego says like he understands, and you guess he would. “Without someone to live for.”

You rub your face. “I just…what was the point of it all? Why am I still here at all, if I can't go home?”

“There is no point,” he says calmly. “Life is cruel and senseless, and there is no reward for enduring the pain it so keenly inflicts on us. But we are not yet dead, so we must go on.”

You slide a sideways glance at him, at the hole in his heart. “I don't think I can die,” you say morosely.

He gives you a crooked half smile. “Then I suppose you and I will just have to find something to live for, hm?” He reaches for the bottle, and then grimaces. “Starting with some better wine.”

—

You smuggle him into a wine shop, using an oversized cloak (turns out he can turn the magic crown thing off, but he does not like it and will not specify why beyond making a face) and a pair of sunglasses you picked up on a whim in Piltover (“What are these things? Iso, I cannot see.”). Once you get to the shop, he spends the next forty minutes trying to explain the difference between a dry and sweet wine to you. He then spends another twenty arguing with the sommelier about trying to pass off a Malbec for Merlot. You're pretty sure his shitty disguise does not hold up for the time he spends leaning over the counter emphatically gesturing at the man, but this is Bilgewater, and if the sommelier knows who he is, he doesn't give a shit beyond the fact that he's trying to haggle.

You walk back with Viego at your side, still grumbling about the sub-par availability. You point out that they are under constant siege not only by huge murderous fish, but also by undead armies, which probably affects trade routes. You ask whether that's something he can, y'know, stop, and he sighs.

“The mist is as alive and hungry as the rats in that gutter,” he says, nodding at said gutter. “It is outside my control, unless you want me to usher in another Harrowing and make things worse. I'm very talented at making things worse, you see.” He spreads his arms with a self depreciating grin. The bag of bottles he's carrying clinks concerningly.

“Can't you, iunno, command the wraiths to chill out or something?” You try.

You can't see his eyes past the ridiculous sunglasses you have him in, but you're sure he's rolling them. “Can you command the gutter rats?”

You shoot him a reproachful look as you open the door to your inn room. Luckily, it faces out to the street, so you don't have to go through the attached tavern. “Hey, have some respect. They're trapped in eternal undead torment because of your fuckup, remember?”

He seems abashed for a moment as he follows you in. “I did not mean…” he sighs, taking off his sunglasses and tossing them on the table. “If you took the rats and put them in, say, someone's house, they would panic and start biting, yes? Because they are scared and hungry and all they know how to do is to hurt or to run. It is the same with the wraiths. I can bring the mist to a place, and the mist brings them, but I can only directly control a scant few from a horde.” He gestures up at his crown, which he apparently rematerialized when you were distracted. You suppose that's how the possession thing worked in the game, too. He hesitates a moment, then continues in a reserved tone, “I know their plight is because of me, but I have no way to undo what I have done, for them or myself–” and then he pauses, fingers on the clasp of his cloak, staring at you.

“Can I help you…?” You say slowly as the silence drags on.

“Yes,” he says. “I think you can. When we met, you made me human.”

Your eyes widen. “Is that…something you want?”

He pauses as if he's not sure how to answer that, then shakes his head. “Not for me, for the wraiths. If I bring their souls to you, can you restore them?”

“I…” you pause, considering. “I guess? I mean, it'll be harder the longer they've been like that, but if it worked on you I don’t see any reason it wouldn't on them.”

He nods sharply, and all of a sudden Viego is on one knee in front of you with a beseeching look on his face. “Come back to the isles with me.” You stare, and the look he’s giving you is almost pleading. “You were looking for a purpose, and I am looking for redemption. We could find it together. Please.”

“Why?” You say, blunt as anything.

His brow furrows. “What do you mean, why?”

You lean forward, looking him dead in the eye. “Viego, the Shadow Isles are ancient and the dead are countless. What you're asking of me will take years, and making them human again doesn't undo all of the suffering they've already been through.”

“Do you think I don't know that there is no fixing this wretched mist?” He shoots back, clearly affronted. “You restored my humanity, once, and my heart ached no less fiercely for it.”

“So why? For Isolde? Do you think she'll somehow forgive you, if you ‘undo’ what you did?” you persist. You know you're pushing too hard, but somehow the thought of him asking this of you for her irritates you.

“Isolde is gone!” He snaps, and you realize he's trembling. “She is gone, and every day my traitorous heart forgets a little more of the pain of losing her. I know there is no forgiveness for what I have done, in the dead or the living, but is it so wrong to do as she would have wanted in her memory?”

“I–” you realize, looking at his shaking hands, that you're being an asshole. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. You…you know you can't be mad at yourself for moving on, right?” You ask gently. “You’ve grieved for long enough. Not hurting when you think of her doesn't mean that you didn't love her, that you don't love her still.”

He looks up at you for a moment, gaze oddly vulnerable, and then rests his forehead on your knees. “I know this in my heart. It is my mind that thinks it is a betrayal.”

“Well, stop it,” you say, and he gives a laugh that is almost a hiccup. “If you're betraying your wife by being happy then I'm betraying my family by not suicidally flinging myself into the Void on the vanishingly slim chance that I'll end up back home.”

He rolls his head to the side so he can give you a narrow look. Incidentally, this also means his head is now fully resting on your lap. “That's ridiculous.”

“Exactly,” you say. “But if you're going to hold yourself to an insane standard of authenticity in pain then you're going to have to hold it against me too, so checkmate.” He smiles ruefully, and before you can think better of it you card your fingers through his hair. It is insanely soft, and you can't help but be jealous because there's no way there's hair care products in the Shadow Isles. Does that mean you'd have to import some? Wait, why are you assuming you're agreeing? You had some great ethical standpoint about this a minute ago–oh, right, not letting him use you for free moral absolution. “Tell me again. Why do you want me to come with you?”

His eyes, which at some point closed while you were playing with his hair, slide open. “Because it is within our power to help. Because they were my people and my responsibility, and I failed them. And, to be very honest, because having you with me eases my heart, and I am at my core a selfish bastard.”

You laugh disbelievingly, and he smiles hopefully up at you. Maybe it's the look in his eye. Maybe it's the lingering wine in your system, or the fact that he's right and you have nowhere else to go. Maybe it's just that you inexplicably have a soft spot for him. Whatever it is, you say yes, and he smiles so brightly you instantly understand why Isolde married him on the spot.

Then he insists on trying to educate you on wine, and you get through 3 out of 4 bottles before he is forced to admit you simply have no taste.

(You also get so shitfaced drunk that you fall asleep on his chest, trying to see if he still has a heartbeat. He must also be, because he lets you.)

—

You give Viego a week to find a dozen of the most recently reaped souls, while you make other preparations. It's difficult to convince any ferry to come to the Shadow Isles, but you need a way for the freshly risen to make it back to civilization. You agree that he'll wait offshore for a day, and when you light a lantern he'll come to shore for the passengers. He makes you pay half upfront because he thinks you'll die.

When you appear at Viego's castle, he is instantly by your side. “Iso,” he greets, as if he's relieved you came after all. You think he's made some sort of effort to clean up, because he shows you to a room that is downright nice. He's clearly gone to some effort to find furnishings mostly unravaged by time and the Ruination, including the bed you restored; if the lost kingdom of Camavor had one thing going for it, it was apparently talented carpenters supplied with good quality wood. He assures you that he'll provide everything you need to assist with your work–he still has access to the coffers, after all, and Bilgewater merchants don't ask questions if there's gold on the table. He doesn't know what kind of food you like, but if you let him know he'll do his best to acquire it. His posture is ramrod straight and his accent is out in full force, and you are inexplicably reminded of coming over to a friend's messy apartment while they scour through their pantry looking for something edible to serve because they're too embarrassed to admit they've been getting takeout for a week.

“Viego,” you interrupt his stream of courtly assurances as you walk back to the main hall. “What are you so nervous about?”

His nose wrinkles, affronted. “Nervous? Me?” He repeats skeptically.

“Iunno, whatever you want to call the fussing,” you say, waving a hand at him.

“Fussing–” he repeats, offended. You give him an unimpressed look, and he relents. “I…suppose I might be a little on edge. If I had hosted such an important guest with such poor hospitality when I was a prince, I would be a laughing stock.”

You mutely point at yourself, baffled. He rolls his eyes, and there's the Viego you know–haughty, single-minded, and a little bit of a bitch. “Yes, of course you. You are healing the wound I made in the world for no reward but the deed itself. If the kingdom of Camavor still lived, you would be lauded as a saint and courted as an asset to the kingdom.” He pauses, looking into the middle distance. “If I am remembering correctly, I believe father would probably have tried to marry us.”

You blink, utterly unsure of what to make of that information. “He would've?”

Viego shrugs. “I was quite charming then, and seducing you would be a convenient way to secure your allegiance to the kingdom.”

“What, implying you're not charming now?” You tease.

He stops and turns to look at you, and you almost run into his shoulder. You brake in time to avoid a collision, but it leaves you much closer than anticipated. When Viego looks down at you there's an oddly searching look in his eyes, but it quickly vanishes from view as he leans down to murmur in your ear. “Should I be, to keep you by my side?”

You shiver without meaning to and hope he doesn't notice. “Alright, point taken, heartbreaker,” you say, quickly stepping past him and praying to any god who will listen that he doesn't see the flush on your face.

---

The first lot of souls Viego summons for you aren't hard. You lay your hands on the filmy substance of their being and spin their time back, back, to the sharp rending tear where they became something else. There is a strange ripping sensation you can't describe as their physical bodies snap back into place around their souls, summoned from whatever flotsam graveyard they were in at Bilgewater, and then there is a trembling woman in front of you. She immediately begins to weep, thanking you profusely and begging incoherently to be allowed to go home, and you cast Viego a deeply uncomfortable look.

He looks no more at ease with the situation than you are, but he steels himself and says in a far gentler voice than you expected, “You are safe now. No harm will come to you here. I cannot give back the time and pain that was taken from you and for that I am sorry, but you will return to your home and your family unharmed.”

She looks up at him, voice choked and shaky. “Y-you're him, ain't you? The Ruined King? Y-you’re letting us go?” Her eyes flick to you, and a realization flashes in them. “T-then you must be the Queen he was looking for! C-congratulations, your majesties, I'm happy, I'm truly happy for youse–” and she dissolves into hiccuping sobs that you don't feel comfortable interrupting just to say ‘no, actually, we're just friends’. At the same time, you're stricken with the completely inappropriate realization that that wouldn't even be entirely true if you did say it, because if he wasn't grieving his double-dead wife you probably would've tried some horrendous pickup line on him by now.

None of those are thoughts you're ready to deal with however, so you turn and restore the next soul.

—

After the shaken crowd is delivered to a shellshocked ferryman, it occurs to you that he didn't correct her, either. You ask, over a dinner of roast meat and veg (he's very remorseful about you cooking your own food, but you flat out refuse to leave it in the hands of a wraith he's pretty sure used to be a chef).

His eyes slide away from yours uncomfortably. “I thought it might be easier for them to believe in my intentions that way.” He looks down, idly pushing a wedge of potato with his fork, which is very unlike him because Viego usually has impeccable table manners. “And it is true, in a way. I am a changed man, because of what Isolde said to me, and because of what you have done for me.”

“What, are you gonna propose to me?” You joke, your mouth running ahead of your mind in a desperate attempt to break whatever this strange tension is.

He blinks at you. “Would you like me to?”

You try for a smile. “I’m joking, Viego.”

“I am not,” he says evenly.

You squint at him, trying to figure out which of Viego's insane personality traits you're up against now. Maybe he just didn't know how to have close relationships that weren't, in one way or another, legally family? Then you recall your conversation in the hallway earlier. “You don't have to marry me to get me to stay, calm down. Plus, can you imagine trying to get a priest out here?” You try for humor, and then belatedly remember that you should probably track down Yorick while you're at this ‘freeing the damned’ thing. Though he's been dead for a long, long time, and he could probably wait until you've found everyone who still has living relatives. “Wait, is that even how weddings work here?”

“Yes. At least, it was in Camavor. A priest and a ceremony and a grand party,” he says, looking almost wistful. “What does courtship look like, where you are from?”

“I mean, the same as here, I guess?” You hazard. “You meet someone, you spend time with them, go on dates, y'know, get dinner and walks in the parks and stuff like that?” He seems oddly unsatisfied by that answer, and you shrug. “I wasn't exactly royalty, so my relationships were probably a little more casual than whatever you were imagining.”

He raises a brow. “I have had my share of casual relationships in the past, you are aware?”

You almost choke on your food. The smile on his face is almost rogueish, and when you look at it like that, you can perfectly picture him flirting his way through the castle staff. “So you were perfectly capable of being normal about it, but you just decided to immediately propose to Isolde on the spot?”

He shrugs. “I know my heart, and I knew I wanted to give it to her. For now it, and all the weight it carries, is mine alone once more.” You're about to ask about the for now part, but he looks up at you seriously. “You know that they will not all be so receptive, the wraiths. There will be those who are angry and vengeful, and those who have been so broken by the mist for so long that they will not know how to be any other way.”

“I know,” you say. “I did think this through before I agreed to it.”

“You were also very drunk, and reportedly part of your reasoning was that I am ‘cute when I'm begging’,” he makes air quotation marks to ensure you know that he is directly quoting you, and his wolfish grin lets you know exactly how much he's enjoying your obvious dismay.

You blanch. “I said that part aloud too, huh?” He responds by laughing at you. You groan. “Look, be that as it may, I had a whole week to change my mind, and here I am.”

“Here you are,” he agrees, and there's something so terribly affectionate in his voice you think you must be imagining it, but it's there in his face when you glance at him too. Gods, he really is handsome.

You hurriedly return to your food, before you can say anything stupid like, say, suggesting he show you the other other blade of the Ruined King. Viego is your friend. Viego’s defining personality trait is being a widower. Viego is not someone you can casually proposition, even he's decided that teasing you is a form of high entertainment, the fucker. God, maybe you just need to get laid–spending all your time around the near-shirtless ghost king was doing numbers to your psyche.

—

You do not find the opportunity to seek a no strings attached hookup, because your time is taken up either sleeping or restoring the souls of the damned. Viego was right when he warned you–in the next lot, a burly man waits long enough to get used to having limbs again before throwing himself at you with a howl. You barely have time to blink before Viego intercepts him, blade at the ready. He swings, and you cringe, expecting a spray of blood, but at the last second Viego glances at you and twists his blade so that he strikes the man with the flat of it instead. It's still an incredible amount of force behind solid (ghost?) steel, so the man goes sprawling, wind knocked out of him.

“You will show her respect,” Viego hisses, standing over him. “I understand your rage and your hate towards me, and I cannot blame you for that, but she has saved you from damnation and you will not raise a hand against her.”

The man spits at his feet. Viego lets out a hissing breath, but otherwise doesn't react as the man picks himself up–only to once again throw himself at Viego, who easily bats aside his wild swing before grabbing him by the throat. “I do not want to do this, but if you cannot behave yourself–” Viego says in the approximation of calm, mist curling up and around the man's head into a glowing crown. All at once, the man stops struggling, and as Viego releases him he complacently goes back to his place in the crowd. The others look at him nervously, an uneasy whisper circling through them.

A woman in a heavy woven shawl steps forward. “Um, your majesties,” she begins nervously, because apparently something about you and Viego just screams ‘married couple’ to the newly risen, “Is he…okay?” Her eyes flit between the crown on the man's head and Viego’s sword, as if she's not sure which is more worrying.

“He will return to himself after you leave the Isles,” Viego explains placidly. You nudge his side and give the sword a significant look, and he glances at it like he forgot it was there before vanishing it into mist. “I will ask the ferryman to keep an eye on him, do not worry.”

She looks at the man for a moment, then ducks her head gratefully. “Well, I thank you for your graciousness. I'm sure he will too, after he comes to his senses.”

After that, he stands a little closer to you while you raise the shades.

—

“How does it work?” You ask, after Viego has seen the risen off to the ferry and you've had a chance to stop swaying on your feet. You like to sit in the gardens, and Viego thins the mist enough to let a soft glow of sunlight through. Viego sits next to you on the stone bench, so close you're almost touching. He’s by your side pretty much constantly these days, save for when you're sleeping or bathing–though, you also wouldn't be surprised if he watched you sleep just to have company. “The whole…possession thing?”

Viego looks up at you from the book he was reading. “It simply does.”

You turn to him, incredulous. “What, that's it?”

He shrugs noncommittally. “I cannot explain how I summon my sword or compel the mist to move, and the crown is the same. I wish it to be so, and so it is.” You squint at him, and he shuts his book with a soft sound. It always boggled your mind that he perfectly remembered what page he was on without any bookmarks. “How does your manipulation of time work?”

You open your mouth, and then realize he's got you cornered, because you're not sure how to explain that either. “You could find out,” you challenge instead.

His brows knit. “You don't mean…?”

“I do,” you confirm.

He frowns. “No.”

“What, you'll marry me but you won't put a crown on my head?” You joke. “C'mon, I'm giving you my explicit permission.”

“That is not–” he begins, then shakes his head. “Everyone I have used my crown on seemed quite distressed by the experience. I would not do the same to you.”

“Was that because of the crown, or because of the sudden and unexpected loss of bodily autonomy paired with you using them to try and kill people?” You say dryly. He frowns, but doesn't answer. “Look. I'll admit, I'm curious, but more importantly…if I'm unconscious or otherwise incapacitated, and we need my powers, I want you to be able to use them. So, please.”

He goes very still, and you belatedly realize exactly what he's picturing–you, unconscious and hurt, unable to rewind your own wounds. “If I were able to deny you anything, it would be this,” he says, sighing deeply. You eagerly turn to face him, crossing your legs on the bench like a kid. For a moment he just looks at you like he's regretting all the choices that brought him to this point, and then begins to strip his gauntlets off. You're sure he could avoid stabbing you with their pointed ends, but Viego also treats you like you're made of glass sometimes.

He cups your face between his palms, and his hands are so much warmer than you expected. You're suddenly stricken with the intimacy of this pose, with you two so close. His eyes flick down to your lips, and for a moment you think he's going to kiss you–

And then a cold sensation snakes it's way into your blood, like drinking ice water. It spreads throughout your limbs until you feel numb from it, and Viego’s eyes glaze as the crown forms on your head.

“How strange,” he says distantly. “It's as if the entire world is singing a song only you can hear.”

You try to move your hand, but nothing happens. Still, you can still distantly feel his hands on your face, as if your skin was so chilled it barely recognizes the touch. You try to project the thought that you're fine, that it's a bit weird but honestly not that bad, but you have no idea if it gets through. “I can feel it, when you struggle against me,” he says softly, and, hm, maybe it's for the best that he can't hear your thoughts, because you've gone somewhere absolutely filthy with that. “I have never held a soul that trusted in me so, that did not rail to reclaim itself.” There's a strange look in his eyes, somewhere between awed and something much darker and deeper, and it occurs to you that you have willingly placed an insane amount of power in his hands. Then again, you already offered him everything you could think to give, and he said no.

Viego sits back, and unbidden your hand raises to one of the shattered pots in the garden. You feel second hand as he fumbles along its time, his brow furrowed in concentration, before slowly winding it back. When it sits whole again, the chill fades, and your body is your own once again. You flex your hands and wiggle your toes, feeling sort of like your limbs had just fallen asleep but without the pins and needles. You then realize Viego is looking at you anxiously.

“If we ever go to Shurima, you're doing that to me,” you say casually.

“Excuse me?” He says, bewildered.

“It was like going into a nice cool swimming pool,” you describe, tapping your chin as you try to find the words. “Or opening a fridge. Wait, you don't know what that is.” You frown. “Also, I hope you recognize how good I am at this time stuff now, it is not easy.”

He laughs, instantly relaxing. “Of course, my heart, I am forever in awe of your talent and grace,” he gives you an exaggerated little head-bow, and you're so busy preening that the pet name doesn't even register until a moment later. Then, you promptly find it very important to start rambling about how, you know, you should try replanting something in this garden, since it's getting sunlight anyway. The indulgent look on his face as he agrees yes, whatever you want, does nothing to still your heart.

—

“Are you sure–” Viego begins.

“Where do you intend to find a chef who's gonna come to the Shadow Isles?” You ask pointedly.

He blinks. “I'm sure that for enough coin…” he catches the look on your face, then sighs. “Very well, I see your point.”

“If you want to help, I'm not going to say no,” you suggest instead. He looks down at the carrots as if he's never seen one before. “You've never cooked before,” you realize, and he has the grace to look a little abashed. His discomfort with you cooking your own meals makes a little more sense–he must feel like he's making you do servants work, from his lofty frame of reference as literal fucking royalty. “Okay, here. Wash your hands.”

He blinks. “You want me to…?”

“To wash your hands and then help me cook,” you confirm. “I'm not a guest, Viego, I live here. I know you've got your own ideas about what hospitality looks like, but where I'm from, if you're cooking for someone they damn well better help you chop the veggies.”

He looks bemused, but complies. You gesture for him to take your place in front of the cutting board. “Hold the knife like this, cut off the ends, slice them like so.” You demonstrate, hip bumping into his as you lean across to the board, and then hand him the knife.

The concentration on his face as he tries to match your cuts is rather endearing. He glances at you for approval, and your nod and smile seems to bolster him, so you start on cleaning the mushrooms. The ingredients aren't exactly the same as what you're used to, but you've managed to put together a respectable assortment for a stir-fry. Your ferryman, Captain Brigg, was very skeptical about the crates of fresh produce you procured him to haul back, but him and his crew also treat you with an odd sort of reverence now that stops them from asking questions. Still, you've got enough of a stockpile of ingredients frozen in time to last you for a few months.

You talk Viego through what you're doing, why you should cut the carrot thin and the bell peppers thick, how you're hoping this soy-sauce like substance from Ionia works the same way as what you're used to, but it's also made from a nut so you're not sure. He asks you about food from your home, and you spend fifteen minutes complaining about having to cook rice manually. He doesn't seem to mind when you automatically slip into bossing him around–your mother always said that idle hands in the kitchen were volunteers who didn't know it yet. He does stiffen slightly whenever you pass behind him, and it takes you a bit to realize it's because you're automatically putting your hand on his lower back so you can squeeze behind him–not that the kitchen is particularly small, but rather that he is not a small man. It also takes you a bit to realize that that part of his back is bare, because he's still wearing nothing on his torso but that ripped open doublet. You've long since figured out that Viego likes being touched, but maybe that was a bit much even for him.

He hovers around even after you don't need his help with prep anymore, watching you stir and experiment with the ranges of sauce you have on hand. “Okay, try,” you announce when you're satisfied, taking a spoon of your hard work and blowing it cool before holding it up to him. Viego doesn't hesitate, and you're momentarily struck with the sensation that this, spoon feeding the Ruined King stir fry you press-ganged him into helping with, is a ridiculous situation to be in.

“It's nice,” he says, touching his lips. You try not to be distracted by the motion.

“Does it need anything? Salt, pepper?” You prompt, scooping some up for you to try yourself. Needs pepper. You look at him expectantly, and his face creases like it does when he's thinking hard.

“Pepper?” He says hesitantly, and you beam at him. He was teachable, and that was better than a majority of your exes.

—

You struggle with the corset for about three minutes before you give up. “Viego?” You call, because he's never far these days. The air goes cold on the back of your neck, but there's a suspicious silence. When you crane your neck around, he's there staring at you.

“Can you help me lace this?” you prompt, gesturing at the partially done back of your corset. The dress is a deep navy color with silver embroidery on the long flowing sleeves and skirts, and the silvery ribbons that make up the back have been making themselves a true pain in the ass.

He blinks, as if just realizing you're there. “I suppose,” he says tersely, sounding almost puzzled as he examines your work. “What have you done?”

You shrug, turning back to the mirror. “Corsets weren't common in my world, and all the ones I've worn came pre-laced. I didn't think it would be this complicated.”

He hums, and you repress a shiver as his fingers brush the space between your shoulders. He's taken to wearing his gauntlets off, when you're just around the castle. “How strange. Why the change from your travelling attire, then?”

You shrug. “This might sound strange to you, but I get tired of wearing the same things all the time, even if I can keep them clean and fresh forever.” You smooth down the front of the dress, admiring the fabric. “And this is such a nice dress.”

“It was made with skill,” Viego says. You glance back at him, and he makes a tutting noise as your hair falls across your back. You do not succeed at suppressing the shiver as he brushes it back over your shoulder. “And you look lovely in it,” he continues, and you're sure you're imagining the husk in his voice. You meet his eyes in the mirror, and they're hooded with a feeling you don't want to name, so you cast around for something to say while staring fixedly at your reflection.

“I look like I'm going to a ball,” you blurt.

“This is a dinner dress, not a dancing one,” Viego says, blessedly accepting your sudden change in subject. “At least, not in Camavor. The skirt is too long and the bodice too stiff.”

You shrug. “I've never been to a ball. Can't even dance.”

He spins you around so you can see his offended expression. “Excuse me?”

You blink at him. “We didn't really have them, where I'm from? Unless you were really rich, which, I most certainly was not.”

He waves a hand. “No, no, not that. You don't know how to dance?”

You blink, taken aback. “No?”

“Outrageous. Give me one moment,” he says, and then disappears into mist.

“What–” you have enough time to say to the empty room before he reappears, this time with a dented hunk of metal in his hand.

“If you would be so kind?” He asks, holding it out. You touch it, and the tarnished metal flickers back into the shape of a music box. “My thanks. Now…” he winds it, places the box on your dresser, and lifts the lid. In it is a beautiful figurine of a bird in flight, and out twinkles a lilting melody. You stare, flabbergasted, as he dips into a very princely bow and offers you his hand. “Lady Iso, may I have this dance?”

You laugh disbelievingly, but take his hand. “Viego, I don't know what I'm doing.”

“That is why I'm showing you,” he says easily, placing one of your hands on his shoulder and keeping the other held aloft. His other hand goes around your waist. “This one is simple, just follow my steps.” It's similar to what you vaguely remember a waltz to be, except you seem to be stepping in a pentagon rather than a square and there's a lot of spinning. Still, you feel like he's overestimating your abilities, because you struggle to match his steps.

“Eyes up,” he chides when your gaze drifts to your feet. You blink up at him, offended.

“How am I supposed to see where I'm stepping?” You ask, offended.

“Do you need to look at your feet to walk?” He retorts. You stick your tongue out at him, and you're so close you can feel it when he laughs. “Don't think so hard about it. Just listen to the music and stay with me.”

He's talking about the dance, you remind yourself. Suddenly, keeping your eyes on his is difficult, so you stare somewhere off his left shoulder instead. “How do you remember all of this?” You ask, brow furrowed as you try to match his steps without looking.

“I’ve always loved dancing, ever since I was young,” he says, sounding pleased he remembers the fact. “I remember my brothers would tease me, because I preferred my dancing lessons to my swordsmanship ones.”

You look up at him curiously. He doesn't talk about his family often, though you're not sure if that's because he doesn't want to or because he doesn't remember much about them. “I suppose you've had a lot of practice, then?”

He spins you, and you think that returns you to the first part of the steps. “Yes. I attended whatever balls I could, even the ones hosted by those on poor terms with the Crown.” He reels you back in with a little flourish. “My brothers teased me for that, too.”

You're about to ask more, but you trip over your skirt. Viego catches you easily, though you smack your face against his aggravatingly solid chest. “That is why this is not a dancing dress,” Viego says, and his tone is light but his expression when you look up at him is tinged with want. You realize you're very, very close, his arm still around your waist and your hands on the bare skin of his torso. Your chest is pressed to his, and you're abruptly aware of how much this corset emphasizes your cleavage. His eyes are half-lidded, his lips parted and looking oh so soft–

Whatever this moment between you is, it's interrupted by the dissonant click of the music box playing it's last note. Viego steps back and bows. You clumsily mimic a curtsey, and he looks up at you with a crooked smile that makes your heart ache. You staunchly refuse to examine why.

[vanillablueberry]

OKAY LISTEN UP NOW I NEED YALL TO FUCKING LISTEN TO MY RANT FOR TODAY (I know I was gone for a long time and yall miss me I knowww but I'm back) SO TODAY I WANT TO TALK ABOUT MiSide I pretty sure everyone probably either seen it or play it but if you haven't here a story summary so it basically where you/player go into a video game in 3d with a anime girl name mita and it turns out she crazy so she locked you up after you decide to leave and down in the basement you fine nice Mita (there different versions of mita) and from there you have to find a way out of the game so after that summary people on tiktok have been calling doki doki literature club and MiSide a gooner game and it been pissing me off because it not the game was meant for girls GIRLS not immature men who jerk off to everything they see it meant for cutegore girlys and cutecore girls cause the game is horror but it cute and gorey it wasn't for men who are literally sitting on there couch with grease coming out there fat rolls it meant for the girls anyways that all for today and also if you want to argue it a gooner game than don't cause arguing with me in a comment section said more about you than anything and we all know the people who say that are fat men so stfu ANYWAYS BYE LOVESSS🎀🫶

[hearts4golbach]

Light Shower. (Sal Fisher x Fem!Reader)

part 3

-

"buried in the desert, didn't think I'd push through the dirt"

-

I head towards Larry's apartment to give him an update on how Y/ns are doing, since she got broken up with she hasn't left her apartment.

"Sal! hey, bud! haven't seen you since you first moved in. How've you been?" I heard Y/ns mom call from down the hallway.

"Hi, Mrs. L/n." I waved. "I've been good."

"Great to hear! wanna come inside? I have tea boiling on the stove. I was just about to go see if your dad"

"I'd love to." I followed her back into their apartment.

"If you don't want tea, we have other beverages. water, milk, apple juice..." I shook my head. Mrs. L/n walked over and placed her hand on my shoulder. "sal, I need your help getting Y/n out of this damn apartment. I'm worried for her. she hasn't left her room in 5 days. I've had to bring her fricking food!" she whispered.

"yeah, I know. I'll give it a shot. she just hasn't answered the walkie talkie." I knocked on Y/ns door before walking into the room. "Y/n? it's sal."

Y/n quickly shut her flip phone whenever I walked in. "Hey, sally face. thought you were going to see Larry, I heard over the walkie.

"I thought I'd see if you wanted to come with, he misses your face. I mean, I do too."

"I would but I'm kinda tired and I need to shower."

"well, what if you shower then we go to lunch instead? just you and me."

"are you that desperate to see my gorgeous face?" she said sarcastically. but truthfully, I was.

"Duh. come on." I grabbed her hand, causing her to flinch. "shit, are you okay? I'm sorry." I said, immediately letting go of her hand. she nodded and took my hand gently. I pulled her out of her bed.

"fine." I watched as she walked out of the room to the bathroom.

I waited patiently in the hall next to the bathroom. she talked to me from the shower. Y/ns mom walked by and gave me a wink and mouthed thank you. I flashed her a thumbs up.

"where are we going?" Y/n asked.

"mcdonalds?" I offered, making a small hand gesture that she couldn't see. I paused. "are you okay? like, really."

"yeah, I'm just-" she opened the bathroom door completely dressed and brushing her hair. "I don't know, you know?" she looked at me.

"uh, I guess?"

she rolled her eyes and walked out the door with me trailing behind her.

-

we ordered out food and left, going to our usual spot at the park. "tell me how you feel about what happened. I'm worried about you." I said, swiftly sliding a fry under my mask.

"I just feel weird without him." she confessed, beginning to eat aswell.

"he abused you," I grumbled in response. "we both know you deserve better."

Y/n didn't respond. I wished i could read minds as I stared deep into her e/c eyes. my heart fluttered as she stared back with a small smile on her face.

she reached out and patted my knee. "I know, sally. I guess it's just, I don't know. nevermind." Y/n looked away, making me curious about what she wanted to say but I didn't want to pressure her. she looked back at me and my heart leaped. "thank you for getting me out of bed, sal. I don't think I realized how much I needed it."

part of me hoped she was talking about being here with me, but I also knew she meant just getting out of the house for the first time in almost a week. I felt bad for Y/n, like I could've done something different and she wouldn't have even dated that cunt. if I could protect her from shit like this, I would in a heartbeat. "i- yeah. you know you can always call me. I'll drop whatever I'm doing."

she laughed. "I know, sally face. sorry I've been distant." she flashed me the sweetest smile. I could feel my body melting under her gaze. "thank you." I looked at her, confused. "for everything. you're my favorite fucking person and you always will be." y/n pulled me in and hugged me.

-

the next night, Y/n came over to Larry's house with me to play video games. she'd usually play with us, but this time she just sat squished between us on his tiny couch and watched us play, enjoying our presence.

she cleared her throat before she spoke as we rode the elevator to go back home. "can I stay the night at your place? I don't really wanna go home right now."

of course I said yes. I gave her one of my sweatshirts because my dad had way too many fans around the house.

"why don't you want to go home?" I asked her, flopping down onto my bed. Y/n followed suit.

"honestly sal, I wanted to do coke but I don't want to be addicted anymore. and I miss you." she replied. butterflies danced in my stomach. she wrapped her arms around my waist and held me tight. I ran my fingers through her hair as she fell asleep. she had been getting better since I've been able to get her at least out of bed and off her phone. today we deleted his contact so she wouldn't dwell on him anymore. I took of my mask and fell asleep with a smile on my face as Y/n and I held eachother.

-

"Hi mama!" 10 year old me called from on top of sals shoulders. my mom waved after taking a swig of her wine. I giggled and looked down at sal who had his electric blue hair in a bun. "your bun is kind of weird, sal." I heard him laugh before shoving me back into the water. I quickly swam back up, gasping for air and trying to get the chlorine out of my nose. "oh my god, asshole!" I laughed hard, pushing him and making him fall back. he yelped before he went under.

"y/n! language!" I leaned mom yell. "I don't know who the fuck she got that from." mom said to Henry. he laughed. I rolled my eyes.

I felt a hand tightly grip my ankle and pull me down. Sal was fully submerged, his head the only thing poking out of the water. I covered the side of my mouth with my hand so mom couldn't see. "you're still and asshole." I whispered.

"you're a bitch." sal whispered back. "wanna go get a popsicle?"

sal adjusted his shorts as he got out. I laughed. "gross, don't adjust your wedgie in my face."

he laughed. "I didn't have a wedgie."

"right." I said sarcastically. I shivered in my towel as we walked inside. "I can make hot dogs too." I offered, grabbing him and myself a popsicle. he nodded as he licked his grape flavored ice.

-

I sat next to Todd in the coarse dirt at the edge of the lake as we waited for our sunscreen to set in, unlike Neil, Ash, Larry, and Sal who were already making their way into the lake. I watched as the cold water hit Sal like a brick, making all of the muscles in his back tense. he looked at Larry and laughed. Larry smiled at sal and shivered. The water must be super cold, but it has to feel good since it's atleast 80° today. I softly blushed thinking about Sal. I watched his bare back relax as he got used to the water. he had his arms wrapped around himself. he turned around and sat in the water, waving at me. I smiled back at him and brought my knees to my chest. he had cute blue swimtrunks that matched his hair and eyes. I caught myself staring at his hands, imagining things that I definitely shouldn't have. I needed to get my mind out of the gutter, especially here in front of everyone, including sal.

I shook my head a little, shaking the thought away. "ready to get in?" I asked Toddy.

he took his glasses off and set them on the large pile of towels and snacks. "ready when you are."

I nodded and stood up. I ran into the water, preparing myself. a shot of cold ran through me as my feet splashed the water. I laughed a little, noticing Sal was looking at me expectantly for my reaction. I ran over to him and sat next to him, fully submerging myself in the water.

"hi." he said with a certain tone in his voice which made my heart flutter.

"Hey, sally face." I said, wrapping my arm around him.

"we should play chicken!" Larry exclaimed. i looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Sal and Y/n, me and Ash, and Todd and Neil. come on, fucking losers!" he mocked, helping ash on his shoulders.

I looked at sal and he shrugged. he helped me up on his shoulders as Todd climbed on Neil's.

"me and sal are gonna win! I'm gonna kick your asses!" I teased in a sing song voice.

"I'd like to see you try!" ash laughed.

me and ash both targeted Todd, knowing he's probably the weakest out of the three of us. which, we were right. we easily pushed him off of Neil's shoulders, causing him to plunge into the water. he swam up, moving his bright red hair out of his face. he cursed profanities at us.

sal giggled and tightened his grip on my thighs, slowly trailing their way further up for a better grip. I was so glad that we were in the water like this, if you know what I'm implying. "get her ass."

sal and I lunged at ash and Larry. me and ash locked hands, smiling devilishly at eachother. I almost slipped, but sal quickly readjusted me before me and ash began pushing eachother again. Sals shoulders moved a little as he laughed along with Larry. Sal stepped forward, assisting me enough to finally manage to make ash slip. she screamed and dragged Larry down with her.

"yes!" I screamed, flipping all of them off. I wrapped my hands gently around sals face, hugging his head. "we win!"

ash rolled her eyes. "okay, show off. let's do another round. we switch places, sal on your shoulders. you know what i mean?"

"I'm down." Neil said.

I nodded, sal did aswell. I helped sal climb onto my shoulders, he was heavy but I could manage. I gripped his legs tight. Larry ended up falling first, sal not far behind him. sal came up from the water, his electric blue hair drenched. i tucked his hair out of his face, making his ears red. i gave him a sweet smile. "you suck." i said, in the sweetest tone I could.

this time, Neil and Todd ended up winning. which was kind of a surprise, because I would assume Neil is stronger than Todd. I suppose I was wrong.

we all got out after another hour or so of messing around.

"I think I got fucking waterboarded." Larry mumbled, earning a loud laugh from Sal and Neil.

"you deserve it." ash punched him in the arm.

Neil drove us all back to the apartments, where we all went back to our own apartments, ash heading over to Larry's.

I texted sal before I got into the shower.

'hi, I had fun today we should def hang out with the group more'

he read it almost immediately

"Hi <3 me too and ya'

'goodnight, sally face luv you to death'

'love you more yn ;)'

sally was being hella flirty, which made me smile. I couldn't keep my mind off of him the whole time I was in the shower. God, I loved this boy.

[gelo-p]

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Rank 26! ✧ﾟ･: *ヽ(◕ヮ◕ヽ)

I did say last year that I might T100 MyGO. 😋

I'm gonna skip the part where everyone bitched about everything being delayed AF in ENdori - but for better or for worse, when MyGO finally arrived last week, I had amassed 57500 free stars, and quite a number of in-game energy drinks.

...And then immediately lost 40000 stars (and some tickets) just trying to roll for all of them. I had* to spark for Soyo, but whatever, I got all of them! I could start tiering!

(I don't remember how I had 27000 stars for tiering. 57500 - 40000 = 17500, so clearly, I got a bunch of bonus stars. Anyway)

I wanted to aim for T20, but it was immediately made apparent that I do not have the time for it. I had to drive a lot during this event, especially during the 1st few days, so it was impossible for me to even try and build a lead for maintaining T20. There was also a question mark hanging over my number of stars left; I think I could still make it, but it was a very tight fit. And so, with these in mind, I resigned myself early to just T30.

In the beginning, I did what any sane(?) solo tierer does: spam the Grand Room! The Legendary Room was empty AF, and the Standard Room was hit or miss whether the folks you'll get could help you sustain a high-enough average for tiering. That meant staying in the Grand Room, where I was often paired with other tierers (names I would later recognize as T10 hopefuls).

...

Did I mention the connection sucks?

It took forever (not Legendary Room forever, but forever enough) to get paired with other tierers in the Grand Room. Also, there was a really good chance of being disconnected. All in all, I was averaging just 544k points an hour.

So I friggin' tried Free Lives. The average? 657k points an hour. There was minimal risk of being disconnected, plus, there was no mental pain of having to wait for people to get paired with you! The downside of course is that Free Lives cost more stars to get to the same points compared to Multi Lives, but that's fine. It's my last event. I'm retiring after this. I don't need whatever leftover stars I'd have left.

:')

It was difficult listening to EXIST and SAVIOR OF SONG over and over again, but you know who isn't tiring to listen to?

Adam Ragusea, the sponsor of this T30 attempt!

...

Of course he didn't sponsor me. But it was mentally exhausting listening to the same 2 songs over and over again, so at some point I decided to listen to music while playing in silent. Beatles made for the perfect tiering music, oddly. Then I switched to Scary Interesting. Did you know that if you never stick yourself into really tight spaces, you'd most likely never die of being stuck in really tight spaces? After that, I listened to Biographics, and now I'm an expert in plagues. During the final days of tiering, I rediscovered Adam Ragusea's videos (found his channel during Covid - hey, remember Covid?), and the rest is history.

I ended up parking at 28,000,077 points a day before the event ends, because it's hella difficult to park during Mission Lives, and so I was fine with that. I was keeping an eye out for T30 / T31 (I was T25 at this point), to see if they might move, but it really didn't seem they wouldn't anymore.

...

OWO, what's this? ENdori fucked up the gacha rates for this event during the 1st few hours? So now they're refunding all the stars and tickets - everything!! - that you might have spent during those first few hours?? Hey remember having to spark for Soyo?? They say that was it!!

Suddenly, I found myself at 23000 stars again.

And I had to assume that sooooo did eeeeeverybody else.

When I woke up this morning - the final day - everybody has moved, as expected. Not by too much, no - but enough that T30 could still mathematically overtake me. I had to leave the event 4 hours early (driving duties), so I wanted to be sure that there was nothing they could do to take T30 away from me. I broke my park, somehow found myself with the opportunity to re-park at a flat 29M, and the rest is... is it history again?

And so I left the event at T25, with 29M points.

When I came back to see the final results, my final rank was T26.

Someone really wanted T25 huh. ^_^;

...

...

My Bandori phone is dead. LITERALLY, it can't survive more than 3 minutes away from a charger. It's perpetually being charged. The battery is now at 67% capacity - capacity!! not charge!! - and iOS really thinks I should get it serviced. I think so too.

...

I'm tired. I don't think I can play Bandori anymore. I'm mentally checked out of the game. I'm happy I was able to get Popipa and Roselia to Level 50, and with all the members of Popipa to Rank 100.

...

Will I be back for Ave Mujica? I don't know. I might not be back for anything on January. Last December 2021 I decided to stop drinking alcohol, and this December, to commemorate 3 years of sobriety, I kinda want to celebrate by dying of alcohol poisoning. I'm only half joking. I sobered up to be normal, but it didn't fucking work! 🤣 So! If I stop retweeting stuff during December, then yes, consider me dead.

BUT HEY! I GOT T26 FOR MYGO EVENT!

THANK YOU ENDORI!

THANK YOU GARUPA!

おつ！

またね！♪

😙

[daxieoclock]

I know most of the funny musics you've listed already, but I don't know willow and Yoko Shimomura and Danny Baranowsky and Shiro SAGISU and Masayoshi Takanaka and Lena Raine and Dios and Akintoye and Imogen Heap and Des Rocs and Sarah & the Safe Word and The Sonder Bombs and Rina Sawayama and The Beths and Silversun Pickups(?) and IDKHBTFM and Tancred and the three Starkid musicals(?) Where do you recommend that I start? Is there 1 song from each that you strongly recommend that I open my ears to? :-0

YOU BET I DO OMG OMG

Thank you for the excuse to Musicpost mwehehehehehe

Since it's so many artists, I will send one song each and give a lil bit of info.

WILLOW (aka Willow Smith) Sapphic and an absolute rock star. Her music is generally really high quality punky rock with a poppy appeal.

Yoko Shimomura Probably the greatest video game composer of all time hands down no fucking contest. She's the genius behind the Kingdom Hearts sountrack, and has also contributed her expertise to Final Fantasy XV, the Mario and Luigi games, Mario RPG and Secrets of Mana. Her music can be grand and orchestral or quiet and sweet or energetic and wiggly, and her use of character motifs is something to behold.

Danny Baranowsky Another video game composer, Danny B is known best for his work on Meat Boy, Binding of Isaac and Crypt of the Necrodancer. His tracks have an unmatched energy, from BoI's quiet melodic horror to Necrodancer's get up and boogie beats. And of course, Meat Boy's wiggletastic MOVE YOUR MEAT, BOY tunes.

Shiro SAGISU An anime composer whose work on Evangelion and Bleach is beyond description. And like, I wouldn't recommend either of the SHOWS, but his music is absolutely fucking unreal. Especially his heavy use of Spanish guitar in the Arrancar Arc of Bleach alongside his usual heavy orchestral violins and pianos.

Masayoshi Takanaka A rock and city pop musician in the 80s and 90s, whose music I've heard described as "surf-dude J-rock" which, yeah, accurate. But some of his later stuff is also really experimental, getting a bit into grunge or orchestral rock.

Lena Raine A composer who's made some songs for recent Minecraft updates, but most people know her best for the soundtrack to Celeste. Which is utterly fantastic, it's BEAUTIFUL, managing to capture both the grand scale of the mountain climb and the heavily personal emotional stakes of our protagonist Madeline. Heavy use of gorgeous synth alongside piano and drums and guitar makes the whole soundtrack SOUND magical and otherworldly, which fits the game well.

Dios I discovered Dios through their guitarist, Ichika Nito, whose riffs on Youtube are unmatched. Magic hands, I swear. But Dios's vocalist, Tanaka, also has one of the most unique singing voices I've ever heard, he's got almost an Italian or Spanish rolling cadence to some of his phrases. The guy's also just got a fantastic voice, and Dios's songs are extremely solid poppy rock.

Akintoye A fantastic lyricist with an incredibly fast and articulate voice, a great sense of rhythm and flow, he's also just one of the most charismatic singers / rappers I've ever heard. His energy is absolutely addicting, and he's got such catchy layered melodies it's SO hard to not wiggle my fingers off my hands when listening.

Imogen Heap Most people recognize her from OOO WHATCHA SAY, OOO THAT YOU ONLY MEANT WELL, WELL OF COURSE YOU DID and like. Hide and Seek is an underrated song tbh but Speak for Yourself and Eclipse are just in general fantastic albums. It's impossible for me to describe her genre so I'm just gonna say...music that my very white hippie mom listens to all the time.

Des Rocs A modern day classic rock star. Not much else to say beyond that he's unreal talented.

(Continuing in reblog)

[watchoutforthefanfics]

achievement unlocked 🔓 (part four) || Streamer AU! Reddie (IT)

Part 1, 2, 3

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: this prompt

Summary: Richie liked to play video games, and by some stroke of luck, it became his job. Being primarily known as Trashmouth on stream, he found his own little group of streamer friends and they became intertwined: The Losers Club. It never did feel quite complete, though. Well, until, he got his very own backseat gamer in chat.

TWs: innuendos, lots of talk of sex (it's Richie), vague mention of one night stands, low self-worth, a little angst, loneliness, imposter syndrome, cursing, and shameless flirting.

[[A/N: This series has a chokehold on me. I cannot stop writing it, seriously. I also cannot stop listening to BIRDS OF A FEATHER by Billie Eilish, so we're counting that as inspiration. Enjoy :))]]

It was a few days later (and Eddie's message was still bouncing around his head, even though they'd kept talking the whole time and moved on from it). Richie can't remember exactly what he'd said in response, but it was something pathetically embarrassing. Like maybe 'okay'.

He really didn't even have the guts to go back and check. (For reference, all he'd actually said was interesting. Can't tell if that's worse.)

Richie was supposed to stream today, but Bev wanted him on her stream. (Something about doing men's clothes). So, he changed plans. Posted on social media that he was, which probably meant both of their audiences would be watching. And while that was a little nerve-wracking, Richie was a natural on stream -it was kinda the place he felt the most like himself. Which was a little sad, he didn't think about it too much.

Anyway, it was about an hour before the stream and he was debating.

Beverly was busying herself with fabrics, holding them up against him from a distance.

Tell, or not to tell, tell, or not to tell, tell-

"Stop thinking so hard, you're going to hurt yourself."

Richie blinked, clearing his throat, and straightening his posture. Her eyes slinked along him for a second, curiously. It was only a matter of time before she figured him out (he was shockingly easy to read). She opened her mouth to say something-

Ding.

He grabbed his phone so fast that Bev no doubt saw it, and he didn't even think about that at all. He was really so fucked. Eddie had a strangely strong hold on him. He was always a dumbass (he'd been called clingy a lot) when it involved feelings though, so maybe it was normal for him.

e.kaspbrak

You're on Bev's today?

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

yeah she's gonna make some men's shit

and I'm a fucking model ✨️💅

e.kaspbrak

That's how you know she's low on options.

Richie laughed.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

u called me handsome eds

u made me this way

e.kaspbrak

You are handsome dickweed.

Your personality is the problem.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

awe spaghetti thinks I'm handsome 🤭🤭🤭

e.kaspbrak

You already knew that??

Or did you run out of memory in your brain? That would make a lot of sense too.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

i think you're a cutie patootie too eds 😘

e.kaspbrak

You're such a dick trashmouth.

"Whose that?"

Richie blinked again, the smile dropping from his face, "What?"

Bev was mindlessly folding and stacking fabric, really impressive that she could do that without even looking actually, "Who are you texting?"

"I'm just watching videos," he offered -weakly.

"Right," she laughed, stepping closer, "-without audio?"

He instantly reacted, more casually, "Bevvy, you might think I'm a dumbass, which to be fair I am, but I can read."

"Richie," she leveled, blue eyes staring.

He weighed his options.

"Okay, okay," he threw his hands up, "-it's Eddie."

"Eddie?" She questioned, now completely facing him.

"Like um," Richie rolled his lips through his teeth, hissing out a breath, "-like the one in my chat?"

"Oh, Eddie," she stressed out, "-you know I did notice a change in your streams, actually. How did you find him?"

"Don't judge me, but-" he spoke, a little hesitantly, "-internet stalking."

"No, I get that," Bev relayed, before clarifying, "-and you just... messaged him?"

"No, I accidentally liked a post and he messaged me."

She laughed a little, "That checks out, actually."

"Yeah," Richie added, "-I'm a dumb motherfucker."

"Only sometimes," she added, flawlessly, before moving closer -curious, "-is he cute?"

"Oh, so cute," he spoke, near instantly, through a rushed breath (he had been kinda holding this in), "-He's got these cute fucking freckles, and works on cars-"

"Is he gay?"

She followed up, a little concerned. Richie had been there before, so she was completely founded.

"Yeah," he pursed his lips for a moment, "-and he told me his type was tall idiots. Which I think was him hitting on me-"

"No thinking," she laughed for a moment, "-that's a definite. Let me guess, he's a tiny brunette?"

Richie grinned a little, a shit-eating grin probably, "Maybe."

"Let me see your texts," she held out her phone, and it should be said, he didn't even hesitate. He really trusted his friends.

She snatched it up, unflinchingly. Typing in the passcode (which she of course knew), she seemed a little surprised to see that it was already open.

"Oh, he texted you," she sat just beside him, reading, "-'Gotta go, boss sucks ass, but I'll see you at the stream.' What do you want to say?"

"'See you spaghetti' with a heart, an obnoxious amount of hearts actually," he watched over her shoulder, "-commit to no capitals, and use the letter u, not the word."

"Sir yes sir," she laughed, typing it out and then, carefully scrolling up, "-shit, you guys talk a lot."

"Yeah," he laughed a little, "-it's like he's not getting sick of me."

Bev turned to him then, carefully scanning over his face, "We don't get sick of you either, Richie. You know that, right?"

"Well, I don't-" he started, before resetting himself, "-I... hold back sometimes because I think I'm too much."

"Richie-"

"But I don't," he spoke, a little carefully, "-with Eddie, I don't."

She pursed her lips, eyes shooting back to the texts and then back to him, "For the record, you don't have to hold back from me, but-"

Richie waited.

"-I'm happy you have that. Really."

With a breath, she read through the texts. Only commenting a few times ("He was definitely flirting with you, Rich." or "It is strangely kind of cute how he insults you, I kind of get it."), the time flew by. Before he could blink, it was time for the stream to start.

She was setting everything up for a moment, her desk was a standing one, so Richie was kind of awkwardly in the background. He really, at his core, was lanky limbs and awkward posture, even more so standing. Hence why he only had sitting streams.

Bev told him when she started the stream, and then promptly asked, "Should I move my camera up? Can you guys see Richie?"

Chat was still basically dead, but some people did answer her.

"'Tragically yes'," she read out, laughing, "-Oh hey, Eddie! I've seen you in Richie's streams how are you?"

"Hi, spaghetti!" He grinned (big enough that it was kind of embarrassing), waving.

eddie.kaspbrak: I'm doing okay thank you

bevs.boa: 🍝🍝🍝

the_fashionista27: whose eddie

trashy.tozier: @/the_fashionista27 a regular on trashmouth streams

dizknees: EDDIEEEE

trashy.tozier: 🍝🍝🍝

elite.girl07: bev what are we doing today

skirt-nopants: why are there spaghetti emojis in chat

beverly_supremacy34: BEVVYYYY

stan.the.man: why is he here

tozier_babeyyy: 🍝🍝🍝

benny.boy: so excited for today's stream !!!

"We are doing men's clothes today," she chimed, happily, before walking back to where Richie stood (where she was drastically shorter) and splaying out her hands, "-hence our visitor."

He threw out some jazz hands, awkwardly. He always felt a little out of place on other people's streams, he usually toned himself down, especially for Bev's.

eddie.kaspbrak donated $5: since when are you tall

Beverly laughed, reading that one out. Turning toward Richie, she beckoned him to answer.

"Since I was 16, Eds," he clarified, exaggeratively brushing off his shoulders, and purposely lowering his voice, "-not to brag, but I am 6'1."

dizknees: no he has a good point

bev-hiiiii: I have never actually seen him stand

trashy.tozier: you're 6'1 ?!

the.losers.are.better: I thought he was lying

"Guys, come on," he laughed, speaking defensively, "-have a little faith in me. I'm not that fucking shitty."

stan.the.man donated $10: yes he is don't let him lie to you

Richie laughed again, "Fuck you, Stanley."

"Okay, okay," Bev motioned, "-let's focus chat. What kind of shirt do we want to make today?"

They decided pretty quickly on a button-up, mostly because Richie's wardrobe consisted of that and graphic tees. Bev wanted him to wear it, and he would definitely wear a button-up.

She always did want to test the waters with him though, bring him out of his fashion boundaries. His comfort zone really.

Skimming through the fabrics, she picked up two. She let Richie touch them all (he'd rather die than where a shirt that was scratchy on his skin), and she settled on two that he'd approved of. A white one with light blue vertical stripes, and a yellow one with tiny little stars in a pattern. Richie, naturally, liked the yellow more but either way he'd be happy to have a shirt made by Bev.

"Wait," she paused, debating, "-chat, what if we made him a plain one? And I could style a sweater over the top? Ooh, or a vest-"

"Totally down for that, Bevvy, really, I love it-" he interrupted, "-but we live in California. Layers mean sweat, and I'm a sweaty man-"

big.bill donated $5: how do we beep beep him here

"I guess just use chat," Bev hummed, laughing a little.

smell-ya-later: beep beep

stan.the.man: beep beep

eddie.kaspbrak: shut the fuck up richard

bevs.boa: beep beep

trashy.tozier: sweaty rep say that king 🤴

elite.girl07: beep beep (I have no idea what we're doing)

dizknees: beep 📣 beep 📣

pantmeup88: dunno you but beep beep ig

the_fashionista27: beep beep

the._.voices: beep beep

b*tchy-richie: beep beep

beverly_supremacy34: just realized that's trashmouth

mike.me.up: beep beep

Richie raised his hands in surrender, pretending to zip his lips closed. Bev promptly zipped them back open with a smile, patting his chest, "It's not fun if you're not talking, Rich."

She then spun around pointing at the camera, making a motion like she was watching them, "I'll fight you guys next time, watch out."

Chat responded with a slew of emojis.

"Alright, anyway," she pulled up the two fabrics -showing them to the camera, "-chat, these are our options."

Bev walked back to Richie's side, holding up the blue against his chest, "A," then the yellow, "-or B? Mods?"

The poll was finishing up, when the notification popped up.

eddie.kaspbrak donated $5: don't listen to those fuckers it's yellow

"Is blue even winning, Eds?" Richie laughed, something fluttering in his chest. He thoroughly debated changing his entire wardrobe to yellow-

dizknees: period say that 🍝

trashy.tozier: no he's right

trashmouth-for-me: YELLOWWW

bevs.boa: you guys don't understand art it's blue

girlie-pops: I'm late what are we arguing about

pickle-pickle7: no fr it's yellow

your._.mom: guys come on be real it's yellow

beverly_supremacy34: HOW IS BLUE WINNING

dizknees: yellow stans UNITE 😤😤😤

baby-baby67: yellow yellow yellow

butterfly_spawn: first stream what's up

bevs.boa: @/butterflyspawn hiiiii welcome <33

babey_gurl745: obvi yellow

urgencyforwhat: listen to me when I say this BLUE

burt-n-ernie.loverz: blue it matches his eyes

stan.the.man: eddie's right

smell-ya-later: poll is rigged bevvy

benny.boy: I think he looks good in both

"Thanks, Benny," Richie hummed, batting his lashes, and blowing a strangely wet kiss toward the camera.

Bev pursed her lips, eyeing the poll, "It's going to crazy fucking close, guys."

eddie.kaspbrak: can I pay for more votes

Bev and Richie laughed at that. Well, Richie might have giggled, actually. Why was every embarrassing thing he did on public record?

trashy.tozier: where's the gay shit guy saying that is gay shit

trashmouth-for-me: @/trashy.tozier no real

gay.shit.guy: 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 GAY SHIT MENTIONED 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

bevs.boa: are y'all seeing what I'm seeing 👀

butterfly_spawn: I hope yellow wins

beverly_supremacy34: @/bevs.boa no no I see it

battle.bus547: yellow deserves it

girlie-pops: bev do both

burly._.bears89: will you guys play minecraft soon

trashy.tozier: richie tozier gay? more at 11

bet_on_it: @/trashy.tozier trashmouth is gay?

trashy.tozier: @/bet_on_it are you serious?

trashmouth-for-me: yellow yellow yellow

"Alright," Bev laughed, clapping her hands once, "-I think I'm just going to do both. Alright, Rich, get ready for some measuring!"

The rest of the day was pretty quick, Bev told him it would take a few days if not a week for her to get one done, at least a few more streams. Two meant a longer wait and Richie was alright with it. He couldn't fucking imagine making something himself, so he would wait without complaint. Not that he'd complain anyway.

He waltzed up the stairs of his apartment, fingers dancing along the rails. The metal chime echoed around the room as he did so, and he paused -waiting to see if anyone was in the stairwell.

Richie wasn't entirely sure he knew any of his neighbors, or even if he wanted to. Who knew their neighbors these days? He only really saw familiar people in the lobby, and surprisingly, he didn't really talk to them. Well, maybe not surprisingly, if you really knew him he wasn't super comfortable with strangers. When he was nervous, not uncomfortable, he started fucking talking.

It was different.

Slowly, when there was no reaction, Richie made it up the stairs. And then, his phone started blaring.

"Shit," he nearly dropped it, before quickly answering, "-Hello?"

"Richie," it was Mike, he realized (in all his haste, he hadn't really even checked the caller ID apparently), "-hey. Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"What? No," he mended, quickly -regaining his composure and walking through his floor (lowering his voice appropriately) "-I'm just getting home from Bev's, what's up, Mikey?"

"I wanted to," he paused a second, "-I wanted to talk to you about Eddie."

Richie faltered, slowly putting the key into the lock, "What about Eds?"

"You're not-" Mike started, before seeming to reiterate, "-You're not fucking with him, are you?"

He opened his door, sliding off his shoes and tossing a bag he brought onto the counter -moving to lock the door behind himself, "Fucking with him?"

Mike clarified, "Like joking? About being... being interested in him, friend or otherwise?"

"I'm sorry?"

"It's not you, Rich," he quickly added, "-Eddie's just been through some shit. He's an old friend and deserves a lot better than what the world has given him."

Right, 'so good to see you happy man ❤️'.

"How do you know him?" Richie asked before he could stop it -throwing himself onto the couch.

"You remember how me and Ben lived in the same shitty smalltown?"

Ben and Mike were old friends, used to volunteer at the library over the summer together. (At least, he's pretty sure that's how that happened.) They hadn't stayed in contact, but then Bev found Ben and recruited him, and they were reunited. Even still, Richie doesn't know the luck of that happening but it did.

"Yeah," he answered.

"Well, Eddie lived there too," Mike clarified, "-He visited the library a lot, it was one of the only places he was allowed to go-"

"Allowed?" Richie questioned, once again his mouth was uncontrollable.

"His mom, she..." Mike fell silent, settling on something, "-Eddie should tell you about that. It's not my place."

"Oh-kay," Richie replied, a little confused, fidgeting with a button on his shirt, "-Mikey, what is this about?"

There was a pause.

"Look," Mike refocused, voice steady (in the scary loyal kinda way Richie's only heard a few times), "-all I'm asking is if you're genuine. With Eddie."

"You do shit like this for me?" He joked, a little flatly, "-Or do you pick favorites?"

"I am," Mike answered simply, "-I already have."

He talked to Eddie? Something in Richie wanted to ask about it, poke and prod until he couldn't anymore. Just like he always did. What did he say about me? What did he say about m-

"So?" Mike questioned.

Richie pursed his lips for a second.

"Of course, I'm fucking genuine," he started fidgeting with the buttons more intently like he could avoid what he was saying (make it a little less real), "-I think Eddie is the shit. Probably the coolest person I know, no offense, and I-"

The words halted in his throat, almost like he wasn't ready to say them. He powered through anyway.

"-I really like him. It's fucking embarrassing how much I like him."

"Like-like?" Mike asked, completely serious.

"Are you seriously fucking saying that right now?" Richie laughed, pulling his fingers away from the button, "-You sound like we're under the bleachers gossiping about the hunky football captain or some shit. Do you think he'll ask me to the dance, Mikey? Do ya think so-"

Mike laughed, "How else am I supposed to say it?"

"I dunno," he added, brushing a hand through his curls, "-How about... Are you into him? Do you think he's hot as shit? Have you planned your future marriage ceremony in your head-"

"Have you?"

Richie's lips pressed into a firm line (he'd really only gotten to the engagement part -god he was so fucked up), "No."

"Right," Mike laughed -uncertain, "-Look, Richie, I think it's great you like him, and I'm willing to bet he's into you too-"

Why? What did he say? He likes me? How do you-

"-But be careful," he continued, "-I don't want you or Eddie hurt in the long run. It would be really shitty to half to divide my time like I have divorced parents."

"I'd obviously have custody of you," Richie instinctively responded.

"I don't know," Mike countered, "-Eddie has a lot of fight in him. He'd drag you through hell in court."

"Fair point," he relented, maybe smiling a little.

"Well, that's all I wanted to ask," Mike sighed out, "-Plus, I stream in like an hour, so I gotta go. But take care of yourself, okay?"

"Yeah, you too," he quietly responded.

It felt a little like it echoed along his walls, even though the room wasn't as empty as the stairwell. (It felt a little like it was, in the ways that mattered). Richie dropped his phone on his chest and stared up at the ceiling -silent.

He should probably tell Stan all of this is happening, huh? And Steve, when he sees him next. (Should be in about a month.) He basically had a list for the guy when he gets to his next appointment, filled with thoughts and events-

Ding.

Richie peeked at his phone.

e.kaspbrak

Did Mike talk to you?

He pursed his lips a second, fingers stagnant against the keyboard.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

yeah u?

e.kaspbrak

Obviously, I just asked you dipshit.

Richie smiled.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

u r a funny guy eds

u should steal my job u could do it

e.kaspbrak

You're good at your job.

And fuck that, I want to watch your streams.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

u like my streams ???

e.kaspbrak

I'm subscribed to you, moron.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

well yeah

I thought u just wanted to shit on me

or maybe see my pretty face 😉

e.kaspbrak

You're lucky I'm far away from you.

Richie pursed his lips together, typing before he could stop.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

no

no I'm not eds

He watched the message for a few seconds, eyeing the bubbles typing away and then disappearing. Like he was writing and rewriting everything, like he wasn't sure what to say. Richie wasn't sure what he would say if the tables were flipped.

So instead of assuming (despite his stomach twisting with anxiety), he patiently waited. (If you could count his foot bouncing so fast it was shaking his coffee table patient).

e.kaspbrak

I'm genuine.

You have to fucking know that at this point.

He thought for a second, smoothing the words over his skin.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

so am I

e.kaspbrak

That's not answering my question trashmouth.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

I didn't know

e.kaspbrak

Really?

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

yeah

u r kinda a dick to me tbf

e.kaspbrak

That's just how I am.

Sometimes I'm a dick to people I care about, it happens.

Richie smiled again then, quietly absorbing the words. Eddie was such an interesting person, and Richie (un)surprisingly could not wait to know all the little Eddie-isms.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

I care about u too spaghetti

There was a pause again, and Richie felt a little heavy for a second. Waiting.

e.kaspbrak

Mike told me about your parents.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

mikey told me about ur mom

vaguely

e.kaspbrak

Vaguely too.

Do you want to talk about it?

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

do u eds?

e.kaspbrak

Eventually.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

yeah me too

I wanna tell u eventually

e.kaspbrak

Richie?

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

yeah spaghetti?

e.kaspbrak

I like when you talk, even if it's the stupidest shit I've ever heard.

Richie laughed then, quietly, and something smoothed off his shoulders. The heaviness felt lighter. Just like it always did with Eddie somehow. His mind was quieter, calmer. He doesn't know how he does it, but he does.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

I think that's the first time I've ever heard that from anybody eds

e.kaspbrak

Well, people are dumb as fuck.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

u r not wrong

but thank u

means a lot from u

e.kaspbrak

What does that mean?

Richie paused, carefully, thinking over a response. It felt different this time, this conversation, he wasn't sure why. It just felt a little monumental, like they were crossing something, a milestone (as Steve, his therapist said).

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

u r pretty cool too eds

even if u call me dipshit a lot

I still think u r pretty cool

e.kaspbrak

You are a dipshit.

But thank you.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

ahh good ole mean spaghetti

believe me nice eds is cute

but there's something special about grumpy lil eddie :)

e.kaspbrak

Ew.

Richie frowned. Did he say something?

e.kaspbrak

You called me Eddie.

Don't do that again.

He laughed out loud, something swirling around in his chest. It felt weird for a second, it had barely been a month knowing him, and even less texting him, but it felt right. Like they were meant to slot together. Like destiny (which was cliché as fuck).

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

sir yes sir 🫡

e.kaspbrak

You're such a dick.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

that's my name don't wear it out babey~

He smiled for a moment, dropping his phone onto his chest with a breath. And in that moment, his apartment felt a little less empty. Richie wasn't sure how to feel about that at all, but it felt good for now.

e.kaspbrak

Shithead.

Yeah, he thought to himself, I think it's pretty good.

[mrsweasley23]

NSFW: Slutty Steve dresses up like a maid...

A mutual mentioned Maid Steve to me, then I saw an amazing edit on Twitter of him wearing the costume and took it as a sign to smash out this smutty smut. If anyone has the pic, I'll love you forever. This dumbass forgot to save it.

Also on ao3

CW: degradation, name calling, face slapping and lots of cumplay

Eddie: How's your day going baby?

Steve: Fucking lame

Steve: Can't wait for you to get home

Home. Their home. Steve loved the fact Eddie was in a band. Loved to see his man up there on the stage, raw, glistening, hypnotic; the best fucking foreplay known to man. And he loved how happy it made Eddie. This was exactly where he was meant to be, creating, performing, shining like the bright fucking star he was. But it meant that he wasn't always there. Steve was home alone. A LOT. Lots of time to think about Eddie, to get himself worked up over Eddie, desperate to fuck himself senseless over Eddie. Which is quite frankly what he would spend most of his time doing if Eddie allowed it. But Eddie liked him to wait. To save it for him so he could come home and bask in the desperation that literally rolled off Steve, as he begged and begged for release, for Eddie's cock, for ANYTHING Eddie would give him. And, fuck, it was always worth the wait.

Eddie: Send me that video of you from Halloween. Wanna see you cum

Steve: Could do you one live now... O

Eddie: Don't even fucking think about it, sweetheart. You're not cumming until you're full of me

Steve: Please, Eds. I'm fucking dying here. Swear I've been hard for the past two days

Eddie: Show me

Steve wrapped his long fingers around his thick cock, tugging it perhaps more than was permitted. He spat on his palm and circled the wet over the head, now red and shiny and took a picture. Send.

Steve: All for you

Eddie: God, I can't wait to suck you fucking dry

Steve: Holy fuck, Eddie. You can't say shit like that when you're not back until tonight

Eddie: You know the rules. You cave, I'm not going to fuck you. And we both know how fucking desperate you are for me to fill you up

Steve: Always. Need you so bad. Can't fucking bear it

Eddie: Don't you worry, baby. I'm going to fuck you full tonight

Steve: I'm counting down the hours

Eddie: As soon as I'm off that fucking stage, I'm all yours. Gareth and Jeff are going to pack up

Steve: Fucking legends

Steve: Hope tonight goes well. Send a pic before you go on

Eddie: You and these fucking leather pants. I don't want to tip you over the edge too soon

Steve: I'm not making any promises

Eddie: I'll keep them on for you

Steve's eyes practically rolled back in his head. He was hot, hard, throbbing with want. Eddie knew exactly how to drag out his pleasure, drive him to the brink and then snatch it away, over and over again. He knew exactly what got Steve going, exactly what to say or do to drive him fucking insane. Well, two could play that game.

****

"Steve. The leather pants have entered the building", Eddie chuckled, as he opened the front door to their apartment. No response. "Don't tell me you've fallen asleep baby. I have so many plans for you".

"Can I help you, Sir?" Steve purred, stepping into the living room, lips glossed, hair loose and wearing a french maid's outfit, his toned thighs bare beneath the short, black ruffles.

A low growl ripped from Eddie's throat. "Fuck me, Steve. What the fuck is that?"

"You like it?" he giggled, bending over the back of the sofa to reveal the distinct lack of underwear.

"You look...fuck...I can't even"

"Is there anything I can help you with" he paused, looking coquettishly over his shoulder, smirk playing on his lips "...Sir?"

"Oh, you don't know what you've done. I'm going to fucking ruin you," Eddie's spat out, as he lunged towards Steve, pulling his head up by his hair. "I'm going to make you clean up all the filthy mess you make." Steve groaned, feeling Eddie's breath against his ear, feeling the heat radiating off him.

"Make me dirty", Steve whispered through his teeth.

"Fucking filthy", Eddie growled. 

He hooked Steve around the waist and pulled their bodies together, mouths meeting in a clash of tongues, teeth and spit. Messy, desperate. Eddie's hands were digging roughly into the bare flesh of his ass. 

Steve pulled away for a moment, stepping backwards towards the bedroom. "I have another surprise".

"I'm not quite sure how you could top this little number," Eddie chuckled, gesturing at Steve, his eyes heavy with lust as he followed Steve's teasing steps. 

"I was just tidying the closet, Sir," Steve drawled, slipping back into role, "and I found all these things...". He gestured to the side of the bed, where he had meticulously laid out their very comprehensive collection of toys. "Are you a bad man?" he whispered. 

"The fucking worst. And you shouldn't have touched my things". Eddie stepped towards him, imposing, but the lightest hint of a smile playing on his lips. 

"I'm sorry, Sir. I was just so curious. Half these things I've never seen before"

"I should punish you for touching things that don't belong to you" 

"Show me" 

"Show you what?"

"What these things are for?". Steve grabbed a pink dildo, ironically his favourite, the one he loved Eddie to fuck him with whilst he was stuffing his cock down his throat. 

"They're to make you feel good," Eddie purred softly. "Do you like to feel good?" 

Steve nodded eagerly, pliant in Eddie's hands. "Show me. Please," and he climbed onto the bed, forearms and head planted into the bed, as he raised his ass towards the ceiling, a calling card to Eddie, a shining beacon. 

Eddie practically fucking roared as he neared the bed, grabbing Steve by the hips and pressing a kiss against his tight rim. "You're a fucking slut, Harrington". 

Steve wiggled his ass playfully, earning a harsh slap fresh against his cheek. "Oh fuck... Eddie... do that again". Eddie slapped him a second time before teasing his tongue inside Steve, who was now rock hard and dripping. "Just fucking look at you," Eddie growled. "Fuck... You're... gorgeous. Fucking glorious, Steve". A tongue became fingers and Eddie pressed the dildo against Steve's cheek. "Suck it". 

Steve took the toy into his hands and worked his tongue over it, before slipping it expertly to this back of his throat as Eddie's lubed up finger pressed deliciously into his ass. "Look at you, both holes full. You like that?". Steve moaned around the toy, eyes streaming as he pulled it out. "Want you in my mouth." 

"You don't get my cock yet, baby. I'm going to make a mess of you first. Want you begging for it" 

"Please, Eddie" 

Eddie pulled out his finger and took his hand from a Steve's hip. "I said NO" 

"Please, Sir" he ventured, a wobble in his voice. 

"Give me that," Eddie barked. The commanding tone shot straight to Steve's dick and he passed over the toy, sticky with spit. 

"You're not getting my cock but I'll show you how good this feels. You want that?" 

"Please, yes"

"Yes what?" 

"Yes, Sir. Make a mess of me"

Eddie ran his hands along Steve's ass circling the perfect roundness of his cheeks before pushing his finger back in. Mercilessly, he pressed his a second finger deep into Steve, as his boyfriend clamoured for more, pushing himself back. 

"So fucking tight. I'm going to fucking wreck this pretty hole tonight. You know that?" 

"Please" Steve whimpered. "It's your hole. It's all for you." 

At that, Eddie teased him with the tip, pressing firmly against the place Steve wanted it most. "Gonna let the bad man show you what this toy can do? " 

"Yes, yes, yes" he begged, desperate for friction, desperate to be filled. 

Eddie slipped the toy in an inch, admiring the sweet stretch of Steve around it. Slick pink on slick pink. He pushed it deeper, revelling in Steve's whimpers, until he had taken it all. 

"So big, " Steve choked. "So full" 

Eddie began to slide the toy in and out, a teasing pace at first, then as Steve got louder, he started to fuck it into him faster. "You going to cum from this dirty fake cock in your ass?" 

"Yes, Sir. Gonna cum. Can I?"

"Not all over my leather pants you're not" 

Steve stiffed a giggle. 

"You wait right there", Eddie commanded, and slipped the dildo out with a pop. 

Steve whimpered pathetically as Eddie stepped away from the bed, pulling his shirt off. Steve looked over his shoulder, moaning at the huge bulge threatening to burst it's way out of the tight leather. "Fuck." 

"You like that, hey? Like that your slutty little oufit and your desperate fucking hole got me all hard for you?" 

"So much," Steve slurred. "Want it so bad. Want you." 

"Want this?" Eddie quirked, bringing himself close to Steve's face. 

"Fuck yeah," he breathed, reaching towards the smooth leather. 

"Tell me, " Eddie barked, unzipping the front of his pants and palming his hard, bare cock. 

"Want you to fuck my face 'til I can't breathe. Wanna taste you. Smell you. Want you to fuck me so deep I'll feel you when you're gone again," he trailed off thoughtfully. Eddie's eyes softened for a moment before steeling himself.

"Here's what is going to happen." 

Steve's eyes fixed on him, listening, jaw slack, a fucking vision. 

"I'm going to make you cum. And I'm going wipe your filthy fucking cum all over my cock and my asshole. And you're going to clean up every last bit of it. Understand?" 

"Fuck... Yes, Sir"

"And then, I'm going to fuck you full. I'm going to bounce you on my cock so I can see every inch of that fucking outfit as I rip you apart."

"Oh...god..  yeah....please."

Eddie wiggled his way out of the tight leather, and climbed back into the bed, his huge cock rigid and weeping. He pushed the tip against Steve's gaping hole. "Oh please... Need it. Need you". He thrust in harshly, no warning, bottoming out and Steve yelped in response. "Holy fuck." 

"That's all you get for now," he snarled, pulling out as quickly as he'd slammed in. "Don't worry your pretty little head though. I'm going to stuff you so full later, you won't even know your own name"

Steve groaned in anticipation, moaning softly as Eddie worked his fingers back into his ass, pressing ferociously against his prostate until Steve was twitching and shaking. "Gonna cum Eds. So fucking good. Don't.. God... Don't stop". 

Eddie reached between Steve's taut thighs, fingers dragging along his taint, across his balls, before grasping his cock, cupping his hand around the head ready to catch the release his other hand was striving for. 

There was no let up in the pace and precision of Eddie's fingers and Steve finally snapped, spilling into his boyfriend's hand, cock throbbing as days worth of tension poured forth, as he bit down on his lip, curses falling freely, punctuated by deep, shaky inhales. 

"I can see you waited, baby. Saved this for me". He flicked his tongue towards his palm, catching a drop on the top before taking it into his mouth. "Taste like fucking heaven."

Eddie rolled onto his back, legs spread, knees to his chest, hand full of cum and let his hand glide along his cock, smearing Steve's mess all over it. He pushed two fingers into his ass, stuffing cum into his reluctant hole, before wiping what was left across his chest. 

"Look at the fucking mess you made."

"M sorry." 

"Don't apologise. Just clean it up. That's what you're here for, right?" 

"Yes, Sir" Steve breathed, still spacey from his orgasm. He crawled between Eddie's knees and ran his tongue up his thigh, Steve's face buried in the flesh.

"Fucking look at me when you do it. Wanna see you savour every drop of your own fucking sweet cum",. Eddie growled, yanking Steve's head up by his hair. He released his grip as Steve lapped hungrily at his cock, long strokes scooping up the load, swallowing it down, all the time their eyes locked, even as he dove his tongue deep into Eddie's ass, salty with sweat, a taste of the performance Steve had missed. 

"Like the taste of your own cum?" 

"Prefer you. Yours"

"Fucking cumslut"

"Am" 

"Do you think you got it all?" 

Steve shook his head, although he knew he pretty much had, he wasn't ready to take his lips away from Eddie, his head swimming with the taste and smell of him. He pressed his nose forward, taking Eddie deep into his throat as he swallowed around him. 

"Wanna taste you," he mumbled, his movements getting more desperate. 

"Not yet", Eddie stated, through gritted teeth. "You're going to have to taste my cum as it drips down your thighs, Steve. I'm going to pump you so full." 

Not words from Steve. A whine. Animalistic, wounded. 

He crawled up Eddie's chest, his tongue leading the way, the tang of sweat and cum dragging out more noises of satisfaction.

He reached Eddie's lips with a sigh, falling into a deep kiss as his hands tangled their way into his hair. Eddie grabbed his ass, pulling their bodies closer, pulling Steve's hardening cock against his own as he teased his rim.

"Ready for me?" he whispered into Steve's mouth. 

"Always." 

Eddie pushed Steve back, so he was straddling his chest, skirt ruffled and barely covering his cock. He stared Steve down, drinking in the sight of his chest straining against the tight dress, as he lubed himself up. He flipped Steve round, gripping his hips tightly as he drove himself deep, watching his cock disappear inbetween the fucking heavenly cheeks. 

"Oh fuck... So big... So deep." 

Eddie thrust forward, fingers bruisingly harsh, as he fucked in again and again. Steve's hands were in his own hair, overcome with sensation as Eddie slid deliciously in and out, watching the twitch of Steve's rim as it swallowed him whole. There was no escape for Steve, Eddie's steely grip dragging him down, down, down, as Steve fell down, down, down, deeper into himself. 

"So fucking tight. Love your fucking hole" 

Steve clenched at the words. "More. Want more".

Eddie released one hand from his hip to pull Steve's back by his hair, hissing in his ear. "You're stuffed full of my cock and you beg for more?" 

"M sorry. I'm so bad. Just need it. Need more. Need you." 

"Ungrateful slut," Eddie snarled, a twinkle in his eye, and three taps from Steve to let him know this was exactly what he wanted. 

He lifted Steve roughly off his cock, eliciting a broken sob that went straight to his own, tossing him carelessly back on the bed. Steve's eyes were glazed, hair matted with sweat and, fuck, did he look spectacular. 

"Dont think you deserve this, do you?" Eddie growled, trialing his fingers across Steve's cheek. 

"So sorry, Sir"

"Ungrateful. Shit." he barked, delivering a hard slap to Steve's cheek. 

"No one else gets my cock. No one. And this is how you repay me?" 

"Hit me again. Deserve it" 

"Damn right you fucking do" Eddie snapped, bringing his hand harshly to Steve's other cheek, who moaned headily at the contact, his dick twitching, dripping pathetically. 

He pushed Steve's thighs roughly back, exposing his red slick hole. "If I didn't love this so fucking much, I'd just leave you here fucking empty in that slutty fucking outfit, dripping cum all over yourself." 

Steve whimpered, clenching in anticipation of what he knew was coming.  

"Gonna make such a mess of you. Fucking wreck this perfect fucking hole." 

"Please... God...please." 

Eddie pressed his hand over Steve's mouth as he thrust roughly in, slipping two of his fingers towards the back of his throat. Steve's tongue lapped happily at them, sucking desperately as Eddie slammed in to the hilt, skin slapping, deep grunts punctuating each powerful thrust. 

There was no let up, Steve's hands bunching tightly into the sheets either side of him, eyes closed, savouring the fullness in every part of him, mouth, ass, ears, head. He was beyond begging. He was beyond words. Fucking incoherent. He was floating above, a spectator to the depravity, to the beauty, to his own undoing. A witness to the mess made of black silk and white lace, watching and feeling and feeling and watching. 

He was not the only witness. "Fucking.. Jesus..." Eddie stuttered, digging his fingers into the flesh of Steve's ass as he clenched around his cock, slamming against his prostate for one last time before he exploded, fucking roaring as he pumped Steve full of his cum. Once the throbbing in his ears and his cock had subsided, he reluctantly pulled out. 

"I've made such a mess of you, baby" 

Steve murmured in response. 

"You made a real mess of yourself too. Think I need a fucking picture. All fucked out, in your little slutty outfit, covered in your own cum, with my cum dripping from your red raw asshole. You're a fucking masterpiece. Couldn't curate this better if I tried"

He pressed his fingers against the dripping hole, catching some of his cum before lifting them to Steve's mouth. "Open up, baby. Know you want a taste".

Steve opened obligingly, blissed out, lapping gently at his fingers. 

"More?" 

"Mmmmm" 

Eddie grabbed Steve's hand from where it laid resting against his side, and pulled it between his legs. "So fucking wet, fucking filthy". He helped Steve coat his fingers then guided his hand back to those perfect lips, the bottom one decidedly red and swollen where Steve had bitten down on it.

"There you go, baby." 

Eddie stepped back and grabbed his phone, snapping Steve as he sucked the cum deliriously off his fingers. "I don't think you've ever looked better, baby." 

A faint smile played on Steve's lips, all he could muster. 

***

"I've got a warm washcloth okay, baby. I just going to clean you up a little" Eddie purred softly, rubbing gently between his thighs. Steve murmured in appreciation. 

"Not that your method of cleaning wasn't a lot of fun" he chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss at the top of his thigh. 

"You okay if we get this off?" he asked, tugging at the skirt. "Because quite frankly, it needs a second outing so we need to wash it"

Steve groaned. "Can't move. You broke me" 

A wide grin spread across Eddie's face. "You asked for it..." 

Steve sat up slowly, arms in the air, inviting Eddie to lift the dress over his head. "Try not to get cum in my hair..." 

"Not the hair!" Eddie cackled but, slipped the dress carefully over Steve's head, before running the washcloth across his chest. He lay down next to Steve, head on his chest, content in the feeling of flesh on flesh. 

"Fucking love you for doing that for me."

Steve tugged lightly at Eddie's curls. "Missed you. Wanted to do something nice for you" 

"Believe me, that's the nicest fucking thing you could have done for me. Fuck... you looked incredible. Can't believe I didn't fucking shoot my shot the moment I saw you." 

"Plenty of pics for tour though?" 

"If the dress is staying, I'm never leaving again. " 

"Deal" Steve laughed, pulling Eddie on top of him for a kiss. 

[enbysiriusblack]

okay I have to ask about your wips I am intrigued by literally all of them. Please tell me about the zombie apocalypse and the Alice in bordland au. I’m already obsessed with the idea of an Alice in wonderland au, and ZOMBIES!! SO MUCH WRITING POTENTIAL WITH ZOMBIES!!

Oh and it is my British duty to ask about “the big tescos”. Who is at the big tescos and why are they there.

zombie apocalypse:

"Oh, fuck man. Your girlfriend's a fucking zombie!"

Peter tried to stop Marlene from getting into the cubicle, whilst keeping Emmeline from biting him.

"She's not my girlfriend!"

Marlene rolled her eyes with a huff, slamming herself against the cubicle door, "I don't think the complexities of your love life is of high importance right now."

The lock bent out of shape, Marlene pulling it open and grabbing Peter by the shirt, out of the cubicle. She grabbed her makeshift spear and stabbed it into Emmeline's stomach. It'll do for now.

Peter punched her in the arm, tears running from his eyes.

inspired by the tv series, all of us are dead. lyall accidentally turns his son into a zombie, when trying to save his life. the zombie virus spreads into an apocalypse in less than a day, a school at the center of it all.

alice in bordland au:

"I'm meant to get a job", James grinned at Sirius.

They laughed, "What you gonna do? Get paid for playing football and video games?"

"No, my parents meant like a proper job. To learn responsibility or something... Can I work here?"

Sirius shook their head with a small laugh, "Definitely not. You can't even drive a car let alone fix one."

James scoffed in faux offense, "I beat both you and Remus in mario kart the other day."

practically says it all already, but anyway. james, remus, and sirius find themselves suddenly in an empty, almost shadow of london. the three are forced to play dangerous games to keep themselves alive.

the big tescos:

Regulus stared up at rows and rows of random items, mostly food, stacked behind and next to each other. He turned to where Dorcas just was, to instead see some stranger with a baby.

Great, now he was lost in this giant kitchen.

the big tescos is an iconic place. a lot can happen. and regulus black needs to understand and experience it's iconic-ness.

[thatonewatching]

Church Boy-Long ride

I walked down to the bus stop. I quickly realized it was way too cold for October. Freezing my dick off outside, I heard some footsteps behind me and immediately spun around. 

A greasy-headed brunette approached at a weary pace, examining me. He eventually got to the stop and tried to peer down at me without being obnoxiously obvious. "Hey..." he muttered, not even looking down. Guess he was trying to give off the 'badass teen who doesn't care.' look. You know, he pulled it off. 

"Hey..." I replied, just as monotonously as him. "So, you new?" he asked, stealing a swift glance. "Yep. Just moved into 402." I informed, shrugging my shoulders. "Nice, you believe in ghosts?" he asked simply as if it were a normal conversation. "Woah! That was quick!" I exclaimed. "I know. Just thought I'd bring it up. Kinda surprised you haven't seen anything yet." he admitted. 

"What do you mean? Are the apartments haunted?" I ask, now very intrigued. "I mean, yea? I guess so. I've seen some shit. Especially with what happened to poor Mrs. Sanderson..." he let out a long sigh, obviously waiting for me to say something. "What? Who's Mrs. Sanderson and what the hell are you on?" I asked. "Did you meet Charley yet? Once you do, you'll understand. Anyways, Mrs. Sanderson used to live in 403, before she got murdered, that is."

"Murdered?"

"Shh, keep it down! And yea, murder. Charley did it. I was in there fixin' her toilet and he burst in screamin' like a psycho. "I know what you did, bitch! Herman told me everything!" she tried to calm him down, but he was already slitting her throat. Then he left." the brunette admitted. 

"What the fuck... are you high?"

"I wish...This is some heavy shit, man."

"No shit..."

"Anyways, change of subject!" 

"Alright? I'm Sal, I just moved here from Jersey."

"Nice, name's Larry. My mom's the janitor here. She gets a room in the basement rent-free with the maintenance gig. You should come down sometime, we could hang out. "

"Sounds good. Would today work?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Nice."

"..."

"..."

"Bus is here!"

"No shit."

"Don't be an ass, sit with me." Larry offered. "Fine, dork." I agreed, sitting down after him. He looked out the window and sighed, leaving a foggy mark on the cold glass. He then proceeded to draw a penis. A light chuckle could be heard from the giant of a man, then he turned to me and smirked. 

More like a shit-eating grin if you ask me.

"Really?" I asked, giving a sarcastic eye roll. "Yep." he answered, shamelessly. "Dumbass." I retorted. Larry theatrically wiped his eyes. Through fake sobs, he muttered something. "That's...the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me!" he sobbed, burying his face in his hands and continuing to fake sob.

"Shut up." I exclaimed, punching his arm. "Ow, damnit." he retorted, grabbing where I punched him. "Pussy." I mocked. He smirked down at me, and we started rambling about stupid shit. Bands, school, favorite teachers, hardest subjects, crushes, video games, and more.

The bus stopped again, and Larry's demeanor immediately changed. "Fuck..." he whispered. "What?" I ask. "Travis." he answered, pointing at a blonde with tanned skin. He walked to where we were and sat directly parallel. "Larry, I didn't know you had a boyfriend!" the boy exclaimed. "Fuck off, Phelps." Larry responded, grabbing at his jeans and balling his fists. 

"Or what, faggot?" Travis asked, smirking wildly. "Or I'll break your fucking jaw..." Larry answered. When I tell you a shiver went down my spine, I meant it. "You said that last week." Travis retorted, shrugging his shoulders as if not even concerned with Larry's threat. "And you call me and my friends a slur every day, get some new material, church boy." Larry responded, anger stifling. "Well, it's true. You and your friends are a bunch of homos!" Travis exclaimed, clenching his fists. 

"Not all of us..." Larry muttered, giving me a glance considering he thought I was a twink. Which I am.

"All of you? So, some of you are fags? Gross." Travis jeered, stifling a laugh as he scoffed. "No, they aren't fags, Travis. They're people with names and lives. Now, shut the hell up you pussy." Larry threatened. "Fine, fine. Sorry that I offended you. I'll leave you be so you and your freaky ass boyfriend can eye-fuck some more." Travis retorted, attempting to sound serious. "First off, not my boyfriend, I'm straight. Second, didn't you kiss a boy? I think I remember-" 

Larry was quickly cut off by Travis' words. "No! I didn't!" Travis exclaimed, drawing more attention from the other kids on the bus. "Just, shut up, Phelps." Larry exasperatedly said. "Whatever, queer..." Travis muttered, turning back to the window and looking out. 

Larry had been looking out the window when I tugged on his sleeve so I could grab his attention. "What the fuck was that about?" I asked. "Nothing. He just likes to pick fights n' shit. I put him in his place when he tries me." Larry answered. "Badass." I mocked. "Hey," Larry murmured. "Yea?" I answered. "Let me know if he fucks with you. You're an ass but I won't let you get bullied." He said, a small chuckle coming after

"Says the one who draws dicks." I teased, punching his arm. "Yeah, whatever. You're just lame!" he mocked. I rolled the eye I could and laid my head on the back of the seat. I felt Larry stand up and so I did too. "We're here!" Larry sung. "Yeah, Hell." I finished. "It's not all bad, except Travis, he's a little piss baby." Larry mocked, making sure Travis could hear. "I am not a piss baby!" Travis yelled. "Whatever..." Larry said, "Piss baby..."

I chuckled but my mask muffled it. "Alright, I'll show you to the office and classes and all that." 

"What are you? My dad?"

"Nah, but I am used to being called Daddy."

"Gross, dude."

"Whatever, dork."

"I hate you."

"You know you don't!"

"Is it too late to back out of this friendship?"

"Yes."

"Damn..."

He walked me to the front office, and I grabbed my schedule from the woman sitting at her desk. "Thanks, Mrs!" I called out. 

(Originally posted May 13th 2023 on Wattpad)

"Church Boy." - Long Ride - Wattpad

[kazumahashimoto]

omgggg ok category 5 autism moment incoming i just feel CRAZED like omg. voice direction is something i feel i care perhaps an above average amount about so of course i'm like paying super attention to all that but also i'm just so confused like the way in which caleb performs as zack is so. not zack. like i'll disregard the pitch thing for right now even if they were trying to get someone that hit closer to zack's japanese voice actor's range why wouldn't they get. a Voice actor? like caleb pierce has had a number of on camera rolls but this was his first voice acting roll. and sure like aerith's new va hadn't done voice acting either but she's like. good at it? i don't know how to say this lightly but he's bad. or at least for the character he's bad. there are plenty PLENTY of voice actors in that mid high range with all the levels of nasal and scratch you could ever dream of that can give you the emotional range and growth zack goes through. caleb just doesn't perform that. we see this in scenes where he's meant to be yelling yet he puts no strain in his voice or in scenes where he's meant to be calm and understanding where he still has a snarky bite.

another thing that comes to mind for me to show just how different they play the character is the scene where zack meets aerith for the first time. once he collects himself, rick has zack deepen his voice a bit to put up a sort of bravado, he's just met this cute girl you see, zack is something of a flirt, he's just made a fool of himself falling through her roof and he's compensating. what a nice moment of ACTING!!!!! that is TONE that is ALL rick and/or the director. that wasn't the script. caleb reads those lines the same way he reads everything else. there isn't the same nuance and intrigue in performance, to me anyway. i find watching caleb perform boring to listen to honestly. like he's too afraid to get a little silly or a little ugly. no mess. all snark. and sure up to a point you can get away with that i Guess but it's not a terribly long time. once angeal starts pulling away zack gets more serious. he's still goofy and silly but he's also angry and loud and confused and he doesn't know how to deal with any of it. caleb not getting more rough with his voice takes the emotion out of these scenes. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO ANGEAL?" stops sounding like an angry and horrified boy who thinks his mentor just killed his mom, and starts sounding like someone scolding their dog or something. like this was a failing of the director if nothing else.

but let's get back to the pitch because i am so serious it makes a difference!!!!!! even if caleb had STARTED at the same place he should have ENDED putting on at least a Little bit of a deeper voice? like am i supposed to assume this man has No range? i don't wanna assume that i don't fucking know this guy!!!! but like man. angeal is Such an important person to zack. zack sees angeal in EVERYTHING. one of the first scenes is angeal saving zack and grabbing his hand to pull him up. zack is the one who ends up killing angeal. angeal chose him because he knew he was going to die anyway and he didn't want it to be at the hands of shinra by any means. zack is not shinra to him. zack is his cherished friend and mentee. zack kills angeal and is gifted his sword. zack mourns angeal. cissnei tells him wings don't signify a monster, they symbolize freedom. zack looks up to the sky as white feathers fall around him. he catches one in his hand and says, "those wings, i want them too." when zack dies it's angeal we hear his final message to, and we see him reach his hand out to be pulled up by angeal. he smiles as he goes. the main theme of crisis core is dreams and honor. dreams and honor is angeal's theme, angeal's leitmotif. we hear dreams and honor in nearly every song in the soundtrack, even including cloud's. most importantly zack's theme, the actual main character of this video game, is dreams and honor with an electric guitar. zack sees angeal in EVERYTHING. zack thinks the entire world of angeal. in nibelheim he tries to fulfill a similar role in that moment that he had with cloud. he tries to be the rock. when cloud shifts the conversation to be about zack, zack breaks. he lets out a bit of that frustration and confusion at what shinra is forcing him to do. when cloud brings up his sword he suddenly remembers angeal again. not just that he was his mentor and he was grounding, but his strong sense of morals and ideals. his dreams and honor. it is in this moment i believe zack stops seeing "SOLDIER" as SHINRA and starts seeing it as angeal. angeal stopped seeing zack as shinra long ago. before zack kills all those infantrymen he repeats angeal's mantra. embrace your dreams and whatever you do, protect your honor, as SOLDIER. zack is not still attached to the military he's currently slaughtering the lowest members of. he's not desperately clinging to a title of power he once held. he's reclaimed it and given it to angeal.

ALL THIS TO SAY I THINK IT'S IMPORTANT HE CHANGES HIS VOICE TO SOUND MORE LIKE ANGEAL'S AS HE GETS OLDER. like from a character perspective it makes no sense he wouldn't have a vocal change At All after so much has happened like that's a super easy thing you can give to a character to show growth. AND ZACK HAD THAT. BEFORE. i'm running out of steam. it's just kind of crazy to me like even separating rick gomez from the equation caleb pierce plays zack in such a boring unnuanced way. but anyway. heart<3

[nikuknight]

Okay I had everything in the tags but I want to say more than I'm comfortable tagging (because those like to show up in tag suggestions), so I'm gonna say it on the post.

My parents also made me stand in the corner. It sucked. I wasn't allowed to sit, fidget, talk, look around, or anything like that. But I wasn't as heavily monitored in the corner as OP, so I could get away with little things like fidgeting. It also seemed to take FOREVER to little adhd me. I hated standing in the corner, but I beat it.

I started pretending my fingers were people climbing the paint-texture on the walls. Sometimes they would fall a couple of inches and regain their grip. Sometimes they'd climb higher than I was tall (of course, this was easier to detect so I'd get caught if I did that). I'd have competitions between my right and left hands. Listening to my dad's footsteps across the atrium behind me let me know when I had to stay still.

One day, when my dad told me I could leave the corner, I refused. I didn't like being told what to do, and in hindsight I also thought it was a good "fuck you" to pretend I was enjoying myself.

I never had to stand in the corner again. Clearly it wasn't a good punishment if I was having fun.

Unfortunately, this meant my parents had to think up new punishments or go back to old ones, like spanking.

My dad threatened to take my door off its hinges because he caught me playing on my ds with the door closed once. I wasn't allowed to lock the door, and even if I did there were like a thousand keys around the house that could be used to unlock it. My parents took away all of my electronics, put monitoring software on my laptop, and used parental controls to get rid of anything fun (including every web browser and the app store) on my phone because I got my first C. The idea was to reduce distractions so I would actually do my homework, but I just drew with paper and pencil instead.

They generally only tried the more creative punishments once each because I apparently fought them too hard.

Here's what infuriated me even as a kid: if I showed any hint of defiance, smart-assery, resistance, or anger, the punishment would continue. It wouldn't stop until I let go of any shred of dignity that I had. I was not allowed to have any sort of control in my own life or decisions.

What I still don't understand is why I was expected to just roll over and take it. I was a kid. I perceived my parents (specifically my dad, the one usually punishing me) as enemies. Why would I willingly submit to an enemy actively trying to hurt me?

The only thing I learned from all this was how to entertain myself with as few resources as possible, and that if I wanted to do something fun, even as harmless as playing video games, I had to hide it.

My parents later admitted to me as an adult that I was a "hard kid to discipline" because I'd find ways around everything they tried.

Even in my 20s I am still feeling the psychological consequences of all of these things. I hate people looking at my screens, be it my phone, handheld gaming consoles, or laptop, because it's too much like when my dad would check to make sure I was doing homework. I still have nightmares about not being able to close my bedroom door. Being embarrassed triggers my fight or flight. I don't trust authority. I can't not stand up for myself when I am being targeted by an unfair boss because I can't stand being powerless, which has gotten me in trouble at work.

Ironically, standing in the corner was the least traumatic thing they did. How fucked up is that?

"I'm doing this because I love you," my dad would say. If that's how he loves, then I don't want his love. I don't want it.

I know I'm not the worst case of things out there, but it is shocking how common stories like mine are. Punishing kids doesn't make sense. Correct them when they are wrong. Teach them to be respectful of the world around them. But punishing them when they make mistakes or even willfully do something wrong? Someone else in the tags said it very well: punishing kids only makes them distrust you. Whatever you do, don't HARM them. Physically OR psychologically. As soon as you do, you become an enemy to be overcome.

when i was a child, once it had become obvious that spanking was considered gauche and extreme among their early-2000s drum-circle-attending hippie friends, my parents moved to a new default punishment: standing in the corner.

it was very simple. when told, i was to stand facing the corner, not moving, until i was told i could stop. in retrospect, the standard seemed to be to leave me until i had entirely stopped crying, then to start counting down some short, arbitrary block of time (maybe 5, 10 minutes) once i was silent and still. at the time, i didn't know this; the corner was a limbo state, it was a place i was suspended indefinitely til my parents considered me appropriate to deal with once again.

i wasn't to fidget, to sit down, make noises, sing or talk to myself. theoretically, i was supposed to "reflect on what i did wrong," although that never happened. i was, what, five? six?

frequently, i would get a cold, nauseating sensation that crept its way up my back. i would feel stiff and tense, the muscles in my neck and shoulders growing rigid, goosebumps prickling. i would feel as though i was being watched. i would sneak a peak over my shoulder at those times; when i saw i was alone, i would shift and stand on one foot for a bit, then the other, in order to take the weight off the other and ease some of my aches. sometimes i would start whispering to an imaginary friend, or lean against the wall. anything i knew i was not allowed to do, that i could immediately stop when i heard one of my parents approaching.

one specific time, i got that sensation. the creeping dread, the deep bonesickness of feeling watched. i snuck a peek over my shoulder.

my father had crept into my room, and was watching me silently.

"face the corner," he said.

i did.

almost as an afterthought, he told me i had earned myself more time.

the horror this evokes in me can't be described; it's a sheer, yawning precipice of paranoia, buttressed by the casual, uncaring authority of a parent-god, the architect of the childhood panopticon so utterly foreign, so removed from your world, that they not only do not, but cannot comprehend the pain and fear they're inflicting on you. my feet hurt. my legs hurt. my back ached. i was itchy and damp, utterly helpless, bound by rules i didn't understand and at the mercy of beings whose feelings and responses were utterly unpredictable and incomprehensible.

my father wanted to go play a video game.

i write a lot of horror that i don't think most people would automatically classify as "horror." most of it is an attempt to capture this feeling: the shaky, racing terror of survival without knowing the rules, the stakes, even the consequences. the understanding that anything could be a wrong move, that self-preservation can be punished. or it can be rewarded. or it can go entirely ignored. i want to capture that nauseating, paranoid dread and bottle it. every room is an escape room, the win conditions are up to the gamemaster, and he will change them. he always changes them.

maybe he's watching. maybe he went to the bathroom. maybe he forgot about you. you could always try looking over your shoulder to see.