#had been wanting a pair forever but was not about to pay no $100 and up for shorts 🥹

[11oh1]

Yo girl getting og Eric Emanuel shorts at the thrift store for $2 😏🤌🏽✨

[pastryfication]

but that's just when you happened

pairing: oscar piastri x reader note: based on packing it up by gracie abrams and this request <33

the paddock roared with life as the cars zoomed past in incredibly high speed, but you weren’t focused on them. only one car really mattered in your eyes. his car.

never before had you loved someone so overwhelmingly much. never had you been so all consumingly infatuated. you wouldn’t consider yourself selfish—quite the opposite actually—but never had you wanted so many good things for another person. you wanted him to get everything he could ever ask for. everything from a cold pillow to a cool wind in his perfectly styled hair to something much bigger—something much more important. things like a win. a formula 1 win.

he wasn’t a loud person, quite the opposite actually, but when you laid together talking late at night, it was as if the words wouldn’t stop flowing from him. he told you about his deepest fears and wildest desires, and you listened closely, because he was so special. so so special.

you weren’t looking for love when you met him. you had actually sworn it off, but when you saw his dopey smile and warm eyes for the first time, all your rules went out the window.

every thought about packing up your heart for good—packing it away so it couldn’t be hurt another time—went out the window the second he entered your life.

no one made you blush like him, and it wasn’t even intentional most of the time. he just couldn’t help himself when everything about you was so damn beautiful. so beautiful and so perfect for him. it was as if you were build to be together, the way your hand fit in his like a puzzle piece. the way your head felt so perfectly placed tucked under his chin when you hugged.

with him, love wasn’t a game anymore. he ticked all your boxes, but you hadn’t even realised that before your friends pointed it out. the way you couldn’t find any icks, didn’t have anything you wanted to change, felt too good to be true. the first night you slept together where you woke up in his arms you almost panicked because the feeling was so new to you. new, but so so nice.

it was as if he was sent to earth specifically for you. and just at the right moment when you were about to pack it all up. he came into your life and changed it all. turned everything upside down.

his dry humour matched your dark one completely. no one could make you laugh like him. laugh until you felt like you were actually dying of happiness, like nothing mattered but the silly inside joke you shared.

he fit so perfectly in with your family dynamic. laughing with your father, sharing sweet stories with your mother, befriending your siblings as if it was the most natural thing in the world. watching the sunsets in the summer along with them, him standing close to you with his arm around your shoulder while your parents smiled adoringly at you. falling asleep together in your childhood bedroom, his hand drawing lazy shapes on you bare skin. repeating it all with his family afterwards.

he was your soulmate. you were 100 percent certain. you needed him him like you needed air to breathe. like you needed food and water. you wanted to listen to him talk forever and ever and even longer. with him by your side, you were sure you would die happily.

you held him after bad races and good races. through happy days and days were he felt like giving up. never did you let him ache alone.

you completed him and he completed you. you wanted everything good for him. everything he could ask for. but most of all, you hoped he would finally get the win he had so long longed for.

and at that moment, as you stood with his family in the mclaren garage, it finally seemed like a real possibility. your hands were squeezed tightly with oscar’s sisters. hattie holding so tightly on to you that your hand was about to lose feeling, but you didn’t pay any attention to it. you eyes were glued to the screen showing the race. showing your boyfriend in first position.

your heart was beating out of your chest, a lump was forming in your throat and your whole body was tensed up. this could be it. this could be the moment you had longed for for so long.

when his car crossed the finish line, you weren’t even thinking. no thoughts were clear in your head. nothing but oscar, oscar, oscar.

as soon as he was out of the car, he was running towards you. you had made your way to the barriers with the team and his mum, but he ignored them all as soon as he spotted you. his arms were around you in a tight hug and your head almost took a hit against his helmet with the speed in which he pulled you in.

but it didn’t matter. nothing mattered but him and the fact that he was a formula one winner. your winner.

a hundred cameras were probably pointed towards you, filming the first public display of affection he had ever shown, but it didn’t matter either. all you cool think was oscar, oscar, oscar.

it was weird how important he was to you. how intertwined the two of you were. you weren’t even looking for someone when you met him, yet here you were. you were so close to packing it up, but then he happened. he turned your whole world upside down, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. he was all that mattered. oscar, oscar, oscar.

[carmenized-onions]

Do the Thing! | Toilet Repair

logline; Today's itinerary: Fix the toilet, catch up with Syd, try not to cry when everyone asks you where you've been.

series history; Previous Chapter

portion; 7.1k+ (this shit got away from me man, idk what to say)

possible allergies; Negative self-talk (It's the Bear, babe, everyone's sad). I did no research on plumbing and am truly making it the fuck up-- I know for a fact I'm not using any word correctly and I simply will not be fixing it. Reader eats meat!! Specifically pork!! Your 'name' is 100% just Tony now.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns, but 'handywoman' and 'Miss' are said. Plus a chest reference).

you ever start writing and you just cannot seem to find an end so you keep going forever? yeah.

“I think my name is just Tony now.”

You sip your overpriced orange juice. You really have to fucking savour it, now a days. That’s like 25 cents a sip, and Syd’s treating you to this breakfast outing, so it’s not even your own wallet on the line here.

“You lose all sense of identity, in a restaurant.” Syd straightens her back, mocking her very own mechanical movements of whenever she steps in a kitchen. “I am Chef.”

This diner isn’t more than two blocks down from The Bear. It was probably your second favourite spot in this neighbourhood. Probably still is. Sitting in the back corner booth (your favourite) with Syd is nice but distracting. She’s been updating you on everything since the catering scene and her botched credit, and you’re absorbing all of it, you swear, it’s just hard to not remember why this was your favourite booth.

Not because it’s seats are the least worn in, not because it’s got the right amount of sun through the window without blinding you, but because of the company you kept here. You’re trying to not notice your own name carved into the table. Especially since it’s not your handiwork.

You laugh at Syd’s joke on time, thank God. No awkward pause. “Yeah, you fuckin’ are. Head, right?”

She nods. “It’s cool. It’s like, vomit-worthy stressful but also…”

“You wish you were dead when you’re there, but you’d rather be dead than do anything else?”

“Yessir.” She nods again, digging further into her pancakes. “I really fucking owe you, by the way.”

“You’re paying me off through breakfast.” You wave her off. “Plus, I was available and it was like maaayybe 5 minutes of manual labour, it’s nothing.”

“Y’know what?” She hums, “I think actually, you owe me.”

“Yeah?” You grin.” Please, let me clear my debts, Syd?”

She smiles, pointing her fork at you. “You owe me the fuckin’ Beef background I’ve apparently not unlocked. Everyone was talking about you after.”

“Good things?”

“Vague things. Shit made me even more curious.”

You laugh. No shit they’d be vague. What can they say? “When my dad was running the repairmen gig, Cicero or Fak would call him in—”

“Oh fuck.” She snaps her fingers, seemingly in realization. “Your dad’s the connection!”

“The connection?”

“Fak said he had a connection for our fire safety test shit, and then said he didn’t—”

“Ah.” You nod knowingly. “Dad cut the cord on his business phone when it transferred to me, didn’t really keep people updated. Whoops.”

She nods, taking another bite of her pancakes, speaking mid-chew. “You could’ve saved our asses way faster, and I’ll-I'll never forgive you, but continue.”

Snickering, you continue, “Well, they’d call my dad in, and then my dad would call me in as his like, like his fuckin’ Sous of Repairs. And shit broke all the time at the Beef, as I’m sure you’re well aware, so I hung out around Mikey and everyone a lot.”

“Ah. N’ then…”

“He fuckin’ died.” You laugh, because there’s no way to say it smooth, so you might as well say it bad. You stretch out your arms and lean back in the booth. “I kinda took a step back, after that, so we didn’t manage to crossover ‘til now. S’ironic that you’re the one that brought me back instead of an oldie, honestly.”

She desperately wants to ask more about Mike, but she can tell now is not the time, so she just lets it lie and moves on. “You stopped being an EMT to take up the handyman shit, then?”

“Yessir.” You nod, finishing your straggling home fries. “Just kinda made sense to trade off, and I didn’t want to see the family bizz die. Do I have to occasionally pick up shifts bartending to make rent during slow months? Yes. But I also don’t watch people die anymore, so that’s a win.”

“In a way, you’re watching people die still, just slowly.”

You bite down hard to stifle any semblance of a smile or laughter, deadpanning, just to see her squirm in awkwardness for a moment. It works with flying colours, of course it does. It’s Syd. She’s still Syd. You speak at the same time.

“Cause of the alcohol?” “Cause—Cause of the alcohol.”

You both break into laughter, she throws her napkin at you. “Can’t stand you, oh my god. Let’s go clock in.”

She pays your bill before you can try to sneak your card in, which feels all too familiar, and you’re off.

Off to fix an exploded toilet.

“How the fuck do you fix an exploded toilet?”

Your hands rub over your face, lifting your safety goggles for a second. Too fucking foggy. Too fucking sweaty. Plumbing never really was your biggest strength. You’re staring at the bane of your existence, and it’s the latrine. How far we fall.

“You good, Cousin?” You hear from behind. You don’t need to turn to know it’s Richie in the doorway. It’s a fair question, you’re sitting criss-cross in front of a toilet, head in hands.

“Yeah, Cousin, I’m good.” Your words are muffled by your hands. Fully not cousins. For the record. You would argue you're not even that close, but he'd slap you upside the head. You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “Can you like, get me a pen and note pad? I need to like, strategize an attack.”

“It’s not that bad, Cousin—” “It’s that bad.” “Just tape the—” “Fuck off with the tape!”

You click your teeth, staring at the gurgling porcelain before you— At least it’s clean, it’s just fucked. “I shut the valve and it didn’t do shit. I think I have to remove it entirely so I can see what’s going on with the underground pipe.”

“Heard.” Richie and you both know that his hotfix handiwork has absolutely contributed to this penultimate mess you’re in now, but you’re both letting that go quietly for now. “You charge by hour or service?”

“Service flat rate and then after two hours it’s by hour.”

He hums, knocking his fist on the doorway a few times before walking away. “Pen and pad, Chef.”

“Not a Chef!”

“Term of Respect, Chef!”

You tap your leg incessantly, groaning like you’ve got an 80-year-old body as you stand to your feet. Richie’s grown a lot. He wears suits now. Hasn’t even poked at you for vanishing. Though you have a feeling it’s coming. If not from him, from someone.

You step out into the hall, leaned against the wall with your arms crossed as you wait for your pen and pad. And now you just have more time and a better view to take in how much has changed.

Gutted. A few walls gone. Makes sense, you told Mikey he was getting a mold problem. He never listened. Seats are new. The booths are the all-around style ones now. Ritzy. It’s too good for this neighbourhood. Is that a good thing? Yeah, right? Despite the fact that The Bear should feel out of place, you feel out of place being in it. Could you afford to eat here? Could the people who work here afford to eat here? Syd said she’s not getting paid for the next few months, so at the very least, the Head Chef can’t.

“Strange?” Tina sidles up to you on the wall, wiping her hands on her apron. Completely knocking you out of your dissociative fugue state.

“Yeah.” You nod, a little too quickly, that felt judgey, you correct, uncrossing your arms. “It’s daunting, I think; to see it all at once rather than slowly built in. Like, I know objectively this is very cool, but—”

Tina hums with understanding. “Feels gutted?”

“Was gutted.” You nod. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like it, it’s just, I dunno. Adjustment period, all that.”

“I needed a second too, but Jeff is good. Change has been good.” You nod like you know who Jeff is. “Carmen, I mean.” Your nod is now significantly more understanding. She smiles, you’re a little surprised to see Tina’s got a lot more insight than she used to. She pulled the thought of Carmen right out of your subconscious before you even detected it for yourself. “He’s good. You’ll see.”

You nod. You know the good she means is not Michelin Star Good. You already know that. He’s Mikey good. Person good. You clear your throat. “How’s Louis?”

“Good. Y’know, he’s getting to that age, getting in trouble. S’been a while since he’s had a good influence.” She nudges you. There it is. There’s the poke. The ‘where have you been?’ The ‘it’s been a year’. The— “Y’know, Chef didn’t come to the funeral neither.”

That one you didn’t expect, your head swivels to her hard. “Carmen didn’t go?”

His brother didn’t go? Oh, who the fuck are you to judge...

She nods, practically with her whole body, she looks more amused than anything. But like, mom amused. The worst amused. “You’re both the sensitive type.”

You cock your head at her, raising a brow. Smirking slightly. “Wow, Tina, I thought you changed too but you still talk your shit, eh?”

“I’m not talking shit!” She laughs, hands up in defence. “I’m just saying, you’re alike.” You hope that the laughter makes her forget the topic but it doesn’t.

“Where have you been?” She softens. She’s not asking to be mean, she’s asking out of concern. Why does that make it feel worse?

You tuck your hands in your pockets and retrain your eyes on hers, even if it feels bad. “Thought time and distance would heal all wounds.”

“Did they?”

Before you can answer, “Pen delivery, cousin!” Richie returns, triumphantly, with a pen and pad held high in the sky. He makes you jump for it. You elbow him in the gut, not hard. “Fuck off, Rich…” He keels over enough for you to grab it. “Thank you, chef.”

You turn back to Tina, who you now realize has spent half her smoke break on you. She nods to you, and then the bathroom door. “I’ll let you get back to it.” You nod in return. When she turns to walk away, you grab her shoulder.

“Tina.” She turns again. You should say something. Something vulnerable and thankful. Words of affirmation are not your thing. But maybe they could be, “If you end up with a dead plate—” Or maybe not.

She grins, and part of you is concerned by this, but she waves you off, giggling like she knows something you don’t. Already walking off. “You’re gonna be taken care of, Terry, don’t worry.”

This is a bad new nickname scheme. The fridge guy is just gonna end up being called ‘fridge guy’ if you take all his names.

It’s maybe three hours later. 11 am ish. You’ve finally put the toilet back in place, the pipes fixed underground— Which is a huge win of progress, the problem is, it’s just seemed to open the toilet’s ability to have other problems that need to be addressed. There’s a strong chance you’ll be here until you die. And even after that, this stupid toilet will still be gurgling, outliving you.

But you seriously have to eat something, so you scrub yourself clean, set your safety equipment down, and head out of the bathroom for a much-needed stretch of the legs— And to hopefully get a plate from Tina.

On your way to the kitchen, you’re stopped and walked backwards to a booth in the corner by Richie. “Hey, Miss, happy to serve you today, my name’s Richard but you can call me Richie, how’re you doin’ this fine morning?”

They’ve yet to open front of house, so you play along, taking your seat with a laugh. “I’m doing perfect, Richie, how are you?”

He nudges the air . “Ey, better now that you’re here, ah? Can I get a drink started for you?”

“Really gonna practice your set on me?”

He shrugs, still smiling. “If you don’t use it, you lose it.”

You hum, then rub your temples, the headache is setting in— Not cause of him, just been a tough morning. “Just your coldest fuckin’ glass of water, Rich.”

“Right away, Cousin.” He slips off into the kitchen.

When the door swings open again, it’s not Richie coming with your ice water, but Carmen— It’s your first time seeing him since the walk-in. When you came in this morning with Syd, it was Nat that gave you the quick briefing on the schedule and goals for today.

“Tony.” He hums, corners of his mouth just slightly upturned. The nickname has stuck. Goddamn. He sets the water down in front of you, along with a plate— Covered by a cloche—Or the silver lid thing, whatever.

“Carmy.” You only mean to mimic his tone, but then cringe. “Is Carmy fine?”

He pauses mid slide into the booth, sitting across from you. He seemed all cool and collected and is now suddenly extremely caught off guard. Already sweaty. “Y-yeah, I’m better, thank you—”

“No, I meant—” It is so difficult to hold back laughter. You deserve an Oscar.

You’re not doing great to be fair but like, still, Oscar worthy attempt.

“I meant like, like is the nickname okay?”

The horrors just keep piling on his face, and you can’t help but feel guilty. No shit he feels like he’s starting on a lower playing field here. You knew his dead brother, you know his Head Chef, your first time meeting him was at quite possibly his lowest moment and biggest mistake— Of which you had to coax him out of, and now he’s misunderstanding every innocent question you have for a inquiry into his psyche.

He clears his throat for objectively too long of a time. “Carmy is fine. Tony is fine?”

“I’m doing okay, yeah.”

Thank God, he laughs, awkward sure but objectively amused.

You nod down to the covered plate, smiling, “Fuck is this?”

He leans forward in his seat to get a hand over the lid. “I, uh. Made you a thing. As thanks or like, an— an apology.”

Ah. That’s why Tina was laughing about you getting taken care of.

He lifts the lid, and what is revealed, if you weren’t careful, would be enough to make you cry. Thankfully, the shock registers as uproarious laughter, one that Carmen cannot help but join.

“What the fuck?”

Pork brisket sandwich. Something that Mikey made for you, specifically. Because you said one time you were more of a pork fan than beef and he absolutely lost it. In a cute way, though. Said ‘Oh, I’ll make you fuckin’ pork, alright?’ You’re not sure if he won or lost the argument, because you did find it better.

“I, uh, we had some cuts left over that we weren’t gonna be able to fuckin’ use, and uh, Tina showed me this, this recipe card, last night.” He slides over the very same brisket recipe Mikey had written down. Little doodles of angry faces and Xs over pigs in the margins.

“He was so fuckin’ mad.” You snort, looking at it. “All I fuckin’ said was I had a preference!”

“In The Beef!”

“He asked!” You quickly defend, through laughter. “And it tastes fucking good. All he did was prove my fuckin’ point— And spent hours doing it. Were you here overnight for this, slowcooking?”

He shakes his head, though there’s a hesitation in it— So you’re not privy to completely believe him. He sniffs, swiping at his nose “I, uh, just came in early. Had to fix some shit anyways.”

He’s staring at the sandwich, then occasionally you, expectantly. You look at him with equal expectance.

“Well?” You start.

“Well?” He astutely adds.

You nod down at the dish. “Do the thing.”

“The thing?”

You pick up one half of the sandwich, but you’ve got no plans of eating until he satisfies this craving first.

“The thing Syd does where she explains why she’s proud of her dish and why I should care. I know it’s Mikey’s, but you clearly made changes.”

“Oh. Uh…” He was both expecting and not expecting this soap box. “So, followed the rub to a T— Well, with a salt bed, this time. Put it on brioche instead of the old shit. And I uh, added uhm—” He snaps his fingers, staring at the sandwich in your hand. “Added pickled red onion, for acid and sweet, and garlic confit. I’m—I’m happy with my spin on it.”

You whistle as a form of praise, he flushes with a glow of pride and is desperately trying to not show it. He’s proud because it’s curated, personal. Ah, he is Mikey good. You nod and take a bite, trying to control your reaction. Worst part about having Artists as friends (especially chefs): They fucking stare so hard when you’re taking in their work. And they’re over analyzing every micro expression. He’s no different.

Fuck. It’s fucking good. Is it bad that it’s better than anything Mikey ever made? Nah, that’s how he’d want it.

“Ah fuck, that sucks—” Is the first thing you say, and his face falls, “Expensive food is worth it.” Right back up. Easy to please. “It’s really good, Chef. Thank you. Did you try it yet?”

He shakes his head, so you push the plate with the other half of the sandwich— It’s brisket, anyways. You’ll be full by the end of this one. Portions generous. He looks momentarily hesitant, which is cute, but inevitably leans forward and takes the sandwich. He nods with each chew.

He hums when he finishes chewing, pointing emphatically at you, though his voice is neutral. “You don’t like something, though.”

“What?”

“What’s wrong with it?” He stares at into the cross section of his bite. “Chewy? Texture?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” You’re quick to deny.

He shakes his head, hand over his mouth to hide the sauce on his mouth. “M’not gonna be hurt.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the dish, Carmen.” You take another bite to prove your point. Also you’re hungry. Two things can be true.

He zones in on the emphasis immediately. “It’s the plate, isn’t it? I told Syd—”

“Your tables aren’t bolted.” You interrupt, swiftly. Mouth semi-full.

“Huh?”

You put your sandwich down and swallow, taking your time with it. “Your booth tables.”

You knock on the pristine wood with the joints of your left hand. You swivel your body to look under the table, he follows suit, meeting you there. His left leg has been violently shaking, but he’s thought you wouldn’t notice it until now.

You put a hand on his knee to stop the shaking. He bristles, slightly, but you’re not even doing it on purpose. Your focus isn’t on him. It was making the table imperceptibly shift— Which, of course, you clocked. You tap your foot to the bottom of the table leg. No screws. “They aren’t bolted down.”

You lift yourself back up, moving your hand back to yourself in tandem. He stares at it for a little longer. How you noticed that, he will never know. Repairmen are a different breed…

“I just thought it was a weird choice. Nothing wrong with it, per say. Maybe you wanna test different layouts.” You shrug, taking another bite.

“The booths aren’t bolted either.” He adds, lifting his head up above the table, finally. “I don’t— we’re not gonna fuck with the layout, I don’t think.”

“Should get Fak on that, then.”

“Fak’s big-timing us.” You cock your brow, mid chew. He explains. “He’s focusing on hosting, f'now.”

You nod, swallowing, hand in front of your mouth so you can lick the sauce off your upper lip in non-humiliated peace. “This another job for me, then?”

“If you’ll take it.”

“If your fuckin’ toilet doesn’t kill me, I will.”

“How’s that going?”

You shake your hand so-so. “Ask me in two to three hours how it’s going.”

“Heard.” He sighs, leaning back in the booth. The stress is too apparent not to ask.

“How’s the second day open going?”

“I’m not in a fuckin’ freezer, so that’s a win.” Oh-ho, he’s acknowledging it. You were very comfortable forgetting that moment for his sake. “Thanks, uh, f’ that.”

You shake your head, shrugging off the thanks. You lift your last few bites of the sandwich to him. “You’re good. You’ve gifted me brisket. You relax since?”

“Not really.” He replies bluntly, taking a deep inhale. He pulls at his face from the top down, with both hands. Oof. Bad sign. “I think I’ll be good by tomorrow. Gonna get off early, tonight.”

“You don’t seem happy about that.”

“Ask me in two t’ three days if I’m happy about it.”

Back to work and this is taking so much fucking longer than it needs to take. Why is there tape there? Fucking Richie. Fucking Fak. Fucking Mikey. Godssake. Pipes are fixed. Water pressure is fixed. What the fuck is still wrong with it? What the fuck is wrong with you? Everyone is going to hate you if you can’t fix this. You’ve been here for like 5 hours and you can’t figure out what’s fucking wrong here? You’re nothing. You’re—

The toilet does you the favour of knocking you out of your episode by spraying you in the fucking face, soaking through the top of your jumpsuit. With a groan, you unzip the upper half and tie the wet sleeves around your waist. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

Maybe you just need a change in task for a second. Also, a new t-shirt, because your tank did not survive the waterworks either. This room isn’t the thing you need right now. You slip down the hall to the kitchen. “Who needs a coffee? Or water?”

There’s a chorus of orders, all of which sound like you’ve just asked ‘who wants a gift from God?’, which, you might as well have. This is what you like about being a handyman. The relief you bring. You just need a smidge of praise to get through the rest of this job. You’ve got this.

The small, but serviceable coffee machine in very back of the kitchen calls your name, but Richie sticks his arm out, blocking you from walking past expo up front.

“Hol’ up, Cousin, you look like a fuckin’ wet dog.”

“Well, what ‘ya gonna do about it?” You retort, despite the retort not honestly making any sense, you put your hands on your hips. “Do you want a fuckin’ coffee or not?”

He rolls his eyes, falling back onto the balls of his feet before walking off. “Ey, Sug, are those shirts still in the basement—”

You’ve won for now. You scrub your hands clean before getting to work. This is good. Oooh, Marcus has fresh coffee beans (that he’s willing to share!)— This is easy. You can already fix most broken things, but a machine that actually fucking works? Baby, you can make that sing.

Plus, the bartending gigs you’ve done don’t make you a barista by any means, but they certainly don’t hurt. Oooh, Marcus has syrups! Fuck it. Steamed and frothed milk. That toilet has you on your ass, you need to go above and beyond here. Make each cup personal. You need a win in the form of admiration.

You gather a tray of coffees (and a water for Sweeps, who is too fucking sweaty for a hot drink right now, so fair), all varying in milks, sugars, syrups, intensity. “Coffee run, I hand ‘em out, don’t just take! Corner!”

Ebra, to no one’s shock, likes his coffee black— But, and he’ll tell no one this, you just know it on instinct— He likes it a little too watery. “Good.” Who are you to judge? He likes what he likes.

Tina would take hers black for simplicity, if you let her, but of course you don’t. 2 sugars, foamed milk, chocolate and cinnamon syrup. “Too good to me.” It’s too worth it, when she says it like that and slaps your cheek. Balm of the soul.

Marcus, who watched you make these, did opt to let his imagination run too wild and added one of every syrup to his own cup, wanting to experiment with you. It doesn’t taste good. You switch it for a spiced coffee when he’s not looking. He’s silently very thankful.

After handing out a few more to the new cooks, you come up to Syd. “Take this one, take this one.” Then whisper, so no one knows you are displaying supreme favouritism. “It’s the one oat milk latte I made.”

She turns to you from her station, then darts looks over her shoulder like she’s making an under the table deal before grabbing it from you. She takes a delighted sip, eyes rolling just slightly in the relief of caffeine, she nods. “Fire, Chef.” Ah. This will get you through the day alone.

It also gets you through the willpower it takes to ignore Fak running by you to steal a coffee off your tray. Out of the corner of your eye, you point to the one meant for him— As if you didn’t make it for him, c’mon…

“How’s bathroom?” Syd asks, taking another long sip.

I’m going to fucking explode, not unlike your drainage pipe. “Needed a thinking break, but I’ve made a lot of progress. How’s kitchen?”

“Made a lot of progress. Auto-piloting through this prep.” She looks down at her cutting board, cracking back to it. “Latte helps, a lot, thank you. You should join for family, if you’re still here for it. Unless you don’t want more brisket.”

Fuck. She doesn’t think you’re so slow that you’re gonna be here until family, does she? “Yeah, maybe.” You look around, three coffees still on the tray. “...Where’s Carmen?”

She grimaces. Uh oh. The tension she glossed over at breakfast is still definitely there. She nods her head to the back door. “Smoke break. Or temper tantrum. I don’t fuckin’ know. Don’t tell him I said that.” You laugh, nodding. “You think a coffee would help—” “Please.”

“Corner!” Yells Richie, returning to you. He silently flicks out a shirt for you, holding it up proudly, ‘THE BERF’ stares back at you. You give it a solid five seconds to process before you say anything.

“Collector’s item...” You nod, tone sarcastically impressed. You pivot your shoulder for him to throw it over, hands too busy.

“That’s what I fuckin’ said!” He throws it over your shoulder. “No one fuckin’ listens, these days.”

You bite back laughter and nod, handing him his coffee. Hot. Dark. Two sugars. And, to his delighted surprise, a touch of cinnamon syrup. “Oh, fuck, missed your twists, Chip.”

You wince at what was a long-forgotten nickname, and so does Richie. Funny how remembering origins can do that to you. He’d just said it so instinctively, really. “My bad—”

“Chip is good.” You interrupt, rolling your shoulders back. And it is good, really. “It’s kinda—It’s kinda comforting.” It’s nice to not forget. He nods, and you give each other the ‘we are still so fucked, eh?’ smile before lovingly bumping shoulders as he returns to expo and you head to the back alley.

Carmen’s squatting, cigarette in one hand, creating a halo of smoke around him, and his phone in the other. He snaps out of his mental fog when the door opens, slipping his phone into the pocket of his apron like he’s got a secret to hide.

You hesitate at the doorway, maybe this is not the moment. “Sorry, Chef, I just wanted to offer a coffee? If you need air alone—”

“No, no, I’m good—” He’s quick to correct, then even quicker to correct himself. “I— I’ll take a coffee, I mean. You can stay, s’fine.”

He reaches for it when you sit next to him, but you pull the tray back to hand him the correct one. “Sorry, I—I like, did a thing, for yours. I dunno how you take your coffee, so I thought I’d do it weird.”

He takes the cup, eying it curiously. “Do it weird?”

“Do it like, like a Chef. Can’t make anything fuckin’ simple. The lot of you.”

He hums, amused, staring at the cup, then looks at you expectantly. “Well?”

“Well?”

“Do the thing.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Oh, fuck off.”

“C’mon, tell me why I should care.” He teases.

“Ah, fuck.” You sniff, oh to have your own words turned on you. Looking at the coffee in his hands, “I figured you’d like strong black coffee, but like, complex. So, it’s got like, cardamom and lavender n’ maple syrup. Shout out Marcus.” He smiles. “And then, I know I did just say black coffee but I wanted the aesthetic so I spooned foamed milk on top and sprinkled on some dried lavender.” You take your own cup in hand, putting the tray down. “If you hate it, we’ll trade.”

He pays close attention to your explanation. Man, his eye contact is simultaneously so soft and so scary. He takes a sip. Let’s it sit in his mouth for a second. “Excellent, Chef.”

Oh, if Syd’s ‘Fire’ could get you through the day, Carmen’s ‘Excellent’ will get you through the week to spare. You hide the way you beam by drinking your own coffee.

“How’re you doing?” It’s far too obvious that he’s had something heavy on his head all day, but you’re not going to say the quiet part loud, yet.

He takes a long time to respond. “I, uh…” And when he does, it’s weak. “I’m alright, yeah. I’m alright.”

You nod repeatedly, digesting the huge lie. “Ask me how I’m doing.”

He squints. “…How’re you—”

“Fuckin’ terrible, Carm.” You cut him off, putting your cup down next to him, standing up. You speak emphatically, gesturing with your whole body.

“I’m at my wits, Chef. Completely out of my depth. I fix the main pipe, I fix the water pressure, I triple check the tank, I fuckin’ power cycle the valve— I’m absolutely at a loss as to why it’s still gurgling— Why it shot water straight at my tits— Close your eyes, if you care, by the way.”

With barely any warning you peel off your tank top, you’ve got a bra, it’s fine. It’s very cute that he still looks away. You slip the new shirt over your head as you speak, muffling the words.

“—I’m wearing a shirt that says Berf, and the only way I can feel any semblance of not being utterly useless is by making coffees so good everyone has to praise me for them. And now I’m telling the fucking owner, my boss for the day all this.”

He nods, slowly. There is perhaps, not a single person in his life that has ever been this forthright. Someone he hasn’t had to over-analyze or dig into to figure out what’s actually going on. It is refreshing, terrifying, and for some reason, removing your walls have completely shattered his.

“So.” You lower your head to his level where he sits. “How are you doing, Chef?”

He takes a long sip of his coffee. Stews on the question before he spills his guts, calmly. “I’m sitting outside of the restaurant I started that I own, and my brother should be here, but he’s not and— And I was locked in a fuckin’ freezer on my opening night, which was my own fuckin’ fault— And the tape is wrong and the painting is stupid and that new hire did meth so now we’re down one.” He takes a deep breath.

“And we have Heinz instead of Frenchies, and it’s fine. That’s the fucked part— It’s fine. The ship did not sink without me— It went fine. Better, maybe. My problems aren’t fuckin’ problems. I’m just making it worse for myself— everyone. And I know Syd is mad at me, and I know my— My girlfriend? Is mad at me, and I know that I’m gonna break up with her tonight because I’m not meant to be— that.” He says the last part fast, more to himself than you, really. And then he finally looks back up at you.

“And I’m telling all of this to the person who saved me from hypothermia and a fuckin’—Fuckin’ meltdown, who probably thinks— knows that I’m a psycho.”

You take a beat before nodding, sitting next to him again, arms crossed. Silent. Contemplative. “I have thoughts.”

He nods, taking a drag. “Don’t pull punches.”

“Well, to start most honestly, we must remember, I love Syd. So, I’m not gonna mince about her.”

“Heard.”

You recall everything Sydney had told you at breakfast. The recap of how she got to this point. “Syd isn’t mad at you, she’s disappointed and distrustful.”

He grimaces. “That sounds worse.”

“It is.”

“Oh.”

“But in a way you can fix.”

“How?”

“Handle shit different. Actually show up to shit and make calls. Manage your priorities by urgency— Not by favourites. If I broke my fuckin’ arm and your ‘girlfriend’ had a runny nose, who are you taking to the hospital?”

“You can’t take yourself?”

“Bitch?”

“Kidding. Heard. What else?”

“You’re not gonna tell her I said this because she would rather die than tell someone she wants something.” You lean closer to him, peeking over your shoulder to make sure no one’s secretly come from the kitchen. You knock into his knees.

He takes another drag, short, choked. “Sure.”

“You were kind of a bitch about the menu.”

“The chaos menu? She said—”

“She fucking lied. She lied when she said it was fine, Carm, it does not take a psychic to read Syd’s mind.” You interrupt, taking a sip of your coffee. “She was so excited to get to build a menu, especially with—” you, “—a partner, and then you completely ditched her. And then you just made your own! Total control freak shit! Cut her out of the fun part of being head chef completely! You get to invent masterpieces and she picks out the best cheap plate? Fuck is that?”

He nods contemplatively, poking his inner cheek. “Yeah, that, that makes sense. That’s shitty.” He turns his gaze from looking ahead to face you, hand over the bottom half of his face. “What else?”

“You’re reactive.”

“No shit.”

“How long do you think you were locked in the walk-in for?”

He swallows, thinking. “Like… an hour?”

“It had been 23 minutes.”

“Oh.”

“You catastrophize, it’s a fancy therapy word,” You cannot help but be impressed by this white man writing down the word in his phone for later. “It means, basically, when something bad happens you blow it completely out of proportion into something it isn’t. Your opening night was definitely a bummer from being in a freezer— But be honest with yourself, would you have let yourself have a good night if you weren’t in there?”

“…No.”

“No. Which is also bad. Which brings me to my key point.”

He tenses up, preparing for you to rip into him further.

“You’re doing a good job, Carmy.”

He immediately swivels back to you, almost dropping his phone. Knee knocking into yours. “Fuck off.”

“I will not.”

“You just said I was a catastrophe.”

“Fully not what I said.”

“I read between the lines.”

“Carmen.”

You take a breath, putting your arms on your knees, bent over. “The restaurant is beautiful, your cooks are talented and they’re prepared— So prepared that they can handle 23 minutes without you. That’s a good thing. You’re threaded into The Bear— The ship didn’t sink, not because you weren’t there, but because you had been. Everyone had the tools they needed to succeed, even with Heinz, a Mid painting, and torn tape. And listen—” You take one last sip of your coffee. “You need to check your ego if you think you’re the first man I’ve coaxed through a panic attack while doing a repair.”

He laughs, half-heartedly. He scratches his nose. “Heard. Yeah, thank you, Chef.”

“I don’t know shit about the meth thing though, I really couldn’t tell you.” You smile when this coaxes a better laugh out of him. You’re considering a career in stand up exclusively for him because it feels like such a reward to hear it.

“And the girl?” He asks. Amusement tinging but leaving his voice.

You click your teeth, shrugging your shoulders at him. “Based purely on your hesitation to say girlfriend, I’d say yeah, probably not ready for a relationship.” You reach your hand out to his shoulder when he flops his head down. “But, just asking, is this your first relationship?”

He thinks for too long before nodding slightly. “First one.”

“First restaurant too?”

He nods again.

“Yeah.” You pat his shoulder before letting it go, opting to hold your cooling cup. “I know you’re a Michelin star fuckin’ big deal but like, me personally, I can’t name a thing I got perfect the first time I did it.”

There’s something in his eyes, when you say that. Something wistful, nostalgic, hurt? No. Something different.

“It’s not that I didn’t do perfect—”

“You’ll do better next time.”

He wrings his hands together between his knees. “Yeah.”

“You’re gonna be fine, Carm.”

“You’re good at that.” He sniffs, head down, scratching his nose.

“At what? Self-help?”

He exhales what just barely sounds like a laugh. “Kinda. S’just, when you say it, you say it in a way where I actually believe it.”

You’re getting the fuck out of here before they open for dinner. You’re not letting anyone down tonight motherfucker. The Berf shall prevail. Maybe a win here will feel like a win for Carmen, too.

You run the sink to wash your hands, as you’ve done before here— But since fixing the pipes and the pressure… Something’s… different. You pause your scrubbing, listening closely.

…

When the sink is running, the gurgling flow of water from the toilet stops. Huh. You stop and start the faucet a few times to verify this. Yeah. You stare for a long moment before connecting the dots, then punch the sink in realization.

“Fucking Mikey!”

“What’d he do this time?”

You twist around. Ah, other sibling. Natalie. Clipboard in hand, business ready. You take a beat before remembering to smile, nodding to the sink behind you. “He connected the tank flow to the toilet and the sink with one wire.”

She tilts her head, squinting. “Why would he do that?”

“I suspect to save water?” You spin around, kneeling down to look behind the sink. “I think the idea was to have the sink not function when the toilet is flushing. But, it uh, well, did the reverse, kinda. Toilet doesn’t function when the sink isn’t running.”

“Oh.”

“So uh,” You shut the valve under the sink. “Your water bill should go down a little after this, since it won’t be running into what is an essentially a second trap pipe.”

“Oh!” Did she get what you said? No. But she doesn't need to. She heard ‘bill should go down’ and that’s really all she needed. “Thank you!”

“Not a problem. S’my job.” You stand, shutting off the valve to the toilet as well. As you kneel down to work again, you feel her gaze burning into your back. You don’t turn to face her. “You have questions.”

“Oh, ah… Am I so obvious—?”

“Yes.” You’re too quick to answer, unbolting the wires where it attaches to the toilet and the ground. You sniff with a panicked, “Ah, uh, it’s endearing.”

She’s quiet, for a moment. She doesn’t ask you what she actually wants to ask you, and you know that. “Well, I’ll need to exchange info for your invoice.”

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout that, your brother already covered it.” You stand once more, before going to the sink to undo it’s valve, you fish through the deep pocket of your jumpsuit, pulling out a crumpled business card and handing it to her.

“But it’s good to have my info on hand, for sure. It’s ah… Kinda old.” Kinda is an understatement. Your dad’s name is still on it, scribbled out in pen and replaced with yours. The dead business line is also scribbled out in exchange for your personal cell.

“It’s uh… I usually only work for friends and family, these days, so I’ve kinda stopped trying to keep up appearances.”

She smiles at it. Thank God, she finds it charming and not sloppy. She tucks it into the clasp of her clipboard. “That’s fine, we are friends and family.”

All you can do is nod, pivoting to the sink. There's a beat of peace.

“Didn’t see you at the funeral.”

Ah. There it is. For a Bear, she sure knows how to poke one. You stutter in unscrewing the bolt.

“Would’ve been nice to meet you, then.”

You clear your throat, it's strangled. “Yeah, I think I was trying to avoid introductions, honestly. Grief comes in different ways, eh?”

“Does it?”

“Mine does.” You swallow, unbolting the wire. With it free, you can just yank it out of the wall. God, forgive your brain, but Mikey was right, she does like to fight. Too bad you don’t.

She just hums in reply, watching you pull the wire from the wall. “You’re a real lifesaver.”

Fuck. Fuck. Lifesaver? Is she fucking with you?

“That toilet sprayed me right in the face, yesterday. And you saved Carmen.” There’s an amused lilt to her voice. She’s not fucking with you. “There’s something about a handywoman that Fak cannot match.”

You can hear a faint ‘Hey!’ through the walls. You laugh through an exhale.

“Again, s’my job. I do my best. Did uh, what was it, Terry come by for the walk-in? I wasn’t looking when I was there.”

You sort through your tools, deciding caulking the holes closed is probably the best option.

“He came over basically overnight to fix it, bless him, still don’t know his name.”

You laugh, it’s a little strangled. So Carmen did stay overnight. He must’ve. You smooth out the caulk with your thumb and a palette knife. Blending it into the grout as best as you can. “Good. Good.”

You dust yourself off. Standing. “Well. That’s uh. That’s my job done. Carmen asked me about—”

“Bolting down the booths?” She nods, checking the time on her watch. There’s not enough time before lunch to do it now. Plus you don’t have the screws. “You’re free to come by in the morning tomorrow—”

“But?” You interrupt, throwing your tool bag over your shoulder.

“But?”

“You said free like you’ve got a preference, what do you prefer?”

She chuckles, slightly. There is something about you that feels familiar. “If you could come after close tonight around 12, that would be nice—”

“It’s done. I’ll be there.”

“Lifesaver. I'll give you the code.”

Fuck.

Always gotta give the reader/mc some sort of mysterious background that even you don't have all the info on. Always.

Hehehehe, again, we're slowing this burn so much. Strangers to Friends to lovers but they're both so comfortable in friends it's hard to move !!

Forewarning, btw, if you've already sunk 10k worth of words into your brain for me (thank you!! I hope you've enjoyed!!), I've never written smut before and I feel like I probably will not build up the courage to do so by the end of this series, but I could prove myself wrong, I dunno. But warning in case that's your thing!! I might blue ball you babe!!

Pretty please tell me your thoughts or I'll eat my Berf shirt. Collector's value!! Thrown away!!

Next Part

[kings-highway]

haikyuu ships but its things about their relationships or moments that I think would surprise their friends/teammates

starting off with my boys Daisuga: honestly definitely the rest of the team forgets that they haven't been together forever, and are never expecting when either of them are acting like, well, teenagers in a relationship. Specifically in regards to being shy in front of each other or wanting to impress each other, the rest of the team always is surprised by it because in their mind, like, why are you feeling insecure in this relationship I thought you've been dating for 2 years and Suga is just like "try 3 months BITCH now I need you to find out what his favourite kind of chocolate is I'll pay you real money if he doesnt realize why you're asking."

right along to Kagehina and honestly, literally even just realizing they have a normal relationship. I think everyone absolutely understands how they got together, but I imagine the first time ANYONE sees them out in public together they ALL have a moment thats like "oh shit they like... are actually dating" and every time Kagehina is just like... on a lunch date, or going shopping, walking a dog, just chatting. Like people are surprised that they genuinely spend time together outside of sports. The first time Kageyama goes with Hinata as his date to a family wedding the entire family is flabberghasted bc they definitely thought this was an on-court obsession only

Iwaoi is really simple, literally just people realizing that Iwaizumi has genuine romantic affection towards him is the funniest thing to me. There's a week where Iwaoi is worried bc Iwa had to go to school with a hickey on his neck but literally NOBODY bats an eye or even mentions it because "yeah Oikawa obviously-" but when theyre changing for practice and they see that Oikawa has a hickey on his neck the entire team goes feral and practically tackles Iwaizumi like "you committed to kissing him for that long?????? YOU?????" like they cannot comprehend Iwaizumi actively participating. (obviously this is also the only time they every see Iwazumi embarassed enough to visibly blush which only compounds things.)

Bokuaka's is so stupid but honestly - the first moment the team realizes that Akaashi is, like, attracted to Bokuto and isnt just his best friend that got carried away. Konoha catches Akaashi checking out Bokuto's ass as he's leaving the changing room and it legitimately ruins Konoha's day. What is he supposed to do with this information.

To be completely fair, Ushiten as a concept probably absolutely baffles the entire Shiratorizawa team for multiple reasons. I think though the obvious one is that the rest of the team cannot understand how little Ushijima is bothered by any of Tendou's antics, where Tendou is VRRY touchy and goofy and lots of PDA and affection and Ushijima is completely receptive and unbothered by it, if not going out of his way to intentionally make Tendou laugh to invite him to more. Like Tendou absolutely would sit on his lap during lunch and Reon would be sitting there losing his mind bc last time he sat too close to Ushijima he got a lecture on personal space. Oh, but now suddenly he's super chill and relaxed and nothing bothers him its tendou doing it.

Asanoya's is a little sad tbh but I think, specifically the second and first years, would be surprised by how serious Noya is about the relationship and how little he tolerates jokes about them being opposites/a surprising pair or any of that. Like theyre shocked to find out how seriously he's taking being a boyfriend and really trying to make sure Asahi is happy. The idea that it isnt superficial or just for fun for him is surprising to them.

Arankita - in a comedy of errors Atsumu accidentally finds out they they are ~no longer virgins~ and legitimately has to leave practice for 20 minutes. There's a piece of him, and the rest of the team, that had 100% believed Kita was a robot and they just.... the idea that this was something that happened organically and not for "procreation" doesnt fit in their worldview. Kita smacks the next person who brings it up and that ends the conversation.

[inthelibrarybtw]

you’re gonna go far | two - the country club

SERIES MASTERLIST pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: where Rafe who hates pogues has a soft spot for one, who couldn't care less about him, she's too independent and too focused on graduating college and making it out of the Cut to pay attention to him or where they say they don't like each other yet for a reason they are always at the same place at the same time, him making time for her and her never pushing him away but again they don't like each other. word count: 4.5k content: kelce being an asshole, tension, angst, manhandling (not from rafe), cursing, suggestive, probably inaccurate golf talk, topper being nice for once. authors note: it took me too long to finish it i apologize, i'm not the biggest fan of this but i had to set the scene and introduce some very important characters for the story to continue and to finally get on to the juicy stuff. i read it like 4 times but if you see a grammar error let me know i can always miss things. enjoy!

Working on Figure 8 for a pogue was very common, those were usually the better paid jobs so naturally that’s where usually everyone wanted to work or went looking for a job. You actually spent more time on Figure 8 than most of your friends. You had been on multiple jobs over the years, bookshop, coffee shop, retail, babysitting, waitressing in different places, the one night fancy events were the best, the check was big even though you would usually end up almost passing out from exhaustion. The job you were in was one of the best, it was at a cute bistro aimed at girls. The vibes were very girly, the uniform was pretty, everything about the job was good, everything but the clients, the older clients were the problem most of the time. You couldn’t stand another minute more of these stupid older women in their 40s treating you as if you were a freaking alien and all you could do was smile and nod even when you wanted to spill their drinks on them, scream at them or even spit on their food. 

You would expect trashy behavior from girls your age and they had their moments but usually they didn’t care or if they knew you through Sarah they were nice but the problem was usually their mothers and one kook girl group and oh they made sure to make your life a living hell. And that’s why now your patience was at negative 100 and you were looking for a new job that was as good as this one in the financial area and that you could enjoy at least a bit. 

The days after the Boneyard party you were focused on looking for a new job which had help you ignore everything that had happened with Rafe that night, but some of the things you said and he said were replaying in your mind making it a little bit harder to concentrate and since you spent too much time on Figure 8 you had been on edge not wanting to bump into him but again that little bistro was aimed at women and too girly for him to even set foot in so that was the only thing keeping you at ease.

You wanted to find another job on your own, this one Lily had helped you secure it and you were forever grateful but you didn’t want to ask for her help again or Richard’s. Lily and Richard were this old couple you had met around a year and a half ago, give or take. You had met them in the coffee shop you used to work at before. They were regulars and usually came by on slow days so you always sat with them and quickly they became your friends. They had helped you one to secure a better job and two to know when you could apply for a scholarship at community college last year. They were in a sense like godparents, they had always wanted a daughter or granddaughter and it didn’t happen so when they met you, a girl around their grandsons age and with how sweet and kind you were to them they just wanted to look out for you while that wasn’t the only reason or even the main one it was the one they gave you, you still didn’t understand it but you never pushed them to tell you the truth. Your mom was aware they were your friends and in how they had basically made you their goddaughter and as a little strange it was for a 20 year old to be friends with a couple in their 70s she was so grateful for how much they had helped you. They had pushed you to make decisions like going to college and helped you find a job, your mother couldn’t thank them enough for the big impact they had in your life. Sometimes people just needed someone external like a mentor to make them do things they wouldn’t normally do and that’s what they were for you. 

You had already been studying for a year and in a couple months you were starting your sophomore year of college, nursing had always been your dream but you were going to study to be a teacher until by grace meaning Lily, had talked to you she finally convinced you to go for what you really wanted, your mother had been fighting with you about it and when you finally made the decision she could almost kiss Lily. That’s another reason why your mom was grateful for them, their advice went through more easily probably because of the age and well your mom knew how stubborn you were, you were like her so she couldn’t really blame you for not listening to her all the time. But you did listen to her this time and that’s why you ended up knocking on Lily and Richard’s house that day. You felt like a puppy with her tail in between her legs, you were unsuccessful at finding a new job on your own and your mom told you to ask for help. It took a while to convince you but there you were. 

“Oh sweetie what an amazing surprise!” Lily smiled when she opened the door to greet you, letting you in their house, it was crazy how familiar it felt. “Richard! Look who came to visit us” she said with the warmest smile ever. 

She let you in, or more like dragged you inside, it felt familiar. Still you felt like you were abusing their trust and their kindness, they didn’t see it like that but you did “Well hello you!” Richard says “what brings you here today? More of Lily’s food? Because i can’t blame you if you do” he chuckles 

“Uh not precisely” you smile, feeling like the worst person it’s okay to ask for help you kept repeating in your mind. Lily noticed your uneasiness and decided to distract you. 

“Why don’t you sit here?” she pointed to the kitchen island “I was waiting for some cookies to cool you can help me decorate them God knows Richard won’t do it” 

“I can help to eat them” he pointed out while walking to sit on the couch, the kitchen had a little sitting area “so tell us what brings you around?” you silently sigh, grabbing a piping bag to help Lily decorate the cookies

“Richard shut it, she can come by with no reason if she wants, she’s always welcome” Lily says while putting the icing on the cookies and giving you a knowing look, how on earth does she do that? 

He rolls his eyes playfully “No, I didn't mean it like that, you know that, right Y/N?” Richard is used to Lily’s attitude, you chuckle and nod. For a while you kept quiet, indulging in the talk, finding the courage to finally speak up and ask for their help. 

“So how’s work?” Lily asked, you didn’t notice the knowing look she had given you, she knew you weren’t liking it, you haven’t told her anything but she knew since she usually went by to get together with her friends but she always noticed the disgust in your face when talking to certain people. You had never been good at hiding emotions with your face, maybe you didn’t talk but your face sure did. 

“Uh it’s good yeah” you tried to sound convincing, dodging her gaze. They exchanged a look, Lily had told her suspicions to Richard and they had already thought about a new job that you had mentioned you would like to get. 

“So there’s no chance you would like to change jobs?” Richard asks as he keeps going through his phone. You stare at him, like it’s a joke.

“Oh…” is the only thing that comes out of your mouth. Lily turns to look at you, lifting one eyebrow. 

“Don’t worry sweetie, if you’re happy where you are don’t let us push you to do something you don’t want to” You didn’t notice but Lily mouthed you’ll see to Richard

“I wouldn’t mind knowing, i-” you pause for a second “if it’s not for me maybe I know someone who might need it” you try to make it sound as if you’re okay with your current job. 

“It’s at the Country Club as beverage cart girl it has great pay and tips can be really good too, with how you are we’re sure you won’t have problems with that but if it’s not for you please let us know of someone who might be interested” Lily kept explaining “I’ll admit it can be a little tedious since you have to be on a cart all day around the golf course” your eyes light up bev cart girl, you wanted that job for a while but there were no openings. 

“I want it, if it’s okay” you admit, but you look down you can’t stop feeling guilty, it’s okay to let people help 

Lily smiled kindly “Well that’s terrific, right Richard?” 

“Of course it is, now we’re gonna see you more” he says kindly, you relax. They always meant good, you slapped yourself mentally for feeling guilty or ashamed 

“They want you there on Friday so they can train you” you nodded at Lily and spent the rest of the afternoon with them. 

—

During the week after the Boneyard party, Rafe had been in a sour mood, he had been snapping at anyone, Sarah was so over his tantrums to the point that she even went out of her way to talk to Topper so maybe he could help or take him out of the house because she couldn’t stand another second with his bitchy ass.

So that’s how he ended up in the Country Club with Topper and Kelce. Topper didn’t think much on why Rafe was in such a foul mood. Normally it was because of a fight with his dad so he thought it was that again. Wrong, everything was reminding him of you and he tried really hard to just ignore what he was feeling and all the awful things he had said to you but it was like his subconscious was torturing him and he was beyond frustrated. 

Golfing with his friends usually helped him get distracted but this time it didn’t work, he was more quiet and not very into the game. He was attempting (and failing) to play golf, getting even more frustrated because the one thing he did to take his mind off things was not working and to make things even worse he saw you driving that stupid golf cart. 

“You gotta be fucking kidding me” he mutter to himself

One thing that didn’t cross your mind when you accepted the job was the fact that Rafe liked golf and that he actually spent a lot of time at the Country Club, maybe because you didn’t know he liked golf. It had been five days since you had started working there up to that point you hadn’t thought about Rafe until you saw him, you cursed mentally, it was a rule to stop every time you saw a group of golfers just in case they needed something. You parked the cart, Topper and Kelce started approaching. 

You can do it, it’s your job now you told yourself, you put on a fake smile that was very easily wiped off. 

“Well, well, well if it isn’t our favorite bev cart girl?” Kelce said, his voice dripping something that made you feel uncomfortable 

“This is the first time you’re seeing me around” you stated as you got out of the cart. The glances Kelce was giving to you made you feel uneasy but you tried to ignore him the best you could 

“Yeah but it doesn’t mean we haven’t heard from you” Topper was staring at you, not intentionally but he was, he wasn’t gonna lie you were very pretty, easy on the eyes. Rafe noticed the way they were looking at you and unlike Kelce he was not amused. 

“Shut it both of you” he snaps at them. Topper finally looks away but in confusion as to why Rafe was so annoyed, Sarah was not lying was the only thing he thought. 

“Uh… anything you guys want?” you asked focusing again on why you had stopped and not them for a second 

“Oh we definitely want something”  Kelce said, his tone dripping with something else you didn’t like. You stood near the cart allowing you to put some distance between them, Kelce more specifically “Got something planned after your shift?” Topper rolls his eyes at the flirting attempts of Kelce, while Rafe just tenses up a little more seeing you’re just awkwardly smiling trying to avoid whatever Kelce is trying to do. 

“Back off idiot, you’re making her uncomfortable” Rafe speaks up, his tone firm and with a hint of warning. You looked at him for a second, silently thanking him but you didn’t forget how awful he made you feel, you knew you had to get over it but you were only human and his words had hurt you a little too much for your liking and seeing him again just brought it back.

“What’s up with you man? Can’t a guy just flirt with the pretty bev cart girl? I'm not doing any harm am I?” Kelce said with a hint of arrogance, you would’ve slapped his face right there but you were working and if you did you would be fired and you needed to work. 

“Since you guys don’t need anything I have to go back to my rounds” you said ignoring everything that Kelce had said and walking back to the driver's seat. Much to your disgrace you felt a hand grabbing your arm. Kelce’s hand. 

“Wait- don’t leave just yet we’re having a nice little conversation aren’t we? Can’t we have a little fun?” Kelce grins, while Topper just stands there not knowing if he should intervene or not, he is gauging at Rafe’s reaction and at what Kelce might try to do. 

“Let go” you say your tone firm, you might be getting too stressed but you’re not letting it show 

“Aw don’t be like that, just wanna talk” he keeps the grip on your arm, not willing to let go 

“You don’t need your hands to talk, so let go” you pulled your arm back, his grip unwavering

“Feisty, I like that” his eyes roam shamelessly over your body, you feel so uncomfortable and helpless. In any other scenario you wouldn’t but right now it was either you kicked him and lost your job or try to handle the situation the best you could. 

“I really need to go, unless you guys want any drinks” you kept trying to deviate the conversation back to the original reason for your stop. 

“How about we start with your number?” Kelce said, Topper widening his eyes in shock and Rafe just clenched his jaw more, how much more was his friend gonna push you? And how much longer until he breaks? “Although I know one thing I want to drink” Kelce added his tone as suggestive as it could get 

“Jesus, Kelce stop” Topper looked at him and put a hand over his shoulder, he had felt the tension in the air and either he stopped him or he knew Rafe was gonna do something so much worse 

The grip on your arm loosened a bit when he turned to Topper but then he looked back at you “Come on pretty face, just give me your number, it won’t hurt” you shook your head immediately 

“I really need to get back to work” you looked at Topper and Rafe, silently pleading to make Kelce stop, you would’ve never expected to be silently asking Rafe to do something but this was getting out of hand. He was having an inner turmoil, he wanted to beat Kelce’s ass and help you but he was completely frozen in anger. 

“Aw come on we’re not done here yet” he fake pouts for a second, getting a little closer to you, you try to pull back but unfortunately he’s stronger than you. You glance again at the other two, at that point you didn’t care who did something but you needed help. 

Topper notices how Rafe is clenching his jaw and his veins are popping out. He takes one step up but before hell breaks loose Topper speaks up with a firm tone “Kelce that’s enough. Let her go” you feel like you’re about to relax but much to your disgrace Kelce is still holding your arm and harder this time.  

“What? We’re having fun aren’t we? She’s fine” 

“No, she’s not, you're making her uncomfortable, let her go now.” Topper notices how he didn’t let go and notice how Rafe was about to break and he knew he was gonna regret it not because Kelce didn’t deserve it but because you were gonna see it, it was an unknown thing for you but he had beat up a guy once or twice at parties when they said some comments just like the ones Kelce was making but worse. But he always made sure you weren’t around or ever found out about it. Yes you had seen him fight JJ or John B but that was purely because they were pissing him off and it wasn’t related to you. 

“Dude she doesn’t want your ‘fun’ This isn’t about what you want but what she wants and clearly is not this. Now back off and let her go” Topper’s tone was firm, at that Kelce let you go. Rafe on the other hand was fuming one at how far Kelce had taken things and two at Topper for defending you, he knew being mad at his friend for defending you was a bit childish but it was more because he had stepped up instead of him. 

At the second Kelce had let you go, you gave Topper a small smile and he basically dragged Kelce away. 

“If you need anything I’ll be around” you didn’t want to be around them for one more second. You glanced at Rafe one more time before leaving, his gaze filled with something you couldn’t understand, you ignored it and got back to the cart and drove away. 

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Rafe finally spoke up, pushing Kelce back a little too hard “Think you’re funny?” 

“Jeez calm down, it was all in good faith” Kelce smirked, Topper shook his head and intervened before it could escalate to something else. 

“Kelce… you’ve done enough. Didn’t you have that meeting with your parents today? You should leave” Topper tried searching for excuses to kick his friend out before Rafe could beat him up. Kelced huffed but he did in fact have something else to do so he left. 

After he left Topper brought back his attention to Rafe “Hey man, you okay?” he was actually trying to be a good friend, while Rafe was seething still angry about everything that had just happened. 

“Just peachy” the image of Kelce grabbing you, your face… damn it your face, the stress and maybe even fear, why didn’t he do something? He cared for you, yet he didn’t do anything. He was even more angry this time with himself. 

“Come on, let’s play, it'll help” he nodded. Yes, golf should help but it didn’t, he kept looking where you had driven away. After what felt like an eternity you showed up again, you were surprised they were still playing, you noticed just two sets of clubs meaning Kelce was no longer there, it gave you peace.

“I hate this game” Rafe mutters under his breath after hitting the ball with more force than necessary. He was so in his head he hadn’t noticed when you showed up until you talked. 

“Hey” you talked in a soft yet cold tone, catching him off guard

“Hey” his face was serious, angry even but his tone had gone soft when he noticed it was you

“Do you guys need anything? Snacks, water, ice?” your tone was cold, only made him feel even more guilty. 

“No, we’re good for now” until that moment he didn’t notice your uniform, it suited you, the color, everything, it accentuated your body in ways he found enticing and infuriating. He shook his head “But you could stick around for a bit” Topper looked at him confused and interested in the change of demeanor once you had showed up. He was trying to make up for what had happened at the party and with Kelce without addressing the issues. 

“I-” you had been caught off guard but you recovered quickly “I can’t, there’s other golfers who might need something and I’m still working” 

Rafe seems disappointed? He knows you have to work but he doesn’t want you to go. Topper catches the way his shoulder slightly slump and decides to intervene “Not even a five minute break? I bet it can be tiring having to go around in this heat and serving a lot of people” he was not wrong but still you couldn’t

“I can’t, I have scheduled breaks and that’s in an hour… unless you guys buy something from the cart I can’t stay” 

“How about a refill on golf balls? I lost some already and I’m running low” he has a slight smirk on his face trying his best to make you loosen up, he’s lying he never loses a golf ball but it was the first excuse that came to mind and it was believable.

“I'm not the girl for that” you admit with a serious face “but I know someone who can help” 

“Can’t make an exception? We won’t snitch” he smirked at you, what was he trying to do? You wanted to wipe that smirk off his face. 

“I don’t know… I could but only if I get a good tip” you shrugged, you could do it yes it wasn’t something you would normally do but in your training they had told you that even if it wasn’t part of your job description you had to learn in case of an staff emergency. This was far from being that and you were still annoyed at everything revolving around him so you were gonna try everything to make him back off. 

“You got yourself a deal” he agreed almost immediately. You had said that so he could stop asking, but it had caused the opposite reaction. You sighed giving up, at least you were gonna get money out of this. 

“I’ll be back then… how many do you need?” 

“I’ll take three” his smirk was still plastered on his face, Topper looked in between the two of you, he tried to suppress a smile at the palpable attraction between the two of you, or more the attraction Rafe had for you. The very noticeable change in his demeanor and humor once you had shown up it was like you had brightened up his day. 

“Okay, Topper do you need anything?” you asked being polite 

“No no, I’m fine thanks” to which you nodded once and walked away saying a quiet I’ll be back, leaving the cart there and making your way to go pick the three golf balls. Once you were out of earshot Topper turns to Rafe and grins widely 

“Dude, you’re like down bad for her” he chuckled 

“Shut up man” Rafe says as he glares back at Topper 

“No, seriously it's like you’re almost drooling over her” He knew it was true, he wasn’t going to admit it but he knew you had some kind of power over him even if it was just by being there. 

“You’re being insane” 

“Oh I'm insane?, when have you ever been like this? You’re trying too hard to get on her good side, I really never thought I’d see the day, Rafe Cameron pining over a girl, that by the way doesn’t seem to like you” Rafe feels exposed at what Topper is saying so he tries to cover it up

“It’s not like that, she’s just… nice to look at” key on tried to cover it up, he failed miserably, but much to his luck before Topper could keep poking him you showed up again. 

You walked back with the three golf balls in your hand “Better tip me good, I went out of my way for these three balls” you gave them to him gently, he was a member you had to be nice.

“Oh don’t worry sweetheart I’ll tip you good” he smirked, he didn’t intend to sound so flirty but it came out so naturally. Topper had to bite a laugh, it was too funny for him seeing Rafe like this. 

“Are you guys really sure you don’t want or need anything from the cart? Snacks? Water? Shots?” you ignored his comment and asked once again getting a little annoyed. 

“I’m really okay, thanks though” Topper answered your question

“You guys make my job harder” you admit to both of them 

“Well maybe we like making things hard for you” Rafe teased back and you rolled your eyes

“Yeah I see that, you sent me for golf balls when im a bev cart girl emphasis on BEV” you crossed your arms

“Maybe I just wanted to see you walk away in that outfit” his tone was dripping with flirtiness and playfulness like he didn’t mean it but he did, which didn’t make you feel like you were being objectified unlike Kelce had made you feel “Besides I’m sure you have some way I can reward you for all this good service” his smirk unfaltering 

“I accept cash right now” you smile knowingly putting your hand out, you would never ask for tips but it was Rafe, he had been an asshole, his friend had basically harassed you, and he made you go look for stupid golf balls, a little money was nothing. 

“Ah ever the businesswoman” he chuckled “Fine” he pulled out his wallet a 20 dollar bill and placed it in your hand, the brief contact sending a jolt down his back 

“Just that?” you pushed ���I think I deserve more for all the emotional damage I had to go through” you perked a brow at him, he huffed. 

“Emotional damage are you…” he trailed off biting his tongue, he could tell you were already angry and from The Boneyard party he knew better than to poke you more, so because he had felt awful he let it go “Fine” he pulled another 20 dollar bill “are you happy now?” he rolled his eyes

“Very” you faked smiled “Now if you excuse me there’s people who will not waste my time and will tip me without me having to ask” you rolled your eyes, walking back to your cart and driving away. 

“Fuck…” he muttered to himself 

“Rafe, my man, you got it bad” Topper said, grabbing Rafe’s shoulders and shaking him “Also what did you do to that girl? It was like she was shooting daggers at you” 

“Shut up will you?” he shook his head “let’s finish this game I can still beat you”

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INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.*

[msbigredmachine]

Watched Royal Rumble 2025. My highlights/thoughts/opinions:

Not WWE giving us the worst no. 30 pairings in recent memory 😭

The final six for both Rumbles being predominantly white people was…a choice 🤨

Miss Ma’am having 14 world titles and walking right back in after 18 months to win ANOTHER Rumble is wild 🙄🙄🙄

Roxanne is beyond ready for the main roster. That girl just gets it.

Will WWE hold on long enough for a triple threat match at Mania between the Profits, DIY and MCMG

Cody’s entrance ring jackets stay IMMACULATE!

Dem boys pretty much killed each other 😭

Why was Sami there? 🤣

I will always be grateful to KO for constantly destroying his body for our entertainment.

At last, Cody went full Homelander, shed that good boy white meat BS and stood on business. Kevin wasn’t wrong but dude was playing in Cody’s face (kayfabe wise of course). Match of the night.

Bron Breakker is a psychopath, he killed Speed with that spear ❌❌❌

Roman coming in at no. 16 was hilarious. He probably wanted a 20+ number but Hunter said he needs to do SOME work tonight 😂

Love how all the heavy hitters came in after him. And yes, he did get jumped 🤣

I knew Braun was in there to eliminate Jacob!

Cena, Punk and Seth entering back to back was clutch af 💪🏾

The final 10 minutes were CRAZY! Roman and Seth hating each other so much that they forgot about winning the Rumble and just wanted to tear each other apart 😭

Punk eliminating them both is definitely foreshadowing 🤔

Seth stomping Roman’s head with TWO FEET, and then attacking Punk right afterwards, was wild!!! The hate is forever!

I was shocked when Punk got eliminated. All signs were pointing to him winning. He’s 100% calling in that favor from Paul and it’s going to be at Roman’s expense.

Logan Paul can piss off. He might be good in the ring but he’s a garbage human being. Cena had no business winning the match and I’m glad they didn’t go down that route.

What a journey Jey Uso has been on. 10+ years as the arguably less popular tag team guy, and now he’s about to beat (yep) Gunther at Wrestlemania for the world title is so crazy. Beyond happy for him.

The internet crying about him winning is funny. The man is literally the most popular wrestler on the roster, selling merchandise and making fans feel something in and out of the ring. The man who made the Bloodline story the success it is today and is the REAL story that’s meant to be finished (yep, I said it). Please, guys, pay attention to the product you claim to watch 🙄🙄🙄

Overall, this year’s Rumble wasn’t bad at all. The two matches were good, just didn’t like the ending for the women’s.

[humbledragon669]

S1E6 – The Very Last Day of the Rest of Their Lives P3 - from Sunday (the very first day of the rest of their lives) up to the departure of Shadwell and Madame Tracy

So here we are, the last day of the storyline. I was fairly sure the phrase “this is the first day of the rest of their lives��� (or variations on the theme) is commonly used at weddings to the newly married couple, so I Googled it, and aside from an awful lot of Etsy links to wedding items emblazoned with the slogan, I came across this lovely summation of the phrase’s meaning:

I mean… wow. There’s so much that I could try to unpack there and apply directly to Crowley and Aziraphale (probably more so the latter of the two), I don’t really know where to start. So maybe I won’t. Call me lazy, but this definition says everything I could ever want to say about the use of this phrase being applied to this point in the storyline, and does so very eloquently.

Alright, next observation. When we rejoin Aziraphale(/Crowley), it’s broad daylight. There are lots of people milling around. When we saw both him and Crowley last, it was fully dark. The location they were in was a rural village and they were catching a normal scheduled bus. I don’t know about you, but I’ve lived in a rural village with a scheduled bus service, and I can assure you, they do not run through the night. We also know that Tadfield is only about an hour’s drive out of London. All of this means we have a period of time unaccounted for. I know that we will later come to discover that they have performed the body switch during this time, but we also know, from the switch reversion we see in the park, that it takes mere seconds to do. Given that the previous conversation between the two of them involved an invitation from Crowley for Aziraphale to stay at his place, I think it’s probably reasonable to assume that this is exactly what has happened. As a reminder, and because I actually haven’t brought it up for a while, my head canon is that they are already romantically involved as a couple at this point, so let me just say that a little louder to try and convey my excitement about this.

WE KNOW AZIRAPHALE STAYED THE NIGHT AT CROWLEY’S! HE STAYED OVER! AT CROWLEY’S FLAT! THEY DEFINITELY, 100%, SPENT THE NIGHT TOGETHER!

I know, I know, they could have just carried on drinking and chatting shit like we saw them doing in episode 1. But that is definitely not what happens in my head. This pair have a lot of making up to do. Also, this is my blog and my head canon. So there.

Ahem. Right. Now that’s out of the way, let’s take a moment to give praise where it’s due to Michael and David in these body switch scenes. The differences in their respective characters are noticeable but subtle. You could genuinely believe that Aziraphale and Crowley are actually Aziraphale and Crowley if you weren’t fully paying attention, which I suspect most of us weren’t the first time we watched the show, which is (yet another) indicator of what incredibly talented actors they are. I think it’s more obvious that Crowley isn’t really who he appears to be, but that’s not to do with the acting – it's the tartan collar and the fact that he doesn’t get into the Bentley. I think we all know Crowley would never get into a taxi when his beloved car was right there (especially when he thought it was lost forever), which he looks pleased to see but not overjoyed. This is a parallel of Aziraphale’s reaction to the bookshop he thought had burned to the ground – it’s unexpectedly reserved, almost assessing.

I’m actually a little bit sad that we didn’t get to see the real Aziraphale going back to his shop to find it back in one piece – I have a suspicion that would have been one absolutely ecstatic angel. Instead we see an uncharacteristically stoic reaction throughout the evaluation of the building. What is really telling is that Crowley (as Aziraphale) knows the inside of the bookshop well enough to be able to pick out a new set of books that weren’t there previously, which is a pretty clear indication as to how much time he spends there. The final Clue we’re given that Aziraphale isn’t really Aziraphale comes in the only line of dialogue we hear in this section. It’s brief:

Let’s set aside, just for a moment, the fact that the wording is rather un-Aziraphale-like (I don’t think he would liaise those words together: “Those are new”), and that the simple brevity of the sentence is similarly uncharacteristic, and even that there are no typical flustery hand gestures that we would typically associate with an excited angel. What really drives this Clue home, for me at least, is the entire pitch of Aziraphale’s voice is considerably lower than we are used to. Much closer to Crowley’s pitch in fact. It’s subtle, partly because the line is short, and there’s another ever-so-subtle difference in (Aziraphale as) Crowley’s gait when he walks to the taxi – it’s missing a bit of that typical Crowley swagger. Those tiny differences go to show how well Michael and David know each other that they can replicate mannerisms of a character that the other one plays so accurately, and I think we would all agree that without that chemistry this show really wouldn’t be what it is. Thanks guys, and fucking brilliant work.

Easter egg time: the “Just William” books that have manifested in the bookshop appear to be a duplicate of the same set of books on the bookshelf in Adam’s bedroom, which (considering Adam is responsible for the bookshop’s restoration) might explain how they ended up in the bookshop.

There’s a bit of dialogue in the scene with Anathema and Newt that suggests something that really is only hinted at in the series: that the people involved in the events of the day before don’t really remember them very clearly.

ANATHEMA: Did we save the world yesterday? NEWT: I don’t know.

This concept is made clearer in the book, with most people finding it difficult to believe that it is in fact Sunday, because they don’t really remember their Saturday at all.

Just in case you weren’t aware, the piece of music that the brass band is playing in St. James’s Park is actually another Queen song called “Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon”, which is a lovely little double-edged Easter egg (it being Queen and the story actually taking place on a Sunday at this point). And if you’re me (which, last I checked, I was), there’s an extra bit of excitement to be had in the lyrics of this song. You see, it’s my head canon that Crowley and Aziraphale actually get married on this particular Sunday, after the lunch at the Ritz. So imagine the squeal of delight that issued forth from my mouth when I read references to proposing and going on honeymoon in the lyrics. I mean, they don’t fit perfectly but hey, the song was written 15 years before the book – not everything can be so serendipitous.

Now, I love the fact that Aziraphale (as Crowley) orders the real Crowley an ice cream without hesitation as much as the next person. It really does show how much time they spend together.

My question is this: is the ice cream the personal preference of Aziraphale’s body’s physical taste buds, or Crowley’s mental personal preference? I can understand that might look a little complicated, so let me ask the question a different way: when Aziraphale and Crowley are in their own bodies, which one favours the ice cream, and which one the strawberry lolly? The answer doesn’t really matter, I just felt like it was a bit of a brain twister. Philosophical questions about body switches aside, the conversation here has a few more Clues peppered around for us to spot. As with (Crowley as) Aziraphale’s voice in the bookshop, (Aziraphale as) Crowley’s voice, at times, is subtly higher-pitched than we are used to, and his words more articulated. There’s also the fact that, when we first see the pair together again, Crowley (as Aziraphale) has taken up his usual position on (Crowley as) Aziraphale’s left.

It looks unnatural because we’re so used to seeing them the other way around. Crowley (as Aziraphale) does remedy the situation, and I’m sure it must be a conscious decision, because I’m also sure standing on the right side of Aziraphale would feel very unnatural for him. In fact, I not only think it’s a conscious decision, I think Aziraphale (as Crowley) signals to him that he’s on the wrong side. It’s tiny, and you could mistake it for a literal tongue-in-cheek moment when he asks about the bookshop, but it’s followed by a covert flick of the eyes to the right from Crowley (as Aziraphale), just before he moves casually to the other side.

Can we say non-verbal communication? We know very well that’s a running theme in the show. And all of these subtle Clues as so easy to miss because the whole conversation is so cautious, spoken low so we have to concentrate on hearing what they’re saying, distracting us from the things that would give the game away. Which includes the fact that both of them ask after the singular material object that matters most to them, despite the fact that the one asking about it isn’t the one it matters to (jeez, this is getting really confusing, isn’t it?). They manage to pass it off as casual conversation in their conspiratorial tones, but in fact it’s a plea for information. The final Clue comes to us in (Aziraphale as) Crowley’s use of the phrase “tickety-boo”, which should be a glaring indicator that the being on the floor is not who he pretends to be. We certainly never hear Crowley use this phrase, and he himself pointed out that it’s unusual even for Aziraphale to use it unless something isn’t right, but we can dismiss it as the ramblings of somebody who has just been hit very hard over the head with a crowbar, something that the warped rendition of the brass band in the soundtrack tells us is highly likely.

Side note: there is obviously another Sound of Music reference here in the departing words of the kidnappers. These references have previously been used to indicate an association with bad things happening that have been caused by Heavenly involvement. And as a personal side note, I was clearly delighted at myself when I wrote the words “it’s a bad omen” on my notes about this particular point because I wrote it in capital letters with a smiley face at the end. What. A. Saddo.

Let’s talk briefly about the face (Crowley as) Aziraphale pulls when Gabriel teases him about what they have planned for him.

I love this expression because it carries subtext on a couple of different levels. If you’re of the belief that this is really Aziraphale in the chair (which I think most of us would have been on first watch), it appears knowingly sarcastic, along the lines of “I sincerely doubt I’m going to enjoy any of this”, but if you’re already in the know about this really being Crowley, the subtext is more along the lines of “I really did see this coming, that’s why I’m not really Aziraphale, you slimy turd”. And the genius thing about the way that Michael plays it is that this singular expression fits either one of those possibilities perfectly.

Little side note: “wank wings” is my absolute favourite insult used in the entirety of this series, hands down. Also, a little question: if a tiny dribble of holy water is enough to completely obliviate a demon (see Ligur’s demise), why was it necessary for Michael to fill a bath with the stuff? The only obvious reason I can think of is so that we get to see (Aziraphale as) Crowley wearing his socks whilst in the bath and asking for a rubber duck, and to be honest if that’s the sole reason, I’m good with that.

Tiny possible Easter egg: Michael’s response to (Aziraphale as) Crowley’s comment about the liquid being holy water is the same as Aziraphale’s own response when asked what the contents of the flask were in 1967:

The holiest.

It was only whilst rewatching this episode for these write ups that I realised that the snarky comment from (Aziraphale as) Crowley wasn’t just there for comedy or for him to give his persecutors a bit of cheek.

This is a new jacket, and I’d hate to ruin it.

Which it sort of is, it having a tartan collar at Aziraphale’s liking. I don’t think this is a coincidence, not least because the original script line is “this is a new suit”, but also because we know from episode 2 that Aziraphale has a bit of a soft spot about jackets.

Hold on a minute, just hold on one bloody minute. What the hell is this noise?

I only heard it by chance when I was trying to clip something else. Do you hear it? It’s pretty subtle (not to mention short) so I turned the recording levels on the clip up. For context, this is right before he asks if it’s ok for him to take his jacket off. There’s the rising sound of a choir singing in an open vowel sound that ends abruptly with a little “ting” noise. I think it sounds an awful lot like one of the collection of sounds we’ve been introduced to that signify that a miracle has just performed. And if that’s true, what miracle has just been performed and by who? This one will genuinely keep me awake tonight…

Back on Earth, we see Shadwell reading a book which appears to be about psychic phenomena and demonology, complete with a very accurate rendition of the demon that was just destroyed in the bath of holy water. Presumably his choice of literature has been influenced by the events of the previous 24 hours. Somebody has made some sort of notes or markings on the adjacent pages, but unfortunately I cannot make out what they are. He’s also listening to “Jerusalem” again (as he was in episode 4), which makes me wonder if he has any other music other than that in the apartment at all.

There are two things in the text that I find interesting, one of which is more of an Easter egg. It’s very difficult to see because the writing is so small, but there is a reference to the author of the New Aquarian publication that Anathema and Adam so adore:

The other lies in the following passage of text:

...if communication with those who have been possessed or passed into the unseen be possible, why should it be necessary to have a connecting link in a so-called medium or demon hunter, especially a perfect stranger and of other order of mind? Surely our loved ones who have recently entered the spiritual world would try to communicate directly with them dearest to them: a father or mother would be more likely to be sensitive to the spiritual presence of their beloved child that an uncongenial stranger.

This feels like it might be a reference to Aziraphale’s actions after he was discoporated – he returned to the being dearest to him knowing that he would be more likely to sense his presence. If this is the case and this was purposeful, I am once again struck by the incredible attention to detail on display. It makes it so obvious that this was a show loved by everybody involved in its creation, and they have every right to be proud of their achievements.

There’s quite a lot to cover about Shadwell and Madame Tracy’s relationship in the remaining 20 minutes of the episode so it’s nice to see that there’s no time wasted in reminding the audience that they have been living an odd sort of joint existence for a while (not actually that dissimilar to our hero pair really) – his insistence that she leave the plate outside the door speaks volumes about this not only being a regular occurrence, but that this arrangement (no pun intended) is one that both parties are comfortable with. And let’s just take a moment to appreciate how smitten Shadwell is when he sees Madame Tracy at the door. It’s especially lovely because the outfit she’s wearing is deliberately plain and unflattering, yet seems to be of immense pleasure to him.

And just as a quick side note, I LOVE that shot from above of Shadwell leaving his own apartment and entering Madame Tracy’s. There’s something about it that’s so slick, and it feels like we’re being shown that the barriers between this couple were all of Shadwell’s own making because the walls and doors are so easy to traverse.

Do we think there’s something of an ironic anti-racism/anti-xenophobia joke in the little exchange between Baddicombe and Newt? I do not wish to cause offence to anybody, so I will try and demonstrate the point I’m trying to make with the following clip instead (which, very appropriately, the actor who plays Baddicombe is actually in):

Possible Easter egg: the year that the law firm that Baddicombe works for was established in 1692, the year that the Salem witch trials began in Massachusetts.

The next scene is the last we see of Shadwell and Madame Tracy (at least for this season, who’s to say they won’t be back in season 3?), and sadly I don’t have much to say about it other than this is the only time we ever hear Shadwell being honest about the size of the Witchfinder Army. I don’t think he’s ever lied to himself about the fact, but he’s certainly not been telling the truth to other people.

This part has gone on for quite a bit (surprise miracle noise can take part of the blame for that one), so I feel like the last sighting of a pair of characters might be a convenient place to wrap this part up. Bye (for now) Shadwell! Bye (for now) Madame Tracy! As always, questions, comments, discussion: always welcome. See you for the next one 😊

[gamerbearmira]

I am so happy that I finally found someone I can talk to about my resident evil 8 Au! It has been stuck in my mind forever and I have been dying to find someone to talk to about it! I have a couple more ideas that go along with it!

First Miranda 100% experimented on the family because she wanted to see that interaction between the magic and the black mold. I think that she would force Mirabel to do it just as a sick sort of test and to see if she actually would. Maribel was so afraid of what would happen to them if she didn't that she went ahead and did it even though she hated herself for a long time afterwards for doing it.

Mirabel doesn't have her glasses anymore because the mutations fixed her eyes and Miranda refuses to allow her to wear a fake pair because in her words "You are my perfect creation You will not sully yourself with fake imperfections." She like Isabela has to play a perfect act but unlike Isabela if she falters or doesn't do what Miranda wants she will be severely punished which doesn't happen very often, her punishments are considered severe even for The lords because in Miranda's eyes she supposed to be her perfect creation and she's not allowed to falter from it so anyone that Mirabel does save she does so in extreme secrecy oftentimes faking their deaths so that Miranda doesn't know The few times that she was caught were extremely bad, to the point where a couple of the Lords had to step in to get Miranda to stop before she actually killed her.

Anyone that she is forced to experiment on that dies is buried in a graveyard near her house she gives them a proper burial and tombstones and personally takes care of each one to try and make amends.

I also agree that her silk can be used for armor it is extremely sturdy and it's basically indestructible she also can use it to cocoon people but she doesn't because when she cocoons people it liquefies anyone inside, which she learned the hard way when she was trying to stop someone from dying when she was little. She also not only can control moths but they are like small little aspects of herself kind of like the Ravens are for Miranda.

Her relationship with Monroe is kind of weird because he to me is very childlike especially when it comes to the other lords (calling Mother Miranda just mother and referring to the other Lords as his brother and sisters) he tries to manipulate her but in a way that would make Miranda view him in a better light kind of like a middle brother annoying their youngest sister because their mom's favorite. Alcina 100% was extremely excited by the idea of actually raising a daughter who she could watch grow/age/ develop, The daughters were actually really excited at the idea of having a baby sister that they could watch and protect and play with and were heartbroken when Mirabel had to go especially Daniela(she was so excited not to be the youngest anymore and to have a baby sister). So when Miranda gives Mirabel back her family not only is alcina extremely jealous/envious but so are the daughters because "if Miranda was just going to give her a family why couldn't she have been in their family?" The girls don't understand that it's her biological family.

I don't think that Miranda would have the creepy Casita collapse when she punished them (That would just be a lot more work for her because then she would have to figure out where Maribel and the family could stay in the meantime) I think she got mad at Mirabel for not paying attention to her work like she had been before because her family was there and went to "lightly correct her" and basically slapped her across the face in front of the entire family they went to protest/ protect her and that's where they all got punished.

Speaking of the family I realized I didn't go into how they were kidnapped or how they meet Mirabel again. When they were kidnapped Miranda basically just drugged All of them one by one (starting with Dolores) in the night and put them in a giant metal box with air slits that was completely soundproof she was thoughtful enough to put some food and water in there but that was it, The time it took to get from the encanto back to the village was like 2 weeks almost 3 Miranda refused to talk to them during that entire time so by the time they get there they are completely terrified and have no idea what's going on Miranda then drugs them again cleans them up ties them all up and kind of like Ethan has a meeting with all of the Lords she has the four Lords come first and basically tells them that the people in front of them are a surprise present for The fifth Lord "for all of her hard work and devotion" she doesn't say her name because she also wants it to be a surprise for the family as well just because she wants to see their reactions because she's sadistic like that. When Mirabel gets there they have bags over their heads as well as gagged so she doesn't know who they are at first, Miranda basically give her a speech about how she's perfect/is so devoted and loyal That Miranda decided to give her an award because unlike any of the other Lords she doesn't ask for things she tells Mirabel to close her eyes takes the bags off of all of their heads then tells her to open her eyes when she does she sees her entire family sitting there she is of course absolutely shocked and horrified but plays it off really well and acts extremely grateful and happy that this happened.

When the family first got to her house Maribel was kind of standoffish she didn't really know how to interact with her family and was afraid of accidentally hurting them/having them see her as a monster but couldn't help having an extremely obvious soft spot for Antonio she of course told them the danger that they were all in the first night they were there because she didn't want them to be caught off guard by anything else but it didn't really click until Miranda punished them just how dangerous everything is.

Of course ‼️‼️ I mean even if I wasn’t into RE I’d listen. But Iam. And I will listen closer and draw <33

ANYWAYYYYYY MIRANDA. We have beef. I mean I’ve never liked her. But making Mirabel experiment on her own family??? You know I think this might be the one time where she breaks down and tries to defy Mother Miranda. I mean it’s bad enough she has to do it to innocent people, and be just can’t with her family. I mean she ends up doing it anyway, probably because Miranda threatened to kill them but still, she was so guilty 😭😭

Mirabel being close with Lady D and her daughters before hand (and I assume after) is sweet though. Probably the only somewhat positive thing going on for her before her family came. I mean Alcina was basically a second/foster mother to Mirabel. And the girls really loved her, and actually felt some sympathy for her whenever she got punished. Daniela feeling said and getting to feel like a big sister is so important to me what <\\\\33 and Mirabel’s powers‼️‼️ The moths being a small part of her reminds me of The Artist from DBD, that’s so cool 🤭 glad you agree on the armor part 👹👹

Also the perfect thing, I’m not surprised. Mirabel definitely has more pressure to follow Miranda’s orders, more than the other lords. Not even because she’s youngest, she is by far the most suitable of the them, and therefore, Miranda wants her to reflect that perfection. Mirabel being punished is so sad 😭 Miranda is not above getting psychological and physical either in the game. Which is INSANE 💀 and then her family got punished for defending her, which is wild 🦈

ALSO HER KIDNAPPING HER FAMILY ONE BY ONE WHAT DUH…Mirabel was probably so scared for her family, wondering what Miranda had done to them (though she technically hadn’t)t done anything serious— not yet anyway). She just acted it out and Miranda somehow fell for it. Heisenberg was probably rolling his eyes during Miranda’s speech because 1, he hates her, and 2, he’s tired of hearing Miranda drone on and on (again) about how Mirabel is the best among them lmao

Also Mirabel trying to warm them to basically always be on your toes and walk around on eggshells around Miranda. She probably felt so bad when they got punished because she felt like she did ‘t protect them or tell them enough to keep them safe and away from Miranda’s wrath 🧌

you think Miranda like??? Projects onto Mirabel. Like she dresses Mirabel how she would’ve dressed her daughter if she was still alive. And when Mirabel gets older she slowly lets Mirabel make her own clothes (with her silk) Idk 🕴️

[mcondance]

amends; bucky barnes

pairing bucky barnes x Black! afab fem! reader

summary bucky's therapist told him he needs to make amends. and that included with himself. but this one, he can't quite bring up in the session next week.

contents smut; riding, nipple play, kissing, soft and slow sex, he cums inside, uses of "girl", coded language (clit)

words 1205

notes reupload from my old blog. part of a series! the next part is already uploaded.

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yori told you about his friend, tall dude with blue eyes, looked like he hadn’t been with a girl in 100 years. yori had failed to mention that he had a metal arm, or that he was.. you know.. who he was. you were not expecting the guy to be james “bucky” motherfucking barnes, or for him to be so pretty in person. despite all of that, though, you hit it off immediately, and that’s how you ended up here.

his hands trail up your sides while you take him slow and soft, rock your hips back and forth on his length. he’s so fucking responsive, the slightest touch eliticing sweet moans and groans that you’d pay to hear forever, charge it to the super soldier serum running through his veins, his senses heightened to 10. praises spill from his mouth almost on instinct, mind fucked with how good you feel, how wet you are, how tight you clench around him.

“god, honey, you’re treating me so good, can’t believe a sweet girl like you knows how to work me so well.” his eyes flutter between open and shut, the soft baby blues conflicted on whether to close in pleasure or watch the goddess above him fuck him so good. the cool metal of his vibranium arm contrasts with the heat that’s almost radiating off of your skin as he slowly tweaks a nipple, rolling slowly to gauge your reaction, attentive to every slight movement of your body. every little sound, every small moan that leaves your mouth brings him higher and higher, the super soldier persona melting away into something softer, sweeter, something more wrecked.

“i know, james, it feels so good, doesn’t it? fucking you nice and good.” you say with a soft sigh, indulging in the way his metal hand feels against the searing heat of your skin. he feels it, feels the way you’re giving yourself to him just as he's giving himself to you, those sweet words leaving your mouth like it’s nothing. he loves the way you use his real name, the one he never lets anyone say. he didn’t even care when you said it the first time, when you laid him down and told him you were going to take good care of him. you had him trapped from the beginning. you’re too skilled, melting his brain with the things you say to him, with the promises you whisper as you give him pleasure like he’s never felt before. the women before you always took and took and never gave, but you’re something different. something so much better. and that’s what his therapist told him he needed. something better.

as you circle your hips on him, your motions soft and slow and almost designed to break him down, he can’t help but shut his eyes as they roll back, succumbing to the sensation you’ve overtaken his body with. he’s entrusted himself to you more easily than he thought, not even flinching when you bring a hand to flick at his nipple, mimicking his motions from earlier. “does that feel good, james?” you ask, though you know it does. the way he groans is enough evidence. but you want to hear him say it.

“god it feels so good honey, everything feels so fucking good.” he can’t say anything else, can’t find the words to describe what you’re doing to him other than so good. he’s still enamored with the way his name slips off your tongue like it’s natural, the lilt in your voice, the sweetness of your tone drawing him farther into this untapped reserve of pure bliss. it’s so much for him, his senses being overridden with you and only you. he can smell your arousal, hear the blood running to that swollen bud, feel you everywhere. you’ve reduced that enhanced brain to nothing but nothing, only concerned with the smooth rocking of your hips and the way you clench around him. nothing else matters but your gentle pinches at his nipple, and the way you grab his face in both hands, leaning down to entrap his lips in a kiss, tender and slow, just like everything else you’ve given him tonight. he falls into your rhythm immediately, hand leaving your chest to rest on the side of your face, entangling his fingers in your hair.

the kiss drags him deeper into this ocean of .. whatever you’ve done to him, this spell you’ve put on him. his flesh hand slides down to your ass, just resting there, just wanting to feel you. he never wants the kiss to end, never wants to breathe if it means having to detach from you. “i’m close, james.” you whisper against his lips before meeting them again, and he takes your kiss like it’s the last one he’ll ever get from you. you feel him start to thrust up slowly, adding to the reservoir of pleasure you both are swirling in.

“i’m gonna come with you, honey, you’re gonna make me come so hard.” he’s so ruined, so broken by you. his metal hand graces across your skin to find your clit, rubbing it soft and slow. he drinks up your moan of his name, meeting your hips with his, brings his flesh hand to the side of your face just to feel you more. you just nod at his confession, not daring to break this kiss, your moans growing as he continues his soft teasing of that bud. he whines as you detach from him, needing to breathe but hating it all the same. you rest your forehead against his, catch his eyes with yours as you build each other up higher.

“i’m gonna come, james, gonna come for you.” he groans at your words, speeds up on your clit, never stops looking into your eyes. he wants you to come for him so bad. he needs it. and you can feel it. it’s in the way he fucks into you more desperation, nods his head, begs you to come for him. right now, he wants to make amends with the part of him that needs to feel desired. that is what he craves.

“come for me, honey, please.” and you wouldn’t deny him what he asked for even if you could. it takes over you like a wave, makes you curl in on yourself, sink your fingernails into his shoulders. he thinks you look so beautiful as you get lost in pleasure that he gave you, the feelings that he caused to surge through your body. it’s almost magic, the way he follows so closely after you, moaning “so good, honey, so fucking good”, coming so hard he swears he blacks out for a second. it’s something he’s never had to feel before, something that even the advanced nature of his brain isn’t built to handle. maybe later he’ll find words for what you’ve done to him. but now, as you come on his cock and he lets go inside your warmth, he has no explanation. he feels content with not knowing what this is. all he knows is that he will find what he needs in you. he’s followed his therapist’s orders.

he has made amends.

[theoldaeroplane]

hello im hijacking this post. did you know "BG3" stands for "BlorboGate 3"? it's true! anyway ive already written like 10k for our baldurs gate tavs and now it's your problem.

tldr: man who was raised to believe everything in the monster manual about alignment was 100% factually true (fray, half-elf) travels with two tieflings (right and karlach), gets confused when he discovers they aren't evil baby-eating demons. 4k words, no real content warnings apart from the last bit touching on abusive religious themes.

i wrote this for me and payne sorry if it doesn't make sense bye!!

p.s. this art fucks. I'm going to eat it with my mouth

---

I LOOT THE BODY

I. You find: a broken tiefling horn.

Fray shakes the excess blood from his blade, shooting an irate glare Gale’s way. Gale is not paying attention; neither is Shadowheart. They are trying to figure out how to get that gith down from her cage. Shadowheart doesn’t want to get her down at all. Gale is telling her that’s nonsense.

In truth, Fray trusts the gith no more than he trusts the tieflings that are now sprawled on the ground. One dead, one unconscious. They ought to both be dead, their souls freed from the Hells’ grip. But Gale had threatened to put him in a holding spell if he made a move on the unconscious one, and Fray cannot afford to lose his few allies. The living tiefling will keep its captive a little while longer.

Speaking of tieflings.

That one that was on the ship is lurking around here somewhere. They disappeared at the start of the fight, which is no big surprise. Fray’s just glad they didn’t join the other side.

He spots them now, from where they’ve perched themselves atop a high rock. Their eyes linger on him, then drop to his feet. Fray looks, and finds the detached horn of the dead tiefling. It had shattered when Fray brought his sword down on its head.

Vague disgust ebbs through him. He nudges it aside with his boot.

When he looks up again, Right is still watching him.

---

II. You find: a pair of tattered hyena ears.

It is one thing to fight a gnoll. It is quite another to see one be born.

The thing that rears up out of the gory mess that was once a dying hyena stands eight feet tall, its spotted coat covered in viscera. It staggers forward a step on unsteady legs and falls, looking for a moment like a warped mockery of the animal that spawned it.

“Demon,” Fray growls under his breath, scarcely audible even to himself, and nocks an arrow.

There’s a great deal of brush and overturned carts between him and the monster. He’ll have to wait for a shot. He does, watching the gnoll push itself to its feet again and take a few more wobbling paces. Will it fall upon one of the still-living hyenas to gorge its unnatural hunger, ushering in another gnoll? Or will it sate itself on one of the humanoid corpses that the beasts have already savaged?

He follows the gnoll with his arrowhead, waiting for his shot.

To his surprise, it moves neither for the hyenas nor the humanoids. It wraps its gangly arms around itself and peers around at the massacre that birthed it, its ears pinned back against its head. Slowly a sound becomes audible: the gnoll is making a low, laughing whoop as it looks from body to body. Mocking.

Its still form is a perfect target. The bow twangs once, and an arrowhead buries itself in the back of the demon’s neck. It drops like a stone.

It’s grim work, making his way into the bloodied spot on the road and making sure everything that needs killing is killed. He severs hyena heads from their bodies with a neat chop of the sword. When he reaches the gnoll, he finds to his surprise that its eyes are still open, and following him. They are wide and whale-eyed, and its tongue lolls with its frantic panting. He must have only paralyzed it.

Grim work, he thinks again as he drives his sword into its brain. The eyes close forever. Gray matter clings wetly to his blade. His stomach turns.

It had only been him, there at the clearing. The others were investigating a trail of goblin tracks, and he only mentions the gnoll that night when they make camp.

When Right—looking down at their snake-like tail, curling and uncurling around their hooved ankle—when Right says, “Do you know that laughing sound they make?” there’s no pause to wait for guesses. “They do it when they’re distressed. It’s an ‘I’m scared, don’t hurt me’ noise.”

They pay no attention at all to Fray when they say it, and do not see the way his face twists in disbelief.

---

III. You find: a piece of masterwork goblin jewelry.

Fray’s blade bites deep into the shrieking goblin’s back, and it is not shrieking anymore. A rank smell permeates the place, and Fray cannot remember if it was already there when the fight began.

Three goblins lie dead. Another five cool in pools of their own blood in the building behind them—him and Wyll. Fray wipes blood from his face and looks for the next patrol.

“Forgive my asking, but do you have something against goblins in particular?”

Fray’s gaze cuts to Wyll, who watches him expectantly. When Fray does not reply right away he continues. “It’s just that you seem particularly … bloodthirsty, here.”

“They’re evil.”

Wyll tilts his head questioningly.

Fray suppresses a groan and straightens up. Why does he have to explain this again and again? His mentor told him the outside world lived in blindness to the Revelation, but really? “Evil god,” he says slowly, trying to meter out his words so his throat does not seize. “Evil acts. Murderers. Torturers. Always. Monsters.”

“Quite the sweeping generalization.”

“They add nothing good to the world,” Fray snaps. Wyll shrugs, looking over the small, crumpled bodies. As he begins to examine them for anything helpful, Fray tries to clean the blood from his sword.

“Look at this,” says Wyll a minute later. Fray looks as he holds up a small, sparkling object. It is a hairpin, of all things, made of polished bone and inset with tiny pieces of sparkling rock. It is beautiful. Fray immediately wants it. “What do you make of it?”

“Pretty,” Fray says.

“Goblin make, I’d wager. I suppose even goblins can make beautiful things, hm?”

Fray looks at the goblin it came from, and how its guts spill out over the cobbles. His gorge rises. He swallows to force it back down.

---

IV. You find: a gnawing sense of foreboding.

“Five of us,” Fray grinds out. His throat throbs with pain. “Two dozen goblins. Need t, to. To thin them out.”

“You want us to fight two dozen goblins for one gnome,” Right says, unmoved.

“Needs us.”

“And how do you know? Did your sword whisper it to you?”

In answer, Fray jabs a finger toward the distant windmill, where the deep gnome tied to one of its arms yelps again. “Maybe he wants to be there,” says Right. “Maybe he’s a thrill-seeker.”

“Goblins,” Fray repeats, frustrated. “Evil. Sava—savages. Tormenting him. For fun.” Surely even a tiefling can’t deny this is wrong.

Right regards him coolly. “Fine,” they say eventually. “We’ll get him down, on one condition. You don’t attack without talking first. I don’t need my tail chopped off because you couldn’t stand the idea of so much as speaking to them.”

Fray grunts irritably. He’s not going to waste the precious few words he can afford for the day on goblins.

“Agreed?” Right says.

“You talk,” Fray answers, but he sheathes his sword.

In the end, talking really was all that was needed. It needles at Fray. Right had gotten Gale to do the speaking, and then planted themselves where they could keep an eye on Fray. No blood is spilled. All that’s required of Fray is a glare at the goblins and a display of running his tongue along his teeth, grasping at his weapon’s hilt. The creature Gale is talking to gives in with nothing more.

Fray’s gut twists with anxiety as he watches the goblins stream out of the shattered place around them, thinking: now they’ll just find some other hapless thing to torture. I could have stopped it.

The sword on his back grows heavy. Its disdain with him crawls over his skin like a slime. Fray’s head swims and his insides seize with trepidation, though if it is for the goblins’ future victims or himself, he cannot tell.

No one else notices.

---

V. You find: two pieces of forbidden fruit.

The monstrous Karlach laughs easily and merrily. She adores Scratch, the dog; she asks Shadowheart about her hair and Astarion about his appetite, when he eats nothing in front of her. (The vampirism is made mention, and she takes the news with a thoughtful look and a question regarding blood-borne diseases.)

Everyone likes Karlach. She is eminently affable. Even Lae’zel, when she makes her once-a-tenday appearances, seems to find her acceptable enough. It shouldn’t surprise Fray that Right keeps sneaking glances at her, either. Tieflings with tieflings; it makes sense. And while Karlach makes no overtures of her own, she returns the attention as it is given.

What Fray is not expecting is the envy. The easy swing of the tieflings’ conversations, the back-and-forth; Karlach’s attention when Right shows her their lockpicks; and, somehow, Right’s attention when she tells them about her beloved axe. The immediate camaraderie between them chafes in a way that makes Fray feel like there is a sword at his throat. He tells himself it is to be expected, that devil spawn would of course be drawn to one another.

Karlach is eight feet tall, with ember-red skin and one wicked horn. Her body is punctured with metal rings to vent the immense heat she generates. Her very heart is missing. And Right, Right is taller than he, and bigger, yet seems able to disappear at will. Their skin is the same green-gray as the sky before a great storm. They move in silence, their eyes glow like magic light. The pair are both tieflings, and by its nature a tiefling is a kind of evil construct, a flesh-and-blood prison for goodly souls. This is what Fray knows to be true; this is what he has been taught all his life.

Why, then, can he not keep from lingering around them? Why does he make up excuses to cut into their conversations? Why is he consumed with a fiery resentment when he catches them smiling at one another, laughing, happy?

Why can he find nothing evil about them?

When it is his turn to keep watch, Fray shirks his duty. His eyes keep wandering over the sleeping forms of his tiefling companions, tracing Karlach’s warped and scarred flesh, the elegant arch of Right’s elongated legs.

After Shadowheart comes to relieve him, he lies awake, burning with shame and revulsion for his own thoughts.

---

VI. You find: the consequences of your disbelief.

Astarion will not drop a line of inquiry if he thinks he can get away with it. This is how the camp learned that Fray is not, in fact, without means of fluid communication. But Handcant is unique to his Order, taught for the sake of those who have accepted the gift and surrendered their voices. He is not allowed to teach it to anyone, he had explained after Astarion spotted him signing his prayers and made enough of a fuss that the whole camp gathered to see this novel language. “It’s a language?” Gale asked eagerly, when Fray explained it as such. “I do believe I have a scroll of comprehend languages somewhere, I would be fascinated to see if it would work on a non-verbal one.”

“Secret language,” Fray had said, slightly desperately, and Gale mercifully dropped the subject.

Do not be afraid.

Two ethereal arms, so thin as to be skeletal, sign out each word. They hang suspended over where Fray’s blade lies before him, where he kneels before it. Here, in this clearing too distant from camp to be noticed, the presence of his god is overwhelming. The silent signs boom at him, an intense force, like being squeezed. Fray does his best to suppress his flinch.

I say to you, do not be afraid.

But he is afraid. Fear grips Fray’s heart, almost calming in its familiarity. This is part of it. It is not possible for man to stand unafraid before the Revealer; the heart quails before Them. You fear, and know that the fear is proper. You fear, knowing you are unworthy of looking upon Them. You fear, but you know They are good, and just, in all They do.

He repeats the lines of the most comforting canticle he can think of to himself, the words of the Revealing Light from time out of mind: I will guide you faithful to the paths of plenty; I will show you who keep me in your heart the knowledge of right.

Frayed Saint. O best beloved, why do you call upon me?

“Most High,” signs Fray, his head bowed but eyes lifted, as is proper. “I come before you, your sword in the country of evil. I call on you in search of understanding. I walk among those who are unrepentant and those who are suffering. I am fearful of losing my way. I need your guidance, for I cannot find my way alone.”

Tell me your troubles, dear heart.

Fray falters, just for a moment. He checks himself; he is not trembling, which is good. He braces himself and carries on. “Sire,” he goes on, focusing on forming each word clearly. “Evil has entered me. I seek a way to cast it out.” The Revealer knows this, and, Fray is sure, knows what must be done to free him of the tadpole. But you cannot simply ask. The Revealer does not grant boons on request. “I travel with others under the same curse, seven of them.”

He hesitates again, remembering watching Wyll’s writhing body as his patron expressed her displeasure.

Speak.

That commanding pressure again. Fray’s heart judders; his breath catches. “Forgive me,” he signs hurriedly. “Two among them are tieflings, and one a vampire. We are joined only until we have freed ourselves, for we are all far from home and allies, but I know I shame you by their company. My lord, I beg your forgiveness in this transgression.”

The sword, below the hands, seems to flash with a violent light. Transgress you have, it booms. Chosen of the gift, you dishonor My name by walking with the wicked?

“Yes, sire.”

Very well. Is that all you have to confess?

It is a question, and it is not a question. The Revealer already knows; They are simply making him admit it. It is the least that Fray deserves. “No,” he signs, and now his hands do quake. “There is more. The vampire—he is evil. There is no argument to be made about that. I will accept my correction for tolerating his company with gladness. But my question—I am—I am struggling with the tieflings.” (Here he grits his teeth and tries to will his pulse to slow.) “I … cannot find fault with either of them. I do not see evil in them, only misguidance. Much of the time they act in accordance with your will.”

The Great Revealer waits for the rest of his confession.

“And I … I find myself drawn to them.”

And how is that?

A deep breath under the crushing silence.

“Tempted,” signs Fray. His ears burn. He feels ill. “Seduced.”

Such is the company you keep.

“That is my question. I have been taught that tieflings are against your order, that they are evil. But these—my lord, these are not. Must tieflings always be wicked?”

The closeness of that place narrows further. Fray feels as if a thousand eyes are upon him, peeling away his skin, examining every flaw. Then, like a breath being let go, it releases. My son, signs the Revealer. Yours is a heart that longs to see good in the world. Be glad of this. But you must remain vigilant. Is not deceit the chief of sins? Can that which is spawned by devils ever do more than put on a mask of goodness?

Fray is meant to agree. He knows he is meant to agree. It is not his place to argue with gods. Yet his hands lift anyway. “Is it not also taught that the races of men may be of good or of evil?” he protests. “That no one can be said to be purely good?” Karlach’s laugh. Right’s smirk. “Surely there are tieflings who could be considered more good than evil!”

The clearing feels, all at once, like the inside of a closed fist. Fray reels from it, words forgotten. Before him, the sword shivers, then leaps upright. One of the hands takes it, leveling it at his face. The Revealer answers aloud.

Be still.

His hands lock. His arms hook themselves behind his back, crossed; reflexively he struggles. That great fear comes rushing back, weaving through his ribs, and his chest heaves. Bile laps at the back of his throat. He thinks of Wyll, passing through the layers of the Hells before his eyes.

“Mercy,” he pleads of his master, voice breaking in the quiet of the grove. The sword does not move. “Mercy on your s, servant, my lord, I beg you.”

You have been led astray through your negligence of your duties, he is told, the voice patient and implacable as it rings in his ears. Now your faith is under attack. I do this for your benefit, my son, that you might not fall prey to those who would destroy you.

“My fai—f, faith is—“

Be still, the Revealer commands, and Fray is pulled to his feet by unseen forces. Panic eats at him, guilt and shame floods his mind. He has been disobedient. He has strayed from the path. His arms are released. Prepare yourself.

“Sire,” he says, and in his own ears it is a pathetic whine. He stares up along the blade of his own weapon. Not for the first time. “Please. Please.”

His master’s voice is clear and calm, but he cringes from it all the same. Do not defy me a second time.

He is too frightened to do anything but what is required of him. Quickly as he is able with his shaking hands, he removes his cloak, his tabard, his shirt. He pins his hair out of the way, haphazard and ugly. Once more he falls to his knees.

Recite your prayers.

The words rattle from his stunted throat, and though he tries to mean them they feel like noise.

O Revealing Light, which shines on all, it is by you that I see the path. Before him his sword begins to glow. Fray closes his eyes to it. Make of me a channel for your blessings, and a font for your grace. He hears the hiss and groan of the metal, and the crackling of the air around it as it heats. He tries to breathe.

Keep me from evil. See me safe to your green places.

The looping, winding, patterned scars that cover much of his body—scars precise and beautiful, scars imbued with magic, scars he secretly and shamefully despises for the way they affront his vanity—begin to shine with holy light. They ache, and then sting.

Forgive me my follies, and purify me of all that is loathsome in your sight.

The scars erupt with pain, like scalding needles beneath his skin. Fray chokes, half-screaming, then marshals himself back to composure. He stumbles over the words, crying out again when the very tip of the white-hot sword is driven into the tender skin of his throat.

I commit myself to you in all things, body and mind and soul.

Fray’s world becomes a confusion, a nonsense, a wounded animal scrabbling and howling in its search for relief. The pain stops short of being unbearable, but as new wounds are drawn around the length of his neck his voice leaves him. He can do no more than mouth the rest.

I thank you for your mercy, wisdom, and love.

The sword is drawn away. The pain stays hot and bright a few seconds longer. It is all Fray can do not to clutch at his throat. Instead he presses shaking fingertips to the place the sword had been, and feels a new scar. It is soft and tender and hurts horrifically to touch. Nausea floods him; he nearly retches.

I do this out of love, Frayed Saint. This mark will protect and mind you. The Hells shall not besmirch my chosen.

“Thank you,” Fray tries to sign. It comes out a smear of shaking fingers and wrists. “Thank you, Most High.”

I place my faith in you, O best beloved. You know in your heart what the path of right is.

“So be it,” says Fray, and passes out.

---

VII. You find: an unconscious half-elf.

Nearly an hour passes before the bushes stir so faintly they may as well have not moved at all. A delicate hoof presses itself, silently, to the loam and earth. Another follows, and behind them a carefully-held tail, its gray-green skin dappled with shadow and melting into the foliage.

When they reach Fray’s side, Right stops. They consider the beautiful greatsword that lies inert on the leaf litter. They consider the beautiful half-elf that lies unconscious beside it. They consider, cautiously, the ring of faint runes marked around the half-elf’s neck, shiny pink-white. A new set of scars to go with the ornate collection.

They consider the used-up scroll of comprehend language in their hand, and resolve to burn it later.

What will the half-elf do if they wake him, Right wonders, crouching at his side. What will this “Frayed Saint” make of a tiefling leaning over him, so soon after whatever it was that Right has just witnessed?

It would probably save lives if they were to kill him here, they think to themselves. That’s probably the wisest move. This man is genocidally xenophobic at best, and empowered by something that intends to keep him that way. Probably they should kill him, now, before he can do more damage.

But they grip his shoulder and shake him anyway. It takes a long time to stir him awake. “You look like you had an adventure,” Right remarks as Fray blinks unfocused eyes. His gaze lands on that sword. He lurches back from it, and turns to stare at Right. “Everything alright?”

Fray’s chest began to heave as soon as he caught sight of the sword. He presses his palm to his heart now, visibly trying to calm his breathing. His lips move, but Right can’t catch what he’s trying to say. They wait.

“I’m fine,” he gets out, eventually. His voice is splinters and shattered glass. His hair is askew, full of dirt and leaves “What’re … why are you … ?”

“You’d been gone for a long time,” Right says, which is true. “And you told Karlach you’d show her how to make curry.”

“Karlach?” Fray says, weakly.

“I’m worried she’s going to try to do it on her own if you don’t get back soon.”

“Right,” he says. He grimaces. “Y, yes, I mean. Okay.”

“I knew what you meant.” They allow their lamplight eyes to flick across the sword that lies in the dirt before turning them back on Fray with an intent interest. “Didn’t expect to see you passed out. Did something happen?”

Fray wets his lips. In the moment when Right had looked away, he had put his hand to his neck, and he takes it away again now. He paws hair from his eyes and pulls his shirt from where it lies beside him, trying and failing to cover the network of scarified patterns that ring his body like stripes on a cat. “Communing,” he says. He breaks off to cough into his elbow, grimacing with obvious discomfort. “My patron.”

“Must have been quite the discussion.” Fray fusses with the fabric in his hands, and nods. “What was it about?” Right prompts.

A long silence.

“I had sins to confess,” Fray says, sounding sick, and pulls on his shirt.

straight from hell, with love

[kimetsu-no-yaiba-writings]

Demon Tanjirou Kamado x (FEM) Reader - Prologue: In the Shadows

Pairing: Tanjirou Kamado x (FEM) Reader

Word Count: 1693 words

Warnings: None - this chapter

Notes: This is a Modern Demon AU that will be incorporating yandere themes later on in this series - I’m not 100% on how many chapters I’ll have and I think it’ll probably be dependent on how many people actually enjoy this....

Anyway!

Hope you enjoy this prologue chapter 

Prologue - here. >>  Chapter 1

Your ten years-old and its summer, there’s a field with wildflowers and butterflies that comes to mind, a feint breeze plays with the gentle fabric of your dress and the ribbon in your hair.

You can remember running with someone – a boy of the same age – laughing with bright smiles. A small warm hand is clasped tightly with yours, tugging you along the dirt path, sunshine dusting your forms.

There’s a peach tree in bloom – pretty pink blossoms vibrant and gorgeous against the vibrant greens of the surrounding oaks – that catches your attention.

Your memory blurs.

Things become distorted and the shadows grow long – it scares you.

And then your standing in front of the peach tree, facing the boy, back towards the path home.

 “(Y/N)! (Y/N)! We’ll be together for ever, right?”

 A boy spoke so warmly towards you, his tiny hands clasping yours tightly, a bright smile present on his face – even though his face was a blur of overlapping and constantly changing shadows

He made your little heart thump loudly.

 “Of course! I love you lots and lots -------” You proclaimed with a smile “Forever and Always!”

 Peach blossom swirled past you both prettily as your chubby cheek was kissed.

He made you so happy, this warm child that played with you whenever you could leave the house, who gave you wildflowers, trinkets and snacks.

Your memories were warm whenever he was there…

But why couldn’t you remember his face or name?

You can remember your childhood in a vagueness of washed-out colours, sometimes there was sharp contrast – a memory – that’d bring things back in a wave of nostalgia, much like overlapping water and foamed bubbles.

Certain smells, tastes and a particular shade of red gave you nostalgia for a boy who you remembered but not fully, his face and name lost to you.

Maybe it was because it was almost summer – almost the time to sit around and eat ice-cream – but those feelings of nostalgia and an unknown yearning filled you, got stronger with every year you weren’t in that childhood town or house….

Part of you was glad that your father was so understanding about your wanting for change from the big city, his demeanour calm and warm as he offered up your childhood home as your new place – a glint of something in his eye – over afternoon tea.

 “I know it’s a lot to ask dad…” You murmured “But I could pay you rent if you wanted? I’m sure that there’ll be a job that I coul-“

 “Don’t be daft (Y/N)!” Dad chuckled, mug partially raised to his lips “I still own the house, so I can take care of the water and electricity bills and you’ll only have to pay for groceries”

 Dad smiled, crow’s feet and laughter lines becoming prominent and wrinkling his face. A stranded of peppered black hair fell loosely in front of his face as he giggled quietly at your surprised expression, reminding you briefly of the younger man your dad uses to be – the one who’d put his hair into a ponytail whenever he cooked or gave you a piggyback ride – before the stresses of life and your mum got too him…

Reaching over the table and clasping your dad’s hand with a smile made you happy (even if it was a little bit) and gave you a small bit of comfort, afterall, you could count on one hand the amount of times dad had been dismissive and/or rude. He’d always been kind.

Dad was just like that.

 “Thanks dad…”

 Dad squeezed your hand in return, gentle and warm and calloused from work.

 “Stop ya thanking kid” He huffed with a twinkle in his eye “I’ll drop you off there myself in a couple of days, you reckon you can get packed by then?”

 You simply nodded, a hug of agreement slipping past your lips.

 Time passed quickly after that, afternoon tea turning into staying for dinner with dad – a faint lingering memory from your teenage years of helping make food with him, of laughter and music – and a couple of episodes of a tv programme.

With the passing of time came the lengthening of the shadows.

And the need to go home.

Part of you was surprised at how quickly time had slipped past and changed from afternoon into evening; in fact, you were back at your flat – illuminated by the orange neon glow of streetlamps outside – both earlier and somehow later than expected.

Your flat wasn’t huge nor was it small and you couldn’t even call it medium sized, it kinda fit somewhere in-between the realm of cosy + friendly and gets messy quickly if you put too many things down – e.g., shopping.

It was home; had been for a good number of years but it was time to move on, the yearning for something that you couldn’t place your finger on having set in once again,

 “The show must go on…” You murmured to yourself “…I guess?”

 You went about your business of checking you had indeed locked the door, having a drink and then grabbing pyjama’s and taking a shower, taking a little time to relax under the semi-warm water before going through your routine of moisturising and dressing.

With a huff you threw yourself back into the warm embrace of your duvet, rolling yourself up like some sort of demented little human caterpillar as your eyelids opened and closed slowly + tiredly before letting you drift off into the dark embrace of sleep.

That night you slept fitfully, dreaming – or maybe remembering? – of something that happened in your confusing childhood once again.

 You were eleven years old and its winter.

The house is cold, its wooden floorboards echoing a loose warmth from the copper pipes beneath and its dark and windy outside.

You’re wearing your mum’s apron, radio playing faint music as you stir a bowl of cake mix while the blurry faced boy hums to the tune, swinging his legs as he sits on the countertop – he’s not meant to sit there, mum will go mad if she saw him….

The atmosphere is warm. You feel warm even though its slightly cold, you feel warm whenever you’re with him... Maybe you’re in love?

The oven hums as it preheats.

What were you baking again? Was it cake? Or was it cookies? Maybe Macaroons?

Either way you didn’t care – the kitchen became a mess of shadows and stained with blood as you felt sick… the kitchen was normal, everything was ok - had your head always felt fuzzy? – you were spending time with your best friend, who’s form stood stirring a different bowl of unknown mixture – strange, had he always been there?

 “Hey, -----,” You murmured, turning towards him with a smile “You reckon we could finish these in time for dinner?”

The boy remained with his back to you, he hummed, head tilting to the side in thought before looking over his shoulder at you – face a gapping hole of inky black with eyes redder than sin staring at you, no, you didn’t remember his face… what did he look like again? – with an expression you couldn’t see, but you knew it was warm and kind.

 “Hmmm, maybe?” he said with a ‘smile’ “Actually I think by the time these are done, dinner will have already be in progress…”

 You replied, but the words never made it to your ears.

The boy laughed.

The radio still played – was this song backwards? It doesn’t sound right…

The oven still hummed with a warm glow – what was in the oven? Something’s cooking… whats cooking? – and the faint ticking of the timer he twisted into time.

Something was wrong.

You felt like mush.

Weak.

Brain a honeyed mush as you went through the motions of a memory that you couldn’t quite remember and was clearly being twisted and distorted by you dreaming. How strange, had you always been aware that you were dreaming?

Something flickered.

 Fingers were being clicked in your face, you were brought back into it as the warm figure of your childhood friend stood in front of you, his head tilted cutely to the side as his earrings glinted under the light of the kitchen – what strange earrings….

 “(-/N)! Hey (Y/N)!” His voice was a honeyed worry as his hands clasped yours and the bowl “You ok? You kinda spaced out on me there”

 His words were warm, they trickled in and set themselves heavily in your bones and echoed in your skull.

 What was happening?

 And in that moment, you became deathly aware of something.

 You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t look up from the bowl.

He was standing there, still holding your hands, still warm…no, he was hotter then warm it wasn’t comforting anymore, his touch was heavy and heated instead as you suddenly became aware of the eyes – molten red and filled with something dark – that drilled into you.

 So dark.

 Had his fingernails always been that length? Had they always been so sharp?

 “Hey (Y/N)….” He murmured

 Where was the bowl?

 “(Y/N)…..”

 A chill went up your spine as you were embraced as his breathe tickled your ear.

 “(Y/N)” His voice sweet “I’ll find you again, I’ll think about you always after you’ve moved…”

 You caught a glimpse of elongated canine in his mouth – when did he get a mouth?! – yet his face remained a blur, pearly whites a sharp contrast to the muddled thing that clouded his face.

 “I’ll find you (Y/N)! It’s a promise”

 You were aware of your pinky finger latching into a promise with his as your distorted voice said something that you couldn’t hear.

 You woke up in a sweat, in the darkness of your room.

Pyjama top clinging to your skin as you tried to calm your frantic heart, breathe coming out in barely controlled pants as the hazy fog of sleep clung to your brain. A honeyed voice clung to the barely solid thoughts of your brain, as something crept up your spine and in the coming days, weeks and months, you’d come to realise that the feeling was fear…

[knoxvilleforever]

Vacation with Johnny Knoxville Headcanons

request: super fluffy vacation HC with Johnny?

getting this man to go on vacation was outright painful

he is a workaholic

you had to demand he take a vacation with you

and he didn’t need much convincing

he just had to find time to take a break

you ended up intercepting a work call he was on

‘jeff, spike, we both love you very much but i need to teach johnny the meaning of the word vacation.’

he attempted to reach for his laptop which was on the table, so you dived on his lap to stop him

‘i’m gonna try and work more often if this is how you stop me.’

you end up nose to nose with your arms wrapped around his neck

‘we could do this all the time on vacation, you know.’

johnny let you choose wherever you wanted to go

he didn’t care as long as there was a beach

and you were ensuring there’d be a beach

the first thing you guys did when you landed was change into swimsuits and head straight to the ocean

you couldn’t wait to get in the water

johnny thought it was so cute

amongst other things whilst you had that swimsuit on

he 100% tries to teach you how to surf

cue the two of you trying to balance on one surf board

he had a grip on your waist when you finally managed to stand up

and you didn’t know if you should keep trying to fall in if it meant he was going to hold you like that

you’d spend all your time on the beach if you could

offers to put sunscreen on for you every five minutes

‘i’m just worried about your skin, honey.’

‘worried about the skin on my ass?’

‘extremely.’

you couldn’t deny that you liked the feeling of his hands rubbing over your back and slowly dropping further and further

but the strange looks you got when he was taking extra care massaging in your sunscreen were enough for you

he loves the pool

is a huge big kid and wants you to get in the pool with him at all times

definitely splashes you

whether you’re in or out of the pool

you’re getting splashed

reading your book by the pool? a six feet tall dripping wet pj will squeeze himself next to you on the chair until you pay attention to him

you get him back by asking him to help you out of the pool once he’s already out and dry

and use all your strength to pull him back in

he tries to make out with you in the pool

in fact tries to make out with you everywhere

‘c’mon, look at the view. it’d be rude if we didn’t kiss a little.’

the two of you are both very sunburnt and drunk by the evenings

johnny takes you on a romantic stroll down the beach

it’s more of a stumble because you’ve both been drinking cocktails

but it’s giggly and spontaneous and you both are so in love

picks you up bridal style and carries you into the water at your protests

you steal his hats all the time

and his sunglasses

he starts wearing a pair on his face and another tucked into his shirt

because he knows you’ll steal them

one morning he just places his hat on your head before you leave

you can only grin and knock the cap off again so you can kiss him properly

he’s pouty when you have to go home

you go down to the beach for a few hours before heading to the airport

you lay on your back to tan and all of a sudden johnny’s lying on top of you with his head on your chest

‘okay, i’m not leaving. we’re staying here forever.’

[emonaculate]

Streamer!Eren headcanons

❥ AU: Modern!AU

❥ Genre: Fluff

❥ Rating: Anyone can read

❥ Pairings: Streamer!Eren x Black!Reader

❥ Author Note: Ive been having the biggest brain rot about streamer!eren cause i just feel in my bones, it would be perfect for him so here are some head canons.

inspired by @sleepysnk

Eren would play any game that peaks his interest, but gets the most views when he plays any horror game, minecraft, or among us.

Its mainly due to how serious he gets when he rages over losing/dying or getting a jump scare.

"SON OF A BITCH! WHERE THE FUCK DID THAT ZOMBIE EVEN COME FROM?"

"Eren babe, not so loud."

"Sorry beautiful."

There are tons of video compilations dedicated to you walking in to shush him

His fans ADORE you

Most of them are baffled that Eren is in an interracial relationship but quickly grow used it after seeing your interactions

He often answers questions surrounding your relationship without invading what you want to keep private.

He would 100% let you sit in his lap whilst streaming

His views always rise when you are there, people just like seeing the adorable banter and romance

Everyone can tell how much he loves you

Literally he will visibly soften whenever you enter his line of view

Demands kisses whenever you enter or leave his "office"

If you ever miss a kiss, he will take a break from his stream and track you down

Plays with Jean, Connie, and Armin often

Plays with you too and gets super overprotective if anyone kills you in a game.

Once the entire gang played Among Us together and Eren went completely batshit after finding out Reiner and Bertholdt were the imposters that killed you.

The next round he is the imposter.

"And I took that personally."

He's oddly the scariest imposter.

For some reason, he becomes rational but manages to hide it well behind his usual hotheadness.

Still would never kill you tho <3

He would completely obliterate you in minecraft however

"eren stop I only have one heart left. you play too much."

"you didnt seem to mind playing when you hit me into lava... I lost all my fucking diamonds so you know what they say... hasta la vista baby"

Sucks at building but sucks at mining as well

usually fights mobs all night to stack up xp

says he's training to fight the dragon

swears he'll slay all creepers

deathly afraid of endermans

when they pop up, his screams are girly and loud

"HOLY SHIT. NO NO NO RUN YOU DAMN MIDGET! FUCKING MOVE!"

when he isn't fighting, he'll gather flowers for you and constantly leave them in places for you to find around your house

"Thanks for the flowers baby, yellow is still my favorite."

"I know princess."

he also puts gifts in your chests even though he sucks at mining, because you deserve the best.

Eren is pretty perverted and though he doesnt look at his stream chat often, whenever he sees any comments about your body or how lucky he is, all he does is grin knowingly and mumble "all mine."

HATES whenever people make it a big deal that you're black

addresses it once and swears if shit starts up again, he'll leave forever and never come back despite streaming being something he loves

will never tolerate racism or hearing stereotypes toward you EVER, even if its unintentional, pops off ever mfing time.

"Whether or not that's her real hair, it doesn't fucking concern you. Stop asking when you clearly look like you have uneven extensions, Brittany. Mind your fucking business."

"Baby chill, maybe she was just asking a honest questions."

"Nah fuck that. I don't give a damn, don't worry about whats in my baby's head."

You know those social media stars, who turn the cheek and allow people to say rude and hateful shit?

Yeah thats not Eren, he will always clap back harder and its beyond disrespectful.

"How are you gonna tell me to kill myself, when your bio literally says fly high mom? You must want me to pay her a visit or something."

"I'm too short? Well I think my height is just fine compared to your brother who seems to be just below six feet."

He has been cancelled TOO many times

its always for stupid shit

for being able to speak Japanese despite being a white man

for thinking pineapple on pizza is good

for liking Pepsi over coke

for pouring his milk in before his cereal

His COD lobby trash talk; while he doesn't say slurs or racist remarks, its too damn vulgar. He was built for that lobby 😭😭

His trash talking is elite and most times you can hear the person he is shit talking on the verge of crying. Its so fucking brutal.

In the same breath, he turn around and ask for kisses from you, as if he didn't make someone rethink being born.

That side only pops out when he is extremely pissed and he tries to avoid ever getting that mad because he knows words can hurt.

AN ADVOCATE FOR THE LGBTQ+ COMMUNITY

Gets super confused whenever someone asks what his thoughts on the community are.

"Love who you want, why the fuck should I worry about what some else gets off to?"

"If dicks makes you hard, cool. If pussy get you off, me too, lets be friends. Sexuality shouldn't matter people, grow tf up."

Donates a huge sum of the money he earns to different causes such as: cleaning up the polluted ocean charities, Black lives matter, protect Asian lives, and feed the hungry.

Basically he's caring and just wants to help despite his impulsive personality.

Once a month, he visits orphanages to talk to the kids, no camera no video nothing just to hang with the kids.

The only way his followers find out is because others posting about it.

Overall, Eren is in love with what he does and you, but if he had to pick, he'd choose you every single day over and over again <3

[rabidredsalsa]

I need you to write this scenario I AM DESPERATE

Akito why are you not real

got it bestie 👍 also these were bulleted headcanons because i got writers block but i desperately wanted to write it so sry abt that :(( ALSO I GAVE IT AN ABRUPT ENDING BECAUSE I LOVE CLIFFHANGING MY AUDIENCE (plus i was gonna make a akito relationship hcs soon so this is like the beginning of it ig<3)

Akito Shinonome x Baker!Reader

pairings: akito shinonome x afab reader

warnings: NONE LOL

author's note: BAKRKSBAKRBAKRBAKEBAKEBAKEWOOFOWOARAFARFARAF

to settle things, after you moved to Shibuya, your parents reopened their bakery on vivid street, sending you to school at miyamasuzaka - and instead of getting a monthly allowance like most students do, you worked there part time

after a few weeks of settling in and getting used to the job, that's when you first met akito

he began to be a regular at your bakery surprisingly fast, quickly taking a liking to the cakes and pastries you sold

at some point in time you've already grown so used to his orders that before he could finish his sentence you'd cut him off with "let me guess, the usual?"

during the days when there wasn't a particular crowd, the two of you would stay and chat for about 10-15 minutes before he takes off

you begin seeing him at your bakery nearly every single day, and you both unconsciously grew fond of one another

at one point you asked him if he had any part time jobs or was part of a club, to which he replied with a "sort of..."

that's when most of your conversations revolved around Vivid BAD SQUAD and how you should try and come see one of their street shows if you ever get the chance

and you know damn well you did!!

after another month or two of getting closer through his visits to the bakery and you attending his shows, he began stopping by just for the sake of seeing you

he began stopping by almost every day when you're on break to hang out to thw point that your friends from school and his teammates started thinking you guys were going out-

and to expand on that topic, yes, the two of you began catching feelings for each other, but completely oblivious to these feelings at the same time

i mean, he constantly talks about you to the rest of VBS without realizing, and it's pretty much driving them insane how he still refers to you as a friend LMAO

for you it was probably a bit easier to come to terms with your fondness of him, but for akito it actually took a lot of sleepless nights of him just staring at the ceiling until it finally hit him

"...i guess i do really like them-"

from that point on, it doesn't really matter how many hints you tried to drop, he's 100% certain that he'd be the one confessing

although he had absolutely no idea how to, so he decided to go with the most risk-less method he had in mind

he slips a note along with his money when he's about to pay during one of his usual trips to the bakery, slightly tapping it with his finger to get your attention to it

to your dismay, it took you a few hours to decipher the message, as his handwriting was so messy that you could easily mistake it with hieroglyphs

in the end you just texted him instead, asking him to translate the alien language he'd written the note in-

he probably started punching the air

you had to pry it out of him since he kept insisting it was a lost cause

eventually he managed to tell you that he'd liked you for some time now and and that he'd just recently realized it, but even after you gladly accepted and claimed you returned these feelings he insisted that if you had second thoughts it's perfectly fine if you wanna remain just friends, etc etc

now you're the one punching air

but you two ended talking things over for about an hour on call and sorted everything out with him

i like to think that both your classmates and his teammates saw this as a miracle from god because you two have been going like this without making your feelings known forever LMFAO-

i love torturing both myself and my readers <333 /hj

no but seriously part 2s coming soon

this was absolute ass and extremely rushed since ive been super braindead BUT I WONT DISAPPOINT YALL WITH MY NEXT ONE‼️ hopefully

[multi-fandom-imagine]

A/n: I’m sorry this took me forever...I also agree, 100%....I may have to do a follow up to this with the two dating and Ryan saves them again...maybe something that leads to them making out in a cave haha...let me know if you’d like that.

You thought a hike might be fun, something relaxing not something that would be making it hard to breath. “Shit...I really need to hike more if this is making me out of breath.”

Biting your lip you knew the real reason why you were really hiking. It was due to that handsome Park Ranger. The one that was making you come out here more and more. A small laugh escaped your lips thinking about how you might get into some dangerous situation and the man would come rescue you. “God he must look good in that uniform.”

You could feel warmth on your cheeks just thinking about that though it was made worse was you trying to work up the courage to ask him out. “Stupid, I’m so stupid. I can’t even ask a guy out.” you muttered to yourself. You had thought that walking down the mountain would be the easy part and it would have been if you were paying attention though sadly with you were to busy thinking about a certain Ranger that you missed the section of rocks in front of you.

Boot getting caught between a few rocks you gasped falling forward, a pained yelp escaped your lips. You held your hands out expecting to hit the hard ground only to feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist. 

“Whoa! careful y/n!”

Slowly opening your eyes you felt warmth return to your cheeks once you saw who it was. 

“R-Ryan? why...why are you here...I mean not that I’m not grateful but.” You mentally cursed yourself to stop talking.

Ryan cleared out his throat, his own cheeks growing red. “I....it was getting late...and I got worried...but...you...you should really be more careful.”

Letting out a nervous laugh you tried to ignore how good he smelled and instead wanting to focus on how to get out of this situation without looking like an idiot.

“I think I already did....my ankle really hurts.” You whispered.

Giving you a small smile you suddenly felt yourself being lifted, with Ryan’s arms under your legs you let your hands wrap around his neck. “R-Ryan...you don’t have too.”

“None sense Y/n....I am a Ranger after all...we’ll be down the Mountain in know time.”

“Ahh.” Hiding your face against his neck. “Thank you Ryan.”

Chuckling, Ryan carried you down the Mountain as he tightened his grip on you. “You can thank me by taking me out for some coffee.”

“I...would like that Ryan.”

[clouds-rambles]

Hi i really enjoyed your recent venti one shot with the misunderstanding is it alright if I request it with Zhongli please? Congrats on 100 followers bestie 😨

Of course bestie I’m glad that you’re enjoyed it! And tysm I cannot comprehend how I’ve gotten so many followers so fast like hi everyone.

I’m reopening my inbox soon! <3

YEAH I JUST CASUALLY WROTE 1K WORDS FOR THIS LOOK AT ME GO

Pairings; Zhongli x reader

Warning(s); jealousy, hurt/comfort ig

Keep reading under the cut

“What’s the plan for today dearest?” Zhongli asks as he takes a sip of his tea, you smile at your spouse

“Childe is helping me with my commissions today” you lie easily, Zhongli doesn’t pick up on that lie “You really shouldn’t have made friends with him, he keeps pestering me for a fight” you huff putting down the newspaper that you were reading

“Are you going to take him up on the offer” Zhongli asks as he takes your now discarded newspaper to read for himself

“I have a reputation to uphold my love, I can’t just go round beating up Fatui Harbingers” you respond mostly in jest “Maybe if he annoys me enough I’ll give him a taste of his own medicine” you tell your spouse as you stand.

You give Zhongli a kiss before you pick up your bag “Wamnin Resturant at 5, the fatui is paying” you tell the man as you open the front door “Love you, bye”

Zhongli bids you goodbye despite you already being out the door as he continues reading the newspaper before going about to start his day.

The week rolls past and you’ve been spending many of your days with Childe. You had only spend one of the seven days with him. And despite the fact Zhongli is more than used to seeing you gone for weeks at a time when you’re travelling, but usually when you spend time at home you spend most of it with him or running the occasional commission.

Zhongli doesn’t need to reassure himself about your relationship, you married eachother for pity’s sake. If there wasn’t sufficient trust Zhongli would have never got married to you.

Though the ex-archon cannot shake the pit in his stomach that you’re avoiding him for some reason. Over the last week you have come home more exhausted  than he has seen you in a while. Yet you still sleep in the same bed as him. If something was happening you surely wouldn’t torment him by sleeping in the same bed as him right?

Zhongli voices his concerns to Hu Tao who just laughs at him and tells him not to worry about a thing. Hu Tao knows something...

Yet no matter how much he tries to pry the damned director refuses to tell him why he shouldn’t worry. Zhongli returns home from his shift a little grouchy and when you try to push him on the matter Zhongli confronts you on it.

“[name], my dear, I have to ask why I haven’t seen much of you over this week” he asks trying to hide his tinge of jealousy. You smile at him and give him a kiss.

“Hey, you don’t need to worry your pretty face about it, it’ll come clean soon” you tell him with a grin. Zhongli wants to argue that he is in fact worrying his pretty little face because he’s out of the loop and he very much dislikes being out of the loop. But Zhongli knows that once you’ve made up your mind on telling him or not telling him something you won’t budge. He admires that about you and in that regard you’re much like him. Two immovable mountains that rarely but heads. But to be honest, as immovable as his mountain be he caves to you far too often, you’re just too lovable not to.

Another four days pass with you hanging about Childe. Zhongli feels like he very much hates the harbinger for stealing you for a week and a half. That’s a week and a half closer to your next exhibition. As much as Zhongli doesn’t want to damper your explorative spirit he truly misses you when you’re gone. If it weren’t for his informal contractual obligation to keep an eye on Liyue, Zhongli would accompany you on every exhibition.

“Morning love” you greet as he wakes up. It’s not often that you wake up before him. 

“How long have you been awake for?” Zhongli asks groggily, you smile and kiss his nose

“Long enough to know that you look positively adorable when your sleeping” you confess with a giggle. Zhongli smiles at you

“You’re lucky I love you” he jests hugging you “What’s you itinerary for the day my dear?” he asks into your neck . 

“You’re going to accompany me today” you reply. Zhongli pulls back with a quirk of his brow “Now get ready, we’ve got a schedule today” you tell him giving him another kiss and getting out of bed

Curious Zhongli gets himself dressed and meets you at the front door where you have already collected everything necessary for the day ahead of you. And as soon as Zhongli is ready you lead your spouse through the harbour hand in hand.

Much of the morning is spent at the tea house where the two of you eat a large brunch. Zhongli mentions in passing of wanting to go to a shop for something nice and you go and visit it before morving sw

“Afternoon Tartaglia” you greet the harbinger as he waves you over

“Afternoon Zhongli, [name]. Right on schedule I see” he grins leading the two of you to the bottom of the harbour and onto a boat where there’s a handful of workers and a handful more friends. Childe joins the group of people who all watch the two of you.

“What’s happening?” Zhongli asks you with a tilt of his head. You only smile at him and take his hands

“Well Zhongli, my husband” you tell him looking up into his eyes “We have been together for what feels like forever” you start pausing to look at Childe who gives you a thumbs up “And the reality is that the two of us took our vows to each other 5 years ago to the day” you continue smiling at your husband “And I know I was away for last years anniversary so this year I’m making double the effort to make up for it”

Zhongli stares at you then to his friends, then at the boat around him that has has started to move around Liyue before he meets your gaze again. In all his years he has never been at such a loss for words. Tears collect at the corner of the ex-archons eyes

“I’m speechless” he says before smiling at you and moving his hand to your cheek “I love you so much”  he confesses kissing your forehead

“Well folks with that I think we can get this party started” Childe announces with a clap of his hands. There’s a commotion at the top of the boat where a band starts playing some orchestral music and everyone begins mingling.

While Zhongli speaks to the traveller and Paimon he can’t help but notice you thanking Childe and embracing him tightly. Zhongli thinks to himself how ridiculous he was to be so jealous of the time you were spending with the fatui when in reality you were doing so much work for him.

Archons above he loves you.

--

Cloud makes a return of Zhongli being cute and married <3