#if this is incomprehensible i am sleep deprived angry and stupid

[neembu]

when i was in second grade i had just learnt how to draw dinosaurs and i thought i was really really good at that. so for teacher's day, we had to make a drawing for the class and i drew two dinosaurs. ithink it would have been nice because my mumma complimented it. when i showed it to my teacher she said 'well it was supposed to be about your teacher and you' and she was so fucking nasty about it.

so i had to make another drawing and she kept the dinosaur one too. alka ma'am, fuck you.

[slutfactory]

thoughts on bottom kuroo ft. kenma

this is really just hcs + a short drabble <3 I LOVE KUROO, SO I THANK THE ANON THAT ASKED ME FOR THIS- I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE ASK, BUT I REMEMBER WHAT IT SAID, SO NO WORRIES. THIS IS HELLA SELF INDULGENT BTW

not proofread. ignore the mistakes please. i am sleep deprived.

t.kuroo x m!reader nsfw — minors dni or i'll inform your parental figure. <3

he kinda manipulates you into fucking him

he'll tease you about something, like...maybe saying your dick is small or something

y'know, tell you how he can barely feel it when you fuck him—

when you get annoyed, his teasing gets worse

“oh? getting angry now? what're you gonna do? spank me?”

when you actually spank him, he keeps teasing, but can't exactly keep his composure

“oww～.. that kinda hurt, daddy—ah!– fuck～”

don't even get me started on when you actually fuck him

smacking his ass while you fuck, especially after you were just spanking him, turns him on so much <3

it's hard to call your dick small, when you're rearranging his insides <333

“‘m sorry, sir!～” tetsurou nearly screamed as you mercilessly pounded into him. he put his hand on his stomach, where your cock seemed to be trying to make room during each thrust. “s–so big!— can't take it!～”

you slapped his ass, making him yelp in pain, but mostly pleasure. the impact also left a slightly darker red mark on his already red ass cheeks. “no, no! my dick is small, right?” you ask, your tone annoyed, yet lighthearted. you landed another harsh slap to kuroo's ass. the said man's apologizing, and pleas for you to slow down became incomprehensible—so you were quite literally fucking him stupid at this point.

out of the corner of your eye, you noticed kenma hiding behind the other side of the door, stroking his cock. why not give him a little show? you lifted kuroo's leg, putting his side against the wall—all while fucking kuroo, pace unwavering.

it was that split second that tetsurou also noticed kenma, before cumming so hard that he saw stars instead. he didn't stop cumming even after you blew your load inside him. when he finally calmed down, and his vision cleared, he saw kenma on his knees by the door, his hands coated in his own mess. seeing that made kuroo less embarrassed.

“hey, we aren't done yet, kitty.”

“wait wha—”

[wizkiddx]

too early

this is a lil fluffy blurb after the state of his ig stories the other mornings I also realise I am VERY late on this but hey ho

tomhollandxreader

fluff + implied smut

It was simply too early to function. Too early to think. Definitely too early to have any logical thought or attempt any form of comprehensible communication. That’s why when the frankly obnoxious chimes of the default iPhone ringtone reverberated through the previously peaceful room, the reaction of the two inhabitants was delayed to say the least. 

It took at least 2 cycles of the noise for you to be pulled from your deep sleep into a semi-conscious state, at which point as a reflex you just rolled over hoping to muffle out the noise with your head pressed downwards. Yet, the pitch of the ringer was just at that ‘sweet spot’ where it was impossible to even try to drown out - one that physically reverberated through your skull. It made you groan whilst growing a lot more consciously aware of your surroundings - particularly to the deadweight of a boyfriend you were currently trying to hide your face into - his strong chest still proving no match for the incessant alarm noise. Fed up and angry for being disturbed, you unpicked your arm from the weird sleeping position it had somehow ended up in , curled weirdly under your right boob, and then shoved at Tom’s side multiple times - rocking him back and fourth. 

With a sleepy and incomprehensible word falling off his lips, he then jerkily and suddenly craned his neck up - you felt the movement against the top of your head.

“Turn your fucking phone off” Grumbling into his side, you reworked your legs to try and get comfy again - more than ready for him to decline the call and the two of you to go back to bed. Tom was still incredibly confused and disorientated from the haze of sleep, taking him moments for the cogs to start turning as he stretched over to his bedside table and grabbed the vibrating device from hell…. maybe a bit dramatic but you loved your sleep. 

With a mutter ‘shit’ as he winced at the phones brightness, Tom pressed his eyes closed, building up the bravery to face the offensive blue light again. It took a couple of blinks for him to be able to focus on the screen, but when he did his eyebrows furrowed even more at the name and he swiped to unlock the phone - which due to the lack of speed surely was about to ring out. 

“-ello?” The hoarse and croaky sound of his voice reverberating round in his chest had you instantly arching up, looking at him with a puzzled and puffy eyes. You couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, but tried to get the drift of the situation purely from reading Tom’s facial expressions in the low light of the bedroom.

“You’re late Holland”

“I’m-I’m late? It’s like-“ Tom cut himself off with a cough to try to clear the morning voice, whilst simultaneously looking over at the bedside to read the clock that said 5:37 am. “It’s 5”

“No it’s 5:40 and we agreed to be at the gym at half past”

Ah. Tom realised. He might’ve forgotten about the fact he agreed to an early morning training session before the morning shoot for Spiderman. 

“Oh shit um I-“

“Overslept? Yeh could tell mate. Just get your ass down here I’m waiting on your fucking door step and it’s fucking freezing”

“Sorry I’ll be right down.”

With that Duffy instantly hung up, the automated tone allowing Tom to throw his head back in sheer desperation. Because he knew he had your pouty eyes to face.

“What the fuck did you do?” Of course, your sleepy eyes were still managing to pierce Tom’s soul as he sighed, feeling your chin lying on his sternum, knowing the disapproving way you were looking at him. 

“I-“ Opening his eyes and trying to soften you up by cupping one of your cheeks with his hand, thumb gently stroking up and down your cheek. “I might’ve forgot I’ve got a PT session.”

“In the middle of the night?” The look in your big y/e/c eyes was so close to making Tom leaving Duffy on the doorstep all morning- instead opt for a blissful start to the day with you cradled in his arms. 

“Before the morning shoot… you go back to sleep love, you won’t even realise I’m gone.” Sighing, Tom lugged himself into a sitting position, forcing you to slide off his body and curl up in the now emptiness of the bed. Honestly, there was nothing Tom would rather do than crawl back up to you and fall asleep in your arms, yet he knew that realistically tomorrow was his day off so that was very soon on the itinerary. Also he just would feel exceptionally crappy if he didn’t get a work out in today, because even if it didn’t feel like it at this very minute, exercise was one of his happy places. You were probably the happiest but the gym made a close second or third place.  But finally and most importantly, he was not getting out of this because his shrt tempered and incredibly bulky PT was waiting impatiently at the doorstep. 

The issue Tom had though was perhaps just how quickly you agreed,  he felt like no sooner had he told you to lie back had you already started to collapse into the pillows. So, after throwing a heather grey top and his simple nike hoodie on he couldn’t help but lean back over the bed to dust your cheek and nose with light kisses. 

“You’re not missing me?” He spoke with a pout, while you groaned slightly, eyes fluttering open. 

“I love you, but …. I love my bed more” Your sleepy grin completely had Tom enchanted, even in the dim light of dawn, he wanted to memorise every little detail of your face. 

“Could the bed have made you cry out its name like I did last night?” The glint of mischief was infuriating, a dirty smirk on his face.  

“Maybe you do have you some uses” Sniggering, you pulled at the tufts of his brown curls at the base of his neck, enjoying the way he leaned further into you at the action. “Anyway you absolutely cannot leave like that.”

“Am I just too sexy in my joggers?” Feeling incredibly self fulfilled, at what he thought was a compliment Tom smiled, leaning back up and starting to edge toward the bedroom door. The small beam of light from the hallway that reached through the door even more illuminating the state of him, as if backlight just to exaggerate his stupid look even further. It had you giggling incessantly, even though you were currently being deprived of sleep, it was all worth it to see the absolute birds nest on top of his scalp - the way his brown curls extended and stretched out in every direction, similar to if he had been fried with electricity. The only possible cause for anyone to have the audacity of their hair doing that, only had a single explanation - and the truth of it had you biting your lips slightly, the memory of last night washing gloriously over you. 

“Nope… you still have sex hair you idiot and I’d prefer for Duffy not to know the intimate details of our Friday nights.”

[willadisastercry]

Holding out for hope you don’t even have: ‘When the Dust Clears’ pt.3

tw: threat of drowning gets very real. kinda emotionally heavy. nothing graphic or gory, p much just shiro accepting that he’s about to die.

The clock is running. And so is the water. In buckets��no, probably more like gallons—enough that Shiro needs a miracle. But he’s pretty much maxed out several lifetimes worth of those and the water is getting too close for comfort. Shit’s bleak. Pidge has zero patience. And Lance still wants to go to sleep.

LOL this update had to be split up but it won’t be on ao3. part 4 coming soon ;)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Waiting for death is infinitely easier to process and accept when the timer of the ticking clock comes in the form of filthy water lapping at your chest. Or at least one as slow and final as Shiro’s, that is.

And it’s funny because Takashi Shirogane has been prepared to die slowly for as long as he can remember. His illness made certain of it.

The reality that he wouldn’t get to grow old has always been there, the knowledge that he had a sooner expiration date than most was as innate to him as walking and breathing. He’d been resigned to this fate for a long time.

But then there was the wrench in absolutely everything that was Kerberos. And when it went wrong his mental timeline cataloguing just how many borrowed breaths remained got all screwy.

For a while he was certain the twenty or so years he might’ve been able to steal with a strict regimen of physical therapy and trial drugs was as good as gone. Because even if he did manage to escape captivity, the trauma on his body, the damage to his immune system, would have surely cut it clean in half.

But then Keith was there. And he keeps being there, he keeps saving him. It’s like clockwork at this point. The universe places a new target on his back and Keith pries it off. Again and again. As many times as it takes, he keeps telling him.

The stubborn idiot never was fazed by all the odds that loomed over Shiro’s head. They were never in his favor either, after all.

He can’t help but wonder if that kind of promise has an expiration date too, the kind that no one can help, like the ones Shiro has been sidestepping for years.

A promise of life, a promise of death. You can promise all you want, but words are still words and burning energy on hope just docked numbers from whatever time remained on Shiro’s life anyway.

He wasn’t opposed to letting others hope for him, though. Like Keith. And Adam. People have this sad habit of believing they can hope things into fruition, of maintaining that they had a choice in matters so very out of their hands.

It was fruitless, but if it helped them face his diagnosis, he wasn’t about to deprive them of that small mercy. Not when he was already asking so much by roping them in to see it through with him.

He decides that this is why he was incomprehensibly calm now. He isn’t sure he even has the capacity for hope with how fucked he was, with how fucked he always has been. And asides from being pissed that this was how the clock would finally run out—a few inches shy of air, a couple dozen feet below help, while Pidge and Lance watched—he wasn’t even that angry.

How can you be when you have the luxury of knowing exactly when you’d breathe your last breath? Of not having to guess anymore. Of getting to watch the progress of the rising water muddied with non-earth and debris without experiencing the terror you totally should be when it reaches your navel, your sternum, your chin.

Pidge felt it for all three of them.

He couldn’t prop himself up any farther. His arm was shaking violently under the weight of his upper body as it was, as he strained for another inch, for another minute.

“Take the damn pipe, or I’l kill you myself.”

But he was tiring and the time on his clock was swindling.

“Listen... t’Pidge, Sh’ro—“

“Lance? Stop talking,” Pidge gritted without dragging her eyes away from Shiro for even a second to scold a hardly compressible, hell hardly even conscious Lance.

“I am approximately ten ticks away from unhinging your jaw and shoving this down your throat.”

The edge in her tone was severe, her nerve unflinching.

“So I suggest you comply before we get to that point, I’d imagine it’d be pretty unpleasant.”

A flurry of conflicting emotions bubbled up hearing her speak like that, hearing Katie Gunderson speak like that, and to him no less.

God, he was so fucking proud of them. At how courageous they all were. It was quiet, subtle. Always downplayed and always unique to each of them. To each of their fears and weaknesses. It was always miraculous.

But it also always gutted him that they even had to be.

“Taskashi.”

“You have to keep his head up,” he sputtered, determined on getting out the last of his two sense before his mouth was fully submerged.

“His height will help him out for a while, but you have to make sure he stays on his back when the—“

“Shiro,” she leveled again, punctuating her disdain for his goddamned suggestions by shoving the pipe to his chest.

He was certain she would’ve clocked him over the head with it if she had the wingspan. That and a free hand, but she was already taking her good arm back to keep Lance from falling over.

“Stop. Talking.”

He didn’t have a choice whether or not to listen anymore. The water was too high and his flesh and blood arm was cramping.

The water tasted as filthy as it looked and so did the pipe. There was a faint copperiness to it, probably rust, or maybe blood from the jagged edges shredding his lips to shit where they wrapped around the base. He couldn’t be sure. It wouldn’t matter in a couple of minutes anyway.

They were all out of miracles, it seemed. The pipe was only a couple of feet long. It would buy him some time, sure, but it wasn’t a solution. It was just another extension with a fast approaching expiration date.

But he would hold out for Pidge, he would let her hope for him even though there was no point. He owed her that much.

Breathing through the stupid pipe was difficult for the first couple of breaths. He had to focus intently on not accidentally breathing through his nose, but the desperate straining of his lungs accelerated his learning curve and he soon fell into an even rhythm.

His helmet was still on but his visor was down. There wasn’t a need for even the topmost bit to be up when his chassis being as heavily compromised as it was meant the seal of his armor was no longer air tight. Not that he really needed to worry about being able to see anyway.

The viscosity of the water was more grain than sludge so visibility was almost nonexistent and keeping his eyes open for long hurt, the blue glow of their suits cutting through only enough to illuminate the vague silhouettes of Pidge and Lance with all the muck floating around in it.

He also couldn’t hear anything. There was the occasional whoosh of running water and gurgle as it poured, but everything was further muffled by the cover of his helmet.

Shiro was in the dark and he didn’t have a lot of time left. He’d never had a surplus of it, but he’d always had some sort of out. Something to stretch what was left. Someone to save him when the clock suddenly reset.

But now he had none of that.

Pidge could hope for him. She could be scared for him. She had been so strong for the three of them already. But it was futile in the end. It always was.

[jamaiskookie]

Yoongi Doesn’t Romance [myg x reader]

✂︎ warnings: excessive cursing, bad writing

✂︎ word count: 6.6k (I meant to write a very short drabble… aHAHHA)

✂︎ genre: it’s.. literally just crack. Good dosing of cheesy romance and overused cliches

✂︎ A/N: it took awhile but we here!!! with a short drabble but still!!! hope you enjoy this cringey fluffy fic full of shameless jimin and shy yoongi- arguably the best yoongi

masterlist asks

✂︎ synopsis: yoongi isn’t great at expressing feelings- especially with how nervous he gets around you. alternatively titled: yoongi sucks at romance

“... and I don’t understand why you’re so hell bent on denying it! You obviously have a crush on him!” You roll your eyes at Namjoon, flicking your index finger at his forehead and watching as he flinches and lets out multiple sounds of pain, which you promptly ignored. 

“I’m denying my crush because he so obviously doesn’t like me back! He hates me, Joon. He literally detests me.” You say, jumping back onto the stained and cluttered couch that occupies most of you and Namjoon’s shared dorm. 

“And I’m telling you that you’re overthinking it,” Namjoon says, chewing on some popcorn. “I don’t think he hates you, you’re just exaggerating things.”  

“I am not!” You protest, swinging your head around to look Namjoon dead straight in the eyes. “He hates me! He practically leaps out of the room whenever I’m around.” Namjoon opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by Taehyung, who is currently seated two feet away on a small thrifted chair. 

“Shhhhhhhh-” His eyes are still fixated on the TV screen, watching the random nature documentary playing that you and Namjoon had long ago abandoned. You and Namjoon both watch Taehyung for a second amusedly as he attempts to stuff popcorn kernels in his mouth and completely misses the mark. You’ll have to remind him to clean up the floor later. 

“But,” Namjoon whispers to you, “Literally every time you aren’t around I swear all he can do is run his mouth on and on about you.” 

“Not true!” You yell, squeaking out a quick apology to Tae, who glared at you for interrupting the segment on apes. Something about how apes can learn languages, but you’re not too sure. “Lies!” You hiss, elbowing Namjoon in the rib. 

“Ow-!” He jumps back, wincing. “Why do you always resort to violence?” You didn’t have an answer to that question, unfortunately. “And I’m not lying! I swear on my bonsai trees he always asks where you are whenever you don’t show up to stuff.” 

“Maybe he just wants to know how much glorious time he has left before he has to face me again.” You offer, tearing open what must be your third dorito family pack of the night. (It’s fine, you’ll burn it off by running to class tomorrow when you’re inevitably late once again.) “Namjoon, face the facts: he only tolerates my presence occasionally because we share a couple of mutual friends. If it weren’t for you and the other guys, he would’ve already started a  hate club for me, I’m sure of it”

Namjoon stared at you exasperatedly, before muttering something that very suspiciously sounded like ‘God you’re such a dumbass’ before taking out his phone to swipe through Tinder, not uttering another word to you. 

Despite Namjoon’s utter and complete lies, you don’t exaggerate anything when it comes to Min Yoongi. Not his hatred towards you, or how he speaks two words maximum every year directed at you, or your massive slight crush that you’ve harboured for him, or how cute he looks with beanies on, or how you almost fainted that one time you saw him playing basketball, or- well, you get it. 

The point is, you can’t acknowledge your crush on Yoongi (Even though everyone around you is fully aware of it) because he seems to completely resent you and your existence for no reason in particular. Namjoon, Taehyung, Jimin, and many others insist that he doesn’t hate you as much as you think, but you dismiss their stupid assumptions time and time again. You’d love to believe them, but the evidence and first hand experiences you’ve had says otherwise. 

✂︎

Exhibit A: He seems to avoid you on campus, or anywhere you go. This one is actually quite impressive considering the classes you two share. You’ve never seen someone go so out of their way to ignore someone they don’t like. It’s pretty commemorable. Whenever you sit in the same row as him during a lecture, he’ll move seats. One time you waved at him at a coffee shop and he just strangely blushed, and bolted out of there faster than you could say ‘rejected’. Taehyung ended up saying it, all while laughing his ass off. (You made him pay for your coffee that day.) Everytime you head over to Jimin’s dorm, he’ll just blankly stare at you two and march straight towards his room and lock himself in there until you leave. He even gulpes and swerves away when he sees you in a hallway. 

You know, that awkward thing when you’re heading the same direction so obviously you’d try and be slightly friendly and wave or something but then he’ll just suddenly turn around, navigating through the crowd of angry, late students and facing all that social pressure just so he doesn’t have to waVE BACK AT YOU- okay, maybe you aren’t as over this incident as you thought. 

Exhibit B: He won’t speak to you or touch you or interact with you in any way. Okay, maybe ‘in any way’ is a teensy bit exaggerated, but he definitely seems to find trouble when you two are left alone for some strange reason. He seems to be fine when all your other friends are around, but he just looks so uncomfortable when it’s just you two. He won’t look you in the eye, and he’ll just mutter incomprehensible sentences under his breath. 

A couple months ago you attempted to hold a decent conversation with him in the kitchen of Jin’s fancy ass apartment. After many awkward silences that you had to fill up with your timid and boring small talk, he just mumbled something and you had to watch him go into the bathroom and scream. Either he was having some really bad explosive diarrhea, or having to talk to you was just that excruciating. Apart from intense Uno game nights or when he’s under the influence of alcohol, you’ve never even heard Yoongi raise his voice!

How is it possible that just by talking to you, he feels the urge to scream? You aren’t that boring, you think-! Actually, now that you think about it, you did try and bring up sea otter fun facts as a conversation starter, so maybe that’s why he had to scream. 

Personally, you think that sea otters are the most adorable creatures to ever grace the earth, but Yoongi does seem like the kind of guy to prefer bats or something like that. 

Exhibit C: The elbow incident. This haunts you to this day, not just from the horrible humiliation, but if the two previous exhibit’s weren’t convincing enough, this was real cemented evidence that Min Yoongi hates your guts. 

You were talking to Jimin about the significance of ‘Phineas and Ferb’ in the cinematic industry, when your dumbass had tripped and caught yourself on Min Yoongi’s fucking arm (His bicep, on a completely unrelated note, was much bigger and stronger than you had thought, which was a complete other source of anxiety.) You would much rather fall on the ground and break all your bones, because the look on Yoongi’s face as he stared down at you clutching his arm like some sort of idiot, could only be described as disgust or horrified. Maybe both. You immediately let go, of course, and blabbered out apology after apology, but all he did was just stare and blink owlishly at you. 

You proceeded to blush madly and run away, hiding your face in Jimin’s chest, which was, in hindsight, not a good idea, considering how hard he was laughing at the time. (What you didn’t see was Yoongi staring from behind you, deciding to never wash the hoodie he was wearing ever again.) 

So, that concludes your argument against Namjoon’s preposterous claim that ‘Yoongi doesn’t actually hate you Y/n, it’s all in your head’ Delusional, that’s what he is. How could someone like Min Yoongi, a person you have literally been drooling over for most of your academic career, a person who single handedly has every sorority girl wrapped around his finger, even tolerate your very existence, much less be attracted to you? No, none of it makes any sense. You’ll continue to hurt yourself by being around him, despite clearly knowing that he detests your presence, and will even deny the crush you’ve somehow managed to build up for him. 

Because even though it hurts to see him flinch and ignore you, you truly do think that Yoongi is one of the greatest people to ever walk on this shitty earth. He’s caring, even if he does pretend to not care, he’s smart, passionate, ambitious, and you’d be absolutely lying if you said you haven’t dreamed of pinching those squishy cheeks he seems to hide away so often. 

If only you knew why he hated you so much. 

✂︎

All the way across campus, Yoongi was having a similar breakdown while Jimin looked on anxiously. 

“God fucking dammit!” He screamed. The sound comes out slightly muffled since Jimin can only hear what he’s saying through the pillow that Yoongi currently has his face buried in. He kicks his legs up and whines, hitting the bed with his hands. Jimin is suddenly reminded of his 4 year old cousin who threw a tantrum when she didn’t get the doll she asked for. 

“And then you know what I said, Chim?? Do you kNOW?” Yoongi’s been screaming for the past thirty minutes or so. Jimin’s surprised that nobody on campus has come pounding on their door telling them to shut up yet. 

“Please, do enlighten me.” Jimin murmurs, picking at his nails. 

“I said ‘Salutations’ AND THEN I RAN OUT THE FUCKING CLASSROOM.” Yoongi tilts his head up from the pillow and groans, scrunching his nose up at the embarrassing thought.

“At least it’s not as bad as the time you screamed in the middle of the street when she touched your shoulder… right?” Jimin offers timidly, forcing a smile on his face. An angry, sleep deprived Yoongi is already scary enough, but he’s ten times more intense when the source of anger comes from you. 

Honestly, sometimes he wonders how effective it would be if he could just lock Yoongi and you in a room and force you two to admit your feelings for once. (Until he mentioned this idea to Namjoon, who dejectedly informed him that they’ve already tried that.) ((Yoongi broke out of the room using a bobby pin and sheer force of will)) He’s never even seen a pair so smart, and yet so obliviously naive. Anyone with functioning two eyes could see the horribly obvious feelings the both of you shared for each other. In fact, for the first couple months upon meeting Yoongi, he thought that you were his girlfriend, based on how much he talked about you. That assumption carried on when he met you, until Jin told him that the two of you were just in a weird phase of dumbasses who kinda flirt. 

It’s not Yoongi’s fault that he’s so bad at having actual emotions that aren’t the tears of joy that he sheds whenever he gets free coffee from the barista at the local cafe, and it’s not your fault that your self esteem is too low to recognise that Yoongi basically worships you. 

In theory, you two are a match made in heaven. Both just as stupid as the other.

“How do you do feelings, Jimin?” Yoongi sits up from the bed, and Jimin thinks that the tear tracks and defeated look on his face is a tad bit dramatic, but he chooses not to comment on it, for fear of his own life. 

“... what?” 

“You know, feelings. How do you romance?” 

“... what?” 

Yoongi, completely exasperated, throws his hands up in the air and turns around to face Jimin. “Everytime I try to talk to her by myself it’s like I’m a fish out of water. I get way too nervous, and then she starts talking about otters, and she’s way too pretty so I obviously start freaking out! I don’t know, you and Jungkook have been dating for a year now, right?” Jimin nods.

“How’d you do that.”

“... Are you asking me how I got a boyfriend or-? Because I assure you that 85% of getting Kookie to be my boyfriend had to do with my great ass, so I can’t really help you out there- ” Jimin laughs as he watches Yoongi squeal and cover his hands over his ears. 

“Can I ask you for relationship advice without hearing about your sex life, please?” Yoongi pleads. “I know too many unnecessary things about how Jungkook is in bed.” 

Jimin decides to put his friend out of his misery. He places a hand on his shoulder, and shoots him a soft smile. 

“Yoongi, my young grasshopper- ” He retracts the hand when he sees the deathly stare Yoongi is looking at him with, but so far so good, “- there really isn’t much to it. Tell her you like her, and in the very, very, extremely small chance that she rejects you, so what? It’s not like you’re going to spend the rest of your life getting ov- ” Jimin’s voice falters again when Yoongi’s stare intensifies. 

“You don’t get it!” He complains, throwing himself back onto the bed once again. “You’re all good at this sort of stuff!” Jimin tilts his head in confusion. “You know, relationships! Talking to people! And I’m pretty sure Y/n is the love of my life, so I’m literally going to break down if she rejects me! I’m going to cry for days, I already know it!” Yoongi stares up at the ceiling, pouting at nothing in particular. 

“She’s so perfect, smart, nice, caring, funny, strong and incredible. It hurts that she’s never going to like me the way I like her.” 

“You know, Yoongi, if you never talk to her, she’s never going to know you feel that way.”

He sighs and closes his eyes, while it takes all of Jimin’s strength to restrain himself from not throwing Yoongi out of the window. 

Once he’s absolutely sure that Yoongi is fully asleep, he pinches the bridge of his nose and rolls his eyes. After a few quick taps, he brings his phone up to his ear. 

“Guys, I can’t deal with him anymore. We have to do something.” 

✂︎

“I would like to, once again, reiterate that I am 100% against this idea.”

“Shut up, Namjoon.” Namjoon grumbles something about being unappreciated, but continues to speak up.

“It’s a bad idea, Chim. Logically, there’s only a small chance this will work out in our favour, and if it doesn't, I’m at least certain that Yoongi will dislocate all of our limbs until we’re a pile of human flesh.” 

Jimin dismisses the thought. “Yoongi would never do that to us.” 

“Of course he would,” Taehyung piped up. “Do you remember the time he dyed my bright pink because I made fun of Y/n for her stupid heart patterned boots and she cried?” 10 pairs of eyes slowly looked up at Taehyung. 

“Well, that’s justified, we all want to murder you.” Taehyung gasps at Jin, who smiles back at him in return. 

“And also, you were being a huge asshole that day and you totally deserved it. The pink hair didn’t even look that bad.” Tae smiles proudly at Jimin. 

“That’s true, I fucking slayed with that pink hair. I kinda miss it, actually… ” He hums thoughtfully, scratching his chin. Jimin looks away and scoffs. Taehyung’s one of his oldest friends, but sometimes he gets a little too art-kid-college-dropout-hipster for him to handle. 

“Do you guys think I should dye my hair pink again?” Nobody answers his question. 

“Tae might be an absolute douchebag, but he has a point. We all know how protective Yoongi is over Y/n. Are you willing to potentially risk your life if this doesn’t work out?” Curse Namjoon for being logical. Maybe Yoongi killing him is a bit of a stretch, but he would make Jimin’s life a living hell if this operation ended up a failure. 

Nevertheless, he continues to insist. “Okay, what’s the worst that could happen? I physically can’t stand Yoongi stomping around the dorm because he’s emotionally incapable of working out his feelings anymore! Yesterday he fell asleep in my bed. My bed, Namjoon. For such a tiny man, he’s really fucking heavy, I couldn’t move him and had to crash on the couch for the night. If this doesn’t end up working, Yoongi will just go back home and mope around all day long. Nothing different from what he’s doing now.” 

“Um, what’s the worst that could happen?“ Namjoon asks incredulously. “How about if Yoongi finds out we tricked him, invites us to a murder mystery party, but then decides to kill us instead, and covers it up by burying our cold hard, deAD bodies in a highly unhygienic GRAVEYARD? What will you do if that happens, Jimin?“ 

“..........“ 

Nobody says anything to Namjoon, and the boys turn to Jimin once again. Shaking his head, and attempting to ignore... whatever the hell Namjoon just did, Jimin speaks. 

“Oh come on guys!” He shakes his shoulders and lightly taps his foot against the ground. “Aren’t you guys tired of dealing with these two dumbasses too?” A murmur of agreement seems to go around the group, and Jimin breaks into a huge smile. 

“Well, gee,“ Namjoon mumbles sarcastically. “Why don’t you just make a Namjoon Facebook hate group?“ Taehyung shushes him. 

Beside him, Jin and Jungkook are exchanging money, clearly for some kind of bet. What the bet entails, Jimin has no idea, but he doesn’t have the time to question them right now. 

“So, we’re in?” Everyone slowly begins to nod, all except Namjoon. Jimin beams, looking up expectantly at him. Namjoon bites his lip, and squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Fine.” He grumbles out, not acknowledging Jimin’s shouts of joy. “If this goes wrong though, you bitches better be fucking responsible.” 

“Well, I’m happy you’re all on board, because Hoseok is already here.” Jimin happily smiled up to find Hobi shuffling through the cafe doors, waving enthusiastically at him. He also decides to ignore the collective round of groans and ‘Jimin!’’s that went around the table. 

“Why did you even ask us for our opinions if you already planned this out anyway?” Jungkook hisses, awkwardly smiling at Hoseok.

“Because you guys can never say no to me!” 

“That’s only because of how fucking annoying you are, Chimmy.” Jin moves over in order to let Hoseok sit, even though he doesn’t look overjoyed at having to abandon his favourite seat. 

“Well, all of you look super happy to see me.” Hobi jokes, immediately picking up Namjoon’s milkshake to take a sip. 

“Sorry that you had to get dragged into all this bullshit, Hobi,” Namjoon says, pushing his milkshake towards him and sticking a second straw in the cup. 

“No problem! I love pissing Yoongi off!” The group slowly stares at Hobi, who is still cheerfully sipping at Joon’s milkshake. 

“Well,” Taehyung mutters. “What else do you enjoy doing in your spare time? Drowning yourself in lava?” 

“Taehyung, play nice. Some people are just special. Anyways, here is the plan for Operation: Delusional Idiots Who Need To Make Out.” 

“... Can’t we shorten that?”

“Yeah, seems pretty lengthy.”

“How about Operation: DIWNTMO? Like, pronounced as diwinteemo?”

“That’s… even worse, somehow.”

“Let’s just shorten it to Operation: Delusional Idiots.” 

Six voices, in the middle of the busiest cafe on the school campus, suddenly shout out the words ‘Operation: Delusional Idiots!’, and a cheer goes around the table. 

Onlookers wonder if they are referring to themselves. 

✂︎

In hindsight, Namjoon was probably right. But Jimin can be extremely convincing sometimes, and Jin takes every opportunity to throw a party, so maybe Namjoon was fighting a lost cause in the first place. 

He ponders what he wants his tombstone to say, while pacing around Jin’s apartment, where the party is already going on, full force. Maybe something like ‘Kim Namjoon (1994-2020) Murdered by Min Yoongi at a house party.’ Well, at least if he really does die tonight, it would be a good night for it. 

Namjoon has many complaints about Seokjin. He could probably pull up a never ending list of the girls and guys who have come complaining to him for his friend’s mistakes, screaming about how Jin broke their heart, so and so. But, even he has to begrudgingly agree, Kim Seokjin throws one hell of a party. 

It was one of those rare nights where you could actually make out the faint stars in the Seoul skyline, where the twinkling of the stars felt peaceful. Namjoon isn’t too much of a party person, but the monsters that he calls his friends go out every Friday night, pulling him along most of the time. He’s gotten used to just camping out on Jin’s fancy apartment balcony, (Seriously, what kind of college kid has a balcony?) avoiding the cheers, loud screaming and horribly unhygienic things that are happening inside. 

Unfortunately, thanks to Park Jimin and his horrible ideas, Namjoon is currently wincing in the middle of a huge crowd full of sweaty bodies. He regrets not faking a fever while he could, but it was way too late now. His job tonight was to keep Y/n preoccupied. 

“Remember Joonie, under no circumstances can Y/n see Yoongi before Hoseok completes the task. If she even sees a glimpse of him, she’s going to freak out and leave.”

His aforementioned target was nowhere to be seen. Namjoon is starting to worry that all their efforts will go to waste just because you decided it was another Friday to stay in bed and watch Disney movies on repea-

“wHOA!” Another sweaty hand pulls him out from the crowd, and Namjoon stumbles out, breathing heavily. 

“Why aren’t you out on the balcony?” 

“Why- what- oH! Y/n!” 

You stare blankly at Namjoon, who is still rubbing his arm in pain. 

“You came!” He says, with a look on his face that you can’t quite decipher. 

“What do you mean, I came? Of course I came! It was you and Jin who insisted I come, right?” You dragged him over to the makeshift bar that Jin had set up hours ago on his kitchen island, pouring the both of you strong drinks. You’ll need it to get through the night. 

“Right!” Namjoon awkwardly laughs and follows you into the kitchen, craning his neck to lock eyes with Jimin, who then gives him a thumbs up and leans over to whisper to Hoseok. 

“Y/n,” He says, patting your back when you start coughing lightly from the shot you just downed. “We’re friends no matter what, right?” 

“What are you talking about?” You cut him off, looking around Jin’s apartment. “Wow, it’s pretty empty today. Aren’t there usually like 50 people trying to get into one of these parties?” Luckily for Namjoon, who was almost sweating and about to cry trying to come up with an excuse to satisfy you, you ignored him and continued talking. 

“Whatever, it’s fine. The less, the better.” You’re still looking around the crowds when you grab a hold of Namjoon’s shoulders, turning him towards you. “Yoongi’s not here, right?”

“What? hahahHHAHAHA nO of course not!” 

“Oh okay,” You breathe out a sigh of relief. “I look terrible today, I would not be able to face him.”  

“You look great today! What do you mean…!” Hopefully you dismiss the bead of sweat trailing down from his temple. It is pretty hot in here. 

Apparently, it took multiple threats, to Yoongi’s coffee machine and lots of bargaining from Jimin to convince him to attend the party, but it seemed to have worked, considering that Namjoon could make out the dark figure of Yoongi, dressed in a black hoodie and ripped jeans in the corner of the room, chatting to Jungkook. His eyes, however, were riveted straight beside him, on Y/n. 

“They really are idiots.” Namjoon muses to himself. 

“Hm?” 

“Nothing.” 

From the corner of his eye, Taehyung is waving his arms around trying to catch his attention. He mouths something that Namjoon can’t quite make out, so he just mouths a ‘what?’ back at him and shakes his head. 

Namjoon can almost hear Taehyung sigh from across the room. 

You’re still pouring your second shot, so you don’t notice as Hoseok walks slowly from the living room. Namjoon has actually never seen his friends more concentrated on anything in his life. Even Seokjin, who was, just a second ago, dancing with some guy that Namjoon isn’t even sure he knows, has now pushed the stranger away, completely fixated on Y/n, who is blissfully oblivious to the attention focused on you. 

“Hey…!” Hoseok slowly slides in, real fucking smooth, if Namjoon could add, beside Y/n leaning on his forearm and smiling up towards her. Namjoon has to commend Jimin for the execution of Operation: Delusional Idiots. He’s honestly never seen Jimin put this much work into anything. 

Hoseok was the only mutual friend they knew of that Yoongi was familiar with, but not Y/n. Jimin said that he had considered Jackson for a short while, before realising that Jackson can’t talk to girls for shit. At least Hoseok can force his thoughts into some semblance of order when he’s flirting. 

“Oh! … Who,” You furrow your brows at Hobi, and Namjoon slowly backs away against the kitchen wall. “Are you?” Hobi laughs and spins around to face you. 

“I guess you don’t know me. I’m Jung Hoseok,” He sticks his hand out and you tentatively shake it, making him grin. “I’m friends with Namjoon.” He points up at Namjoon, and Joon awkwardly smiles, waving back at the pair. 

“Ohh,” You say, nodding. “Hi! Nice to meet you!” Sometimes Namjoon worries about you. You’re way too friendly and nice for your own good. 

“I’m a dance major, actually. You can call me Hobi, by the way.” He smiles at you and finally lets go of your hand. “Are you sure we’ve never met before?” You shake your head, murmuring incoherently. “No, I didn’t think so. I’d remember you if we met.” You giggle and push him aside playfully, offering him a drink. Hoseok accepts it with a smile even wider than the last. 

(Namjoon is now a little skeptical about Hoseok’s claims of flirting skill, but thankfully, you are, admittedly, a little stupid when it comes to this kind of stuff. You probably won’t even notice Hobi’s flirting with you at all.)

From the corner of the room, Yoongi’s deep gaze is now glaring deep into Hoseok’s back, but Hobi either seems to not notice or acknowledge it. He continues to stare at Y/n, laughing at whatever comes out of your mouth. 

“You’re a dance major? That’s so cool!” You gush, and if he didn’t know you so much, Namjoon would think that you were flirting back. No, you were just that naive. 

“- Thanks!” Hobi suddenly laughs at something that Namjoon didn’t manage to catch, but what he does catch is the look on Yoongi’s face when Hobi touches your forearm. 

Even Jungkook, who was talking to Yoongi, gulped and took a step back. Jin gestures something to Jimin, and Jimin shoots back an enthusiastic thumbs up. He then shouts something over to Namjoon, but he can’t quite hear over the loud party noise. 

 Based on his own mediocre lip-reading skills, he either said ‘It’s going well’ or ‘Jungkook smells’ He’s thinking maybe it’s the first. Namjoon slides away from the kitchen to join Jin, who is happily watching all of this unfold from the sidelines. 

“When do you think he’ll break?” Jin says, sipping on a bright blue drink that Namjoon doesn’t even want to know the contents of. He quickly glances over at Yoongi’s face, which is getting redder by the moment. 

“Anytime now. His glass is about to explode from his grip.” Sure enough, Namjoon predicted correctly. A few moments later, Yoongi begins to stalk over to the kitchen, and Jin clinks his bright blue monstrous concoction against Namjoon’s glass. Grumbling, Jungkook also comes over and slaps a $10 dollar bill into Jin’s palm, scowling when Jin smiles and accepts it. 

“Yeah, so a group of otters are actually called a romp, can you believe that- oomph!” Seemingly popping out of nowhere, Yoongi grabs a hold of your hand, glaring at Hobi. 

“Yoongi!” You squeak out. Namjoon, that fucking liar! He left you all by yourself with a new friend and didn’t even bother telling you the love of your life was in the very same room? You didn’t even wash your hair yesterday night! Well, at least someone finally listened to what you have to say about otters… say, that was a bit unordinary, nobody else has ever been interested in your otter fun facts before- 

Your trail of thought fades away when you look back up at Yoongi, who is still strangely looking at Hobi. “Um...” How is he holding you right now? He flinches away whenever you poke him on the shoulder, how is he holding your arm right now, completely unaffected? Oh. 

Of course Yoongi wouldn’t touch you willingly. He just has to be stupidly noble and moral and save you when you’re alone with a man he isn’t familiar with. “Oh, ah… Yoongi! This is my new friend, Hobi! You have nothing to worry about, I was just talking to him about otters and- oh, nevermind. Anyways, you don’t… have… to… hold my hand anymore.” Well, at least you can save him from the embarrassment of holding your hand any longer. 

“Yoongi, Yoon- Yoongi,” He doesn’t let go of your hand, even when you attempt to slip yours out of his. He seems to be gripping on, for a reason you can’t seem to comprehend. All he’s doing right now is maintaining eye contact with Hobi. Instead, he just glares into his eyes, repeating your words. 

“Friends. Friends?” 

“Yes, friends! Oh, ah, let me introduce you, um, Hobi, this is Yoongi, and Yoongi, this is-”

“Jung Hoseok. You call him Hobi?” 

“Well, yes- oh! Do you two know each other, or?” 

“Of course!” Hobi says, pouring another drink out. He stretches out his arm and offers the glass to Yoongi, but all he does is stare at the glass, not moving an inch. Still smiling brightly, Hobi just brought the glass to his lips, sipping on two separate drinks at a time. 

“Long time no see, man! Yoongi, how’ve you been?” Yoongi, still clutching onto your hand, stayed silent for a while, all while Hobi continued to smile. 

“I’m… fine.” He eventually chokes out. 

“Yoongi, are you okay? You seem really-” You’re once again interrupted when Yoongi pulls you away, stomping out the kitchen. You lean backwards, yelling out a quick apology to Hobi, but he doesn’t seem affected in the slightest. 

“Yoongi, you’re being rude! I said you don’t have to worry! Hobi is a new friend I met, he’s a friend of Namjoon’s, and we were just talking about otters-” 

“Why are you defending yourself?” Boy, you just keep on getting interrupted tonight. 

“Wha- huh?” Yoongi finally lets your hand go when he reaches the apartment door, shutting it closed, leaving it swinging in midair, even though he regretted it immediately after. You can still faintly hear the party going on through the door, but you had no time to process the fact that Yoongi just pulled you outside the party when he spoke up again. 

“I said, why are you defending yourself like that? You have no reason to. You’re acting like I just caught you cheating.” Yoongi’s voice turns faint towards the end of his sentence, and he looks down at his feet, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets. 

“I’m not defending myself! I’m just- I’m just, well, I-” You fumbled with your words, stuttering and fidgeting around with your fingers. Why were you defending yourself? It’s not like… Yeah, it’s not like you’re his girlfriend or anything. 

“You can talk about otters to whoever you want. You might want to change up your flirting tactics though, not many people can put up with your strange obsession with otters-”

“hEY!”

“- Anyways, Hoseok’s, not a bad man. He’s pretty great, actually,” Yoongi admits. “He’ll treat you well. And he seems to be super interested in you, so… ” Yoongi clears his throat. You narrow your eyes and look down at his shuffling feet. This is probably the most Yoongi has ever spoken to you, in private, anyway. Why is he so unbothered? And why does that bother you so much? He doesn’t even care a little bit? Does Hobi really seem like such a great guy? 

“You don’t care?” 

“No, just, you know, don’t get hurt, or whatever. I’ll have to murder him… Or something.” You let out a small laugh, but he doesn’t seem to be joking.  

“So, if I go straight back in and ask Hobi out, you wouldn’t mind?” You swear that a vein pops out from Yoongi’s neck, but perhaps it was just your imagination. 

“Why would I mind?” He says, through clenched teeth. 

“... You’re right. Why would you be mad? You don’t care about me anyways.” Something ticks in Yoongi’s jaw. 

“What do you mean I don’t care for you?” He blurts out, just as you were about to head back through the apartment door. 

“Oh no, please, it doesn’t bother me as much now, trust me. It’s fine, Some people just don’t… vibe with you, I get it! You don’t like me all that much, it’s okay! It’s not like you’ve hurt me or anything! You just don’t like talking to me because I’m kind of a dumbass, that’s alright. It’s okay to keep avoiding me. And again, I’m sorry for the whole elbow thing, you didn’t talk to me for like the next two weeks, and again, I totally understand, you know?” Yoongi stares at you, blinking in realisation. 

“So… you mean to tell me that all this time, you’ve thought that… I didn’t like you?”

“Well,” Now you’re blinking confusedly along with him. “Isn’t that… why you run away everytime I come over to hangout with Jimin?” Yoongi brings his hands out of his pockets and buries his face in them, groaning. 

“And that’s why you don’t like talking to me, right? And that one time I spoke to you and you went into the bathroom and screamed for like five minutes? … Do you not hate me?” A look of realisation floods his eyes, and Yoongi leans against the wall, slowly sinking down to the ground until he’s practically sprawled out on the floor. Staring aimlessly, he reaches up and grabs your hand again, pulling you down to face him. You let out a small squeak, but you crouch down on your feet, awkwardly looking at your right hand that Yoongi (!!!) is currently holding for the second (!!!!) time. 

“Forgive me, Y/n.” He whispers, dropping his head onto your hand. 

“Forgive you? What for? Yoongi this is a little dramatic, don’t you think? This is technically a public area, um, maybe you wanna go back to your dorm? I can call Jimin out here, I’m sure he’ll leave the party early, let me just-” He pulls you back and won’t let go, even when you try to stand and leave his grip. 

“Yoongi!” Like a child clutching onto his mother, he just sits there and pouts, not letting your hand go. 

“I’m sorry!” He wails, lightly kicking his feet up. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for being my emo self and avoiding you, I’m sorry for making you think I hate you when that really isn’t the case at all, I’m sorry for being an idiot and screaming whenever you touched me, I promise that none of that was ever your fault, because you must have felt so hurt and disgusted by me-” Yoongi suddenly looks up and glares at you. 

“Yah! Why didn’t you just slap me!”

“Slap… you?”

“Yes, slap some sense into me, you idiot! I was so mean to you, why didn’t you just tell me you were hurt?” 

“Well,” You said, smiling nervously. “I wasn’t hurt!”

“Yes you were!” He wails again. Some sort of strangled noise comes from the back of his throat. “You must’ve been really hurt, and I’m sorry! I don’t want you to be hurt! I don’t want you to date Hobi, and I don’t want to lose you, because I’m selfish, and I’m fucking stupid!”

You speechlessly opened your mouth and closed it again, like a fish. Well, that was a full 180. What is he talking about? Apologising? You had dealt with the uncomfortable small talk and denying your feelings for years only to have him apologise now? You finally manage to open your mouth and firmly say something, but what comes out of your mouth is certainly not what you planned to say. 

“Min Yoongi!” You yelled and watched him slightly tilt his head up. “How could you say that now!?” His head is fully up now, gazing at you slightly dazed. “How dare you mess with my feelings for the past two years, just to completely, unexpectedly, blurt all of this out outside of Seokjin’s shitty house party?” You cry, slouching down onto the ground and sitting cross legged. Your unoccupied hand reaches up to your hair, frustratingly running your hand through your messy locks. 

“... If it counts for anything, I think that your obsession with otters is really cute.” You sniffle, for no particular reason, and nod. 

“... Does that mean you like me then?”

“Y/n,” Yoongi sighs, taking your other hand out of your hair and placing it into his own. “Isn’t that obvious, you fucking dumbass?” 

“You’re kinda giving off mixed signals here.” Yoongi squishes your cheeks together in a brave act from an unusual burst of courage that he managed to somehow build up. 

“Y/n,” 

“Mmph- Yesh?” 

“I like you. I like you a lot. I’m sorry for being a dumbass who couldn’t ask you out, and I’m sorry I had to do this at Seokjin’s ‘shitty house party’, but I’d really like it if you would go on a date with me sometime.” 

Yoongi releases your cheeks from his grip when you stay silent for a small while, red slowly creeping up from the neck up to his ears. 

“I mean, you know, only if you want to, it’d be fine if all of that was just, you know… ” Yoongi mutters, gesturing around randomly. 

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Yoongi.” 

“Oh. Cool, that’s cool. That’s… yeah that’s cool.” 

“Text me the details?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll, I’ll do- I’ll do that.” 

You can hear a faint scream when you enter Seokjin’s apartment again, but instead of filling you with the insecure, horrible feeling like it once did, you just smile and giggle to yourself again. What you don’t seem to notice is Jimin, Jin, Joon, Tae, Jungkook and Hobi exchanging victorious glances across the room. 

(About a week later, Yoongi took you to the zoo for your date. He slightly regretted that decision after you spent an hour making faces at the otters.) 

[really-sleep-deprived-nerd]

40.5-Non-threatening employee

Warnings: Definetely-not-completely-human-Cecil and not sure if it should count as a warning but I started listening to WTNV recently and I am on episode 43 so Im not catched up to current events

Summary:

The city council reminds everyone that demons are, in fact, not real, Carlos gets an interviewed by StrexCorp and Cecil would never under any circumstances go on a bloody rampage to exterminate every single employee of StrexCorp if they so much as touched a single perfect and soft hair of Carlos's head, no sir.

This episode was co-written with my sleep deprivation. Weather: The villain I appear to be (Annapantsu's cover) Written by Roma

In the face of our meaningless existence, being certain that death will sooner or later will come for us, what can a human do except to dream and to hope and to create?

Welcome to Night Vale

Listeners, you would not believe what a little birdie just told me, and by little birdie I obviously refer to intern Dave who turned into a talking sparrow after last friday's events that we are not allowed to talk about or remember.

He told me that our wonderful and generous owners, Strexcorp, decided that they will be interviewing dear beautiful Carlos today, to see if he would be a nice addition to their company or if he should...stop existing...

Oh, but not to worry, dear listeners, I know Strexcorp will realize soon enough that while perfectly imperfect Carlos cannot be bought, that is to say, wouldn't be a good fit for their company, obliterating him into nothingness would be a very, very stupid idea.

And as we all know Strexcorp, in their all-encompassing glory, does not have nor follows through very, very stupid ideas, and as I am saying this, I am looking straight at Daniel from management's eyes, who seems to be looking the tiniest bit nervous and afraid for reasons I cannot fathom but nevertheless I have a vague feeling are justified.

Just a hunch,  though. Nothing else.

Ah, Daniel seems to now be shaking as he desperately calls for Lauren to come to him. She has now arrived,  looking angry at being called away from whatever important task she was doing. Wordlessly he points at me and she looks into the booth. I smile at her and, if my teeth seem sharper than normal, I am certain it just a trick of the light, nevertheless she pales slightly but reassures Daniel that everything is fine and under control. Daniel clings to her arm and refuses  to let her leave.

Anyway, listeners, leaving this whole confusing interaction aside, the City Council wanted to remind you that: Demons arent real, especially demons that were created after some members of the City Council may or may not have realized inhumane experiments on one of old woman Josie's angels, who, they would like to emphasize, are NOT real either. Diana, the all-powerful shapeshifting demon that appeared yesterday disoriented in the parking lot behind the city council, is not, in fact, a demon, she is merely a foreigner shapeshifter that they encourage us to welcome into our town not because of an incomprehensible amount of guilt after what they did to her, but because she seems like a nice gal who, they think, will be a lovely addition to our town.

I, for one, will be happy to receive Diana with open arms, even if I will not be as enthusiastic as our local immortal sorceress,  Selena, who, upon seeing Diana, started waxing poetic about how her black skin made out of the void contained and reflected unknowable galaxies and was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and about how her three eyes shined brighter than the moon and seemed to contain the universe’s most wonderful secrets and that she wouldn’t mind getting lost in them for the rest on eternity.

Ah, young love, isn't it wonderful?

In other news-Oh? What an... interesting development, listeners. Carlos has just texted me saying he loves me and that if he can't come to our date tonight that I should try to forget he ever existed with the minimal amount of mourning possible, as he doesn’t want to make me feel bad.

Mmh.

Going back to what I was saying before for a second, I say while looking at Lauren and Daniel who seem to now both be trembling in fear for no reason at all, Diana has been found to say, after Selena's never ending compliments and soft hands that hold her like she was something precious, that she might had Selena for only a day and a half, but if anything irreversibly bad happened to her, she would burn the whole of Night Vale to the ground in a search for bloody revenge, wanting to exterminate every single being responsible for harming her beloved. 

And that is a sentiment all of us that are lucky enough to be with someone can relate to, isn't it? While it is true that I had my beloved Carlos for far longer than a day and a half, that is still a sentiment that I can relate to very strongly.

Very strongly, indeed.

And now, The Weather.

Welcome back, dear listeners, Carlos just texted me telling me to disregard his last message and informed me that everything is fine now, the StrexCorp executives that were interviewing him received a call and suddenly decided that, even if he wasn't useful to them, he apparently wasn't worth the trouble of a vaporizing weapon and left him alone and unharmed.

In unrelated news, briefly before Carlos texted me, Lauren came by looking sickly pale and dropped a paper on my desk before getting out of the recording booth quickly, probably worried she would be interrupting the broadcast, how sweet and thoughtful of her!

The paper -in case any of you is curious- is a warning telling me that I am by contract not allowed to physically intimidate or otherwise put the fear of God on any of my superiors, which is a silly warning, really, I would never do that! 

Gosh, could you imagine me trying to intimidate someone? Me, with my glasses and a purple vest that has a pattern of kitty paws all over it? That's hilarious!

And on this lighthearted note, I must leave you, dear listeners, so I can go home and watch that nifty documentary Carlos and I have been meaning to watch for weeks now.

Good night, Night vale.

Good night.

[screamingintp]

more about my mc

this is a mess, please don’t read it unless you’re interested in what i come up with when i’m sleep deprived and creating my first rp character

https://character-resource.deviantart.com/art/Big-Ass-Character-Sheet-Updating-167182524 but i cut out a buncha shit

welcome to hell(or the place in which I can’t capitalize for shit and curse too much and am vague but that’s honestly my personality in general)

Full Name: Mark Knox

Meaning: Mark, derived from Martkos(Roman), related to the war god, Mars. Knox, derived from cnoc(Scottish), meaning hillock.

Origin: made it up on the spot because planning is for cowards

Signature: illegible letters - MKX

Gender: male

Orientation: pan(i wrote pam and don’t regret it)-aro

Blood: three-quarters pure, half blood father

Birthday: 6-6

Deathday: (May not have one yet)(oh gee, did you not expect me to have a day of death?)(well, i don’t)

Astrological Sign: Gemini(fun fact: Draco’s the only Gemini on the wiki)(why is this relevant)(astrology is weird as all hell)

____

Immediate Family: Jacob Knox(brother)

Distant Family: Shay Knox(mother), Clark Knox(father)

Parenting: non-existent

Upbringing(morals and ideals): considering he was raised by a person only a few years older than him, during the period of Voldemort’s rule, he is less screwed up than he could’ve been. However, he still possesses a rather vague and undefined sense of right and wrong - using his logic to bypass any sort of regrets if it blocks him from his goal

Infancy: (dropped at birth is an option and i’m living for it)

Childhood: that one kid who lit ants on fire and was ‘rebellious’ (you know that post about america being the asshole kid with neglectful parents? That’s the one)

Adolescence: canon

Adulthood: never. He hasn’t even gotten taller

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Species: hooman

Preferred Hand: ambidextrous(he keeps injuring his hands)

Facial Type: like a face, why is this - oval, i guess

Eye Color: dark brown

Hair Color (Self Explanatory)(it isn’t when his hair is grey/silver/white)(the kid probably bleached his already pale hair)(he probably likes the smell of bleach)

Hairstyle: fringe-up

Complexion: blushes easily, relatively smooth unless you look at the cuts and bruises and scars on his arms, back and legs

Body Type: ectomorph

Build: skinny arms and legs, he isn’t the most physically fit and regularly damages his body due to his complete lack of care for his own safety

Height: 65 in

Weight: 120 lb

Shoe Size: (Shoe size doesn’t matter)(goddamnit i forgot this was an innuendo)(keep it pg, please)

Birthmarks/scars: no birthmarks, and has tons of ugly marks all over him, none of them particularly remarkable

Distinguishing Features: the contrast between his eye color and hair color - but other than the hair, he doesn’t have a memorable face

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Health: as healthy as a wizard without impulse control and emotional support could be

Energy: swings from highs and lows without any pattern

Memory: remembers the small stuff, the negative parts - forgets about major ideas or lessons

Senses: heavily relies on eyes, can’t taste for shit

Allergies: (Self Explanatory. May be optional.)(i mean, i would put animals, but we have transfiguration)

Medication: needs some, doesn’t take any

Phobias(irrational fears):

Symmetrophobia(fear of symmetry, an unnatural-looking but normal occurrence, which isn’t debilitating, but causes him stress and uneasiness)

Siderophobia(fear of the stars, the idea that there’s so much out there that he doesn’t know of is pretty awful and, again, while it isn’t going to freeze him up, it will cause him to become upset)

Addictions: none yet

Mental Disorders: undiagnosed

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Style: couldn’t care less about appearance  - he wears the school robes most of the time

Mode of Dress: doesn’t have a particular taste, as long as it’s passable, it’s fine - tends to wear a size or two larger

Grooming: somewhere in between messy and neat

Posture: he displays an air of aloofness and confidence - almost condescending in stance

Gait: quickly and efficiently - it’s brisk at his slowest

Coordination: not physically fit at all, he’s too reckless for that - exercises to the point of exhaustion without realizing that it’s detrimental to do so and has limbs flying all over the place

Habits and Mannerisms: taps his foot or fingers when excited, nervous, or anything that deviates from his usual ‘cool’ facade

Scent: earth, smoke, and grass - faint but noticeable

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Mood: ‘calm’ - probably plotting though

Attitude: he’s charismatic and charming until you dig deeper

Stability: hA

Expressiveness: can act like he’s wearing his heart on his sleeve but can never fully give his true thoughts

When Happy: smirks - invades personal space and slows down

When Depressed: smiles - talks louder and speaks faster

When Angry: (trolls online is an option and if that isn’t Mark, i don’t know what is) smirks - wide eyes and tense hands

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Friends: Rubeus Hagrid - but not really

Enemies: Rita Skeeter - but not really

Bosses: Filius Flitwick - but not really

Followers: not even himself

Heroes: Filius Flitwick - “short people are closer to hell and he’s gonna whoop my ass if I do anything stupid”

Rivals: Ismelda - “for most edgy teen”

Relates to: Dumbledore - impersonal but seemingly close, full of contradictions and ulterior motives

Pets/Familiars: does his jar of bug bodies count?

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Wardrobe: mostly consisting of Hogwarts robes, formal robes, and the identical grey-blue sweater and jeans

Equipment: carries a wand and a pencil(but not paper, because he has problems)

Accessories: a single dangling silver piercing on his right ear(family tradition)

Trinkets: carries hair ties on his wrist all the time(why? He doesn’t even know)

Funds: his family is relatively well off, being a respected branch of purebloods

Home: almost like his personality, warm and nice on the outside, cozy on the inside, but dead silent and empty when no one looks - not large but not small either, seeming normal by all accounts if you don’t look into any of the rooms(jacob’s windows are taped shut and Mark broke through the locked door that connected their bedrooms)

Neighborhood: the woods

Transportation: running because stamina apparently is infinite in this world

Collections: bug bodies, herbs, and lighters

Prized Possession: his wand, after seeing Jacob’s broken one

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Lovers: yeet

Marital Status: yeet

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Experience: works in the three broomsticks in his off time to get experience and money, nothing serious

Organizations/Affiliations: changeable, he doesn’t plant many roots or make any long-term promises

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Education: i mean, Hogwarts. But is it even ‘education’?

School: (What was their school like?) bitch this is Hogwarts

Social Stereotype: “least favorite cursed student”

Intelligence: mostly interpersonal, linguistic and logical

Extracurricular Activities: would do theater if given the chance

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Morals: don’t exist - but he honestly has a problem with reasoning his way into committing seriously wrong deeds

Crime Record: hasn’t been caught yet ;)

Motivation: adrenaline, change - nothing truly meaningful or satisfying

Priorities: knowledge, humans, self

Philosophy: gen z nihilism

Etiquette: usually practices ‘correct’ etiquette - does not give a fuck if his behaviour offends someone though

Influences: everything and anything he finds intriguing

Traditions: tries to run away from them, always moving and staying ahead of the past

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Career: spell-inventor or wand-maker/seller

Desires: uncertain

Accomplishments: undetermined

Biggest Failure: failing Jacob

Secrets: his manipulative side, his genuinely mean streak and the fact that he regrets having those traits

Regrets: a shit ton of things

Worries: Jacob, being nothing in the grand scheme of things, being a hypocrite, betrayal, a shit ton of things

Best Dream: having a greater purpose

Worst Nightmare: dying alone and being left behind as a ghost

Best Memories: finding his brother’s secret room, meeting Billingsley

Worst Memories: losing his brother, lying to his teachers, accidentally calling Chester: Jacob

_______

Hobbies/Interests: explore the wilderness, identify flora and fauna, observing other people

Skills/Talents: pyromancy, charms in general, debating, acting, singing

Likes: mint, sharpies, fire

Dislikes: himself, close-minded people, pity

Sense of Humor: sarcastic, self-deprecating, relatively dark

Pet Peeves: the guy scratching his quill the wrong way in the front row whenever they write essays

Dreams/Nightmares: doesn’t dream usually - when he does, it’s usually flashes of color and abstract black and white shapes

Quirks: can’t sit on the fucking couch correctly

Understands: how people think, the reason they fail, mistakes

Can't understand: quidditch, values, structure

Closet Hobby: burning shit(though that isn’t really a hidden thing with him)

_________

Strengths: charismatic, diplomatic, quick-witted, inwardly caring, able to understand his flaws, patient, logical, able to read other people

Flaws: lies often, manipulative, lazy, lenient, passive, harsh, inconsiderate, enjoys pushing people’s buttons, doesn’t understand people

Perception of others: beautiful, incomprehensible, vast

Instincts: wants approval(deems it irrational)

Lures: leadership roles, secrets, problems

Soft Spot: innocence but not ignorant, optimism

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Ability: capable if he puts his mind to it - employs unpredictable and risky techniques instead of having a fear of consequences

Weaknesses: stubborn opponents - he expects change and gets caught off guard when someone seems set in their ways

Patronus: non-corporeal

Boggart: fire(irony i guess is easy to use when you don’t have anything else)

Wand: spruce, phoenix feather, 12”, springy

Amortentia: lime, smoke, sharpies

House: Ravenclaw(that post about the kid wanting to be put in Ravenclaw since ppl will trust you but got in Slytherin)

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Favorite Color(s): grey, blue

Favorite Animal(s): swedish short snout

Favorite Drink(s): coffee and soda(probably together because he can’t function like a normal person)

Favorite Genre: mystery or myths

Favorite Subject(s): charms(Flitwick is the man) and divination(where you can bs your way through anything)

Least Favorite Color(s): black, white

Least Favorite Animal(s): flies

Least Favorite Drink(s): does soup count? Because he does drink it in a cup

Least Favorite Genre: manuals and biographies

Least Favorite Subject(s): flying(impulsive idiot) and care of magical creatures(he’s a screw up around animals)

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Languages: english and he taught himself some Latin

Voice: average in tone, a bit nasally, rather forgettable except for the speed

Greetings and Farewells: doesn’t

Ask your character "how are you": yes.

Character tries to compliment: you have eyes, your name is ___

Tries to insult: passive-aggressively drags a person

Expletive: damn(dam)(loopholes, my friends)

Laughter: snorting, definitely not normal

Tagline: ___, yeah?

________

Reputation: other than the whole ‘brother’ problem, is relatively well-liked

First Impressions: charming, confident guy

Stranger Impressions: a bit loud but not strange

Friendly Impressions: goddamnit Mark, shut up

Enemy Impressions: please keep talking so we’re allowed to punch you in the face

Familiar Impressions: ah yes, the hair pops up from time to time

Compliments from others: bright, energetic, optimistic, honest

Insults: dangerous, unstable, chaotic

Self-Impression: am shit

_________

Compare to: forest fire(destructive and necessary for change)

Symbols: flames, ashes, duality