#it's so funny because I did Not like this motherfucker when I first started playing Monark

[derpu-doodles]

(pats the top of his head) this guy can fit So Much Sadness in him

whoops I popped off in the tags

[hemmingshouse]

you’re not my pizza / chris sturniolo

summary: chris had always felt a hatred towards you ever since you two met. little did you know that after your outburst he would finally come to his senses.

warnings: enemies to lovers (sorta?), cursing, yelling, angst, sappy!chris

pt. 2

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“this is what i told you all about!” you exclaimed happily as you finally found the tiktok you’d been searching for ever since you stepped foot into the sturniolo house hold. you found a tiktok trend you thought the boys would love to do and made it your mission to find the video to show them. “it’s gonna be so fuckin’ funny.”

chris was sat across from you at the kitchen island whilst matt and nick were on both sides of you. you straightened your arms so the two brothers were able to see what was going on. when you three giggled it caused chris to roll his eyes, shaking his head as he internally told himself to shut up instead of making a snarky remark about how annoying you and your unhealthy tiktok obsession were. you slid your phone towards chris with some hesitation, the guy never really checking the video your tiktok played on repeat.

“nah, i feel like we could actually nail that,” matt chuckled as he watched his younger brother, nick wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he patted your head in an agreement to matt’s statement. “chris? are you in?”

the youngest of three looked up from where he was texting away on his phone, unbothered with what you all just talked about and the way the video played on a loop right in front of him. he sighed, “if this is about that stupid tiktok idea of hers, i’m not doing it.”

nick scoffed and raised his eyebrows, “excuse you?” he started as he sat up straight, “drop that attitude motherfucker, at least she’s coming up with ideas whilst you’re sitting here doing absolutely nothing.”

it had always been easy getting along with matt and nick ever since you met them. you met nick in the local park nearby your house when he struggled to get the right angle for his new pictures and asked you to help him out. when you showed him the ones you took, he swore on his life that nobody besides you or his two brothers could take his instagram pictures.

matt showed you around the neighbourhood the first time he hung out with you after nick had told him you moved down from boston to la to persue your art career and didn’t really know anybody just yet. he drove you around, loving the way you two bonded over your love for root beers and pepperoni pizza. matt always found it fascinating to hear your stories about boston because your lives were so similar yet so different. it was crazy how you only lived in the same state and only a few blocks down the road from the sturniolo household, but never crossed paths once.

chris, on the other hand, was another story. because matt and nick took so much interest in their newest friend and tried to build up a good and healthy friendship with you, they sometimes spent less time with chris. he always declined tagging along in the beginning, being satisfied with the alone time and how quiet the house was without his two brothers, but when they started to bring you to their house he switched moods instantly.

you weren’t really sure why chris despised you as much as he did. you often let the boys be and did your own thing, yet chris was always nagging about how his brothers rarely ever spent time with him anymore. you tried to bail out of today as well as the previous time, but matt was already in your driveway to pick you up when you tried to cancel.

it was times like these where you weren’t fazed with anything chris had to say. somehow and some way, that kid always tried to get under your skin and you always let him because you were scared his brothers were going to pick his side and drop you instantly.

but this time, you’ve had enough. you narrowed your eyes at chris as he looked almost proud of himself for spitting out another nasty remark. you ticked your head to the side before speaking up. “you’ve been yapping all fucking day and running your mouth, yet you fail to come up with something that actually makes sense? or something that’s gonna benefit you and your brothers. don’t fucking talk to me like that.”

matt’s mouth dropped and nick let out a yell at your comeback, slapping his hands over his mouth as he looked back and forth between you and chris. the smirk on chris’s lips turned into a thin line, his fingers creating a dent into the pepsi can he was currently holding because of how infuriated you got him by running your mouth.

“what the fuck was that?” he spoke up, eyebrows raised cockily as he leaned forward onto the marble kitchen island. “didn’t you learn to be quiet when it’s not your turn to talk?”

nick was gonna shut his brother’s behaviour down by stepping in and getting a word in, but you shot him a quick look not to. you turned your head back to meet a cold gaze, grin dancing on chris’s lips. “didn’t you learn to say thank you when someone tries to sort out your shit? you’re a fucking asshole and quite frankly, i’m fucking done with how you’re treating me.”

you stepped down from the high bar stool and grabbed your phone off the counter from where matt placed it back in front of you after saving the tiktok video you spent ages searching for after chris didn’t take a single look at it.

“y/n..” matt spoke up quietly, grasping your hand in his when you tried to reach for your house keys. “i’m sorry he’s such a shitface. please stay?”

“he can never help but be an egocentric little shithead when he doesn’t get his way,” nick spoke up disappointingly, running a hand through his hair as he took a look at their youngest brother. “i can’t believe your pathetic ass.”

you shook your head and sent matt an apologetic smile, squeezing his hand quickly before reaching for your purse that hugh from the bar stool. “i was never gonna get through his thick skull to begin with.”

“oh look, she’s walking away from confrontation again!” chris exclaimed as he shook his head in disbelief and sat back in his chair. he earned a smack on the back of the head from nick and a middle finger and deep, disappointed sigh from matt.

“luckily for you, i won’t ever step a foot into this house when you’re in it. you fucking win, christopher. i can’t be fucked with your bullshit anymore.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it must’ve been a week and a few days since you left the sturniolo household in a rush to get to your uber before anyone noticed you were sobbing your eyes sore on the way out. matt offered to drive you home, but you didn’t want him to get into a fight with chris for choosing your side.

you hated the way chris put you down every time, the way his face would scrunch up in pure disgust whenever you’d say or do something he wasn’t a fan off. you couldn’t brush it off anymore, it had gotten too much.

you just submitted an essay for your art course and decided you’d order yourself a pizza and watch a few episodes of your favourite show to try and relax a little. his words were glued inside your brain and it was hard to not think about them, they truly broke your heart. finding comfort in your favourite food and show seemed like a good thing right now.

matt and nick profusely apologised for their brother’s behaviour. matt had told you they both wouldn’t speak to him until chris came to his senses and would apologise to you. both of you were aware that was a big thing because he despised your guts - why would he ever apologise?

nick was on another level. he had ditched every single plan he and chris made the past few days, just so his brother was able to feel what it felt like to be downgraded the way he did with you. nick’s stubbornness surely made you feel a bit better, but it made you feel a bit torn. even if chris was a major asshole to you, you didn’t want the bond he had with his brothers to get abandoned because of you.

a knock on the stoor caused you to slip out of the trance you were in. you sighed softly and put yourself together before walking towards your front door to collect your doughy pepperoni pizza.

you swung the door open and plastered the smallest smile on your face, one that immediately fell when you saw him standing in the door frame. a sigh fell from your mouth, not wanting to deal with his shit right now. “you’re not my pizza.”

chris bit the inside of his cheek, knowing you were going to get grumpy when he interrupted your peaceful evening. “uhm- no- i’m not no,” he coughed, shaking his head. “hey uhm- i felt the need to apologise.”

you narrowed your eyes, “is that because you’re actually sorry or because you want your brothers to treat you normally again?” you asked him sternly, noticing how his hands slid into the pockets of his black joggers as he rocked back and forth onto his feet.

“i acted like an asshole,” he stated with a nod, “i’ve- like always been an asshole towards you and i’m truly sorry for making you feel the way i always did,” chris spoke softly, “look y/n- we’re so similiar in too many ways and i- i don’t know, it’s just scary to think i’m replaceable.”

“have you been practicing this in the mirror or something? it’s coming out a lil’ too rehearsed,” you yold him seriously, although there was the slightest teasing hint in your voice. “what do you mean by too similar?”

chris was surprised when you stepped out of the way to let him into your apartment, clearing his throat as he took off his converse near the front door. “we share the same interests, have the same fucked up sense of humour and we always yap everyone’s ears off,” he rambled on as you lead him towards the living room, “whenever- i’m- when you’d be at our place i’d always feel a bit left out,” he scratched the back of his neck, “you’re such a fun person to be around and- i don’t know, it felt like matt and nick chose you over me sometimes. i know that’s not your fault at all now, but i took it out on you because that- fuck- that was just the easiest way to deal with it.”

his words caused your heart to break a little. the frown on his face, scrunched up eyebrows and a hurtful look in his eyes made you feel so guilty for being so unaware of this all. you sat him down on the couch, clearing your throat.

“i’m so sorry you feel that way, chris,” you spoke softly, fiddling with the ring in your middle finger, “that was never my intention to begin with. i always hung out with y’all because i found you interesting - like matt and nick always told me we’d get along so well and i find it sad we never truly got around to actually hanging out because you always brushed me off so fucking hard.”

the brunette nodded his head, “i know,” he agreed, “i now know i should’ve gotten to know you before i came to a conclusion. i feel so stupid and i’m so so sorry, i can’t begin to understand how fucked up i made you feel.”

the way he was nervously fidgeting with the material of his joggers and how he ran his hand through his hair three times in the past minute made you realise that he couldn’t be more genuine than he was right now. you made a mental note to thank matt and nick for putting some sense into him as well, but the anxious boy on your couch was now your main priority.

“it’s alright chris,” you smiled softly as you reached forward to brush your thumb across his knuckles in a hope it would calm him down slightly, “thanks for apologising and coming here to explain yourself.”

he chuckled, “matt and nick not talking to me made me think about every encounter we had and i must say - i was kinda proud of you for sticking up for yourself last week.”

it caused you to let out a laugh before chris hesitantly turned his hand so your palms lay flat against each other’s. you were able to see he was trying to figure out if what he was doing was too much or not, so you took it upon yourself to tangle your fingers together with his. “really?” you shook your head with a smile, “was about damn time i scolded at your for being a fucking dick.”

chris laughed and nodded his head in agreement, softly brushing a thumb across your knuckles as a soft rosy blush spread onto his cheeks. you figured it was because you had never been this close before - this being the first time he actually felt physical contact from you. it caused a tingle to run up your spine as chris watched your every move.

chris found it important to read your body language to know if he was crossing the line with you - this new type of friendship making him wonder if it was okay for him to grab your hand or pull you in a friendly hug. he had never found himself wondering what it would be like to be this close to you, your breath fanning his lips and his knee brushing your bare one.

“i’m happy you did,” he spoke up, voice quiet, “we wouldn’t have been here if you didn’t.”

the way your eyes were darting back and forth between his lips and his eyes made your heartbeat race faster than you could ever recall. you weren’t sure why you suddenly felt so fucking attracted to him, but chris showing his vulnerable side must have ignited something in you.

his free hand reached upwards to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, fingertips softly grazing your cheek. you leaned into his touch while keeping eye contact with him, noticing how he hesitantly started leaning in a bit more. “you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, hand sliding down to cup your jaw and a thumb running across your soft lips.

you let out a shaky sigh, feeling yourself get worked up with the way chris was holding your face and keeping eye contract throughout it all. it felt surreal to have him this close after all you two encountered, but it also felt extremely good to let go of the hatred you felt for him - ready to have so many other feelings towards the youngest sturniolo.

“if you want me to stop, i suggest you do it now,” he inhaled sharply, “i don’t know if i can stop after i start.”

his words caused your head to spin as his free hand now cupped the other side of your jaw, thumbs resting on your cheeks. you closed your eyes for a few seconds before you looked at him again, “i don’t want you to stop, chris.”

the way you finally called him by his nickname more than once today made him feel all giddy inside as you usually only called him christopher or the occasional motherfucker when you were pissed at him.

he quickly licked his lips as he felt your fingers curl around his wrists, nose lightly nudging yours to test the waters slightly. when he noticed your breath hitch in your throat, chris knew you wanted it as much as he did.

his lips brushed yours every so slightly, loving the way your lip balm slightly got smudged because of his actions. chris was about to deepen the kiss by fully pressing his lips to yours, but got rudely interrupted when the doorbell rang.

he let out a groan and it caused you to giggle, still holding onto his wrists. “i reckon you’re staying over for dinner then?”



✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

do we do a smutty part two? ;)

[science-lings]

Something that I think about a lot is how Phoenix's reputation evolves, because he starts out as the kid with no friends who would stand up to him, to the puppylike college student who got acquitted of the murder of another student and immediately changed the course of his life to become a lawyer, to the guy who interns under one of the greatest defense attorneys since Gregory Edgeworth, to the guy who took over her practice and defeated the demon prosecutor in one fell swoop, the guy who took down the powerful CEO guy who literally blackmailed a bunch of people to suicide and killed a woman with his own hands to keep the truth from getting out and Phoenix went after him in his first case that he took by himself.

The guy who confronted the mafia (twice?) and was the one defense attorney to take the case of said demon prosecutor to go against another unbeatable unethical prosecutor and he did it with a parrot and a single piece of evidence. He defended the chief prosecutor and took down the corrupt chief of police and that's just the first game.

Imagine the press following this guy. You know when you attend a trial where Phoenix is the defense there's going to be some Crazy Shit going on. He will leave his current trial to interrupt another trial and he gets popular enough that someone impersonates him and to the point where an assassin blackmails him into taking a case and this motherfucker still tricks them into incriminating themselves. He exorcises a ghost who has a personal vendetta against him in court and by the end of the trilogy is really well known for the most mindblowing crazy shit and then it all comes crumbling down like two months later.

The most sensational defense attorney is dethroned and adopts his disappearing defendant's daughter and I like to think that when he gets involved with underground poker and starts toeing the line between the criminal world and the one he knows he discovers that he has a reputation there already too. You cannot tell me guy who kind of made friends with Viola Cadaverini is not on the mafia's radar at least somewhat. He got Dee Vasquez arrested and was the one guy not afraid to poke at people associated with Cadaverini, who the entire police force won't dare touch.

it just wouldn't be surprising to me if he unknowingly garnered some street cred, especially if he's seen around Kristoph and Edgeworth, a guy who calmly makes sure he never loses his cases and someone who literally has a reputation as a demon. I just think it would be so funny if people were a little afraid of beanix, just because of what he's heard about him. He's never been violent or anything, but he's dangerous in much less tangible ways. He builds a vibe around him that makes him seem kinda threatening even if there's no proof that he's ever retaliated against anyone.

He stays calm even when he's being put on trial for a murder and in the courtroom there's a feeling that everything is being played like a game to him. He should be in the most vulnerable position but he's entirely in control. He's been an undefeated poker player for seven years and no one but his daughter can even guess about what he's thinking.

Just... the outward mysterious act and infamous reputation that grows beyond Phoenix's control that makes it when he gets back into law kind of hilarious when you think about it. The guy everyone was a little nervous around in the basement of a russian bar/restaurant is now a lawyer again and the first thing he does is defend an orca. The publicity around this guy has to be insane in combination with the whispers in the shadows. It is simply funny to me.

[syoish-aot]

"I Found You (too)" - EREN/READER - REINCARNATION AU (chapter 3)

eren/reader

reincarnation & memory loss

rating: M (16+)

cw: hospitalization, attempted nonconsensual drugging

word count: 3135

**I've got music in this part again (because I love writing scenes to music), so make sure you've got Please, Please, Please by Sabrina Carpenter at the ready because the scene is much better if you're listening along.

<- CH 2 | CH 4 ->

“Hey Armin.”

“What’s up?

“You know how you told me that she-... that she’s not from our first life?”

Even though the phone pressed to his ear, Eren could still hear Armin take a quick breath. “Y-Yeah.” His friend stuttered. 

“Well um-... Well, I think we were wrong…”

Your eyes finish slowly moving around the unfamiliar bedroom and, once you feel like you’ve properly taken it all in, you get out of bed.

You slowly walk towards the partly open bedroom door and peek your head out, curious to see what your home looks like in the light of day.

From your spot in the doorway, you can see a large couch. There’s a pillow on it and a blanket, messily thrown over the back. A coffee table with scattered pieces of paper and a chipped tea cup. One side of the wall has a large window and a balcony, which is the source of most of the light.

From another room, just across from the couch, you can hear shuffling.

Sizzling. 

Feet against tile and music playing. There’s a voice, just barely audible as he hums along to the melody on the radio.

(at least you assume it’s a radio)

You can’t help slowly creeping towards the kitchen so you can watch. It’s Mr. Kruger. He’s standing in front of the stove and holding a spatula in one hand, with a small black cat in the other. He flips a pancake, bouncing to the beat of the music as he rocks the cat back and forth in his arms.

A smile spreads across your face as he starts to mumble the words to the unfamiliar song:

I know I have good judgment, I know I have good taste.

It's funny and it's ironic that only I feel that way,

I promise 'em that you're different and everyone makes mistakes

But just don't-

The kitten reaches up to boop his nose, so Mr. Kruger looks down at it.

I heard that you're an actor, so act like a stand-up guy

Whatever devil's inside you, don't let him out tonight

I tell them it's just your culture and everyone rolls their eyes

Yeah, I know

All I'm asking, baby~

Suddenly, he holds the spatula like a microphone:

Please Please Please

Don't prove I'm right!

You notice that the cat he’s holding is missing an eye.

And please, please, please

Don't bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice

He kisses its forehead.

Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another.

I beg you, don't embarrass me, motherfucker

oh~

Mr. Kruger places the cat on the counter and taps its nose along to the beat:

Please Please Please!

Next to the first cat is a second. This one is orange and white and almost triples the other one in size. Mr. Kruger scratches it under its chin before he continues to sing, this time slightly louder with more confidence, as if he’s completely oblivious to his surroundings and the fact that he’s being watched.

And we could live so happily if no one knows that you're with me I'm just kidding, but really, really, really-

The spatula becomes his microphone again.

Please, Please, Please

Don't prove I'm right~

The cat that had woken you up stumbles into the kitchen and rubs against Mr. Kruger’s leg.

And please, Please, Please,

Don't bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice!

He crouches down to pet the cat’s head. 

Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another,

I beg you, don't embarrass me, Motherfucker, oh~

The cat lets out a happy ‘mrr’ as Mr. Kruger scoops it up into his arms and dramatically holds it up in the air. Its three limbs dangle uselessly at its side.

If you wanna go and be stupid Don't do it in front of me~

He lowers the cat to cuddle it to his chest.

If you don't wanna cry to my music Don't make me hate you prolifically~

“Mrr.” The cat says again before it looks across the room at you. 

Please, please, please,

Mr. Kruger sings.

Please, please, please,

He tilts his head to the side.

Please,

He follows the cat’s line of sight

Please,

He sees you.

please, pl-

“Ah!” Mr. Kruger jumps, dropping his spatula to the floor as his face suddenly burns bright red. The cat jumps from his arms and stumbles to land on account of its missing back leg.

It wobbles as it runs past you out of the kitchen while the last few notes of the song ring out. Mr. Kruger is left completely frozen.

You press your hand to your lips and hold back a laugh.

Then the fire alarm goes off and the kitchen fills with smoke.

“So it’s… a radio then?” You ask as you flip around the strange device that Mr. Kruger had been listening to his song. It’s smooth like glass but it isn’t heavy enough to be a solid piece. 

“That’s one thing you can use it for, yeah.” Mr. Kruger explains as he holds out his hand and you give him back the phone (which was a strange thing for him to call, considering it looked nothing like a phone). “It’s also a camera.” He explains as he clicks one of the buttons on the side and suddenly you’re looking right through the device to the floor.

“Woah!” You exclaim, excitedly grabbing it back from him as you flip it around in your hands again. “...this is such a strange dream…” You mumble to yourself.

“What?”

“Nothing!” You quickly say, worried that if you think too hard about the fact that this is a dream you’ll wake up.

You give him the device back, sure that he’ll have even more fascinating things to show you as the day goes on. 

On the coffee table in front of you are two empty plates from the breakfast Mr. Kruger had made for you. It was delicious, sweet pancakes with more syrup than you’d ever been allowed. You’d gotten so used to bland rations with no flavour whatsoever. Even your tea always had to be taken black because anything else would be a waste of the limited resources that you had. 

Sitting on the couch next to you is the brown cat that woke you up. He’s purring softly with his legs tucked under him. He occasionally nuzzles against your thigh to beg for attention, so you pat his head and give it to him.

Mr. Kruger has the black kitten on his lap. She’s completely asleep but her tail twitches every once and a while despite it.

Between the two of you is the big fat orange and white one. He’s grooming himself after he spent your whole meal begging for food (which Mr. Kruger said you weren’t allowed to give him because he was on a strict diet). 

You’d met a few cats before, street cats that were wary of humans and would only let you near them if you had the promise of food (which you never did). These cats are the exact opposite of that though and you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of affection as you watch Mr. Kruger idly scratch the kitten behind the ear as he taps away at the glass phone in his hands.

“There are some people coming over later.” Mr. Kruger tells you as he puts the phone down on the table.

“Some people?” You ask.

“Yeah. Our friends they um- they wanna talk to you.”

“Which friends?”

Mr. Kruger sounds hesitant to answer. “You probably don’t remember them.”

You scowl. “Why not.”

“I uh- it’s- they’ll explain it.”

“Why can’t you explain it?”

“I don’t wanna confuse you.”

“Why would you confuse me?”

“Just-” Suddenly he seems irritated and he’s more reminiscent of the Mr. Kruger that you know. Of the real Mr. Kruger that exists outside of this place. “I’m sorry.” He says, which isn’t something the real Mr. Kruger often says. “I don’t want to make this harder for you.”

You study his face.

His beautiful face.

You study the way his eyebrows tense and scrunch together in frustration before, with a sigh, they flatten again and he looks over at you with so much care in his eyes that it makes your heart feel like it might beat right out of your chest.

“Mr. Kruger?” You ask, just above a whisper.

“Yeah?” He answers, just as softly.

But you don’t really have anything to ask him. You want to ask him, of course. You want to ask him where you are, but you can’t risk that. 

Because if you ask him then-... then you might wake up.

His hand moves to the couch between you and you feel his fingers gently brush against it. It sends an electric rush of heat up your arm that radiates through your entire body.

“It’ll make more sense eventually.” Mr. Kruger tells you.

“...okay.” You say.

But you don’t want it to make sense.

It’s so much more peaceful if it doesn’t.

Mr. Kruger is frustrated today.

You don’t know why he is, but one of the doctors sent you in to “deal with him”. Since, apparently, you’re the one he’s the most reasonable with. 

You’re not sure what you’ve done to earn Mr. Kruger’s favour over the last few weeks, but if his favour is what gets you praised by the higher-ups you aren’t going to complain.

Briefly, you think back to Myra’s comment. Her little: “He probably has a crush on you.” But you immediately brush that thought away. He was probably just the type to respond better to positive reinforcement. Lord knows enough of the hospital staff leaned towards using the opposite method with patients.

So that’s why you’re there, knocking lightly on Mr. Kruger’s door an hour after you normally head home for the day.

There’s no answer, so you push it open.

“Mr. Kruger?” You ask softly.

He’s sitting on his bed, staring out the window and completely lost in thought.

He must not even notice that you’re there, so you’re cautious as you approach him, all too familiar with how violent some patients can be if they’re surprised.

“Mr. Kruger?” You ask for the second time, hoping that he’ll respond now that you’re closer.

He doesn’t. 

You move towards the window, careful to put enough space between yourself and him that you could move away if he lunged for you. Once you’re at the far end of the room, you can finally see his face. 

He’s in a daze, just like you thought he would be, trapped between his world and another as he stares out at the horizon.

You know exactly how it feels to be that far away.

“Mr. Kruger.” You say for the third time. This time it’s softer, barely above a whisper as if you’re politely asking for his attention instead of demanding it.

He blinks.

And then he looks over at you for half a second before looking down at his lap.

“Oh.” He says. “It’s you.”

You smile softly. “Yeah, it’s me.” Now that he’s aware of his surroundings, you step closer to him. “Dr. Rall said you didn’t want to take your medication this evening.” You point out. The paper cup is sitting empty on his bedside table, but you know it isn’t because he’d taken them, but because he’d hidden the pills under his tongue. You had a replacement in your pocket, but you wouldn’t give it to him until you were sure he’d accept it.

You’d never taken the time to check if Mr. Kruger was taking his medications before, always trusting that he had (especially with how often he complained about wanting his painkillers), but this evening you’d been wrapped up with another patient so Dr. Rall had come in to give Mr. Kruger his medications instead.

Dr. Rall was the type to demand proof that they’d been swallowed.

And they hadn’t been.

You could see a deep purple bruise forming against Mr. Kruger’s cheek in the shape of a thumb. You didn’t need to ask to know that it was where Dr. Rall had grabbed him as he tried to force the pills down his throat. 

Mr. Kruger had bitten him in defiance, nearly chomping his thumb clean off. 

The blood splattered across the front of his shirt was proof enough of that. 

“He wouldn’t tell me what the green one was.” Mr. Kruger explained simply, with no emotion behind his tone to indicate anything about his mood.

“Oh.” You answer softly.

“So, what is it?” Mr. Kruger asks you, slowly meeting your eyes again after he’d spent the last few seconds avoiding your gaze.

Your chest suddenly felt tight as your palms became damp.

You normally avoided making eye contact with him. Making eye contact it-... it felt strange.

Confusing.

Because staring into his eyes sometimes felt like it brought you to a different plane of existence. Their deep blues and greens were so beautiful almost- almost out of place against the bags beneath them and his unshaven face.

It made you wonder what his eyes would look like on someone else or maybe on- on a different version of him. A happier version. A version that hadn’t been surrounded by war and pain and death. A version of him that existed somewhere-

…somewhere nice.

You wondered how his eyes would light up the rest of his face somewhere like that.

Mr. Kruger sighs at your lack of answer and pushes himself out of bed. He stumbles as he reaches for his crutch, but you’re immediately at his side, holding him up so he won't fall.

“Gotta change-” he mumbles as he tries to step towards the shelf on the other side of the room that housed a single change of clean clothes.

“I’ll help you.” You say.

“I don’t need your help.” He pushes you away.

“You can’t walk,” you tell him as you try to guide him back to the bed, “just sit down and I’ll-”

“I SAID I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP!!”

You don’t want it to affect you. It shouldn’t affect you.

You’d been yelled at by plenty of patients. Doctors. Fellow nurses. Being screamed at was in your job description and it was something that happened to you every single day so it shouldn’t affect you, it shouldn’t but-

But you can feel heat form in the back of your eyes.

Your vision blurs.

His words rattle in your ear.

Mr. Kruger had always been so quiet. So wrapped up in his head that you couldn’t imagine him raising his voice. 

That’s why he was your favourite. Because he was. Mr. Kruger was your favourite and he had a habit of slipping away to spend time somewhere else, just like you did.

He was your favourite.

“Th- The green pills are a sedative.” You tell Mr. Kruger as you blink back your tears and hand him his crutch. You don’t pull away from him until you’re confident he’s stable enough to stand on his own. Then you take a step back. “We give them to the patients that become violent. I don’t know why Dr. Rall wants to start you on them.”

Mr. Kruger doesn’t say anything as he hobbles to the other side of the room. He grabs a shirt, a clean shirt, with no blood stains mucking up the front.

He leans his crutch against the wall as he pulls his old shirt off and tosses it to the floor.

He stumbles.

He catches himself on the wall.

He can’t lift his hand away to pull the shirt over his head without risking falling over again.

So, he grabs his crutch and staggers back to the bed where he sits down.

“I haven’t been violent.” He mutters.

“I know.”

“Then why are they drugging me?”

“I-... I don’t know.”

And you don’t. Truly you don’t. You were the nurse that tended to Mr. Kruger the most and you’d never indicated on your reports that he was anywhere close to even mildly uncooperative. He’d always taken his medications. Always changed when you asked him to, bathed when it was his day for that, asked softly to be escorted to the washroom, the courtyard, or just for a walk down the hall.

He was a model patient, really.

“...guess they’ve a got reason to now.” Mr. Kruger mumbles as he pulls his shirt over his head now that he’s seated and wouldn’t risk falling over.

“Yeah I-... I guess they do.” 

Mr. Kruger finishes getting changed. His arms fall to his sides once his new shirt is on. He’ll still need a bath though. There’s dried blood on his chest.

You brush that thought aside: “But I-... um…”

“What?”

“I could… I could not give them to you…”

Your eyes meet again and it’s the same as it always is- your heart hammers in your chest as his blue-green eyes, eyes that are so beautiful and don’t belong on such a depressed face, light up.

For an instant, it takes you somewhere else.

For an instant, everything is so warm.

“And why would you do that?” Mr. Kruger asks, still maintaining eye contact.

“Because I… I have no reason to believe that you need them.”

“Hm.” Mr. Kruger hums before he breaks away from your stare and looks back out the window, regaining the position he’d been in when you’d come to find him. “I’ll make sure to keep it that way.”

Then he’s gone again and you’re not sure where he’s drifted off to.

But, as he stares out at the horizon, you have a feeling it’s somewhere nice.

You have a feeling it’s somewhere warm.

You leave Mr. Kruger’s room and reach for the clipboard hanging in front of the door. 

It details his entire treatment plan. His daily vitals. When he gets his meals and when he’s given free time outside of his room.

And it lists his medications:

Morphine - checked off for body daily doses Penicillin - checked off for both daily doses Nutrilite  - checked off for both daily doses

And finally:

Zolpidem - newly added to Mr. Kruger’s chart and currently not checked off.

You pat your pocket and you can feel the cylindrical green pill against the fabric. You twirl it between your fingers and recall the way Mr. Kruger had stared out the window, blissfully unaware that you’d even entered the room.

He’d bitten Dr. Rall, but only because the doctor hadn’t answered his question.

Only because the doctor had become violent first.

You can’t blame him for it. You would have done the same. 

So, you pull your hand away from your pocket and grab the pencil tied to the clipboard in your hands.

Zolpidem - ✓

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[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

III. the tower.

parts: previously / next plot: funny what a near-death experience can do for motivation. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, you are put in a Situation, batman is there to pick up the pieces, you’re not thinking clearly, stop suppressing your emotions goddamn it, hurt/comfort, gang violence, guns, blood and surface wounds, dealing with the effects of trauma. words: 4.7k.

It starts out simple enough.

It’s 11 at night. You’re working late. Way up here, your office is quiet—Gotham quiet. There’s still rain battering the windows and police sirens distant and close and distant again, but it’s quiet enough. It becomes the backdrop of your night, a familiar melody. Your meager little lamp is all the company you have as you scribble away at paperwork you’d left to the last minute, and there’s a nagging in the back of your head about missed dinner. You think, if you can finish this up quickly, that you might treat yourself to the 24-hour diner down the street before heading home.

Only a few minutes pass before the nagging is accompanied by a stomach growl. You decide to make paperwork tomorrow you’s problem.

You grab your things and lock up your office and you’re getting off on the first floor when something snaps in the air like a firecracker. You’re no stranger to the sound, but you can’t recall the last time you’d heard a gunshot this close.

Down the hall, through a spattering of ER nurses with their hands above their heads, is a man with a gun pointed at you.

They train you for things like this in medical school. How to identify tattoos, clothes, and demeanor. How to say the right things so that you don’t get caught in the crossfire. How to deescalate until security guards are in the room with you.

Every once in a while (because it’s Gotham, because it’s your chosen hellhole), a gang war breaks out and the ER floods with members of all affiliations. Bloodied and brawling, it trickles into the waiting rooms and operating rooms. No matter how much they all hated each other, they all bled the same.

You wonder how this one will end.

The man is frenzied. You can see through his tattered pants leg that he’d been slashed or maybe shot at, it’s hard to see from so far away, but he lets you get a closer look eventually. He’s limping as quickly as he can down the hall toward you, gun never wavering. Some nurses behind him turn and whisper about what to do. If you strain to hear over the ringing in your ears, you can make out more commotion coming from the ER still.

“Where the fuck is he?” The approaching man spits at you. He’s feet away now, and if it weren’t for his arm outstretched, he’d be right in your face. “Where the fuck is Ghost?”

He says the name like you ought to know this “Ghost”. You raise your hands carefully to show you mean no harm, shaking all the while. You consider what you can say that won’t anger him further, “I don’t know who Ghost is,” you stammer, “did he come through here?”

“Don’t fucking play with me. I know that motherfucker cut a deal. I’m not letting him outta this hospital alive.”

You’re careful not to look around lest it alert him, but you’re struggling to put together a response on the little context you have. Staring down the barrel of his gun is all you can think to do.

The longer you take, the more agitated he becomes. He steps forward and presses the gun against your temple and that’s when the words start jumping out of your mouth, “He was badly injured, right? Worse than you?” His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t correct you, “he���s probably in surgery if they took him somewhere. GCPD can’t interfere until he’s stabilized. He’s still in the building.”

Whatever you’ve said seems to be the right thing because the gun isn’t cutting into you anymore. You can pick up movement behind him in your peripheral, nurses corralling other gang members and keeping the hallway clear. Some calling for more guards, the police, anyone.

You share a few breaths with the man. He’s taller than you with an army buzz coated in droplets of rain. He’s soaked to the bone and still freshly bleeding from his thigh. He neither shivers nor buckles, driven by pure adrenaline. You watch his jaw clench and unclench as your words settle in. He must believe you, at the very least, because he’s not pulling the trigger.

You’re gonna have to remember this face later when the GCPD asks. You try to soak in each detail with the optimism that you will, that you’ll make it out of this alive. You try to be present and not with your stomach that’s grumbling or your brain short-circuiting on too little sleep and too much fear.

You think about what you’re gonna say to Em in two days time; not tomorrow, no, they’d probably tell you to take the day off. She’s going to hear about you being held at gunpoint just days after being offered a job at Wayne Enterprises and you’ll actually be able to laugh when she says “I told you so”. It would be funny, then. In two days time. You’d get to live to see that.

“Take me to him.”

Ghost, you gather, is a dead man. If not him, then you and everyone in the SICU.

You don’t dare speak without being spoken to, even as the elevator ride leaves nothing but labored breathing between you two. It’s a miracle he keeps his gun at his side the whole time, but with his back pressed against a corner, it would take him only a second to put a bullet through your skull if you tried to make a move.

You wonder if the police have arrived yet. What’s going on over the radios? Has all hell broken loose downstairs? What is your captor, Ghost’s executioner, going to bring down upon this hospital when he pulls the trigger? And you, the one who led him to his target... what would that mean for you? When it came to situations like this, you didn’t find people very forgiving.

“Fucking slow...” Your captor hisses near you, eyes glued to the steadily ascending floors to pass the time. “What floor is he on?”

You see the counter tick to 12. “18.”

You’d celebrated too soon. The gun is back, digging into the back of your head now, and one of his hands is gripping your upper arm tight, “When those doors open, you’re gonna walk me to where he’s at. If you try anything, I’m blowin’ your brains out.”

There’s a good chance that he will regardless, but you were being optimistic, remember?

The next six pass by at an excruciatingly slow pace. Your captor’s annoyance is tangible, coating the already bloody air with tension. Your heart hammers angrily. There’s a moment where you think that you might keel over and vomit up all the fear pooling in your belly, wrapping around your hunger and squeezing until there’s no room for food even if you could eat. But your jaw is locked. If it came up, you doubted you’d have the courage to open your mouth for fear your life would end much quicker.

At floor 18, the doors finally part.

You’ve never seen it like this. Half the lights are off, the other half flickering as if struggling to connect to the power. A floor usually bustling with life is completely dead. There are ominous beeps from comms left unattended and machines once in use, now abandoned. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that everyone on this floor had vanished into thin air.

Your captor shoves you out into the eerie hall while you’re forced to stare forward. You step over scattered files, nearly roll your ankle on a pen that you missed.

“Where the fuck is everybody?” He snarls, as if you and every doctor in this hospital have some kind of hive mind to tap into.

You frantically search with the limited movement his gun at your head gives you, but come up empty. With each room you pass, doors are thrown open with no one inside. You pass by a window and make out a helicopter hovering over the building, flashing its light through. You can’t make out if it’s GCPD or the news.

You’re jolted back to reality when the gun digs painfully into your head again, “You said he was up here.”

“He’s supposed to be. The ER probably alerted them. They must’ve cleared out.”

“Where else would they take him? You said GCPD can’t book him ‘til he’s stable.”

“They might have moved somewhere we wouldn’t know to look,” it’s agony trying to rationalize with someone so keen on killing you while keeping a steady walk, “somewhere they can finish up before the police come looking for you.”

Your captor curses. You can tell he’s starting to feel cornered, and that didn’t spell anything good for you. He couldn’t finish off Ghost like he wanted, but he had a hostage now. You deigned to think of the demands he could make with your life on the line.

Maybe you’d get two days off.

The dark humor isn’t appreciated, even as your mind betrays you with it. Passing by a larger grouping of windows shows the utter chaos beginning to gather outside. There are more helicopters shaking the building, police cars lining the streets below.

Perhaps it’s the fear, but your mind subconsciously drifts. You can’t see much from up here but your eyes still scan for that darkly clad figure. You wonder if he’s gotten those stitches out by now, and if he’s somewhere in the building watching you on security cameras and planning the perfect way to get you out of here alive. You imagine, for your sanity, that he’s somewhere on this floor now. Watching you. Waiting for the moment to strike. You search the shadows for him but come up empty.

“Alright, change of plans.” Your captor announces. Before you can turn to look at him, he’s shoving you hard into a wall and pressing his gun up into the soft flesh of your chin. This close, you can see his eyes speckled with blue every time the light above you flickers on. Blue. You’re looking for him again. “You’re getting me out of here.”

“What about Ghost?”

“Don’t you fucking worry about it. I’ll take care of that later. If you’re good, I might even make it quick.” It being the gun nestled just so, perfect for a swift death.

Oh God, your mother might be watching the news. You’d dropped your phone downstairs after the gunshot. It was probably ringing like crazy. She must be so worried.

And Metropolis would have been so nice. Sure, the rent was higher but it was worth it. And who didn’t leave medical school drowning in student loans? And it was less humid there, more sunny days. You would have better things to worry about, like what you’d say to Superman if you ever got the chance to get his autograph. What would Bruce Wayne say when they found your dead body in a back alley just days after he’d last seen you? What would Em say? Your boss? Your mother?

You don’t understand why he looks so uncomfortable all of a sudden, not until you feel the tears rolling down your cheeks. Fuck. You were crying, too. The adrenaline was wearing off.

Your captor opens his mouth, grabs you by the neck of your scrubs, and is about to yank you back onto your feet when the gun is torn away. You don’t know what it is but there’s a commotion in the dark beside you, a fight with your captor, and you flinch away as bullets fly off all into the ceiling. You hear glass shatter, metal ricocheting. The lights flicker on and off, on and off.

Your body collapses to the floor without his weight supporting you. You’re breathing harder and faster and gulping in air that doesn’t smell so overwhelmingly of blood anymore. You can pick up on something else instead. A fresh wave of rainfall.

Through the tears and lights flashing on and off, on and off, you see him.

He’s fast and heavy. You realize that you’ve never actually seen Batman in action, just photos and blurry videos from afar that hardly did what he left behind justice. You’d seen the gaggles of gang members left hanging by their ankles on streetlights and wondered just how strong a man had to be to do that kind of damage.

Every punch is forceful, personal. It doesn’t take many after the gun is kicked away for him to put your captor to sleep. He falls into a nearby cart and the clatter of metal shakes you, makes you let out just the smallest whimper.

And Batman’s head snaps to you.

He’s crouching before you can register it, a hand on your shoulder. The air displaced around his sudden movement carries the scent of rain and the city. “Hey,” he calls, his voice an octave or so higher than it was on the fire escape, “are you hurt?”

Your arm is probably bruised. The back of your head too, now that you think about it. It doesn’t help that his hand on your shoulder rattles you when you take too long to reply.

Your mouth opens, trying to think of what to say. You croak around his name and cringe at how dry your throat has gotten. Crying and missing dinner would do that, you supposed.

One of your hands reaches out to him and lands on his chest, then weakly falls to his thigh, searching for something warm and human to hold onto. Something other than your scrubs slick with sweat. You can’t even ask for it.

But something clicks in his eyes when the light flickers on. He takes your hand and pulls you—practically dragging you—until your hand is wrapping around his back and buried in his cape. Your other hand follows suit and if you weren’t so panicked, you’d take the time to properly lose your mind when his hand cradles your head to his chest. With the way he’s crouched, you’re shielded from the hallway by the dark expanse of his shoulders.

Your captor’s body is out of sight, and so is the broken glass and the bullet shells and the gun. It’s just you and the Bat. His warm breath, the scent of him along his exposed jaw, the faint beat of his heart beneath his armor. You feel his thumb brush your cheek ever so slightly. He shushes you as you choke on a sob, “I’ve got you. You’re safe. He won’t hurt you again.”

Maybe when all this settles, you’ll believe him. But for now, you hide your face in his neck and he lets you.

You can’t remember the last time someone had carried you. You’re weightless, his arms hooked under your knees and around your back as he rises—slowly, as to not shake you—and begins the trek back to the elevator. His armor is difficult to grasp onto; you struggle as such to find something and seize the back of his neck, finally, fingers pressing into the soft give of his cowl. You feel his head shift above you, eyes weighing on your person, but you keep your head low and tucked.

Blood pounds in your ears. Batman’s hand flexes under your knee. Gravity lowers you 18 flights into the chaos of the ER.

It’s all so sudden. The noise of ten times the people from before forces you further into the calm of Batman’s body. You can pick up on police radio, a chorus of your savior’s name and yours the minute the doors open. Even as the warmth of other bodies begin to surround you, Batman keeps his steady pace well until your foot is bumping a stretcher.

“...hurt anywhere?” A voice distant to your ears asks, and then four more hands are helping you onto the cushion. It takes you a moment to figure out that the question isn’t directed at you.

“Shots were fired, none of them hit.” The deep rumble of Batman’s voice makes you cling to his neck further. When a latex hand takes hold of your wrist, you come to instantly.

The ER is just as crowded as you expected. GCPD and trauma nurses bloat the hallways, stumbling over each other to do their jobs. Two nurses are looking over you and Batman is hovering beside your stretcher, leaning with your hand still cupped around the back of his neck. He doesn’t ask you to let go, doesn’t pull away from you.

“Open wounds on your calf, seemed to have cut a vein. We need to get the glass out.” One nurse tells you.

“Where is he?” A cop appears by Batman’s side, frantic.

“18th floor. Unconscious and armed.” Batman answers.

“Stretch your leg this way, hon.” The other nurse commands, pressing wet cloth to burning skin. Batman moves it for you when you don’t react. The other nurse starts running in the other direction when a new wave of patients enter the room.

A shard catches on your torn flesh just as another cop appears, “We need you out there, Batman. It’s a bloodbath.”

“How many are there?”

“Too many. If they’re not in here and they’re not dead, they’re out there.”

Another shard removed has you flinching into him, drawing his attention away from the officer. “Almost done,” the nurse working at your leg is careful with the last few, “then I can give you something for the bruising on your arm.”

“Batman.” This time, his name is said with urgency. The cop is staring you down. You felt certain that if it wouldn’t be frowned upon, he’d have yanked Batman free of you by now.

Your rational brain was aware that you should let go. You were one person in the midst of tens of them, most worse off than you in every way. He was better off saving lives out there. You were fine. You were... you were physically fine.

And you’d be back to yourself in a few hours, right? You’d be fine.

You don’t realize the warmth of Batman’s hand leaves your knee until it’s curling around the side of your throat. His firm thumb props your chin up until you’re both face to face, until you’re swimming in that blue you’d been searching for. Your lips part; they were just as stunning as they were the first time you’d seen them up close.

The ER is quiet all of a sudden. You swore, even with the tugging in your leg, that you and him were utterly alone.

“I have to go.” He leaves no room for argument, but the openness of his expression shocks you. As if he was asking you. As if he’d stay if you denied him.

It keeps happening like this. Him leaving when he gets too close, you letting him go when it’s never what you want.

But your head nods on its own, assuring that you got the message. All too soon, he’s tugging your hand away and storming out of the ER and back into the streets. One second, his cape is catching in the wind. You watch, blinking for just a second. The next, he’s gone.

It’s enough to awaken you, get your left brain kicking again. You slip your fingers past the nurse’s working to slow the blood flow on your leg and press them into the gauze, stinging wound and all. She stares up at you, startled. You try your best at a smile, “They need you in there. Don’t worry, I’ve got it.”

She only pulls away from you when your hand steadies on the gauze. She starts to tell you how to wrap it, forgetting your position, then thinks better of it and leaves you there.

Besides your calf beginning to throb, it’s a minor cut. Worse than nicking yourself shaving but nothing to cry about. You wrap it like muscle memory. It’s not that bad. You can help while you’re here. No doubt the trauma team is swamped as it is.

But as you slide off the stretcher, the throb burns up your leg and you gasp, a new rush of tears following suit as you collapse back against the cushion. Try as you might, the tears refuse to stop.

It’s not that bad. It’s barely anything. It’s nothing.

It could have been worse. So, so much worse. Maybe that’s why this paralyzes you. You’re watching your colleagues rush by saving lives, there are countless others out in the streets right now giving theirs to stop a senseless war, and you’re standing here shaking because you thought that for just a moment, this is where it all ended for you. A little glass in your leg. A bruise on your arm. What could have been a bullet in your brain.

A pair of cops pass by dragging someone with them. Your captor, conscious and in cuffs, is stumbling between them sporting a black eye that blots up into his hairline and down into his lopsided nose. With the one eye that can open, he looks over at you, just as quickly flinching in the other direction as they bring him out into the rain. You doubted it was guilt that made him look away. Your tears didn’t do shit the first time, why would they now?

But when you cried the first time, he showed up. As if the sky had opened and delivered him to you. Right when you needed him.

You take a few more minutes to breathe through the pain.

You get your two days off.

It’s two days of sitting on the couch, two days of poking at your bruises to feel something other than boredom, two days of phone calls and texts about the bloodiest gang war in Gotham City since Falcone was kingpin. Your captor had been identified and put away in Arkham along with the famed Ghost. If vengeance couldn’t be had in Gotham General, it would be had in the prison yard.

You punctuate your feelings with the sharp flicks and loops of your pen on paper, just thankful the nap you’d gotten in had curbed your anger for the most part, “I said I’m fine.”

“Well, you don’t look fine.” Your mother is only one woman but she suffocates the room with her presence. Your father, on the other hand, has confined himself to the couch with his head in his hands. “Honestly, I don’t know where you get your bullheadedness from.”

You restrain your tongue behind your teeth in fear you might say something that’ll get her even angrier at you, “They checked me over. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, and you’re lucky for that. Did you know the man that held you hostage had a warrant out for his arrest? First-degree murder of a cop! He could’ve killed you too.”

Your mind flashes back to the memory of his gun digging into you. You squint to push it out.

You’re thankful for the silence after that, but only seconds pass before your mother is fussing again, pacing the room as if she might just explode. Your father’s head is now perched on his fist. He makes no move to defend you or her, just stares off into space with a glass-eyed look. “You know what? Pack your things. We’re moving you out of Gotham.”

“Mom, no.”

“Yes. I told you months ago to find a new place, do better for yourself, and then I hear you’re caught in the middle of a gang war—on TV no less—and- no, no. You’re coming to stay with us in Jersey until we can get you a job with our PCM.”

The house in New Jersey that your parents had moved to as soon as you’d graduated was perfect for them. They’d made their life there, had crafted their happy ending away from Gotham. They had expected you to follow, but that had been years ago. You’d hoped those expectations had died along with whatever version of you they’d been holding onto. Clearly not.

God help you. If you could go back in time to last night, you’d cave that fucker’s nose in just for giving your parents the perfect argument to make you go back home. To their home.

You continue signing off paperwork as if you hadn’t even heard her, a skill you’d perfected in your teens when you stayed out too late and courted the city in ways that “just weren’t safe” for a kid your age.

Except this time, you weren’t just being a kid. You had almost lost your life last night.

Your mom is complaining to your dad about you, you can just kind of hear it as you continue to tune them out. You’re just about to cut your vacation short and head to your office for quiet when someone knocks at your front door.

Your mother is the fastest, rushing to the door with all the fury of a woman scorned. She yanks the door open just a fraction and demands that your visitor leave you be. Before you can even think to admonish her, you notice her hand go slack on the doorknob.

The door opens. You see flower petals before you see a face, the vase of flowers in their hands standing tall and wide, so much so that it brushes the door frame on all sides on its journey to your coffee table. When it’s set down before you, finally, you’re greeted by the delivery person and an envelope dangling in your face, your name an uncertain question as they wait for you to accept.

You stare, dumbfounded. You’d already made all the calls, had reassured friends and distant family alike that you were fine and alive and that you’d appreciated the concern. No one had mentioned sending you anything.

You take the card gingerly, ignoring your mother’s curious “who’s it from?” in favor of admiring it. Your name is printed in fine, midnight black calligraphy. Just by turning it to the light, you can tell it was truly handwritten. You poke beneath the seal flap until it gives way. A neat card sits inside.

Some color to resemble sunshine, something we Gothamites don’t get enough of. Hopefully you’re not deathly allergic like me.

Take care.

Sincerely,

The office of...

“...Bruce Wayne.” Your mother finishes over your shoulder. The disbelief is clear in her tone. For once, she has nothing to say.

The delivery person, who you’d thought would have made a break for it already, hovers in your living room with a wobbly smile. You wonder if it’s their first delivery. You couldn’t imagine the pressure. Your turbulent expression must not help because they’re stumbling out of there the minute you make eye contact.

“What’s Bruce Wayne sending you flowers for?” For the first time, your father chimes in, examining the bouquet with a critical eye, as if he could tell the difference between a rose and a peony.

You stare down the card once more, touch delighting in the feel of the high-quality card stock and the smell of flowers clinging to it still. The bush of orange and yellow is refreshing with all the rain. You notice that the writing inside the card is handwritten too. Had... Bruce really written it himself?

You imagined Bruce Wayne, the Bruce whose ludicrous job offer you’d rejected days ago, personally writing you a get-well soon card... on top of a bouquet of the most wonderful smelling flowers you’ve ever seen.

You couldn’t imagine why for the life of you. Was it sincere? Was it mocking, poking at your brush with death days after claiming you would rather remain here than up in the safety of his tower? Had he even known it’d been sent, or had a personal assistant called it in? Why would he care? Why do you care? You’d almost died.

“Where are you going?” Your mother’s voice feels far away, underwater when you come to. You’re standing at the front door all of a sudden, bag slung over your shoulder and card gripped in hand. Your parents are staring at you like you’ve grown a second head. Or a third, more grotesque than the last.

You haven’t explained anything and right now, you really don’t care to, “Call me when you guys make it home. Love you.”

[lunascalamity]

Head empty, thinking about sub tsukishima.

Sub tsukishima who would try and be intimidating out of the bedroom, only to internally regret it when you don’t say anything and just laugh at his brattiness. Do not humor his bratty behavior, he just wants a reaction. Instead, play coy and let him slowly breakdown and finally tell you what he wants.

Sub tsukishima who would fight you so hard on who should be the dom when you first bring it up at the beginning of your relationship. Not because he wants to be the dom, but because he wants to make it seem like you convinced him to be submissive, instead of him wanting to be it in the first place. So when you back off and say you guys should talk about a compromise, he immediately backpedals and is like “okay fine! Jesus… wanna peg/fuck me soooo bad 🙄” tsundere motherfucker 😒

Sub tsukishima who’s always gonna make you work for it every single time, no matter what. Testing you while you guys make out, trying to lead. But give him even the littlest bit of pressure with your knee to his dick and he breaks so fast. Going from “ffuck hurry up” to “mmpff god please please please~”

Sub tsukishima who always just waits for you to initiate everything. So when you don’t do anything as a joke one day, he becomes super bratty. Why aren’t you touching him, annoying him, or making stupid dirty jokes? “You’re being so weird today…” Worries he did something wrong. When you tell him it was a joke he doesn’t think it’s very funny and just scoffs, so fuck him good that night ‘kay?

Sub tsukishima who is so cute when he’s fucked out, pushing your head towards his for a kiss, holding your hand, wrapping his legs around you so you don’t go, all while he glares at you like, bro? —“Want me to stop?” he squeezes your hand tighter, “N-no, shut up.”

Sub tsukishima where you tease him by making him communicate

“Cmon Kei, I’m not doing anything until you tell me what you want.”

“Who said I wanted anything, this was your idea.”

“So you’re telling me that’s not your boner i’m feeling right now?”

“I’ll just deal with it myself.”

“Alright then, deal with it.”

He tries to prove you wrong by jerking off in front of you, trying to say ‘I don’t need you to cum’. But the way you look at him so smugly yet lovingly makes his whole body so hot and turns him on so much. He tries to look away but it doesn’t feel as good. And when you start whispering praises absentmindedly? “Fuck you’re so hot.” “You look so good like this.” He’s so done. At that point, he’s just jerking off for you, your praises egging him on. And when he does cum, he feels so unsatisfied. Your presence did a lot to get him going, but nothing can compare to your touch. so edge him till he apologizes.

———————————-☆

I was planing on just doing a few headacannons (or whatever tf these are) to cure some of my writing block and motivate me more, but I ended up writing more than I thought 💀 kei brain rot strong. Proud tsundere fucker 🦅🇺🇸🔥🔥🔥‼️‼️‼️💪

[nunalastor]

Serial Roommates

Guy: *looking remarkably chill for a guy shackled to a chair with guns aimed at his head*

Vox: *pouring himself some scotch* I guess this explains why the old timey prick never gave me a second glance…

Guy: Oh really? Do tell!

Vox: His heart already belonged to another and to the guy who almost exposed me no less? What a freaking joke!

Guy: *snorts* Woah there, Big Shot! Al and I are not “together,” never have been! We are just friends!

Vox: ALASTOR MUST BE IN LOVE WITH YOU! THERE’S NO WAY ANYONE WOULD GO THROUGH ALL THAT FOR “JUST A FRIEND!”

Guy: *gives him a long look at that is somehow both mocking and pitying* Huh. You’ve never had a meaningful relationship in your life, have you?

Vox: *glares at Guy, and starts chugging the scotch*

Guy: *conversationally* Ya knows, Voxy-Boxy, Al was always an excellent judge of character; he could read people like a book. It’s how he was able help me whenever I got stuck on a particularly difficult case. It was almost like he had a sixth sense exclusively for scumbags. So, imagine my surprise, when I found out that my best friend and the creepy cultist  that I was investigating used to be attached at the hip!

Vox: *says nothing, just starts refilling his glass*

Guy: It just didn’t make sense to me that Al would fall for any of the crap you spouted. He would- no, he should know better. But now, after our talk, I think I finally understand.

Vox: *despite himself, Vox listens, curious*

Guy: I think the reason Alastor got so attached, whether he realised it or not, is because he saw a bit of himself in you.

Vox: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GABBING ABOUT?!

Guy: Your self-worth is dependent on other’s validation or attention.

Vox: *bluescreens for 0.5 seconds, before sputtering back* I- He- HA! Did I hit you too hard? Do you have brain damage? Alastor is the vainest motherfucker in the pride ring! He doesn’t need anybody!

Guy: Oh, he’d love that you think so! Can’t have anyone else knowing “the truth,” can he? Can’t help but notice you didn’t contradict that about you.

Vox: I… I DON’T NEED TO EXPLAIN MYSELF! IT’S OBVIOUS TO ANYONE WITH A BRAIN HOW STUPID YOUR “DEDUCTION” IS!

Guy: *widens his eyes in “shock,” like the gullible puppy many mistake him to be* Gawsh, ya thinks so, Leader? That’s funny… I coulda sworn I hit da nail on da head!

Vox: *recognises the persona Guy played when they first met* Tch, can’t believe I ever fell for that…

Guy: Think about it. It explains the cult, the stalking, the hypnosis, the deals... It’s all about you being control. You force people to love you, because you are afraid no one would give you a glance otherwise and you’ll be alone.

Vox: *flinches* S-SHUT THE HELL UP!

Guy: *ignores him* You and Al really are similar in that aspect. Needing to put on a show to seem “worthy.” The sap believes that if he is no longer seen as “strong,” if his friends no longer see him as “useful,” then he will be abandoned.

Vox: *seems to be recontextualizing previous encounters*

Guy: *shakes his head sadly* Al’s always struggled with setting boundaries, continuing to let Mimzy use him as a guard dog no matter how many times it landed him in the hospital; so, honestly, I should’ve been more surprised that he’s the one who broke it off with you.

👀

[visceravalentines]

exit music (for a film)

Would it hurt to pretend while bleeding out in a parking lot that it could've been different? That there was another way? Some fairy tale ending?

-Tags by @upwardsdescensum

He feels the first shot, but not the second, or the third.

The third one's the bitch, the one that knocks him flat. He barely registers the impact of his skull on the pavement. There's no pain, just a general awareness. A system-wide panic signal.

He thinks to himself, this is it, motherfucker.

He feels heat in his chest like water soaking through clothes. Like when you're eight years old and you piss the bed and you don't tell Ma because she'll whoop your ass. The carpet in his room is older than he is, worn and grimy. He can feel it, under his neck, under his arms. Sees the popcorn ceiling stained tobacco brown from the hurricane when he was ten.

"Why're you on the floor?"

The sound of Randy's voice in his bedroom catches him off guard. He rolls his head to the side and there he is, sitting on the edge of his bed, real as can be. Looking at him without a lick of fear, without reproach. Just looking at him.

"I like it down here," Benson says, and it's sort of true. He's slept in this spot more nights than he can count, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. He crosses his arms behind his head. "Super comfortable."

Randy scoffs, rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. Benson likes it when he smiles. "You're a dumbass."

Now that's funny. Benson laughs, delighted, and something tears in his chest. Something spills. "Watch your mouth, choir boy."

Randy gives him this look, this conspiratorial little sideways glance that reminds Benson of being in sixth grade and lighting up a Winston around the corner at recess.

He leans forward, whispers. "You're a dumbass."

Benson feels a swell of pride and affection and something seeping into his lungs. "You're a fucking spitfire, huh? World better watch out."

Randy leans back on his hands, kicks his heel against the bedframe. "Are you gonna show me that song or what?"

Benson looks down the length of his arm. His hand is resting on the shitty little boombox he saved up for when he was fifteen. "Oh. Yeah." He fumbles for the play button, fingers slippery. He can't remember what CD he's got loaded until it starts up.

That there, that's not me

Oh. Yeah. Fucking Radiohead.

I go where I please

It's kind of a bummer song and he can't remember why he wanted to show it to Randy, but he looks at him and the guy's got his head tilted back, and he's not really looking at the ceiling, he's not really looking anywhere, he's just listening. Like, actually listening.

I walk through walls, I float down the Liffey

Benson's eyes follow the line of his throat up to the plush of his lips and he swallows hard. His tongue tastes like pennies. Makes him think of the fight he picked on his last day of high school junior year, how long the blood stayed in the concrete of the sidewalk.

Randy looks at him with those eyes, blue as the ocean. He's only been there once, drove himself the day he got the Chrysler. Went alone. Felt so impossibly small, like maybe none of it mattered after all. Like maybe he was stupid for thinking it did.

I'm not here, this isn't happening

"This is nice," Benson says, and it comes out choked and wet. He's always wanted to do this. Sit and share music with someone. Anyone. The fact that it's Randy here, in his room, on his bed--too fucking good to be true.

"You sure you don't want to come sit by me?" Randy asks.

Of course he does. Of course he does, but he knows that's not an option. "Nah. I'm alright."

I'm not here, I'm not here

Randy furrows his brow. "Want me to come sit by you?"

"No, you stay there." Benson rests his hand on his chest and the weight of it surprises him. "You're perfect right there. You're perfect."

A blush creeps up Randy's cheeks. "I'm not...perfect."

Benson smiles, thinks about the day Randy started at the restaurant. How the last thing he wanted to do that Saturday was train some newbie shithead and how instead, this pretty blonde fawn of a boy followed at his heels and did everything right the first time.

"Yeah, you are."

Something starts to burn, deep in the center of his chest, like someone putting out a cigarette on his diaphragm. He looks up at the ceiling and it's black, cottony and starless.

In a little while, I'll be gone

"You like the song?" There's a tremor, a desperate edge to his voice that scares him. He's so sick and tired of being scared. He's so sick and tired.

He glances over at Randy and he looks...resigned. Regretful. He smiles, though, nods. "Yeah, Benson. I like the song."

The whites of his eyes are tinged red. No, blue. No, red. Benson hopes he isn't crying. He hates seeing him cry.

"You're gonna be okay," he says, a little too forcefully. "Yeah?"

Randy nods again. "I think so."

The moment's already passed

The burning is getting worse. Breathing aches, feels like drowning. He digs his nails into his palms. "You fucking better be."

Randy folds those knobby fingers in his lap, leans forward. "I'll do my best, Benson. I promise."

He smiles sadly, and Benson believes him.

Yeah, it's gone, and I'm not here

The carpet disappears. The asphalt underneath him is still warm from the sun. The ocean sloshes in his chest and now he feels it, now it hurts like he thought it would. The sky is black and cottony. Starless. The bed is gone, Randy is gone. He can still hear the song, though.

This isn't happening

He thought it'd be faster. Seems like it's taken years. But it's coming, now, after all this fucking time, the heat fading fast to a hollow, stinging cold, and then to nothing. His fingers and toes go first, hands and feet, and so on. He's got one good breath left. One more. And then it's over.

I'm not here, I'm not here

Fuck, he's relieved and he wishes he wasn't. Wishes he was anywhere but here. Anyone but himself.

He catches a glimpse of him in his periphery at the last second. Sitting on the curb like a kid left at the Winn-Dixie, all elbows and knees. He's crying, dammit. Benson supposes he can't blame him this time, because he's crying too. It's fucking tragic, all of it, the whole fucking thing.

Strobe lights and blown speakers

But it's okay, really. Randy's gonna be okay. He promised. Benson trusts him. He did what he could, he really tried. And maybe this, at least, he managed to succeed at.

Fireworks and hurricanes

The last breath hurts the worst.

I'm not here, this isn't happening

He holds Randy's name on his tongue for good luck. For safekeeping. For the hell of it. And he lets all the rest of it go.

I'm not here, I'm not here

The exhale is euphoric.

[annabelle-creart]

Dear Trollhunters, Wild Robot, Dragon Prince and Rescue Bots fans

I have this concept of multiverse in my head where all the characters of series, games and movies I have watched exist in different universes, completely separated but united my magic

One of the many characteristics of this multiverse is the fact that some characters share something named essence, this is what souls, sparks and spirits are made, and if someone of another universe has your same essence, is because they are variants

What is my point?

I’m a fan of the four series and movie I just told you, and based in both canon and headcanons, I truly believe Arrrgh, Rozz, Aaravos and Boulder are variants

And the rest is pure headcanons, analysis and shit like the ships across the multiverse I did time ago, so, read if you can or want and if not, oks

I will also talk about Heatwave, Sissi and Salvage’s variants

Also, is stupid to say that this includes spoilers for the ones who doesn’t know about the other media

Ok, so, I think with Rozz, Boulder and Arrrgh is pretty obvious, the three of them didn’t knew a single shit about life, stayed two days and ended up liking it, even getting friends and families out there, so, why Aaravos? The motherfucker who, because of the death of his daughter, made an entire sea with his tears and later got up to fuck the lives of the ones who made that possible, including all the beings who crossed on his way

Well, it’s actually because of that

Let’s remember Arrrg wasn’t always a pacifist, he was a gum gum before, Rozz first was made to be just a robotic maid with programed responses and (mostly headcanons because we never got any info of the bots back on Cybertron) Boulder lived on a society that constantly denigrated the classes depending on the job, Aaravos literrally said “fuck you” to the system and did whatever he wanted, for both love and revenge, Arrrgh, Rozz and Boulder did the same, Arrrgh leave the gum gums and befriended Blinky, Rozz adapted to became mother of Brightbill and Boulder leave behind their past on Cybertron to start a new life painting and gardening, the difference is that Aaravos committed murder and magic crimes while Arrrgh, Rozz and Boulder preferred to be good people :v

So, yes, I truly believe those four are variants and I love them that way so much, and Aaravos could learn a lot about those three, same for the rest from Aaravos, I want to believe Aaravos can still be good but he gave so much priority to his plan revenge that forgot that and now uses his good part to manipulate people

Wrath: you can’t be actually serious

Writer: OH I CAN! WATCH ME, DRAWER!

Drawer: gimme a sec…

(Reminder this was made in a rush with 0 references or sketch, only quick lineart)

Drawer: Done!

Writer: IT’S SO CUTEEEEEE!

They also made a grupal therapy to see if they could help Aaravos with his angry issues!

Even Aaravos was puzzled about looking at Arrrgh act so chilly and laugh about his own trauma as a gum gum general, not even Boulder knew what to say or what to do about it. Rozz could only share a listener shoulder

But hey! They shared a lot of funny tales! And they even discovered their respective partners were also variants!

Because yes, I believe Heatwave, Fink, Blinky and Avizandum are variants too

Researcher: but Avizandum is not Aaravos partner

Writer: not their normal partner, their hate partner! Aaravos was so dammed angry when he found out he’s friend with Avi in another universes! Like, play it please!

——

Aaravos: you can’t be serious!

Boulder: why not?

Aaravos: because we’re not even friends! He caged me in a magic pearl at the button of the sea I did myself!! He’s egotistical and believes he’s more than anyone else for the mere fact he’s a damn dragon!!

Arrrgh: …am

Rozz: Well! Not because we are variants our stories are the same, haha

Boulder: exactly! I’m sorry Avizandum did that, but Rozz is right, my Heatwave would never caged on a pearl… it sounds weird when I say it out loud

Aaravos: I know, right? It took me some centuries to get accomplished to the fact and say it out loud normally

Rozz: Fink had the chance to leave me at my luck but he didn’t… well, whatever, the point is, yes, he did bad things and hurt you but now he can’t, right?

Arrrgh: the best is to let go

Rozz: Exactly!

Aaravos: …hm, you’re right, he’s dead after all, is not like he can do much

Rozz: Exactly- wait, he’s dead?

—

Drawer: Rozz definitely didn’t expected that

—

So… yes, that’s mostly of what I can say about them, I just think they’re cool and I love them, I wanted Rozz, Boulder and Arrgh to be friend and Aaravos deserves to heal. I mean, a domestic robot, an alien transformer, a troll and a touchstar elf in the same room is all I wanted to see today(their dynamic remembers me a lot of those comics where Bill Cipher is sent to Gravity Falls to pay for his shit and heal his traumas)

And also

Aaravos with braids and flowers in his head because of those three is so 🌟 🌟 🌟

And then we have Heatwave fighting the flames Mandrake made because Fink won in poker while Blink is hidden behind the table in the other room :v

And I decided to use Mandrake from the movie Epic instead of Avizandum because I truly believe he and Aaravos are the drama queens of the club and definitely I think they would be good friends (and they both lost a child, so…)

And also because Avi is dead

…

Writer: guys-?

All: no

Writer: But-

Researcher: THEY AREN’T EVEN FROM THE SAME STUDIO, MANDRAKE IS FROM BLUE SKY AND AARAVOS IS FROM WONDERSTORM

Reader: you’re intrusive crack ships thoughts scare me sometimes

Writer: WELL, WHATEVER! THE POINT IS THAT THOSE FOUR ARE SO DIFFERENT FROM EACH OTHER AND THAT’S FUNNY

Like, can you imagine the hothead of Heatwave, Blinky who is such a nerd, Mandrake who is an edgy bitch and Fink the sassy fox?

I just can think of them like (featuring Avi’s ghost)

And then we have Sissi and Salvage talking and playing Five nights at Freddy’s with Brightbill, Zym, Toby, Jim, Dagda and Leola because the fuck, the little girl likes terror and the teens had passed through a lot to get scared easily-

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 1113 - Initial Thoughts

It is time

One Piece is back again and the big announcement is almost underway. The Gorosei are circling though, much of the Straw Hats are cornered, will the revelation turn the tide?

Let's find out

Spoilers for the Chapter, Support the Official Release too!

A chess-themed colour spread this time; Robin playing chess with the crew as chess pieces

Contrary to the message the King should not be the attacking piece but other than that I did find it funny that Usopp is a Bishop with a bow and arrow, this cleric does harm!

Also lil Chopper pawns!

Picking up where we left off, Markus Mars has been stopped in awe of a sight in Punk Records

The remains of Vegapunk's humungous brain, as big or maybe even bigger than a giant, kept in a pod and still working even after his death

Mars does wonder if this is more Vegapunk's true self, which I guess if it has his brain it's probably the main part that's biologically living

People around the world brace themselves though

Syrup Village! Kaya, Merry and the old Usopp Pirates get a cameo

Despite her wealth being enough for Kuro to plan a murder/retirement spree, they do not have a Video Den Den Mushi

Though it seems like it's more size than price, and Kaya is already keen to hear what Vegapunk is saying, given his role in the medical field

Also lil' Merry details on the Den Den Mushi

The Marines are monitoring it too

Laboon and Crocus cameo!

And we even get to go to Baldimore, birthplace of Vegapunk

Some dialogue from the group that found Franky during the separation too

'I heard he's turned himself into a ship now' XD because of the bounty poster, and the bad timeline SBS image maybe, though I still think we could in the future get a Sunny mecha

Also got Chopper's bird and medic island listening in

The tribespeople even know about Vegapunk, they call him a 'king of modern science'

Even despite the Garp and SWORD attack, some pirates from Fullalead are listening in - some still wanna fight each other though

Mars tries to stamp out the Den Den Mushi, but it's of course a fake! It shatters to reveal just another regular Den Den Mushi

Fooled again motherfucker!

Vegapunk does introductions once more but now everyone wants him to get on with it XD

For the most part the more obscure world shots seem somewhat familiar, I couldn't tell what the rainy place was but it could be Water 7, the other one looked a bit familiar, the Longarm place looks like to have Brook's old talent agents too

But this campfire one, a child is hushed back to sleep by their likely mother, they're in tipi tents, what's interesting is the other person there, almost like Oda's pulling something sneaky

Through their collective telepathy, Mars announces his failure, it was a decoy so they have no leads

They wonder what Vegapunk intends to say, fearing that he'll carry on what Clover started before he was silenced

Back to Sanji and he hears a woman's scream

Bonney is being targeted by V. Nusjuro, Franky standing between them but Sanji demands to be the white knight

He jumps off the sword to kick him in the jaw

By comparison V. Nusjuro is pretty damn huge

His body sets on fire - fitting to his Yokai lore - but then the horse's head comes out to bite Sanji

Lots of crackling of bones, I wonder if his Healing Factor is still a thing

As Oimo and Kashii tackle V. Nusjuro (about the same size as them), Vegapunk's broadcast begins, admitting to committing two grave sins

Bonney turns into a giant with her fruit to attack V. Nusjuro, who has returned to his hybrid form

Vegapunk's broadcast admits that he is likely to be executed, and that this broadcast would start when his heart has stopped

Sabaody reacts first, realising that this means Vegapunk is dead

Duval has trouble processing this, since the news said that he was a hostage for the Straw Hats

Caesar's also mad, he and Judge went through that whole cover story alliance for nothing, so now they can promptly fuck off

And Morgans is angry because Vegapunk is giving BIG NEWS without him like it's not in his name

Interestingly, Vegapunk is quick to state that his killers should not be portrayed as 'evil' - because they're looking pretty damn evil to me

It seems maybe this is because he expects Luffy to have been pinned as to blame for his death, though it could be scanlations saying 'him'

Saturn faces off with the Labophase group, demanding they move away

Saturn and Robin however recognize one another, Robin from his voice back in Ohara and Saturn by her image

Seems Saturn blames Akainu directly for Robin's escape, I mean he did blow up the hostage ship but still, there were more marines out there

He goes to attack Robin, so all the other Straw Hats go into protection mode

Brook cuts a few limbs, but worryingly Chopper blocked some with his Guard Point - those limbs are poisonous remember? Though it's impressive that he could suppress a claw that could go straight through Kuma

Nami also remembers that she can use Zeus to block attacks

Mars is still on recon, but his senses can't pick up any 'telepathic waves' - wonder if that's a Haki feat or something relative to the Gorosei's shared thoughts?

York is also having trouble figuring out where the Stella would've put it, since her position as a Celestial Dragon is on the line

Vegapunk's about to deliver his mission statement, which is putting the Gorosei into a panic

Mars considers blowing up the entire place, but Saturn and Warcury are weighing it against the possible losses; men, equipment, and any chance of recreating the Mother Flame

Wait. What?

"Our World...is going to sink into the ocean!"

Well you can't deny it: Global Warming is Real.

It's not just Water Seven and Aqua Laguna then, it's all going to sink, there's a lot of thematic consequences to that when you think about it.

Did the World Government ostracize the Fish-Men because of this? Knowing that they would inherit the world? Does this have any connection to Devil Fruits and why the Ocean really saps their strength? Did the ancient kingdom like Old Wano sink to the bottom of the sea?

It begets a lot of questions, in true Oda fashion.

The rest of the chapter was a lot more jam-packed than the last, even without Luffy. The carried tension of the announcement is followed by Saturn and V. Nusjuro's confrontations with the crew, giants and Bonney. As expected, Sanji took on V. Nusjuro, the hit didn't seem to do much in the long term as expected, though I kinda wish Franky also got a hit in but the extent of his own injuries is worth wondering.

I'm glad the Labophase crew are stepping up against Saturn, at least until the expected arrival of Zoro and Jinbe, but it does show their furthered growth versus Enies Lobby if they can successfully repel Saturn from Robin - her injury being validated by this scene, though I still wish we saw a flashback of the Straw Hats vs Seraphim and them uncovering York as the traitor.

Still it's bad PR from the Straw Hats either way, they're likely to be accused of killing Vegapunk, who was last deemed their hostage by the fake news machine (is Morgans still going to Egghead? I mean with Vivi with him we continue to tease a reunion), and while Punk Records still has a chance to live on this is definitely going to be something each crewmate will have to re-evaluate given the bigger picture. Still, that can come after getting off the island; Edison and the Sleeping Giant are still at play after all, Stussy still needs to release the barrier, it's looking more likely that we might finish up around 1120.

Still there has to be more to the announcement, if Vegapunk was waiting for a video display it means that there are visuals to corroborate his revelation - I wonder if the Gorosei are more open to this reveal coming out than what they expected with the Ancient Kingdom reveal they destroyed Ohara for? Like did Vegapunk dupe the WG into Buster Calling Egghead over a reveal they didn't care much for? He mentioned two grave sins too so there seems to be much more to his announcement than just the opening statement.

[hiemaldesirae]

Arrax here: this idea is kinda funny/weird, but I'm in a weird mood so: (also Hannibal/Hazbin Hotel crossover) Vox has NEVER told anyone how he died. EVER not even Alastor knows....well one person knows. Lucifer. Vox and Lucifer made a deal--because Hannibal killed Vox. Vox at least wanted to know if 'the fucker,' ate him. (The answer is no. Why did Hannibal kill Vox? The FBI team picked up Vox the Priest cough-cult leader-cough as a suspect, and Vox figured out who the real killer was via the clues given in his interrogation and because of Hannibal's fucking name.) ("Like, Hannibal the Fucking Cannibal? He was right there, the whole TIME! AND THEN THE MOTHERFUCKER DIDN'T EVEN EAT ME!") The deal with Lucifer is simple show Vox what happened to his body after death, and Vox will be....Lucifer's best friend?? Uh, okay whatever his majesty wants.

It goes well during the 7 years Alastor's gone. It's okay during his return, as most of the dates? Friendship meetings? Are at the palace and they play video games and just genuinely fuck around having fun. (Vox may give Lucifer ideas on how to fuck Mammon over, time to time. It is funny.)

However, do to helping Lucifer deal with Mammon Vox gets pulled into something....else. Apparently, some sinner is playing dad with the princess, and Lucifer doesn't want his first visit with her in ages to go wrong. So he takes Vox along--Vox doesn't want to go--AT ALL, but a deal is a deal, and....in all Honesty Lucifer is one of the few beings he can call a friend now. So he goes, thinking it's probably Husk or Maybe Angel Dust--easily dealt with sinners for the King of Hell with his overlord best friend cheering him on.

This unfortunately is not the case. Vox feels his suspicions rise when Lucifer winks at him and says wait out hear for a minute, and don't worry about anyone sensing you. I've hidden you.

It's not until Vox it literally summoned into a middle of a song off-- "Have you met my bestie, Vox? (Shared duet between Vox and Lucifer with Vox in his Priest outfit:) They say, when you're looking for assistance (Vox takes over every electric device and broadcasts Lucifer's Voice, here, cutting out Alastor's parts.) It's smart to pick the path of least resistance

Others say, that in your needy hour (here Vox drops to his knees in prayer while Lucifer unfolds his wings and surrounds Vox with them)

There's no substitute for pure angelic power! " They finish their part of the song off, with Lucifer gently picking Vox up and setting him on his feet, easily giving the TV overlord a side hug.

With Lucifer's right arm around him, and the sudden screech of radio static mixed with angry stag echoes through the air as the princess claps her hands--"Dad, you have a friend?!? Besides the sins?!?"

Vox however is wide eyed at the very angry Alastor, whose radio dial eyes are on the King's arm, still wrapped tightly around Vox's shoulders.

It's then, the TV overlord realizes he really should have taken the damn joint Val offered him that morning.

IM GONNA CRY. where the HELL did that first part come from arrax your mind is wonderful LMFAOO i can just imagine the absolute shock and indignation on voxs face (screen??) when hes going like 'MOTHERFUCKER DIDNT EVEN EAT ME??' thats perfect. thats great thank you so much for that contribution

OH MY GOD. alastor would be fuming at the part where vox starts praying i just know it he'd be like '...whys he not praying for me. why is it for that 4'2 little gremlin absentee father BITCH' im going to scream and cry this is SO FUCKING FUNNY HAHAHAG

like. like. look at what i see okay i will illustrate it (metaphorically) for you guys

vox: heyyyy uh. luci, your majesty, big man, could you consider letting me go since the song's done and all.... (very vehemently not looking in alastors direction)

lucifer: no can do bestie! so, char-char, have you been introduced to my Best Friend (has also noticed alastor's Very Negative Attention and instead of looking away is locking eyes with him)

charlie: um! well.............. about that......... (thinking back to the meeting with valentino) so. uh,

meanwhile alastor looks like a rabid animal in the background

[liffy-feelin-jiffy]

S5 Headcanons Part 2!

Also SkullAmiGorai mention hehehoohoo

Mask

Real name is Jacklyn, but they typically go by Jack

Got the ‘tism

Half sharkling. Bro doesn’t have a tail, but he’s got some fins peaking out behind his back and some razor sharp teeth. Munch munch munch. Their eyes are also a little weird looking too

Shady is his cousin btw. They keep in touch sometimes but they’re not that close

Omnigender, uses he/they/bro pronouns. They started using “bro” as a neopronoun for shits and giggles at one point until it kinda just became an actual neopronoun for him because they like it

Also Omnisexual and panromantic. Why is everyone so attractive???

Tall. Scrawny as hell. Eat a sandwich, bloke

Makes the most lewd jokes out of the group. Bro even grosses Aloha out sometimes-

Mask: “I need her to bend me over the stove and spank me with a spatula-“

Aloha: “WHAT HAPPENED TO HELLO????”

Very congested voice. That’s hay fever. He gets it from his father, who got it from his father, and so on

“Nice argument, unfortunately I am at your front door with a blunt object” — debating online about which character should be invited into smash bros

I know his bitch ass kins that motherfucker Sal from Sally Face

Favorite video game would have to be portal 2. He’d like the plot, the story, and bro would love Glad0s to pieces 10/10 villain, she’s a mood. They also like RPGs, plenty of which he’s download off of an itch.io knockoff

This fool STANKS. Like, bro smells like cheap cologne and 50 day old stale pizza. Take a bath

The rest of the S5 and Mask’s family have definitely tried to give him a bath before. They failed 😞 /j

Just kidding, Mask showers once for two whole days. Sometimes they’ll go for three days

Has multiple socials. Bro doesn’t post much other than some random funny videos they catch of the boys doing stupid shit and cackling at them when they get hurt in the most ridiculous ways

Is actually depressed. Bro was acting like an edgy teen back when they were 14, but as they got older they did actually start developing depression. Bro isn’t suicidal or anything, or at least they don’t actively seek to harm themselves, but bro has this kind of… Depressive symptom where they would just have a lack of care for if they like got killed all of a sudden, even almost hoping it would happen. Instead of being all mopey and sad and crying themselves to sleep at night, Mask is really just in a numb state. They just don’t care about anything. They still pull through because of all their family and friends, and bro knows that leaving those people in his life wouldn’t do any good.

Bro gained his depression from his mom suddenly passing away when he was 18. She died in a horrible car crash. They were even the first to find out because he accidentally stumbled across the scene. It wasn’t too far from where they lived. Thankfully, Mask is seeing a therapist, but he’s having trouble opening up still.

Acts like a cat. Loves to cuddle, really lazy with their movements and mannerisms, and love bites. Nibbles on your hand like a creature

Plays the chello. At first he started playing because he thought that the low pitch of the chords were edgy, lmao, but then the sound of it felt soothing and it ended up growing on him. Bro plays it whenever he’s stressed out over something or if he just needs a moment to clear his mind. It helps them think better, too. He’ll play for you if he feels like it or if you ask nicely, but he’s usually shy about it.

Crusty gamer, but they have a beautiful face. Aloha dramatically passed out when he saw Mask’s true face

Mask doesn’t really like to take his mask off in general. At first it was so bro could look scary and intimidating when bro was younger, but now it’s because they value their privacy. Plus, they find comfort in their anonymity. They typically keep it off when they’re at home or at a trusted friends house

Aloha’s octoling roommate, Lilith, creeped the shit of him when they first met, even though they were kinda similar in how they acted. Bro was just really off put by her gigantic size and build, and the fact that she was missing an eye and had previously been part of the Octarian army—as an army captain no less—oooh bro had the heebie jeebies! They actually ended up becoming friends after they just trauma dumped to each other one night during one of Aloha’s parties. There were tears and ugly sobs involved. Now? Don’t tell anyone, but Mask thinks she’s fine as hell (they like their women buff).

Seriously though, now Mask is practically head over heels for that woman. He never wants to admit it, and he gets all defensive when people bring it up, as it’s mostly because she’s afraid of finding out and potentially beating his ass over it, or just having to face the reality that she simply may not be interested in them. That alone was enough to leave an emotional bruise on em.

Hangs out with Bobble, even though her smile used to erk him to the end of the world. He also likes hanging out with Goggles, too. The both of them treat Mask nicely and bought him a game that he really wanted for their birthday, so now Mask feels like he’s indebted to them (that’s what he says, but bro just likes hanging out with them)

Real chill about it when Army came out as an octoling—he also then came out as a sharkling at the time, too. He was also the first to find out about Army having a crush on Goggles and he tried to hook ‘em up just for shits and giggles, and sort of to see what would happen. Bro did feel happy when they got together, but then they got flabbergasted when the two of them also got with Rider and Skull— “Wait, did I miss a few chapters? What the hell”

Skull

His real name is Sloan

Autism hiding up in here somewhere. Adhd, too

Also gay. Unlike Rider, he’s more open about it—or chill at least

He’s a kraken squid, one of the strongest creatures in the inkling and octoling genuses. Being a kraken squid not only gives him more animalistic traits in the way he acts, like being territorial and prone to snapping his teeth and growling, but he also has bones. Krakens are one of the only ones, besides leviathans and some sharklings, to have bones in the cephalopod class

That being said, he’s broken an arm at one point. He mentions it every so often like it was a fever dream and people look at him alarmingly because the way he broke his arm sounds absolutely agonizing

Besides the E-liter, he also likes using the krak on splat roller

Likes to wear goth punk style, either that or punk rock

Gives the most bombastic side eye

He says he tone deaf when he sings, but he can actually sing pretty good. It’s really soothing. He’s just really shy about his singing and uses it as an excuse not to sing. You gotta bully him into doing it (don’t do that tho, not nice) He can also rap pretty good, too. And he’s really good with the bass guitar and regular guitar

Has really beautiful tanned skin, because he stands out in the sun all day holding his e-liter in matches and he’s Scalican and knows Coralish (Splatoon pun of Mexican and Spanish) he’s got a bunch of tan lines, too

But what if he had a southern accent? 👀 (I WANNA BE A COWBOY BABYYYY)

He’s been wearing his skull bandana for the longest to hide his sharp ass teeth to try to avoid people from getting spooked of him. Well, the skull on his bandana didn’t really help all that much, but he actually kinda liked the style because he felt intimidating for another reason other his real teeth.

He’s naturally strong as hell and tall as a skyscraper because he’s a kraken squid, and he’s been like that since he turned 14. It’s because of that lots of people are always intimidated by him, even when he tries to prove he’s docile (Kind of a discrimination thing he’s gotta deal with everyday 😞). But deep down he’s a gentle giant. Really trustworthy man, too. He also has sharp claws; they’re very pretty

Got into a few fist fights, some double sided and… one sided, between him and some drink tampering shmucks Aloha would catch at his parties or at his parents’ bar. He’s never started a fight, but he has sure as hell finished them all

He’s kinda insecure about handling kids and hatchlings. He loves them to death, but because of his giant, intimidating feature, he knows he’d be prone to accidentally freaking younglings out. It also has to do with the fact that his hatchling cousin started crying really hard the millisecond Skull tried to hold them in his arms one time back when he was like 12; He still hasn’t gotten over it. It’s kinda ironic though, because despite his intimidating form, lots of younglings and hatchlings actually really like him right off the bat. It’s probably because he’s actually really good with kids in general. He’d play with them, keep them out of trouble, and just knows what they’d need on a whim. He’s your go-to babysitter kind of guy

His favorite pastries are cannolis, his favorite cakes are cheesecakes, and his favorite candy would be all three flavors of chocolate. He had a crisis when he had to choose one team during the chocolate splatfest

Really territorial about his food. He growls if you get near him while he’s eating food, especially sweets. Not only that, but he’s even worse when he’s with a significant other. He’ll straight up snarl at you if he feels like you’re bothering them. He’d even snap his teeth like a dog at you. Leave him alone to cuddle with his boyfriens >:(

He does also growl and snarl when he senses danger, if he’s pissed off, or if he just wants to be left alone in general. He’s got a low, deep growl that can pierce your soul. It’s some freaky shit. It makes for a good warning to not cross him, cuz he will fuck you up bad.

He also purrs a lot, and LOUDLY. He loves to purr, it’s his own way of showing affection. He also likes to nibble, whether it be on your hands, neck, ear, anywhere. He’ll also play bite and it‘s so ticklish. He’s like a doggy 💜💜💜

He had a crush on Mask once, back when they played in Inkopolis Plaza, but it was mostly because bro was so affectionate with him. Mask was actually his gay awakening before he decided that he liked imagining Mask as more of a friend. Mask also made for a great wingman, anyways.

Skull fell for Goggles the same reason he fell for Mask, because he was so nice and affectionate with him—even though he flashed him to the public in the square (you had to be there). He was also intrigued by him because he admired how Goggles faced him so determinedly, even after Goggles lost against him. He was the first person who wasn’t afraid of Skull, and that really did confuse him for an extended amount of time

There’s also Rider; He got the feels for Rider after he faced up against Emperor. He too admired Rider for his determination, and that was when he began to realize he had a type—and that he was poly. You could also say their pep talk they had before Rider faced Emperor’s team had played a part in it. They also got closer during the ranked battle championship arc.

As for Army, well, he and Army bonded when he found out Army was an octoling. Skull kinda related to him, as he was also seen as different from other inklings in society because of his large and intimidating structure—though Army didn’t really have to face that, but he was shamed for who he was by his grandad so that was something he and Skull had somewhat in common. He was also there to comfort Army when he was going through it with his grandad getting arrested and everything. He even offered him a place to stay if he needed, even when Army assured that Goggles’ parents were happy to have him around. He’s also really grateful for the fact that Army always makes sure to be his reminder for a bunch of things and also keeps him from getting lost, and his curry is YUM YUM YUM (proof that good food makes a even the bad bitches fold)

He and Aloha’s friend, Lilith started out a bit rocky, but then they grew to have a mutual trust in each other. They also ended up becoming friends after Lilith heard him singing and started singing along (they’re both shy about singing)

Weekly ink rifle meet up with Headphones and Half Rim. Eventually they started inviting N-Pacer! It’s just when they spend the day doing friend stuff, cuz theyre friends now :)

Rider

Real name is Roe

Is BRI’ISH. Heavy British accent boi; “oi my names Rida’ ”

Dude is so tone deaf. But he can keep a beat pretty well. He’s tried to play the drums at one point, but he hasn’t played in a while. He has to have his drum set hiding in his house somewhere

Socially detached. He was taken advantage by other kids a lot when he was younger, and those memories never left him. He’s also had a few issues growing up, too, especially without his dad.

His father left him and his mom before he and his sister were even born. He doesn’t even have a good idea as to what he looks like since his mom took down every photo in the house that he was in since he left them. His mom refuses to ever mention him, and if Rider ever does she’s quick to change the subject. All he knows is that he inherited his father’s voice, and both he and Platinum inherited his nose and lips. Rider never knew why he left. But truth be told, he doesn’t care no more, he’s got so many more people to worry about nowadays

Coming back to edit this part: He has a twin sister and a twin brother btw. He’s one of three triplets. His sister’s real name’s Rinet (it’s Renet but it’s just spelled differently) and his twin brother’s name is Ryan. Rinet’s nickname is Platinum while Ryan is Rockin’. Platinum wears the white inky rider and she mains the golden aerospray, while Cooler wears the Rockin’ leather jacket and mains the Golden Enperry Dualies. Rinet’s kinda an asshole but she’s a pretty fun friend to have around. Ryan is more laid back and a “go with the flow” kinda guy, but literally he doesn’t care about a lot of stuff. Rider and them all used to be on the same team until he got sick of Rinet’s shit because he thought she was such a snooty player and decided to go his own way while Rinet left with Ryan. Eventually, Rider found his own team that he has now. Every so often, if one of his teammates get sick or unavailable, Platinum will automatically fills in for them, and if not her, then it’ll be Rockin’ .

Platinum doesn’t play turf war or ranked battles that much. She’s mostly seen doing Grizzco shifts to try to help her and Rider’s mom pay the bills and get their mom closer to retirement; it’s also to save up money for college. Rockin’ and Rider wish she would quit someday, as they don’t trust Grizzco industries and their “policies” and work environment. Rider doesn’t admit it, but he worries about her a whole lot. Rockin’ does his best to keep an eye on her, mostly by tagging along with her in salmon runs as joint workers.

He’s pretty skilled with the E-Liter. He likes to stick with the no-scope; inspired by Headphones, in purpose of keeping an eye on his team.

He and Wireglasses weren’t related. They did grow up in the same neighborhood as kids, before Wireglasses moved to Splatsville with his parents. It made Rider kinda sad because they were actually good friends, one of the only real friends he ever really had before blue team. When they met again after he went to Splatsville, they gave each other a big ol hug.

His ass does not like Emperor. Emperor doesn’t like him either, except it’s more that he just doesn’t vibe with him, meanwhile Rider just LOATHES him to pieces. If they’re both in the same room, Rider will go out of his way to stand in the opposite side of the room just to be as far away from “that fancy ass whiteboy” as possible. It’s so ridiculously funny and more so when you remember that all of team blue are good friends with Emperor so it really ruffles Rider’s feathers.

He has nothing against Prince, tho. If the S4 say he’s cool, then he’s cool.

His mom is… She’s not perfect, to say the least. Who is, though? I mean, Sheena really did struggle to cope when he boyfriend abandoned her when she fell pregnant, with triplets no less. She absolutely refuses to drown her sorrows in alcohol and drugs, I implore her for that, but she was still incredibly depressed even when her kids came into the world. She was slightly neglectful during their first few years, and her parents didn’t bother to help her with them because she left them to be with her boyfriend, but they didn’t bother regaining contact even when she was struggling. Sheena got better eventually, especially after she started gaining more friends in the neighborhood who helped co-parent. Eventually she was able to get back on her feet and become the kind of parent she wanted to be for her three kids. Since then, she became a lot more energetic and bombastic, she had that cool aunt personality while juggling around two kids at the same time. She loves her babies to death, and she thinks it’s funny to kind of embarrass them in public all the time by giving them kisses all over their faces and head and giving them right hugs. Yes, it’s embarrassing, but Platinum, Rockin’ and Rider know that life would be a lot more duller without their mother around. 💚🤍🖤 (not me indulging in motorcycle mama 😭)

His mom’s part of a biker gang, and she has the nickname Rose because she wears a pink leather jacket that she got custom made. She’s got a sweet, red Road-King in the garage. She keeps saying that she’s gonna get Rider a black Road King someday when he’s old enough. Rider honestly doubts it, but don’t underestimate his mother’s determination to keep her word.

He’s honestly in no rush, really. In fact he’s afraid of getting back on the motorcycles again. He used to ride around on the back of his mom’s motorcycle and be part of “the gang,” but he take on a hiatus after a car accident that had him fist bumping death’s hand before he ended up in the hospital for almost a week with a scar that’s never gonna leave. He hasn’t road with her since, but even he admits that he wants to get back on it someday.

He’s pretty smart with cars and with motorcycles, too. He learned it all from his mom. Why go to the car repair center when you can take it over to his house to get it checked on? Charges a fair price, too. Rockin’ and Platinum like to help out too, but they’re much more experienced in motorcycles since they both own one and take of their own.

His right eye is partially blind from where he got sanitized. He would’ve felt more insecure about it if it weren’t for his boyfriends assuring him that he’s such a handsome boy every single day since they each of them got together.

Yes, he is built like a brick house. He swings a large mass of metal around like a wiffle bat everyday out in the battlefield. What else did you expect?

He’s so easy to scare, it’s hilarious. You can come up from behind him and go “BOO!” And he’ll jump a little and just glare at you. But if he gets really scared, like if he’s in one of those haunted house attractions, he’ll start screaming and slowly start falling to the ground in slow motion or just run off wordlessly. It’s even funnier because he’ll grab the nearest person he’s with and they’re both gonna eat shit together by falling or he’s gonna throw them over his shoulder and bull a skiddadle. Either that, or he’s just gonna run away so fast without saying anything; there was also this time he was playing basketball by himself in the evening and the lights suddenly went off and he SPED AWAY so fast you could hear the fear in his shoes when they squeaked. (That last part is based off a funny video I saw of a man running away when the streetlights went of). His ass does not like horror games, either

He has multiple pair of boots, and leather jackets.

He would absolutely wear the dreadlock hairstyle in Splatoon 3, he HAS too

He was very shocked to find out Army was an octoling, but he had his full support. But NOTHING could prepare him for when he finally met Goggles’ parents and learned that theyre octolings too. He likes them a whole lot, they’re very nice to him and they became friends with his mom when they all met each other at one of Goggle and Rider’s meet-your-parents dinner date

Ok so I’m so sorry I sorta just dumped my personal issues onto Mask that must’ve been really screwed up to read- (my mom didn’t die in a car crash but she had dementia and she died last year on new years). I was also indulging in Rider’s mom for a little bit, because, I wish my mom was still here to give me a bunch of kisses all over my face while I complain about people seeing us because- I miss that :(

Don’t worry about it 👍🏻

Also sorry for those who come back every so often and find out the headcanons have changed. I should probably just make part 3’s and 4’s but I don’t feel like it. I’m gonna do team blue at some point erp erp erp

And don’t look at me like that for also jumping on the oc x canon ship bandwagon with Mask. I just thought that they and Lilith would be silly together.

< Here’s the first part with Aloha and Army

[lenasprouts-words]

olderbrother!skz headcanons pt 2!!

ahh maknae line! hyung line

han

you guys are inseparable

you also get mad at minho for stealing your brother

also han and u are actual soulmates

minho is second (and less cool in ur opinion)

only about one-two years apart

when yall meet he does the ‘where my hug at?’ thing

its either you koala hug him or he does

just like, legs wrapped around waist typa hug

or he’ll bury his face into your armpit

you think it’s disgusting but he argues its comfy 

he sends you all his photos he wants to post

then you choose the ones you like 

he likes anime; you like kdramas

constantly fighting abt which is better

it got so heated once that even felix rose his voice for yall to stfu

its okay tho u made up a day after and went to the park to have a singing contest

you watch silly documentaries together

your chat is filled with stupid jokes and complaints

but he’s the first to know when something is wrong

started dissing this kid who bullied you in fifth grade

he got sent to the office but gave you a hug right before

steals things from photoshoots to give to you

spams you when he’s in the studio

asks you for lyric inspo and uses your terrible love life as inspo

once you showed one of his songs to your partner

’my brother wrote this about my last ex. dont make him do it again, he cried writing it.’

well your partner also cried so

matching stuffed animals <3

asks you to help him learn twice choreo

bc ur a huge once

he also got you a signed album from them

’oh here noonas gave me this idk why tho’

felix

loves you to death.

like fr its scary

youre four-five years younger than him

so you basically have eight older brothers

nicknamed you smiley bc your smile is the cutest thing ever (and it is)

runs to you calling ‘smiley!!!’

and lifts you off the ground when you hug

he hooks his chin around your shoulder and smells you

you think him smelling you is weird but it isnt

bc according to him you smell like ‘vanilla and lavenders and lemon’

it is so very random but you love it anyways

you two balance each other out so well, in a really weird way tho

like he’s hyper and energetic and sweet

while your active and excited and a little bitter

your insults and comebacks make him cry laugh every time

and you do the same with felix

he will NEVER shut up abt you trust

like seungmin once put him on a ban from talking about you

but he just started texting about you so

taught you taekwando

and now you fight hand to hand against changbin (and win most times)

felix doesnt like it tho bc ‘changbinnie'll get hurt and cry!’

both of your puberty hormones went to your voice box

his got deeper and huskier; yours is silkier and in the middle tone range leaning deep

but its like a rich deep ya know?

when he’s sleepy he starts mumbling random sentences and you record them snd send them to you group chat named ‘skz (-1 sunshine +1 smiley)’

if seungmin thought felix was bad at gaming, youre even worse

most of the time you end up dying

its funny because you started gaming before felix did too

you gave each other sweatshirts for white day in korea

and now your roommate hates when you use it because its so worn down and lowk smelly

jeongin has to beg felix to take it off and put it in the wash

dance parties at random times

especially if you or felix are feeling down

the playlist ‘HOE DANCE DOWN!’ is blasting

consisting of twice, charli xcx, dua lipa, and olivia rodrigo

other artists too and some from jyp bc felix loves his jypnation

not jyp tho anytime felix complains abt the ‘stupid motherfucker who wont shut up and has no talent and too much confidence’

complains ESPECIALLY while yall r playing fortnite, on your request

baking is your shared therapy

felix makes brownies, you make cookies

perfect duo in the kitchen

you bake so often that watching you two is like a dance

members will literally watch you bake and you flip them off

‘LIXIE I GOT FLIPPED OFF AGAIN!’

‘JISUNG STOP BEING A CREEP!!’

rock paper scissors is YOUR thing

like felix will just turn to you and stick his fist out

you also win almost every time

seungmin

you literally have twin telepathy

mainly bc your twins but he is also thirty two minutes older

so, day ones

gatekeeps you from his friends but not the group

because somehow they already knew who you were

you introduced yourself to them the day they debuted

only pretends to be sad abt not being a twin in the group

because he already has you and wouldnt change it for anything

the only person he will not hesitate from skinship is you

pats on the head, chin on shoulder, holding hands, occasional squeezing

his hugs are your safe spot

he’d tap you on the shoulder and take your arm

then he starts massaging you after pulling you into the hug

and it feels so good

and he’s surprisingly good at it too

treats you like a baby bc ur the youngest in you family (by a half hour)

once got you a new phone to stop you from complaining

you think its because he loves you but that is denied every time (its true tho, bc who wouldnt love you?)

only person who can calm you down

when you get too mad

he’ll call you or lay next to you

rub your back until you calm down

if youre on call he’ll put on music and start singing random shit

youre the orange kitty to his golden retriever puppy

you literally paw at him until he gives you his attention

he’ll get excited and its the cutest thing you’ve seen

wakes you up by singing the high note in ‘cover me’ in your ear

ever since he’d recorded that he’s been bragging abt it

but you dont mind bc his singing is nice and you know he would feel the same if you bragged about your fashion designs and website

every day you leave him sweet messages (like his older sister!!)

‘oh seungmo, love your hair today! your smile lit up my room puppy’

in return he sends cute gifs

he also learned french from the i am you tour to swear at you

asks for help in english before events/interviews where english will be used

you were the one who calmed his worries before the paris fashion week

since youre an english and fashion design major he relies on you

he will also never get over the fact that his TWIN is double majoring

your literally jeongin’s favorite tho

bc if seungmin says no you’ll say yes

very very mischevious

if one of you are having a bad day

you’ll just bring the other to a rage room

very effective

jeongin

he’s the maknae of the group and hates getting babied

so he automatically doesn’t baby you

maybe he does a little bit….

but thats because you told him it was okay and you liked it

youre around three years younger than him

so everyone in the group babies you

jeongin is always the first to go and greet you tho

spooks you tho

goes behind your back and yells ‘boo!’ in your ear

he gets punched by you after that

you just tackle him and squeeze him

but he goes ‘oh youve grown so big now!’

he’s also been getting stronger so when he goes into his normal hug where he puts his amrs around and under your armpits, you get squeezed until youre out of breath

on that note

he takes you to the gym bc you’ve been wanting to work out since starting college

he wanted to b your gym buddy (also was scared of u dying bc of asking binnie)

pushes you enough to finish bc he knows ur limits <3

you go to a convinience store after your workouts

both of yall try to pay BUT you make a schedule for who pays

you switch off

innie is extremely proud he made that idea

share a gym playlist

and most of your playlist

bc ur music taste is so similar you end up collabing playlists

you both do daily fit checks

slowly you’ve been able to coax him out of terrible shoe choices

you’ll show him something new and he’ll be like

‘oh is this what all the youngsters are wearing now?’

he busts out these rubber shoes that give you a headache

‘im doing it for stay’ you know stay’s reaction bc u r one

you always show what stays are saying on pinterest and call them simps

but you also cant talk bc, and jeongin quotes this

‘damnn hyunjin looking fine enough to be mine’

but also jeongin constantly uses pick up lines on YOUR friends

if he ever picks you up he’ll turn to someone your hanging out with

‘are you the sun because youre so hot you burn my retinas’

and everyone is just. majorly confused

its his random space obsession showing okay

you went on a planetarium date one time

he talked your ear off and then you bit his ear

retaliation for all the times he’s bit you when he was a wee little one

after that you went shopping

a stay photographed yall starting dating rumors

but its okay bc jeongin addressed it in his lives

telling everyone youre siblings

there is a ten minute video of him cracking up, tears flowing bc of the situation

@chans-muffin i delivered!!!!

[corpsentry]

recent stories i have read or watched or vored sexily

1. so yesterday i was on page 139 of gideon the ninth and today i finished it. i did nothing until i finished it. i physically could not stop. i mean i should have known it from the moment it had the most epic characters page of all the houses and each house had cool as balls names like Hope Of The Emperor and Wisdom Of The Emperor and Rose Unblossomed or however that one goes but holy mother of god…………. they did not lie this book went hard as fuck. i was reminded of something and i’m going to reblog it shortly so you can read it but i saw a tumblr post that was talking about dungeon meshi’s character designs versus genshin impact’s and another where an author was like ok but where’s the gross part?? where’s the pathetic in the characters??? and gideon the ninth does this so well. god, gideon and harrow are trying to beat each other into the ground for the better part of the book but then you get this insane 180 flip and they’re in a POOL and mein gotte when harrow said i am undone without you my eyes cried Just A Little. i forget, i think, sometimes, that people are most beautiful when they are wretched and clumsy and honest. i think this particularly because i’ve been on a hetero chinese language dramas and movies binge lately and i turned off the part of my brain that revels in messy honest art and let the part that wants to stare at bailu for 30 hours stare at bailu for 30 hours. but maybe it is time to stop watching things only to look at beautiful women (who are, admittedly, very fucking beautiful). maybe it is time to GO TO THE FUCKASS FARAWAY LIBRARY TOMORROW TO BORROW HARROW THE NINTH. what da hell. the world building in this novel is motherfucking exquisite. you have to work so goddamn hard to make a line like Emperor the Necromancer Divine God Salvation The Resurrection with a bunch of little semicolons in between work but it works, it works because it’s cool, it’s cool because it’s grimey and gross and funny, i would do astounding things for all of these people (except silas, who can get fucked). and gideon is such a spectacular narrator, to be introduced to this world through her eyes is an honor and a gift, and harrow….. HARROWWWWWWW AOUUUUUUUU YAUUUUUUUUUUUU i’m obsessed. it’s over. i am officially down horrendous

2. now i’m gonna talk to you guys about amidst a snowstorm of love 在暴雪时分. my mom keeps being like so are you done with the helsinki drama yet and i have to keep being like no because There Is No Drama but anyway ok i started it because wulei…….. and now i am Bereft and Despaired fr that they put wulei in this when man has so much more to him. listen up my guys. i have never seen or read or heard or played a story that has so little….. story. it is remarkably, devastatingly substanceless. it is like watching a 3 hour chill lofi playlist. every once in a while the dog in the animated background runs around the armchair. the fire crackles through the same 5 frames. otherwise— nothing. i’m honestly amazed that they managed to do this, this, this is Not what slice of life is. this is also not what straight romance is??? i am a longtime purveyor of the hetero romance arts and this is hetero romance sans all of the misunderstandings and miscommunications that generate teary breakdowns and mismanaged fights. there is literally no conflict which can be fine except there isn’t even, like, admiration for the small things in life or familial love or friendship which Does Not A Story Make. now i don’t say this lightly as i am a strong believer that if the plot only advances because the cast is too fucking stupid to talk to each other then it’s a shit plot but for the first time in my life i wish there Would be a petty misunderstanding so we could at least see a fraction of the characters’ personalities. now see the Premise is that the protagonist goes to finland to participate in a 9-ball competition and pulls the brooding grad student she meets there back into the world of billiards or whatever but the 9-ball is just a vehicle in the purest sense for the romance. she will be like i practice now and then go practice and then wulei shows up with coffee and that’s it, the 9-ball table was there so wulei could lean on it and look hot in 4 shots. i’m genuinely astounded. nothing fucking HAPPENS in this drama. literally i will sit through an entire episode and it’s just like, zhao lusi wants coffee…., there is coffee…., romantic moments (6-7) insert song (2-3) close up slow mo gazing (399999). seriously i would commit unspeakable crimes for wulei but even i cannot watch this drama straight without falling asleep. it is the emptiest thing i have ever seen and it is so spectacularly committed to this absolutely void of writing. also wulei’s character is dirt poor but he spends all his money on taking zhao jinmai to expensive ass fuck restaurants and then gets sick from overwork and no one TALKS about it. it’s not even a decent straight romance because there is no communication or anything remotely interesting happening in the relationship. it’s not a drama, mein gott, it’s a medley of cute heartwarming moments between two very beautiful and very talented actors who have been kidnapped and locked in a snowy nightmare where all they can do is smile at each other shyly and sometimes hold hands. crazy…………….. wasted potential for my babygirls………. (bereft)

3. watched episode 2 of oh no here comes trouble不良执念清除师 i cannot get over the fact that pu yiyong draws digital art. it’s just so lovely a detail. the first time they showed his drawing tablet and the tablet pen i was like WOAA…. HES JUST LIKE ME FR i mean he’s just like me fr he has a goofy little mullet and he talks back like it’s his 9-5 it’s brilliant. this is excellent representation for brooding angsty teens who also like to draw with clip studio paint. Possibly watching this at 2 am was a mistake as i am prone to nightmares about godless things but it’s such a fun drama and it handles tonal shifts with a clarity that i rarely see in tv….. also pu yiyong’s actor is just great. i mean god, he has eyebrows and they’re mad at you. good for him. slay

4. we’re on episode, i dunno, 23 of the double墨雨云间 now i think and it’s great but it’s true, especially after binging 80% of gideon the ninth in one day that much like how genshin impact’s character designs are designed to be attractive to as many people as possible, the double’s characters are meant to be perfect and attentive to the maximum number of people. the catharsis of seeing the protagonist triumph over the evil conspiring antagonist is only cathartic so many times, and i think im running up against the ceiling of that catharsis. we know fangfei’s brilliant and we know xiaoheng won’t let anything happen to her so it just becomes 5d chess between the morally black and white chess players, it becomes watching schemes unfold and collapse like origami boats, over and over again. they don’t sink because there isn’t any water. they’re beautiful but they can’t bear weight. and after spending too much time in these homes, in the chinese dramas hole or the kpop gorilla groups hole or the mainstream shounen hole i have to punch myself in the dick and be like ok now you are re entering the world as a person amongst other people, because it gives you tunnel vision! they’re all conventionally attractive queens with snatched waists and perfectly managed profiles, variety show personalities but you see i remembered that I Want Harrowhark Nonagesimus. i want the grit and the dirt and the morning sunlight all at once. what i mean is i will be borrowing harrow the ninth from the public library tomorrow if it means i have to take a train 2 hours out to fuckass nowhere to get it. what i mean is i am going back into the game and i am going 2 Win

[vodika-vibes]

Are you still taking requests for the first kiss prompt? Can I request "well i guess that answers my question." With Darman Skirata? Him saying the first kiss prompt because I’d be waiting forever for him to make the first move. If you have time to write it great. If not it’s no biggie.

Thanks. ☺️

Hihi! I am indeed! Thank you for your request!

Well, I guess that answers my question

Summary: Your long time crush on Darman is becoming harder and harder to hide...and he's finally going to do something about it.

Pairing: Darman Skirata x Reader

Word Count: 1100

Warnings: Fluff

A/N: I had to google information on Darman, as this is my first time writing him, and I've only ever read one fic with him in it. So I hope this is okay.

Divider by saradika

You’re beginning to think that Darman Skirata has it out for you specifically.

Oh. He’s nothing but polite when it comes to talking to you. And he’s never done anything to make you think that he actively dislikes you…in fact, he often goes out of his way to make sure that you’re comfortable and that you don’t need anything.

The problem is that he’s so stupidly charming, and so stupidly handsome that you want to kiss his stupid face and tangle your hands in his stupid hair.

The problem is that he’s haunting your every dream and your every waking hour, and you’re losing your damned mind.

And your friends aren’t helping. No. They’re all like, “You should tell him that you have a crush on him! What’s the worst thing that can happen?” Well, the worst thing is that he could hear you, and then he would know, and you’d sooner bury yourself alive than put yourself out there like that.

No. You will just have to make do with admiring him from afar, and when/if the war ever ends, maybe then you can take him out for dinner or something. Maybe. 

But for now…well, for now you have work to do. And today’s work is-

“Inventory,” Darman says lazily, and you scowl at the datapad in your arms, then around the massive storage room, and then at Darman himself.

“Why am I always doing inventory?” You ask, “Why don’t you do inventory?”

“You’re a better counter than anyone else,” Darman replies, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“What, the Kaminoans didn’t teach you how to count higher than 10?” You ask snarkily.

“There are numbers higher than 10?” Darman asks innocently.

You grab a package of sponges off a shelf and fling it at him, “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

He catches the sponges, “I think I’m hilarious,” He throws the sponges back at you and you barely manage to catch them.

“You’re not.” You counter.

“Maybe you just don’t have a sense of humor,” Darman replies as he drags a ladder from the corner and sets it up against the shelf.

“What are you doing?” 

“What? Did you think you were going to be working alone?” He asks, as he rests his arms on the ladder, “No such luck. I’m helping.”

“Oh. Joy.” You mutter under your breath. The last thing you want is to be trapped in an enclosed space with the one guy you’ve been crushing on for months. 

It’s terrible. The worst day ever.

Still, you do have work to do, so you heave out a silent sigh and move to sit on the floor so you can start your part of the inventory. You try to ignore the way that your skin prickles when he stares at you.

Three hours later, you’re laid out on your stomach trying to reach something under the shelf, “Son of a motherfucking-” You hiss under your breath.

“You know-” You yelp, and your arm slams, painfully, into the bottom of the shelf, “-it would be easier to just ask me to move the shelf.” Darman says from where he’s standing over you.

“I forgot you were in here,” You admit, only half honestly.

He rolls his eyes, and nudges you with his boot, “Get up.”

You shimmy out from under the shelf, and stand, only realizing how close he was standing when you fully straightened and you saw that you were standing chest to chest. “A-ah…sorry.” You stammer as your face flames red.

His brows creep up his forehead slightly, and then a small smirk crosses his face, “Huh.”

“Huh? What huh?” You ask as you take a step back.

His smirk becomes something incredibly cocky, “Don’t worry about it, mesh’la.” Darman carefully slides the shelf back, wincing at the loud scrape of metal on concrete. “There, that should do it.”

“Huh, yeah. Thanks.” Darman doesn’t say anything and you look up at his face, there’s something almost calculating in his gaze and it’s making you a little nervous, “Dar?”

“Hm?” He blinks, “Oh, yeah. No problem. Just ask if you need any more help.”

“Uh…okay?” You watch, bewildered, as he crosses back to the other side of the room, and then you shake your head and turn back to your project. 

Less than fifteen minutes later there’s an audible click of a door being locked, and a hum as the lights dimmed to their late night setting. You look up at the ceiling with a frown. 

You hear Darman walk over to the door, and you turn when you hear the familiar warning sound indicating that the door was sealed. “We’ve been locked in, apparently.” Darman says, sounding very unconcerned.

“What? That doesn’t make any sense.” You reply as you push to your feet.

“I’m sure they’ll figure it out eventually,” Darman sits on one of the steps of the ladder, and folds his arms across his chest, “There’s no need to worry.” He pauses and then stands, “Although, now this does give us a chance to talk.”

“Talk? What do we need to talk abou-” Your words are cut off by the feel of his hands against your cheek. His thumbs rub soothing circles against your cheekbones, and you release a, frankly embarrassing, whine from low in your throat as his hand drifts to settle on the back of your neck.

Something delighted crosses his face, “Well,” He murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, “I guess that answers my question.” And then his lips are against yours, warm and slightly chapped. 

What starts off as a chaste kiss very quickly becomes heated, with Darman’s teeth and tongue nipping and soothing and silently demanding that you submit to him, and he presses you against the wall, pinning you in place with his hips.

When he finally breaks the kiss, you’re breathless and pink, and he looks deeply, deeply satisfied, “Dinner.” Darman says.

“...what?” Your brain doesn’t quite want to work just yet, still feeling a little bit fuzzy from the kiss.

“Dinner,” He repeats, “Tonight. My quarters.”

“Like…like a date?” You ask.

“Well, I don’t kiss just anyone like that, ner cyare.” Darman purrs out, delight growing as your face flames red.

“We’re still stuck in here.” You squeak.

He pauses, “Oh. Right.” Darman pulls his comm out of his hip pouch, “You can turn the lights back on and unlock the door. I got what I needed.” He says into the comm after pressing a button.

Your jaw drops.

Darman winks at you, and kisses your jaw. “Back to work, cyare.”

[iaus]

For the ask thing: 30, 23, 4! Sorry if you’ve already done these but also you can double dip if the question allows for it idc

30: share a fic you’re especially proud of

okay. this one. god. i already know the answer right off the fuckin bat. so you're gonna get kind of a little. history here.

TL;DR of it is for a long fucking time i had a weird complicated relationship where i felt peer pressured into writing stuff for other people that i didn't enjoy writing (and at times outright hated). this ended with me dropping writing/sharing my writing publicly for like 7-ish years i think? it was a good stretch of time. i like REFUSED to engage with anyone.

but then. i started playing darkest dungeon. and i was struck with this urge to write bounty hunter/flagellant (tardif/damin or bhf as i tag it). and that led to me feverishly writing the nearly 16k of when i'm in control (when i'm out of my mind) in days. and it is like. the first fic i have unabashedly loved in 10+ years.

i loved the dialogue, the action sequences (which are really hard for me to write!!), the pacing, and i loved writing a softer but still rough interpretation of tardif (he's the mass murderer i keep mentioning who kills crime lords and collects teeth).

like straight up, i think if i did not write this fic i would not be as active as i currently am within the sb tag. i adore it. i may bitch and moan a bout dd2 but dd1. my fucking beloved.

23: pick three keywords that describe your writing

this one's fun i'll happily do it again

so last time i did the moody answer of "dense, dishonest, yearning" which i'm still laughing. especially at dense. motherfucker of too many words. but i think another three might be:

frenetic, dramatic, and meandering (positive).

i feel like my writing can have this like. oh my god this person has (undiagnosed) ADHD huh quality to it at times. so.

4: a story idea you haven’t written yet

i know i mentioned earlier the idea of new teacher porter meeting an already established jace teaching at aguefort... but i mean. i think the other idea that's kind of rattling around my head is either of my text posts where jace is like FUCK WHO YOU WANT and then they end up banging or even...

expanding on the idea of porter seeing jace flirting with a guy when they're on break and then just starts being like you wanna come over? because it's so clear in my head and it's so funny especially after @jadeandquartzes replied and was like... but porter having to break into his own house through the back so he can actually open the door from the inside it's so funny. i might have to write it. but then knowing me it's gonna turn into a monster 😭

also. i'm not even going to lie i was thinking about one of my bg3 characters who's a monk dragonborn and the idea of porter feeling inadequate because jace was about to get dragonborn dick is SO funny to me but. that's. well.