#like five of you actually know who I'm talking about

[giuseppe-yuki]

birthday celebration?

normal!max verstappen x billionaire!reader

w.c.: 3.8k

warnings: suggestive material, curse words, danica patrick (?), sassy and jimmy slander (sorry i love them irl i promise)

part of my money, money, money!universe

summary: yesterday was max's birthday. the press wants to know: you guys went all out to celebrate, right?

a/n: so yesterday was actually my birthday 🤭 i tried my best to post this before it hit 12 as a birthday treat for y'all, but it didn't really work out... consider this a late birthday post + max 4 wdc celebration :)

p.s. this is NOT the money, money, money spinoff that i promised- i'm working on that i swear🤞🥲

picture credits from pinterest :)

to say the driveway up to the gala building was crowded was an understatement. if you looked out the window of the very expensive rolls royce you were currently seated in, you could spot at least five rosso corsa ferraris and like, three jet black lamborghinis within a meter from you. to be honest, you had to give props to your private driver, daniil, because there was no way you could have strategically maneuvered the car onto the jam-packed road without causing a rather exorbitant pileup of supercars. next to you, on the plush leather seats, was your boyfriend in his freshly pressed, custom fitted suit that you had your assistant buy just for the event. he sits there politely with his hands folded together, wide blue eyes blinking at you innocently. he looked mighty handsome, and if you weren’t currently sitting in a car with a billion cars, paparazzi, and influential figures right outside, you certainly would have done some not-so-appropriate things to max right then and there.

instead of doing said things and traumatizing your poor private driver, you quickly glance at your phone. 

a bold 5:10 flashes across the screen, in front of your lockscreen of max curled up in bed with jimmy and sassy. 

shit. 

you were scheduled to do some press stuff outside the event around 5:20, and had to be inside by 5:45. if the queue of cars of ahead of you didn’t hurry up, you would probably be late, and it wouldn’t be a good thing if the ceo of redbull herself was late to her own redbull gala. 

max, like the sweet, observant boyfriend that he is, peers down at his own phone, notes the time, then tilts his head at you. 

“do you want to just run up to the entrance?” he asks, pocketing his phone. “i’m sure it’s not too far, and i don’t want you to be late for your pr stuff!” 

that didn’t sound like a bad idea. 

after notifying daniil, you and max slip out of the vehicle, much to the surprise of the people in the cars around you. once you squeeze out of the crowd of exotic cars onto the sidewalk, max takes your hand and bolts his way towards the grandly decorated stairs of the gala in the distance. 

unfortunately, you might have misjudged the distance to the entrance, because you both end up a little moist from sweat by the time your heeled feet reach the red carpet-lined stone stairs that lead up to open double doors- the entrance to the gala. lining the stairs are multiple cameras and interviewers, met-gala style. you are sure these are the pr interviews that your assistant was talking about, judging by the sprinkle of red-bull sponsored athletes chit-chatting to a few press members along the stairs and groups of photographers sending off bright flashes with their high-tech cameras. to your right, a man you recognize as sergio perez nods slowly as his interviewer animatedly gestures to a picture of sergio diving into what looks like a pool with a mexican flag wrapped around him. directly in front of you stands daniel ricciardo posing in different silly positions, much to the delight of the gossip magazine paparazzis that were probably having a field day photographing him. next to you, max ecstatically pulls on your dress and points to your left to the esports content creator, ludwig, who laughs loudly to your left as he banters with an excited looking man with a rather large microphone in hand. you haven’t really looked into ludwig’s content, but you often saw max watching his streams while you were in your online meetings, so if he liked ludwig, you guess you did too. 

you attempt to quickly pull max towards the top of the stairs towards the entrance to the gala in an effort to completely avoid doing your media duties, but you are unfortunately stopped within the next twenty seconds by your own interviewer, a lady in the brightest pink outfit you had ever seen in your life.

“heLLO!” the lady says rather enthusiastically. “danica patrick, reporting for tmz!”

“er, hi!” you respond, a little less enthusiastically. max, half-hidden behind you, gives a light wave to the camera. 

unperturbed, she flashes you both a toothy, unnaturally white smile at you both and places a microphone towards her glossy lips. 

“so, miss redbull ceo! it’s so nice to meet you!” she remarks, “and you look absolutely flawless today!” 

you give her and the camera a tight smile. 

“thank you,” you respond, as if you didn’t have two drops of sweat going down your neck and a slightly dirt-dusted gown from the sprint from your car. 

she nods, and then as if just realizing max’s presence, snatches him out from his half-hidden position behind you. 

“and you!” she exclaims, looking max up and down.  “you must be the boyfriend! max-” she checks her notes- “verstappen! yes, i’ve heard so much about you!” 

your boyfriend blinks at her, nervously twiddling the redbull pin that was pinned to his lapel. 

“okay,” he says after a beat of silence. 

the lady nods, and scribbles something down in her notes as if max had something absolutely life-changing, before turning back to you. 

“so, i’ve received the news that yesterday was max’s birthday,” she proclaims. “and i was just wondering what’d you guys did to celebrate! as a successful ceo, you must have went all out, huh?”

seriously? you think. what of question is this? you get to interview a ceo and this is the best thing you can come up with?

when you hesitate a second before answering, she probes, “rumor has it that you both went to bora bora yesterday...” 

as if it knew that today was your boyfriend’s birthday, the bright rays of the monaco sun shined a golden beam of light straight onto max’s hair, lighting the blondish-brown strands into a little halo around his head. even if it feels like a creep to just stare at his peaceful face, you can’t help but gaze a little too long at his pouty lips, long eyelashes, and light stubble. from the corner of your eye, you can see one of his devilish cats balancing precariously on the bedframe. you clock it as sassy, who you knew, unfortunately from experience, loved to pounce on max’s face in the morning when she was feeling a little hungry. sassy meows at you innocently before proceeding to crouch in a position, ready to pounce. jimmy watches at the end of the bed, doing absolutely nothing as you fight for your life trying to wave sassy away without waking up max. 

like the absolute devil sassy is, she leaps off the bedframe, claws extended, right at max. with your lightning quick reflexes that should earn you a seat in the redbull f1 team that your company sponsors, you snatch the bengal cat out of the air before she gets a chance to maul your boyfriend and send him to the emergency room on his birthday. 

she hisses at you, teeth bared, and you just about catapult her out of the open window next to the bed.

instead, you take a deep breath. you deduce that max probably wouldn’t like to wake up finding out that his cat was a pancake on the streets below his apartment, probably ran over by someone’s ferrari pista. instead, you opt for a less extreme “fuck you,” that you hiss right back at sassy. 

like he sensed someone threatening his baby, your boyfriend shifts around. 

“whadyou say?” max mutters from the pillows behind you.

you whip back to face your boyfriend, simultaneously shoving sassy away from you. 

max rubs his eyes sleepily and uses a hand to block the sun that now shines into his eyes. you try not to stare again at his eyes that light a warm whisky brown in the beams of sunlight that seep through his fingers. it cannot be legal to look this good.

“nothing,” you dismiss. 

leaping forward, you wrap your arms around him in a hug.

a surprised look crosses his face, but he leans into your embrace anyways. 

“do you know what day it is, maxie?” you ask, voice a little muffled from being pressed into the crook of his neck. 

max takes a shockingly long time to respond. 

“um… saturday?” he says slowly.

you give him a weird look. 

“well yes…but it’s also your birthday!” you exclaim.

“oh!” he laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “i totally forgot!”

“no way,” you say incredulously.

“yes way,” max replies, tucking you into his side with an arm around you. 

leave it up to your boyfriend to forget his own birthday. 

“well,” you state after a beat of silence of looking at the popcorn ceiling of his apartment. “good thing we still have, like, sixteen hours left to do whatever you want- and we basically have unlimited budget- so go crazy!” 

“hmm,” he says. 

“anywhere you’d like, really- bali, the hamptons, paris, dubai, maldives, bora bora,” you suggest helpfully. “or all of them?”

max thinks for second. 

“how about monaco?”

you blink confusedly. 

“so… right here?” 

“yeah,” he responds. 

you shrug. 

“sure, that’s fine too!”

deborah, or danica, or whatever her name was, babbles on as you and max stand on the stairs awkwardly.

“an inside source has also relayed to us that you might have bought your boyfriend an abt audi rs6, legacy edition for his birthday- an insanely rare and expensive car which only has 200 made in the entire world! 

an abt-legacy what? you can’t help but think, what the hell was that? 

once you get dolled up with your 12-step get-ready process and max pulls on his usual clothes (white shirt + unfortunate-looking skinny jeans), you both hop in max’s trusty little yellow renault clio rs. of course, like the cat lover he was, max refused to accept any expensive material gifts from you, and instead requested to visit the cat shelter as a birthday “gift.” you guess you would probably have to return the tag heuer watch in your bedside drawer that you had gotten him plus the keys to that yacht that was currently sitting in the monaco bay that you thought he would like. 

max whistles a cheerful tune as he types in the cat shelter address onto his phone’s navigation app as you try your best to think of the best way to approach your assistant and tell him to return the yacht that he might have spent the last week negotiating with some old rich prick to buy. his phone makes a small “ding” and prompts him to back out of the tiny garage underneath his apartment, which he does with surprising ease. the ride to the shelter is pretty smooth, except that tiny part where this dumb guy with an all-black ferrari with a red ‘16’ on the side runs the red light, almost t-bones your boyfriend, and then proceeds to stop diagonally in the middle of the road with the most rancid parking job. 

your boyfriend walks into the cat shelter with you in tow. he passes right past the front desk, waves to the man playing sudoku on his phone, and then proceeds navigates the halls like he’s been there a million times. (actually, he might have) you pass row after row of cats in little kennels that your boyfriend somehow knows the names of, before coming to a stop in front of a young lady filling little formula bottles with milk. she has at least three cats worth of cat fur all over her paw-print sweater.

“max!” she remarks, looking a little too thrilled to see him. “how are you? i haven't seen you since, like, last tuesday!” 

looking to you, her smile drops significantly. 

“oh, and… who is this?” 

“hi, i’m max’s girlfriend,” you articulate, answering her question. you reach your hand out to shake, but she pointedly ignores it. 

“great…” she says fakely. “um, so how may i help you guys?” 

max seems to not notice. instead, he has a wide smile pasted on his face. 

“well, it’s actually my birthday today, and i would like to spread kindness by making a donation to my favorite cat shelter!” he announces. 

ten minutes later, you find yourself signing a check that is made out for the ‘monaco meow manor.’ 

max twiddles his pen around his fingers.

“how much should i put it down as?” he asks, pen hovering above the empty line on the check.

you shrug. 

“i don’t know, it’s your birthday, maxie. you choose.” 

the lady who was obviously into max and the sudoku guy at the front eyes the both of you from their place at the front desk. 

you watch as max writes down a 3300 on the piece of paper. he glances at you quickly. when you raise an eyebrow at him, he turns back and adds two more zeroes at the end. but, then he proceeds to place the commas all wrong. 

“that says 3,300,00, max,” you say, pointing to the obviously misplaced commas. 

“oh,” he says. “i can’t really erase it- it’s pen.”

the lady, whose scowl has disappeared, and the guy, who sudoku puzzle has long been abandoned, whips around after hearing this number, jaws dropped. 

ignoring them, you take the pen from max’s hand. 

“here,” you say, adding another neat zero to the end of max’s blocky numbers so it reads 3,300,000. 

“okay, great, thanks!” your boyfriend says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

he then turns to the lady and hands her the check. 

“here’s the check. i hope all the kitties in here can all live long healthy lives and get everything they ever need!” 

the two people at the desk look like they are about to pass out. 

the lady clutches at the check with a white-knuckled hand and profusely thanks the pair of you. 

you fight the urge to roll your eyes. oh, now she pays attention to you. 

max, oblivious, beams, before taking your hand and leading you back out to his little yellow car. 

“helping the kitties- check!” he declares. 

you can’t help but smile and pull max into a searing kiss in front of the little cat shelter that was about to become the best-funded feline sanctuary in monaco, and most likely france too. 

you don’t even have a chance to respond to danica’s inquiry about the complicated-sounding car that you supposedly “bought” for max before she rambles on.

“i bet you bought your little boyfriend the most luxurious foods too!” she spouts. “wagyu beef, spaghetti with saffron, caviar- ooh! maybe a glass of moët?”

“i’m not telling youuuuu!” max trills, leaping around the tiny living room of his monaco apartment with his phone held high above his head. 

you don’t know whether to start raging in annoyance from your place on the scraggly carpet or to laugh at your boyfriend twirling on the lumpy sofa, phone screen purposely held away from you. jimmy only aggravates the situation by butting his head directly at your shin. 

“max! is it a crime to want know what we are going to eat for dinner??” you shout, exasperated. 

max somehow does a perfect pirouette off of the sofa (???) and smiles at you. 

“no, but it should be a crime to look so pretty,” he says, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. you try and bat him away, but he is faster. he leaps up, cackling, and bolts away. his apartment isn’t that big, just his kitchen, living room, and his single bedroom, so you take your time hoisting yourself off the carpet. you resist the urge to punt jimmy away from your shin like a football, and instead gingerly step over him before sprinting over to max’s bedroom. 

he awaits behind his bedroom door, and literally tackles you to his bed, pinning you underneath him.

its hard to stay mad at max when he’s giggling like a little kid and looking at you with those impossibly blue eyes that crinkled in the corners while he laughs. 

“i hate you,” you say with no heat. 

“mhm, i’m sure you do,” he says, all the sudden sobering up. he leans his head down and nips at your neck. 

you both know where this always leads. 

max’s white shirt disappears within seconds like the sight of a f1 car by the grandstands, and soon enough, yours does too. 

before you can do anything, though, the doorbell rings. 

your boyfriend pulls off of you, albeit hesitantly. 

“foods here, i guess,” he says, pulling his shirt back on like he wasn’t about to whip off his pants two seconds ago. 

you roll your eyes as max goes to fetch the food while you get presentable again. 

when you pad into the kitchen, you genuinely expect to see the world’s best chef tossing vegetables a meter in the air, considering how secretive max was about the birthday dinner you both were having. 

instead, max sits at the table with a ripped bag that displays a tell-tale green ubereats sticker, along with a few black plastic boxes that takes up half of the table space. 

your boyfriend rips the lids off with a flourish, showing you the contents. 

“my favoriteeeeeeee!” he chirps, gesturing to thin slices of beef carpaccio laid out prettily in the container, fragrant tomato soup in another plastic bowl, and two cupcakes.

it was kind of a weird combination, but hey, if max liked it, you weren’t gonna argue with it. 

you grab utensils for the both of you, and dig in. 

when the dregs of the tomato soup is all that's left in your bowl, the beef carpaccio is reduced to a few stray capers and lemon juice, and the wrapper is all that’s left of the cupcake, you lay back contently in your chair. 

“you know, “ you state, “i could’ve flyed in the best beef carpaccio maker in the world, the best tomato soup chef ever, and like, gordon ramsey for the cupcakes and had them make this for you.”

“eh,” he says, also laying back in his seat, feeling full and happy, “ubereats from the restaurant three blocks down is honestly just as good too.” 

danica was still not done. 

“the parties must have been wild for max's birthday, too!” she raves. “with your influence, i bet all the celebs were there! kim k, rihanna, carlos alcaraz, oprah winfrey, lebron james, johnny depp, billie ellish- shall i go on?

no, you think to yourself. no, you shouldn’t.

feeling content, you flop onto max’s bed. your boyfriend slides onto the mattress next to you, allowing you to snuggle into his soft body. you inhale the smell of his cologne, and a feeling of content drapes over your body like a warm blanket. 

“happy birthday, again, max,” you mutter, voice muffled in his chest. you slowly slide a hand suggestively into his shirt. 

“thanks,” he says. he pauses a moment before getting up, effectively making your hand drop out.  “i think i’d like to play a video game right now.”

“oh,” is all you can think to say. you loved your boyfriend very much, but sometimes he just could not understand context clues. 

“are you sure?” you ask as he sets up his gaming system, loading in f123. “we could do something else…” you trail off slowly, seeing if he could pick up what you were putting down. 

“yeah,” he says, eyes trained on the tv. he scrolls through a bunch of men in racing suits, and you spot a like, two with your company’s sign, big and bold, across their chest. huh, you kind of forgot your company sponsored f1. you squint your eyes at the white lettering displaying their names- sergio perez and daniel ricciardo. they seemed like pretty successful dudes, looking at their stats. max clicks on daniel’s profile, and jumps back onto the bed next to you as the loading screen pops up, still oblivious to your intentions. 

he let him zoom through a track named mug jello or something like that for the better half of an hour before making another move, since it was his birthday, after all. 

“do you want to watch netflix and... chill?” you suggest, nudging max. 

“one second,” he responds, as the stopwatch thing at the side of the screen turns entirely purple. a checkered flag fills the screen, and the guy with the redbull racing suit appears, drinking champagne out of a shoe. “woohoo!” he says, beaming down at you, who has now draped yourself over his lap. “i won!”

you blink at him. how was being in his lap not obvious enough?

“oh, yeah, sure, we can watch a movie.” he says hurriedly, misjudging the seriously? look on your face. 

max gently moves you out of his lap as he changes the tv channels to netflix. 

when he turns back around, you have your shirt off, sitting suggestively on the bed. 

your boyfriend laughs. 

“is it really that hot in the room? i can turn on the ac if you want,” he offers helpfully. 

reaching over, he opens his window, effectively blasting your semi-naked body with a blast of cold monaco wind that frequented the coast at night. you swear to god, if you get sick tomorrow-

you finally give up your attempts after max switches on a film called “crazy rich asians.” you snuggle into him innocently as the movie starts, and honestly, the beginning is kind of good. 

you are right in the middle of the scene where the movie’s main character, rachel, is getting a makeover by her friend, peik lin, and her ridiculous family when you catch max staring at you.

“hey, baby,” he whisper-yells, nudging you. 

“mmm?” you respond, fully intrigued as Rachel tries on dress after dress. 

“do you want to..?” 

you don’t really comprehend what he is saying as you are too focused on an intense emotional scene that pops up on the screen. 

“huh?” you say distractedly.

max’s mouth latches to your neck. 

you manage to tear your eyes away from the screen to realize what max is doing. 

oh.

you notice are still shirtless and your boyfriends hands were now wandering to places that were not so family-friendly. 

damn it, you curse silently, the movie was just getting good!

still, you can’t help to give in to max’s urges.

pretty soon, the screen glazes over in black. a prompt pops up: are you still watching?

the brunette interviewer beams at you and max, awaiting a response. the microphone that she holds is shoved a little too close to your face for comfort. seeing your silent form, her face drops into a scowl.

“no comment?” she sniffs in disdain. 

turning to max, she prods the microphone towards his lips. 

“you?” she snaps.

your boyfriend shrugs.

“all i can say is that my birthday yesterday was simply lovely.”

taglist: @sunny44 @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs @xjval @fellowwomenlover @ironmaiden1313

@phobiccneel @comicalivy @amz824 @gloriousartisanpastacroissant @mastermindbaby

[heeseungiez]

nothing i don’t have | pjs (1)

pairings! park jongseong x reader, ft. huening kai x reader

summary! it was supposed to be simple, you and jay would fuck whenever either of you felt horny — no feelings. but it was hard not to catch feelings where park jongseong was involved. so you took the easy way out: you ended it.

genre! texts, written fic, college au, love triangle (corner)

word count! 1500

content warnings! swearing, jay is delulu and jealous

author's note! toenze is my new roman empire... i don't think i'll ever shut up about it. also realistically i'm only posting this bc yolo since i have nothing ???

masterlist | next

It didn’t affect Jay anyhow, really. That you ended whatever the two of you had for another guy. Like, this was all just casual. And you still wanted to be friends which was exactly what the two of you were before… so not much had to change between the two of you. Other than, well, the lack of physical intimacy.

He didn’t care, really. It wasn’t like you were the only girl he hooked up with (you were) or that he couldn’t get any other girls, but… you ending the situationship was kind of exactly why he liked you. Because you understood everything was casual and there were no expectations, no feelings. The others, they always got attached.

And, look, Jay understood that maybe he was being too nice or whatever, but it was in his nature to help out when necessary, or to cook for people in the morning — it wasn’t like he made breakfast only for those girls anyway. He had roommates to feed, too.

You ended the deal because you had no feelings for him. Which was exactly what he wanted. So why the fuck did it bother him so much? And for Huening Kai, no less? The tall emo kid that barely spoke and people thought he was being mysterious or whatever.

What could you possibly see in him?

What did he have that Jay didn’t?

Jay let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair, eyes still fixated on the conversation between you and him. So Huening Kai asked you out. And you liked him enough to say yes. That was certainly not on his bingo card. Realistically, he thought the type of guys you liked were someone like Sung Hanbin or Choi Soobin or… him. Not Huening Kai. 

What the hell?

“What’s up? Someone steal your cat?” Heeseung entered the shared living room with a grin. Jay had to dryly laugh at the irony of his question since, in a way, yes.

“Nah. It’s Y/N,” Jay replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Wants to be just friends.”

“Damn, got tired of you already?” Heeseung teased, but he knew not to go further when Jay’s scathing glare nearly burned him. “What did she say?”

“Huening Kai asked her out and she said yes.” Jay shook his head. You and Kai weren’t even dating yet, and you already wanted to be exclusive with him? Why? Who even does that?

“Oh, Kai? He’s got music classes with me,” Heeseung said with a grin. “He knows how to play like five instruments. He’s kinda cool. A band kid, too. Pretty sure he has a band.” Jay didn’t need to know any of that. Not yet anyway. And then Heeseung added: “I think he was planning to ask Y/N out for a while. I caught him asking around about her once.”

Jay clenched his jaw. How long had you been talking to Kai before he asked you out? Was it out of nowhere or did you befriend him before? Which gave him another reason to be upset because if you did befriend him before, you didn’t tell Jay anything. In fact, you hadn’t been telling him anything about yourself or your life for a while now.

Which stung.

“Kai’s a good guy. You should be happy for her.” Heeseung made a point, giving Jay a long, meaningful look. There was more he wanted to express, but chose to not push his limits. 

Jay huffed.

Thinking about it, maybe he’d have actually preferred it if you were in love with him.

Upon entering the Sanctuary Café, you noticed that it was already packed. But you were instantly recognised by Taehyun, who greeted you with a bright smile and led you toward a table that was empty, save for your reservation. It was in front of the stage set up for live performances, and it occurred to you then that Kai’s surprise was very likely just that. He prepared a performance for you.

Your eyes widened as you stared at the stage. It had a full instrument set up for a band. Drums, bass, keyboard and an electric guitar. The sight of it made you think of Jay for a bit, but you shook your head and got rid of the thought.

This would be your first date with Kai. The boy who actually doesn’t only want to sleep with you, but also wants to do everything else that real relationships include. Like holding hands and hugging in public and being affectionate without being judged. (The things you wished you could’ve had from Jay.)

A group of three guys entered the stage, none of which were Huening Kai. They glanced toward your table every now and then with a knowing smile, though. You watched them set up their instruments — the guitarist, the bassist and keyboardist. But the drums were empty. 

Because of course, he knew how to play the drums. He was a genius that never flaunted his skills, and the reality of it hit you just now. Huening Kai was a drummer — which was actually sexy as hell.

“Hello, everyone, welcome to the Sanctuary Café,” the guitarist spoke into the microphone with the largest smile. He had a cute dimple as well, and you thought he perfectly fit Kai — whenever he wasn’t closing in on himself. “I’m Kim Taerae, lead singer and guitarist of our band, Toenze. We’ve prepared a very special performance today because one of our members wants to dedicate it to a special girl.”

A round of awes went through the crowd. You looked around in hopes of catching a glance of Kai, but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, your eyes locked with a person you did not expect to see today — at all.

Jay stood at the back of the café with Heeseung by his side, and you wished you could unsee him. Your heartbeat raced, and your mind felt like you needed to come up to him and apologise. But what would you even be apologising for?

“On my left is our bassist, Choi Beomgyu, and on the keyboard, you’ve got Han Yujin. And, of course, we’re missing a key member — the drummer,” Taerae spoke lightly, his smile hearable in his voice. “Some of you already know him from our previous performances, but for those who have yet to meet him — please give a round of applause to Huening Kai!”

Kai wasn’t even inside the café. He entered through the main door in a dark grey hoodie, the hood covering his face. The whole shop held its breath as he looked up. And when his eyes met yours, a smile spread across his lips. Taking off his hood, he revealed his face and carefully styled bangs. 

From the pocket of his hoodie, he pulled out a bouquet, and when he aimed through the crowd toward you, your heart nearly melted. All thoughts of Jay being here, too, evaporated from your mind. All you could think about was Huening Kai, looking beautiful as ever, heading toward you with a bouquet of flowers.

“For you, my lady.” He knelt down to hand you the flowers, and you stared at him with wide eyes. Grinning, he winked before standing up and heading toward the stage, leaving you absolutely flustered and frozen in place.

“Hello, everyone! This performance is dedicated to the girl that didn’t reject me. It’s for you, Y/N,” he said into the mic jokingly, but there was a hidden meaning behind his words.

The memory of how he asked you out lingered, and you giggled. You could still picture him, approaching you with his hands hidden in the pockets of his jeans. And then he asked you, in the most embarrassing way possible, if you were dating Jay. The smile that spread on his lips when you said that what you had with Jay was only casual was an unforgettable sight, really.

“I can make you forget him,” was Kai’s closing argument, and the confidence with which he had said it sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t possibly reject him then.

Jay’s glare was palpable. You could feel it at the back of your neck, but you ignored him. Why was he glaring at you anyway? If there were no feelings involved, he shouldn’t care about any of this. 

“The first song we prepared for today is called Higher Than Heaven,” Taerae informed the crowd. “And the second song is Kill the Romeo. Hope you guys like them!”

Both songs were amazing, and both conveyed one pretty clear message: I’m better than him. You couldn’t help but laugh and enjoy yourself while Kai’s band performed. They were good — really good. And eventually, you even stopped sensing Jay’s gaze burning through you. 

Naturally, you turned around to check on the spot where Jay had previously been. Except he wasn’t there. Instead, you were met with Heeseung, who shrugged when he noticed you looking at him.

“He left,” Heeseung mouthed.

[novankenn]

Snippets from "A Mafia AU"

(Original Post) / Inspiration by @pilot-boi

Pyrrha was at her wits end. Currently she was engaged in a knife fight in the storage room of a Pumpkin Pete's Novelty store, because Jaune had decided it would be FUN to get her a matching hoodie! Pyrrha ducked under a wild slash, before lashing out with several rapid jabs of her own combat blade.

"Go away!" Pyrrha snapped, "You're running my date!"

"Date?" Pyrrha's current opponent, and Jaune's would have been assassin froze, and just stood there blinking her amber eyes. Her faunus trait, a set of cat ears that matched her long black hair flicked back and forth. "Date?"

"Forget I said that!" Pyrrha snapped, as she used that moment to take a more balanced combat stance, She had been fighting on the back foot this whole time and now. "Let's get this over Belladonna!"

"Hold on. I need a minute." Blake Belladonna, one of the premiere up close and personal assassins, commented as she absentmindedly tapped the flat of her knife blade against her cheek.

"You need a minute? I have to go. He's going to come looking for me, and I can not..."

"You know you shouldn't hide things from someone you're interested in. It will cause trust issues." Blake offered with a smile.

"What?"

"You can't have a solid foundation to a relationship with out trust." Blake continue to expand on the subject, "It's the cornerstone of any relationship, but doubly important in ones that end up long term, possible permanent?"

"Permanent?" Pyrrha stood up straight, giving Blake a narrow eyed gaze. "What are you talking about?"

"You know, elaborate dresses, golden rings, white picket fences, children?"

"You can't be serious!" Pyrrha snapped. "I'm supposed to kill him, and he somehow saw me following him, and thinks I'm his body guard! I have no idea how to fix this!"

"You're the one that called it a date." Blake countered. "Not me, and if you really think about how you've been acting... it has been kind of body guardy."

"That's not a word." Pyrrha deadpanned.

"Eh. Anyway if you want out, and can't do it yourself... step aside. Let someone else..." Blake ducked out of the way of broom handle thrown like a spear. "Okay... touched a nerve there!"

"Pyr?" came the sound of worried voice. "Pyr are you okay? The sales woman said you ran into the back! Is your tummy bothering you?"

Blake froze, in complete shock at the words being uttered by her target to her rival, and the sight assaulting her. Pyrrha Nikos. THE Pyrrha "Goddess of Death" Nikos was blushing! Full on atomic red! It was all just surreal, that Blake couldn't make herself capitalize on the opening.

"Pyr?" the door creaked open behind the red head, who in a panic flicked her wrist sending her knife zipping through the air to bury itself with a thunk into an out of sight wall. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine Jaune." Pyrrha answered, turning herself to see Jaune as well as track Blake, who was still completely stunned by what was going on. "Just ran into..."

"A friend!" Blake announced, as she like Pyrrha disposed of her combat knife. Though Blake threw hers up into the ceiling.

"Well any friend of Pyr's is a friend of mine." Jaune cheerily spoke as he walked past Pyrrha with his hand extended for a greeting. "Name is Jaune Arc. Short sweet and the ladies love it!"

"They do?" Blake asked.

"Of course they do." Pyrrha chuckled nervously before moving to stand as close to Jaune as she could, without actually climbing on top of him. "Anyway I came back here, not because of my tummy..."

"Are you sure?" Jaune asked with genuine concern. "We have five cheese lasagna last night, and I know how cheese doesn't agree with you."

"I'm fine, Jaune." Pyrrha's blush gotten even darker, but her emerald eyes glinted dangerously when Blake's teasing grin was noticed. Blake didn't like that look. "This is Blake, and she... works here."

"I what?" Blake stuttered out.

"You do?" Jaune's eyes gleamed in excitement. "Yes, someone who knows Pyr and works here. You have to be able to help me find the PEREFCT hoodie for her!"

"Wait!" Blake yelped as Jaune grabbed her by the wrist and started to walk back to the front of the store. "How are you so strong?"

Pyrrha's blush, faded, and she took a slow steadying breath, before jogging to catch up, to keep an eye on her Jaune... er her target. Yep, her target... no her Jaune. Pyrrha grit her teeth and internally screamed at her traitorous mind.

A/N - Figured I throw out another snippet, just for the hell of it, plus it's kind of of fun trying to come up with ridiculous situations to throw Pyrrha into. 😁

[self-winding]

That consensus of "it is never okay to use male and female to refer to biological categories of sex" is specifically what I'm pushing back against, because (among other things) I think it diminishes the utility of the terms afab and amab. When these terms originated they were mostly used by intersex people or people who'd transitioned and modified their own biology, people who had actual reason to use these terms, because their situation is more complicated and so they need to be very precise with their language.

As you said, in the vast majority of cases, asab (which is usually based on visible genitals) is going to correspond pretty closely whether someone has a certain set of chromosomes and reproductive equipment. The exceptions aren't quite as rare as you're saying; Klinefelter's is about 1 in 500, for instance, and that's just one condition. But there are still many, many people who fit quite comfortably into the categories of "female" and "male" without any meaningful ambiguity, so there's no utility in swapping out female for afab or male for amab unless you have a specific reason to. It does not meaningfully make the language more inclusive. It's just a euphemism.

Also it's the sort of thing anti-woke types love to parody and weaponize when they make fun of the "woke left" because they know full well how awkward it sounds when someone says "afab adolescents" or "people with estrogen-based puberties," and they make that part of their narrative, like claiming that if Woke wins we will all be pressured to talk this way all the time. There was a time when I would have been inclined to say to them, "That is an absurd strawman, no one is saying that we are not allowed to use the terms female and male when referring broadly to biological categories," but like...there are of course people who will argue exactly that.

And I think if we do what they say and concede those basic categories to terfs and transphobes, those people are going to win. Because suddenly they have normie "common sense" on their side and all they have to say to people is, "we're the group that's not asking you to radically rewire your brain in the way you think and talk about this stuff."

They are in fact correct on the point that the standard terms are broadly useful and should not be tabooed or swapped out for euphemisms that will probably change in another five years anyway, but they are using that to get a foot in the door and to usher in a lot of radical absolutist ideas about gender that do not actually follow from saying "male and female are biological categories."

The terms afab and amab are very much about the social construct aspect of gender, as in, they refer specifically to the letter on your birth certificate that was assigned to you, not any trait you innately possess. Yet I routinely hear people using these terms as a euphemism for biological aspects of sex, because I guess they think it sounds more progressive or something.

"afab tweens get very emotional at this age due to hormones," "archeologists think this skeleton belonged to an amab individual due to hip measurements," stuff like that. I keep waiting for someone refer to a wild animal as afab or amab.

"afab" is not synonymous with "has a uterus" or "has two X chromosomes," intersex people with XY chromosomes can have an F on their birth certificate.

If you're talking about something biological it's fine to just say "male" or "female" in contexts where that makes more sense.

[dreamscapeee222]

(I'm new to tumblr, sorry if I'm posting in the wrong place, I hope this is ask box)

I asked you to write about the relationship between the arcane characters and the reader who is very thin due to some health problems?

(Sorry for any mistakes, English is not my native language)

A/n: Hello!! I did lots of research with your request so I hope my work satisfies what you had in mind ^^

You deal with health problems that affect your weight

Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

Masterlist

Vi

She’s not the type to pry. But she notices the little things—the way you don’t finish your meals, the way you curl up a little too tightly, like you're trying to protect yourself from the world. She never asks you about it, but she always makes sure you’ve got something to eat or drink when she knows you’re struggling.

She might drop a sandwich by your side, or hand you a water bottle without saying a word. It’s just her way of saying, “I see you,” without actually saying it.

If you ever get quiet for too long, she’ll be there, sitting next to you without forcing a conversation. It’s not about pushing you to talk—it’s just her letting you know you’re not alone, even in those silent moments.

Jinx

Jinx doesn’t always understand why you’re not at your best, but she feels it. She’s a whirlwind of chaos, always trying to keep you distracted, to keep you laughing. She doesn’t always get it right, but she’s trying, you can tell by the way she keeps pulling you into her nonsense, hoping that a little of her madness will rub off on you.

But there are times when she looks at you, and the mask slips for just a second. She sees how tired you are, how empty you seem sometimes, and in those moments, she doesn’t know how to fix it. But she doesn’t turn away. “You don’t gotta do this alone, okay?” she says, voice softer than usual. It’s a rare vulnerability, the one moment where she lets down the wall and shows you she’s scared too.

She might not know what to say or do, but she’ll always bring something to make you smile—even if it’s just a little.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn’s the quiet type, always paying attention to the little things that others might miss. She watches you—never in a way that feels overbearing, but in a way that shows she’s aware of when something’s off.

She doesn’t press you to talk, but she’ll always offer a gentle reminder that she’s there for you—whether that’s by quietly handing you a cup of tea, leaving a snack where you can easily reach it, or making sure you have time to rest.

She never pushes, but when you catch her looking at you with those soft, patient eyes, you know she’s not going anywhere. "Take it easy,” she says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. And for a moment, you actually believe it’s okay to slow down.

Ekko

Ekko’s the type of person who’s there without being too much. He notices when you’re pushing yourself too hard, and when he sees the signs—when you’re too quiet, when you’re too weak to do what you usually can—he’ll just quietly step in.

He won’t make a fuss, and he won’t ask you if you’re okay every five minutes. Instead, he’ll bring you a blanket when he sees you shivering, a drink when you look like you haven’t had one all day. He knows you don’t need someone to tell you what to do—you just need someone to make sure you don’t fall apart while you're doing it all.

Sometimes, he’ll sit beside you and not say a word. It’s just his presence, calm and steady, and it’s enough to make you feel like maybe everything will be okay. “You’re not alone,” he’ll say without looking at you. And it’s not just words—it’s his way of making sure you never feel like you’re fighting your battles by yourself.

Jayce

Jayce doesn’t know how to make things better when it’s you, and that frustration shows. He wants to fix things, to find the right answer, and he’s always throwing himself into research, into getting you the best treatment, the right food, whatever he thinks might help. But sometimes, it feels like he’s pushing you harder than you want, trying to make everything better without realizing that maybe what you need is just some quiet.

He doesn’t always know how to slow down, but there are times when you catch him looking at you, his expression softening when he sees the exhaustion in your eyes. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he says, and for once, it doesn’t come off as a demand. It’s a plea—something raw and real in the way he says it.

When you’re too tired to argue, he’ll just stay next to you, offering comfort in his own way. It’s not perfect, but you know he’s trying, and that’s enough for now.

Viktor

Viktor doesn’t say much, but his care shows in everything he does. When he sees you struggling, he doesn’t push you to talk about it. Instead, he quietly takes action—he makes sure your space is organized, makes sure you have what you need, even when you don’t ask for it.

You won’t hear him say, “I’m here for you,” but you’ll feel it in the way he adjusts your pillow without asking, or in the way he slides a cup of tea your way without a word. He’s not the type to crowd you, but he’s always making sure you’re okay in ways that don’t demand attention.

When you do catch him looking at you, there’s a softness in his eyes—an unspoken understanding. “You don’t have to be strong all the time,” he’ll say quietly, but it’s not just the words that matter. It’s the way he’s already got your back without needing you to ask.

Mel

Mel is the kind of person who knows how to give space without making you feel like you’re invisible. She’s quiet, observant, and when she sees that something’s not right, she’s there—but never in a way that feels like she’s pushing you.

Her care is in the little things—the cup of tea she hands you when you’re not feeling great, the soft touch of her hand on your arm as she sits beside you, giving you time to breathe. She doesn’t expect anything from you, just that you take care of yourself in your own time.

She’ll always remind you that it’s okay to slow down, to rest. “You don’t have to do it all at once,” she’ll say, and the gentleness in her voice makes it feel like everything else can wait. She’ll be there, waiting, until you’re ready to come back to the world.

Requests may be sent through the ask box. Only SFW.

[eurydicees]

Also, I just saw you’re 23, I am too! It’s rough out here. Another idea: any characters, what’s it like being 23? Where are they at this point? I feel like hq shows that as being sooo grown up but like I’m just a big teenager right?? Idk just rambling

being 23 is so rough sometimes lmfao. i've got friends from high school getting married and friends from college having early life crises. i'm working full time and living alone but tbh mostly feel like i'm playing at house rn more than i am living on my own. whatever. it's fine. early 20s is just a silly time of life. anyways i don't have a fic for u but i Do have a headcanon list.

in no particular order, haikyuu characters as stupid things i've done in my early twenties:

atsumu: having a brother who is a chef does not prevent him from forgetting to take the cheese packet out of the mac and cheese box and dumping that into boiling water with the pasta.

udai: does not remember the last time he ate a vegetable.

oikawa: friends all went to a party without him and his coping method was getting so so so wasted on white rum and falling asleep on the living room carpet immediately after giving another friend a tarot card reading saying their breakup is imminent (to be fair, it was. but it was still kinda rude).

iwaizumi: after class, was led to a private stairwell by a friend, jokes "haha are you taking me to a hidden location to kill me." and then received a love confession. proceeded to say "uh. i'll think about it." then did finger guns. and said "im just gonna. go" and then fucking. ran. like not exaggerating, ran.

kageyama: went on a date. did Not At All Know it was a date, despite the very very obvious flirting. yes this was the same person as in the previous bullet point. don't look at me like that.

akaashi: took a 100 level class senior year and did not pay attention to a single lecture. instead wrote thousands of words of fanfiction in the classroom every day.

atsumu (again): another cooking one. i just think he'd be a terrible cook. sorry. anyways. "it's been 20 min, why isn't this scallion pancake im pan frying cooking yet?" (<- did not turn on the stove burner.)

yachi: hm the light in this room doesn't work. guess i'll just learn to see in the dark instead of inconveniencing anyone by asking to fix it.

akaashi (again): completely fell in love at first sight, but fast forward five months and it actually somehow worked out? however the five months were filled with the most insufferable pining possible, which could have been resolved so so so easily. also started talking about marriage, like, six months in.

bokuto: got sad. went out into a raging snowstorm in socks and no jacket. laid down in the snow for a long time. somehow, miraculously, didn't get a cold afterwards?

akaashi and/or yachi: changed majors and career paths because a pretty upperclassman asked them to. (i am very happy in my chosen path but jesus christ THAT was why i did it?)

hinata: flew from coast to coast of the country, then drove halfway back to the midwest in the span of three days. started a new job on the fourth day. didn't sign a lease on an apartment until the fifth day.

semi: skipped a day of work to drive four hours there and four hours back for a fall out boy concert. totally worth it but driving at 4am after a concert wasn’t the smartest thing ever to be done.

kuroo: started reading homestuck in the year of our lord 2024. this is an attempt to remain in contact with long distance friendships (by doing a bookclub) but jesus fucking christ dude.

ok this is getting too long and i needed to be ready for work, like 15 min ago lol. maybe i'll write more of these later, but i hope you enjoy these and my silly disasters are a little comforting :)

[a-couple-of-notes]

What are your thoughts on poly coven and if you do have have any what would the dynamic be?

You folks really want that Agatha All Along fic about all the different dynamics, don't you? 😂😂😂 (Referencing this ask--although I suppose I have no way of knowing whether this is the same anon. Thank you for the ask regardless!)

I enjoy poly coven, although I haven't read much of it! In my mind, there are two general ways to approach this: one where Billy functions as their non-romantic glue (the Billy-has-seven-moms approach) and one (more interesting imo) where we nix Billy altogether and let it be a true dumpster fire.

Billy Has Seven Moms:

The single thing they all agree on (no one believes Agatha when she equivocates, and Rio doesn't snarl about it, which is as close to agreement as they'll get) is that the kid comes first.

Agatha and Jen both provide a practical kind of mentorship: technical magical study, potion-making, spells. They snark at each other during lessons ("What happened to 'presenting a united front'?" says Agatha) and if Jen doesn't back off, Alice, Billy, or Lilia step in to stop it from going all the way downhill. Agatha and Jen fuck it out later.

Lilia mentors Billy in history, tarot, and witch culture--all the soft skills that Agatha and Jen aren't proficient in. She enjoys the quiet respect that all of the coven, but especially Billy and Alice, holds for her. She and Alice trade off nights cooking; Lilia's go-to recipes are old Sicilian favorites.

Alice is Billy's Normal Stable Person (TM), a fact that at one point sends Alice into a panic spiral that Agatha and Jen have to drag her out of. She's the one Billy comes to when he needs someone who understands what it's like to be a kid on your own--when he's having a tough time with someone else in the coven, when he's feeling overwhelmed by the sheer number of mothers in his life. Alice teaches him guitar, and then, very hesitantly, protection spells passed down to her from Lorna.

Rio mopes around like a disgruntled housecat, never quite looking at Billy. The only time she does is when Billy announces he wants to make a Sharon Davis memorial garden. She doesn't help, of course, not in any way that Billy sees. But she does watch.

Of course, this well-oiled mentorship program works only as long as Billy is with them on the timeshare schedule. As soon as he's gone, it's like a ghost house with five roommates who hate each other's guts. If they still have separate places of residence, they all leave (except for the times when Jen is so annoyed with Agatha they bang first). If they actually do live in the same house, they all go into their separate rooms.

Then they seek each other out in pairs or trios, depending on what they want. Alice and Jen seek each other out when they want a normal date night; Rio seeks Lilia when she wants to talk shop about the old days; Agatha seeks Alice when it's been a hard day and she wants someone to be quiet about it. (Although let's be real: if Agatha's seeking someone out, it's also usually to fuck.)

Sometimes these pairs have a good time together; other times it turns into a fight that someone else cleans up. Lilia keeps count.

The only time the whole coven joins together sans Billy is when there's a threat. Usually to Agatha. Sometimes (futilely) to Rio. It always ends in massive property damage and murder, and there's an 80% chance the five of them have messy wow-we're-all-still-our-version-of-alive-sex afterward.

Agatha makes lots of divorce jokes.

No Billy, Just Chaos:

It's worse.

You know, I'm not even gonna bulletpoint this out because it's slowly growing into its own fic idea, but--in a poly coven where there's no Billy, everything happens a lot quicker and dirtier. (This is also because it veers wildly off-canon, and we're dealing with these characters before they've arced out. You know, the nasty, messy versions of them.)

Of course there's still got to be something forcing them together--soulmarks! Billy dies in episode 4 and leaves them in a crumbling Road illusion! The Salem Seven invade Westview and they all pick the same hiding spot!--but the thing keeping them together would not then be a kid. It would not be someone with a good heart they all care about. It would be one of Agatha's freakishly charismatic cons, utter fear, or a combination of both. Thus, everyone would spiral toward their most feral selves fast.

To wit: Jen and Agatha skip straight to the hate sex, Rio gets amused and jealous and jumps in. Alice, having no kid to protect, focuses her efforts on Lilia (the coven's elder) and Agatha (the coven's leader). This brings Alice directly into the snare that is Rio/Agatha/Jen, becoming--if we're being kind--their right hand and--if we're being truthful--their pet. Lilia considers herself above this weird fucked-up power tangle, but she and Rio have centuries of history, and Rio is almost as good as Agatha at annoying people into making bad decisions. It would be terrible. It would be glorious.

[author-main]

Okay, Okay haha. This is the entire wip. It probably won't be expanded on.

--- ... ---

Witness: I have an amazing eye for finding and identifying gemstones. I can tell, even from here, that the defense attorney's studded earrings are real diamonds!

Athena: I didn't know you were the type, Boss.

Phoenix: OBJECTION! That statement immediately calls into question your credibility, Witness. If your talent for identifying gems was really that good, then you'd be able to tell that these aren't diamonds, they're cubic zirconia! 

Witness: N-no! Those are real diamonds!

Judge: Defense, did you buy these earrings yourself?

Phoenix: ? No, Your Honor. My friend gave them to me as a birthday gift over five years ago. They told me they were cubic zirconia.

Judge: Quite the gift to receive from just a friend! And to wear them still after all this time?

Phoenix: Well… these are my birthstones, so I don't see it as a strange gift. Diamonds are, actually, but zirconia’s way cheaper. And of course I'd still wear them! I love these earrings, they're from my greatest friend!

Edgeworth: …

Judge: Well, does the prosecution have anything to say about the witness’s mistake? If he claims to be so good at 

Edgeworth: … Zirconia and Diamond are incredibly similar to each other, Your Honor and the earrings are quite small. A mistake such as that could be made by anyone, no matter how talented they are—

Witness: Hold it! But those are diamonds! They glimmer too brightly! The facets are completely different! Zirconia can not be that clear!!

Edgeworth: Urgh…! (I suppose it would only help my case if the witness's abilities were verified. But it might throw the court into a bedlam.)

Edgeworth: I… Your Honor. I suppose it… would be an easy mistake for someone like you or I to make. But my witness can name clear differences between the two gemstones. I believe we should trust his judgment.

Phoenix: OBJECTION! This friend of mine wouldn't make a mistake like that! The costs for zirconia and diamond are wildly different! And a jewelry store would NOT skimp out on the price of a diamond! He would notice!

Edgeworth: Objection… perhaps… your friend lied to you.

Phoenix: Why?

Edgeworth: Mr. Wright, you come from a poorer upbringing, do you not?

Phoenix: Wow.

Edgeworth: It is safe to assume that this friend of yours believed you wouldn't accept diamonds.

Judge: But if someone was so poor, wouldn't the friend think he'd pawn any jewelry he had off? Especially five years ago? I heard his disbarment was quite hard on Mr. Wright.

Phoenix: I—

Edgeworth: Objection! Your Honor! … As the defense claims, he considers the person who gifted him the earrings to be his “greatest friend”. Anyone who knows Mr. Wright personally would know that he cherishes everything he's given!

Edgeworth: … Or it is evidence in a case.

Judge: I see… but the defense’s point still stands, Mr. Edgeworth. Do you have decisive proof that his friend lied to him about the earrings?

Edgeworth: Objection! I don't see how that has any bearing on the trial today—!

Phoenix: Objection! It's incredibly important, because we need hard proof that what the witness claims is true! Otherwise I call his credibility into question!

Edgeworth: URRGHHH!!! (I just wish he'd let this go and we could talk about this later! But I NEED this testimony to go through! And I'm sure if it doesn't, it'll only help his case.)

Edgeworth: …

Edgeworth: The proof… is in my possession. 

Phoenix: It is?

Athena: It is?

Judge: It is?

Edgeworth: Well, not on my person, but the receipt for the earrings’ purchase… is at my house. They are real, recycled diamond earrings.

Judge: A-and why do you have that receipt?! Were you planning on bringing this friend as a witness?!

Edgeworth: (As sharp as ever, Your Honor…) No. I am the friend who gave them to the defense.

Gallery: *Chatter* *chatter* *chatter*

Judge: Order! Order!

Judge: A-ah! I see! B-but! Wh-why would you—

Edgeworth: As the defense said! Diamonds are his birthstone. But I had a feeling he wouldn't accept it, because of their price. So I led him to believe they were cubic zirconia.

Judge: Th-that's still quite the expensive gift!

Edgeworth: What does it matter?! Zirconia, Diamond, it could be the most expensive royal crown jewels! No gemstone will ever come close to being as brilliant nor as precious as Mr. Wright is to me!

Phoenix: …

Athena: …

Judge: …

Gallery: …

Edgeworth: Wait. Wait!

The courtroom erupts. Phoenix goes beet red. The Judge tries to get everything under control.

Edgeworth: ERGO! My witness is 100% correct when he identifies the defense’s earrings as diamonds. His abilities to identify gemstones stands, and the fact he can tell what they are, despite standing some ten feet away from the bench and the earrings being smaller than a fingertip.

Judge: W-well, uh, err… yes, I believe that. Proves the witness’s credibility. U-unless the defense has something to… add? Where is the defense?

Phoenix is under the table.

Phoenix: Th-the defense needs a minute… to regain the feeling in his knees…

Athena: Uhh! We concede! Please proceed to the testimony!

Despite Edgeworth fighting harder to prove the defendant's guilt, Phoenix still wins the case.

Phoenix: He thinks I'm precious…

A wip that may never see the light of day. nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this

[skeletboi]

InTRIdimensional AU part 27!

First /// Previous /// Next

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Stan smiled in response. “I'd like ta know you.” he said, scooting closer. “What's your name?”

“Axolotl above, you're kidding, right? My name's Cam. And you're Stanley, I'm guessing, considering the five fingers.” Cam said with a put-upon sigh.

Stan blanched for a second, but quickly composed himself and smiled again, opening his mouth to speak. Cam started talking before he could.

“Your brother push you in the portal and you're trying to get back, or did he side with the Euclidian?” They asked, tilting their head in mock curiosity.

“Side with-” Stan started, but got distracted when the door to the bar opened.

“Oh.” Cam said, finally cracking a smile as they watched Fiddleford and Ford enter the bar. “I've only seen this once before. That's actually interesting. Y'all really fucked up, huh?”

Stan glanced back at Cam and frowned. “Wait, what is that supposed to mean!?”

Cam smiled as Fiddleford and Ford came up behind Stan.

“Stanley, did you really find the only other person with a mullet in this bar?” Ford asked tiredly.

“Hey-” Stan started.

“Yes he did.” Cam said, cutting Stan off as they narrowed their eyes at Ford. “How'd you fuck up so bad that all three of you ended up here?”

“How did I- what? Do I know you?!” Ford asked, a mix of incredulousness and fear in his voice as he studied Cam's face.

“Nah. But I've had the misfortune of meeting a few different versions of you. I'm assuming, by the whole gang being here, that you didn't side with whatever Euclidian you had. Hope you killed him, or you're really fucked.” Cam responded nonchalantly as they sipped at their drink.

“Different versions of me?!” Ford asked, his eyes lighting up in excitement. “How curious! But, no, we didn't have the chance to kill him yet. I'm still reeling about how he betrayed me.”

“Damn, fresh out the womb, huh? Portal-womb, I mean. That sounds gross. Forget I said that.” Cam replied with a grimace.

“There are others of us?” Fiddleford asked, nervously tapping his foot as he glanced around the bar. “How do ya know them, then? And whadaya mean ‘misfortune’ of meeting a few versions?”

“A lot of the versions of Ford that I've met have been the type to side with the Euclydian. We run in the same circles, you could say. Though, there are some less psychopathic versions I've run into.” Cam replied, then smiled at Fiddleford. “I've met a version or two of you, as well, and Stanley. I'm usually a fan of you, Fidds. You're clever.”

Fiddleford frowned, not happy with that vague answer, and Cam laughed.

“Look, a bit of free advice- and I don't give that often, so count yourselves lucky or some shit- stay away from other versions of yourselves! Especially the Stanford that wears the blue visor glasses, and the Fiddleford and Stanford with the blue snake-like Euclydian that try to sell you bath bombs. They are all bad news.” Cam explained.

“But wouldn't talking to them help us get further in our goal of defeating Bill?” Ford asked.

“They'll kill you before you get the chance. Well, the blue visor guy will, the other's will probably ignore you if you ignore them. The other version of all three of you might be helpful, but they were about as lost as y’all are now last time I saw them.” Cam said thoughtfully.

“That ain't helpful, and what in tarnation is a bathbomb?” Fiddleford asked.

“It's like for baths… You know- nevermind. Just stay away from them. If you end up in a dimension with other versions of yourself, don't touch them. It’ll destroy both of you and the universe they're in. That's all the free advice you get. So don’t die out there. Or do. Fuck if I care.” Cam said, turning away and sitting on a bar stool.

“Wait- wait. You obviously know some shit, and you're just going to leave us to the wolves here?!” Stan asked.

“Don't take it too hard. I like the versions I've met of you, too Stanley- but I got shit to do, people to kill, etcetera. Figure it out for yourself. I'm not the one who made a deal with a demon.” Cam said, not bothering to look away from their nearly-empty drink.

“Didja jus’ say people ta kill?!” Fiddleford asked, sounding nervous all over again.

Cam just huffed out a laugh in response and downed the rest of their drink.

“Do you know how to kill Bill?!” Ford asked.

“A way for you to kill Bill? I don't know. I could probably kill him, he's like, a lesser god or whatever. You'd need some type of dimension disrupter? Or get him to go in your head and then die? I don't even know if that would work. Probably not.” Cam mumbled, half to themselves as they frowned down at their now empty drink.

“A lesser god?” Fiddleford asked at the same time Ford said “Dimensional Disrupter?”

“Yeah sure those things.” Cam said, waving down the bartender and asking for another drink in a language Fiddleford and Ford didn't understand.

Stan took the dimensional translator out of his pocket and gave it a cursory glance before sighing and sitting down on one of the bar stools next to Cam.

Cam glanced over at him and gave a half smile.

“Or, take a page from Stan and my book and just drink about it!” Cam said, glancing over their shoulder at Fidds and Ford as they lifted their newly filled drink.

Fidds and Ford glanced at each other with matching frowns.

“That don’ sound like a good plan.” Fiddleford said.

“Agreed.” Ford added.

“Did building an interdimensional portal for malevolent god-like trigonometry sound like a good plan? I don't think you're one to talk.” Cam said.

Stan laughed and fist bumped Cam.

“That's…” Ford started, then sighed, “Fair enough. Maybe one drink.” He finished, taking a seat on the other side of Cam.

Fiddleford sighed and sat next to him.

Stan took out the translator and used it to order a drink for Ford and Fiddleford.

“Translator. Good start.” Cam said.

“Not much of a start without knowing where these next rifts lead.” Ford mumbled.

“Here. I know where this one goes.” Cam said, taking a knife out of a a belt on their side and slicing the air in front of them.

Ford looked on in interested wonder as a small rift opened in front of them.

“Wow, do you have another one of those?” He asked excitedly, reaching his hand out towards the rift.

“Fuck no.” Cam said, swiping the blade back up and closing the rift. “Humans can't go through these rifts anyway, you'll disintegrate. They're my… personal rifts.”

“Are you not human?” Stan asked.

Cam sheathed the knife and lifted a hand, a small flower bloomed in their palm.

“Fascinating.” Ford said with an excited smile. “What are you?”

“That's a rude question.” Cam responded, flicking their fingers out, causing the flower to burn to ash in their palm.

“What… species are you?” Ford tried.

“No.” Cam responded.

“Not even a hint?” Ford said, his excited smile turning to a frown.

“Check my wanted posters. There's probably a hint there.” Cam replied, then downed the rest of their drink and stood.

“Wanted posters?” Stan asked, his eyes lighting up at the prospect in a eerily similar way to his twin's expression from just minutes before.

Cam just laughed as they set some alien coins on the bar, then walked towards the door.

“Good luck out there.” They said, taking the knife from their belt and separating it in two.

They turned, swiped both blades across the air, and walked through the rift the blades created.

Stan, Ford, and Fidds watched until the glow of the rift faded, then turned back to their drinks.

“What in god's name jus’ happened?” Fiddleford asked after a moment.

“I'm not sure.” Stan said, glancing towards the bartender, who was distracted by another patron at the end of the bar. “But we can't pay for these drinks without weird space money. So I hope they left a good tip.” He took the money Cam left and pocketed it.

“That don’ seem smart. That Cam person looked like they could kill us all in a second. Prolly not a good enemy to make.” Fiddleford said nervously.

“It's a big universe. Hopefully we never run into them again.” Ford said with a shrug. “Better the enemy you know, or something.”

“I can practic'ly hear my gam rollin’ in her grave.” Fiddleford said, burying his face in his hands.

“What did they say to the bartender, anyway, Stan? Right before you also sat down and ordered a drink?” Ford asked.

“They said ‘I'm going to need another to deal with this lot. Ax save them, they'll be here awhile.’ Whatever the fuck that means.” Stan said, taking out the translator again and putting it on his wrist. “Looks like I'll be needing this more, so might as well wear it.”

“I don't get why you weren't wearing it before.” Ford mumbled.

“There wasn't a lot of different language going on in farm land.” Stan said. “Didn't want to risk losing it in one of those boxes or some shit.”

“Makes sense ta me.” Fiddleford said, downing the rest of his drink with an ease that peaked Stan’s interest. “We should take ‘nother one of those rifts out there. I gotta find the supplies ta make more a those watches.”

“Agreed.” Ford said, leaving his drink mostly full as he stood.

Stan nodded, downed the rest of his own drink, and left one of the multiple coins he had taken on the bar. Ford watched him, but didn't comment. They would need some type of money, and wasting it here wasn't a great option.

They all got up and high tailed it out of the bar before the bartender got the chance to see how much they left.

-----------

Bye, Cam, it was fun!

Don't @ me, I love them. They're so sassy. I might actually bring them back for a minute later on, but for now they just get this cute little cameo.

Anyways, the other au's mentioned here are as follows:

@aeli-tan-art 's Overlords AU

@squatch-and-stretch 's Mystery Trio Through the Multiverse AU

And

@orxinus 's MM!Ford from... an AU I unfortunately forgot the name of.

If you haven't already, go check them out! I love them.

Thanks for reading!

The next part with be Cam's wanted poster because I do what I want- then there will be more of these three being ridiculous!

Edit: Cam's wanted poster here.

[hadrianblackwaters]

!! DRUMINDOR SPOILERS IN TEXT AND TAGS !!

Listening to Drumnidor as a Hadrian girlie is not easy. My god they're assassinating his entire character and taking away his life purpose right in front of us! They're reducing him to a stupid comic relief character with no depth and no real influence on the people around him (to a greater degree than they ever did before) and they're taking away all his greatest achievements and attributing them to someone else to fit the plot! His main character status has been revoked and he's now apparently merely a supporting character in someone else's story. Please, everyone, a moment of silence for my blorbo 😔🙏 Rest in peace mr. Blackwater. At least they let you pull some impressive-arse sword moves, you looked really cool... but I am so sorry they did not let you be a practising hoe in this one 🥀

[instantpansies]

formal literary analysis is just fanfic for nerds

[practically-an-x-man]

still can't get over the fact that my mother went to see Little Shop, read my actor bio (that switches pronouns every line), and even SAID TO MY FACE AFTERWARDS "oh yeah I saw your pronouns in your bio- he, they, she, that thing you did there"

and yet continues to be all like "my daughters" "my girls" "you girls should know..." and she/her pronouns and all that as if nothing has happened

[rapha-reads]

You know the one and only problem with reading Loustat fics? You guys make them speak French sometimes and from this two problems arise:

1. The author is not a native French speaker (not necessarily France French, the francophonie is big and there are so many different French existing), and uses translation tools to go from English to French. Hence, a mixing of "vous" and "tu" ("S'il vous plaît, tu m'énerves" - either it's "vous" or it's "tu" but not both), and a constant registre shift (extremely grammatically correct 18th century sounding French mixed up in the same sentence with 21st century banlieue slang - very jarring). Like, pretty sure Lestat would never say anything like "ferme ta gueule" ("shut the fuck up"); too vulgar and too 21st century. He'd say "boucle-la", I feel. Things like that, that wouldn't be noticeable to an English-only reading crowds, but that are making any French-native wince and cringe.

And 2. Love declarations and sex talks in French. Oh, boy. I don't know how all of you English-native read smut or romance in your own tongue. It is so, so intense and intimate, extremely intimate in a sort of intrusive manner, to read love words and/or dirty talk in French. It's not that I don't read in French, obviously not, but there's something about fanfiction in your own language that makes you feel exposed, I feel. Also, petnames. We need to have an entire conversation about petnames.

Anyway. Currently accepting Loustat fic recs, books canon compliant up to the Prince Lestat trilogy that I haven't read yet. Especially post-Merrick fics. I know the fandom went underground thanks to AR's stance on fanfic, but I am very amazed at the lack of VC fics on AO3. Either the old forums haven't made their way to AO3 yet, or everyone buried their fics so deeply they don't even exist digitally.

[obnoxiousarcade]

I have a longing to be understood more than anything else i think

[maliro-t]

some game design thinky thoughts.

[lowdowndandy]

called myself a faggot with a shooting medal today how's your morning going?