#maybe i should revert to the old ways and say boi

[louisthiccsexyglitteryass]

i have been meaning to send u an ask for fucking ever and im sorry that now that i get to it my brain is fucking scrambled cuz i got sick (although im pretty sure i could not come up w ur delicious questions (that sounds weird) like ever) so uhhhh what do u think aziraphale nd crowley would do on halloween? and do u hav plans on halloween? have a great day :)

ouhhh ok.)))

I think they'd make elaborate plans for it, and just end up hanging at the book shop and watching a horror film, during which Crowley gets incredibly drunk. And comforts his scared angel.

I kinda have plans? Idk. Just... Stuff.

And a great day to you too!

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): High Ground [27]

"Woah," A hand catches my elbow, clutching tightly to support my weight so I don't fall-- like my body was clearly planning to do. "Careful."

I sigh shakily, trying to ignore the raspy, mumbled words and the touch of his skin on mine-- especially the reminder of his first remorseful words to me months ago.

Sal releases my arm, lets his hand hover near my body for a moment before returning to helping me and Larry put my drum kit back together.

I bite down on my lips as I tighten a couple things and decide that Larry will take over the job of situating the kick drum because I clearly can't do it myself without threatening to fall on my ass. And given the fact that I'm being forced into close proximity with Sal right now, I'd prefer to not give him any reasons to touch me.

It doesn't help at all that I barely managed to stuff the necklace he gave Lexi into my pocket before he could see. He passed right by it while we were packing at my old apartment-- I thought I'd fucking faint. 

After Nate left that night, I tried to throw it away, forget about the damn guitar pick, but... I just couldn't. Something about it felt so sacred. It was the one good moment I had with him and some sick part of me wanted to hold onto that.

But now I regret ever tucking it away under a ton of clothes in my dresser drawer. I should've chucked it into the fuck it bucket. I don't want reminders of the person he never truly was.

I don't like Sal. I don't know what I was thinking the other night. Nate's insane.

I've had time to think about it and to grow absolutely petrified by the concept. How can I feel something if I'm terrified of it? That's proof enough for me. I was just too high that night.

And it's definitely not like I'm avoiding Sal now or anything. I'm doing great! He's helping with unpacking my things... even though I was the one who begged Ash not to invite him.

She offered up the idea last night after we finally finished unpacking everything in Larry and Sal's home. I was hoping that, since we finished our part, I would finally be able to catch a break from his presence. I can't explain the way my heart dropped when she said the boys would get here in the morning.

Given how difficult setting up this kit is though, maybe she realized what I couldn't. And maybe I just need to suck up all of these difficult emotions and just... get over it.

Ash had frowned at me last night and said something that made me realize I'm probably going insane.

"You know he thinks of you as a friend, right?" She'd said, putting her phone down to talk to me seriously. "You two still bicker, but I think it's because that's your dynamic. Other than that, he's changed around you and that alone says he cares to some degree."

I hadn't responded. I still don't know how I'd respond.

But given that Sal mentioned just a couple days ago, as we were packing up my things, something about us being friends... I've been thinking that Ash may be right. I considered him my friend up until that moment too. I had been thinking about how much our relationship had changed, especially during our trip to Nockfell.

Now, though, I feel like I've reverted backward. Even farther back than when we were constantly arguing. I've gone back to how things were before I even met him. I haven't said a word to him all day today.

There's an ominous crack beneath my fingers that makes me pause. I suddenly realize that I've tightened something way too much... a bolt. and I've damaged it in the process. Great.

Larry appears through the gaps in the instrument in front of me, his brows drawn together. "Damn, y/n. You good?" He asks, deep voice filled with concern.

Sighing, I plop into a sitting position, giving my calves a rest after leaning on my haunches for so long. "Yea, just distracted," I murmur, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I'm going run to a store to buy a new bolt. This one's fucked."

"Maybe you should rest first," Larry offers. I look up at him, noting a raised eyebrow this time and a small frown adorning his lips. "Seems like you have a lot on your mind."

I swallow thickly, knowing Sal is hearing every second of this being that he's just three feet away from me.

"Yea," I try to agree in a spritely manner, but my voice comes out hoarse instead. I clear my throat and try again. "Yea, I guess I'll... rest. You guys should, um, take a break too."

Larry waves me off, his face moving a way from the gap and being replaced by the top of his chest. "Nah, we've got this! Your task for now is to chill. No if's, and's, or but's."

I roll my eyes, my lips twitching in a smile that I try to stomp down. "Yes, sir," I reply sarcastically before standing to my feet. Damn, my back aches.

I try to stop myself, my mind and heart trapped in an endless, opposing battle as my gaze snaps to Sal. He's on one knee, the other propped up and his head tilted at what seems like an awkward, uncomfortable angle to look at something underneath my snare.

I squeeze my eyes shut and speed-walk to the door when a dull flutter lights up my chest at the sight of him. "Thanks, guys," I say quickly before slipping out of the room.

I walk leisurely down the hallway, trying to rid myself of the tingling sensation on my skin where Sal held me. As much as I love the hidden, forbidden moments when he touches me, the remnants make me itch. There's some part of me that's cowering in a corner, captured by fear and I don't know how to conquer it.

Sal already has his own issues going on with this woman who hurt him. It feels cruel to put a rift between us because I have my own problems too now. I don't know what to do, which causes my mind to drift to darker places, think different things. Like... maybe I should end things between us.

When I walk past our kitchen and into the living room, the first thing I see is Ash sitting criss-cross on the floor with a building manual beside her, a half-put together IKEA TV stand, and, funny enough, Nate's screw drive limply hanging from her hand as she reads.

The warm, afternoon light splashes onto Ash's angelic form from our large windows that cover a huge portion of our living room, allowing plenty of natural sunlight in. The sun's rays cascade down Ash's hair, illuminating the brown strands and causing a deep, sparkling red undertone to shine through.

She's just so pretty. Every one of her angles is the right one.

I walk over to her and look down at the manual. "How's the building going?" I ask. My voice makes her snap her head up to look at me. The light catches her viridian eyes and I can't help but marvel at the beauty captured in he gaze. "Need any help?"

She smiles at me, her expression softening upon realizing it's me beside her. "Nah, I think I've got it!" She says cheerily, flipping the screwdriver in her hand. "Why aren't you setting up your drums with the boys."

I purse my lips at the reminder. "I broke something," I murmur bashfully. "Need to get a new part, so that's where I'm headed. Probably."

Ash's brows furrow in surprise and she reels back to look at me better. "You broke something? You, of all people?" She blinks, eyebrows raising now as the confirmation settles. "Well, that would make sense. We're all stressed with the move and whatnot." She waves the screwdriver and moves to return to her building, but she pauses.

Unease boils deep inside my skin as I watch the gears begin to turn in her mind. She turns back to me with her eyes narrowed and continues, suspicion and disbelief tainting her voice. "Unless..." she starts, tilting her head. "You're avoiding Sal."

I cringe, pressing a finger to my lips to hopefully silence my friend. Gosh, this genuinely could not be worse. I feel like I'm gonna puke.

"I'm not avoiding him!" I whisper-yell to Ash, eyes practically bulging out of my head.

"Says the one who asked me not to invite him over this morning." She puts her hands on her hips and gives me a no-bullshit look.

I sigh deeply, scrunch up my nose in complete distaste-- in myself, of course. I shouldn't have been so obvious. Arguing about it isn't going to convince Ash otherwise and it won't change that her assumption is true either.

I open my mouth to tell her that that's not what matters, but she beats me to it.

The woman leans her head back and screams Sal's name at the top of her lungs.

I nearly jump out of my skin, my eyes widening when the impending doom of Ash making Sal and I talk or-- worse-- spend time together settles into my bones.

I hear a muffled curse, a laugh to follow, and then a door shutting down the hall. For fuck's sake.

Sal walks into the living room, stopping at the threshold with his arms gestured offensively at Ash. "What?" he scowls.

The beauty beside me rolls her eyes at Sal's attitude while I turn away from him, my cheeks catching fire. I hate all of this.

"You should go shopping with y/n," Ash chirps, ignoring the fact that she just summoned Sal with some kind of death call.

I spin to her, mouth gaping as I fight to bite down the resounding 'no' that desperately wants to leave my soul. Why would she suggest something like that?

"Why?" Sal asks the question I didn't have the voice to. "She seems more than capable of doing that on her own."

Aw, that's kind of sweet.

"Because," Ash shrugs. "You're..." she seems to think to herself, trying to find a good excuse. This is preposterous. "You're the only person that knows instruments like she does. Forceful bonding!"

Sal sighs deeply. I don't have it in me to look at him as he walks over to us. "What about Larry? He--"

"Yea, Sal," Ash says, her voice loud and reverberating around the room. "What about Larry?" Her tone is aggressive, suggestive. Like she knows she's about to shut him down.

Sal goes quiet.

"So," Ash's chipper voice slices through the tension rising around the three of us. I turn to her, noting the grin splitting her face. "See you later, guys!"

My gaze cuts to Sal. He's already watching me, his eyes portraying a multitude of emotions and thoughts that I couldn't even begin to decipher. He's so him-- he feels things so differently compared to me.

"Shoo." Ash hisses. I watch her hand wave us off in my peripheral.

There's no use fighting her. I should just get it over with. If we go quickly, it shouldn't take that long, right?

Not to mention, I'm the queen of avoiding absolutely anything and everything. My three identities says it all. If I can do that, I can do this. Sal won't even know what's hit him! We can let my awkwardness and issues fizzle out, let the silence consume until I'm better and then it can all go back to the way it was... unless it doesn't. Unless my sobering up takes weeks and Sal gets tired of me. Or worse, he starts asking questions.

With my luck, the latter will happen.

I run my tongue over the surface of my teeth then speedwalk to me and Ash's kitchen. Grab my phone, my keys to the apartment, and my wallet then I head to the door. My mind buzzes the entire way, especially as I skim past Sal both times. I hold my breath each time as if being in his proximity drags me into the depths of the ocean. He's the equivalent to Leviathan in his watery, dark home and I'm doing everything I can to evade his monstrous presence.

Though, he isn't the true monster in this story.

I open the door and leave it open for Sal to follow, which he does. The door shuts softly once I'm a few steps away and toward the elevator.

It's maddening. The silence. It encases the two of us in a mourning veil that's already become a safe haven for the tears, lies, and grief of what's been lost. It's poetic in a sick and sadistic way-- watching everything that was carefully built up teeter on the edge of what could be-- all to fall apart. Crafted and mastered by hands more skilled than a Roman sculptor; a musical antagonist and his chaotic protagonist.

I suppose, if I'm a protagonist at all, I'm not doing much good by shredding our agreement.

I pick up my pace and whirl toward the elevator, not giving Sal time to percolate in our tense disquiet. I put my hand against the sliding door and wait for his presence with bated breath.

The moment I see his fluffy azure hair pop up beside the door, I move. I press my knuckle into the lobby button and burrow into a corner of the elevator.

To pass the time and fill the silence that echoes around in my head, also to ignore the way his scent infects every one of my senses, I pull my phone out to search for a music store.

He smells the way he always does-- clean, a little minty, and some kind of hypnotizing cologne. I can never think straight when he's so close. Which, speaking of, he's very close to my safety corner. Maybe a foot away from me.

He knows what he's doing, the bastard.

But the scenario is becoming easier for me to work through. There's a shop that specializes in equipment for instruments only about 10 minutes away from us, so they should have what I need.

The elevator dings, comes to a sickeningly slow halt that makes my skin crawl with nervous anticipation. The moment the door slides open, I blast past the threshold like an inmate awaiting their release. Don't have to tell me twice; green means go.

By this point, Sal must realize I'm either in a rush or want nothing to do with him. My neurons are misfiring, ensnared in a battle of good and bad. I feel terrible for what I'm doing, but even more so, I'm horrified of addressing this entire issue.

I skitter through a door and nearly kick myself when the better half of my mind reminds me to wait for Sal before I take off down the road.

The man himself lets the door to our apartment building shut as he joins me in the hot, dry air of Los Angeles.

He glances at me, hair a perfect mess and a twinge of apprehension and curiosity in his oceanic gaze.

I dare to glance back.

"You're avoiding me?" He asks, tilting his head, hands in his pockets. The spitting image of confrontation.

Yea, the glance back could only last so long before I regretted it.

I hold my breath and spin on my heel. Fuck, he heard Ash.

"I looked up directions for a music shop. It should be a little ways down the road," I say instead of answering his question, pointing a finger downtown.

"Vi."

I don't look.

"I think a 10 minute walk maybe?"

"Y/n, you—"

"Let's get going before they close— for lunch." I cut him off, jutting my chin toward the bustling sidewalk. I take a step forward— one that's so uncoordinated that I just know I look like I'm scrambling away.

Then his hand catches my wrist. And everything moves in slow motion; you know, hearts surrounding the two of us, smooth jazz playing and a pink tint to our bodies.

I send a glare at the invisible cameras just in time for my body to jolt to a stop.

His fingers squeeze gently around my skin and I suck in a breath of air, too terrified to look at him.

"Look," he says, tone shockingly tender to match the way his skin rubs against mine. I swallow past the thoughts. Bolt. Bolt. Drums. Must get bolt. "I don't know why you're avoiding me, but if you want this thing to continue between us... we're going to have to talk." I hear his scuffed footsteps grow closer to me right until his voice is just an inch or two above my head. "I can't fuck you if you won't even look at me."

I do my best to suppress a shiver. He whispered those filthy words, laid a path of roses and sin with his voice alone to lead me back to him. And, God, I can't stand that I slowly start tiptoeing along the path.

I have to think about a lot of things. Most importantly, what he's just said. Sal is a man of very few words— when he isn't screwing me into next week, that is. But I can tell by his diction of choice that... maybe he thinks he did something wrong. He's caught on to the fact that I can't bring myself to look at him. And this is Sal. The first thing he's going to assume is that I've finally started to think he's ugly. If that wasn't a worry of his, he wouldn't still be wearing the prosthetic. Frenemies with frenefits or not, it isn't hard to get a read on his insecurities.

Second, Nate prepped me for this. We talked about what happened between Sal and me the other night, about trusting him. So shouldn't I fess up and tell him why I can't look at him? That it's because, secretly, somewhere deep down, I've been squashing this overwhelming urge to rip that prosthetic off him and kiss him until we're both breathless?

I can hardly even admit the last bit to myself.

You know what, in fact, I'm not interested in kissing him at all.

No. I'm just avoiding my feelings.

If I had a coin right now, and Heads was labeled as "I won't kiss Sal" and Tails was called "I will kiss Sal," I would flip it. And the moment it would land on Heads, the "I won't kiss Sal option," I'd realize that I've been lying to myself. Because I would be disappointed to know that I didn't get Tails instead.

Sighing, I squeeze my eyes shut, absolutely raving over the minute physical contact between us. This is turning into a problem for me. An obsession. I can't recall the last time I was so taken by a mere touch.

I turn to face Sal, my fingers quaking as I finally meet his pretty eyes. They watch me, narrowed and waiting.

"It's about the other night," I begrudgingly admit, my voice catching in my throat. "I— yea. We should talk."

Sal's eyes return to normal, no longer narrowed as realization settles upon him. "When you used our safe word?" He asks, but doesn't give me a moment to respond. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. If you want me to keep the prosthetic on or a safe distance between us, just tell me."

There's a pang in my chest again. This one isn't as dull as the others have been though— this one hits deep and it's raw and real and so pitiful because Sal thinks it's his face. Thinks he's the cause for this.

What have I done?

His fingers loosen around my wrist, hand beginning to fall away.

I reach forward quickly, grabbing onto his index and middle fingers. "No—" I rush to say. "It's not you. You're..." I don't know how to word what's going through my head. I don't know how to explain that the problem was never him— it's me. "I'm shockingly always comfortable with you. You know, despite the blood lust and arguments. You take care of me. It's not you," I can't help but repeat.

Sal looks down at our partially linked hands and that's when I realize that maybe I reacted a bit too passionately. Quickly, I release his fingers as a wave of heat rushes across my face. This is so embarrassing. Annnnd now I can't look at him again.

"Okay," Sal says, the word low and muffled. He sounds nervous. Awkward. "Then let's talk. My statement still stands."

I nod my agreement, voice caught in my throat.

If anything, he's open to communication. As scary as it all is, I owe him an explanation, right? The worst that can happen is he realizes I'm just insane and he wants nothing to do with me anymore. It could be so much worse.

The two of us begin leisurely walking down the street toward the shop. He falls into step beside me, eyes on the pavement beneath his feet. He doesn't say a word, simply waits for me to find my thoughts and my voice.

If I'd go this entire trip without speaking, he still wouldn't push me to explain. I both adore and abhor every inch of that generous ideal of his.

But the issue still remains-- I have no idea where to start. I don't know how to even comprehend my own emotions and problems, so how can I correctly portray them to Sal?

"I don't know how to start," I admit at some point, chewing on my bottom lip while my entire body freezes over with embarrassment and shame. Who knew communicating was so hard?

"I understand," Sal says comfortingly. What the fuck happened to him? Is this his serious voice? "I had the same issue. My therapist told me that not understanding your feelings is part of understanding them, confusing as that is. Give it to me in pieces and we'll figure out the rest."

Wow. Two weeks ago, he would have pounced on the opportunity to see me crumble beneath my instability. Now, he's coaching me through it. How much changed in Nockfell?

You know, the truth of the matter is that the change began long before we went to Nockfell. I just have a hard time accepting that. Change is terrifying to me-- that's no secret, so acknowledging that it's there in the first place is hard enough. But in all honesty, the shift between him and I began the moment he apologized to me in the bar where Dark Autumn Complex played.

That's where my downfall was born.

Instead of focusing on the root of the problem, I pay close attention to the sprouting leaves. The present. We can't change the past, we can only work on what's happening now.

"Change makes me very uncomfortable," I tell him, painfully aware of how emotionally bare I am to him right now. I'm the first to know that putting my heart in this man's disastrous hands can make all the difference in how things proceed. But if I want a positive outcome, this is my only choice. "And we've changed a lot."

Sal nods beside me. "We have," he agrees.

I suck in a breath, the perfectly timed scuffing of our feet vibrating through my body. He knows how our relationship has done a complete three-sixty too.

"And I think it's scared me. The other day-- in my room. That scared me," I continue, quaking fingers twining into the fabric of my shirt.

"I remember you saying you were scared," Sal builds on my words. This turned into the tensest therapy session I've ever endured. But, he's surprisingly good at this. "What is it that scared you, exactly?"

"Um," I start awkwardly, tilting my head as I backtrack to the events of that night. I relive it all, every single step. And where my heart seems to seize is when I recall the look in his eyes as they fixated on my mouth. "It was the way you looked at me." The words burst past my lips as the realization settles. "I thought you were going to kiss me."

A quick, muffled sound from Sal reaches me. I turn to look at him, seeing his head still bent toward the ground, but a hand covering the mouth of his prosthetic this time. Is he... laughing?

I lean forward a bit and see that his eyes are scrunched closed as his chest vibrates with laughter that I can tell he's trying his best to hold at bay. Whether it's to prevent embarrassing me further or to hold up the genuine part of our conversation, I can't tell.

I don't know why he's holding back, but, damn, am I relieved.

"Are you laughing at me, you asshat?" I pick at him, amusement making my voice waver with giggles.

"Sorry." He chokes on a short, wild laugh before holding a hand up to me. "I know it's serious, I just--" He chuckles a bit more.

A smile blooms on my lips at his reaction. I'd give anything to see his handsome face right about now-- to watch the way his full, scarred lips curl into a bewitching smile. To see his sharp canines and slightly crooked teeth on display. To watch the dimple form next to his mouth, his nose scrunch up, his marred cheeks lift with happiness, his brows furrow as he tries to contain himself.

I blink when Sal looks over at me, his eyes squinted with obvious amusement. My smile softens, so as not to give the true extent of my reaction away to him.

"That's not something you have to worry about," he says, catching his breath. He straightens himself a bit but stops his walking, fully turning toward me. "I won't kiss you. It's something..." He tilts his head contemplatively. "It's rare for me. I've only ever kissed Ash and, funny enough, your damn cousin."

How do I unpack that? Easy-- I don't. The first words out of my mouth are, "You kissed Ash?"

Sal nods, the action a tad reserved as he averts his gaze. "We were young. Both had a lot to drink and Larry's favorite kind of dare is one that no one wants to do-- he dared me to kiss Ash. So I did. Travis was much different though. It was a lot more..." He trails off and that's fine by me. I don't need to know anymore.

"Got it," I continue for him, the words clipped to tell him he doesn't have to say more. He snickers lightly.

"I wasn't going to kiss you. I just think..." he trails off again and that's when I notice he still hasn't looked back to me. He's biting his tongue. There's something he doesn't want to say. But, "I think you're pretty."

My heart stutters in my chest as I watch him, toss his words around in my head a bit.

"Everything that I don't have, you do. Your face is so... symmetrical, lovely. I can't help but watch how you do things sometimes. I was being honest— it fascinates me." Nothing but honesty in his tone. Dripping with honey and all things sweet. I didn't peg him as a sentimental guy, but when I'm wrong, it works out. I don't think anyone's ever said something so kind to me before.

How the fuck am I supposed to sleep tonight?

I don't quite know how to work through or accept what he's just told me. He thinks I'm so pretty that he can't help but watch me? That's a line out of a Disney movie. No, even better, it's Twilight. A Hallmark romance.

But I appreciate his honesty. He told me the same thing when I said our safe word-- that I fascinated him. That it wasn't what it looked like. He was never going to kiss me, he was just admiring me.

I can't tell if that makes me feel better or worse. His words were the coin and the side that landed is unfortunately the 'I won't kiss Sal' option. Maybe it's better this way. I don't have to worry about things becoming something they aren't.

I suck in a shaky breath and nod my head to show him that I hear him. That I believe him. There's this nagging in my head right now though. A little sliver of my brain that's fighting to get to my frontal lobe, begging for me to compliment him the same way he did me. And that sliver manages to work its way to where it needs to be because I start saying way too much.

"I hope you know," I start softly-- I can't speak louder or my voice will waver. I'm so nervous, I feel like I've done blood work without breakfast. "That you're very pretty. I was thinking to myself earlier that I'd like to see your smile."

Y/n, you're off the show. Pack your bags. Go home.

Sal's head snaps to me in a moments notice, the action so quick that I feel like he's given both of us whiplash. I definitely shouldn't have said that.

"So you get it then," is what he says, the words mumbled. "We both fascinate each other. We wouldn't have this arrangement otherwise, so that's settled, at least." He pushes a hand through his hair, ruffles his fringe. "Was anything else bothering you?"

Nope. That was about it. But I am curious. "You asked if we were friends?" I throw the question into the air, refusing to look at him as the sign for the shop becomes visible in the distance.

Sal hums in a disbelieving way. "I would never. Did you hit your head?"

My mouth drops open. "You literally told me, 'aren't we friends?' That's asking if we're friends."

"You know I didn't mean it that way. Can't you tell when I'm fucking with you?" Sal counters, scratching at his chipping nail polish.

I pinch my lips together, a flair of frustration painting my insides red. "So what are we then?"

Famous last words. This is exactly what MCR wrote about before they broke up. I'm fated to a chemical demise and, jeez, why would I ask that question? I'm making all the mistakes today.

The answer is that we're nothing. We didn't even start as something.

To my surprise though, Sal's quiet. He doesn't laugh, he doesn't freak out, doesn't argue. Like he's genuinely pondering my question.

"I'd say we're definitely past the enemies part, right?" He asks, looking toward me for agreement. His bright eyes that capture the suffocating sunlight meet mine and my body goes rigid on instinct. I give him a stiff nod and he faces forward, continuing. "We aren't quite friends though. To me, friends are people who know my secrets and still choose to stick around. Ash, Todd, Larry. Chug and Maple back home. I mean, The Faces are more like family to me, but you get what I mean." He cuts himself off for a moment before continuing. "I'd call us acquaintances. And you don't have to worry about there being any more change because you're the last person I'd ever tell a secret to."

I narrow my eyes at him. This dumbass. "I've seen your face. Isn't that a secret?"

Sal slowly turns his head to me, blinks. "You really want to talk about faces right now, sweetheart?"

I swallow, slapping a hand onto my mask as I realize what he's hinting toward. Fuck. And he called me sweetheart-- I need him to stop... I don't know. I just need him to stop existing or something.

This is the first time he's ever said anything about my face. I knew I wouldn't be able to escape it forever, but I wish it could have held off for a little longer. This is dangerous territory he's walked us into.

I'm openly gaping at him, I realize, with wide eyes and my fingers gripping onto my mask. His brows furrow a bit before he looks away. "Don't look at me like I stole your cat," he murmurs, aggravated. "I'd never ask you to take it off."

He wouldn't? "You wouldn't?"

He shakes his head, strands of hair falling onto the cheeks of his prosthetic. "Would you have asked me to take mine off if you hadn't seen my face by accident?"

As curious as I had been of what he looked like, he has a point. I never would have pressured him or even asked for him to show me his face. If I'd have discovered his face in another way, it would have been on Sal's terms. It would have been if he wanted to show me.

"No," I whisper, gazing up at the store sign that's just a few doors ahead now. "I wouldn't have."

"Exactly," he says matter-of-factly. "Do you feel better now? Are you done avoiding me or am I going to have a couple more days to relish in the fact that I made you fold?"

I purse my lips, desperately resisting the urge to punch him in the gut. "No one folded, dickhead. I was just confused." I spin to him, point an accusatory finger at his chest. "You switch up quick, don't you?"

A mischievous smile that's hidden from me makes his pretty eyes squint as he grabs onto my wrist, gently shoves it away from his chest. "You love it, don't you?" He counters playfully, though there's still some bite in the way he speaks.

I scoff, grabbing the door of the store and damn thankful for the distraction. "You are the ground I walk on, Fisher," I murmur.

"Mmm," Sal hums, a seductive edge to his tone. "Kinky."

A smile works onto my lips at the familiarity of our bickering. I don't know if he's started this up for my sake or simply because it's so natural, but I'm thankful either way. Things feel normal. There's still an overwhelming, underlying desire to have every inch of him I can get, but not having all of him is okay so long as the rest stays the same.

This entire situation was selfish of me. Sal's battling his own demons right now; I mean, part of why he came to LA was to escape his past. Who am I to take away the one thing that gives him a little bit of comfort? I can't help him much, but being a happily willing accomplice to his most sadistic desires is something, right?

I don't reply to him, especially since we've reached the store. So instead of entertaining his bad behavior, I pull the door open and hold it for Sal as he follows me inside.

As tiny and insignificant as the store looks from the outside, it sure has a lot of personality inside. The aisle's stretch as far as the eye can see and suddenly I'm intimidated by a little bit of stacked metal.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, thinking through my options and settling on the only one I've really got-- I need to go ask someone for help.

"I'll be right back," I murmur to Sal, distracted by the looming towers of racks and displays. Yuck, this is my worst nightmare, but it's for the sake of music. "I'm going to ask someone where to find the bolts."

"Why be social when you have signs?" Sal replies with logic. I look over at his skeleton-tatted hand when he lifts it to point at the aisle signs hanging from the ceiling. "Thought you were smarter than this."

"Shut up," I gripe shamelessly, pursing my lips as I navigate my way to an aisle that has something to do with drums. I pause though and throw an insult over my shoulder-- one I've been holding back for a while. "Repaint your nails before you take another jab at me."

Sal scoffs, a little miffed but not as offended as I'd hoped. "Never thought you'd be the one complaining about my fingers," he replies, snarky and proud. I hold my breath as heat travels through my entire body. Embarrassment and lust and everything in between. He knows just how to manipulate every situation to benefit him.

I wet my lips and slow my steps a bit, just for Sal to catch up with me before I can think better of my action. His fingers brush along the small of my back, just over the waistband of my jeans. "I have the high ground, Anakin," he whispers in my ear, voice muffled and raspy.

Dammit, not the Star Wars reference. It's even worse that he's right. I dug this grave.

Doesn't change the fact he's a nerd.

He passes me up, head tilted back so he can look at the signs, showing off the lovely tattoo on his neck. It doesn't help that he's in a black tank top due to his and Larry's working on my drum kit. The flower vines and geometric tattoos on his arms are burrowing into my soul the same way they wind around his skin.

He's so pretty. I hate him.

"Look," he calls a bit farther ahead, his head turning to see if I'm near. "You needed bolts right?"

I pick up my pace to meet him, looking toward the area where he's standing. Bolts and bolts drum covers and directions of how to assemble drum kits, all that lovely jazz.

"Perfect," I purr in complete delight, grabbing onto the size I need. "Maybe you aren't good for nothing, Sally Face," I chirp for good measure even if it is sort of a low blow.

"You could just say 'thank you' like a normal person, you know?" Sal throws the words at me, tossing his hands up in a shrug that all but baits me to fight back.

"To you?" I ask, tilting my head down to give him my best incredulous look. I turn away from him and begin walking to the cash registers at the front of the store. "Never."

I think I'm imagining it, but I swear I hear Sal chuckle a bit.

I ignore it, grinning as I pay for my beloved bolts. Sal is suspiciously quiet by the time I get my receipt so I spin around, expecting to see him behind me. But he's not there. I glance around only to find him hovering near the front door, his phone pressed to his ear and a hand on his hip.

Probably Ash.

I walk over, choosing not to say anything so he can finish his call.

His eyes meet mine when I get close enough and he holds a hand out toward me, distracted as he says a quick, "Okay. Yea."

I raise a brow even if he can't see it. What is he waiting for? Does he expect me to hold his hand or something?

Oh shit, what if he does?

He wouldn't, would he? Regardless, my heart races as I gaze down at his hand and wait for further instruction. My brain is short-circuiting and I don't know what to do—

Sal folds his fingers toward his palm, pushing his hand closer to the bag I'm carrying.

Oh, that's what he wants.

Still a little confused and hocked up on adrenaline, I pass the bag to him. His fingers graze mine and suddenly I have to fight off a shiver.

Now that he has the bag, he looks away from me to finish his call, fingers gripping the plastic handles of the bag.

"We'll be back soon," he says a tad monotonously. I can faintly hear a high pitched voice reply to him— yep, Ash. Then, he snacks his lips frustratedly and says, "No, I'm not getting vodka for you and Larry. You two make me play babysitter enough." Nothing but animosity dripping from his pretty voice.

I snicker, covering my mouth with a hand in an attempt to stop myself. Sal hears anyway and he throws me a dirty look. Mmm, kinky.

Sal grumbles a couple unintelligible words, then snaps out an irritated "Bye, Ashley."

He pulls the phone away from his ear and I hiss. "Yikes," I say sarcastically, watching as he levels his dead stare at me. Whatever Ash called him for, it's set him off for the next couple hours. I wonder how much I can fuck with him within that time range?

Sal releases an exasperated sigh and pockets his phone, gripping the bag tighter. I feel my eye twitch when the muscles in his arms flex with the tightening of his fingers. I should have directed that 'yikes' at myself.

"We're picking up lunch," he tells me, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"Oh," I whisper, the word barely audible. I swallow and try speaking again, using the power of God and anime to peel my gaze away from his bare arms. I am no better than a man. "What do they want?"

"Good question," he answers, opening the door for me. How... gentlemanly. I pass through quickly, watching as he follows me out before jutting his chin toward me. "Can you look up the directions? It's some Greek place that just opened up around here apparently."

My brows furrow. "Uh, is it called Ambrosia?" I ask, thinking back on the news update I got weeks ago about a new restaurant coming to my side of Los Angeles.

Sal glances to me, eyes narrowed inquisitively. "How'd you know?"

I slowly look toward him, keeping my stare as vacant as possible. "I'm psychic," I say, deadpan. Sal has the audacity to look even more suspicious of me, so I roll my eyes and pull out my phone, searching up the directions. "Because I live here, dummy. I heard something about it when we got back from Vegas."

"For your information," Sal starts up, elbowing my arm. "I'm pretty smart."

"Okay, Todd Morrison," I scoff, smiling down at my phone. Restaurant's about a mile from here. That could be a problem. The food would be cold by the time we made it home.

"I'm serious," Sal says passionately in a pathetic attempt to defend his supposed high IQ (which, I'm sure he'd say something about that too). His voice sounds a bit higher-pitched. It's no where near Ash's shrill, but there's competition. "Before The Faces took off, I wanted to work for NASA."

That's interesting.

I look over at him, choosing to pretend the early afternoon light isn't beating down on him perfectly right now. "Really? So, you're into science?"

Sal shrugs, watching his feet the same way he did on our walk here. "Sort of. I wanted to do more of the mathematical work, though. Since there's so much we don't know about space, I figured a space station would be interested in someone who knew how to code or was familiar with physics."

I blink, eyebrows raising so high that I'm concerned they may hit the back of my skull. Sal is so reserved, never talks about his interests. I'm thankful for even the awkward beginning of this trip with him because at least I'm able to hear this about him. Had I never broken that bolt, I wouldn't be standing here having the craziest conversation of my life.

"I never would have guessed that about you," I tell him honestly. I can imagine him in a white lab coat, surrounded by other NASA scientists as he stands in front of a whiteboard full of math equations that I'd never begin to understand. He'd probably be a great teacher; animatedly explaining his work with his hands, a deep understanding and passion for the logistics of space. It's sweet to think about. Maybe he'd have been happier working for NASA, maybe he never would have had so much issues with this mystery woman. Maybe he wouldn't have had to bother with me.

Sal looks at me again and the shape of his eyes shows that he's smiling softly. I feel bewitched in the moment, captured by the beauty of him opening up to someone. Watching someone learn to trust is even more captivating than lust.

"Wanna hear something crazier?" He asks, leaning toward me. He tries to hide it, but the tone he speaks with practically screams that he's excited.

I don't fight off my smile this time as I answer him with an enthusiastic, "Sure."

"I have a degree in Mathematical Physics and Relativity, and I minored in Astrophysics."

I gape at him, thoroughly shocked and amazed. This man has a college degree? In fucking physics? "You what?" The words explode out of my mouth and Sal laughs heartily at my reaction.

This absolute lanky tank of a freak walking next to me knows more about space and math than I know about my own body. This is tragic and terrifying and so amazing. I think I could listen to him talk about astrophysics for hours.

Yea, I think I'd really like that.

I shake my head in disbelief-- at myself, at him, at the fact that I never would have guessed this about him. This goes to show just how much I don't know about Sal Fisher. "Where did you have the time for this?" I ask, fighting past my braincells who rush to figure out the mind fuck going on right now.

"I graduated last summer," he provides me with the answer I wanted, but goes into more detail. I never knew I'd appreciate an explanation so much in my life. "I was advanced in math, so I started taking college classes during my senior year in high school. After that, I went to our local college and finished everything out there. Four year degree-- I finished at 22. Here I am."

He holds his arms out as if to show me all of him, like he's proud. I nearly gush at the sight, watching his eyes light up with excitement to talk about something he enjoys. I know our relationship is the opposite of perfect, but damn, do I admire him. I had no idea of the genius hiding behind that hard exterior of his-- but it's there.

I regret talking shit about his IQ. I probably have the brainpower of a limp spaghetti noodle compared to him.

I pause my walking, forcing myself to focus on the food issue for a moment. "Okay," I tell him seriously, holding my hands out to him in a 'stop' motion. "Ambrosia is a mile walk. I doubt you want to do that, so let's catch an Uber or a cab or something. I definitely want to hear more about physics though." I didn't think his expression could lift even more, but it does. I did that. And for once, his prosthetic doesn't look so expressionless. "Hey, side note," I continue, subtly cringing. "What's your IQ?"

"Ahh," he voices, looking upward as he thinks. Oh, that's terrifying. "I think a 133 the last time I took the test. But IQ's are an inefficient way to measure someone's knowledge, so I don't like to introduce myself with that kind of insignificant number."

Yea, his explanation said everything about how fucking smart he is. I turn my head away and keep a hand up to stop him. "Don't talk to me anymore," I grumble, and I can't tell if I'm being serious or messing with him because this information really is horrifying.

"Come on," he chuckles, taking a step toward me as his head bobs with laughter. He is thoroughly amused. "I need to talk to you if we're going to get to that restaurant. And not talking is the entire reason we got into this mess in the first place."

I shake my head ferociously. "Uh-uh," I tell him, pushing against him when he walks right into my awaiting palm. I can feel his heart beating calmly against my hand. "I've been fucking a dude with a higher IQ than James Franco."

"So what?" Sal feeds into this whole charade happily. "That just means I'm hotter than him. Case closed."

"Not another word from you," I hiss, cheeks heating up from his relentless flirting. He chooses the worst times to do this-- it's always when I'm about as unstable as a failed egg drop project... now I'm making physics references. Oh, this is bad.

And Sal's interest in space explains his Star Wars reference from earlier, so I guess that's something.

"I'll leave you alone," he laughs softly. "Just this once," he adds. I can't look at him. "But we're going to walk back to the apartments and grab my car. To hell with spending more money when I can just drive."

"Aren't you a famous streamer? How is money a worry? And what happened to you not driving in LA?" I hit him with so many questions that I start to wonder if his science is rubbing off on me.

"To answer in order: yes, it's not-- I just like to save, and California is a lot more open about disabilities than small town Nockfell. Are you ready to go now?" He grabs onto my wrist for the third time today and uses his hold to force me to face him.

I pinch my lips into a thin line and warily watch him. Though, I think my nerves are needless. I don't think I've ever seen him look so light before. He seems happy for once, the emotion reflected in the brighter color of his eyes.

Maybe Nate was right. Maybe I do like Sal and it's time to stop denying it.

"...Fine," I mumble, gently pulling my arm away from him. He releases me then spins toward the way we came, gesturing to the path.

On our walk back to our apartment building, I make the best decision ever and ask Sal about black holes. The entire ten minute walk goes quickly. He tells me about all kinds of math and physics things that I don't quite understand, but it doesn't bother me much because he's so excited to talk about it. The way he animatedly explains gravity and density reminds me of the time he recited Annabelle Lee by Edgar Allan Poe. There was so much passion in his voice then, but now it's amplified to the max.

By the time we get to the parking lot for the apartments, Sal is still explaining parts of a black hole to me. I'm enraptured more by his voice than the explanation, but I try my best to follow along.

He unlocks the car, lets me get in.

"-- and there's this point at the center of a black hole, called Singularity. It's badass-- compresses matter down to the equivalent of a needle point. Actually, infinitely smaller than that. But that's where all time and space is completely broken down. Everything you are, everything you know becomes nothing the moment you face the Singularity point."

He goes quiet and shuts his door, staring at me.

I blink, beating down the butterflies in my stomach with a bat. "Damn," I murmur. "Singularity would be a badass name for a song. Such a simple name for a terrifying concept. Imagine being completely erased from existence."

"Exactly!" Sal exclaims, turning his key in the ignition, making the car roar to life. "Funny that you mention music. There's a song called Singularity by a band that Larry introduced me to when we were younger. Ever heard of Sanity's Fall?"

I recognize that name. Larry's told me about them a number of times too. "I heard about them from Larry as well," I laugh softly. "Think it's related to physics?" I ask with a tilt of my head.

Sal snorts. "Probably not." He glances toward me, a smile still present in those pretty eyes. "But we can pretend it is."

He looks away and begins backing out of the parking lot, hand on the back of my headrest. I thought asking about his interest was my best decision today, but letting him drive us to Ambrosia definitely takes the cake. The hand-headrest move will always be my favorite.

But, as Sal began driving to the restaurant, an uncomfortable awkwardness settles over us. I don't say a word, he doesn't even glance my way. I realize almost immediately that we connected today-- after saying we wouldn't connect. I think Sal's realized it, too, given his abrupt silence after going on and on about black holes for so long.

We order and pick up the food quickly. Despite me arguing with Sal about how I can pay for my own food, he bought it anyway, claiming that, "Ash told me to get food, not you."

I hate it. I hate every second. Things were so nice earlier and now it's taken a complete turn because we've realized what's going on.

Making friends sucks.

We return to our new apartments, silent the entire way up to mine and Ash's apartment. We stand as far apart as possible, too wary to even share the same air. 

Everything is unbearable to the point that I start counting the steps until we make it through the door. Even Sal in his sleeveless shirt can't entice me to spare him a glance right now. The weight of our day is just too heavy.

I burst through my front door with a relieved sigh, heaving a bag of food onto the kitchen counter. I shed a bit of my anxiety when Ash and Larry flock to the food, Larry ripping into the bag that Sal's still holding.

The man hisses when the food threatens to fall through the hole in the bag. Sal impressively chucks his keys onto the counter then grabs the containers before they can hit the ground, holding them up with a hand beneath them.

I watch him with pursed lips, turning away when his head turns toward me-- I won't wait for eye contact.

"Oh, sweetness," Ash chirps beside me in her sing-song voice, poking my arm. I turn to her with a pleasant smile to encourage her to continue. "Friday, I'm leaving for Anaheim. Got a meeting with some streaming execs. I'll be back Saturday afternoon."

I blink, letting her words marinate. "I'm gonna be here alone?" I ask to clarify.

Ash doesn't quite understand that the question was asked out of fear because she answers with an excited little, "Yep! You get to do whatever questionable shit you'd like-- just as long as you clean up."

I gulp. I don't have the heart or the lack of dignity to admit that being alone in this huge apartment seems terrifying. I mean, I should be fine. There's nothing to be scared of, especially knowing that people have to check in at the lobby to even make it into the elevators.

Yea, I'll be fine.

So I hesitantly nod, giving her a not-so-confident smile in return.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, a welcome distraction from the internalized terror that's yet to come.

I pull the device out, holding it in front of me to look while my friends flock around me to get their food.

@violove keep tagging our mother she needs to know that her bf has betrayed her @toddslefttoe @VIOLETVIOLENCE @VIOLETVIOLENCE @VIOLETVIOLENCE MOM NORTH IS A NO-GO GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN @veeveehehe he only ever wanted to hurt you bb, go fuck his bsf @ashers10 i knew he'd hurt her, i just KNEW ITTT @larbearrrr bruh i thought they were just rumors bffr???

I gape at my phone screen, quickly scrolling to see the hundreds of comments on my most recent Instagram post. They all consist of the same thing-- something about North betraying me. 

With furrowed brows, I look up at my friends. 

"Uh, guys?" I start, tilting my head as the gears turn in my head. What the fuck is going on? "People are freaking out in my comments saying that North betrayed me. Do any of you know anything about this?"

Ash mimics my expression. "I have no idea. That's... weird? Maybe someone spotted him in another girl's comments."

Oh, well, that's not bad. I don't care about him going after another girl. He and I haven't spoken in weeks. Still, I jokingly tut and reply, "Guess I'll have to start planning a SpeedBump Grave." I groan. "Men."

I smile a bit, ignoring Sal's gaze as I look down at my phone again. I'l just ask everyone to fill me in.

@VIOLETVIOLENCE guys i'm lost-- what's going on????

It takes about .5 seconds to start getting some replies in.

@lerryberryuwu @VIOLETVIOLENCE omfg you haven't heard? @toodswithoutthed MOM oh thank god you're here we need to do damage control @ashypoo99 ur never gonna guess @veeveehehe STOP BEATING AROUND THE BUSH EVERYONE OMFG. some fan leaked that sally face and DAC are working together-- THEY'RE GONNA BLACKMAIL YOU AND GET REVENGE @violove @veeveehehe no one said anything abt blackmail? they're just working on music.

Oh. So that's what it is. Maybe Sal is going to be playing guitar for a song. But this is also a leak, according to my lovely sources.

Begrudgingly, I look up at Sal who has his prosthetic lifted enough to show the bottom of his chin while he eats. For a brief moment, I wonder why he didn't just take it off, but I have to remember that it's his life. Just because I want to see him doesn't mean that he wants me to see him.

"Sal," I call out to him to distract myself.

He looks up, eyebrows risen as he situates his prosthetic back into place to listen to me.

I wet my lips and look down at my phone again, feeling my cheeks warm. "Figured I'd let you know. Everyone's freaking out in my comments because, apparently, someone leaked that you and Dark Autumn Complex are working on music together."

He curses lowly, the word full of malice. I hear his fork drop and that's when I look up-- but he's already rushing to our apartment door, ripping it open and slamming it behind him.

I watch the spot he was in just moments ago, letting the odd scene replay for a second before I address Ash and Larry.

Larry looks rattled, Ash just looks confused. 

"I'm gonna go check on him." Lar says, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I don't think he wanted anyone to know about that."

And then Larry's gone with him.

It's not much of a shock that they're working together. They're friends; I know that. What's shocking to me though is all of my fans coming to defend me, and then Sal's reaction.

For now though, I hope that the situation gets figured out for Sal's sake. As much of an asshole as he is, no one deserves that. Least of all him.

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

A/N:::: y'all i'm tired as FUCKKKKKK

i have no words. i honestly really fucking love this chapter FUCCCKKKKKKKKK x2

as always, leave some recommendations of things i can improve! i appreciate you all so much and i'm sending so much love! have a wonderful morning/day/evening/night! I LOVE MY POOKIES <3333

[vroomvroomwee]

I don't know if anyone has pointed this out yet but the entire Midnight episode from Doctor Who is e perfect example of society. I'll go by character because I can't write essays for shit and it's more fun to read this way.

Professor Hobbes: Starting with probably the more obvious one. Professor Hobbes. A white middle-aged man who's defining characteristic is his broad and unwavering knowledge of the world. Or knowledge that he thinks is correct of the world. This is a man who is so blinded by his ego that he can't see what's right in front of him, even so far as using his arrogance to cover up his fear of what is actually happening. This is a man who would rather remain in denial even in a life-threatening situation than accept that his view of the world is potentially wrong. That self-confidence burrows so deep down that it has created a self-defence mechanism for him, it's how he deals with it, how he deals with danger, by reverting back to his brilliance and intelligence and the fact he is all-knowing with a cleverness no one can match. It leads him to demean other people as well, those who dare question him... not even for one moment does he pause to think maybe they're right... something we see churches do more and more every day... The world is aflame and yet they're still in denial and have utter faith that their God (his intelligence) will save them relying on old and washed out world views that hold no water in modern society.

Dee Dee Blasco: And that leads us to Dee Dee, his apprentice. Or should we say the one who actually understands what is happening but is constantly put down by Hobbes. It is proved multiple times in the episode that her knowledge of chemistry and physics is quite vast, and at times even superior to Hobbes'. It is no coincidence that Hobbes is a white middle-aged man and Dee Dee is a young black woman who dares challenge the professors word, kind of like how the younger generations are calling out the hypocrisy of religion more and more, backing it up with solid real scientific evidence, but being repeatedly silenced, ridiculed and embarrassed for it.

Jethro Kane: Speaking of young generations, the other representative is Jethro. A young boy, a teenager, who, despite his appearance, is very highly intuitive. He might appear aloof, unserious, disinterested, and downright unremarkable. But out of everyone, he has the most accurate image of what is happening. He might be young, but he is very intelligent, despite constantly being told to shut up, that he shouldn't be speaking, that his opinion is worthless and unwanted. Treatement very similar to the treatment younger generations get from the older ones, despite more often than not being the voice of reason and getting a grasp on the real picture yet still being constantly bellitled by the older generations. "Don't be stupid, Jethro," said to him by his own mother. The ridicule eventually gets to him as well as the pressure and stress of the whole situation itself, which leads him to contemplate even murder. Eventually, in the end, he succumbs to the panick, he doesn't know what to do, and he breaks down. Not his own fault, but mostly due to the actions and the utter chaos the older generations caused around him. And that sounds awfully familiar...

Val and Biff Kane: The couple. The picture perfect representation of a loving family. Except deep down, they are selfish and rotten. Val only thinking about herself and how the Entity is stealing her voice despite everyone experiencing the same thing, not caring about anyone else and repeatedly making her voice the loudest in the room, not listening to reason and persisting her rants even though it's making the situation worse. Biff being the typical patriarchal male of the house, the first one to resort to violence and even shaming Hobbes for "not being a real man" as if murder is the logical expectation of men, as if homicide is what makes you a real man. These two are the prime example of the nuclear family who follows society's traditions on behaviour and appearance, painting themselves as the perfect example of how every couple should look, buying in all the bullshit the media is selling them, while deep down being terrible and narcissistic people. Val, going so far as to gaslight the man, she and her husband just tried to kill not even 10 seconds ago in an attempt to save her own image.

The Doctor: Now. The Doctor. The scientist. The thinker of the group. He is the spark that lights the flame. The light in a room devoid of it, that illuminates everyone's hidden and dark side. The side everyone tries to keep secret, even from themselves. The one whose kindness brings that side out and causes panick and self-inflicted chaos as they attempt to shove that darkness down and out of sight. Bringing the nastiness out of them as if they were a piece of transparent glass. And it causes absolute chaos.

The Doctor is a symbol of wisdom, common sense, and worst of all... kindness. He is the one speaking logic, speaking the obvious, showing goodness, doing the humane thing... but no one listens. Everyone around him, being in a fit of horrified panick, turns on him because they don't want to deal with their own nastiness under the pressure of potentially facing their own death.

The Entity: I was debating whether to put the Doctor and the Entity as one thesis, but I think the Entity deserves its own consideration.

To start off strongly, it is no coincidence that the show uses he/him for the Entity. He who has sinister and self-benifiting plans for the entire carriage, and he, who hides behind a woman... A queer woman might I add. He who takes the role of a woman and disguises his evil deeds as her deeds. Painting the woman as the true villain of the story. Sounds familiar...

He who first kills the mechanic and the driver, the ones who kept the whole cabin afloat and running, the ones who nobody really considers, the workforce, the ones who saved everyone, and he killed them like they were nothing. Very similar to how the workforce is treated as disposable in real life...

He who steals the scientist's voice. He who listens to what the intellect has to say, who processes it, and he who thinks of the best way he could turn the situation to serve him. He who twists the Doctors words and uses them against him, he who still uses his knowledge but who gets rid of the thinker himself. He who paints that wisdom as blasphemy and insidiousness but who uses it as a tool to serve himself. He behind the scenes. He who turns everyone against each other, provoking them to create ridiculous arguments and to cause chaos amongst themselves that works to his advantage. He who manipulates the entire scene. He who nobody can really see. He, the real villain behind it all...

The Hostess: The Hostess, who's in charge of the carriage and whose efforts to keep the calm, proved time and time again completely fruitless. The one who tried to keep everyone safe.

The one who saw the real villain and exposed him. The one who died doing so. A woman of colour, and the one who saves the day, but whose name is forgotten... the one who history won't remember... which sounds very familiar.

The situation itself brings out the worst in people. It shows what people are really like in life-threatening situations and how easily they turn on each other to save their own neck. Very much what would be the collective reaction in the real world. Neverending conflict, unyielding chaos, created for the most part by the people themselves. Fighting each other, sacrificing each other. All the while, the real villain smiles in the background...

[queeniecook]

December 1

Dakota Laws was regretting his trip to the Magic realm. The weather was perfect - as always, the weather never changes in the realm - but his current company was not pleasant. He had been minding his own business, simply practicing a new spell he had read in the library when he was approached by another warlock - one he had seen in passing a few times but had never interacted with. Until today.

"I don't know why my heritage is any of your concern, Mr. Whittaker." Dakota bites out. One would think that if anyone had anything to say to him about his family, it would be about his father. Dakota is doing his best not to fly off the handle and remain calm, trying not to revert to his old ways but sometimes a person can only take so much before they explode.

"You're a half breed and you shouldn't be here!" The older warlock shouts back. The fellow had been ragging on Dakota about his Mother being human for the last twenty minutes, unbeknownst to the duo- they have an audience. 

Dakota can hear his familiar, Poe, caw at the other warlock in anger. The magical bird is feeling what Dakota is feeling. Rage. If it was about his Father, Dakota wouldn't care but when anyone has a bad word to say about his Mom, that's another story. She raised two boys basically by herself. Luna Villareal will always be an angel in his eyes.

"Maybe we should see who really doesn't belong here?" Dakota suggests, he has no doubt he can beat this guy in a duel, despite the age difference. 

The two warlocks step closer to the dueling grounds as their captive audience watches, amused and very interested in the outcome.

The warlocks fire shots at each other, each one landing a few blows. It's not long before it becomes obvious who the stronger warlock is but Mr. Whittaker stands his ground until Dakota gives one last push with his powers. By this time, their audience has moved to stand behind Dakota. Unlike the younger warlock, James has dealt with Wiley Whittaker on and off during the years. He's a sore loser. it's not beyond Wiley to not respect the laws of a duel and fire at his opponent after the duel has been decided.

"Hmm, not bad." James compliments Dakota, sounded surprised though he isn't. He's dueled Dakota himself on two occasions. He knew the younger man would best the older man. 

Dakota jerks back, not even realizing James was there. That's how focused he had been on proving Mr. Whittaker wrong. He looks at James, wondering if he's about to have to defend himself against not one but two warlocks. He backs up a little, ready for a fight -right as Mr. Whittaker picks himself up off the ground and begins dusting off his suit jacket.

"Looks like you got your arse kicked, Wiley. You should know a strong ancient bloodline beats out human genes any day." James gloats, though it's not his victory to boast. 

Dakota pauses at James' words. He shouldn't be shocked that James knows who his father is. He just hadn't considered it before that moment. Maybe that's why James had been trying to get him to become an ally.

"James...why am I not surprised that you're here, trying to suck up to the young whelp so he won't usurp you from your throne of being the realm's royal douchebag?" Wiley growls at James, completely forgetting Dakota. He didn't like the young warlock but James - he despises him all because many years ago he found his fiance in bed with James. 

James chuckles so hard he could feel it vibrating his chest. "I think you claimed that crown long before I did. Willie."

Dakota stands there, quietly wondering if he and Poe can silently side step their way out of there and leave the two men to kill each other.

"It's WILEY." that's all that's said before Mr. Whittaker gaves James an actual shove. Before Dakota even has time to blink, James has uttered a spell that has turned his once opponent green. 

Dakota finally blinks, drawing a breath - almost frozen to the spot. James is quick. Extremely quick.

An inhumane sound comes from Wiley Whittaker as he's electrocuted but shockingly, to Dakota, is left alive. He feels if he hadn't been there, James would have killed the warlock. Can't have a witness after all.

Moments pass by as Dakota stares at James and James stares down the now crispy warlock, who wisley runs for it, almost launching himself into some roses bushes on the way out. Dakota for his part, doesn't know what to say, so he simply turns to leave. He gets to the bridge before he hears James call to him. He halts, turning to look at James.

"Looks James, I don't....know what all of this was. But if you expect some kind of thank you, not gonna happen." Dakota states. He's highly suspicious of James getting involved in the situation but there also was clear animosity between James and Mr. Whittaker. Maybe it actually had nothing to do with him. 

James smirks slightly at Dakota, he knows he's confused the heck out of the young man. Frankly, he enjoyed seeing Wiley get his butt kicked in a duel and enjoyed it even more torturing the man a bit. He had been watching Dakota once he discovered the young warlock was in the realm at the same time as him but he hadn't planned for them to be there the same day. Sometimes, fate or whatever you want to call it steps in. That's what his own Mother had always told him.

"Don't let anyone ever put you down. Always stand up for yourself." James tells Dakota, he isn't even sure why he's saying it but it's flowing out of him for some reason.

"I'm not you, James." Dakota states, crossing his arms and still making sure there's distance between them.

"You can be a good man and not be a doormat for people." He knows it sounds odd coming from his lips, considering the kind of person he is. "You come from an very powerful ancient bloodline, you have a right to be here just like everyone else."

And with that, James disappears in a sparkly fog using a transportalate spell and leaving a stunned Dakota behind.

[morsartis]

Compliment Part 2

Peter Maximoff x Reader

Tagged: @floraroselaughter

It’d been weeks since your rather awkward encounter with Peter, well maybe awkward wasn’t the right word for it. Hindsight had been a bit of an eye opener for you after that day and you had spent that time growing more and more embarrassed with yourself. It wasn’t that you were ashamed of it, not at all, in fact it was more the urge to keep doing it that had caught you off guard. Watching Peter the way you liked to do had revealed he didn’t have many friends and certainly even less compliments. Your one off handed compliment had seemed to brighten his week and as you watched him revert back to his old self you couldn’t help but feel… Sad. Everyone deserved compliments. While you yourself hadn’t been on the receiving end of many compliments that didn’t mean others weren’t deserving of them. Your mother had drilled into your head to be the change you wanted to see in the world and mostly you just wished people were kinder to each other. Especially with all this mutant nonsense that seemed to be cropping up. Perhaps you were tenderhearted with your belief that one should do unto others as they’d wish others would do unto them, perhaps you were overly optimistic in the hope that humans and mutants could coexist. You weren’t sure. 

But you did know that you liked seeing others happy. 

After having worked yourself into an embarrassed mess over the compliment a few weeks ago it took you some time to work up the courage to try it again. This time however you took your time formulating the compliment you wanted to give. It’d be something small, insignificant to most, but something only someone who was watching might think to give. Arguably you knew he was self conscious of certain things. It was quite obvious in the way he acted what made him jittery. So there you were in your shared class with your chin in your palm as the teacher droned on in the background. Peter seemed to be developing heterochromia in his eyes, that pale blue ring to them more visible now than before. But you had already complimented them. You didn’t want to come off as a broken record. Instead you had zeroed in on his hair. Years of watching your mother straighten her own hair had given you a clue what natural straight hair and ironed straight hair looked like. As track season had begun and Peter had taken to it you’d noticed that his hair had gotten almost curly at the roots. Why he’d hide such a thing didn’t make sense to you but you figured that was just something he did. His eyes darted to your own and he tensed clearly not expecting you to be watching, giving him a warm smile you hummed to yourself in thought. The smile was what made him pause. His lips parted to speak and you were reminded that he also had nice lips. They looked soft despite most likely being chapped. Kissable. That particular thought was set aside for later. 

“You’d look nice with curly hair.” You spoke, interrupting him before he could speak himself. The soft incessant tapping of his foot paused. For a moment he merely stared back at you. He blinked the words setting in slowly. But just like the last time you complimented him that barely there blush threatened to rise to his cheeks. His face was more round than other boys, betraying a youth that hadn’t yet left him in favor of puberty. He cleared his throat after a moment, eyes darting nervously around the room to see if anyone had heard or was paying any attention. Or perhaps he was looking to see if you’d been set up by someone. That thought rather hurt. 

“I look weird with curly hair.” He mumbled after a moment. His hand scrubbed over his face and you couldn’t help but smile a little more. 

“I think you’d look handsome.” You shrugged. To your fascination that blush deepened, his face reddened in such a way that you could clearly see the pink. Those interesting eyes darted between you and somewhere off to the side as if trying to think of something to say. Something to refute your claim. But you continued to gaze at him with a warm smile. 

“You have nice lips.” He blurted out your eyes widened the same time his did. That blush now a bright flaming unmistakable red as he ducked his head. “Fuck.” He hissed to himself. 

Huh. You thought past the embarrassment. You tried not to immediately deny the compliment as sudden as it was. Had he been staring too? Your face felt warm as your smile curled a little at the edges with the heat. Going more crooked as the embarrassment set in. Taking a steady breath you willed your voice not to crack. 

“Thanks.” Your voice swelled with that bashful feeling threatening to overwhelm you. Gnawing on your cheek you glanced away. When you glanced back you found him staring right at you, some strange expression on his face you couldn’t place. Unsure of yourself you shuffled nervously in your seat. Strangely enough you could have sworn you saw his pupils dilate but that was silly. 

He cleared his throat suddenly and flipped erratically through the book you were supposed to be reading for your class. Taking that as your cue you opened your own book and flipped to where you’d marked the pages. Self consciously your fingers trailed to your lips. You couldn’t help but let out a silent huff of amusement at what an awkward pair the two of you must have made. As the teacher continued to talk you glanced shyly back up at him and found his eyes. 

“I like your jacket too. It’s cute.” 

He shuffled around in his seat, teeth digging into his lower lip. A pretty deer in headlights. 

“I like the little hearts you doodle in your notebook.” He blurted and then flushed red yet again. It was clear he hadn’t meant to say that either. The confession caught you off guard, you didn’t think anyone noticed the little absentminded doodles you drew when you were struggling to focus. Much less noticed enough to realize what they were. Which meant that somehow Peter had been watching you like you had been watching him. All without you having noticed at all. The heat in your face returned but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. 

“You do?” You asked, unable to hide the bashful tone of your voice. Those wide eyes skittered across your face and you wondered what he could possibly be thinking. 

“Yeah.” He answered plainly. “They, uh, they’re cute. I mean…” He trailed off clearly trying to think of something to say and grasping at straws. Taking pity on him and on yourself you found yourself stretching your leg out to rest your ankle against his. The featherlight touch had his foot immediately stilling, freezing him momentarily in place before he swallowed so hard his adam’s apple visibly jumped. 

“Thank you.” You told him genuinely. It was strange how that was the compliment that caught you the most. An unwitting admittance to being perceived by someone else. You had gone to pull your leg from his when his leg suddenly twisted to lock yours into place. Shifting so that the back of your ankle was pressed against the front of his. A new, surprising, development. Did Peter… Like touch? Did he want it? In all your time observing him you hadn’t noticed a preference for or against it. But if he wanted touch… You forced your leg to relax against his. Letting it rest there as if it were the most natural thing in the world as you turned back to your book. For the rest of the class period the two of you stayed like that. Ankles locked together harmlessly under your desks.

[pama-saga]

("Hmmm, I should work on my askblog" proceeds to draw AUs of my AU

information under the cut)

From left to right

-Champion City PAMA. Not much info on this idea, it's really just a little thing that nibbled my brain once and I wanted to doodle it as a funny little outfit test. I suppose it's what happens when you redeem PAMA, but don't really care for or help them. I suppose it'd be more logical for them to move to Redstonia (I may draw that later LOL), but could you imagine the PAMA Radar rivalry??? They're sort of like a replacement Radar to Stella, and end up just becoming weirdly toxic kinda like her. Maybe they move there to spite Jesse in this hypothetical LOL. If Stella is redeemed PAMA could still go >:( to Jesse depending on how they treat them. Idk, didn't think it out too much.

-This is basically just, what if Aftermath was a happy fluffy fic where nothing bad ever happens. I like to think if Jesse were to tell PAMA that life is really meaningless and you have to find meaning, they'd swallow that pill a lot earlier/quicker and eventually, with the help of Jesse and later Radar, find meaning in the small/happy things in life. I like to think they and Nell would get along and the two of them, along with Radar, would have a really cute friendship. PAMA, as a result, wouldn't push themselves to be useful, and find fulfillment in other things. Basically, they live happily ever after, and everything is nice and chill :) I also went a lil nuts with this design, taking inspiration off the clothing in Crown Mesa and Nell's clothing, but more blue twinged. Maybe I'll doodle the full design someday??

-Oh boy. Champion PAMA. This is a doozy so fasten your seatbelts y'all. Basically, if you dawdle too long on taking the clock in episode 2, PAMA will get impatient and do it themself. Which leads to two incredibly interesting things 1-Romeo being absolutely confused but also just shrugging and saying "What? Hey, I can work with this. You took initiative! That's a good trait for a Champion!" and 2-Petra and Jack being in prison together, which is not something I'm 100% sure how to work with but hey. I like to think Jack is worried for PAMA's safety while Petra is worried PAMA will revert to their old ways. Romeo could hypothetically reprogram them, but that'd be boring! Better to train them the old fashioned way, eh? Cue a freakout when PAMA is brought to fight Jesse. Radar is incredibly distressed, Petra feels like her worst fears have been realized, and Jack is just... shocked. PAMA hesitates at attacking at first, like usual, but starts before Romeo can do anything. If Jesse refuses to fight PAMA, they act shocked, and unsure, while if Jesse attacks PAMA, they take it with barely any reaction, just slouched sadness. They do do the whole "Pretending to attack Jesse to get to Romeo" thing and mention how good the odds are (as a callback to their bossfight.) to which Jesse will respond "I like those odds" the fight goes as normal afterwards. Later, Radar and PAMA reconvene and Radar is so excited to see PAMA. PAMA is unsure what to make of the whole "Prison Radar" thing but compliments his attempt to be fierce. PAMA does ask for a catch up on the whole thing and mentions how they thought everyone had essentially abandoned them while they were stuck in Terminal Space, and that they were just... doomed to make another mistake as horrible as the incident in Crown Mesa. Petra is a little unsure how to feel, Jack feels upset for PAMA, and Radar is so god forsakenly distraught that he could win an olympic medal in it. Jesse can either reassure them or not at this point. PAMA is unsure how to feel about Xara. She's interesting to them, sure, lots of layers and stuff, but they also don't know whether to trust her, be scared of her, or be scared for her. It nearly puts them into Paradox Status a few times LOL. PAMA's (metaphorical) stomach drops when Radar makes eye contact with the Enderman. They try not to fret about it, but they keep thinking about it. PAMA finds themself sort of relating to Xara in some sense, while also finding her fascinating (all those stories!) but also nerve-wracking because she's. Well. Yeah. PAMA loves Fred's Keep! They're nervous at the amount of water, but afterwards they basically are incredibly excited. PAMA wants to do the trivia contest, but unfortunately Jesse is still the main character. Binta does promise to run one that PAMA can participate in once she makes it to the surface. The most likely thing is PAMA stays in Fred's Keep for a bit, listening to all of Jack's stories if he's there. Maybe they come to Romeoburg with you if Jack doesn't come to Fred's Keep? PAMA sees Ninja Ivor and is basically just going "...Why do I recognize this guy?" The whole time. Ivor also does a double take, trying to figure out if he's being tricked or if the real PAMA is down there. Afterwards they have a lil reunion :) Bringing PAMA to Romeoburg is kinda funny because if Jesse mentions the "giant computer" PAMA will comment about it being a stalemate, to which Jesse will rebut that they had PAMA's heart in their hands, leaving PAMA in frustrated silence. PAMA enters the challenge with the group just to panic at the first sight of water and run out. Afterwards, if you brought Lluna, they'd appear on her back, leaving everyone to go "What." PAMA is not at the cabin scene, they just end up hanging out with Radar and looking around. Afterwards, when Xara mentions being "Inefficient" near the end, PAMA sits still in shock for a moment. PAMA freaks out when Radar mentions wanting to sacrifice himself to the Enderman, and if you let Radar stay PAMA basically has to be dragged into the portal.

Afterwards maybe they stay with Axel and Olivia in the shop after you come to the surface? Maybe help with the Fireworks Union and then leave with Binta/Radar? They kinda get phased out of the plot at that point. As you can see in the drawing, PAMA is constantly tired and all that. Also I noticed Champion Armor is basically just. Someone's clothes but converted into armor, so it sort of keeps their patterns. Funky detail, so I took that and made PAMA's patterns spikier, including those on their bandana.

-Finally, Guest PAMA! Underneath stuff happens mostly the same, it really just differs in episode 3. PAMA is basically just leverage for Radar, to keep him in check, and they probably end up getting a cracked screen or something similar. Maybe it'd be determinant on whether you encourage Radar to rebel? PAMA is constantly telling Radar not to worry, that the damage is merely cosmetic and that he shouldn't let people take advantage of him, but it still doesn't stop him from feeling awful and guilty.

Hoo boy that's a lot.

[revelisms]

Excerpt: What Were Any of Us?

Jinx and Singed chat about new developments across the river.

From 'fate is a sundress, ripped at the thigh,' a oneshot exploring Jinx's relationship to Sevika and Singed in the aftermath of S1. Full story on AO3

"Your eye for chemistry is quite remarkable," he says. "I'd not have seen the patterns you caught. A consequence of living too closely to the colonies, perhaps."

Jinx snuffs a breath through her fringe. It's the first day in too many that she's brushed her hair the whole way through: drawn it back into a clean tail at her nape, tied it off with a tattered old ribbon, a shock of neon green in the mess.

"Wasn't hard," she rasps, shrugging. "Just gotta look for the magicy bits, and stuff."

The doctor's good eye crinkles at the edges. The other stays flat and white. 

It should be black and red and fire and warm and unblinking. Should be. But it's familiar, that unbalance. Comforting, in an odd way.

"This is because of the stone," he presumes. She fiddles at her cup, nails clinking off the handle. "I knew another, once, with a similar inclination. Smart boy. We keep in touch, from time to time."

For a moment, she only feels his eyes studying her, silently. Only hears the waves, feels the wind, the pressure of her cup biting back at her.

"I wonder...if this might be of interest to you." He reaches inside his coat; sets a small leather-bound journal, thick as a thumb, upon the iron. "Notes of his, on a new development with the Arcana."

A shock frissons through her skin.

She sees blue and fire and magic and whirling and gone gone rocketing—

We'll show them—

"It won't bite, child."

Still, she just stares at it, blinking. Her nail slips against the porcelain.

One wrinkled side of his face lifts at her, at that: a crooking remnant of an eyebrow singed off. "Aren't you curious?" he prods, quietly. Because she should be. She should be. "A world waiting to be discovered at our fingertips. Science—and magic."

"World of heebie-jeebies, you mean?" Jinx swipes up the notes, leveling a suspicious leer over their edges. "Bor-ing."

"You are not intrigued by the combination." The skin around his beady eye creases, again. "Neither was he. But the technology; the potential." She glances through her fringe. Watches as he crooks his head at her, and hums. "It is what interests me, too." 

Maybe that's true. Maybe she doesn't give a hoot. Maybe she wishes she could turn back time, wishes she could build welding robotics and mechanical contraptions and micro-tech that responded to touch, had minds of their own; augmentations with precipice and wonder and deadly promise, that could fly high enough to touch the stars.

That little cup of coffee tips to his gums again, hissed through his teeth. "Mages have tried and failed, for centuries, to write magic into being," he continues. "But it is a living thing. It evolves. What better way to house it, than in a body that can adapt?"

She thumbs through a page of spindly illustrations. "Metal's still metal."

"Hextech has its limitations," he agrees. "Namely, the lack of life. The Arcana feeds off it, like a virus—but the result it produces..."

Her fingers still over countless calculations—variations upon variations of organic material reverted into something else, something infinite.

"It is...volatile, yes," continues a voice across from her, faraway. "But—you see? Even in it's infancy—"

"It could heal," Jinx breathes.

The doctor blinks at her. His thin fingers steeple together, and taper still. "Create," he corrects. Then, with a quietness to the rough edges of his words: "Many things could have healed him, child. In time." Her thumb presses hard into the page. Leaves a crease. "But so are the limitations of science. You cannot force progress beyond the tools you are given."

Jinx snaps the book shut. She squeezes it, stiffly. "What—what do you...want me to do with this?"

The air whistles with a gust of cool ocean air. It carries a speckling of salt, the smoky traces of a storm just along the way, and beneath them both, a sharp, chemical sort of sweetness: the kind that's sewed itself through her skin, from a lifetime working with gears and gunmetals and explosives; that kind that sits on the doctor's clothes, too. 

He doesn't wear oils or fragrances. Never has. He smells like mildew and mothballs and that strange, floral taint of the black lilies, of the shimmer itself: a prism of too many things battling for attention, like the clutter of an apothecary's back shelves—but above it all, a spiced sort of musk, like dragon's blood.

It would stain her fingers after his injections. Change the air around him, for a minute or two, after that needle would prick the rot, drive a synthesized strand of blood into his veins and shatter him with the pain of it, shredding his genetic makeup alive and reforging a new one in its place.

As a girl, she'd wondered, morbidly, if enough doses would turn his skin pink, or his hair white, or if he'd never walk free from that feverish state the doctor demanded he'd stay in to survive.

But the shimmer never broke him, not completely. He'd always find the pieces of himself and put them back together.

It was in her veins now, too. But it'd eaten some part of her, in the process; bludgeoned through her like she'd smashed that damned vase. She couldn't find the pieces, now.

"I don't want you to do anything with it." The doctor's knobby fingers unfold, lace back together. "But if it interests you...well. I am continuing to pursue the developments."

She ticks her nail over the journal's binding. 

She wishes he took up more space that he does, with his simple clothes and his flatcap on his spotty bald head. That he didn't just stink of the lab. 

The salt stings her eyes. 

Her lungs strain, stupidly strain to make that ocean air something else; to pretend those bony hands had scratches and scars, instead of burn pocks; that the shadow of his hat turned his blind eye black; that the scent on his wools was bergamot and sandalwood and clove and cedar and tobacco and—

"Does the ogre know that?" she bites out.

The doctor tips a glance over his shoulder, out towards the sea. "That is what you call her?" he drawls, bemused. His mismatched eyes flit back to her. "She is the helm of the knights, child—not the beast for them to slay. You should have seen her, the day they took the bridge. Should have seen all of them."

She shoves the notebook back to the table. "You weren't with them."

"Those that tend the wounded can't take the front lines, themselves. So goes war." 

He folds his hands in his lap, leans back in his seat. She frowns at him, for a long moment. Rips her eyes away.

"He never—" Her nails squeeze into her palms. "Never said how you—you met him. Never told me."

A fluttering of fingertips dances in her periphery. "Does it make a difference? Fate has her ways. You, of all of us, should know that."

The words sit strangely on her. "I was just wondering."

For an eternity, the sea holds his attention. And she's used to that. She can handle that. Silence and thinking and always strategizing moves from four steps ahead, words weighed and strung together like precious stones—

"I didn't meet him, per-say. He was a subject." He lays a sallowed fingertip against the edge of his cup: tips it on its axis, from one side to another. "It took two weeks to stabilize the infection. Not a moment of it, I think, was he coherent." The cup stills. "What crawled off my table was not the same man."

Jinx presses her thumb into the heel of her palm, and keeps it there, like a dead weight. Quietly, she asks, "What was he...like, before?"

The doctor leaves the notes on the table between them. His stare skews curious, unwavering. Like she's nothing more than a test subject writhing his table, too.

"What were any of us?" he hushes.

[teamrocketmemes]

[ LUXIEM 1ST ANNIVERSARY ] PART 2 

In honor of Luxiem’s first anniversary, this is a sentence starter from this Vox Akuma VOD where they reminisce about old phrases they all have said in a game format. I’m taking both the phrases discussed specifically as well as other funny quips said during the stream. Content warning for mild language. Feel free to change pronouns if necessary.

“He’s preparing a feast for the eyes.”

“I just honk–”

“I turn into xQc when I’m drunk…”

“I just want a tiebreaker.”

“Farting in the Houses of Parliament should be allowed.”

“I’ve never heard this person say it but I know who it is.”

“I need to mega brain this.”

“I wanna give him an extra point just for that!!”

“He got style points.”

“Get in that chair, boy. I’m gonna start twerking.”

“It is a collab.”

“I’M TAKING THE BAIT!!!”

“All of the wise cracks and everything, [name] is giving us none of that because his raw concentration goes into his art.”

“Some letters are just impossible to draw with a mouse.”

“I keep on getting jebaited.”

“Half a sus.”

“Man, I hate being the host. I can’t draw amoguses.”

“Maybe I’ll treat you like my homework, slam you on the desk and do you all night.”

“How do you keep coming up with thess elaborate art pieces??”

“I think he’d make a great fun uncle one day.”

“Everyone knows about this. I regret it. I blame Hetalia and Tumblr. Let’s move on.”

“You may not repent for your sins. The internet is forever.”

“I definitely didn’t come up with this.”

“The slow fade in… Of the monkey…”

“I’m just a stupid boy and I’m learning.”

“I need the originator.”

“I don’t know if [name] is thinking or drawing or both at the same time.”

“I love that this implies he can’t do both.”

“He’s commissioning somebody to draw this for him.”

“There’s no way I could come up with something that hilarious on the fly.”

“Much to my dismay, I am cockless.”

“I had to restart my whole canvas. It was lagging.”

“This man is acting as though paint has layers.”

“This man needs to put his ambitions aside for the good of the game.”

“Oh yes, papi, skin me!”

“What does papi even mean??”

“It’s their equivalent of the word Daddy.”

“If this is me, I’m going to eat my own toes.”

“We pronounce it in the most dumb way you can imagine.”

“I reverted back to… My mind.”

“We gotta express ourselves through paint.”

“What we’re witnessing right now is [name]’s schizophrenia zone.”

“Wait— This is not what the Tactical Nuke icon looks like.”

“Is that a chair or is that a toilet??”

“If Santa isn’t real, who fucked my wife??”

“Aren’t you scared of some guy coming in your house??”

“No, because he was getting me a Nintendo.”

“He never gave me a loving family.”

“Do you need to have a conversation with somebody?? Are you ok??”

“I keep screaming but God won’t answer.”

“This sounds like Grade A dodging the question.”

“I mean, no one dodges better than [name].”

“I gotta fix my work real quick.”

“I literally found out recently why you can’t see Santa Claus.”

“He knows when you’re awake.”

“Is that your thought process??”

“Booba booba booba.”

“He’s forgetting his own history.”

“Burning hotter than YOUR MOM.”

“Is this a bait??”

“It’s always guys from Birmingham.”

“He’s very delicately flicking [name]’s hair.”

“It makes sense number-wise but in practicality not so much.”

“I mate sometimes. I’ll mate you.”

“OOOOOOH I thought it was talking about chess.”

“I’VE NEVER SEEN IT IN ENGLISH.”

“Lick me and let me explode inside your mouth.”

“I panicked and I gave you guys the answer.”

“READING A LINE FROM A GAME ISN’T MY QUOTE.”

“My people have a saying… Live laugh love.”

“Live laugh ligma.”

“You’re not doing the Krabby Patty thing.”

“WE’RE FROZEN!! THEY CAN’T SEE HOW DISAPPOINTED I AM!!”

“I’m so glad that I destroyed [name]’s mood.”

[backpackingspace]

okay were getting deep oversharing with the internet times bc I'm going to react to dw through my trauma lense. Specifically hell bent and heaven sent here we go.

So far so good.

Listen will I be grateful if these episodes no longer trigger me to hell and back. Will I also be pissed that I've spent years being triggered by this show when the original trigger episodes no long trigger me? Yes. Yes I will be.

Never mind there will be no deeper meaning sound here the doctor is trying to dry his doc martins up right and laced up and its annoyed me so much it's all I will associate with this episode now.

The doctor talking himself into being brave o.o baby. Also me. Talking myself into doing anything with heights.

Sprays last thought like a cat no bad. Making me based comparisons is how this whole mess got started

Oh. Yep there it is. Being forced to relive the things that scares you on purpose forever. "I'm scared and I'm alone" ha ha yah fuck

Okay listen self. If the doctor being forced to relive his wrost fears on purpose is torture than you being forced to relive your worst fear is torture. I know we don't want to accept that don't want to accept its that bad but it is.

Oh hey the losing time thing too?? Haha yah

The sleep deprivation

"Maybe I'm in hell" "how long do I have to be here? Forever?" Yah it sure did feel that that.

"Asking a skull if it's still scared" yah passively contemplating death so I didn't have to be scared anymore. That sure was a thing.

"There's something I'm missing and I think it's something terrible" literally shut the hell up

Im actually finding this really helpful to be able to go through and label my emotions and thoughts about my situation might show this to the brand new shiny therapist I now have.

"I'm playing someone else's game I cannot stop and everyone else has lost" man if we're taking ever line as a metaphor for what was done to me. This therapist had a deal with a school man. It literally terrifies me to think of how many kids she's messed up like she messed me up. Both before and after because let me tell you. She was so fucking good at messing you up. Took literally 3 sessions to get you dependent on her and going insane.

The clinging feeling of desperation that you just have to get through this it gets worse before it gets better.

"The I can't keep doing this rant"

the way he's just sitting defeated against the wall? Yah I saw that expression everyday for years. That hits hard.

Okay not trauma related but the doctor saying I remember it all everytime when we've been lead to believe he doesn't like talk about a hell. Talk about good story writing. I've never caught that before!!

The way the doctor looks so tired. Yah that's framilar too. Also the having to be strong as your body gives up you that sure was a thing too.

Okay but literally this episode is so good. I fucking love the doctors dying speech in this it's only one of my favorite episodes of tv ever. Which is in part of why losing it hit me so hard.

hey if the rooms revert how come the shovel has dirt on it and the clues stays and the clothes are drying?? Finally some good old plot holes.

Also where is the food coming from like???

Okay but the sequence of the Shephards boy says is fucking fire

I want to know how long each time lap is

....thinking about how the tardis was left alone for 4.5 billion years.

Okay no because I should have been able to trust the therapist and the doctor should have been able to trust the time dial!! They were tools meant to HELP HEAL TURNED INTO PAIN AND TRUAMA

[le-souriant]

#MusicMonday Review - May 2024

When tackling with otherwise difficult topics, this month's artists let their creativity flow to make music express their views. Give it a listen, and dive in, with a word from the artists themselves. 🎧

The Wears – The Old Way

i'm lost in the city between your eyes the streets take me home but i never arrive

maybe i'm incapable of saving whatever mess we create

Welcome to Stockport, England, our starting point, for an Indie Rock track that would like us to relive more simple times, with the one you once loved:

"So it was written shortly after a breakup, and it kinda summarizes that feeling of wanting to get back together but knowing deep down that the ship has sailed…

When you don't want to deal with the emotional aftermath, so you want to revert to The Old Way so to speak, where everything was just that bit easier.

It's the second single from our debut EP Atlas too, which carries on the story. It has a real chapter by chapter feel to it - and is a project we're really proud of."

Sweat – Red Wave

I don't wanna deal with this today But I guess Aunty Irma's here to stay Can you please get the f out of my face Cos' I'm surfing the red wave

If you're into Surf Rock, take a trip with me to Walyalup, Australia. As this band likes to say, you should put your goggles on, it might get messy:

"Giane the guitarist was playing around with new pedals (or likely a new guitar) and she made that classic wave sound and we were all like siiiiick. Let's totally make a beach sounding track with that sound.

I think we started mucking around with the words 'surfing the red wave' and then we had a moment where we were like "damn are we really going to be a girl band that writes about periods" and then we were like, yes, let's absolutely have a song where we scream about periods.

Other memorable moments is when we bonded over the "red hot poker" line because none of us knew that other people had felt that and it's very painful and weird. 🙃

It was so fun recording the this one because of the Beach Boys harmonies in the background."

The Write-Ups – Poisoned Children

Neglected, rusted, abandoned town Corroded, toxic, drink it down Struggling, desperate people abound It’s coming undone

Cognitively damaged, never the same Crooks and liars avoiding the blame Fiscal solvency, that’s what they claimed

From Australia, we fly to Flint, MI for a politically charged ska track about the water supply tragedy from 2014. When water's coming out all dirty and brown, something's not right:

"We're from Flint and all of us (except Dallas - lead guitar and vocals) lived through the water crisis. I (Dan - rhythm guitar and lead vocals) wanted to write a song about the water crises because those responsible haven't and likely won’t be held criminally accountable for their gross negligence that resulted in the deaths of multiple people and a whole generation of children in our community experiencing lead poisoning, which is a neurotoxin that stays in the body permanently, hindering cognitive development in children. These kids will be forever changed and Michigan's former Governor will never be brought to justice for the role he and members of his administration played in the water crisis.

A lot of the lyrics in the song are from a general perspective that could be held by any Flint resident who lived through the water crisis, especially those who were already struggling with poverty and a lack of access to quality housing and nutritious food.

But mainly, we're still incredibly angry that the culprits behind the water crisis will never be held accountable by our justice system, and that's a tragedy that we won't ever forget as a community.

The song itself was one of the first ones we wrote, but we had entirely different lyrics that Dallas wrote, about one of his childhood friends back home in Battle Creek, Michigan who fell into hard drug use and crime, but we started this band before Dallas started grad school out on the east coast for a Masters in Public Health program, and we weren't sure if he'd ever come back to where he could still make playing in the band work, so I asked if I could re-write the lyrics as I felt weird singing such a personal song that wasn't my story to tell, and I felt like we needed to write a song about the water crisis to get that anger out."

Paytron Saint – Carmilla Roll

I have faded like the sun Now my walking life has ever begun No taste on my tongue

Far beneath this canopy Lies a humble state but I don’t feel a thing All needles and pins now baby

Pressed for virtue i was supposed to tell someone But concentration goes I’m left outside undone

From Amber Valley in Derbyshire, England, we get an Alt Rock track that knows how age likes to fade you like the earth, and drifts you far from your place of birth. Ain't that the truth:

"The song is an introspective exploration on the plus sides of growing old. It actually started out when we were thinking about our live set and decided we needed a stronger opening song, Nick put the song together quite quickly and we spent a few months gigging it to iron out the creases."

The Young Love Scene – KMFAC

I wanna run run run run wild and free You got a love like heaven and it’s good to me

You wanna run run run run can’t you tell I got a love like heaven but it hurts like hell So baby don’t go now

I need you now I don’t know why or how I really need you now

For a different take on the Alt Rock scene, our last stop is Los Angeles, CA for a song about how the world is so cold without your loved one. Just don’t go, kiss my face and cry:

"I had the guitar riff and the beat for KMFAC before I had the lyrics. I was listening to the rough track and I knew I wanted to make people dance and cry at the same time, as David Byrne once said.

I honestly don't know where my song ideas come from sometimes - I remember starting with the concept of saying goodbye. I wrote the whole album while homeless in Los Angeles (crazy story!), and one thing I've noticed is that certain people in my life have become more distant as I've dealt with that.

I think the song ended up morphing into a song about loving someone that doesn't want to be with you anymore."

Listen to them and much more on the complete Playlist:

[ihatebnha]

how do the boys react to their s/o calling them by their last name! hehe

HEHE IS RIGHT (and lmao i went insane w/ this oops and SORRY)!!

feat. bakugo, deku, todo, and kirishima!

-

Katsuki Bakugo

He’s mad

Like… mad mad, you know? 

You call him the wrong thing and he’s immediately sulking. Crosses his arms and looks at you with a glare, before snapping out some kind rough, “oi.” or, “say that again?” to let it be known that he’s unhappy with your wording

If you immediately laugh and correct yourself, he sort of understands that you’re joking and may even find it slightly endearing (if not worthy of returned teasing)… 

And if you don’t, he’s both glaring and pouting at you until you do, and sometimes even grumpily reminding you of what you should be calling him (which is either his first name or a pet name and literally nothing else) or holding a grudge until you seriously apologize and beg him to kiss you to make up for it

(Loves to see you asking by making a kissy face at him… especially when he can refuse and tease you for it)

Things change, however, if you’re not doing it to be playful or as a way to get his attention

Even though he’d react very similarly (by glowering and instantly correcting you), if you use his last name during an argument, warning bells immediately start going off in his head. 

Correct yourself immediately, he’s still frustrated by the fighting, but he calms down just the tiniest bit and rationalizes that you don’t hate him…. If you don’t, he’s doing everything in his power to get you to give in to him… 

Which usually just ends up with him grabbing you and turning things sexual in order to punish you and remind you of exactly who he is… which is your boyfriend, not some random classmate 

Definitely gets frustrated feeling like he’s being compared to an extra not even worthy of being called by their first name, especially by someone whom he loves and loves him

I doubt he knows how to truly express this, though… which is why he instead opts to just fuck your brains out while reminding you

I honestly don’t know why I feel so passionate about this, but I definitely think Bakugo would be the guy who’s most bothered by this. Probably thinks that once you get to the first-name basis stage… reverting back to last names is disrespectful and means that you don’t trust him or may even want to distance yourself… 

So when you do pull this on him, it’s not unlikely that he’ll think it’s a sign of something maybe being wrong 

Mostly due to the recognition that you even call him Katsuki in the first place, but also because it’s a real sign of intimacy that he doesn’t allow everyone. Like, even though Deku calls him “Kacchan,” and the Bakusquad jokes around with that, no one except you really calls him by his first name

(Also, being called “Bakugo” by his romantic partner probably makes him feel like an old man. Don’t do that to him)

Izuku Midoriya

You call Deku by his last name… and he probably doesn’t even notice until after it’s been a couple hours

Dude’s probably so used to being referred to that by his classmates, that if he’s even remotely caught up in his thoughts (which is actually kind of a lot), he probably doesn’t bat an eye

It’s funny to tease him at first, but after it seems like he doesn’t even care what you call him, it’s really just slightly irritating to watch him not even notice that you don’t call him something sweet or goofy. 

Give it some time though, and he’ll finally get there… especially if he’s finished all his work and he’s finally come to cuddle you only to be greeted with the title “Midoriya” 

Uhhh, full stop

He’s like, “Midoriya?” with his brow quirked and everything, and all you can do is huff and roll your eyes as if you haven’t been calling him that all day

Of course, it’s only after all this that he’ll notice the frustration, but once he does, he’s pestering you about it until you reveal that it seems like he doesn’t even notice when you do stuff like that. 

If you don’t end up explaining, however… that’s when he gets a little dejected and sulky. He can’t be a good boyfriend until he figures out what’s wrong, so he doesn’t understand why you won’t help him to figure it out… 

And if + when he does, he also can’t understand why you were even calling him that in the first place. Probably asks you you something like, “Do you not… want to call me baby anymore?” Or “I really did like ‘Zuku, you know…” 

And that’s when you have to start feeling bad too… because he just seems so sad. All he wants is love… and he promises, swears, that it’s not like he’s busy or ignoring you on purpose

That being said though, I can also see it going that you call him Midoriya and he only notices a few seconds after you end the conversation; always such that he gets up and chases you down the hall to ask you why you called him that

He’ll even call you on the phone if you’ve already left

(And if you don’t pick up, the message is like, “Uh, hi sweetie! Just calling with a, uh… quick question. Did you call me Midoriya earlier? If you did, that’s okay, I guess! Makes me kinda sad but… it’s not a big deal.. Anyway… call me back soon, I lo- *BEEP*) 

OMG, and poor baby, you call him by his last name during an argument… and everything stops. He’s immediately dropping whatever topic you’re fighting about to ask why you’re calling him that and if you really mean it. 

His number one nightmare is that he stops being your baby… so even if you’re just saying it to get him to take your frustrations seriously in a fight… it works

Shoto Todoroki

Todoroki is like… simultaneously better and worse than both Bakugo and Deku. 

Definitely embodies the same, weird first-name basis intimacy ideas as Bakugo… but isn’t as needy about it as either of them

Very logical, in that when you call him by his last name, he always assumes that it’s probably some kind of slip-up or that you’re trying to express something to him, however he doesn’t usually end up asking what’s wrong if you end up switching back to his first name or a pet name relatively quickly

(Doesn’t catch that it could just be joke or a tease in the first place)

If you don’t stop, however… he’s definitely going to give you some gentle reminders that you’re calling him by the wrong thing

“I’m Shoto, remember?” or “Todoroki is what you call my brother” (you actually probably call Natsuo, Natsuo… but that’s not the point here), or even “are you forgetting something, sweetheart?” 

This dude is not slick AT ALL

I also think that because of Todoroki’s upbringing, both in the strict and traditional senses, it probably takes you guys the longest to actually get to the first-name basis point

Not that it’s any more or less intimate for him than the others, just that in Todo’s case, there’s a bit more nuance and processing he has to go through every time his last name comes up

Definitely thinks that once you start calling each other by your first names, there should be no real reason to stop… which is why he’s so confused as to why you even joke about it anyway

Especially because you never express to him that you’re having relationship doubts AND the both of you still use pet names 

Which is why he doesn’t hesitate to at least try to “politely” correct you when he doesn’t like what you’re calling him

Call him Todoroki when you’re arguing, though… and things are a bit different

Depending on how heated everything is, and whether or not you’re actually communicating, the more frustrated he gets. His reminders definitely morph into demands, in that whenever you call him Todoroki, just like Bakugo, he’s instantly responding with, “Shoto.” or with some other pet name he likes

Literally will not proceed with the conversation until you call him the name that he wants to hear… and when he does finally catch on to when you’re messing with him, does the same thing then, too

Like, he’ll literally be holding your hand and will stop you from walking further until you tell him what’s wrong or call him the right thing

Eijiro Kirishima

Kirishima I can see going both ways. 

I think, because he’s such a friendly guy that he’s actually pretty used to being called Kirishima, or even just Kiri, so if you tend to stick to that, especially more so in public, he’s not really going to be too bothered by it…

That being said, though… if you randomly go from “Eijiro” or some random pet name to exclusively Kirishima, and if it seems like you’re doing it on purpose and overly-consistent, he definitely starts getting a little bit confused

Probably doesn’t ask you about it at first, especially if you only use it one time, and laugh whenever you do… but after a while, if you start using it too much, Kiri will gets more and more frustrated as time goes on. 

He’s just not sure if you’re trying to tell him something, and if so, what that is

Honestly, it probably gets to the point where even though he doesn’t want to, he knows he has to be manly and talk to you about it, at least to ensure that nothing is wrong… and when he actually does… he calls you by your last name, too…

And that’s how you know it’s serious, and that you better stop… because Kiri seems so sad when he asks you about it… and when he then hesitates to call you “babe” or something else sweet, too  

Despite all this, the issue can probably be fixed relatively quick with an explanation… maybe you were just pranking him, or thought he knew you were joking around… but as long as you promise it doesn’t mean anything personal, he bounces back pretty quick 

(Asks for a lot of make-up kisses, though) 

However, his last name still a has a little bit of power over him… because if you call him by his last name in an argument, he’s immediately straightening up

Instantly goes quiet and looks to you for your next words, knowing that now (if you’re not trying to mess with him, that is), it really just means you want to talk business, rather than that you hate him…

Besides, you do that thing where you look at him with puppy-dog eyes while asking, “Kirishimaaa…?” 

Yeah, you’re getting whatever the fuck you want

[isagrimorie]

now i’m curious, i agree wholeheartedly with how you think hayley would handle nh!hope (assuming that klaus and elijah were dead), so how would klaus?

i’ve seen some people say he’d let her run wild as long as it made her “happy” (maybe even join her LMAO) and some say he’d essentially be what elijah was to him for hope.

Assuming the factors that Klaus would allow Hope’s turning to happen and being the one to kill Landon — like, the moment Klaus learns Landon’s whole existence is to be Malivore’s vessel he would either be a dead man walking or Klaus will put him somewhere the sun won’t shine. Probably a prison world and he would do it too despite knowing Hope will hate him.

Klaus will wallow in sorrow because of that, he would also try to disappear from his life again before Rebekah or Caroline tracks him down and get him to be an adult.

Or, he would formulate a trap for Malivore, since physical traps are a thing. Place him in a magically indestructible container so whatever monster he lets out won’t even be a factor and then retrieve the Seraturra (an unbreakable lock)from the bottom of the ocean with Tristan and place Malivore there.

Or constantly dive bomb the pit with Hope’s blood, and for good measure, his blood. (Also make it a point to find out which old vampire was responsible for the creation of Malivore— Klaus will be shocked its Aurora).

And right before then Klaus and Alaric would have a little chat. “Since you are the father of the twins my daughter is so very fond of— there will be no threat of physical violence. Yet. But if my daughter is forced to activate her vampire side, a fate I am keen to keep away from her until she is a lot older— sooner than later. Then Mark my works Alaric, this friendly Klaus Mikaelson you’ve come to know will visit upon you all the horrors I used to regularly visit on you and your little Mystic Falls friends—

Hope: “Dad! Seriously???”

(Basically I can’t conceive of any situation where Hayley, Klaus, or Elijah were alive and not Hollow carriers would allow Hope to die at the age of 19/20 years old without exhausting options and handling it in a typical Originals Mikaelson way, tempered by the knowledge that Hope won’t approve).

But, okay, let’s say all the factors did happen while Klaus was away, Hope got herself killed and had to also kill Landon. And by some miracle Klaus didn’t kill Alaric. Although, Hope still beats Alaric into a coma.

Klaus finds out that detail and couldn’t help his smile. A part of him would like to give Hope notes about leaving people alive as a loose end. The voice in his head would kick his shin for thinking that.

The same voice would prompt Klaus to bring up Hayley to Hope. But it’s a low blow that No Humanity Hope doesn’t appreciate.

No Humanity Hope will accuse Klaus of being a hypocrite and basically tell him what she told Rebekah. She just wanted to be free, to be anything she wanted.

Klaus would try to talk some sense into Hope. And draw out from his experience losing Cami.

(There is a part of Klaus though, the part that went on rampages and the part that compelled Stefan’s Humanity away, which is curious how and what kind of damage his daughter will wreak).

It might come to a point where, exasperated, Klaus thinks— if he is around he can mitigate the damages. “Alright, sweetheart, you want to run around and cause mayhem? I won’t stop you. But if you really want to go anywhere enough of this backwoods traipsing. We have an entire world at our disposal.”

Klaus would then revert to that guy, in season 5, where Elijah confronts him about letting Hope torture Roman and his response was: “If Hope kills the boy then she is someone who vanquishes her enemies, like I do. Like you do.”

But this time there is no Elijah to talk sense into Klaus. Fortunately, Rebekah is still around.

So I would say Klaus would initially be in team “let her run wild” before someone (Rebekah) smashes a 2 x 4 wooden plank across his thick skull. And remind him that this should not be the life for Hope.

BTW, some events would play out in a similar way with subtle differences: Aurora de Martel and Klaus will have a confrontation where Aurora puts Klaus in the god coffin. And still manages to trick Hope to switching bodies.

Lizzie still comes after Hope (Klaus and Hope are no longer in Atlanta btw but moving along East coast with the intention of going to Europe) and things still fall the same way.

Except Klaus is in the picture and he is horrified Hope killed Caroline’s daughter. Hope couldn’t care less. And then Lizzie wakes up.

And Klaus realizes that Lizzie is sired to Hope, and his expression would be the exact same one when Caroline accidentally told Klaus about Elena and Damon’s sire bond.

He is relieved Caroline’s daughter lived (“I do have a name, Mr. Mikaelson.”) but also thrilled with the idea his daughter will never be alone now— and has someone she can use as a bodyguard.

No Humanity!Hope: “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

Lizzie: “This is a violation of my agency!”

Klaus is smiling at Lizzie, because to him Lizzie is practically an in-law now. A powerful Heretic together with his daughter?

It’s practically a dream situation for Klaus.

“Stop smiling, dad. Even I’m creeped out.”

“Remind me to tell you more about the sire bond when you have your Humanity back.”

“It’s not coming back, I keep telling you.”

Klaus: (Aware Humanity switches don’t turn off forever). “Elizabeth, which blood type would you like to try? AB or O?”

Tldr, Rebekah drags them all back to New Orleans but not before Hope and Lizzie run away to have some Thelma and Louise fun.

And then Klaus tells Rebekah about Hope and Lizzie’s sire bond, like the gossip that he is. Rebekah looks like someone handed her a gift.

Klaus is debating whether to tell Caroline. Caroline finds out for herself, and she isn’t happy.

This is moot when, like in the show, Lizzie breaks the sire bonds.

They all end up in New Orleans, the strongest emotional tie for Hope because of Hayley. And they bring out the Letter again. The one, two punch of Lizzie “betraying” Hope and Hayley’s letter, enough of a way for Real Hope to return.

Edit: I will tell you one thing. The fight with Ken | Zeus would go a little different because Klaus would actually use cunning and strategy and buy time to learn ALL of Ken’s powers before seriously engaging him.

[soleilsuhh]

— the four times you almost said ‘i love you’ [and the one time he did].

pairing. jaehyun x gender neutral! reader.

genre. angst. fluff. best-friends-to-lovers. mutual pining. high-school/college au.

word count. 1.5k words.

i. the first time you almost said it — you were both fifteen, and you were at your friend’s birthday party.

the music was so loud that it made your skin tingle and you could feel your heart beat in accordance to the thump of the bass. you liked this song. you liked it because it wasn’t just any song — “our song,” he had called it the past few months when you first discovered it together at a small, local record store. and right now, he looked back at you with that knowing grin and before long, he was leading you towards the dance floor despite your unsure protests.

when you reached there, a distant, faded chatter could be heard as he pulled you closer. he dropped his head slightly, his voice raised to a slight yell over the music, “i asked the dj to play it!” 

you feigned an offended look, “i thought it was our song!” 

your best-friend flashed you that half-grin you hated and loved so much, “it still is,” 

the music got louder, drawing you in. and soon, you were dancing with him. at one point, you asked him to spin you around and he did: he spun you round and round in circles until you almost stumbled against him and you would have fell over if it weren’t for his quick reflexes and hands that held you up. 

the joyous sound of laughter rang in your ears — yours and his. what a beautiful sound, you thought, you liked it even more than the music. then as he helped you straighten up, both of you still lost in the moment, the words almost came out of your mouth: “i love —” you stopped yourself but he caught on. 

“yeah?” he yelled over the music. 

you gave him a smile, “i was gonna say i love this!” 

a lie. the truth was you were going to say you loved him. you loved him; how could you not when he was smiling at you like that?

ii. the second time you almost said it — it was during the summer holidays; you were both sixteen. together with his mom and dad, he was over at your parent’s house for dinner. you were sitting across from each other at the dining table. your mom and his mom had been very close friends since high-school and it was an unspoken tradition they made up to have dinner at one another’s house every other weekend.

you were honestly losing interest as the adults continued their conversation. and so of course, your eyes found their way to him, with his plain black t-shirt and his hair neat except for that particular strand that fell across his eyebrows. 

from across the table, he caught your eyes and as he smiled, your eyes drifted to the pair of dimples that appeared on his cheeks; seeing them, it made you smile, which in turn, made him smile even more. and soon you both sat there, forgetting about your surroundings and the food that was getting cold as you grinned at each other, trying to stifle the giggles that were threatening to tumble out of your mouths. 

“okay, you two, stop making goo-goo eyes at each other and eat your food,” you heard your mom say beside you. 

you were abruptly pulled back to reality and you averted your gaze, feeling the warmth spread on your cheeks. “mom, seriously,” you managed to mutter. 

“the food is delicious as always, mrs. [y/l/n],” jaehyun said. 

that made your mom smile affectionately at him like he was her own son, which again, made you smile as your heart filled with warmth. and just like that, you almost said it to him, but you swallowed the words by quickly gulping down a glass of water. it scared you how natural it felt to almost say it even in front of your family and his. 

iii. the third time you almost said it — it happened a few weeks after your seventeenth birthday. 

you were pressed against the couch, his hands on either side of your head. it started as a harmless play-fighting after bickering about which movie to watch but one thing led to another and now you were here. 

heat rose from your stomach to your chest and then to your face. his lips were getting closer and your heart raced, the scent of him suddenly hyptonic. “erm — your lips are getting very close to mine,” you said, voice breathless and barely above whisper. 

“i know,” he said quietly, pausing. “should i stop?” 

you almost shook your head ‘no.’ don’t stop, you wanted to say. but you pushed him away slightly which was enough indication for him; he looked at you for a moment, his eyes held a look that resembled too much like hurt for a second but almost immediately, he gave you that half-smile again. he pulled away and instinctively rubbed the back of his neck. you also slowly sat up and both of you looked at anywhere else but each other. 

you thought that maybe this was the time to tell him; if not now then when? 

just as you were about to say those three words, he spoke cooly, “it’s alright, we don’t need to talk about it,” he had decided to revert his attention back to the movie catalogue on netflix, like nothing happened. “i guess we can watch the one that you wanted to...” he mumbled, casually. 

your heart ached but you simply said, “yeah, sounds good,” 

iv. the fourth time you almost said it — it was the year you were both moving away for college — yours was not that far from home but him...he was going abroad. 

in the gloom of the moonless night, your fingers almost touch as you walked side-by-side. you knew this was a good-bye; he was leaving in the morning and although you had barely succeeded trying not to think about it while spending the whole day with him, everything felt too real right now and you couldn’t ignore the dull ache in your heart. heavy, the air seemed as the sight of your house got bigger with each step you took. you wanted to prolong this moment with him and yet you wanted it to be over soon. 

as you reached in front of your house, you finally looked at him with a mask of contentment. you wished him well with a voice that sounded like you and yet it didn’t.

“you’re acting like we won’t ever see each other again,” he almost scoffed but you could see the sadness welling in his eyes behind that smile. 

just say it, a voice inside your head told you. but instead, you just gave him a soft smile, “see you tomorrow at the airport,” 

you couldn’t help but think about how this would be the last ‘see you tomorrow’ for a long time. 

“okay,” he said. 

you turned around to go but before you could take two steps, he grabbed your hand. you stared at each other for a long second.

“i, erm —” he paused then said, “don’t be late tomorrow,” 

“i won’t be,” 

another long second of just wordlessly looking at each other until he finally let go of your hand and you walked away. 

v. the one time he did — it had been a little over a year since you last saw each other. 

you were both back at your hometown for the summer holidays and for two months, you had been inseparable. your days blended together seamlessly and something between you felt more than just simple friendship. you were going on dates without calling them dates, you were sleeping over at each other’s places, making breakfast together, even something as little as grocery shopping, you did it together. you spent time with his family and he spent time with yours.

and right now, you were in his old bedroom, flipping through the photo albums with him, pointing out each embarrassing pose, expression, and making fun of each other. you loved how you were also there in the photographs and amidst the laughter, your eyes almost stung with a realization as you looked at him, sitting in front of you on the bed; this was the boy you had known for more than half your lives, the boy you you fell in love with since you were fifteen, the boy who was the cause of your many happy moments, the boy who was the reason for the sleepless nights —

you were in such a daze and so lost in your own thoughts that you weren’t sure if you dreamed this moment to life, but there was raw emotions in the way he looked at you and in the ways his fingers curled around yours as his face inched closer. 

“erm, jae, your lips are getting a little too close...” 

a rush of deja-vu hits you. 

“Mm,” he said, “do you want me to stop?” 

you looked at him for a long second, and this time around, you met his lips half-way. with a single kiss, you could feel the aches and the pains of all those years gradually lifting. you parted for a moment and you felt that all-too familiar feeling again, bubbling up inside you. 

“i love you,” 

the words hadn’t come out of your mouth but his. you tensed and stared at him before you felt your whole being soften from the look in his eyes. you could feel yourself letting go and for once, you didn’t stop yourself. 

“i love you too,” you whispered, and you said it again louder, “i love you,” 

he smiled. there it was again; the smile of his that made you smile. 

he squeezed your hand, “i know, y/n,” he said, his voice was low and tender, “i know,” 

[soft-solitude]

Tommy Innit Is Not Fine (tw: angst and slight mention of s*icide)

“So...how’s Tommy?”

Tubbo’s words were shaking in his throat, almost as badly as his hands were trembling as he forced them into the pockets of his coat. Wilbur’s old presidential coat, actually. He’d been building up the courage to utter those very words for weeks, now. Tubbo had cooled down from the events of the exile by the next morning, and he quickly came to the conclusion that he felt completely alone and completely miserable without Tommy.

Tubbo knew he had no right to say that, though. If he was lonely, he could barely even imagine how Tommy was feeling.

But...Dream was keeping Tommy company, right?

Right?

And Dream would visit with Tommy and head straight to L’Manburg immediately after. He’d treat Tubbo like a little brother, offering him praises and gifts and favors. Sometimes, it made Tubbo’s skin crawl. Other times, Tubbo felt so desperate for the affirmation that he paid no attention to the guilty, traitorous feeling sinking deep into his gut.

“Tommy?” Dream asked. His nose wrinkled slightly as he pondered his next chess move. (They played almost everyday, now.) “You want to know about Tommy?”

Tubbo didn’t actually know why Dream seemed surprised. The latter should’ve been expecting that. Of course, Tubbo wanted to know about Tommy. His Tommy.

Of course, the instantly clear answer was that Dream wanted Tommy off Tubbo’s mind. Wanted him to forget about his younger friend entirely. Wanted him to realize that they were better apart.

“I just want to know...” Tubbo began hesitantly. It was times like this when he was forced back into the reality of Dream being Tubbo’s only enemy, and one that would kill him without a moment’s notice. “Wanted to know if he’s alright, I guess.”

Thankfully, Dream only shrugged. He didn’t answer Tubbo yet, but he wouldn’t push Dream. It was quite obviously against his best interest.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tubbo caught a flash of color. Red and green, and some black and white as well. Ranboo, Tubbo decided instantly. He didn’t turn to look at the other boy. If Ranboo needed to speak, he would.

What seemed like ages later, Dream had dragged his queen a couple squares away, and then let out a dramatic sigh, drawing all the attention back to himself.

“Tommy’s fine,” Dream answered. Immediately, Tubbo noticed Ranboo tense, before his body began glitching rapidly in an out of existence. Ranboo was extremely riled up by that statement, apparently.

“He’s good, actually. Maybe even great. Liking the peace and quiet, I’d say. Plus, Wilbur brings him things every now and then. We hang out everyday. He considers me a friend. You have nothing to worry about, Tubbo. Tommy’s fine.”

And Oh, Fuck. Sincerely, Fuck. Tubbo barely even registered Dream’s words. He could only focus on the way he was trying to channel calm energy into Ranboo, who was barely holding onto this time frame. The half-enderman teenager tended to revert to his monster-like tendencies when scared; angry, or just generally overwhelmed. Tubbo had never seen Ranboo quite this out of control. But he didn’t want to take his eyes off Dream.

That is, until he was given no choice.

“Fine?” Ranboo asked, in a tone that made Tubbo’s throat sink straight through his feet. “Tommy...is fine?”

And Dream...

The look on his face was one Tubbo had never been on the receiving end of. He’d barely even seen Dream use it. (Just once, on Tommy, and Tubbo had been far too angry to understand the full extent.) Currently, it was focused on Ranboo. But when Tubbo finally turned to see the physical extent of Ranboo’s anger, he noticed that he the ender boy seemed completely unbothered by Dream’s manipulative mechanisms.

“Fine. Okay. Let me tell you how fine Tommy really is,” Ranboo spat, and Tubbo’s stomach, if possible, sank even further.

“Is he fine when he doesn’t even fight you when you take and destroy what he’s rightfully earned? Fine when you laugh in his face as he watches it burn? Every day? And is he fine when he sits in his bed at night, alone, wondering what he can do for his friends to come see him? As if it’s his responsibility. Is he fine when you have to pull him away from the edge of the nether bridge? What about after, when you try to convince yourself that he’s fine? That he wouldn’t actually do it?”

Dream wasn’t smirking anymore. Instead, he looked as though he might tear Ranboo to pieces.

Tubbo’s limbs felt frozen. He couldn’t even move.

“Is that enough? Or should I continue?” Ranboo was not asking. “Maybe you’re referring to Tommy being fine when the only piece of home he has is a map of the place he can never return to? Or maybe he’s fine when your presence alone turns him into a scared, submissive child when we all know it’s deteriorating his entire being bit by bit?”

“Oh, I know,” Ranboo cooed, and Tubbo never really would’ve been prepared for what came next. Ranboo turned his frankly murderous glare on the president. “You think he’s fine when he finds himself wondering what he did for his best friend to leave him rotting in the dust.”

And that.

Looking back, that is what broke Tubbo. That is what sent him absolutely spiraling, dizzy and confused, unable to see straight. He’d been fighting with those own thoughts himself, and he would’ve had to be incredibly stupid to have convinced himself that Tommy wasn’t. But hearing those words out loud sincerely shattered some part of Tubbo that he was not entirely sure would ever grow back.

“To answer your question, Mr. President,” Ranboo finished, backing away with a swagger and anger-filled walk. “Tommy Innit is not fine.”

[xreaderbooks]

Hidden (2)

Pair: Draco Malfoy x reader, Sibling! Harry Potter x reader

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: Language, (unedited asf)

Summary: Draco has to prove his love for her, while Y/N deals with the effects of the breakup. 

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long, y’all have been waiting a while for this one. Anyway kinda rushed to finish. Send me any requests for Draco or any of the character you see on my master list, I hope you enjoy :)

Masterlist - Part 1

"Prove it." Those words you spoke ran through Dracos head every time he saw you in the hall laughing with your friends, every time he had a class with you, every time he passed by the room of requirements. He lied awake on his bed each night missing your touch. Normally that would be the case considering the secrecy of your relationship but at least before he had memories of whatever lingered from the hours prior to when he was alone. He at least had that to hold on to. Now, thanks to what he admits are his cowardice-- he has nothing. He's alone without the one thing, the one person that made his miserable life mean something; you.

You weren't getting along any better. You tried to put up a front, knowing that you'd concern your friends and your brother. They obviously didn't know what was going on and they would be confused why your mood suddenly changed from blissfully happy to down and depressed. So you go on with your life as it would have been before your breakup with Draco or even before you had even gotten together with him in the first place. Cedric has been a big help in keeping your mind off of the platinum blond-haired boy, a good buddy is what you liked to call him when Harry asks what goes on between you and Cedric. At times you wish you would've liked Cedric as he liked you. Unfortunately, dark, brooding, and emotionally unavailable is your type.

A hand on your shoulder brought you back into reality, you forgot you were with Cedric sitting by the black lake. "Thinking about him again?" He asked.

"No." You lied, even though you knew that he knew you by now and that you most likely were thinking about Draco. He doesn't know that guy you were thinking about was Draco, he never pried. It's not like you're like this all the time either but the rare times you were, you would zone out, replaying certain memories when they came up with what you would be doing at the time.

"It's okay if you were."

"I wasn't."

"Alright, Alright, Whatever you say." He puts his hands up in surrender. You playfully shoved him.

"We should go back anyway, I have potions in 30 and it's a long walk." You motioned your hand so that he would follow you.

"Have you ever thought that maybe if you put a little pep in your step, you'd get to class faster?"

You shot him a glare. "First of all it's freezing, Snape is lucky I'm even showing up to his class at all instead of cuddled up in my bed with my warm blankets. Second of all if I put a 'pep in my step' I'll be out of breath." He chuckled.

"A bit of exercise could help with shortness of breath when walking y'know."

"How dare you suggest such an activity around me!" You stopped in your tracks putting a hand to your chest. "The word exercise personally offends me, sir."

Cedric stutters out an apology while laughing. "I-I am sorry Y/N, I promise not to mention your lack of physical fitness."

"That would be greatly appreciated." You let out a 'hmph' sound as you turned your back on him, continuing your trek to class.

~~~

A full day of classes had you exhausted and prepared to drop on your bed. You fought your eyes from closing as you walked back to your dorm. You hadn't even noticed you were bumped into someone while walking until you heard them shout, "Watch where your-" He paused noticing it was you.

'Fuck' you groaned internally. In your tired state, you forgot to go the other, longer way back to your dorm. It was a new system you set for yourself, instead of going the way you and Draco would usually walk through to get a glimpse of each other throughout the days you were together, you now walked the halls you knew he never liked to go through because of how it would be packed by students rushing to get to class.

You rolled your eyes at his attitude, you knew it wasn't meant for you. He gave you a once-over. You stuttered a quick apology moving away from him. He grabbed your wrist, you glanced at where he held his grip and to his eyes.

"Sorry." He muttered. "Can we talk?"

As much as you wanted to talk to him, you weren't mentally or emotionally prepared for this conversation. Your mind was racing with the different things he would say. Did he find someone else? Does he want to get back together and actually try? Or revert back to your old ways of sneaking around?

"I-"

"It doesn't have to be right at this moment." He leaned in to whisper in your ear. "How 'bout our usual time and place?"

"Fine." You yanked your wrist back from his grip and walked away from him.

~~~

Several hours later, you found yourself in front of the room of requirements, shaking your head you stepped inside.

"Alright, I'm here now what do you want?"

"You."

"You know I'm not yours anymore."

"Y/N you were always mine, let's stop this ridiculousness and go back to how we were before." He took a step towards you, you stepped back. You wanted to keep your distance, you didn't know how much restraint you had to keep yourself away from him. You knew being too close would lead you into his trap. He'd kiss you and tell you sweet nothings and you would believe them.

"I don't want to go back to the ways it was before!" You yelled, there were tears burning in your eyes. "You know what I want and if you can't give me that then we can't be together!"

"Y/N I can't do this without you-"

"Do what, Draco?" You wiped the stray tears that fell out.

"Live, I don't know how to live without you. Eating is a chore, sleeping knowing you're not in my arms is unbearable, in fact, I haven't slept since we broke up." You could see his eyes line with water. You willed yourself to not give in. You deserved a person who isn't afraid to love you in the open.

"I haven't either..." You allowed yourself to admit to him, then straightened yourself, your moment of weakness gone. "But it doesn't matter we can get past this and learn to live without each other."

"I can't, I won't."

"Then you know what you need to do," With that, you left.

~~~

The next day he approached your brother during lunch and asked to speak with him. You were nervous, this wasn't exactly how you thought the big reveal was going to go. But when Harry came back he didn't look angry but confused and suspicious.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked. You glanced back and forth between Draco over at the Slytherin table and Harry who was now, sitting back in his seat in front of you.

"He apologized for everything." Harry's brows furrowed.

"Shouldn't that be a good thing?" You questioned. Hermione shook her head 'no'

"He always has some other agenda." She wasn't entirely wrong. Maybe this was his way of trying, but he's mistaken if he thinks that just apologizing to Harry will have you running back. He would have to try harder, you would help him out a little bit by gaining Harry and the rest of the group's favor, as much as you could.

"Maybe he's trying to change."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed, "That's what he said, he told me that he wanted to change and do better and apologized for everything he's done since our first year. Malfoy even gave me the answers to the History of Magic exam next class."

"Where'd he get those?" Ron asked with a mouthful of food. Hermione rolled her eyes, "It doesn't matter cause he's not going to use them. Right, Harry?" He shrugged.

"I might, I'm not exactly passing that class 'mione." She gave him a disapproving look and snatched the piece of parchment from his hand. "I could've helped you study, besides how do you know this isn't some sort of joke?"

"Does it matter? Pass it over, I need to get an outstanding before McGonagall writes a letter to Mum about my notes. I am not doing well this year." Ron answered.

"How about this, you use the answers that he gave you and if you pass then he really is trying to get better and if you fail he's just being a prick, yeah?" You suggested, you were sure that this was his attempt (one of many, you hoped) to get you back with him. If it was, then he was playing smart. Getting on your brother's good side first was a good idea.

In the days that passed, You, Harry, and the others were waiting for the results Malfoy continued to do good deeds for your group which made everyone suspicious. Even sending you flowers during days where when the mail came in with love notes. It was nice but those were secret, just for you and him although everyone knew you were being courted nobody knew by who. And when Harry and Ron had gotten their results back from Professor Binns, they passed. Hermione wasn't too thrilled about being wrong, Ron wanted to celebrate at the next Hogsmeade trip which was tomorrow. You all decided that you'd get butterbeer at the three broomsticks and would talk over what to do with Malfoy now that he's no longer bullying them.

When everyone went to bed, you found yourself using your dad's invisibility cloak to sneak off to the room of requirements. You were surprised to find Draco laying on the couch that always appeared, with his eyes closed. He looked peaceful and beautiful, his platinum blond hair standing out in the darkness of the room. His perfectly sculpted face, and oh how you missed kissing him on his soft lips.

"Starings at a person while they're sleeping is a bit odd, don't you think?" He sat up, you were startled by his voice and jumped.

"You're not sleeping anymore." You sat on the empty spot next to him. "Thanks for the answers, by the way, they were thrilled."

"Stole them from a Ravenclaw, they didn't seem to have use for them." You snorted at his reply of course he would. "What'd you think about the flowers?"

"My room now looks like a florist's shop by they were beautiful, thank you."

"I have to start somewhere." He shrugged. You had a small smile on your face, these were the things that you missed, what you loved about him and yes it was the bare minimum of effort but it used to be a lot more when you were together. People don't see this side of him, how he could be improper and make jokes that aren't all snide remarks at people. He's kind and sweet and considerate of the people he cares about. Your smile turned into a frown when you remembered why you broke up in the first place. He was considerate and cared about you but not enough to be with you in public and not care about what others say.

"I fucked it up but I'm going to try Y/N, It'll be a new start for us, I promise." He slowly eased his hand into your own, as if questioning if it was alright. And for the moment, it was.

You didn't notice that you had fallen asleep on the couch with Draco when you woke up. His arm underneath supporting your head, one of your arms were tucked into you while the other was wrapped around his waist. You took note of the position you were in and scolded yourself mentally. This was definitely not keeping your distance. Gladly this was the only thing that happened last night. You sneakily removed yourself from to so you wouldn't wake him up, picking up the invisibility cloak that laid on the ground and ran back to the common room, praying absence wasn't noticed. It was about 10 o'clock in the morning, you could tell by the sun shining and the number of students who were buzzing about the halls.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron weren't in the common room when you entered through the portrait hole after a fellow Gryffindor.  You let out a sigh of relief when you made it to your dorm, uncovering yourself from the cloak. You quickly got dressed in normal clothes for the day. By the time you went down, the others were sitting around chatting.

"Finally!" Ron exclaimed, "Now can we go?"

"Yes, Ronald." Hermione dragged Ron away. "So dramatic, we were only out here for 10 minutes."

Your trek to the small town of Hogsmeade was uneventful. You went to a couple of stores before finally sitting down at a table by the stairs at the three broomsticks. Ron and Harry went to go get drinks leaving you and Hermione at the table alone.

"Where were you last night?" She blurted out. You choked on your spit, you didn't expect that.

"What do you mean?" You asked after your coughing fit. She gave you a look that said 'seriously.

"I woke up in the middle of the night you were gone, when I woke up to wake the boys you still weren't there, and then all of a sudden you come down from girl's dorm as if you were there the entire time." She folded her arms across her chest, one eyebrow arched in the way she always did when she made a point. "I guess the question isn't where you were but who were you with?"

You knew your shock was giving you away and you tried to compose yourself, luckily the boys returned with the drinks. You took one out of Ron's hand and took a sip.

"That was mine but whatever I guess." He sat down next to Hermione. "Alright so when are we gonna talk about the new Malfoy?"

"We were having a good day without having to bring him up, Ron." Harry groaned.

"Well, your days gonna get a whole lot worse because he just walked in." Ron nodded his head toward the entrance. You sunk into your seat putting a hand over your face in hopes that he wouldn't see you.

Just as fate would have it he saw your brother and friends and came over to your table. "Good afternoon Weasley, Granger, Potters."

You all replied with awkward greetings, they were all obviously confused as to why he would come up to you guys and not immediately throw insults.

"I was wondering if I could have a word with Y/N?" He asked politely. Your eyes narrowed 'Oh fuck no'. You felt all their eyes shift to you, Hermiones especially a glint in her eye telling you that she knew the answer to her own question.

Just as you were about to answer, Harry interjected with a no, "Whatever you need to talk to her about you could say it in front of us. Your eyes widened, 'Merlin this day truly couldn't get worse'.

"Very well then, Potter would you allow me to take your sister out on a date?" You almost spit out your drink and slightly coughed when you swallowed. You looked between Harry's angry face and Dracos amused one. You assumed Harry was too shocked to respond, your nerves were all over the place waiting for him to say something.

"No." He said simply. Draco clenched his jaw while yours dropped at your brother's bluntness, Ron looked shocked and burst out laughing and Hermione was just sitting there watching this scene unfold. No seemed to be the answer of the day.

You shook your head. "So what I don't get a say?"

"I mean-" Draco attempted to respond but Harry cut him off.

"That's why you've been so nice recently, this was all some sort of plot to get to my sister, use her to get to me?" Harry stood up so he was face to face with Draco. "Listen here Malfoy, you can mess with me, try to humiliate me, get me into all sorts of trouble but the minute you bring my sister into this-"

"Harry calm down." You saw his wand peeking out through the sleeve of his hoodie.

"I can assure you this isn't some plot to get to you, I've fancied your sister for quite some time now." His eyes flickered between you and your brother. "I decided it was time I acted on it."

"Is he the guy that's been sending you flowers?" You pursed your lips debating on whether to answer or not, it seems like Draco was feeling bold today so he confessed that he was.

"I thought you were dating Cedric?" Ron interrupted, Draco rolled his eyes and Hermione smacked him over the head. "Of course not idiot!"

You chuckled, "No he's just a good friend."

"The timing just doesn't make sense." Harry tried to reason, "Malfoys never showed interest before and he's an arsehole." He spoke as if he wasn't standing right in front of him.

"He's a lot sweeter than you think!" you defended him.

"How would you know?"

"Because we were dating before!" Draco lost his patience. He was going to ask you out in front of Harry in hopes he'd say yes and ease him into the idea of being in a relationship with him. But at this point, with what happened last night he couldn't restrain himself from you anymore.

Hermione gasped. It appeared the whole Three broomsticks was quiet at the outburst. "I'm tired of hiding it. And I lost her because. I wanted to keep our relationship hidden so I've been trying to win back her affections. I can't deal with this anymore, Y/N you know this, You know how much I love you and you're right. Our love can't be hidden, not one like ours, so pure and powerful. It was wrong of me to hold us back because I was scared. I'm not anymore, clearly, please," He knelt down on one knee, something you never ever thought he would do in front of all these people. The most vulnerable part of him coming out. "tell me you still love me and you will take me back."

"Of course, I will." You brought him back up, grabbing his face and kissing him. Cheers were heard all around you. This was all you wanted.

Tags: @thescarletknight2014​ - @with-my-soul-and-heart​ - @idkatee​

[kaaytea]

soo um I have a bit of a self indulgent request I hope u don't mind 👉🏼👈🏼

how would the Daiya boys be with an s/o who is bad at catching and throwing? like instead of catching they dodge or deflect?

(My brother always says I can't catch to save my life which is sadly true but yesterday he chucked an eraser at me and I caught it!! v proud of myself ✌🏼😅)

S/o who can't catch things

⤷Includes: Mei, Ryousuke, Haruichi

A/n: I don't mind at all Bug! This entire blog is kind of self indulgent so those requests are welcome! I didn't do all the boys so I chose a few I haven't written for in a while, I hope that ok with you 💖 (you're welcome to send in the same prompt if there are specific boys you want written!)

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

Mei

This boy is baffled

Like he can't comprehend that you're unable to throw or catch things because of how natural the actions come to him

He looks at you weird and then tests you by lightly tossing a pen at you

He definitely thought you were lying or being over dramatic but he was proven wrong when you slapped the pen away from you mid air

Congratulations he has now made it his personal mission to teach you how to catch and throw things

Mei's actually a pretty good teacher? He's spent his entire childhood perfecting his pitching and catching skills so he's got some tips and tricks

Usually Mei is a little bratty and impatient when teaching people but he's the complete opposite with you

He's very gentle and always willing to reexplain things if you don't get them the first time

It's quite a sight to see one of the best pitchers in Japanese High School baseball tossing an old soccer ball (which he snagged from the schools equipment sheds) back and forth with his s/o

Eventually when you've become comfortable with catching and throwing larger items he will insist (force) you to try using a baseball and mitt

So here you are standing on an empty field with a spare glove from Inashiro's endless supply of sports equipment

Mei is absolutely ecstatic to have you start learning to play catch but you on the other hand are slightly terrified

There is a HUGE difference between catching a soccer ball and catching a baseball. Not to mention, soccer balls are generally softer than baseballs

Mei could tell you were a bit nervous so he reassured you he'd be throwing underhand and even went over to help you position your glove correctly

Any lingering confidence you had vanished the second Mei tossed the ball towards you and you quickly reverted to your old tactics of ducking out of the way, glove brought up to your face as a shield

Mei had a sick feeling in his stomach seeing you that afraid (by extension he thought you were afraid of him bc he was the one throwing the ball at you)

He made his way over to your huddled form and gently guided the glove away from your face

"Hey...we don't have to do this if you're not comfortable with it."

"Can we try one more time... please?"

Mei smiled at you and gave you a soft "Alright" in response, picking up the discarded baseball from the ground and went back to his spot

You were determined to catch the ball this time! You just had to commit and not run away

Mei tossed the ball towards you again making you fight the instincts kicking in. You quickly squeezed your eyes shut to prepare for the possibility of being hit in the face

But the impact never came. Instead the only thing you felt was a sudden weight in the glove on your hand

You slowly opened your eyes and stared down at the dusty, white sphere sitting snugly in your hand

When you looked up Mei was already running towards you, his arms wrapped around your waist the instant he was infront of you, the momentum making him spin you around as you both let out cheery laughs

"I'm so proud of you!! We'll have you catching my pitches in no time!"

"Ah maybe I should learn how to catch with my eyes open first"

Ryousuke

Listen

I love Ryou but he thrives on teasing people

He will definitely toss you things on purpose once he discovers you struggle to catch things

He doesn't throw anything that could physically hurt you tho. He'd always make sure he throws soft things like a jacket or a bag of chips

Thinks it's sort of cute how you duck out of the way. Definitely gets a kick out of your reactions and he always has that annoying smirk plastered on his face

He'd maybe give you a few tips on catching and throwing things but I feel like he'd want something in return bc he's cheeky like that

It's a difficult task to get Ryousuke to laugh but if you throw something back at him and it just completely misses he's cracking up instantly

You were sitting on Ryou's bunk waiting for him to come back from getting you both drinks at the little vending machines around the Baseball dorms

You heard the door open and instantly turned towards it to welcome him back only for your entire body to go into a state of alarm at the sight of a pillow FLYING towards your face

Naturally you fling yourself out of the way as your instincts took over and once you're sure you're out of danger you look up to see your "sweet" boyfriend standing in the doorway with a small smile

"What the hell, Ryou! You can't just scare me like that!"

"It wouldn't be scary if you could catch."

The second those teasing words left his lips you reached for the pillow he threw and chucked it at him with all your strength

Except the pillow didn't go very far, instead of smacking him in the face like you had planned it flopped onto the floor at his feet

A snort of amusement left the boy followed by a clear laugh ringing throughout the room

"DONT LAUGH AT ME!"

"I can't help it when you pull cute things like that~"

Ryousuke walked forward and sat down next to you on his bunk then held out the drink he got you

As you reached out to take it from him he pulled his hand back and swooped forward to place a kiss on your lips

Haruichi

Haruichi wouldn't make a huge deal out of it

He'd understand that somethings come easier to others so there's absolutely no teasing from him

And unlike the other two he would never throw something at you

If he's giving you something he always makes it a point to safely hand the item to you

Sweet boy wouldn't even risk a light toss in fear of hitting you

He'd be willing to help you learn to get better at the actions but only if you asked, he wouldn't want to force anything on you

Now, just because Haruichi knew about your catching abilities (or lack there of) doesn't mean everyone else is aware

Which brings us to how Sawamura simultaneously gave you and Haruichi heart attacks :)

You were sitting in to watch the team practice on a particularly hot day so Haruichi asked Sawamura to give you a water bottle

"(y/n)! Catch!"

"Eijun-Kun wait-"

Poor Haruichi wasn't fast enough and watched in mild horror as his friend threw a water bottle at you

You looked up at the call of your name only for your mind and body to go straight into a state of panic

By some miracle (or perhaps your survival instincts) you ended up catching the water bottle!

Haruichi was rushing over to you spewing out apologies on Sawamura's behalf and checking to make sure you were ok

His worries diminished as he watched you jump around proudly stating that you caught something

(He then turned to his lovely friend Eijun and simply stated the words: "Don't ever do that again"😃🔪)