#not like oooh googly eyes all the time

[amyisherenowitsokay]

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First off, big shout out to @i-like-pink-lolzz​ for letting me know this song even exists. I love Eden Project, but I fell off keeping track of them. As soon as I heard this cover, I knew what needed to be done.

As you can see, I do I already have clips of the new ep, which I loved, but as 99.9% of the video was already done when it came out, I just snuck it in a lil bit there. 

[lfghughes]

Hi!! can you write something with Nico and the reader being friends for a while and him having a crush on her and the guys all know about it and tease him because he's always staring at her with googly eyes

a/n: you all should know that one thing i love is best friends to lovers trope

Nico’s cheeks were burning red and it wasn’t because of the hot sun that was beaming down on all of them. He should have known that when he brought his best friend to this team bbq that his teammates would be teasing him all day. Were they wrong in what they were saying? No, Nico knew he was hopelessly in love with his best friend but she didn’t know that and he could feel his stomach twist in knots every time they made a joke in front of her about it.

He figured it would only be a matter of time before she put two and two together and this is not the way he wanted his feelings getting put out there. It was almost a relief when she had joined the other girlfriends and wives because it at least got her out of earshot from the teasing. “She fits right in doesn’t she?” This time it was Erik who was speaking up and Nico groaned in frustration. “You know, you’re kind of becoming like an annoying uncle to me.”

This time Jack and Dawson decided to chirp in with their own opinions too. “When are you going to make your move?” Dawson asked and Jack had to follow up with “Eventually she’s going to notice you looking at her with hearteyes so you might as well just go up to her and kiss her right now.” Nico waved off Jacks idea, no way was he going to take advice from him on this and do all of that in front of the other guys.

“Whatcha boys talking about?” The voice from his best friend made Nico nearly jump out of his skin and he just hoped she hadn’t heard any of the words that were just spoken about her. “Oh uh nothing. Jacks just talking about…his weird love life.” Nico quickly said and immediately regretted because there was so many different excuses. “Oooh, got a girlfriend, Hughes?” She asked and Nico instantly recognized the look of curiosity that grew on her face. What in the world did he just open.

“Actually maybe you can give me some advice on this.” Jack started, a devilish smirk growing on his lips. “I’ve been best friends with this girl for years and I realized I’m actually in love with her but I don’t know how to tell her.” Nico had never once wanted to smack Jack the way he did right now. “That’s easy, tell her.” At this Jack looked over at Nico with a pointed look that screamed ‘told you so’ and Nico forced a smile onto his lips. “I think you’re right, thank you so much for the help.”

Nico looked down at his watch before looking back up at his best friend “Are you ready to head home?” He asked and she nodded her head. “Yeah, ready whenever you are.” Nico knew that Jack was right and he could only really hold onto this for so much longer. The drive home he considered all the different ways to say how he felt but all of them sounded lame and his heart was pounding wildly. Once he pulled up to her place he knew he was out of time. “Everything okay? You’re weirdly quiet.”

Well maybe saving it for tomorrow wasn’t an option since she noticed something was off. “Earlier the advice that you gave Jack, did you mean it?” He asked and there was a glimmer of something in her eyes. She nodded her head slowly. “Because I’m about to admit something and if you don’t feel the same way I just don’t want it to affect our friendship and make it weird.” That of course was his biggest worry because there was no taking it back.

“I like you, like really like you and I don’t want to mess up our friendship but all the guys know about it and they tease me about it endlessly. But I also realize that they’re right and that I should tell you. So yeah, I really like you.” Nico took a deep breath. Everything was out there in the open between them now and it was either going to end really well for him or he lost his best friend. He was caught off guard when she leaned over the middle console of the car and gave him a quick kiss. “I have been waiting to hear you say those words.”

[the-faramir]

Extinction Curse Session 2024/03/27

The party examined the reptilian quadruped tracks and assessed that they would probably fade away within half a day. Clearly, if they wanted to follow the tracks, they would have to do it before going into Willowside. The party rested and healed up, then followed the tracks as far as they went.

Lysander asked, "Do we keep going where we think they were leading?" The rest of the group reasoned that this plan would just get them lost. So the group returned to the caravan.

Eventually, the caravan arrived in Willowside. An elderly human lady approached the circus folk. "Oh, it's wonderful to have you come to perform for the town. Everyone loves a circus. I'm the mayor here. I know you met my nephew. His first letters spoke highly of you. The more recent ones…well, not so much. What can I do to make your stay here a little better?"

Zookdar answered, "We need to prepare for a while. In the meantime, we noticed that you had some giant plant problems. We took care of them for you. (You're very welcome.) Are there any other strange or peculiar goings-on around the town?"

The Mayor replied, "Well, yes indeed. The trade routes to the southeast of our town are getting interrupted. We've been expecting caravans to arrive with supplies, but they just don't show up."

Midori piped up, "What's to the southeast?"

"Oh, a few other towns," the Mayor replied. "Our neighbors and trading partners. As for the caravans, we sent out some search parties, but none have come back yet."

Midori suggested, "Perhaps we should go investigate!"

Zookdar yawned and stretched. "We should investigate this disappearing act after a good night's sleep."

"And after our continental breakfast," Midori added.

"Yes, after breakfast," Zookdar agreed.

Midori wondered, "Do we even get a continental breakfast? We're on an island, after all."

Before turning in for the night, however, the team decided to go shopping.

Midori had decided that her star orb, Orbison, needed some googly eyes to see better. She set off looking for a general store, but ended up in front of Willowside Googly Eye Emporium! Midori entered and found a suitable pair of eyes. Taking them up to the counter, she spoke to the owner, an aged human woman. "I'd like to buy these, please."

The owner replied, "These eyes will look into your very soul! They come with a cost!"

"Yeah, how much?" Midori replied.

The owner said ominously, "Three copper pieces, but there is another cost!"

"What, tax?" The owner shook her head. "Oh, I see, then I'll just take this other set here instead." Midori grabbed another pair. "How much for these?"

The owner replied, "…also three copper pieces, but they are not cursed!"

Midori paid the owner and returned to the circus to glue the eyes onto her star orb. Once finished, she showed off her handiwork: "Look everyone! Orbison has googly eyes now!"

Her comrades replied with a flat "Oooh."

That night, the party slept restlessly, dreaming about being tied to a lightning-struck tree. Zookdar even dreamed of a reptilian mouth with sharp teeth slowly opening up to eat him.

In the morning, the team woke up, had an insular breakfast, and prepared to strike off to the southeast to investigate the interruption of the trade route. Soon, they came upon a clearing.

Midori scouted ahead stealthily. Lysander joined her, making quite a bit of noise. He conjured up an invisible sphere to cover the party. Meanwhile, Zookdar made so much noise with his armor that he decided to hang back a bit.

Suddenly, Midori spied two long, reptilian necks rising into the air over the tops of the trees. "Those are brontosauruses," she whispered to Lysander. "They're vegetarians. They're like big cows. Just don't try to milk them! Oh, an' hey, if we defeat them in battle, we can haul their meat back to Willowside an' help the townsfolk get through the food shortage. Betcha it tastes like beef!

"Wait. Dinosaurs come from the Darklands underground. Like the xulgaths. An' the last time we saw dinosaurs, they were bein' handled by xulgaths. So we should expect to run into xulgaths as well.

"Yeah, they must have somethin' to do with the missin' caravans, so let's stick to the shadows of the tree line so they don't notice us."

As Lysander and Midori drew closer, they saw that the dinosaurs were indeed blocking the road, along with a huge roadblock made of fallen trees.

"Look," Midori pointed out quietly, "they have ridin' saddles! An' there's a xulgath on that one!

"Okay, guys," Midori looked back to see only Lysander. "Uh…guy. Where is Zookdar when you need him? What are we gonna do? We need a plan."

Lysander suggested that Midori could snipe out the xulgath rider with her crossbow, and then the two of them could frighten the dinosaurs into fleeing.

Midori dubiously agreed, "All right, I'll load my crossbow." She loaded a bolt, raised her crossbow, took careful aim at the xulgath rider, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger.

"ZZZZING" went the crossbow bolt as it traveled through the air toward the xulgath…only to miss him by half a foot. The sound alerted the xulgath, who whipped around to the source of the bolt, pointed at Midori, and screamed in Draconic, "<Intruders! Get them!>"

Midori shouted, "GODS DAMN IT!" She counted two brontosauruses and four xulgath riders bearing down on the party.

At the directive of its driver, one of the brontosauruses ran toward Lysander and trampled him. He recovered and began striking at the dinosaur with his battle lute.

Midori ran to the other side of the brontosaurus to flank with Lysander. "Where the nine hells is Zookdar?" She dropped her crossbow and sang a quick verse to inspire courage:

🎵🎵🎵

In the land where the brontos roam, And the xulgaths ride with a fearsome groan, Rise up, brave souls, with hearts so bold, For the tale of our valor shall be told.

🎵🎵🎵

Around the corner from the clearing, Zookdar came running down the road, armor clanking loudly. "I'm coming! I'm coming!"

Lysander started playing a dirge of doom to frighten the foes, then followed up with a meteor shot from his hex blaster.

A metallic voice pealed out: "SUPPORT IS HERE." Buffy came running into the fray along with Zookdar. Meanwhile, Lysander and Midori are getting hit and bloodied by the xulgaths.

Lysander attempted to rip the spirit from his enemy, while Buffy cast a soothe spell for Lysander. McBuffington flew into battle as well, using her faerie dragon breath weapon.

Midori sang out once more:

🎵🎵🎵

Stand fast, stand strong, let courage rise, With Midori's song, we'll reach the skies, No beast too large, no foe too fierce, Our will unbroken, their armor we'll pierce.

🎵🎵🎵

Then a xulgath struck her with his halberd, piercing her armor, and she fell unconscious.

Another xulgath knocked Zookdar out, leaving Lysander and the Buffy/McBuffington team.

Lysander revived Midori first, who continued her song:

🎵🎵🎵

See the might of the ancient beasts, But fear not, for our strength's increased, With every chord that Midori sings, We'll fight till our victory rings.

🎵🎵🎵

Midori then launched a telekinetic projectile at the nearest brontosaurus.

The brontosauruses and xulgaths attacked again. The party would not be able to withstand much more! Buffy cast more spells to help the team last longer.

Midori kept up her song:

🎵🎵🎵

Kitsune's grace and a bard's sweet tune, Together we dance, the battle's boon, With Midori's melody in our ears, We'll conquer our doubts, we'll quell our fears.

🎵🎵🎵

Then, taking a deep breath, she screeched out a magical sonic attack on the brontosaurus, to little effect.

Lysander shouted, "Midori! What are you doing? Pay attention! The tides have turned against us! Let's get the hells out of here!"

Once more, the foes attacked the heroes, but they ran into Buffy's invisible shield.

Buffy transformed into her adamantine dragon form, attacked and killed one of the brontosauruses, then swooped down to pick up the party to return them to Willowside.

[kaleidoscopek9]

WAIT....WAIT. WHY ARE THE PUNKS GETTING ALL TGE ATTENTION....WHAT ABOUT CAMP SUN AND MOON? what makes them giggle?👀

Oooh my camp boys?? I don't have them as fleshed out as the punks, so this might be a little difficult :'D

---

Camp Sunny spends most of his time with the kids in their Daycare Cabin, so they tend to crack him up the most. They'll come up with some of the silliest, craziest stories and he can't help but laugh at some of the more far-fetched ones.

Chica is always on the chipper side, and both she & Sunny have plenty of funny stories to share with eachother whenever they join forces to do a group activity with all the campers. They're the two most bubbly animatronics at the camp, and they get along super well when they're together.

Goofy faces & silly voices are this man's kryptonite. If you catch him in an extra goofy mood, you can have him rolling on the floor with giggles. One of his favorite bits to do is to put big fake googly eyes over his own.

Moon is... very quiet and reclusive. He's rarely ever seen by staff counselors. He acts as the camp's security during the night, so he doesn't see many people.

Like my punk Moon, if he happens to see a counselor slip on something in the dark and land face first in the grass, it's gonna take some will power for him to keep his laughter under control.

It would take a miracle to discover this, but he's actually kind of ticklish for a robot. Because he gets so little physical contact, his receptors are very sensitive. You might get a few quiet giggles out of him if you played with his hands, chest, or faceplate. He'd have to really trust you to let you in that close though.

His favorite job he has, is that he tells campfire stories to the kids sometimes before they're sent to bed. He has a lot of time to think at night, so he comes up with short stories (usually scary) to tell them when it's late. He gets a big kick out of spooking them. Bonus points if he manages to get under the skin of one of the counselors too.

[chaotic-neutral-knitter]

I posted 4,401 times in 2022

That's 4,333 more posts than 2021!

228 posts created (5%)

4,173 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@neoncomets

@appleteeth

@snake-snack-stede

@emi--rose

@chuplayswithfire

I tagged 4,382 of my posts in 2022

#our flag means death - 1,397 posts

#textpost - 776 posts

#edward teach - 639 posts

#stede bonnet - 478 posts

#you wear fine things well - 327 posts

#ofmd fanart - 310 posts

#gifset - 294 posts

#lmao - 275 posts

#taika waititi - 231 posts

#our flag means death - 217 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#he started this little lecture by asking me what the first day of the week was and didn’t like when i said ‘there isn’t one it’s a circle’

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Lucius is the sole witness for a lot of the scenes where Ed and Stede are making googly eyes at each other, as well as the transcriber for Stede’s diary captain log.

I want to know what the conversations between Lucius and the crew were like in the days immediately after Ed came on board the Revenge. Because I think he was standing in front of them like this:

and they were all like “no way fucking Blackbeard has a crush on our lame ass captain.”

2,018 notes - Posted October 17, 2022

#4

Look, I love Stede Bonnet but so many fanfics and aus make him way too nice. Like sure he reads the crew bedtime stories but also when he heard the Swede's teeth were falling out he was like “idk thoughts and prayers I guess, I’m going on a date.” He made Lucius wear an all white outfit to the Republic of Pirates and got mad at him when it got dirty. He insulted Roach’s cake!

Stede isn’t nice! He’s insane! He almost faints when his crew is getting ready for a raid but then when Blackbeard’s crew does a raid he’s like “oooh Lucius note the gusto” as Lucius nearly throws up next to him. He willingly picks severed noses up off of the ground but wants to know if the army has less scratchy blankets. Twice he finds out someone was going to murder him and both times that makes his relationship with them better.

He’s insane! He’s a huge bitch! I love him!

3,118 notes - Posted August 27, 2022

#3

See the full post

4,378 notes - Posted June 1, 2022

#2

Stephen Strange: Wait, how come I’m such a dick in all the other universes?

Wong, Christine, Wanda, and America Chavez, in unison and without hesitation: you’re a dick in this one, too

6,332 notes - Posted May 9, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Polygon did an interview with Leslie Jones about playing Spanish Jackie and it’s priceless.

43,969 notes - Posted March 30, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[practically-an-x-man]

Are any of your OCs planning pranks for April Fools'?

Oooh, fun! Let's see...

Quinn's definitely the type to set up a ton of pranks (or at the very least, as many as she can get set up before the others wake up or her body quits out on her). Some of them are more benign, like putting googly eyes on the contents of the fridge, or conspiring with Billy to only speak in Pig Latin until the others grow completely sick of it. Others, particularly those cast in One's direction, are a bit more malicious, and usually somewhere in the realm of raw eggs spattered across his trailer until they start to cook from the sun.

Kestrel probably also sets up a few pranks. They love a good prank war with Seth, and April Fool's Day is their excuse to get ahead without having to worry if it's too mean. They use their shapeshifting to their advantage, transforming into Seth's grandfather and giving him harmless but very odd chores around the preserve until his actual grandfather asks him what tf he's doing.

Robin doesn't start any pranks herself (not that she doesn't want to, she just couldn't find time to set them up amid the chaos of the X-Mansion), but she is a very eager accomplice in everything Peter tries to set up lol

Nikoletta wasn't going to set anything up, partially because she's not exactly well-versed in pranks and partially because she's not sure what Abner would find funny versus just stressing him out, but I could see her stumbling upon a pack of multicolored polka-dot stickers while at the grocery store and getting inspired. It's nothing fancy, she just sticks a few in random places around the apartment (inside a cupboard, stuck to the bag of cat food, on the collars of a few of his shirts, just random places where he's likely to see them but probably won't find them all at once) and waits for him to notice them. He finds it kind of sweet, actually.

I don't imagine the others planning anything particularly elaborate, but maybe a few little jokes or annual gags - Jasper dyes the milk blue and surprises Kyle when he pours some out for his morning cereal, Ophelia spends her nighttime hero duty dressed in a crappy mock-up of a Spidey-suit just to screw with Peter, Gia swaps her usual prosthetic for a peg leg and runs her shop dressed as a pirate all day, things like that.

[authordanielleforrest]

Fated Mates of the Drakoan: Episode 18

There was an instantaneous change in the atmosphere of the room the moment Van came into view. Davin was immediately tense. So were her friends. In fact, the only people who didn’t seem to tense the moment the alien walked through the doorway were Jess and Scottie.

Scottie was looking up at the alien with googly eyes, his tongue practically hanging out of his mouth. She wasn’t sure if anyone else was picking up on it, but Jess was. She’d been through this with him more than a few times in the past. Every time she played wingman for him at a bar. Every time they watched Star Trek (he had a thing for Spock). In fact, at this point, she was just waiting for him to start fanning himself.

Van, on the other hand, was completely oblivious, instead crossing his arms and staring at Davin. It was the type of stare that, if they were all kids, would have had someone saying, “Oooh, someone’s in trou-ble.” Then, after a drawn out moment, he shifted his gaze to the others in the room, and that was all it took. They each scattered like someone was waving a gun in their faces.

He stood there like a statue as they flooded out of the room around him. It was almost eerie, ominous, like a scene from a horror movie.

Why am I being so dramatic?

But when the last person filed out, Van unclenched, focusing again on Davin. “What am I supposed to do here, Davin? We had a plan. What happened to the plan?”

Davin’s arm curled around her middle, pulling her back against him. Before, with her friends, she would have been okay with that. She might have even embraced it, but now? She felt the need to be ready, to brace herself for whatever came next, and relaxing back against his chest made her feel open and vulnerable in a way she just didn’t like.

“I’m sorry,” Davin said.

“That’s not good enough.”

Davin laughed, but there was no humor in it. “That’s what Jess said.”

Van turned his gaze on her, his eyes narrowed in scrutiny.  

Jess just shrugged from her awkward sprawl on Davin’s lap.

The scrutiny didn’t last long, though. “Where do we go from here, Davin? What do we do?” Van shook his head, looking resigned, like a parent tired of dealing with the antics of a rebellious teen. “What’s it going to take to get this under control?”

Davin’s hand clenched against her stomach. “I don’t know.” He sighed. “We were having this same conversation only moments ago, and we couldn’t come up with a solution then either.”

Van turned to Jess. “What was the consensus?”

“That Davin has no impulse control where I’m concerned.”

Van scoffed. “I already knew that. What else?”

She shrugged. “That’s about as far as we got. I told him that I needed to be able to trust him if any of this was going to work. That’s it.”

“Sensible.”

“Yeah, but that’s just about us, not about you and the rest of your team. Not about the mission. I don’t know what to do about that.”

“The only thing I can think of is the exact opposite of our original plan. If we can’t keep him away from you, then we need to keep the two of you close.”

Jess tensed. “But wasn’t the entire point that you guys wanted to keep me out of harm’s way?”

Van nodded. “It was. I’m not going to lie. There may still be enemy forces out there. It’s unlikely, but possible. There’s also the possibility of encountering less savory locals while completing our mission. But if we plan carefully, we should be able to keep you safe. It’s less than ideal, but I can’t think of another solution if Davin is going to refuse to be separated from you.”

Jess nodded. “Okay.”

“We can use standard protection detail protocols. You’ll wear body armor and be in the middle of the formation at all times.”

Davin’s hand relaxed, and Jess did too.  

“Davin, I expect you to keep in constant contact. No more disappearing on me. I need to know what’s going on, what your status is. I need to know if you can handle your duties or if I need to step in.”

Jess could feel Davin bristling behind her. She ran her hand over his, trying to soothe him. He calmed almost instantly. “He’ll do as you say.” She turned awkwardly toward Davin. “Won’t you?”

“Of course. I know the situation I’m putting everyone in. I know the stakes. Again, I’m sorry, Van.”

It was a small movement, but Jess was starting to get better at reading the stoic Van, and she noticed when his shoulders dropped ever so slightly. “It’s okay, Davin. It’s unfortunate, but I would never wish ill on you. You are my friend. And if she makes you happy, I’m happy for you, even if things are difficult right now.”

Davin’s arm flexed, curling even tighter against her middle. “I feel… mixed.” He leaned forward, burying his face against her hair. “This feels so right, so good, but the loss of control is alarming. I don’t like it. I wish it would stop, but I don’t wish Jess were gone. I need her.”

Van relaxed even further, finally stepping out of the doorway. He crossed the room, then sat on the coffee table across from them. “I’ve been trying my best to keep this from the others. I didn’t want them to feel the uncertainty I’ve been dealing with. They deserve clear direction and confident, competent leadership.”

Jess wasn’t surprised when Davin tensed once more. Even without being the target of the statement, she’d felt its impact. It was like a slap in the face, and she wanted to comfort him all over again.

“You’re right, of course. What have you been telling them?”

Van shrugged. “Just giving them orders, pretending like your absence was perfectly normal. That’s one advantage of military life. You get used to operating on incomplete information. It encourages you to not always question things.”

Jess snorted. “Well, that counts me out.”

Van turned to her and smiled. “You know, Jess, I think I’m going to like you. I think we could be friends.” He looked over at Davin, an unnamed emotion crossing his face. “I hope we can be friends.”

Jess stared him down. She knew so little about this man. Van was slightly taller than Davin, a little leaner, and his scales a little darker. He seemed straightforward, and she kind of liked that about him, though she wasn’t sure if she would stretch so far as thinking they could be friends. He was too reserved for her liking. Being friends was about more than just liking a few character traits. It was about connecting with someone on an emotional level, and she just couldn’t imagine doing that with someone like Van. If she hadn’t seen a couple of his outbursts so far, she would have questioned if he even had emotions at all.

She sighed. “What are we going to tell my friends? I can’t just disappear on them.”  

Although, she’d almost done that last night, hadn’t she? She’d agreed to go with them without so much as leaving a note.  

Damn, I’m a fucking awful friend.

“Indeed.” Van nodded, pushing up from his seat.  

“So, is it safe to come in yet?” Scottie asked, peeking his head around the corner.

Why am I not surprised?

Van turned and something shifted, though she couldn’t put her finger on what. She shrugged it off as Van nodded, the signal that started the flood.  

Scottie nearly bounced into the room as the rest of her friends trailed behind. ��So…” he said as he plopped his butt on the couch, eagerly clasping his hands before him. “You and the big guy, huh?” He had a shit-eating grin on his face that immediately had Jess blushing.  

“Yeah…”

Scottie nodded, but the gleam in his eye told her she wasn’t about to get off that easily. He wanted details, and he was going to get them. He always did. But for now, he turned to Van instead, his gaze dreamy as he took in the alien soldier. “So… what’s the plan, Spock?”

Van frowned down at him. “My name is not Spock.”

Jess turned, laughing into Davin’s shoulder then pulling back to compose herself. Davin looked confused, so she leaned forward, whispering in his ear, “Scottie has always had a crush on the character Spock from Star Trek.”

Davin’s eyes widened, glancing between the two men with a new awareness.

“It is to me, Boo,” Scottie said.

Van frowned down at him, but then shrugged it off. “We are here to reestablish contact with your leaders.”

Scottie leaned against his palm. “Well, you’re a long way from doing that.”

Van frowned again, this time crossing his arms defensively. “I’m aware.”

Thom, who was standing in the doorway, spoke up. “What have you tried so far?”

Van turned to him. “Yesterday, we tried the White House and Capitol. Last night, I reached out to our counterparts in the human armed forces to provide an update and brainstorm, and they suggested several likely places to go next.”

Thom nodded. “In an emergency, the protocol is to separate government leaders to ensure a single attack can’t destabilize the government.”

“I’m aware.”

“They’ll likely be underground after all that’s happened.”

“That was their conclusion as well.”

Thom nodded, but didn’t continue his line of logic.

“It would be a whole lot easier if there was power,” Scottie chimed in. “Could contact them directly, regardless of where they are.”

Van turned, clearly reluctantly, to Scottie once more. “I’m not so sure about that. The satellite network is unusable at the moment.

Scottie scoffed. “That’s not the only communications system on Earth, you know.”

Van squared his body to Scottie, his stance growing even more tense. “Explain.”

Scottie shrugged. “Internet, duh! Wherever the bozos in government might be, they would have several options for communication, but satellite would only be one of them, and probably not even the one they would have been relying on. Wireless can be temperamental. The best connections are always wired. Stable, hard to hack, and even harder to disrupt.”

“You’re saying they wouldn’t have relied on the satellite network?”

“Oh sure, they would… for communicating with space. And it probably would have come into play when coordinating with other nations. But there’s no way they would have relied entirely on it.”

“So, what do you suggest?”

“If you get the power back up in the region where leadership would be, they can reach out themselves, start organizing and coordinating. Without satellites, they still can’t reach out to the ships in space, but it would definitely get the ball rolling.”

Van frowned, reaching up to rub his chin.

Jess laughed. “Scottie, you just want to get back to playing your videos games again.”

Scottie chuckled. “That too.”

[palbabor-writes]

Latibule pt. ii

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, kinda heavy petting? we still going slow up in this ride, adult language, eventual SMUT, oh & Kiyoomi being a blunt asshole

Words: 12,880

His usual spot at the cafe is taken, and he’s already decided to keep walking on, but somehow, somehow, he manages to catch your eye.

His feet are slowing, a stuttering breath stagnating in his lungs, all at once hopeful and bewildered, but before he can examine his fluttering emotions, you’re alongside him on the noisy sidewalk, passing him his usual evening drink, a pleased smile on your soft lips.

Suddenly, the world smells like velvety pine and heady bergamot, and he can’t stop staring down at you.

Notes: me: try to keep it at 7,000 words, also me: what’s a word count?  

i owe my life to @wickedfaerytale & @albinoburrito​ for their edits and suggestions on this monster. i love you both & appreciate you to the moon and back.

Latibule 

pt. ii: Four Set

a high set to the strong side/outside hitter

[ pt. i: an opening ] || 

[ You: 4:35pm ]

Hey! It’s me– from the coffee shop. Wanted to see if you were busy this evening? Maybe we can meet up when I get off?

[ Sakusa: 5:02pm ]

I know. Sure.

[ You: 6:21pm ]

Great! I’m off at 9:30. Want to meet at the shop?

[ Sakusa: 7:10pm ] 

Read at 7:10pm

“Is he coming?” Kane asks, following you out of the coffee shop and pausing under the shallow awning, twisting his head, watching your back as you turn the key in the door. You tug against the handle, testing the hold, your hands heavy against the cool metal. 

“I don’t know,” you sigh, eyes peering into the darkened depths of the cafe lobby. “It says he read the last text, but he didn’t respond. He’s likely busy. I have no idea how long they practice; he’s a professional athlete, and after seeing that game...well, I can only imagine how intense his training schedule is. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone move like that before it was so fluid, like watching quicksilver.”

“Eh? Quicksilver? What is this, a poetry slam? Who describes people like that? Still, I bet he does, like, 20,000 sit-ups a day. You can tell, even under that baggy jacket, that he’s crazy fit,” Kane ruminates, leaning against one of the stacked sets of metal chairs. “Damn. It’s kinda crazy to think about, you know? You and a hot pro athlete going out on a date.”

You huff out a laugh and give him a playful scowl. “Ugh, shut up, you’re so rude, Kane. And I wouldn’t say it’s a ‘date.’ We just exchanged numbers. That’s all.”

“Oh? I’m sorry. You’re totally right. All those googly eyes must have happened with someone else. Definitely not you and that six-foot monster of a man. I mean, usually the guy just sits at his seat and ignores us, watching those videos on his computer and taking his notes, or he gets his coffee and is on his way, but today he was practically sitting on the hand off plane, and staring at you. 

Don’t gimme that face! You know I’m right. And–awe, look at you! So bashful! Oooh, you like him, don’t you? That’s so cute! Come on (Y/N), that’s so––ow!”

“Didn’t you say you had a paper to write?” you grumble, shoving your knuckles against his shoulder again. “There was so much whining from you tonight. Way worse than usual. So many, ‘hurry up, (Y/N)! I need to get home. What if this makes me bomb my paper! What if I fail the class because of this?’ What happened to all that? Huh? Suddenly you’ve got time to suss’ me out on the sidewalk?”

“Yow! So touchy! And this is totally workplace harassment, ya’ know! Jeez, that’s a mean right hook you’ve got. You didn’t even warn me! Eee, I’m gonna be bruised tomorrow!”

“Oh, shut up. You completely deserved that. Now go away and go finish your paper, you soon to be fail––”

“You said 9:30, right?”

The sound of Sakusa’s low voice startles you and you spring away from Kane, head whipping around and eyes wide. He’s standing a few feet behind the two of you, his shoulders curved into their usual hunch, eyes dark behind his fringe of curls. Under his golden jacket, a crisp white shirt is stretched across his broad chest, the bottom tucked carefully into the front of his jeans, and his MSBY bag is hanging against his back. His onyx hair looks heavy and you can see some lingering moisture, no doubt from a recent shower, glistening against the raven waves. 

“Hey!” you call, unable to bite back the elated grin that’s suddenly curving the edges of your lips. Kane is right about one thing, you think, stepping closer to Sakusa’s stiff form. This is kinda surreal. “We just finished closing up. Uh, this is Kane,” you wince, gesturing to the smirking face of your coworker. 

Shit. Stop it. You sound like an idiot. He knows who Kane is. You’ve seen them talking at the register before, but the rambling introduction keeps tumbling out of you. “He works here. He’s usually at the register, he’s learning, um, the bar and–uh. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, you’ve seen him before, uh, probably...definitely...ha, but, er–”

“And that’s my cue,” Kane chuckles, shaking his head at your janky attempts to introduce him properly to a man that he’s known, in passing, for over a year. “Nice seeing you Sakusa-sama,” he bows, tossing you a cheeky wink from his polite curve, “you guys have fun.” And with that, he’s gone, leaving you and the impassive Sakusa alone on the empty street.

A hushed quiet falls over the two of you as you adjust the straps of your purse, eyes lowered. Stop freaking out, you chide yourself, taking a deep inhale of air into your lungs, fingers padding aimlessly over the leather slings of your bag. Just talk with him. It’s always easier when you ask the questions first, since he’s not much of a talker. So ask him about something he can answer.

Volleyball. Yeah, ask him about that. It’s not exactly a groundbreaking conversation starter, but it will work.     

Strategy set, confidence mounting, you open your mouth.

“So, how did your practice–” “How was your day–”

He speaks when you do, and the two of you clatter directly into each other, words smattering into nothingness as you both fumble into an uneasy silence again.

Hopeless, you’re both hopeless. It’s kinda funny, in a horrifically awkward way. 

“Uh,” you grin, eyes finally lifting to his. “You first?”

The gentle thud of his heart echoes against his ears and his breath is hot under the cover of his mask. You’re so close. If he wanted to, he could reach out and touch you, could drop his hand from his pocket and let it slip into yours again. That thought makes his palms feel itchy, and he scrapes his nails down the skin, easing the ache.

Not yet.

He watches you as you shake your head, a glowing smile breaking across your lips. You’re not just pretty, he thinks, unconsciously drifting closer, you’re captivating. It’s like you’re some kinda homing beacon. 

He’s a cautious guy, always has been. But something about you makes him want to blindly reach, to be nearer to you. 

“Practice was fine. Where did you want to go?” he murmurs, fingers lifting, tugging his mask down his face. 

He wants to kiss you. 

It’s been on his mind all day, through the training, through the practice games, hovering over him, shrouding him with the foggy remembrance of the pressure of your lips. He’d fucked your first one up and he wants to try again, to do better. But it’s different when you’re expecting it, when he can see your gaze following the downward pull of his hand, your eyes hooded and watchful as he reveals the lower portion of his face to you. When you bite your lip into your mouth, teeth pressing before slowly letting the plump flesh spring free again, he nearly groans aloud.  

He wonders if you’ll let him do it, let him kiss you, and that thought makes him feel lightheaded. You’re so close––No, he gulps, jaw clenching and shoulders straightening, his back arching upward and right foot jerking a step, pulling away from your tempting openness. It’s too much, it’s too soon. 

Just wait, he reminds himself, be patient. Not now, not yet. 

You notice his shift and look up at him curiously, popping your weight onto your other leg, one hand braced against your hip, but you still smile up at him, acknowledging his unspoken cues for distance. “Well, I was going to see if you wanted to get a drink.”

“I don’t like bars,” he blurts.

Your eyes widen and you suck a sharp breath into your lungs, lips falling into a half-formed ‘oh.’  

No. He didn’t mean it like––Damn it. 

Kiyoomi flinches, nose wrinkling and mouth pulling into a thin line. He’s not good at this. 

“Mm, well, this is less of a bar and more like a gastropub. It’s small, laid-back. Plus, it’s a Tuesday night, they’re gonna be slow, and if they’re not, we can leave and try something else...”

“It’s fine,” he rectifies sharply. Again, he sounds too harsh. “I don’t care about any of that. If it’s slow or not. If you want to go, we’ll go. I didn’t...I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, I didn’t think it was rude.”

Kiyoomi jerks his chin up, his mouth pressing into a pursed frown, peering skeptically at you, eyes narrowed. You let out a laughed exhale and tilt your head, quickly shrugging your shoulders, attempting to mollify his mistrustful stare. “I mean it!” you insist, waving your hand. “I’ll take someone who’s blunt any day of the week. It’s exhausting trying to read people who are good at hiding behind smiles, or false facades. You always know where you stand when someone is straightforward. Seriously,” you continue, grinning up at his abashed expression, “it doesn’t bother me. Be yourself. Besides, I like it. It kinda makes me jealous…”

“Jealous?” Kiyoomi echoes, watching you step past him and down the darkened street. His heart is beating out that uneven tattoo again, and it feels like he can’t catch his breath. What do you mean, ‘you like his bluntness’? No one’s ever told him that. No one’s ever told him to ‘be himself’ either. And, as if that wasn’t enough for him to chew on, now you’re casually saying that you’re jealous of his unapologetic retorts. It doesn’t make any sense.

“Sure,” you nod, slowing your footfalls, letting him catch up with you as you stride down the sidewalk. “I always lean on the polite side of things, likely because I’ve spent too many years in customer service, haha. So it’s refreshing to hear someone just speak their mind. Besides, you don’t strike me as someone who’s careless with what they say to others; you’re candid, but careful, you just don’t mince your words. Nothing wrong with that. Anyway, I’m babbling, again. Looks like you kinda have that effect on me, huh?”

His lips quirk at your admission and he steps a little closer, the fabric of his jacket wicking across your clothed arm as he matches your pace. “Is it far?” he asks after a time, watching as the lights of the main street twinkle between the lumbering edges of the buildings. 

“Not much farther. But you might wanna put your mask up, we’ll go past the cross street and that area is always a little busy this time of night.”

[ Damn. That’s––The fact that that thought would even cross your mind–– ]

His hand is out of his pocket before he can blink, seeking the soft warmth of your curled fingers, cupping over your knuckles as he heeds your advice with his other, tugging his mask up and pinching it securely over the bridge of his nose. He can feel your eyes on him, but he doesn’t pause, doesn’t look down. He likely should have asked. After all, he doesn’t know you that well. But you ease your digits against his, your thumb curling over the joint of his ring finger, and his lips twitch into a smile.

You greet the girl behind the hostess stand with a hug and a few other members of the staff walk up to the table that you select, big grins and booming voices calling out jovial ‘hello’s’ and ‘good to see you’s’.

“You come here a lot?” Kiyoomi inquires, slouching against the cushions of the booth, obsidian eyes peering around the space. The table is off to the side, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the main dining area and bar, and is half covered by a glass wall that provides the two of you with an extra buffer of privacy. It’s an ideal spot, and he’s inwardly grateful that you’d chosen it. 

“I used to work here,” you answer, lifting your purse onto your lap before fishing around for something within the depths of the leather. “I–ah! Here it is. I always lose stuff in here, it’s like a black hole, no matter how many times I organize it, it goes right back to being a mess. Price you pay when you have a big bag, I guess.” You lift a small bottle of hand sanitizer out and dollop some onto your palm. He blinks, following the rapid motions of your hands as you clean them off with the solution. That’s...nice. Nice feels like a strange word for this observation, but it’s true. You spy his gwaping expression and hold the bottle out, nodding your head at his coiled fingers. “Want some?”

“Thanks,” he rumbles, mimicking your motions as he eases the cold sanitizer against his chapped hands. “So you worked here?”

“Yeah! I did this and the coffee shop for a while. I was behind the bar, mostly. It was a good job, but when things picked up with my degree plan, I had to drop it.”

“Ah,” Kiyoomi hums, pulling his mask off and tucking it carefully into the pocket of his jacket. “That’s why you knew it wouldn’t be busy.”

“Yup! Tuesdays and Wednesdays are always slow. This is likely the busiest it will get. They have food here too, if you’re hungry. Got some good sushi and the agedashi tofu is one of the best in the city.”

“I already ate.” [ Shit. ]

“Ohh-kay. Well, I’m probably going to get something. They’ve got non-alcoholic drinks as well. Should be at the bottom of the menu.”

“I said I don’t like bars, not that I don’t drink.” [ Fuck. ]

“Fair enough,” you shrug, cocking your head at his clenched jaw and averted eyes. “You see anything you want?”

“Sorry,” Kiyoomi sighs, lifting the paper menu and scanning the side that lists the specials.

“I told you,” your voice is soft, and he glances up at you, glad to see that you’re still smiling happily at him, “I don’t mind. Tell you what, if you go too far I’ll let you know, sound good?” You stretch your hand toward him, bunching your fingers, except for your pinky, which is waiting, outstretched, and reaching toward him.

“What?” he asks, chin dipping and heavy brows furrowing as he eyes your hand suspiciously. 

“Whaddya’ mean, ‘what?’ It’s a pinky promise. You’ve never done this before?”

“I’ve never done this before,” he deadpans, blinking slowly. 

You guffaw and the burst of joyous sound makes him snicker too, his shoulders easing from that all too familiar hunch, his head ducking, the faint stain of a blush seeping over his cheeks. It’s just a laugh, he reasons, annoyed by his flushed skin and twitching fingers. Why is he getting worked up? He takes a second to refocus, but when he does, you’re still waiting for him, your pinky wiggling, blithely enticing him. 

“It’s easy,” you promise. “You just hook your smallest finger with mine and we shake once on it and boom, that’s an unbreakable promise. And, well, if it kills you then I guess you’ll go down in a book of world records or something.”                        

Kiyoomi scoffs at your jab and lifts his arm onto the table, holding his pinky out, waiting for you to make the last move, rolling his eyes at your dramatically slow approach.  

Your touch is gentle, finger ghosting over the middle joint of his pinky, curling slowly, teasingly, before it wraps around the width of his digit. Then you give him a quick squeeze, swiftly bobbing your joined fingers in a mock shake. It’s over in an instant, but you maintain the touch, gradually untwining your crooked digits. “Your fingers are long,” you observe, eyes catching his before traveling back to that lingering connection, distractedly easing your fingertip down the line of his hand and pausing against the base of his wrist. 

It feels like his entire arm is electrified and a fine shiver of goose flesh breaks across his warm skin. His mouth is open, lips parted as he sucks in a shallow drag of air and he can’t stop staring, wholly enraptured by your flirtatious strokes. When your eyes rake upwards to playfully find his, that pleased smile soft against your lips, he thinks he might just lurch forward and grab you. 

“There,” you beam before pulling away. “Now that that’s done, what are you gonna’ order?”

He lets you place your drink order first, saying he needs to keep looking, that it has been a while since he’s had a drink, and he’s never been all that sure of his preferences, anyway. 

It’s an unexpected admission. 

If there’s one thing that you’ve been relatively sure of, it’s that Sakusa is a man who doesn’t hesitate. In the two years that you’ve known him, granted from the other side of the counter of a coffee shop, he’s always known what he wants and is confident in his selections. He can rattle them off by rote, by flavor, by taste, by temperature, so seeing him this off balance, a little frazzled and out of his depth, is a bit of a surprise. 

He’s not fidgety, his hands are resting placidly in his lap, feet evenly placed on the floor, but you can tell there’s an underlying thrum of agitation behind all those half ducked glances he keeps giving you, his obsidian eyes sharp, gleaming like flints each time they linger against you. He’d laughed once, before you’d squeezed his pinky with yours, and then promptly fallen back into that sullen silence, answering your questions with one word quips or hushed murmurs. 

It made you feel guilty. 

He said he hated bars, so maybe you should have taken that admission a little more seriously. But out of all the places the two of you could go, this late at night in downtown Osaka, you’d figured that this was likely the quietest, the one where he’d feel the most comfortable. 

“So you’ve played with them for two years?” you ask, giving your server a quick thanks as they sit your drink down. “That’s impressive. But you said you went to school for four? That’s different. I bet most players skip college and go right for the pros, so why didn’t you do that?”

“Volleyball isn’t everything,” he answers, tone clipped, matter of fact, as he watches you take a sip of your drink, waiting for the clink of the ice and the gentle clatter of the glass as you set it back down on the table before he continues. “I’m not invincible. Someday I won’t be able to play. And it makes sense to have a backup, something that I can do later.”

You pop your chin into your upturned palm, lips resting against your curled fingers. “True. You’re very thorough, you know?” 

Sakusa’s forehead creases, and those two perfectly stacked moles lower over his right eyebrow. “I like to do things properly, that’s all. It just feels right. To take things one step at a time. I do that with everything. I guess most see it as something repetitive, or monotonous, all those basic tasks that you do day in, day out, but I like it. And if you think of them as mindful tasks, rather than mindless, then you can get to that point where those little things become pleasure, instead of drudgery. I know that I’m not guaranteed anything, but, if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to go out, to leave volleyball, satisfied. Knowing I did my best.”

It sounds stupid to his ears, pompous, and as soon as he finishes his preamble, he lets out an inaudible sigh, teeth worrying against the soft flesh of the inside of his mouth. Damn it. Why did he say all that? What’s the point? You’d only asked him about college and here he is, rattling off his ideologies and distant thoughts. Why did he–

“That’s...that’s a cool way of looking at it.” 

His jaw is gritted, his face covered by a sheen of impassive blankness. But he looks up when you say that. He wants to see you, even if it’s only to take in your bewildered amusement. But you’re not giving him some piteous smirk, no, you’re looking at him like he’s helped you solve a long awaited puzzle, and your face is filled with the softest, haziest glimmer of ardent happiness that he’s ever seen. Your smile broadens, and he looks away, fingers feeling blindly for the pulse in his lowered wrist. 

His heart’s pounding. 

How do you do that? Then, as he tries to steady his shaking breaths, you lean back, lifting your glass to your parted lips to take a quick sip, a distant look in your eyes.

“You know, I’ve never really thought about it that way, but you’re right. I always have so much trouble explaining that mindset to new hires. Like, how do you tell them that, yeah, while this seems like a stupid thing we have you do, to keep busy during the slow period of the day, it matters in the long run. Take our cleaning routines, if you don’t clean something, and clean it diligently, then the gunk and grime builds up, and it’s harder to get out later. Things harden, become set in their ways, and I guess the same thing can happen to the pros too. It seems like most don’t go to school. They just slip right into the sport–after all, if you’re good enough to make it onto a division ranked team right out of high school, then there you go, that’s your end goal, right? 

But I like that you took the little steps, the ones that people ignore, or try to bypass. It’s another sort of preparedness, really. Others may not see it that way, might think of it as wasted time, but you did what felt right for you and I know it’ll pay off. It’s–oh! Sorry! I’m babbling again! Ha, God, I’m gonna stop, okay?”

“You don’t have to,” Kiyoomi utters, arms lifting from his lap, pressing against the smooth wood of the table, ignoring the racing of his heart. “I liked it. I’m glad that you...I liked it. Keep talking. I like hearing you talk. And, uh, can I try your drink? I know nothing about gin, or whiskey, or whatever that is. I usually just stick to beer and sake.”

You bite your lip, a soft chuckle falling between the two of you, and press two fingers bashfully against your nose, covering your giddy smile and pushing your drink forward, toward his open palms. “It’s kinda nice to know that I’m not the only one who’s flustered. Hmm, but here. If you don’t drink much, then you may not have had this before. Sorry if it’s strong. Also, I go for brown liquor, so it’s got rye for the base.”

“Rye’s a whiskey, right?” he asks, pushing the tiny black straw aside and taking a careful swig from the rim of the glass. It’s got a smooth flavor, almost like the caramel notes of his doppio con panna, but without that cloying sweetness that sometimes sits against the back of his tongue when he’s finished. Instead of the hum of sugar, there is only a shiver of bitterness and then the quick bite of the alcohol is gone, passing over his teeth and down his throat in a single gulp. 

It’s good. 

Better than he expected. And he passes the glass back, his fingers holding against the cool surface, waiting for yours. “I’ll get that,” he tells you, an impish smirk lifting his lips. “It’s perfect.”

After that-and a second round of drinks-the night went a little smoother. He did his best to not lapse into unsociable silences and you did just as he’d asked of you and kept talking. 

You traded the basics, where you were born, talked about your family, your education, degrees, pets, and, slowly, the uncertainty simply faded away. 

You were easy to talk with, impossibly so; always ready with another question, a congenial quip, or an antidote about your own life. Soon he was regaling you about his cousin, Motoya, the latest antics of his teammates, his hopes for the upcoming season, for the 2021 Olympics, for anything that he could think of, anything to keep you in that seat, to keep you chatting with him for just a little longer. 

[ It’s late, but that doesn’t matter. Keep talking, ask her something else. ] 

Is it supposed to feel like this?

He’s never really had a relationship; not when he was in high school or college, and any of his half-formed attractions always fizzled out before they ever really started. He was too busy, too one track minded to notice, [ to care ] to find the time [ to make the time. ] 

It’s certainly not love, [ Tch. Love at first sight, who believes in stuff like that anyway, this isn’t some movie, plus he’s known you for years, so it’s not first sight either ] not yet, but there’s another feeling that’s laced within this humming excitement that keeps bubbling to the surface, that has him hanging onto every word that passes from your lips.

It’s want.

He wants more, greedily so, and he hasn’t experienced that feeling, outside of volleyball, in a long time.

“I’m not too far from here. I’ll just hop on the train and then be back in my district. Easy-peasy.”

Sakusa nods at your jovial reassurances, hoisting his track bag higher against his shoulder, following you toward the lights of the street. It’s late, later than he’s used to, and his eyes feel heavy. The lull of the alcohol isn’t helping either, so he shuffles closer, bumping unevenly against you every few steps. You twist your head toward him, a faint smile on your lips, eyeing his lumbering form skeptically. “Sure I don’t need to walk you to your station, Sakusa? You look dead on your feet. Sorry I kept you out so late.”

“You didn’t,” he sighs, his words rasping past a yawn. “I wanted to stay. I’ll regret it tomorrow. For now, I’m fine.” 

“Pfft, okay, well, I’ll look forward to receiving your annoyed text about me keeping you out past your bedtime in the morning then.”

Huh? Text? You want him to text you in the morning? Can he do that? Be the first person you think of when your notification lights up your dark screen, the first one that you reply to. Shit. What–what does that mean?

Sakusa slows, his hand reaching for you. 

He misses your arm and snags your purse instead, jerking the straps, and by association you, a little harder than he intended. [ Damn it. His coordination’s off. ] You stumble backwards, shoulders bracing against his broad chest, and you blink up at him. You lift your face, looking at him curiously. He’s already peering down, and the glow of the distant street-lamps makes the onyx of his irises morph from jet to a rich blue. For a long breath both of you simply stare, content to watch the other, waiting for some kind of advancement in this stalemate. 

You cave first. “Um, you alright?”

“What are we?” he asks pointedly, large palms running up the sides of your arms, his head tilting, dropping raven curls over his brow. 

“Friends?” you reply, but it feels more like a question than an answer and you let the word hang, unsure what else you can say, what else he wants to hear. You feel a bated breath leave his lungs. It dips you back as his chest falls, slipping you minutely closer even as his hands droop limply from the curve of your shoulders. His eyes shift from yours and his lips fade into a thin line as he steps away, letting you slip from his grasp. The air between you changes, hardening back into that early uncertainty, and by the time you turn to face him fully, his hands are re-tucked into his pockets and his slouch has returned.

“What’s wrong?” 

You know, but you don’t want to assume. You’d warned him after all; you’re not good at being blunt. 

He gives you a frank stare, dark brows creasing, furrowing his expression. “Friends means I can’t kiss you.”

For a moment you can’t feel your heart. You know it’s beating, still diligently pumping blood through your body, but as that declaration leaves his lips it’s like your entire world has narrowed. He wants to...how can he just say that? Just blurt out whatever comes into his head and not care what happens after. Where do you find confidence like that?

You flash your gaze upward and he’s still looking at you, his unmasked face open as he stares, dark eyes watchful, half veiled behind his lashes. 

He waits. He’s good at that, you think, feeling a smile creep across your face as your tongue passes over the swell of your lower lip. He instantly tracks the movement and takes a shallow step forward. You can hear his fingers coiling and uncoiling inside of the slick lining of his pockets, but that simple, near silent admission of his nervousness makes up your mind.

“Well,” you begin, eyes lowering, easing closer, pressing until you can almost feel the heat of him against you. Your hands lift tentatively, passing over the flat, honed planes of his chest until they come to rest against the top of his stomach. His nostrils flare at the tempered stroke but the rest of him remains stock still, wholly rooted to the spot, listening, observing, a glimmer of distant hope cresting against the back of his mind. 

[ Yes. Keep going. Don’t stop. ]

Then, those final, all important words are leaving you, cast into the air. 

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Before you can look up at him, his hands are hovering beside your ears, the ghost of his touch urging you upward as he lowers himself over you. 

His lips meet yours with a gentle tap and you can feel his unsteady exhale pass over your mouth as he allows himself to linger against you. It’s more like a press than a proper kiss, but you indulge him, gripping your impatient hands against the thin material of his jacket, giving him time to adjust. He’s featherlight, his lips scratchy, but the lubrication that your swiped tongue has left behind eases the touch and he gasps when you lift to meet him, your lips gliding over his.  

Then he’s wavering; like he can’t decide. 

He shifts away, only to return moments later, lips never fully leaving yours, caressing until you’re doggedly chasing after him, a poorly concealed groan slipping from your throat. He hums appreciatively at your enthusiasm and steps impossibly closer, his fingertips tapping under your jaw and down your neck. 

On one of his shuddering pulls you slip your tongue over his lips, tracing the seam, wordlessly asking for him to deepen the kiss. The sound he makes in return is garbled, caught against his throat and lost in the shuffle of his hands, his breath, his want. 

His arms are like steel cables as they twine around your waist, holding you to him as he finally opens, his teeth clattering against yours in his rush. You smile against his eagerness and pop onto the tips of your toes, hands releasing his jacket, sliding up his face before you let your fingers coil into his obsidian curls, your teeth nipping against his dampened lip. He lets out another hushed gasp, the flat of his palm warm against your shoulder blades as he urges you upward.  

“You’re — mmm, you’re too tall, Sakusa,” you complain, finally easing away from his greedy kisses, and grinning when he follows. 

“Kiyoomi,” he insists, hands cupping, thumbs tracing the edge of your jaw, dropping another kiss against your upturned lips. “Call me that. I want to hear it.”

You laugh and he huffs impatiently against you, brows folding into that deep crease. “Not joking,” he grumbles, lips and breath hot against yours, “I want to hear you say it.” 

When you manage, at long last, to pull away from him again, your eyes bright, lips kiss shined and swollen, he knows this image of you will be etched into his mind for weeks to come. It’s perfect [ you’re perfect ] and all he can think about is that he wants so much more. 

“Kiyoomi,” you call, head canted at his staggered expression, eyes glittering with fond amusement. “You’re kinda bossy, aren’t you?”

He scowls at your question and tugs you back, kissing you until your laugh fades away and his name comes a little easier.

[ You: 9:18am ]

You sure you want to go there? I don’t care if we do something else instead, your call.

[ Kiyoomi: 10:54am ]

Got the tickets. See you after your shift.

“Bringing your phone onto the court–ballsy move Omi,” Atsumu leers, dropping his bag beside Kiyoomi’s, a troublesome smirk on his face.

“Shut up,” Kiyoomi snaps, darkening the screen with a click and placing the device beside his trainers. “At least I know how to keep it hidden. And you’re the reason we’re banned from bringing them out here at all. You and your stupid snapchat stories.”

“Omi! Ya’ big jerk! Be quiet, ya’ know yer’ not supposed to mention that app where the coaches can–”

“Miya!” a booming voice calls from across the gym, “You better not be doing what I think you’re doing! If I catch you on that phone, you can expect to do a hundred serves at the end of this practice match! Got it?”

Kiyoomi scoffs, a lackadaisical grin ghosting over his lips as he neatly dodges Atsumu’s elbowed jab. “See? I’m not the problem here.”

“Such a jackass. It’s a miracle (Y/N) is even giving you the time of day.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kiyoomi bristles, heavy brows creasing. 

“Means I don’t know what she sees in ya,’ you big dummy. Where you taking her this week?”

“Why do you care?”

“Damn it. Why do I bother? I mean really, am I some kinda masochistic or something? Yer’ terrible to talk with, but here I am, attempting some harmless small-talk. Cut a guy some slack, would ya’?”

“What are you talking about?” Kiyoomi stares, onyx eyes narrowing at Atusmu’s haggard expression. 

“You! I’m just trying to have a conversation, you know, checking in, seeing how yer’ doing. Making sure you haven’t screwed things up yet. Ya’ know, being polite!” Atsumu glowers, golden hair falling over one umber eye as he flashes Kiyoomi a fixed glare.

“What would I screw up?”

Atsumu lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head. “Tell you what, ask me that question again when you do, how’s that sound?”

“Miya–”

“Bringing your phone to practice, coming in late, or right before things kick off, yeah, you got it bad, don’t cha’? You better watch yer’self Omi.”

“The hell you talking about?” Kiyoomi sneers, chin lowering, steeling himself for one of Atsumu’s long-winded tangents. 

“God, yer’ so dense, especially with shit that’s not volleyball. Come on, Omi, use your head. The coaches, the managers, they’re all gonna try and make you pick. That’s what they do. She’s a nice girl, and I’d hate to see her get caught up in all of that bullshit. Stop gaping at me like that! Like I’m not making any sense! I’m trying to look out for ya’! Not that you deserve it, being such a prickly asshole, and all...”

Kiyoomi sighs, lips pursing into a sharp point, his shoulders slumping forward, arms hanging limply against his sides. Fine, he’ll engage. Whatever. If it’ll get Atsumu to explain whatever the hell he’s talking about before the practice match, he reasons, then it’ll be worth it. “We’re going to the museum in Tennoji Park.”

Atsumu stares. “Damn. You agreed to go to a public park? In the daytime? That’s real big, if true.”

“I’ll serve every ball directly at the back of your head, don’t think I won’t.”

“Alright, alright,” the setter laughs, propping his hands against his hips. “Shocked yer’ not just staying close to that one restaurant. You seem like a, ‘this is what I like and I’m sticking to it’ kinda guy. Not one to branch out. You know, boring.”

“How do you know about the restaurant?” 

“She told me about it?”

Kiyoomi curls his lip over his teeth. “When did she do that?”

“The other day, went by for a coffee.”

“Ugh,” he huffs, swinging one arm across his chest, stretching out the muscles of his biceps. “What else did she say?”

Atsumu grins, bracing his forearm against Kiyoomi’s shoulder, waggling his brows mischievously. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Fine. I’ll just ask her.”

“Ughhh, zero fun. That’s what you are. Tell me, ya’ got a mode that’s not: ‘Sakusa Kiyoomi, ‘the world’s most boring man’,” Atsumu groans, head dropping as he lets his body hang limply off of Kiyoomi’s stiffened form.

“Shut up. What we do isn’t your business anyway, so enough with the questions. You’re just poking your nose in shit that doesn’t concern you,” Kiyoomi accuses, shrugging Atsumu’s heavy arm off of his, glaring.

Atsumu straightens, a quiet scoff puffing between his smirked lips. “Fine. So touchy today. And you think this crap ain’t gonna bleed into your playing? Yer’ way–”

“Line up!” the assistant coach booms, silencing Atsumu’s bristled retort. Kiyoomi opts to hold his tongue, letting the setter pace away from him, eyes narrowing while sucking in a steadying breath before he follows. 

Damn it. He got so caught up in––Atsumu never told him what he meant.

It’s early afternoon and the broad concrete pathways of the park are mostly empty. The spring flowers are in bloom and the ginkgo trees sway in the crisp breeze that dips in from the sea. It’s a beautiful day, but Kiyoomi can’t shake himself out of his head.

He’d stared dutifully at the portraits in the museum, read the placards that rested below the painted screens and pottery, and listened when you asked him questions, or answered his own. He shouldn’t be like this, he fumes, adjusting the ear straps of his mask as the two of you step out into the bright sunlight once more. 

Who cares what Atsumu was trying to imply. It was vague and unhelpful; likely meant to get under his skin, something that–

“You alright?” Your voice shakes him out of his thoughts and he looks down at you, brows unknotting, eyes softening as they rake over your curious face. 

“Yeah. Miya said something at practice that I’m having trouble forgetting.”

“Oh? What?”

He tells you, and it feels like some of the tension leaves his shoulders. It’s nice.

Usually he’s guarded, quiet. Sure, he’ll let others know what he’s thinking with little finesse, but that doesn’t mean they know the truth of what’s on his mind. This is different. With you it’s easy to disassemble, unexpectedly so. It’s only been a month since the two of you started seeing each other, but in that time he’s opened up more to you than he has to anyone, outside of his family, and he’s still not sure if he likes that.

[ That’s a lie. He likes it; he does. He’s just not used to it. ]

“Make you pick?” you ask, skimming your hand over the red railing of the bridge, head cocked thoughtfully to the side. “He actually said that?”

“Mentioned it. Like I said, Miya talks in circles. I usually just tune him out, but this felt...different.”

“Hmm,” you ponder, easily keeping up with his long strides, your body close to his. “Well, maybe he means they, the coaches that is, don’t want you to be distracted? I could see that. I mean, you are playing at an extremely high level and next year is the Olympics. Damn, it feels strange to say that. I know someone who’s playing in the Olympics…”

“I know that. And I’m not distracted,” his tone is clipped and his chin ducks, his side swept curls fanning over his left eye. 

You look over at his tensed expression and puff out an exhale of air. “Well, maybe he’s just messing with you? You said he likes to do that.”

“Told you, this felt different.” The words are sharp, punctuated by his clenched jaw and the forward roll of his shoulders, and you suck your teeth softly, staring across the shimmering surface of the pond as the two of you cross the last stretch of the bridge. You’re on the back foot here, a little unsure of how to reassure him, but you can tell he wants to shake this off, so you press the issue, hoping it’ll help ease that stiff tension that’s building in his shoulders.  

“Okay, it felt different. How so?”

The words come without hesitation. [ This isn’t normal for him, but it’s also so damn nice to know that he can be this comfortable with someone. ] “Miya usually babbles. Goes on and on about the most inane things. But he also loves to chatter about his reasoning, and this time he didn’t. Instead of answering my question, he gave me that shitty smirk and changed the subject to something he knew would distract me––why else would he say he’d gone by the coffee shop?”

“I mean, I don’t know him as well as you do, but he seems like the kinda guy who likes to provoke–to see if he can get a reaction out of you and...I know it’s not much of a reason, but maybe that’s all that it was?”

Kiyoomi gives you a curt nod and picks up his pace, his hands coiling into clenched fists within the confines of his pockets. You follow him, unsure if you should strike up another line of conversation or let him simmer for a bit. You opt for the latter and turn your attention to the scenery of the parklands, quietly studying the picnicking couples and laughing clusters of children that jostle beside a nearby set of monkey bars. No matter his mood, it’s a lovely day and you’re still glad he’d agreed to come with you to the park. 

But when the trail reaches the main street, you pause. “Hey, you wanna call it a day?” you ask, a soft smile on your lips. If he needs time, you rationalize, then you can give him that. 

Kiyoomi jerks to a stop, his heavy brows furrowing as he stares down at you. “What? No,” he grumbles, voice muffled by the fabric of his mask. 

You raise your hands in a gesture of supplication, palms facing his looming form. “It’s just...you seem like you’re upset...”

“I am upset,” Kiyoomi answers frankly, his breath heavy. 

His honesty never fails to catch you off balance, and you laugh cheerfully at his stoic expression. Kiyoomi promptly fixes you with a perturbed stare, his eyes narrowing. “Kiyoomi, if you’re upset, then we should head back. You don’t have to stick around me if you want space, I totally–– ”

“I don’t want space. I want to be here, with you,” he bites, stepping closer, watching as your grin fades into a perplexed gape. 

For a breath you’re flabbergasted, lips parted, eyes wide, but with a shake of head you step forward, your arm twining with his, and dipped forehead pressing against the sleek material of his jacket. “Alright, then stay with me,” you smile, hands squeezing against his coiled muscles, a pleased warmth spreading up your joined arms before flowing downward, into the pit of your stomach.

The contact, as muted as it is by the shell of his track jacket, makes him shiver and he can feel the thump of his heart speed up. It presses against his ribs and makes his chest feel tight and his head light, and when your fingers slip into the warmth of his pocket, your smooth digits tracing the knuckles of his hand, he lets out a contented sigh before lightly brushing his chin over the top of your bent head.

“Come on,” he murmurs, the rich tone of his deep voice dampened by the stretch of his mask, but you can still hear the creep of his smile within the clipped words, “I’ve got an idea.”

You’ve walked past the training facility plenty of times, so many that it’s a blip on your radar now, its jagged silhouette falling into the category of mundane, but never, not in a million years, did you ever see yourself actually passing through those glass doors.

It’s a massive space. 

The blazing down-lights scatter brightness over the finely polished elastic flooring. You’d worn comfortable shoes to the park, but they still scuff loudly against the unfamiliar material so you stop gawping and look toward Kiyoomi’s arched shoulders. 

“Uh, are you sure we can be in here?” you ask, trying to keep your voice down, but it reverberates around the vast space and you wrinkle your nose at the sharpness of the sound. 

“Yes. I work here,” Kiyoomi answers simply, tugging his mask down and stopping just short of one of the white lines, cocking his dark head at your question.

“Okay,” you snicker, rolling your eyes playfully at his static features, “let me rephrase that, are you sure I can be here?”

“Why would you being here be a problem? Practice is done for the day. It’ll be fine. Worst case, Bokuto or Miya might show,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders, a faint smile passing over his lips. “So what do you say, you wanna try to play?”

A full-throated laugh bubbles out of you, and you shake your head frantically. “No way! You’ll either kill me with one of those terrifying spikes, or be bored out of your mind trying to teach me the ropes. Besides, I haven’t played volleyball since middle school, and even then, I’m, uh, not sure a quick rotation in a 40 minute P.E. class counts as playing. It was more like all of us kids screwing around and testing out how many times we could annoy our teacher.”

He snorts at your explanation and strides over to a dark red cart, digging one of his long arms into the depths before straightening and returning with a yellow and blue Mikasa ball that’s perfectly balanced within his broad palm. “Humor me,” he smirks, one brow quirking upward. 

“Tch, I’m not wearing the right clothes...or shoes,” you bemoan jovially, but you’re already letting your purse slip from your shoulders.

“So whiny,” Kiyoomi tuts, stepping away from the cart and tossing the ball rapidly between his spread hands. “That doesn’t matter. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

“Oh, you will, will you?” you tease, a beguiling smile lifting your lips. He looks so good in here, you think, admiring the flex and bounce of his hands, the lean coil of his powerful neck that peeks from underneath his track jacket, so different from the stoic man who walked beside you in the park. 

As soon as he touched the ball, his entire demeanor changed. Within the space of a few seconds he’d gone from hunched and brooding to dauntless and firm, all of his early agitation and uncertainty forgotten as he slipped into the comfort of his element. 

“All right, coach,” you sigh with mock dejection, “where do you want me?”

“On the other side of the net. See that line? The first one past the netting? That’s the attack line. Stand there.” 

He’s clear-cut in his instruction, telling you where to plant your feet and how to stand with the correct form. You listen intently, nodding or asking one or two clarifying questions, and he’s patient with your queries, answering you swiftly and thoroughly, obsidian eyes keen as they follow your movements across the net. 

“Alright, that looks good. We’re going to do a simple drill, the catch and throw. Don’t worry about setting the ball, or receiving it with your arms, see how it feels to position yourself under it, just make sure it never gets behind you, and catch it with both hands and toss it back to me. Try and keep it in an easy arc.”

You blink at him, pulling your lips into an exaggerated frown. “Just catch it? That sounds too easy…”

“It’s meant to be. It teaches you how to see the ball. If you’re wanting something harder, I can always up the speed as you get better at it. Now, you ready?”

You nod and the ball lifts from his fingers in a flash, gliding over the net cleanly, and you shift back, arms outstretched, feet planted firmly against the slick flooring. You catch it neatly and mimic his overhand toss, sending it back to Kiyoomi’s half crouched form. But the arc isn’t controlled and the ball paps against the tape of the net, screwing up the trajectory and sending it shuddering toward the gym floor. 

“Shit,” you curse, wincing at your clumsy return, but he’s already moving, his form a blur. He slides under it easily, back curved under his well-muscled legs, all ten fingers spread, as he neatly catches the ball, sending it prettily back to your side. 

You’re so mesmerized by the fluidity of his supple form that you completely ignore the returning ball and it slaps against the floor with a crack. Always the professional, he’s intently watching the ball’s trajectory and doesn’t notice your open stare at first, but once his dark eyes flash back to yours a faint blush seeps across the well-cut apples of his cheeks and he ducks his head, obscuring his flush with a cascade of onyx curls. “That’s one point for me,” he sighs, his voice low, tone gruffly catching over the words as he studiously avoids your awed expression. 

“Points?” you repeat dumbly, snapping your mouth closed before popping your hands on your hips, forcing yourself out of your stupor. “Hey! You didn’t say anything about points.”

“It’s a game,” he counters with a shrug of his broad shoulders, “of course there’s gonna be points.”

“Pfft,” you chortle as you walk toward the discarded volleyball. “What happened to this is just a drill?”

Thirty minutes later your hands are aching and you move sluggishly as your feet squeak over the polished flooring of the court. Kiyoomi, on the other hand, looks perfectly at ease, his eyes hungrily stalking the track of the ball as it flies to his side of the court. When you miss the next lightning quick toss that he sends your way, you drop your head and lift your hands, palms flattened and facing toward him, signaling your defeat as a heaving exhale leaves your straining lungs. “I think that’s it for me. I’m about to collapse onto the floor, like seriously. This is not a joke.” 

Kiyoomi huffs out a bemused laugh and ducks under the netting, pausing beside your half crouched figure. He peers down at you through the lazy waves of his hair. You look staggered from the constant shuffling and overhand tosses, but you smile up at him and he can’t help but return it.

“I may be down for the count, but it looks like you wanna keep going,” you say coyly, eyes shining under the brilliance of the lights. [ You’re so pretty ] He [ wants to kiss you again ] sucks in a shallow breath and mutely nods at your assessment. [ Don’t go. ] 

“Well,” you begin, lips falling into a thoughtful pout, arms twisting behind your back, “In that case, I’ve got some things that I need to finish up, anyway.”

[ No. Don’t go. Not yet. ]

“I left my laptop at the cafe, so I’ll head that way. Maybe I can see you–”

“Use mine.” The words leave him with a sigh, his voice hushed, but you hear him and your head whips up.

“What–I’m sorry, what?”

“Use my laptop. It’s here, in my locker.” [ Should he have said, please? He’ll say it, if that will get you to stay a little longer. ]  

“You don’t...that’s not necessary–– ”

“I know. I want to,” he closes the distance between the two of you, his hand ghosting up the line of your arm. “Stay. If you want to.” 

You contemplate his request, tapping a finger against your bottom lip, the flicker of a grin catching at the corners of your mouth. Finally, you nod.

[ Good. ] 

He can feel his pulse against his eardrums and he feels jittery now but through that excited haze he tells you he’s going to change into his gym clothes and grab it, that there’s an outlet under the scorer’s table that sits at the edge of the court, and that he’ll be right back. He’s not sure why he feels the need to elaborate, that’s not like him, but he’s doing a lot of things that don’t feel like him these days.

He likes you; he thinks as he steps toward the double doors that will take him into the locker room. 

He likes you so much.  

When he returns, he’s wearing a dark pair of shorts and a bright yellow shirt emblazoned with the words Itachiyama VBC across his left pectoral. The laptop is propped under his muscled arm and he walks slowly toward you, dark eyes watching you thoughtfully. But you’re not meeting his gaze. No, your regard falls to the curve of his calves and the sharp jut of his ankles before you track back up to his thighs and linger over the ripple and pull of the corded brawn that peeks from under the line of his shorts, and it takes him clearing his throat to lure your eyes back up to his burning face.  

You’ve seen him in his MSBY uniform, and you’ve seen him in various outfits over the last month, but the way you’re watching him right now makes his skin prickle and the air around the two of you feels charged, like the smallest push could create some kind of reaction. 

He pauses beside the table and waits for you to sit before he leans down, one leg shaking restlessly under him as he clacks his passcode across the black keys. He’s lifting his right hand to click ‘enter,’ when you cup your hand under his jaw. 

Kiyoomi quavers under your touch, a low shiver slipping up his spine as he twists to face you, his heavy brows arched and onyx eyes wide. He’s perfectly level with you and so close he can faintly smell your lavender shampoo. It’s a nice scent, lulling and woodsy and he wants to shift closer, but before he can act on his instinct you’re already leaning upwards and using your fingertips to dip his head forward, your lips pressing a chaste kiss against his topmost mole, breath warm against his heated skin. 

“Thank you,” you purr, delicately resting the tip of your nose against his curled hair. 

It feels like his body is sputtering to a halt, his arms heavy, his head desperately following your touch as you shift back, a half groaned sigh tight against his split lips. His fingers are twitching against the cool surface of the table and he knows he must look like an absolute idiot when he lifts his eyes back to yours, but he doesn’t care. 

He’s glad you’re going to stay.

“Question for you,” you ask from your perch on the scorer’s table, your fingers flying over the computer keys as you clatter out another email. “How the hell do your hands do that?” 

Kiyoomi smirks at your curious amusement and flips his wrists deftly upwards, easing onto his haunches, flicking his fingers out and rolling his newly stretched wrists as he finishes his final cool down routine. “It’s called joint hyper-mobility. Most lose it when they get older, I’ve been lucky.”

The two of you have been at the training facility for hours. You’d dutifully finished up some last-minute work enquiries and partially outlined the basics for your upcoming grant proposal, while Kiyoomi worked on his spin rotation and spikes.  

You’d watched him intermittently, teeth plucking at the swell of your lower lip each time he lept into the air for a jump serve, or dropped low to the ground as he dug another ball up from his hit to the nearby wall, so you’d noticed when he’d finished his first water bottle. He’d set the plastic down, the tap ringing hollowly over the quiet gym, and rose from your folding chair, making your way over, already asking him where a water station was. 

When you’d returned, passing the newly filled bottle back to him, your fingers stroked up his arm and swirled faint patterns against his clammy skin as he steadied the plastic in his grasp. And later, when you’d refilled his second water bottle, you’d pushed some of his raven waves back, lifting onto the balls of your feet to tuck the dampened strands behind the shell of his ear.

He was a sweaty mess, but that didn’t bother you.

Usually he didn’t like for others to touch him when he was like this. Something about the sheen and prickle of the salty perspiration bothered him, [ disgusted him ] so he actively shunned his teammates when they sought high fives during a game, but this was different.

The instant your fingers alighted against his skin he’d felt a jolting lurch of electricity, but instead of pulling from it, he’d leaned into it, draping his broad palm over your tracing digits, or resting his warm cheek against your open hand, eyes half lidded as they watched for your reaction.

He liked this. 

“Hey, Kiyoomi? Uh, hello, Earth to Kiyoomi! You listening?”

The sound of your voice jerks him from his musings, and he glances at you. “Hmm?”

“I said, how do you feel about a low-key dinner?”

“I’d prefer it,” Kiyoomi replies, easing from his haunches to his feet, rolling his long arms over his head as he stands.

“Yeah, but I mean...low-key, low-key.”

He fixes you with a flat stare, his face falling into that well practiced blankness, obsidian eyes dimmed. “What does that mean?”

“Well, I’ve got some things that I’ve been meaning to cook and, uh, I guess what I’m trying to say is...did you want to maybe have dinner at my apartment? I know you’re picky about how your food is prepared, so if you wanna go out instead, that’s fine too. I won’t be offended. I just wanted to– ”

“I’d like that, but...can you cook?” he rumbles, a teasing smile coiling against his lips. 

“Oh, I see. No, you got me. Totally can’t. I just wanted to know if you’d suffer through burnt rice, and then lie and tell me you’d liked it, or some shit,” you threaten, sticking your tongue out and scrunching your face at his blatant leer. 

“Don’t worry, I’d definitely tell you.”

“Pfft. You’re the worst, you know that? Now go shower. If we wait too long, we’ll hit rush hour at the station and I bet that’s pretty high on your list of things to avoid at all costs.”

Your apartment is small.

Well, compared to his. But his place is an empty shell, brittle, almost sterile in its vacant emptiness. He’s not there often, so why fill it with more than the bare essentials? It’s got what he needs, and he’s never been bothered by the Spartan coldness of the tiles and dark wood, that is, until he steps into your space. 

There’s so much color. 

The living room is blanketed in a mix of cheery yellows, warm reds, and deep purples. It’s not displeasing, but it makes him pause within the confines of the genkan, onyx eyes wide under his raised brows. It’s a difference. Now there’s an unexpected worry that’s pricking at the front of his mind.

“You coming?” you ask, poking your head around the cut of the wall that divides your living room from your kitchen, peering curiously at his tense expression.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, easing his trainers off of his feet. This place reminds him that there’s still so much about you he doesn’t know. 

So, to alleviate himself from his lingering trepidations, he peers curiously around the apartment.   

Most of your furniture is Western. And while there is a traditional chabudai beside your kitchen and a familiar kotatsu that rests beneath the glass doors of your balcony, the rest of the room is decorated with cushioned couches, stiff-backed chairs, neatly organized shelving units, a large tv and stand, and several side tables that hold a mixture of lamps, artfully stacked books, picture frames and candles. 

He’s still gazing over the plethora of things when you appear beside his elbow. “I’m going to shower. Make yourself at home. The remote for the tv should be on the kotatsu. You alright with soba stir fry and okonomiyaki for dinner? It’s easy, well, quick...”

“That’s fine,” Kiyoomi breathes, voice muted as his eyes rake over one of your bookshelves. “You could have taken one at the gym, you know...a shower.”

“Oh-ho, sure! Like a shower at your gym doesn’t come with the awful possibility that one of your teammates or, god forbid, coaches could have walked in. Yeah, no thanks,” you chuckle, shaking your head as you pad over to the small hallway that separates your kitchen and living space from the rest of your apartment. “I won’t be long. Please do not rob me, kay’?”

Kiyoomi blatantly scoffs at your remark but doesn’t look up until he hears the click of your bathroom door. Instantly, his feet carry him toward your collection of books and miscellany, one long finger tracing up paper spines. He will not miss this opportunity. 

He’s curious, ravenously so.

There are small bowls that are filled with a mismatch of silver and gold jewelry, peeling bound novels with English titles printed down their spines, and asymmetric jars that carry the weight of seashells that gleam translucent and bright against the dimming sunlight.

Beaming smiles radiate from your collection of pictures. Some are snapshots of you and others who look enough like you he assumes they must be your family, while other images are older, with people dressed in vintage clothing, the photos sheened in dull greys and time blown sepia rather than vibrant, modern colors. 

Then there are the books. The room is littered with them. Most are organized within the confines of the shelves, but a few are stacked on the kotatsu and he flips open one cover, eyes scanning the orderly lines of Japanese that dart down the pages.   

There’s just so much here, so many little pieces of you that are scattered about, and he wants to see...no, he wants to ask you about all of it. 

Dazed, he leaves the open space of the living room and steps toward the kitchen. It’s less cluttered in here, and he can smell the faint tang of bleach and lemon as he moves onto the dark tiles. Clearly, the fastidious habits you’ve displayed at the cafe are ingrained into your daily routines. 

Cleanliness and routine. You’ll always have that in common.

His roving observations falter at your fridge. It’s covered in a scattered array of playful magnets, pinning down lists and newer Polaroids and he steps closer, index finger extended once more as he glides the digit down the faded ink and shine of the photos. Resting atop one of the larger check-lists is a crisp slip of cardstock. It’s clearly been given pride of place and Kiyoomi curves himself downward, somber brows wrinkling as he reads the print.

The departments of Anthropology, History, Languages, and Education invite you to attend:

The Deans Meeting

10th Annual Conference & New Faculty Welcome Event

Thursday, April 23rd

6:30 - 9:30 p.m.

Graduate School of Human Sciences, Osaka University

(Number Attending: ____ *limit of one guest per invitee)

Kiyoomi straightens, raking a hand up through his loose curls. The 23rd? That’s a month...no...almost five weeks away. He slips his cellphone out of his jacket, thumb tapping over to his calendar. It’s a Friday...but good, there’s no game that day–however there is a team meeting. If he asks now, he should be able to be excused from the meeting and maybe the mid-day practice as well. You haven’t mentioned this event to him, he muses, fingers rapidly tapping the date into his reminders, but it looks important and he wants to go with you, if you’ll let him. 

He hears the telltale shudder of your shower’s cut-off valve and he turns, ready to walk back to the neutral safety of your living room when he spies a haphazardly cracked doorway that clearly leads into your bedroom. His feet are carrying him around the low base of the chabudai, and before he can justify his impulsive [ curious, hungry ] reasoning he’s already leaning in, unabashedly looking over the space. 

The room is dark; the dusky light of the sunset is muffled by the curtains that drape over the large window, but Kiyoomi marvels, obsidian eyes whisking over the small space, greedily taking in the neat folds of your downy comforter, the soft pillows that nestle under the headboard, and the fan that sits atop the tatami mats. It smells like you in here; the chilled air holds the gentle scent of rich florals and spice and he wants to step closer, but then his hand is catching against the doorframe and he jerks back, hurriedly gulping down a sharp breath as his black hair slumps over his hooded eyes. 

It’s...it’s not...he shouldn’t have looked. It’s not polite, but damn, he almost doesn’t care.

What would it be like to step past that threshold? To walk into something that’s so saturated with you? He feels like his skin is too close, too heavy, and he wants nothing more than to stretch out on the cool sheets of your bed to ease that simmer that’s thrumming under his heated flesh.

Wait. A bed. You have a bed. 

Shit. 

Kiyoomi’s always been content with his futon, satisfied with the simplicity of it. He’s always considered beds to be a waste of space, unnecessary, after all, he’s just sleeping on it. Why did it matter? 

Unanswered questions whir around his half cocked head. What if you don’t like futons? If you think they’re uncomfortable, or inconvenient? Besides, now he’s picturing laying with you on a bed, [ this bed ] not a futon. Kiyoomi wants to see you stretched out beside him, comfortable and happy, with that tantalizing smile and those playful eyes watching him, waiting for him. What side do you prefer? Right? Left? And then? What happens when you’ve picked your spot and settled in? 

Would you want him to shift closer? Could he run his palms past your arms and down the sloping curves of your hips? Would you do the same for him? What would your nails feel like as they scratched faint lines along his sides, over the muscles of his abdomen, or down his back? You’d be so close. So close that every sigh that passed between your lips would be shared with him and he’d inhale every sound, his lips rough against yours. And if you arched into him, your hands urging him to straddle himself over your intoxicating softness, your thighs spreading as he lowers his hips––  

The bathroom door clicks and the fevered daydream fades, his feet cumbersome and tangled as he lumbers back to the living room, his heart pounding in his ears. He doesn’t like this breathlessness, doesn’t like that his hands are trembling as he stuffs them into his pockets. Any second now you’ll be in front of him and he wants to hold you, to let the pull of your hands and the sleek drag of your lips satiate the feel [ throb ] of his unexpected [ visceral ] arousal.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to take that long, I just–– ” 

The distance between the two of you is closed within a heartbeat, and his outstretched fingertips glide down the smooth line of your neck. You suck in a sharp breath, your body rigid under his hold, [ damn it, too fast ] and he drops his hands, easing you into the suddenness of his movement with lazy kisses against your warm cheek and neck, grinning when you lean into him at last. 

[ Yes. Perfect. ]  

You want him to kiss you properly, and you do your best to chase his lips, your arms folding around his bowed neck as you tap a few impatient kisses against his lowered forehead. But he ignores your temptations, not ready to move away from the intoxicating fragrance of your freshly cleaned skin. That soothing smell of peppermint and fresh lavender is near ambrosial, and he greedily digs his nose against you as his muscular arms drape over your sides, and his broad hands pause against the small of your back.

His sharp exhales against your shower dampened neck make you shiver but he maneuvers you closer, rubbing his lower lip against the dip of your shoulder before lifting to catch his teeth on your pulse. He knows just what you like now; he thinks smugly, tracing the flat of his tongue over a line of gooseflesh that bursts over your slicked skin. 

In the last month he’s gained a steady mastery of your preferences when it came to his kisses. You preferred to start things slowly, to have him cup your face and stoke you up steadily, but once he eases down the intricate line of your neck, well, all that softness and coy sweetness would bleed into something else entirely.

You liked it rougher then; liked for these caresses to be charged with lightning fast pushes and pulls, your fingers alternating between the sides of his jaw or the coiled thickness of his hair as you swayed him closer, and that shift never failed to set his heart racing and often sent his tightly reigned control spiraling. But that’s not what he wants, not right now, so he’s careful to keep you at bay, distracting your breathless twists with a fresh set of nips and unhurried pecks against your throat.

He wants to lose himself in you; to blank out all the other worries. The differences don’t matter, not when he can hold you like this.

“Hey, Kiyoomi,” you gasp and only then does he stop his incessant assault, arms tensing as they clutch you to the broad slope of his chest, his dark waves falling heavily against your kiss glistened shoulder.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, his voice reverberating against your wet skin.

“What...what’s gotten into you?” you falter, distracted by the hum of his low tone and the soothing pass of his hands as they curve along your spine.

“Dunno, just felt like kissing you,” he lies impassively, lifting his head from you, obsidian eyes shielded by his mussed curls, the tops of his cheeks aglow.

You exhale a tight laugh at his serious, but utterly flushed expression. “Okay–so why did you stop?”

“Liked it that much, huh? I’m hungry,” he clarifies, a smirk curling his erubescent lips and you laugh, melting that jaunty grin into his usual straightlaced frown. “Tch,” he tries again, sliding his dark eyes away from your open bemusement, a pink blush staining the bridge of his nose. “It’s not that I...hmph, come on, don’t act like you’re not hungry, too...”

You were an excellent cook. Not that he’d fully meant his droll quip at the gym; after all, why offer to do something if you’re not good at it? But he’s glad he agreed to a home cooked meal. 

Besides, there is something soothing about the whole thing.It was nice, watching you deftly maneuver around your tiny kitchen, turning on burners, setting timers, and arranging the ingredients in simple bowls and plates; it reminded him of the coffee shop. And he’s always liked watching you work. Your movements were always smooth [ elegant ]. You kept your hands close and your elbows in, so confident in the motions of your ingrained routines and the tidiness of your space, that you could easily carry on a conversation with him, your eyes careful to meet his over the top of the espresso machine.

But this is better than watching you in the coffee shop. There’s no divider now. There’s just you and him. It’s comforting and he wants to experience it again and again.  

You let him set the plates out, chop the vegetables, prep the soba, and asked him to pick out some beer from your fridge, saying you trusted his choice and chuckling good-naturedly when he padded back to your side, four cans sticking icily to his palms as he asked a few [ five or six ] clarifying questions about the brews.He enjoys your cheerful teasing; he thinks as the two of you sit at the low chabudai; it makes him feel like he fits in, like he can be part of this side of you. You tuck your legs to one side as you sit, your shoulder gently bumping against his as you ease into a comfortable position on the tatami mats and Kiyoomi leans closer, indulging himself in the press long after you’ve picked up your chopsticks–a shared meal of of cabbage and onion okonomiyaki and salmon stir fry resting between the two of you. 

It’s a simple thing, all of this touch, but Kiyoomi can’t get enough of it. Every time your arm brushes against his, or you ask him to pass you something from his side of the table, he wants to prolong the contact, to keep his fingers beside yours, or feel the warmth of your thigh and the jut of your hip as he shifts nearer.

He didn’t think he enjoyed being touched. 

He always did his utmost to avoid it, shunning the clapped backs and constant high fives that always seemed to be prepackaged and expected in the contact heavy sport of volleyball. Not because he didn’t like his teammates [ sure, sometimes– eh, most of the time ] they were too much, but he genuinely liked playing with them. But he didn’t enjoy the balmy heat of skin on skin contact, or the worry of shared germs. Touching meant weakness. It allowed things to spread from person to person; it created variables, and more variables always meant things could slip out of his control. No, Kiyoomi valued the predictable, the known, the cleanliness and routine, and touch threw most of that out of the equation. 

He doesn’t like touch. 

Yet he’s craving yours.  

It’s another thing that isn’t like him, he contemplates, passing his empty bowl to you, already missing that pleasing closeness you’d shared with him as you walk back into your kitchen and that stark absence makes him stand. It’s an urge, a compulsion, and it’s not something he wants to question so he listens to his instincts, feet planted firmly beneath him as he follows you, his hands lifted, reaching for you. When he tugs you against his chest, his dark head dropping beside yours, jet curls fanning beside your cheek and along your neck, he feels the ache within him settle and he lets himself wallow in the familiarity of crisp peppermint that sits against your skin. [ There. He can worry about the rest later, right now this is all he wants. ] 

“I should go,” he whispers, the tip of his nose cool against you. He locks his forearms around your waist and sighs when you rest your temple against his. 

He [ doesn’t want to ] should go. 

“Yeah,” you echo, cupping your fingers over his crossed arms and stroking them over his goose-fleshed skin. “I work in the morning. So I need to be up early.”

His steady breaths match yours and he pulls you closer, humming contentedly as the curve of your back falls into the hollow of his chest. “I’ll go,” Kiyoomi stalls, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the slope of your neck. He really should. There are only a few more trains tonight, but he can’t let go.

So he lingers, his heavy body leaning against yours, full lips dragging along your pulse as his arms loop tightly around you. You twist your head and he lets you return his caresses, groaning against the sweet pressure of your lips. You’re gentle with him, your kisses filled with restrained desire, and the gossamer touch makes him reach for more. When you pull away, your eyes shining in the gleam of your kitchen lights, he brings you back, his broad palms turning you to him as his chapped fingers tilt your chin, his arms cupping you so close he can feel the thud of your heart against his.

He [ doesn’t want to ] should go.

notes: @kugutsuu​ made me these lovely lines. aren’t they pretty! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧     

[just-a-leech-boy]

Some Reviews of Hugh Dancy In "Confessions of A Shopaholic" That Made Me Laugh

"Rebecca ends up at some low-end financial magazine, where she makes googly eyes at her editor, Luke, in one of the most chemisty-free pairings ever put on screen.

Luke is forgettably portrayed by Hugh Dancy, while the movie is carried (juggled, perhaps, is the better word) by Isla Fisher."

"boyish British editor"

"She is joined in her ridiculousness by the dim but cute Luke (Hugh Dancy)"

"Once Dancy shows up, a kind of screwball comedy emerges from all the confetti, taffeta, and nonsense. Fisher wraps her zaniness around him like a python, but when she squeezes he doesn't break. His mild suaveness gets sharper. They're good together, reversing a dismal trend in recent romantic comedy where the woman plays the straight man. Fisher performs some bad, pricelessly suggestive salsa moves with a hand fan that you won't see on "Dancing With the Stars" any time soon. Dancy does his best to keep himself composed. If only he were playing an interesting person. He's the one actor who doesn't seem to be enjoying himself as much as everybody else"

"Hugh Dancy is generically likable as the generic love interest."

"Dancy's not bad in the role; it's just that his character feels designed by a committee of lonely women creating their perfect man ("Oooh! And make him British! British accents are sexy!")."

"Dancy, as her inexplicably bedazzled editor, is a reasonable placeholder in the leading-man spot; given the right material, he could be Hugh Grant, if not quite Cary Grant"

"editor-in-chief, Luke Brandon (Hugh Dancy). (Quick: Which is the fruitier leading-man name, Luke Brandon or Hugh Dancy?)"

[sylvie-writes]

handing out candy with Andy Barber would include:

a/n: it’s a short hc sorry! also it’s not proofread, I typed this on mobile so there’s more of a chance for more errors :(

it’s halloween morning and you still haven’t gotten candy for the kids who come to your neighborhood.

every year it brings a smile to your face to see the kids getting excited to see Andy.

He volunteers at many of the career days at the nearby schools.

It really surprised both you and him when the kids got excited to hear the stories from court.

Apparently Andy Barber can make anything interesting and that’s something you can agree on.

you love seeing the costumes especially when the people bring pets hehe.

so the minute you woke up, both you and Andy went to grab candy for the kids who would come later that day.

the neighborhood was big so you invested in two large bags.

anyway, you and Andy spent the rest of the morning and into the early evening busying yourselves with work and whatnot.

around 5pm, Andy ordered your favorite cuisine for dinner and the two of you started to dive in around 5:30, knowing very well the kids would be here soon.

*ding dong* - 6:05 pm

You and Andy came to the door with smiling faces to be met with a little boy, no older than 5, dressed in a little tux suit and holding a pumpkin shaped bucket.

“Trick or treat!”

Andy reached behind you to grab a the bowl of candy, holding it forward to the little kid.

“So what might you be dressed as buddy?”

He laughed happily and smiled at Andy.

“I’m a lawyer just like you Mr. Barber!”

Andy grinned at the boy and handed him another piece of candy.

Your heart melted at the sight. Andy had such a natural presence around kids.

The little boy waved goodbye and walked back to his family, leaving you and Andy to finish up the takeout.

“Seems like I have an influence on the kiddos!”

“Yeah, and the moms too.”

You somewhat grimaced thinking about the mom who was making googly eyes at Andy.

“Oooh is someone jealous?”

Andy leaned over and pressed a sloppy kiss to your hair.

“Har har har. I’m not jealous.”

“Well that’s good to hear because green does not look good on you, honey.”

The man resumed eating and before you could return a quip, the doorbell rang again.

This time you answered the door, taking the bowl of candy from Andy.

In front of you stood three little kids, two girls and one boy.

“Happy Halloween Miss!”

“Happy Halloween, and what might you three be dressed as?”

Their costume was evident but you asked anyway because it made them happy.

The two little girls were dressed as scoops of ice cream and their older brother dressed as an ice cream cone. Clearly something their parents had put them in.

You smiled at the adorable trio and handed them a few bars of chocolate.

As your heart melted at the sight of Andy with kids, his heart did the same at seeing you with the little ones.

Now to spice things up a bit, you texted Pam while Andy was unsuspecting of your behavior, causally cleaning up the dishware.

You pretended to watch the Halloween movie that was on, but in reality you were texting Pam giving her the greenlight on your plan.

Halloween is all about the pranks, well for you anyway.

You got up from your seat going to walk over to Andy who was wiping down the sink.

Teasingly, you wrapped your arms around his waist leaning into his sweater clad shoulder.

Slowly, you both swayed back and forth, you not speaking a word a to Andy.

He could tell you were up to something but not sure what exactly.

“Ok Missy. What are you up to? You’re being awfully quiet.”

He turned around, hand on his hip, gently taking your chin in his hand.

Looking up with your best puppy eyes, you put on a fake pout.

“Now why would you say such a thing! I just want to spend some time with my lovely, handsome-“

Cutting you off, the man removed his hand from your chin and snaked his own arms around your waist, the two of you in a hug.

“Spill the beans, (y/n).”

With a huff you left his embrace, turning to dig in the bag on the counter.

You turned back around displaying the pumpkin top headband. (Couldn’t add a link)

“Oh Andy please wear it!”

His face was dead serious and looked as if he wasn’t going budge.

“Fine. I’m only doing this because I love you. Although I’m not sure what you are up to.”

You happily clapped your hands and placed the pumpkin headband on his floofy top of hair.

“Nothing! Nothing at all. Just wanted to make the kids smile y’a know?”

With a fake smile he plastered on his face, he answered the door.

Little did Andy know that you had planned this with Pam. She took her daughter trick or treating in your neighborhood just so you could do this.

You loved to embarrass Andy since he was such a stick in the mud. He needed to liven up a bit.

“Trick or Treat Mr. Barber!”

As the frozen man stood jaw dropped towards the girl, you slid a hand over his shoulder.

“Or should we say, trick?”

He turned to you, a faux scowl on his face.

Andy was such a good sport that’s why you did these things.

Both you and Pam had your phones out, getting pictures for later. Especially ones to show the office.

“D.A. Barber gets festive.” - that’s it. that’s the post.

anyway, you, Pam, her daughter, and Andy shared a few laughs (and candy bars) before they bid goodbye to visit other houses.

Once inside, Andy jokingly ran up behind you, trapping you to his chest and peppering kisses to the side of your face.

“You little minx, you’re gonna pay for this!”

You giggled some more leaning into his chest. Bringing your hands to his, which were draped around your stomach, you playful squeezed them.

“Oh really?”

“Oh really, sweets.”

With that Andy spun you around and backed you to the couch, the two of you full of laughter.

I’m soft now 🥺

sorry for this being late, I got the idea last minute lol.

also I know it’s aggravating that there isn’t a read more button but I’m on mobile :(

[allkinds-oftrash]

Ya girl is watching the latest HSM series ep and Imma live blog it hshshs and will add my reactions under the cut so it doesn't end up a long post. Anyways, let's goo:

AHHHH THE MORNING SHOW WITH GINA AND EJ WE LOVE TO SEE IT

They really said we're gonna let life imitate art with Nini and Olivia huh

Ricky was SUPPORTIVE??? Damnn I really thought we gonna get a classic Ricky tantrum....

But also wow sir that sounds salty and should definitely talk to someone abt how you're feeling...A therapist maybe 👀

I know we needed to contextualise how Ricky felt abt the song but I really wanted to see Nini's interview in full!!

Sebby you're so cute I do wanna see yall do DEH

Shjshshs not the rights not being available for another 5 years 😭😭

I dunno how they're in great shape and closer to the Menkies Gold after not having a single proper rehearsal, but go off Miss Jenn

Omg honestly Kourt's costumes are always amazing and on point Imma excited to see it

Kourt is such a simp we love to see it

Carlos is so pissy this episode we love to see it shshhs

Also love the way Seb calms him down and keeps him nice it's such a funny dynamic

"We had 20 people make our Belle dress over 50 hours" Okay North High shut the fuck up

I'm calling it now the reason North High knows so much is cos Howie is the leak and Kourt has been unwittingly telling him. The way her phone keeps going off as they discuss how North High knows everything is really good foreshadowing if my prediction is right

Also like her phone went off just as Carlos said "How did they know that?" THAT'S PEAK FORESHADOWING

If Howie ain't in North High, I dunno what Tim is doing

GSJAGSHAH KOURTNEY MAKING ABS FOR EJ I CANNOT

"I have abs" We know sweetie

"I PADDED THE THUSH FOR YOU" "AWW THANKS KOURT I NEEDED THAT" THIS INTERACTION IS EVERYTHING THAT WAS SO FUNNY!! I love that it is now canon that EJ has abs but no butt love that for him

Okay but like damn these costumes are great!! North High can fuck right off with its high end ones I just wanna see lowkey homemade costumes by students; I'd watch a Broadway show if I wanted to see professional costumes okay

Damn Carlos has killer eyesight clocking in that mask in the trunk

GINA BBY DON'T SAY THAT AND HAHSGSH NINI NUDGING HER WAS SO FUNNY

Nini's little look over at Gina was like "Omg you guys my girlfriend is so cute and dumb" GINI STANS HOW WE FEELING?

Miss Jenn don't be that naive, your boyfriend probably put them up to it

That Insta page is prophetic with their timing tbh; all the info is a leak obviously looking at your Howie but like the timing of it all. Those kiddos don't know that they are discussing the stolen mask at this exact moment (Kourt has put down her phone after Carlos snapped at her so Howie doesn't know they are talking abt it rn)

"We don't dance with the enemy" *cuts to her dancing with Zackey later*

SEBBY WEARING THE TEACUP COSTUME OMG HE'S GOING MAKE SUCH A CUTE CHIP (yes I am still mad Seb/Joe was robbed but Imma fangirl over the costume anyway)

Wtf why does North High look so expensive - they are literally in the same district as East High right??? How did they get this much funding

North High is a very artsy and rich for a public school; they should have had Nini go here instead of YAC tbh (like this campus feels like what YAC should have been) NOW THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN AN INTERESTING STORYLINE

Seblos' dynamic IS ON POINT THIS EP I really love my bois so much and their back and forth is hilarious

Shhshs DIANE who loves volleyball and North High okay I totally believe it

WHY ARE RED AND ASHLYN SO KINKY EVERY DAMN EPISODE TIM THESE ARE UNDERAGED CHARACTERS STOP IT

Shshsh we love Gina knowing herself and practicing self control by volunteering to be the lookout

Omg yall listen to Carlos and stfu they are so lucky no one saw or heard them yelling Wildcats

Oh no no no no no Miss Jenn you gonna get sucked in; this is gonna be so messy

Omg I saw someone post about this scene before I watched the ep YALL ARE RIGHT THAT BOI HITTING ON GINA IS SO FINE Babes go for that one, not EJ

NOT THEM FAKE DATING UGH E W TIM STOP MAKING ROMANTIC PORTWELL A T H I N G I honestly do not understand how some of yall can ship it romantically knowing Sofia is a whole underaged babey and Matty is a whole ass grown man - like I get the appeal of the Wonderstudies getting together and they do have chemistry but the irl age gap is creepy and outweighs the appeal of shipping them romantically

As I always say; Portwell/Wonderstudies should be a BROTP not an OTP

Ugh Brotp Portwell would have clocked Lily right away; romantic Portwell making googly eyes at each other isn't helping anyone

Living for Nini getting the recognition she deserves - I really like her solo arc this season she's so much more interesting without Ricky tbh

Aww Kourt you simp I love her and I'm so happy she's happy I wanna be wrong about Howie being a North High kid

Where is the mask??

OHMYGOD THESE KIDS COMING IN LIKE A HORROR MOVIE

Lily really wishes she was Jesse St. James huh; you could never Lily so stop

Andrew Barth Feldman and his cute little French accent I love him so much

Hnng Miss Jenn gonna get manipulated by this hoe. Omg wowow Zackey really is a hoe, making out with another girl before the show THE AUDACITY OF HIM SAYING MISS JENN WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH I WILL THROW HANDS WITH THIS MOFO

Wait the kids didn't steal it BUT WHAT IF ZACKEY DID

Ssjsgfajhdfg I CANNOT WITH ANDREW'S ACCENT but I can't tell if its really bad or really good but I'm also confused why didn't they just cast a French person as Antonie shshhs Antoine is adorableee and a little shit the best type of character

Lily is so annoying b y e sis bye and Olivia Keegan is talented I just wish they didn't make her character such a cartoony villain type

"How about if we bop to the top" SEBBY I LOVE YOU AND NEVER STOP BEING SO CUTE I SWEAR and Awww Carlos called him Honey I am s o f t

Hnng why do these fools are really gonna give into North High calling them chickens

OHHH NO SHE DIDN'T JUST SAY THAT ABOUT ASHLYN FUCK A DANCE OFF I AM ABOUT TO THROW HANDS WITH A 16 YEAR OLD

"She told us not to dance with the enemy. She's better than this" No Sebby, she's not *cuts to her dancing with Zackey* AND OMG THE WAY I SAW THIS EDIT COMING BEFORE IT CAME

Ooooh I like this song wayyy more whatever the mess The Mob Song became (when I first heard it drop on Spotify yesterday) Around You is such a great song musically and lyrically very relevant to these two and gosh I love their voices together

They have so much chemistry damn, go home Mike (well he technically has oop) and Mr. Mazzara

YES YOU DO MISS JENN YOU ALWAYS HAD IT

Oh god this is the scene from the trailer; she's gonna make a move on Ricky isn't she?? Leave him alone Lily he doesn't need a 3rd girl to be confused about he needs a therapist

Lily shut the fuck up with quasi; STOP TRYING TO MAKE QUASI HAPPEN

"I love Nini's song" Sure, Jan.

...Okay yes you should have called him out but don't bait him LIKE THAT oop there's the scene from the trailer

Ohmygod is Andrew Barth Feldman gonna hit on Ashlyn

Okay this is so cute but also I am VERY annoyed with the way this show handles its characters like they aren't relevant or important unless they get into a relationship or a love triangle?? That's such a shitty way to give out screentime and arcs to characters. Is it not enough to develop the characters on their own and strengthen their friendship???

HUH TIM why you so obsessed with compulsory heterosexuality??(well also homosexuality for Seblos but they are the only ones I'm not annoyed with their relationship cos its a hella big step for Disney to have a gay couple and their relationship isn't in our faces or overshadows the plot and its just spinkles of cuteness every time they interact - they are honestly who Rini wishes they were; besties in love. They are a couple that Tim should be taking notes from; leave the relationship drama in the background, focus on the theatre and friendship aspect of everything)

My mini rant aside; this is a very adorable interaction between Ashlyn and Antoine.

"TOM HOLLAND ON STILTS" GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE WITH THAT COMPARISON I AM SCREAMING ANTOINE THAT'S SO FUNNY

This is so funny he keeps picking out the hottest guys of the group; as if he himself isn't the French version of Big Red they look super alike ngl shshsh

WHY YOU RUIN IT WITH THAT ANTOINE I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU

Drama between Antoine and Red is already spicing up shshsh I cannot

Why are you so dramatic with the shuffle Lily gtfo of here...also this doesn't make sense?? She wasn't even on a BATB playlist; what if a non BATB song came on ahahah

Good to know they aren't big fans of The Mob Song like I am Awww EJ you cutie, okay I will appreciate the OG Mob Song just for you

OH WAIT HE PROLLY LIKES IT COS ITS A GASTON LED SONG TIM GIMME THE EJ SOLO I DESERVE IN THIS NUMBER

I'm being robbed of Gaston for the last 7 eps I at least deserve an EJ solo for compensation

The way the set looks straight out of Broadway but also like omg the blue lighting and fancy stage gave me intense flashbacks to that Glee episode where Vocal Adrenaline sang Bohemian Rhapsody

RICKY STOP BEING SALTY AND ACTUALLY COMMUNICATE WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND LIKE A NORMAL PERSON

OMG THE SUBTITLES SAID ITS HOWIE SINGING AS THE BEAST I FUCKING CALLED IT

Howie you hoe you gonna break my girl Kourtney's heart

Yeah...still not a fan of Antoine's Dance Remix

Yall know Gina would kill the dance number if she wasn't wearing that fit

Okay but it's Gaston led song WHY DOES EVERYONE BUT EJ HAVE A SOLO IN THIS SONG??

First the Beasts led it (Howie sounded better than Ricky ngl), then the Lumieres (their voices worked hella well together; I always forget what a talented singer Frankie is THEY NEED TO GIVE HIM A SOLO SONG) and now the Belles are going at it (Ashlyn's voice is superior)

BIG RED BEING JEALOUS AND SALTY IS SO FUNNY ITS LIKE A PUPPY BEING ANGRY I CRI

...Did anyone really win, Lily??? STFU

CARLOS IS RIGHT AND HE SHOULD SAY IT

Oooh I did see someone talk about this when the Rose Song dropped last week, apparently its illegal to add songs to a musical you're doing for a school play; I really thought the show would brush past that irl rule but I guess they are playing into it

THE WAY EVERYONE TURNED TO EJ FOR THE SPORTS METAPHOR I AM D Y I N G AND HIS FACE WAS GOLDEN! ITS LIKE THAT LISA SIMPSON MEME SHHSHSH

Okay Nini is being a little pissy about leaving her song out of the show and its a little selfish to wanna keep it at the risk of being disqualified but I also understand why she's hurt

Everyone is dog piling on her right now being against her idea and it feels like they are being against her song and her herself instead of them not wanting to be disqualified. Also like she poured her heart and soul into the song after Miss Jenn lowkey rushed her to write it. So I can see why this feels like a rejection of her and her song and why she's so hurt rather than her seeing the big picture right now

It doesn't help that Ricky said the final blow causing her to walk off

Okay maybe Zackey gets some rights for being chill and wanting the kids to be peers

THIS MOTHERFUCKER I KNEW HE WAS SHADY Also the way I gasped even though I predicted he stole the mask halfway through this ep shshsh

Stab him Miss Jenn STAB HIM

Bitch why you so threatened by East High if yall have such a Broadway-esque show planned??? They honestly should have stuck to the Little Mermaid; I really wanted to see the aquarium

"It's just a song Ricky" "A song can mean everything" Do you get deja vu? Anyone else getting intense flashbacks to Jan when DL first dropped and all the drama happened 👀

YES PLEASE STAY CO ANCHORS Gosh I love them so much esp once you take the romantic connotations out of their interactions

ROUGE GRAND I'M SCREAMING

I love this long take of checking in with everyone's relationship status (still hate how romantically focused this show has become but still a cool shot)

I K N E W IT I WAS RIGHT

Okay but like looking at Kourtney's face I have never wanted to be wrong so bad GOD I HATE IT HERE I really think he likes her and I hope they work it out

Nini setting up her own music acc feels like when Olivia rebranded her whole IG to be just for her music stuff - love this for both of them

AHHHHH SHE'S NINA NOW YALL

I know everyone loves her as Nini but like I have always loved the name Nina and it really suits her to be honest also shows how she's growing up now and kind of leans into the lyric "I won't be confined to your point of view" from The Rose Song because Nini is the nickname Ricky gave her so it shows that she's outgrowing him too and I love that for her!

Overall thoughts; they really crammed all the North High drama into one ep huh. Personally would have liked it if all of this was spread out throughout the last few episodes; like different hijinks for every episode. I'm just a big fan of properly setting up the overall arc over the season instead of patching it together closer to the climax/end of the show. Cos now it lowkey feels like two different seasons - 2A felt like The Rini/Rina Show esp with YAC storyline and whatever was going on with Rina and now 2B is finally feeling like what this season should have been all this time

[permian-tropos]

Oooh I want to know more about Cave Ides Septembris?

I wrote a long essay for this, no excerpt but a LOT of context bc I am known as a Star Wars blog and this is not a Star Wars fic but I’m so excited about my new hyperfixation. 

This is my first fic for the Pathologic fandom >W< and it’s total crack since it’s about leaning on the ludonarrative of the extremely punishing and somewhat janky 2005 original game, which can loosely be called a survival horror immersive sim. The fic references elements of resource management, the clunky fighting, the reputation system, and how very easy it is to get fuckin obliterated by those horrible knife wielding bandits who deal 90% of your health as their opening attack oh my god. And the homoeroticism of meeting your fellow playable character.

For people who don’t know the context of Pathologic (watch Hbomberguy’s video I swear it has like 2 million views because it’s THAT entertaining even to people who’ve never heard of the game), it’s a story that starts with three doctors arriving in a remote Russian steppe town right before a plague breaks out. One of them is a renowned thanatologist, a man studying death in order to universally defeat it (and make humanity immortal I guess), who was summoned there because he was told that the man ruling this town is in fact an immortal being. However when he gets there, he finds out that this immortal man... is dead. The family insists it’s murder. So he’s on the trail of the killer for the first day, while the town is in a bit of a hysteria. 

The other doctor is originally a local, returning home after receiving a dying letter from his father, who was a well-respected wise man in the indigenous Kin culture. He gets there after his father has passed... and is promptly accused of murdering his father AND the town’s immortal leader, and attacked by a mob. His first day is being chased around by NPCs until he does enough good deeds to be redeemed in the eyes of the town... or kills everyone chasing him and steals their organs. 

The third doctor is not in the fic but she’s a bizarre little teenage girl who wakes up in a grave and has magical powers to kill and heal. 

Also the story breaks the fourth wall and leans on the idea that none of this is real, it’s all a video game, very often, so a fic about the literal nature of the ludonarrative seemed like a lot of fun. 

The fic will not really introduce all of the relevant canon so it might not be accessible to people who don’t know the game, but after that infodump, the gist is I wanted to write a short story about a version of the game where you as the Bachelor, the acclaimed thanatologist, are able to encounter the mob of people hounding the Haruspex... and make mushy googly eyes at him because when you’re playing as the Haruspex on your first day and you meet the Bachelor he basically pompously asserts that you are soulmates. 

I’M SORRY FOR THE VERY LONG EXPLANATION I JUST HAD TO INFODUMP. 

The title refers to the fact that it was a haruspex who delivered the warning about the ides of March to Julius Caesar, and the Bachelor spouting Latin all the time makes me think that he’d know that little detail of classics. 

[maraudererasmut]

Black and White (Part XXXI)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XV | Part XVI | Part XVII | Part XVIII | Part XIX | Part XX | Part XXI | Part XXII | Part XXIII | Part XXIV | Part XXV | Part XXVI | Part XXVII | Part XXVIII | Part XXIX | Part XXX | Part XXXI | Part XXXII | Part XXXIII

"Tell me everything!"

Remus smiled up at Lily, who was sitting across the table, almost vibrating with excitement. Long, delicate fingers were wrapped around a coffee mug and an expectant grin was plastered to her face. The artist rolled his eyes at her and leaned back in his seat. He was planning to take his time with this; he quite enjoyed making Lily antsy with anticipation.

"Well…" he began languidly, giving an indifferent shrug. "James practically shoved us into the office to get us to talk…"

"Yeah, I know that part!" Lily responded with a pout. "Details, Remus! Let me live vicariously through you!"

Remus chuckled at his friend and took a sip of tea.

"Well," he continued after a pregnant pause. "We talked. And then we kissed…"

"I knew it!" Lily shouted with a grin, leaning forward in her seat and jabbing an accusatory finger towards Remus. "I knew something happened in there! You two were making googly eyes at each other all night!"

"I do not make googly eyes, Lily," Remus protested, pretending to be affronted. "I'm a professional."

"Please. There's no point denying it, you're absolutely smitten!"

Remus simply shrugged in response, but he couldn't keep himself from blushing. She was right, after all— Remus was enamoured.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he lied with a smug grin.

"Whatever. The story's not over. Tell me more!"

"Fine!" Remus gave an exaggerated sigh, as if he wasn't loving every single moment of this interrogation. "Well, you guys left the gallery… and… uh…" Remus' mind drifted momentarily to the previous evening, when Sirius had him pressed against the wall. The artist felt his stomach twist in excitement and shook the thought from his mind before his face betrayed him.

"Oooh, yes!" Lily let out a giggle, wiggling her shoulders happily. "James said he interrupted you two having a moment. Was it as bad as he made it sound?"

"Depends on what he told you…"

"He said you two were all over each other!"

Remus felt his cheeks grow hot and ran a hand through his curls.

"I mean… we weren't having sex or anything…" He said sheepishly, earning himself a high-pitched squeal from his friend.

"So you were all over each other? Did he really lift you up against the wall?"

"Anyway," Remus decided that this was an excellent time to continue his story and stop dwelling on details. "After James came into the gallery— "

"Remus!"

" — we decided that talking was probably a good idea."

"Ugh, you're such a spoil sport!"

Remus gave Lily's foot a little kick beneath the table before continuing.

"Anyway. We talked about stuff… about how he was kind of a dick before…"

"Good. He needed to hear that."

"And about… ground rules that needed to be in place if we… wanted this to be a thing…"

"Oh my god! So are you two officially dating now?!"

"Uh… yeah, we are. We're… a couple, I guess?" Remus buried his face in his hands. "It's so weird to say aloud!"

"Oh my god, I'm so happy for you guys! This is amazing! God, Sirius has had a huge crush on you for so long!"

"Wait, what?" Remus blinked at Lily and furrowed his brow. "He has?"

Lily's eyes widened slightly as she realized her mistake.

"Oh… he… didn't tell you? Crap, I shouldn't have said anything…"

"How long?"

"Just ignore me! Pretend I didn't say anything!"

"How long, Lily?!"

"Since the beginning! Like… first time he laid eyes on you, I could see it. He was head over heels!"

"Why didn't you say anything!"

"I do not meddle, Remus!"

"Liar! You're such a meddler!"

Lily let out a giggle, as Remus nudged her with his foot.

"Anyway, what happened next, Remus?! The story's not over!"

The artist shrugged, trying to recall the rest of the evening.

"No, that's about it… he drove me home. We chatted a bit in the car… he called me his boyfriend, which was nice…" Remus couldn't keep the stupid grin off his face as he talked about Sirius. "And… uh… we kissed a bit… and then I left. He was a perfect gentleman. He said something about wanting to go on a date first before anything else…"

"Oh my god, Remus! I can't believe you didn't shag him senseless. You have far more self control than I do!"

"I mean, I dropped hints… I just… I guess he wanted to wait. I don't want to pressure him into anything."

"Oh, trust me. He wants this as badly as you do…"

"Okay, shut up. That's my boyfriend you're talking about."

Lily let out another squeal, garnering looks from other patrons of the cafe. She didn't seem to care, she was so lost in the thrill of Remus' love life.

"Why do you want to hear so much about this, huh?" Remus teased.

"Remus, I've been married for three years, and exclusive with James for six. So forgive me if I'm excited over blossoming romance! I haven't gotten to feel that in so long!"

"But… you and James are happy… right?"

"Of course! That doesn't mean I don't miss it. Yeah, I love James. And yes, I plan to spend the rest of my life with just him, but that's what love turns into: something safe and comfortable. There's something to be said about new love… that thrill of kissing someone for the first time, of experiencing that excitement." She leaned back in her chair and brushed a strand of auburn from her eyes. "Like I said, I'm living vicariously through you."

Remus grinned at his friend.

"Happy to help," he joked, sticking out his tongue. "So long as you don't plan to join us. No offense, but girls just aren't my thing."

It was Lily's turn to kick Remus under the table, and the two of them burst into fits of laughter. Remus savoured the levity of the situation, vaguely recalling how stressed he had been twenty four hours earlier. Was it really possible that so much had changed in such a short amount of time?

“What’s up, Remus?”

The artist cocked his head to the side and looked at his friend.

“What do you mean?”

“You looked lost for a second. Everything okay?”

“Yeah… I was just…thinking to myself.” Remus took a sip of his tea, enjoying the rush of warmth coursing through him. “Things seemed so different this time yesterday…”

“Yeah…” Lily agreed, glancing down at her coffee mug. “I know what you mean.”

“I just… I hope things stay this way, you know? I hope it doesn’t change back just as quickly…”

“I don’t think it will…” Lily said, matter-of-factly. “I don’t know if things will always feel exactly this way, they usually don’t… but finding that happy medium... that balance in between… that’s what love is all about.”

Remus narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips.

“I never said I loved him, Lily.”

“You know what I mean! I mean it’s not all… perfect or horrible. It’s not about being either ecstatic or miserable. There’s… Well, it’s all about those times in between. It’s about being comfortable and about working together through trials and complicated situations.”

Remus shrugged. Lily had a point, he just wasn’t sure if it applied to him.

“I suppose…”

“Look, just…” Lily let out a sigh… “You and Sirius are both so hot-headed. I love you guys I just… I think you should work on not being so… one way or the other. Find that place in the middle and stand your ground there. That’s where you’ll find the most happiness.”

“Place in the middle…” Remus repeated absently, wondering what Lily meant by that. “Got it.”

“Good. Now… let’s get ready to go. We need to see if anything of ours actually sold last night! You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be…” Remus smiled and rose from his seat, gathering his coat and scarf and bundling up. This would be his first time heading to his boyfriend’s art gallery.

[soysaucecas]

oooh for the ask game 24, 30, and 44!

MAGPIE MY BELOVED HELLO

24. What are your favorite episodes?

The only episodes I've really watched are TMWWBK (which is my favorite episode and I'm certain would still be my favorite if I watched every single one because it has the only SPN character and the only SPN line), The French Mistake (which was funny enough but honestly in the Just Okay category for me, which makes me pretty sure I wouldn't enjoy actually watching SPN if this is one of the funniest/highest-rated eps), and Reading Is Fundamental (my best friend was watching it and asked me if I wanted to hop on Discord, I thought it might be fun to see Kevin's first introduction but instead this ep found the two of us taking like 90 minutes to get through it bc we kept pausing and screaming (derogatory) as the model minority stereotype jokes piled up and up and up... Unfortunately not a favorite even if we got Meg AND the "pull my finger" joke AND the "Sorry" shot). Other than TMWWBK, from clipping and transcript-reading, I like Wayward Sisters (who doesn't?), The Things We Left Behind (Claire!!!! Cas trying to be a dad! The diner scene aka my favorite destiel scene of all time bc being in love just looks so good on Cas! Also the parallels between Claire and Randy and teen Dean and the adults at that club in his story... woof.), Golden Time (Eileen gets to be HERE and be sad and loved and fight people with ghost powers and Cas gets to do a cool speech and a stabbing and do the Asian community a favor), and Lucifer Rising (just immensely sexy on all counts for Ruby, Sam, Cas, and myself). Also I am SO fond of Steve!Cas so I'll add Heaven Can't Wait even if I barely know anything about it.

30. What is an unpopular opinion or headcanon you have about the show?

Ooh okay hm I think. So I adore confession scene, but I don't think the "I cared about the whole world because of you" is like. The Objective Truth the way that most bloggers seem to take it. Cas was lobotomized tons of times before he met Dean, he was described as coming off the line with a crack in his chassis, he's always been the weird little angel who likes humanity too much! I don't think Dean came first, and although gay love was part of what helped Cas invent free will, he *Ruby voice* didn't need the feather to fly, Dumbo! I do think Cas believes what he says in the moment, but I also think he sorta... made himself believe it? This is probably just me deciding that cas-coding should go both ways, but like. I very much crush as a coping mechanism and I very much overascribe my actions to love because it simply seems more noble/poetic to do so. Being miserable because school is hard is cringefail but being miserable because of unrequited love is Good Shit. And I have been in unrequited love with my best friend for at least 7 years (probably 9 but I didn't realize it earlier) and if you asked I would 100% say that she taught me love and defined love for me and that she will be my first and last, but I also know that that is not entirely true; it's just the narrative that I like for myself. And I think that being in an Empty deal contingent on whether or not he LETS himself feel happy would lead Cas to do plenty of mental maneuvering, which I think involved intentional self-poor-little-meow-meow-ification via overascribing his choices and happiness to Dean (and I also think he'd already been doing that for a while just because of personal self-worth issues and because it's a nice narrative). I know as Cas's last Moment on the show it was probably written to be The Objective Truth, but I am perceiving him and I say no.

44. If you could write an episode of Supernatural, what would happen?

Oh scream okay! This is a fun one! I am going to start out with two ideas from other people:

1. Months ago Nate from the pocnatural discord had the idea of an episode from the "monster"'s perspective where the Winchesters are just clearly the antagonists while not doing anything different than they usually do. I think the idea was that all these supernatural beings live in a self-regulating community together and we have one Very Likable pov character who's a member of this community, but one of the newer members messes up one day and kills someone and the Winchesters come on a case and wreak havoc on this Very Much Functioning (there was going to be a whole rehab and reparations thing for the new member who messed up!) system and kill pov character and in the end you just HATE Sam and Dean for it.

2. It's hard to adapt anything from bad moon rising (aka my favorite spn fic) very well because the point of an Arab Winchesters season 1 rewrite is that it doesn't really work with the white characters we have now, but I think I could see a version of chapter 2 adapted as long as Haley (an Ojibwe hunter who lives in the area affected by what Sam and Dean are hunting) takes the lead. I'd especially like to see this section:

Dean laughs, a little disbelievingly. The question has never crossed his mind. “Do you like it?”

This gives Haley no pause at all. “Yeah,” she says. “I mean, it’s not really about killing monsters, though, for me. Or, it’s not always about killing monsters. It’s about community. Not violence. It’s a spiritual thing to build a home, you know?”

“Oh,” Dean says. He can’t think of anything else to say. It has never crossed his mind before that hunting could be compatible with a community.

I don't have any original episode ideas to add to the hunting discourse, so we're on to my ideas about character-driven eps. I think I would like to see a version of my sastiel possession fic (ty again for beta-ing that! you're a real one) as an ep around the time of 9.11 because Sam deserves to work through their trauma, but idk what the Dean plot should be for that. Another thing I would like very much is TFW drunk history storytime (so like. Tall Tales bass boosted), where for some reason they all need to go over what they were doing during Stanford era but each of them is telling someone else's story. It's gonna be either Sam->Dean->Cas->Sam or Dean->Sam->Cas->Dean. It starts out very funny (they all have terrible wigs and makeup in the flashbacks. Cas is Jimmy wearing a giant mask with googly eyes on it.) but as it goes on it gets increasingly sad how much these three don't really know each other.

In the Sam->Dean->Cas->Sam episode, Sam's telling of Dean's past veers wildly between "crushing pussy and killing things" and "feels like absolute shit all the time" and it's funny but Not Right and afterwards Dean goes "I didn't know you thought of me that way" and Sam says "... I am basically reading off the voicemails you left me back then" and Dean has to sit there and contend with the mythology he himself wrote for Sam to believe in. Dean->Cas provides the comedic beats for the episode as Dean awkwardly narrates Cas's Life As A Weird Little Guy who watches trees grow and heals babies and in the end Dean goes "so how did I do" and Cas is like "well actually I was either getting lobotomized or murdering people so like 3/10?" The moral of this plot line is that Dean is bi. Cas gives a fairly faithful retelling of Sam living her trans little life at Stanford and veering between trying to be Normal and being a total weirdgirl and feeling guilty and angry and happy and free. It becomes clear that Cas admires Sam a lot (but also feels like. guilt and some self-recrimination for not being that) for rebelling from their dad and exploring their queerness during a time Cas was still to his knowledge in total soldier mode, and Sam is having an a_good_soldier's Thesis 5 moment about how she failed the kid she used to be and how very sorry they are about all the things that happened to them, and Dean hates that this is the first he's hearing about so much of this but is also quite emo about the parts where Sam is struggling. The ep ends with them all in the same room not looking at each other and not knowing if they want to group hug or never talk again.

Dean->Sam->Cas episode is similar but the storytelling dissolves a lot faster as it becomes clearer way faster how much their own emotions are getting in the way. Dean is upset that Sam could leave their family so easily and probably swing a normal life, Sam keeps wondering what it would be like to live millennia just KNOWING that you were right and good and clean, and Cas is gay and veering between fitting Dean's life into a larger Righteous Man narrative and just being very tender (and sad and angry) about Dean's pain. Episode ends in a rather cathartic shouting match where they all end up apologizing to each other for many things.

Oh also I would like to see Cassie again but I don't have an episode in mind there. Also would love to see Kaia adjusting to life in Sioux Falls and befriending the others and dealing with Bad Place trauma.

tysm for the questions sorry for taking so long!

(ask game)

[ms-rampage]

Eden's Gate: Left Behind Chapter 9 - Man's Best Friend

Warnings: Swearing, few insults towards women, a few Supernatural moments, Demons.

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: Kate and Morgan investigate the bodies of dead and animals. Kate debates on breaking up with John. Haley the German Shepard to the rescue.

Bonus: Kate makes a few hints that exist (only;to me at least) outside the FC5 universe. 

*************************************************

NIGHTMARE

Getting dragged towards the water by some peggies.

Unable to fight back or resist.

John holding a white book staring down Kate as she gets dragged closer to him. 

“John please!!” she pleds. “Please, I love you, don’t do this”.

He grabs her arms aggressively.

“John please, don’t do this” she cries, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“You will be cleansed. Let the water purify your ugly soul.  Either way God, and myself will leave you behind” he says, and his eyes go black. Like a demon, before she could protest.

He pushes her head under the water. Drowning her.

She tries to fight back but he overpowers her.

He pulls her back up, and all the peggies behind him. 

Their eyes are completely blackened like demons.

“I never loved you. I just used you. You Winchesters mean nothing. All you do is cause trouble. You’re the reason for freeing Lucifer! You should’ve said “Yes” to Lilith instead of killing her, now look at you, trying to play hero?. You are not a hero. You’re just a weak human!”.

Demon John says before pushing her head back underneath the water.

Her screams muffled by the water. Filling her lungs.

Drowning her. Suffocating her. Killing her instantly. 

John pulls her back up, and the demon leaves his body.

Leaving John with a dead Kate in his arms.

“Kate?!” he cries out. He slaps her cheeks to wake her up.

“Kate!!!” he yells, shaking her, tears forming in his eyes.

He bridal carries her out of the water, and performs CPR on her.

He pushes down on her chest, blows into her mouth, again pushes on her chest.

He repeats this a few more times, and realization hits him.

He drowned his girlfriend. The one he loves dearly is dead because of him.

He cries violently into the crook of her neck, holding her closely to him.

END OF NIGHTMARE

Kate wakes that morning to the sound of Morgan singing “Heat of the Moment” by Asia while making breakfast.

She gets out of bed, goes to the bathroom. Looking into the mirror.

“I look like fucking shit” she says to herself.

She looks down at her hands, and sees she still has some blood on her hands. 

She tries to wash off as much as she could, and she did.

Leaving the bathroom, and the smell of bacon fills her nostrils.

Kate stops dead in her tracks, and sees Morgan dancing to the song.

“What are you doing?!?” Kate asks, laughing. 

“Rise and shine Katie!!!” she says, over the music. 

Kate laughs at this sight. This is something that Paige would do.

Morgan and Paige had always got along, they were practically the same person.

So it was kinda like living with Paige, a blonde, shorter version of her with the same temperament as her. 

Kate sits down at the table as Morgan cooks scramble eggs while singing along to the song.

She laughs at her best friend’s stupidity. Morgan puts a plate on bacon, scramble eggs and toast in front of her.

“Is this the Costello special?” she asks, laughing. 

“Sorta. Not enough bacon, lack of hash browns, and waffles” she says, laughing. 

After breakfast they get dressed and leave for the bridge. Taking Haley along with them.

They park the car next to the O’Hara Haunted house, and walk towards the bridge.

“So where were the bodies dumped?” Kate asks.

“Underneath the bridge near the water” Morgan answers. 

“So is there a pathway we can take to get underneath the bridge?!” she asks.

‘Yeah we just need to cross the road, and go underneath it. Towards the water, careful it gets steep as you go down” she says

“Isn’t that a fishing spot?!” she asks, trying not to fall forward.

“Yep, I’m surprised the bodies weren’t called in” she says.

“Well I’m sure everyone in Hope County is used to seeing the dead carcusses of humans and animals” Kate chuckles. 

“Huh, yeah for sure” she chuckles. 

They get to the edge of the water, and find the dead, rotten, decaying bodies of 3 cows.

“Oh god” Kate gags, covering her mouth and nose.

“Yeah this screams demon” Morgan says, covering her nose.

“So now what?!” Kate asks.

“Well, we can kick the bodies into the water, but they look like they’re one with the ground now” Morgan says.

“Yeah, or we can-” Kate gets interrupted by Morgan’s phone vibrating. 

She sighs loudly. 

“What is it?!” Kate asks, concerned. 

She shows her the message on her phone, “Another body was found. But this time, it’s the body of some lady, and it’s in the Whitetail mountains”.

Kate sighs, “Another case?”.

“Yep, lets go!!’ she says. 

They get into the car, and drive off to the Whitetail Mountains.

Kate driving, Morgan in the passenger, and Haley in the backseat with her head out the window.

“So where was this other body found?” Kate asks, keeping her eyes on the road.

Morgan sighs, “Underneath that bridge next to the Silver Lake Parking lot”

“Clagett Bay?” Kate asks.

“Yep” she answers. 

“Alright. What is up with these demons dumping bodies underneath bridges?” Kate asks.

“I don’t know. Probably a crossroads thing” she replies. 

They drive down the road, past the Henbane River Chalets, on their left they’re about to go past the Bridge of Tears. 

“Don’t be surprised if you get a message about a body found underneath the Bridge of Tears” Kate says, sarcastically. 

Morgan scoffs, “Yeah, no shit”. 

They drive further down the road, past Eden’s Gate Outreach Center.

“That place is a fucking joke” Morgan says.

“What is? The outreach center?” Kate asks.

“Yep, pure fucking shit. A massive shithole” she says. 

“What is it anyway?” she asks.

“They “help” you, and you become “reborn”, and all that religious bullshit” she says, flipping off the place as they drive by.

Kate laughs.

They drive onto the bridge leading them into John’s region, near Dutch’s region.

“The Power of YES. Take the leap!!’ Morgan mocks the sign as they drive past it.,

“Take the leap Kate!!. Take the leap!!! Say YES!!!. 

Kate laughs at her obnoxious impression of her boyfriend John Seed. 

“No thank you. I don’t want to take the leap” she laughs. 

As they drive down the road past Rae-Rae’s farm, a billboard sign catches Morgan’s attention.

“John loves you Kate. He’ll take you!!!” she mocks the sign.

“He’s already taken me already” she says, not realizing what she had said.

“Oooh so John has taken you” she says, teasing her friend.

Kate looks at her, and does a double take.

“Oh no, no, no. Not like that” she tries to explain. 

“You know I’m messing with ya” she says, hitting her on the shoulder. 

“Yeah I know” she says. They cross the Silver Lake bridge leading them into the Whitetail Mountains.

“Welcome to the Whitetails” Kate says. “Wait, isn't the Wolf Den not far from where the bridge where the body was dumped?”.

Morgan gives her the googly eyes, “Oohh does someone want to go visit their other boyfriend?!?!” she teases.

Kate scoffs.

“So when you break up with John for being a founding member of the cult. Are ya gon’ date Wheaty?!” she asks. 

 “I don’t know, probably. I don’t know how to tell John that I wanna cut things off with him” she tells her.

“Don’t worry you’ll figure out a way, I’ll help ya. But first we need to solve this case” Morgan tells her. 

They get to the bridge, park the car on the side of the road. Approaching the bridge they each check both sides of it.

“Oh shit. Morgan!!”Kate calls out.

She approaches her, and they see the body of a woman.

Haley barks at them, digging at something near the water.

They check to see what she was barking at, and they find an amulet necklace buried underneath the dirt. 

“What is that?!” Morgan asks.

“It’s a protection amulet. A cousin of mine had one. It’s an Egyptian safety symbol” Kate says. 

“Come on let's get a better look”

They both go down to the water, and examine the body.

A woman who looks around the ages of 25-30 years old, brown hair, green eyes.

Has stab wounds on her abdomen, chest and left shoulder. 

“Looks like she was murder” Morgan says.

As they’re examining the body, a man approaches them from behind.

They don’t see him but Haley senses him, and starts to growl in a defensive manner.

“What is girl?!” Kate asks, not turning back. Morgan looks back and sees the man approaching them. 

“Hey, hey” she whispers to Kate, gently hitting her shoulder. She turns around, and sees the man in a well tailored black suit, and looks completely out of place. 

Haley’s growl turns into a defensive, threatening bark as he gets closer to them.

“I see you’ve found my latest artwork” he says in a friendly tone. 

Then his eyes turn completely black.

“Demon” Kate mutters to her, and pulls their guns out. 

Aim at the demon.

He chuckles at them, “Now, now ladies, I’m sure we can all be civil, and make a deal”

“Yeah, not a chance” Morgan says. 

“What the fuck do you want?!?” Kate asks aggressively. 

“I want you Kate” he says, taking a few steps closer to them

“What is up with every guy wanting you?!?” Morgan asks, turning to Kate.

“Sorry, I don't date demons” she says sarcastically. 

He chuckles, “Yes, yes. I know. I also happen to know you’re with that Seed fella. Good looking, tattoos, bad temper, lawyer”. He sighs.

“You have a very interesting taste in men, young Winchester” he adds. “Does your mommy know you’re in love with a psychopath?!”  he asks in a childish voice. 

“Fuck you” Kate says, and shoots him in the chest. 

The shot only annoys him, and does very little to no damage on him.

“Okay, how about we start from the beginning. My name is Saleos, and I’m a demon”

Kate shoots him again, and this time it does damage to him. Making him go down.

“Come on let’s go!!!” Kate yells, they run to the car, and speed off home.

“Shit!!. Fucking shit!!!” Morgan yells, looking back.

“Once we get home, we’re warding off the house. Who knows how many demons there are in Hope County” Kate says. 

Once they get home, they put up demon warding sigils, hex bags and all other stuff they can think of to keep demons away, and keep them off of demon radar. 

After what felt like several hours, and it's almost close to dinner time.

“Dude, I’m fucking hungry, and I’m too lazy to cook” Morgan says, 

“You wanna order out?” Kate asks.

“Yeah sure, what does the Spread Eagle have?” she asks.

“Chicken wings, cajun fries. You want some Rocky mountain oysters?” Kate says, laughing. 

“Not in the mood for bull testicles in my mouth” she jokes

 “Burgers, I haven’t really been there so I really don’t know the menu, or know if they deliver”

“Cheese burger, cajun fries and chicken wings” Morgan says, she hands Kate her debit card, “I’ll buy dinner”. 

Kate phone orders their food, and for some reason goes to pick up the food instead of having it delivered. Even worse she’s walking to go pick it up because she’s “tired of driving”.

She arrives at Spread Eagle Bar, and leaves Haley outside. 

She grabs a hex bag to keep her ass off of demon radar, taking Haley with her as back up because she helped out with the demon from a few hours earlier. 

“Stay” she tells her in a command voice.

She walks in, and approaches the counter with Mary May behind it. 

"Hey Mary, I'm here to pick up my order" she tells her. 

In the corner of her eye Kate sees an older man who is probably a truck driver sitting at the end of the bar, eyeballing her, which makes her a bit uncomfortable. 

She turns around, and fixes her order together. While she’s doing that Kate looks around the bar, it isn't too busy just the usuals, music playing some old country rock music. 

She looks away, looking at the flyers on the wall next to her. 

"Hey girl" he calls her in a slurred voice. 

"Hey look at me when I'm talking to you". 

Before she could even turn her head to face him. He yells at her again in a slurred voice. 

"Who the fuck do you think you are?!?!" he yells, almost throwing his glass at her. 

She looks around in a "I hope you're not talking to me" kind of way. "Can you let me turn around first you jackass!!" she yells at him, trying to make herself sound threatening. 

"Hey Darryl, leave her alone before I kick you out" Mary tells him but ignores her. 

He gets up from his seat stumbling, almost tripping over his own feet. "Fuck you, you stupid whore" he yells at Kate.

She looks at him with a death stare and yells. "Excuse me? Who the fuck do you think you are??!" 

"Darryl sit down, and leave her alone!!!" Mary yells at him. 

Mary hands her take out order "Here you go hon. I'm so sorry about him".

Ignoring her once again, slowly approaches Kate with a violent rage in his eyes. A few of the locals in the bar try holding him back but he pushes them away causing glasses to fall and break. 

She quickly leaves the bar. She’s had enough trouble for today especially with that damn demon, and she doesn’t feel like having anymore with some drunk asshole. 

“Come on Hale” she tells her, motioning her to walk forward. 

The drunk asshole grabs her by her hair ripping out some of it while yelling out. "You stupid whore, you little-" Haley cuts him off by lunging at him. Locking her jaw on his arm. Trying to take him down. His arm bleeding out.

Before she could punch him in the face, knocking his lights out. 

He screams, and kicks her off of him. Kate is in full on John Wick mode for that asshole hitting her dog.

John let's go of him, throws him to the ground "You better stay the fuck away from her" he says to him, almost in a whisper.

John comes out of nowhere. Grabs him by his shirt, pushing him against a wall. "What the fuck do you think you're doing Darryl?!?. Huh? You're gonna beat up a woman?!?". Too drunk to even say anything clever he mutters, "Fuck you Seed" 

He turns to her, his blue eyes piercing into her soul. "Are you okay?" he asks, placing his hand on her cheek and the other on her hip. 

She nods her head. "Yeah I'm fine, thanks" she says, voice trembling a little, he places a kiss on her lips. 

Mary May sees this, and a confused look appears on her face. "Why is John Seed coming to Kate's aid, and why is he kissing her?!?!" she thinks to herself. 

He pulls away from her lips. "I'll take you home" he tells her, putting his arm around her lower back. 

Escorting her to his car. Pulling up in front of her house. He walks her to her front door, Morgan who is inside sees this, and is beyond confused 

She’s about to open the door, he cups her face and says to her. “I’m gonna come by tonight and pick you up. We’re gonna spend time together. Okay?”

Morgan hears this, and is concerned. “Okay, that sounds good” she says, with a slight smile. 

“What was that?!?” she asks, concerned.

“Good” he says, with a smile, and he kisses her again. Kate goes inside, and is greeted by Morgan.

“To be honest, I don’t know anymore. I’ll explain it over dinner” she says. 

“Okay so what are we gonna do about that demon?!” she asks.

Kate sighs, “I don’t know but in the wise words of that same cousin I mentioned from earlier “When in doubt. Eat”. 

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #345: Jaune Arc Plays Senran Kagura (RWBY)

Team JNRPO Resident

Jaune: (Starts Playing his Video Game in the "Men-Cave")

*Open The Door*

Nora: (Happily Greets Jaune as she walks inside) Hi, Jaune! Whatcha playing?

Jaune: Oh. Hey, Nora. I was playing this pretty cool Hack and Slash game called Senran Kagura. A ninja game.

Nora: Oooh, cool. Can I- (Eyes Suddenly Started to Widened as she saw a girl's clothes starts ripping off from her on screen)

Jaune: (Starts Sweating Bullets) Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....I can explain-

Nora: Jaune. What is that?

Jaune: (Sweating even more Bullets) Uhhhhhhh...S-S-Senran Kagura.....

Nora: Jaune Arc, what the FUCK is THIS?!!!

Jaune: (Screaming in Panicky like tone) NORA, I TOLD YOU THIS IS SENRAN KAGURA!!!

Nora: WHAT RATING IS THIS?!!!

Jaune: RATED M!!!!!

Nora: RATED M?! (Immediately Starts Breathing in and out before talking to Jaune in a Stern yet calm voice) Jaune, we have a Precious Freckled Farm Boi to raise. What did I tell you about bringing a RATED-M GAME in this house?!

Jaune: ('Groans') C'mon, Nora! I know that jus calm down for a sec alright?! I-I mean, they're already of age!!

Nora: Of ages?!.....Where?

Jaune: (Sweating Even more Bullets) Uhhhhhhh...................Other Continents....

Nora: Which is......?

Jaune: I......I....(Chuckles Awkwardly) I don't know where honestly-

Nora: Okay. That tears it. (Storms out of the Room) REN!! WHERE'S MY BELT?!!!

Jaune: (Starts Getting Scared Shitless) W-Wait! WAIT!!! NORA!!!! I- (Turns back to the TV to see some Hack and Slash Gameplay)

Jaune: Nora...NORA GET IN HERE!! IT'S BACK TO THE ACTUAL GAME!!! COME ON!!! HURRY AND GET IN HERE!!

Downstairs....

Nora: Alright, Renny. You got my Valkyrie Belt?

Ren: (Sigh as he hands one of his lovers' belt) Here. Nora, are you sure you wanna go through with this?

Nora: Jaune has a Rated M game inside our house, Ren! Knowing full well we have Oscar living with us! And it's a game about all those..... Ninjas Skanks!! I mean, SERIOUSLY!!! What does those Hussies got that we don't?!! Huh?!! HUH?!!-

Ren: Nora! Calm down for a second, alright? I....somewhat understand where you're coming from in all of this. But I really don't think you should get upset over this either. It is just a video game after all, right?

Nora: ('Sigh Heavily') Yeah......I guess I'm overreacting about nothing yet again, huh?

Ren: (Shrugged with a Playfully Smirk) Pretty much. Though, I never expected you of all people to get jealous that easily.

Nora: (Pouts at Ren) Well it's not like I can help myself! You, Jauney, and Pyrrha are my everything! I love you....

Ren: (Gives Nora a kiss on the cheek) We love you too, Nora~ And I promise you that there's nothing to worry about here. (At least I hope that's the case....)

Nora: Hmmmm.........(Slowly Smiles Brightly to her old self again) I suppose I'll take your word for it, Renny......But not until I give you some kisses first!~ (Hugs and Kisses all over Ren's face)

Ren: (Ticklishly by Nora's Kisses) Nora....~

Jaune: (From Upstairs) GUYS! GUYS! SERIOUSLY! THE GAME HAS SOME HACK AND SLASH ACTION GOING ON UP HERE! COME ON!!!

Ren: ('Sigh') I'm guessing Jaune not giving up on prove you wrong, huh?

Nora: (Immediately Stop Kissing Ren and Sighed) 'Fraid not. C'mon. (Goes upstairs) Let's see what our Handsome, Fearless Leader has to show us.

Ren: (Chuckles Lightly while Following Nora) Yes, ma'am.

Upstairs.........

Jaune: (Went back to the Men-Cave while Ren and Nora Follows Pursuit) You see, you guys? I told you there's more than just- (Eyes Widened in Disbelief if what he's watching) Fanservice..... Shit.

TV shows a scene of another woman Getting most of her clothes ripped off as well.

Ren: (Eyes Widened) Jaune.....What is this?

Nora: (Shock Quickly turned to Anger and Disappointment) ..............

Jaune: G-Guys, I-I-I swear it wasn't like this before I left! I swear!

Ren: (Shook his head in Disappointment) Oh, Jaune......

Jaune: Come on, you guys! I'm telling the truth hereeee!

Nora: Mark my words, Jaune Arc. (Still Holding her Belt) This Valkyrie Belt may be a Louie....But I'mma make you scream like a LOUISE!!! C'mere!!!

Jaune: (Runs Away in Fear) I'M SORRY!!!!

Nora: (Chases Jaune with a belt) REN! GRAB HIS LEGS!!!!

Ren: (Follows Nora) Already on it.

Meanwhile.......

Pyrrha: (Smiles Softly While Carrying some Groceries with Oscar) Thank you so much for going Grocery Shopping with me, Oscar.

Oscar: (Smiles Back while Carrying a few Groceries as well) No problem. I like spending time with you guys, you know?

Pyrrha: (Feels her heart begins to Melt from Oscar's Precious Heart) We love spending time with you too, sweetheart-

*Scroll Ringing*

Oscar: Was that your scroll just now?

Pyrrha: I believe so....(Takes the Scroll out of her pocket and answers the call) Hello?.....Oh, Hello Nora. What's wrong?...... Jaune?.....Wait. Did something happened to-...... Uh-Huh.....Yes...I believe I....(Eyes Suddenly Begins to Widened) Wait. Hang on. Nora, A-Are you sure it's not......Oh......I see...... Well...Don't worry.... We'll be right there soon.... Mmhmm....I love you all too. Bye.

*Call End*

Oscar: (Finishing Putting the rest of the Groceries inside of the trunk) Something's up?

Pyrrha: ('Sigh') Somewhat. Come, Oscar. Let's go home. (Eyes Begins to Darkened) I need to have a talk with our "Fearless" Leader and your Big Brother once we get there.

Oscar: (Very Confused but got inside the car anyways) Oh. Uhh...Okay.

And so, once the duo got home, Pyrrha begins to scold Jaune for not only playing a RATED-M Video Game inside the house, but for also playing that said game that is Mostly Focus on Fanservice than on the actual game itself....... Especially when their Fearless Leader has her, Ren, and Nora to make googly eyes with instead.

Oscar is the only person in their home who has no idea what's going on anymore.

@optimisticfruitcup

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