#oh man i better keep this short actually and try and get through this quick and then by the end of it i was

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Side Quest

"Okay, we're sitting here doing nothing for twenty minutes already," Tim crumbles the burger wrapper in his hands, absentmindedly trying to shape it into a sphere just because he needs to keep his hands busy. "Care to spill why are we here?"

"We ain't doing nothing," Jason doesn't even look up at him — isn't that a surprise — instead leaning back in his seat. He doesn't take his eyes off the window. Tim hates sitting by the windows in BatBurgers, it always makes him feel like a fish inside the aquarium.

"That's exactly the point," he debates if he should throw his misshapen missile at his brother. Not like it will get any more sphere-like, anyway.

Jason rolls his eyes and spares Tim a quick glance, "No, I meant, we are not doing nothing. We're waiting."

"Waiting for what, the second coming of Jesus Christ?" Tim succumbs to his heart's deepest desires and throws the wrapper at Jason. It hits him right in the forehead, score for Tim. And yet, the man still doesn't rise the the bait; instead, the motherfucker laughs. It's quiet and breathless and short, but it's still a laugh.

"Close enough. Has anyone ever told you you're the most funny when you don't intend to be, Timberly?" Jason smirks at him, and Tim really wishes he's had something else to throw at him. But at this point, his options are only the table and chairs, seeing that he's already wasted the wrapper, and he doesn't want to cause an actual commotion. Yet.

So he leans back, mirroring Jason's position, and crosses his arms on his chest. "I'll take it as a compliment," it's a weak retort, but he doesn't have the energy to come up with anything better. The recent murder case, one involving a sorry excuse of a cult, an out-of-town drug dealer and, by some crazy twist of events, three nuns from Missouri, has been driving him nuts for the past week, sue him.

He so regrets asking Jason for help right now. It's not even the matter of his dignity — it's just that Jason is not helping, and most likely, doing it on purpose.

"Please, do," the unhelpful asshole gives him his grand permission, turning back to the window. But, a second later, his whole face lights up like Christmas came early, and he sits up, "Oh, there he is!"

In the next moment, the door to BatBurger slams open, and in steps... a guy.

Black hair, blue eyes, lanky, slim build — makes sense why Jason never mentioned him before, Bruce would have flipped his shit at the sight of an unadopted Bat-bait.

Worn denim jacket with rolled up sleeves, black t-shirt underneath, loose pants and sneakers — nothing out of the ordinary, really.

Except the guy has a fucking crowbar that he carries on his shoulder, and both the tool and his hands all the way up to his elbows are drenched in something dark red and wet. Tim would say it's blood, but then, would the guy really be showing up here covered in blood?

On the second thought, it's Gotham. He definitely would.

The guy looks around and wrinkles his nose slightly when he spots Jason. Then, he makes his way towards their table, the crowbar still on his shoulders.

"'Sup," he greets Jason, and as he stops right in front of the table, Tim sees that it's not only his hands that are stained with red. There are splatters of it on his face and neck as well.

"You've got something on your cheek," Jason gestures to his own face, trying to show where said 'something' is. The guy throws him a deadpan look and then licks it off without second thought.

His tongue is a lot longer than it should be. Tim takes a deep breath, looking between the bloody dude and Jason. He really hopes that his face is expressive enough for the latter to read the 'what the actual fuck' through his eyes alone.

"Okay, just so you're aware, an absolutely marvelous kind of high school reunion had to be put on pause because you called," the guy starts, wiping one of his hands on his jacket. "So, like, explain your fuck-up situation to me in ten words."

Jason, the absolute traitor, looks to Tim. The guy follows him, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Okay, ten words. He can totally do that.

"A sacrificial pentagram of dead nuns high on mystery cocaine," Tim says after a moment, looking the guy straight in the eyes.

He blinks. Then, he tilts his head sideways, like he's not sure if he heard Tim right. Tim just keeps staring at him — that was precisely ten words, and he is definitely not chickening out of this little-shit-superiority contest.

"O-kay," the guy finally says, slow and begrudgingly respectful, "I'm eighty seven percent certain this is about to be the highlight of my week." He gestures for Jason to move over and drops the bloody crowbar on the table before sitting just opposite to Tim.

"Spill."

[bambisnc]

      𝖮𝖮𝖯𝖲 !   % luggage mix-ups&cute strangers

            ST✮RRING───𝗡.𝓡𝗞 ୨୧ 2566 && 𝐖. crackfic wigs implied frozen 1 slander jake + jungwon mentioned lilo&stitch mentioned sunghoon & minju appearance as airport staff reader wears glasses + likes sanrio

ㅤ𝖤𝑋𝖳𝖱𝖠 ㅤ ( > ㅅ < ) ㅤ i really went ALL out for this >< my longest drabble yet! thank you to mana for emotional support during my many crashouts, and shoutout tewww juni, koi, lilly for listening to me yap about my idea and mi + ai for semi proofreading ! i love ygs big time MWAH

                  check out my other account ! 𝖢𝘓𝗂𝖢𝖪     ᰈ̠ 𝖭𝘈𝖵𝗂

after getting off of a terribly long and otherwise unpleasant flight, all you really want is to grab your luggage, find a cab back home and face-plant into your comfy, cosy bed. and then stay there for a minimum of 15 hours.

it was the only thing keeping you going, really.

but of course, the universe has other plans for you. 

you should’ve caught on to that, from how suspicious it was that as soon as you reached baggage claim … by some stroke of luck, you spotted your suitcase immediately. 

oh, joy! for once, you wouldn’t have to stand like an idiot for an odd 25 minutes, watching various pieces of luggage roll out on the conveyor belt, moving so slowly that it was almost mocking. 

with a quick internal cheer, you’d rushed to grab the handle of the bag. 

… only for another hand to also be picking the same suitcase up?

oh! you get it. the stranger who you’ve now appraised with a quick glance (really tall, sharp features and nice hair) is just helping you out!

maybe there is good in the world, after all!

you flash him a quick smile, ready to thank him for being so nice, but really, you can handle the suitcase on your own,—before a scowl takes over his pretty features. 

okay. rude. 

hot people should not be allowed to look that annoyed and still be attractive. 

“i’d really appreciate it if you’d stop trying to steal my luggage,” he tells you, the words forced out through grit teeth. 

you find yourself sympathizing with him for a minute, the slight bags under his eyes quite telling of a rough flight.

but no. you’ve had a difficult flight too.

you’ve had to listen to a toddler whine about why frozen 2 is better than the first one for the greater part of 3 hours (who honestly did have some good points, if you really think about it). 

you’ve had to deal with some stupid 13 year old who kept reclining his seat farther and farther back (and after you politely told her to stop, she stuck her tongue out at you. the audacity.) 

and the worst of all. 

the guy seated next to you kept trying to get you to invest in his potential cult / pyramid marketing scheme for yak fur wigs. 

you kept telling him you were broke but you’re quite sure he didn’t even listen to one word you said. especially because when your flight landed he handed you a business card, which was just as sketchy as his description of his business that was about to “take the world by a storm.”

so, no. fuck being nice. you simply do not have the energy for that right now. 

“right,” you say, in a voice equally as strained, “that’s funny, because this happens to be mine. maybe try actually, oh, i don’t know, looking at it before you accuse me of “stealing” my own luggage.”

at that, the man’s scowl deepens. he tugs the suitcase towards him once, the movement sharp, and you almost fall right into his chest. but you manage to stop yourself right in time. 

all those tiktok balancing exercises—which you did only out of peer pressure from creators who insisted that if you scrolled away without dropping a follow and stretching your limbs as they were doing in the video, it would be nothing short of catastrophic—must be finally coming into use. 

“my vision is completely fine. 20/20, in fact.” he says smugly, with obvious disdain towards your own glasses. 

how dare he hold your bad eyesight against you like that. 

this means war. 

“clearly it’s not,” you slide the suitcase back towards your own figure. “because this is mine. good luck finding your own though! may i suggest paying ‘Lost & Found’ a quick visit?”

mr. stranger scoffs at that. loudly. “you can’t really think MY suitcase is yours.”

“well, yes, unless this is actually opposite world wherein your suitcase ALSO has a huge dent at the bottom from where it hit the edge of MY dressing table 5 days ago.”

“you have got to be kidding me.” he sighs, looking tired. the AUDACITY. “i know that dent. that dent is there because jungwon dropped the bag out of my balcony last month, and it slammed right into jake’s remote controlled drone.”

“a drone. really.”

“it’s … a long story.”

“i’m sure it is. i fully believe that happened.” you earnestly say, nodding along with your own words, “jake and jungwon are totally real people and you definitely put a lot of thought into that lie.”

“they are real people, dammit. and i’m not lying.” 

you blink up, the picture of innocence. “but y’sound awfully defensive for someone who’s so sure he’s right …”

that does it. his jaw tightens. “okay listen here, you—” mr.stranger’s face has flushed an angry cherry shade by now, and you have to bite back laughter at the image. 

but thankfully, right before the situation can elevate to a physical comic book-esque fight over the suitcase in question, a third party finally interrupts. 

what looks to be a rather, harassed looking airport assistance staff member appears in front of you with a bright, if slightly worried exclamation, “sir! madam!’ 

her voice is breathless, slightly shaky with effort, “we’ve been getting constant complaints from the elderly lady over there–she, um, says you’ve been blocking the conveyor belt.” 

you glance behind. and sure enough, a crowd of mildly entertained but mostly frustrated passengers stares back. 

“i believe the two of you have something to work out regarding that suitcase?” the assistant prods gently, “i could direct you towards the airport authorities, if you’d like?”

“there’s no dispute here!” you pipe up, confidently. “i’ll just be on my way with my suitcase, thank you though!” 

you turn around ready to leave, hoping mr.stranger (you should maybe consider asking for his name, at some point) has forgotten about thinking your suitcase was his. 

you almost walk away. almost. but right then, his hand grips onto your wrist, effectively stopping you. 

“just a minute, doll.” his tone is lowered in what you assume is annoyance in a way that, embarrassingly, sends a shiver down your spine, “there’s just one small problem. that suitcase is still very much mine.”

“fuck off, you very well know this isn’t yours?!”

the assistant raises her hands placatingly, “alright, alright—let’s all calm down here. i really suggest going to the .. baggage authorities.” her tone clearly emphasizes that it wasn’t a “suggestion” at all.

you and mr.stranger, suddenly feeling slightly conscious, exchange a glance and unanimously decide to comply. 

soon enough, you’re taken into the office by her and presented to a uniformed man behind the counter. 

he takes one look at you and mr. stranger, gaze squinted in silent scrutiny. the practiced customer smile that he directs towards you soon after is only slightly forced.

“another 320LMAO, is it minju?,” he asks the assistant, tone dry and oozing of boredom. “not one day goes by without one of these. i’m getting too old for this shit.”

“you’re 22, sunghoon.”

“i meant metaphorically. obviously. get with the times, minju.”

“do your job, sunghoon.”

sunghoon grumbles at that. he takes an additional 10 whole minutes to stare at you and mr.stranger, respectively, before wordlessly beckoning for the suitcase. 

mr.stranger obliges, sliding it towards him with a weirdly unnecessary flair. 

“as much as i’d hate to interrupt the .. uh,  proceedings” he begins, “... what exactly is a 320LMAO?”

minju the assistant sighs and mutters something under her breath which sounds a suspicious amount like here we go again. completely contrasting her demeanour, sunghoon’s face lights up like he’s been waiting years for someone to ask.

“it’s code, actually! lingo for the cool, hip airport guys, if you will—Luggage Misidentified Again Ohmygod. LMAO. and the 320 is there because minju said it’d sound more official like that.” 

minju looks like she’d rather be anywhere else at the moment and flusters around for a second or two before gesturing something towards her phone and all but booking it out of the room.

so, basically, you and YOUR suitcase are totally in good hands. 

“... and so, finally, after 6 days and 23 whole hours we were able to find that battered, orange warrior of a suitcase.” .. sunghoon’s still talking, rather passionately now, about what you’re assuming are the origins of 320LMAO, “and ever since that day, this beloved code has been put in place. thinking about the story gives me chills. literal chills.”

when will this be over? you just want to go home, for god’s sake. with a sideways glance towards mr.stranger, you catch a glimpse of his incredulous expression at sunghoon’s story and let slip a giggle. 

he turns to look at you upon hearing your little laugh, and his own tensed features finally give way to a slight smirk. you almost let bygones be bygones due to the sheer reason that he looks … really pretty now that you’re really looking at him. 

you can always get a new suitcase, yeah? might as well let him have this one!

“you’re not even listening.” is sunghoon the official … pouting at you and mr.stranger? “oh. i get it. too busy having your little romcom moment to listen to the greatest story of all time.” 

a sound not unlike a strangled half-choke, half-cough leaves mr. stranger, “excuse me? we’re really not—”

“whatever. you wouldn’t it get it, anyway. let’s get this over with.” the official crouches down huffily, unzips the suitcase and flips the lid open in a way that only reveals the contents to himself. “woah.”

???

“i need each of you to state some things you had packed in your luggage.” he says, eyes flashing with a hint of amusement. 

your my melody makeup bag. a blue cinnamoroll themed polaroid camera. one kuromi plushie. you oblige this information with zero hesitation. you’re proud of your sanrio obsession. who could even say one singular bad thing about something so whimsical and cute and joy-giving?

sunghoon nods slowly. 

mr.stranger says he has a chrome hearts hoodie, a new pair of headphones and .. one kuromi plushie. for his younger sister. interesting.

sunghoon nods, facial expression betraying nothing. he’d be really good at poker, you find yourself thinking, right as he clears his throat and makes his verdict, “... well. i don’t even know what to say. you guys can just .. have a look inside, i guess.”

very professional.

however, you both lean in as soon as he words out the sentence, eager to finally, finally put an end to this.

there’s a pause. all you can really do is stare.

“... what the hell?” mr.stranger mumbles, tone so unbelieving and full of wonder it elicits a snort from sunghoon.

you blink. once, twice. 

the shock of plain, mousy brown that greets you from the inside stares back resolutely. 

the suitcase appears to be full of … wigs? 

you really hope they are wigs.

sunghoon uses one gloved finger to daintily edge away a few of the .. wigs .. present at the surface to reveal … 

… what looks to be a gorgeously painted porcelain sink (yes like the one where you do the washing), exactly 2 and a half bowling pins (one of them being somehow broken vertically) and a metal case. 

which on further investigation turns out to be filled with miniature replicas of medieval weaponry. 

oh, and, one life sized victorian era accurate crown. 

“so?” the official prods, “whose is it, then?”

“that … is definitely not mine.” you immediately say, only for mr.stranger to exclaim in a way that overlaps with yours completely.

“uh. yeah, no, same.” he adds, stepping back like the suitcase might be infectious.

the deadpan expression on sunghoon’s face says everything he’s probably too polite to actually voice out. but thankfully, minju—your life saving grace, an angel from the heavens,your .. knight in shining armor, even—peeks into the room right at the moment.

“sunghoon. emergency. a child has climbed on top of the “lilo & stitch” display and won’t get down. he says frozen 2 is the superior movie and demands to meet olaf.”

“againnn?” said man whines, “i’m so over this shit, ugh.” but after a quick little tantrum he does eventually leave the room, grumbling out a short “don’t touch anything” to you and mr.stranger.

obviously, you and mr.stranger unanimously decide to touch everything.

in the suitcase, that is.

aside from the wigs. obviously.

“hey, mr.stranger guy—”

“??? it’s nishimura riki.”

“that, yes. this crown looks like it’d be the perfect size for you. that’s suspicious. are you sure the suitcase isn’t yours?”

riki squints at you, then looks disdainfully down at the crown in your hands. “…not my style. and more importantly, i wouldn’t be caught dead with those … wigs … ever. my hair is very natural, thank you very much.”

you burst out laughing at that; maybe the hours of travelling induced sleep deprivation is finally catching up to you. riki rolls his eyes, the corner of his lips twitching upwards at your reaction.

both of you sink down to the floor in front of the open bag, knees just about brushing. 

“what’s their story, do you think? whoever this suitcase belongs to.” you wonder aloud, after a beat. 

“hm. i’d say they were a member of royalty with a deep love for waffles, bowling and plumbing. and a family history of male pattern baldness. just a guess.”

 “or,” you begin solemnly, “someone pulling a medieval-themed heist … against a bowling league. the waffles were a heist snack and the sink was a spoil of the battle. a sign of our guy’s victory, if you will.”

riki nods in agreement, not even trying to hide his smile anymore, and it’s a little too successful in disarming you for someone who called you a thief merely minutes ago. “that makes perfect sense.”

you find yourself grinning back despite yourself. “come to think of it … this one guy on the plane was trying to recruit me as an investor in his yak wig business …”

exactly on cue, the office door creaks open by some divine intervention and you see outside the following events happen in rapid succession : 

sunghoon, attempting to wrestle off a child who is resolutely clinging onto a “Stitch” from “Lilo & Stitch” cardboard cutout while simultaneously trying to reason with a man (is that mr.yak wig business seller himself?) and assure him that the airport staff are doing everything they can to find his precious suitcase.

and then telling him that no, sunghoon will not be investing in his business because frankly, it sounds like a pyramid scheme.

neither you nor nishimura riki think to put an end to the sheer chaos outside by simply telling the yak wig business man that his suitcase is, in fact, right here.

because, honestly, you couldn't care less about the suitcase anymore. let the airport staff figure that one out themselves.

you’re a bit too caught up having your little romcom moment with riki, after all. oops.

but hey, at least you’ll have a good laugh about all this at the coffee date he’s just asked you to tomorrow! ^-^

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[ 𝑓𝗋𝑜𝗆 陰 ] : my longest drabble yet .. possibly my longest piece of writing in general ... my magnum opus, my baby, my child. i live love laugh this drabble. hi.

ㅤㅤㅤ© BAMBiSNC ♡ 2025

[nyoomfruits]

hello i come to you all with choscar based on oscar's delightful little cringefail moment during today's press con ENJOY

It’s not, he’s not. It’s not embarrassing, or anything. Not like Lando’s been trying to convince him ever since they left the press conference, hand clapping down on his back and cackling ‘he rejected you, mate’. It wasn’t even like, a real thin or whatever. It was just a joke, really. He was trying to play on this idea the journalist himself suggested, of Charles standing outside of this thing because his team was not driving in IndyCar. Was trying to include him, make him part of it.

But it came out a bit clunky, maybe, a bit weird. Like he was asking Charles out for a date. Which he wasn’t. That wasn’t. If he would actually ask Charles out for a date he would do it proper. Wine and dine him. Although it might be hard to impress a man like Charles. He’s probably been to every fancy restaurant in Monaco ever. Not that Oscar would ever get a chance, to impress him. Clearly he can’t even get Charles to watch the Indy 500 with him.

Which, again, was a joke.

The race start is delayed, which sucks for the drivers but kind of works out for Oscar, because even though their race debrief is pretty short (“great job, great strategy, pit stop sucked”), it still takes him a while to get home through the sheer craziness that is Monte Carlo on race day.

But by the time he falls down on the couch with a beer and a take out container of pasta, the race is nearly starting. He sends a quick ‘No, sorry, watching Indy’ to Lando’s ask if he’s going out, and gets a bunch of frowny face emoji’s in return. He snorts, rolls his eyes a little fondly, and tucks his phone into the couch cushions. Lando won’t actually mind he’s not there. There will be enough people to celebrate with, wanting a glimpse of the guy who won the Monaco Grand Prix.

Besides, they’ve always worked better this way. The few times Oscar’s gone with him, he’s felt out of place, uncomfortable. Lando knows this now, usually leaves him alone.

Which is why it’s weird that the doorbell rings almost immediately after Oscar tucks his phone away.

He hastily shoves his bite of pasta in his mouth and gets up to get the door. “Lando, seriously, I’m not up for-“

It’s Charles.

“Hello,” Charles says. He’s out of his Ferrari gear, dressed in a jeans and t-shirt instead, and he’s beaming at Oscar like it’s the most normal thing in the world that he’s on his front step right now. Oscar didn’t even know Charles knew where he lived.

“Uh,” Oscar says. “Hi?”

There’s a silence where they just kind of stare at each other.

“So,” Charles says, hands in his pockets, grin on his face. “Are you going to let me in?”

“Yea- Uh, why?” Oscar says, stepping aside anyway to let Charles through. Charles breezes into his apartment like he’s been here a million times before, beelining for the living room as Oscar trails a little awkwardly behind.

“For the Indy, no?” Charles says, letting out a little ‘aha’ when he spots the couch and falling down. When Oscar just stares at him from the doorway, he shrugs. “Race debrief ended early.”

“Oh,” Oscar says, his brain slowly coming back online. “Yeah, I, I mean, of course. Do you uh. Do you want a drink?”

Charles nods. “Whatever you’re having.”

So that’s how Oscar ends up on his own couch, right next to Charles Leclerc who is casually sipping on his beer as he keeps up a running commentary on whatever is happening on screen. And even though there’s definitely a lot happening on screen, Oscar is having a hard time focusing on any of it. Mostly because he doesn’t really understand why Charles is here. The rest is related to the fact that Charles has made himself comfortable on Oscar’s couch and now their thighs brush every once in a while and Oscar doesn’t know what to do with that.

He almost reaches out to grab Charles thigh to stop him from moving, realizes that’s worse and wraps both his hands around his beer bottle instead.

“Is it always like this?” Charles asks, tipping his head onto the back of the couch, dangerously close to Oscar’s shoulder.

“Uh,” Oscar says, trying to remember how to structure any kind of coherent thought. At this point he’s not sure he knows what a thought is. “Why are you here?” He asks, instead of giving a normal, insightful answer.

Charles frowns. “You invited me.”

“Yeah but that was-“ A joke. Except it wasn’t. Because that makes it sound like Oscar doesn’t want him here, which he does. Like, so bad. But he doesn’t understand why Charles wants to be here. “You don’t have to like,” Oscar flaps his hand around a little. “Out of pity or whatever. I know you could be at like, parties and shit. I mean this is your home race.”

Charles’s frown deepens. “I know that,” he says. “And I considered my option and found this to be the best offer.”

Oscar needs to remember how to breath maybe. Or maybe not. Maybe dying could be good. That way he doesn’t have to reminisce on what exactly Charles means with this being the best offer. “Oh,” he says instead. “I, uh. Okay. But no, they are not all like this. But also maybe yes?”

Charles stares at him for a few seconds and then hums. “Sounds fun. Maybe I should watch more often. Do you keep up with Indy?”

Normal conversation. Come on Oscar, he picked you out of all the options he had. The least you can do is make it worthwhile by having a normal conversation. “Whenever I can. You know, with the schedule and all.”

Charles nods. “Well, tell me next time, I will watch it with you.”

He doesn’t know what that means as much as he doesn’t know what this current thing means. But he tries now, at least. Charles chose him, so. He has to make it worth it. And it’s easier, somehow, when he can just allow himself to join Charles’s running commentary of the race, when he can joke and laugh and just. Be himself. Knowing Charles wanted this. Charles chose this.

Eventually the race ends, and the sky outside turns dark, and they still have another race in this grueling triple header ahead of them, so Charles gets up, Oscar following behind to let him out. He doesn’t know if he nailed it, if he gave Charles what he wanted, but he hopes so. God, does he hope so.

“That was nice,” Charles says, turning to Oscar with a soft smile on his face. “Thank you for that.”

“Yeah, no problem, any time.” He says. Tries to be casual, but he thinks he fails. Any time, all the time, whatever you want. It’s a bit embarrassing, how ass over tea kettle he is for Charles.

“I’ll take you up on that,” Charles says, and leans forward, pressing his lips against Oscar’s cheek in a soft but fleeting kiss. “Good night, Oscar.”

“Night,” Oscar says, a little dazed, watching Charles stroll away. It’s just a kiss. Probably a French thing, or whatever. It doesn’t mean anything.

But still, Oscar’s cheek tingles as he finally closes the door, and he pulls his phone out of his couch cushions to google ‘when is the next indycar race’.

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 8 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: this one is a bit on the shorter side, but I promise next chapter will be juicy! 😉

W/C: 3.086

part seven

"Wait- why am I actually kind of bitter about this?"

I mumble, looking up at Luis. He turns around, moving his camera away to look at me.

"Bitter about what?" He asks, fidgeting with the settings of the device.

"They literally crap out money- but get a free BMW?" I question, folding my arms.

"Oh, please. Will you stop being such a negative person?"

He gives me a nasty look, his hand coming to grab my arm.

"Or go sit in the car..?" He adds, pointing behind me.

"No, it's too hot to sit in the car.." I complain, adjusting my sleeve.

"Why did you even follow me here in the first place?" He asks, raising his brows.

"I was done with my to-do list and didn't want to stay cooped up in the office.."

Not to mention to avoid the insanely annoying looks I had been receiving ever since those stupid rumors and photos had been out.

"Okay, just stay back and watch then.."

I watch him make cinematic shots of each individual model and car. My patience begins to thin when he's still busy with it twenty minutes later.

I pull my phone out of my pocket to keep myself busy. I carefully scroll through my Instagram explore page, ignoring the thousands of follower requests to my account.

The internet was very quick, so within hours of my face being online, people had found both my full name and social media accounts.

"y/n!"

I freeze, holding my phone against my chest, and turn in the direction the noise came from.

I make immediate eye contact with Valeria, her obnoxiously fake smile burning my eyes instantly.

"Yeah? Anything wrong with the shoot?" I ask, shoving my phone into my pocket.

"No, the players have just arrived- and it's a better look if you're off your phone and look interested."

I fight the urge to snort at her ridiculous comment, and just nod before I lose it.

"Sure, any reason you're here today? It's only for some short clips..”

I watch her take a step forward, a hand reaching up to her hip. She moves her neck in a weird way, staring at me for a moment.

"It's always good to see how my juniors work, and how close they are to the players is really something I like keeping an eye on.."

Oh- surprise, she was here for something stupid!

I was already over her snarky remarks, especially those insinuating a romantic relationship between Jude and me.

The thought only makes me want to gag.

I shiver at the cursed idea, noticing a few players already walking over to check out the new car they chose, and look back at Valeria.

"Well, I'm sure some of the guys really need your presence and knowledge. Please, go and join them.."

I instigate, hoping and wishing she goes to bother Toni instead.

For some reason, he could handle her bullshit really well.

"Oh, don't mind if I do.." She chuckles, immediately turning her back to me and walking away.

I sigh in relief, rubbing my nape to try to release some tension from my body.

I begin walking up to the cars myself, reading off every license plate to see which player got what model.

I stop at the car chosen by Aurélien, observing the details of the 'i4 eDrive35'.

« Très belle, non? » I hear him say. I nod, pursing my lips.

« Le couleur- noir est parfait.. » I compliment, stepping back to get a better view.

I open my mouth to say something else- but I'm startled by a loud car horn, it almost makes my eardrums explode. I shut my eyes tightly, not reacting fast enough to cover my ears properly.

"What the fuck.." I mumble, looking to my left. An obviously aggravated expression on my face, because who the hell thought that was a good idea?

“Jude! Get out of your mom’s car, please!” I exclaim, seeing him stand at the driver’s door.

The man couldn’t even drive, but got to choose a car for himself?

Not even that- he also chose the most expensive model worth more than a hundred thousand euros?

Life is so unfair.

“You’re standing in the way!” He exclaims, walking around to sit in the passenger seat. Another staff member comes over to drive him around the parking lot.

I give him a nasty look, stepping aside and looking back at Aurélien.

“Why don’t you join him?” He suggests, an obvious smirk on his face.

“What? Why would I do that?” I ask, raising my brows and folding my arms defensively.

“You know- nice car and fun drive..” He trails off, glancing at the moving car.

“I would feel like I’m in danger without him even being the driver..” I state, shielding my eyes from the sun with my hand.

He chuckles, as if to mock the fear for my safety. I shrug it off, looking behind me to see where Luis is.

“Come on- get in the car and I’ll get Luis to do a little video..” I usher, walking away to get Luis.

The entire shoot takes us about an hour before we’re finally done. I quickly bid farewell and thank fellow staff members for their hard work before jumping into my car.

I go to start my car, looking up to see where Luis is. I roll my windows down, letting some fresh air into the car, hoping he’ll be here quickly.

“No- it’s just annoying because I’m trying to do my job properly and I’m getting the craziest stares. Like, does having a conversation with someone mean we’re married with three kids and a chihuahua?!” I exclaim, looking at Amira on FaceTime.

“And you attended his match, and you wore his name on your shirt and spoke to his family and-"

I cut her off with a loud groan, rubbing my eyes in irritation.

“You’re the one who set me up!”

“I thought you already knew it was his shirt! Should I have worn Jude’s while you wore Trent’s?” She defends herself, a smirk forming on her lips.

I shake my head, dropping my pencil on the table.

I had been studying all day and had stopped the instant Amira called me.

“The way I can’t even get mad at anyone about this- ugh..” I complain, shifting in my chair.

“And those follow requests are so annoying..”

I grumble, totally aware of the fact that I had been complaining about literally every single thing and then some.

“Girl, if you set your account on public again and accept those followers..”

“What? I’m going to clout chase being that douche's fake girlfriend?”

“Obviously?”

“I have to take over my dad’s firm one day, and you want me to be known for dating my coworker?”

“Too late-"

I stop paying attention to what she’s saying when the front door opens, my gaze moving to see my dad walking in.

“I’m going to call you back later.” I mutter to Amira, waving at her until she hangs up.

I close my laptop, standing up to walk over to the door.

“Hey, dad- you’re late.” I say, grabbing his laptop bag off of him.

“I had a lot of work to review. Did you have dinner?” He asks, hanging his coat up on the coat rack.

“I had some of the food auntie Carmen made. You?”

“We all had dinner in the office. Everyone has been going home late these days.” He says, washing his hands in the kitchen sink before loosening his tie.

“With what?” I ask, setting his laptop bag on the table, prying into his business.

“Can’t say, but- don’t you think you need to tell me something?” He suddenly asks, turning to me.

I freeze, looking at him with wide eyes.

What the hell would I be hiding from him?

“Uh- no? I’m not sure what you’re talking about?” I state, scratching my nape in confusion.

“Are you sure?” He presses on, coming to hold onto my shoulders.

“I’m sure. What am I supposed to hide from you?” I ask, getting rather defensive, a frown forming in between my brows as I keep staring at him.

He notices my irritation, letting go of my shoulders and holding his hands up in surrender.

“Okay- I understand. Don’t get all angry at me..” He says, smiling.

“I’m not angry- just confused..”

“Forget I asked- How was work? How about you tell me about that instead?”

I purse my lips, looking down at my laptop.

“Alright, the players got new cars, so we had to do a shoot for BMW..” I mutter, fiddling with my notebook.

“You look so down, y/n. What? Are you jealous? I got you your new Audi less than two years ago..”

“What do you mean, dad? I love that car, would not exchange an Audi for a BMW- I have some car knowledge.” I state, my expression changing as I explain to him.

“That’s right! Come to me when you really want to change your car. I’ll call up some people I know.”

I make my way towards the printer, looking for the documents I had sent over to be copied a couple hours ago. Finding them, I quickly read them through to confirm the pages are complete, until I’m stopped by Hugo.

“Are you ready for El Classico week?” He asks, making a copy of something.

Most people, as in football fans, would say an El Classico is a match you shouldn’t miss. The long-standing rivalry between the two clubs was always interesting to watch, and I would definitely agree a hundred percent-

Only, if it didn’t mean we had to ensure our match posts, interviews, and statements were properly prepared and triple-checked and approved days leading up to the match.

Of course, I loved watching the game- but the way it exhausted literally everyone involved was no fun.

What made it harder was the fact that we had a whole Champions League match to worry about first. To sum it all up, no one was getting sleep for the next two weeks.

“Yeah, just really busy with preparations.” I reply, folding the corner of the documents.

“Good luck, we’ve all been having sleepless nights. It will be worth it in the end- you’ve experienced this before. Just keep on doing what you always do.”

I nod in acknowledgment, smiling at him.

“You’re right, we will put our best foot forward.” I give him a thumbs up, chuckling.

“Good- I’ll see you at lunch. Work hard!” He encourages, patting my shoulder before leaving with his printed papers.

I sigh in relief when he leaves, making my way up to my desk. I place the documents on the table, before running down to the pitch. Having to finish some last-minute recording of the match preparations.

I walk over to the pitch, training is already in full motion, and I notice Luis already there. I look around for any other staff members, only seeing the creepy guy I ran into weeks ago standing across the pitch.

The guy was a walking, real-life jumpscare at this point. I’d only run into him at random moments, and the way he’d look at me had my heart leaping into my throat.

“You’re late.” Luis complains, bringing me out of my thoughts, fiddling with a black cable.

“Did those two minutes kill you?” I ask, sighing, and look at the players who were training.

“Of boredom, yes..” He replies, and I notice the small- very slight compliment in his words. A smile forming on my face as I chuckle.

“We would’ve been absolutely fucked if Kepa didn’t save that one..” I mutter, insanely stressed, as I eye the scoreboard in the Lluís Companys Olympic Stadium. A temporary stadium FC Barcelona had been using for this season.

“Don’t say that- you have no trust in this team whatsoever..” Luis complains, looking up at me.

“Who will score?” I ask, we loved guessing who would score and assist goals during every match.

“Jude.” He immediately says, not hesitating one bit.

“No- I’m guessing Vinicius..” I say, eyes darting back to my laptop screen.

“I will be right- just watch..”

“It’s his second El Classico and his first in season one. What is he going-” I immediately stop talking when I notice a chance to score, my hands tangle into my shirt as I see how much space there is to score.

I gasp, and my jaw slacks open when Jude scores an absolute screamer, which I’d obviously never admit to him.

“I told you!” Luis screams, celebrating like it’s his birthday. I scoff, secretly happy we were put out of our 0-1 misery, and search for the draft I’m supposed to publish.

A couple minutes pass, it’s almost full time, and extra time is finally announced. The away side is full of Madridistas, all sitting on the edge of their seats until Luca kicks the ball towards Jude and GOAL!

The away side celebrates happily, with another El Classico win in our pocket. I quickly manage and do what I have to do, before we both get up to go back inside.

I was both delighted and annoyed at the fact that we won. Of course, it’s always amazing to win a match like this, especially when we were doing so well this season. Also because it’s Luca’s 500th match, and an assist is pretty amazing to pull off on a day like this.

The only thing making me have bitter feelings was the fact that I had to interview Jude today. Normally, Man Of The Match interviews with him were already horrific to experience. An elaborate interview with him, after I’d been avoiding him like the plague, wasn’t necessarily something I would want to do.

“Can you go first? I’ve got to pee really badly..” I say to Luis, placing my bag down and running towards the restroom. Finishing my business up quickly and washing my hands thoroughly.

I look around me for a bit, knowing that sometimes players would use these restrooms as well. I had heard about instances where the players of the opposite team had raged against our team’s staff members. Which definitely had me watching my back in moments like these.

I had interacted with some players of FC Barcelona, and they hadn’t been disrespectful so far.

Thus, I’m not too fazed when the door to the restroom opens. I look up as a sweaty and tired Ferran Tores walks in.

We make immediate eye contact, and I nod in greeting, shooting him a quick ‘hello' before pulling some paper towels from the dispenser to dry my hands.

He seems to be seething in anger, so I break eye contact, looking away.

“This is a staff bathroom, are you aware of that?”

He suddenly says, water splashing from the faucet as he begins washing his face.

“Sorry?” I question, wondering what he’s getting at.

“Not for girlfriends.” He mutters, turning the faucet off.

My face twists into one of confusion, the words throwing me for a loop. Seems like he notices, and he opens his mouth again.

“You’re Bellingham’s girl, aren’t you? This is the staff restroom.” He enunciates every single word as if I’m a kindergartner, it makes me freeze for a second.

I struggle to stop myself from reacting thoughtlessly, not knowing if I should be crying or laughing.

My hand reaches for my staff badge hanging from my neck, waving it in front of his face.

“Do I look like a girlfriend?” I ask, dropping my badge and stepping out before he can apologize.

Asshole, losing doesn’t give you the right to be so damn rude.

How could I even get rid of these stupid fucking rumors?

“Okay, smile!” I exclaim, holding Luis’s camera up to take a photo of the squad. With the happiness of winning an El Classico and the celebration of Luca's milestone came a lot of excitement and enthusiasm.

I hold back a chuckle at the sight of Aurélien laying on the floor, instructing some of them to move a bit for a better shot.

We take multiple photos together, staff members taking photos with the squad while I force them to stand in front of the camera.

“y/n, come here, and we’ll take a picture!” Antonio urges, snatching the camera off of me and pushing me to stand in front of the camera.

I feel myself being pushed, until I find myself almost pressing into Jude’s side.

I curse to myself, forcing an awkward smile as I pose next to everyone.

“What? Surely, you don’t think I bite?” Jude whispers, his arm dropping to his side.

“Please, shut up and pose. We still have that interview, so don’t start now..” I mutter between a clenched smile, pretending I’m not fazed.

I hear a soft chuckle, a mocking and breathy ‘sure’ leaving his mouth.

It gives me shivers down my spine, and I fight the urge to step on his shoe, focusing on posing instead.

This will be a long, long interview..

“You should’ve told me you’re leaving.” I mumble, mouth full of cereal and milk.

“Sorry, been so busy, didn’t even come to mind.” My dad says, walking around the house as he gets ready for work.

“Where is that blue tie I just got?” He shouts from his room.

“I ironed it! It’s in the bottom drawer!” I shout, scrolling through my messages.

“Got it!”

I hum, chugging the leftover milk in my bowl before standing up from the dining table.

“When are you going? Will you be gone for long?” I ask, watching him put the tie on in his bedroom.

“This weekend. It’s a crucial case, so I’ll be back when it’s totally over. Don’t get up to mischief. I know how you get when you’re home alone.” He points, giving me a stern look.

“Yeah, sure, I will plan a house party or two..” I joke, but it doesn’t land as he continues staring me down.

“Okay! I will be a responsible adult and call you or auntie Carmen when something happens..”

“Good, I’m leaving to get to work. Will you be back on time for dinner?” He says, grabbing his paperwork and laptop bag.

“Yeah, can we order in tonight?” I give him a pleading look, walking him out.

“You know I can’t deny my daughter happiness in the form of burgers and fries...”

[vincentvalenfine]

ok but hear me out—you trying to accept vincent and his past with lucrecia but he keeps on pushing you away, until you've finally had enough and decided to give him that space he oh so "wanted" and him realising he is losing the only person who has cared for him after all this time and trying to win you back. i NEED this man to grovel!!

Sometimes love is letting go, Cid tells you over shots of whiskey at Tifa's bar. Some people are best loved from a distance, to give them the independence they require, and you think Vincent may just be one of those people. Too many times he's pulled away right when you think you're making progress with him, too many times you've heard him self-deprecate in one breath and place you on a pedestal in the next, supposedly out of his reach even when you're right there reaching for him.

"Just take a week to yourself," Tifa advises. "Guys like that just need a little time to realize what they actually need."

She's been waiting on Cloud for longer, you realize. Maybe... love really is letting go, leaving it in their hands to decide on someday. You take your phone out and send off a quick text to Vincent. Whether he'll respond, or even read it to begin with... you don’t know. It won't matter anyway, turning your phone off as soon as the text is delivered and turning to Cid to harass him into playing taxi for a trip to Costa del Sol for the week.

[Let me know when you make up your mind someday.]

Four days later, you're just getting into your pajamas in your inn room for the evening when an alarmingly loud knock rattles the door. You can't help jumping, hurrying with your shorts as you call out, "Just a second!"

Another knock thuds against the wood and you swear you hear it creak a little this time. That's worrisome enough to make you hurry on over with shorts just barely making it to your hips in time, and with just a glance through the peephole you know exactly who's on the other side, throwing it open for him.

Vincent looks like he hasn't slept since you sent off that text, eyes sunken in and lined with shadowy bruises. He takes just a few tentative steps in when you make space for him - and then drops to his knees, head hanging. You can't help crouching in front of him, hesitating to reach out, but this time he doesn't shy away from your hands as they meet his cheeks, leaning into your touch instead like it's the respite he so desperately needs right now. Your heart leaps into your throat.

"Vincent?"

"Forgive me," he murmurs. His eyes seek out yours with sorrow creeping out of the corners, damp trails glistening down his cheeks. "I did you a disservice, and you... deserved to be treated fairly."

Not better, as he's said before - fairly. That's... actually an improvement. You open your mouth to reply, but he continues to speak.

"I... tried to make the same mistake twice. And I thought it would protect you, from who - what I am." He takes a ragged breath, somehow keeping his voice from wavering initially even as the tears continue trickling. You take your thumbs to gently wipe them aside and the look he gives you is one of desperate desire. This time his voice does waver as he pleads.

"Please. I cannot - I am... far from perfect. But I wish to try again. If you allow it."

You lean in and kiss him. Vincent melts into your arms, heedless of where and when, desperate for the affection you give him. It's going to be messy, nothing's ever been simple with him... but just maybe he can let you close now.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, medical procedures including dialysis and chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Pete Brenner, short!reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

It's not the treatments themselves but the constancy. This isn't just one day, this is the rest of your life. Several days a week walking through those doors, spending hours with a needle in your arm, only to walk away feeling nauseous and dizzy.

The effects only last a few hours, just until your blood pressure evens out, but it's enough to put you out for the rest of the day. With a bandage on your arm, you fold up your laptop and slide it into your bag. What better way to multitask but work while you have the life drained from you. Well, the alternative is hardly preferable, a grizzly, toxic death of drowning in your own waste. You've always been an optimist.

You take a moment before you leave, trying to steady the hazy lines in your vision. You take a breath and leave the office, bidding a quick farewell to Louise, your attending nurse. Outside of the clinic and work, you don't get out much, and much of the latter you can do from home.

You go down the clanging metal stairs to the lobby. As you cross the floor, a man stands by the index of offices, scratching his flopping hair as he glances over. You give a sheepish arch of your brows and tuck your chin down.

"Hey," he stops you before you reach the door, "er, I'm looking for the Wellness Studio? Er..." He turns to you as you stop with your hand on the front door, "Colson's?"

You furrow your brow. That sounds familiar but you really don't know about anything else in the building. You just come here to get your dialysis.

"Erm, I..." you peek out the window and see the sign across the street, red font on a white background, "is that it?"

You point to the moniker that reds 'Colson's' and the man nears to look over your shoulder. He blows out a huff and tuts, "oh god, I must seem like a moron."

"Uh, no..." you push through the door and he catches it behind you, extending his arm over your head.

"Thanks, sweetheart," he nudges your arm as he follows you outside.

"Mhmm," you turn down the sidewalk, set on your path to the station.

"Hey, wait, can I get a name?" He sprints up next to you, "you've been so helpful--"

You look at him, unused to that level of familiarity. You're not exactly that discernable from the brickwall beside you. Your expression must betray your confusion and surprise.

"Just a name," he says as he puts out his hand, "Pete. So, trade?"

You hide your discomfort and reach to shake his hand, eking out your name. You clear your throat and glance around him, not wanting to be rude. You're not quite sure how to gently mention that your train is due.

"So, you come here often?" He stretches his arm out to lean on the brick facade, hand pushing his jacket back as he grips his hip.

You nod and peer around. He's a stranger even if you know his name. You're not very fond of those.

"Am I keeping you?" He asks coolly.

"I just... gotta catch the train," you utter, "sorry, I--"

You go to step around him and he pushes away from the wall, blocking your way, "alright, alright, can I get a number?"

"Er, oh, no," you blurt out in shock, "no, I mean... I don't know you."

He rolls his eyes and smirks, "yeah you do, I'm Pete."

You shake your head and step sideway again. He moves with you. Your chest boils with frustration and a tint of fear. This is why you shouldn't talk to strange men. Especially men twice your size.

"Woah, woah, don't look so scared, honey, I'm not gonna hurt you," he puts his hands down, "I just think you're a cutie. Forgive me for being so forward." He backs away, "don't let me keep you, you go on and get your train."

You frown, uneasy at his sudden appeasment. You swallow and step past him cautiously. You keep your head straight and march down the sidewalk between the passing pedestrians. Their indifference makes you feel even more uneasy.

As you go to turn the corner towards the station, you look back. The man stands amidst the city rush, unbothered by those around him as he watches you, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his dark red blazer. You shudder and scurry behind the shield of the buildings. You might just ask to go out the back door next time.

[saintzweig]

lowkey need art x volleyball player reader…(me because I play volleyball) no cause imagine him going to one of their games, seeing them receive those tough serves, spiking, the ball, serving, or it’s just him staring at their ass while their waiting for the ball to come to them. he’s just looking at them in awe, like that’s my s/o!! he’s cheering them on from the stands. oh my gosh guys you don’t know how much I need this!!! okay bye I love you!

i think before you start dating, patrick would drag him to one of your games for the sole purpose of looking at girls because he's a perv, and he's heard that volleyball players have the hottest bodies. art kind of tells him off because he convinces everyone and himself that he's the decent one but he can't deny that he wasn't thinking that as well. at first he's just looking at your ass as you wait for the ball to come into play, the way you bend over and lean forward, making the fabric of your tiny shorts ride up slightly, he also notices the way your chest moves up and down as you catch your breath. but then he realizes that volleyball is actually really fun and filled w the same kind of tension and dynamics that exists in tennis, and he finds himself at the edge of his seat as he watches you in action.

i think if you're on opposite or outside hitter, he'd be turned on by your reflexes and quick thinking, he thinks its so hot the way you outsmart your opponents or just straight up score a point over or through their blocks. if you're a libero, he's attracted to the way you twist and throw your body around to keep the ball in play, stretching your body to the best you can, rolling around and being able to get up so quickly to defend your players.

(also this wouldn't just be in official matches, he'd come in the gym to watch you train and run drills)

and your serve. it makes his breath hitch as your throw the ball into the air and hit it at the right time and right angle and it emits a loud slapping sound. that boy would let out the biggest cheer when it's a service ace.

i think art having an athlete girlfriend would make him the healthiest because you'd be spending your free time together in the gym, spotting each other. and also you'd make him eat food with more flavor because he just eats tons of plain hard boiled egg (also let's be honest, he's a white man) and that gives you the ick so you try to make something better and share it with him.

oh and making him set or spike the ball for you and in turn, you let him teach you how to play tennis :") he'd have really sore and red fore arms after but it's all worth it because he got to spend time with you.

sorry this took so long!!! i kind of forgot this was in my inbox because of my schedule T___T i only watch volleyball so i didn't have much idea abt actually playing it lolll my knowledge abt it only comes from haikyu....

[mullermilkshake]

Toji goes for a drive.

MINORS DNI - Tags: Yakuza AU, Toji is a taxi driver, references to Fem! reader, graphic depictions of violence, drowning, murder.

Toji needed a front.

A front to prevent you from ever knowing about his current ties to the Yakuza. His tattoo was the only give away that you had to go on though as the good girl you were, you didn't ask too many questions.

He needed a front to keep that simmering pot from over flowing.

So, Toji begrudgingly took on taxi work at his own convenience and in some ways it actually made his life easier in the long run while doing his side work for the Ryomen clan.

Toji was currently sitting in Tokyo traffic, making his way towards the docks before he was due to home. A quick trip and nothing too complicated, a run of the mill job for someone less important to him.

Satoru Gojo asked Toji through Nanami as a favour. He only took this job because he owed Nanami. Otherwise, Gojo could have shoved his head up his ass for all he cared.

The man got on his last nerve more so than the fucking traffic he was sitting in. The reason he ever did anything for Gojo was that the man took in his son.

The only reason.

Bang, bang, bang!

Oh right, that.

The banging and shouting from the trunk was Toji's current job. Some asshole from the outskirts making a pass at Gojo's girl. Crazy bastard. He didn't know all the details from Nanami but it was better that he didn't, all he heard were the words overreacting and making a big deal out of nothing.

Gojo being the other crazy bastard in this scenario.

The traffic moved on and it was a straight run to the docks, it was past nine in the evening so it really was a quick dump and run.

Toji wandered why Gojo couldn't have had his own men take care of this, or even him himself. He was one weird guy and didn't understand how his girl even tolerated him.

Sometimes, like right now, Toji thought that he must have been one of the sane ones in this world. You tolerated Toji at least, so he must have done something right.

When he arrived at the docks, Toji pulled up by the waters edge and climbed out of the car. He trudged over to the trunk and opened it with speed to grab the little prick by the scruff of the collar.

"P-please! I didn't do anything!"

Toji didn't use any energy against the struggling man. "Sorry, that's not my problem. I just wanna get paid," he yanked the man out of the cramped space right over to the edge of the concrete above the churning water.

"Wait... wait! Please- please I can give you anything-"

"Nah, I’m good. Don’t hit your head on the way down."

Toji used this moment of his confusion to work out what was going on to grab his ankles and knock him backwards, like a high school bully holding a poor kid upside down.

The man kicked and thrashed at the choppy water keeping him from surfacing from under the water line. It was a boring really and far too simple for Toji's tastes, watching a man struggle with no fight until his legs stopped trying to kick him off.

"That's done then," Toji let go of his legs and let the water batter him on the side of the concrete.

Toji would call Nanami at a pay phone to confirm the job was done when he had the chance on his way home.

If he took the short way home, he'd be back in time to take you out for dinner.

Dinner sounded good right about now.

[whereisstevethestove]

sorry for the spam likes! been thinking a lot tonight.

i wasn't young when i found out about thomas. either through smosh or brandon rogers, im not sure. but, I can truly say that in the years ive been watching his content, there was a steady decline in that genuine passion and drive to create, rather than make a quick buck out of a "reliable" audience.

I've worked with content creators. I grew up on youtube. I've seen the creative process and how truly strenuous it is, but the absolute disappointment radiating off of (ex or current) fans of thomas has hit hard. it would have killed me to see someone I loved as a kid clearly lose any respect he has for an audience.

I love this fandom. I love the artists, the writers. but for the past YEARS it has been the community carrying this on their back. Thomas has lost any and all drive for content creation, yet alone sanders sides.

he's lost his passion, and that's fine. bros been on the internet for years. but honestly? it's fucking cowardly that he won't just come out and say it.

I hope both him and the community get some sort of reprieve.

(ALSO? LOGAN AND NICO? FUCK YEAH.)

Oh I don’t mind the spam likes at all haha! And yeah, I was also older when I learned about Thomas at first— I was 17, freshly disowned and discarded for being a queer teenager and his content originally brought me comfort. To see an older man who was queer and proud about it, who incorporated it into all of his content no matter how ‘cringe’, was so incredibly mood boosting. I hate to say it, but Sanders Sides content did keep me alive when I was young and lost in my own hurt.

Watching his content devolve hurts, and seeing him treat his employees hurts. Realizing he’s grifting for money as his quality declines is awful and I can’t even go back and read my own SaSi fanfic anymore without just feeling,,, disappointed.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Thomas is the King of short form content. He got his big boom on Vine, and most of his videos prior to later SaSi projects were all under 15/20minutes. If he’d stuck to that formula, I think that it would make it so we were still getting regular Sides content. But Thomas had two long form videos get big and he accidentally shot himself in the foot trying to be Bigger and Better after that point. Which just means that nowadays we get nothing at all on the SaSi front.

It’s true he’s clearly lost interest in SaSi. And That’s fine. What isn’t okay is that he’s dragging the audience along for it, taking their money and promising things he won’t actually do. Artists are allowed- and expected— to grow beyond first projects. But leaving it to stagnante will kill his brand slowly.

(And yeah love Logan/Nico haha. It’s stupid but fun)

[ciginatree]

This Place is Haunted - Ricky Olson x fem!reader

Summary: When a group of friends decide to perform a seance in one of the most haunted spots in eastern Pennsylvania, things take a dark, bloody turn.

Content warnings: language, gore, death, Ouija board/seance, mentions of sacrifice, murder, suicide, child death; fluff

Word Count: 5.4k

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long to finish! Thank you all for being so patient, it turned out a lot longer than I expected and took a long time to edit. Shout out to my sister for being my beta tester. Enjoy!

This story is a complete work of fiction portraying the likeness of a real person or persons in a fictional situation.

Ricky POV

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I say, breaking the silence in the van. At my feet is a backpack stuffed with flashlights, gloves, a first aid kit, candles, and to top it off: a Ouija board. I had dabbled in the paranormal before, I live in a haunted house for fuck’s sake, but I had never thought to take it this far. I mean, breaking and entering into the most taboo spot in this part of Pennsylvania? There’s no way in hell it can end well.

“Seriously, Rick? You’re gonna back out now? This was basically your idea,” Angelo groans.

“Yeah you literally won’t shut up about this place and how much you’ve been wanting to ‘check it out’,” Balz emphasizes with air quotes, momentarily taking his hand off the wheel.  

“I didn’t mean I wanted to actually break into the place!”  

“Whatever man it’s too late you’re not getting out of this van.”

I sigh, sinking into the seat of the car, accepting my fate. I look down at my watch: 11:13 pm. The only people out in this podunk town now are druggies and night shifters. Moving here from Seattle was a drastic change, a welcome one, but drastic nonetheless. I left my hometown to join the band a few months ago and I have to say, I got some nasty culture shock. 

“Wait, why are we going to Chris’s? I thought he wasn’t coming,” I say as we turn onto the familiar street.

“He’s not. Y/N is,” Balz remarks smugly. 

“What?!” Y/N has been helping out with some of the more local shows since before I joined the band, she’s Chris’s neighbor so we’ve gotten to know her pretty well outside the shows too. And it’s no secret to the band that I’ve developed a bit of a crush on her. I groan, dragging my hands down my face and slumping into the seat. Goddammit I really can’t back out now. Balz pulls into the driveway and honks twice. A few seconds pass before Y/N exits her house. She turns around and locks the door before bounding down the steps towards the van. She slides open the door and settles into the window seat to the left of me, giving a quick greeting. 

“Oh Y/N, that seat belt is broken, you'll have to sit in the middle seat,” Balz says looking in the rearview mirror. Bullshit. I meet his gaze in the mirror, glaring at him briefly. I know exactly what he’s doing. 

“Oh. Ok.” Y/N replies nonchalantly, sliding over into the seat next to me. I scoot over a bit so she has room to buckle. I meet her gaze, giving her a small smile before looking out the window. Balz pulls out of the driveway and starts heading down the backroads towards the abandoned house. I feel stiff. I can sense her right next to me, our knees practically touching. I try to keep my breathing steady to not give myself away. “So…what exactly is the story behind this house?”

“Why don’t you tell her Ricky? You’re the one who’s obsessed with the place,” Angelo jokes. My cheeks heat up a bit and I pull my lips into a tight line. I neutralize my expression and turn towards Y/N to respond. 

“Long story short, a bunch of culty shit happened in the 1960s. Sacrifices, mania, suicide; that sort of thing,” I mutter out quickly.

“C’mon you can do better than that. Seriously, give me the details,” Y/N looks at me, eyes full of curiosity. 

I sigh, exhaling through my nose. “The Banes family moved into the house in 1962, the house was newly built. Emily Banes, the mother, started getting into the occult and paranormal pretty soon after they moved in. She believed there was some sort of spirit in her house that she needed to please, she basically worshiped it. In ‘63 she gave birth to Henry, who was born with his limbs all twisted up. The doctors did their best to fix him, but it didn’t work too well. Emily believed that the defects were because the spirit was angry with her, but the truth is she took thalidomide during the pregnancy to help with morning sickness which caused a malformation of Henry’s skeletal structure. About a month after he was born, she ritualistically sacrificed him in the living room in an attempt to ‘please the spirit’. She buried him in the wall and claimed he died from the defects,” the car is dead silent now as I continue,.”Emily went manic, blaming her husband, Robert, for Henry’s death. She tore into the wallpaper and brick, ripping up her fingers trying to find her baby. The neighbors found her roaming the neighborhood at night muttering to herself and digging in their bushes. She ended up stabbing Robert 34 times in his sleep before tying an old curtain around her neck and jumping off the balcony that overlooks the front room. The house has been lived in a few times since then, but has been abandoned for decades. Rumor has it that if you light candles in the shape of a pentagram in the living room, close your eyes, and listen you’ll hear a baby shrieking faintly in the walls.”

The silence was thick in the car, suffocating as we drove over the gravel backroads. I bite my lip, pushing the lip ring with my tongue as I wait for someone to speak.

“Jesus,” Y/N finally breathes out. I look over and her eyes are wide with shock. “We’re seriously doing a Ouija board here in the middle of the night?” There’s more than a hint of fear in her voice. 

“Don’t worry, Rick will protect you, won’t you Ricky?”

I roll my eyes at Angelo’s jab before turning my attention back to her. “Seriously though, it’ll be fine. I’ve got a pocket knife if things get tough.” I tap my pocket, smiling.

She chuckles, “Oh boy, ghosts watch out Ricky’s got a pocket knife.”

I laugh as the van slows to a stop. The run down house looms into view of the window. Taking a breath I grab the backpack in front of me before sliding the van door open and hopping onto the gravelly, dirt filled terrain. 

***

Glass crunches under my feet as we enter the house. A curved staircase shadows the entryway, what’s left of the musty carpet hanging loosely on the wooden stairs. I follow to the right of the staircase, the grained wooden floor of the front room coming into view. It’s littered, the sharp odor of urine assaults my nose and my chest heaves. I bring the sleeve of my sweater to my face and cough into it, holding it there in a feeble attempt to mask the smell. “Oh my god, I can taste it,” I wheeze.

“Christ!” I swivel around in time to see Balz coughing and swatting frantically at a cobweb caught on his face. I laugh maniacally into my sleeve as he hacks up half his air supply. When he’s regained his composure I sweep my hand out in front of me, gesturing for him to lead the way. Shuddering, Balz smacks my arm out of his path glaring as he speed walks past me. I snicker, falling into step behind him with Y/N behind me, and Angelo bringing up the rear.   

 Dust sparkles in the rays of our flashlights, the wood protesting beneath us. I sweep my flashlight over the area, taking in the decay. Clink. I aim my flashlight down in front of me, searching for what I kicked. A slim cylinder, caught in a notch of the wooden floor. A needle. Like I said, druggies. I swipe it over to the wall with the toe of my shoe and continue into the room. 

“Woah, is that…?” Y/N’s flashlight points up, the light bending off the ancient crystals of the chandelier. The broken light casts a speckled spotlight onto the twisted iron railing lining the balcony that overlooks the living room. The mangled railing leaves a gaping hole; a mouth filled with rotting iron teeth and a gruff wooden tongue. Mutilated shards of metal angle down the overhang, beckoning us to join it in death, just as Emily had.

“Yeah.” I say simply. I try not to imagine what her body would’ve looked like swinging below the chandelier. I slip the backpack off my shoulder with a jangling thud and crouch down to remove the supplies. Y/N brushes dirt and leaves away from the gear with the side of her shoe, taking a seat across from me. Legs crossed and hands folded under her chin she watches as I set up the seance. I pull out the candles and the Ouija board, furrowing my brow I rummage through the fabric. “Shit, I forgot a lighter.”

“Here,” Angelo paces back from the chipped wall he was inspecting, plunging his hand into his pocket to remove an old lighter. I take it from him, stowing it away in my hoodie.

“Thanks. Balz get over here!” Balz whips his head away from the dusty window and trods over to us. “Ok, here’s how this is going to work. We’re gonna set up a pentagram with the candles and us, the Ouija board, and the final candle will be in the center. Do not blow out any of the candles once we have started the seance, do not taunt the spirits, and absolutely do not end the session or remove your hand from the puck without saying goodbye. Or I will kill you. Got it?” Everyone murmurs some form of acknowledgement, looking around at each other. “Good. Everyone grab a candle and start setting up.”

The candles aren’t fancy, just small unscented tea candles found at the convenience store on Main Street. My back shivers and I take a breath as Y/N sets down the last point of the star. She, Balz, and Angelo rejoin me in the center as I unfold the board, placing the planchette in the center, and the final candle at the head of the panel. “Ok. Everyone turn off your flashlights.” Clicks echo throughout the room, and we are blanketed in an inky darkness. I stand up, withdrawing the lighter from my pocket and flick the metallic gear once, twice, the third time sparking a flame to life. Warmth dances across my fingertips and illuminates a burning orange under my face. I walk the perimeter of the star, igniting the candles one by one until the only one unlit is in the center of our little group. I tilt the flame, charring the pure wick of the final candle. Extinguishing the light in my hand I return the lighter to Angelo and cross my legs, filling the final gap on the sides of the Ouija board. Y/N sits fidgeting with the hem of her shirt to my left, Angelo to my right, and Balz across from me. I bring one knee up to my chest, folding the other beneath me. I grin in the lowlight. “Alright, let’s begin.”

Each person in the group places the first two fingers of their right hand on the planchette. We drag the puck along the perimeter of the board in three stalking circles, thinning the veil between worlds with each scrape of the cardboard. The planchette comes to rest in the center of the alphabet and I hesitate. “Shit, what are we even going to ask?”

“Probably should have thought of that before we started,” Balz hissed.

“Ok, ok just-” I sigh. “Hello?” Silence. I glance around, the flames stand still as unmoving soldiers. A lighthouse to whatever could be lurking here. I feel a chill skate along my back and I repress a shudder. A thud sounds from the back of the house and we whip our heads around, holding our breath. A small creak follows, then nothing. We all wait, turning back to stare at the unmoving puck expectantly. Nothing. “Must’ve been a rat or something. Somebody else try asking something.”

Y/N inhales, biting her lip before speaking. “Um, is… are there any spirits here? God I feel stupid.”

“You’re fine, let’s just wait a minute. See if something happens,” I tell her, eyes remaining fixed on the board. We wait, silent, for thirty seconds.

“Holy fuck!” Angelo panics suddenly. The planchette twitches, dragging itself with a scraping sigh along the board. “Is anyone moving it? Rick, are you moving it?”

“No, I’m not moving it! Now shut up!” The deformed heart shaped piece advances slowly towards the left of the board before coming to a rest. B. My heart is pounding in my ears, filling the silence between us all as the planchette resumes its movement. A. Another drag, quicker this time. B. One last scrape. Y. 

“Baby?” Y/N whispers.

“Damn. Baby? Like the baby, like the one in the walls?” Angelo hisses.

“Are we talking to Emily Banes?” I ask, ignoring both Angelo and Y/N. The planchette moves swiftly across the board. My eyes widen, startled at how quickly it responded. It barely stops at each letter before jolting to the next one. D.E.A.T.H.

“It’s not even answering the damn questions!” Balz exclaims. The planchette hasn’t stopped moving as it spells out another word. D.E.C.A.Y.

The puck whips wildly as it spells, possessed by an unseen force. My fingers tingle as my arm jolts to accommodate the movements of the piece. S.H.I.F.T. 

“Ricky, I don’t like this. I- I don’t feel good,” Y/N pants out next to me. 3. I turn my head to look at her. Fuck. Her face is flushed and strained, her head bobbing slightly as her eyelashes flutter. P.D.Q.L.Q. At this point it’s spewing letters faster than we can register. W.K.H.K.R.X.V.H.

“I’m calling it. We’re done.” I say shortly.

“Dude, we’ve only been doing this for like 5 minutes,” Angelo argues.

“I don’t fucking care, we’re done!” I shout across the board. “Circle the board three times and say goodbye.” But the second we try to move the planchette it plants itself in the center of the board. “What the fuck?” I push as hard as I can with my two fingers. The flames are flickering like flags in a hurricane, and the top point blows out and another creak sounds from behind us. I smack everyone’s hand off the planchette before curling my fingers around it and ripping it from the board. I stand up, hurling it across the room with a shout. It clatters into the wall before ricocheting and skidding across the floor. Momentary silence. Perplexed breathing huffing into the empty space. 

“Now what?” Balz hesitantly asks. I look around at everyone, silently questioning. 

“What if we explore the rest of the house?” Angelo proposes. I look at Y/N, raising my eyebrow slightly. The color has returned to her face, but she looks unsettled. 

“Sure, might as well,” she shrugs her shoulders. Balz and Angelo move to blow out the rest of the candles, gathering up the Ouija board. I turn to her as they walk out of earshot.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to,” I don’t want her to feel pressured into doing this, but curiosity is sprouting steadily in me. 

“Yeah I’ll be fine,” she gives a small half smile, but her eyes look uneasy. I nod warily, walking to the backpack to pack up the rest of the supplies. We decide to leave the candles where they are to cool off.

“What if we split up?” Balz suggests, side eyeing Angelo with a glimmer in his eyes that I don’t really like. 

“Yeah, I’ll go with Balz, you two go upstairs and look around,” Angelo replies, grinning evilly. Figures. 

“Sure, works for me. Everyone meet back at the candles in 30 minutes?” Everyone agrees, and I pull two flashlights out of the backpack. Angelo and Balz click their lights on and start walking towards the back of the house, down the corridor towards the kitchen, leaving me alone with Y/N. I hand a flashlight to her and tilt my head towards the staircase. “Let’s go.”

We make our way to the musty set of stairs together, the wood damp with rot. I take the lead in case any of the stairs give out. The planks creak and moan with every step of our feet on the curled carpet. When we reach the top I look out over the banister, pointing my flashlight down into the room and I sense Y/N step beside me as she peers down past my shoulder. 

“Jesus, that’d be a nasty fall,” she mutters, “Shall we?” She sweeps her flashlight dramatically over to the end of the hallway.

My mouth twitches up in a half smile. “We shall,” I respond just as dramatically. We laugh, making our way to the last door of the hallway. I nudge it open with the end of my flashlight, coughing at the unsettled dust. It’s a bedroom. A metal framed bed sits in the left corner, opposite from a closet with sliding wooden doors. I walk over to the bed, inspecting the stained mattress that lays upon it. Crouching down, I direct my beam of light under the bed. I wrinkle my nose at the empty beer cans and stand up. 

“Hey, Rick? Can I ask you something?” I turn towards where Y/N is inspecting the dirty, steel framed window. 

“Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“Why’d you guys invite me?” I pause.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean this kind of seems like a guy’s trip sort of thing, so why was I invited?” I bite my lip, toying with the ring as I try to think of what to say. I sigh, folding my arms and averting my eyes, a heavy knot forming in my stomach. 

“Balz and Angelo think I have this… I dunno, a thing for you or something. So I think they invited you to try and get us to spend time together,” I mumble quickly, toying with the sleeve of my hoodie.

“A ‘thing’? What, like a crush?” 

I can feel the heat rushing to my cheeks as I stammer out a response. “I guess? I dunno, it was their idea.” 

“Do you have a crush on me?” She takes a few steps towards me and I can feel the humiliation burning me alive. “Do you like me like that?”

I lift my eyes to look at her fully, expecting disgust written all over. However, she looks curious with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. I search her face before giving a small answering nod, nerves eating away at my stomach. Before I can say anything else she grasps the front of my sweater, crashing our lips together in a messy kiss. I inhale sharply before closing my eyes and leaning into her. My heart swells and beats like it’s trying to escape my chest and I bring one hand up to cup the back of her neck as the other snakes around her waist, pulling her into me. She tastes heavenly. She tilts her head, deepening the kiss as our lips move against each other softly. Finally, we break apart, gasping for air. 

“I like you too,” she whispers. I break into a smile, huffing out a breathless laugh before pulling her back into me. I kiss her passionately, groaning at the soft noises she makes against my lips. I brush my tongue against her bottom lip, pushing it into her mouth when she parts them. She gasps and threads her fingers into my hair, tugging softly. I groan, squeezing her hip as I lick into her mouth and work my tongue against her own. 

I stumble us both backwards until my calves hit the bed and I sit down, tugging her down beside me. Not caring about how filthy the mattress is, I wrap my arms around her again, dipping my head down to kiss and suck her neck. I caress just below her jaw, sucking and gnawing at the tender skin, reveling in the way she tilts her head back. I pull away, grinning, and in the moonlight streaking through the window I can see the forming mark. I rest my forehead against her own, massaging her cheek with my thumb. “Be mine? Please?” 

She pecks my lips and I can feel her smile into the kiss. “Of course,” she chuckles lightly. I smile, pressing one last kiss to her cheek and sighing before checking my watch.

“Shit, it’s been almost half an hour we should get downstairs,” I clamber off the bed, grabbing my discarded flashlight. I take Y/N’s hand and lead her out the door when we hear a bloodcurdling scream. Balz. I freeze, squeezing her hand, and peer around the corner, praying to god that this was some sick prank he was pulling. Peering out I see a man, thin and tall dragging Balz by his ankle into the living room. There’s a dark trail following beneath his body and it’s then that I register the knife. Adrenaline shocks through me and runs my blood cold. I eye the front door gauging how fast we could get there. My head snaps back down to see the man on all fours, drooling, and scrambling for the staircase, Balz groaning on the floor long forgotten as he clambers right towards us. His hand hits the bottom step and I backpedal as fast I can, yanking a terrified Y/N with me back into the bedroom, making a beeline for the closet.

I slide the wooden door closed as quietly as I can. Circling one hand around Y/N’s mouth, and the other around her waist, I back us up into the closet as far as we can go. Moonlight bleeds in through the wooden slats and spills onto the floor before us. I can feel her hyperventilating against my palm and a lone tear drips onto my wrist. Without saying a word I turn her around and pull her into my chest, stroking her hair as I shush her gently. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry you got dragged into this. Baby, I need you to calm down, or he’ll hear us,” I whisper shakily into her temple. I try to remain calm for her sake, but I’m sure she can feel my heartbeat rapidly pounding in my chest. I can feel her near silent tears staining my neck as she bites down on my hoodie to muffle her breathing. I lower us down to a crouch, minimizing our appearance. Y/N clings to me harder, shaking, eyes shut tight against my neck. I keep one hand on the back of her head for comfort and bring the other to the pocket of my jeans, drawing out my pocket knife. I flip it open slowly, looking down to adjust my stance.

My heart drops and my breathing stutters to a halt. The moonlight is gone. My gaze trails up to see a bony figure, staring through the slats of the closed door. My grip tightens on Y/N’s head and I press her further into my neck. She tenses, holding her breath with me. A croaking, throaty chuckle rises into existence.

The motherfucker is laughing on the other side of the door. Deranged. That’s the only way to describe this corpse of a man. The laughing melds into a gurgling cough, the fit ending in a deep, guttural groan. “I know you took my baby,” he sing-songs in a hoarse moan. His gaze is at the wrong angle to be looking at us. He’s talking to the goddamn door itself. “You put him in the walls.” He giggles before giving a wet sniff. He trails his wet knife across the slats like a child playing a xylophone. A drop of blood oozes off the knife and in between the slats of the wood. Balz’s blood. It drops off the grain and dribbles next to my foot with a soft patter. I jerk my leg towards my body and stare at the crimson droplet in horror. 

I snap my gaze back up in time to see the man slam his head into the doorframe, the force of it rattling the sliding doors. “I KNOW YOU TOOK MY BABY, GIVE ME BACK MY BABY,” he bellows, repeating each phrase with every bash of his head. Y/N jumps, gripping the back of my jacket so hard I think it might tear. Through the slats I can just make out the outline of a syringe sticking out from the crook in his arm. He cracks his skull against the wall once more before stumbling across the room to the window with a low groan. “Why’d you take my baby?” he sobs, before smashing his head through the glass with a shriek. 

Now that he’s away from the door I jump up, bringing Y/N with me. She’s trembling, her eyes red from tears. “Ok, on the count of three I’m going to open the door, and we’re going to run like hell to the front door, got it?” Another crash followed by an unearthly howl and glass shards tinkling to the floor. She shakes her head frantically, eyes wide.

“No, no, no, no, no. He’s right there he’ll get us-”

“Hey, it’s ok I’ve got you, I promise,” I grasp her shoulders and plant a quick kiss to her forehead, sliding my hand down to clutch hers, the other one gripping my knife in front of me. “One… two… three!” I slide open the door and hurdle out of it, Y/N right behind me. I fling my arm out to turn the corner out of the room, when I’m suddenly wrenched backwards, Y/N’s hand leaving mine as I stumble. The force of it all sends the knife flying out of my hand and into the hallway. I whip around to see Y/N on the floor, the man gripping her by her hair. She cries out, sending elbows and fists backwards as she tries to regain her footing, but the man is just out of her reach.

“Get the fuck off her!” I shout, diving at the man. He yells, letting go of her to claw at me. I punch at his face blindly, landing any hit I can. “Y/N, go find Angelo!” 

“What about you?” 

“Go!” The word ends with a wheeze as a hit to the stomach knocks the wind out of me and I slump to the floor. The man starts after Y/N again and I scramble up, tackling him to the ground just outside the door. I look over to see her reaching the staircase before I’m hoisted up roughly by my arm. Up close, the man is more rancid than I could have previously thought. There are missing patches of hair, replaced by gummy scabs; his pupils are extremely dilated, the surrounding whites cracked with streaks of red. His lips are chapped and bleeding and his sallow face has numerous cuts from the glass he smashed himself through, the blood smeared across his puckered face. 

He slams me into the wall and I gasp as my head rebounds off of it. He chuckles leaning in close to me and I can smell his putrid breath. He mumbles croaky nonsense into my face and I bring my knee up to his groin. He lets go of me with a grunt and I punch him again as he stumbles back towards the railing. I heave against him with a final shove and his foot slips, catching the empty air between the disconnected pieces of mangled iron. He tumbles backward over the edge and I feel myself lurch forward. He’s caught my wrist.

My heart falls to my stomach as my feet leave the ground. I lock eyes with the man as an iron bar catches him, sliding through his spine and out his stomach with a gurgling choke. But I don’t stop. I pass the iron bars and freefall over the banister and past the mouth that caught the man in its teeth. For a moment it’s peaceful. Until my head cracks against the floor and my entire body goes numb. My vision blurs and I can just barely see the man skewered above me, hanging like a repulsive, mounted beast. Like Emily. 

I hear Y/N scream my name through the fuzzy haze before everything fades and I’m falling once again into darkness. 

***

Beep

Beep

I slowly wake to the feel of sheets over me, a steady light beating down behind my eyelids. My head feels like it’s going to explode. I blink my eyes open, shutting them again quickly at the burning of the sterile white lights. I try again, blinking and squinting as my surroundings slowly come into focus. I could hear the steady beeping of machines, each short sound stabbing my skull like a knife. There’s a warm weight on my hand, and I anchor myself to it. I turn my head slowly, gasping sharply at the splitting pain. My whole body aches, I feel like I can’t move.

I pant from the effort it takes to turn my head, tilting my eyes down and I see her. Y/N. Her hand is wrapped around mine, her head resting on our conjoined hands. Her hair cascades down on the hospital bed, her breath fanning gently across my fingers. She doesn’t look hurt and my chest heaves a collapsing sigh in relief. I attempt to curl my fingers around her hand, but pain shoots through my arm the second I try to move it. I hiss in pain, dissolving into a coughing fit that feels like it’s going to tear me open. Y/N snaps her head up, standing to lean over me. The light blurs around her, giving an angelic effect I wish I could admire more, but the strain in my eyes prevents me. 

“Hey,” she says softly. Her voice sounds tired, trembling slightly. “How… how are you feeling?”

“I feel like shit,” I rasp. She brushes a piece of hair back from my face.

“Yeah, falling from a balcony will do that for you,” she chuckles nervously. “You’ve been in and out of consciousness for a while now. Um, they said you have a couple fractured ribs, most likely a concussion, and a hell of a lot of bruising. They gave you an IV and some pain meds,” she gestures to the needle sticking in my hand. She takes a shaky breath and her voice breaks as she talks. “Scared the fuck out of me, Ricky.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, tears starting to well in the corners of my eyes. I’m exhausted; mentally, physically, emotionally. I just want to go home. Y/N laughs shortly, sniffing wetly as she wipes the tears that fell from her own eyes, before brushing away the one that fell down my cheek.

“Don’t apologize, you saved my life.”

I gasp a stuttering breath as my eyes widen, muscles tensing. “Balz- oh my god what-”

“He’s ok. He’ll be ok.” She interrupts, placing a hand out to steady me. “He had to have surgery, so he’s recovering in a different room. Angelo’s alright too. I found him barely conscious and dazed in the kitchen before you fell. He’s a little beat up but there’s no sign of a concussion or other injury. He’s in the waiting room right now.” I slump back against the pillow, relieved once again. I take a deep breath and try not to think too hard about everything. 

“Do you… need anything?” She asks quietly. My gaze darts to her lips before resettling on her eyes.

“Kiss me. Please,” I whisper desperately. “I just-” She cuts me off by softly pressing her lips to mine. I close my eyes and melt into her. Her cheeks are still wet from her tears and I wish I could move my arms enough to wipe them away. She squeezes my hand before pulling away just a bit, her lips brushing mine as she speaks.

“You can rest now, it’s ok. We’re all ok.” She kisses my cheek and sits back down in the chair she had pulled next to my bed. I can feel my eyes drifting and dozing as she takes my hand again, kissing each finger as I drift back to sleep. I squeeze her hand the best I can, knowing she’ll be here when I wake up.

Tag list: @rumoured-whispers @thewarmisice @black-damask-1999 @skulliecadaver-blog @bloody-delusion-expert

[wordarttmn]

Omori observations 63

You see, I wanted to vibe to the soundtrack one last time before I leave this place for good.

Mostly because of Lost, then Found and Three Bars Logos. But also, let’s appreciate how deep fried the victory music. it’s right there with Spaces in Between in being extremely deep fried.

Actually before we move on fully, let’s fix the damage we did here.

Man saying goodbye to this place feels weird. Wrong even.

let’s do sandcastles one last time too.

This time Omori didn’t build the lighthouse.

I wish I could go swimming like Hero

Alas it won’t be this weekend.

And now, party time!

Look at us!

And omori and aubrey had their little dance at the end!

This was too short.

And we get a ton of free stuff too!

I still find it really funny that not so empty house is a version of white space.

Oh wait

Oh. Oh.

See that’s the thing with headspace.

As much as you try to look away from the themes they are always there. Just like the house is never really empty.

Well right now it’s not empty because this is a slumber party, thanks god. But it’s still never really empty.

Was "gee willikers" ever an actual thing people said?

Those english exclamations all sound so fake to me

Off to the highway. I’ll pay every toll because it’s not that much now.

Topical.

Only one quest left

I don’t remember ever checking this out. At the very least, I didn’t see this answer ever before.

Or possibly I saw it once, at the very beginning of the game.

we’re now fully back in the plot, and this is one of these lines that can be endlessly recontextualized.

This is true, this is even more true than Mari could ever imagine, this is becoming truer by the minute, this is about to become infinitely more true in fact.

But that’s where I have to de-immerse myself a little.

He knows Basil better than anyone else, including me, the player. I don’t really know basil. And you don’t either.

We spent a few minutes with him, even out of my 64-ish hours of play. (i’ve dropped the pretense of playing in real time now)

Time to move on.

Aquifer is one of the most unsettling tracks in this game.

it’s just those arpegios going back and forth, but not sounding like music.

One of many questions about Basil that could be interpreted in more than one way. And we’re about to clarify that really quick, because one of us is just the right amount of aware to notice what is really happening.

they’ve been forgetting Basil.

They were already having trouble remembering stuff about him earlier in the last resort, but now it’s starker memory loss.

This… this is one of the most important lines about Basil, in the whole game.

it’s not a good description. it’s a pretty terrible description of Basil.

But it’s also the one that most people in the fandom would give if asked, more or less. In fact it’s maybe a bit better than that still.

Because Hero pointed out one of the most important things about Basil:

He feigns optimism.

I have barely talked about Basil so far, but don’t worry, I have a lot to say about him.

Aubrey, in headspace, has been our guiding light since the beginning. she’s always keeping us going, impossible to demotivate. She sent us on god knows how many tangents, but she never went completely off rails.

But Aubrey is just as not real as the others. she’s a plot device, and she’s equally victim to plot-induced amnesia.

Thing is, Omori is not Aubrey. He isn’t keeping you guys on track. he’s gladly following on her every tangent, because he is stalling on purpose.

Now knowing how this game goes I feel even worse.

(this is the moment to remind you guys that SPOILER WARNING! I know some of you are discovering the game through my let’s play, and it’s not really meant for that. Go play the game or watch a youtube playthrough if that’s what you want.)

[googleitlol]

There was more I wanted to add to this but I didn't have the time today. I'll just post it another day cuz I rlly wanted to at least get this part out so enjoy! This time partly from Sun Wukong's POV!

Dove Masterlist

TW: Gore

Fire

You turn over in bed and let out a heavy sigh. It took longer than you wanted to get away from that crowd, no thanks to that damn ape. You would have thought they'd show more interest in Tripitaka, but seeing as the monks have a hall named after Guan Yin herself, you can still see why they were so persistent in their questions and requests.

Still, using your gift so frequently in such a short amount of time can take a lot out of you. It doesn’t help that having so many people surrounding you like that is something you are unaccustomed to. Or maybe it’s just been a while since you’ve seen so many people all gather like that, it wasn’t a common occurrence in the celestial realm. Sun Wukong didn’t make it any better, flaunting your gift like it was his own.

At least you can finally get some rest and time away from the demon. Having your own room, even just for a night, is just what you’ve been missing. Even if you feel drained, at least you have the time now to keep to yourself for a long while and get some proper rest. Besides, you doubt the monks will be in your face as much tomorrow as they were today. You’ll feel better tomorrow.

~~~~

This night really was proving to be more entertaining than the Monkey King had hoped.

When his Master warned him not to show the old monk his cassock, he thought the man was just being paranoid. Never did he think the old man would be jealous enough to set fire to his own monastery! It’s actually hilarious.

After leading the two men away from the Dove drowning amidst those others that stayed in the monastery, the elder requested to keep the beautiful cassock in his own room for the night so he could properly admire it. Tripitaka was hesitant to agree to such a demand, so Monkey did on his behalf. How was he supposed to know their host had the potential to be an arsonist?

Luckily, Monkey King already has everything taken care of. Not needing sleep like the rest of his party, the Sage was already awake to overhear the elder ordering the other monks to set fire to the wing where their group was shown to their rooms. Monkey was quick to make sure his Master and his steed stayed safe, borrowing a cloak from a celestial friend to protect them from the fire. And with his master sleeping safe and sound, now he can have some… fun.

If these stupid people were so intent on setting everything ablaze, who would he be to stop them? In fact, why not help them?

The Great Sage hovers over the controlled fire, the bustling sound of feet thumping to and fro to feed it making him smirk. Pressing two of his fingers together, the demon begins to recite under his breath softly, his words cutting through the air swiftly before lifting his head to the fire. Taking a great inhale, Wukong blows out a great wind from his lungs, directly towards the fire. It took little time before he heard the screams, and he tries to stifle his laughter before outright bellowing as the flames spread to the rest of the monastery, growing out of control.

He falls back on his cloud, barking with laughter as monks run out of the building with blood curdling screams. Some have to be quickly put out, running with the fire catching their clothes. It’s too good! Did not one of them think this plot could backfire? It’ll certainly be the last time any of them ever try such a stunt with–

Oh, now this is interesting.

One figure runs back in, his companions shouting in protest as he ignores their calls. Does he not see that the monastery was now a lost cause? Is there something he left behind? Why else is he running back in?

Curious as to what could spawn such bravery, Sun Wukong follows the young monk back into the monastery, careful to keep back a few paces so as to not reveal himself. It wasn’t very difficult, the man seems laser-focused on whatever his goal may be.

It’s amusing to the King, the way the monk frantically ducks over collapsing wood and bounds over burning debris all while doing his best to cover his face to stop the smoke from breaching his lungs. Wukong strolls not too far behind, casually spinning his staff here and there as the man rushes around corners and weaves through the burning building. It’s a shame fire can be so harmful to those who aren’t immortal. Then again, it’s always fun to watch things burn.

The monk begins to slow, seemingly arriving at his destination. It only then makes Wukong realise he had been led to where the fire initially started, the wing his group was staying in. He ran like a madman to get here? But why would he… shit.

Sun Wukong forgot about the woman.

Her sleeping quarters aren’t protected by the cloak. The realisation strikes him just as the monk approaches her room. Just before he can open it, Wukong jumps into action, revealing himself as he grabs the man by his shoulder so he could turn the monk to face him. Before he can even make a sound, Sun Wukong lifts him by his shirt and holds him with one hand in the air. The young man yelps in surprise before screaming once he realises who the one holding him is. Seeing his face clearly now, the Sage also recognizes him as the monk who had first approached Dove before swarming her with the others. “Sneaking into the room of a woman this late at night?” Wukong raises an unimpressed brow as the man struggles to pry the demon’s hand off his garbs. “And they call me an animal.”

The man continues to squirm, clearly distressed. “You monster! Don’t you see we are all about to burn?!”

The King laughs. “Oh, I know you will. The woman? I’ve yet to decide.” He takes a moment to look back at the door, weighing his options in his mind.

The man stops in his feeble attempts at freedom for a moment to cast a look of shock on the demon. “Isn’t that your travelling companion?”

“Not by choice.” Seemingly unperturbed by his current predicament, the monk continues to pick at the King’s fingers. Wukong almost feels impressed by his persistence. “She did a kindness today, she doesn’t deserve to burn!”

“Seriously?! Then why do I deser– you know, actually, I don’t care.” Wukong mumbles to himself, glancing back at the room again. Why did he have to follow this stupid monk back to her door? If he managed to forget her, he’d have the wonderful gift of her absence in the morning. But if Master finds out he had the opportunity to help and chose not to, he may just recite that stupid spell until his head cracks open.

With a long and exaggerating sigh, the Sage sets the monk down. “How dare you remind me she was here. Now I have to stop her from burning.” His grumbles barely even reach the man before he kicks down the door to her room.

Stepping in, he takes a moment to take the sight of her sleeping form in again. Smoke fills the air, heat roasting the room with the flames just reaching her door frame, and she’s still asleep? Wukong didn’t expect her to be such a heavy sleeper.

Crouching down, Monkey King grabs her shoulders to shake her awake. “Hey, wake up.” He shakes her a few times only for the woman to slump back, unbothered. It’s like she’s practically dead. Is she? The King slaps her before quickly jumping back in preparation for her shock into consciousness, but it never comes. Huh. He gets back up to his feet to leave, Master can’t be upset if she just died in her sleep.

A loud snore stops his plan just as he goes to exit the room. Dammit. “Uuuuuggggggghhhhhhhh.” Sun Wukong groans, spinning back on his heel to go for the woman. When Guan Yin convinced him to help on this stupid journey, he didn’t plan on babysitting two incompetent humans. With a roll of his eyes, Wukong scoops the girl into his arms before exiting through the window. That other monk can find his own way out.

Now with the woman in his arms, Wukong finds a tree just far enough from the carnage to enjoy it. Letting the Dove down onto the ground, he sits back against the tree to watch in peace as hysteria infects those that still believe they can put out the flames. Their attempts are laughable, the King had missed watching such chaos unfold. During the years before his conflict with the Heavenly Court, there had been many villages he and his army terrorised, and watching fires burn buildings to the ground was always one of the best parts. There’s always such a heavy contrast between the screams of the damned and the melodic rhythm of the flames, dancing in every shade of orange and red.

Wukong supposes that now, the serene feeling in his chest comes from more than just a simple fire. He glances down at the woman lying next to him, her presence, while not as powerful as when she uses the gift, is no less welcome. The Monkey King could feel his heart steady, his mind quiet, and a sigh escape his chest as the feeling of relaxation encompasses him. Were it not for her snide comments and deathly glares– as well as the shackle on his head– Dove might be nice to have around. If she was always this passive, he’d actually enjoy her company. It would be a lie to say Wukong isn’t curious about the bird on this journey with them. Not a question he ever asks her can be given a straight answer. If it wasn’t for her hostile nature, he’d be more inclined to feed his curiosity and speak with her more, but that stupid circlet is already enough of a headache and he’d rather not add to it. He’ll give her points for cunning, it was admirable, if not for the fact that it was at his expense. Nonetheless, it’s nice to be in such a soothing presence without all the usual threats and jabs. Something rustles in some bushes only a few paces away, Monkey King sitting up immediately at the sound. His head snaps to the direction of the sound, his eyes meeting another’s, black and round, with barely any white visible. He looks to the small round ears barely visible in the dark cover of shrubbery and snout of a bear’s before frowning. Before he can investigate, the creature is gone, heavy footsteps lumbering into the forest.

A chase? This night keeps getting better. Sun Wukong jumps up to give chase before nearly falling onto his face, tripping. With a grunt, he lifts his head to look back for the source of his descent, finding the woman’s arms wrapped around his waist. His once excited expression drops, an almost silent growl rippling from his chest. “Even while unconscious, she thwarts my every move!”

Sitting back up, Wukong takes her arms in his hands before the girl tightens her hold, a small grunt escaping her form as she does. The King blinks, frowning for a moment at her twisted expression before looking back in the direction the creature had run. There was no sign of it anymore. With a heavy sigh, Wukong shifts to lay against the tree once more and continues watching the flames. It was probably just an animal running from the fire. After one last glance at the woman now holding him in a death grip, he turns his attention back to the burning building, occasionally looking over to the wing where his Master sleeps to make sure the area covered in that old cloak remains untouched by the fire.

~~~~

Yelling echoes through your ears. Children cry loudly, using the backs of their throats to let out blood curdling screams. Fire erupts from every house and shop, surrounding the village as a mass of bloody flames jump from building to building.

You trip, looking down only for your eyes to widen, the lifeless eyes of the little girl who lived in the house next to yours staring back, red coating her neck and pooling under her head. The sight nearly causes you to freeze in fear if not for the barely audible sound of metal colliding. The sound is a warning, and it's enough to get you to your feet.

The Eyes, they followed you. Golden and dull. They followed you home and they brought the demons with them. A rhythmic clink of metal makes your heart stop, each clash feels as though it shakes the ground, turning it from solid earth to sand. Turning, you see a shadowy figure, the Golden Eyes glowing as they approach.

As fast as humanly possible, you run, stumbling as you do. The clinking of metal follows, echoing through your ear drums, growing louder and louder. You clutch your ears and fall to your knees. It only grows louder. Eyes shut tight, you curl into the ground, tears staining your face as you weep. The Glowing Eyes sear into your mind as you beg it to stop.

Hands grab at your arms, not claws or talons, but hands. You just barely get back to your feet in time to be dragged along to find a way to safety. Another child, a boy, takes your hand. "Come on, we have to go!" At his words, you cry out, failing miserably to pry yourself away from his hands in a desperate attempt to get away. You’ve seen this part before, you can never unsee this part.

The boy pulls you along, looking around for anyone that could help. Someone who could—

"Jie!" You shout, your throat shreds as though the claws of the demon impaling the boy with his weapon tore into your neck instead. You stumble onto your back as a blade pierces through the boy. His eyes are pleading, his scream deafening as the blade quickly retracts, allowing blood to flow from the wound. You call out only to find your voice now gone, barely a strangled gasp. A hand grabs your arm, pulling you to your feet.

"Stop! Let go!" "Aagh! Son of a—"

Your eyes snap open to find the bright morning sun bringing about a new day. The smell of ash and cinders hang in the air heavily, as though traces of a distant memory linger in your waking life. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the outdoor lighting before you frown. Outside? But you went to your room before going to bed. When did you get outside?

“I pity your pillow.” A groan from under you makes your eyes bulge wide, the figure of the all too familiar Monkey King underneath you and rubbing his jaw and– why are you holding him in your arms?!

You shout, jumping back and up onto your feet as he remains nursing his jaw on the ground. “What are you… why– when did–” Your face flushes from embarrassment before your gaze lands on where the monastery was only a night ago. “What happened?!”

“Attacks me in her sleep and doesn’t even ask if I’m okay.” The demon grumbles, rising to his feet.

You feel your gaze harden. “What were you even doing? Why was I on top of you?!”

Monkey King stretches, walking past you and towards the remains of the monastery. “I was busy saving everyone last night. But don’t worry, I can just let you burn next time.”

This despicable little– wait. “Where’s Tripitaka?!”

“AAAAAAAAAAHHH–!”

“Sounds like he’s over there.” Oh, if only you had Guan Yin’s patience.

[gildedmuse]

Give me your top 3 ZoLaw songs please

Quick note: I don't care what gender a song is about, to me gender is so easy to change out. It's easy for me to imagine the characters who fit the song regardless of the gender the singer is or who they're singing about. I think that's true for everyone but then you meet weird people who care. Not me. No fucks. If the title of the song was "She's a Green Haired Three Sword Weilding Slut With A Death Wish And I Love Her" I dare you not to picture ZoLaw.

Call My Name by The Unlikely Canidates

I keep my heart / Under the floorboards / Deep in the dark / Far away from yours / A panic starts, in a little box / When you're at my door / And it's fine, no, I lied, I feel it screaming / It knows what you've come for

The imagery here, with a heart actually being removed and hidden away, is pretty on the nose but f you ignore that the song really captures what I think of as Law's whole "I am cursed, people cannot love me and if they do, they will die" thing. Like did you see Law's reaction to hearing that Corazon saved him not out of selfishness or for some greater purpose but because he LOVED him. That fact shakes Law to his core. And the way he just sent his crew to Zou without telling them he didn't think he was going to come back, that he thought he was going to die. That speaks to someone who does not see himself as being loved.

Even when he returns to them, he is clearly happy to see them but he is also very restrained. It all speaks to someone who is very guarded what the his heart, and I think this song captures that. Specifically, I think it both tells a story of somehow who is protecting their heart, who sees anyone trying to love them almost like an attack, and finally there is an undercurrent that while he is hiding his heart from being hurt he is doing so to protect the other person.

Your pale blue eyes trigger innocence / And blind to euphoria / Then it throbs and I'm lost, I hear it laughing / My heart will destroy us

I just think it really manages to capture how Law would feel about love. First, as an attack he needs to defend himself against and secondly as something he needs to protect the other person against.

And that's why I'd put it as one of my top Law songs.

Heart Of A Dog by The Kills

I get lost / But I always come around / It's a strange fear / Allows me to be found / I'm loyal, oh oh, I'm loyal / I'm loyal, oh oh / I got the heart of a dog

Since the first one was very Law oriented, have a Zoro inspired addition. I mean, do I even have to explain this? Look at those lyrics.

I do admit, this is one that works much better for All Hearts than maybe general ZoLaw, but I would argue that seeing as being loyal is so engrained in Zoro's character, it still works even outside of the context of Zoro being Law's first mate. I think a core element of Zoro that makes him so popular is just how ride or die he is. Once he is on this crew, he is on this ship, he's going along for the ride and the only way you'll get him off is death. That's just who Zoro IS.

That's who he is as a crew mate, and I have to believe that is who he would be as a lover. Even on a more canon reading where he isn't actually on Law's crew or ship, I don't think Zoro has it in him to love someone and NOT give it all himself. That's just not how he works.

Once he's set on Law, he's set on Law, and nothing short of his heart not beating will change that.

It's life or death why I chew through the chain / It don't matter my love's the same

Crazy Possessive by Kaci Battaglia

Touch my man again and Imma f*** you up, and Imma f*** you up

Listen to this song then imagine Law when ever Luffy wraps himself around Zoro.

Listen to it and imagine any modern AU and Doffy setting a SINGLE FINGER on Law.

Tell me these two would not fuck people up for DARING to try and cross the line.

Bonus!

Go Places by The New Pornographers

Yes a heart should always go one step too far / Come the morning and the day winding like dreams / Come the morning every blue shade of green / Come with me, go places

This should just be on every Captain x Anyone ship from OP playlist ever. That's just facts.

Come head-on, full circle / Our arms fill with miracles / Play hearts, kid, they work well Like magic, play aces / Stay with me, go places

—💚—

Also, looking at it now, my ZoLaw playlist is very All Hearts oriented. Like that's the name of my ZoLaw playlist so...

And yes, of course I have a ZoLaw playlist. I have seven different One Piece lists. That's how I roll.

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

@fandom-kitty

MIO DIO, what the fuck man.

like listen to the words your saying, listen to them real quick.

"Don’t we normally encourage folks to buy accessibility products to teach stores to carry more of it? Like, if it’s the last one on the shelf maybe leave it for the intended buyer but if there’s a shelf-full and you’re buying one?" -you

right now, the demand for a DISABILITY AID. TO MAKE SURE PEOPLE DON'T ASPHYXIATE!!!!

(YOU KNOW DROWN, CHOKE, AIRWAYS BLOCKED)

WATER THICKENERS

ARE IN HIGH DEMAND, FOR SLIME.

THIS IS NO HYPOTHETICAL!!!!!

FUCKING SLIME, people will fucking die.

I will never know what it's like to be dysphasic, but by fuck is it horrifying to not be able to drink water, or eat food.

"Do me a favor and maybe make it clearer you’re not accusing me of fucking ableism. Because right now that tag definitely makes me think you are, which is bullshit. I made a valid comment, because with almost all accessibility products it is encouraged for people to buy it even if they don’t “need” it to promote more distribution of it." -you

by fuck you are, you are the same types of fuckers who tortured me and hurt me and made me have horrible debilitating asthma attacks, and almost die from allergic reactions. because you don't believe disabled people are disabled and are only "lazy" or "trying to get out of something"

you are literally denying the shortage..

OF WATER THICKERNERS!

like for fucks sake I don't need to be dysphasic to know how utterly HORRIBLE that is?

to not be able to drink water? to not be able to eat?

like fuck you man, yes you are being ableist.

"Oh! And in response to your assumption that I had never even heard of this before, my dying father actually needed this stuff, but since it was bought through his hospice I never knew it was in short supply. I just knew it was a thing he needed to not fucking die. So how about you get the fuck over yourself soon?"

okay? I have known what water thickeners are aswell, you should know better than this dude.

also me and peeper, have many disabled aqaintnces and friends who are dysphasic who are suffering from the shortages and it's why we are so passionate.

people are always disabled rights until a disabled person calls you out on your bullshit.

"Literally are you okay? Like, are you actually okay? I think maybe you’re so used to being angry you’re not actually reading the shit you’re replying to. Because I have not a single time said to take the resources from anyone if it was in short supply. Actually I’ve said multiple time to not do that." -you

my beloved moot peeper, has been through hell. actual hell, and you probably do not know about the ever present onslaught of hate messages, death threats, and general bullshit people keep try to pull on him.

forgive him, if you had gone through that shit you'd be on edge and angry at people who keep trying to hurt you.

like, again perfectly understandable anger from peeper ACTUALLY

I'm fucking pissed too, and you should shut up too.

I will never be knowable on everything, but there's a difference man.

you are not being kind about this, and are again attacking peeper.

like just go "sorry I was in the wrong" and go about your day.

it costs literally nothing to apologise and stop being condescending!!!

zero dollars, it takes 5 mins. and everyone is happy.

like if I know something, it's when to realise I fucked up and that I need to apologise.

and you should probably heed this advice

apparently people are now purchasing thick water to make slimes with because of a trend on tiktok

thick water is for disabled people who can’t swallow properly. stores usually have extremely limited supplies of it.

please don’t buy thick water for fun or to make slime with. it’s literally the only way some disabled people can drink anything. It’s not a fucking toy

[albatris]

is there romance in atdao or is it all just found famiy vibes? if there is romance im real curious about how peeps would express those kinda feelings

hello hi hello this took me AGES I’m very sorry I kept getting distracted by things such as being asleep

anyway yes thank you for the question! romance? yes, we’ve got some of this going on, sure, though I would count the romance as within the found family c:

I don’t know if you wanted a Ramble™ but this is a topic I can ramble about and I’m in a bit of a rambling mood so you can have a ramble, free of charge, just take it up to the register and have them enter the code “logan this is not what I ordered”

but yeah, your question? about eight vaguely relevant tangents immediately spring to mind! also spoilers?? spoilers after the cut

I really should have formatted this response in a way that puts the super spoiler heavy part at the end but since when have I ever ever in my life made things easy for my dear sweet followers

y’all know what I’m like with spoilers by now 

but yeah, to set the scene, there’s two main romantic......................... situations going on in the story, the first being between Noa and Alice, and the second being between Kai, Tris and Shara. so, the former I would describe as “a legitimate romantic subplot” and the latter I would describe as a character tripping and falling into it by sheer chance and just being like “oh whoops well I guess this is what I’m doing now” which is also extremely valid

Noa and Alice end up not being, like, Confirmed Endgame by the end of the story even though much of the plot looks like it’s heading in that direction, and like...... yeah, in my head, they do end up in a romantic relationship at some point post-story, but I’m not sure on what sort of timeline

during the story itself, it’s established that they do share mutual feelings for each other and this is likely heading towards a romantic relationship, but I think since much of the story sees Noa still trying to find her feet in just, like....... having friends at all, and trusting those friends, and knowing who she is in relation to others on any sort of level, I think near the end of the story she decides that she’s not at a place where she wants to try and figure out a romantic relationship just yet

it’s not a hard no, it’s just a “hey not right now” and a “let’s see what happens later down the track, for now it’s just nice to be around friends” ‘cause even that is just super new territory for her

which I worry will make people feel cheated, but also, I think it’s the ending for this subplot that would make the most sense for where the characters are at and would be the most fitting c:

and secondly there’s like

hm. ok

well, there WAS a vaguely jokey post I made yonks back where I pitched the idea of an ATDAO polyamory ending being just like. Alice who’s dating Noa who’s dating Shara who’s dating Kai who’s dating Tris. and I stand by this being solid as hell. but also, given the ending to Noa’s subplot with Alice, it doesn’t really work in the story canon, n though I think Noa and Shara is a dynamic I really enjoy, it would likely not actually play out in reality :P

which leaves the trio of Shara, Kai and Tris, a trio I’ve always vibed with and had vaguely on my radar as a valid poly ending but for some reason didn’t twig that I could just, like, make it canon and no one can stop me LMAO

but yeah, this one, like I said, it’s not so much aHD whole big subplot, it’s just something that falls into place super casually and is never really brought up beyond “oh is this a thing that’s happening?” “yeah” “cool ok”

I think there’s a brief window as a reader where you might be like “ugh this is gonna be a stupid love triangle or some weird jealousy thing” but then it just ends up being a complete non-issue. there’s basically zero romantic drama for this plotline, Tris and Shara are bros and Kai is dating both of them

n as for your question itself, it depends on whether you mean, like.......... how they would go about expressing to someone else that they have romantic feelings or, like, how they express their affections in a romantic scenario

‘cause for the former, the answer for both Tris and Noa is just.... they don’t

Noa because at the start of the story she views her crush on Alice as a huge fucking inconvenience that’s going to make things messy and complicated, so she just tries to ignore her romantic feelings as hard as she can (obviously this doesn’t last hahaha). but yeah, she’s just very pissed off that she has a crush and doesn’t want to acknowledge it :P she also has no idea how to respond when Alice expresses romantic interest in her, this is all extremely new territory

and Tris because he doesn’t realise he’s even experiencing romantic feelings in the first place?? like. the boy has so much baseline anxiety jitteriness that stuff like, idk, feeling your heart pick up pace, butterflies in the stomach, any kinda social nerves you get around the people you like, etc, he experiences this with Kai and is automatically just like “great now you’re here and I’m having a panic attack can you please leave”

just slaps a label of Bad Vibes onto it then later is like Wait A Minute

but yeah, I think neither of them would be super comfy actually expressing their feelings out loud or making that first move, Noa because she’s super fuckin petty and stubborn and Tris because he’s waaaaaaaay too fuckin socially anxious for that shit are you kidding

in terms of how they express their affections though??

so like. I have to reiterate that I’m aro and ace and I have a lot of difficulty in articulating what makes a romance A Romance, like??? I have relationships that are friendships and relationships that are romantic, but I myself don’t really experience romantic attraction in the way other people do

as such, the way I write characters in their romantic expressions tends to be just an extension of how they act in their friendships? which I think is a pretty ok thing to base a romance off anyway, but like, yeah, romance, this is a mystery to me for the most part, do I look like I know what a romance is

anyway I think once Alice and Noa get a little closer there’s a lot of good-natured ribbing and friendly insults, n since they already had a bit of a rivalry going on beforehand I would imagine this competitive streak doesn’t disappear :P Noa is generally uncomfy with being Openly affectionate and soft with others, so I think there would be a lot of more “indirect” ways she shows this care. I think they have the kind of relationship where from an outside perspective you don’t really get how it’s warm and affectionate, but it’s just ‘cause you don’t know the lingo, right

Tris is just the cheerleader type in all friendly relationships I think, lots of encouragement and hype and compliments and enthusiasm, he’s very excitable and very easily impressed hahahaha. though I think it takes people a while to click that he’s legitimately being 100% earnest and genuine, the constant deadpan does not work super well in his favour

anyway I’m gonna hop back up for a sec so I can cover Shara and Kai real quick

these two are............ a bit more direct with actually verbalising their feelings to people? Shara is a socially anxious type, but also not someone who enjoys beating around the bush, n she generally likes to just speak what’s on her mind and be direct with others whenever she can. Kai just kinda........ I mean, I don’t think they consider romantic affections to be a super big deal? at least in theory? I say in theory ‘cause, like, I think they give the impression that this kind of conversation is just super smooth and easy for them, and on the inside they’re like “it’s really not a big deal it’s just feelings it’s whatever” but they’re still anxious about it and had to hype themself up for like a week before going through with it lmao

but ye, in terms of how they express their affections, they’re both fairly similar. you suddenly will just Not Be Able To Get Rid Of Them, they’ll constantly be hanging around in the same space or dragging you into whatever shenanigans they’ve got going on, I think for both of them their favourite expression of love is just sharing in experiences or sharing the same space, just Being Involved And Around 

a “hey come help me run errands” type or a “I’m gonna hang off the back of your sofa while you’re studying and sometimes slingshot balls of paper at you with a rubber band” type :P

and now I have to go on Another Tangent just ‘cause the subject matter is vaguely relevant and idk where else I’m gonna go on this tangent

there is definitely some part of me that’s still super super fond of the idea of Kai being aro??? and I initially did write them as such, but for the moment this is not something that’s remained canon in text ‘cause I’m a little bitch ‘cause like

Kai would be aro in very much the same way I am, which is to say, they’re a person who is extremely full of love and who has difficulty in differentiating what the step is supposed to be between friendship feelings and romantic feelings, so, someone who may not necessarily “get” what makes a romance a romance or experience any feelings different from a strong friendship, but who is still open to being in a romantic relationship

(the difference between us being that Kai Really Really Likes People and enjoys being close with others as much as possible, where I’m more the awkward standoffish hermit type lmao)

but yeah, I was kinda like. well. despite being a perfectly valid aro person in a romantic relationship myself, if I were a fictional character people would probably call me bad rep HAHAHA. like “yeah they’re apparently aro but they don’t really ACT aro and the author put them in a romantic relationship ://”

and while I think there’s value to be had in fiction in exploring the different ways a person can be aro, I just, like................... thought about the hypothetical future discourse and was just like UGH. I cannot be fucking BOTHERED

I get enough people in real life being like “ok but you’re not REALLY aro like why do you even bother having that label it’s not like it matters in your context” even though I’m the goddamn expert on my own experiences you bastards

lmao

but yeah I think aro Kai is canon in my heart hahahaha. and they may end up articulating some of the same feelings, maybe just not with the label applied, who knows

anyway that’s my rambles done I think! thanks for reading n have a nice night c:

[etsuven]

rating: angst warnings: sad i think, jk i know includes: short sad stuff :(( i haven't written angst in a while and this idea has been in my computer notes for a while so i decided to finally write it out, i wanna keep what really happens a secret <3 summary: venti reminisces on events from his past

the day started with an impromptu date. venti noticed that you hadn't been feeling your best lately, so he decided to make it his mission to make you feel better. he dragged you to the tavern, chatting your ear off the whole way there.

you spent your time talking about your day, occasionally bothering the owner, diluc, with your questions. which do you think is better? who do you think is right? despite the constant rolling of his eyes, the two of you noticed that he didn't seem to mind it very much.

venti took you to the windrise tree next, where you took the time to relax. your head was in venti's lap, and he was looking at you with a smile that made your heart skip a few beats.

"mind if i play you a song?" your boyfriend asked, already pulling out his trusty lyre. usually that meant he had already had a song ready for you to hear.

you laughed, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. "you're already pulling it out, sweetheart. how could i say no?" venti leaned down to give your forehead a quick kiss, yet that wasn't enough for you.

pulling him down by his neck, you connected your lips, smiling into the kiss. venti let out a laugh and pulled away soon after, his slightly chubby cheeks tinted a slight shade of pink.

"you're so cute, ven!..." you sat up, squeezing his cheeks in between your fingers. you let go once he began to pout, sitting back and eagerly waiting for him to start singing. venti breathed in deeply, closing his eyes for starting to sing.

you had always loved the sound of venti's voice. it was soft, yet loud, the words echoing through the cool mondstadt air. you noticed that he never actually sang, as most of the things he did in angels share consisted of him speaking tales while playing his lyre.

you often said that he sounded like an angel, and while you wished that others could hear his true voice, you also wanted to keep it to yourself. the high and lively songs he sang to others in the tavern, and the low tone he took when he sang you to sleep...

you adored them, and adored him as well.

venti soon finished his song, and you gave him a standing ovation. the young man bowed dramatically, basking in your praise. you had always asked him how he never seemed to get tired of your endless compliments, and his answer was always "because i love everything you say to me!"

suddenly, you were engulfed in a tight embrace. you let out a gasp of surprise, only to look at venti with concern when you noticed the serious look on his face. "venti?... is everything okay?" you spoke softly, the worry seeping into your words. venti buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply.

"you... you know i love you, right?" his words were shaky, and it was almost as if he was trying not to burst out into tears. you nodded, a small 'of course' leaving your lips before he continued.

"i love you so, so much. i love the songs we made together, i love the food we've made with each other, i love the look in your eyes when i tell you something you like... i love anything and everything about you, (y/n)." tears brimmed in your eyes, and venti found himself kissing away the droplets of salty water.

your eyes searched his face, wiping at the tears forming in his own eyes. "i love you too, but... what brought this up?" venti laughed, yet it didn't seem very genuine.

"i just wanted to tell you!" he smiled, and you frowned. clearly something was wrong, but you didn't pry just yet. maybe he was going through something and just didn't want to tell you? whatever could be plaguing that pretty head of his? you squeezed gently at his cheeks once more before laying your flat palm on the flesh, watching as he leaned into your touch.

"oh, and just so you know…"

venti closes his eyes and opens them again, letting out a shuddering sigh, a sorrow filled look on his face as his gaze lands on your grave. he wipes at a tear falling down his cheek, trying to hide his true feelings with a small smile.

you had been dead for some time now, and venti missed you so much. the only things he had left of you were pictures from a spare kamera the long gone traveler had given to you and the songs the two of you had made so long ago.

"there is no star or constellation in the sky that shines brighter than - you, my dear." and with a kiss blown at the sky; the same sky the two of you spent hours looking at... he walked away.

yet this time, he didn't bother hiding his tears.