#robbed. i am fixing it immediately.

[hinamie]

post-graduation trip airport looks

[steddiehyperfixation]

with blonde hair and a tan

steddie brainworms so bad i wrote this silly little thing immediately after watching the rocky horror picture show for the first time the other night lol @steddie-spooktober day 30: "where in the hell did you find that costume?" | 1083 words | T |

Eddie can hear Steve and Robin squabbling as he makes his way up the stairs to Steve's room. 

“I just don't know about this, Rob.” 

“It was your idea!” 

“It's too much. I should wear something else.” 

“Little late for that now.” 

“Well-”

“Where in the hell did you find that costume?” Eddie stops in the doorway, frozen in a state of shock at the scene in front of him. His mouth hangs open, eyes wide, and a sudden heat rises in his cheeks. 

Because Steve is standing in front of his mirror wearing only a tiny metallic gold speedo and matching gold boots, his great expanse of tanned skin and muscles and body hair on full display. Robin stands next to him with a spray can of wash out bleach-blonde hair dye at the ready. 

Steve looks over at Eddie. “It's too much, isn't it? I knew it. I told you,” he says to Robin, gesturing at Eddie as if his reaction proves his point. “Look at his face, even he's embarrassed for me.” 

Robin snorts. “Yeah, I don't think that's why he's blushing, Steve-o.” 

“No one’s even gonna know who I am,” Steve continues to complain, thankfully ignoring Robin’s comment. 

“Rocky,” Eddie says. His voice comes out weird and cracked; he clears his throat. “You're Rocky, from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” 

“See?” Now it's Robin’s turn to gesture towards Eddie in vindication. “Totally recognizable. Totally good. It's just one party, and you've got all that unwarranted jock confidence, you'll be fine.” She pats Steve on the shoulder, then turns and tosses the spray dye at Eddie. “Here. You can take over spraying his hair. I have to finish getting myself ready.” 

Eddie fumbles trying to catch the spray can, his attempt to stammer out a protest falling on deaf ears as Robin pushes past him out of the room. “Okay.” He sighs. This is fine. He can totally handle being left alone with this literal golden adonis without getting heart palpitations. He can be cool and chill and normal. He can. 

Steve looks amused. “You don't have to. I can probably manage spraying my own hair just fine,” he says when Eddie still hasn't moved. 

“No, I got it.” Eddie shakes his head, shaking himself into motion. “You won't be able to get the back right on your own anyways.” He approaches Steve - with great restraint, he might add, because there's a part of his brain that's all animal right now and it's just raring to pounce on him. “So are you done trying to talk yourself out of this costume, then?” 

Steve chews at his lip as he studies his reflection again. “I think so,” he decides. His gaze flicks up to meet Eddie's eyes in the mirror. “You really don't think it's too much?” 

Eddie breaks the mirror eye contact before his face can turn any more red, fixing his focus singularly on starting to spray the blonde dye onto Steve's hair. “No, you uh, you look good. You really should've warned me- told me, I mean, what you were gonna be. I would've matched your theme, could've gone as Dr. Frank N Furter.” (His current costume in comparison is quite boring, just a basic vampire - albeit with some pretty impressive fake blood around his mouth if he does say so himself, but ultimately nothing special.)

“Now that would be something,” Steve mutters, the words a little breathier all of the sudden, but Eddie still doesn't dare let his glance wander from his hair. His voice is back to normal in a second anyway. “Well, there's always next year.” 

“Yeah, next year,” Eddie echoes. That really would be something, both of them in flamboyantly skimpy costumes. He's not sure if that would make this situation better or worse for him. 

He pushes up some of Steve's hair to make sure he's covered all the layers in the back, his fingers accidentally brushing along the skin of his neck, and Steve shivers. Eddie finds himself watching with an odd satisfaction as the goosebumps ripple up in the wake of his touch. 

“I think I might freeze to death like this, though,” Steve comments with a self-deprecating chuckle that just barely conceals that weird breathiness that's returned to his voice. “I probably should've considered that before I decided to go out half naked at night in the middle of fall.” 

“I bet you could easily find someone to keep you warm tonight,” Eddie tells him, forcing detachment. He locks his attention back on his hair dyeing work. “You walk in there looking like this and you'll have all the girls at the party falling at your feet. Probably even some of the guys too,” he adds, remembering Steve recently came out as bisexual. 

“Yeah?” Steve sounds like he's smiling, or maybe smirking. He tries (unsuccessfully) to catch Eddie's eyes again as Eddie moves in front of him to get to the last few pieces of hair. “And what about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“Would you be one of them?” 

Eddie finishes with the hairspray, nothing left to keep using as an excuse to avoid his attention. He finally looks at Steve's face and raises an eyebrow, deflecting. “You want me to fall at your feet, Harrington?” 

Steve shakes his head almost imperceptibly. He glances down for a moment, then looks back up at him from under his lashes and takes a step closer. “I want you to keep me warm,” he clarifies in a murmur as he reaches for Eddie's free hand and guides it to hold his waist. Eddie's blood ignites at the touch and the look Steve's giving him, flames racing along his veins. 

That's as good an invitation as any, and Eddie's restraint shatters. He draws Steve hungrily to his lips. How could he not? The spray can falls from his grip in favor of using both hands to pull Steve closer and roam his body. And if Eddie's wandering hands linger for a while in their investigation of that perfect gold-clad ass, well that's between them and the lovely little sound Steve makes against his open mouth. 

And Robin, who has the misfortune of poking her head back into the room right then. 

She yelps and jumps out of view of the scene, banging her fist against the wall just next to the doorway to get their attention instead. “When you guys are done being gross,” she shouts, “there's a party we're gonna be late for!” 

[kitkat13001]

⊹₊⟡⋆ 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚏𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 | pro-hero shoto todoroki x reader

shoto has never been an explicitly complex person. he doesn’t care much for flashy looks or bright lights or glitter and bravado. his life is busy and he enjoys the simplicity of coming home in the evenings, especially the ones where it was raining and he would open the door and immediately be swallowed in the embrace of the precious being he called his fiancée. 

it always brings a smile to his face and he can’t help the almost giddy feeling inside him to see your beaming face. 

it makes it worth it when his aching muscles have to carry him up five flights of stairs. it makes it worth it when he has to jam his key into the lock and jiggle it until it finally opens. 

it smells like pine-scented detergent and coffee when shoto enters the apartment, and it smells like home. 

he sees the back of your head on the couch and you whip around to greet him with a grin.

you move to stand and immediately sink back down, your smile morphing into a wince. 

“ooh, shitshitshit. bad idea, bad idea.”

shoto frowns as he gets closer and notices the brace on your knee. 

“you got hurt during patrol?” he asks, taking a seat next to you. 

you shrug, setting your glass down and shifting to face shoto. 

“not a big deal. some idiot tried to get away with robbing a bank. hit me in the knee with a pipe. i’m fine, though. it just hurts a little.”

without you asking, shoto lays a gentle hand down on your knee. you sigh in relief as his hand drops in temperature, the icy touch relieving the ache in your knee. 

you drop your head on his shoulder, placing a kiss there as well. “you’re the best. i love you.”

shoto chuckles. “mm. i love you too.”

“i called shiozaki today. she’d love to help us out with the flowers. and yaomomo agreed on saturday to go looking for invitations.”

shoto hums, his nimble fingers gently massaging your knee. 

“sounds like a plan.”

a soft silence settles over you for a little while, both of you lost to thought.

“cold soba for dinner?” you ask, tracing patterns on shoto’s shoulder. 

he smiles to himself. you know him. the thought makes his heart warm and his cheeks pink. 

“i don’t deserve you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

you giggle, threading a hand in his hair. 

“you don’t deserve this hot mess? mm, too bad. maybe next time i’ll say yes to the sidekick who asked me out. think he’d deserve me?”

shoto leans back to give you a dry look. “you’re not funny.”

you snort with laughter, kicking your good leg. “i am too! but i was joking, ‘cause i am way out of that guy’s league.”

“ha ha,” shoto rolls his eyes. he gives you a devious smile. “maybe i should make an appearance at your agency, give ‘em all a reminder who you’re with.”

your face falls. “sho, you better not. we lost five sidekicks and two interns last time you made ‘an appearance’.”

now it’s shoto’s turn to laugh. you frown at his amused expression, pouting.

“it’s not funny, sho!” you whine, which only further spurs the widening grin on shoto’s face. 

“mhm. so how about that soba?”

“i changed my mind, i want teriyaki. ooh, no i want meat buns! oooh now i want udon. or ramen! shoto, i want sushiiii!”

“baby, you don’t even like fish,” he murmurs, smiling softly. you fix him with a pout and a cold stare. 

“how about this,” shoto muses, “we can get sushi and a combo noodle meal and pick up meat buns from the store on the corner. on the way back, we can pick up the teriyaki. you can pick a movie and we can sit on the floor and eat and take a nap on the couch when we’re full. how’s that?”

you beam, already standing and running down the hall for your shoes and undoubtedly one of shoto’s sweaters—sore knee long forgotten. 

“i can’t wait to marry you!” you shout from down the hall, the patter of your footsteps bringing a small smile to shoto’s face. 

he’s not keen on waiting either, but a few months doesn’t seem so bad when he gets to spend the rest of his life with you.  

[iyoonjh]

Beyond Plus Ultra! – The anatomy of falling in love

Chapter 8: Is This a Shōjo Moment or Am I Just Delusional?

wc: 4930 words

Y/N had spent the entire weekend avoiding eye contact with her friends.

It wasn’t easy, considering they had spent approximately 48 hours analyzing her life choices like a panel of international scholars.

Jungwon’s betrayal had been swift and merciless—dropping the whole “Y/N has a crush on Soobin” bomb in the group chat like he was announcing breaking news. After that, it was over for her.

She had been interrogated. Mocked. Harassed. 

No, it wasn’t the fact that she had a crush on someone outside their usual social circle—her friends couldn’t care less about that. What truly entertained them was how utterly hopeless she was about the whole thing. The disastrous flirting, the way her face cycled through five different shades of pink at the mere mention of Soobin, and, of course, the fact that she literally stole a book because she was too busy staring at him. Y/N couldn’t even be mad at them for teasing her—she rarely got crushes, let alone one this intense, so naturally, her friends had made it their mission to mercilessly roast her for it. 

The relentless teasing was unbearable. They were calling her the smitten swindler. The daydreaming delinquent. Sunoo even changed her contact name to "flirty thief”.

It had gotten so bad that Y/N actually considered changing her name, transferring universities, and moving to a remote mountain village where no one would ever ask about her feelings for Soobin.

Worst of all?

She couldn’t even deny it.

Because yes, she had been spending a suspicious amount of time at the manga shop lately. And yes, maybe she had started looking forward to seeing Soobin, in the way someone might look forward to a season finale of their favorite show. And maybe she liked the way he got all flustered when she talked to him, how he had that adorably awkward charm that made him so easy to tease. Maybe she wanted to keep talking to him, to see how much pinker his ears could get, to hear him stammer over his words just because she looked at him for too long.

Maybe.

But that wasn’t the point.

The point was that she was going back to the shop today. She hoped the stolen manga volume episode was settled and long forgotten. She was glad she fixed it immediately  and wouldn't be at risk of being known as The Girl Who Scammed Soobin Out of Five Bucks.

Y/N was just about to turn the corner when she almost collided with two suspiciously frantic figures.

Beomgyu and Heeseung.

They skidded to a halt in front of her, wide-eyed, looking like they had just robbed a bank and were making a dramatic getaway. Beomgyu’s hair was slightly disheveled, his shirt wrinkled like he had been manhandled by fate itself, while Heeseung clutched a half-eaten bag of chips like it was evidence.

All three of them stood there for a long, tense moment.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “What… are you two doing?”

Beomgyu recovered first, throwing an arm in front of Heeseung like they were shielding themselves from interrogation.

“Nothing,” he said too quickly. Way too quickly.

Heeseung, not as quick on his feet, pointed a single, accusatory finger back toward the manga shop. “We weren’t messing with Soobin.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “I never said you were.”

Beomgyu elbowed Heeseung so hard that his friend stumbled.

“What he meant to say,” Beomgyu said, plastering on his best innocent smile, “is that we were just leaving. Completely normal exit. Totally not escaping after tormenting Soobin for the past fifteen minutes. 100% not before our shift ended.”

Heeseung coughed. “Allegedly.”

Y/N crossed her arms, unimpressed. “You guys realize you’re making this sound way worse than it probably is, right?”

Beomgyu gasped, hand to chest. “Are you saying I look guilty?”

“Yes.”

Heeseung nodded. “Yeah, man. You look guilty as hell.”

Beomgyu shot him a betrayed look. “Bro.” He quickly brushed it and continued to Y/N “How about you? You returned!”

Heeseung crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “At this point, we should be charging you rent.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Hilarious.”

Beomgyu smirked. “It’s what I do.” He narrowed his eyes. “Wait… why are you here again? Don’t tell me…” His expression turned mockingly serious. “Have you become one of us?”

Heeseung gasped, playing along. “Oh god, she’s joined the dark side.”

Y/N snorted, tilting her head. “I don’t know. Do I get health insurance?”

Beomgyu scoffed. “Of course not, we're not a corporate empire.”

“Then I’m afraid I can’t commit,” she sighed, placing a hand over her chest in exaggerated disappointment. “My loyalty can only be bought with dental coverage.”

“I respect that,” Heeseung said solemnly.

Beomgyu nodded. “Fair. The best we can offer is unlimited terrible opinions on anime and occasional emotional damage.”

“Tempting.” Y/N replied.

Beomgyu grinned, nudging Heeseung. “Damn. She’s really holding out.”

“Unbelievable.” Heeseung sighed.

Y/N rolled her eyes, pushing past them. “Anyway, I'm heading inside, bye.”

“Tell our dear Boobie we said hi,” Beomgyu called out.

“Or don’t. Either way, he’ll be thinking about it for the next five hours,” Heeseung added.

Y/N laughed and stepped deeper into the shop. 

The familiar chime of the door made Soobin freeze.

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

It was her.

Soobin had barely survived the last time Y/N had been in the shop. He was still recovering from the emotional whiplash of hearing her laugh at his dumb jokes and have a great time with him and his friends. He had spent 48 hours straight reliving their last conversation, analyzing every word, every glance, every microexpression like it was a final exam.

And now?

Now she was back.

Soobin panicked. His hands twitched uselessly at his sides. Should he greet her? Should he pretend to be busy? Should he disappear behind the counter and pray for divine intervention? WHY WAS SHE LOOKING AT HIM?

“Hey,” she said, all casual and cool, like she wasn’t the architect of his current mental breakdown.

Soobin, a certified disaster of a human being, cleared his throat and said, "Hey."

Nailed it.

Y/N wandered toward the shelves, pretending to browse, but Soobin could feel her presence like a rogue asteroid hurtling toward his entire existence.

"I just ran into Heeseung and Beomgyu," Y/N said, crossing her arms with an amused smirk. "They looked like they were fleeing the scene of a crime. I’m guessing they ran off to avoid closing the shop?"

Soobin let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah… they do that sometimes. Their favorite trick is disappearing the second it’s time to do actual work."

Y/N laughed. "Classic. And let me guess—you just let it happen?"

Soobin shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean… I don’t really mind closing up." He offered her a small, shy smile. "I like the quiet."

Y/N tilted her head, studying him. "That’s kind of nice, actually."

Soobin blinked. "What is?"

She gestured around the shop. "That you don’t see it as just a chore. You actually enjoy the time alone here."

He hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. It’s… peaceful. It’s like my own little world when I’m here by myself."

Y/N hummed, eyes flickering toward the shelves, the dim glow of the overhead lights making the space feel cozier than usual. "I get that," she said softly, before turning back to him with a teasing smile. "Still, you should make them suffer a little. Next time, fake a power outage or something."

Soobin laughed, the sound light and so unfairly cute that Y/N almost forgot what air was.

"I’ll keep that in mind," he said, his gaze lingering on her just a second longer than usual.

She kept looking at him, her expression thoughtful. "You’re closing soon then, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Soobin said. He glanced at the clock. Ten minutes until closing. Ten minutes until he could collapse in private and overthink this entire interaction for the rest of his life.

Then she said the most unexpected words Soobin had ever heard:

"Do you have plans after this?"

The words barely registered. Was he hallucinating? Had he fallen into an alternate dimension? Had he died and ascended to a better reality where Y/N casually asked him questions that required coherent responses?

He blinked. “Uh. No?”

Y/N smiled like that was exactly the answer she had been hoping for.

Oh God.

"It’s insanely hot outside," she said. "I was thinking of getting ice cream. Want to come?"

He could feel his soul exiting his body.

She was asking him to get ice cream? Him? Choi Soobin? A certified weeb who still hadn’t figured out what to do with his hands in social situations?

His brain short-circuited. He hadn’t been prepared for this. What was he supposed to say? Play it cool? Was there even a way to respond coolly when your crush, who was miles out of your league, just casually asked you out—because that’s what this was, right? An outing. A one-on-one, post-manga-shop, middle-of-summer outing.

Soobin had officially stopped responding.

Meanwhile, Y/N was going through her own mental catastrophe.

Why did she ask? Why did she say that? What if he said no?

The weight of her impulsiveness crashed down on her like a tidal wave. This wasn’t part of the plan. The plan was to build a friendship, to gradually get closer to him, to not accidentally reveal how much she had been thinking about him for the past few days. But no—her mouth had worked faster than her brain, and now she was standing there, waiting for an answer, exposed.

If he said no, she would die. Right here. Right now. Instant cardiac arrest.

She tilted her head, feigning casual confidence, but on the inside, she was screaming.

Soobin, on the other hand, was experiencing a full-fledged existential crisis.

She had no idea. No idea that he had spent the past two days thinking about every second they had talked, replaying her laugh in his head like some kind of deranged romantic protagonist. No idea that he had debated texting Yeonjun to ask if it was normal to feel this level of panic over a girl saying your name. No idea that she was the reason he had stared at his ceiling last night, questioning everything he knew about his own emotions.

And now she was looking at him, expectant.

Waiting.

Soobin swallowed.

“Uh—”

Say yes. Say yes, you idiot.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’m free.”

Oh, thank god. Y/N barely stopped herself from sagging in relief.

“Cool,” she said, trying to sound normal, casual, like her heart hadn’t just tried to escape her ribcage. “It’s way too hot outside, so, you know… ice cream seemed like a good idea.”

“Yeah,” Soobin agreed, still in shock. “Good idea.”

Neither of them moved.

The silence stretched, awkward and ridiculous, as if neither of them actually knew what the next step was. Y/N was still gripping the strap of her bag like it was a lifeline. Soobin’s hands hovered near the counter, still unsure where they were supposed to go.

"Cool. Let’s go." Y/N finally broke the awkwardness. 

Soobin sprang into action like he had just been given a mission of national importance.

He turned so fast he nearly took out an entire display stand, then scrambled to grab the shop keys. Fumbled them. Dropped them. Picked them up like it was all part of the plan. Y/N bit her lip to keep from laughing as he hurried to lock up, jamming the key into the lock with the grace of someone defusing a bomb. She had never seen someone so genuinely flustered by the concept of ice cream.

He took a step back, stared at the door for a moment. Then checked the handle. Checked it again. Paused.

Y/N tilted her head. "Worried it’s gonna unlock itself and run away?"

Soobin cleared his throat, stuffing the keys into his pocket like he totally wasn’t just overthinking how doors worked. "Nope. Just being thorough."

"Right," Y/N smirked, crossing her arms. "Because closing up the shop is such an intense, high-stakes operation."

"You never know," he shrugged, playing it cool. "One wrong move and suddenly, the shop is haunted."

Y/N snorted. "Tragic. A ghost manga shop. Forever doomed to misplace volume twos."

"Exactly," Soobin nodded sagely, as if that was exactly what he had been worried about all along.

Finally, they started walking, the warm summer air settling around them like a lazy embrace. The city buzzed softly in the distance, but here, in this quiet stretch of sidewalk, it felt like they had slipped into their own little world.

A comfortable silence stretched between them, neither in a rush to fill it. Soobin walked on auto-pilot, his brain desperately trying to process the fact that this was actually happening.

That she was actually here.

Next to him.

Wearing that dress.

Soobin swallowed hard, forcing himself to look straight ahead instead of glancing at her every two seconds like some kind of love-struck idiot. But god—how was he supposed to function when she looked like that? The streetlights cast a soft glow over her, catching the curve of her smile, the way her hands absentmindedly played with the tie of her bag. She had pulled her hair up into a loose ponytail, a few strands falling around her face like some kind of dream, and Soobin was losing his mind.

Like—was she aware of what she was doing to him?

Was she trying to make him suffer?

Because it was working.

His hands were shoved in his pockets, shoulders stiff with effort as he tried to act like a normal human being. Like his heartbeat wasn’t currently attempting to break the sound barrier. Like this was just a regular walk with a regular friend to get regular ice cream.

Not some insanely perfect, slightly surreal moment where the girl he’d been secretly obsessed with for ages had just casually asked him to hang out like it was no big deal.

Was it a big deal?

For her? Probably not.

For him?

Catastrophic.

Soobin risked a quick glance at her—just a peek, just to see if she looked as relaxed as she seemed—and oh, bad idea.

She was smiling softly, eyes flicking up toward the sky like she was just content to be here. Completely unaware of the fact that Soobin was fighting for his life.

As for Y/N, for the first time all day, it felt like she could breathe.

She shouldn’t feel nervous. This was fine. It was just ice cream.

And yet—her heart had other plans.

Because Soobin was right there, walking beside her, hands stuffed into his pockets like he was trying to look cool and casual –and failing, but in an endearingly awkward way. The soft glow of the streetlights highlighted the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his dark hair fell a little too perfectly over his eyes, and it was honestly a little unfair.

Since when was he this cute?

Since when did his voice make her stomach flip whenever he spoke? And why did she suddenly care so much about how she looked right now?

She had thrown on this summer dress without thinking, tied her hair up in a quick ponytail, and hadn’t even looked in the mirror before leaving—but now she was hyper-aware of every detail. Was the dress too much? Did she look too eager? Too much like she had been thinking about this all day?

Which, to be clear, she absolutely had been.

But it wasn’t like she could admit that.

No. She had to play it cool. She had to pretend that this wasn’t a big deal, that she wasn’t freaking out over every single thing he did—the way he kept sneaking glances at her when he thought she wouldn’t notice, the way he had triple-checked the shop’s lock like he needed to stall for time, the way his lips kept parting like he wanted to say something but kept overthinking it.

He was nervous.

And somehow, that made her feel better.

Because if Soobin was nervous, that meant she wasn’t the only one feeling this way.

Y/N exhaled slowly, eyes flicking up toward the sky, pretending to be lost in thought while, in reality, she was panicking.

Did this mean something to him? Or was she just reading way too much into this?

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, watching as he pretended to be completely fine when he was very much not.

And god—he was adorable.

"Relax, Soobin," she teased. "It’s just ice cream."

Just ice cream.

Yeah. Sure.

Just ice cream with the girl who was rapidly becoming his entire world.

Soobin forced himself to nod, ignoring the way his palms were sweating. "Right. Just ice cream. Totally chill. Super normal."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "You keep saying that, but you look like you’re preparing for a boss fight."

Soobin laughed nervously. "No boss fight. Just… casual dessert consumption."

"Okay, now you’re making it weird."

"I know," he groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know how to be normal right now."

Y/N laughed, nudging his arm lightly. "Don’t worry. I think it’s cute."

Oh. Oh.

Soobin froze mid-step, his entire body locking up like a glitching video game character. Heat flooded his face instantly, spreading from the tips of his ears down to his neck, the kind of overwhelming warmth that no amount of cool summer air could fix.

His heart slammed against his ribs, beating so fast it felt physically impossible to appear normal. He could feel it in his throat, in his fingertips, in the way his breathing completely betrayed him—shallow, uneven, a total giveaway.

His brain? Useless. Completely wiped.

Every coherent thought? Gone. Vanished. Evaporated into the night air.

Because she called him cute.

And now, Soobin was approximately five seconds away from having a full meltdown before he could even enter the ice cream shop. 

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂

The ice cream shop was small but full of charm, the kind of place that felt like it had been plucked straight from another decade and preserved in a bubble of nostalgia. The floors were checkered in black and white, slightly worn from years of foot traffic, while the pastel-colored walls were decorated with vintage posters of old-school sundaes and milkshakes, their edges curling slightly from age. A massive neon sign in bubblegum pink script hung above the counter, glowing softly against the pale yellow paint:

"LIFE IS SHORT, EAT DESSERT FIRST."

The air smelled like sugar and vanilla, mixed with the cool, almost frosty scent of fresh-made waffle cones. The hum of the old freezer in the back blended with the occasional cheerful chatter of customers, their voices muffled under the soft tunes of a jukebox in the corner, currently playing a faint, crackly rendition of some forgotten ‘60s love song.

A row of bright red barstools lined the counter, their vinyl cushions shiny and slightly creased from years of customers swiveling around excitedly while waiting for their orders. Behind the counter, an old-fashioned glass display case showcased rows of toppings—sprinkles, chocolate chips, crushed Oreos, chopped nuts—all arranged in little stainless steel trays. The ice cream tubs were lined up behind it, colorful and inviting, from classic vanilla to an electric blue cotton candy that practically glowed under the lights.

Soobin tried not to read too much into that.

"This place is cute," Y/N mused, stepping up to the counter, her eyes flickering across the pastel menu overhead. She traced a finger along the glass display, inspecting the toppings. "I feel like I just walked onto the set of a ‘60s diner movie."

"Yeah," Soobin nodded, a little too stiffly. Still recovering from being called cute. "I come here a lot. They know me."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? Got a secret ice cream addiction?"

Soobin blinked. Oh no. Did he just make it sound like he came here alone all the time? That was embarrassing. That was so embarrassing. He scrambled for a recovery.

"Uh—no, I mean, like, with my friends. Sometimes. Not… like, alone. Not that it’s weird to eat ice cream alone! People do that! I just—"

Y/N snorted, cutting him off. "Soobin, relax. I wasn’t about to judge your solo ice cream adventures."

He groaned, covering his face. "I—can we just pretend I never said anything?"

"Nope," she said cheerfully, turning to the menu. "This is getting filed under ‘Things To Tease Soobin About Forever.’"

Soobin sighed in defeat as the employee behind the counter—an older lady with bright purple glasses—gave him a knowing smirk. "Your usual, sweetie?"

Y/N turned to him, eyebrows raised. "Oh, so you do come here often."

Soobin felt exposed.

"Just, uh… sometimes."

Y/N grinned, clearly enjoying this too much. "What’s your usual?"

Soobin hesitated. "…Cotton candy."

Silence.

Y/N slowly turned her head to look at him, like she wasn’t sure she heard correctly.

"Cotton candy?"

Soobin shifted uncomfortably. "Yes."

Y/N pressed her lips together. "Like… bright blue cotton candy?"

He nodded stiffly.

A long pause. Then—

She burst out laughing.

"Hey!" Soobin protested, ears turning pink. "What’s wrong with cotton candy?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all!" Y/N waved a hand, still giggling. "It’s just… I thought you’d be more of a ‘chocolate fudge’ or ‘cookies and cream’ kind of guy, but no—here you are, ordering the most childlike flavor possible."

Soobin crossed his arms. "And what’s wrong with that?"

"Nothing," she said again, biting her lip to hold back a fresh wave of laughter. "It’s just unexpectedly… adorable."

Soobin groaned. "I literally can’t win with you."

"Never," she agreed.

The employee chuckled. "And what’ll you have, sweetheart?"

Y/N took a moment, scanning the options. "Hmm… I’ll take a double scoop. Coffee and caramel."

Soobin eyed her. "You make fun of my cotton candy, but you’re out here getting the most ‘retired old man’ flavor combo?"

"Listen," she said, as if she were about to impart wisdom, "coffee ice cream is elite. You’ll understand when you grow up."

Soobin scoffed. 

They took their ice creams to a booth by the window, the shop buzzing with low conversation and the occasional clatter of spoons against glass. Outside, the summer night stretched lazily, warm air still lingering despite the late hour.

"So, let’s talk serious business," Y/N said, leaning forward. "If you had to pick one anime character to fight, who would it be?"

Soobin frowned, licking his ice cream. "Why would I want to fight anyone?"

"Because," she said, as if this was common knowledge, "sometimes a character just deserves to get drop-kicked."

Soobin considered this. "Okay… maybe Mineta from MHA?"

"Strong choice," Y/N nodded approvingly. "Now, are we talking one punch, or are you committing to a full-blown brawl?"

"Depends. Do I get powers?"

"Nope. Just raw Soobin strength."

He scoffed. "Okay, so I die."

Y/N grinned. "Probably. But hey, it’s the thought that counts."

Soobin shook his head, smiling. "What about you?"

He asked the question casually, like this was just a normal conversation between two normal people getting ice cream. Like he wasn’t currently having a minor crisis over how pretty she looked.

Because God, she was so pretty.

The soft glow of the neon lights reflected in her eyes, making them shine a little brighter, and her lips curled into the kind of easy, confident smirk that made his stomach feel light. Her hair, still pulled up in that loose ponytail, framed her face perfectly—like she had stepped right out of a coming-of-age movie where the effortlessly cool girl always steals the scene.

And that’s what got him the most.

More than just how pretty she was, it was how cool she was. Not in a forced, try-hard kind of way, but in that effortless, annoyingly natural way that made everything she did seem interesting. She wasn’t just some untouchable campus princess, like he once thought. No—she was funny, quick-witted, and so ridiculously at ease in a way that he would never be.

She could poke fun at him without making him feel stupid. She could carry a conversation without making it awkward. And somehow, she had completely flipped the dynamic—because Soobin had always assumed he’d be the one intimidated by her, but now?

Now he was realizing that she wasn’t trying to be intimidating at all. She was just… her. And maybe that was the coolest part of all.

Soobin swallowed, suddenly very aware that he had been staring.

"Oh, easy," she said, not even hesitating. "Makoto Itou from School Days."

Soobin nearly choked on his ice cream. "Y/N—that’s not a fight. That’s a crime scene."

"Exactly."

He stared at her. "…Remind me to never get on your bad side."

"Too late," she teased, stealing a small bite of his cotton candy ice cream.

Soobin froze.

Because suddenly, his brain wasn’t thinking about anime fights anymore. Suddenly, it was too busy processing the fact that Y/N had just eaten off his spoon like it was no big deal while he was sitting here actively dying.

He needed to distract himself, fast.

Soobin reached for his drink—his beloved Coke Zero.

And in a tragic twist of fate, his brain-to-hand coordination failed spectacularly.

The cup slipped. His fingers fumbled.

And in the span of one horrifying second—

Coke Zero. All over Y/N’s bag.

Soobin’s soul left his body.

"Oh my god—Y/N, I—"

Y/N looked down at the mess, blinking. Then, to his absolute shock, she just shrugged, not fazed at all.

"It’s fine."

"Fine?!" Soobin gawked. "I just—your bag—I—"

"It’s just a bag, Soobin," she laughed, dabbing at it with a napkin. "Relax."

Relax. Relax?!

Did she not realize that he was on the verge of collapsing from sheer mortification?

"I—let me take it home and wash it," he blurted, already reaching for the bag. What the fuck am I saying? Wash it? 

Y/N pulled it back. "It’s really not a big deal."

"It is a big deal," he insisted. "I ruined it. Please. Let me fix it."

Y/N studied him for a moment, lips twitching.

Then, in a move that should have been Soobin’s first clue that she was up to something, Y/N let out a long, exaggerated sigh.

"Alright," she relented, dramatically sliding the bag toward him like she was making a high-stakes business deal. "But only if you promise to take very good care of it."

Soobin nodded furiously, sitting up a little straighter, dead serious. "Of course. I’ll have it back to you in perfect condition."

And he meant it. He was going to treat this bag like a priceless artifact. He’d hand-wash it, air-dry it, maybe even apologize to it for what he had done. There was no room for error.

Y/N tilted her head, clearly amused by how intense he was about this. A slow, knowing smirk crept onto her face.

"Great," she said, way too casually. "In that case…"

She extended her hand to him as if expecting him to give her something. 

Before Soobin could even process, she asked him “You’ll need my number."

Soobin’s brain flatlined.

He stared at the phone in his hand like she had just asked him for the nuclear launch codes. Like this was a trick, a test, a hidden camera prank where, any second now, someone would jump out and yell, "GOTCHA! YOU REALLY THOUGHT?"

His ears burned. His palms definitely weren’t dry anymore.

Meanwhile, Y/N just waited, looking perfectly at ease, like this was no big deal—like she hadn’t just turned his entire world on its axis with one simple sentence.

Soobin swallowed, struggling to function. 

Because, okay—sure, maybe she was just being practical. Maybe she was thinking, I need this idiot to return my bag, so obviously, I should give him my number.

But also…

Was this an excuse?

Was she doing this on purpose?

Because if she was, she was evil.

Soobin gave her the phone with shaky fingers, hesitating only for a fraction of a second before she started typing in her number. Y/N could feel his eyes on her, like he was watching closely, studying her as if trying to uncover her true motive. 

Y/N grinned as she saved the contact, tapping at his screen before showing it to him.

“Y/N 🫡”

He blinked. "…What’s with the salute?"

She shrugged, giving him his phone back. "Just making sure you know your bag-washing duties are of the highest importance."

He put his phone back in his pocket quickly, carefully, like he might accidentally ruin this moment if he held onto it too long.

Soobin huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "Right. Of course. National emergency level."

"Exactly." She leaned back, twirling her spoon between her fingers. "Oh, and don’t think this means you get to ignore me after you return the bag."

Soobin’s heart did something weird.

He blinked at her, trying to decode the sentence in real-time. "Wait. What?"

Y/N smirked, teasing, playful. "You have my number now. Use it."

Soobin’s brain short-circuited for the second time that night.

And Y/N?

She just sat there, eating her ice cream like she hadn’t just sent him into emotional cardiac arrest.

prev | masterlist | next

profiles: d&d saturday mass group | bling bling losers

author's note: this is the cutest chapter so far ig, i'm down bad for shy nervous soobin!! cotton candy THE BLUE ONE is my fav ice cream flavor btw hehe he has her number now, imagine him trying to text her i'm dying already! please let me know what you guys think in the comments hehe tysm for your support!! <3

taglist: @heejamas @mingyustar @wintereals @mimimiloomeelomi @wonderstrucktae @delirioastral @gomdoleemyson @i03jae @irishspringing @bunniwords @kirbrary @sirenla @saladgirl @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @uvyuri @imlonelydontsendhelp @haechology @sanriwoozzz @stormy1408 @soobinieswife @ijustwannareadstuff20 @soobskz @jkeydiary @imnotsureokay @nyanzzn@lostgirlysstuff @lilbrorufr @beomgyusluver @lveegsoi

[biblical-chronicles]

Flowers

___________________________________________

where Liam brings you a nice bouquet and becomes quite obsessed with it himself.

___________________________________________

The front door banged open like he’d kicked it in, rattling the frame. You barely had time to look up before Liam came striding in, looking well pleased with himself, arms wrapped around the biggest bunch of flowers you’d ever seen.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you blurted, eyes widening. “Did you rob a florist?”

He snorted, kicking the door shut behind him. “Saw ‘em. Had to have ‘em.”

And Jesus, of course he did. The bouquet was massive—borderline ridiculous. Blooms in every shape and colour, some drooping under their own weight, others sticking out at wild angles. The whole thing looked a bit chaotic, like someone had taken every bright flower in the shop and just smashed ‘em together. And yet, somehow, it worked.

Liam was grinning, eyes alight with a childish sort of delight, like he’d just found the world’s best treasure. “Look at the size of it,” he said, practically shoving them in your face. “Massive, innit?”

You laughed, gently pushing a petal away from your nose. “They’re huge, Liam. Where did you even find these?”

“Some little stall, near that bakery you like.” He hoisted them up again, admiring them from another angle. “Didn’t even mean to stop, but they were just there, like—” he gestured vaguely, clearly struggling for words, “—just proper beamin’ at me.”

You bit your lip, trying so hard not to coo at him. But, Christ, the man was adorable when he got like this. Proper buzzing over some flowers, like a kid who’d just found a rock shaped like a dinosaur.

Still, you had to tease him. “Right, so you weren’t even thinking of me, then? Just saw some plants and lost your mind?”

Liam scoffed, finally looking at you instead of his oversized bouquet. “Nah, don’t be daft. Thought of you first, obviously.”

He shoved them into your hands, like he’d only just remembered the whole point of buying them. “Here, these are for you, woman. Don’t say I never get ya owt.”

You grinned, taking them, feeling their weight in your arms. “Ta, love. They’re beautiful.”

Liam nodded, pleased with himself, then immediately turned back to staring at them, head tilting slightly, like he was trying to take them in from every possible angle.

You raised an eyebrow. “You alright there?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved a hand, barely looking away. “Just... they’re well good, aren’t they?”

You bit back a smile. “Liam.”

“Yeah?”

“They’re flowers.”

“Yeah, and?” He looked downright offended. “What’s your point?”

You shook your head, laughing. “Nothing love. Just... you’re really into these, aren’t ya?”

Liam shrugged, still gazing at them like they held the secrets of the universe. “What, I can’t appreciate a bit of nature now?”

“No, it’s cute.”

That made him scowl. “Don’t say cute. Sounds soft.”

“You are soft.”

“Am not.”

You just grinned, shuffling past him to find a vase. “Sure, love.”

The flowers sat in the middle of the kitchen table, looking obscenely oversized for the space. They almost swallowed the vase whole, some of the stems bent over the edges, petals spilling in every direction. You spent a good five minutes fussing over them, cutting a few ends, rearranging them just enough to make sure they weren’t completely unruly.

Meanwhile, Liam just... watched.

Leant against the counter, arms folded, eyes fixed on them like he was watching a particularly gripping bit of telly.

You turned, catching him mid-stare. “You know they’re not gonna move, right?”

Liam sniffed, shifting just enough to pretend he hadn’t been caught. “Just checkin’ ‘em out.”

“oh you’re obsessed with them.”

He gave you a flat look. “Nah. Just makin’ sure they’re settlin’ in properly.”

“Settling in properly?”

He nodded, completely serious. “Yeah. Gotta let ‘em get comfy.”

You couldn’t not laugh at that. “They’re flowers, Liam. They don’t need to get comfy.”

“Shows what you know.”

You just rolled your eyes, moving to grab some drinks. “D’you wanna sit there all night and supervise 'em, or are you comin’ to the sofa?”

Liam hesitated, like he was torn between you and his new floral obsession.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, shaking your head. “I’m competing with a bouquet.”

That seemed to snap him out of it. “Shut up.” He pushed off the counter, following you into the living room. “Took time pickin’ them out, didn’t I? Just makin’ sure they’re doin’ alright.”

“Mhm. Proper dedicated flower dad, you are.”

“Yeah, well. They’re big, aren’t they? Takes a bit to settle in when you’re that big.”

You were still giggling when you collapsed onto the sofa, Liam landing beside you with a dramatic oof. His arm draped over your shoulders on instinct, pulling you in like second nature. You curled into him easily, tucking your feet under yourself, head against his chest.

For a while, it was just nice. The kind of comfortable silence that came easy with him—the telly on low, the warmth of his body against yours, the quiet hum of his breathing.

And then:

“D’you reckon they’re happy?”

You cracked an eye open. “What?”

“The flowers.”

You lifted your head, staring at him. “Liam, for fuck’s sake.”

He grinned, knowing exactly what he was doing. “What? Just sayin’. They looked happier outside.”

You groaned, dropping your head back onto his chest. “I can’t believe I fancy you.”

Liam laughed, all warm and lazy, pressing a kiss into your hair. “Can’t believe you’re givin’ me grief for respectin’ nature.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, well. You love it.”

You sighed, settling deeper against him, tracing idle patterns over his chest. “Please never change.”

Liam huffed a little laugh, shifting so he could look down at you properly. “Never change? Weren't you slagging me off a second ago?”

You grinned, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Not slagging you off, just in awe at your sudden reconnection with nature.”

His expression softened, something fond flickering behind his eyes. He lifted a hand, brushing his knuckles down the side of your face, slow and warm. “Well, that’s alright then,” he murmured. “Wouldn’t wanna let you down.”

You tipped your chin up, closing the space between you, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He turned into it instantly, catching your lips properly, one arm tightening around your waist as he pulled you closer.

His fingers curled into your hip, thumb stroking lazy circles over your side, and you let out a quiet hum, melting into the warmth of him.

When you finally pulled back, his nose brushed against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You really love it,” he muttered, smug as anything.

You gave him a gentle shove. “Shut up.”

Liam just laughed, pressing another kiss to your forehead before pulling you fully against him, arms wrapping snug around you. “Nah, you’re well gone for me, admit it.”

You just buried your face into his chest, grinning into the fabric of his hoodie. “Maybe.”

Liam gave a satisfied hum, nuzzling into your hair. “Good.”

And with that, he finally settled, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, the warmth of his arms holding you tight. You knew, without even looking, that his eyes were probably drifting back toward the kitchen, where those ridiculous, oversized flowers sat in their vase.

___________________________________________

summat cute for today as I have hit a writer's block, I just need to walk it out, write it out, we shall persevere.

also, happy women's day to all me fellow girlies on here x

hope ya like it xx

[abstractnaturaldisaster]

is it over now? (was it over then?)

part four

part five: i was hoping you'd be there

Robin managed to keep her shit together for approximately ten minutes after she stopped watching Steve make his way through security and into the depths of the airport. In the ride back to Steve's place, her leg was shaking so much Nancy discreetly grabbed Robin's pinky and held it in the back of the car.

The rest of the trafficky route back to Steve's all Robin could think about was how to fix things. She knew Steve didn't tell her about Eddie so she could fix things and Steve didn't run off to Italy to hide from everything but the situation still bothered Robin. She hadn't known Eddie for a terribly long time but he made her dingus happy so she held him in relatively high regard. It didn't make sense for him to just cut tail and run without leaving some sort of door open for a resolution and Robin was going to her darndest to figure out how on earth she could find that crack.

When they got back to Steve's apartment, Nancy didn't let Robin go long without asking for an explanation.

"Robs, babe, what is going on?" Nancy asked.

"I need to figure out how to solve Steve and Eddie." Robin answered.

"I don't think Steve wants you too. He seemed pretty resolved to close that chapter." Nancy urged.

"I know what he said but that's not what he wants. Also Eddie is a huge dummy if he doesn't realize how good he had it with Steve and also that Steve would never cheat on anyone. Especially not after y'all's whole thing. No offense." Robin continued.

"Okay so we aren't letting this go. What's the plan?" Nancy asked.

"Thanks for your support, love. I just can't figure out why Eddie jumped to the conclusion that you and Steve were together again. I mean no offense but like that ship very publicly sailed," Robin said.

"I'm trying really hard not to take offense but the more often you say it the more I am having trouble not being offended," Nancy snarked.

"Sorry, dingus wormed his way into my little heart long before you so I still gotta give you shit over soulmate solidarity. But back to the matter at hand. Eddie only assumed you would only be visiting Steve if you were trying to get back together when really you were coming to see little old me. So what if I came out. Like what if we came out? And shared some of the pictures from like super early on and thanked Steve for being a great friend for many years when I wasn't ready to take that step," Robin knew she was rambling but, hell, she was on a roll.

"Are you ready for that? I'm happy to take your lead on all this. It's not like we haven't already told everyone who is actually important to us. I mostly write freelance nowadays anyways so there isn't really some big bag corporate overlord I need to worry about. You know Steve doesn't need you to do this? It's one thing if you're ready to come out on your own, it's a whole different thing to do it for someone else," Nancy counseled.

"I really think I'm ready. I'm sick of Steve feeling like he needs to come to everything with me and you're stateside a lot more often and I'd love to go out on dates without the next day having like a million articles speculate if you're trying to move in on Steve. I think it's time," Robin rationalized.

"All right, then. We're doing this. Should we use this as an excuse to make Jon take cute couple pictures of us?" Nancy giggled a little at her suggestion.

"Yes! Perfect. Get him over here. Operation Save Dingus from his Self Sacrifice is a go!" Robin jumped up on the couch to make her point and Nancy immediately had to come to her aid as she wobbled enough to lose her balance.

Robin was excited. She was ready for the next step with Nancy and if it helped Steve get out of his own head and/or convinced a certain metalhead with very few remaining braincells to get his head out of his ass then so be it. Robin couldn't wait to think of all the sappy shit Nancy would pretend to be annoyed at she'd be able to do now. Steve would be back in a few weeks so Robin anxiously awaited Jon's response and started several caption ideas in her notes app.

part six

@lololol-1234 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @zombiethingy @grtwdsmwhr @dreamercec @anne-bennett-cosplayer @strawberryyyenthusiast @mensch-anthropos-human @kal-ology @ttyrussss @kristmkris @starman-jpg @wonderland-girl143-blog @child-of-cthulhu @legalmenace87 (if you wanna be tagged in future parts feel free to comment! happy to add people)

it's not quite fixed yet but we are getting so close!!!

[cccakessslicemeee]

Thinking about season 2 of fantasy high so like spoilers as usual

--------

I like to imagine that after Riz meets his dad he talks about it a little bit and he probably is weirdly excited dying? Not like immediately of course he still wants to live life and do the cool things but he's comfortable with the end now... Mainly because he'll see his dad again and wow they can agents together

I think Fig and Fabian would take it kinda weird.

Fabian cannot comprehend his end so why the fuck would Rlz so delighted about his? What the fuck?

And Fig? She wouldn't say it because she's gonna rob Riz of his joy especially after meeting his father. That would be fucked up but oh it would bother her something terrible. She couldn't put it to words and for awhile she would be fine. It's all chill Riz isn't gonna punch his own ticket but...mmmm

I like to imagine that Fig goes to Pok's grave and gives him an essay on fuck you dude he's our lil angel and you will have to pry him from my cold fucking body, which is impossible because I'm an arch devil and I run hot. It's my mission to keep him out of heaven for as long as possible so that might be forever and whatever comes after that. Fuck you. Hes so happy about his demise now. Asshole. I don't care if you're his dad and you gave him a bunch of rad shit. Fuck you.

She wants to kick his tombstone but doesn't. Or maybe she does and she lets it slip to Adine because she has a mending spell and it's kinda rude to fuck up your friends dads grave even if he isn't in the coffee.

Adine and Fig and maybe Kristen sneak off to Kraven Croft cemetery and Kristen is like... Fig what the fuck?

And adine is also like...what the hell man

Fig has a mini melt down. "What the fuck was I supposed to do? Riz like doesn't give a fuck about dying anymore how am I supposed to take that??? If he goes to heaven I might not even see him anymore. What if he never leaves???" And she just spills her guts.

Kristen is apologizing to the busted up tombstone because dang Fig really went ham on this.

"Riz might actually be mad if he finds out" adine mutters. "This is...this is kinda nuts fig. You crosses a line"

"I know! I know please fix it so he doesn't hate me forever!"

"I can try. I think it might be easier to get a new tombstone entirely..." Adine states.

"we do not have the time! Or the funds! Unless we bully it out if Fabian? I'll burp his wallet. Or beg." Fig says.

Luckily Adine can fix it with a mending spell and they don't go bully Fabian.

Kristen plants a couple flowers and both Kristen and Adine apologize profusely.

Fig admits she's not actually sorry this one time. She's still mad.

Pok isn't upset at all. He finds it charming that Riz has friends that would go to such absurd lengths to remain in his life. He could do without the property damage but children are children.

[aleenuhs]

Arthur comforting crying/ upset reader

𖦹 Always Here

thank u anon <3

word count: 1,099

paring: Arthur x GN!reader

a lil bit of angst if u will.

You had accompanied Arthur, Charles, and Sadie on an outing to Saint Denis, to go play some poker at the Saloon.

Sadie had forced you to go, though you'd wanted to stay at camp finishing up your chores for the night.

But you went.

It was crowded and stuffy in the room, sitting across from the table they were playing at, eating some of the beef jerky you had in your pocket. A bit bored, you looked at the people in the room just watching, careful not to stare because people were easily offended by the gaze of another human being.

Arthur and the others were fully engrossed in their gameplay, which you'd opted out of cause you never understood it, or liked it for that matter. You wanted to go back to camp, not be here with a bunch of drunk men and working girls.

Your eyes fluttered, through all the noise, you somehow fell asleep for a bit.

When you woke back up, you were still sitting in the same chair. Surprisingly, you weren't robbed or anything bad.

You looked around the room again, spotting the table that Arthur, Charles and Sadie were once playing at, and they weren't there. Your heart rate immediately spiked, had they left without you?

You sprung up from the chair that you were sitting at and walked outside to see if they were out there, no clue where they'd went from the time you were awake, till now, not to mention, how long had you been asleep?

You walked around, in search for any of them, and no luck.

You knew Shady belle was within walking distance from where you were, but it was dangerous. And you didn't have your horse, so you couldn't ride back. The worst part was that they'd forgotten all about you, Sadie and Charles. But worst of all, Arthur had forgotten. It made you slightly angry that your own significant other would do such a thing. You walked up to a random person, who you saw had a pocket watch.

"Mister?" You spoke quietly, tapping him on the shoulder.

The man looked you up and down, before nodding.

"You know what time it is?"

"1:20."

Your eyes widened, "1:20, thank you." You repeated before walking off, damn it was late.

No stagecoaches were out at this time of night. What could you even do?

You walked around for a moment before you were met with a overwhelming urge to just walk all the way back to Shady Belle.

So you did. Holding yourself, as it was cold, you walked all the way back, shivering slightly. The tears left your eyes, but you didn't sob, no, they were silent tears.

When you arrived after 30 minutes of walking, you immediately walked into the house and went up to Arthurs room and stood before the bed, watching him sleep. he woke up to you. You looked wrecked, tear stained cheeks and bleary eyes, he could hardly see with just the small lantern lighting up the room.

He rubbed his eyes and sat up next to you. "Why aren't you in bed?" He asked, obliviously, maybe he was drunk.

You wanted to yell at him, but instead your words came out in a soft tone. "You left me, Arthur."

His eyes went back to their cold gaze. "Huh?"

"What is not to understand, Arthur? You left me at the saloon in Saint Denis!" Your words were more charged now, but not exactly yelling, just a bit more angry you felt.

"Jesus... Im sorry, I didn't mean to- er.. Leave you there darlin'." His eyes widening after he realized just what he had did. He gets up and puts his hands on your shoulders, and with this. You start to cry.

You don't even lift your head up to look at him, you play with your fingers.

His eyes fixed on how broken you looked, tears streaming down your face, he hardly knew what to do.

"I am so sorry." He speaks, almost silent. He brings you in, hugging you tightly, his big arms wrapped around you made you feel slightly better. But not entirely.

"I had to walk here, Arthur." You murmured.

His breath hitched. "Nobody... did anythin' to you, right?" He would curse himself if you said yes, but luckily, you shook your head. He sighed a breath of relief. "Good, but I truly am sorry, that I left you there, that we left you there."

You didn't respond, the tears still falling from your eyes. His warmth surrounds you, almost overheating your body. "Arthur promise me this won't happen again."

He looked at you, "I promise to try, I never intended for this to happen." He notices your lip trembling, he brings you even closer. "C'mere." He lays down on the bed signaling for you to join him there.

You hesitate for a moment, but end up laying right next to him, you nuzzled yourself right into his neck and sighed deeply. His calloused hand reached up to your face, fingers on your chin. "Look at me, darlin." He spoke softly, a difference in his voice, the voice that was usually brash and loud was somehow comforting you as you cried. "I love you, so much."

A smile reached your lips when he told you that. "I love you too."

"I will always be here for you, I can't believe I let myself do what I did back there." He admits. "I'm sure Sadie and Charles meant no harm by it as well."

You nod, knowing that there was no mailce behind this.

His hand runs up and down your back, soothing you, calming you down, taking away all your worries. He adjusted you, making sure that you were more than comfortable with him. He just held you.

At once, you were just sniffling, no more tears to shed. He had calmed you down, one of the only people who could.

He was truly the definition of duality, he could go from brutal to plain out kind and caring, and it was all for you. Everything he did, was for you, so you didn't have to worry. You could imagine that he was still constantly cursing himself now that he'd left you at the saloon, then walk all the way back to Shady Belle by yourself.

But now that you were safe in his arms, all those worries went away. "Shhh, shh. Rest, you can sleep now." He cooed, rubbing your neck and placing kisses on your forehead and nose.

You fell asleep shortly after.

a/n if u enjoyed it, smash the like and subscribe! jk, feel free to req more honey!

[storytellerdannie]

watching todays podcast and dan’s speech about TikTok at the end of todays video I am always so impressed with the way Dan can articulate his thoughts so well at the drop of a hat, whether it’s a silly anecdote or a political stance. He always structures his answers in such a fixed manner, he first lays out his point and then his anecdotes have a clear beginning, middle and end that ties it all back to the original point while dropping analogies or metaphors that immediately become recurring fandom lexicon (“the roombas of our life”) and it sounds obvious, but people really struggle between having structure and sounding scripted.

And we joke he is a yapper and he is! but you don’t understand how hard it is to speak that long and still make sense until you are watching someone else totally lose their audience’s attention or fully butcher their original point (I’ve seen some seriously painful TikToks).

It makes sense cause for so many years that was his bread and butter on his YouTube channel, narrative stories with sketches and life lessons sprinkled throughout, but I often forget that when he was regularly uploading, most story time videos on YouTube never broke the 30 minute mark because people were so afraid their audiences were not interested in long form content, but you look at YouTube now and it’s the opposite you’ll struggle to find videos under the 20 minute mark and what some YouTubers are doing now with an hour of length time, Dan was doing in under 15 minutes with the same impact and that’s impressive storytelling.

So yes he is a yapper, but he is a theatre kid too and you only realize how difficult it is to successfully talk for more than 20 seconds until you start paying attention to the average person trying to tell a story.

In another life he wrote speeches for political campaigns (like fellow pretty curly haired, brown eyed Rob Lowe in West Wing iykyk)

[miela]

Shattered Memories • Chapter II: A Sense of Reunion • {Peter Parker x Stark!Reader}

Chapter Genre: Fluffy (touches of angst, comedy and sexual tension if you squint) Chapter Warnings: None (?) Extra Content: added in another OC Masterlist

↪ divider by firefly-graphics

It was another boring weekend. 

Peter had just gotten home from his busy yet uneventful day at school, work, and visiting his Aunt May’s grave…his usual routine that hadn’t changed much in the past few years. After watching the Stark Expo a month ago he wasn’t really up for doing anything with his friends much. He spent most of his free time studying and patrolling as Spiderman to distract himself from his racing thoughts. He knew it wasn’t the healthiest thing in the world, but he really didn’t know how to deal with it.

It's not like he can tell them anything about what happened. They would probably think something is wrong with him. Imagine telling someone hey so I'm Spiderman and I really fucked up because I had to make everyone including the love of my life forget who I am because I got a sorcerer to cast to spell to save the multiverse from collapsing in on itself due to me trying to fix something that somehow I caused and five years later I see said love of my life thriving and living her best life and she has no idea who I am.

Kinda sucks to have no one to talk to about this.

He unlocked the door to his small apartment with his key and walked inside with a sigh of relief but as soon as he stepped into his humble abode. Home, sweet home. He thought to himself as he set his keys and backpack down on the raggedy chair that was by his door. All he could think about was what he was going to get for dinner, what movie he was going to watch, and what he would expect on patrols that night. 

But then his senses started to tingle.

The hairs on his body stood up. His senses quickly perked up and he looked towards the direction of the living room. The sense wasn't coming from outside or next door. It was coming from inside of his very apartment.

Just his luck. Somebody’s here.

His senses led him to quietly walk over to where the threat was in the living room. It wasn’t a sense he felt in a long time and honestly, he didn’t like that. It worried him. What if it was one of his enemies from his avenger days? What if it was somebody robbing him (not that there was much to steal)? His thoughts raced as he quietly tip-toed toward the living room. 

He quickly and quietly equipped his web shooters onto his wrists and stayed alert as he made his way around the corner. The closer he got the stronger his senses became… like they were pulling him towards the potential threat.

He hoped it was the neighbor's cat or something.

When he saw someone standing in his living room he didn’t even process who it was before he shot a web their way sticking their arm to the wall behind them with a thud. The figure yelped and looked at him with wide eyes. 

He froze when he saw who it was.

It was you.

Peter’s expression was one of a deer in headlights.

 “(Y/N)...” He said softly.

Peter could not believe his eyes as he took in your appearance. You looked absolutely gorgeous. You were still you but your features filled in the most beautiful way. Your hair was different than before, and you were wearing a face full of makeup and your style was a bit edgier than before but it wasn’t anything Peter was surprised by. You always talked about experimenting with your style and the aesthetic you rocked now made sense to him.

And you were here.

You wore a black sheer floral lace top with a black bralette underneath topped with a loose leather jacket, black fitted jeans with a black velvet belt with a golden lion head as the buckle, a a pair of black Doc Martens that he remembers Ghostface wearing in Scream VI when you two watched it together. He smiled when he saw them as he remembered how you and Celina bought them immediately after seeing the movie. You had golden rings of various sizes and styles on your fingers and your fingernails were painted a dark teal color that reflected gold. Your makeup was something Peter was not used to seeing on you. You had thick eyeliner on with a rustic color on your eyelids. Your lips were painted a warm rose color. 

You looked like a million dark lady bucks and it was messing with Peter’s head.

And you were here. In his shitty apartment. 

"First name basis already?” You asked, lifting your brows with a small smirk. “Wow, we’re moving so fast.”

Peter was so stunned that he couldn't move. He wanted to pinch himself and make sure that he wasn't hallucinating. He thought he was having an out-of-body experience.

“Hello,” you sang, waving a hand in the view of his vision. “Earth to Parker.”

“Huh? What?” he asked, shaking his head a little bit and coming back to reality. 

“Hi!” you chimed. “I asked if you could give me a hand,” You eyed your hand webbed to the wall.

“Oh…!” Peter exclaimed.  “Oh god I’m so sorry-!”

He took the webbing off and you rubbed your wrist in your hand gently. “Thank you.” 

“Sorry for that…” he said again and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. 

“Nah,” You said. “I came into your apartment like some creepy ass stalker or something. You really shouldn’t leave your window unlocked.”

Oh.

“No, yeah!” Peter started. “I mean….um….I just…” Peter struggled to find the right words as he simultaneously struggled to find the right way to react to you being here.

It reminded him of the first time Tony came to visit him. 

 “…W-what are you doing here?” was all he could muster up.

You smile softly and cocked your head to the side. Fuck, your smile. He missed your smile so much. 

“You’re Spiderman, right?”

Peter’s eyes went wide again and he blinked rapidly. “Uh…” 

You took out your phone and showed him a video from YouTube of Spiderman stopping a bus from hitting a child who ran into the street to grab a ball and then another video from TikTok of him helping a kitten down from a tree for another child. He looked from your phone screen to you. 

“That’s pretty impressive. I’m a big fan honestly.” You smiled. “And that doesn’t sound exactly appropriate after I just climbed into your window. I promise I’m not a parasocial boundary-breaking dickwad.”

“No, no…I know!” Peter replied quickly. “Uh…what makes you think I’m that guy? Isn’t he like a criminal or something?” His voice was more nervously high-pitched than he would like.

“You just webbed me to the wall.”

Peter facepalmed himself mentally. You Idiot.

“And don’t say some shit like ‘I make his web shooters’ or anything like that.” You added with a mocking deep voice on the web shooter bit. “You’re Spiderman.”

“...Yes,” Peter replied, deciding it was better not to fight it. 

You smiled and hummed in amusement and turned your head to the side again eyeing him up and down for a moment. Peter gave you a thin-lipped smile with no real emotion behind it. He was still unsure of how to respond to any of this. A big part of him knew that you didn’t remember him but a small part of him wished you did.

“Well,” you began. “I didn’t just come here to confirm your hero status. I wanted to make you an offer.”

“Oh? O-okay.”

“So, I was going through my father’s files for internships and scholarships and your name came up as an option. It says you wanted to go to MIT but you go to ESU, right?”

Peter nodded. “I do.”

“What changed your mind?”

"Well," Peter started. "I can't be the friendly neighborhood Spiderman when I'm not in the neighborhood."

You giggled. "Fair."

He missed the sound of your voice. It was music to his ears right now and he didn’t want you to stop talking but you guys looked at each other for a silent moment before you spoke again.

“Are you busy?” you asked him after a moment.

“Huh?” he responded. “Right now? Uh…n-no. Not at all,” He rubbed the back of his head nervously.

“Are you sure?” You asked. “Usually you’re out patrolling around this time….Not that I would know that or anything! Why would I? I wouldn’t! Pfft…that’s why that’s why I asked if you were busy or not….heh….” 

Peter smiled softly to himself. You were keeping tabs on him. If it were anyone else it would’ve concerned him a big amount but it was you so he found it endearing….and it gave him hope. He was used to hearing about this behavior from you. When you both were bitten by the spider, you had discovered him on YouTube and watched all of his videos before you knew he was Peter Parker. He wasn’t gonna lie, it gave him a bit of an ego boost.

 “No, I’m not busy right now. I can patrol later.” 

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

You smiled bigger. “Great!” and walked towards the door. “You’re coming with me.”

"Oh, Wh…?" Peter blinked rapidly. "Wh-where are we going, exactly?"

"That's classified." 

Peter looked at you silently for a moment.

“You’ve been there before,” You replied, rolling your eyes playfully. “It will be in public, mostly. I’m not trying to kidnap you, Spidey.”

“The last time I went somewhere classified it nearly destroyed the entire universe,” he mumbled to himself.

“I’m not taking you to space or to some underground S.H.I.E.L.D. facility or some random place in the world to fight off bad guys, I promise, I just wanna show you the offer in person.” You explained. “On my dad’s iron grave.”

Peter decided to trust you on that and walked out of the apartment with you. He closed and locked his door and turned to you to be met with your gentle smile that he adored so much.

“(Y/N),” You started and held your hand out to him. “(Y/N) Stark.”

He knew that you knew that he knew who you were. He also knew that you knew who he was. But this was just part of your whimsical humor that he missed so much.

He looked at your hand for a moment and smiled softly. “Peter. Peter Parker.” He took it gently. 

And that is when he felt it. The feeling he hasn’t felt in so long. Most people would call it sparks, butterflies, vibrational attraction, whatever. But he knew better. He knew that it was different for you two. You had the same radioactive arachnid DNA running through your veins and from both of your research, it was like a magnet whenever you guys were near.

Pheromones.

He remembered the day you were in the lab studying and researching why you felt so…attracted to him and why it seemed to get stronger and stronger the more you guys spent together. It was different from crushing on each other. You wanted to know why you felt a gravitational pull towards each other that was different from what you felt from other people.

"Parker, I need your blood." You told him one day, in front of everyone at the Avenger’s compound.

"....Excuse me?" He asked, confused and his mouth full of a bite of his sandwich. 

"Oh god, she's morphing into an actual spider," Nat joked.

"Watch out, kid, she's gonna harvest you one day," Bucky added.

You gave them both a horrified look. "First of all, no. Second of all, hell no." You crossed your arms and stood in contrapposto. "It's for science, thank you very much."

"Oh yeah, sure, science," Sam smirked.

You rolled your eyes with a blush on your cheeks and turned to a still-confused Peter who was still paused mid-chew. 

"Relax," you said. "We were bitten by the same spider, right? I wanna see how it affects us differently."

“Oh!” He chimed. “Yeah, I’ve been wondering about that too! I think it’s totally unfair that you can spin your own webs naturally and I can’t so I wanna know what makes us different too.”

You both had gone into the lab and ran some tests with the help of Dr. Cho and Dr. Banner. That is how you found out about your differences as spider mutants and your connection.

Pheromonal Connection.

It was obvious that you felt it too because the expression on your face softened as your hands touched and eyes met. Your (E/C) eyes were looking into his dark brown eyes so deeply like you were trying to merge your thoughts together. 

Man, he wanted to kiss you so bad. Just like all those years ago. 

For a moment, Peter lost control and he began leaning in and you followed before you blinked rapidly and removed your hand from his to lay your hand on your forehead as you made a soft noise of pain with a wince and a hiss.

“Damn it…!” You hissed out softly.

Peter’s eyes widened. “Are you okay?” He asked worriedly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just been fighting these stupid migraine episodes for most of my adulthood.”

Peter frowned as his face furrowed. You saw his expression and you smiled softly.

“Stark Stress.” You explained with a shrug and a lopsided grin and a small roll of your eyes like it was no big deal. “I’ve been Owner and CEO of Stark Industries officially for two months and everything and everyone is taking years off of my lifespan.”

Peter chuckled at that. “I’ll bet. Do you need any meds before we go?”

“Nah, thank you though.” You smiled. “No type of medicine can get rid of annoyance.”

Peter hummed in response and you both walked down and out of the apartment complex. There was a black large luxury SUV with a stoic-faced man standing with his hands folded in front of him. He had dark sunglasses on but Peter could tell he was looking at him suspiciously.

He recognized him as Happy Hogan. 

What you didn’t know is that they knew each other already from visiting Aunt May’s grave. They had run into each other over the years visiting the cemetery. 

“Hey,” Peter said and waved to him but Happy didn’t respond and just kept looking at him through his dark shades. It made Peter a little uneasy. 

You let out a deep sigh. “Okay, Cobra Bubbles, you can stop staring him down now.” You said to him. “He’s just a friend of mine.”

Just a friend. Oh, if only you knew.

Peter wanted to laugh at your sarcasm but kept his composure. Happy opened the door for both of you. You climbed inside and Peter followed you after avoiding Happy’s not-so-happy gaze and giving a soft thanks to him. The interior of the SUV was set up like a limo with seats that faced each other. You sat on one end and Peter sat on the other end. As Happy got into the car and began driving you two looked at each other. 

“So where are we heading?” Peter asked again hoping to get some clarity.

“Midtown Manhattan,” you replied as you grabbed an icepack from a cooler compartment that Peter hadn’t noticed until now. You put the ice pack on your forehead. 

He realized where you were taking him. “We’re going to the tower.”

“Bingo,” you sang. “I couldn’t tell you inside your apartment. You never know who’s listening. And the car is soundproof. Not Even Happy can hear us right now.”

Peter raised an eyebrow at you as if to ask ‘Oh really?’

“Head out of the gutter, Parker,” you smirked. “That’s not the reason why I made it soundproof, but let me know if you ever need to borrow it. Just make sure you don’t make a mess.”

“Oh my god,” Peter chuckled. “No, god no.”

Not unless it’s with you. He thought, but even then he wouldn’t feel comfortable knowing Happy of all people would be the one driving.

The rest of the ride was pretty chill. You asked him about school and he answered honestly.

Once you both arrive at the tower you walk inside where employees instantly begin greeting you as you walk by. Peter hadn’t been inside the tower in so long that he forgot what it looked like. It was busier than he remembered but that makes sense since so many years have passed since he's been here last. 

A girl with flaming reddish-orange hair, freckles dancing across her cheeks and nose and bright eyes came rushing up to you with a frantic look in her doe-eyes. "Miss Stark!" She exclaimed in a soft voice as she tried to keep up with you two.

You sighed. "Nika, I told you to call me (Y/N), ‘Miss Stark’ makes me sound scary."

"It makes you sound like the powerful CEO of this very distinguished company," the redhead corrected. "But I need you to confirm the list of foundations that are going to be present at the charity gala next month."

You groaned. "Nika, it's my day off."

"Yes, yes, I know," she replied with a sigh. "But you, the owner of the company, which means you don’t actually get a day off, especially right now. This event was your idea, (Y/N).”

“Yes, I know, I know,” You sighed as you arrived by the Elevators. “I’ll look over it tonight.”

Nika gave you a warning look and then looked to Peter giving him a one-over with her eyes. She didn’t look impressed or amused. 

“I better have it by seven. Or else I’ll make up for your incompetence and...distractions” She didn’t take her hard, glaring eyes off of Peter once, but he was addressing you. 

“Nika,” you said in a warning voice. “Stand down. He’s not a distraction. He’s an Avenger. He’s here on Business, not pleasure.”

“I thought it was your day off,” Her eyes flashed back to you. 

You pressed your lips together before speaking. “Nika, I'll have the list for you by seven.”

Nika smiled with no real emotion behind it. “Good girl, enjoy your day off.” 

And with that, she walked off. Peter looked at you in shock. 

“She’s a friend of mine and she takes her job very, very seriously,” you explain as you two stepped on the elevator. 

“I don’t think she likes me very much.” Peter rubbed the back of his head. 

“Not true,” you defended as you put your eye up to the scanner and a green bar that flashed ‘Access Granted’ with your ID information appeared on the screen. “She doesn’t like distractions.”

“So, I’m a distraction?”

“Nah,” you replied, shaking your head and leaning on the wall of the elevator with your arms crossed and one leg crossed over the other. “That’s unless you want to be.”

You both eyed each other as you both dodged the elephant in the room that eludes to the earlier events right outside of his apartment door. Peter wished he knew what you were thinking at this moment because he knew what he was thinking. He desperately wanted to feel you under his hands as he felt his lips dance with yours. He wondered if you had a similar thought. 

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. 

Peter cleared his throat and flickered his eyes away from you. “Ladies first.”

You blinked rapidly as you looked away from him took a deep breath and walked off of the platform. 

Peter, he had to compose himself, and little did he know that you did too.

Once you both walked off and maneuvered around the familiar place, you led him to a conference room that looked very similar to the one at the Avenger’s compound. Peter looked around for a moment before you stopped in your tracks.

“I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest,” you stated.

Peter looked over at you wondrously as he tensed lightly. His senses didn’t sense danger but for some reason, he felt nervous all of a sudden. You turned to him with an expression that he couldn’t read, but your word wasn’t something he was prepared for.

“Peter,” you spoke again. “I know who you are.” 

He looked at you as he could have sworn his heart stopped. “What?” His voice was almost a whisper.

“I know who you are.”

~

Tags: @riordanness

[ltwharfy]

"The Amazing Rudy" and the Evolution of Rudy and Louise's Friendship (Long Post)

Rewatching "The Amazing Rudy" last night made me feel like I finally want to write a little (using the term loosely) analysis about why I love the final act of that story so much. (I thought about doing this during Roudise Week but was too busy with fics.) I think the ending of that story is so wonderful not just because it is sweet in itself but because it reflects one of the things that I love about Rudy and Louise's friendship- that it has grown and evolved over the course of the show.

A lot of stories begin with characters who are always friends, the origins of the friendships are unexplored or pretty simple ("they grew up next door to each other" etc.). Or you get stories where the characters go through one adventure together and are suddenly BFFs. Rudy and Louise's friendship isn't like either of those.

It seems pretty clear that the events of "Carpe Museum" are the first time they've interacted much- but they don't immediately become besties after it. In Rudy's next two speaking appearances ("The Unnatural" and "Bob and Deliver") he doesn't interact with Louise at all. And when the Belchers enter the juice caboose in "The Kids Rob A Train", Rudy introduces them to Beanbag by saying he knows them from school- not that they are his friends. And there are some moments in that episode that I think are really important for their friendship- in particular, the moment when Rudy tries to get Louise to give him the bag full of candy through the train window and she's convinced he'll take it and ditch her, and the moment at the end with Rudy's fake severe allergic reaction- and Louise's panicked response.

But I'm not interested in going through every moment in their friendship. (I mean, I am. Absolutely. But not in this particular post.) What I think is really interesting about Act 3 of "The Amazing Rudy" is looking at in relation to the two episodes where conflict between Louise and Rudy plays a big role- "House of 1,000 Bounces" and "Bridge Over Troubled Rudy". Looking at those episodes, you can see Louise learning how to better read and respond to her friend's emotions.

In "House of 1,000 Bounces", Louise leads the rest of the party guests in stealing the bounce house from Dahlia. Rudy mentions twice that he'd be happy just to do the spoon puppets, but nobody listens to him. And then he blows up at them in Ranger Jail. (And, I think it is interesting to note that he is not just mad at Louise, but at all his friends- "I didn't want to steal that bounce house, but none of you would listen!") Louise tries to make things right by organizing the play with office supplies- and Rudy thanks her for that. But she never apologizes to him for not listening to him earlier- and it seems like maybe she never even noticed he was unhappy until he blew up at her.

At the beginning of "Bridge Over Troubled Rudy", Rudy communicates pretty clearly to Louise that he's feeling stressed because he isn't going to be able to return to his dad's for two weeks; Louise acknowledges that, but then gets caught up in her excitement over the Blaster Bridge, leading to Rudy getting upset, her calling him a weenie, and him asking her to leave. It's pretty clear that Louise recognizes right off the bat that she screwed up- she's taken aback when he asks her to leave, and then there's the whole bit while walking back with Tina and Gene where she decides she can fix things (not that she can yet acknowledge that things need fixing) by moving the bridge. At the end of the episode when they are blowing up the bridge, Louise finally says the thing that she couldn't say earlier in the episode or in "House of 1,000 Bounces": "Yeah, well, I'm sorry I kept pushing you when you were stressed out. And I'm sorry I called you a weenie...And I'm sorry, I didn't just say sorry right away. I'm not great at that, maybe. And I'm glad we're friends." Admitting that she is not great at apologizing right away- or generally acknowledging others' feelings and when she's hurt them- is a big step for Louise.

I know some fans are kind of tired of "Louise learns a lesson" stories, of which "Bridge Over Troubled Rudy" is certainly one, but I don't mind them, if they are actually entertaining and if the lesson stays learned. After all, if a show is going to be on the air for over a decade, why not let the characters have some growth and development?

Act 3 of "The Amazing Rudy" shows that Louise did learn a lesson from "House of 1,000 Bounces" and "Bridge Over Troubled Rudy". In "The Amazing Rudy", without Rudy saying anything specific directly to her, Louise alone among the Belchers realizes just how stressed out Rudy is and why. There is some really great, subtle writing, voice acting, and especially animation, that shows that Louise understands that something is troubling Rudy more than he is willing to admit. After he slips up and talks about the food he ordered, you can hear her suspicion and concern when she asks: "What you ordered?" Then, in Act 3, when Bob is getting ready to drive Rudy back to the restaurant, you can see that Louise is paying attention to Rudy, keeping her eyes on him the whole time, while not saying anything until she proposes her idea about walking back to the restaurant with him. She is the only one of the Belchers to recognize what is truly bothering Rudy- which he may not even have been able to articulate himself: that he feels lonely.

Bob and Linda are clearly (and reasonably) looking at Rudy's situation from a concerned parent's perspective: everything will be okay if Rudy is back with his parents who are worried about him. in Act 3, Tina seems to be very much sitting at the adults' table (metaphorically)- worrying about Vicki's pants and if Bob has his keys. Gene's focus is primarily on getting back to his baked potato lasagna. None of this is to understate how kind the other Belchers are to Rudy in the episode- but at that moment, none of them are as focused on him as Louise is.

In "The Amazing Rudy" neither Rudy, nor any other character, says that he feels lonely or isolated- but its clear from the episode that that is one of his real sources of sadness in that story. He is a kid surrounded by adults who are kind of focused on their own stuff- the scene where they are waiting for their table is the best visual illustration of this but their are others- for example, the multiple conversations where he is in the backseat and his dad is in the front. And then when his parents and their partners are literally on the same level as him- when they are all sitting down for dinner, he feels that he has to be center of attention to make the situation less awkward. He has to perform as The Amazing Rudy (or Rudy the Illusionary Visionary).

What Rudy really needs throughout the story is a friend- and Louise recognizes this without him having to say it. And she not only recognizes the cause of his pain- she comes up with a way to address it, by going back to the restaurant with him.

From "House of 1,000 Bounces" to "The Amazing Rudy", Louise goes from ignoring-and perhaps not even noticing- that Rudy is upset because she took over his birthday party with her bounce house scheme to recognizing and coming up with a plan to address a pain Rudy is feeling that he does not (perhaps cannot) even articulate. And, to me, this doesn't seem unrealistic or out of the blue. Rather, it seems like a logical growth of their friendship, building on "Bridge Over Troubled Rudy", as well as other episodes, with plots or subplots about their friendship that I haven't really talked about ("The Hawkening"; "Bob Actually", among others) and other non-Rudy-focused episodes that show how Louise is developing to be a more emotionally aware person ("Flu-ouise", "Thelma and Louise Except Thelma is Linda", "Prank You For Being A Friend". etc.).

Rudy and Louise's friendship is not the focus of "Bob's Burgers". Not even close. I did the math once, and I think Rudy's in just over 10% of the show's episodes. But I still think that, with Rudy and Louise, the show has done one of the best jobs of developing a friendship on television- from classmates who didn't really know each other, to friends who are still learning about each other and figuring out how to communicate, to friends who can pickup on each other's nonverbal cues and know just the right thing to do.

And I love that.

(P.S.: Someday, I will be able to think about this episode without tearing up. That day is not today.)

[hannahssimblr]

“Evan, can I sit?”

He glances up at me and shrugs, patting the ground next to him so I slump down heavily on it and take a healthy gulp from my bottle. 

“You good, man?”

“Yeah, amazing.”

“I, uh, I see you were chatting to Leah, there? You know each other?”

“Nah.”

“Really? Well... she’s a weirdo anyway, you’re better off getting away from her, like, I just sell her weed and stuff, I don’t really like when she hangs around too long.”

“Yeah, fair enough.” 

“Was she being weird with you?” 

“Nope.” 

We’re silent as we watch the flames. I begin to wonder what time it is, and whether I've stayed long enough now for it to be acceptable to go home. As I watch all of the other friends around the fire have fun together I’m struck by how much of an outsider I really am. Sure, Rob and Katie are nice, but will any of that niceness extend into normal life with the eyes of everyone else at school upon us? Surely they will go back to the steps at the back of the school while I go back to the rugby changing rooms, or the library, as it may be and things will resume as they are, as they've always been and always will be. Realistically, would they ever be seen with me? Would I ever be seen with them? There's this weird, empty feeling in me, a feeling that just compounds day after day, month after month, year after year, and it's like I don’t belong anywhere or to anyone. I'm just floating in the in-between, and who even am I? What does it mean to even-

“Hey,” Evan interrupts my spiralling inner dialogue, “I meant to say to you that it’s cool that you came along, you know, even when Jen and Michelle didn’t.”

This takes me by surprise, “You think?”

“Yeah, I mean, I suppose I kind of thought you were just hanging out with us sometimes because of them, and that you didn’t really want to be there, but,” a shrug, “I suppose that isn’t true.”

“No, I like hanging out with you.”

“And it’s not just because you’ve been ostracised by your other friends?”

I hesitate for a beat, “No.”

Evan laughs, “Wow, I’m so convinced!”

“No, come on,” I rock to the side and nudge his shoulder with mine, “Like, yeah, sometimes it’s nice to have Jen here, but I’m fine, I can handle myself around the emos… and as for Michelle, well, she hates me, so it’s actually kinda comfier when she’s not here, and- oh,” I realise immediately what I’ve said, “um, well I don’t really mean that, it-”

“No, it’s okay,” Evan says, “I know that you two aren’t exactly best friends or anything.”

“Ah, so she’s talked to you about me.” 

“Nah, you’ve honestly never come up in conversation.”

“Somehow that’s worse.”

He snickers. 

“How are, um,” I pick at the beer label with my thumb, “How are things going with you guys? Like, the last time we talked you were feeling kinda…”

A sigh, “Oh, yeah, it’s the same. Like, she’s so nice but sometimes I don’t feel like I get enough from her.”

“Uh huh.”

“I kind of get a bit annoyed about it sometimes, like, how are we supposed to be together properly if I hardly see her? Like, man, she’s allowed to come to my house like, once a week. In the afternoon. And that’s the only time we can… uh, hook up or whatever. It’s so annoying.”

“Just from an outsider's perspective, you know, you seem pretty happy.”

“Yeah. She’s definitely into me,” He musses up and fixes his fringe, “I dunno. It’s fine, just sometimes I wonder about shit. You know what I mean, right?”

“I’m probably not the best person to ask, seeing none of my relationships have worked out so far, and I’m also fairly drunk, so…”

“But you know what it’s like to be with someone who wouldn’t give you the things you needed, right?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“So you do get it.”

“Mm, I suppose,” as our conversation tapers off I let my mind drift into thoughts about love and loneliness and the hollow disappointment of all of my relationships. These are bitter, useless, self destructive thoughts as usual, made even worse by the fact that I’m not exactly capable of rational thought while inebriated. Is drinking bad for me? Am I a miserable drunk? I have to physically shake myself out of my own head before I start talking myself into a hole again.

I turn to Evan to start saying something else about, I don’t know, whether he’s ever tried pranking someone by turning their school bag inside out and putting the books back into it or something stupid like that, but I see he’s distracted by something else across the bonfire. 

It’s that girl with the pink hair. She’s leaning over a bag to rummage for more beer, and her short skirt rides up when she’s bent over like that so that her underwear is visible through the sheer material of her tights. I frown at the dirty little smirk on his face, the way hungry eyes follow her movements, and the look between them as she glances over her shoulder and sees him watching her. I nudge my knee against his to interrupt whatever is going on.

“Wow, nice legs, huh?” 

He looks at me, surprised, but lets out a rough laugh, “Yeah, for sure.”

“Is she into you or am I just seeing things?”

“Nah, I don’t know about that.”

“Oh, c’mon, no, I’m just messing with you, she just looked like… I dunno.”

“Like what?”

I shift awkwardly, “You know what, don’t mind me, I’ve had too much to drink, I thought I detected flirting, or whatever, I guess I was wrong.”

The girl kneels onto the ground and starts asking around for the bottle opener, and Evan doesn’t take his eyes away from her. “She’s pretty though, isn’t she?”

“Hm?”

“Carlie. That’s her name. She’s pretty, do you think?”

“She’s single?”

“Yep.”

“So are you trying to set me up with her or are you just pointing that out?”

“I’m not trying to set you up.” Evan seems agitated by this idea that I might try to date pretty Carlie, who, by the way, treats me like I am contagious. As though it’s any of his business what she does, as if he should even care. Something sour settles in my gut, but I can’t tell whether it’s that I'm weirded out by this conversation or if the alcohol is nauseating me. 

“Right, well, she’s not my type,” I watch his face carefully, “Is she yours?”

“She’s pretty hot.”

Maybe he's looking for my approval or my agreement, which I don’t give him on purpose. To see where it leads me I respond with a benign, “Oh, you think?”

“Uh huh,” They catch eyes again and she smiles coyly and quickly looks away to resume her conversation. That’s flirtation. She’s flirting with him, and him back, right in front of my face. 

“You know, a lot of people would consider your girlfriend to be pretty hot too.” It’s true, I’ve heard those rugby boys saying it before, the only time they ever had anything remotely complimentary to say about any of the emos was to point out the things they fancied about Michelle and what they might like to do to her if she A. wasn’t emo, or B. nobody knew, so that they wouldn’t have to suffer the social consequences. I feel disgusted again at this memory. I know where I was, sitting on the bench lacing up my boots and saying nothing while they spoke casual filth about a girl I know. 

It’s a similar feeling to the one I have now at this bonfire with Evan, and maybe this is how he is when he’s drunk, maybe he just gets a bit… leery, but when he stares across the fire at someone who isn’t his girlfriend I swear I am looking at Willy FitzHerbert. 

He waves my comment away, “Yeah but at least Carlie is interested in sex.”

“How do you know that?”

He leans closer, “Obviously because I’ve done it with her.”

“Yeah?” I say, “When?”

He smirks and says nothing.

I push him again. “A few years ago?”

He lowers his voice and looks at me with eyes that glitter with salacious excitement. I don’t think I’ve ever once seen another boy look so pleased with himself as he says: “Try a month ago.”

It takes all my self control not to react. I just pause for a second as a shock of revulsion rips through my body, I feel it from my feet to the top of my head, and then, when I decide to speak, my voice is strange to my own ears, “While you were with Michelle.”

A shrug, “It just happened on a night out when she wasn’t there. I dunno.”

“She doesn’t know?”

“Course not. She’d break up with me.”

“And... you don’t want that.”

��No, because we’re in love. This stuff with Carlie, it was just… you get what I mean. It’s not like that with her.”

I sigh, “Uh, yep.”

So it appears it is the same for Evan as it is for all the others. Michelle is the virgin, Carlie is the slut and he wants it all at the same time. A girl worthy of love, and a girl interested in sex, two things that cannot converge. There is no girl that can be both.

“It felt good to let loose with someone who knew what they were doing, and like, not have to think so hard about making the other person all safe and comfortable and, blah,” he rolls his eyes, “Carlie is cool.”

“Right, yeah, she seems it.”

“You get me, right? Guys like us, you know, we need to be able to just relax sometimes, not think so hard…”

“Yeah, for sure… Guys like us, huh?”

“Hell yeah!” He clinks his beer bottle against mine, “I knew you’d get it, honestly, I wasn’t sure if I should say something but I feel good now that you understand what I meant.”

I try to laugh but it sounds weird and strangled, so I bring the bottle to my lips in the hope that drinking will disguise my discomfort, or at the very least numb it a bit. I finish the last two thirds of it and toss it somewhere amongst the miscellaneous rubbish, remnants of a hundred other miserable bonfire nights on Dollymount strand.  

Then, after a minute or two Evan nudges me again. It’s hard to look at him but I force myself to because it is what I would do if this situation was normal, “You’re not going to say anything, right? Like, to Michelle or Jen? Like I know you probably won’t...” A laugh as he adjusts his fringe, “That'd be insane, I know, but I wanted to make sure.”

“Me? Nah,” I say, “Why would you even have to ask? Don’t worry about it,” I scratch the back of my head, “your, uh, your secret is safe with me.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[tawked]

Conan: The Tower of the Elephant & Other Stories, Dark Horse.

As Conan came forward, his eyes fixed on the motionless idol, the eyes of the thing opened suddenly! The Cimmerian froze in his tracks. It was no image - it was a living thing, and he was trapped in its chamber! That he did not instantly explode in a burst of murderous frenzy is a fact that measures his horror, which paralyzed him where he stood. A civilized man in his position would have sought doubtful refuge in the conclusion that he was insane; it did not occur to the Cimmerian to doubt his senses. He knew he was face t o face with a demon of the Elder World, and the realization robbed him of all his faculties except sight. The truck of the horror was lifted and quested about, the topaz eyes stared unseeingly, and Conan knew the monster was blind. With the thought came a thawing of his frozen nerves, and he began to back silently toward the door. But the creature heard. The sensitive trunk stretched toward him, and Conan's horror froze him again when the being spoke, in a strange, stammering voice that never changed its key or timbre. The Cimmerian knew that those jaws were never built or intended for human speech. "Who is here? Have you come to torture me again, Yara? Will you never be done? Oh, Yag-kosha, is there no end to agony?" Tears rolled from the sightless eyes, and Conan's gaze strayed to the limbs stretched on the marble couch. And he knew the monster would not rise to attack him. He knew the marks of the rack, and the searing brand of the flame, and tough-souled as he was, he stood aghast at the ruined deformities which his reason told him had once been limbs as comely as his own. And suddenly all fear and repulsion went from him, to be replaced by a great pity. What this monster was, Conan could not know, but the evidenc es of its suffering were so terrible and pathetic that a strange sadness came over the Cimmerian, and he knew not why. He only felt that he was looking upon a cosmic tragedy, and he shrank with shame, as if the guilt of a whole race were laid upon him. "I am not Yara," he said. "I am only a thief. I will not harm you." "Come near that I may touch you," the creature faltered, and Conan came near unfearingly, his sword hanging forgotten in his hand. The sensitive trunk came out and groped over his face and shoulders, as a blind man gropes, and its touch was light as a girl's hand. "You are not of Yara's race of devils," sighed the creature. "The clean, lean fierceness of the wastelands marks you. I know your people from of old, whom I knew by another name in the long, long ago when another world lifted its jeweled spires to the stars. There is blood on your fingers."

— The Tower of the Elephant, Robert E. Howard, originally published in Weird Tales Magazine March 1933, this version from "The Complete Chronicles of Conan," Gollancz, 2006.

The subtext of compassion for a profoundly disabled person - a literal elephant man no less, perhaps inspired by Joseph Merrick upon whom the famous film was based and who lived from 1862 - 1890 - is something I personally always found profound in Robert E. Howard's work.

You must understand, at the time freak shows and human zoos were common, as were institutions which would house disabled children more or less from their birth to their often not-too-far-off deaths as a matter of cultural protocol. Fear of infection regarding physical deformities was a fact of Howard's life, so there is a perhaps an intentional violation of taboo in the use of physical human contact here. Regardless, compassion for the disabled was not common. That Conan, here characterized in an almost Hobbesian sense as a true reflection of human nature without the influences of civilization, reacts immediately with kindness and sympathy.

[greatbritishsimchallenge]

"Her, aye? She must be absolutely dynamite in bed if you think I'd swap her for your freedom," said Captain Morgan and the pirates around her laughed.

"She's rich," said Mark, "she's a runaway Lady - daughter of the Lady of Newcrest and the Lord of Brindleton Bay, which I'm sure I don't need to tell you are two of the richest counties in England."

Captain Morgan immediately became interested, leaning against the bars to look more closely at Frankie. Through all of this, Frankie kept shaking her head and staring at the floor.

"I'd wager that the money you'd get for holdin' her ransom would be higher than anythin' you've robbed all this year," said Mark.

"Is he telling the truth?" Captain Morgan asked Frankie. "Are you the daughter of the Lord of Brindleton Bay?"

When Frankie didn't respond, the Captain hit the bars and shouted, "answer me!"

Frankie refused to look up but replied, "yes."

"Prove it," said Captain Morgan.

"How could I possibly do that?" asked Frankie, too exhausted to remove the belligerence from her tone.

"What was his name? Look - look at me! What was his name? Your father," Captain Morgan asked, her eyes fixed intensely on Frankie.

"Lord Cassian."

"And who are your brothers and sisters?"

"I have an older brother - Lord Henry, the current Lord of Brindleton Bay - and an older sister, Lady Margaret the future Lady of Newcrest."

"That's it?"

"There were others... Lady Jane... Lady Charlotte... but they died in childhood."

"Did they? How very sad."

Captain Morgan studied Frankie for a minute and then said, "What was your father like? What was his character?"

"I don't know. He died when I was a baby. My mother told me he was a committed follower of the Puritan Faith and devoid of sin."

Captain Morgan began to chuckle and, after a few seconds the chuckle became a laugh, which in turn became a fully belly laughing fit. The prisoners all stared at Captain Morgan with varying degrees of fear and questioning her sanity.

Wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, Captain Morgan said to Mark, "sorry, love. You lose. That is not a Lady of Brindleton Bay. She's just some peasant who learned the family tree."

"No!" said Mark in a panic, "She is! She - look! Look at these pearls round her neck..." as Mark looked back at Frankie, he noticed for the first time that they were missing and his panic intensified. "They were a string of the purest pearls you've ever seen and they had a letter 'M' on them, solid gold it was!"

Captain Morgan rolled her eyes, becoming bored with Mark's lies, "give it up, duck. This is just sounding desperate. Die with a little dignity, aye?"

"He is not lying," Frankie said quietly. "And nor am I."

"What did you say, little one? Speak up!" goaded Captain Morgan.

Something in Frankie was riled now and she began to speak with an uncharacteristic venom, "I was born to Lord Cassian and Lady Catherine. I have studied in the great libraries of Tartosa under the tutelage of Lady Margaret, ruler of Tartosa. I have dined in great halls by the side of my brother, ruler of Brindleton. I have stood by my mama's side as she inspected the soldiers of Newcrest - her soldiers - and one day I will return home to my sister who will rule those lands as well. Believe what you want, but I know I am born from a greater power and riches than you pissy little pirates could ever dream to possess."

Frankie stared down Captain Morgan's thunderous expression and only began to falter as the Captain said to one of the pirates, "get her out."

"What about our deal?" Mark cried, but was ignored.

The bright sunlight hurt Frankie's eyes but the smell of fresh sea air was welcome. If she was to die, she thought, at least it would be at sea.

Captain Morgan grabbed Frankie's chin and gruffly said, "look at me." Frankie begrudgingly did so. As Captain Morgan looked over face, her expression shifted from distrust to amazement.

"I don't believe it," she said quietly. "What are the odds?"

Frankie frowned in confusion as Captain Morgan let go of her face, almost as if she had just realised how poorly she was treating Frankie. Captain Morgan calmly said to her crew, "get her cleaned up, fed and give her a cabin. Throw the other two overboard."

Start (Iron Age) | Start (Roman Britain) | Start (Anglo Saxon) | Start (Medieval) | Start (Tudor) | Start (Stuart)

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[couchlovers]

Helloooo!!

I saw that you were writing for money heist, and i practically screamed. There are barely any fics on this app for that show and it hurts my heart cuz i love them so much.

Anyways, can I request a Raquel Murillo fic where the reader makes like the models of the places they are going to rob? the one of the bank of Spain or the one of the mint. And like one night the reader couldn’t sleep and was up making the model, and Raquel comes and sits with them? And it’s like kinda cute and there is comfort and stuff??

I feel like this could fix me 😭

Anywaysss, srry that it’s so long, but don’t feel pressured at all the write anything if you don’t want to.

Have a great day/ night <33

- 🪼

Hellooo!! I know my heart hurt because of the amount of fics

Late Night Model

lcdp masterlist masterlist my rules

2k of words!

I hope this is what you wanted!

The sound of the clock ticking softly in the background was the only noise in the room. The city lights filtered in through the window, casting long shadows across the room. It was well past midnight, and the rest of the crew had already gone to bed after another long day of preparation. But you couldn’t sleep. Your mind was buzzing with plans, calculations, and every detail of the model you were working on.

You had been putting your heart into crafting the perfect miniature version of the Bank of Spain. The crew needed to know the ins and outs, the hidden tunnels, the security measures, everything. This was no small job, and the more detail you could capture in the model, the better. But even as your hands moved skillfully over the tiny pieces, your mind was racing with doubts and anxiety. It was the kind of heist that could make or break everything.

You sighed, glancing at the clock again. It was almost 2 a.m., but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. There was still more to do. The walls of the room felt like they were closing in on you, and you were so focused on the model that you barely heard the soft footsteps behind you.

“Can’t sleep either?” Raquel’s voice was quiet but warm, the kind of voice that carried comfort even in the middle of the night. You looked up, surprised to find her standing in the doorway of the room. She was still in her pajamas, her hair a little messy, but her eyes had that gentle, knowing look.

“I guess not,” you replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Just trying to get this done.”

Raquel approached slowly, her steps deliberate, as though she didn’t want to disturb the fragile focus you had. She sat down across from you, watching your hands move over the model, your brow furrowed in concentration.

“Is it really that important to get it perfect?” she asked softly, her gaze following your movements.

You paused for a moment, your fingers hovering over the tiny pieces. “Yeah… the more precise the model, the easier it is to plan. If I get one thing wrong, it could throw everything off.”

Raquel nodded, leaning back in her chair. She didn’t push, just sat there, the silence between you comfortable. She wasn’t one to bombard you with questions or try to fix things when you were deep in your thoughts. Instead, she simply offered her presence, and it was enough.

After a few minutes, she spoke again, this time quieter. “You know… you don’t have to do this alone.”

You looked up at her, surprised by the words. Raquel was always so focused on the team, always in control, but in that moment, you saw something softer in her eyes. “I’m not alone,” you said, but the words didn’t come out as confidently as you meant them to. “But sometimes it feels like I am, you know? It’s a lot of pressure.”

Raquel smiled, her eyes softening even more. She didn’t respond immediately but instead reached across the table and gently touched your hand, her fingers warm against yours. It was the kind of gesture that felt simple but meant everything.

“You don’t have to carry it all by yourself,” she said again, her voice reassuring. “We’re all in this together.”

The words sank into you like a weight being lifted. You hadn’t realized just how much you had been carrying until now, and hearing her say that—hearing her mean it—brought a sense of relief that was almost overwhelming. You could feel the tension in your shoulders ease, and for the first time that night, you realized you weren’t alone in this.

Raquel stayed with you for a while, watching as you continued working on the model. Her presence was calming, and though the hours passed, you didn’t feel the usual anxiety that came with your sleepless nights. It was almost like time slowed down in her company. Eventually, your hands started to slow, the fatigue creeping in despite your determination.

Raquel noticed, of course. She always did. She stood up and stretched, her movements smooth and graceful. “How about a break?” she suggested. “Maybe a cup of tea?”

You smiled, nodding gratefully. “I could use one.”

As you both left the table and walked toward the kitchen, Raquel casually draped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a brief, comforting hug. It was a small thing, but it was exactly what you needed. Her touch was reassuring, grounding, and you couldn’t help but lean into it for a second longer than usual.

“You’re doing great,” Raquel whispered. “I’m proud of you.”

The simple words hit harder than you expected, and for a moment, you felt your chest tighten with emotion. But in the best way. You weren’t alone, not anymore. And with her by your side, you could handle whatever came next.

As you both settled on the couch, sipping tea in the stillness of the night, you realized something: in the quiet moments, in the middle of the chaos and plans, sometimes comfort was all you really needed to keep going.

And Raquel? She was exactly the kind of comfort you didn’t even know you were searching for.

The tea had cooled in your hands, untouched, as you sat on the couch with Raquel beside you. The late-night exhaustion had settled in, but for once, it wasn’t unwelcome. There was a kind of peace in this moment, in the soft glow of the lamp, in the steady warmth of Raquel’s presence next to you.

She had stayed—just like she always did when she saw you were struggling. No words needed, no grand gestures. Just her quiet, unwavering presence.

"You know," she said, her voice hushed in the dim light, "I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take a real break."

You let out a tired chuckle, shaking your head. "Not really my thing."

Raquel rolled her eyes, but there was no frustration in it. Just that amused fondness she had whenever she called you out on your habits. She shifted closer, her shoulder brushing against yours. "You’ll burn out if you don’t let yourself breathe once in a while," she murmured.

You turned your head slightly, taking her in. She was close—closer than she had been earlier, the space between you almost nonexistent. The soft lighting highlighted the delicate curve of her jaw, the way her lips parted slightly, as if she was debating whether to say something more.

For a moment, it was just the two of you, the world outside disappearing into nothing.

"You always take care of everyone," she continued, her voice quieter now. "But who takes care of you?"

The question sat heavy in the air. Your instinct was to brush it off, to say you didn’t need it. But the way she looked at you, the sincerity in her voice, made it impossible to lie.

You swallowed, your voice softer than you intended. "Maybe… you do."

A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of Raquel’s lips. "Yeah," she murmured. "I think I do."

And then she moved.

It was subtle—just a slight tilt of her head, the way her eyes flickered down to your lips for the briefest second before she met your gaze again. There was no rush, no urgency. Just the quiet, steady realization between you both.

You weren’t sure who closed the distance first. Maybe it was her, maybe it was you. But none of it really mattered when her lips finally pressed against yours.

The kiss was soft, unhurried. Not desperate, not rushed. Just warm and lingering, like something long overdue but falling into place at exactly the right moment. Her hand found your jaw, her thumb brushing over your skin gently, grounding you in the quiet intimacy of it all.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mingling in the silence.

Raquel let out a soft laugh, shaking her head slightly. "You really should sleep," she whispered, though there was no real reprimand in her voice.

"After that?" you murmured back, your lips curving into a lazy smile. "Not a chance."

She laughed again, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek before leaning back, her hand still resting on your arm. "Then I guess I’ll have to stay here a little longer."

And she did.

Raquel stayed, curled up against your side, letting you steal just a little more time with her before the world came calling again. But for now, in this moment, there was nothing else—just you, her, and the quiet kind of love that didn’t need words to be understood.

The silence that followed your kiss wasn’t awkward—it was warm, comforting, something that settled deep in your chest and made you feel lighter than you had in days. Raquel didn’t pull away completely. Instead, she stayed close, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on the back of your hand.

"You okay?" she murmured after a while, voice low, just for you.

You exhaled slowly, nodding. "Yeah… better now."

Raquel studied you, her dark eyes searching for any sign of doubt. She had a way of seeing right through you, of catching the things you didn’t say. But for once, there was nothing to hide. Just exhaustion, a little bit of relief, and the quiet comfort of her.

She hummed softly, shifting so that she could lean against you fully. "You should try to sleep" she whispered, resting her head on your shoulder.

You hesitated, but when she reached for your hand again, her fingers lacing through yours with an ease that made your heart stutter, you knew you weren’t going to argue.

"Alright" you mumbled, a small, tired smile playing on your lips.

Raquel pulled a blanket over the both of you, keeping you close as you finally let the weight of the night catch up to you. Sleep came easier than expected, wrapped in her warmth, her presence grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

______________________________________________________________________

Sunlight streamed through the windows when you woke up, the soft sounds of morning chatter filtering in from the next room. Raquel was still next to you, though she had shifted slightly, her fingers still loosely curled around yours.

You blinked against the light, your brain slowly catching up with reality. Right. The meeting.

"Shit" you muttered, sitting up.

Raquel stirred at the movement, letting out a groggy sound before rubbing her eyes. "Mmm… What time is it?"

"Almost time for the briefing," you said, running a hand through your hair. "I have to set up the models."

Raquel stretched, a small smirk playing on her lips as she watched you scramble. "Relax. You’re always prepared."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the small smile forming as she stood up, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before nudging you toward the door. "Go impress them, genius."

______________________________________________________________________

By the time everyone gathered around the large table, your models were already set up—detailed, precise, perfect. The Bank of Spain, the tunnels, the security layouts—every inch of it mapped out carefully.

The Professor looked over them with quiet approval, nodding as he adjusted his glasses. "Impressive" he murmured.

The others leaned in, studying your work with various expressions of awe.

"This is insane," Nairobi grinned, running her fingers along the miniature vault door. "You did this in, what? A few nights?"

"Something like that" you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck.

Raquel stood next to you, her arms crossed, a knowing look in her eyes. She didn’t say anything, but when your hand brushed against hers under the table, she squeezed it once, grounding you.

As you explained the layout, pointing out every crucial detail, you felt good. The doubts from the night before were gone, replaced by the confidence of knowing you had done your part. The plan was coming together.

And Raquel?

She was still right there beside you, exactly where you wanted her to be.

[yasminthespiritfaninnit]

Hello everyone! I have something to say. I have seen some arguments that I didn’t like at all. But, I still respect everyone who made it.

So, Imma say my perspective.

Tommy didn’t deserve Exile or to be exiled at all.

Dream didn’t deserve to be tortured in prison or to be imprisoned without a fair trial.

I will detail what I mean the best that I can.

First, let’s start with Dream and the prison.

Dream was imprisoned, after Punz led the entire server to him, before he could kill Tubbo in front of Tommy.

Am I saying that he shouldn’t have been arrested? Hell no. His list of war crimes and atrocities against humanity at this point was and still is a mile long.

But the group failed to give Dream a fair trial to defend himself.

Instead, Tommy (after killing Dream twice as revenge for the two deaths that Dream committed against him. Note on that one, I completely understand Tommy’s rage. But killing Dream was not right, nor did it help anyone.) had Sam, (the warden) to imprison Dream after he claimed that he could revive Wilbur.

Neither Tommy or Sam or anyone here had the authority to imprison Dream. Especially not without a fair trial. But they did it anyways and that’s not right. Dream was unlawfully imprisoned against his will.

Now, the torture. Imma say it bluntly. It was 100% not Dream’s fault.

Quackity, who had no authority to do this, wanted the revive book.

Dream said no as he had the right to say that.

So, grossly abusing his rights as a visitor, Quackity started to torture Dream.

So, yeah.

And now, we get to Exile and Tommy.

Exile was an overreaction and rigged from the start. Plain and simple.

Was Tommy completely in the right for the conflict? No. (In order of least to most fucked up in my opinion.) He grief-ed and robbed George’s house, compared Tubbo to Schlatt, tried to frame Niki, and tried to use Dream’s dead horse against him.

But also, Exile was both a unfair punishment and one that was pushed so heavily.

Dream, (the main ring-leader for getting rid of Tommy from L’Manburg) provoked Tommy to make him look worse, pushed Tubbo into a corner about the topic, and tried to frame Tommy of many more griefing incidents (with the help of a unwitting Puffy.). He was pulling the strings when the real victim, George, didn’t even give two shits. Tommy’s damages were easily fixed and everything stolen was easily recovered.

Should Tommy be punished for griefing George? Yes. But he should have been put on probation and made to fix the damages (and recover the stolen property) to George’s house, not put through a rigged series of events that got him banned from his own home.

(And I have an extra argument for this part. Canon is canon. Just because nothing came of something doesn’t mean that it is not important. Tommy’s framing of Niki was immediately shut down. But he still tried instead of fessing up. Dream’s framing of Tommy didn’t seem to do much. But he still did that, showing that he was trying his hardest to get Tommy out of L’Manburg no matter what.)

And now, the exile itself.

It was 100% not Tommy’s fault. Nothing during exile was his fault and nothing was exaggerated by the fans.

Dream really did make Tommy throw his stuff down the hole to destroy it.

Dream really did beat Tommy with an axe if he mustered the tiniest rebellion.

Dream really did changed up his rules and the rules of Exile on a whim.

(For example, Tommy was only banned from L’Manburg. But when they got there, Dream told him that he couldn’t go *anywhere* that was established.)

Dream really did make sure that Tommy was dependent on him for everything.

And Dream really did all of this to control Tommy, to make him a protégé. (Cc!Dream confirmed this over Twitter.)

When people say that Exile was abuse, we didn’t exaggerate it. In fact, I think we didn’t do the horrors justice. Exile was torture as much as the prison was for Dream and Vice versa.

If anyone wants to discuss, please reblog this with your opinions or comment on this blog.