#so no keyboard we die like men

[heretolurkandnothingmore]

tag game time! 5 current favourite songs.

big thank you to 3 of my wonderful mutuals and treasured friends, (@cottonraincoat @willameena and @kingdomvel) for tagging me! you guys rock.

picking just five was a riddle and a half, so i elected to leave out the musicals and anything that's in russian. just let me know if you want the other (russian) list :D

i extend the invitation to @yourfavoritefridge, @piecesofeden11, @palfriendpatine66, @virahaus and @dreaminghour. have fun, dear ones)

now, in no particular order:

1. the oh hellos - soap. here representing the folk part of my playlist, filling in for the crane wives and of monsters and men. this song is a comfort. it's a midday drive on a long empty road with the windows open. it's dandelions breaking through the pavement in spring. basically, if you want a song telling you you're loved, look no further.

choice lyric: "all the things we've broken can be puzzled again and again."

2. mother mother - until it doesn't hurt. hello fellow shut-ins! did you just discover you haven't seen the light of day for three days? me too! and this song is just the thing to make us feel better about it. careful, side effects may include: feeling like you're in a kick-ass movie about revenge, getting goosebumps from the chorus, being inspired to write a new character. ok, that last one may just be me. but the song is still pretty good.

choice lyric: "i wanna fight, i wanna bite, i wanna swallow all the light"

3. the mountain goats - sax rohmer 1, here representing the lo-fi end of the spectrum. i have recommended tallahassee the album on this blog twice already, so today we're picking heretic pride. as a wise youtube comment once said, "the affection of no creature is left unrepresented in their songs" - this one is for those of us gritting their teeth through every day of all of this.

choice lyric: "all roads lead toward the same blocked intersection"

4. fall out boy - headfirst slide into cooperstown on a bad bet. time for a little guilty pleasure! i was torn between this and the killers or panic at the disco. the battle has been won by this beautiful earworm. perfect fit for when you need the music to just wash over you and drown out the rest.

choice lyric: "i don't just want to be a footnote in someone else's happiness"

5. daughter - run. and the final one, here for all the other sad songs, having won over placebo, amigo the devil and florence of florence and the machine. i dare you to imagine your otp to this one - it's hard not to!)) good pick for those evenings when you need a singer to cry with you.

choice lyric: "i won't tell my mother, it's better she don't know. and he won't tell his folks, 'cause they're already ghosts"

[ghost-proofbaby]

fictional boyfriends (e.m.)

summary: eddie gets jealous of your newest fictional boyfriend from a game he got you into.

warnings: kinda sweet. kinda cringe. eddie is jealous of astarion. twilight reference jumpscare. not edited. biting and vague mentions of sex at the end.

wc: 2.5k+

a/n: this is the dumbest, cringiest thing i have ever written. but on this side of town, we embrace the cringe <3 happy valentine's day, enjoy me combining my current favorite fictional men (astarion and eddie) for my own personal delight. maybe one day i'll write a serious fic regarding the biting kink

It’s not that biting had ever been off the table with Eddie, per se.

Nips between kisses, using a little more teeth when he’d kiss across your neck, a joking sinking of your teeth into his shoulder when you were vying for his attention — they were all normal occurrences between the two of you. There was just never much discussion about it. No conversation explicitly had in which the two of you said, “Why, yes. This is something I’d like to bring into the bedroom.” 

Until that damn game.

When Eddie introduced you to Baldur’s Gate 3, the last thing he expected was to watch all your free time you used to spend pestering him suddenly handed over to some fictional vampire. He thought it’d be a game you tried, grew tired of, lost interest in, and that was that. Nothing more, nothing less. He didn’t expect a sudden competition for your goddamn affections. 

“Baby, please come to bed,” he all but whines as he drapes himself over your shoulders, trying to nudge off your headphones. He could feel just how warm your ears had grown beneath them. He swears he can feel your back crack from the slightest bit of his weight on your shoulders. And, sue him — he was tired and he wanted to cuddle. 

“One more minute,” you mumble the same phrase to him that he has used a million times on you; he instantly knows it’ll be far more than just sixty more seconds if he agrees, “Let me just finish this-“

“No,” he’s still whining, but it’s more stern now as he properly removes your headset, earning a glare from your bloodshot eyes, “You’ve been playing this game all afternoon, sweetheart. I think I might die if you don’t offer me some immediate attention. Truly.”

For emphasis, he lays more of his body weight on you, your chair creaking from holding up both of you now. 

“Eddie,” you moan out, wiggling beneath his dead-weight, “I swear to God, get off of me-“

“I’ll get off of you if you come to bed.”

You pause. Your hands hover near your keyboard and mouse, but you’re no longer walking your avatar across the world of Baldur’s Gate, and he knows he has you considering it.

More weight. More groans. At this rate, he’s questioning if your chair won’t break from his outrageous method to get your attention. 

“Fine.” 

The small yes he lets out only earns him a punch to the shoulder. But it gets you off the game, and that’s still a win for him.

He doesn’t even care about appearing over eager as you follow him back to the bedroom. He’s gone as far as preparing the bed, pillows fluffed and comforted pulled back while awaiting your arrival. He’s already washed his face and brushed his teeth (something he usually fights you on as you nag him before bed), and the moment he’s got you in the room with him, he’s dragging you right onto the mattress with him.

“You’re gonna hurt us!” you yelp as he wraps his arms around you and flops down, dragging you with him, but it’s through a laugh. He knows you really couldn’t care less — he’d never deliberately injure you, irritated about your newest fictional boyfriend or not. 

“Oh, no,” he mocks, rolling so you’re laying on top of him, “What ever will you do if I injure one of your precious wrists, and you can’t use it to flirt with your new boy toy tomorrow?” 

“Astarion would be devastated,” you giggle into his chest, not moving off of him despite all your protests. It’s nice — to feel the full weight of you, to just get to bury his nose in the crown of your head as he shamelessly inhales the sweet lingering scent of your coconut shampoo, “He’s even needier than you.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause you serve as his functional juice box.”

“I do not!” you wiggle against him, and it only makes him tighten his arms, “He’s needy because he loves me.”

“Well that makes one of us.” 

Your head lifts off his chest in an instant, faux offense shadowing your features, “You tryin’ to say you don’t love me, Munson?”

He smirks, pressing his lips together tightly, making you huff in frustration. 

Of course he loves you. There wouldn’t be a ring in his sock drawer that he’s terrified of you finding if he didn’t. 

You pout, subtly and adorably so, starting to lift off of him, “If you’re going to be mean, I’m just going to go back to someone who appreciates me-“

“Mean?” he scoffs, enjoying himself far too much. He’s missed your attention, your affection. The effect it has on him is similar to a high, making him dizzy on serotonin as he rolls over and pins you between him and the mattress, “Oh, baby, that’s not me being mean. I can show you mean, if you want.” 

He’s always thought you looked prettiest like this. Under him, eyes wide as you look up at him as if he’s the only thing in this room worth looking at. Worth more than your prized bookshelf, more interesting than all the various posters the two of you have hung on the walls. You look at him as though he’s the greatest thing to exist in these four walls, and he doesn’t take it lightly when your favorite albums and candles are right there.

“You don’t have a mean bone in your body, Munson,” you whisper softly, face going soft for him. The two of you are still surely joking around, the playfulness of it all thick in the air, but there’s something genuine in your words that makes him even more enamored with you. 

He should have predicted you’d fall for Astarion when he showed you the game. You had a thing for people who put up the tough front, but who really just needed a little extra softness and patience under the surface. He was living proof of it.

Unlike your fictional vampire boyfriend. 

“Yeah?” he taunts, leaning down until the tip of his nose brushes yours. His hair works like a curtain, messy as ever as he shields the two of you from the outside world. One of your hands have crept up so that you palm rests against his cheek, and he can hardly remember that flare of jealousy that had gnawed at him when you’d spent your entire afternoon absorbed in the game instead of him, “I bet I could be meaner than Astarion. Although, I’m not sure just how mean that man has ever been to you, given all the war crimes you commit for his approval-“

He’s cut off when the thumb of the hand cradling his face trails up, pressing on his bottom lip. It only makes him grow even closer to you, pressing in, drawn by your touch.

You squint your eyes at him jokingly before cooing, “Someone sounds jealous.”

“Damn right,” he doesn’t even try to deny it, caught in the web of your trap with ease, “Does your pixelated lover even know what a catch he’s got?” 

You snort adorably at that. He pulls away to see the full force of your laughter, lifting up into his elbows to admire how your face scrunches with your smile. He bets Astarion would make some sarcastic comment about it — about the crinkles by your eyes that he aches to pepper with kisses, about the indents in your cheeks when you smile this wide, about the sound of your genuine laughter when you unrestrained and entirely comfortable like this. But there’s not a single joke forming on Eddie’s tongue. He’s all but hypnotized. 

God, he fucking loves you. So much so he’s jealous of a video game character.

“I’m not sure I’d consider this,” you lift the hand not holding him carefully still to motion at your current state of being, “A catch, my love.” 

He has to disagree. Messy hair or not, wrinkled pajamas or not.  You’re the greatest catch of this entire existence; not just Eddie’s, but the Universe’s. Nothing you could say or point out would deter him from this belief. He loves you, mess and all.

“My love?” he chooses to tease instead, all the words of affection threatening to choke him if he so much as considers letting them pour out, “I like the sound of that. If that’s the Astarion effect, maybe he isn’t so bad after all.”  

His elbows are sinking deeper into the mattress. With every passing second, his face is dropping closer to yours, and he’s not sure if it’s by instinct or choice. But when his lips finally brush yours, he decides it’s all the same — it doesn’t really matter what sort of gravity is at work here, as long as it keeps bringing him down closer to you.

“Shut up about the game and kiss me, Eddie.” 

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

The kiss is as sweet as ever. A comfortable dance that still sends shivers down his spine. If either of you looked closer at his arms bracketing your shoulders, you’d see the goosebumps raising as you eagerly returned all his affection.

You taste like the chocolates you’d been snacking on during your gaming. You taste like the greatest gift ever given, and he doesn’t care if he’s exaggerating or not. You’re divine — his favorite good morning and his only goodnight. 

And he’d say all that, but you’d probably accuse him of trying too hard to be like Astarion. Probably bring up that ridiculous line the character once said about you being made by the Gods, just to ruin him.

You were, though. Made by the Gods, specifically to ruin Eddie. Fuck the game. 

“You know,” he whispers against your lips, breaking for air as he adjusts positions. Your thighs open up and welcome him home, letting him slot right between your legs comfortably. He’s not trying to seduce you, but he can’t even be mad about it. He feels like a starved man now that your attention has been divided as of late, “If you wanted a lover who bites, all you had to do was ask, darling.” 

If you weren’t so wrapped up in the kisses he was pressing down your jaw and along your neck, you would have ripped him to shreds for the awful impersonation. 

But you’re already far gone, lost in his touches and his adorations. You let the half-assed attempt at a British accent slide, and you even bare your neck to him at the minute threat. 

Biting had never been off the table, per se, and Eddie was really fucking glad for it.

When he presses one, two, three greedy kisses to that sweet spot just below your ear, he has one intention in mind. Not his usual sucking and nipping and soothing, not leaving behind one of his ordinary love bites. No, he lets himself get caught up in the moment, and when he catches that quiver of excitement the moment he drags his teeth over your neck carefully, he’s fully committed to his decision.

He bites.

Not hard enough to draw blood, or even be terribly painful. He knows it’s nothing like the game or any of your subsequent fantasies you might have had from it. His canines are fairly dull, even as they dig carefully into the skin of your neck, holding for a moment for effect. But your legs tighten around his hips, and he almost wishes he was a damn vampire, able to actually pierce your skin in the moment. Drink your blood. Whatever the allure was with the origin companion.

You let out a soft gasp which has him keeping your skin between his teeth a few extra seconds, and then he’s letting go. Lifting his head and looking into your eyes, a silent exchange of is this okay?

If the glazed over look is anything to go off of, it’s more than okay.

He returns with reckless abandon, switching between his usual desperate kisses and the newer, sharper ones. He has one goal in mind: to mark you up as his, to the point in which you’ll be scolding him in the morning. It’s like a drug, to feel you writhe beneath him as he paints the picture. 

Love notes of freshly born bruises, the imprints of his teeth – a letter across your delicate skin that reads, he was here, and he loved you, more than anyone else in this Universe may ever be capable of. 

“If I had known how much biting would rile you up, I would’ve started doing it ages ago,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck, finally pausing his assault. 

He settles for softer presses of his lip, peppering the affection where he had been a bit more violent. 

Your hands that had taken to tangling into the curls at the nape of his neck have gone more relaxed, no longer tugging but instead just lingering. Pulling him closer. Touching him with softer hands than he’s ever felt deserving of. 

“Guess you’ve got a certain vampire to thank for that,” you tease, but he can hear just how breathless he’s left you. He had sworn he could feel the pulse of your facing heart beneath his lips, even if just for a moment. Even if he just imagined it. 

“Please. Astarion is not getting the credit for that,” he scoffs, lifting up onto his elbows again to just look at you. His lover, his favorite person. It’s nice to see your face when it’s not washed over with the cast of a computer screen. “That was all me. And even if it wasn’t, I won’t forget that you had a Twilight phase.” 

Your hand quickly drops between the two of you, only to smack at his chest. The thump holds no weight as you whine, “I told you that in confidence.” 

He dips down, capturing one last kiss, “It’s okay, baby. It’s good to know that you have a type.”

“I do not-”

He cuts you off with a more playful bite to your neck. Less about marking you, and more just to make a point. 

“Just,” another nip, “admit,” another graze of his teeth, “it.” 

You’re fighting a smile when he looks down at you again, impossible to hide behind your mask of annoyance. “I am not admitting that I have a thing for broody, pathetic vampires.” 

“Well, I’ve got broody and pathetic down-”

“Eddie,” your thighs still bracket him, one hand still clinging to the back of his neck. When you say his name, the game is over. “We can spend all night bickering over the fictional men I love, or you can give me a reason to forget their names. It’s up to you.” 

His eyebrows jump up his forehead, and he’s just about to give up the bit, but not before one last snide remark.

“Kind of hard to do that when I share a name with one of them, but as you wish, sweetheart.” 

Another bout of beautiful laughter from him. Another smack on the chest from you. It’s good – it’s everything Eddie has ever wanted, and it is good.

He does, of course, make you forget their names. And if you find it difficult to get out of bed the next moment, dramatically unable to make the walk to your gaming computer, well – he won’t try to hide his smug smile in between the soft rays of morning light.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

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[coff33andb00ks]

Until You - Part Four

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four charles leclerc x female pop singer!reader x oscar piastri x lando norris f1 smau with intermittent scenes Summary: they drive vroom vrooms, she sings soulful tunes. there's no way in hell this is gonna work, right? Warnings: language, author lied when she said lando was just there (i promise she's not getting anymore men omg), implied smut playlist a.n: the next part will have a q&a with y/n on insta/tiktok so if anyone has questions they'd like for her to answer please send them to my inbox (as basic or unhinged as you like)

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and others ynyln: SURPRISE!!! I present to you my new babies: Enchanted and Lover. Enjoy, my little lattes 💋❤️

↳user3: MY THOUGHTS WILL ECHO YOUR NAME            ↳ user4: omg these are what her and the driver guy were saying            ↳user5: DID SHE WRITE IT FOR OSCAR?!?!?! ↳oscarpiastri: Beautiful, love. 🧡            ↳ynyln: no you 🧡            ↳user4: omg ↳charles_leclerc: all's well that ends well to end up with you ❤️            ↳ynyln: I'll save you a seat, lover ❤️ ↳sabrinacarpenter: on repeat!!            ↳ynyln:❤️ ↳landonorris: love            ↳ynyln: thank you sweetie 🫶🏻 ↳user7: I'm here from f1, why does she call people little lattes?            ↳user8: welcome!! it's a term of endearment for her fans. y/n said in an interview that we give her comfort and a burst of energy, like a latte midafternoon, and it just stuck.

Lando nodded along with the beat. "It just needs a little something extra… You want to keep it acoustic?"

She nodded, sipping her tea. She looked astounded that he was there. He knew he was. When she'd texted him he hadn't expected he'd be on a flight to London within two hours. But here he was, sitting with her in her "little" basement studio, listening to her song for the fifth time, mouthing the lyrics she'd probably written with Charles or Oscar in mind. Charles and Oscar, who were upstairs sleeping soundly.

How I obsessively adore you That's what I do I believe, I believe, I could die in your kiss No, it doesn't get, doesn't get better than this

Oh to be obsessively adored by her.

"I'll do some piano, hang on." She leaned across him, invading his space with her gentle floral aroma and her soft hair and…

He sighed, staring at her in awe as she worked her magic at the keyboard. It was crazy that he was even here, in her private sanctum, witnessing what would undoubtedly be a hit as it was created.

"The piano's too prominent," he said, wanting to feel useful. "The guitar should be the main instrument."

Y/n nodded, and he reached to adjust levels, standing up and hitting play. She looked tense and tired and stressed and he instinctively moved to stand behind her, hesitating.

"Ok to touch you?" he asked.

She tilted her head to look at him. "Yeah of course."

He rested his hands on her shoulders, rubbing gently as the song played. "It's a good song, y/n."

"You think so?" she asked in a small voice.

"It's a love song. Hopeful and adoring. It's beautiful. Charles is a lucky guy."

She hummed, relaxing under his gentle touch. "What's he got to do with it?"

Oh. "I uh… Osc then."

She turned her head to look up at him. "It's not for him."

Oh. Oh. "Someone else?" Christ how many boyfriends did she have--

"You don't remember? You float across the room. It's what you said to me at the club after the race in--"

"Monaco," he whispered.

"It stuck with me. So did the kiss," she murmured.

He swallowed, continuing to rub her shoulders. "You didn't... When I sent you those videos I didn't know about Osc and Charles."

Y/n turned and his hands dropped. "What do they have to do with it?"

A nervous laugh rose in his throat. "You're dating them? Both of them, which is insane to me but like I get it. You're like a mouse on crack, you probably need two boyfriends to keep you from taking off—"

She laughed. "A mouse on crack? Really?"

Sighing as she stood up, he looked down at her. "I just… Don't want to mess up what the three of you have going on."

"They don't own me, Lando. I'm a grown woman, I can do what I want with my body whenever I want. With whoever I want."

Lando blinked, his mind short-circuiting over the mental image that put into his head. Swallowing hard, he drew in a breath as she stretched. And held it, staring at her while she fiddled with controls and restarted the song. Let it out slow when he saw the tension returning to her shoulders.

He was reaching for her before he even registered the movement.

"C'mere," he murmured, pulling her to him. Reaching behind her, he switched off the song. "You're gonna drive yourself crazy, love."

"It's right there, Lando, I just need to push a little harder," she groaned, holding her head in her hands and letting him draw her closer.

"Hey, hey, shh…" It felt natural to kiss the top of her head, to wrap his arms around her and try to calm her. "I'm not gonna let you go insane over a song. It's fine, I know you'll come up with something amazing. Just give it time."

"It's not just a song," she whined. "I'm absolutely shit at talking about my feelings for someone, you know? Especially when it…"

"Might go up in flames?" he whispered.

Her hands were on his chest, her head tilting up. "Did you have any idea what you were doing when you stole my number and texted me?"

"Honestly thought I was shooting my shot and hoping I'd get lucky," he muttered, grinning when she laughed.

"It worked."

"Huh?" Lando grunted in surprise.

"Got me thirsty. The past couple weeks have been crazy, trying to fight it, but god, Lando." She sighed as though to ease the tension but it was still there, her body still taut with stress and worry. "I honestly thought you came tonight to fuck me."

His mind bounced like a padel ball in an intense match. He wanted to comfort her, to get her to relax, to ease her worries about the song. But oh how he wanted to kiss her again. He could just remember their half-drunken kiss in Monaco, the electricity thrumming through him, his heartbeat matching the thumping bass of the music. Thought you came tonight to fuck me.

He blinked, his mind going back to a quiet moment before the race in Montreal, when Oscar had been telling him about the unconventional relationship he'd found himself in.

"We're just taking it day by day. But she has a lot of love to give, mate. Sounds crazy, but… I don't think one person could handle it all."

Was there even room for him? Was he honestly considering entangling himself in what would, probably, end up being a PR nightmare for the four of them?

Why was he even thinking of love when he'd originally just wanted to be able to say he'd fucked the richest woman in the world?

"I…"

He leaned down, one hand rising to cup the side of her head. It was supposed to be gentle, sweet, the type of kiss that deserved the song she was working on, but it was harsh, deep and demanding, and he was swallowing her moans. Her nails lightly scraped his neck then they were sliding over his scalp and he whimpered.

"I didn't," he gasped between kisses, growing needier with each taste of her, each moan that fell past her lips. She tasted of tea and chocolate. "I didn't come here to fuck you."

"I know," she moaned. She leaned into him and he felt the need, the flames licking at both of them.

"That's new," Oscar commented, chin resting on her shoulder while she poured herself a coffee. His fingers brushed the side of her neck.

Y/n felt her cheeks warm at the delicate touch, sparking the very recent memory of Lando's mouth on her. "Yeah…"

"Did you get any sleep?" he asked, kissing the mark, his arms snaking around her waist.

"Maybe an hour," she mumbled. After breaking the chair in her studio with Lando, she'd had a burst of inspiration, and the sun had been coming up when they'd listened to the finalized track.

"Love," he sighed, taking the coffee from her before she could take a sip.

"Babe," she whined, her mind snapping to the present, though part lingered on the memory of the twisted sheets of the guest room, of Lando's panting moans in her ear.

"I'll fix you something to eat, then you're going back to bed." He kissed the top of her head and moved away, drinking her coffee.

"I've got to—"

"You don't have anything scheduled for the day. Or tomorrow. So it's rest. No recording, no caffeine, rest." Oscar looked at her over his shoulder. "Stop pouting."

"I just wanted to spend the day with my boyfriends," she sighed, climbing onto the stool at the island counter. Wrinkling her nose when he poured a glass of orange juice and set it in front of her, she reluctantly took a sip.

"We can spend the day here. Peace and quiet, love."

She felt herself melt at his gentle words. Peace and quiet and them. For the whole day. She'd only had snatches of time with them since leaving Monaco. She'd had a concert the day of the Canadian grand prix, and now it felt like some sort of cosmic kismet that her mini break coincided with theirs. They couldn't be together for the whole time, but she would cherish the days she could have.

"Bonjour, mon couer, bonjour koala," Charles greeted as he entered the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

Y/n saw Oscar's cheeks tinge pink at the affectionate nickname Charles had started using for him. She sipped her orange juice, looking on as Charles brushed by Oscar, his hand resting briefly on the small of his back, and heard the whispered word. Rousseur. Freckle.

God, she loved them. Oscar's freckles, Charles's nicknames, and them.

"Good morning," she murmured after he kissed her.

"You didn't tell me we would have a guest, mon couer," he murmured, moving to fix himself coffee.

Oscar turned from the cooktop. "Guest?"

"Oh. Yeah." Y/n rubbed her neck. "Lando flew in last night. Late."

"He's snoring in the guest room." Charles was chuckling. "Leo went to bother him."

"I texted him. About the song. I needed input, and you were both asleep and—"

"Lando came to help you?" Oscar's smile was soft.

"He did."

Oscar tipped his head, regarding her much like a cat watching a bird through the window. "Ah."

"Ah, what?" Charles asked, rubbing his eyes while he sipped his coffee. Lowering his hand, he looked at y/n, snorting into his cup. "Ah."

She groaned, slumping down onto the counter. "Is it that obvious?"

"Love, you're glowing." Oscar grinned and turned back to the eggs.

"I've been glowing since Monaco," she muttered against the countertop. Slowly, she lifted herself, eyes darting from Charles to Oscar and back again. "You're okay with it?"

"I already told you, mon couer. I don't mind sharing you." Charles's smile was affectionate. "As long as you're safe and he treats you well."

"He's one of my best mates, y/n. Not to mention he's been obsessed with you for ages," Oscar quipped, sliding a plate of eggs and toast in front of her.

"He's not obsessed," she snorted.

"Did he fly commercial or private?" Oscar asked, leaning against the counter.

Y/n sighed, taking a bite of the eggs. "Private," she mumbled.

"Day by day, love," Oscar said gently, leaning to kiss her forehead.

Liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, landonorris, and others ynyln: rough night in the studio until this one came to lend a hand. magic: made. forever grateful, sweet Lando. Let's just enjoy the view tagged: landonorris ↳landonorris: thank you for giving me a chance. soz about the chair            ↳ynyln: chairs can be replaced. and you'll always have a chance while I'm around            ↳user4: aww wait what did he do to the chair??? ↳user3: lando was streaming with quadrant until 1am monaco time            ↳ user4: god did he fly out to help her? my heart            ↳user5: wait that's really sweet 🥺 ↳oscarpiastri: will you rest now?            ↳ynyln: yes darling            ↳user6: aww ↳charles_leclerc: I adore the new song, mon couer            ↳ynyln: it sounds better when you sing it ↳user7: omg did she collect another one            ↳user8: omg stooopppp 😂😂😂

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[venomhound]

Hazbin Hotel - Alastor Scenario Dump

One of my friends requested I make more of these, so I guess I'm doing a series. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Like before these are just a bunch of story ideas I've had pop into my head that I have no plans to use. Feel free to use them, just link back/credit me and slap me with a tag because I wanna see what you write!! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Contents/WARNINGS: ANGST; stalking; abuse of Alastor's shadows; heavily implied voyeurism and other creepy shit; (most of these warnings are for the last prompt so if your bothered by any of this, just skip that one) Actual brainrot below the cut; Not beta read we die like men -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Ringing Hollow ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Basic idea is that Alastor ends up caving to Charlie/the hotel and getting a cellphone. Everyone insists he needs it in case there is an "emergency", especially after the whole Exterminator attack on the hotel.

So he relents. As much as Alastor hates to admit it; they are right. But he isnt going to get any of that smartphone crap. Alastor opts to get himself an actual flipphone. (Angel Dust questions how Alastor even managed to find the piece of junk) Its only for emergencies. He should barely be using it, if at all.

But things change one day when Alastor gets several messages from an unknown number thinking he is their close friend. Alastor does end up telling them that they have the wrong number, but you know, being Alastor, he has to tease them relentlessly first.

They actually end up talking for a bit. Both of them find the situation incredibly entertaining and surprisingly like each other's sense of humor. The reader ends up asking who they actually texted. Alastor panics a bit. He doesn't want to just tell some stranger that they just messaged the radio demon of all people.

No matter the case, Alastor doesn't want to give his real name. So he wracks his brain for something that wont give him away. He cant just use Al, that's too obvious. Wait... Alastor-Al-A...A... A-nonymous? Anon? Yeah. Anon could work.

(This is Alastor's own line of thinking of how he 'came up' with the name. The boomer has no idea this is actually a common internet pseudonym because I doubt he has ever touched a computer)

Anyway, Alastor ends up telling the reader to call him Anon. The two of them end up talking alot. The rest of the hotel finds it rather comical to see the radio demon on his phone texting someone with a grin on his face.

Alastor actually gets pretty fast at texting with his stupid flipphone. Eventually, under Angel's suggestion, Alastor does end up "upgrading" to one of those phones with the slide out keyboard. He still draws the line at smartphone.

But everyone finds the whole thing rather adorable. Charlie always giggles to Vaggie about how soft his eyes get whenever he sees a new text from the reader. Rosie teases him nonstop about his 'paramour' and ends up suggesting that Alastor try to meet them in person.

At the first thought of it, Alastor's stomach drops. He still hasn't actually told them who he is. But the more he thinks about it, the more Alastor thinks a meeting between them is inevitable. He has never felt this way about anyone before; and he needs to deal with it one way or another.

So Alastor arranges an in person meetup. However, he STILL doesn't actually tell the reader who he is. He plans it as a surprise. The purpose of this is twofold; Alastor thinks this will be a wonderful surprise (he is the fantastic radio demon after all!), and it will serve as a test to see if the reader actually likes him.

The secret third reason is that Alastor is actually scared of what the reader's reaction will be and is avoiding it until the ninth hour when he literally cannot anymore. But he would rather die then admit that.

The reader asks Alastor what he looks like and other, you know, obvious things they should know for when they meet. But Al dodges the questions and tells them that they will know everything and learn who he truly is when they finally meet.

Well the time comes. The reader shows up to the designated meeting place, a semi public location. Then they see him. The Radio Demon.

The reader's eyes meet his and they freeze in terror as he approaches them with a knowing, determined stride. They are mortified when Alastor kisses them on the back of the hand; calling them darling and confessing that he was the one who they had been talking to all along. 

The reader backs off, stuttering an apology and a half hearted excuse to leave before quickly running off. Alastor’s smile never wavers. But it can be seen in his eyes and the way his ears have flattened against his head that he had hoped for a better reaction.

Alastor makes his leave before he can embarrass himself further. When he goes to text an apology, his number has already been blocked. He swears he feels a foreign pain in his chest in that moment.

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Mockingbird ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Alastor begins fall in love with the reader. Driven by his strange feelings, he starts to compose little songs that he hums/sings to himself. The songs are inspired by the things he likes about them, things that make him think of the reader, and ways he sees their presence improving the hotel. 

There is even a special one dedicated specifically to their laughter. A tune that he made to resemble how melodic he finds it. 

Charlie and Vaggie start to notice Alastor singing to himself all the time. How his eyes soften and his smile turns wistful as he sings. Its how they realize that, holy shit, the guy has fallen in love.

They think that the songs are how Alastor is choosing to ‘deal’ with his feelings and that he is using them as an outlet. Not realizing he is composing them himself.

So other then like the weird love singing to himself there really aren't signs of Alastor having a crush, especially not one on you. So it kinda becomes like this big mystery that Charlie is determined to solve. Charlie holds a 'top secret meeting' and drags the rest of the hotel into it. Who has Alastor fallen for?? She will find out dangit.

I also have the image of at least one of the songs being composed entirely in French. So like Alastor finds the reader asleep at some point, maybe they fell asleep on him or they fell asleep somewhere out of exhaustion, but either way, Alastor ends up singing the song he composed for them while they sleep.

Alastor gently picks you up and cradles you to his chest. Singing all the while. He takes you to your room and tucks you in, singing the song as if it were a lullaby. The reader half wakes up at some point and hears him, but cant understand the words.

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Chasing Shadows ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Basically a really sweet girl checks into the hotel. Maybe she just has that southern belle vibe or reminds Alastor of his mama or whatever; but the point is he has an immediate soft spot for her. 

Anyway Alastor quickly picks up how guarded and almost paranoid she is. Her eyes always seem to be darting around or looking into the distance for something. Although she is quick to help others, she dashes anyone elses attempts to help her. Alastor finds it very odd.

Then Alastor’s shadows start reporting of ‘incidents’ happening around the hotel, mostly around the new guest. Her things going missing, gifts and letters being left outside her door if not outright in her room, and the one that pissed Alastor off the most was one of the shadows saying they even found a small camera had been placed in her room.

Alastor isnt stupid; he knows someone is stalking the poor girl. And he is seething. Part of it is anger and outrage at someone daring and succeeding at breaching his territory of the hotel, and the other half of his anger is at such a disgusting creature thinking that they are entitled to treat a woman this way. 

Alastor quickly puts more shadows around the new guest's room, having every entrance and exit watched for the intruder. Yet the stalker manages to slip by him again, leaving a bouquet of flowers as well as stealing a pair of undergarments. 

Alastor nearly kills the poor shadow that informs him of this. How could they let someone slip past them again??

You got the gist of how this story goes. Ive had this sitting in my ideas folder forever cause I love it alot but, realistically speaking, Im not going to write it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ So either someone else can use it or you can just brainrot about it with me.

The big twist is the demon that is stalking the new guest has the power to turn into/manipulate cockroaches. That's how they are able to traverse the hotel so easily and undetected. 

Wasn't sure if I wanted to go all in on that and make him an actual roach boy or not. You could also make the demon a Jewel Wasp which is a bug known specifically for mind controlling cockroaches.

Since the stalker is cockroach themed, I also had the idea floating around that Niffty would be the one to finally catch them in the end.

I was picturing the relationship between the new guest and Alastor to be strictly platonic; with like big brother/dad protection vibes. Basically Alastor just wants to protect someone who he sees as a ‘lady’ from a disgusting man. Its his southern trauma kicking in hard

[lazycats-stuff]

Hii, can I request dc x teen male reader? They’re partly part of the batfam, he’s Batman’s second youngest son. And he tags along with Batman to a mission with Superman and Wonder Woman, and guess what, they brought their kids too? I mean not like the already existing kids of them, like they’re original characters? Imagine them just not liking eachother at first but they just become best friends during the mission when they almost die and just laugh it off. They are literally just like Batman and Superman and Wonder Woman trio.

Yup yup, you sure can. I feel like the OG trio would freak out at the similarity. I think I kind of strayed off, but I kind off got hit with inspiration, so I hope you don't mind.

Summary: Kids of Superman, Wonder Woman and Batman don't like each other. After a near death experience, they become friends.

Warnings: explosions, cursing, tension between teammates, they like each other after near death experience, injuries, OG trio is worried, OC kids, except for Batman.

(Y/N) knew that missions with kids his age was going to be a normal thing. He knew it and there wasn't anything he could have done. But to go with Althea Prince and James Kent? There was no such thing that would make Bruce drag him on a mission with them.

The trio hated each other. (Y/N) didn't like how Althea thought that men were beneath her and James is too soft for (Y/N)'s liking. That boy is a personification of a golden retriever and his father was no better too.

Althea and (Y/N) had way more problems than (Y/N) and James had. While James was somewhat okay with the no kill rule, Althea found the rule ridiculous and thought that the evil should be eradicated. No matter what.

That grinded (Y/N)'s gears and it made him want to bash her face against any type of hard surface, but he couldn't. He would be grounded and she wasn't worth it. At all.

But this mission was a test for them. This was going to be their first solo mission without the supervision of their parents. It was just a covert one and intel collecting. Get in and get out.

And that's why they were siting in Justice League HQ, in a dull meeting room. Batman was presenting something that (Y/N) already knew. He has heard it before they left.

" Now, (V/N) will take the lead on this, since it's covert and intel gathering. I don't want to hear any arguments about this. " Batman said, knowing that the trio was going to argue about it.

But lets be honest, if there was anybody who knew how to be stealthy and quiet, it was (Y/N). Well, (V/N) in this case. (Y/N) forced himself to suppress a smile from blooming on his face.

Take that you two. He glanced at the two of them and Althea frowned a bit and James just rolled his eyes. Oh you two sacks of shit.

" Now, (V/N), would you like to take over? " Batman asked, well, demanded. (V/N) nodded and stood up from his chair. Bruce moved over and (Y/N) stood in his place. It felt weird, but you know, it made him feel powerful.

" Right. Like my father said, this is a covert and intel gathering. Which means it's get in and get out quietly. This is a base on a remote island in the Pacific ocean. We have reasons to believe that that's where Vandal the Savage and Deathstroke may have stashed their weapons, however, that is not our primary cause. It's intel that it's kept there. We will probably encounter Deathstroke or Lady Shiva, since those two started working together. " (Y/N) said, pressing a few buttons on the screen keyboard.

" This is how it's supposed to look. It's a pretty classical look for a base, but the security system is very tight and nearly impossible to hack into. However, I saw a small portion of the system and I know that I can hack into it. Now, the problem would be Deathstroke. If you see him, call me through the comms. Don't try to fight him, because he will win. " (Y/N) said and he nearly wanted to smack Althea for rolling her eyes.

" And also, he has experience fighting meta humans, like Wonder Woman and Superman. " (Y/N) said, glancing at the said duo, who nodded in agreement.

" (V/N) is right, he is not to be underestimated. " Wonder Woman said.

Batman stayed quiet, watching as (Y/N) dealt with the two. (Y/N) was growing into a brave and a mature person. And his hero side was no different. He knew that the trio didn't like each other and that was just normal and in life you are going to work with shitheads, as Jason would so kindly put it. And you would have to know how to deal with them.

Again, it's just life.

And Bruce could tell that (Y/N) was dealing with them well. Sure, his way was sarcastic and sometimes it could get ugly, but it was funny and sometimes it was outright murder worthy.

But Bruce loved him none the less.

" We are going first thing tomorrow evening, believe it or not. And that would be it. " (V/N) said and the other two left the room with their parents. Bruce and (Y/N) stayed back and (Y/N) looked at his father.

" You did good. You stayed professional and I could tell you wanted to smack Althea, but you controlled yourself. "

(Y/N) smiled, happy to hear this from Bruce. It wasn't like he never praised his sons, quite the opposite, but when he did, you know that he meant it.

" Lets go back home. Your brothers would like to spend time with you before you go on the mission. " Bruce said and the father son duo left the room, moving to the Zeta tubes.

" I know, but I just want to sleep. I had a tiring day at school. " (Y/N) admitted as they started the teleporting. Once they got into the cave, they both took their cowls off.

(Y/N)'s hair was going in all of different directions and Bruce ruffled his hair even more with a quiet chuckle. (Y/N) whined, trying to push Bruce's hand away.

" You kids grow up so fast. " Bruce admitted to (Y/N) and gave him a quick hug.

" You say that every year. " (Y/N) retorted, chuckling. It was true though. He said it every year when they did good in something.

" Am I wrong though? I would suggest you go up now. Jason called me and told me that if you aren't up in about 20 minutes he will come to get you himself. And you have about 5 minutes to get up there or he will kidnap you. " Bruce warned and (Y/N) ran into the locker room.

Jason would absolutely make that threat a promise and (Y/N) didn't want to fight with any of them. Bruce shook his head fondly at his sons antics.

All of them are going to be with the death of him.

The young trio was in a plane, flying to their location. It was quiet and they had a few hours to kill before landing down at their designated location. (Y/N) put it on autopilot and leaned back. He adjusted his gauntlets on his hands.

It was slightly nerve wrecking for all of them. When on missions they had supervision, they had guidance and they could call the moment something went wrong.

This time is a bit different. Did they have guidance? Yes. Did they have supervision? No.

But the trio knew that their parents were watching. They weren't completely alone in the dark.

" And what do we do know? I'm bored. " James said, crossing his arms.

" And that doesn't sound like my problem. You know you don't have the stamina to fly so long and you can't be weak for this mission. " (Y/N) responded, rubbing his eyes. He heard a tsk and for a split second he thought that Damian was behind him. But no.

" You know Althea, I wouldn't tsk since you can't fly that long either. " (Y/N) snapped back.

" I thought you two are supposed to be strong. Men like to boast about their strength. " Althea said and (Y/N) turned his head to look at her.

" I still can't believe that you are Wonder Woman's daughter. She doesn't hate men and yet you are so far up your own ass that you can't see reality. Is that the result of Amazon upbringing? " (Y/N) asked, sarcasm slipping through into his voice.

There was silence before she huffed, turning her head away. James sighed, shaking his head. They are supposed to be a team and not sworn enemies.

" Well, this mission is going to go well. "James mumbled and (Y/N) closed his eyes, just ready to meditate and get himself mentally ready for the mission.

The landing was quiet and the trio embarked on the shore. They stopped in the bush and (Y/N) zoomed in the view he had. Thank God for built in binoculars within his cowl.

He saw 2 guarding the door.

" Give me a minute and I will disable the security system. I think we will have about 20 minutes to get in and get out. I will take out the 2 in the front and when we get in, we are separating. I know we don't like each other, but we put all of that aside. Now we are teammates. " (Y/N) said and the two nodded in agreement.

" Good. Comms are going to be on the entire time. And if you see Deathstroke, call me. " (Y/N) said, opening up the tiny computer on his gauntlet. He typed a few buttons and the system was officially down.

(Y/N) took a deep breath. It's time to go.

" Lets go. " (Y/N) said and ran towards the two, seemingly out of nowhere. They didn't have a chance with (Y/N). After taking their cards, he swiped it to open the door.

" Now we split. Wonder Girl, you are going left, there is an office there, see if you can find anything there. Superboy, you are going to the right. There are guard's room on the right so if you see some, knock 'em out. I will go straight for the hardware room. And if I find any weapons, I will destroy them. Comms ON. " (Y/N) said and the other two nodded.

And so they separated. Wonder Girl went left, (V/N) went straight ahead and Superboy went to the right. (Y/N) ran in the hall, passing by the grey walls.

There is a certain adrenaline rush you get on certain types of missions. If he is patrolling in the city, it's something normal and usual, almost like a routine. It was nice, but deep down he is an adrenaline addict and he is just looking for some extra adrenaline.

Missions alone with his dad or with others was a bit better in terms of adrenaline. The missions were always out of Gotham city and he was in place were he has never been before. And it always led to him doing some crazy shit that is guaranteed to give Bruce a lot of grey hairs.

But a mission alone, without the supervision of their parents? It brought out a new wave of adrenaline rush that he has never felt before. It made him feel free and way beyond light. When he started being a vigilante, there was this constant fear. But now, there was no fear.

It was just sheer bravery and intent to get his dad proud. Bruce was already proud, but it would mean everything to (Y/N) that he could prove himself. "

" Yes. I checked everything. And you said yes to my proposition. " Bruce said, looking at the two.

" Are you sure about this Batman? " Wonder Woman asked as they were sitting in the conference room, waiting for their children. None of them are able to sleep without their children in their own homes. Bruce more so then others.

" I know that he wouldn't send them straight into fire. Intel and covert, that much they can handle. " Superman said, clearly agreeing with Batman.

" I know and I know that they are more than capable of doing this mission, but I worry. She is my only daughter and I love her to death. (Y/N) and James are my nephews and I love those two death to. " She said, sighing quietly.

" But I worry about them working together. And also, weren't they supposed to report back? A few minutes ago? "

Everyone was silent before running to the second airplane they had. Yeah... Maybe it wasn't a good idea to let them go alone.

The mission kind of went south. Their cover was blown and now they had to fight their way through the guards. Thankfully, there was no Vandal Savage and his kids, but there was Deathstroke.

Turns out, there was no actual intel. This was meant to be a trap for Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman. Now that ticked (Y/N) off and he couldn't let it happen.

Absolutely not. Nobody threatens his family and just goes on with his business. And he had to settle a score after putting Nightwing out of action for months on end.

And even if he dies and this is the last thing he does, then so be it. Deathstroke didn't have any objections to (Y/N)'s plan. But the plan went tits up when (Y/N) got blown up to the next room. He hissed as he looked down to his stomach.

A shrapnel. A fucking shrapnel. He hissed as he took it out and took a syringe of something similar to the liquid from the Lazarus pit. He pressed the syringe into the wound, allowing the liquid to heal him.

It's a liquid only used in the emergency situations. (Y/N) lunged back at Deathstroke, taking advantage of the surprise. He managed to knock the bastard out. He was huffing at the dull pain, trying to block it out.

" Shit... " (Y/N) cursed, leaning down to rest his hands on his knees. It would all be fine if another bomb exploded, nearly knocking him out cold, but he was dancing on the edge.

He could hear a female and a male voice above him. He was blinking, trying to regain focus. He laughed as he saw their worried faces. They froze, looking at him worried.

" Why are you laughing? " Althea asked, worried beyond belief.

" Because you think a bomb can take me out. " (Y/N) said, laughing even more. When he calmed down, he took a deep breath and looked at the two.

" You two can help me up now. This was a trap for our parents instead. " (Y/N) said and James nodded.

" We know. Comms are always on. " James tried to joke as Althea and him pulled (Y/N) up.

" Our parents are going to kill us. " (Y/N) announced and the other two nodded.

" I don't know about you two, but I'm going to the plane, with or without you. " (Y/N) said and they agreed. The trio ran, just ready to get the hell out of here.

It was nice to see their parents, ready to fight for them. All 3 fussed about them, Bruce more than others. (Y/N) knew that they are going fight about rest when they come home. At one point, the trio started laughing out of nowhere and the OG trio looked worried. Some inwardly, some outwardly.

" What is going on? " Superman asked, looking around for some answers.

Nobody answered him.

After 2 months, they worked together again, but with their parents with them. It was a one completely 180 from their previous communication. The OG trio noticed a lot of similarities.

They were turning into their parents.

" Should we be worried? " Wonder Woman asked once, watching the footage from their last mission. It was just like them.

" I mean... Are we bad role models? " Superman asked out loud and Batman stayed quiet.

" No. But... You know, lets see where this goes. " Superman suggested. Bruce just pinched the bridge of his nose. May God help them.

[whoops-im-obsessed]

Everything I remember from mischief movie night last night!!

Last night (13/8/24) was 'In-Tents Love' a rom-com set in a summer camp for troubled youths featuring a Parisian anime scene. Because.. of course.

Henry Lewis Oscar!! Bro was having so much fun with this, he was just grinning at his castmates the whole time

Cast was Shields, Josh, Niall, Bryony, Susan and Ellie!

Started with someone suggesting Hull as a location which got a round of applause and Henry Lewis to say 'we never should have written that fucking line'

Whole cast were very scared by the anime suggestion

The movie started with a song which started with Niall singing 'IM TROUBLED' and everyone sung about what they'd done to end up here and that there's gonna be troubleeee for me! And troubleeee for you!

Shout out to the late comers in the front row who got pointed at and told there would be trouble for them

Niall (Bobby) hugs things so hard they die

Bryony (Mary Sue) sets stuff on fire and lives alone in a tent

Josh (Tommy) I actually don't remember

Susan (Sue?? Was referred mostly to as mystery girl) seemed to be there for no reason

And Ellie (token Penelope) stole 1000 bees

Shields (Richard) was in charge of the camp

After the song Bobby and Tommy had a conversation and it was implied that they would be the love interests until it was revealed that Bobby killed Tommy's dog by hugging it too hard, still were potential love interests until Bobby said 'how's dad?' And Oscar had to call a pause and yell 'THEYRE BROTHERS'

The other characters are getting to know each other by the river, Mary Sue sets a fire and Mystery girl (who maybe had a name by now idk) doesn't know what it is and kept touching it (fire admirably played by Niall and the blue cloth)

Its revealed that Penelope has a crush on Tommy! The others tell her she needs to go for it. She decides she's gonna give him a dead bee.

It is revealed in this scene that mystery girl is here for a reason and its actually because she has loads of underage sex

Cue Josh joined quickly by Shields and Niall chanting 'sex~' while doing a camp little dance

Cut to a directors (Josh) interview where he was asked why he decided to have 3 grown men chanting sex in the back of this scene and he said he went to an all boys boarding school and that's just what they did there. He was promptly arrested.

The girls sing a song about the birds and the bees which turned into a sing along chorus where we all had to go 'what about beeees? What about beeees? What about bees? And Birds!'

Bobby and Tommy are about to have a breakthrough and say they love eachother when Penelope goes along and interrupts the brotherly bonding by giving Tommy a dead bee on a piece of string as a ring. He is disgusted and then into it and they go on a date.

Bobby is heartbroken bc he has a crush on Penelope and Richard gives him some advice - you miss all the shots you don't take. During this they were playing basketball and Richard was very good and didn't let anyone else have a turn. When Bobby did have a turn he missed.

It turns out Richard read Bobby's diary to learn about his crush and the Parisian anime scene is him trying to find it - cue Shields doing dramatic moves and a strong French accent trying to find 'La Diary!!!' When he found it, it granted him 'POWER'

The bee was apparently 'Einstein's bee' and when asked to explain, the director said he sneezed on the keyboard and kept it in, he was then asked where the bodies were.

The next scene started with Tommy doing an odd ballet dance which Oscar promptly paused

Tommy and Penelope were on their date on a boat, during the set up for this scene Bryony whacked Ellie in the head with a walking stick (oops)

Penelope only knows how to row in circles

The two talk and Penelope is too eager, telling Tommy she loves him, he doesn't like this and jumps off the boat and swims away. Penelope gets stuck going in circles.

Cut to Bobby and Mary Sue having a nice chat, they decide to be friends and sing a song about how amazing it is to be friends! This is interrupted by Tommy who asks Mary Sue on a date and Bobby is broken hearted a second time

Neither Josh nor Susan remembered Mary Sue's name and tried several ways to get around it, interrupted by Oscar, until they ended up saying she had 'Marie energy'

Mary Sue and Tommy go on a fishing date where Mary Sue throws rocks into the river to kill the fish. Tommy says how much he likes her and She doesn't like it and runs away.

Penelope is distraught and goes to Richard for advice, she's upset that everyone is pairing off and she doesn't have anyone. There's an interlude where Richard is met by Lord Gerald who runs all of the summer camps and wanted to check up on him. It seems there may be something there until the police arrive questioning Richard's intentions - Oscar interrupts this so it doesn't descend into madness and the scene continues with Gerald repeating Richard's name several times, as up until this point he didn't have one.

When Gerald leaves, Penelope is upset because Richard was supposed to be giving her advice! He gives her the same advice as he gave Bobby and its a sweet scene until she eats the bee and spits it back out. She takes a shot with the basketball and also misses.

The girls meet up by the river again and agree that boys are bad. The mystery girl introduces the concept of lesbianism and Mary Sue has a bit of a realisation - this looks like it might turn into another song until Bobby interrupts to say Tommy is hanging off the balcony

Tommy is upset and claims the balcony is his safe space - everyone agrees this is not a very safe space actually.

They try to calm him down and Bobby eventually tells Tommy he loves him, they get Tommy down and they have a hug, which doesn't kill anything this time.

Its revealed that Richard has actually been reading everyone's diaries and was trying to get them all to have sex the whole time. He learns about the concept of familial love and decides to turn himself in

The kids decide they aren't gonna go back to their horrible home lives and that they're just gonna stay at camp actually, they learn they can choose their own family and its very sweet

It ends with a song about the birds and the bees again, which goes 'the birds and the bees, the bees and the bees! What ever you please at summer camp!'

[nanomooselet]

Player

You know, it's odd...

We don't learn anything about these people. No names, nothing about their lives. They don't seem to exist as anything but environmental detail. Zazie, who only ever tells the truth, doesn't admit to having killed them when Vash asks directly.

Judging by the bullet wounds, it was Wolfwood who did it. Not the first he's killed, not the last, and certainly not the ones he'll lose sleep over. He's been doing this for a long time. It was just the latest job.

For the look of the thing, he'll give them a burial. Pay his respects.

Press F.

Killing his friends: a boy's favourite past-time.

Being pursued through an empty town by an unstoppable enemy that fixates only on a single target.

When Monev dies, in the score (Dud, 1:43) there's an oddly triumphant little fanfare.

"Why'd you shoot?"

"Mercy."

Speaking of fanfares... (Tell me this isn't a victory pose.)

"You only get one life." Unless you're Wolfwood. Because that's what these are. Extra lives. Take a mortal wound, then take one of these to continue.

Either he cheated, or he found a secret. Probably the latter.

These technicians are very conspicuous clones of the same model with very small alterations. Minor gradations in skin-tone, different hair styles... they're like dummies. They exist only to die messily for someone's satisfaction.

They're straw-men. They were set up to be knocked down.

Vash sneezes and alerts the guards in July. They have to wait for the timer to run out on the alert. Then they go through a sewer level.

Escort missions are always so frustrating. It's like the NPC is trying to die.

It's dangerous to go alone. Take this.

Dropping his inventory. Smokes. Extra ammo. Booze.

But someone pulled the nail. He knew what he was dealing with. Roberto's gone, but not forever. His spirit is free. He'll be around.

Knives spends all his time at a keyboard in the dark.

Isn't it time to face reality?

Vash had to position himself on the trapdoor to activate the cutscene. That does always look a bit stupid.

Meryl's the boss.

Protip: Even if they have godmode enabled, opponents can be stunlocked.

Like keep-away, Hot Potato is a fun game to play with family. The player holding the hot potato when time runs out is eliminated.

Destructible environments.

Stomp.

And appropriate theme music for a white-haired bishounen with a god complex.

Or a presence haunting the moon.

Or a false god of control.

All calamities from beyond, existing to recruit and assimilate. To colonise receptive environments. To spawn copies of themselves.

Fortunately things like this are beholden to extremely rigid sets of rules, and they're also very, very stupid. But you can't take them out with directionless violence. They're prepared for that. You've got to be tricky.

Better luck next time, Wolfwood. This time, he's only dressed up as the hero. In truth he's a moppet. An effigy to draw enemy attention and take the bullet while the real version gets ready to hit from an impossible direction.

This is a job for a trickster, not a punisher, or a sacrifice. He's been played for a fool.

[noxemma]

Suptober 2023 - Day 7: Black Cat

Black Cats and Broken Angels

Word Count: 8,079

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dean Winchester Dies Temporarily, I promise it's only for like a second okay, Cat Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Has a Cat Allergy, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Idiots in Love, Fluff and Smut, THE SMUT IS AFTER DEAN IS HUMAN AGAIN, Blow Jobs, Sam Winchester Needs Brain Bleach, Mutliple POVs, Castiel Has Self-Worth Issues (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, an orgasm so good it heals you, okay someone take the keyboard away, no beta we die like men, Suptober 2023 (Supernatural)

Summary: A hunt goes wrong and Dean gets hit with a spell that has some interesting consequences.

[keikakudom]

Agsudisg I'm so glad you liked it, Kazi, I literally sat down the moment I finished reading and started drawing cuz you freaking killed me, I MEAN, vox being stubborn and denying help, and Alastor stubbornly giving him the aid he needs, but crouched in their respective toxic egos and self-image? So delicious. Alastor, who needs to know why he was left behind, and vox who's desperately pouring himself into the new thing... Ahhhh...

The part where he implies he really was running off to die...and Alastor goes all soft...the shared frequency, the antenna petting... I reread that multiple times bc it's so good...and the claws, the claws, vox denies wanting help from alastor to the last, but the claws!

(also we tots need full seasons and reruns of 'Let's Shit on Vox', I bet Alastor even encourages to call in with more info, not that anyone would bc they're too scared. Hey, does carmilla have to listen his obsession LOL)

Btw for the artist questions, if you want, 9, 14, 30?

YOU NEVER FAIL TO MAKE ME GUSH, ES AAAA...oh lemme tell you when I lock-in, i do NOT fuck around with toxic old men yaoi. When I get better at writing, I hope to capture all their glory✨

I have never really written in this particular weird genre, I don't even know what to call it? Disgustingly intimate love/hate? At least, that's what I aspire for it to be XD

Heheh the part where "Alastor goes all soft" is also a little on the part of RR!AU characterization, so it's a bit exaggerated. He's trying to ween his way in appealing to Vox again, but RR!AU Vox is just so tired. Alastor keeps bringing up the past....This was kind of a wacky scenario to write because it does skip/make you infer a lot of stages of development, but the AU is close enough to canon that I think it's not far to imagine filling in the gaps hhh....

LMFAO yes, Alastor def encourages call-ins, "The 'Let's Shit on Vox' show, your one-stop opportunity to diss Hell's most saturated overlord!" -- on the rare occasion someone actually called in, Alastor killed whoever said something off about Vox that wasn't to his "flavor" of hate.

Carmilla has already read through these two idiots and just rolls her eyes at their immaturity. If she's there for Alastor's radio show, she's just in the background, utterly done and convinced they're playing everything up for entertainment at this point. Now that has me thinking, if Alastor ever started feeling something unfamiliar and god-forbid genuinely *good*(????), he would probably consult Rosie or Carmilla for it first........and Vox would ask Charlie.....oh..........

Aaaand Artist Questions under the cut, TYSM for the ask <33

9. What are your file name conventions?

I have terrible file organization. Many of them are named "a", "aa3", "asgv", "fhgh", or other random keyboard smashes. Recently, I have a bad habit of naming files "sketch1", "sk1", "skht1", or some misspelled way-- it's gotten so bad I'm up to "sketch22".... I find things by icon only.

14. Any favorite motifs?

Straight edges and shapes, maybe? I started drawing with an anime style though I'm mostly into western media-- I think it's very satisfying to have nice shape design/silhouettes though, but I don't draw in a super cartoony or exaggerated style so it's kind of hard to tell that I like and have fun doing it. I'm kind of scattered and like to dip my foot into everything unfortunately.

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated?

None really, but if I had to pick one for HH, maybe this one.

For my older art, definitely this one. I mean, I don't love it anymore, but I really thought I ATE with the concept at the time.

[seth-burroughs]

yakou for the ask meme? (i also hate what the fandom has done to him so i trust your rc opinions. keep up the good work)

Thank you anon I'll do my best🙏

Yakou:

favorite thing about them

How he's a fucking loser but pulled off the most elaborate murder plan just to get revenge for his Dead Wife and stabbed Dr. Huesca not once but like three times and was fine with dying afterwards if it meant that bitch is gonna die too. And now he's stuck with him in the restricted area for an indefinite period. Oh well

Not my actual favourite thing about him (because I cannot choose man) but I really wanted to point it out because I don't see enough people talk about the sheer BLOODLUST that guy had in chapter 4 like holy shit good for him I think he should be allowed to kill murder & destroy whoever he wants

least favorite thing about them

Nothing comes to mind, I'd say he got underutilized but that's the case with most of the characters here tbh (mdarc feels kinda rushed 😔😔) and Yakou is not THAT bad compared to the peacekeepers it's like. It's fine!

favorite line

Can't really pick, probably the chat Yuma had with him in the prologue, but there are a lot

brOTP

Him and the NDA, but especially Yuma his best pal buddy bro ziomek morda mordeczka Yuma who never remembers to get the fucking groceries.

OTP

none tbh

nOTP

Uhhhhhhhh yakou/seth, yakou/yomi. honestly i'm not big on any Yakou ships can't imagine him in a healthy romantic relationship (viviakou toxic sludge is fine though)

random headcanon

Makes the best fucking spaghetti sauce you ever ate in your entire life. But he puts like an entire garlic in it and you can choke to death on the smell. Also he's a trans man. Usually I don't really hc male characters as trans men etc (rather I go the other way, like a canonically female character being a trans man, non-binary et cetera) but both he and Vivia fit the vibes so! Let's goooooo.

unpopular opinion

I HATE HATE HATE the common fandom hc of Yakou being a father figure to Yuma or the whole NDA or to any character. The vibes aren't aligning on that one, he's their extremely tired boss/acquaintance/pal/best pal that lets them do terrible things to his budget if they torment him hard enough. And also because I constantly see Yuma getting treated like a 12 year old, no guys he doesn't need an adult male role model and father figure, he needs his 6ft tall 1000+ years old death god gf back from the book and to explore his much more attractive rich and successfull perfect homunculus clone's body that'll fix him I believe.

Also: I'm all for NDA found family (even if we didn't get much of them from the actual game...) but please stop making them like. a nuclear mom dad and their beautiful two children family it doesn't have to conform to any rigid roles pleaseee sometimes you're found family and fuck each other it's FINE jeuss. I was about to say something but I'm having a real one right now qhat what I forgot what I typed I suggest you forget too.

Anyway him and Yuma play minecraft together they pull of the most complicated redstone mechanisms and once every few days his house gets burned down by Desuhiko who logs into Yuma's computer while he isn't looking. He always leaves behind a very visible trail of cheeto dust on the keyboard however Yuma would never snitch on the boy that makes him warrior cats pride pfps free of charge so he just tells Yakou it's a hacker

song i associate with them

Generic old songs on the radio. I don't have any

favorite picture of them

h-HELLO???

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Chapter 1: Moveo Et Profitior (By my actions I am known) Part 1

 Disclaimer: Innacuracies everywhere. English is not my main language

Part of the first chapter of my fic Fortis Soli, Fortiores Una (Strong Alone, Stronger Together)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47442772

Previous / Masterlist / Next

‘‘Alright, next in the list is… Sergeant… wait a minute’’ Captain John Price fumbled with the folders, discarding the one the team had been discussing until that moment, and grabbed the correct one, handing out photocopies of the basic details to the men around him in his office. Then he clicked on his laptop to show the next photo on the screen. ‘‘Sergeant Christine Vega, callsign…’’

‘‘Riot!’’ Sergeant Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish bellowed and threw his hands in the air, overjoyed. ‘‘Oh, Cap, you for sure want this one’’

‘‘I take it you know her, Soap’’ Price looked at the file in his hands, considerably thicker than the photocopy he had handed out. ‘‘Ah, yeah. She was with you in boot camp, right?’’

‘‘Affirmative. We were together in boot camp, then in a few assignments together… She is like my sister, I trust her with my life’’

‘‘Is that a good or a bad sign?’’ Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick smiled, studying the photocopy in his hands. Soap shrugged.

‘‘I swear, she is good, fucking good. Good head on her shoulders, cold in battle, a fucking beast, but charismatic. We used to say she was too fucking stubborn to just lie down and die. Relentless.’’

Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley said nothing as usual, the photocopy dangling from his hand over his crossed arms, just listening. The group had been stuck in Price’s office for almost two hours now, since the Captain had got into his head that they needed more team members. They had been going over the files of he had lost count how many, because he wasn’t interested.

He appreciated that Price wanted them in the process although it would be his the final call. What surprised him was how many people Kate Laswell had in her sights, having sent the files not even twenty minutes after Price had commented his idea in the daily meeting with the Station Chief.

So, there they were. Wasting their morning looking at faces and listening to personal data he cared very little about. But the fact Soap knew one of them, and seemed excited to vouch for them, was enough to pick his interest and raise his masked face and stare at the screen.

Light blue eyes with a touch of grey stared back at him from a serious, inexpressive face. Light blonde hair loosely braided and kept in what it seemed a half undone ponytail. The photo wasn’t the official one on file, the one he was seeing in the photocopy and Price’s folder, but a more casual one that Laswell had chosen for some reason. It showed a woman in her late twenties but young looking, wearing civvies and holding a half empty glass of beer.

The photo was clearly cropped from a larger one, as parts of bodies could be seen, and an arm thrown around the sergeant’s chair. She didn’t look happy, either at the company or at the photo being taken.

‘‘Who’s that?’’ He asked, and Price looked at the screen, and frowned. The arm over the sergeant’s chair had a tattoo of a skull impaled on a spear, with fire shooting out the empty sockets. Price grunted, and the three other men in the room perked up. If their Captain disapproved, they disapproved too.

‘‘A fucking bastard. I know that tattoo’’ Slowly, the Captain left the folder on the desk and grabbed his third cigar that morning. ‘‘That’s Captain William Rico, he commanded the HeadHunters’’

‘‘Isn’t that the company that was disbanded three months ago?’’ Gaz looked up from the photocopy, raising both his eyebrows. Price nodded, and grabbed the folder again, and started to read again.

‘‘Good at recon, licensed drone pilot, decent sniper, good with knives, fluent in five languages’’

‘‘You want her, Captain’’ Soap threw his photocopy, dutifully folded into a paper plane, and giggled when it landed right on the laptop’s keyboard.

‘‘I have the final say but I want your opinion. We have discarded four and accepted two, and she’s the last folder for today. Votes?’’

‘‘You know my vote!’’ Soap smiled widely. ‘‘I trust Christine, she’s solid, we go way back. I would put my arse in her hands without doubt… ehm… not in that way!’’

‘‘If Soap says so, that’s good enough for me’’ Gaz shrugged, placing the photocopy back on Price’s desk. The Captain nodded and looked at Ghost. He trusted the Lieutenant’s intuition more than he trusted Soap’s memories.

Ghost was still looking at the photo on the screen, and then turned his hard gaze to look at Price.

‘‘Yeah, why not’’

[ryderdire]

so I promised my friends I posts these back in softmore year

This quote book features @orinmothwings @the-critic-god-of-books @unknown-box-boi @jasontheweirdsibling and @rats-in-a-trenchcoatt well as as alot of my irls Doc is in this book a lot because of circumstances of us having to spend a lot of time together and I assure you they say some wild shit

I present to you my quote book.

Are you okay?-irl 🌟

I’m gay - me

MURDER SHOES - Irl 📡

What if it was a child

I DONT CARE THROW THE CHILD OUT THE WINDOW - irl 🐸

I just don’t want to violence - Jason

I will hospitalize you SHIT WAIT MEAN

HOSPTAITLY U - me

This women looks could kill god but she is god -Box

Dem Chips - Jason

I’m not currently fit for human consumption-me again

doc:I need to tell you something

Ren: Oh gods what did you do

Doc: I DIDNT KILL ANY politicians

Ren :THAT SOUNDs incrediblely suspicious

KILL ALL LEAVES -doc

THEY STOLE IT FROM GOD”

“OH YOUR DRINKING POMEGRANATE JUICE you know what THAT MEANS YOUR GOING TO DIE”- Doc

ACat girls either have fur or hair they can’t have both-Doc

You know what I’m thinking about women <3 ren

I was thinking thinking about rats

-doc

Fuck later look first-doc

Doc: We always throw people out windows why don’t we throw people into windows

Ren:That’s how we break into places

Doc:YES THROWS REN INTO A WINDOW

Doc: BACK IN MY DAY MEN WHERE MEN AND WOMEN WHERE CARS

Ren: your gay

Box: no I’m hungry

I gotta call the murder lady - unkown person I forgot to label this

ME: WHERE ARE LESBAINS

DOC:I ate them

ME: NOOOOO

-He doesn’t have skin All hes got is nails and luck BOX about mr bones (I’m sorry box)

Your missing pretty women-irl 🌟

Who wants to help me kill god?

Entire table raises their hand

(This interaction is a running joke at this point I can’t in good conscious asgin it to one person)

How do you spell whore?????-doc

Box: I’m going to steal your heart in the least romantic way possible

I’m so jealous I wanna be a cryptid- ren

Are people who are attrated to cat boys furries-doc

HOW MUCH CAT IS This BOY— doc

Bitch why do you have this keyboard? - Jason when he stole your phone

Why the fuck is Ren so weird sometimes?- Jason also

If you drink enough, you’re gonna get drunk-

I’m dying, I’m dead, I’m in hell, Satan has given me an award forr the gayest person ever! I couldn’t do this without women- I hate you- Ren (printmaking)

Jason keeps stealing my phone and adding notes lol

Who would say that one ?

A bird -Jason

These rocks are either too pretty or too big. This rock is ugly enough

Ren:because I need to keep my gay best friend

Doc: 0;

Ren: me im the gay best friend

Doc: I’m my own gay best friend

Stop thirsting over god- doc

You don’t canoddle ren your the opposite of a canoddle I like you -the librarian on the loud speaker

WHAT

If they know theve Sinned -ren

Parental pegger -Ren

Jason :Special

Ren: COWARD L

Jason:SPEICAL

JASON: bad word English aSpecial

Jason : you don’t need to understand to see the cringe

I can lengthen my bones -irl 🐸

I don’t get bitches I make them- irl ☁️

My hair is very leggy -irl 🐸

My hair is feet - me making a typo

I’m tired of emotionally draining drama i just want to fight people

Box: bite?

Irl 🐸 and ren at the same Time: FIGHT

Me:omg gay people real

Box: of course their real have you seen yourself in the mirror

Doc: a Victorian women could pull a full ass chicken from their pocket

Doc: I’m not pregent

Irl 🙃: your pregent

Doc:IM NOT

Irl 🙃: what’s it gender what are going to name it???

BONK - headbutt from box

THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP HOE-ren

Box slaps hand on Rens shoulders:FRIENSHIP

Ren screems

Offendedly: Whore - box to dogs with their balls

“Gay” - box

Irl 🌳:he looks Gay

Orin:HIS DAD JUST DIED

Orin: I like men who I could kill and women who could kill me im a switch

Ren: Doc. Tell my story

Doc:I’ll tell it in extradited voiceeeeee

Doc: I’m going to pick you and (no memory of what the rest of this was my bad)

Irl 🎃:NO DONT TOUCH THE LORD (referring to a rubber duck)

Pigs sure as hell can fly it’s called cops in a helicopter-me

Don’t foldle the lord in such a manner - irl 🎃 (still about that rubber duck)

you look like a gnome- doc about my mental breakdown haircut

Me: I was making fun of myself making fun of my self ):<

Rat:

Me: ):<

Rat: your mentally ill.

Doc: I wonder how someone discovered milk

Me:someone was probably horny

Me: congrats you where the last people to find out you where dating.

Orin: you know what I hate?

Ren: women

Orin:tonsil stones what the fuck

Be nice to yourself bitch (finger guns pointed at me) - Rat

Me: (in my villan ) sex….. kinda…mid ngl.

Orin:

Irl 🌕: NO don’t crusfiy the snail. ):<

Me: I don’t sleep I’m built differnt

Doc: Ren you are made of flesh bones and sadness that is 80% of the human population your not different.

Ren: that’s what a bumper sticker is

Doc:but you don’t have a girlfriend or a car

Ren: well actually

Doc: *gasp* you have a car??????

I turn down the temputre of every room I’m in

cuz ur not hot

Because I’m a ghost????? - I don’t remember who said this I promise I’m good at my job.

Orin: Is this a beautiful women or a very gay man?

answer: it’s a bit in between!

Doc:A large truck

Me:Correction two trucks fucking.

[girl-epitome]

strangers kissing

hello my sugars,

i began this summer in Rome. my goodness what a beautiful city. Italy itself was entirely romantic. subtract men from the equation and still my surroundings invoked an urge inside of me i never felt before.

what is it about location that changes the way you think so much?

i'm from a small town in the dessert, such a banal and exhausting destination for a woman whos heart contains puissance for vivacious activities, being surrounded by the grand ancient architecture, the walkable neighborhoods, and the lively streets were all someone like me could have ever dreamed of.

one night we stumbled into a private hookah bar, we had a few very strong drinks, i ordered a manhattan, something i've dreamed of doing since i was a little girl watching SATC, i did not enjoy it but it was pretty to look at.

we smoked from the hookah on a couch by the door, my goodness did we laugh in childlike wonder. who would've thought we could experience something like this? three best friends, listening to various languages, intoxicated by alcohol and joy at 3 a.m. in a foreign country.

soon some men (visually boyish) came and introduced themselves. I guess anyone in europe can seem boyish with the spectacular diet they have.

the boys were a year or two younger than us, strong Albanian accents, my friends were chatting with the tall one, and i caught the attention of the boy with glasses. my type.

we held hands as he sat in front of me, telling me about life in europe. the keyboard on his phone was so hard for me to understand while i punched in my instagram user.

we left the closing bar and he offered me his cigarette. the italian breeze blew in my hair and the cobblestone sang to my heels. i never had one before. he took a puff and passed it to me. we shared two cigarettes that night, foreshadowing the kiss we allotted just minutes after.

my time in Rome was quixotic. stunning outfits, tasteful cocktails, and the blissfulness of living like you'll die tomorrow. my heart is destined to leave the place i reside. i will experience the world, i have to.

[whitehotharlots]

I fear we're all already dead

Just a few years ago, human decency--a concept that was admittedly always nebulous and contextual--became radically redefined. Whatever it used to be was inadequate. Now, decency is defined by one's willingness to perform obedience rituals regarding interpersonal comportment. You don't add the letter X to random words because you like it or because it changes anything; you do it because you just do it, because that's what it takes to be a decent fucking person.

Like most other social malignancies, this one started in academe and slowly slithered its way into white collar spaces before becoming mandated elsewhere. As recently as a decade ago, the more pointless and onerous of precepts such as this would either eventually die out or take a very long time before reaching the mainstream in some tempered form. The internet has hastened to speed of the spread. Today's bit of niche retardation is tomorrow's unbreakable mandate, and you will be punished if you refuse to obey. And why shouldn't you be? Are we as a society supposed to just sit there and tolerate behaviors that are as indecent as using naughty words or not posting a Black square on your instagram feed?

The left either celebrates developments such as this or, in their edgier and more honest moments, attempt to downplay them. Yes, a large majority of Hispanic people refuse the term Latinx and many of them find it actively offensive. But so what. It ain't hurting anybody. J-just go through the motions, keep your head down, obey in public and snicker about it when no one's watching.

But I fear we've lost something. Something essential. At heart, this is a social project meant to inculcate all Decent people into a form of didactic manicheanism. As nearly everyone acknowledges, none of this really changes anything. It's a social sorting mechanism, something that gives us all an excuse to automatically hate those who fall into the wrong side of performance.

The need to judge everyone, at all times and as harshly as possible, has stripped the concept of morality of all human traits. Assessments become more superficial at scale. Tasked with sorting every person, every thought, every action and utterance into Good and Bad piles means we don't really have the time or capacity to dig deep, no room to consider whether our judgments are reflective of anything more meaningful than our desire to judge.

The news was rough last week. It started with two separate incidents in which left-wing activists were murdered by strangers: one in his home, another on the street. Each did exactly what they were instructed to do in the wake of the Daniel Penny incident. They had been trained to ignore their basic survival instincts, that both flight and fight are problematic responses to encountering deranged and visibly angry men. What does it say about your privilege, if you confront or distance yourself from a man simply because he's verbally threatening to kill you? Are you some sort of Republican? Or are one of the Good ones, willing to reach out and attempt to provide deranged vagrants with the validation society has so cruelly denied them?

The right responded to these murders with unbridled glee. Everyone is sharing the same screen, after all... just looking it from one of two opposed angles. The men had supported what they thought were more humane policies in regards to crime and housing, and so that means their deaths were cause for celebration. Everyone is still either Good or Bad. They are labels, not humans.

And then, over the weekend, Hamas launched the largest offensive against Israel that's happened in my lifetime. Here we were treated to the ripest fruits of intersectionality: unironic racists allying with leftie keyboard revolutionaries to celebrate the victory of based hyper-religious trads over the heathen children of an EMD festival, august professors of Decolonization Studies attempting to reconcile their nagging support of violent revolution with videos of young women being raped and murdered. Context was secondary. The need to sort prevailed above all else. We need to determine who is Good here, and who is Bad, so that we can either cheer or cry. There is no human reality beyond my screen. There is no human reality beyond my judgment.

[cheeriecherrymain]

Incorrigible Flirts And Besweatered Men [Chapter 7]

Pairing: TA!Viktor x fem!Reader Rating: T Warnings: None? Viktor is affectionate but thats not a warning Proofread: Lol no. no beta we die like men Chapter Summary: Time has passed quickly, and the date of your cousin’s wedding has arrived. You and Viktor depart for the event, and find a surprise when you check into your hotel.

You stroll into the airport at four forty five in the morning, exhausted from a night of no sleep, and excited by the prospect of travel. You’re less enthused about seeing some of your family, but you’ve missed your cousins and some of their kids.

You’re also excited that you get to spend an entire weekend with Viktor, in another city. You probably won’t have the time or energy to get out and do much, since your only full day there will be spent at the wedding, but you’ll get to have a little bit of time to yourselves in the hotel, before and after the ordeal.

You’d even brought your roll-up keyboard along with you, in case the chance arose to play for Viktor. You could show him the silly little song you’d written about apples, as well as a couple other wordless pieces you’d composed. Would you tell them that he was your inspiration? Possibly, if you weren’t too nervous.

You look at the printed ticket papers in your hand, and quickly locate your gate before wandering off to check your baggage in. Thankfully, the area for departing flights isn’t particularly crowded, and you get through the drop-off in record time; delivering your single suitcase to where it needed to be, and putting the little tag on your approved carry-on.

You check your phone on the way back to your gate, sending Viktor a quick text that you’re where you agreed to meet. You even send him a picture of the spot where you’ve found a seat, so he can find you easier: and once you’re sure he’s read it, you zip your phone and your ticket into your pocket, loop your arm through the handle of your bag, and shut your eyes.

—

You feel a little weightless as you sleep. The din of the airport is far away in your ears, muffled by the fluffy lining of your jacket hood. You can vaguely feel a tickle on your face, like a bug walking across your skin. But the tickle is soon replaced by a cool pressure, and you’re eventually brought out of your lazy slumber.

A hand, you realize.

The thought startles you, and your eyes shoot open all the way.

“It’s just me,” Viktor whispers, stroking his thumb over the apple of your cheek while you stare at him with incoherent surprise.

It takes a couple seconds for everything to sink in, but once you realize you’re safe, and that no one is trying to kidnap you or your belongings, you relax.

“Hey,” you squeak, still addled with sleep, and stretch.

“Good morning,” Viktor says with a tired smile, taking a seat beside you.

You take a couple seconds to unashamedly observe him, your gaze trailing over him from head to toe. He looks cozy and warm, with a fluffy scarf wrapped around his neck and tucked into the front of his jacket. He also looks exhausted; moreso than usual, with the dark circles under his eyes seeming more pronounced.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” you wonder, turning towards him in your seat.

He makes a contemplative noise, as if he’s considering bending the truth a little to appease you, but the pouty frown you wear makes him think twice. He sighs, leaning back in the metal seat for a couple moments to face the ceiling.

You stare at the exposed column of his throat, thinking idly that he’d be very easy to leave marks on.

“I did not,” he says suddenly, drawing your mind away from your less than pure thoughts.

“That makes two of us,” you mumble. “I was up all night finishing my dress.”

“I thought you finished it days ago?”

“I thought so too,” you admit. “But then I found this pretty gauze that looked like it was covered in stars, and I thought ‘hey, this would look so nice over the navy silk, like the night sky’ and…then I ended up covering the entire dress in it.”

Viktor looks as though he wants to say more, perhaps scold you for getting so little sleep over the past week, but any words he might have die before he says them. 

The two of you sit in silence for a couple of beats.

Until he asks, “Are you looking forward to this weekend?”

It takes a couple seconds for you to formulate a reply.

“Yes, and no,” you tell him honestly. “I’m looking forward to seeing my cousins and their kids. I’m not looking forward to seeing my parents. I’m definitely looking forward to spending a weekend with you.”

His cheeks flush pink, and you smile.

“I know our only full day away will be spent either at, or preparing for, the wedding, but we’ve got this afternoon in the hotel, and half a day on monday. I figured we could take the time to like, I dunno. Relax?”

Viktor nods along with your suggestion, and it becomes increasingly clear how tired he really is. How his eyes are hazy and half-lidded, how his head droops every now and again, as if he’s starting to nod off; even the way he forces himself to take the occasional deep breath to try and stay awake.

“Vik,” you say softly, bringing your hand up to the sharp curve of his jaw, “When was the last time you slept? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

A guilty expression passes onto his face, and he avoids eye contact.

“Viktor,” you say, a little firmer.

“Thursday morning,” he admits. “I got about six hours.”

“Jesus,” you hiss, without malice.

You quickly get comfortable in your seat, briefly pulling your phone out of your pocket to set an alarm, and then pull Viktor closer.

“There are lots of open seats,” you tell him. “Think you could get comfy for a little while?”

He crinkles his nose at the thought.

“You need to sleep, Vik.”

“I have no pillow.”

You bite back a smile when he whines so easily, and you’re wholeheartedly grateful that you get to see him when he’s so sleepy: that you get to see a part of him that so few other people get to know. Would he be like this when he’s waking up in the morning, pouty and reluctant to get up to start his day? What about when he was falling asleep at night?

Your mind wanders to all these things, as you nudge him into laying down. He looks as though he feels a little awkward and exposed, but he immediately relaxes when you guide his head to your lap and start carding your fingers through his hair.

It’s just as soft as it looks, you think giddily.

It barely takes a minute for his eyes to drift shut.

—

The rest of the afternoon is spent in much the same manner. The alarm you set proves useful, as you end up falling asleep with Viktor in your lap; the harsh noise startles both of you out of slumber, and it takes a good thirty seconds for either of you to remember where you are and what’s going on.

Boarding the plane is the same as usual, as is takeoff. Viktor seems a little uneasy with all of it, his hand clenched over yours on the armrest.

But once you’re in the air, his anxiety fades; though he politely asks you to keep the cover on the window closed.

The two of you chat a little bit during the beginning of the three-hour trip, but your mutual exhaustion becomes apparent not long in, and you both trail off into silence.

The next thing you remember is a flight attendant gently waking both of you when it comes time to land. 

You have to bite back a laugh when you glance at Viktor; he’s rumpled and looks as though he’s forgotten what year it is - and when he looks at you with amusement, you figure you’re fairing no better.

And then the mortification sets in when you see a little wet spot on his shoulder.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you whine, hiding your face in your hands. 

It takes a few seconds for him to realize what you’re talking about, but instead of being grossed out by you drooling on him in your sleep - like you assumed he would be - he only laughs.

“There is nothing to worry about,” he assures you. “This sweater is from the, ah…what did you call it? The chairdrobe?”

You snort quietly.

The seatbelt light comes on overhead.

—

By the time you get off the plane, find your bags, call an Uber, and arrive at the hotel, it’s nearly two in the afternoon. You’re buzzing with caffeine, and the busyness of the giant metropolis you’re visiting has you on edge. It’s loud, it’s full of people, it’s fast-paced, and it smells like cars and asphalt.

“You don’t like the city?” Viktor wonders, as the pair of you wander in through the front entrance of the hotel. A bit fancy for your tastes, but your cousin had insisted on paying for the accommodations of anyone who was coming in from out of town.

“It’s not that I dislike it,” you explain, finding a spot in the line to the front desk. “I just…I dunno. I like quieter places. Trees, parks, fresh air. It’s less crowded, and there’s more space to just…be.”

He nods, sharing the sentiment, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence.

It doesn’t take very long for you to reach the front of the line, and you greet the woman at the desk with a smile.

She asks for the name of your reservation.

You give her your name.

She types a couple things on her keyboard, makes a perplexed expression, types a few more things.

You feel the anxiety beginning to bubble up in your chest.

“I’m not seeing anything here under that name,” she says. “Are you sure you’ve got the correct reservation?”

Your leg quivers nervously, and you ask her to try your cousin’s name instead.

She starts typing again.

And then Viktor’s hand sneaks around your own.

All at once, your anxious wiggling ceases, and you feel your nerves soothe slightly: even more when his thumb ghosts over your knuckles.

“It’ll be fine,” he says quietly. “If there’s no reservation, then we can ask for a room.”

“I can’t afford this place,” you say quietly, beginning to tremble again.

To your surprise, he releases your hand, and instead wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close.

“Then we’ll find another hotel,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You’re so busy short-circuiting at the small gesture of affection, that you nearly miss the clerk coming back to you with a smile.

“We’ve got your room ready,” she says. “The queen suite with the private spa and lounge area?”

Your eyes widen.

“We book the room under the name on the payment card,” she says sweetly, “But the instructions here say that this room is, indeed, for you. Would I be able to see some ID?”

You hastily nod and fumble your wallet out of your pocket. “Is a student ID okay?” you ask, explaining that you don’t drive. She takes the card when you hand it to her, and looks over it for a couple of seconds before handing it back with a smile.

“Perfect,” she says.

Three minutes later, you and Viktor head to the elevators with your keycards.

—

“I guess I should have asked,” you say, once you’re on the way up. “You don’t mind sharing a room, do you? I promise I don’t snore or anything. It’s just that - I mean, when I told my cousin that I was bringing someone, she assumed I meant like, a boyfriend. And I didn’t want to be like ‘oh no we’re not dating’ and get her to pay for another room, but I just-”

Viktor’s hand slides around yours again, and he quickly pulls your knuckles up to his lips, laying yet another soft kiss on your skin.

And shocking you into silence.

“It’s alright,” he says softly. “This weekend will perhaps give us an idea of what to expect-” he pauses for a moment, pink dusting his cheeks. “Should the future go as we plan, that is.”

You hide a smile and resist the urge to giggle like a smitten teenager. Even when you walk off the elevator and down the hall, your face feels warm, and your heart is fluttering happily in your chest.

In fact, your cheerful demeanor remains intact for several minutes; as you find your room, walk into the quiet lounge area, and sit down to remove your shoes. Viktor takes a little longer to unlace his boots, whereas you simply kick yours off and nudge them onto the mat.

“It’s so big!” you call to him, once you’re further into the suite; traipsing through the little kitchenette and into the bathroom. 

When they said ‘private spa’, they really meant private spa, you think, admiring the bathroom. Solid quartz tiles, three sinks, two showers, and a recessed jacuzzi that looked as though it could fit five of you? You know exactly where you’re going to be spending the afternoon.

It’s when you excitedly run into the bedroom that your heart stops.

Bedroom.

Emphasis on bed.

The singular form of beds.

Beds, which you assumed you were going to get.

Bed, which you apparently have.

“Is something the matter?” Viktor calls from his spot near the door, leaning over to see down the short hallway in which you stand. “Y/N?”

You turn to him slowly, and he grows concerned when he sees how flustered you are.

“So uh,” you wring your hands together nervously. “You said you’re okay with sharing a room. But, uh…what about a bed?”

[walker-extended-universe]

WIP Wednesday

Stolen from @kedreeva

Rules:

Post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it!

Micki and Cassie being frens

Of all the people he expected to find standing outside his door on a friday night, Micki Ramirez didn’t even make the top 12. And yet, there she was. And she didn’t look happy to see him. “...Can I help you?”

“MICKI!” Cassie came running up the walkway. “Oh my god, Walker, I’m so sorry. She’s drunk and being a little insane. We’ll leave you alone.”

Katherine AU v2

Abeline Walker needed a break from the house. After that mess of a dinner, she didn’t feel like talking to anybody. A long walk out on the quiet ranch was just what she needed.

Her tranquil walk was interrupted by her phone ringing. It wasn’t a number she recognized and she normally wouldn’t have answered it but something in her gut told her she should “Hello?”

“Hello?” came a frantic female voice from the other end. “Is this Abeline Walker?”

“I- Yes, this is she. May I ask who’s calling?”

“I-I’m Katherine. I- Look, I hate to call you like this but your brother- William- he- He just had a stroke. The doctors aren’t saying anything yet and- I think you should come here. We’re at St. James hospital on Merchant Street….”

Henry Winchester Verse

It’s happening.

Cordell’s hands paused over the keyboard of his laptop. “What’s happening?”

The prizefight. Our brothers fighting over the planet, over paradise. It’s coming soon. I can feel it.

The Walker Gospel

Denise sighed. “From what I can tell, she was possessed by a demon that got painfully exorcized and was left to die afterward. I don’t know all the details but I know your brother was involved.”

“And you know this how, exactly?”

“Because it happened in my family bunker and I got a warning about it.”

“Right. Right. Of course. The family bunker.” Liam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Explain that part to me again? I’m still confused.”

Denise huffed. “My family, the Davidsons, have been a part of the Men of Letters practically since the organization was formed. Because of that, we started building up our own little library and archive of special texts and artifacts as a part of the Men of Letters system. It’s smaller than the main bunkers but it suits our needs well enough. And our alarm system runs on blood magic so when security was breached by your brother and his demon mistress, I was alerted. Was that simple enough for you to understand or do I need to dumb it down further?”

August/Sadie

The first time soulmates meet is always unexpected. People rarely find their soulmates on a dating app or at a singles mixer. Soulmate meetings happen during everyday activities, such as going on a morning jog or running errands at the local strip mall. It was a mixture of fate, destiny, and a little bit of luck.

Those forces are what brought these two souls together on an unlikely day.