#solid taxi drive

[shonen-brainrot]

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, who revels in the whirlwind of our past relationship, now faces the aftermath of your departure after you decided to cut him off. Fueled by a fiery concoction of rage and heartbreak, he struts into a darker, more sinister version of himself, leaving reverberations of chaos in every damn corridor of his existence.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, who'll be showing up uninvited at your new home because he heard you were moving on with someone new, the sting of jealousy evident in his actions.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, who'll be engaging in heated arguments and raising his voice out of sheer jealousy anytime he sees you happy. "You think you can just walk away and I'll let you? I'll make sure every step you take is a reminder of what you left behind!"

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, who will apologize for screaming at you with a warm hug after yet another argument he caused.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, for whom the training becomes a way of releasing his pent-up anger at himself, which sometimes leads to him overdoing it and pulling something or straining a muscle, but he refuses to go to the medbay in his agency because he knows you might be there.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, who can't get used to sleeping alone at night. For years you had always been there with him, and now that you aren't, the silence and the loneliness are deafening. He's still intoxicated by the memories of you, relentlessly holding onto the past and struggling to move on.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, who somehow finesses you into going out for a drink one evening when your new boyfriend is off doing whatever at the delegation, all in the name of talking and setting things straight. Surprisingly, you end up having a blast, reminiscent of the good old times, and, of course, you both get completely wasted. With the night still young, you both decide to hit the dancefloor.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, with his hands shamelessly exploring every inch of your body as you grind your ass against his crotch, completely oblivious to the impact it's having on him. Katsuki grunts throatily into your ear, a vice-like grip on your hip and waist, because subtlety was never his damn forte.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, whose brain's on the fritz, declares that it's high time for you to saunter your way back home. In the taxi he commandeers, he lounges on the back seat like he owns the place, a solid arm draped around your shoulders as your head lazily lolls on the crook of his neck. Amidst giggles and banter, you reminisce about the good old times.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, his other hand making a bold move between your thighs. Mentally thanking the universe for your choice of a short dress, he smirks as his rough fingers skillfully push aside the fabric of your panties to rub your folds slowly. You, under the influence, offer no objection. A wicked grin plays on his lips as he relishes the sensation of your wetness slowly covering his fingertips, and you can't help but let out an anticipatory gasp.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, who, the moment you two step into your swanky new house, wastes no time pinning you against the nearest wall. He swiftly tugs your panties down your legs, expertly wrapping your leg around his hip. With a hand that's practically shaking, he skillfully works on unbuckling his pants.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, who drives his cock into you, evoking a gasp from your parted lips. He's relentless, kissing and nibbling on your exposed neck, growling with satisfaction at the wetness and warmth of your ever tight pussy is enveloping his throbbing member.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, who's railing you, going all in with a pace that's as fast and brutal as a damn hurricane. He has your thighs shaking as you scream his name. Your pussy clenches around his cock, practically begging for every drop of his cum, and he's more than willing to oblige, growling in your ear, "Yeah, bitch, just like that, taking my cock so well, just like back when I was your boyfriend. You miss my cock, hmm? Yeah, of course you do, tsch!"

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, who unleashes a guttural growl like an animal as he finishes inside you, emptying his balls deep in your cunt until the tip of his cock brushes against your cervix again and again. Katsuki's seed spurts as the man kisses you with a hunger, sucking on your tongue. "I'll fucking make you mine again, doll."

[nightbeforethend]

how would each member of xdinary heroes react when you pick them up from a bar/restaurant and their drunk asf.

I imagine hanjun being quiet and reserved about pda sober but a drop of alcohol in him he becomes a koala, clinging to you and just giggling away

☆*･ﾟdrunk // xdinary heroes ﾟ･*☆

a/n: thank you for this request! I truly had way too much fun working on it and I hope you enjoy anon!

warning(s): drinking/drunk behaviors

want to request something? check this out

(`·.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.-> gunil <-.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.·´)

*ೃ༄ absolutely shocked by the baddie he managed to pull by being a dork and having a funny laugh all the time but especially when he’s drunk

*ೃ༄ knows you’re coming to meet him and the guys at a restaurant after you leave another outing but he’s still stunned into silence when you walk in

*ೃ༄ granted he’s drunk out of his mind but still

*ೃ༄ the type to say some shit like “that’s mine right there” with a cocky smile on his face when he sees you walk into the restaurant like his red cheeks and ears aren’t giving away that he’s flustered and absolutely blasted

*ೃ༄ realizes once you don’t take the seat next to him that you’re there to pick him up now instead of hanging out

*ೃ༄ insists he’s fine just to convince you to stay when he knows damn well that he’s a drink and a half away from yacking all over the table

*ೃ༄ a bit stubborn just because he likes you babying him more than he’s willing to admit when he’s sober but it doesn’t take too much convincing to get him out of his seat and to your car

*ೃ༄ (silently a bit upset that jungsu and o.de carry him there for you like he doesn’t go to the gym almsot everyday. truly expects you to give him a piggy back ride like he doesn’t have one of the craziest sleeper builds known to man, god bless)

*ೃ༄ 9/10 experience overall

*ೃ༄ a pretty easy experience regardless of him yapping just to yap the entire way home

*ೃ༄ 7.5/10 depending on whether or not you having to stop the car a couple times so he could indeed yack on the side of the rode would get on your nerves or not

(`·.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.-> jungsu <-.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.·´)

*ೃ༄ I truly don’t think that he’d be that bad

*ೃ༄ like at all

*ೃ༄ maybe a giggly drunk, red as hell from drinking entirely too much but he doesn’t give difficult drunk energy

*ೃ༄ except for the stubbornness that could come with it

*ೃ༄ my first thought is that one picture of jeonghan from seventeen having to get on his knees and beg dino to get in the taxi so they could get his drunk ass home

*ೃ༄ literally this

*ೃ༄ like he’s perfectly fine with leaving with you and he doesn’t even have a problem leaving the guys and following you to your car but the moment you go to open the passenger door for him his mouth falls open in shock because how dare you open the door for him when he can do it himself??

*ೃ༄ it’s enough to make him refuse to get in the car which is crazy because up until this point he’d been acting so normal that you thought the guys might’ve been joking about how much he had to drink

*ೃ༄ the easy solution should’ve been you closing the door and him opening it himself but of course it’s not that easy

*ೃ༄ you close the door? He opens it again. You try to guide him inside? Now he’s a statue. You threaten to leave him there? Suddenly, he’s a lawyer with a five-minute argument on why that would be a human rights violation

*ೃ༄ has the most crazy pout you’ve ever seen on his face when you finally get him in the car because he thinks you’re “manhandling” him (you barely even touched him, he just low key doesn’t even know how his own legs got him outside at this point, better yet how you got him in the car)

*ೃ༄ actually sits in silence for a solid three minutes after you start driving, only to suddenly hit you with a quiet “I could’ve driven” followed by the nastiest side eye you’ve ever seen from him

*ೃ༄ absolutely will not let go of your hand on the way home though because he’s not about to lose out on a little physical affection even in the midst of his little drunk attitude

*ೃ༄ 6/10 experience because why the hell do you have to fight him from the time you picked him up to the time you got him in bed??

*ೃ༄ quickly becomes a 8.2/10 the next morning because he makes you breakfast and coffee the next morning despite his hangover simply because he feels bad

(`·.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.-> gaon/jiseok <-.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.·´)

*ೃ༄ huge believer in him being such a normal drunk human being. Like he’s still mostly sweet and harmless, but suddenly his fight-or-flight kicks in at the worst possible times

*ೃ༄ because when you show up to take him home, he does NOT recognize you

*ೃ༄ like at all

*ೃ༄ he’s squinting, tilting his head, looking you up and down like you’re some stranger trying to seduce him away from his very real, very loving partner (who is literally you even though he won’t believe you or anyone else trying to convince him of the fact)

*ೃ༄ keeps repeating “sorry, I’m in a relationship” in the nicest way possible because he doesn’t wanna hurt anyone’s feelings but the fact that someone that could be your doppelgänger is trying to take him home is freaking him out so bad

*ೃ༄ you think he’s joking until he’s literally running away from you every time you physically try to get him to leave

*ೃ༄ why he thinks his loyalty is being tested is beyond you but having to chase this grown man through a crowded bar has you about ready to tell security that he’s causing a scene just to have someone else easily drag him outside

*ೃ༄ "Jiseok, get in the car!"

*ೃ༄ "I told you I’m in a relationship you freak” is his only response at this point and he means that shit

*ೃ༄ something finally clicks in his brain and makes him call you for some kind of help since his equally drunk friends weren’t helping and he’s beyond flabbergasted when he hears your phone start to ring in your purse

*ೃ༄ cue the slowest realization in human history

*ೃ༄ you can literally see the cogs in his brain starting back up

*ೃ༄ “Ohhh... that’s why you’re so pretty...”

*ೃ༄ absolutely devastated by his own actions immediately after

ೃ༄ like the 180 he pulls when he finally gets into the car and pouts the whole way home actually needs to be studied

*ೃ༄ 5/10 experience overall, only because of the chase

*ೃ༄ 7.5/10 if you found it funny

*ೃ༄ 9/10 if you got it on video to use against him later

(`·.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.-> o.de/seungmin <-.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.·´)

*ೃ༄ down atrociously bad for you in a very visual way while he’s sober just to act like the shyest, most love struck teenager that’s ever existed the moment he gets a drop of alcohol in him

*ೃ༄ like on a normal bases he’s not afraid to leave kisses all over your face as he’s calling you the love of his life in fifty different ways whether people are around or not

*ೃ༄ but the moment you approach him at the bar he’s avoiding eye contact like he barely knows you

*ೃ༄ crazy work for someone who called you himself three separate times to ask you to pick him up because he wanted to, in his own words, “cuddle you until you both became a single being like you’re two crystal gems in Steven Universe” but alas

*ೃ༄ he truly can’t bring himself to even hold your hand for longer than a few seconds at a time when you try to pull him out of the building and to your car

*ೃ༄ he’s redder than you’ve ever seen him because for some reason the alcohol has made him hyper aware to being perceived by others; especially the friends he’s been smooching you in front of way too much now for him to be this embarrassed

*ೃ༄ can stumble his way to your car on his own and literally doesn’t say a word until you’re both inside and he feels like you’re alone

*ೃ༄ literally sighs like he’s been holding in the world’s biggest secret as you pull away from the bar, immediately trying to bury his face in your neckline you stop at a light

*ೃ༄ “I didn’t think I’d ever be able to finally touch you… so many people around… do you think they noticed we’re a thing?

*ೃ༄ “you mean the friends you’ve kissed me on the mouth in front of on several occasions?? I think they know”

*ೃ༄ clings onto you like a koala bear the whole rest of the way home like he’s making up for the few minutes that he wasn’t all over you

*ೃ༄ 9.5/10 experience simply because witnessing what he’d be like if he ever cared about being perceived is extremely cute

*ೃ༄ half a point off because the energy he brings to the table while being uncharacteristically shy is a bit alarming

(`·.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.-> junhan/hyeongjun <-.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.·´)

*ೃ༄ The liquid courage that would run through this man after a night out needs to be studied

*ೃ༄ He gives the same drunk energy as me I fear (can drink like 5 cocktails, 6 shots, and two beers and there’s no personality difference outside of being extremely affectionate)

*ೃ༄ Like he’s fine, everything’s fine, he’s drunk as hell but he’s not a runner or an intoxicated mess so he’s truly just chilling when he suddenly remembers he has a partner that he NEEDS to be touching right now or he might die

*ೃ༄ and while he doesn’t look as fucked up as he is on the outside, he’s cancelling the uber he got to take him home and calling you to ask you to join them

*ೃ༄ you think he’s joking until gunil calls you to tell you that he’s indeed planted himself on the ground outside the club, sitting criss cross applesauce, waiting for you to get there

*ೃ༄ like he’s not even making a fuss or saying anything crazy

*ೃ༄ he just refuses to leave until he gets a kiss from you (you literally live together but alcohol will fuck up his logic and reasoning every time)

*ೃ༄ when you show up to pick him up he’s literally all over you before you can even speak

*ೃ༄ I’m talking arms wrapped around you so tight you can barely breathe, kissing every inch of your face he can reach, lifting you off your feet just so he can spin you around type of touchy

*ೃ༄ not only does it spook the guys (who have never EVER seen him be this touchy with anyone) but also you, who had gotten used to never EVER doing more than holding hands in public

*ೃ༄ very willing to get in the car and go home after he’s gotten what he wanted

*ೃ༄ 8.8/10 experience only because you now have to deal with his homies making kissing noises at the two of you whenever they see you

(`·.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.-> jooyeon <-.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.·´)

*ೃ༄ I fear he’s a runner

*ೃ༄ like the type to disappear, reappear while talking, reappear across the bar, and then by time you get to him he’s gone again

*ೃ༄ although he can’t sit still to save his life he’s surprisingly quiet

*ೃ༄ so you’re not shocked at all when you show up to the bar and spot Jooyeon alone on the patio with whatever pretty drink the bartender suggested and none of the other guys in sight

*ೃ༄ spots you coming and his eyes light up like he didn’t just see you right before he left earlier to go to the bar

*ೃ༄ not a drunk man of many words (surprisingly, considering that he’s one of the biggest sober yappers you know)

*ೃ༄ “took you long enough to get here” headass

*ೃ༄ literally chugs the rest of his drink, throws his arms around you, and you’re now stuck with him clinging onto you for the rest of the night

*ೃ༄ the yapping might go away temporarily but I fear the clinginess is forever

*ೃ༄ the actual pickup itself isn’t the hard part whatsoever once you get him to situate himself in one place

*ೃ༄ it’s after the car ride you’re concerned about, and rightfully so

*ೃ༄ 5.5/10 experience ONLY BECAUSE although I don’t see him being an insane drunk, he’d fall asleep the moment he heard the hum of the engine but now you have over a hundred pounds of dead weight to get upstairs to your apartment once you get home

[awkward-walking-potato]

Snuggling w deadpool? Platonic or romantic?

Red-Eye Rest

The fight had been long, messy, and more complicated than it should have been. Honestly, you couldn’t even remember what exactly set it all off. Probably Deadpool annoying the wrong person—again. But now, hours later, you were bruised, battered, and bone-tired. As you limped alongside Wade Wilson to the waiting taxi, the only thing on your mind was finding somewhere soft and horizontal to collapse.

You barely registered the driver, a guy named Dopinder who seemed unreasonably cheerful given the hour. "Where to, my friends?" he asked.

"Just drive, Dopinder," Wade said, waving a gloved hand. "We need some R&R."

You sighed in relief as you sank into the worn seats of the cab, letting your head fall back. The leather was old, cracked, and not even close to being comfortable, but at that moment, it might as well have been a cloud. Wade plopped down beside you, his usual chatter unusually subdued. Even he must have been worn out from the chaos.

"You're too quiet," you muttered, eyes closed.

"Well, after all the butt-kicking we just did, even I have my limits," Wade replied, stretching out. "But don’t worry, I’ll be back to my charming, loquacious self in no time."

"Mhm," you mumbled, already feeling sleep tugging at your eyelids. The motion of the taxi rolling over potholes was almost lulling, despite the city's usual cacophony just outside.

A few minutes passed, and you were right on the edge of consciousness when you felt something warm and solid nudge against you. You peeked out of one eye to see Wade leaning back, his arm casually draped over your shoulder, pulling you close.

"Wade…" you started, but your voice lacked the energy for any real protest.

"Shh, shh, just let it happen," he whispered, grinning under his mask. "I’m too tired for shenanigans, and you look like you could use a little cuddle time. Besides, no one's going to believe this anyway."

You wanted to argue, but damn it, the warmth radiating from his body was just too inviting. You let out a resigned sigh and shifted slightly, resting your head on his shoulder. The scent of leather, gunpowder, and something uniquely Deadpool filled your senses, oddly comforting.

For a moment, there was just the sound of your breathing in sync with the hum of the taxi. Wade’s grip tightened a bit, and you allowed yourself to melt into the embrace. It was surreal, sharing such a quiet, almost tender moment with someone like him. But then again, Deadpool was always full of surprises.

"Don’t go falling in love with me, though," Wade murmured. You could hear the grin in his voice. "I’m bad news."

"Wouldn’t dream of it," you muttered back, too tired to even roll your eyes.

“Good, ‘cause I’m high-maintenance. You’d need a whole team just to keep up with me.”

You let out a soft chuckle, closing your eyes once more. The gentle rise and fall of Wade’s breathing was strangely calming, and you felt yourself drifting off. As the city lights flickered past the windows, blurring into streaks of yellow and white, you thought maybe, just maybe, you could get used to moments like this.

In the dim light of the cab, with the world outside buzzing on, you allowed yourself to rest, leaning into the warmth beside you. For now, this was enough—a rare, quiet moment with Deadpool, the Merc with a Mouth, in the back of a beat-up taxi.

As sleep finally took over, you could have sworn you heard Wade softly humming some off-key tune, like a lullaby from a deranged superhero. And for once, everything was right in your world.

[gh0st-t0wn3]

Lmk ss edits + Headcanons, Part 2 (Pigsy, Tang, Sandy, Sun Wukong, Macaque)

- He/Him

- Bisexual

- Huge environmentalist, if you put any garbage or recycling in the wrong bin expect to get at least a three hour lecture, no you can not escape this, yes MK and Mei have tried, no they did not succeed

- ONLY shops from farmers markets/family businesses, you will never catch this man supporting a corporation

- Use to steal Tang's college hoodies

- Took him the longest to get used to having Redson around and a part of the group , but eventually warmed up to him (is still kinda salty about Redson burning MK's room though)

- Grows his own herbs

- Gets incredibly frustrated when he gets the hiccups (writing this as I'm fighting off hiccups)

- Loves watching true crime shows and listening to true crime podcasts while he does household chores or while he's setting up/closing the shop

- Got his ears pierced with Tang

- MK and Mei call him mom when he's being overbearing, Tang calls him mom now too to tease him

- Once caught Mei and MK sneaking food out of the kitchen at 3am and beat them with a broom for a solid minute because he was too drowsy to recognize them and assumed they were intruders (they were fine)

- Is the type of person to call his husband (Tang) "bro", "dude" etc

- Got drunk in college once and talked about nothing but how much he loved Tang, didn't remember any of it the next day but Tang asked him out pretty quickly after that

- Exchanged a few recipes with DBK while they were at the beach, they still do exchange more recipes once in a while but they don't talk much outside of cooking related topics

- Learned how to play dnd in college because Tang liked the game and ended up liking it a lot more than he expected to so they wound up playing together all the time (they still play it once in a while if they have time)

- Him and Sandy get together every other weekend to try and help Pigsy with his anger management issues

- Never called MK his son while he was growing up because he was scared that MK's real family would show up one day to take him back home, finally realized that no one was gonna show up a short while after MK turned 10 and started acting like an actual parent (MK always saw Pigsy as his dad though)

- Always says "this is the last time" when giving Tang free noodles (it is never gonna be the last time, and Tang knows it)

- Once bumped into a mannequin at the mall and apologized to it, Tang still makes fun of him

- Use to take Mei and MK to conventions all the time until Mei learned how to drive and could take them herself

- Won't care for people getting hurt in movies but will be absolutely crushed if something happens to an animal (sobbed when he watched "A Dog's Purpose")

- Smells like noodles

- Love language is acts of service

- Keeps trying to convince Tang to come with him to family events, has yet to succeed

- Carries around an extra pair of headphones in case Tang or MK needs them

- Almost threw hands with DBK and PiF after hearing about how they treated Redson (seriously guys, I need Redson to have a good parental figure in the next season, please), this man is a father to everyone

- Snores loud as fuck, it's a wonder how Tang gets any sleep

- No fashion sense what's so ever

- Insomnia

- He/Him

- Gay

- Once zoned out and stared at a wall for six hours straight

- Desk is covered in pencil shavings and pen ink

- Constantly bruised from always falling (weak ankles)

- Fluent in Polish, don't ask why, it just feels right

- Doodled all over his books in school (they made him pay for new ones)

- Never up before sunrise

- Got in some random dudes car once thinking it was a taxi and almost got himself kidnapped

- Will make the most annoying, smart-ass remark to anything anyone says

- I'm not actually sure if it's ever mentioned in the show what Tang does for a living but it doesn't matter, he's a college history professor now

- Has grandma floral bedsheets (we've all seen his sleepwear, you cannot tell me that man doesn't have grandma floral bedsheets)

- Somehow always cold

- Constanly napping, he can and will fall asleep if he's left alone for too long (his students once caught him asleep at his desk after lunch break and dipped class)

- Used to have hexagon glasses cause he thought they looked cool but found out Pigsy liked circular ones better so he got new ones

- Still has a septum piercing he got while he was in college but keeps it flipped up, he also has ear gauges

- When he met Pigsy's parents he was super nervous and ended up passing out half way through the night because of anxiety, he has not lived it down and refuses to go to any events with Pigsy if his family is gonna be there (they actually really liked him and are disappointed when he doesn't show up)

- Doesn't own a bookshelf for some reason, everything is just piled on the floor

- Very faint freckles

- Needs a daily 'to do' list, his whole day gets thrown off if he doesn't have some kind of schedule

- Maladaptive daydreamer

- Never showers, only takes baths

- Needs headphones on crowded transportation otherwise he'll get stressed at all the noises and talking overlapping eachother

- Severe rsd (rejection sensitivity dysphoria,  "benched" was an especially bad time for him)

- Number one art appreciator and constantly drags Pigsy to museums

- Smells like a library (please tell me you know what smell I mean)

- Love language is gift giving ( and you KNOW he loves you when he shares his food with you willingly)

- 76% of the clothes he owns are thrifted

- Blind as a fucking bat, if he looses his glasses he's on the floor feeling around for them like Velma,  I swear they could be two feet in front of him but he won't even notice

- Hypersomnia

- He/Him

- Bisexual

- Huge conspiracy theorist, ask him anything and he'll have some in depth explanation on how it relates to cryptids or something (I'm talking Matpat level conspiracy theorist, seriously, someone get him help)

- Slowest typer on the planet (mainly because the screen is too small for his hands), will respond to something 3-5 minutes after they changed topics

- Made seed bombs and threw them everywhere at random around the city and now there's a bunch of flowers and vines growing everywhere

- Was the first one (Aside from Mei and MK) to welcome Redson into the group with open arms, everyone else was still kinda cautious

- Would literally die for any of his friends, no questions asked, no hesitation, just jumps in the line of danger as soon as he sees one of his friends about to get hurt

- Didn't have a lot of friends growing up until he met Pigsy in his last year of high school because everyone was afraid of him

- He and Pigsy were in a band together in college, Sandy discusses it with pride, Pigsy gets embarrassed and denies ever being in a band at all

- Since he also has scales he's the one who teaches and helps Mei look after her scales and keep them from drying or getting damaged

- Yoga master, wakes up super early to do it during sunrise

- Has the best taste in music, he can find the most amazing, tear jerking, heart wrenching, underground music ever effortlessly

- Hasn't met a single person he wasn't able to get along with

- Firmly believes in all the little wishing rituals (11:11, shooting stars, birthday candles, blowing dandelions etc)

- Learned how to whistle so he could sing along with birds

- *gets robbed* "oh, i bet he needed the money, it's ok"  "I really don't think he did." "...maybe he's gonna donate it!"

- Favourite kind of tea is earl grey

- Named one of his cats Maquack after Macaque

- Sometimes cat sits for Bai He when she goes to doctor appointments, family visits out of the city, etc

- Got his piercing while he was still in a band but kept them in because his band mates were some of his first friends and they all got pierced together

- Has a tail to help him swim better (unfortunately I could not add it in the edit above but just I imagine he has the same kind of tail as the water Na'vi in Avatar ig)

- Skin has a faint ombre to it (his hands and feet are lighter and fade around his forearms/knees to a slightly darker blue (i did add this one in my edit but unfortunately I don't think it's as visible as I wanted it to be, my bad)

- Webbed hands and feet to help him swim better

- Has adipose eyelids like a fish to protect his eyes from the water, block exposure of harmful ultraviolet light into his eyes and act as protection against impact to the eye in aquatic environments. Since his eyelids are transparent though, he has to wear a sleeping mask at night

- Smells like a mix of ocean air and tea

- Love language is quality time and physical touch (will pick up and hug his friends all the time no matter the place)

- His hair and beard always have something in them, sand, seaweed etc

- Shoes are actually really uncomfortable for him to wear because his body is evolved for an aquatic environment, but he doesn't want to be rude so he wears them anyway (Mei found out and got him a customized pair of shoes so he could be comfortable without feeling like he's being rude)

- Uses Kaomojis

- If he's not busy, or doesn't have anything planned for the next few hours, he'll spend his free time cleaning up the ocean and beaches from any garbage

- He/Him

- Pansexual

- Everything he has ever done has been an impulse decision

- Is the type of mf to kick the inside of someone knee while they're walking to make them fold (Tang is the primary victim)

- Chews his nails

- Made up his own constellations as a "fuck you" to the universe (somehow managed to convince some mortals they were real constellations too)

- Mk and Co constantly forget how ancient swk is until he says some old person shit

- Naturally has curly and untamable hair, uses glamor to avoid getting called out about not taking care of it

- Horrifically optimistic

- Always has leaves and dirt and sticks etc in his hair

- Will sit out in the rain for hours on end

- Follow up on the last hc, he's been struck by lightning.. twice

- Actually has really heavy eyebags but uses glamor to cover them up

- Gets bored super easily

- Has naturally long lashes, Mei is still convinced he's wearing makeup though

- Cannot cook for the life of him

- His memories are always in shades of gold, no ones sure if it hasn't something to do with his gold vision or not, even himself, he just can't remember things in normal colour

- Stress induced migraines from the circlet

- Not a fan of big cities but loves how the lights look at night

- Stacks of notebooks and loose paper, cannot keep anything organized

- Takes a nap everyday at exactly 2:38 without fail

- Freezes in the winter, man's house has no insulation whatsoever

- Doesn't like big crowds but also can't stand not being the center of attention

- Once picked fleas out of both MK's and his own hair and ate them, MK was and still is disgusted, he will never look at Monkey King the same way again

- Smells like Peaches (it's like the only fucking thing he eats)

- Love language is physical touch

- Kinda chubby (mostly around his stomach and thighs) but still has muscles

- Always teasing Redson about the fact that he's technically his uncle since he and DBK are sworn brothers, he finds Redson's overreactions to it funny but is secretly kinda hurt that Redson doesn't think of him as family anymore (He use to when he was a little kid but stopped seeing Wukong as family after he sealed DBK away. They've started to try and mend their relationship after the events of season 4, it's slow but it's progress)

- Sometimes the monkey's on FFM will come into his house through the windows at night to sleep with him for comfort

- Really bad with technology but pretends he's just too good for the internet so he can avoid using it without looking old

- He/Him

- Bisexual

- Says his "S"'s really sharply

- If you ask him anything about himself he'll give you a different answer to the exact same question everytime (he thinks it makes him mysterious,  it does not)

- Lower lid eyeliner >>>

- If you say something stupid or weird he'll just stare judgingly until you take it back

- Actually lost his mind when he found out what blowing bubbles were

- Drinks tea with an ungodly amount of sugar

- Chronic eye pain + headaches. It's gotten significantly better over the years but.. yk, eye gouged out

- Has a deeply relaxing voice, strangely enough

- Has tried to compliment people before but it always ends up coming off as an insult

- Classical music or heavy rock, no in-between

- It is literally impossible to take a bad picture of him

- Puts his hair up in a bun whe he doesn't wanna deal with it

- Has patches of freeze burns from LBD, along his right side (mostly just his arm).

- Theater kid

- Rose tea enjoyer

- Likes to bake sometimes and frequently exchanges recipes with Pigsy and DBK

- Like to watch the sunrise and sunset

- Hates being out in the sun too long, not having a shaded area nearby for an easy escape stresses him

- Will stare out the window while it rains, Mei once said he looked like he was pretending to be in a cringey early 2010 music video

- Hard of hearing, his six ears are very sensitive and all the fighting and screaming has definitely done some damage to them by now

- Follow up on the last HC, despite being hard of hearing he will either absolutely refuse to wear hearing aids, or will wear them (albeit begrudgingly) but cover them with glamor

- Septum and snake bite piercings he got during his emo phase

- Smells like grapes, don't ask

- Love language is quality time, he doesn't care to actually have a conversation, though, he's fine just sitting in comfortable silence

- Will use his shadow transport for the dumbest things when he's lazy, like teleporting the TV remote to him if it's on the other side of the couch, teleport a bag of chips from the pantry to him in his bedroom,  etc

- Room is covered in scented candles

- Sandy has invited him over to work out some of his problems multiple times, he doesn't really care to open up though, he just goes for the cats (Sandy let's him)

- His hair is always soft and he refuses to tell anyone what he washes with, MK has asked multiple times and he gets a different, vague answer everytime

[hungwy]

We missed the last train of the night due to the snow. It was the first snow Tokyo had in a while, apparently. None of us seemed dressed for that kind of wet cold. No gloves, just jackets, hats. We were worried for a little bit about how we would get back to the dorms. We waited a long time for a taxi. A long time. The snow had built up on everything in thick layers. I was used to snow but could not ignore how the cold penetrated my pocketed hands to the bone. We stood outside some building, I cannot remember now what it was, but freezing puddles formed around our shoes, kept liquid by some unseen heat source. The puddles reflected all the reds and blues and golds of the city lights. It was quiet for a city. I was tired.

A taxi finally arrived after a while. Just long enough to make its arrival a celebratory affair. We hurried inside it. I sat in the back, on the left, behind the passenger seat. My friends took the front seat and the seat next to me. Someone showed the driver the university address on their phone. In broken Japanese my friends both attempted small talk with the driver, an older man, but he seemed reticent, probably tired. I can't remember if he even responded with real words--probably focused on not crashing the taxi in the fresh slick snow. I knew how to drive in snow. I wonder, in all his long years, if he ever got used to it. The snow had been falling for some time now. Everything was capped in that snow, diffusing the golden glow of the street lights. Were they gold, I wonder? Maybe some were silver. I can't remember any more. It reflected the colors of the night, the still, freezing night which churned under an endless dark grey cloud. I'd seen those clouds before, in the winters of home, and they made me feel comfortable, warm, like a great blanket stretched across the sky.

I remember how the taxi cruised through the thin residential alleys of Tokyo, lined with small one- or two-story houses, stone fences barely interjecting between the property and the street. Most houses did not have their lights on. Fence after gate after fence after wall flickered past. I fell asleep, or pretended to be asleep, or failed to fall asleep, for a long while. I love sleeping in cars. I always have, since I was a kid.

It was a very long drive. I don't remember how I ended up back in the dorm. Where were we even coming from, then, when we missed our train? Were we split from a larger group? By ourselves, us three? Did we go out to eat, go to see some place? I don't remember any more. I remember the night, the cold, the snow, the frozen world, and the pleasant doom of knowing something would become a memory. Something I would regurgitate and reconsume in my mind until all the realness had left. The snow made sure the memory would become imaginary, picturesque. My eyes engulfed the fluttering, transient frames of the lamp-lit snowy streets. Those pictures which with use would eventually smear and blur into puddles of soft form and color, as they do even now. I wish I had written anything at all then. None of it would've been good, but just to preserve the detail, to remind myself of real, solid things. It's all slowly melting away, now, so soft

[moonshynecybin]

short fic! once again maïna got me.... her original post here, this one's like 800 words about marc hitching a ride from vale back to the pits... nebulously established relationship they are being very sweet !

“Are you trying to kill me?” Is what Vale says when Marc trots up to where he’s spectating on the side of the track, camped out like a king in some shady place where the crowds can’t get to him. He’s on his feet, hands on his hips and a frown on his face beneath his hat and sunglasses, staring Marc down as he approaches. He’s worried—he usually is, when Marc’s on the bike— but the crash wasn’t terrible, just a slide into the gravel. He shouldn’t be too mad.

Marc brushes some dust off of the ass of his leathers. The marshals are bustling around them, righting his bike and wheeling it past him and Vale. There’s no sense of urgency though, it’s too late in the session— that’s FP1 done for Marc, now he just needs to get back to the pits. Luckily, he knows a guy.

He flicks a gloved finger at Vale’s cheek, and Vale catches it, brings it to his mouth to kiss his hand, sweet and playful, a moment of connection just for them, letting Marc know he’s not actually mad. Marc can’t help but grin under his helmet.

“I’m okay.” He reassures, keeping his voice low, tilting his head a little. “I saw how lonely you were out here and just wanted to say hi.” He’s joking, but if he had to pick a place to crash, next to Vale isn’t the worst place in the world.

“Not funny,” Vale lets go of his hand to wave a finger in his face, eyebrows jumping, and Marc laughs, big and loud.

“No, it isn’t. I wanted P1.” It’s a bad joke— most of his are— but Vale smiles at him anyway, eyes crinkling behind his sunglasses.

“P2 for you, I think, if you’re done trying to kill yourself.” Vale gestures at the scooter behind him. “You need a lift?

“You offering?”

“I mean you can walk, but that would be less fun for both of us, I think.” Vale says, swinging a leg over the scooter and rummaging for the keys.

“The Valentino Rossi taxi service.” Marc says, climbing onto the back as Vale buckles on his helmet. He leans forward until the enamel of their helmets makes contact, an affectionate bump. He decides to settle his hands on the familiar, narrow space of Vale’s hips, glove catching on the fabric of his shirt.

“For you? I charge double.”

“I can afford it, my husband’s rich.” Marc says, and is rewarded with a bark of a laugh from Valentino and an affectionate slap to his thigh as the ignition catches and they start to move.

Vale pulls away from the track and starts to maneuver towards the pits, scooter rumbling along. Marc closes his eyes, enjoying the ride and the solid weight of Vale in front of him, the way he can lean on him a little, torsos pressed tight. It’s not often he can loosen his control during a race weekend, and it’s nice to not have to focus for a few minutes— to let Vale unwind Marc in that way only he knows how. They don’t get too much alone time on days like these, and Marc lets himself get warm— basking between the sun on his back and the stretch of Valentino in front of him.

It’s over too soon.

“Thanks for the ride,” He says, when Vale slows to a stop in front of Honda’s pit area. He pulls of his helmet.

“Yeah— you be safe, eh?” Vale says, catching Marc’s elbow when he clambers off the scooter. Vale lifts a hand to thumb at Marc’s cheek, and Marc has to lean down to kiss him, soft and sweet, lingering. It’s not the best time for it —he has to get back to his box, there are probably thousands of cameras pointed at them right now, and he has about eight different ideas for the bike setup to iron out with Santi— but right now he doesn’t care. He kisses Vale again, hand on the column of his neck.

“I love you,” He says when he pulls back— he really does have things to do. He grabs his helmet and starts to move away. Vale smacks him on the ass as he goes.

“If you crash again, I will not drive you back next time!” Vale calls as Marc winds his way towards the Honda garage.

“Yes, you will!” Marc calls back, not even turning around. He’s grinning as he ducks around the corner.

And it’s true. It’s something he knows for certain— knowledge that’s sewed itself into his bones— as factual and immutable as the sky being blue, as the sun rising in the morning. If he falls, Vale will be there to catch him.

It’s as simple as that.

[billybob598]

Lucky Charms & If Only's (Frida Maanum x Reader)

Guys, I'm literally so good at banging out fics. Another F1 reader, except this time with Frida! Also, I know Alfa Romeo suck this season but for the purpose of this fic, they're a solid midfield team. This one again requested by anon. Remember any feedback good or bad is welcomed! Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1.2K (Shortest one so far, but whatever)

Frida was always amazed at how well you handled adversity. Such as, reporters being absolute assholes to you. She doesn’t understand how you can be so calm with some of the questions they were asking you.

“The first half of the season has not been what you or the team expected, do you think this is because of the car or yourself?”

“Is it tougher for you to drive the car, because you’re a woman?”

“Do you think Alfa Romeo should keep you on for next season?”

“If it was a man inside the car do you think he’d be able to perform better?”

You were very well media trained. It also helped that these questions were not new to you, they were a recurring theme throughout your career. It was just that now you were in Formula 1 and all the pressure and media had multiplied by 100. 

It was your rookie season and every move you made had been put under the microscope, analyzed by the so-called “experts.” If anything, it was exhausting. Even more so when the first ten races had been subpar, at best. There were only 3 points to your name in the Drivers’ Championship right now. Your teammate, Zhou Guanyu, had 10 points and was driving brilliantly. You knew that you needed a good result here in Austria to show everyone what you could do. 

Your girlfriend, Frida, had seen firsthand how much pressure you were under and the toll it had taken on you. In between race weekends, you tried your best to go see her. She was your rock, she would always listen to you rant, she would watch from the couch as you did hundreds of laps on the F1 game, she would do anything if you asked. Until you asked her to come to one of your races. Of course, she wanted to, but it was difficult with her club season and now preparing for the World Cup. That’s why she hadn’t attended a single race so far this season. Frida hated watching how you instantly deflated each time you asked if she was going to come and she said no. Fortunately, Arsenal’s season was done and she wasn’t to report to the national team for a little bit so, unbeknownst to you, she was flying in Saturday night to be there for race day.

So far, the weekend had been going decent, practice was a little shaky when they found a problem with your engine, but qualifying had been good, narrowly missing out on Q3 finishing P11. As you head back to the hotel, trying to get away from some straggler reporters, you think you’re hallucinating when you see Frida get out of a taxi and head into the hotel. Jogging to catch up to her you shout,

“Frida! Is that you?” She spins around and grins at you.

“Hey babe! Surprise! I finally made it to a race,” she says excitedly. You lean in and give a soft kiss for the first time in what feels like forever (more like 5 days). Pulling away, you grab her hand and drag her to your room. 

The next day, you felt completely relaxed, which was odd because usually before races you get a little nervous, but not today. You put it down to the fact that Frida’s here, her presence always seeming to calm you down. It’s how you used to feel with your parents before they passed away a couple of years ago. Throughout the pre-race traditions, Frida tries her best to stay close to you. She admittedly was feeling a little out of place in the paddock. So, when you finished with a press conference, you immediately find Frida waiting for you and slip your hand into hers. As the pair of you walk through the paddock, Frida can’t help but admire how good you looked. Your race suit was undone, tied around your waist, so your top was just covered by the white fireproofs. They left very little to the imagination, and Frida couldn’t believe you were hers. You give her a funny look before checking if she’s feeling okay. Frida blushes at getting caught checking you out but says she is just fine.

After you slip your helmet on you look over at Frida and give her a little wave. Frida giggles and waves back. You get comfortable inside the car while everyone gets off the grid and prepares for the formation lap. Frida holds her breath as all five lights shine red, before turning off and all twenty cars get going. You get a good start diving down the inside of an Alpine to move up to P10. Over the next couple of laps, you defend from behind you while also trying to make some moves forward. Soon enough you find yourself in a bit of a DRS train, no one getting close enough to overtake. You try your best to stick to the car ahead of you through the first two straights. Heading into turn 4 you stick it around the outside, the entire Alfa Romeo garage cheering. As the race progresses you move even further up until you’re sitting pretty in P5. With only 8 laps left in the race, Sergio Perez, who was ahead of you in P2, has to retire due to a mechanical failure. This promotes you to P4 as the Safety Car is called upon. You swerve back and forth, trying to keep your tires warm as you settle behind Charles Leclerc’s Ferrari. When the Safety Car pulls into the pits and the green flag is given, you immediately smother the back of the Ferrari. You stay behind him for a bit before using DRS and getting by him on a straight. Frida can’t believe what she’s seeing, you were in a position to get your first-ever podium in F1. Those last 5 laps are the longest of your life. Leclerc tried everything to get by you, but you did everything in your power to not let him by. By the time you reach the final lap, your tyres are gone, but as he once again dives down the inside, you brake early and switch back him. You get a much better exit and retake the position. Going through the final sector, your girlfriend is in a state of shock as all the mechanics yell and rush to watch you cross the finish line. 

“That’s a podium mate!” Your engineer exclaims over the radio.

“Oh my God, guys! Thank you so, so much! We’ve done it, what a frickin race mate!” You shout back. 

Parking your car in the pit lane, you get out as quickly as possible to go celebrate with your team. Everyone shouts and hugs you. After taking your helmet off and drinking some water, you find your girlfriend in the crowd and hug her. 

“I swear you’re my lucky charm babe,” you mumble into her neck.

“Does that mean I get to come to more races?” She replies cheekily.

“Oh hell yeah.”

On the podium, you are finally handed your trophy you kiss it before pointing to the sky. If only your parents could see you now, you couldn’t imagine how excited they’d be. If only. 

On the flight back to London with Frida, you can’t help but think about how lucky you were to have her in your life. She really was your lucky charm.

[roseluxxx]

GHOSTIN

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

warnings: cursing, hispanics, part 1

word count: 1.1k

summary: sent to a town to finish a report, the ghost he’s living with decides.. maybe he should stay

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes. The last truck is finally ready to move with all the latest equipment needed for this study; it cannot be procrastinated any longer, O’Hara.”

“Ay dios mío.” the scientist ran his fingers through his hair, eyes wide at the news that the “months away” move to a reclusive house in a far away “no-name” town was tomorrow.

This was technically his fault as his reluctance to complete the report on “Gene Growth Combined Experiment 4 (chemical X42): A conclusion on the development of the embryo.” as the full title stated, finally caught up to him.

He had just been busy developing the Spider-Anthropoid’s final stages; an equally important trial study to him, but not so much to Alchemax.

“You have a month at most, I will try to advocate for an extended stay but it’s in your best interest to finish this conclusion report swiftly. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Wonderful. Now get out of my office O’Hara, the driver will take you to your place and pick you up nice and early tomorrow. Be ready.”

Miguel fought back his taunting remark and left the cold, heartless office.

His work was important. If successful it would create the first human-spider hybrid combination and create an endless amount of possibilities. Ideally to improve the state of the common person, but he wasn’t naive enough to not think it wouldn’t be used for military advances.

“What time tomorrow?”

“9am sharp. Won’t be me though, my friend Gus will he here.” The driver glacéd in the rear view mirror as he pulled up to the window filled penthouse Miguel had the luxury to live in.

“None of my business, sir, but a word from my eavesdropping on the men who I chauffeured earlier.. apparently your new short term living space comes with a rumored “ghost friend”.”

Miguel scoffed, grabbing his coat and laying a few bucks in the drivers’ outstretched hand as he opened the car door, “If it’s none of your business then stay out of it,” he exited the car, “but thanks, chismoso.”

The next morning Miguel snatched the suitcases he packed, shut his blinds and locked his door, making his way to the waiting Taxi.

“Be ‘bout a 20 minute drive to the airport, sir, including traffic.”

He grunted in response, looking out the window as he half listened to the clearly extroverted mans’ essay on his new city’s attractions.

“Yep. But I did hear about that ghost in your house. Good luck with that.”

Miguel’s ears perked up. Ghost? All this talk about this damn ghost was getting him annoyed. Even if there’s such a thing as ther paranormal, he won’t be bothering them and subsequently they don’t have to bother him. Easy.

The yellow cab pulled up to the front of the airport, crowded as usual, and the broad man reluctantly gripped his belongings, giving the world another sigh before preparing himself for a 2 hour flight.

The keys were old, silver, the three individual ones clinging against each other as Miguel pulled them out of the mailbox, a letter falling to the ground.

To Current Renters,

Please note that this property is built on a solid foundation and the doors are properly built into the door frame.

A house is built with consideration to weather events so a very slight creak/sway is expected and not worrying.

It prevents the house from being too stiff and allows for a longer lifespan.

The windows may also be slightly loose within the window frame so feel free to lock them if the draft becomes too much.

No need to report noises either as the walls may run a little thin and animal calls can sound like humans if you are listening through a surface like a wall.

All this to say do not call us to report noises, wind, or creaking in the house.

Sincerely,

(for real.. do not contact us with these issues)

The Owner - Stephen Vincent

He opened the door on his second try, figuring the other keys lead to some kind of garage or safe. The door swung open with a small groan, almost apprehensive with his arrival.

The house itself was comfortable. A glass sliding door across the living space connected to large windows showcasing the beauty forests have to offer; a patio sitting beyond the door.

The kitchen was adorned with dark gray marble tops and a gray and white overall aesthetic for the counters and appliances. It was simple, classy, exactly what his boss thought would allow his mind to stay focused on his task.

Speaking of, the office space had been pre-turned into a small research center complete with the necessary chemicals, equipment, and state of the art technology. If he hadn’t known better he would’ve thought he had a whole mother experiment to conduct while he only needed to draw the conclusions in a consiste report.

That would be left for later, though. He entered what seemed to be his room. Comfortable. A light grey and white with a calming blue pop of color in the decor. Good enough.

Once his luggage had been felt with, he returned to the kitchen to find his fridge already stocked. Perfect.

He began a simple meal of blanco arroz con pollo frito when you saw him. Another one. Only one this time though. He should be easy enough.

You moved closer, getting a better look at this intruder. Immediately you noticed he was handsome, worth a second glance at least. He was toned beyond anyone who had set foot here before, a calm, concentrated expression settling on his face as he seasoned his chicken.

Miguel was dealing with the hot stove, his loungewear on that had just enough coverage to keep him warm when he stopped abruptly, feeling a chill run down his arm.

He dismissed it quickly. It was a new house to him and the air outside cooled drastically at night, a soft draft probably crept in. Big deal.

You decided rather quickly to let him stay for a bit. He was charming, exactly your type if you were honest with yourself which, ofcourse, you’d rather not be when said man barged into your home unannounced.

“You hold my interest,” you peaked at a blue ALCHEMAX security card, seeing the name Miguel O’Hara and the same man that was humming softly as he finished frying his dinner smiling up at you, “I’ll be watching, Miguel O’Hara.”

Thank you for reading! Reposts are extremely appreciated!❣️

A/N: Feel free to send in a request! (taking new ones for a short period of time)

This is part 1 to my new GHOSTIN series! Feel free to comment if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

Like my work? Check out my masterlist!

Also the warnings were a joke (Hispanics)

dont take it up the ahh🥱

[teethondafloor]

Wait On Me - ¡Rescue Me! - (Bill Kaulitz x fem!reader)

This is an extract from the Wattpad fanfic I am currently writing, where each chapter is named after a song on Tokio Hotel's "Scream" album :3

Year: 2008

Warnings: Fluff and mentions of depression

My username on Wattpad is @Kazoozia if you're interested in reading the rest!

________.✮.________

After the concert ends and the lights are flashed back on, I feel a rush of fans behind me heading to the exit doors, their footsteps trampling over any litter left abandoned on the ground. I am one of the first people to leave the venue, as I was stuck hovering near the back of the room all night. However, I can't complain. The concert was unbelievable; Tom's rapid and clean guitar solos are still looping in my head after the show. My ears feel muffled and swollen as they are put at ease once the music is turned off, the large amps projecting a sharp ring when they are suddenly unplugged from their instruments. Deafened by their blare, I walk out of the building, feeling the cool breeze of the night slap me across the face as I inch closer to the outside. The realisation of how hot it was in that room hits me like the cold wind around me, melting away at my touch. I move away from the doors, looking around. I see some parents stepping out of their cars, growing impatient as they wait for their kids to come out of the building behind me. Making space for them, I stand at the wall of the venue with the front doors to my left and call myself a taxi back to the hotel.

As I wait for my taxi to arrive, I can't help but think about the concert again and again. I have the whole night playing over in my head like a broken record, repeating the same lyrics and tunes, burning them into the cracks of my brain. I was blown away by the intense energy from the crowd, perfectly complimenting the lively spirit of the band. I think of Bill. I'm still left speechless from his long stare and his teethy smile, shining in my direction. As some fans walk by, I feel their smiling faces glancing over at me, clearly remembering me for the plethora of noise I made at the back. I gently smile back at some of them as they pass, a sudden feeling of embarrassment washing over me, causing the hair on my arms to rise. God, did I disturb the show?

Busy watching the whole concert play out in my mind, I look up, noticing the taxi pull up on the other side of the pavement in front of me. I pull on the car's door and hop inside, watching my head as I lower my body into the vehicle. When I close the door behind me, I feel the car starting, shaking underneath me. It's rough interior brushes up against my bare arms and there is little room for my legs. It smells like hot shit, but I'll cope, I smile to myself. We drive through the lit up streets of Berlin, the city's graffitied walls blending into a solid, bright pink colour as we drive past them with speed. Looking out at the line of buildings and bars, I dig through my right jean pocket, grasping my crumpled up concert ticket in my palm. I uncrumple it a little and gaze at it's contents. I should've asked for a signature, I think to myself. A little bummed, I still doubt that I'll ever forget a night like this; the electricity of the concert rushing through me still. I scrunch up the paper once more and shove it back into my pocket, and as I look up, I see the hotel edging closer towards us. "This is me." I say to the driver, hoping that he stops near here so I don't have to walk back to the front doors from the parking lot behind the building. To my surprise, he stops just at the front doors of the hotel. I guess luck is on my side tonight, I think. I feel the car stop, the force pushing me forward a little until I bounce back into my seat again. I thank the driver and pay him for the trip, and as I exit the car I glance at my watch, "10.40pm" staring back at me.

Holding onto the straps of my backpack, I enter through the hotel doors and check into my room after a long, eventful night. I stumble towards the elevator doors and step inside, grazing my fingers over the buttons, until  pressing one that leads to the 5th floor. In the elevator, I feel my eyelids starting to lay heavy on my eyes, covering them over almost fully. I sway as the elevator travels from the bottom of the building right to the top, until I hear the 'ding' of the elevator stopping at my floor. As the doors slide open and reveal my face to the other side, I collect myself, step out and take a turn to my right, now walking towards my hotel room. I walk with my eyes half shut, tired and worn from the excitement of the night. On my way down the corridor, I walk past a few people, not batting an eye as they pass; until I hear someone call out from behind me. At first I don't think to turn around, assuming the call is directed to someone else in the hallway. All of the sudden, I feel firm footsteps running towards me, causing cold air to hit my back from the sudden movement. Before I turn around I feel a slight tap on my shoulder. I stop in my step and watch how this tall figure steps in front of me, cutting me off. They are now facing me. Silence settles between us, before they finally speak up. "Sorry to bother...uh...you dropped this" they hand me a crumpled piece of paper. A look of confusion shoots through my face which soon relaxes when I uncrumple the paper, realising that it's my concert ticket. "So...you're a fan I'm guessing" I hear them smile through their words, making me look up slowly. A sharp spark shoots into my throat, through my veins and burns at my fingertips.

It's Bill. Bill Kaulitz. My mouth peers open when I see his face, looking down at me with a smile. His hair is still caked with hairspray, now a little more flat, leaving only some strands pointing up to the ceiling. His fully black, emo attire contrasts with the yellow hallway lights, beaming above us. He looked like my shadow, ominously towering over me. "Oh my god.." I blurt out, not intending him to hear. "Bill, uh..." I shake my head, electricity rushing through me. "What are you...doing here?" I scrunch my eyebrows. He looks down at the floor for a second and then glances back at me before answering. "I'm just..." He thinks "on a walk around the building!" As he examines my face his eyebrows slowly lower and he turns his head slightly to the side. "Were you...at my concert? This nights concert?...You were the girl at the back right? The one screaming." he huffs gently, smiling and awaiting my answer which he clearly already knows.

"Yeah-" I chuckle and nod "yeah that was me up there...I hope I didn't disturb the concert too much." I smile awkwardly.

"No way!" His smile widens, revealing his teeth "You killed it! You brought that concert to life!" I bite the inside of my cheek as I smile, surprised by his enthusiasm. "And you...you were amazing up there- the...the whole band was. you killed that." I say, shaking my head. Bill laughs quietly and looks down at his feet, taking in my praise before opening his mouth to say something. "Thank you thank you...tonight was great for me too, I only fucked up like...once or twice" We both laugh and I notice him looking me up and down subtly.

"It was perfect, don't stress it." I say, reassuring him. We stand in silence for a moment, not knowing what else to say when I finally speak up, breaking our eye contact. "Well, I'll let you go now, you can have your...stroll around the building" I say jokingly. Bill looks away, chuckling softly. "Yeah uh...I'll do that!..." He takes a step forward, heading up the corridor before suddenly hesitating. "Oh my god I'm awful...I don't think I got your name sorry..." He stutters a little when he says this, anticipating my answer. Charmed by his awkwardness, I smile and gaze into his eyes. "y/n" I say, nodding my head.

"y/n" He repeats my name back, letting it's taste settle in his mouth. After a moment of brief silence, he breaks our eye-contact, his eyes shooting quick glances at me "Well, I hope you have a nice night y/n." Standing inches away from me, he raises his arm out, inviting me to shake it. I take his hand gently, feeling his cold rings pressing against my fingers. He looks at me for just a second longer and heads down the corridor before I can say my goodbyes. I turn back, my eyes following the back of his head.

Stricken with shock, I'm stunned to my core. What the hell just happened, I think, my back now to him. I just spoke to Bill fucking Kaulitz. Although I am frozen over in shock, I still feel a sort of warmth clustering inside my stomach. I think of his awkward smiles and prolonged stares. In that moment he was so...human. Up until now I've never really seen him in this light, as the only light that is flickered onto him is through interviews and photoshoots; where he is glamorised and simplified, leaving out the human part of him in between each flicker. Seeing his authenticity slip through his stutter, made me realise that Bill in fact is not a shadow that towers over me which I can morph into my own liking, but a person; one like me. I look down at the concert ticket, now warm in my grasp. Maybe I don't need that signature after all.

________.✮.________

Rummaging my keys through the keyhole, I step inside my breezy hotel room, locking the door behind me. I had left some windows open before leaving for the concert, which left the day's cold breath swirling around the room, blowing on the long and cheap curtains which brush against the carpeted floor. Feeling the air grazing my arms, I take a hold of my elbows in a gentle embrace while I step towards one of the windows, reaching over to shut it. A final huff of air escapes the window as I close it, shuffling the curtains delicately before they settle at last. I look out at the city below me, the sky painted a rich blue with shiny white glitter scattered all over. The moon casts a beam of light onto the city's buildings, which disappears into their shadows, creating a maze of black alleyways in between them. Admiring the view at my feet, I pull the curtains over the window, the rings holding them up jamming as I force them towards me. The moon's faint light still peers through the thin fabric, reflecting onto the carpet. With little light in the room, I shuffle towards the small lamp on table next to my bed, and blindly feel the switch with my fingers before pressing it. As the room bursts into a warm wash of light, I set my bag down on the ground next to the dresser.

What a night, I think. The exhaustion from the long day hits me once more, and I feel myself yawn as I stretch my arms out in front of me and rest them on my head. I take a moment to breathe, process. My mind is fogged with moments from the concert and the taxi and the ticket and Bill. Bill. Mostly Bill. The realisation that he is in the same building as me right now is slowly setting in, leaving me speechless. God. What if I run into him again? That would be awkward...I think? I don't know. I can't think right now. I need to uh...

I rub my eyes with both hands, wanting to keep myself awake. Trying to gather my thoughts, I look around again before untying my converse and unzipping my jeans, sliding them off of my legs in a struggle. I pick my jeans up with one hand and throw them into the corner of the room, where a pile of the rest of my dirty (or not so dirty) clothes helplessly lie. Honestly, I lost track of what pile that is a while ago. I stumble towards the small bathroom across from me and I hit the light switch with my hand, its bright flash blinding me. I hold onto the edge of the bathtub in the room, propping myself up while I turn the shower on and wait for the warm water to flow through its pipes. The cold and sharp water drips onto my knuckles, sprinkling me with its thin shards; I wiggle my hand above the bath, shaking it off. grabbing my band shirt by its sides, I pull it over my head and arms, dropping it onto the bathroom floor. As I hear it fall behind me, I slip out of my underwear and step into the tub, watching my head on the railing above. The water is warming up now and I can feel its warm droplets hitting against my skin, washing away the excitement of the night.

I stand in the shower for almost an hour, letting the water cleanse my mind as well as my skin. The burning steam from the shower fogs up the glass surrounding it, trapping the heat inside as it sinks into my pores. After allowing the water to warm me up completely, I sigh and turn the shower off, carefully stepping out of the tub. I grab a towel off of its rack which is bolted onto the wall, first drying myself off and then using it to wrap my hair in a tight turban. I walk out of the bathroom, hearing the soles of my feet patter on the damp floor under me after each step. I wander over to my white sheeted bed and throw myself onto it, my eyes looking up at the ceiling above me. I sit for a while in silence, my mind tired and still fogged with the hot steam which soon disintegrates into the air, revealing the thoughts which I had suppressed the whole night. 

What am I doing? I think. I glance over to my bedside table which holds a small lamp, a pile of university leaflets and pages of forms to fill out. I sigh and roll onto my side, my eyes now pointing to my laptop; I haven't turned it on since I got here a week ago. I've been avoiding writing for weeks now, which is definitely not helping me develop my portfolio. Stupid fucking portfolio. mountains of monologues and poems that I never manage to rhyme properly. They say I need to showcase my best work, for the world to know what I can do. But I just...can't. I can't help but keep proving that all of this is for nothing. I don't know what's wrong with me...I wanted this, I did. I said I would travel all the way out here to find a decent university that will take me in for what I am, for what I can do. For what I thought I could do. But what if I can't do this anymore? What if I'm sick of trying? What if these pages I'm writing mean nothing and I'm wasting my time trying to be understood. When the world was made for visuals and I can only communicate with words. God. My mind spirals down into a hole, the same hole that was left deep within me when my music career failed and plummeted into it. I'm so scared that writing will dig deeper, leaving me hallow. I notice my breath quicken as these thoughts race through me and even as I wallow in self pity, I hold myself, forcing any comfort I could find left within me onto myself.

I yawn gently, looking around the dimly lit room as the bedside lamp flickers slightly. I reach over to the drawer, pulling it open with ease and dig out my silver iPod mini, clutching it and the earphones dangling from it in the palm of my hand. Switching off the lamp, I pull the hotel's white duvet over me; soft folk melodies singing me to sleep. Laying with my thoughts tangling in my head, I skip a song and a familiar tune starts to play: "This used to be our secret...Now I'm hiding here alone..." It was 'Rescue Me'. I remind myself of the the same lyrics that played at the concert a few hours ago. Hours ago when loud music also drowned out my thoughts. I curl up into a ball as the song plays, feeling the duvet absorb my body heat and create a soft mist of heat hovering over me like a warm aura. I fall fast asleep, screaming in my head, my voice desperately trying to escape me. "...My S.O.S on radio...The only chance to let you know...What I fear...Can you hear?...Come and rescue me..."

________.✮.________

- teethondafloor (Zuźka)

[ladywaffles]

From the prompt list: icemav + 6. patting the other’s head?? If it inspires

icemav + patting the other’s head

i do not know the meaning of brevity. send me a pairing and a prompt!

To be a fighter pilot, you have to have ego.

It’s not just a requirement, it’s an immutable law. It’s on the checklist of fighter pilot eligibility. One: candidate must be a United States citizen of sound mind and body. Two: candidate must have a four-year degree from an accredited educational institution. Three: candidate must have ego the size of the Grand Canyon and the guts to back it up.

Fighter pilots are young, good-looking guys who grow into stately, well-tailored men. Elegant. Gentlemanly. Airs of class that have since ebbed away in the general population, but which find a home in the handful of officers who call themselves naval aviators, and they wear them damn well.

Ice has always been particular about his appearance; it’s hard not to be painfully aware of it, with twelve years of detentions earned for uniform infractions at elite private schools and four years of the Naval Academy bearing down on him. He holds it together through the six months of hellish diagnoses it takes for the doctors to figure out what’s making him sick (cancer), where the cancer is (his lungs), and where it metastasized to (his throat). There’s never a hair out of goddamn place through the whole endeavor. But when they finally figure it out and get him on a chemotherapy plan, the pristine picture of the Iceman falls apart.

His tan is the first to go; if he’s being honest, it was already on its way out. It’s been nigh on ten years since he was last in a cockpit, and trading his F-14 for another stripe on his sleeve meant he hardly saw the sun in his cramped offices. Maverick used to tease that he looked like a vampire, losing the California bronze that’s been embedded in his skin since he was old enough to walk. Jokes like that are far and few between now that it’s no longer the job that’s draining his color, but his own body.

In the end, it’s easy to let the tan go. What really gets him, what really hurts, is when his hair starts falling out. Iceman has impeccable hair. The sun rises in the east. The facts of life. He puts off shaving it as long as he can, because yes, it’s just hair, and yes, it should grow back—the doctors assured him it would probably grow back—but dammit, he’s a fighter pilot, and he has his pride.

He sulks about it for weeks: gently combing his hair, putting as little product into it as possible so as to prolong the life of the strands that remain, taking shorter showers to reduce the likelihood of tufts of blonde falling out and running down the drain.

Maverick is solid at his side, his own hair dark as the day they met. In the deepest parts of his heart, he hates Maverick just a little bit for it. The asshole doesn’t even have the decency to be going gray yet, and here Ice is losing it all.

But then Maverick will tell him he passed his driving test and got a proper driver’s license so he could drive Ice back and forth from his appointments so Ice wouldn’t have to ride in a smelly taxi on the way home when he’s already starting to feel nauseous, or he’ll smile at Ice when he gets home and say, “Hey, I called up Wolf and he found that baked potato soup recipe from that place we ate at in ’96,” or he’ll sit at Ice’s side at two in the morning on the bathroom floor when the vertigo has Ice kneeling at the altar of the porcelain throne, even though he has to be at the base at five-thirty to do briefings and pre-flight checks, and Ice can’t remember why he was annoyed about Maverick’s hair at all.

Maverick drives him to his next chemo appointment. He sits in the waiting room, perusing the latest copy of People Magazine. Maverick hates People Magazine, but there’s not much else the hospital waiting room can offer in terms of salient literature, so People Magazine it is.

Ice goes back for his chemo treatment. Phil, his technician, doesn’t say much as he putters around the room, hanging IV drip bags here and flipping switches on medical equipment there. When Ice is all hooked up, they chat about inane things. Phil recounts his daughter’s swim meet. Ice responds with tales of his own swim meets, back at the Naval Academy. Phil says his son signed up for flag football, but God bless him, he’s shit at the sport. Ice promises that he’s not going to get much better at it, if he sucks this much at it now; he’s got his own scars from high school to prove it.

Phil unhooks him from the infernal treatment and books him for an appointment in two weeks. Maverick puts down People Magazine—a different issue than he was reading before, Ice notes—and drives them both home. He helps Ice into the living room and lays him down on the couch with the quilt that Carole made for their sort-of-fifteenth-anniversary. He kisses Ice on the forehead and goes to the kitchen to start dinner, and Ice is out like a light.

When he wakes up again, the sky is a dusky gray. It’s just past sundown. Maverick let him sleep for hours.

“Mav?” he calls out. Ice pushes himself up off the couch, his elbows creaking as he goes. “Maverick?”

“In here!” Maverick replies from the guest bathroom. “I’ll be just a second!”

Ice hums and goes into the kitchen. There’s a pot on the counter, but it’s not one of theirs. He lifts the lid; savory chicken congee, with ginger root and scallions. The Reyes’ must have dropped something off while he was asleep.

“Oh, yeah, Martin came by with some soup,” Maverick says behind him. “He says there’s no better cure than his wife’s arroz caldo, not even your mama’s chicken noodle soup.”

Ice puts the lid back on the pot. He turns to Maverick, ready to bear all of his weight down on his partner, because chemo is a bitch and he feels exhausted just standing here in his own kitchen—

—And flinches.

“What the fuck did you do to your hair?” Ice cries. Maverick cracks a grin, his signature Colgate smile.

“Do ya like it?” he asks.

Like it? Ice reaches out for his head, and Maverick leans in. He runs his hand over Maverick’s scalp, feeling the smoothness of his skin. He passes over the whole landscape once, twice, his fingers tripping over the tips of Maverick’s ears and the nape of his neck, as if he’d find something there like a magician performing a sleight of hand, but there’s nothing there.

“It’s all gone,” Ice laughs, somewhat hysterical. “It’s gone, it’s gone! What did you do? What the fuck did you do!”

Maverick shaved all of his thick, dark hair off. All of it is gone. All of Maverick’s damnable, doesn’t-have-the-decency-to-go-even-a-little-salt-and-pepper hair has disappeared.

Maverick smiles, teary himself. “Yeah, babe, it’s all gone.” He takes Ice’s hands in his and holds them tight. Ice tries to fight his own tears, but they’re doing what they please.

“Mitchell, what the hell?”

Maverick laughs. “C’mon, Kazansky, give me some credit. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you worrying about your hair falling out.” He cups Ice’s chin with one hand, looking straight into his eyes. “I thought you’d be less scared of it if we did it together.”

“Maverick,” Ice starts.

He doesn’t know where to go. It’s a grand gesture, that’s for sure, and if fifteen-odd years of knowing Maverick have taught him anything, it’s that you cannot always listen to what Maverick Mitchell says, you must only listen to what he does.

“Maverick,” he says again.

“Ice,” Maverick replies. “Let’s eat. And when we’re done, we’ll call Slider up and tell him what I did, and you can make as much fun of me as you want—for tonight only!—and we can talk about what you want to do next.”

They end up eating dinner in the bathroom. Maverick takes bites of his congee in between bouts of shaving off Ice’s hair as Ice huddles in the tub, ducking his head keep anything from falling into his own bowl. When they’re finished, they cram next to each other in Ice’s office and call Slider on Skype. His laughter is piercing through the laptop speakers and echoes down the hall.

And when Slider arrives ten days later, to, “Make sure Mitchell isn’t leaving you to fend all for yourself, I mean does he even know how to make a proper chicken noodle soup,” he knocks on Ice and Maverick’s front door sporting a grin and a freshly-shaved head.

Fighter pilots might have egos, but they’re a fiercely loyal bunch, too.

[the-bus-called-graveyard-8]

Madagascar in Nickelodeon Magazine (part 4 of 4)

This last part is some miscellaneous Madagascar content that has appeared in various issues of Nick Mag. I used to keep all my Nick Magazines in big binders so I could reread them, but some years ago I decided to finally get rid of them. I only kept a select few (the Madagascar ones, of course) but before I tossed the rest I flipped through five years' worth of issues looking for any scraps of Madagascar. I don't know which issues any of these bits and bobs are from, but here they are nonetheless!

First we have a prank DVD cover for an absurd mashup of several 2000s animated movies called "Flushed Through the Hedge in a Happy Car". One of the characters parodied is Alex the lion, and several aspects of Madagascar appear in film's description. Full transcript under the read more.

Front cover:

"Flushed Through the Hedge in a Happy Car"

A penguin, a taxi, one wild ride...

Starring Will Smith, Tom Hanks, Ellen DeGeneres, Wanda Sykes, and Luke Wilson

From the creators of "Charlotte's Open Barnyard"

Back cover:

A break-dancing New York City Penguin named Happy (Wanda Sykes) is accidentally shipped to a zoo in Mexico City. The homesick bird escapes and meets a hilariously sassy taxi named Turbo McCab (Will Smith), who offers to drive her home. Along the way, they get stuck in the woods during hunting season, freeze solid during an ice age, and visit an underground rodent city, where they pick up a tuxedo-wearing mouse named Wobbly (Tom Hanks). Just outside of New York City, Turbo gets a flat. A nerdy raccoon named AJ (Ellen DeGeneres) offers to take Happy over the hedge to find a spare.

Once in human territory, Happy becomes obsessed with Dancing in the Suburbs. Will Happy find happiness as a reality show star? Will her lion dance partner (Luke Wilson) ever learn his moves? Will Turbo ever get to race in the Madagascar 5000? Can penguins really talk? And who is paying for all of Turbo's parking tickets?

2-Disc DVD Collector's Edition

Bonus features include:

A step-by-step look at the 350-day process of creating convincing CGI fuzzy dice.

Deleted scenes that were cut because they stink real bad.

Voice talent farting into the microphone during recording.

Trailers for other penguin movies.

Director's commentary.

Director's dog's commentary

Rated P for Penguin

Digitally mastered for superior penguin cuteness

Next we have three ads I snipped out of different issues.

Top left: Madagascar video games

"Madagascar and the all new Madagascar: Operation Penguin

Go from the zoo to a place that's totally new

Rule the city and the jungle in two hit games based on the hit movie. In Madagascar, play as Alex, Marty, Gloria, and Melman in a wild adventure. Available on all video game consoles. In Madagascar: Operation Penguin, play as Private Penguin in madcap missions, available only on GameBoy Advance."

Bottom left: Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa video game

"Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa

For PS2, PS3, Xbox 360, Wii, PC, and DS

Play as all the main characters—including the penguins—through the story of the Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa movie.

Tip: In the soccer match in the In Madagascar level in single-player mode, Mort the lemur can be a tough goalie. Raise the Power Meter to the 75 percent mark and you can kick the ball over Mort's head and score nearly every time.

Zelda the roving reporter: Do you have a license to drive that?"

Right: TPoM world premiere

"What's New on Nick

Penguins of Madagascar

The penguins are back, and this time, it's for their very own show! Catch the premiere immediately after the Kids' Choice Awards on Saturday, March 28. And check out the first-ever Penguins of Madagascar online game at nick.com."

Lastly, we have this crossover comic of the Penguins with Aang from Avatar: The Last Airbender. I don't have the cutout of this, but I distinctly remember seeing it in the Gag Station of one issue's Comic Book section. I was able to find it online but unfortunately I don't know the artist.

And that's every time Madagascar was featured in Nickelodeon Magazine!

[starwarsmum]

Day 3! Today's prompt is Head Over Feet

@maribat-calendar-events

Marinette packed the last box in her room and glanced around. The room felt larger than before, the bed neatly made and the desk empty. The bookshelf was bare of trinkets and novels, freshly dusted and gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. 

“You know, when I said I wanted Nino to move in I didn't mean you had to move out,” Alya said, leaning against the door jamb. Marinette smiled at her and came over to give her best friend a hug.

“I do know that, but I also know that a two bed apartment with three people is a squeeze. I was thinking about moving to America anyway, this is just a good time to do it. So really, I should be thanking you both for the push.”

“Sure, if that's what you're telling yourself,” Alya snorted, hugging her back tightly. “You promise to call if you need anything, day or night? I don't want you worrying about the time difference if you need something.”

“I promise.”

_ _ _

Stepping off the plane in New Jersey, Marinette felt a whisper of change in the air. As she'd come into her powers as Guardian, she had noticed that her instincts had honed and, more frequently now, she could anticipate when something big was going to happen. She assumed it was her link to Fluff making her more attuned to the future.

It didn't feel like a bad change, but it was something she would be on the lookout for. Normally, when she felt this particular whisper, it meant that she should take an opportunity. It gave her a flutter in her stomach, an anticipation that made her twitch a little as she grabbed her luggage and made her way over to the taxi rank.

She looked at the sparse few taxis and let her instinct pull her over to one that looked a little beat up. It was surprisingly clean inside, and the man driving it was devilishly handsome with dark hair and a strong build. He smiled at her and asked where she needed to go, not once leering at her or making her feel uncomfortable.

“I'm actually headed into Gotham,” she said, putting her luggage in the seat next to her as she slid in. “I'm staying in the fashion district…” she rattled off the address and he nodded along. Before long he had pulled away and was chattering easily as they made their way to Gotham.

He pulled up in front of the apartment building and she frowned slightly. She could just about see the resemblance to the photos she had viewed online, but there was at least a decade’s worth of dirt and grime built up on it all. The cabbie chuckled when he saw her face.

“Look a little different to what you were expecting?”

“Yes, but I'm locked into the contract for at least six months so it'll have to do,” she said, paying him and tipping generously. He tried to protest but she leveled a glare at him until he relented. “Thank you, I hope you have a lovely night.”

Using the key that had been posted to her, and the code she had been emailed the day before, she got into her new apartment and breathed a sigh of relief. It was cleaner inside than out, the walls a little dingy but the floors were clear of dirt. The room's were bare, ready for her to furnish as she wanted but there were appliances in the kitchen.

She was glad she’d known it wouldn't have a bed and pulled a yoga mat, pillow, and blanket out of her suitcase. She could probably get a solid six hours of sleep if she crashed then, and then she could go find a coffee shop and somewhere to get some furniture delivered.

As she lay down, Tikki curled up in the crook of her neck and they went to sleep.

_ _ _

Tim sat on top of the Wayne Enterprises building as he worked on some of his patrol logs. He had his ear on comms but if he could get the paperwork done while he waited to be needed he could just go to bed when his shift ended. 

“Yo, Robin, I think the guys we've been waiting for are ready to get in the cab,” Dick's voice crackled into life in his ear and he sighed before giving two clicks to let him know he was on his way. It didn't take long for him to land on the outer edges of Gotham, following the only road that would lead from the New Jersey airport. 

Dick's voice carried on, generic questions about what they were doing in town, whether they needed advice on where to stay…it wouldn't have worked for anyone else, but something about Dick just disarmed people. 

As soon as they left the cab - barely bothering to pay for the ride, until the last guy to exit seemed to realise it might cause problems to short change and Gotham cabbie - Tim took over surveilling the trio of men, following them to a warehouse. Once he was sure that this was their base, he slipped in and planted a recording device with a direct link to his tablet.

“Okay, I'm all done with that, I'll send you the link to the videos and audio once they start rolling in.”

“Thanks Robin,” Dick said easily and Tim grinned even though he couldn't be seen. “I didn't tell you about the woman I picked up at the airport yet! She gave me an insane tip after I dropped her off in the fashion district.”

“Wait, a woman travelling alone in the middle of the night just…got in your cab? Did she have a death wish or something, we made that cab look sketchy as hell!”

“I know, right? She was super confident too, gave me her actual address and everything. She was moving to town, I hope she doesn't end up doing something stupid. She was kind of cute and that doesn't always go down well in Gotham.”

“Do I need to warn Oracle that you've got wandering eyes?” Tim said in an amused voice.

“Hey, absolutely not! I'm head over heels for my one true love,” Dick said hotly, making Tim snigger. “I was thinking more like cute for you. You haven't been on all that many dates since you and Wonder Girl finally called it quits and I know it can get lonely up at the manor.”

“Well thanks, but no thanks. I'm doing just fine and I don't think dating a ditzy girl who thinks traveling at night in Gotham is a smart way to spend time is really my type.”

[yakuzabrainrotlive]

Finished Like a Dragon! 87 hours of play time all in all. Do NOT ask me how I squeezed in that amount of hours in less than 3 weeks, I'm already ashamed enough😭

Some general stuff and opinions at the bottom part of the post!

My (way too high) levels before the final stretch (around +2 levels for final bosses):

I'm... considering starting Gaiden right away because it dropped into my mailbox today. But I have an 8-day long trip back home starting December 2nd, and I'm not quite sure if I wanna start and then get interrupted. But I also wanna start Infinite Wealth asap... hmmm...

Good to see Date doing well. Kinda surprised Adachi and him are pals. Serena being the base of operations once again, I shouldn't be surprised.

...AND the Millennium Tower being the stage for the final battle again, too.

I'm gonna be fr; CAN WE BLOW THIS TOWER UP?? Like properly?? Ever since the damn thing was built (AND before it, since the Empty Lot was the ground underneath it), it's been nothing but a place for bloodshed. Almost like it's cursed and needs blood sacrifices to keep itself going. Now, I'm not trying to blame the tower, but... something's up. It needs to go.

My dad when I don't answer messages he sends at 1am

Very good acting from the gang. What a bunch of silly goobers.

I've hated Arakawa jr. since the beginning of the game, so you'll have to excuse me being petty and saving this rocket launcher just for this moment. It was satisfying to finish the fight this way.

It was cool to fight 1v1 at the end, but I was kinda scared I'd die and have to start everything again. Even though it was pretty much impossible considering my overall level lol

Awww. Ichi is very sweet. Almost too sweet; I feel like that's gonna cause him a lot of pain in the future.

....do I sound like Majima when he talked to Kiryu at the start of Kiwami right now? lmao

Despite the game kinda trying to make me feel bad for Arakawa, I truly didn't feel anything when I saw this. Well, I did feel very bad for Ichiban, but I really couldn't be bothered to feel anything for this dude in particular. Bye 👋🏻🙂

Adachi finally getting his closure was nice. Good for him! 🫶🏻

sighhhhh *rapid-fire screenshot noises* 😩

Kinda curious to see where the whole security firm business goes. Sounds... weird right now, but I'll let RGG cook. Kinda hard to imagine Majima sticking around for something like that, but maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he'll stay for Saejima and Daigo. Who knows.

Kiryu will probably fuck off somewhere again because of the contract, so I'm not even gonna speculate what's gonna happen with him. For all I know he's going back to driving a taxi in Nagasugai. Or maybe he'll go live in a forest somewhere far away and live as a hunter-gatherer in isolation. Nothing would surprise me at this point. Kinda sorta hoping he'll vibe with Watase for a while, but that's pretty much as likely as Majima growing another eye.

Ichiban staying with his team was a given, but it was still relieving to hear it from the man himself.

NOW. How did I like the game?

Uhhh... How do I put this. Fuck it, I'll be honest: NOT one of my favourites. The battle system is a MASSIVE part of that.

I'm just gonna say it now: I didn't enjoy the fights in the game. As soon as I got Hariti's Amulet, I never took it off. I just couldn't be bothered to put up with all that. I didn't find fights thrilling or engaging - not even boss battles - besides a few select situations. Those situations being Kiryu switching styles and the Majima + Saejima combo. And, unfortunately for this game, fights tend to be a big part of these games. So yeah.

The plot? Solid enough, I suppose? I didn't really feel drawn-in before chapter 12, but it was... okay. Didn't blow my mind, but also not bad by any metric. About the middle ground (or slightly above it) for what I've seen from the games this far. I know a lot of people love the plot and I can definitely see why! Idk what my issue was, but it is what it is. Maybe I'll watch just the cutscenes at some point and re-evaluate.

(new) characters? Cool. It was interesting having a whole squad after spending so much time solo in the previous games. The group dynamics were cool. I do feel like Joon-gi and Zhao didn't really have too much interaction with the rest of the group besides Ichiban? Yeah, the convos on the street were nice enough, but besides that, I honestly can't remember those two interacting too much with the others in a more casual setting? Idk, maybe my memory is just overloaded rn. I might be remembering it all totally wrong and forgetting stuff. Overall a nice group. Cozy vibes fr.

Favourite newbies... Saeko and Adachi. Maybe a bit random, but I just clicked with them the most. But I do have to give shoutouts to Eri and Joon-gi for pretty much cutting battle time by 75% with their devastating Divine Shot + Darts Airstrike combo. Not too many lucky survivors around after that.

Another huge shoutout to the hundreds of Invested Vagabonds I tore apart for exp. I will never be able to repay my debt to their kind. RIP kings 🫡

Soundtrack slapped. Substories were fun; among TOP3 games when it comes to those. Picking up bugs was relaxing, so shoutout to the bugs too.

All in all? It was okay! Probably not gonna replay the game because of how much the battle system frustrated me. Yes, even the infamous blockuza 3 surpasses this one in my books. If you enjoyed the battle system in this game, that's cool and valid! It just wasn't my cup of tea. Not gonna go into specific details in this post. Feel free to ask if you want said details. When I started the game, I did make it clear that I'm very picky about turn-based stuff, so y'all were warned.

[nicistrying]

Monday 23rd December

Worked at home, my last full day. It was pretty quiet, can't complain at all. Sunrise was beautiful at 8.30

Spent the evening wrapping the last of the presents. I am so done with wrapping. Maggie lay with me all night for moral support. She was so good while I wrapped everyone else's dogs' treats and toys 🥺 Just lay there watching and trying to discreetly sniff lol. I left hers til last when she was downstairs with Matt and put them under the tree. I love her so much 😭

Matt made veggie sausage & apple rolls to take to his parents' tomorrow which look and smell soooo good 😍 Honestly not really looking forward to spending the evening with them but I just need to remember once I get through Christmas Eve and Christmas Day we are just seeing my family on Boxing Day, having a couple of nice little outings with our friends and then fucking off to Scotland for New Year. I can't wait to just be nowhere near anyone and have no expectations on ua. I find Christmas exhausting and frustrating that we are just expected to leave Maggie at home, drive around for 3 solid days visiting everyone else, people get annoyed that we are driving as if we don't want to have fun (we don't really care about not being able to drink and we live far enough away that we are willing to stay sober and drive rather than get a taxi), but they also don't want to come see us at our house 🤷🏼‍♀️ we can't win. Anyway I'm holding out for New Year with my little family ❤️ Sending soooo much love to everyone who finds this time of year difficult. We've got this and we will just make the best we can of it 🫶

[itsthestutterforme]

A Night in Charlotte 2/3 (Rafe Cameron x black!reader)

Summary: After that night in Charlotte, you start to adjust to life in OBX

Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, this will be a three part series, requests are open for OBX, Rafe being an absolute simp for reader, implied sex

**

The thought of you had been rattling around in Rafe’s head since he left Charlotte. The morning after, he found himself admiring your sleeping form. He’d never met anyone who slept so pretty. And what kind of man would he be if he didn’t admire such beauty by giving you some morning head.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself when you looked down to meet his deep gaze, his perfect lips suctioning your clit until your back was arching off the bed. He was all over you and you loved every second of it. Loved it a little too much. You had to remind yourself that it was just sex and you would probably never see him again.

You waited until he hopped into the shower to leave as quietly as possible. You grabbed some of the included breakfast his hotel offered before calling a taxi to bring you back to the hotel room.

Later that day Bobby picked you up, apologizing to you nearly to entire ride back to OBX. You tugged at the itchiness of the turtleneck you wore to cover Rafe’s hickeys he littered your neck and chest with. Bobby gave you the rundown about who to avoid and how to stay out of trouble.

You followed his advice for the most part and somehow to managed to land a job as bookkeeper for a local bait and tackle shop that Bobby is business partners with. You liked the job. It didn’t take a lot of brain power and you got paid on the higher end for just having experience. The only bad part about it was having the time to think back on your time with Rafe.

It was harder during the first two weeks but soon your time with Rafe faded into the past. Now it’s a month and you’ve moved on to bigger, better things. There was an annual drive in theater showing The Outsiders. One of your coworkers, Derek, invited you out on a date and you said yes, why not.

Little did you know what was going to happen at the drive in. Derek laid out a picnic blanket in the back of his truck, offering his jacket to you the first few minutes of the movie. You were about half way in when you had to use the bathroom. He asked if you wanted him to keep you company but you convinced him that you would be fine.

You walked towards the portapotties near the food counter when you heard a series of grunts. Following the sound of pained grunts and solid blows, you saw a familiar fro belonging to Pope. He was being held down by a shorter man with black buzzed hair while another man fought two boys you recognized were Pope’s friends, John B and JJ. “The cross belongs to me,” Pope says weakly.

“You’re too little too late, young blood. It’s already melted down to tiny bits.” The man taunts. Picking up the thickest branch you could find, you hit the man holding Pope, directly at the base of his head. The man let Pope go so he could turn around and you sent a solid punch to his face before he had the chance to fully turn around. “Shit! Rafe, get that bitch!” The man starts.

You froze at the mention of his name. Rafe looked to you and immediately let go of his hold on John B. Pope looked at you with wide eyes. “Get behind me. All of you,” you tell them, thankful that they listened. “What..” Rafe starts. “I can handle this. Go get to safety.” You tell Pope.

“I’m not leaving you with them. They’re crazy,” he defies. “I’ll meet you guys at the house… Now, Pope. Let the adults handle this.” They hesitantly leave and disappear into the woods. “Bad idea. Who else is going to defend you, huh?” Barry says, wiping away the blood from his nose.

“Me,” Rafe says from behind him, slowly walking towards you. “The fuck you mean ‘you’? She busted my nose, bro.” “Just leave, man. Go get that checked out.” “What the fuck just happened?” Rafe’s eyes never left yours except to look at the rest of you.

You did something different with your hair. Instead of the box braids he initially saw you with, you wore short passion twists that ended about shoulder length. You dyed your hair light brown and he was loving every second of it. You weren’t the only one who made changes. Rafe had a buzz cut like his partner in crime.

“I’ll explain everything later. Just go, Barry.” He commanded and Barry mumbled something under his breath before walking to his dirt bike. “What the hell are you doing here, Y/N?” Rafe asks once the two of you were alone. “I could ask you the same thing,” you answer, crossing your arms. “I was born and raised here,” “As of now, I live here.”

“You’ve been here the whole time since Charlotte?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck anxiously. “Yes, I have.” “Where have you been? Haven’t seen you around here.” “I’ve been busy with work,” you explained shortly. You must admit, he was asking you tons of questions like he’s your boyfriend or something. “Hm. Where have you been working?” He asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“None of your business. It’s time for me to start asking the questions now. What are you doing fighting with sixteen year old boys?” “They don’t know how to mind they’re own fucking business.” “Watch it,” you warn. “Sorry, momma bear.” He taunts with his hands up in surrender. “Is all of this fighting about a cross? What cross was he talking about? I never took you as the Christian type.” You asked, genuinely confused.

“Listen sweetheart, the less you know, the better. I mean it. I just got back from being held hostage because of this shit. It’s best if you stay out of it.” Rafe suggests. “I can’t stay out of it if my cousin can get hurt.” “Loyalty. Makes you ten times better.” He flirts, closing the gap between you. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a Heyward?” “I’m actually a Tanny. And the last I checked, there wasn’t much talking,” You correct, holding his gaze.

His eyes fell to your lips, licking his own in restraint so he wouldn’t kiss you. Even though he desperately wanted to. He noticed a strong scent the longer he was close to you. His face twisted when he smelled another man’s cologne on you. “You’re on a date?”

“I was. Yeah.” He remained silent for a moment, examining your delicate features. The two of you got lost in the moment, listening to the audio of Outsiders and the cicadas screeching from the woods, your breaths falling into sync. “Let me take you home.” He offers in a low voice, twirling a twist between his fingers.

Before you could formulate a response, Derek calls your name. Turning to face him, your shoulder brushed against Rafe’s chest as you subconsciously leaned into him. “Derek, hi. I was just about to head home.”Hey, Derek. I’m going to head home. “Is everything alright? Are you not feeling well?” Derek asks, trying to make sense of the situation. He steps closer to you and Rafe instinctively stood in front you.

“Nah bro, she just likes me better. And she won’t be needing this.” Rafe removes the jacket draped over your shoulders, balled it up and threw it at him. Derek catches it against his chest. “And if you’re going on a date, at least have the decency to buy genuine cologne. Not the cheap, watered down shit, Derek.” Rafe jabs.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend, Y/N.” “She doesn’t have to explain shit to you. Now piss off.” Guilt weighed on your chest when you saw Derek’s shoulder sag as he walked back to where he came. Your jaw dropped at the way he was speaking to people. “What the hell was that?” You pushed at his chest, barely making him move an inch.

“I was defending you. You dodged a bullet on that one, trust me.” “I’m not yours, you know.” You rolled your eyes in annoyance, his hand gently gripping your chin as he turn your face to look at him. “Not yet,” a breath hitched in your throat, scared to move an inch. You can’t close the Pandora’s box once it’s been opened.

“Are you taking me home or not?” “Right. You don’t have to tell me the address. I already know.” He lets go of your chin softly and starts walking to the array of cars. You walked next to him, your hand occasionally grazing his, making your heart skip a beat. “Well that’s not comforting. You’re definitely not knowing where I work. I can’t let the fact that you’re hot distract me from being logical.” “Awe, you think I’m hot? Thank you.” “Oh for the love of God,”

“I’m telling you, they know each other.” John B starts. “How? She’s literally from Atlanta, Georgia. Where would they have met each other?” Pope defends. “I don’t know. But they have a history. You see the way Rafe forgot about what he was doing when she showed up?” John B explains

“Forget that. Did you guys see the way they were looking at each other? They totally fucked,” JJ intercepts and John B nodded in agreement. Pope, Sarah and Kiara made noises of disgust. “Ew, I do not want to hear about my brother’s sex life, guys.” Sarah complains. “I don’t need to know that about my cousin either,” Pope explains. “You’ve only known her a month, Pope. She could be working with him for all we know.” JJ reasons.

“She’s my family and she saved our asses back there. Give her some credit.” “Credit revoked,” John B says once he spies Rafe’s truck pulling into the driveway. After throwing the car in park, Rafe hops out of the car to open the door for you- against your wishes if you might add. He took your hand and guided you down from the truck.

“What the hell is he doing?” Kiara asks. “He has feelings for her,” Sarah answers in disbelief. “If she’s on our side, we can use that. We can definitely use that.” JJ suggests. They watched as Rafe walked you to the front door and said something to you before watching you go into the house safely. You stopped in your tracks once you saw the group looking at you skeptically.

“How the hell do you know Rafe?” Pope prompts you after a moment of silence.

[becasbelt]

the beca + cooking character study that ATTACKED my brain that nobody asked for

* * *

Beca Mitchell hated cooking.

At least, that’s what she would like to be put on the official record.

Not all children of divorce are forced to grow up fast. Beca knows this, in a very tangible way. She had friends growing up whose parents were also divorced, and life continued much in the same way for them as it did before their parents separated. Sometimes they’d even joke that life was better now since they got double the gifts on holidays, double the parties for their birthday.

Beca always let them have their moment, didn’t feel the need to shut down what optimism they could find in whatever turbulent custody schedule their parents’ lawyers had worked out. Didn’t feel like shoving her own thoughts about her divorced parents in their faces.

By the time she was 12 years old, Beca could make a few pretty decent casseroles. They weren’t all that complex, mostly just cheese, noodles, and different sauces mixed together in a glass pan. But after about 6 months of living off of PB&Js, Lunchables, and Spaghettios, waiting for her mom to snap out of whatever work-induced daze she’d been in since her dad walked out on them, Beca decided that they needed actual food.

So, she’d rolled up her sleeves and designated herself the man of the household.

Grocery shopping took a while for her to figure out. Beca would walk to the nearest Walmart and stare wide-eyed at all the different aisles, foods, and brands available. Overwhelmed and out of her league.

At first she’d just grab whatever she vaguely recognized and buy it, avoiding eye contact with the cashier and handing over her mom’s credit card before hightailing it out of the store as fast as she could. But eventually she found she actually liked grocery shopping. She’d slip her headphones over her ears and peruse the aisles, wondering what different vegetables and seasonings would taste like in a stir fry or pasta.

By 14, Beca had a pretty solid routine. Saturdays were shopping and laundry days. She’d make a list of all the stuff they needed, ask her mom if she had any meal suggestions (which she didn’t), walk the two miles to Walmart, then haul all the bags she could carry back.

It got easier when she was 16 and could drive. Faster, for one, and she could actually bring home more than four bags at a time.

Every day after school she’d come home, make dinner, wait around until 7:00 to see if her mom would be home to eat with her, and when she inevitably didn’t show, put the food away and go work on her her music until she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

If her mom ever noticed Beca’s efforts in keeping them both fed, she never let on.

Beca kept up that routine until she was 18, until the decision to go to college was made for her by a father who was suddenly interested in being a part of her life again.

The day before leaving for Barden, Beca put together a week’s worth of freezer meals - which, for one person who often forgot to eat, would last more like a month, really. The next morning a taxi picked her up and took her to the airport.

Her mom was already at work by the time she left.

When Beca stepped foot inside her dorm room for the first time, the first thing she noticed was the strangely hostile energy coming off in waves from her roommate. The second thing she noticed was that there was no kitchen. She would be getting all her meals from the cafeteria on the main floor.

The first meal Beca ate from the cafeteria was chicken parmesan. It was bland at best, probably frozen chicken that could be prepared and served en masse.

Beca didn’t lift a finger to make it.

It was perfect.

When Beca moved into the Bella house a year later, with all the rest of the Bellas piling in behind her, her heart sunk at the sight of the large, fancy kitchen just off the living room. She’d spent the last year living off of cafeteria food, energy drinks, and chips, and the thought of meal prepping and grocery shopping again was enough to make her sick.

That sickness lasted all of two seconds before Chloe loudly started to explain to everyone how their kitchen and cooking duties worked. How they would all rotate through who went shopping for food, but for the most part they’d fend for themselves unless someone felt the urge to cook for everyone.

They were adults, after all. They were old enough to look after themselves.

That was enough for Beca to breathe again.

Beca sort of stuck to how things were the year before, eating out often for meals, but mostly just snacking a lot. It was hell on her digestive system, sure, but she had more important things to worry about. Like school and her music and the Bellas.

The rest of the Bellas liked to tease her about it. They would joke that she probably couldn’t even boil water and that’s why she didn’t cook very much. Amy liked to say she was forever trapped in a 12 year old boy’s body; her stomach a bottomless pit that only craved Cheetos and Red Bull.

Beca didn’t mind the teasing, really. She’d just laugh it off and shove more chips in her mouth.

When the other girls cooked for everyone, Beca would thank them politely and enjoy her food, feeling no pressure to return the favor. The most common group cook was Chloe, who always served her Bellas with a smile. Which was awesome, really, except-

Chloe Beale, for all her charm and beauty, was not a great cook.

Her food was fine, for the most part. No worse than the cafeteria food Beca lived off of for a year. Chloe just wasn’t... particularly gifted in the kitchen. Most of the time her noodles were ever so slightly undercooked, her cookies a little overdone, and the girl didn’t know how to use any seasonings besides salt to save her life.

And yet Chloe loved to cook. Not out of necessity or obligation, just out of a genuine enjoyment for hearing things sizzle in a pan, or watching bread rise in the oven. She’d turn on some music and waltz around the kitchen like she was Rachel Ray, not even realizing her sauce was thickening to a worrying degree.

It was, Beca had to admit, one of her favorite sights in the world.

Sometimes Beca would just sit at the counter and watch Chloe prance around, joking and laughing with her, and sometimes she would lend a... secretive hand. If Chloe was distracted with a picture of a dog on her phone, Beca would stir the meat cooking on the stove. When Chloe would get caught up talking with Stacie about a guy in her class, Beca would add a pinch of garlic powder onto the veggies.

No one ever noticed Beca doing it, and the look on Chloe’s face when she discovered how good her food had turned out always made Beca want to do it again.

It wasn’t until they’d all graduated and went their separate ways that Chloe figured out Beca could cook.

The NYC apartment that Chloe, Beca, and Amy called home was about the size of Beca’s bedroom back in her mom’s house. The shower was in the kitchen, the kitchen was in the living room, and the living room doubled as Chloe and Beca’s bedroom.

Their refrigerator oscillated between too cold and too warm, their oven worked seemingly only when the moon was in certain phases, and their microwave took twice as long to heat food up as it should. Most of their food cooked unevenly or had the inexplicable taste of cigarette smoke to it, and if they had anything on the stovetop for more than two minutes the fire alarm would go off.  

It was something close to hell, if Beca was being honest, but Chloe thought their tiny studio apartment was just about the most charming place on earth, which made Beca hate it just a little less.

“You would not believe the day I’ve had.”

Beca smirks from her place by the stove. “I’m sure I won’t,” she drawls, prodding at the chicken cooking in its pan. “Tell me all about it.”

Chloe launches into the chaos that was her day at the animal shelter, and the longer the story goes on, the more Beca starts to understand why she’s home so late. Normally Chloe would get home before Beca and start on dinner, finishing up around when Beca got home so that they could eat together. When Beca had gotten home today, expecting the same, she was instead greeted by an empty apartment and a text from Chloe simply telling her she’d be home late.

Beca had considered going out and getting McDonald’s for all of two seconds before shrugging and starting on dinner herself.

As Chloe finishes up her story, Beca plates food for both of them and settles at the table. Chloe digs in right away, still talking a mile a minute, and pauses after one bite with wide eyes.

“Beca, this is really good,” she says, mouth full of food.

Beca spears a piece of chicken. “It’s just chicken and rice,” she says with a shrug. “Not too complicated.”

“No, but this is, like, really good,” Chloe repeats emphatically. “Like, the chicken isn’t dry and the rice isn’t crunchy and-” she smacks Beca on the arm and Beca yelps. “You’re telling me I’ve lived with you for five years and I never knew you could cook? I thought you were incompetent!”

Beca stifles a laugh. “I guess you don’t know me as well as you thought you did,” she says with a grin.

Chloe laughs delightedly. “Yeah, I’ll say,” she agrees, leaning back in her chair to appraise Beca in a new light. Beca ducks her head at the attention and pushes her food around her plate.

After dinner when Beca is washing dishes, Chloe slides her arms around Beca’s middle from behind and buries her face in Beca’s neck. This is also part of their routine, at the end of each day when Chloe is feeling a little sleepy and affectionate, but today has the added bonus of Chloe murmuring her thanks for dinner into Beca’s skin, warmth and gratitude oozing from the words.

Beca closes her eyes and remembers countless nights waiting around for someone who didn’t care enough to make it home in time for meals, let alone thank Beca for preparing them. She sinks back into Chloe’s embrace and allows herself a moment to enjoy the affection.

She tells Chloe “anytime,” and means it.

And maybe starts to hate cooking a little less.