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luigisbambinaaa · 12 days ago

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Soft Spot Pt. 2 ~

summary: spring break trip to cabo, luigi gets wiped out, and you’re sent to help him ;)

content warning: smut, oral (both receiving), p in v, luigi gets bruised

an: hi!! thank you to everyone that liked, shared, and commented on part 1!!!! also thank u to my homie palmersluvr for help with the formatting tho im still figuring it out. idk the word count but this shit is sooo long but i had so much fucking fun writing this so i hope you all enjoy :)! take a shot for every single time i said “rhythm” lol.

part 1

————————

weeks passed, and despite the playful texts shared between you and luigi, he wasn’t able to come back for a second “appointment”.

not because he didn’t want to. but because midterms had everyone busy— especially him.

sleep schedules were fucked up, group chats barely active, and every inch of the library taken over by students running on iced coffee.

luigi had practically disappeared— only proof of his existence being the many students that he tutored making jokes about how their TA had a spot reserved in heaven for all the hard work he’s done for them.

and yet, despite the chaos, there hadn’t been a single mention of back pain from him or his friends.

if anything, everyone noticed he seemed lighter. maybe your hands really had worked some sort of magic.

and eventually you were all able to taste the sweet freedom of spring break. friends of friends all headed to cabo for a well deserved get away.

instagram buzzing with photo dumps of tan lines and tiny bikinis, camera roll full of coconut drinks, beach sunsets, and grainy late-night dinners.

the resort ridiculously beautiful— picked out by luigi and others. shady palm trees stretching over the infinity pool, balconies overlooking the ocean, music a constant hum in the background no matter the hour. every corner full of beauty.

spending mornings with your girls walking the shoreline, tucking cute little seashells into your beach bag. afternoons spent exploring, wandering through colorful local markets, vendors beckoning you over in spanish, taking polaroids of everything. chaotic dinners with messy seafood platters, one too many margaritas, and tables full of friends cramming in every space they could.

and always, luigi was there, lingering just close enough to keep you on your toes. the flirting having been buried under study guides and endless cups of coffee— but not entirely gone.

you felt it in the way his eyes lingered on you in your sundresses, in the way he saved the empty chair next to him for you, in the way your fingers would brush when passing certain items across the table, yet neither of you said anything.

it was the kind of tension that hung in the air without needing to be addressed aloud. sweet, aching, and unbothered— until it wasn’t.

all the boys had decided to go out early that particular morning to catch some waves, lugging huge surfboards down to the beach while you and the rest of the girls stayed behind for some late brunch at the resort cafe.

you were mid-bite into a piece of french toast when someone burst into the outdoor patio, face red and out of breath.

“luigi wiped out bad on a huge wave,” they panted, trying to catch their breath, “board slammed him in the back, he should be okay, but he’s out for the day. they took him back to the room to rest.”

your stomach dropped. you honestly didn’t even realize how much you’d been hoping he’d show up that day, maybe just for lunch or just to sneak a few glances at you.

“can someone go check on him?” one of your friends asked, glancing around the table. “he’s probably fine, just milking it. but still.”

many of them shrugged, too caught up in their delicious breakfast food or downing their drinks to volunteer.

“you’re the nicest one here and have the expertise,” another added, pointing her fork at you with a smile. “can you go make sure he’s still breathing? im sure he won’t bite.”

they didn’t know. shit, nobody knew about you two. and so you nodded, wiping your hands on a napkin and standing slowly.

you headed back to your room first— not wanting to show up empty-handed. grabbing some essentials from your suitcase like some peppermint oil, aloe vera, the same lotion you used on him in your dorm, all thrown into your tote bag.

when you stepped back out into the hallway, one of the guys had caught up to you and handed you a spare key card.

“he’s in one of the oceanfront suites so i figured you might need this since he’s probably bed ridden”

you mutter a thank you and walked a few doors down the hallway. with the door clicking shut behind you, you stood still for a second, just admiring.

everything was nicer, sleek, clean, and expensive. the king sized bed resembling a cloud , a perfect plush comforter thrown over. floor to ceiling windows letting in sunlight that kissed every surface in gold, and a soft sea breeze drifting in through his open balcony door. and then there was a hot tub, massive and polished. half sunk into the floor near the balcony, something out of a dream.

your breath hitched.

“luigi?”

you called out gently, stepping further into his room. and then you saw him.

sprawled out across the bed, shirtless, eyes half closed, with a pillow or two tucked under his lower back.

his swimming trunks were riding low, dangerously low. low enough that your eyes traveled down the faint trail of hair leading down his stomach— the one you didn’t get to appreciate too much before.

your fingers clenched slightly around the strap of your tote bag, heart skipping a beat.

“…hi.” he replies softly and shyly.

you don’t say anything at first, tossing your bag on the dresser and kicking off your sandals without a second thought.

the bed dips slightly under your weight as you carefully climbed up beside him, leaning in slowly, one hand going to cradle the side of his face, your fingers instinctively tangling themselves in his curls, scratching his scalp softly.

“what the hell happened?” you murmured, brushing your thumb over the curve of his cheek. “how bad is it?”

he leaned into your touch just a little, lashes low and heat radiating off of him.

“hurts like a bitch,” he admitted, lips twitching into a tired grin, “but seeing you kind of helps.”

you rolled your eyes, but your thumb still stroked gently over his cheek.

“you’re such a baby,” you muttered, “let me see.”

he blinked up at you, hesitant. you pull back enough to sit on your knees, glancing down at the way his arm was draped over his stomach.

“come on, turn over so i can see, or do i need to do it for you?”

he grumbles something about you being bossy, but shifts anyway to let you get a good look. wincing slightly as he moved his arm, revealing an angry red mark blooming across his lower back and side— already beginning to bruise, dark and raw.

you sucked in a quiet breath.

“jesus, luigi…”

you reached for your tote bag and rummaged through it, pulling out the lotion and peppermint oil, warming it up in your hands.

“this might sting a little,” you warned.

“i trust you,” he murmured, eyes falling closed again.

your hands pressed carefully to his skin in slow, gentle circles at first, barely any pressure. and his breath hitched, not from pain, but from you and how you knew exactly where to touch without asking.

you kept your focus low, jaw clenching and unclenching, pretending not to notice the way his hips twitched slightly when your palms smoothed along the curve of his waist.

“relax,” you whisper, “I’ve got you.”

your fingers moved in slow, practiced motions, the familiar rhythm calming the both of you. he was quiet under your touch, face buried into a pillow, muscles slowly uncoiling under your hands.

“you’re so dumb,” you said gently, a little laugh slipping out. “what were you even trying to do? show off? impress the ocean?”

luigi letting out a small groan and barely lifting his head mumbles, “was tryna ride the wave,” his words slurred with exhaustion and comfort.

you pressed your thumbs in a little deeper to the sides of his bruises, careful but firm.

“and it rode you huh?”

“mhmmm…”

you smiled, shaking your head, continuing— moving a bit lower, tracing along the edges of his blooming bruises. he let out a low whimper, somewhere between a sigh and a moan, his fingers slightly curling into the sheets.

“seriously gi,” you murmured, softer now. “you could’ve really hurt yourself.”

“m’sorry,” he breathed, voice small now. “didn’t mean to.”

you leaned down just a little, hair falling over your shoulder as you whispered near his ear. “you gotta stop being reckless. who’s gonna fix you up next time if i’m not around?”

his only answer being a quiet, needy whine— his head tilting slightly towards you.

and with you leaning over him like that, face being close and hair brushing his skin, he lifted his chin just enough to press his lips to yours. soft and tentative. you froze just for a second, then kissed him back just as gently.

you’re the first one to pull away, giving his hair a light tug. “you better behave,” you whispered, breath warm against his mouth. “or i won’t finish your massage.”

he grinned, lazy and dazed. “im behaving,” he mumbled, already slumping back into the pillow like your kiss was enough to sedate him.

you scooped up a little more oil into your palms and worked quietly for a few more minutes— slow and careful movements over the bruising, his muscles loose now.

and then, a soft murmur:

“i think my back’s good now… think you could get my shoulders?”

…

“…and maybe my chest too?”

you smirked and glanced down at him.

“whatever you want princess”

he began to turn over, shifting on his side with a groan, but as you were about to guide him onto his back—

“wait not like this.”

before you could even reply, his hands slid over your hips and in one quick motion, he brought you right into his lap.

you let out a quiet gasp, straddling him now, palms braced on his bare chest as he looked up at you— eyes dark and blown out.

“like this.” his voice barely above a whisper.

you didn’t say anything, just swallowed hard and nodded once. your fingers dipped back into the oil, rubbing it between your palms to warm it up before sliding your hands over his chest.

he was pretty still beneath you, save for the tiny shifts of his body. sharp inhales when your thumbs pressed into his skin, the subtle twitch of his thighs when you pressed too low.

“shit,” he breathed, voice hitching higher this time, soft and strained. “feels so good…”

your hands moved to his shoulders, thumbs circling into tight knots just beneath his neck. it was a bit of a stretch from your spot in his lap, so you leaned forward, your chest brushing against his, your breath grazing his jaw.

and then his lips found yours again, lazy and slow. he kissed you without urgency, one hand sliding to the small of your back, and the other on your thigh, trying to keep himself grounded.

you kissed him back, just as slow. before pulling away slightly, catching your breath, and going back to his shoulders as if nothing happened.

he groaned again, though not from the massage this time.

“not fair,” he muttered.

you laughed under your breath, going back to press into a particularly tight spot behind his shoulder blade.

“too bad.”

you leaned back down, lips finding his again and this time it gets heavier. his mouth opened beneath yours, teeth dragging your bottom lip between his, and his hips shifting beneath you.

he groaned into your mouth, deeper, and then—

his hips rolled up. just once. slow, instinctual, and desperate.

he sighed, lips parting as he dropped his head back into the pillow, his chest rising and falling fast under your palms.

“fuck…”

you didn’t move at first. just stayed still in his lap, enjoying the rise of fall of his chest. and then softly, you leaned in again.

you kissed the corner of his mouth— a gentle peck, then another, and another. then along his jaw. then that sensitive spot just below his ear, that always makes him shiver.

you worked your way down slowly, kissing along the edge of his throat, his collarbone, your mouth lingering all over as he tilted his head back to give you more access.

“baby…” he whispers, his voice wrecked.

his hands slide up your sides, slow and kinda unsure. when his fingers brushed the hem of your swimsuit coverup, you let your arms fall to your sides, silently giving him the permission he wanted.

he sat up slowly, groaning softly at the movement and peeled the fabric from your body in one slow motion, letting it fall somewhere in the room.

then his fingers reached the tie of your bikini top. he tugged at it gently, watching you the entire time. when you didn’t protest, he undid the knot with shaky fingers and let the top slip away.

his breath hitched.

“fuck, you’re—“

he didn’t even let himself finish before his mouth was already on you. soft kisses at first, then his lips closed around the swell of your breasts, tongue flicking, hands pressing you closer to him as you arched your back.

your quiet gasp became a whimper.

“oh…”

his groan followed instantly. he sucked a little harder, peppering warm, open mouthed kisses near your nipple.

“ you sound so pretty,” he mumbled against your skin. “don’t stop.”

then, without another word, he took your nipple into his mouth, gentle and almost hesitant at first. his tongue swirled around it, his lips closing in a tight, wet seal as he suckled, like you were his favorite lollipop.

you let out a sharp little moan, surprised by how sensitive you were and how good it felt to have him care for you as well. he groaned in return, the sound vibrating through your chest.

his hand slid up your spine, holding you steady as he moved over to your other nipple, showering it with the same attention— his tongue flicking, lips tugging just right to make you whimper again.

you threaded your fingers through his curls, breathing uneven, your thighs tightening around his hips as his mouth latched onto you. each moan that escaped your lips, pulled a groan from his— almost like he couldn’t help it, like your sounds were enough to unravel him.

your hips started to move before you even realized with small, slow rolls against his lap, the friction sending sparks between your thighs with every pass.

luigi’s breath hitched.

his hands gripped your waist tighter, thumbs brushing over your bare skin as he tried to ground himself, his eyes fluttering shut as your bodies rocked together in a lazy rhythm.

“fuck… that feels so good,” he murmured, forehead resting against your chest.

your fingers carded through his curls, your lips brushing over the top of his head, all tender and affectionate while your hips kept working him over.

but then—

a sharp inhale.

“ah- shit-“

he winced, body tensing up beneath you, and you froze instantly.

“your back?” you whispered.

he nodded, jaw clenched, and brows drawn tight.

“just moved a little weird, m’okay,” he exhaled, trying to wave it off.

you shook your head and cupped his cheek.

“nope. lay down babe. let me take care of you.”

he didn’t argue. just sank back into the pillows with a groan, arms falling to his sides like he had no fight left.

you kissed down his chest as you moved, slow and deliberate. letting your mouth explore every inch of his skin, from the curve of his pecs to the soft dips between his abs.

he was already breathing harder by the time you reached for the faint trail of hair leading down— that happy trail you admired earlier.

you licked a slow stripe down it and then another, watching him twitch slightly under you. his hips shifted again, his swimming trunks now tented and clinging low to his hips.

you hooked your fingers into the waistband, tugging them down in one smooth, letting him spring free, the weight of him softly slapping against his lower abdomen. his hissed, not from pain, but from need.

you hovered above him, eyes locked on his face as you leaned down and gave him a single, teasing kitten lick across the tip.

he groaned, loud and frustrated.

you did it again, this time even slower. and then another, barely brushing his sensitive underside.

his hips flexed, but you pulled back just in time, smiling softly.

“be patient,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his thigh.

you kept it at that— delicate little licks of your tongue that barely counted as relief. just enough to make him squirm, to make him whine, to keep him right there on the edge.

“please,” he gasped, hips twitching upwards only for you to press them down.

“please, i can’t— i need—“

but you didn’t give in. instead, your hands held his hips steady, fingers digging into his warm skin, and your tongue tracing lazy circles around his sensitive tip.

another kitten lick, then met with a breathless groan.

he was shaking now, head turned to the side, eyes squeezing shut as he fought to keep his composure. his thighs tensing under your touch and his voice falling into almost incoherent whimpers.

“amore, please— im gonna—“

and then he did.

luigi’s whole body arched beneath you with a strangled moan, hips stuttering as he came hard against his stomach, all hot, messy, and sudden.

you kept going, soft and unrelenting, licking up everything he gave you with gentle care. every flick of your tongue making him twitch and sigh, oversensitive but too far gone to protest.

once you had cleaned him up, you leaned in close and pressed a tender kiss right to his tip. he let out a breathless laugh, eyes glassy and lips parted.

you smiled, resting your head just above his hips as you looked up at him, taking him in. you stayed like that for a bit, fingers tracing light circles on his thigh as he caught his breath.

his chest rose and fell in soft waves, his skin still flushed and forehead a little damp with sweat, lips parted in a dazed smile.

you leaned in again, pressing a kiss to his abdomen, another to his chest before moving upwards to curl into his side. your palms smoothed over his stomach, resting there while your nose brushed his jaw.

“how’s your back?” you whispered.

he chuckled weakly, still breathless, “honestly? im not even worried about it anymore.”

you scoffed and giggled into his neck, letting your fingers shift lower again, brushing over the curve of his hip.

then he turned his head, eyes burning behind the softness they had.

“let me return the favor,” he murmured. “please.”

your heart skipped a beat.

“luigi…”

but he was already moving. hands finding your bikini bottoms, fingers sliding against the strings at your hips as he untied them, tossing the fabric somewhere into the room.

his voice was hoarse, low and pleading.

“wanna taste you. been thinking about it since the day you made me take photos of you in that tiny bikini with your polaroid on the beach.”

you didn’t argue with that and let him guide you up his chest. letting his lips brush your skin the whole way up, until your thighs framed his face and your knees sank into the mattress on either sides of his head.

his hands gripped your hips, eyes looking up to meet yours as he exhaled, “let me take care of you too.”

he barely gave you time to settle above him before he was pulling you down hard. his grip tightening around your thighs, dragging you fully down onto his mouth, his tongue already parting you before you could even exhale.

your gasp nearly hit the ceiling, luigi wasnt soft nor gentle, he was hungry.

he moaned into you like he was starving— like just the taste of you was enough to keep him alive. his mouth moved so recklessly, tongue licking broad, wet stripes before curling into where you needed him most, lips sealing around you in a filthy, perfect kiss.

you tried to lift yourself just slightly, just enough to catch your breath but his arms locked tighter around your thighs, pinning you down against him.

“luigi—“

you barely got his name out before— crack!

his palm landed a sharp slap to your ass. not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to remind you he was in control right now.

your whole body jolted, letting out a surprised moan as you instinctively ground yourself down harder against his mouth and started grinding. slow at first, trying to find the perfect rhythm, and then faster and messier, as he just let you ride him, his pretty nose nudging against your clit.

he sucked, licked, devoured.

“fuck baby— you’re so good.” you moaned, voice shaking as your fingers tangled themselves in his curls, tugging hard.

“you’re making me feel so fucking good— i can’t—“ and he groaned under you, the sound vibrating against your pussy, making your thighs clamp tighter around his head. and still, he didn’t let up.

just kept licking like a man possessed, grip tightening, strong hands digging into your thighs, keeping you locked in place.

your body was trembling, skin flushed, that heat ready to snap— and luigi knew it.

and right when you were teetering, mouth hung open and breath stuttering— his lips latched onto your clit.

not soft or teasing, just purely desperate.

he sucked hard, his tongue flicking mercilessly, drawing fast, tight circles that made your vision go white.

“oh—fuck—luigi!”

the loudest moan tore out of you, sharp, raw, and damn near broken as the pleasure slammed into you. your thighs crammed around him, fingers yanking on his hair, hips jerking uncontrollably as your orgasm hit with a violent force.

and he held you there, through every gasp, twitch, and tremble. sucking, licking, chasing every last drop of your cum like he couldn’t fathom letting any of it going to waste.

even as your body gave out and you tried to pull away— he didn’t let you. he stayed there, moaning into you, drunk on your release.

your body still trembling when he released the tight grip he had on you, letting your thighs relax, pressing soft, tender kisses along the inside of your legs. and when you looked down at him, he was already watching you with wide eyes, swollen lips, and cheeks tinted pink.

“c’mere,” he whispered. barely having the strength to move, but you wanted to be close, needing it. you climbed down slowly and he met you half way— sitting up, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into his lap.

your chests pressed together and noses brushing as your foreheads touched, “you okay?” he murmured, stroking his thumb over your hip.

“yeah,” you whispered, still trying to catch your breath. “are you?”

he smiled, just a little, “never been better.”

your lips met again, slow as his hands roamed your back, your thighs, and your waist— like he couldn’t get enough of you.

and as your hips instinctively shifted against him, he let out the softest groan against your mouth. you felt him, already hard and ready, pressing against your pussy.

he reached down, lining himself up carefully, and you sank down on him, both of you letting out content sighs. both stilling for a moment, getting adjusted.

and then slowly, you began to move, grinding, rocking, and meeting him half way every time he lifted his hips. his hands held your waist to anchor himself in the moment, just feeling all of you.

your name left his lips like a prayer and your moans soft and breathy as your bodies rocked against each other in perfect rhythm.

your lips brushed over his jaw as your hips rolled against his, “you feel so good,” you whispered against his skin. “So deep…”

luigi groaned, tightening his arms around you, the sound buried in your shoulder, “you’re fucking perfect, pussy’s so fucking tight.” he breathed, voice low and thick.

his hands slid from your waist down to the small of your back, guiding you gently, helping you move just right— until his cock hit that sweet spot inside you that made your body jolt.

“yeah? right there?” he asked, lips brushing the shell of ear.

you nodded, nails lightly digging into his shoulders. “yes—right there, baby.”

he adjusted his angle slightly, and then a slow, precise thrust upward, so deep. and it hit, your whole body clenching around him, and your moan came out softer, higher than before.

he pulled back just enough to get a good look at you, eyes glassy, lips swollen, and tits littered in love bites. your forehead pressed to his, your bodies meeting in such an intimate rhythm.

“you make me feel so good, so full,” you whispered, barely able to speak through the heat pooling low in your stomach.

he kissed you, harder this time and then he took over, just a little. guiding your hips with one hand while the other slid down to hold your thigh as he angled his next thrust perfectly into that soft, sensitive spot inside you.

“there we go,” he rasped, dragging his lips along your neck.

“let me take care of you, baby. let me give you everything.”

his rhythm had started to slow, a bit overwhelmed. from the way your body clung to his, from how tight, how wet, how delicious you felt wrapped around him. his head dipped to your shoulder, breath ragged against your skin, big hands grasping your hips attempting to ground himself.

but you felt ready now, your body humming with energy again—refueled by every groan, every helpless twitch of his hips, and every shaky breath that tumbled from his lips.

so you started to move. a soft bounce at first, just enough to shift the angle, taking in more of him. then another. then faster. luigi gasped, back arching slightly, eyes squeezing shut as you rode him with more control.

your lips hovered near his ear, voice warm and broken in between moans, “you’re so deep inside me, gi...” he let out the quietest whimper, hands trembling against your skin.

“so big… stretching me so good. you feel it, don’t you? how wet you make me?”

he could barely speak, just nodded. barely.

and then—click. the door handle turned.

your bodies froze, just for a second, before luigi pulled you tighter against him, shielding you, even as your hips never faltered.

“yo luigi! how you holding up man?” a familiar voice called through the narrow crack in the door. he hadn’t fully stepped inside, just peeked the door open a few inches, only being able to see the edge of the bed and maybe luigi’s bare shoulder. the rest, being you fully naked and still grinding in his lap, was completely hidden by the angle.

luigi’s eyes blew wide, his breath catching in his throat.

“you—you gotta stop,” he hissed into your neck, biting back groan. “please—“

you leaned in, brushing your mouth against his ear, voice was sweet as candy while your hips rolled again, deep and slow.

“answer him.”

“let him hear how good you’re feeling.”

luigi’s hand flew to your waist, attempting to still you, but it was no use.

“i—uh,” he choked out, voice shaking. “yeah—i’m good man, just resting.”

his friend paused, “cool, just making sure. let us know if you need anything.”

you didn’t let him get a chance to recover. the second the door clicked shut, you pushed him backwards, your palms resting on his chest as you eased him down against the bed, his eyes still wide and wrecked under you.

his head hit the pillow, curls sticking to his forehead, and his chest heaving as you straddled him fully again.

“you’ve been so good,” you whispered, voice shaking with need. “but now i need more.”

and then you started to really move. your thighs burned as you began bouncing harder, hips slapping against his with wet desperate sounds, so intense, overwhelming, and fast. luigi’s hands scrambled to hold you, his fingers digging into your waist like he might slip through the bed if he didn’t anchor himself to you.

“f-fuck baby—“ he gasped, voice breaking. “that’s—too much—“ but he didn’t stop you.

he bent his knees suddenly, feet flat on the mattress and thrusted up. hard. your whole body jolted, a choked moan spilling out of your mouth as he met your bounces with the same fervor. each thrust slammed deeper and harder, matching the way you rode him until all that could be heard was skin slapping and both of you chanting each other’s names over and over.

“yesyesyes—lu, just like that—“ you cried out as he fucked up into you like he was trying to split you open from the inside.

“you feel so fucking good,” he groaned, eyes hazy and voice raw. “such a tight little pussy amore— so perfect, can’t even hold back anymore.”

your movements became sloppier, desperation seeping through, your bodies completely lost in each other. just full of need. just you and him, chasing that sweet finish with matching desperation.

your name tumbled from his mouth in broken gasps, sweat slicking his chest where your bodies met, the heat between you two unbearable in the most delicious way.

and then his voice cracked out, desperate and strained, “i—fuck—i should probably pull out.” but his hips never slowed, because he didn’t really mean it and you both knew it. you leaned forward, pressing your chest to his, mouth by his ear as you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist.

“don’t,” you begged, breath heavy and hot. “i wanna feel you. want you to stay inside me.”

his groan was guttural, almost pained with how badly he had been waiting for that permission.

“fuck—fuck—“

your nails dragged down his back, your body grinding back into every one of his thrusts, and then everything shattered.

you came first, gasping, shaking, clinging to him like you wouldn’t survive without him.

“luigi—oh god baby, don’t stop—don’t—“

he followed instantly, crying out your name into your neck, hips buried to the hilt as he spilled inside you, his body trembling beneath yours as the outside world faded away.

your bodies stayed tangled for a while, skin to skin, limbs loose, and breathing slowly coming back down. the room was quiet now, except for the soft hum of the ocean breeze drifting through the balcony door.

luigi’s heartbeat thudded gently beneath your cheek as you laid against his chest your fingers tracing absentminded shapes against his ribs. eventually, he shifted beneath you, careful and slow, kissing your shoulder as he murmured, “be right back.”

he slid out from the bed with a little wince, his legs shaky and muscles drained. you watched with a sleepy smile as he padded naked across the room, grabbing a small towel from the bathroom and returning a moment later.

“here,” he whispered, eyes soft as he knelt between your legs and cleaned you up. “i got you.”

your heart fluttered.

luigi had already crawled back into bed, arms stretched behind his head, eyes half-lidded and warm as he looked at you with a soft, post-bliss smile.

you sat up slowly, reaching for the bikini top that wads left at the edge of the bed. “i should probably head back to my room,” you murmured, voice gentle. “so you can rest comfortably…”

you didn’t even get to finish your sentence when his arm reached out fast, firm as his fingers curled gently around your wrist to stop you.

“what?” he asked, brown furrowed slightly as he tugged you back down towards him.

“baby no.”

you blinked as he guided you back into his arms, your body slotting effortlessly into the space next to his.

“i wanna rest here,” he whispered, lips brushing your shoulder.

“with you.”

your heart skipped a beat as he tugged the covers up, over both your naked bodies. he nuzzled into your chest, one arm round your waist, the other lazily cupping one of your tits.

“m’tired,” he murmured. “wouldn’t be smart of you to leave your patient alone away.”

your fingers threaded into his curls, your other one rubbing up and down his spine.

“how’s your back?” you asked softly.

“feels perfect,” he mumbled, voice already dying down. “because you’re here with me.”

within seconds, his breath evened out, warm against your skin. and you were left with a sleeping, heavy luigi tangled into your bare body, like his life depended on it.

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jibunbosh · 1 year ago

Text

Mesmerizer is a satire of TikTok, YouTube Shorts, and the rest of the modern short-form vertical video format

A brief thematic analysis.

I'm sure there are countless people already interpreting the imagery and details in this wonderful song & MV, like here and here, so I won't spend too much time retreading that ground. Miku and Teto are dancing. Miku gets hypnotized. Teto signals for help, but gets hypnotized at the end as well.

That part is obvious enough, but that's still pretty surface-level. What is this seemingly hyperspatial horror scenario supposed to mean to us?

While checking to see if anyone before me's already come to the same conclusions as I did and if I should bother not writing this text post at all (lol), I came across udin's great analysis video. She comes to the conclusion that the song tackles themes of disillusionment with reality and the ways we indulge in escapism to relieve ourselves of the pains of the world.

I agree with that reading! From practically the very beginning, we have Miku call to us - the viewer - to push away our true feelings. Teto comes in to peddle a solution, inviting us to surrender and empty our minds - in her words, "pretending to know nothing."

You, the viewer, are a critical character in this masquerade. For nearly the entire video, Miku and Teto's eyes are unfailingly trained on you. Or, well... perhaps they can't actually see you, but they can see a camera, or whatever other aperture the point of view is supposed to be from. And they know they're being watched. (Who else would Teto be sending distress signals to?)

Let's put a pin on that for later.

udin notes very early on that Miku and Teto are, conspicuously, kept in vertical frames - very similar to the video formats of TikTok (and Instagram Reels, and YouTube Shorts, and whatever other clones of the format exist.) You know, just like the animator Caststation's Rabbit Hole fan MV that went viral some months ago.

Hey wouldn't it be crazy if the song's producer, 32ki, released Mesmerizer shorts too haha. Wouldn't that be crazy.

Wow, wild.

These short-term vertical videos are captivating & alluring. If you're reading this, it's more likely than not that you've also found yourself caught up in them at least once, scrolling through the infinite algorithmic slurry and forgetting about the real-life issues you have at hand. Would you say, then, that you felt hypnotized? Mesmerized, even?

And so these two invite us to join their world and focus on the... uh... rectangle.

Their dances are repetitive, following the same loop. Their outfits are distinct, but their choreography isn't. They're copying the same formula, repeating it ad nauseam to the best of their ability.

They're doing a fucking TikTok dance.

Back to the pin I told you about earlier, with Miku and Teto looking at a camera.

Miku sways with the camera, eyes looking directly at it like a swinging pocket watch. She's been looking at it the entire time, after all. We've been seeing her via our screen this entire time, but, again, she doesn't necessarily see us. She's beholden to the camera, which she dances for day after day, caught up in its spell. She's hypnotized by it. Eventually, she breaks.

Teto, on the other hand, resists. For a while, anyway.

Despite her being the one jumping to us with the "solution" at the beginning of the MV, there's very quickly good reason to question how much agency she has in this. She dances for the camera as well, but she doesn't want to. She's signalling for help. She wants out.

Many content creators (as much as I personally loathe the non-specificity and soullessness of the term) have struggled with the adaptation to the short-form video format, and the preference the algorithm has had for these captivating, bite-sized videos. They're catchy, and easily drive up metrics. Practically anyone who's publishing their work via video format online needs to learn to adapt or fall behind, even if that means whittling their content down to fit the frame, the time, and people's shortening attention spans. Sometimes, that means compromising on specificity and completeness... or, in other words, the true representation of a full work.

The song's writer, 32ki, has been releasing songs on YouTube for several years. Their first YouTube Short, however, was posted only a year ago: a short, whittled-down segment of their previous song, CIRCUS PANIC!!!, hoping for it to win the ProsekaNEXT song contest. It was their first song to achieve widespread popularity and hit a million views.

The shorts, however, aren't the "true" versions of the song. The full song just won't fit.

We're being mesmerized as consumers of this endless stream of content, rather than appreciators of music and art. However, that relationship isn't completely symmetrical across the plane that is the 4th wall. Miku and Teto are trapped not by their attention spans, but by a compulsion to project their "truthful acting" and peddle that window into a colorful, problem-free world.

We, as the collective audience, need not dwell on any one thing for too long - we need only swipe, and move on to the next video. However, Miku and Teto are trapped behind the screen for eternity, day after day.

They're the only characters we get to see, of course. There's no evil 3rd voice synth character that's plotting to keep them trapped in there. We can't put a face to whatever force is hypnotizing them and trapping them behind the screen. It's faceless - like the inscrutable algorithms of YouTube recommendations or the TikTok For You page, or the impersonal corporations that develop & maintain those aforementioned apps. Miku and Teto's likenesses, on the other hand, are being exploited and extracted from for their entertainment value, being strung along by that metaphorical hypnotizing force like puppets on a string.

Many people, represented by Miku, enjoy their success on such platforms. It's freeing and liberating to throw oneself wholeheartedly into such an endeavor, of course! Others, represented by Teto, harbor their doubts of the emotional veracity of such a medium, but know they have little choice lest they face destruction... perhaps not literally as a person, but as an idea.

Wouldn't it be easier just to let oneself be swept away by it and give in?

#mesmerizer #analysis #kasane teto #hatsune miku #vocaloid #rambles #text poast

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wondrluv · 9 months ago

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୨୧ slip 'n slide ; tz11

➪ summary: pro tip: if you're going to play slip 'n slide hockey, make sure not to play it with professional hockey players

➪ warnings: fractured shoulder, hospitals

➪ word count: 0.6k

➪ emma's notes: it has been so long since i posted writing on here so i'm super excited to be back doing it. i remember exactly what sparked the idea for this fic and i couldn't be happier with how it turned out! um let me know if you like the new-ish formatting (the tinier font) or if you would prefer it to be bigger for the writing. also, i am working on that quinn fic and let me know if there are any of your favorites of mine you want me to reupload, they are all on my masterlist if you want to browse.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen, her sitting in a hospital room with her arm sporting a sling. Sure, maybe the idea was a little stupid, and playing with professional hockey players also didn’t help. But, what was she supposed to do when she was scrolling on Instagram and saw a video with ‘slip-and-slide hockey’? Not tell her brothers and their friends about it? Not a chance.

After seeing the video, she immediately brought it up to her brothers who agreed and started calling some of their friends to come to the lake house. She had called Trevor, much to Jack’s annoyance at the reminder of their relationship and Quinn’s distaste for him, and he said he would be there as soon as he could. When all the boys arrived, it was officially ‘mission slip-and-slide hockey’ time.

In hindsight, maybe she should’ve worn pads or just not played at all knowing how rough her brothers get with not only her but with their friends as well. Jack was being Jack, of course. He had gone to go around Trevor when he slipped and knocked into his sister, who then fell and weirdly landed on her shoulder. She didn’t scream, growing up with three rowdy brothers gave her more pride than she probably would’ve liked sometimes.

She just laid there, staring at the sky with her right arm across her chest and her left one lying by her side. It took everyone a little bit to realize, and it was only when they saw Quinn kneeling next to her that they did.

Quinn looked down at her, placing a hand on her shoulder, “You okay?”

She nodded, looking a little dazed as her eyes glassed over in pain, “Mhm.”

“Y/n/n come on, move your arm for me.”

She lifted her left arm and then dropped it, “See, I’m fine.”

He gave her a look, “Your other arm.”

And she was prepared to do it, except when she tried, she couldn’t and teared up more. Quinn sighed before waving Trevor over, “Come on, let’s go to the hospital.”

“I’m fine.”

Trevor’s head came into her sight, his hair flopping and framing his face, “Let’s go, princess.”

She smiled up at him, “You're pretty.”

He laughed before helping her stand up, having her lean on him for support. Jack came up and spewed apologies from his mouth as they walked to the car, “It’s okay, Jack. I’m fine.”

He shook his head and sat on one side while Trevor sat on the other and Luke got into the passenger seat as Quinn drove them to the hospital. And that’s how they ended up here, y/n sitting on a hospital bed with her arm in a sling due to her fractured shoulder. Trevor sat on the bed next to her while Quinn called their mom and Luke and Jack sat on the chairs in front of them.

She leaned her head against her boyfriend’s shoulder, “Ugh how am I supposed to work now?”

“You don’t have to work, y/n/n. You’re boyfriends rich.”

Y/n sent her younger brother a glare before closing her eyes again, “Do you think they could give me drugs for my head?”

Jack shook his head at her choice of words before standing up, “I’ll go find a doctor. Maybe you got a concussion too, though they didn’t say anything.”

He kissed her head before leaving to find a doctor, or a nurse at the very least. Luke followed after him, protesting being stuck in a room with the two of them. Trevor pushed a piece of her hair out of her face before kissing her temple, “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Besides the headache now?”

She nodded a little, wrapping her left arm around his right one, “Yeah.”

He gave her a small smile, “You know Luke wasn’t totally wrong. You don’t have to work.”

She went to hit him but he laughed and held up a hand, “I know, I know. You love your job, I wouldn’t take that away from you, lovely.”

“Good.”

The two sat in silence for a little while and then she spoke once more, “Cuddles when we get back?”

“Of course, my baby fractured her shoulder. Got to give her all the princess treatment in the world.”

“Dork.”

TZ11 MASTERLIST ; NHL MASTERLIST

TAGLIST ; NAVIGATION

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sigmasoyboy · 8 months ago

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Surely nothing in the world ever felt better than [THIS]

Was suggested on instagram to write from Gage's POV and thinking about how I would ever write from someone who's been essentially dog lobotomized actually got me thinking so hard I started writing. The formatting of this one is a reading nightmare but the never ending run-on sentence tightly packed into one block of text feels the most appropriate to a dog's inner thoughts so… You have to suffer for the sake of art™️

cw: ableist and misogynistic language, PTSD, panic attack, murder, vomit, loss of humanity through being genetically spliced with a dog

Right now there is only [RUNNING] and [PANTING] and the wind whipping your face and twigs digging into your paw pads and snapping under your weight and the sweat tickling the inside of your thigh as it rolls down the expanse of your (ever) hairless leg. You almost want to throw your hands down into the decaying grass and leaves to propel your body further but (something) keeps you anchored to your bipedal ways, your body knows it was never made for sprinting on all four but your body was also bent once and could probably be bent further all the way to the other side transhumanised so far the evolutionary path to break all knowns nomenclature and classification and leap from (human) to [DOG] just as you do out of the shrubbery as soon as your hear [YOUR NAME], toes skidding into the overgrown lawn as you halt, tongue hanging out dumbly trying as you might to bring moisture back into your bone dry mouth. The useless instincts you (forcefully) have inherited work against you but thankfully [HE!!!] turns on the garden hose [HE!!] uses to bath you with and fresh water springs out, splattering everywhere against your open mouth. There used to be a better way to drink but you (forgot) how so you chew at the air trying to catch this pesky pesky water into your mouth while getting drenched, you were hot anyway, running so so hot from all the excess dopamine secreted by your happy happy dumb brain, so easily pleased.

Surely nothing in the world ever felt better than [THIS]; it’s the 100th time you thought this exact thing today not with words or inner monologue only pure unadulterated stabs at your mesocorticolimbic circuit, things are only [GOOD] or [BAD] not in terms of the morals (you lacked) but in terms of [PLEASURE] and [PAIN], so simple and so good like quenching your thirst and moving your limbs and eating and shitting and nerve endings being stimulated by a [GOOD SCRATCH] just like [HE] is doing right now immediately replacing the serotonin from the water [HE] just shut off, not having a care in the world for how greasy your (hair) feels or the way you wildly shake off to dry yourself or the fact that you are (not) a dog at all. You wouldn’t get any of it anyway because all you understand now is [ANGRY] and [SOFT] tone so as long as [HE] coos at (you) softly [HE] can say anything and (you) would happily (giggle) and [RUB YOUR HEAD] against his big calloused hands even if he was (talking shit). You were liberated against your (will) and you are too dumb to realize it, of course you are why would you ever stop and try to think when you can just march alongside [HIM] like [HE TAUGHT] [YOU]] like a good stupid fuckass (dog) getting all [EXCITED] because you realize [HE] is walking towards the [KITCHEN] which can only mean any and all (doubt) or [FEAR] that’s desperately trying to join each others can be [SILENCED] by a motherfucking spoonfull of [PEANUT BUTTER HOLY SHIT] sticky and salty and obstructing your airway momentarily but thank goodness you still know how to breath through your (nose) while you smack your (lips) desperately trying to (get away from the [DELICIOUS TREAT] clawing at the leathery cushion with your splitting nails nerve endings stimulated by [HURT HURT HURT FUCK what did you do why were you bad why is this happening to you this wasn’t supposed to happen you weren’t supposed to get caught in the first place but the [BITC H] squealed and slipped through your fingers and now you’re the one being [GUD LA DET SLUTTE VÆR SÅ SNILL] you should’ve made a bigger hole and (fucked it) so [BAD] no one will ever be able to identify your whore bitch corpse you r eally fucked up this time you can barely breathe through any hole now in out in out in out head heavy with the weight of ([HUMAN CONSCIOUSNESS]) getting really really light so much so you don’t feel your (claws) slicing until the victim became unrecognizable aggravated [MASSACRE] of your (ultimate reality) now there’s only [DROOL] and a little bit of [VOMIT] and your clammy skin against the (cold old tiles) of the kitchen floor and [HIS] form above you [WARM] palm encircling almost your entire still trembling arm and (garbled speech) you can never [UNDERSTAND] again, it’s so [WARM] and (nice) your [TAIL] slaps the kitchen floor, beginning to unknot [HIS] brow as you can feel yourself (smiling) dumbly at [HIM]. And now there is only [PETTING] and [ROLLING ON THE FLOOR] with the sweet-acrid aroma of [PEANUT BUTTER] and [VOMIT] [HE] stops you from [LAPPING] just before your tongue touches it.

Surely nothing in the world ever felt better than [THIS].

#; writing #c: gage/christer #I too want a spoonfull of motherfucking peanut butter now

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zeke-fanfucs · 1 month ago

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YALL KNOW THE DRILL! I’m at school and got some inspiration by my stupid Instagram reels! Plus the fact I speed read all the School AU of Bastard Vs Zombies!

——————

Summary!

Kamor, the new mute kid at a chaotic, underfunded school, quickly finds himself entangled in a whirlwind of mischief and friendships with a quirky group of students

————-

The Gang descriptions:

• Hipswitch: A dark-skinned, cowboy-inspired with striking white splashes across his body, giving him a unique, almost paint-splattered appearance. He sports a prosthetic arm, the result of a past fire in his early foster home, and exudes an old Western charm. Hipswitch is tough yet surprisingly gentle, always ready to lend a hand, especially to Kamor, who has developed a quiet crush on him.

• Albus: The delinquent goofball of the group, Albus’s green eyes are as dynamic as his moods, shifting from bright and mischievous to dark and intense. He’s the type to start a fight just as easily as he’ll flirt, and he has a big heart, even if he struggles with family issues. He’s not afraid to get into trouble and drag Kamor along with him for the ride.

• Mahatma: A calm and intelligent soul, Mahatma’s glasses and cream-colored clothing give him an air of quiet sophistication. He’s the voice of reason in the group, always willing to help and give advice, although he often finds himself caught in the chaos around him. Mahatma is warm, kind-hearted, and perceptive, offering gentle support to Kamor as he navigates his new life.

• Attila: The quiet yet dangerous twin, Attila’s sharp glare and scarred forehead show he’s not someone to mess with. His loose gray palette clothing mirrors his often distant and brooding personality. Though he’s not as openly affectionate as his twin, Mahatma, Attila’s clever mind and sharp wit make him a formidable presence in the group.

• Kamor: The quiet, introspective new kid with sleepy eyes that hint at a lifetime of hidden pain. He’s usually found in thrift store clothing, his hands calloused from years of writing and drawing in his notepad. Kamor carries a small bag with him at all times, keeping his notepad and pen close as he processes the world around him.

——————

Warning: This fanfic contains elements of humor, light romance, chaos, and some minor violence (mostly lighthearted). There are also themes of bonding, mischief, and character growth. While it’s mostly fun and chaotic, there are moments that might delve into deeper emotional territory or touch on past traumas of the characters. The pacing can be a bit random at times due to the chaotic nature of the events.

• Genre: School AU

• Chaos, Fluff, Emotional Growth, Romance (Slow Burn), and Friendship

Character Focus: Kamor, Hipswitch, Albus, Mahatma, and other OC characters (including Kit, Faith, and others)

• Rating: T (Teen) – light swearing and implied mature themes, but not explicit.

(Trying a new format.)

The Outlaws of Blackridge High

⸻

Kamor adjusted the straps of his backpack and kept his head down, staring at the cracked pavement beneath his feet. The bus stop was nearly empty, just him and a few distant figures who hadn’t bothered to acknowledge his presence. That was fine. If he kept his head down, he’d be fine. That’s what he told himself.

But even as he tried to convince himself of that, his fingers twitched against the fabric of his hoodie, betraying his nerves.

New school. New people. New chances to mess up.

The bus screeched to a stop in front of him, its paint peeling, exhaust coughing out in thick clouds. Kamor hesitated for just a second before stepping up, slipping into the first open seat he could find near the middle. He pressed himself against the window, gaze fixed on the outside world as the bus lurched forward.

He didn’t look up when someone slid into the seat beside him. Didn’t even react. Until—

“Howdy, partner.”

Kamor stiffened. Slowly, he turned his head.

The guy sitting next to him grinned, sharp and easy, like they were already old friends. He was dark-skinned but had splashes of white across his face and arms, like paint strokes on a canvas. His hair was a mess of loose curls, and he was dressed like he’d walked straight out of an old Western—boots and all.

Kamor blinked.

The stranger tipped an imaginary hat. “Name’s Hipswitch. You must be the new kid.”

Kamor stared, unsure how to respond.

Hipswitch’s grin didn’t waver. “Ain’t much for talkin’, huh?”

Kamor shook his head.

“Gotcha. Don’t worry, I can do enough for both of us.” Hipswitch leaned back, crossing his arms. “Welcome to Blackridge High, partner. The school board might’ve given up on us, but that don’t mean we’re a lost cause. You stick with me, and you’ll be just fine.”

Kamor wasn’t sure he believed that. But as the bus rolled toward the school, with Hipswitch chatting beside him like they’d known each other for years, he felt the weight of his nerves lighten. Just a little. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he thought.

⸻

By the time the bus rattled to a stop in front of Blackridge High, Kamor’s nerves had settled into something manageable. That didn’t mean they were gone—just dulled by the constant chatter of the cowboy beside him.

“—so then I told ‘im, ‘Look, partner, if you’re gonna throw a punch, at least make sure it lands.’” Hipswitch laughed, shaking his head as he stood and stretched. “Didn’t end well for me, but hey, I made a point.”

Kamor gave him a look, one eyebrow slightly raised.

Hipswitch grinned. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m real good at gettin’ into trouble. But don’t you worry—I don’t start fights with just anybody. Only the ones that deserve it.”

Kamor wasn’t sure if that was reassuring.

He followed Hipswitch off the bus, gripping the straps of his backpack as he took in the sight of his new school. The building was old, the paint peeling, and the front doors barely hanging onto their hinges. A group of students loitered near the entrance, most of them wearing scuffed-up jackets and torn jeans. One girl was carving something into the wall with a pocketknife.

Hipswitch must’ve noticed his hesitation because he clapped a hand on Kamor’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, partner. Most of ‘em bark more than they bite.”

Kamor wasn’t convinced.

“C’mon, let’s get your schedule.”

Hipswitch led the way inside, weaving through the crowded halls like he’d done it a hundred times—which, Kamor figured, he probably had. The walls were covered in graffiti, and a few lockers were missing doors. A flickering light overhead buzzed like it was on its last breath.

They reached the front office, a cramped space that smelled like burnt coffee and regret. Behind the desk sat a woman in her late forties, her hair pulled into a messy bun, dark bags under her eyes as she typed sluggishly on an old computer.

Hipswitch leaned on the counter with his usual easygoing charm. “Mornin’, Miss Darla. Got a new one here, needs his schedule.”

Miss Darla barely looked up. “Name?”

Hipswitch nudged Kamor.

Kamor hesitated, then reached into his pocket, pulling out a small notebook. He flipped to a page and showed it to her.

Kamor.

Miss Darla squinted, sighed, and started typing. A moment later, the printer coughed out a piece of paper, which she handed over without much enthusiasm.

“Try not to get into trouble,” she muttered before turning back to her screen.

Hipswitch plucked the schedule from Kamor’s hands before he could read it himself. “Let’s see what we got here.” He scanned the paper, then grinned. “Well, well, look at that. We got a few classes together. Looks like you’ll be stuck with me for homeroom, history, and—oh, hey! Lunch. That’s the most important one.”

Kamor took his schedule back, scanning the list himself.

“Alright, partner, let’s get you to class,” Hipswitch said, throwing an arm around Kamor’s shoulder like they’d known each other for years. “You ever get lost, just look for the best-dressed cowboy in this hellhole.”

Kamor huffed out something close to a laugh.

⸻

Kamor sighed as he stumbled into his next class, gripping his schedule like it was a lifeline. This was the first class he didn’t have with Hipswitch. Which terrified him.

His eyes darted around the room, searching for an empty seat, and he made a beeline for the one next to the window. Classic anime protagonist move. Yeah, he knew. Total nerd stuff. But so what? He was a weeb, and he’d own it.

He slid into his seat, exhaling slowly, trying to steady himself. The classroom was loud—students chatting, throwing crumpled-up papers, one kid half-asleep at his desk already. Kamor kept his head down, gripping the edge of his desk like it might keep him from floating away.

Then, movement caught his eye.

Two boys sat a few desks away. They looked similar. Same sharp features, same dark hair. Twins?

One of them turned toward him. He wore glasses and had a kind, nervous smile, like he wasn’t sure if he should say hi or not.

Kamor hesitated—then gave a small smile back.

The boy seemed relieved.

Then Kamor looked at the other one.

The second twin wasn’t smiling. At all. Instead, he had this glare—sharp, calculating, like he was trying to figure out if Kamor was worth acknowledging or not. The air around him felt colder somehow, like even the chaos of the classroom didn’t touch him.

Kamor quickly looked back out the window.

Great. He just walked into a class with the literal embodiment of nice twin, scary twin.

And he had no idea which one was worse.

⸻

Kamor’s eyelids grew heavier, and before he knew it, he was resting his head on the desk.

It wasn’t his fault. The teacher had left the room, and the class was just too boring. The students weren’t even paying attention, most of them talking amongst themselves or doing their own thing. Kamor figured no one would mind if he caught a quick nap.

The next thing he knew, he was jolted awake by the unsettling feeling of being watched. His heart raced as he sat up quickly, eyes scanning the room.

There.

The twins.

The one with glasses—Mahatma—was staring at him with a curious, gentle gaze, but it was the other one, Attila, who sent a chill down Kamor’s spine. The glare Attila shot him felt like it could freeze him in place. Kamor’s stomach twisted.

Okay. Yeah. He was definitely going to be killed or something.

Just as Kamor began to shrink in on himself, the door to the classroom swung open, and in walked none other than Hipswitch.

“Yo, partner!” he called, grinning. “Let’s skip.”

Kamor blinked. Skip on the first day? What was this guy—crazy?

Before he could fully process what was happening, Hipswitch was already walking toward him, the twins standing up from their seats with surprising ease. They didn’t look happy to be interrupted, but they weren’t exactly mad, either. Kamor noticed the way they seemed to know Hipswitch.

“Hey, fellas,” Hipswitch greeted them with a smirk. “This here’s Kamor. New kid.”

Mahatma smiled and waved shyly. “Hey there, Kamor. Welcome to Blackridge.”

Attila gave a small nod but didn’t say anything, his eyes still narrowed in a quiet appraisal.

Hipswitch chuckled and slapped Kamor on the back, already steering him out of the classroom. “You’ll get used to ‘em, partner. They’re alright. Kinda rough around the edges, but who isn’t, right?”

The teacher, somewhere in the back of the room, was still absent, probably off doing whatever the school staff did when they didn’t feel like doing their jobs. Kamor figured that, at this point, the whole school was too broke to care.

As they walked down the hall, Hipswitch kept his arm around Kamor’s shoulder. “So, what’s it gonna be, Kamor? The rest of the day’s all ours. You in for a little adventure?”

Kamor blinked, glancing back at the classroom door, still open behind them. Skipping school on the first day?

Hipswitch grinned, mischief gleaming in his eyes. “Come on, partner. I’ll show you how we do things around here.”

⸻

Kamor, to his credit, did try to stay in class. He really did. He had planned to get through it, maybe try to make a good impression—if he could just survive the twin glares and the general awkwardness of being the new kid.

But then Hipswitch decided he wasn’t having it. Before Kamor could even open his mouth to protest, Hipswitch casually slung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Let’s roll, partner!”

Kamor barely had time to grab his things before Hipswitch was already halfway out the door. He wasn’t sure if he should be embarrassed or just resigned to his fate.

“Put me down!” Kamor muttered, but it came out as more of a weak protest. He didn’t really want to fight it; if anything, Hipswitch’s carefree nature was starting to rub off on him.

Once outside the classroom, Kamor was finally set down, his feet hitting the ground with a soft thud. They walked down the hall with Hipswitch leading the way, his loud, confident voice drawing a few curious glances from other students.

Kamor walked beside him, his gaze flicking over to the twins.

“So,” Kamor began, writing quickly on his notepad, his handwriting neat and careful. “What’s your deal?”

Mahatma, walking just ahead, glanced back over his shoulder. “Our deal? Well, uh…” He scratched his head nervously, looking at Attila for reassurance. “We used to go to a small school. For medical studies. But, well… it didn’t exactly work out.”

Attila grunted from behind them, his usual expression of quiet disapproval settling into his features.

“Yeah,” Mahatma continued. “We weren’t exactly, uh, the most stable mentally, so they kicked us out. Now we’re here.” He shrugged like it was no big deal, but there was a hint of regret in his tone.

Kamor wrote down a quick note. Medical school, mental instability… interesting. He looked up, noticing that Mahatma’s gaze was on his notepad

“That’s some nice handwriting you got there,” Mahatma commented, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

Kamor blinked in surprise and shrugged, feeling a flush creep up his neck. Was that a compliment? He wasn’t used to this kind of attention.

“Thanks,” Kamor wrote on his notepad, then added, I like to keep things neat

Mahatma chuckled softly. “I can tell.”

Attila, who hadn’t spoken much, seemed to glance at Kamor’s notepad briefly, his expression unreadable. He didn’t say anything, but the faint shift in his demeanor made Kamor wonder if the twins weren’t as different as they appeared.

“So, Kamor,” Hipswitch called from the front, “ready to get into some real trouble?”

Kamor didn’t know what exactly that meant, but given the way his day was already going, he figured he might as well embrace it.

⸻

Kamor’s curiosity piqued as Hipswitch led the way behind the school. The atmosphere here was different—darker, more chaotic. The distant sounds of shouting and grunts filled the air.

“What’s going on back there?” Kamor wrote on his notepad, looking up at Hipswitch, who didn’t seem surprised at all.

“You’ll see,” Hipswitch replied with a grin that didn’t exactly inspire confidence. “Just another day at Blackridge.”

They turned the corner, and Kamor’s eyes widened. A brawl was taking place, right in the middle of the school’s back alley. One guy was being pummeled with punches, his opponent relentless and furious. But what caught Kamor’s attention was the figure standing in the middle of it all—Hipswitch was calling out to him.

“Albus!”

The guy, Albus, was a mess of bruises and sweat, but there was a certain fire in his eyes as he fought back with everything he had. His movements were quick, his stance solid, but the other guy had the advantage of height and sheer strength.

Hipswitch sighed, shaking his head as he approached. “Seriously, Albus, can’t you fight without getting into every fight?”

Mahatma flinched as another punch landed. Kamor glanced over at him, seeing the way his shoulders tensed at the violence, his gaze flickering nervously between the fight and his twin, Attila, who was standing off to the side with an almost… amused look on his face.

“You’re too soft, Mahatma,” Attila muttered, crossing his arms. He watched Albus with an almost cruel expression, leaning in slightly. “You should be encouraging him to hit harder. This kid needs to learn the hard way.”

Kamor’s stomach twisted. Was Attila serious

Mahatma looked uncomfortable, but he said nothing. He just shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting back to Albus, who was now on the defensive. Kamor could feel the tension in the air. This wasn’t a typical school fight.

With one last punch, Albus managed to shove his opponent away, panting heavily, his face bruised but his pride intact. He stood there for a moment, catching his breath. Kamor could see that there was more to Albus than just a delinquent—there was a kind of restless energy in him, something Kamor couldn’t quite place.

“Alright, break it up,” Hipswitch called out with a voice that brooked no argument.

Albus wiped blood from his lip, then turned his head toward Hipswitch, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Guess I won again, huh?”

Hipswitch shot him a pointed look, one eyebrow raised. “You always win, Albus. But do you have to do it like this?”

Kamor watched as Albus approached, brushing off his clothes like nothing had happened. His eyes flicked over to Kamor for a split second, then back to Hipswitch. “Who’s the new kid?”

“This is Kamor,” Hipswitch said, slapping him on the back with a laugh. “New recruit to our little misfit group.”

Albus raised an eyebrow, sizing Kamor up. “Another one, huh? I’m Albus. You’re gonna need thick skin if you hang with us.”

Kamor blinked, trying to make sense of the situation. He wrote down on his notepad, A bit intense, huh?

Albus chuckled at that, ruffling Kamor’s hair in a way that felt oddly… protective. “You’ll get used to it. Welcome to Blackridge.”

⸻

Kamor quickly fixed his hair, smoothing down the messy strands that had been ruffled by Hipswitch’s earlier antics. He couldn’t help but glance at Albus and Hipswitch as the two started their usual banter.

“So, Hipswitch,” Albus started with a mischievous grin, leaning in a bit too close for comfort, “you finally brought someone new to the squad? I’m honored to be in the presence of such fine company.”

Hipswitch rolled his eyes, but the playful smirk never left his face. “Cut it out, Albus. You flirt with anyone who breathes.”

“Hey, can you blame me?” Albus shrugged dramatically. “I mean, who wouldn’t be charmed by this?” He struck a pose, chest puffed out as if trying to impress someone.

Kamor could only watch in awkward silence. He was used to things being chaotic, but this? This was a whole new level of weird.

Hipswitch chuckled but gave Albus a firm shove. “Knock it off, before I knock you out.”

Albus just laughed, clearly unbothered by the threat. “I’m just having fun, Hipswitch. You could use a little more fun in your life.”

Meanwhile, Kamor’s mind was elsewhere—his thoughts drifting to Hipswitch’s earlier touch when he had been lifted up like a sack of potatoes. The warmth of Hipswitch’s hand on his back lingered in his thoughts. He shook his head to clear it. Focus, Kamor. Focus.

As if sensing his distraction, Hipswitch suddenly turned his attention back to Kamor.

“Hey, let me help with your hair,” Hipswitch said, his voice soft as he approached.

Kamor blinked, not sure how to respond. His cheeks flushed slightly, but he didn’t pull away as Hipswitch gently started to smooth down his hair. Kamor had never really been one to care much about his appearance, but something about Hipswitch’s touch made him feel a little… flustered.

Albus, who had been watching the scene unfold, leaned in with a grin. “Oh, I see it now. Kamor’s got a little crush on you, huh, Hipswitch?”

Kamor froze, his eyes widening. No, no way. He couldn’t have figured it out that fast.

Hipswitch looked completely oblivious, still focused on fixing Kamor’s hair. “What? No. You’re imagining things, Albus.”

But Albus wasn’t backing down. He looked Kamor up and down with a teasing glint in his eye. “Oh, I’m not imagining anything, trust me. You’re just too cute to ignore.”

Kamor’s face went red, and he quickly looked down, focusing on the ground to hide his embarrassment.

“Yeah, Hipswitch,” Albus added, grinning wider, “you’re too dense to notice, but I can see it. Kamor’s totally got a thing for you.”

Hipswitch paused for a moment, still not getting the hint. “Whatever, Albus. You’re ridiculous.”

⸻

It had been four weeks since Kamor stumbled into Blackridge High, and he had quickly gotten wrapped up in the chaos that defined this place.

Albus was, of course, at the center of it all, always throwing a punch or dragging Kamor into a new mess. Kamor had tried to stay on the sidelines, but Albus had an irresistible way of pulling him into trouble.

This time, it was a fight—nothing new for Albus. But what was new was Kamor getting caught in the crossfire and ending up with a black eye.

Hipswitch was furious

“Are you kidding me, Albus?” Hipswitch barked, his mechanical fingers twitching as he paced back and forth. Kamor sat on the nearby bench, one hand pressed against his bruised face, trying to hide the pain.

“It’s not like I planned for it to happen!” Albus protested, hands thrown up in defense, but there was a slight smirk on his face. “You know how it is.”

“I don’t care how it is! You’re supposed to be looking out for Kamor, not getting him hurt!”

Kamor winced at the tone in Hipswitch’s voice, but he didn’t say anything. This was a fight between the two of them—he wasn’t going to get involved.

Mahatma and Attila, meanwhile, were too preoccupied with their latest experiment to notice the drama unfolding. Kamor had caught glimpses of their “work” over the past week—Mahatma and Attila had taken to stitching dead frogs together in an attempt to “revive” them. Kamor was both terrified and slightly intrigued by the whole thing, but it was hard to focus on the science when there was a very real chance of them blowing up the entire lab in the process.

“Maybe we should stick to just dissection?” Kamor wrote one day, trying to keep it polite.

“Don’t be a sissy, Kamor,” Attila had snapped, a wicked grin on his face as he held up a needle and thread. “This is where the real work happens.”

Kamor had no idea how to respond to that. He just stayed back and tried not to breathe in whatever concoction was in the air.

And then came the day at 7/11.

The gang had been hanging out, as usual, and for some reason, they all forgot their wallets. The plan? Well, Albus had no problem suggesting they steal.

“Come on, it’s just a couple of snacks,” Albus said with a wicked grin. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Before Kamor knew it, the gang was bolting out of the store, bags of chips and soda in hand. Kamor had no intention of being part of this, but the group had already dashed through the door. The security alarm rang out as they sprinted down the street, and in a matter of seconds, they were surrounded by cops.

The gang stood there, frozen. The cops searched their bags, but there were no snacks in sight. Albus looked utterly confused. “Uh, did we leave them in the car?”

Kamor watched from a distance, still clutching the bag of chips he had picked up earlier. But when the cops were distracted, he made his move.

As the gang was getting ushered out of the store by the police, Kamor led them around to a back alley. He flashed them a quick smile before pulling the stolen goods from under his jacket—hidden all along.

The gang stared at him, eyes wide. Kamor didn’t even look guilty as he casually tossed the goods at Albus.

“That’s how you do it,” Kamor said with a grin.

Albus blinked, his mouth agape. “You did steal them?”

“Are you sure?” Attila raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were supposed to be the innocent one, Kamor.”

Mahatma just shook his head in disbelief. “Well, I’ll be damned. You are quick with your hands.”

Hipswitch, who had followed them into the alley, chuckled softly. “And here I thought you were just a quiet kid who never did anything wrong.”

Kamor just smiled, leaning back against the wall as if it was no big deal

Albus leaned closer, whispering in Kamor’s ear, “You’re definitely one of us now.”

⸻

The next day, the sun filtered through the thick canopy of the overgrown willow tree, casting dappled shadows across the worn grass beneath it. Kamor sat cross-legged, a stack of tarot cards shuffled lazily in his hands. He had been doing this for a while now, ever since one of his many foster homes had gifted him the cards. They were a simple way to pass the time, a habit he’d picked up without much thought.

Beside him, Albus was sprawled out, taking an exaggerated nap. His heavy breathing and soft snores were carried away by the light breeze that rustled the leaves of the tree. The whole scene was peaceful in a way Kamor wasn’t used to—a kind of calm that felt out of place with the chaos of Blackridge High. But right now, it was just him, Albus, and the gentle wind.

The shuffle of the cards was rhythmic, almost meditative. Kamor’s fingers moved with practiced ease, not really focusing on the patterns or the cards themselves, just the motion. He wasn’t sure why he had this particular habit, but it helped him tune out the noise of the world, at least for a little while.

Albus snored again, the sound echoing in the quiet air, and Kamor couldn’t help but smile a little. The guy had no shame when it came to naps. Not that Kamor could blame him; who wouldn’t want to tune out sometimes?

The wind picked up a little, and one of the cards slipped from Kamor’s hand, drifting onto the grass. He reached to grab it, but before he could, Albus suddenly flopped over, knocking a few more cards from Kamor’s lap.

“Hey, you’re messing with my spread,” Kamor wrote on his notepad, showing Albus, who lazily squinted at the cards.

Albus blinked, still half asleep. “Huh? Tarot cards? You a fortune-teller now, Kamor?

Kamor just shrugged, holding up the card that had fallen to the ground. “It’s just a hobby,” he wrote.

Albus yawned, clearly not understanding but still mildly entertained. “Well, maybe you can predict when I’m gonna win my next fight. Would be handy, right?” He stretched, his arms reaching for the sky as he fully woke up.

Kamor gave him a deadpan look, then returned to his cards, shuffling them again. The sound of the cards moving through his fingers was calming once more.

In the distance, he could hear the faint sounds of students rushing between classes, the distant chatter and the low hum of the school’s broken bell system. But here, beneath the willow tree, the world felt distant.

Kamor wasn’t sure how long they’d been sitting there when the sound of footsteps interrupted the peace.

“Alright, you two. Time to get moving,” Hipswitch’s voice broke through the stillness, his voice low and slightly amused.

Kamor looked up to see Hipswitch, along with Mahatma and Attila, walking toward them. All of them looked like they’d just come from a grueling exam.

Albus grinned up at them lazily. “Hey, look who’s come to ruin the vibe.”

Hipswitch rolled his eyes. “Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, but the rest of us have things to do.”

“Like what? Ruining lives and making trouble?” Albus said with a playful grin, sitting up and stretching.

Mahatma smiled, offering Kamor a small wave as Attila just gave him a silent nod.

“Didn’t know you were into fortune-telling,” Mahatma said, his eyes scanning the cards Kamor had laid out. “They say tarot cards can predict the future, right?”

Kamor shrugged, holding up the deck. He didn’t have much to say, but the cards in his hands had become a quiet comfort over the past few days.

“Not exactly,” Kamor wrote on his notepad.

Attila tilted his head, a slight smirk on his face. “Guess we’ll just have to find out for ourselves, huh?”

Kamor gave a small, cryptic smile before starting to shuffle the deck again.

⸻

The gang had, as usual, found their way into a mess. It was Hipswitch, Mahatma, Attila, Albus, and Kamor—albeit, Kamor was the reluctant participant in this particular adventure. The plan was simple: sneak into the nearby movie theater. It was easy enough to get past the run-down staff, especially when most of them couldn’t care less about a few kids sneaking in to watch something they probably shouldn’t.

Kamor had nodded along with the group, not really having a say in the matter. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do, and being around the chaos was starting to feel normal. Besides, it wasn’t like he could turn down the gang entirely. He was beginning to realize he was stuck with them, whether he liked it or not.l

Albus had an idea, of course. “Let’s sneak into a movie with a sex scene,” he’d said with a wild grin, nudging Kamor in the ribs.

Kamor blinked, unsure how to react, but before he could even try to process the idea, Hipswitch had immediately thrown it out.

“No way, Albus,” Hipswitch said firmly, his tone the kind of serious that only happened when he was ready to play the role of the “adult” in the group.

Albus grumbled but didn’t push it. Instead, the gang snuck into a random theater showing a horror movie. The kind of movie with way too much blood and way too many screams.

Kamor wasn’t exactly a fan of horror. In fact, he wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to it, especially with his ever-growing anxiety and fear of things he couldn’t fully remember. Still, he kept quiet and followed along, seating himself between Hipswitch and Albus.

The movie started, and the screen lit up with disturbing images. At first, Kamor thought he could handle it. He sat quietly, his eyes glued to the screen, trying to be brave. But then it happened.

The scene was too much. A crazed man was carving into a victim, blood spraying across the screen in grotesque detail. Kamor’s stomach twisted, and his heart began to pound. His hands shot up to his ears in a futile attempt to block out the sound.

The scene felt too real. The screams of the victim echoed in Kamor’s mind, and for a moment, the theater felt like it was closing in on him. His breath came in sharp, shallow gasps, his chest tightening with panic.

Albus, who had been munching on popcorn, glanced over at him and frowned. “Hey, you okay?”

Kamor didn’t answer. His mind was too clouded with images he couldn’t place—shadows of his childhood, fragments of something dark and painful that he couldn’t fully remember. His hands trembled as he squeezed them over his ears harder, trying to block out everything around him.

He didn’t know why this scene triggered him, why it felt so familiar. He couldn’t explain the memories that crashed into him like waves—just brief, fragmented images of pain and confusion. The trauma was locked away in parts of his mind, and moments like this tore at the seams, making him remember things he didn’t want to know.

Hipswitch, sensing the tension, leaned over and gently nudged Kamor’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to watch it,” he said, his voice soft but firm, almost protective.

Albus noticed the way Kamor was reacting, his eyes wide, his body stiff with fear. His playful grin faltered for a moment, and he looked to Hipswitch for guidance.

“Dude, you good?” Albus asked again, his usual cocky demeanor gone, replaced by something softer.

But Kamor couldn’t respond. He felt like he was suffocating, trapped in his own memories. His body was shaking now, and the darkness of the theater felt more like a prison than a place of escape.

Mahatma was the first to notice how bad it was getting. He leaned forward, his face serious. “Kamor, hey, look at me,” Mahatma said, his voice gentle but commanding. Kamor felt his attention shift to the other boy, and his trembling fingers slowly moved away from his ears.

It wasn’t much, but it helped.

“Breathe, Kamor,” Mahatma urged softly. “You’re fine. We’re all here.”

The words hit Kamor with a strange weight, and though his heart still raced, he could feel the panic starting to fade. Slowly, his breaths returned to a more even rhythm, though his chest still felt tight.

Albus was quiet now, watching Kamor with a rare, concerned expression.

“You want to go?” Hipswitch asked, his voice as calm as ever, though his brow was furrowed with concern.

Kamor nodded, just barely, still unable to find his voice.

Without another word, Hipswitch stood, gently helping Kamor to his feet. “We’re leaving. I’ll make sure you get home, okay?”

As the gang quietly filed out of the theater, Kamor felt the weight of his memories pressing down again, but this time, he wasn’t alone. Hipswitch was there, the others trailing behind, and maybe for the first time since coming to Blackridge High, Kamor felt like he wasn’t just floating through life.

They were his people. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

⸻

It had been a few days since the incident at the theater. Kamor hadn’t spoken about what happened—he didn’t need to. The gang didn’t push him, understanding that everyone had their own burdens to carry. Hipswitch was the first to notice that Kamor hadn’t shut down since, though. He was quieter, still a little distant, but the light in his eyes hadn’t disappeared.

Today, they were in class, and Kamor had already given up on learning. The classroom was droning on, the teacher’s voice a dull hum in the background. Kamor sat at his desk, his head resting on his folded arms. Sleep was creeping up on him, and as his eyelids grew heavier, he let himself slip into the warmth of unconsciousness.

It wasn’t long before Kamor’s hand drifted. Maybe it was the sleepiness, maybe the strange comfort he felt from being around Hipswitch—maybe it was the overwhelming sense of trust he’d started to build—but Kamor’s hand reached out, fingers brushing against the cold, smooth surface of Hipswitch’s prosthetic arm.

The moment he touched it, Kamor’s heart skipped a beat. He pulled back instinctively, but it was too late. Hipswitch had already caught the movement out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey,” Hipswitch said softly, looking down at Kamor with a gentle smile. “You know you can touch it if you want. I don’t mind.”

Kamor blinked, unsure of how to respond. He had never really touched it before—had never dared. But there was something about the way Hipswitch was looking at him, something reassuring in the way his eyes softened. Slowly, Kamor’s hand returned to the arm, this time with more purpose, gently tracing the cold, smooth surface.

Hipswitch’s smile widened, a warmth bubbling up inside of him that he didn’t quite understand. It was like a soft, quiet thing—a feeling he hadn’t expected but somehow welcomed. Kamor’s touch was so delicate, so careful, and Hipswitch found himself savoring it in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“You don’t have to be afraid of it,” Hipswitch continued, his voice low, almost contemplative. “I got it in a fire. Chemical fire, back in my early foster home. It was… rough. But I was lucky. After everything, a man named Sensei took me in.”

Kamor nodded slightly, his fingers still lightly tracing the prosthetic’s smooth surface. He was fascinated by it, not just because it was mechanical, but because it was a part of Hipswitch. Something personal. Something that, even though he didn’t fully understand, seemed to tie into the man’s past.

Hipswitch paused, watching Kamor, his thoughts wandering for a moment before he continued. “Sensei was the one who paid for all my treatments. Helped me get back to something that felt… like me again. He’s the one who got me here. And now, here I am.”

Kamor looked up at him then, meeting Hipswitch’s eyes. It was almost like a silent understanding had passed between them. Kamor didn’t have to say anything. He didn’t need to. But Hipswitch knew he was listening—he could see it in the way Kamor’s fingers continued to trace the prosthetic.

There was something warm in Hipswitch’s chest now, something soft and new. He didn’t quite know what it was, but he didn’t mind. There was something comforting about Kamor’s presence. Something that had been missing from Hipswitch’s life for a long time.

For Kamor, it was a strange feeling too. He had always felt disconnected, like he was floating through life, never truly part of anything. But with Hipswitch… it was different. There was no judgment in the way the older boy looked at him, no expectation. Just acceptance.

He couldn’t explain it, but the simple touch of Hipswitch’s arm felt like a bridge between them—a bridge he didn’t want to burn.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and Kamor reluctantly pulled his hand away, glancing up at Hipswitch once more.

“Thanks,” Kamor wrote quickly on his notepad, his eyes soft with a kind of gratitude he wasn’t used to feeling.

Hipswitch smiled, his usual easy grin returning, though there was still a flicker of that strange warmth in his chest. “Anytime, partner. Anytime.”

⸻

It was October at Blackridge High, and for once, the school was buzzing with an energy Kamor hadn’t seen before. The usual chaos and neglect seemed to be replaced by something… organized. It wasn’t much, but for a school that barely functioned, the sight of decorations strung up in the hallways and students running around with excitement was a strange but welcome change.

Kamor stared out the window in his classroom, watching a couple of students work together to set up a banner that said “Annual Fall Festival: Blackridge High.” He had never been to anything like this before. It was his first year at this school, and the concept of a fall festival was new to him. Back at his old schools, they had only hosted the usual sad bake sales and field trips, but nothing like this.

Mahatma, who had been eagerly talking to him all morning, seemed completely excited about it. His eyes sparkled with the kind of energy Kamor only saw from people who loved something with all their heart. “It’s tradition!” Mahatma explained, his voice full of enthusiasm. “Every year, the students get together to celebrate the fall season. There’s food, games, costumes, and just a lot of fun! This year, they’re even doing a haunted house! You’ll love it!”

Kamor’s eyes widened. He’d never really been one for festivals—let alone haunted houses—but the way Mahatma spoke about it made him feel like it might not be as terrible as he first thought. Besides, it was the first time he’d been around people who seemed so eager for something good. He was curious.

Before he could ask any more questions, a loud crash and a maniacal laugh pierced the air. Kamor jumped, his head snapping toward the source of the noise.

Up on the roof of the school, there was Albus. Of course, it was Albus. He was standing there, arms spread wide, with a wild grin plastered on his face. “It’s the Fall Festival, baby!” Albus yelled, his voice carrying all the way down to the students below. “Let the chaos begin!”

Kamor blinked, his heart racing as he processed what he was seeing. Albus was… on top of the school.

A few seconds later, Kamor’s other favorite person, Hipswitch, appeared, his robotic arm effortlessly moving as he scaled the side of the building. “ALBUS!” Hipswitch’s voice rang out, stern and commanding. “Get down from there right now before you do something stupid!”

The whole scene was a mess, and Kamor couldn’t help but feel slightly terrified. His heart skipped a beat as he looked at Albus, who was still laughing like a madman, and then at Hipswitch, who seemed like he was about to tear his hair out.

Mahatma, standing beside Kamor, shook his head with a soft chuckle. “Don’t mind them,” he said, his tone calm as always. “Albus has this way of turning every event into a spectacle. He’s the chaotic one. Hipswitch is the one who has to clean up after him.”

Attila, who had been quiet until now, smirked from behind them. “Just wait until they start setting up the haunted house,” he said in his usual deadpan manner. “That’ll be a real mess. But hey, it’ll be fun. We might even get kicked out of the school by the end of the day. Who knows?”

Kamor’s eyes widened. “Wait, you get kicked out?”

Attila shrugged nonchalantly. “Probably. You’ll see.”

The entire school seemed to be in a frenzy. Students were setting up food stands, hanging decorations, and painting random things on the walls. Kamor wasn’t sure if it was just the usual chaos of Blackridge or if it was something more. One thing was for sure—if this was a glimpse into what the fall festival was going to be like, he might need to find a way to stay out of the way.

But it was too late. Before he could escape the madness, Hipswitch was already approaching him, holding out his hand with that usual calm grin of his. “C’mon, partner. You’re part of the gang now. No backing out. Let’s go check out the festival. You might even enjoy it.”

Kamor hesitated. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go—it was just that everything felt so… overwhelming. The loudness, the chaos, the madness. But then, Hipswitch’s smile made it seem okay. Maybe he could trust the process.

“Fine,” Kamor wrote on his notepad, “but I’m staying far away from the haunted house.”

Hipswitch grinned wider. “Deal.”

As they headed toward the mess of festivities, Kamor couldn’t help but feel a bit of excitement building inside him. Despite the chaos that was sure to follow, there was something oddly comforting about being here, in the middle of it all. And with Hipswitch by his side… maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to go through it alone.

But knowing Albus, Mahatma, and Attila, Kamor had a feeling that the real fun was just beginning.

⸻

The autumn sun hung low in the sky as the fall festival continued, chaos and fun still swirling in the air. Kamor had managed to get some distance from the madness, sipping a drink he’d grabbed from one of the stands, his mind still trying to digest everything happening around him. The festival, despite the initial overwhelming experience, was… oddly comforting in its own way.

However, what caught his attention next was the sight of Albus, standing off to the side, staring intensely at someone. Kamor’s gaze followed, and it didn’t take long for him to spot the person who had caught Albus’ attention: Devlin. The older brother—or, rather, stepbrother—had arrived at the festival with a quiet but noticeable presence. He was slightly awkward, a contrast to the wild energy of the rest of their group, but there was something about his demeanor that stood out to Kamor.

Devlin was tall, but not as intimidating as Albus. His frame was lean, his movements methodical, as though he was always thinking a few steps ahead. He had a strange, warm smile, almost apologetic, as he approached Albus

Albus shot a glare at his older brother, crossing his arms in irritation. His usual carefree energy was dampened for a moment as he seemed to stand tall, trying to make himself look even bigger than usual. “What are you doing here, Devlin?” he grumbled, his voice half-annoyed, half-amused. “Did you come here to ruin my fun, or are you just checking in on me to make sure I don’t burn the place down?”

Devlin chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re still my little brother, Albus. I just… thought I’d stop by. See how you’re doing. Mom and Dad wanted me to make sure you weren’t causing too much trouble.” His voice was smooth and calm, but there was a subtle tension in the way he said it.

Albus’ eyes narrowed. “Yeah, well, they’re not my parents, are they? Not like they ever cared anyway. Doesn’t matter to me.” He turned away slightly, his gaze shifting back to the festival activities. “I’m not the one they ever cared about.”

Devlin sighed, his face softening. “You know that’s not true, Albus.” He took a step closer, but his words felt heavy. “Dad may not have been the best, but… I want his approval. I always have.”

Albus stiffened at that. “Yeah, but you’re the perfect little golden boy, aren’t you? Smart, well-behaved, always doing what he says. I don’t care about any of that. I’m me. But no, he didn’t care, and you know it.”

Kamor, watching the exchange from a distance, felt a pang of discomfort. It was like he was witnessing a silent battle between two people who were linked by blood but divided by their experiences.

Albus snorted, breaking the silence. “And besides, you’re not even sporty like the rest of the family. What does Dad care about a guy who can fix cars and engineer things? He doesn’t care about brains. All he ever wanted was someone to be a star athlete like the rest of his kids.”

Devlin’s gaze faltered, just for a moment, but his expression remained patient. “I know, Albus. But I can’t change that, can I? I’m just trying to get through it, do the best I can. For me. For the family. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you succeed, too.”

Albus shot a look at Devlin, a bit softer now. Despite his usual bravado and teasing, there was a vulnerability to his posture as he grumbled, “I still don’t care about him. But… I’m glad you’re here.

Devlin gave a small smile, the awkwardness between them easing just a bit. “Always, Albus. Always.”

The tension between them seemed to lighten a little, but Kamor could tell the scars of their shared history ran deep. Albus, with all his loudness and defiance, was just as hurt by their father’s neglect as Devlin was, in a different way. Albus hid it behind teasing and rebellion, while Devlin wore his need for approval like a second skin. They were bound by family, but their relationship was fractured, each struggling to navigate the expectations and disappointments placed on them.

As the conversation came to an end, Albus finally relaxed, leaning against the nearest post. “Alright, alright. You’re not so bad, Devlin. Go ahead, hang around. Just try not to lecture me while I’m having fun.”

Devlin chuckled softly, the unease between them melting away for now. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Albus.”

Kamor, who had been quietly observing, couldn’t help but feel a sense of melancholy for them both. Family wasn’t always easy, especially when it felt like it was more about proving your worth than actually being seen for who you were. But at least, for a moment, it seemed like the brothers were finding their way back to each other, even if it was just through small words and awkward smiles.

Kamor took a slow breath, glancing over at Hipswitch and the others. The chaos of the festival was still in full swing, but for once, it felt a little quieter in his head. Maybe there was something to all of this after all.

The fall festival’s chaos reached new heights as Albus and Devlin grinned mischievously, sizing up the game booths. Albus cracked his knuckles, a wicked gleam in his green eyes. “Alright, little bro, you use your brain, I’ll use my muscles. Together, we’ll dominate these games.”

Devlin smirked, his engineering mind already whirring with plans. “With your strength and my strategy, we’ll be unstoppable. They won’t know what hit them.”

They took a few steps toward the first booth, but before they could even get close, a hand shot out and yanked them both back, pulling them off their course. Albus stumbled slightly, his eyes widening in surprise, only to find himself face-to-face with none other than Faith.

Her sharp eyes locked with Albus’s, and despite the usual bravado that Albus wore like a second skin, he felt a flutter in his chest. His green eyes softened as he gazed at her, a genuine affection shining through, though his tough-guy demeanor tried to mask it. He flashed her a crooked grin, his voice teasing as always. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite troublemaker. Here to save the day again?”

Faith arched a brow, crossing her arms over her chest with a look that could melt steel. “You two are seriously going to cheat?” she asked, her voice full of disbelief. “You’ve already been warned about the whole no cheating rule, right?”

Albus’s smile faltered, but only for a moment. “Hey, a guy’s gotta get his wins somehow. And you love the charm.”

Faith rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “I don’t know why I even bother with you two. You’re so much trouble.” She paused for a moment, before her gaze shifted from Albus to Devlin, who had been trying to suppress a laugh at the interaction. “We’re all supposed to do this together, remember? I promised Kerano we’d hang out today.”

Albus stiffened for a moment at the mention of Kerano, his mood slightly dimming as he glanced at the younger child. He couldn’t help the twinge of frustration that rose within him. Kerano was this sweet, adorable kid that had wormed her way into their lives. But what bothered Albus most was that he wasn’t sure how to fit in when it came to Faith and Kerano. And it didn’t help that Faith always treated him like a kid, a troublemaker, and not the guy who could protect her.

But what made Albus cringe the most was the fact that Faith was so damn good at reading him. She knew the walls he put up, and yet she still kept coming back, still dragging him along. He was so not good enough for her, but he didn’t know how to let go. His feelings were complicated, and no matter how much he tried to act like the tough guy, Faith had a way of getting to him.

Devlin, on the other hand, was silently seething, and he knew that his brother’s feelings were obvious. He just wished Albus would realize it and stop acting like he wasn’t good enough for someone like Faith. Devlin had his own frustrations with their family, but he could see how much his brother struggled with feelings for Faith. He couldn’t help but find it a little annoying that the two acted like love-struck idiots whenever she was around, but deep down, Devlin knew they were just being themselves.

Faith glanced back at her little cousin, Kerano, who was eagerly waiting near the edge of the crowd. The child bounced up and down, practically jumping in excitement. Faith softened, her serious tone shifting as she looked back at Albus and Devlin. “Kerano’s been dying to play those games, and I promised her we’d all go together. So, no more cheating, alright?”

Albus, ever the flirt, leaned in a little too close, his voice low and teasing. “Well, Faith, I guess I’ll have to make up for my lost victories by winning your heart instead. How about that?”

Faith rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the blush creeping up her neck. “Albus, you’re impossible.”

Devlin snickered, but it was clear that beneath his teasing, there was a sense of protectiveness toward his little brother. The kid’s got it bad, he thought, his irritation mixed with a strange sense of sympathy. But he’s not wrong about the way Faith looks at him…

With a sigh, Devlin placed a hand on Albus’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Come on, man. Don’t make it weird. Let’s just go before Kerano drags us all into the chaos.”

Albus shot one more smirk in Faith’s direction, but for the first time, it wasn’t just about teasing her—it was genuine. “Alright, alright. But next time, I’m definitely winning you over, Faith.”

“Not if I win first,” she replied with a teasing glint in her eye, before she turned toward Kerano.

Kamor, still hanging at the back of the group, watched the exchange unfold with a curious expression. There was something about the way Albus and Faith acted around each other that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He didn’t know what was going to happen between them, but he could feel the tension in the air, something unspoken but very real. It was like watching a scene from one of the romance shows his parents used to let him watch, only this one had real people in it.

The group, now fully intact, headed toward the game booths, the festival’s chaos buzzing around them. Kamor was content to watch the others interact, his thoughts drifting as he looked at the way Albus and Faith played off each other. There was an undeniable connection between them, even if neither of them seemed to fully understand it just yet.

Kamor knew something about connections. He was starting to realize, despite everything, that he was part of something much bigger now. He had his own tangled feelings, his own little crush on Hipswitch, but for once, he wasn’t afraid to be part of something chaotic and messy. It wasn’t perfect, but it was his.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

As the group moved through the crowded festival grounds, the chaos of the fall festival enveloped them. Albus and Devlin were already making their way to one of the game booths, with Kerano bouncing alongside them, chanting for Albus to win her a stuffed animal. Kamor followed behind them, a quiet observer of the whole scene, while Hipswitch and Mahatma lingered near the sidelines, each trying to avoid getting roped into more trouble.

Faith, however, was momentarily distracted by something else—someone, in fact.

A flash of blonde hair caught her attention, and before she could fully process it, she found herself bumping into a person in the crowd. The stranger had quick reflexes, managing to catch Faith before she stumbled back.

“Whoa, sorry about that,” Faith muttered, her voice laced with surprise as she stepped back and glanced up at the person she’d collided with.

The girl she bumped into had wild, tousled blonde hair and a look in her eye that immediately made Faith realize this was no ordinary encounter. The stranger had a smirk that bordered on mischievous, and she was staring at Faith as if she’d just bumped into her on purpose—probably to get a better look.

Faith blinked. “Uh, no problem.”

The stranger’s eyes lit up in an instant, and she straightened her posture, clearly taking the moment to compose herself. “Sorry! I wasn’t paying attention, you know… just, uh, distracted,” she stammered, trying to look casual, but it was clear she wasn’t.

Faith raised an eyebrow, her own smile forming. The girl had clearly been trying to flirt, though it was a bit on the awkward side. Faith chuckled softly, finding it endearing. “It’s fine,” she replied, giving the girl a quick once-over. “Not every day I get bumped into by someone this… interesting.”

The stranger—Kit, as Faith quickly noticed on her name tag—blushed deeply at the comment, realizing how much of an idiot she was making of herself in front of this gorgeous woman. She stuttered a bit before her confidence kicked in, and she cleared her throat. “Well, I mean, maybe it’s not the worst thing to bump into someone… like you?” Kit’s voice wavered just a little, as if unsure how to follow through with the flirtatious remark.

Faith couldn’t help but laugh softly. “You’re not bad at it,” she teased. “But you’re gonna have to try harder if you wanna win my attention.

Kit, looking completely flustered but still determined, nodded earnestly. “I’m, uh, totally up for the challenge,” she replied, her voice trying to sound cool despite the blush creeping up her neck. She gave a small, shy grin, but before she could say anything else, Faith’s attention was diverted once again.

“Albus, for the love of God, don’t throw that ball at him!” Faith shouted, her voice full of exasperation.

She turned just in time to see Albus, with that characteristic grin on his face, winding up for a perfect pitch at one of the game operators—a poor guy who had just been caught rigging the game. Kerano, the little ball of energy, was chanting, “Do it, Albus! Do it!” from the sidelines.

Kit’s face lit up with sudden understanding as she caught a glimpse of Albus. She muttered under her breath, “Oh, great, that guy looks fun.” Her eyes flickered back to Faith, who was now attempting to de-escalate the situation.

“You’re gonna have to save your flirting for later,” Faith said with a wink, her tone light but with an underlying command. “I’ve got to stop this idiot from causing a scene.” She gave Kit a quick smile before turning away, heading toward Albus.

Kit stood there for a second, blinking and trying to suppress her embarrassment. She had just attempted to flirt with someone who could have been straight-up out of her league, and now, she was getting caught in a small battle of egos involving what looked like a pretty intense rivalry.

But it was clear Faith wasn’t fazed by any of it. With that, Kit’s smile turned a little more mischievous. “Alright, I’ll take the challenge later,” she said to herself, a little more confident than before. She watched Faith hurry off, her heart racing.

Meanwhile, Albus was still holding the ball, a dangerous glint in his eyes. His smile was that of a man who found all rules to be optional, especially when he had the perfect target. But before he could make his move, he was intercepted by Faith, who wrapped him in a chokehold from behind.

“Albus, if you throw that, I’ll make you play every booth game until your arms fall off!” she scolded, her voice full of playful threat. Kerano giggled at the scene, clapping her hands.

Albus sighed dramatically but gave in. “Alright, alright, I’ll spare the guy,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. “But he deserved it! He was totally cheating!”

Faith let him go, shaking her head but smiling. “I know. I saw. But trust me, starting a riot at the festival is not how I want to spend my afternoon.”

To continue

I kinda lost interest of this. Might come back to add things. Uuhhh don’t know.

@kitsprivatelair hope you like how I added your desperation simp self for goddess Faith

#goodboyaudios #SCHOOLAU #i have a headache #gba bvz #bastard vs zombies #fiction #goodboyaudios albus #goodboyaudios karmor #good boy audios #goodboyaudios hipswitch #goodboyaudios faithless #goodboyaudios manhatma #goodboyaudios devin #goodboyaudios kerano #cute #fluff #writing #AAAA SCHOOLAU #YUPIEEE

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nurse-floyd · 1 year ago

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Carlos Motherfucking Sainz

This man. I cannot. Also, these men also keep putting my love of nursing and my love of F1 together so let's get into it! How did Carlos Sainz manage to win 2 weeks after having an appendectomy?

In the UK, at least, you can leave the hospital the same day you've have an appendectomy as long as there are no complications as long is it was done laparoscopically and there were no complications (burst appendix etc)

Carlos had his appendix removed laparoscopically (which I predicted considering how quickly he was back at the paddock to watch the Grand Prix!) you can tell by the incisions - 3 small ones for the camera and tools rather than one long incision for an open appendectomy.

Usually after an appendectomy you can go back to work after 1-2 weeks. IF YOU HAVE A NON-PHYSICAL JOB. We know this man was back training and strengthening as soon as he could. You can usually start to work out after 2 weeks, depending on wound healing. Those sit ups would have been agony!

That alone would have had him in a lot of pain, let alone the amount of g-force the drivers encounter when they're driving around the circuits - up to 5G in some cases. That's 5x their body weight.

On his latest Instagram post you can see him in a weird glass tube - this presumably is a hyperbaric chamber. There are multiple studies investigating the effectiveness of hyperbaric oxygen therapy in the speedier healing of surgical wounds and reduction of post-operative infection.

In short, this type of therapy can reduce inflammation and boost the formation of white blood cells (the cells that protect the body against infection and defend it from attack of unknown organisms) to improve healing and lower the risk of infection.

Overall, we know he wouldn't have been able to drive unless he was safe to and he said himself they made sure he could get out of his car in the required time and padded his wound and made adjustments to ensure his comfort but you could see the pain he was in after and Lando helping onto the podium.

That man deserves his seat.

#f1 #formula one #formula 1 #carlos sainz #scuderia ferrari #ferrari #nurse-sainz #medical talk

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saystrinity · 6 months ago

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haaaaaaaapppyyy haaaalllooweeeennn!!! this has been scheduled for a week because im out of the country for the actual day :,(

contains: fem presenting reader, weird formatting bc i had to edit on mobile :////

༘⋆☾. chuckle sandwich ; halloween hcs ࿔‧๋࣭ ⭑

꒷꒦ charlie:

- lydia deetz & beetlejuice because of course.

- ^^ absolutely busting out songs from the musical for karaoke

- so proud of (and violently hot for) your costume he’s following you around all night, phone glued to his hand, camera right in your face - capturing every conceivable angle, flattering or not

- ⤷ “charlie!” “what? i want to remember this!” “you’d remember a lot better if you put that damn thing down.”

- no candy left for trick or treaters because he’s been straight snacking on it for the past two weeks

- channeling genloss ep1 charlie hard (goo goobie)

୭⊹ schlatt:

- had to talk him down from doing jackie and jfk

- ⤷ ”it’s insensitive, jay!” “..okay? not like they’re gonna see it."

- morticia & gomez instead

- he absolutely doesn’t mind the switch of jackie’s pink pillbox hat and matching tweed set for morticia’s raven hair and a tastefully low cut, batwing-sleeved shirt

- in fact, that entire getup is guaranteed to be discarded; in a heap on the living room floor the moment you’re home (from the party he begrudgingly went to)

- fighting for his life with the cobweb decorations you put up around the house (constantly walking through them, getting stuck and having to call for help)

✧࿔* ted:

- kermit & ms piggy, 100%

- will try (and fail) to do the kermit voice. time and time again. throughout the night. yes, it’s as painful to experience as it sounds. no, he doesn’t get any better at it (in fact, you’re pretty sure it’s devolving)

- ⤷ nonetheless, he’s looking to you with the dopiest grin each time, arms outstretched to his sides; “pretty good, huh?” ”..sure, ted.”

- the digital camera instagram dump about to go crazy

- gravely serious about any and all pumpkin carving throughout the month; this is his olympics

- ^^ you get a cute pumpkin patch date out of it though, so.. who’s complaining?

#[redacted hc about a corn maze with charlie]#charlie slimecicle x reader #slimecicle x reader #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #ted nivison x reader #chuckle sandwich x reader #x reader #“baby its halloween” - phoebe bridgers #its my bday tomorrow :))))))))#꒷꒦ charliewife

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knight-of-flowerss · 1 month ago

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Was reading @aeralux ‘s new fic (haven’t even finished yet but yall GOTS to read it 😫🫵)

Anyways, I was reading it and got to the point where they kiss and she said ‘Cregan kissed like he played hockey–with skill and passion.’ And idk why but it made me think of how both Cregan and Jace would be on the ice.

Like Cregan is VERY skilled. He’s BEEN playing ice hockey since he was like BORN. But like, is it really a surprise? Anyways, I think a lot of people see him and go ‘oh my god look at that monster of a man’ and they all just assume he’s just some brute on the ice when in reality he’s just the captain trynna get by with some little gremlins who are on his team (Jacaerys).

Like, don’t get me wrong, he intimidates everyone on the ice but in reality he’s BY. THE. BOOK. Making everyone do laps when they fuck up, miss a shot, misbehave, etc. even if it has nothing to do with hockey, you get his teammates are getting punished for their actions.

Failed your test? Run laps. Skipped class? You’re carrying everyone’s sticks. And let’s say someone did something worse like cheated on their girl, suit up. You’re going in goal and we’re all practicing our aim on you. (Bonus point of pain if they’re not a goalie in he first place)

So, he is by the book, maybe not so much with the last one but hey. Cregan’s not gonna let that one slide hunny.

But just because he keeps everyone in line and is serious about the sport doesn’t mean he hasn’t had his spats on the ice.

One person who CAN get under his skin is Aemond Targaryen. It was kind of surprising to everyone but maybe not so much. They’re both stoic and serious, believing in going by the rules and the book instead of acting rash and stupid. But they clash on the ice.

They clash hard.

It’s Aemond’s cockiness. That’s what infuriates him. He has such passion for this sport, he’s humble and understands his abilities and who he can beat easily and who would be a struggle which leads him to be the one to pick everyone’s roles and formations.

And Aemond? Aemond is smart but a cocky bastard. Never ever has Cregan seen him be even the littlest bit humble.

So that’s why after almost every match that they come face to face on in the ice, Aemond wears a black eye and Cregan a busted lip.

And I know you might be thinking, ‘Cregan would win every time though, I mean, look at the size of him compared to Aemond!’ Oh hunny, agility is a factor.

While Cregan is huge and burly, Aemond is lean and agile. So while Cregan has strength, Aemond is like a fucking snake, not much difference from his own personality.

There’s been a few times when Cregan’s pummelled Aemond’s face into the ice and a few times when Aemond has moved fast enough for Cregan to face plant on the cold.

But even when Cregan ‘loses’ to Aemond, he has his best friend in clutch.

As Aemond skates away, Jacaerys almost always shoulder checks him as hard as he can, sending Aemond on his ass.

Jacaerys. The exact little goblin Cregan has to keep an eye on.

Standing at 5’6, Jace lives up to the chihuahua stereotype.

While Cregan is intimidating, his face boxy and nose looking like it’s been rearranged a hundred times, Jacaerys is seen as a pampered little puppy. Like those dachshunds you see on instagram with their little knitted sweaters on with little bows at their ears.

Others look at Cregan and see him as the threat but fail to look behind him at the ankle biter which is Jacaerys.

‘The Prince of Dragonstone University’ they call him. He looked regal, a beautiful, beautiful face, gorgeous curled black locks, a lean body with a hint of a muscular build. He even spoke like a prince. He was always polite, helping anyone and everyone, but as soon as he gets on that ice.

Oof.

I hope you’re fast enough to skate away.

While he hates Aemond, Aegon holds the hatred in his heart with a death grip.

Both are ‘short kings’ that have a little gremlin mode whenever they get on the ice. They’re like those tiny little dogs who look so adorable but when you get close, they yap and bark so much their bodies literally shake.

But I swear as soon as he’s off the ice, he bats his eyelashes and looks at everyone with his baby doll bambi eyes and everyone coos over him, forgetting about his literal iPad kid rage on the ice.

I know this isn’t that good but hey. Shush. 🫵

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itsalliebitheway · 6 months ago

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make a move, do your thing

chapter 6: poet

Lena Luthor was objectively good at a lot of things. She’d graduated from high school at 16 and went on to get multiple degrees and even two doctorates. She had been running L-Corp successfully now for almost four years. Even outside of her academic success, she was good at many things. She’d been a chess prodigy and almost good enough at fencing to go to the Olympics. As a child, she learned how to play the piano to entertain her parents’ guests, and she learned to ride horses good enough to compete at charity polo games to represent their family.

Lena Luthor was good at many things.

But one thing that nobody knew about Lena was that she enjoyed writing poetry. And sure, she was no Goethe or Emily Dickinson, but she enjoyed playing with words. She’d discovered her love for writing poetry in middle school. Her teacher even encouraged her to keep writing, even recommending a special tutor since Lena showed talent. But of course, the Luthor’s vetoed it, since it was a worthless skill that brought no value to the family empire.

Recently, things had calmed down. L-Corp ran smoothly next to Lena’s occasional DEO duties. CatCo was safe and sound in Andrea’s hands and the friendship between them might not be back in full bloom but it was at least rekindled. The only thing that wasn’t going Lena’s way was her love life, and more specifically, her painfully unrequited crush on her best friend.

Kara was oblivious to all of Lena’s advances, had been from day one. She’d thought the office full of flowers was a thank you between friends and the personal gala invite just because Lena wanted some friendly company. Even when Lena bought CatCo for her, Kara saw it as a strategic step against Morgan Edge rather than Lena professing her undying love for her.

So, Lena turned back to one of her old outlets: poetry.

She’d been rusty and it had been painful, trying to fight the urge for perfectionism. Where Lena had written sonnets in her middle school years, she now tended to write in free form, letting her thoughts wander where they wanted and writing them down in a pleasing way. She even added a backdrop to all of them and edited them as pictures into a secret folder in her phone.

Still, it didn’t quite feel like getting her emotions out while these photos were hiding in her gallery. So, she did something she was almost sure she’d regret later – she asked Nia for help. The younger reporter had intermittently showed her some posts on Instagram, whenever they got together, and some of the inspirational quotes reminded Lena of the format she herself had been creating. Nia was thrilled to help her set up a profile under the penname @dreams_in_poetry where Lena slowly but surely shared her new poems with the world, or her current 33 followers.

She didn’t mind that not a lot of people were seeing them, she just wanted to write up her feelings and get them out into the world before she’d blurt them out in front of Kara.

Most times, Lena was also very good at keeping her emotions in check. She rarely cried and angry outbursts only happened in the privacy of her home or office where nobody could call her emotional. But there were times when her feelings for Kara were so overwhelming that Lena just needed to get them out to get on with her day.

So, on a Tuesday morning right after hiring a new scientist for her new ocean clean-up project, Lena closed all work documents in favor of opening a blank word document. The words flowed out of her easily, dripping like molasses from her fingers.

She went to her secret Pinterest account in her browser half an hour later and downloaded a picture of shattered glass, editing it under the text. She posted the picture with the caption “breaking the illusion” and was just about to close the window when she heard a slight tapping at the balcony window.

Kara, clad in her supersuit, waited outside with two coffee cups until Lena opened the door.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Lena asked when she’d closed the door behind Kara again.

“Well, I brough you a coffee, but full disclosure, I saw your screen and I thought you didn’t have Instagram?! Why aren’t you following me, and how come I didn’t know you had an account?”

“I don’t really have an Instagram, it’s just something silly I do,” Lena deflected and tried to push herself between Kara and her desk, but Supergirl had already put the cup down and sat down in Lena’s chair. At the same time, a ding sounded in her office and Kara pulled her phone from her boot.

“Oh look, my favorite Instagram poet just posted something new, now that you have it too I can finally show you this page, it’s truly amazing.”

Kara turned to her computer, apparently determined to put the poet’s name into the search bar, when she stopped short.

“Wait why is your profile pic the same one as…” she trailed off. She clicked on the little profile picture icon and was led to Lena’s posts, the new one on the top left.

“Kara I can explain,” Lena tried but Kara interrupted her.

“You’re dreams_in_poetry? Lena oh my god that is amazing and everything makes so much sense now!”

“It does?” Lena asked but Kara couldn’t be stopped.

“I’m not even mad anymore that you didn’t tell me, I’m just amazed honestly, and also a little bit sorry. You’ve been going through this alone the entire time, even though I could’ve been here for you.”

“What exactly am I going through?”

"...I can understand why you didn't tell me, I'm the press, but Lena I would never tell on you. You guys make such a powerful couple, imagine the charity galas you guys can throw, I bet you can collect a Guinness world record donation, I mean, golly. She's very beautiful, you as well, a magnificent couple, the prettiest."

"Kara... What the hell are you talking about?" Lena finally interjected loud enough to make Kara stop and breathe.

"You and Andrea? The poems? You obviously have feelings for her again and this is how you expressed yourself."

Lena almost laughed she was so confused. “Where on earth do you get this from, Kara?

“Just look at this one. Titled Past Love.”

“longing stares and almost kisses only moments apart ruining a friendship feels inevitable the drinks taste tart

have we ever been closer when we should be apart fleeting touches linger too long flirting morphs into art

familiar hugs without letting go rest your head on me we dance around each other I’ll never be free

of you”

“That just screams and Andrea. You’ll never be free of her. Your past love that can happen again.”

“Kara, I wrote that about Sam and Alex when they were dancing in the club while Sam was already dating Andrea. The two of them who are still together, by the way, so there is not a chance I want Andrea. None.”

Kara scrunched up her brow in confusion, looking at the words, and most prominently, Lena’s most recent post, open on her page.

Lena sighed and clenched her jaw, unwilling to crack now that Kara was so adamant about there being nobody else for Lena than her ex.

“Then who are all these about? Do you not want to tell me, Lena? I’m your best friend.”

Lena groaned loudly and buried her fingers in her own hair, ruining her pristine updue. This line had broken her heart far too many times.

“Why don’t I read the new one to you, and maybe you can figure it out, Kara.”

“will you let me kiss you once so that I know for sure I’ve dreamed too big

will you let me hold you close to let me convince myself I’ve been foolish to hope

will you let me take you home to show me I’ve been wrong to think there was a chance

of ever having you”

It was almost too painful to get through the whole thing, but thanks to her photographic memory, Lena didn’t need to read the lines. She stared into Kara’s eyes, reciting each word, and just hoped that it would finally click.

When she was done, she closed her eyes, too afraid too see how Kara would react. When she heard nothing, she slowly opened them again, watching Kara stare at her, her mouth agape, her eyes wide.

“Do you… can you, I mean. You can’t mean me, right?” she stuttered and swallowed hard enough for Lena to see it.

“Of course I mean you, you beautiful idiot,” Lena whispered, fighting the urge to just run all the way home to her apartment.

Then Kara reached for her, standing up from the desk chair, she towered over Lena again. Before Lena could think, Kara’s lips were on hers, chasing her when she broke away for air, not letting her get farther away than a hair’s breadth.

“I don’t think your illusion needs shattering after all. You can have me for as long as you want,” Kara whispered and pulled her in again.

#supercorptober #supercorptober2024 #allie's supercorptober 2024 #supercorp #supergirl

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kkmcshouty · 2 years ago

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What was supposed to be a quick comic turned into a several week long distraction. After listening to the fan song "Writing on the Wall," I started thinking and realized Alhaitham's probably one of the more major pieces keeping Kaveh from overworking and I got a scene in my head that I couldnt shake, so I made a vertical comic as practice for my upcoming webtoon Hero/Villain (which has a preview up on Webtoon Canvas if you're interested).

I also highly recommend checking out the original song (linked in a reblog cause we know how tumblr is with links). It's one of those fan songs that isn't just a fan son, it's a song about artists and struggles that come with the territory and it's an absolute gem.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed my attempt at making a vertical comic look good on modern tumblr, figuring out image sizes was a pain.

(Oh also if you want to see it in video format, check out my instagram reel! I even added a snippet of the song to it)

#Genshin Impact #AlHaitham #Kaveh #genshin fanart #genshin characters #Mihoyo #genshin art #alhaitham art #kaveh art #Comic #WebComic #writing on the wall #alhaitham fanart #kaveh fanart #fanart #artists on tumblr #kk's art

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jbaileyfansite · 10 months ago

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Interview with Evan Ross Katz (2024)

Whether he’s carrying Kylie Minogue to the Hyde Park Festival stage with his pal Andrew Scott, making the Internet go collectively feral for merely running a half marathon, chasing dinosaurs (in the upcoming Jurassic World reboot), romancing Matt Bomer (in Fellow Travelers) or Simone Ashley (in Bridgerton) or Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo (in Wicked) or, with his most recent venture, launching an LGBTQ+-focused charity, it seems Jonathan Bailey is always up to something. And yet, he still makes time, from his hotel room in Thailand (where he’s shooting Jurassic World 4), to hop on a Zoom with me to catch up.

We discuss everything from chafed nipples to queer shame to who he’d like to see in the “Drink Your Milk” T-shirt to if we’ll see him on Broadway any time soon, which is to say it’s a brief but wide-ranging chat.

I haven't seen you since the Met Gala! When we last spoke, you were prepping for your first half marathon. I obviously saw the viral photos that went around of you at the finish line, but how did it go?

You know, I should have put those nipple stickers on. That's my main takeaway.

[Laughs] Did you bleed?

I did a bit, yeah. Did you? I know you've done a couple of marathons.

I did bleed, and I didn't know about the bleeding beforehand. It's not something you really hear about but it's painful and uncomfortable.

Totally! And not even just beforehand: It took ‘til 4 hours later when my best friend told me there was evidence [of the bleeding]. But anyways… it was euphoric!

At least there was no photo evidence of that element!

Exactly! So thankfully, it's done. But it's just the most amazing thing, isn't it? And the community as well. Hackney Moves is amazing and they raised loads of money. It was the Bridgerton [Season 3 release] week so I feel like you could sort of harness that.

I do have to ask you a pressing question: Days ago, it was announced that Wicked had moved up its release date and will now be released the same day as Ridley Scott's Gladiator 2. Many online were affectionately calling this Barbenheimer 2.0, which led many to try and speculate about a proper portmanteau. Jon Chu wrote on Instagram that the consensus seems to be “Glicked,” which you reposted on Instagram, signaling a cosign. But I have to ask you, Johnny: Are you not considering“Wickediator”?

I love it. Whatever Jon Chu has ever said to me, I’ve taken as gospel, so I actually hadn't explored all the other options. The one that I've now heard since then which is making me reconsider everything is “Gladicked.” [Laughs] It's quite good, isn’t it?

Yes! To me, “Glicked” feels too Wicked-skewed and then “Wickediator” is just clunky AF, so I like where you're at.

We want it to be equal footing for sure. Another thing that I love that went viral is someone going: “Oh, brilliant. A film for the ladies and a film for the ladies.” [Laughs]

I am both ladies!

Oh, yes. Me too!

Let’s talk The Shameless Fund, the charity you founded to raise money for LGBTQ+ nonprofit organizations. Can you tell me about the formation of this project?

It's been a labor of love over the last three or four years. It's been quite an organic experience, mainly inspired by Fellow Travelers, hence why I started with a collaboration which references a very specific scene and a performance by Matt Bomer.

I think through Covid and Bridgerton coming out, I found that there’s a real sense in the queer community about awareness of people who came before you and other experiences. And then obviously in Fellow Travelers, which explicitly explores that, the character I played was sort of on the front all the way through a very complicated experience for gay men at that time.

He experienced real moments of blooming liberation and quite insane amounts of oppression as well, and he was always fighting. He ends up becoming an activist, essentially, and I think it was in playing that part — which was kind of spiritual for me and for everyone who's involved in it — that I was like: Right, okay. I know that I've got this idea in my head and having experienced how much love there is for things like Bridgerton and how much money there is in collaboration, I felt that there's so many things I had said “no” to because it didn't feel quite right for me but if there was a world in which I could marry all of it in a creative sort of cocktail, then why not? And to give back to the community that I so love, and also, I'm a massive beneficiary of the work that the people that came before us did, so that's where it came to fruition from.

You collaborated with our dear friend Jonathan Anderson, the creative director of Loewe, on a T-shirt with a memorable quote from Fellow Travelers to promote the launch of The Shameless Fund. How did this collaboration come to be?

During the strikes during the filming of Wicked, I went on a run one day and this idea of a T-shirt came into my head in full form. Then I sat next to Jonathan [at a Studio Voltaire fundraiser], and he’s lovely and brilliant and naughty and has a foundation, so it was all kind of organic.

Then I went over to DC to present Matt Bomer with an award for the Human Rights Campaign and it was really galvanizing to experience the American fervor. It was a gala, and the energy in the room was absolutely wild and there were amazing stories on stage. I texted Jonathan and I said: “Look, I have an idea and it involves milk and a T-shirt. What do you think?” and he said: “Call me tomorrow,” and then he said yes within the same phone call. I just felt tentative because it’s the sort of thing where you ask and you don't know, but then it went from there.

I do recall first seeing a photo of you in the shirt several months ago during a night out with the Loewe team in China…

I went to the Loewe exhibition in Shanghai, which was incredible, and that night, we had quite a big night out and I wore the T-shirt because I’d been given the first prototype.

I was having a little boogie and [Anderson] uploaded it whilst I had no access to the Western World — my phone was off the whole time. So by the time I came home, you could see that people were gonna go wild for the T-shirt. Now, it's sold out and we're gonna get some more and it'll be a first step for The Shameless Fund to raise some money.

Jonathan Anderson did my and my husband's wedding looks and I had to send him that same initial text to be like: “Can one even ask this?”

That's what's so brilliant in life: People who have the ability to collaborate, and that's just what Jonathan does.

One thing that you said just now that struck me is: “Why not?” I interview a lot of people in your profession and they're not asking that question all the time. A lot of people say:

“Oh, there's lots of money I can make. I can have more money. I can have more things for myself.”

Why are you a “why not?” person rather than a “why”? Is that something that was imbued in you by your family and your upbringing or is it how you've always been?

I don't know. I just feel quite strongly emotionally. I sense injustice in certain places, and I think what comes with success — especially being a gay actor — is that you think: “Hang on a minute. Are there limitations? Are there glass ceilings?”

When you experience success that you never thought you would and you grew up thinking that you're limited because of your identity and who you are, I think about the people that have supported me and the people that were really pioneering, but also, the actual heroes who do the real work; the people who work for these nonprofits and these charities where the majority of their energy is spent trying to raise money. When Bridgerton came out, I was inundated with requests to help draw attention to [these organizations] or raise money or donate things that they could sell, so that's where the kernel of this idea came from. All my life, I’ve been thinking about how I can give back.

It's not for nothing that you call this The Shameless Fund. We grew up at a time when, and I don't know if this is the same for you, but I didn't know that gay people existed. I thought I was the only one because I didn't have access to the kind of media kids do today where you can go on Instagram and see that gay is not only acceptable; it's cool. There's this very significant paradigm shift. I feel like a lot of gay men of our generation felt this shame as young people and often spend a lot of our adult lives working to rid ourselves of it. What is it for you about this idea of shame?

I totally agree in terms of generations. I think the queer experience changes every five years. Even with some of my friends who are 10 years older than me — it's just so specific to cultural moments and representation as well, as you're saying. But I think my understanding of shame, especially having experienced Fellow Travelers, is that it permeates. It's not just a community that experiences the shame; it's the people around them. It's the parents who don't understand it and kick their kids out of their house. It's the sisters, it’s the cousins, it's the nephews, it's the children that are in broken families because of it. It's actually so toxic, that sense of self-hatred. That’s why The Shameless Fund is actually something that I hope is going to benefit everyone, even beyond the community itself.

Also, the older we get and because of the world we live in now, you can read The Velvet Rage and you can read Matthew Todd’s Straight Jacket and you can explore and have conversations with your friends that are really enlightening and you can have therapy, if you're lucky enough that you can afford to do that. As a 36-year-old now, I look back and I just go: “My God, I had such a loving family and yet I was still so isolated and so crippled.”

Shame can stop people from having a proper education and from being able to structure proper emotional relationships, like fundamental relationships with their family, which is the one place you're supposed to feel safe. It's flawed if the family is not aware of what you're going through.

How did you come up with the name?

I did have other names [in mind for The Shameless Fund], but we won't go into them. One was so aggressive! [Laughs] But “The Shameless Fund” felt punk enough and fundamental enough. To me, I think that to be without shame is to be able to be joyful and to be able to thrive and to be able to learn and have a bloody good time whilst doing all those things, so it just felt right that it should be targeting shame because then hopefully it benefits the whole community in every color on the pride flag and, in turn, will also help so many people around them.

So what can people expect next?

There's going to be some really fun things coming with The Shameless Fund and there's different ways in which it can grow, but I have people who really know what they're doing who are helping lead it. By the end of the year, we'll hopefully have worked with three different charities, starting small and helping people understand the work they're doing because that's the most important thing. If you think about Instagram, other than chatting with Evan Ross Katz [laughs], that's the platform through which you can really draw attention to things. Literally anyone in our community who's thriving at the moment — in a community that's obviously under threat going forward — knows what it's like to receive support. We know what we missed growing up.

I, too, grew up with an accepting family, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t still feel ostracized. I appreciate you recognizing that nuance, one I think many of us experience in some form but don’t always discuss.

Now, on The Shameless Fund’s website, it does say that more collaborations are coming. As you said, there’s going to be a restock of the Loewe shirts, but are there other brands in the mix?

There are other brands, and it'll be really exciting because the scope is endless, but I definitely had a couple of other ideas. After Fellow Travelers, the next thing will be a Wicked garment, so you might have to keep your eyes out for that. Maybe jumpers and sexy boots?

That’s perfect for my fantasy! So we've seen Kylie Minogue wearing the shirt — who I was lucky enough to be introduced to by you on the dance floor at the Met Gala after-party, thanks again — and we've seen Kit Connor, Scarlett Johansson and your Bridgerton co-star Luke Newton sporting it as well. I'm wondering who else is on your wishlist of celebrities that you'd like to see in the Drink Your Milk T-shirt?

Oh, God. What a question! Great shout. I would love to see Jerrod Carmichael in it right now. Very specifically Jerrod Carmichael.

I feel that.

I would also love to see Hanson in it. Their three-part harmonies are a knockout at the moment.

At the moment?

[Laughs] We were just talking about this today. I’ve literally just come away from a field where I was running towards or away from dinosaurs, and we were talking about Hanson for about four hours today and listening to their three-part harmonies.

That is not what I was expecting.

Who else? I can only think of people who are going to be wearing it over the next few weeks, which is quite exciting. Is there anyone you want to see in it?

I have quite a few people. First of all, Jamie Dornan. I would love to see him in it. Paul Mescal, for obvious reasons. And the fans are waiting for Matt Bomer!

Don’t you worry. They’ll be satiated! They’ll be quenched. And Andrew Scott had a good time at Glastonbury is what I’ll say. [Laughs]

I bet he did! Last but not least: Richard II is bringing you back to the stage. Wicked is giving us the musical theater moment we've been craving. Is there a musical theater moment that’ll be live on stage in Jonathan Bailey's future?

Potentially, actually. Maybe in 2026.

On Broadway?

I would! I had the best time recently in New York and I watched as many things as I could. I saw Stereophonic, which, to me, was like a religious experience. That, and Oh, Mary! And Cole Escola.

That is what it's about. I would come back to watch that; I was so inspired by it. Obviously, I'd love to [be on Broadway] at some point and you just have to wait and see what pops up.

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