#tossing my hat into the ring or whatever

[ofdusk]

Celebrating TOA and the people who contribute to make our group what it is.

Repost, don't reblog. Only fill in what you feel comfortable sharing!

Happy anniversary, TOA! Here's to many more years spent together.

tagging: you.

Name: alina

Pronouns: they/she/he

Birthday (no year): octrober 4th

Where are you from? What is your time zone? georgia, EST !

Roleplay experience: since i was like? nine?

Got any pets? two dogs & my cat, melon!

Favorite time of year: spring or autumn

Some interests and things you like: cosplay, sleeping

Some funfacts & trivia about you: ive been wearing glasses since i was three :'D (my prescription is a +7.5 for those who Know)

What non-Fire Emblem games do you play? league of legends (sigh), devil may cry, hsr and (formerly) genshin, nier -- i've dabbled in a little bit of everything

Favorite Pokemon type & Pokemon: big flying enjoyer, but i like a lot of them. i also have a number of favs but my horsegirl years have left ponyta & rapidash with a very special place in my heart

How did you get into Fire Emblem? watched over someone's shoulder when i was an young child (i think they were playing POR..?) and now. well.

What Fire Emblem games have you played? i've played every game post awakening (+ sacstones), though i've read the scripts & watched playthroughs for fe4, 5, 6, 7, 11, & 12

First Fire Emblem game: that i played? honest to god i do not remember (probably awakening)

Favorite Fire Emblem game: narratively, genealogy, but my heart belongs to conquest

Any Fire Emblem crushes? girl i do Not want to talk about it we will be here all day

If you’ve played the following games, who was your first S support? - Awakening: chrom- Fates: azura...leo every time after tho- Three Houses: dimitri- Engage: diamant

Favorite Fire Emblem class: I FUCKIGN LOVE PEGASUS KNIGHTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you were a Fire Emblem character, what would be your class? probably a bow knight... low stat growth archer that everyone benches by chpt 3

If you were a Three Houses character, what would be your affiliation? i live and die blue lions godbless

If you were an Engage character, which Emblem would you Engage with? take a guess man (corrin)

How did you find TOA? i was going through it and reaaaaaally missed rping so i just. took to twitter in search of fire emblem rp groups and... at six am.... i sent in a reserve......

Current TOA muses: f!corrin, lucina, and priscilla

Who was your first TOA muse? If you don’t have them anymore, could you see yourself picking them up again? probably the greatest outlier in all of my toa muse history, my first muse was sylvain! honest to god if i picked him up again i pray somebody would call in a wellness check for me LMFAO

Have you had any other TOA muses? i have written sylvain, rinea, eirika, ash, erinys, nyna, and tailtiu within toa so far (sobs)

Do you think you have a type of character you gravitate towards? women.

What do you believe you enjoy writing the most? i really enjoy writing complex relationship dynamics, and find i have the most fun picking apart the way a character's experiences shape their view and approach of other people

Favorite TOA-related memory: if i'm being completely honest, i don't think i could pick one. perhaps my very first arena when my team discussed a hypothetical grocery store trip between our muses for some reason (team ralf i love you)

Got any delusions that didn’t see the light of day in TOA that you’d like to share? :3

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨Lucifer Morningstar NSFW Alphabet✨

Hey hey! Soooooo I saw some people doing the NSFW Alphabet for some of the Hazbin cast so I thought I would toss my hat in the ring! And of course I'll be doing it for the LOML Luci 💖

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

You already know, the King of Hell is the King of aftercare! Your sessions can go on for a while, so more often than not, you're absolutely spent. Luckily, Lucifer is at your beck and call. He'll give you whatever you need; cuddles, a bubble bath, a massage, a snack, and water of course! You're his Queen, after all, he'll sure as hell treat you like one!

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I think Lucifer's favorite body parts are his hands. Not for the way they look, but for what they can do. He loves that his hands can roam every inch of your body, make you moan and whimper, make you scream his name, mark you. The fact that they can bring you so much pleasure makes him giddy! It's almost impossible for Lucifer to choose his favorite thing about you because he loves every bit of you! But if you pressed him about it, he would have 2 answers. The first is your lips, because the man is obsessed with kissing you! He'd do it all day if he could! Plus you have the most infectious smile, it warms his heart every time he sees it. The second are your thighs. Look me in the eye and tell me Lucifer is not a thigh man, you can't, it's impossible! Your lap is his favorite place to sit and to rest his head. Of course he LOVES plantings little kisses and hickies on your inner thighs when he's about to eat his favorite meal ;)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This goes without saying, Lucifer could survive on your cum alone if he was so lucky. Man is pussy drunk! He'll coax so many orgasms out of you just so he can get his fill of your juices. It's basically a drug to him. And of course he has no problem tasting his own once he's filled you up, definitely a different taste but one he enjoys nonetheless!

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It's embarrassing for him, but Lucifer was smitten with you since he first laid eyes on you! He couldn't help but imagine all the things he would do to you and have you to do him if you ever gave him the chance. He mentally smacked himself for seeing you that way in the beginning, but GOD you were just an absolute angel! The amount of times this man jacked off to the thought of you before you were even together is way more than he'll ever admit to. If you accidentally bumped into him or touched his shoulder, rest assured that man was cumming into his hand that night because of it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Lucifer is legitimately older than dirt, and had a wife for 10,000 years, he knows EXACTLY what he's doing! He makes it his personal mission to have you cum multiple times every session! Man invented eating pussy for Christ's sake!

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Old school as hell (literally lol), Lucifer loves missionary with you, but it's never boring! Every session with him is intimate and full of passion. He LOVES looking at when when he thrusts into you over and over, the facial expressions and noises you make when he makes love to you makes his heart melt! That being said, he loves any position where he can see your beautiful face, so PLEASE climb on top and ride that man into the next afterlife!

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Lucifer is the goofiest man to ever goof! I'd like to think once you two are super comfortable with each other, initiating sex becomes sillier. He would use old timey phrases like "hanky panky" or "horizontal mambo", but most of the time he would say something along the lines of "how's about you and me partake in a little bow- chicka-bow-wow :)"

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He has blond hair so his pubes are no different! Lucifer is very well kept and tidy in that area, the minimal hair he has down there stands out a little bit do to his pale white skin, but it's always perfectly trimmed!

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Intimacy master, let me tell ya! Lucifer has such a bleeding heart and is a hopeless romantic for sure! He only says the sweetest things to you when you make love. He hardly uses the term "fuck" as he thinks it's a bit too harsh considering how deeply passionate your sessions are. His praises are endless for you; "you're so beautiful", "you look like an angel", "you feel so good"

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I touched on this earlier, but his masturbation sessions definitely lessened when you two started being intimate. Before that, Lucifer would probably masturbate to you AT LEAST once a day before you were a couple. When he started courting you, it got even worse because God forbid he initiate anything with you out of fear of scaring you away! But once you initiated, oh he was putty in your hands! After that, Lucifer gains a lot more self control, but he can't help but jack off to you every once in a while, but he'd much rather it be your hand~

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

PRAISE KINK PRAISE KINK PRAISE KINK!! Did I say praise kink?? Please praise this man when you're with him! Lucifer loves to know that he's doing a good job with you. Absolutely melts when you call him a "good boy". He adores hearing things like "You make me feel so good, Luci", "You're doing so well for me, my darling", "Just like that, sweetheart, just like that."

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His room, of course! His bed is wide enough, for sure! But Lucifer would never restrict himself to just the bedroom. I hope you're ready to defile every flat surface in that mansion of his because he's fucking you in every single room. He has A LOT of rooms~

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. You turn him on. Every move you make, every sway of your hips, every laugh you make, Lucifer is GONE. But of course, teasing this man is a sure fire way to get him going. Wearing a short skirt around him and bending over seemingly innocently or placing a kiss on the pulse of his neck, dude is hard as a rock and you're so gonna get it when you two are alone! Good!

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I feel like there isn't a lot that Lucifer wouldn't try at least once if you asked him to! But a big turn off for him is any mention of his ex-wife Lilith during an intimate session. He'd rather not think about her in that way anymore, he still hasn't fully recovered from her absence.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Oh baby, oh buddy, oh pal...you already know what I'm gonna say here! LUCIFER 👏🏻 IS 👏🏻 THE 👏🏻 KING 👏🏻 OF 👏🏻 CUNNILINGUS!!! This has already been said a million times but I'LL SAY IT AGAIN! He could live off eating your pussy alone!! Man needs his fill AT LEAST once a day, he absolutely WORSHIPS your pussy! He has a forked tongue and he knows PRECISCELY how to use it! Your womanhood will never know peace when you're with Lucifer Morningstar! Your pleasure always comes first pun completely intended but he'd never turn down a blowjob from you! He always gets so red in the face when he watches you suck him off~

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

You can count on one hand the amount of times Lucifer has been rough with you during sex, because it's extremely rare. He treats you like glass for the most part, always wanting to make the moment last as long as possible. He's VERY sensual when it comes to love making. Oh but when he's close to an orgasm, his pace picks up tenfold, almost too fast for you to register the amount of pleasure you're receiving. Almost~

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are definitely not Lucifer's thing. He views sex as a declaration of love, so to speak, it can't be rushed. However, there have been occasions where your over abundance of teasing caused him to snap and he had to push you onto the nearest surface and take care of you right then and there!

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Considering he's the literal King of Hell, Lucifer can take as many risks as he pleases. Who's going to stop him? Although he doesn't like to push it, he'd rather keep your love making sessions private. But, semi public sex is not out of the question, especially when he wants to pound you on the balcony of his mansion where the entire Pride Ring can hear your moans.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Lucifer's stamina is God-like, literally! He's not bound to the same restrictions as mortals so this man can go for literal hours if you let him! Of course you need a lot more breaks than he does and that's perfectly alright with him! But once you're ready to go again, it's off to the races!

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

You would definitely be the one to bring up toys in the bedroom with Lucifer. At first he might feel insecure because he thinks you need toys to help get you off, but that's the furthest thing from the truth! The first thing you bring up is a strap on, and oh my God, he's beet red. THIS MAN NEEDS TO BE PEGGED, DO YOU HEAR ME?? Pound that ass, he will fall even deeper in love with you than he already is!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Lucifer isn't much of a tease himself, that's your department! The worst he'll do is squeeze your ass or place his hand a little too high up your thigh for it to be considered casual touching. His go to move if he's in a frisky mood will be to flash his signature V-shaped fingers over his mouth once he knows no one is watching.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Oh let me tell you something, this man is LOUD. Not in terms of actual words, but his sounds! Lucifer cannot help himself, his moans and pleas and whimpers are so fucking cute, you know for sure that you're doing something right when he mewls at the top of his lungs! It's music to your ears, this man is DESPERATE for you!

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I made this headcanon a little bit ago, but I'm a firm believer that Lucifer is really not a fan of doggy style. He's such a romantic that his desire to see your face when you have sex is EXTREMELY strong. Sure you have a great ass that's fun to smack and grab at, but nothing compares looking into your eyes as you both cum.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Oh you know Lucifer is packing! He's not hung like a horse, but he's definitely larger than average, I would probably say around 7.5 -8 inches. Uncut. I will not explain further lol. His dick is slightly on the skinnier side in terms of girth but he knows exactly how to use it to make you scream~

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

When it comes to you, Lucifer's sex drive is through the roof! Sex marathons are not an uncommon practice between the two of you, a few had gone on for days at a time! If he could spent the rest of eternity inside of you, it would not be long enough for him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Lucifer usually falls asleep after you, not just because he has stamina of heavenly proportions, but because he wants to make sure you're taken care of. You tend to crash pretty fast after a long session and he wants to make sure you're cleaned up before you zonk out. Once he knows you're alright, it's cuddle time baby and you know he uses his wings to cover the both of you when you drift off to sleep together.

[yourstrulysylus]

A Nonsense Christmas (a Sylus point of view)

Sylus had never cared much for the holidays—just another day in a chaotic life of deals and missions. But now, with her around, even the simplest traditions held meaning. She had a way of making even nonsense feel extraordinary.

The serene moment was interrupted when his vinyl record abruptly stopped, leaving the room in silence. Sylus frowned, about to investigate, when she strolled into the living room. Wearing nothing but a Santa hat, a short red fur-lined cape, and heels, she instantly turned his irritation into a sly smirk. He leaned back, intrigued, wondering what she would do next.

Before he could utter a word, Luke and Kieran followed her lead, stepping into the room. Both were dressed to match the theme—maroon suits, Santa hats, elf ears—and, of course, still donning their signature masks. The unlikely sight brought a chuckle from Sylus as he set his book aside, prepared for whatever antics were about to unfold.

“She paid us extra, boss,” Luke murmured, his tone low but amused.

“Just sit back and relax. We’ve got no idea what she’s planning—we’re just here for one job,” Kieran added with a shrug.

But Sylus wasn’t paying attention to either of the twins. His eyes were fixed solely on her as she stood front and center in his living room. Then, suddenly, she broke the silence.

“Hit it.”

Luke pressed play on the stereo, and Kieran hoisted the speakers into the air like a stagehand at a makeshift concert.

With a dramatic flourish, she shrugged off her red cape, revealing a sultry red off-shoulder dress, black tights, and a microphone in hand. Sylus’s eyes widened, his jaw tightening slightly—this outfit was something he thought should be reserved for his eyes only.

“Think I only want you under my mistletoe,” she began, her voice smooth and teasing as she locked eyes with him.

“I might change your contact to ‘Has a Huge North Pole,’

You said you like my stockings better on the floor.

Boy, I’ve been a bad girl, I guess I’m gettin’ coal.”

She swayed her hips, a slow and deliberate motion that seemed to make the room shrink to just the two of them. For a brief moment, the world felt like it moved in slow motion. That sway, that smirk—it was all for him.

“Let me come warm you up, you’ve been out in the snow.

Baby, my tongue goes numb, sounds like ‘ho-ho-ho.’

I don’t want Santa’s elves underneath this ol’ tree—”

She pointed at the twins, who, much to Sylus’s amusement, had begun snapping their fingers and stiffly moving their hips in time with the beat.

“Here’s a little carol I wrote, it’s about you and me,” she continued, her tone softening slightly as she gestured between herself and Sylus, her gaze growing more serious.

Then she began to walk toward him, her voice never faltering as she sang,

“You’re my wish list, looking at you got me thinking Christmas.”

Her eyes were magnetic, the kind of siren’s gaze that could make anyone weak in the knees. Sylus gripped the armrests of his seat, fighting to maintain his composure as she drew closer, her every movement designed to test his restraint.

She tossed her hair back as she sang, “You’ll be Santa Claus, and I’ll be Mrs.,

I’ll take you for a ride, I’ll be your vixen.” Her finger twirled the diamond engagement ring he’d given her two years ago, catching the light with every move. That ring had been an impulsive decision—like most things with her. He still remembered the way she’d laughed when he pulled it out of his pocket, halfway through a mission, saying, “Now or never.” She’d chosen ‘now,’ and he’d never looked back.

Sylus couldn’t decide if he was more captivated by her flawless performance—singing and dancing without a single misstep—or the way his pulse quickened at the sight of that ring, a reminder of their bond. Either way, he was left torn between awe and desire.

“I’ll give her due credit after the performance,” he thought, unaware of the faint smirk tugging at his lips as he watched the scene unfold. He wrestled with the urge to maintain his stoic demeanor or openly praise her in front of his men.

Sylus felt the room close in on him, the weight of his responsibilities, of his position, pressing down. She’s doing this to you on purpose, he thought, trying to remind himself that this was all just a game. A performance. A distraction. His wife knew exactly how to push his buttons. But this wasn’t just any holiday routine. This was her. In a red dress. Singing. The tension between wanting to lose himself in the moment and keeping his cool was almost unbearable.

Don’t fall for it, he told himself. But it was hard not to when she sang, when her eyes locked with his, her lips curling into that smile—one he knew all too well. The smile that meant she had him exactly where she wanted him.

But this wasn’t just about attraction. This was about control. You’re in charge, he reminded himself. But the ache in his chest, the pull in his gut, suggested otherwise. She was in charge now. And he was helpless to resist.

It was like a dream wrapped in red velvet and mistletoe.

Sylus leaned back in his chair, his arms folded, trying to keep a cool facade as she approached, each of her movements intentional, playful, and impossible to ignore. The twin’s stiff, yet enthusiastic dancing was a far cry from the sensuality she brought, and it made Sylus chuckle despite himself.

When she reached him, she stopped for a moment, looking at him with those familiar mischievous eyes—eyes that had stolen his heart the moment they met. She didn’t need to say anything more; the way she held that microphone, the way she had spun those lyrics into something personal—it was clear. She was making her own rules, in her own way, on her own terms.

“And here I thought you just wanted to relax this holiday,” she teased, her voice playful as she stopped in front of him, still singing the last few lines with that sultry smile.

Sylus couldn’t help it. He chuckled, finally breaking the tension. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he said, leaning forward slightly.

“You should know that by now,” she replied, her tone low, teasing. She let the music continue, moving in a slow circle around him.

Luke and Kieran, still swaying and snapping their fingers behind her, both exchanged a glance, clearly trying to gauge if they were about to witness something beyond their usual chaotic holiday antics.

She gave Sylus one last look, swaying her hips just a little more dramatically before ending the song with a dramatic spin and a playful wink.

The room fell silent for a moment as the last note of the song faded out.

“Well,” Sylus said, his voice smooth, “I guess that’s one way to celebrate Christmas.” He slowly stood up, his smirk still playing at the corners of his mouth. “You sure know how to make an entrance.”

She raised an eyebrow, the mischief still lingering in her expression. “I had to make it memorable.”

Sylus chuckled again, crossing the short distance between them. “Mission accomplished,” he murmured, pulling her into a kiss, one that promised plenty of ‘nonsense’ of its own for the rest of the evening.

Luke and Kieran exchanged another look, their usual banter lost in the background of the moment. “Alright, boss, we’ll just… uh, see ourselves out,” Luke said, pulling Kieran by the arm as the two quickly shuffled away.

They didn’t need to know what would happen next—they were just happy to have gotten paid extra for the show.

As the last note of her song lingered in the air, she leaned in close, her voice soft but teasing. “So, boss… did I earn my Christmas bonus?”

Sylus smirked, pulling her gently down onto his lap, his hands settling on her waist. “You’ve been on my ‘nice’ list all year,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “But right now, I think I prefer you on the ‘naughty’ one.”

She laughed softly, the sound melting into a contented sigh as his lips brushed against hers, slow and deliberate. The world outside the window blurred into a wash of snowflakes and distant lights, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

The fire crackled softly in the background as the warmth between them grew. Her hands slid over his shoulders, pulling him closer, her Santa hat slipping off in the process. Sylus caught it with one hand, tossing it onto the floor with a quiet chuckle.

The twins’ muffled laughter could be heard retreating down the hall, their voices fading as they wisely made their exit. The room grew quieter, save for the occasional pop of the fire and the soft sounds of her breath mingling with his.

By the time the snowstorm outside picked up, the two of them had sunk into the couch, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world forgotten.

[zoluowo]

Striker × Assassin Reader Headcanons

What to expect: fluff, cursing, harm, injuries, violent themes, enemies to lovers and aggression

1. You and Striker were unknowingly after the same bounty. Right when you both were going in for the kill, you rammed into each other; both of your assassination plans screwed up.

Striker immediately had a distaste for you because you messed up his job and of course you felt the same way with him because he messed up YOUR job.

After a truckload of bickering, you two went your separate ways:

Striker stumbled to the ground with a THUD, as you did. Almost immediately, he reached for his musket as you reached for your dagger -- then within seconds, you had your weaponry aimed at his jugular while his was pressed into your temple. without lowering your weapons you both glance to the side to see that you're bounty was scrambling away in fear.

Striker looked at you as if you were nothing more than a piece of scrap to be tossed away. "Are you kidding me? You ain't got no business being here, shit bag! This is MY bounty to claim!"

You snarled back at him, pressing your dagger further into his flesh. He immediately forced the musket further against you. "You reek of an overbearing simpleton! Let the fuckin professional handle this." You fired back.

2. In about two weeks you attempt to go after that same bounty without any worries of bumping into striker again. As fate would have it, you both ran into each other AGAIN. Of course, your interaction didn't go well but a different outcome occurred this time; you and striker both managed to take down the bounty in unison without any verbal indication ( it was sort of like an instinct for you both to work together )

Being impressed with your skills, Striker had a much more respectable demeanor with you:

"holy shit--" Striker grimaced, a slight hiss to his tone. "You--" his gaze flickered from the fallen body to you, it's almost as if he was failing to comprehend what had just happened. "You-- we...we did that?!"

You eyed Striker from hat to boots and looked as if you were judging him, he curled his lip back at you to reveal his sharp pointed teeth. "Yeah. We did." You pstated blankly.

Striker took a moment or two to compose himself before removing his hat to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "Huh. Not bad for damsel." He chuckled, his tone now exceptionally soft.

You staggered and turned to face him with all of your fury, though your gaze immediately softened after seeing a gleam of respect within his hues. "R-Really?" You internally curse yourself for stammering.

Striker skillfully tossed his hat upon his head. He then placed his hands upon his hips and arched a brow, an eat shitting grin was clearly plastered upon his face. ”you heard me." His grin immediately vanished. "Don't think too much of it though. You strike me as the type who's cocky when they fuckin shouldn't be." The cowboy zipped past you, a rattle could be heard as he flicked his tail. "You could learn a thing or two from me."

You watched him hop onto his horse and crossed your arms, unsure if you should be offended or relieved that he wasn't looking to bite your head off like the first time you met. "Alright, old man. You seem pretty cocky yourself. Don't be a fuckin hypocrite."

You could've sworn you saw a light smile from Striker.

"yeah yeah, whatever, damsel."

"I'm no damsel."

Striker hesitated. "Yeah- you're not just that." He gestured to the body that laid limp before you two. "The bounty's yours."

Before you could so much as blink, Striker's horse galloped away, leaving you alone with yourself and your thoughts. Plus the dead bounty.

3. You just couldn't settle with this - you had all this money and yet you weren't satisfied. Much to your surprise, you got off your ass and searched for Striker throughout the ring of wrath.

You found his hideout thanks to some singing fools and you searched for him. Unaware that it was you at first, Striker fired his musket - the bullet grazed the side of your cheek and you stumbled back, instinctively tossing your dagger out to catch his clothing and bound him against a large boulder. He was, of course, stunned once again by your remarkable skill and then pulled the dagger from him and demanded to know what you were doing there.

You explained that you couldn't have the money all to yourself, so you tossed half of the portion to him and he was touched to say the least.

3. Your relationship kind of expands from here. You technically start working together, but avoid saying that you two are a team to soothe both of your egos I guess. Despite "working together" you two do go off on lone missions.

( ep 6 s2 ) after Striker lost to blitzo and fizz, he stumbled back into his hideout, wounded from burns he had received. You reluctantly tended to his wounds and tried to get him to talk about what happened but he refused. After you were done helping him out, he walked off and grumbled a snarky "thanks"

4. You two often train together. Whenever one of you has the upper hand you deliver a snarky remark and gloat.

5. You eventually loosen up around striker and occasionally tease him. He mostly has aggressive responses but he's secretly amused by your banter.

6. It takes a long while for Striker to loosen up to you. When he does, he likes to ramble to you about his victories and how awesome he is. He also allows you to feed his horse

7. Striker decided to give you horse riding lessons. You both were on the horse and he was sitting behind you, instructing you on what to do. He immediately regretted ever teaching you because you ended up having a field day with galloping all over wrath.

8. You noticed that it's a bit of a routine for Striker to avoid you at all costs whenever he comes back with injuries from a mission of his.

One day, you decided you had enough of his avoidance when he came back with incredibly severe injuries. It took a lot of convincing, but you managed to tend to his wounds. He was complaining and talking down on you the whole time. But you decided to shut him up by saying "next time. Ask for fucking help." - your stern tone made him stagger and vulnerably utter "yes ma'am/sir"

9. You two pretty much go on with your lives being fully aware that you love eachother but never fully admitting it aloud.

10. There are rare occasions where Striker just approaches you from behind and gives you a back hug. ( he usually does it when he's very sleepy )

11. Whenever you do an excelling job during a mission -- afterwards striker places his hat on your head and jokingly justifies your skills with "PFFT that was just pure shitting luck."

That's pretty much all I got! Hope you enjoyed this first ever post of mineee

[fishfooddude]

Hiiii I’m a plus size girly would you be open to writing carmy with a plus size reader and him comforting her while she’s not feeling pretty. Been having a rough couple of days and this would make my entire week better 🫶🏼

Absolutely lovie 🫶🏻

Hot Stuff

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader

The Bear MasterList

Directory

It wasn’t often that Carmy found himself on Instagram, but since the two of you had gotten together, he found himself on the app more often. You were a ‘micro-influencer’, whatever that meant… Carmy, the supportive boyfriend he is, was the first to like every picture or video you posted and leave some type of comment. He wanted you to know he supported you, even if it was just an emoji. 

When you started posting content with Carmy in it, you saw a shift in your comment section. While the majority of the comments were supportive, the less-than-supportive ones were the ones that stick out today. Some faceless account said something about you being so fat you’d crush Carmy if you ever tried to get on top. Another account called you so big you had your own gravitational pull, and it was the only way a girl like you could get a guy like him. Then there were the overly thirsty comments from girls with the perfect Instagram body begging for Carmy’s attention. You sighed and locked your phone before tossing it onto your bed. 

You looked in the mirror; you saw every ‘flaw’ in yourself. The cellulite, the droopy skin, the large pooch that protruded over the waistband of your underwear. You pulled at the fat on your hips and thighs. What did Carmy even see in you? He could have any girl he wanted, but he chose… you? You rolled your eyes and walked to your closet to grab an oversized hoodie and a fresh pair of sweatpants. The desire to go back to bed and do nothing today was quickly squashed when your phone started to ring. 

The screen was lit up with Carmy’s contact picture. As much as you wanted to answer, you silenced your phone and walked out of your bedroom and into the kitchen. You opened the fridge and scanned the shelves, you ate like a fucking rabbit, but it didn’t seem to matter. Every morsel of food just adds more and more weight to your body. You could starve yourself for a month and probably still be just as big. The thoughts got louder the longer you stared at the contents of your fridge; you slammed the door and groaned loudly. Maybe a nap would make you feel better.

~

Carmy frowned as his call went to voicemail. He mumbled something to himself and shoved his phone into the small pocket of his backpack before pulling his chef jacket on for a night of potential hell. A little birdy - Fak- let him know that a few ‘powerful’ critics were coming in tonight for dinner service, and he just wanted to hear your voice before he started cooking for the evening.

The night was absolute shit. Richie planned another surprise for one of the tables. Carmy thought the birthday pinata had been obnoxious, but this time, Richie and Fak conspired to bring in a magician. A fucking magician. Carmy was frustrated as it was. Then, two line cooks called off, which backed up the kitchen, and he was pretty sure the critics’s orders went to the wrong table at least twice. He just needed to see you.

After a grueling 10-hour shift, Carmy dipped out of The Bear as fast as humanly possible. He fished his phone out of his backpack and checked to see if you’d texted or called him back when he’d been working. You hadn’t, Carmy’s eyebrows knit together. Maybe you were asleep? Carmy frowned and pushed his phone in his pocket as he exited the L. He slung his backpack over one shoulder and adjusted the beat-up baseball hat he had on as he got off the train.

Carmy knocked on your door and waited for a minute before sighing and using the key you’d given him a few weeks ago. “Hey, baby. You okay?” he called out as he let his backpack fall from his shoulder onto the floor. You didn’t respond; Carmy frowned, pulled his jacket off, and set it on his backpack, followed by his hat. He slipped his shoes off and walked further into your apartment. He heard you sniffling as he approached your ajar bedroom door.

Carmy gently opened the door. Your back was to the door. He tip-toed in and lay beside you, protectively wrapping an arm around your waist. You jumped at the feeling. “Carmy!” you yelped. Carmy chuckled as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, pulling you closer as he nipped at your exposed skin. You erupted into giggles as you attempted to wiggle out of his grip. “That’s what ya get for not textin’ me back,” Carmy grumbled as you relaxed into his hold. You rolled your eyes and nudged him in the stomach, “You scared the crap out of me.” you scolded as you rolled onto your side to face him.

“Why you cryin’?” Carmy asked, bringing his calloused thumb to wipe softly at your undereye. “It’s silly,” you said, trying to change the subject. Carmy shook his head, “What’s up?” he asked sternly. You groaned as you squeezed your eyes closed, “The internet sucks- I just feel fat and ugly and underserving of your love, I guess?” you started. You paused to compose yourself before continuing, “You’re this traditionally handsome guy, right? You could get any girl you want, but you chose me? Like it-it doesn’t make sense I guess? Like all these girls and these fuckin’ bitchy little boys online are picking up on it, so like- I don’t know.” you sighed. 

Carmy chuckled as he pulled you onto him and rolled onto his back. You smacked his arm as you adjusted your hips on his pelvis. “I’m not laughing at you, baby. I’m laughing at the idea of being someone else. You are the kindest, most intelligent, funniest, sweetest woman I’ve ever met- I also think you’re hot as shit.” Carmy said as his hands moved from your hips to your lower back. “You’re my peace. I don’t care that you’re ‘plus size.’ Honestly, it’s just more to grab onto…” 

“Carmen.” you said with an eye roll, “What? It’s the truth, baby.” Carmy laughed, “You’re gorgeous, baby. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

[fushitoru]

sneak peek of bridgerton!nanami :3

tw: not edited, not all of this will make the final cut. posting this just for pooks who are curious as to what this series will look like (roughly)

The hooded figure walks through the streets of London, shaded by both the weathered buildings and the murk of night.The ancient stone edifices, worn by time and weather, cast long shadows beneath the pale gaze of the moon, which alone dared to illuminate the sky.  Yet, with unwavering certainty, the figure moved. With a purpose. 

To any onlooker, discerning the figure's build would have been an impossible task. Indeed, should any be so bold as to observe, they would perceive nothing more than the methodical rhythm of their footfalls. For this hooded figure was not merely hidden by the night; they were a master of stealth, a virtuoso of ambition.

They get closer and closer to the streets with lines and lines of presses and bookshops before finally stepping into one. The jingle of the bell rings as they open the door, cutting the silence like a knife to butter. The press boy looks up languidly from his desk, lazed back even if the hooded figure is tense, as if scared to get discovered. 

The figure uses their hand to get the hood out of their eyes, to reveal their face and level the boy with a firm stare. You brush your hair back and rummage through your cloak to get the draft out of your pocket You toss it onto the desk, your voice adopting the clipped tone of a forced French accent, as you make an attempt at a scowl. “My lady has a fresh edition for you. See that it is prepared for dawn next week. We shall tolerate no delays, unlike the last time. Do I make myself plain?”

At once, the boy shot to his feet, stiffening at the sight of Lady Whistledown’s errand runner. The mere mention of that name had a way of stirring the press into action. Her words, the most profitable the press had ever published, had lifted the establishment—and the boy’s own family—from the very brink of ruin. Lady Whistledown’s business was the press’s lifeblood, and as such, the boy offered a tip of his hat. “Whatever Lady Whistledown requires.”

Satisfied, you lift your chin, already turning to retreat into the night. Three blocks south, one north, where the footman awaits. Slip in from the rear entrance, climb the stairs in silence—especially near Naoya’s floor—and at last, embrace the comfort of your bed.

For heaven forbid that anyone in the Zen’in household should ever learn of this affair.

…

Nanami Kento was a man of method, clean-cut and sharp as a newly whetted blade. There is a formula for everything, and Kento will have it figured out as the situation deems it.

Yet even the most precise systems were not without flaw, for he found himself silently cursing whatever God governed such things. The cruel design of his personal formula now demanded that he sit up well past midnight, slaving over endless documents concerning his estates, and some infernal matter involving the mines his dukedom held in the Americas. For if there was one thing Nanami Kento loathed above all else, it was working late into the night, long after a sensible bedtime.

It’s not the least of his problems, no. No, indeed, a greater torment awaited him in the drawing room over tea each morning—a daily trial set by his dear, relentless mother.

"My darling Kento, when shall I be graced with the pleasure of a daughter-in-law?"

The question, as constant as the ticking of a clock, prompted Kento to reach for a cloth, which he draped over his eyes in an attempt to stave off the inevitable headache that brewed with her words. Leaning back in his chair, he stretched his legs, his tired frame aching with fatigue, and ran a hand through his hair as a soft sigh escaped him.

The age-old question, indeed. Before, it was easier to not feel rushed in finding a wife, for his trio of friends were all bachelors. But as soon as his mother got wind that his infamous rake of a friend Gojo got married—to a now Lady Gojo—he could only count the days before his mother went to the extreme, perhaps even hiring a band of kidnappers to haul him to the nearest chapel for a hasty wedding.

Perhaps there was indeed something Kento hated more than working late. It was being rushed.

Not that Kento had any disdain for the institution of marriage itself. Far from it. It was a fine and noble thing, love and matrimony. He would never deny the pleasures and stability it offered. No, it was the manner in which he was expected to marry. His mind drifted to the endless parade of eligible ladies he had met at balls, soirees, and tea parties. They were all pleasant enough, some even kind, but none had ever managed to intrigue him, none had done anything to stand out. The same conversations, the same rehearsed smiles. Every introduction followed the same pattern: languages spoken, instruments played, the latest embroidery project or song learned.

He could already picture it—another ball, another young lady offering the same colection of accomplishments as the last. It was all so dreadfully repetitive. They rarely discussed ideas or had opinions of their own, and when they did, they were inevitably interrupted by their eager mothers, who hovered nearby, eyes gleaming at the thought of his title and fortune. The moment any conversation strayed beyond pleasantries, there was always a well-timed intrusion, as if the mothers feared their daughters might accidentally reveal too much of their true selves.

He wanted something more.

Marriage, in Kento's eyes, ought to be built on love, on mutual understanding and respect. He longed for a partner who would challenge him intellectually, who would bring something new to his life. But instead, he was presented with the same tired formula—a woman who played the pianoforte, spoke French, and blushed prettily when asked about her embroidery. It was all so... predictable.

Another sigh escaped him, this one deeper, more resigned. He shifted in his chair, folding the cloth over his eyes, and let his mind drift toward the inevitable dinner tomorrow, where his mother would no doubt regale him with yet another list of eligible young ladies.

"My dearest Kento," she would say, her voice sweet as ever, "Lady Brentwood’s daughter is a delightful young woman. A touch excitable, perhaps, but from a good family, and her dowry—oh, her dowry, my dear, would be the envy of the ton."

Nanami could almost hear the words already. He had heard similar speeches before, all delivered with that same fervent enthusiasm, as though his mother were speaking of a prized mare, rather than a potential life partner.

What was worse, as soon as the mothers caught wind of his presence at any event, they nearly salivated at the chance to secure a duke for their daughters. The constant interruptions, the fawning over his title, it all grated on him. The daughters rarely had the opportunity to finish a thought before their mothers swooped in, ensuring that their prospects remained intact.

It was no wonder Kento had grown weary of the entire process.

He let out a low groan, rubbing his temples. Perhaps love was too much to ask for in his station. Yet, despite the pressure, he could not bring himself to compromise. He wanted a marriage that meant something—a bond of intellect and heart, not just convenience.

"Kento," he muttered to himself, "you are truly doomed."

sorry for starving you guys on bridgerton!gojo content haha this is a sneak peak for reparations. anyways lemme get back to the grind. if you ever want to track my progress, i keep my wips page updated :)

also thank you to the influx of bridgerton!gojo asks. they really motivate me to write. appreciate u all <3

oh and final note: will not publish this series until we're close to the end of bridgerton!gojo, i CANNOT do two series at a time

[hairtriggerfirewitchh]

I would like to toss my hat into the ring of theories a what could possibly be the mechanics of Never Stop Blowing Up. Ok hear me out.

What I believe (wish) occurred is that the characters were not “isekai’d” nor “Jumanji’d” but were in fact “Freaky Friday’d”

Draw whatever conclusions you want from there, I just think it would be funny.

[thecircularsystem]

Recovery and Syscourse Thoughts

I thought I would toss my hat into the ring briefly in the latest discussions about recovery from CDDs, since everyone and their uneducated brother have been spamming screenshots and sources left and right, and almost all of them have ignored the fact that the DSM and scientific (or otherwise) sources are not the people going through this disorder.

So let’s drop this take into the mix: there is no one set way to heal or recover, and everyone should work to find their best method of recovery and what works best for them.

I am a person working on recovery with DID. I phrase it that way specifically because I don’t want to stop having DID. I… actually really like having my system, and being multiple parts. My partner loves it too. They actually are overjoyed when I split — sad that I’m that stressed, of course, and so, so caring and gentle with me when I reach that point — but thrilled that they get to meet another part of me, a part so vivid and developed.

Isn’t it beautiful that I can see that love so brightly?

Anyways. Back on topic, I am recovering with DID. I am utilizing EMDR (though it’s been some time since we did a session) and I attend therapy weekly. I have grown far more integrated, and this past week, we’ve been so soupy that it’s hard to tell who’s fronting, and it hasn’t caused distress. It’s been nice to just be a collection of parts all at the same time, instead of split apart.

But wait. Isn’t that functional multiplicity? I mean, I just said I’m not distressed, and we’re all working together.

But wait. Isn’t that final fusion? All of us together, instead of split apart?

But wait.

How the fuck am I defining it?

Cause doesn’t that matter so much more??? There isn’t a set definition of what FM/FF are, guys. There isn’t this Ideal Recovery that so many people seem to post about. I’ll reach functional multiplicity when I say I do, and my FM will look different than others, and could look like FF too, because FF isn’t “okay now you’re a singlet.” If anything, the FF systems I’ve met have discussed how they feel MORE plural now.

FF/FM isn’t a dichotomy that can only exist separately, and they aren’t even the only ways to heal. For instance, am I not in recovery right now? Am I not actively healing? I might still be disordered, but isn’t it possible to be disordered and functional? Isn’t it possible to heal WITH DID? (The answer is yes; even FM/FF do not erase the fact that I have a rewired brain with new mental pathways. I could become nondisordered, that IS a thing, thought it took years to convince me it was. The fact is, it’s up to the individual.)

And my recovery is going to look entirely different than the recovery of my friends. For instance, I know many of my friends have reached final fusion, and one of them said they split frequently still. But for me, I split maybe once a year at the current moment, max three times a year. It's been a little messy, and confusing, but that seems to be the case. But if you're final fused, shouldn't you not be splitting???

NO YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT, FUCK THE RULES!

If that person says they are doing better and feeling fine, then that's what matters. And the fact is, regardless of what a DSM or source you provide says, that's what any therapist worth their salt is going to say as well. If you aren't distressed, then you're good.

The same thing does for anything system related.

Preference of how to refer to your alters/parts/headmates/people in your head/fuckers in your head/those assholes up there who bother you constantly? More power to you! You can call them whatever you want!

Littlecourse and how your littles engage in healing? Woohoo, do whatever makes you the most happy and does the least amount of harm -- or, yknow, harm yourself! That's part of learning too, and people trying to take away the dignity of risk from systems because "but-but think of the children" can go suck a dick. So long as the person is doing what they think they should be doing, why is it my problem?

The only time these things become my problem is when they impact me. And, remarkably, what someone else does with their system does not impact me.

I think so much of syscourse needs to learn to mind their own business when it comes to other people's recovery. What someone calls their parts or origins or recovery does not matter and does not impact me in the slightest. What someone else does on their own time is of no consequence to me. The only thing I see in syscourse that does actually impact me is misinformation about my disorder, which impacts me because it makes our parts who struggle with denial latch onto that...

WHICH IS A ME PROBLEM.

Sure, I correct the misinfo, because that helps me, but that's still a me problem, something I need to work on for me.

I used to be gung-ho about fighting against endogenic systems, and one of the reasons for that was because I had parts who clung to the idea that we might be endogenic. The existence of endogenic systems helping my parts deny that we had trauma does not suddenly mean endos shouldn't exist. It means I need to work on my trauma denial.

This post has been a HUGE ramble, and I'm sorry about that -- there's so many thoughts I Have about recent syscourse, and I usually can squeeze in about 30 minutes of free time to write.

I want to post more about this soon, but to summarize some ideas:

Let people recover however they please.

If someone is recovering in a way you don't like, then look away.

If someone is spreading misinformation, correct them, but like... buddy, do it gently, no need to get all butthurt, relaaaaax

If someone continues to spread misinformation after you've corrected them, more power to you, my guy, do what you gotta do to correct that shit for others if you want to do that

It is exactly Nobody's Job to do steps 3 or 4

And lastly; stop sucking [insert source you just googled]'s cock and talk to a system in real life for like. A half hour, at least. Just get to know how they view their system and what works/doesn't work for them. It might actually make you learn something.

[total-drama-brainrot]

Hello! About the fake dating!au, I was wondering how the episode Niagara brawls would play out if Alenoaheather was happening. Would Alejandro and heather still be paired up or would one of them be paired up with Noah?

Well, to be entirely honest, I haven't really thought too much on it yet. Mostly because it's still kind of up-in-the-air as to when Noah's elimination would take place in this AU. I think we've sort of settled on post-merge, so he would be present in the Niagara Falls challenges, but the timeline's still really vague so I personally haven't really invested any time in figuring out the semantics of how each episode would play out.

But since you asked, I might as well toss my hat into the ring! I'll just type out my thoughts as they come, so please excuse this response if it's a little all-over-the-place or formatted weirdly.

Off the bat, it's been fairly well established that the canon final four remains unchanged, so at the very least both Sierra and Cody are still present in this challenge; this is important, since in canon the only reason Heather ends up partnered with Alejandro is because Sierra is the one who rejects him as a husband first. I don't really see a reason to change the canonical play of events here, unless a brainstorming session later on down the line necessitates Noah being paired with either Heather or Alejandro for whatever reason. Mostly just because keeping as many "pre-written" plot points as possible lessens the workload on our shoulders (us, of course, being me and @perpetualexistence, and occasionally @ur-local-brown-multifandomist).

But that does leave the question of who Noah would be paired with.

And again, this would be super dependant on who's left in the competition at this point; since Noah's made it to the merge, we know someone has to have taken his place in the London elimination- just that small change could have potential consequences on all of the subsequent eliminations afterwards, so the merge cast might look almost completely different to World Tour's "official" line-up.

And this is also super dependant on whether or not it's Blaineley who wins the Aftermayhem challenge- I'm not sure if any of the others intend to swap her out for a more interesting/plot relevant contestant (which, as much as I do love Blaineley, she's just find of there with no real relevance to the story) like perhaps Lindsay, Leshawna or maybe even Beth- I assume it'd have to be a girl, since the show itself works to even out it's gender ratios, but it could hypothetically be anyone.

So Noah's partner could be... literally anyone, save for the Final Four (Alejandro, Heather, Sierra and Cody).

...Unless?

Now, don't judge me here, but I do kind of like the idea of Noah ending up with Heather as his partner. Maybe it's the vast potential of how their (entirely self-constructed, and self-indulgent) character dynamic could play out in this scenario, or maybe I just want the opportunity to write Noah trying and failing to pick up Heather, eventually leading to her being the one to carry him across the Falls tightrope like a pathetic, soggy kitten. Or maybe I'm just getting my Noaheather on- who knows?

All I'm saying is, they'd be giving a lot of Connecticut Clark and Malfina vibes and I'm so here for it.

And maybe I just want to see something new; there's so many explorations of how an Alenoah Niagara Brawls challenge would play out (and they're all wonderful, don't get me wrong!) so it's time to give some other pairings the spotlight!

Plus, this particular scenario would not only allow the contestants to see Heather and Noah acting like the "fake" couple they're supposed to be, but Alejandro could also play it as either a double-breach of his trust (since he's also supposed to be "fake" dating Noah, at least, and he has his whole romantic rivalry with Heather) or take advantage of his position and try to charm whoever he's partnered up with and either secure a valuable ally for later on down the road, or beguile his next elimination target into a false sense of security- since a huge part of Alejandro's character is his conniving flirtatiousness, and I don't want to completely negate that.

Now that I'm thinking about it, Alejandro's flirty nature could be a conflict point between himself and his partners. That's a thought for another time, though.

But, again, it's still very up-in-the-air and I don't really think I can give a definitive answer until a proper elimination order has been established- or, at the very least, the elimination order pre-merge. So, uh, sorry for the lack of a definitive answer!

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Navia with a musician reader

characters: Navia x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: I have this really weird obsession with the Accordion, I have no idea why. I can’t play it, I don’t understand how it works, I just love how you can play like every folk song on it and make it sound pretty banger… So yeah. Also, I wanted to write something for Navia since she just got announced and I already want to put all my life savings into a ring I can put around her finger.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Navia

While the underground wasn’t that bad compared to some of Teyvat’s lesser habitable environments, it was easy to enter a death spiral of self-pity and despair if one let their mind wander off to how much more comfortable life was outside, and havings things to do or people to entertain you was a great way to distract yourself a bit.

All of which was a fancy way to say that whenever you started playing your accordion, it didn’t take long for you to get surrounded by a small to medium sized crowd, some of them listening intensely, some using it as a suitable background music to whatever they were currently doing and some others throwing in songs you should play next.

And while there was hardly a face you hadn't seen attend your performances at least once, one always stood out to you, no matter how big the crowd. Were it her blue eyes softly, yet noticeably staring at you, her smile whenever she heard you play a song she seemed to remember from her childhood or more realistically her clothes that made it difficult not to stand out, yet whenever she was there, it didn’t take long for you to notice. And just as quickly as it took you to spot her, your fingers’ movements started to get more clumsy, still a ways off from making you play a wrong note, but noticeably enough that it took you a lot of concentration not to mess up, your cheeks growing red as you suddenly became conscious about your every action.

Just as you finished playing the song, you were bombarded with requests causing the sound of coins dropping into your hat to nearly get drowned out. Could you play this, what about that, with every voice joining in, each one got less discernible until they blended into one giant background noise, your glance fixated at the blonde making her way towards you, until the sound of her voice forced you to return back to reality.

“Are you familiar with this song? I don’t get the chance to listen to it everyday, so I’d be really happy if you could play it”, she asked with a smile, handing you a folded piece of paper with the song’s name on its front, before quickly getting interrupted.

“Sorry Navia, but the rules are the rules. Request something and toss a coin into the hat”, an older man whose face you could recognize from almost every single one of your shows stated, his voice jovial and without any ill meaning, yet just as serious.

Without missing a beat, Navia pretended to check her purse only for a small smile to find its way onto her face.

“I don’t seem to have any money with me, would a cup of tea and some macarons do?”

[lesbianlanarcher]

Archer x Reader Halloween Headcanons

another year without any archer halloween content, so i'm making my own!

credit to @lovingwanda for the idea :)

How Halloween plans would go with each of my fave characters!

🎃🧛🏽‍♀️👻🧟‍♀️🎃

STERLING

"Batman and Catwoman? Really? Isn't that, like, as basic as you can stoop?"

Halloween, like all festivals, is an excuse for Sterling to get shit-faced. More so than usual, so he's game for whatever dumbassery you've got in mind... plus his own.

More likely than not, he'll wanna go to a strip club. Practically insists on it and whines like a little kid until you give in and agree.

"What? I've never been to a strip club for Halloween. Are you gonna deny me of hot vampire tits now? After you coerced me into this ridiculous outfit? Wow..."

If you got him drunk enough, he'd agree to dress up as whatever you want him to. He might grumble and say you're demeaning him by sticking a pair of bunny ears on his head, but, secretly, he's enjoying it. Plus, those ears attract a lot of attention so... he's basking in it. But he won't tell you that. He can see your little smirks and smiles, but he's so totally not lapping all of it up. No, he's embarrassed! Sooooo embarrassed that he's having suuuuuch a good time with you.

As for trick or treating? As much as he wants to go out and get free candy from strangers, he recognises that he's far too old for such a thing. However, he absolutely will drag you out to "chaperone" AJ and her friends when they go out trick or treating. And takes a 40% cut for looking after them. Then, uses you as a scapegoat when Lana finds out about it. Obviously.

LANA

"Slutty nun is kinda on the nose, no? Also, who told you about that?"

Halloween is a little... overwhelming for Lana. The very idea makes her uneasy, which is ironic for the absolute force she is in and out of the field.

She wants AJ to have a good time, of course, but there's a lot going on with all the mayhem of trick or treating and running about the streets of New York at night. And the fact there are people dressed as murdererous psychopaths, covered in blood etc. Well, that sends her already worrying brain into overdrive.

"Is this a good idea? I mean, everyone does it. Trick or treating. So... yeah... fine... right? Maybe you should come with me. No. You should definitely come with me. AJ would appreciate it too."

She's not one for partying until the sun rises, but she'll indulge in some of the festivities like staying at home, sharing a bottle of wine with you, and answering the door for other trick or treaters once you've both done the rounds with AJ. She leans into the whole domestic mom thing even more and dresses up in matching outfits with you! (whether that's slutty or savoury is up to you...)

Steadily throughout the night, she does get more and more pissed off, though. The constant getting up to answer the door, hearing the same phrase screamed at her over and over, and the general lack of quiet agitates her to no end. Still, she'll try her best not to blow a fuse since she knows how much you enjoy Halloween. She can, after all, be very caring.

ZARA

"I swear to god, if you don't come up with an original idea for a costume, I'm blowing the building up."

Halloween is one of Zara's favourite holidays, if not her number one favourite. She wants to do it ALL, and she's taking you as her prisoner for the night.

First on the checklist (yes, she made an itinerary, it's that serious) are couple costumes. She already has it planned out, you don't get a say in it, she knows your measurements, she's bought you a custom costume and you WILL wear it.

"Aww, see? You look adorable, like I knew you would. Now, smile for the camera."

Then, the night unfolds as such : carving pumpkins, apple bobbing (look it up), witch hat ring toss, Halloween scavenger hunt, and ending the festivities off by rolling around a bar until some truly unholy hours.

She used to go trick or treating a lot as a kid, but she's definitely outgrown that now. However, she always makes sure she has sweets to give the kids who knock on her door. She won't admit it, but seeing all the little kids in their adorable costumes is her favourite part of it all.

CHERYL

"You call that scary? What are you? Five years old? I was reciting Suspiria when I was five, not Hocus frickin' Pocus!"

Halloween for Cheryl imbues her with an especially sinister energy. She's already crazy as it is, but tonight? Watch out.

Due to her strange, eccentric upbringing, she never really had the chance to go trick or treating like a regular, non-billionaire child. She doesn't get the appeal and she has absolutely zero desire to get free candy that was – in her words – bought from a store (the dollar store) she wouldn't set foot in even if she were dying of a disfiguring disease and it housed the only cure on Earth.

"God, that really is a pathetic attempt of a costume. Like, did you even try? A month? This took you a month to put together? Why do you even bother?"

All being said, she will spend her Halloween with you, provided you do exactly what she wants.

That includes : sitting through the most fucked up films you've ever had the misfortune of watching, using a oujia board (since she thinks those are fun and doesn't take your cautioning against 'doing it properly' serious), only saying "trick" to all the kids who knock on her door and laughing in their faces when they don't know what to do, and listening to all her crazy conspiracy theories at 3AM because she refuses to go to sleep and you're now too scared to.

KATYA

"I do not get it... You want me to dress up as... тыква?"

Halloween for Katya is a foreign concept since it's not a widely celebrated holiday in Russia, but she is curious about it.

Most of what she knows has come from various western films, a little from what you've told her, and a little from Sterling. Although, he was mainly talking about the vampire tits at the strip club which wasn't all that useful. So, when you have your first Halloween with her, she's both excited and only slightly confused.

"This costume is scratchy and poorly made. Where did you say you got it from? Spirit? Well, there was absolutely no spirit put into the production of this polyester abomination, I tell you that."

She would love to experience what it's like to go trick or treating, but when you tell her that it's only for kids, she gets super frowny and demands you take her anyway. Which you do 'cause are you really gonna say no to her?

So, when you inevitably end up in a crowded bar, slurping Halloween themed cocktails, she agrees and says trick or treating is for kids... but she lets you in on her candy haul nonetheless.

PAM

"Fuck yeah! Weirdest but hottest couples costume award here we come!"

Halloween, much like Zara, is basically a holy holiday for Pam. Up there with no socks day.

Your agenda is simple : dress up good and drink even better. It's an absolutely foolproof plan.

"You want me to carve a pumpkin? Right now? After I had, like, seven of these scare-o jell-o shots? Alright. Gimme the knife."

Something that surprises you is to find out just how incredible her special effects makeup skills are. She can give you a gnarly gash on your face like it's nothing. That open zip wound thing? Yeah, she can do that too. A pus-filled boil? Pam's your guy. Any gory thing you can think of, she's got you covered.

Once you're done letting her decorate you with some truly horrible looking injuries, you spend the rest of the night at her place, watching horror films, knocking back those aforementioned scare-o jell-o shots that she prepared earlier, and having a damn good time until you both pass out on the couch.

so... yeah! that was all very silly n self-indulgent, hence why i only did my faves. if you want me to come up with stuff like this for other characters or anything else for any character, inbox me! and happy halloween!

[delopsia]

AO3 Crosspost

There are flowers in November.

They're early this year. Rather than waiting until days before December's start, they sprout the day after Halloween. Emerging from the crevices of the leaves that Rhett's spent the weekend raking into a pile, licking at the bottoms of your Halloween decorations, and effectively erasing your well-worn path from the front door to the barn. Splotches of red, yellow, and orange surround your home like a sea, their dainty petals waving their hello in the same fashion as old friends.

Rhett's long since headed out to look after the cattle, leaving you to slip into an old flannel of his and meander out onto the porch by yourself. Where the chilly wind wraps around you like a scornful memory, nipping at your skin and whistling in your ears as it passes by.

Nyx, Isabela, and their eleven bovine companions think the flowers make a fantastic lunch. Eating them by the mouthful, completely and utterly enamored by their seasonal treat.

Strange, you never heard Rhett's truck rumble to life this morning, and if he's not off doing whatever it is cowboys do, then what's he up to? The trash has been emptied, and his boots are missing from their place on the rack.

But he's not in the barn, and Cecelia tells you she hasn't seen him since yesterday afternoon, so where could he be?

Walking through the flowers reveals nothing but more and more flowers. Spanning for miles, familiar in every shape and form of the word. Identical to the ones that surrounded your home on that first November, cleverly concealing a singular purple flower whose roots connect to another universe. Identical to yours at first glance, but so, so different in the fine details. Where the land was shaped by the same hands, once was home to a lonely cowboy and his golden cattle.

Thunk.

That...

What the hell?

Blinking, you look down at your feet. Where the crudely cut bottom of last night's pizza box lies. Then lifting, turning to look into the wide eyes of a cowboy, his hand still outstretched.

"Did you just throw a pizza box at my head?" Bewilderment leaking from your tone like you're not entirely sure if that's what thunked against the back of your head or not.

Rhett's eyelashes flutter, "I was...uh..." attention darting down to his feet, only to peek back up at you, "aimin' for it to go...over your head."

You don't...you truly don't know what the hell to say. Even as you bend down to pick up the flimsy piece of cardboard, words fail to settle onto your tongue. Reduced to complete, utter silence as you draw your arm back and fling it back toward him, like a frisbee.

The gold of Rhett's wedding ring catches in the sunlight as he fumbles to catch it; not exactly as aerodynamic as he's made it sound.

"This is what you do on Wednesday mornings?" You chirp, able to talk all of a sudden.

"'s what happens when I got nothin' better to do," he's throwing the cardboard toward you once more, and again, it drops to the ground in a miserable heap. Unable to live up to its legend. "My first idea was goin' to the movies, but y' were still sleepin'."

There's more that you'd like to say, but you can't get it off your tongue. Too preoccupied with covering your mouth as a fit of giggles bubble out of your chest.

God, you have to see it again. Throwing that hunk of cardboard back at him, just to watch it bounce to the ground all over again. So many legends and tall tales and this is all it amounts to.

"What?" Rhett squeaks, his eyebrows raising, "What're you laughin' at me for?"

"This isn't..." your voice dies in your throat, as he picks up the makeshift frisbee once more, awaiting a toss that never comes.

No, instead he's stepping closer, tipping the brim of his hat up with the back of his dirty palm. And for a few fleeting seconds, you might be able to speak, so long as he doesn't lift his arm and chuck it into the wind again.

"I didn't anticipate pizza box frisbees to be like this," you finish after a moment. Voice barely there, nothing but a hoarse croak.

Rhett's cold nose bumps into yours, "What, think y' can do better?"

Lips brush together, feather-light as they mold together into some chaste nothingness that fills your belly with butterflies. Wind dancing around your bodies like a daydream, just you, him, and the flowers for miles.

"I know I can," you whisper. Without another word, you reach for the cardboard, plucking it out of his hand.

And you run.

There are flowers in November. Sometimes they blossom on the very first day, and others, they blossom mere days before December's start. Bringing with them picture-perfect views and a memory of a world so similar to yours, it was uncanny.

But as a thin rope passes over your head and cinches around your belly, it all sets in.

There will always be flowers in November.

Just like there will always be a handsome cowboy to lasso you and steal a million and one kisses from your lips. One for every flower on your land.

[mountingpulisic]

DECODE

a/n : i just want to thank that anon that gave me feedback on my writings, it was greatly appreciated and i hope this makes up for all the cliff hangers :). the song is decode by sabrina carpenter

you're good at the falling, not the staying there

you're good at the giving too much then getting scared

you're good at impersonating someone who cares

and you had me for a minute there

mason’s behavior perplexed you nonetheless. one minute, he made you feel as if he was ready for a relationship. inviting you to his games, gifting you his famous number nineteen jersey to wear and introducing you to his teammates on the pitch. 

the other fifty nine minutes, he ignored your existence and acted as if you weren’t there. after it happened a second time, you confided in your friend about it. expressing your frustrations about how hot and cold the footballer was towards you, giving you mixed signals constantly but expecting for you to drop whatever you were doing at the dime of a hat when he finally called after being awal for weeks. you felt foolish that you would fall for it time and time again. 

but now I wonder why

I let your confusion keep me up at night

i'm so tired

re-read every single undertone and I

another sleepless night was upon you as you tossed and turned in your bed. mason had rung you before you laid your head down, saying he missed hearing your voice and to give him a callback when you received the voicemail. any other time, this usually had you going weak in the knees but not tonight. you started to fluster on why he was constantly toying with your heart, you were so tired of this recurring cycle.  

overanalyzed it, front, back, and beside it

where else can we go?

there's nothing left here to decode

done lookin' for signs in the gaps and the silence

it's just getting old

there's nothing left here to decode

Mm-mm-mm

“ i don’t see why you just don’t block him, y/n. mason is obviously showing you all the signs that he genuinely doesn’t care about you. stop trying to decode every little thing he does and ditch the lad.” y/bf/n ranted angrily on the phone, tired of you always ringing her to bitch about mason’s odd behavior. you knew she had a fair point; however, you couldn’t simply just brush off the chelsea player. having mistakenly fallen for the charming brunette despite his odd behavior.

“ you know what they say, the best way to get over somebody is to get under somebody.”

there's a weight off my shoulders now that I don't chase you

being myself, did that emasculate you?

learning from you that I can walk away, too

and you had me for a minute, too

y/bf/n had invited you out with some of her co-workers to indulge in the london nightlife, at first you didn’t want to go. work was keeping you exhausted, your brother was crashing on your couch and don’t even get you started on the million unread messages from mason. In a strange way you felt at peace not overanalyzing his behavior, or trying to diagnose what mood he was in when he had sent you a rather short text. feeling as if a weight had been lifted of your shoulder for finally realizing that mason was only playing games with your heart, you had agreed to y/bf/n invitation to join.

and that’s how you found yourself face to face with the one person you were successfully avoiding.

mason

“why are you avoiding me, love?” he asked.

he had successfully cornered you when you excused yourself from your group of friends to use the restroom. trapping you in the stall, not caring how it looked to bystanders. aroused by the sudden close proximity of your bodies, you gently pushed him back to create a distance.  

“I asked you a question, y/n.” 

“I’m not avoiding you mason, i’m just no longer chasing you. you had me going mad when one second you were telling me about how you’d talk to your mum about me, then the next i see you out on social media with another’s girl tongue down your throat.” you felt yourself getting teary eyed as you finally expressed your emotions out loud to him. 

mason surveyed your expression, trying to pick up on any sign that you were just pulling his leg, that you actually weren’t being serious.

“love, i didn-” 

“no, i'm going to stop you right there. you don’t owe me any type of explanation because you and i,” gesturing between the small gap you created between the two of you “we aren’t together, and i finally have come to the conclusion you are not in the position to be a boyfriend right now. so i’m doing us both a favor by walking away.” 

with that you pushed past him out of the stall, leaving mason there flabbergasted at your actions.

mason knew dragging you along was wrong, but he was only doing it because he was scared. scared of trusting his heart, falling headfirst into love but fearing that no one would be there to catch him. he knew deep down you were nothing like that, when he first met you, you’d actually haven't even given him the time of day. Too busy worrying if your to-go order was going to be ready in time because you didn’t want to be late to your lecture. 

mason was the one doing the chasing then, following you out of the cafe and begging for your number. you had given it to him after he followed alongside you towards your university, talking your ear off and listing multiple reasons why exactly you should give him your number. irritated, you finally folded, writing it down on a piece of paper and shoving it into his chest.

mason had called the number on the paper as soon as you started to walk off, causing you to laugh loudly from his actions of making sure it wasn’t a fake. 

now he had demolished what you two were slowly building up, and he couldn’t help but to kick himself and feel emasculated. 

There's nothing left here to decode

Mm-mm-mm

There's nothing left here to decode

Mm-mm-mm 

maneuvering your way through the crowded club, you wanted nothing more than to go home and wallow in self-pity. mason consuming your thoughts as you pushed past the sweaty club goers, a few more steps and you would’ve successfully made it out of the club if someone didn’t grab your wrist and jerk you back. 

turning around ready to bite the head off of the person who had the nerve to forcefully grab you, you fell silent when you noticed it was mason. 

“Im scared, y/n.” mason confessed loudly to you, dropping your wrist and moving closer to you so you could hear him properly. “ i’m scared that after i let you into my world, you are going to regret giving the stupid footballer a chance. that you’ll end up hating me for being away so much, that you’ll hate me for all the online hate you are bound to get, i don’t want you to hate me.” 

In your mind you sarcastically repiled, too late for that, but chose to keep silent when you noticed the few tears that had made an appearance in the brunette’s eyes. 

“ i know you properly already do hate me but please give me another chance to prove to you that you could be happy, that you could be happy with me.” the words he spoke sounded inviting, despite all the bullshit he put you through.

time passed slowly in mason's mind as he saw the wheels in your head slowly turn at his monologue, silently praying that you wouldn’t just walk away and forget his existence. 

“one chance.” you said, holding up your index finger. “you ruin that, there won't be anymore, mount.” 

mason doesn't give a verbal response as he pulls you into him and gives you a passionate kiss. lips crashing into each other, he pulls you even closer when he feels you melt into it, your hands finding home on the back of his neck. 

"you won't regret it, love. now come on, let's get out of here."

[besthimbomachine]

my love when it counted. 06

summary: In the morning after the party, both Kenny and you have to deal with the fallout of hat happened the previous night. Through the confusion of all that happened, fate opens a door for Kenny, and he knows it might be his only chance to properly apologize for the things he did. As if this wasn't tense enough, the situation forces him into a heavy realization. pairing: kenny omega x reader word count: 8617 warning: there are varying levels of angst in this one, but I think it stays more in the bittersweet part of the angst sepectrum yet another another chonkster here. I worked really hard to get this out as soon as I could and I hope yall enjoy it. This one will have a bit of angst, but I think it's bearable. It also has another Nick cameo!!! Anyways, I have way more I'd like to say but I need yall to read it first so pleeeease leave me your feedback. I hope you all enjoy it, we are at the midway point in the story. Should be a few more chapters to the end, just can't give you a sure number.

06.

Kenny’s mind is still hazy when he starts hearing the constant and annoying sound of something buzzing. It rings loud through his head, insistent and so fucking irritating that it feels almost painful. The damn noise feels like torture and he is forced to open his tired eyes, letting the light of the morning engulf him. Groaning, he looks around, the sound never stopping as he looks for its source. Finally finding the culprit, Kenny stretches a hand and with a pained movement he snatches up the ringing phone.

“You still sleeping there, buddy?” Nick's booming voice reaches through the speaker, jolting Kenny back into the waking world. “I’m at your house, man, just parked right now.”

“Shit,” Kenny mutters under his breath, rubbing his eyes to try and shake off some of the sleep still clinging to his brain, “yeah Nick, let me just get up, give me a couple minutes and I’ll be at the door.”

“Sure thing,” Nick replies before shutting off the call.

Kenny lays still for a second, body heavy like an anchor as he stares at the empty ceiling before sitting up in one labored motion, a groan escaping his lips. Getting up with difficulty, he starts to make his path to the front door, trying to force himself awake along the way. He could feel his entire body hurt, muscles aching after a long and hard night. Sleep had evaded him for a painful while, and when it finally came, it didn’t feel that restful. He tossed and turned under the covers, mind plagued by dreams of things that were, and ones that were not meant to be.

So, in a sense, Nick’s call was a blessing, pulling him from Morpheus’ unwelcoming grasp. At least in the waking world, he was only at the mercy of reality. No matter how tired he felt, laying in bed just wasn’t helping, now maybe by the end of the day exhaustion would allow Kenny to sleep better. And just to make sure, after all of this was done with, he’d hit the gym and work himself to the bone, push until his eyes just couldn't stay open and hope for a dreamless night.

Getting to the door, Kenny shook his head, tying back his hair and blinking rapidly to shake what was left of sleep in him. Opening the door, he found Nick standing there with a smile, greeting him with a nod as he squinted at the sunlight outside. Nick himself seemed unaffected by the glaring light, or by how late his evening had run, returning Kenny’s greeting with a lively tone as they made their way to the kitchen. If someone looked at him, they wouldn’t be able to tell how long his night had been, and whatever witchcraft Nick was pulling for that was a mystery to Kenny.

“What time is it now?” Kenny asked in a grunt as he sat at the kitchen counter, voice still rough from sleep.

“About nine thirty,” Nick replied, glancing at his phone and resting his side against the counter, but not taking a seat.

“And when did you leave the party yesterday?” Kenny asked, resting his arm on the marble.

“Hmm, probably something after two,” he answered with a shrug.

“Two in the morning,” Kenny muttered to himself in disbelief, looking at the stone counter for a second before turning back to Nick, “and how the hell are you so chipper this early?”

“Some of us just aren’t old,” Nick laughed, shooting Kenny a mischievous grin before he placed a black shoulder bag on top of the counter. “Anyway, here are her things, documents and room card are all there, I checked. Is she awake? How bad was the situation?”

“Well, you woke me up and there is no other sign of life around, so,” Kenny trailed off with a shrug, voice slowly returning to normal as he spoke. “And she was mostly ok, not drunk enough to be throwing up at least, the real problem was that ankle. It was looking pretty awful yesterday, she is gonna need a brace and a couple weeks off by the look of it.”

“Shit,” Nick grimaced at the words, lips pushed into a thin line as he took in the news. “Let’s hope it’s just that then,” there was a moment's pause before he continued, brows furrowing as his inquisitive eyes found Kenny. “Now tell me, how the hell did you get involved in all this?”

“Nick,” Kenny sat still for a second, blinking rapidly as he straightened on his chair, “I told you on the messages, I found her and helped her out.”

“Listen,” Nick started, taking a deep breath as he looked deep into Kenny’s eyes, “last I saw her, you were at one part of the party and she was at a whole other. With Adam,” he paused for a moment, and Kenny felt those inquisitive eyes trying to read his reaction, the air feeling tense as he tried to hold the muscles in his face from twitching at the name. “And I know you knew that too, Matt told me.”

With a deep breath, Kenny shook his head, a few soft curls coming loose with the movement. Matt knew his problems with Adam back in Japan, he knew how jealous he felt back when you two were dating, and of course Nick knew it too. You and him had been close friends for years, it only made sense. And Matt now had clearly told his brother one thing or two about what he’d seen of Kenny at the party.

“Adam was very drunk,” he said slowly, trying his best to keep his voice in a calm and even tone, “he wasn’t going to be of any help.”

“I know this much, I saw Adam,” his answer came with a shrug, eyebrows raising as Nick leaned forward, coming closer to Kenny. “I just wanna know how, of all people, she ended up with you.”

“Look, I told you,” Kenny was starting to get exasperated at this point, running a hand through his hair as he tried to explain again what he’d already explained in his messages, “I found her in the hallway. I was about to leave the party when I saw her stumbling in. I knew she had a twisted ankle, so I tried to help her.”

“And she just let you help her, just like that?” Nick interrupted him, flicking one hand in the air as the other propped him against the stone counter.

“No,” Kenny groaned out, rolling his eyes and taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, his exhaustion was making him confused, but he was trying not to let it get the best of him. “It took some convincing, but she accepted and now we are here. Not the best situation, but what did you want me to do?”

Kenny shrugged and there was a pause between the two of them. Nick’s eyes regarding him with a look he couldn’t exactly read. Although, Kenny could imagine that in Nick’s head this whole situation sounded wild. By the nature of your relationship, he knew the man would have heard about the worst parts of your break up, and the worst feelings you had for him. Different from Matt, Nick never made a move to try and help you two patch things up, and he could guess why.

“Cool, you did the right thing man,” Nick smiled, closing the distance and throwing an arm around Kenny’s shoulder, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I’m glad she had you by her side, man. Now tell me,” at this his voice dropped, going from chipper to a low and sly tone, “did you two… have some fun?”

“What? Hell, no,” Kenny pulls away from Nick in a haste, almost falling from his chair as he swipes the younger Jackson away with one arm. “Was this what you were getting at? Come on, Nick, I’ve been an asshole but not a monster.”

The thought alone of what Nick was implying felt horrendous to him - and also, deeply offensive. Despite all the awful things he’d done during your relationship, he never even came close to that. It wasn’t now that he would decide to start. But still, he knew deep inside that Nick’s worry came from a logical place. You were drunk and hurt, left vulnerable in a situation that, if Kenny wanted to, he could easily take advantage of. The same way he had worried about Adam’s intentions, it made sense for Nick to worry about his.

“Sorry man,” Nick said softly, backing away with both hands raised above his head, “but I had to try and check, gotta watch out for her, you know?” He shrugged, voice now back to the relaxed tone Kenny was used to, eyes softening as they looked over him again. “And you two got along well enough? No attempted murder?”

“No,” Kenny muttered, adjusting himself in his seat once more, letting his eyes meet Nick’s gaze, “when we got here we watched TV while I put ice on her ankle, and when she fell asleep I dropped her off at my bedroom and slept in a spare room.”

“Good, really good,” he nodded almost excitedly, a humorous tinge playing on his voice. “‘Cause she once said, and I quote: I will gouge his eyeballs out with a toothpick if he gets within arm's reach of me.”

Kenny’s eyes shot open, a chill running down his spine. He wouldn’t put it past you. There was a heavy pause as Nick looked at him with an awkward smile, brows shooting up on his head. Taking a deep breath, Kenny ran his hand over his hair again, smoothing the loose curls that framed his face.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed out, looking over to Nick who just nodded in agreement, “now I’m glad all she did was question me on why I was helping her.”

“Well, she had reason to, man. No offense,” Nick looked at Kenny with kind eyes, his voice felt soft, but his words came harsh, however, there was no denying their truth. “And listen, I think maybe you should take this chance to talk to her,” he paused, letting the idea sink in as he studied Kenny’s reaction. “I know last time it went to crap but, just try not to raise your voice and I’m almost sure you two can have an honest conversation.” 

“Matt told you that?” Kenny sighed, voice terribly quiet.

“No, it wasn’t Matt,” Nick trailed off, not even needing to finish his sentence. Taking a small step forward, he touched Kenny’s shoulder softly with one hand, a reassuring gesture that he was actually thankful for. “But honest now, you did the right thing, I’m glad you were there to help, despite, you know, your whole situation,” there was a moment’s pause as Kenny mouthed a thanks, Nick pulling his hand back before stepping away again. “I guess I’ll be going, I know the way out, you just make yourself some coffee, you really look like you need it.”

Nick squinted his eyes at Kenny, voice somewhere between mockery and pity, as he gestured towards the sorry state his friend was in. Not that he was wrong, coffee really sounded like a good idea at the moment. Stepping away, Nick started making his way back to the front door before Kenny could say anything. Not even giving him a chance to get out of his chair, leaving his friend with a couple last words as he left for the hallway.

“Good luck!”

With Nick gone, silence took over the vast kitchen, leaving Kenny alone with his thoughts. Yes, maybe this was his best chance of having an honest conversation with you, and that scared him to no end. Maybe he wouldn’t get a better shot than this, and the fear of failing again ached down to his bones. But he didn’t want to think like that, he didn’t want to let his fear win. He had allowed it to win too many times over his years. And in many ways, it had been allowing fear to win that had led him to this spot. This empty place where you were so close but so far.

Shaking his head, Kenny tried to clear his mind, looking around him for anything that could occupy his thoughts. His blue eyes landed on your bag sitting quietly on the marble counter before him. From the corner of his vision, he spotted something colorful and shiny against the deep black fabric. Pulling the bag closer, he saw it was a metallic sailor moon keychain, not even bigger than his thumb. A keychain he knew all too well, he had been the one to buy it for you, right at the start of your relationship. 

His large fingers picked up the small piece of metal, the painting faded in some parts, but it still kept its colors. The fake stones carved into its body still remaining in place, even after so many years. Despite the wear and tear, the small thing still retained its shine. Some of the delicate parts had a few chips in them and Kenny could tell the chain had been replaced, but he was surprised at how well it had withstood the test of time. He had completely forgotten  the little thing and it felt surprising to see that you still had it, even after almost a decade.

Kenny sat in silence for a few seconds, keychain in his hand, as his blue eyes trailed over its details. He admired how something so small survived the whims of time. But quickly his thoughts started to turn to the things he had, the moments he didn’t know to cherish before they were lost. Shaking his head he had to force himself away from those thoughts, away from that painful place that would bring him nothing good. Dropping the keychain, he got up, he needed to start the day, get things ready. And Nick was right, he really needed coffee.

When you finally start to wake from your death like sleep, the bed underneath you felt different. You were still in a haze, eyes not quite open, but you were sure this mattress seemed a lot more comfortable than the one in your hotel room. Trying to move, you feel your head throb and for a second you wonder if it wasn’t the bed that changed but you. Maybe the alcohol was making it seem softer than it really was. A trick played on you by your tired mind.

Slowly, you begin to come to, finally gathering the courage to open your heavy eyes. There is very little light entering the room, and you feel thankful for the dim atmosphere. You weren’t really sure how well you’d deal with sunlight right now. Sure, your head isn’t throbbing quite as much as it could be, but you weren’t about to test your luck. Your body felt heavy and your ankle was sore, and the last thing you wanted was to invite a massive headache to this pity party.

As your vision starts unblurring you look around, searching for the familiar bland surroundings of the room you were given. You don’t find it though, instead your eyes are met with a much larger space, fully decorated and even a bit messy. Looking down, you take in the soft bed and warm covers, not at all what you had slept in when you left your flight. Yeah, this definitely wasn’t your hotel room.

You could feel the headache inviting itself into your head as you try to make sense of the situation. Calming yourself down, you slowly sit up, resting your back against the silky headboard - your bed did not have a headboard. Rubbing your tired eyes, you take a deep breath, the soft smell of lavender entering your nose. Finally, looking around, you try to piece together just where you were. Sure, early last night you had wanted to wake up somewhere else. But that somewhere was Adam’s hotel room, and this was not a hotel room.

Lazily, your eyes roam around, taking in the mismatched furniture, some looking clearly older than the others. There was a closed door to one side, besides it there was an open one, a bathroom visible beyond. To the other side there was a large window, curtains drawn shut, keeping the room in the darkness. A couple of armchairs rested before the windows, what looked like men’s clothes lazily thrown over them with an elbow brace laying on top. On the walls there were pictures you couldn’t quite see from the bed and a myriad of posters, many of which seemed to have Japanese writing.

When you try to change positions to see the posters better your ankle burns in pain, the damn injured joint complaining about having to move after a whole night of staying mostly still. A hiss escapes your dry lip as you take your hand to touch the slightly swollen spot under the covers, and that’s when it hits you. The brace, the Japanese posters, the familiar smell of lavender. You knew where you were.

You were in Kenny's room.

In a second, your mind starts rewinding the previous night - or at least what it can at the moment. It isn’t much, but it’s something, enough to have yourself frustrated at your own stupid choices. Shit, you can almost feel the damn headache gaining ground already. Looking to the sides again, you spot a glass of water in a bedside table by you. Right by it there is a pill slip, you pick it up and just as you thought, it’s pain medicine. Popping one out, you wash it down with the water, drinking the whole glass, you’d be needing the hydration.

Relaxing your body against the headboard, you sigh. If someone were to ever tell you what happened in the past twelve hours, you’d think it was some weird drug trip. If you were a bit more drunk, you’d think it was the alcohol twisting things. But you remembered enough. Kenny had helped you at the party last night, and when your stupid ass forgot your things in the venue, he’d brought you to his place. He helped you with your ankle, you were wearing his clothes, sleeping in his bed. And apparently he even had the mind to leave you some meds on the table.

That level of thoughtfulness didn’t seem like Kenny. Not the one you left back in Japan all these years ago at least. It almost felt like a mirage of the person you’d first met, the rare parts of him that gave way to resentment and anger by the end. But after the way your bonds were broken, you never thought you’d see that person again. In all honesty, it seemed like that side of him was dead. So to have received his help and felt safe by his side was a foreign idea, one so alien your mind couldn’t fully grasp.

No use in thinking too much, not right now, you are in no condition for that. With a heavy sigh you look around again, you spot your clothes folded on top of a dresser in the wall opposite to you. Stretching, you check on your ankle before getting up. It seems less swollen than what you remembered it to be, a good sign at least, even if stepping on it still hurts. You stumble to the dresser and pick up your clothes, changing out of Kenny’s oversized ones before heading into the bathroom.

Slowly, as you go through the motions, you start remembering more things. The way Kenny insisted on staying even when you tried to push him away. How quiet and gentle he kept his voice through the whole ordeal. The careful tenderness of his touch as he checked on your ankle. You feared his controlling judgment back at the party, but you didn’t find it. You feared his rage when you sat by him in the car, but it never came. You feared the bitter reprimand but there was none.

Washing your face with cold water, you looked at your reflection in the mirror, forcing yourself back to reality. The person staring back at you in the shared your confusion, face reflecting the same uncomfortable sense of déjà vu that plagued you. Shit, you really didn’t know what to think. Shaking your head you decided to postpone any complex thought to after you’d gotten something to eat. You’d avoided a headache so far, but you were treading dangerous ground, and the emptiness in your stomach really wasn’t helping. With a deep breath, you built up the courage to make the journey out of this room - and back to what reality the morning had in store.

With some effort, you half-stumble, half-hop your way back to the living room. As you walk, the soft smell of coffee and pancakes hits your nose, engulfing you in a warm feeling. When you get closer to the living room, you see no sign of Kenny, but in the quiet morning your ears faintly pick up the sound of running water. Its quiet hum almost feeling like a caress to your tired mind. Yeah, the minute you got back to your hotel room, you’d run yourself a hot shower and stay there for as long as you could.

When you enter the living room, sunlight is filtering through the sheer curtains, bathing the place in a soft, warm glow. You’d find it all very beautiful, if only it didn’t make the back of your eyes hurt so much. The pain med you’d taken was certainly helping - otherwise, you’d probably be in much worse shape - but it couldn’t make any miracles. Squinting, you come to a stop beside the couch, resting your weight on its arm for a moment.

Taking a deep breath, you look around, noticing the way the living room looked. The posters on the walls of old anime and video games, the arcade style stick controller boxes and figurines on the shelves, it was all too familiar. Some things just don’t change. Looking down, you see  your shoes resting by the sofa and your phone resting atop the cushions. Picking it up you look at the hour, it's already about eleven, you’d really slept for a while. Pushing the phone into your pocket, you start getting back up again when you hear a door open on a hallway opposite of you.

“Hey, you are up,” Kenny’s warm voice reaches your ears before you even look at him.

Falling back on your good leg, you look up, finding him walking towards you, still pulling his shirt down and adjusting it on himself as he did. Kenny gave you a small smile, blue eyes shining under the scattered sunlight. His hair was still damp, a few droplets of water hanging to his skin, and even from afar you could smell the scent of soap coming from him. A part of you felt the deep desire to touch him - he looked soft and warm and smelled so good - but you were quick to silence it.

“You know I could have helped you if you asked,” he says, extending a hand towards you as you balance yourself on the floor.

“I’m fine,” you reply, waving his hand away with a laugh, “besides, I don’t think you’d had heard my cries for help while you were in the shower.”

“Fair point,” Kenny responds with a timid laugh, growing silent for a moment as a weird tension hangs in the air. “Oh, yeah, I made breakfast, if you want. And Nick dropped your things earlier.”

He points to the kitchen, a sheepish smile coming to his face as his baby blues roam over your features, a certain hesitation seeping through his expression. Part of you wants to say no, just grab your things and leave, but you couldn’t deny you were starving. Besides, Kenny may never have been a great cook, but he always made great pancakes, and denying his offer felt a bit impolite. As if on cue, you hear your stomach growl, Kenny stifles a laugh and you look away, feeling blood rushing to your face.

“Thanks, I think I’ll need it,” you say softly before your eyes meet his again.

Kenny laughs quietly again before guiding you to the kitchen. You carefully start to make your way, holding onto the walls as you balance your weight, trying to keep your ankle safe. When Kenny offers to help you again, you hesitate, air heavy around you both, before you accept his offer. He snakes his arm around your torso with ease, large palm warming the skin of your side as he holds on strong. Grasping onto his large shoulder, you feel his powerful muscles tensing under your grip as he helps you along the way. You turn your face to thank him, and the proximity hits you, finding his blue eyes trailed on your face, so terribly near.

This was the first time you were seeing him from so up close. At least the first time sober, and without red hot rage taking over your vision. He looked so different from what he did the last time you saw him in Japan. The years had taken their effect on him. He’d lost that boyish charm he kept even into his early thirties, replaced by the hardened features of a man strong in his years. But still time was kind to Kenny, he wore it well, and, at least to you, he looked better now than he had before.

You hold each other’s gaze for a second before breaking away, eyes scattering to the sides as you whisper a thanks, Kenny responding in the same quiet tone. When you get to the kitchen, he helps you get seated at the counter before leaving to get you breakfast. Seeing your bag, you take a second to check your things before unlocking your phone and sending a quick thank you to Nick, and then leaving it on the counter. He had already sent you half a dozen messages and you knew he’d be pestering you about this whole situation the moment you stepped on the hotel. Though, when breakfast appears before you, these thoughts all but vanish from your mind.

“There we go,” Kenny says in a low voice, still avoiding eye contact as he starts placing things on the cold marble.

It doesn’t take long for him to place everything in the counter before you, and despite the incessant racing of his heart, his hands had stayed mostly still. Your demeanor seemed good, good enough that it should have him at ease. However, the anxiety of not exactly knowing what you remembered from last night - and more importantly, how you remembered it - still had Kenny on a chokehold. Sure, things seemed fine, but the thought that you might not recall anything and maybe have the same suspicion Nick did wouldn’t leave his mind.

“Thank you,” your soft voice pulls Kenny from his thoughts, his eyes finally meeting yours again for a moment before he looks away.

“It’s nothing, really,” he says, feeling his mouth dry, words clinging to his tongue. “I had to make breakfast for myself anyway,” he shrugs and leans into the counter, resting on his forearms against the cold stone.

For a few moments he finds respite in just watching you serve yourself. His eyes follow the movements of your hands as you first pour coffee on the mug before pouring milk. The dark liquid turns lighter, and Kenny is reminded of how you hated the way he made coffee when you met. At some point he just picked up your habits, easier that way. And to this day he still makes coffee just like you used to, still grinding the beans every morning, still using the same amount of water. He found it funny, really, how it was the small things that stayed.

He was jolted from his thoughts - and saved from staring at you for too long - when he felt something vibrating near his arm. Looking down, he caught your phone vibrating again, making a dull noise as it hit the hard marble. His eyes caught it just as the screen lit up, the notifications appearing over a dark picture of something he couldn’t recognize. It wasn’t Kenny’s intention to read them, and he regretted it the moment he did. 

All notifications on screen were messages. The first to appear was from Nick, just checking if you were ok. But it was the others that had Kenny uneasy, the uncomfortable burn of jealousy seeping back into the darkest parts of his mind as his blue eyes caught sight of Adam’s name. “Hey, I couldn’t find you at the party last night and you weren’t at the hotel breakfast today, I got worried Everything alright?” Just as he finished reading it, the screen turned black again.

“This is actually really good,” your voice caught Kenny off guard, blinking twice he turned his sight back to you, only to find you busy looking at the half devoured pancakes on your plate.

For a long moment he just stares at you, the world around him dissipating together with his jealousy as he looks over your soft features. The raging sea in his eyes grows calmer as he watches the way your face scrunches when you take a bite, smile tugging at the corner of your lips. In the stillness of the moment there is only calm until his own voice breaks the silence, laughter bubbling from his lips.

“You say that like it’s a surprise,” Kenny responds in feigned offense, stifling the laugh from his voice.

“I mean,” you start, dropping your head from side to side and squinting your eyes as you look at him from behind your mug.

“Hey,” he raises his voice a little, dramatically bringing a hand to his chest. “If you are going to complain, I’m just gonna take the food away.”

“You wouldn’t,” you don’t dignify him with more than that, and Kenny just lets laughter burst from his chest again, watching as you hurry to finish what is still left on your plate.

You ate in silence for a while as Kenny started picking up the things from the counter. He was trying to keep himself busy so he wouldn’t have to think about anything. Not Adam, not the way his heart was beating erratically, and not the knot in his stomach at the thought of trying to properly apologize to you again. Kenny knew he couldn’t run from this, Nick was right, this may be his best chance, he had to do this. No matter how tense he felt.

“Thank you, Kenny, really,” your soft voice rang through the kitchen, quiet but strangely intense.

The sound dragged Kenny from his thoughts as he was placing the plates in the sink. He blinked twice before shaking his head, fully anchoring himself back in reality. Without turning back to you, a soft laugh resonated through Kenny’s chest before he could even speak. The deep sound filling the empty space between you two.

“Come on,” he starts, still slightly chuckling for a moment. “I told you, I had to make breakfast for m-”

“No, not this,” you cut him off, Kenny turning around to finally face you, finding your eyes already staring deep into him. “Not breakfast. For everything, really. For helping me out,” there is silence between you again, air hanging heavy in his lungs as he feels frozen in place. “I might not have the best memory of yesterday,” you chuckle, eyes falling to the side before you go on again, “but I remember enough. Enough to know I really gotta be thanking you.”

For a second Kenny just stood there, heart racing but body not responding as he took in your words and the way you started closing in on yourself. Of course, you were still the proud thing he had fallen for all these years ago. Having to thank him was embarrassing, because it meant you were wrong in how you saw him before. If he had been presented with the situation some months ago, he’d probably take pleasure in your shame. In the victory it brought. 

But there was no victory to be had here. Kenny didn’t want to compete. He just wanted to show you how he regretted everything, and that he’d changed. He wanted to show you he truly cared, no matter the circumstances. He just wanted to let you know he cherished you, more than he wanted to admit, more than he had the courage to say.

“Well,” he begins, stuttering around his words for a moment as he shrugs, trying to hide the storm in his chest, “you don’t have to thank me for that either, you needed help, that was that.”

“Kenny,” you call his name in a quiet, somber tone and it feels scary, terrifying even, your heavy eyes holding his own in their gravity. “You really had no reason to help, that had nothing to do with you,” there is a pause and he watches as you lick your lips, hesitation dancing on your tongue. “And we were barely even speaking to each other. You had no reason to just be there, let alone bring me here and do everything you did. I really have no way to thank you.” 

You finish your words in a hurry and he can sense the shortness in your breath, your eyes leaving his own, gaze settling on the counter before you. In a way, you had beaten him to the punch, forced him into a situation where he had no other option but to take the chance laid before him. It was now or never, but he knew he had to be careful. He could taste the anxiety in your voice, see it in the way you almost curled up in your seat. But the only way out was through, he knew.

“Ah,” Kenny starts but freezes before he can even find the words, running a hand through his hair as the silence lays thick between you. “You might not remember it but last night you asked me why I was doing all that and,” he pauses again for a breath as your eyes find his own, it’s not even a second, but he feels his heart shudder under your gaze, “well what I told you still stands. I am trying to be better. You could still hate me today and it wouldn’t change that I couldn’t just not care when I saw you there, drunk and in pain,” he pauses, resting back against the sink, hands gripping the stone tight as his whole body tenses. “So I just helped because it was the right thing, and I’d feel like a shitty person if I didn’t. Even if we barely can see eye to eye.”

There is a moment of stillness, Kenny feels his mouth dry, air thick and cold between you. Your eyes still hold onto him, they reflect a mix of vulnerability and unease that sends shivers through his nerves. He feels once again the desire to hold you, to tell you things were fine, he wants to believe it too. And maybe he can, maybe you both can, but he knows it’s not so simple. So he just waits, patiently coursing through the silence as he watches you try to find your words.

“I,” you begin but pause, looking down at your plate before looking into his deep blue eyes again. “I think I remember. It just,” you can only hold his gaze for a moment before looking down, voice so quiet Kenny can barely hear it, “didn't register in my mind. Didn’t feel real. Kenny,” you look back at him, his name sounding heavy on your tongue, voice now louder, even though he can still feel the strain on it, “everything you did, you could have just dropped me off with Nick and called it a night. You didn’t need to do so much.”

He didn’t. He knew he didn’t. He knew the easy way out and he still opted to go the distance. To do more than he needed to. And yeah, sure it was the right thing to do, to help, to show compassion for someone who had loved him for so long when he was the worst version of himself. He was trying to be good, to do right, to be better. But there was a part of his mind that whispered constantly in his ear that this wasn’t the full story. A part of his heart that ached too much at the sight of you, vulnerable, hurt and alone.

“Oh, well,” he shook his head, eyes leaving your powerful gaze, pushing a chuckle through his lips to try and defuse his own complex feelings. “I didn’t want you to get hurt, but I also didn’t want to end Nick’s night early. And I was already leaving anyway.”

Kenny looks back at you with a smile that he hopes doesn’t look as strained as it feels, praying that his voice hasn't given away his mental turmoil. He shrugs, trying to downplay the situation, trying to convince himself and you of the logic in his actions. When his blue eyes meet yours again, the momentary silence feels to him like an eternity.

“Thank you, really. I,” you pause again, voice low as your eyebrows come together, expression dropping as you speak, “never expected that and I guess I was w-”

“No,” Kenny cuts you off, exasperation painting his voice as he instinctively moves closer to you, his hands resting on the opposite side of the counter to where you sat, “you were right not to expect anything good. Like I said, I didn’t do this to get your forgiveness,” the tension slowly dies from his voice as his words grow quieter again, a heavy breath leaving his lungs before he continues. “I gave you every reason to think I was just the worst, a complete asshole. So yeah, I get where you are coming from, don’t worry about that. No hard feelings, I know it’s my own fault.”

The somber, quiet guilt in Kenny’s words feels thick in the air. You stare at him for a long time, his bright blue eyes like a calm lake, water gentle and clear. He stands before you and he feels so close, too close even, despite the cold marble counter between you. You don’t dare to complain, though, you know he is trying to connect, to reach out to you in a way he hasn’t in years. A part of you wants to close the door, to pull away and leave, fear burning through your veins. But you opt to stay, to see this through, to believe that the change you feel in his voice is real.

“Shit,” you breathe out, looking around, air tight in your throat. “I don’t even know what to say. It feels so strange, seeing you like,” you trail off, not knowing how to describe it, to describe the change in the man before you, looking back at him, you try to find the words but can’t, “that. You seem so distant from that person I last saw in Japan. Almost like two different people. And I guess I,” you pause, gazing deep into his eyes, still not fully believing how foreign they seem despite their familiarity, “never really thought I’d see that. All I expected was that same old asshole, even back when you tried to apologize.”

You don’t want to admit it, don’t want to acknowledge it, but you feel bad. Bad for judging him, despite his admission that he deserved it. Bad for not wanting to give him a fair chance, despite him saying he was at fault. You know he was right, but you can’t help the feeling. Biting your lip, you start to look down before you hear him call your name. Voice a soft tone that tugs at your heart.

“I know,” he stops, waiting for your eyes to find him again before he continues. “And I know I was a bad boyfriend, ok. I get why you were so angry and defensive when we talked, and you were right to be. And I know why you seemed so scared of me back in the car, it's because I gave you a reason to,” you can feel the weight in his words when he says this, the guilt coursing through his low tone, tainting its soft sound. “So you don’t need to worry about that, I fucked up that apology too and that’s on me.”

“Kenny,” you start quietly, not really knowing what to say before he begins speaking again.

“But if you let me try again,” he hesitates for half a second before continuing, you can feel the stress in his voice, the fear peeking in his eyes as he pushes through. “I’ll say that I’m truly sorry. I know I always acted like my emotions were all that mattered, like the world revolved around me. I was controlling, I thought I was always right. Even when it was about your career and your choices in life. I was a selfish bastard, jealous and scared,” his eyes leave yours as he rushes through his sentences. Words spilling out at a speed that makes it seem like he is chasing something, or running from something. When he stops for a moment, his eyes find yours again before he continues. “And I let that fear hurt you, which is the thing I feel worst about.”

Silence hangs over you again and you can hear Kenny’s labored breathing but his eyes never leave yours. You can see the conflict reflected in them and it feels strange. Wrong even. Kenny had always seemed like an unstoppable force to you, but the man standing before you now was anything but. Running a hand over your face you try to find your words, to show him the same honesty he was showing you.

“What do I even say? I mean, I can’t lie to you, ya know,” you stop for a breath, his blue eyes reflect a quiet pain, but he makes no motion to speak. “Yeah, you were really a selfish ass who thought you knew better than anyone about everything. And you really did hurt me with all of that. But especially with all the things you said on the day we broke up,” there is a heavy moment of silence, Kenny almost winces and you can tell, there is so much here you could say, but you don’t have the strength to. “It feels almost unreal to see that you could have changed after everything.”

“Yeah,” Kenny responds after a pause, you can see his hands fidgeting against the hard marble, his brows pushing together as he speaks, “and I’m sorry, really. Especially for that last part. I got scared you were leaving and,” he grows quieter, eyes leaving your own, gazing down at nothing before he finds the courage to look up again. “Well, I fucked it up and you left anyway. And I deserved that. And you deserved better. There is nothing else I can say, just that I’m sorry. I truly am,” he stops, and you feel the weight on his throat, the strain clear in his voice, he swallows hard before continuing. “But I know I fucked up too much and you don’t have to forgive me, and I’ll understand if you don’t.”

There is a somber dignity to his tone, even though you can feel the pain in his voice. It hurts you in a way it shouldn’t. In a way that part of you still says he doesn’t deserve to. All the suffering he caused you still runs through the back of your mind and you know you could never forget it. But you also know some people can change, and maybe, maybe, Kenny was one of them.

“God,” you begin after a moment that seemed never ending, an anxious chuckle escaping your lips. “I never thought I’d say this but, Kenny, it’s ok, I,” you pause, the words stuck in your throat before you can coax them out, “I forgive you. I mean, look at you. You seem to have changed so much in all these years that maybe I can give you the credit. I’m surprised but glad to see that you could make that change. Really.”

“Thank you,” he starts in a sheepish voice before you cut him off.

“Come on,” you chuckle anxiously again, hands sweating as you rest them on the cold marble. “I’m the one thanking you for everything you did for me.”

“Yeah, but I have to thank you for giving me a second chance,” he says, voice a firm yet gentle tone, and you can see light shining through his eyes again. “I know it isn’t easy. It's really hard. So, I’m not taking it lightly, I swear.”

“I’m counting on that, ‘cause, yeah, it ain’t easy,” you respond in an almost whisper, eyes looking down at your hands as your whole body tenses at the weight of the moment. “To be very honest, Kenny, there is still a part of me that thinks it’s insane to forgive you. So I’m really counting on you not to fuck up this time.”

Kenny feels the pain hidden in your words, the acid taste of his guilt rising like bile to his mouth. But he pushes through it, this moment isn’t about that. He is being given a chance and he will make good on it, no matter what. Once more, he wants to embrace you, but he knows he can’t, so he just chooses to touch your hands with his own. Hoping the small gesture can bring you comfort. Hoping you’d let him fix at least some of the pain he caused. Hoping it can show you how he truly feels, how his poor heart shudders at the thought of ever hurting you again.

“And I’m promising to do good on that,” he pauses, eyes finding yours as you look up. “‘Cause I know how fucking fantastic a person you are and I,” love you, that’s what he wants to say, but he knows he can’t, the heavy realization pushed to the back of his mind, “cherish you. You are a good person, and you deserved to keep better company than what I offered,” he pauses, mouth dry as he tries to silence his racing heart. Now was not the time. So he settles for the next best thing. “And if you let me be bold now, maybe we could stay friends? Or try?”

“Sure, why the hell not,” you chuckle, the sound far more honest and less anguished than the ones before, and Kenny feels like a weight is lifted from his shoulders. “Well, you have a chance to do better now. Show me why Matt and Nick believe so much that you are such a good friend.”

“I will,” he smiles at you, almost awkwardly, trying not to speak much in fear his voice would betray him. “Thank you for giving me this chance.”

“Don’t thank me yet, it just means you lost your excuse to not help me with my bullshit anymore,” you joke, pulling your hand away from his as you adjust yourself on your seat, no longer trying to curl up in the chair.

“I think I’ve proven that I can deal with it,” Kenny laughs, his heart still trying to rage within his chest, but he chooses to ignore it.

You laugh back at Kenny, smile warm as the sun and despite the knot in his throat and the tightness in his lungs he feels a bit better. The world seems a bit lighter, and by god, even if he would be plagued forever by this feeling burning at his chest, he was happier now. Happier for having a second chance, for getting to make up for all his mistakes, for being given a shot to make you smile again. The storm raging in his mind and the way his heart fought against his ribs wouldn’t rob this from him.

It doesn’t take long for you to leave, Kenny insisting he could drive you to the hotel, but you opt to go by yourself. The house feels a bit emptier without you, a bit stranger. Despite you only being there for only one night, it seemed like you always belonged. He makes his way to his room ignoring the pain in his chest, ready to make good on the plan to just get changed and head to the gym, work himself out until he can't even think. When Kenny enters, he finds the bed still unmade, but the clothes he borrowed to you folded neatly on top of the mattress.

Sitting down, he runs his hands over the soft shirt, staying still for a long moment as his large palm caresses the fabric. Kenny’s heart aches and screams inside its cage, and once again, he does something he knows he shouldn’t. Large hands pick up the old shirt, trembling as they hold it against his face. It still smells like your perfume, warm and sweet, chocolate and roses. Kenny clutches it hard between his fingers, staying still for a moment as he feels his eyes burn behind his tightly shut eyelids. Still, he knows life must go on.

Opening his eyes, he places the shirt back on top of the pants, smoothing it with a hand. He’d put those to wash later. Getting up, he slowly makes the large bed, trying and failing to find solace in the mindless chore. Turning back to the bedside table, he finds the empty glass alongside the pill slip. Picking up the slip, he pulls the drawer open and throws it back inside, but something shiny rolls to the front, the noise of metal against wood ringing in his ears.

Kenny just stares at the thing for a second and it feels like he got shot, pain burning like lava through his veins. In all honesty, he’d forgotten it was even there. Forgotten he’d even found it again. And now he wishes it had stayed forgotten. The small silver ring stared back at him, shining like the day he’d bought it. Now, it had rolled out of its velvet bag and came back to haunt him again. Just like it did when he found it back in the box with your camera. A crushing memento of how his childish selfishness and stupid fears ruined something that should have been great.

You never knew it, and maybe that was for the best now. But in the night you excitedly came to tell him about the WWE work proposal you had received - the event that culminated in him ultimately ruining your relationship for good - he had something else to tell you. He never got around to it, his own fault. When he heard of the job offer, he got scared you’d leave and his aggressive nature got the best of him. That day sealed the fate of your relationship, and no matter how much it hurt, he had to learn to live with it. Closing the drawer again, Kenny brought a hand to his face, wiping the single tear rolling down his cheek. He’d brought the pain on himself, no use crying about it now.

sponsored by: @xladyxfatex @wanderbreadsworld @madds-97 @morgan-bucks @tahiri-veyla @slut4kennyomega @of-twilight-and-moonshadow @himbos-hotline

[ceilingfan5]

ooh. how 'bout circus criminals AU

“Step right up! Step right up- you’ve seen the action, and now it’s time to get your share!” Kravitz makes sweeping gestures with his top hat that are so dramatic that glitter keeps falling off of it. Taako bites his lip, trying not to laugh. Truly how he has the energy after a whole day of shows is beyond him, but Taako’s gonna match him pitter for patter until the crowds are gone. “Not a fan of carnival games? Why not test another skill?” 

Taako, still on his bigass stilts (okay, mediumass stilts, Lup stole the ladder-tall ones tonight) directs seedier traffic Kravitz-ward and seedless traffic towards the carnival games. The tweens and lovers and grubby child-babies can go throw balls at shit for stuffed unicorns. Double Secret Circus Blackjack is only for assholes. But like, a certain kind of asshole. They don’t need any law enforcement officers to step into the ring. Kravitz is duping ex-step-dads and greasy stockbrokers and self-entitled Um Actuallys into feeding the machine with their yum yummy dollar bills. 

You know, people that don’t return their carts at the grocery store. 

“Right this way!” Taako calls, slipping a number of shiny objects from his pockets and juggling like a dream. (Sometimes he does juggle in his dreams. Three previous roommates have complained about it.) He waits for a gap in the crowd and kicks with one long, long leg right towards the Hit The Thing With The Hammer Real Good stall– “Play sweet games, win sweet prizes!” and rolls his whole body toward The Subtle Tent– “Or try your luck, if you dare!” 

And so on. It all sort of runs together. Taako and Kravitz keep making eye contact that makes the air in Taako’s lungs glitter, and finally, when he’s got enough little fishies, Kravitz winks and ducks in. Taako drops his jugglin’ bits. For effect. He’s not stupid. He does make a show of struggling to bend down to pick them up, which gets a load of lil’guys gigglin and tossing him the things. Taako pretends to miss, and pretends to miss, and at the unlikeliest moment–oh my god mommy did you see that, he caught it!! 

Golly. What a miracle, at this, the Regularest Circus. 

He waits for a lull, rabbiting and yakking with the customers, playing it up, making a scene. And when he finally has a moment, he slips away and drops the stilts–easy as pie to make a quick change, if you’d like a slice. No time to redo his makeup, but it’s all whatever. The nights blend like impressionist paintings in a storm drain, and none of that oil paint should enter the water table. 

Heavy metals, you know. 

He ducks into the tent, like literally does a tuck and roll and POP, gasp hello it’s Taako here, can you believe you didn’t have him before now? You’re SAVED. And he walks around, checking on the heavy round felted tables that are such a bitch to roll into the semi when they leave town. Whatever the fuck was wrong with the Costco tables that fold in the middle?

He sneaks up to Kravitz, who is running the highest stakes in the tent, of course, and loving every minute of it. Taako pops up behind him– even sitting, that stupid top hat obscures most of Taako, you know, stilts-less– and pulls a few funny faces to amuse and distract the patrons. Haha, a fucking clown. Doesn’t he know his whole existence is stupid? Kravitz makes a big show of turning and Just Missing Taako, and the big fishies are in stitches by the time the clown is caught. 

“You’re distracting me,” Kravitz teases, shuffling cards like a real obnoxious bitch. Shame he’s so great. “Can’t you clown around another big top?” 

“Who, me?” Taako makes a big show of innocence. It’s so funny how much they’re taken in by him, with some makeup and sweeping gestures and nonsense. These are probably the kind of guys who’d run screaming from a clown in a haunted corn maze or whatever, but Taako’s got these dung beetles eating bullshit right out of his hands. 

“Yeah, you! Can’t you see I’ve got serious business to attend to?” 

“Sure, sure, sure,” Taako soothes, clocking Kravitz slipping an ace or seven up his sleeve. Taako’s whole chest bursts with affection. “I’ll secure the perimeter, sir!” And Taako clicks his heels together as loudly as possible. 

His shoes squeak. It’s great. 

Kravitz barely keeps a straight face. 

“As you were, Captain Bananapants.” 

Taako’s gonna show him. Taako’s going to show him but good. 

He honks his nose and evaporates, pacing round the outside instead. And Ring A Ding Ding, Chicken Wing, who the Fuck must be approaching but the goddamn fuzz. 

He presses a button in the lining of his pocket to Shut That Shit down, and Kravitz will certainly feel his pager go off. Taako’s time to shine, full distract mode. 

“Fuzzy wuzzy had no hair,” he starts off, pulling a full handstand and wiggling his ass. Here’s the thing about being a clown. You can get away with so much. 

“Can it, jackass,” the head guy in charge growls. 

“Oh, extremely loud buzzer noise!” Taako rolls back to a back bend. “Clown, actually. Fool, even. Jester, on the weekends. Harlequin if you ask sweetly. But not a jackass.” 

“You work here, right?” Buzzcut demands. 

“No,” Taako says politely. “This is a hobby.” He makes a show of stage whispering behind his hand. “The wife calls it a fetish, but what does she know!” He laughs so hard he makes himself fall over, and, when the cop steps over him, sits up as fast as possible. Both of them end up on the ground. 

“So sorry!” Taako pops up and reaches out to help him up, which obviously activates the buzzer on his hand, because he’s old school. It’s hilarious. It’s also not full grounds for arrest. Ha ha. “Are you alright? I guess I have a habit of tripping over my feet!” 

This doesn’t end, you know, well, but by the time Taako is done getting grilled like chicken on a milf’s salad, there’s no evidence or remnant of their super legal gambling ring. 

“That’s how you do it, baby,” Taako mumbles later, taking off his makeup. Sometimes he wishes he had a sandblaster, just get it real done real fast.

“Thank you again, Taako, you did perfectly.” Kravitz waits for him to be mostly lipstick free, and then tugs him into a grateful kiss. Taako takes two extra for good measure, and one for his pocket, and another to collect interest in the bank. 

“You bet your sweet ass, I did. I had to recite the whole clown code to those jokers to get them to believe me. You know, not just anyone can do this shit.” 

“Yeah,” Kravitz says, smiling glittery-eyed at his makeup-less face. “You’re a real stand-up ham.”

[ysolt]

tossing my hat into the palworld ring as someone who's playing it because it happens to be on gamepass and yeah its for the most part an asset flip and just ripping off pokemon designs but it's more of an ark survival evolved clone than a pokemon clone. if anything it's showing up mid survival games. also this isnt me defending it or whatever but you cannot ai generate 3d models. that's not a thing. at least not yet. just kinda annoying when people are this wrong about something even if it's supposed to be an argument against something you dislike. but the actual gameplay is fun as hell for a multiplayer survival/exploration/base-management game. there is good game design behind everything. now i'd be tempted to say 'hey maybe now they have money to model original creatures' but it being blatant pokemon rip offs is half the fun and the hook. like putting half naked anime girls in your gacha. i suppose i more rather wish other developers thought about their game systems as much and priced their games at 30$ instead of 70$. but i didnt pay for it anyway