#trying a new thing this year where I don’t delete text posts in the middle anymore

[harmonizewithechoes]

One of my clearest memories as a Very Little Child was watching my mom blow bubbles with her gum and demanding that she do it over and over until I could figure out how she did it because it looked like magic to me.

I am now the mom of Very Little Children who are mystified by me blowing bubbles with my own gum and they are asking me to do it again and again. They act like it’s magic and I am too aware of Time.

[daitranscripts]

Frequently Asked Questions

Update: 8/29/2024

I would like to remind everyone that I am just another fan, and this is a fan project. I have no control over character dialogue.

Remember to be kind in my ask box and notes. I cannot explain why some character lines were chosen to be cut from the game, nor is this the place to start character discourse. I am also not a machine - I am a person with feelings and other hobbies. I love to take dialogue requests, but asks that demand certain quests or are rude will be swiftly deleted. Repeat offenders, or especially rude anons, will be blocked.

Please be courteous! This is something I enjoy doing, and I ask that you keep the experience enjoyable for myself and your fellow fans.

What is this project?

DAI Transcripts is my endeavor to document and format all of the dialogue in Dragon Age: Inquisition (I hope that's obvious, otherwise I might be doing a pretty bad job). I started this project in 2019 as a spiritual successor to the discontinued @dragonagetranscripts. ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

Why are you doing this?

Because god has punished me for my hubris and my work is never done. 

jk it’s actually because I was sick of watching bad let’s plays while trying to work on my longfic so I took matters into my own hands.  ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

How do you know you're using accurate dialogue? Where are you finding the deleted lines?

I type the transcripts by hand side-by-side with the game files, a plot flag editor, numerous youtube playthroughs, and my own game open. I also keep a number of handwritten notes on plot flag strings. I have played DA:I over 30 times, and crowd-source from the communities I'm in.

I do occasionally miss things or can't figure out exactly how a piece of dialogue fits, but I always note this within the transcripts. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Where did you learn to read the files?

I used to create my own mods for DA:I - There are a tutorials online that cover dialogue file editing you can find on the nexus. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Can you share the audio files?

Unfortunately, this isn't something I'm willing to take on right now. Each line must be extracted one at a time and renamed as you go, or every line within a dialogue file will try to export with the same name (some files have hundreds of lines). They are not logically named and it is a lot of trial and error. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Why do you use "PC" instead of "Inquisitor" or "Herald"?

The game files use "Hero," and to save myself the trouble of trying to differentiate between conversations that can happen before or after reaching Skyhold I decided to use the neutral "Player Character," or "PC". ㅤㅤ ㅤ

You typo'd/did a thing wrong/you’re missing race/class specific dialogue!

Please let me know in an ask - I hope to have a very accurate account of all the dialogue, so don’t be afraid to let me know if I’m missing something or have any egregious typos.

Please note: since this project has been ongoing for nearly 5 years, I bridged over the change in text editors. Additionally, I only started referring to the text files around 2022.

Posts made before April 2022 (around the middle of In Your Heart Shall Burn) may be missing dialogue.

Posts made before March 2023 (around the beginning of Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts) may have formatting errors due to the change from old to new text editor. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Will you do -insert quest-?

Short answer: Hopefully, yes!

Long Answer: I intend on working through the game from start to finish, first main quests, then secondary/companion quests, and then romances. DLC, location, and side-quest dialogue are on the list as well.

If you want to see something specific, just drop me an ask! I don't mind it at all, and sometimes it's a refreshing little break. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Who are you anyway?

I'm Plisuu in disguise :) I am a high school teacher, artist, and writer. You can find me on all social media under the same name, though I'm only really active on tumblr these days. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Please take my money! How can I support you?

I have a Ko-fi, but honestly, the kind messages and tags I get on my posts are more than enough! The best way to support me is by sharing this resource :)

Feel free to share your fics with me as well, I love seeing how different folks use the dialogue given to us and spin such unique and varied stories.

Remember, my ask box and messages are always open!

[secretgamergirl]

Gotta love that automation of moderation, don’t you?

So hey, it’s almost the end of the month, which means it’s time for my monthly tradition of making a little post over on that one website whose new owner is doing an amazing job of flushing it down the toilet, and look what I see:

Like nearly everything I post on that site, you will of course note that that’s clearly starting mid-sentence. I make a conscious habit of doing that specifically so that any time someone tries to take a single post out of context to defame me, it’s plainly obvious to onlookers that they aren’t seeing the whole thing. The full context for this for instance is here, if you’re curious. It’s part of a big post I made back in March on the Trans Day of Visibility, talking about how I don’t partake in the general tradition of posting a bunch of selfies and career highlights because stalkers are looking for ammo, you know, case in point.

So, first off it’s probably worth noting that this was actually flagged at 2:40 AM on November 23rd. A whole 8 months later, in the middle of the night, the day before Thanksgiving. So I’m going to make an educated guess that what probably happened here is one of the various foaming at the mouth bigots, probably living in England where it is neither a holiday nor a weird time to be up and looking to start crap, decided it was a good time to try and ruin my life some more, did a nice simple little search for my handle and the word “kill” and just punched through the “sending a death threat” form using a succession of burner accounts until the post stopped loading. Pretty standard tactic there.

This of course confirms my theory that while the entire staff of humans handling abuse reports is most likely no longer employed at Twitter, save for whatever skeleton crew is hyper-focused on permanently suspending people for making jokes at Elon Musk’s expense, the automated system that generates messages like this based purely on submission volume is still up and running.

So... here’s where this gets dicey. Before me are two buttons I can press. I can click that shiny blue text that says “appeal” at which point, as I understand all this, I will be given a little form where I can type a message along the lines of “hey, this was clearly sent in error. While part of what I was saying is cut off due to this being somewhere in the middle of a 50 or so post long thread, it’s still quite plain here that I am talking about being on the receiving end of violent threats, not making one myself.” At this point I would be locked out of touching the website in any way shape or form until this form is looked over by... someone who to my knowledge is no longer actually employed, nor slated to be replaced by anyone, plunging me into eternal limbo.

The second option is that I can click that big red “Delete” button, breaking this big long thread in half (which honestly doesn’t concern me too much, I’ve made much better versions of this sort of speech, and don’t really expect anyone to naturally find something from 8 months ago), but A- I’m pretty sure doing so would permanently flag my account as some sort of troublemaker, and much more importantly B- We have this little sentence above that button that says “By clicking Delete, you acknowledge that your Tweet violated the Twitter Rules.” Now aside from the raw pedantry of knowing damn well that it most certainly did no such thing, the rule it is erroneously claiming that I broke is... threatening to murder someone. Pretty sure, legally, that is not a thing you want to formally confess to doing if you didn’t actually do so. For that matter I’m also pretty sure that making a blatant false accusation that I did is libelous or something, but I dunno. If any lawyers are trying to round out their pro bono quota before the end of the year and want to explore that, let me know I guess?

So... I’m pretty terrified about what’d happen pressing either of these two buttons, and without doing so (or probably with doing so for that matter) I cannot post anything nor even look at anything on Twitter there for the foreseeable future. Which... is kind of a really serious problem financially. My two professions are journalism, which is just completely 100% tied to that site as the only way one can presently pitch stories to most editors, and game design, where freelance work is in the exact same boat where the only real way to get it is to pester editors on there. And it’s also kinda the place where I’d normally plug my Patreon, which aside from what freelance work I can find is literally my only financial lifeline, and is presently pretty darn low because people tend to unsubscribe to these sorts of things around the holidays to build up that gift money. And I am broke broke. Like, I have this last week of this month to find a little money somehow in a hurry or I won’t have enough to pay my rent and my electric bill. Next month, I won’t have rent covered even without electricity. Seeing as we’re heading into an unusually cold winter, there’s a chance I’m going to actually freeze to death because of this.

So if you’ve bothered reading all this... help? Like, share this blog post around, link to it on what’s left of Twitter and/or on whatever alternative you may have jumped over to? Pester whoever’s left on Twitter’s support staff about this clearly having been flagged in bad faith? Maybe try and get this in front of some media people? Or an editor willing to just commission me to write about it directly (or, you know, about anything else? There’s been a lot of recent stories in the news about transphobic laws and hate crimes and that’s explicitly been my beat for the past decade or so). Maybe throw some cash at that aforementioned Patreon to help buy me another month of barely scraping by? This is kinda life or death for me.

[isagisyoichi]

PINKY STAR (RUN) :｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

SYNOPSIS: isagi as your boyfriend

CHARACTERS INCLUDED: isagi yoichi my boyfriend of many several years

WARNINGS: swearing? i think idk i forget also yah pretend they all go to the same school and stuff. also horribly self indulgent if u couldn't already tell

A/N: if you remember my old one delete it from your memory it was literally so bad help anyways the re-up because my boyfriend deserves better. also i really like this one and i feel like it’s more in character for him :P lol i've had this in my drafts for like, ever <3 but also my last post for a while because i have ap exams and my sat soon :P

FOR: the anon that asked me where my original isagi bf hcs went :’)

after the initial awkwardness of being in a new relationship fades and you two become comfortable with each other, a relationship with isagi would be like dating your slightly awkward best friend who you make out with sometimes.

like, i don’t really see isagi being high maintenance, so i feel like a relationship with him would definitely be on the relaxed side, but still romantic, you know?

isagi’s inner monologue is so funny and he definitely lets his thoughts out to you. it makes you laugh to see your usually friendly-to-all boyfriend have his moments, too.

you guys are one of those couples that give each other a look when someone’s doing something weird in public #telepathicconnection <3

but, isagi’s really such a sweetie with you. i know user isagisyoichi may be slightly biased when they say this, but believe me when i say that isagi’s 100% boyfriend material.

walks you to class whenever he can. always either holding your hand as he listens attentively to you complaining about school.

writes down things he feels are important about you in a digital note entitled “y/n 💗,” so he can remember them in the future.

isagi's used to talking to all kinds of people, so even if you're not the most talkative, he can adjust with no problem.

and he’ll always entertain you about whatever stupid conversation you wanna have.

kinda basic with pet names. babe, baby, dork (he would, i don’t wanna hear it), are his usual rotation.

randomly compliments you/says these really romantic things out of nowhere because he can’t control himself and often blurts things out.

“yeah, of course, when we get married, i’ll-”

“when we get married?” you inquire as you cut isagi off. you two have never discussed marriage, just but the thought of isagi wanting to spend the rest of his life with you is enough to make your head spin.

isagi’s eyes go wide when he realizes what he’s said. damn his mouth that moves faster than his mind.

swallowing hard and taking a breath, isagi says, “y-yeah, when we get married,” further affirming his statement with a nod, albeit a bit of a nervous one.

now both of you guys are flustered LOL.

likes to sit his head in your lap and have you play with his hair, while you two talk or just sit in silence.

such a good listener, perfect person to rant about anything with. he’s very understanding, he’ll hold you if you need him to, wipe your tears if you’re crying, give you advice if you need it, just overall so sweet.

also always knows when you're sad because of his intuition. isagi encourages you to open up to him, but ultimately doesn’t force you, just lets you know that he’s always there for you <3

(that's kind of lie because isagi does pry a little LOL, but he means well)

takes care of you! nags you a little, tries his best to make sure you're not doing anything stupid, and if you are, that someone responsible (him) is watching you, looks after you when you’re sick, etc.

gives you his jacket when you’re cold (he’s been waiting to do that his whole life bro LMAOO), carries your things, always texts you good morning and good night, just overall sooo good to you.

but as soft as he is for you, isagi does have this tendency to get these random spouts of confidence, so sometimes he’ll say or do something really bold out of nowhere.

like, he’ll suddenly grab your waist and pull you closer to him, or he’ll kiss you out of the blue. the flustered expression that rests on your face for a change always makes him smirk *heart eyes*

in general, though, isagi's still kind of awkward sometimes regardless and does say or do things that make you go "???" and make him be like "why did i do that" LOL he's so cute though <333

he’s pretty basic with dates, usually opts for things like restaurants, walks in the parks, movie nights, or stuff like that, but they’re still really fun!

but, if you ever want to do something out of the norm, he wouldn't be opposed to it, either. but, you do have to tell him ‘cause he's not a mind reader lol.

(okay but, one time, isagi tried to watch a scary movie with you because he wanted to do that thing where he wraps his arm around you during the scary parts, but HE ended up being scared instead 😭)

isagi’s the type to put your name with a heart emoji or the date you guys started dating in his instagram bio LOL

y/n 💓 IHS Forward #10 ⚽️ *insert some soccer quote about grinding*

it’s a bit middle school, but you let it slide because you know he just wants to show you off <3

study sessions are normal between you two but, you guys always get bored or distracted halfway through and start watching youtube or something LOL.

it’s canon he’s a thigh man lol, so if he ever sees you wearing an oversized shirt, especially one of his, with shorts, isagi will literally short circuit in real life.

he keeps his hand on your thigh when you guys cuddle that day, tracing patterns on your skin, or just squeezing it every now and then.

in general, though, isagi likes poking at and playing with them whenever they're out <3

once, isagi wanted you to do that trend on tiktok where he sits between your thighs and stuff, but he had no idea how to bring it up LOL

so, isagi just watched tiktoks of it in front of you and hoped eventually you would get the hint 🙄

and you did, thanks to his incredible lack of subtly. he doesn’t even care when you giggle and tell him how bad he is at being slick, isagi got your thighs around him, he won!!!!!!

takes a picture (or two or three) to savor the moment.

(even though he could literally just ask you to do it again in the future, but whatever, i guess)

when you’re dating isagi, the team comes with him too LOL

they’re always snapchatting you pictures of isagi when they’re hanging out without you, with stupid captions like, “look how sad your boyfriend is without you 😞”

isagi’s not even sad in the picture, he’s just confused as to why they’re shoving a camera in his face 😭

isagi one hundred percent attempts to get you to run the mile with him during gym if you don’t already.

“babe, just try!” isagi pants, as he catches up to you and your friends, as you guys are still on your second lap.

admittedly, the effort is cute, but beloved, i hate to break it to you- i will not be doing anything of the sort.

he will sit down or walk around with you after you finish the mile, though. if he’s not already playing soccer lollll.

when he does choose to go with you, expect exclamations from the team about how isagi “abandoned us for his little relationship” 👎

isagi’s receiving love language is words of affirmation (also basically canon LOL) so, he really values the compliments you give him with his whole heart.

you could tell him how his hair looks nice in the morning, and isagi will think about it all day.

whether it be about how cute he is, or how talented of a player he is, isagi really is happiest when you praise him <3

speaking of soccer, isagi has this tendency to get lost in the moment and talk your head off about some soccer related tangent that probably makes no sense to you.

his eyes light up and his voice is just oozing with passion for what he does as he goes into detail about how he made this crazy goal at practice while you stare at him with the biggest heart eyes ever, adoring his dedication.

and of course when isagi realizes he was rambling, he apologizes profusely for “boring” you, like the gentleman he is.

but when you reassure him that he could never bore you and that you want nothing more than for him to go on, isagi begins to feels lightheaded due to his adoration for you <3

if you're the type to go all out when it supporting isagi at soccer- like make one of those corny signs, yell from the crowd, wear his spare jersey to games, isagi will physically have to withhold his heart from jumping out his chest.

he's a little embarrassed that you're doing all that for him, but the effort means soooo much to him.

and speaking of soccer, it would mean a lot to isagi if you not only supported him at games and stuff, but expressed an interest in learning more about soccer as a whole, too.

you know, learn a little more about the game on your own accord, ask him to teach you how to properly play, or even challenge him to a one on one, do stuff like that, and he’ll literally be head over heels for you. well, more than he already is.

(he always goes easy on you on your guys 1v1's and he thinks your efforts are adorable, no matter how much you may or may not suck)

he'd repay the effort and try to get interested in whatever your hobbies are!

also, you can get him to do almost anything if you pout and beg hard enough, you’re literally so hard to say no to in isagi’s eyes <3

isagi’s the type to not realize when other people are flirting with him LOL

he just thinks they’re being nice (unless they’re being straight up) and i don’t think he would really process it because he’s so focused on you romantically, if that makes sense.

once he realizes you’re jealous, isagi apologizes earnestly, reassuring you over and over again that you're everything he could ask for and that he would never intentionally try to hurt you and all that jazz.

although, i will admit, sometimes isagi’s kinda smug when you're jealous, especially when it’s over a dumb reason 👎

however, when he’s jealous i feel like it could go one of two ways-

on normal days, isagi would just stand there to “intimidate” the other person, maybe cough a little for emphasis until they go away lol.

but on days where he’s already mad/filled with adrenaline/or someone’s really not taking a hint and you’re visibly uncomfortable- oh boy, it’s like a switch flips in him.

has those same fiery eyes he has during the climax of a game. the energy he’s exuding is dead serious, and that alone is enough for the person bothering you to go away. not bad for a man that’s only 5’8 🥰

adding on, isagi doesn’t take any shit about you, ever. even if it’s from his friends. usually isagi’s very neutral and doesn’t actively try to start conflict, but there are some things he’ll always defend and you’re one of them.

isagi always listens/watches/reads/etc whatever you recommend him (on that note, please recommend him good anime because isagi’s out here willingly telling people his favorite anime is darling in the franxx), even if he doesn’t necessarily like it LOL

you could show isagi objectively, the worst song ever and he would be like “yeah, it was good babe!” (it was not)

also does the same thing when you bring him shopping with you, like he's absolutely NO HELP 😭

you could try on the ugliest sweater known to man and he’d like “you look nice 🙂” pls be honest isagi, you can say it’s hideous!!!!!!

but isagi’s also being somewhat truthful in his statement because he does genuinely think you look nice in everything <3

also loves when you wear his clothes- always feels a mixture between pride and slight shyness?

kinda lol idk but overall, isagi really is sooo happy you wanna show him off that much, especially when you're wearing something of his around his friends :')

he says “i love you” first, no doubt.

he’s a bit nervous when he does because he doesn’t know if you’ll reciprocate, but he really does love you and he feels like he physically can’t hold it in anymore.

“i promise you don’t have to say it back!” isagi reassures anxiously. “i know it’s a really big commitment, and if it’s too early for you right now-”

“i love you, too.”

[sagendipity]

reminder i'm sage i used to be notplanningshit until i accidentally deleted my blog so now im reposting my works!

info: quackity x reader, gn!reader, hurt/comfort, no warnings

on frizzy hair and the pursuit of perfection

Intellectually, in the rational side of your brain, you know that what you’re feeling is stupid.

You see the Instagram posts talking about the importance of self-affirmation and mental health. You see the tweets saying that people are more than their family’s perception of them. You realize that having a condescending and judgmental family is almost a right of passage for your generation.

These are all things you know, intellectually. But knowing something intellectually does jack shit for actually convincing your heart of whatever you know. You can yell at yourself all you want, but it’s clearly not your rational brain making you tear up at yet another text from your dad that was along the lines of “cool, could be better, though.”

You just want someone, just once, to celebrate an achievement with you. You want to be excited to share something with someone, without fear of them scoffing in the face of your pride and excitement. In your family- hell, in the world, certainly- someone has always done better, and you’re damn sure to be reminded of such.

It’s been years of this same behavior, ever since you can remember. It’s not just your dad, either, it’s your whole family- aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins. The whole town you grew up in had this haughty, arrogant air about it, where everyone was constantly competing, even if there was no reason for it. Take the hardest classes, get the least sleep, get the biggest scholarship. Even your friends would flex their better test scores at you, and refuse to help you with the homework, in case you somehow got a better score on a test than them. You know it’s how they were raised, they’re just a product of their environment and don’t know how bad it hurts, but it still stung then, and probably always will. You’re still in contact with a few of them, and it’s just more of the same whenever you exchange a handful of quick texts every couple months.

You know you should stop giving information about your achievements to them, but when your dad texts and asks how you are, there’s not much you can reply with other than “good, got a promotion at work!” From there, it’s a slippery slope of him asking what new benefits you got, and then the judgmental few moments where the gray dots disappear and reappear while he tries to compose his thoughts about your inadequacy in the least-abrasive way a middle-aged man can. That is to say, not un-abrasively at all. In fact, his words are often delivered with the finesse of low-grit sandpaper on soft wood.

Well, could be more. Work harder and maybe you’ll get an increase next month. I got a lot of bonuses at work when I was your age. All you have to do is take the bad shifts and get some good customer reviews. You’ll get there.

You stare at the fresh new message on your phone screen before clicking it off with a bone-deep sigh, your eyes betraying your rational side by, again, tearing up. You shove the heels of your hands into your eyes and rub until the tears are forced away and you see spots.

That’s how Alex finds you, sat on the foot of your shared bed with your hands rubbing fiercely at your eyes. He’s probably just come to grab a hoodie- the setting sun brings with it a cool breeze that washes through your open windows and cools the house from the warmth it’d gathered from the day’s sun.

“You good?” He asks, opening his closet door and pulling out a hoodie. He wrestles it on over his head as he waits for your response- when he pushes his head out the other end, hair mussed and static-y, you still haven’t answered. “Baby?”

He comes and sits down next to you. Your eyes, red-rimmed but still dry, track his movements before flicking to catalog every tuft of disheveled hair protruding from his head. With a superficial smile, you reach up to smooth his long, black locks back and down into place. It doesn’t matter; he’s going to slip on a beanie sooner or later, but for now, you distract yourself by combing gentle fingers through the soft strands.

“Not that I don’t appreciate this,” Alex murmurs, brown eyes searching your face for an answer to what has you upset. “But what’s wrong?”

“Just my dad,” you whisper, not trusting your voice not to crack. You avoid his gaze, keeping your eyes fixed stubbornly on his hair as you finish your work. “There. You looked like a hedgehog.”

He huffs a little laugh, but scoots closer to you and grabs a hand out of your lap- you’d curled your hands into tight fists, your nails digging little red crescents into your palm. He uncurls the hand he’s holding and reaches for the other, but you save him the work by instead grabbing onto your own thigh tightly, redirecting the frustration. He rubs small circles into the aching skin of your other palm while he waits for you to gather yourself and explain, now that the ice has been broken on the topic.

“He always acts like whatever I do is just not quite good enough for him. They all do- him, my mom, even my fucking friends.” You rub your free hand down your face, trying to alleviate some tension. It does not work. “I don’t know why I’m still upset. They’ve been doing it forever.”

“That’s probably why you’re still upset. You hope they’d grown up enough to stop doing that.” Alex presses his thumb into the center of your palm. It grounds you, and you swallow around the lump in your throat.

“It’s not even a matter of immaturity- it’s not as simple as a pissing contest. It’s just who they are. They don’t think perfection exists, but they want me to achieve it anyways.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. That sounds exhausting.”

He sounds so sincere, so genuine, like the idea of you being treated this way is deeply upsetting to him. You’d never really… experienced that. Someone recognizing your struggle, and admitting that it must fucking suck is something you’d never been graced with.

His brow is furrowed in a display of concern, eyes gentle and searching. He’s not lying, he means what he said, and he’s not going to follow it up with a “but-,”.

Eyes beginning to sting again, you lean forward until you’re resting your forehead on his shoulder. The soft fabric of his hoodie immediately calms you, along with the warmth you can feel emanating from him. It makes sense, after all, that the personification of pure sunshine would have such warmth about them.

Alex scoots forward, gathering you more closely in his arms, his legs awkwardly folded so that you can sit right in front of him. His hands come up to hold you, one fisting in the fabric of your sweatshirt, and the other resting on the back of your neck, gentle, but firm. You let out a shuddering breath, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. Not going to cry.

“I got a promotion at work,” you mutter, taking a long, deep breath. You brace yourself, waiting for a dismissive response. “That’s what set my dad off- I got- he-.”

Your voice cracks, and you trail off with a small sigh, clutching at Alex’s hoodie even tighter. It’s thick and soft under your fingers, and you knead at it like a cat.

“A promotion?! Baby, that’s amazing!” Alex pulls back just enough to take a glance at you, his own expression steeling from excitement back to sadness as he sees that you are still fighting back tears. “Sweetheart, I think you’re the only person to ever cry after getting a promotion.”

A little laugh escapes your chest, huffy and wet, but still a laugh. Alex’s lips curl into a smile as he reaches up to smooth back some of your stray hairs, like you’d done for him a moment or two ago. You smile, reaching up to intercept his hand, and lace the two of you’s fingers together.

He squeezes your hand where it’s resting in his grip, looking at your linked fingers briefly. “Also, your family is wrong.”

“About what specifically?” You huff, wiping at your eyes for hopefully the final time.

“About perfection not existing. It does, and I know exactly what it looks like.” Despite the serious words, Alex is fighting back a smile. You narrow your eyes at him, already anticipating the next thing he’s going to say. “It looks like you, dumbass.”

You groan, feeling a hot blush rise to your cheeks immediately. You tip forward to bury yourself in Alex’s neck, this time hiding your flustered face and stupidly happy grin.

“I can feel your smile against my neck, you know.”

“Oh, fuck off-.”

With the hand that’s on the back of your neck, Alex coaxes you out of hiding just to press a kiss to your forehead. “Really. I am proud of you. I don’t want you to be afraid to tell me about your achievements because of what your family has done to you.”

“Okay,” you whisper again, voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

He hums in response, tilting his head and looking at you with what can only be described as pure fondness in his eyes. Then, he leans down to meet you for a delicate kiss, and your eyes finally stop stinging.

[nejiraez]

unspoken ways in which they show they love you | headcanons

tumblr on desktop is so fucking ugly, i truly hope they get on that shit... // tags of those who liked that one post shall be in the comments okbye

DONT. REPOST. ANYWHERE.

Bakugou Katsuki

the way bakugou looks at you when you’re not conscious to the fact that he is, is one telling sign that he does

you’ve managed to see that expression a few times when you’ve caught him in the act of staring, or through videos that you (or others) have filmed.

but the way he directs his attention onto you like you’re the single, most important person in the room never fails to leave you with the feeling of butterflies.

it’s quite nerve-wracking yet thrilling at the same time.

“you’re looking at me in this video like you’re in love with me or something...” “delete it.”

bakugou always pulls through and brings you the snacks you've asked him to buy despite his previous rejections and firm "no."

"next time i'm not buying this garbage for you again," he’d say as he pelts a bag of chips at you from your door.

but he always does.

cooks for two now whenever he’s in the kitchen due to the numerous times he’s caught you staring at his food or pathetically asking for some of his.

there’s only so much sharing this boy can do. please spare him

when you’re crying or on the verge of tears in public, bakugou doesn’t touch on it until you’re ready to tell him and open up about it.

“what’s up?” or “you good?” is what he’d usually ask once he’s finally got the two of you alone

this bitch bickers with you as if it were his last. but each teasing, sassy remark he makes is from a place of love and consideration.

he wouldn’t being saying such things if he didn’t care

Todoroki Shouto

todoroki is such a considerate, sweet, boy towards his s/o that it hurts

you bet that in the middle of the hallway if he sees your shoe untied, he’d pull you to the side and quickly lace them up for you

even if you think it’s “embarrassing” or whatnot, he’ll still go out of his way to do that for you.

when there are large crowds with swarms of people, you would often feel todoroki's hand creep its way down to yours and intertwine your fingers so that he wouldn't lose you.

it’s such a minuscule action, but it means a lot

when the sun begins to set and it’s starting to get dark, todoroki would walk you home from school/or elsewhere and have you text him once you’re inside safe

when you’re late to assemblies or you’re tardy to boarding the bus on a class trip, todoroki always has a seat beside him reserved for you 

he’s also very attentive when it comes to the small things about you.

like if you showed up to school with the slightest of trims on your hair, he’d comment “you look beautiful today, (Y/N).” 

he’s your biggest fan and will legit lift your spirits for the tiniest of things.

todoroki would text you good morning/night texts or the frequent “hey” just to check up on you.

one day, todoroki would bring you along to briefly meet his mother, rei, in the hospital.

Midoriya Izuku

whenever the two of you pass the convenience store, midoriya will always buy you your favourite snack despite you telling him he doesn't have to buy you anything.

“please let me pay for these this time, (Y/N)-san!”

please actually let him. you two would be holding up a long line inside the store until you agree.

when midoriya and you commute together on subways or buses, he always makes sure you’re the one sitting if there’s a free seat.

when the bus begins to move and you haven't sat down yet, midoriya would immediately hold onto your arm or hand to ensure that you don't fall flat on your face

“ah! be careful!”

midoriya suggests days where the two of you hang out together or go “exploring” alone. every saturday he’d try and find a new place that suits your interests and takes you to it to visit

when you would go to his house or pay him a visit, his mother, inko, is very fond of you. which must mean midoriya has been talking about you... a lot.

he keeps all the birthday cards and presents you have gifted him throughout the years in a neat box in the depths of his closet for keepsake.

when you two study together or when you’re stuck on a concept you really don’t understand, always count on midoriya to bring his chair right beside yours so that he could help you understand and get closer to you better

don’t comment on how close he is, for his sake (from being flustered)

© all rights reserved to bnhatrashh. reposting is NOT allowed on any platforms along with modifying/translating and straight up plagiarism.

[foenixs]

Skz reaction to accidentally seeing a sext from one of their members s/o

note: this was inspired by one of @lavenderbexlatte 's posts

includes- sub!Stray Kids, dom!f!reader, strap on, pegging, lingerie, pet names

if you like my works please reblog them with a nice comment or tag

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bang Chan

He had only wanted to get back at Felix for the many times he stole his phone when unfortunate timing made a picture of you in a sexy lingerie piece pop up on screen.

Y/N: Don’t forget about me while you’re practicing 😉

He quickly shuts off the phone, handing it back to Felix and apologizing for having taken it. He tries to forget about the photo, watching porn and jerking off in the shower, but your body always comes back on his mind. He cums into his hand, moaning your name, quickly turning the power of the shower hose up to drown out the sounds.

He couldn’t look you in the eye for a month after the incident, worried he would undress you with his eyes.

Felix finally confronts him about his weird behaviour, since he used to be very good friends with you.

“Yeah, she can have that affect on you.”, Felix laughs when Chan admits to what had happened and how the image didn’t want to leave his head, “maybe you should join us sometime so you can see how much more beautiful she is in real life.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Minho

Jisung’s phone kept buzzing while Minho was trying to sleep, he tried to call for Sung to turn off his damn phone but to no effect. Getting up to take matters into his own hands, he picks up the phone to see who was texting him at such an early hour.

Noona: *dick pic*

Noona: How about this one?

Opening the quick answer function, he starts to type “you guys are weird…” when a thought comes to his mind. He deletes what he wrote, shutting the phone off like he was planning to, before taking out his own device. He searches for that secret picture he took last week, pressing send in your chat with a smirk across his face.

Minho: How about this one?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Changbin

Hyunjin was practicing a new choreo and had asked Chang to record him with his phone when a message popped up at the top of the screen. He tried to brush the pop-up window away but accidently opened the message instead.

He was greeted by a video clip of you stroking what looked like a silicone dick, strapped to your body. He was so enthralled by the visual, trying to figure out what you were grabbing onto, that he didn’t notice Hyunjin finishing the dance and walking towards him to take back his phone.

As soon as Hyunjin’s eyes fell upon the screen his face turned beat red, slapping the phone out of his hyung’s hand.

“What is that?”, Changbin’s genuine confusion was too cute, making Hyunjin proud that he seemed to be more mature than his hyung.

“Oh, just my dinner”, he winks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hyunjin

Never in a million years did he expect to see his hyung get fucked.

It was a simple mistake, he had taken the wrong phone home after a concert, but by the time he realised what he had done it was already too late.

He had saved his finger recognition in Minho’s phone before, more as a joke, but now that he had easily opened the phone, looking at the recent messages to see a video of Minho bent over a bed, getting fucked by his girlfriend, the reality hit him like a truck.

There was no way he could explain to Minho what had happened without getting his head chopped off, so he decided to lie.

“I accidentally took your phone instead of mine, but I realised my mistake instantly and came here to give it back to you.”

His arms were shaking as he handed back the phone, making Minho raise an eyebrow but he just quickly ran away, trying to delete the mental image as best as he could. But Minho wasn’t the only one that would remember the ‘Memories of last night’.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jisung

Mommy: How’s my Babyboy doing? If you come home for dinner, I’ll let you eat me for dessert.

The messages flickered on the screen, Jeongin’s phone resting on the table during one of their lives. Jisung quickly takes the phone, putting it in the maknaes Hoodie pocket so the viewers wouldn’t get the shock of their life’s. 

He couldn’t say he was surprised; he had once walked in on Jeongin masturbating in the shower, moaning out your title. If anything, he was a little jealous.

“You need to be more careful where you place your phone”, was all he said he to Jeongin after the live, trying to suppress a laugh as the maknae’s eyes shot wide open when he saw his recent messages.

“You- did you-…”

“Did I see your girlfriend sexting you? Nah, but you might want to hurry home 😉”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Felix

He had asked Chan for sex advice before, not wanting to mess up his first time, so he knew that his hyung wasn’t an innocent angel. But what he was greeted with on Chan’s screen when he stole his phone was different from anything they had ever talked about.

The older boy was tied to the bed, his legs pushed to his chest as his girlfriend was gliding a toy into him.

Felix could feel himself getting hard at the mere sight, one hand coming down to his ass to duplicate the feeling his hyung must’ve felt. He kept pressing play on the short video, needing to see it again and again.

He felt disgusted with himself that he was doing something so naughty and all behind his hyung’s back, but he couldn’t help the growing desire to be put in Chan’s place.

After handing back the phone, he patiently waited in the living room until Chan’s girlfriend came over later that day. Counting down in his head he made his way over to Chan’s room, bursting in in hopes of catching them in the middle of the act.

And so, a long night had begun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seungmin

He dropped Changbin’s phone as quickly as he had picked it up, hands shooting up to his face to cover his blushing cheeks.

As Changbin walks back out of the bathroom, drying his hands against his jeans, he notices the curled-up figure that was hiding it’s face in shame.

“Uhm, Is everything okay Seungmin?”

But the younger boy quickly shakes his head, turning so it looked like he was getting swallowed by the couch.

A loud sigh makes Seungmin shiver in fear.

“Did you steal my phone again?”

Changbin had seen the seductive picture you had sent, putting together the puzzle’s pieces on why his usually chipper bandmate suddenly felt shy in front of him.

“At least you learned your lesson…” and with that he turned and left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jeongin

Jealousy was the only thing that tainted his mind as your messages popped up on Seungmin’s screen. He had stolen the older boy’s phone to set a quirky selfie of himself as the background, when curiosity made him the messenger app.

Just a quick look, was what he had promised himself, but your seductive messages glued his eyes to the screen, unable to finish his original task.

Y/N: Is you tail still in place? You must’ve been blushing so hard during practice, having the tiny toy stretch you out in front of your unsuspecting bandmates.

Staring at Seungmin’s ass for the rest of the day his mouth was watering with drool, why couldn’t he be someone’s good puppy?!

Y/N: Be a good puppy and send me a picture of your pretty tail.

-

-

masterlist

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taglist:  @vanillaknj, @mingiibabieee, @sub-hoshi-enthusiast, @soya-zz, @coeurbreak, @mellowriting, @submissive-bangtan

[generallybarzy]

i loved you first.

an: I wrote this mostly a couple nights ago when I was listening to my "ouch" playlist and sobbing so hard I got a 48-hour migraine over the fact that I'll never see my crush again and I can't do anything about it because a) I'm moving in less than a month and leaving everything I know behind and b) he has a girlfriend. But that emotion eventually evolved into "i'm never gonna see some of my best friends again after we move away from each other next month" and that just turned me into this big pit of anxiety where I felt like time was just moving too fast but not at all and I'll miss everything if I don't go do something. So. I was fucking sad and this was the result. completely unedited angst. probably sucks ass, but that's how I'm feeling right now. Anyway, I don't know if you've noticed, but I haven't really been around for a few days. I deleted all my asks so if you had something sent, its gone, and i'm just popping in to post this. idk when I'll be back this time, but i'm trying to take care of my irl relationships and moving and college and all that and it hurts a lot more than i can explain and everythings putting my anxiety through the roof lately. anyway........

song inspo: i loved you first- joan

word count: 2.3k

"You keep running away when I need you most

Running away when I get too close

My heart is full but yours is running out

I think I'm afraid of what comes next

Yeah, I'm afraid you've lost your head

Baby, you know that I loved you first

But now, you're in love with somebody else."

Mat was losing you.

You were his best friend. You'd grown together, laughed together, made stupid decisions together in the wake of your last breakup, he always came to to with his troubles, and, as much as he hated hearing the way your ex treated you, he kept his mouth shut and kept being the shoulder you needed to cry on again and again.

And Mat had been in love with you for as long as he could remember.

Ever since the night of your breakup, he'd been waiting for the right moment to tell you how he felt. You were fresh out of a breakup, and he knew that was the worst time to say anything, so he kept quiet. He helped you get yourself out there and smile once again. He brought that beautiful, gleaming smile back to your face. And it warmed his heart to know he had helped bring some of the sunshine back to your life. He waited and waited, comforting you after all your bad first dates and keeping his cool when you came over for movie night. He tried to ignore the way his heart pounded when you circled your arms around his waist and mumbled "At least I'll always have you, Maty." He tried his hardest to calm his heart and keep his eyes on the movie while you cuddled up with him, wearing his clothes, but the light of his TV betrayed him and lit up the way you were smiling against his chest, deep in sleep, safe and comfortable in his hoodie. He didn't tell you how he felt, all those years. He couldn't lose what he had of you in trying to get more. He would be happy with just this for now.

You rested against his chest, unaware of the way Mat was staring at you as if you'd put the stars in the sky all for him. He was so ready to give you his all, to tell you everything he wanted to say, to finally get to call you his, and hear you call him yours. He leaned down to ghost his lips across your cheek, letting the words fall before he even realized his mouth was moving.

"I love you so much, more than you'll ever know."

Maybe he said the words then because he knew you wouldn't hear, maybe he was afraid of actually telling you, afraid of the chance that he would scare you away with how full his heart was. But he didn't mind. He said it, and as long as he knew he loved you, he'd be content with staying like this for a while while you picked yourself back up and regained your confidence. Once you weren't still reeling from your breakup, he'd let it out. He'd tell you for real.

But then, one of your first dates went well.

He'd gotten his usual post-date text from you, the one he always made you promise to send just so he knew you were safe. He expected another letdown, a list of all the things wrong with your date, or ways they were just like your ex. Instead, you were gushing. Mat couldn't stand the hope in your messages, the way you were so excited, rambling on and on about this guy. He wanted to be happy for you, he wanted to be glad you were finding someone you liked, but he couldn't help feeling the pain from the sting that someone was actually taking you away from him again.

Soon, your movie nights together as friends were overtaken by date nights, and Mat was left alone in his apartment, sitting on the couch you used to cuddle him on, wearing the hoodie you loved to steal, and watching the TV show you introduced him to, half heartedly checking your snap story to see you in the middle of a date with him. He tried to hide his jealousy whenever you spoke of your boyfriend, he tried to appear proud and excited for you, but the hard truth he didn't want to face was that he was losing you. He was losing his best friend, the person he loved the most.

He didn't know when this started. He didn't know how to stop it, but you were pulling away from him. And that scared him. Mat couldn’t stand watching you fall more and more in love with this guy, not when he was right there, willing to give you all the love he had in his heart.

You were the one Mat went to on his worst days. The days when he felt like a waste of space, like he'd never amount to anything more than he was. The days it seemed like the weight of everyone's expectations was about to make him crumble to his knees. The days he needed you most. It only took a quick 'you free tonight? I need you.' text, and you knew exactly the state he was in. 'Of course Mat, I'm always free for you.' But ever since you started dating this guy, his texts went unanswered, unseen, and he was left alone on his hardest nights, with harsh reminders that the girl he loved was falling in love with somebody else right in front of his eyes, while he could do nothing but watch.

This guy had no right to come between you two. After all, Mat had loved you first.

He had comforted you for years over your shitty boyfriends, and this newest guy was no exception. Mat would still find himself, on rare nights, holding you in his arms while you sobbed about how your boyfriend made you cry again, whispering to Mat that 'at least I know you would never do this to me'. But the next day you were gone, running away from him as if you'd never snuggled up in his arms for comfort, as if the late-night conversations meant nothing to you.

'You're right, I would never do this to you." He thought to himself, watching you toy with the sleeve of his sweater and snuggle into his chest to dry your eyes with your best friend's warmth. "So why do you keep going back to the man who hurt you, when I'm right here?'

Mat had so much he wanted to say, and though he didn't want you to run away again, he could only hold his tongue for so long.

"I'm so glad you invited me out for lunch, Mat. He's been such an ass lately, so I'm glad to get away. It's been a while since we talked, yeah?"

Mat couldn't bring himself to answer. God, his heart was throbbing in his chest. He loved you so much, but you were falling in love with an asshole who didn't treat you right. You looked so beautiful sitting across the table from him. The sun was gleaming off your hair, but the beauty was made sour by the necklace that sat around your neck, the necklace your boyfriend had given you on your 3 month anniversary. Mat swallowed back his nerves. "(Y/N), I need to be honest with you."

Any trace of happiness on your face was gone, replaced with dread. Part of Mat felt like shit for making you feel like that, but another, more sinister part, felt a little glimmer of revenge. You'd been running away from him for months, abandoning your best friend for some shitty boyfriend who you still cried over to him, and maybe now you were feeling a slimmer of what dread he had felt when he thought of your crumbling friendship, and the love he had for you that he couldn't do anything with. "What's wrong, Mat? It seems really serious."

"It is." Mat took a deep breath. He couldn't meet your eyes. He didn't know when he started to feel uncomfortable around you. You had always been the person he could admit anything to. Now, you were pulling away from him. "We've been friends for so long, but recently, I feel like I'm… losing you."

"Mat, you're not losing me."

"Yeah, I am. I'm losing you to your new boyfriend.”

Finally, Mat met your eyes, and was astonished by the fear there. How could you spend the last few months drawing further and further away, and then be shocked when he confronted you? Hadn't you realized how little time you spent together? Hadn't you noticed how the only time you spent with him was when he was comforting you from something your boyfriend did to upset you? Hadn't your words- 'at least I know you'd never do this to me'- meant nothing?

"Look, I know you're happy with him, and I'm happy for you… no matter how much you complain about how he's an ass... but… we- you don't come over anymore.”

“I’m- I’m sorry, Mat, I’m more busy than I was when I was single-”

“No, it's not just that. You stopped answering my texts. You know… the ones… when I'm vulnerable. When I need you. I get that you’re gonna be busy, but I opened up to you about shit I would never tell to another person, and I can’t even get a response. You're running away when I need you most…"

He let the silence fall between you again. After a few moments, you spoke up, "Mat…" but your voice fell flat when you couldn't think of the right words to fill the air.

"You still come over, but only when you need someone to dry your tears when your boyfriend did something stupid. You come to me. You only come to me when you need my comfort, but you can’t give me the comfort when I need it, and I’m fucking tired of it.” His words weren’t bitter towards you at all. That’s not what he felt. He wasn’t angry at you, he was angry that either of you had let your boyfriend come between you, he was angry at himself for letting you go, for being too fucking insecure to tell you anything. “You- you keep telling me you wish you could find someone like me. But can't you tell how perfect I am for you?"

"Mat, stop." You were picking with your fingers, a habit he knew all too well.

“I know you remember that night.”

“Mat…”

“It was when you were still trying to date, and always came over after your bad first dates. We cuddled, we…. We got way closer than friends should. I thought- I guess I just thought there was something there. I thought we’d end up as more…”

“I-” Your throat was tight. You hadn’t even realized how much Mat’s words were affecting you. “You can't just… drop all this on me right now, it's not fair."

"What do you really see in him?"

"What?"

"What do you see in him? Does he really love you like you know I do?" You sat quietly, your mouth agape, eyes dropping to the table. Mat’s voice dropped quieter. “You know I love you. I know you know. Friends don’t just cuddle and… and fucking open up about every single little insecurity and promise each other they’ll never leave, and say ‘at least I know you’d never do this to me. I loved you. So fucking much. And it’s so hard to watch you fall in love with someone else, when my heart is so fucking full of love for you.” Mat scoffed in spite of himself. He knew he was fucking it all up, your friendship, any chance of a relationship with you, and it was making his words taste even more bitter. "You know what's not fair? How I have to sit here, watching you fall in love with someone who doesn't love you nearly as much as I do."

“Please stop, Mat.” You quieted him, your hands shaking, in fear of what would come of your surely-shattered friendship. “I- I didn’t know. I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Bullshit.” Mat was well aware of the tears beading in his eyes, but he tried his hardest to ignore the burn of them rolling thickly down his cheeks. “I- I was always there to hold you… to comfort you when your dates didn’t go well or when your boyfriend fucked up. Can’t you see?”

The silence that fell between the two of you was deafening. Neither of you could make eye contact, and instead focused on staring at the table, not caring about the people inevitably walking around you and wondering what was happening.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Mat.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn't… I’m with my boyfriend. I can’t just…” You shook your head. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“Nothing.” Mat sat back in his chair. He’d said what he invited you here to say, and that was all he had planned. He didn’t think of anything else past this point. “I just… I had to tell you. I’m not gonna tell you what to do, I’m not gonna say you have to choose me or him, and I’m sure this fucked up our friendship like crazy. I just- I can’t keep watching this, okay? That’s all I had to say. I know you love him, and I… fuck, I still love you. I just hope you don’t forget about me, alright?”

“Mat, you’re my best friend.”

Mat stood up, sliding down some money for the drink he had bought earlier. God, he felt like shit, watching the girl he loved move on, knowing there was no way they could keep going on like this, no way she would want to keep seeing him knowing how he felt. But he couldn’t hide it any longer, and now, it was ruined.

“I gotta go.”

[storiesforallfandoms]

private ~ eminem

word count: 1445

request?: yes!

“hellooo🥺i was wondering if i could request an imagine for eminem. Maybe where the reader (female) is also a singer and she posts a cute picture of them together by accident and fans go crazy since she’s very private and tells Em and so they reveal they‘ve been dating for like two years. feel free to change it if you need to. Love your writing, i hope you have a nice day 🤍🤍”

description: in which they’re both very private about their personal lives, until she accidentally posts a picture of the two of them

pairing: eminem x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

Before my career took off, I had a personal Instagram account that was private. It was for my friends and family and that was it. When I started to really become famous, and people started looking up my social media, I decided to make a public account just for fans to follow.

I wasn’t a very public person. I liked my privacy, but I also liked to share some of my personal life with friends and family. One of these things that I liked to share was my relationship with Marshall.

We had met through mutual friends and hit it off immediately. He met my family, I met his daughters, and within a few months, we were basically living with one another. I loved Marshall, and I loved to show him off. However, we were both very private people, meaning any showing off I did was always on my personal social media accounts, not my public ones.

On a rare night that we both had off, Marshall decided to make dinner for the two of us as a stay at home date. I was trying to take a picture of the meal with Marshall in the background, but of course he refused to take a good picture.

“Why do you have to be on your phone right now?” he asked. “We’re trying to have a nice date, no phones.”

“I want to take a picture of what you did for us,” I argued with him. “I want to show my family, is that okay?”

He playfully rolled his eyes at me, but didn’t say another word. I held my phone up again to take another picture, to which Marshall held up his middle finger just as I took the picture.

“Charming,” I said and rolled my eyes.

I figured it was the best I was getting, so I decided to quickly type a caption and post the picture before turning my phone off.

“It’s off,” I told him before showing him my phone. “Look, off. I’ll put it on the counter, you have me all night.”

“Thank you, that’s all I ask.”

We finished dinner and ended the night in the bedroom, as to be expected. When I woke up the next morning, I was still cuddled in Marshall’s arms. I couldn’t help but smile as I placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before slowly wiggling out of his arms.

I pulled on his discarded shirt and made my way to the kitchen to make breakfast for the two of us. As I began to cook, I realized I had left my phone off in the kitchen all night. I turned it back on, hoping that I didn’t miss anything too important the night before.

The moment my phone turned back on and connected to the wifi, I was bombarded with messages. Numerous mentions in tweets and Instagram comments, people trying to DM me on both social media platforms, multiple text messages from friends of mine all saying the same thing, “Did you mean to do this?”

I was confused. I couldn’t understand what was happening. For a moment, I started to worry that some tabloid had decided to write an article about me, or someone was trying to spread some sort of rumors about me. It wouldn’t be the first time. It wasn’t until I read the name Paul Rosenberg, Marshall’s manager, on my screen and the text message he had sent me.

“I don’t think this was on purpose, but it’s been up too long for deleting it to do anything. You and Em are about to have a field day. I’ll let you break the news to him”

Attached to the text was a screenshot of the picture I had taken of Marshall the night before, along with the caption I had written, “Date night in with my love”. It wasn’t until I read the username, “(Y/F/N)official”, that I realized I had posted it on my public Instagram, not my private one.

My eyes widened as I fumbled to try and unlock my phone. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, no!”

And there it was, the picture of my loving boyfriend with a caption that confirmed our relationship. I scrolled through the comments to read everyone’s reaction. Most people were shocked, very few of my fans were aware that I even knew Marshall. Many were very happy for me, and for Marshall. And then, of course, there was a small fraction of both of our fan bases that were unhappy with our relationship.

My DMs were filled with people reacting to the picture, and my Twitter notifications were bombarded with tabloid accounts posting stories about the “surprise confirmation”, and people’s reactions to it on there.

I felt myself becoming angry and frustrated. I locked my phone and threw it onto the counter, burying my face in my hands and starting to cry. I couldn’t believe I had managed to fuck up the one private thing I had in my life. When Marshall woke up he was going to be pissed. He wasn’t one to share his personal life, and now I had outed the both of us. We’d never get privacy ever again, not from fans and definitely not from paparazzi.

I heard footsteps approaching the kitchen and quickly wiped my eyes with the sleeves of Marshall’s shirt. He appeared in the doorway of the kitchen moments later, stretching his arms out as he did so.

“Good morning,” he said. “Are you burning something?”

I remembered then that I had forgotten all about the omelette I was making. I raced over to the pan and tried to flip the, only to find it stuck to the pan, and anything that wasn’t stuck was nearly black. I turned off the stove and threw the spatula I was using in frustration, exclaiming, “God fucking dammit!”

“Hey, hey, it’s fine,” Marshall said, wrapping his arms around me. “It’s just one omelette, we can make another. We have plenty of pans.”

“It’s not just that,” I sighed, turning to face him. "Remember that picture I took of you and the dinner you made us last night?” He nodded. “I thought I posted it on my private Instagram, but I was posting so quickly that I didn’t double check before I posted it and turned off my phone and I...I posted it to my public Instagram account.”

Marshall looked at me for a moment, his face confused. The longer it took him to realize what this meant, the more I found myself bracing for the moment he realized.

“Okay?” he said. “What does that mean?”

“It means I accidentally outed our relationship, Marshall,” I said. “Everyone knows. Nearly half the tabloid news sites have written fucking articles about it at this point, my social media has been bombarded with messages, I’m sure yours has too - ”

“I don’t give a fuck about being all those messages,” he said with a shrug. “I have my notifications off, and you should, too, if it’s going to bother you that much.”

“The messages aren’t bothering me!” I snapped, my frustration with myself erupting once again. “What’s bothering me is the fact that I outed our relationship by accident. Marshall, I fucked us over here! Because of me, we can never have any privacy ever again. We can’t go out on the down low, fuck, we probably can’t even leave the house right now cause there’s probably people outside! And it really fucking sucks cause...I felt so normal in our relationship. For a while, I forgot I was under everyone’s watchful eye and all I cared about was you.”

Marshall took me in his arms and held me tightly as I began to cry. He ran his fingers through my hair, kissing the top of my head as I let out my frustration.

“You haven’t fucked us over,” he told me. “Yeah, I wanted to keep this private, too, but I don’t care if the world knows about us. We don’t have to share every detail of our relationship, but I don’t mind if we get caught holding hands, or even just spending time together. At least everyone will know that you’re mine.”

I pushed away from his embrace to look up at him. “You’re not mad at me?”

He wiped away my tears with his thumbs and cupped my face. “Of course not. You didn’t do it on purpose, it’s fine baby. We’ll get through this, it’s not the end of the world.”

I smiled and leaned forward to kiss him. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too. Let’s go get some breakfast, I’m starving.”

[dark-falz]

Happy New Year. Mean blog owner time. :(

I ended the old year going off about PSO2. Now I’m starting the New Year with something a bit more...blunt. And I do kinda expect to get hate and lose followers for this but I can take it.

If anything I posts offends you, maybe you shouldn’t be a fan of Phantasy Star or a particular Phantasy Star game (namely Online in my case) because most of everything I post myself here is literally a recording of the game pressed into an image file, and I’m not going to take something down because “you’re offended”. I made this blog for myself and what I expected to be about 26 followers. Nearly 9 years later I’m nearing 1k with sporadic content. Its been at a much steadier incline since I’ve been making and mainly posting my own content.

Quite honestly, I have a hard time believing that many of you are fans of the game, or came here as fans of the game. (If I’m wrong, GREAT.) If this blog has had you pick up the game and play/fall in love with it, that’s the best thing ever. But ultimately, I’m here for the people and myself who are passionate about this game and series. You now know how strongly I feel about PSO2, but I still reblog/post the good content I find of it anyway out of passion for the rest of the series, and those that do enjoy the game. I’m actually in the middle of making PSO2 fanart of my character since I’ve recently obtained a Wacom again. (if I post it I won’t be proud of it but I would like more PSO2 content on this blog for the sake of PSO2 fans. Rearguards of the series I want to give you what you want) I only post Phantasy Star content here. I don’t even try to make many text posts about it much or live blog anymore except for blog-related updates and things. (I’ll finish the art tag one day..)

So moral of the story,

I’m here for Phantasy Star, not to be your safe place.

And quite honestly, Phantasy Star is MY safe place. So if you try to ruin it or bad mouth mainly PSO1 remotely in any way, I will rip someone a new asshole with my teeth to defend this game. Seriously, 9 years. On Tumblr nearly 11. Don’t ruin this for me.

So to the “victim” that was complaining about a child’s dialogue in an online quest in PSO being rape culture, and went so far out of their way to message me on my main blog now three times anonymously as if I’m in the wrong; 

(and anyone else who thinks they’re going to get through to me about something “wrong” with this game)

-tw: rape, first sentence/paragraph-

I was raped in my “early 20s” due to my friendliness and naivety by a professional world renound piercer, Zach Watson. Its been at least 5-6 years. (I give you his name so you can see the case he ended up winning against his apprentice and to emphasize how capable I am of providing facts. I’m also on his facebook friend’s list if you can find me and wanna hmu personally....) I was also homeless due to a physically abusive boyfriend over the holidays I still worked over-time through, as well as with pandemic and lockdown.

That’s not even a quarter of it, that’s just recent & correlating. But to make my point, I’ve been through some nerve-wracking shit. Most adults my age have been through a lot of shit they’ve had to suck up and get over. It gets to the point where sometimes comes so fast, you don’t get to process any of it. It happened and all you could do at the time was blink about it because there was 100 other things going wrong in your life at the same time. That self acceptance of there’s going to be shit you don’t like and have to deal with everywhere in life is going to build and grow you to be ready for what the real world throws at you. I’m incredibly thankful for all the garbage I’ve gone through in my life cause its made me so strong. As in, smart, sensible, and logical as all hell about people’s mentalities and the real world. And if you need proof;

you fucked off my post and deleted your comments when I shut you down initially (and I told you about the 5 year old cousin that didn’t know how to not talk about her boobs and vagina openly. I didn’t tell you about the 4 year old boy cousin that would grab every. female’s. boobs. Because he saw someone else do it and had to be taught how wrong it was. The female cousin would also talk about my boobs cause she wasn’t use to ones my size and try to watch me get dressed. One cousin was from my aunt and uncle, another was to my gay aunts.( I still know these actions are a result of the fact they did not know better. Yet you’re more worried about who wrote 20+ year old game dialogue and yourself as a “gamer” rather than pedophiles.)

you renamed the URL in your account after I responded confidently to your second anonymous message

you changed both your account’s pages so they weren’t as obviously connected

You started this, and have proved me right in every way. You think waiting a few days to send me another message will confuse me? No cunt. Ain’t nothing gone on with my main for a month besides interaction with you. Now stop sending me petty anon messages on my main. You being offended by my favorite game is nothing. I’m the one that’s offended.

I’ve been on Tumblr long enough to know what’s acceptable and what’s not and being offended by a child’s dialogue in a video game is the biggest fucking reach I can imagine to be offended over

(if you were a neb and made it this far, sorry for being nasty, but I picked dark-falz as a url for a reason 9 years ago instead of rag-rappy and that’s really all I can say. I’m always open to being educated and expanding my understanding of empahty/sympathy but I'm pretty certain I don’t need it over this so thanks & no thanks.)

[cristalconnors]

TOP 20 SONGS OF 2020

20. “BELOW THE CLAVICLE”- EARTHEATER

“The meaning hasn’t come up yet. It’s still under the surface below the clavicle.”

It isn’t just Alexandra Drewchin’s ear splitting soprano when she hits that impossibly high B, practically shrieking out the “cle” syllable of clavicle, though that’s undoubtedly when I first knew that Eartheater’s avant folk was for me- it’s also the cinematic, lush strings, both bowed and plucked (is that acoustic guitar or harp? I genuinely can’t tell), deepening and complicating the sonic texture of Drewchin’s study of parsing through emotions you aren’t ready to make sense of yet. 

19. “PUSSY TALK”- CITY GIRLS, FT. DOJA CAT

“This pussy so ghetto, this pussy speak ebonics”

“WAP”’s funnier, classless Irish twin, though it’s important to note “Pussy Talk” came first. Yung Miami and JT enlist Doja Cat to expound on everything their pussies deserve and will absolutely settle for nothing less than. And why should they when they’re spitting out verses this inspiredly hilarious with such confidence and flow? 

18. “LICK IN HEAVEN”- JESSY LANZA

“Once I’m spinning, I can’t stop spinning...”

Jessy Lanza is talking about losing your cool, letting your emotions get the best of you and lashing out instead of letting cooler heads prevail, but when that earworm of a chorus hits- “once I’m spinning, I can’t stop spinning” - I can’t stop spinning. I’m that woman on the single art, a wine mom lost in the delirium of the dance floor and in Lanza’s hypnotic, fragmented rhythms.  

17. “GASLIGHTER”- THE CHICKS

“Boy, you know exactly what you did on my boat!”

“Gaslighter” finds Natalie Ames and her Chicks at their most simultaneously ruthless and ebullient, ripping Ames’s ex-husband Adrian Pasdar a new asshole and ratcheting up the righteous anger of “Goodbye Earl” tenfold, channeling it into a glorious wall of sound in what might be their most rousing, emotionally resonant chorus in their storied career. 

16. “HANNAH SUN”- LOMELDA

“Hannah do no harm...”

While “Hannah Sun” begins as an exquisitely observed rumination on grappling with long-distance, pining for someone who’s a continent away, it gradually becomes clear that Hannah Read blames herself for putting the distance between her and the subject of her longing, and that the distance isn’t strictly literal. Skittering synths (or is that distorted flute?) complicate and enrich the texture of the song, allowing it to build organically and stunningly towards a heartbreaking plea to herself- “Hannah, do no harm.”

15. “FIRE”- WAXAHATCHEE

“And when I turn back around will you drain me back out? Will you let me believe that I broke through?”

When I’d drive back and forth between Dallas and Austin over and over again when I was in college, I’d often get off I-35 past Waco and take the back roads through towns I’d never heard of, the sun setting spectacularly behind the titular hills of Hill Country that were beginning to roll out in earnest. I think about that a lot when listening to “Fire,” a song dripping in rural Americana that was, unsurprisingly, inspired by a road trip. We’ve probably all been Katie Crutchfield as she crossed the bridge into West Memphis- alone in the car, awed by the simple beauty of the American countryside, making speeches to ourselves about our past mistakes and figuring out a way forward. 

14. “3AM”- HAIM

“On the screen and in my jeans, just make me feel good.”

On an album full of genre departures and decidedly darker themes than we’ve typically heard from Haim in their near decade of syncopated bubblegum pop rock, “3AM” stands out not only as their most effective stab at pastiche, slipping into the trappings of contemporary R&B with shocking ease and gusto, but also as their most unabashedly fun track in their entire oeuvre. “I think you can hear the amount of joy and laughs we had making this song” Alana Haim tells Apple Music, and you absolutely can.

13. “QADIR”- NICK HAKIM

“We’re sinking down a hole without thinking about our loved ones who might be shrinking...”

I often wonder if I’m putting enough effort into maintaining my relationships with friends I don’t see regularly, who live several time zones away, living their own lives while I live mine. When the thought of sustaining simple correspondence becomes overwhelming, it’s easy for months to go by before you realize you haven’t spoken to one of your closest friends. “QADIR” plays less like a eulogy for a friend gone too soon (though of course it is that) than a plea to the listener to put in the work. It’s worth it. You never know when it’ll be too late.

12. “LEVITATING”- DUA LIPA

“Glitter in the sky, glitter in our eyes shining just the way we are.”

Just a few bars of that delightfully bouncy, extra-terrestrial beat is enough to launch me into space. It’s so refreshing to hear a song that remembers that pop is supposed to be joyful and is best when it’s a bit silly. When discussing this track with Apple Music, Dua Lipa cites Austin Powers as inspiration, elaborating that “if I do a video for this, Mike Meyers has to be in it.” Can’t you just see them together, performing a farcical pas de deux of seduction like the spiritual successor to “Beautiful Stranger?”

11. “RIQUIQUI”- ARCA

“Love in the face of fear! Fear in the face of God!”

Arca’s made a career of harnessing chaos and somehow making sense of it. On an album that finds her embracing more traditional, accessible song structures, “Riquiqui” is a reminder that even when working within an AB structure, she’s still breaking rules left and right and having a blast doing it. She’s also never sounded so ferociously empowered in either her femininity or in her Venezuelan identity, rattling off local colloquialisms with affection and verve without a second thought as to who’s going to understand it. 

10. “FANTASY”- AGAINST ALL LOGIC

“I think about you all the time...”

Or, the musical embodiment of this gif:

When Nicolas Jaar’s tormented synths and crunching beats give way to Beyoncé’s unmistakable alto, it is indeed quite the shock. But should it be? Even if 2017-2019 finds him ditching the dancefloor in favor of more severe, unforgiving soundscapes, his already varied career has shown us nothing’s off limits to him. So why not reinvent Beyoncé’s iconic “Baby Boy” into an industrial, vaguely sinister certified bop that arguably surpasses the original?

9. “PEOPLE, I’VE BEEN SAD”- CHRISTINE AND THE QUEENS

“If you disappear, then I’m disappearing, too.”

“People, I’ve been sad” plays out with the vulnerability and intimacy of a tumblr text post you put out in the middle of the night, only to hastily delete later when it gets no notes. It forgoes flowery language in favor of just getting to the point. “I’ve been sad.” Héloïse Adelaïde Letissier blows up this deceptively simple sentiment with richly layered textures and a big screen gloss not to offer any remedies but instead to offer solidarity. We’re all in this hell together.

8. “DESCRIBE”- PERFUME GENIUS

“Can you just find him for me?”

Mike Hadreas has never sounded so hopeless. Utilizing harsh, rattling guitar that would make Kevin Shields swoon, he conveys the experience of being so estranged from happiness and joy that you need to rely on others to describe the sensation to you. But how, when exploring darker textures than he ever has before, does he make despondency sound so divine? 

7. “4 AMERICAN DOLLARS”- U.S. GIRLS

“No matter how much you get to have, you will still die and that’s the only thing.”

Meg Remy picks up where she left off on “4 American Dollars,” reviving the subversive pastiche she mastered on In a Poem Unlimited, this time harnessing the power of funk to dismantle the fallacies we’re taught about the virtues of capitalism. Heavy stuff, but Remy makes it less didactic than joyous, ensuring the listener will be singing “I don’t believe in pennies and nickels and dimes and dollars and pesos and pounds and rupees and yen and rubles” until they start to wonder if maybe they shouldn’t, either. 

6. “STUPID LOVE”- LADY GAGA

“I freak out, I freak out, I freak out, I freak out!”

Due to a healthy spirit of contrarianism mixed with a touch of internalized homophobia and genuine bafflement at her universal appeal and praise, I was a proud Lady Gaga hater for as long as she’d been a cultural entity. I just didn’t get her at all and loved that about myself. Annoying, I know. 2020 was the year I was finally ready to let that all go. Just before the world fell apart in March, I was out at Flaming Saddles (RIP) with friends the night this song came out and by the sixteenth time it played, I understood why it was inducing such hysteria. This was a cultural shift. After a frustrating near-decade of Gaga subverting expectations so thoroughly that she was actively working against her strengths and sabotaging her cultural ubiquity in the process, coupled with the most frightening era of political upheaval in our lifetimes, she was finally ready to save us and be Lady Gaga again. Booming synth, drag sensibilities, absurd thematic conceits- all was right in the world. For the first time in a long time, people had something to be hopeful about, and as I danced that night, I felt that hope, too. 

5. “SHELLFISH MADEMOISELLE”- RÓISÍN MURPHY

“How dare you sentence me to a lifetime without dancing?”

As soon as that bass starts (the funkiest bassline in the history of music?) it’s like Róisín Murphy’s snake charming oboe, coaxing even the most stalwart curmudgeon onto the dancefloor and keeping them there, dancing frantically and involuntarily like the citizens of Strasbourg in 1518, trying their best to keep up with Murphy who isn’t even breaking a sweat, commanding the masses with a sultry remove, beckoning you closer, pulling you inexorably deeper into the mass of gyrating bodies and whispering in your ear “come and have a dance with yer mum.”

4. “PARTY 4 U”- CHARLI XCX

“I only threw this party for you...”

As PC Music / Bubblegum Bass / whatever you want to call it enters its second decade, Charli XCX proves not only that there’s still new textures to explore within it, but also that no one can exploit its artifice to get down to emotional truths like she can. How can she make something this slick sound so vulnerable? “I only threw this party for you” she croons over and over again over glorious syncopated synths that build exquisitely, reaching their climax only to immediately fall away, until it’s just her and her trusty autotune, pleading with the subject of the song to just come to the damn party. But they won’t, of course. They never do, do they?

3. “WAP”- CARDI B, FT. MEGAN THEE STALLION

“I want you to touch that lil’ dangly thing that swing in the back of my throat!”

Sometimes you just immediately know you’re living through a significant cultural moment. No, not COVID. I’m talking about the experience of hearing Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion’s instant classic “WAP” for the first time, a titanic meeting of the minds that finds both of them at the apex of their cultural influence and at their most undeniable. Can the argument be made that these two aren’t the two best rappers in the game right now? How could you hear this inspiredly filthy sex positive juggernaut, where Cardi and Megan are trading the sickest verses of their careers, and not think these two deserve the world? 

2. “KEROSENE!”- YVES TUMOR

“I can be your baby in real life, sugar. I can live in your dreams.”

If the 2010′s were all about the pop-ification of all music, trading in live instrumentation in favor of polished synths, 2020 forcefully announced the return of the electric guitar when Yves Tumor and Diana Gordon’s back and forth lustfully submissive declarations of desire suddenly gave way to that nasty guitar rip lifted from Uriah Heep’s “Weep in Silence” to announce yet another cultural shift in a year chock full of them- rock and roll was, indeed, here to stay. 

1. “I WANT YOU TO LOVE ME”- FIONA APPLE

“I move with the trees in the breeze, I know that time is elastic.”

We live and we learn. Years spent soul searching and on self-discovery shape us into better, smarter people, progressively knowing and understanding ourselves and the world around us more and more clearly, but Fiona Apple knows that none of that can quell the ferocious desire to be loved by someone. By anyone. By you, whoever that is. We can know that time is elastic and that when we’re gone all our particles will disband and disperse and then we’ll be back in the pulse, and we can know that none of this stuff actually matters, but still- we want, we want, we want. 

[teentitwns]

soooo, as you know i wrote some bbrae fanfictions and, this one, especifically, called “all you had to do was stay” (yes, taylor swift’s song) was published in 2017 but i deleted after sometime because im little lazy and the history always seems easily in my mind.

anyway! i decided to rewrite this fanfiction and the first chapter is already posted on the brazilian website that i use (spirit fanfics), so why not put in here too?

please, remember that im brazilian and my english is a little broken - sorry for the mistakes you’ll find on the text.

well, thats it. im really nervous right now and insecure. i hope you like it and, maybe, i can post the fanfiction on ao3 or another website.

_______________

The protective dome around Raven was totally useless and, like her friends, she knew it.

She was there, standing in the middle of the contraption built by Cyborg, with all her vital signs being recorded on the computers that occupied a large part of the room, beeping together with the devices that showed her brain waves.

Everything had been perfectly assembled and positioned so that she had the best protection that anyone could have in the face of what was about to happen, but all those technological tools made her feel like a laboratory rat, studied in vain to discover that in the end the experience had gone wrong again.

She sighed loudly and propped her elbows on her knees, resting her face in one hand; she no longer cared about floating.

She felt physically and mentally drained to use her powers in something as unnecessary as floating, and she didn't need to be inches from the ground at that moment.

In fact, it was better to have contact with the earth, with the concrete floor. At least she would be sure that she was still alive, that the world was fine and whole.

Raven let out a loud snort and huffed impatiently, her eyes roaming the room until they found the door, waiting, miraculously, for one of the other Titans to enter. She had been inside that dome for hours and she couldn't take it anymore - loneliness was good when chosen willingly, not out of obligation.

To her despair, in addition to the blatant private prison that was happening there, the kidnapping, or anything else of that level, the situation made terrible flashbacks go through her head, making her remember Slade, the brand of Scath , the end of the world and, consequently, Trigon.

Why did everything have to be so similar? It seemed that karma was acting exactly the same as it had on her sixteenth birthday, creating a tedious and scary looping. She never considered herself a fan of automatic repetitions anyway.

Unconsciously, she took her left hand into the pocket of her midnight blue cloak in hopes of finding a specific object inside it, but this time, she had no lucky coin to cling to and consider as an amulet. She was alone, forgotten, practically left to die, just as she should have been two years ago, on the fateful day when Trigon’s Prophecy almost came true.

The empath, a “witch” as many called her, allowed herself to laugh with mockery. She hated feeling sorry for her own tragic life, but she couldn't escape the pitiful thoughts she was having. She probably didn't think differently from what her friends had in mind - she was just a poor girl, victim of circumstances, who was not to blame for being the fruit of the forbidden, unhealthy relationship between a human and an interdimensional demon. She was not to blame for being “Daddy's darling”, the one chosen to bring him to Earth for the second time, since she was a poorly raised daughter and prevented him the first time.

Now, at eighteen, she wouldn't be as lucky as she was at sixteen.

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos… Azarath Metrion Zinthos…”, she closed her eyes and started to meditate, with nothing else to do. “Azarath Metrion Zinthos…”

“Raven!"

She opened her eyes with a start, facing Beast Boy. Awkwardly, he spread his hands on the thick glass of the dome, breathing heavily.

“Great.", She thought. “Of all the people that Robin could send, he chose the most restless."

" What are you doing here?", she asked.

“Dude, isn't it obvious? We’re doing it wrong! ”, Beast Boy waved his hands compulsively. “I mean, it's your father! There is no one better to stop him than you!”

“If I leave here it will be easier to get to Earth."

“I really don't want to be pessimistic, but he's already here, mama."

“Beast Boy..."

“It worked last time, didn't it? What good will it do you to be stuck in that dome? The world will end anyway!”

“Weren't you the one who was upbeat until two seconds ago?"

“I still am!"

“Does Robin know you're here?"

“…yes."

“I don’t believe that."

“Of course I told him,", the shapeshifter scratched the back of his head, causing his newly acquired muscles to start filling his uniform to appear. “I just don't know if he paid attention.”, He gave a nervous smile.

“It doesn't count as a warning."

“Have you never been told that what counts is the intention?"

Raven rolled her eyes and uncrossed her legs, standing up. She walked over to where Beast Boy was, touching the dome with her fingertips. He smiled broadly, running to the nearest computer and typing in the code that would free her.

When the dome barriers disappeared, Raven adjusted the hood on her head, thinking about the possibilities that surrounded her. Beast Boy was right, after all. Trigon was already on Earth, like the first time, and she would not be of much help if she were trapped, safe and sound, while her friends killed themselves to save the world.

“I knew you'd be up for it!" He celebrated, approaching her.

“It wasn't your worst idea."

“I'm smart, you underestimate me too much."

“I must have my reasons for that, right?

“Taking into account my discussions about tofu being the best food in the world can’t be considered as a reason.”

“No?”

“We all have our childish moments.”

“And you have your adult moments.”, she said.

“Nothing for having released you, I’m at your service.

“Where are they?”

“Downtown.”

“Excellent.”

“Raven”, Beast Boy called her when she started to leave. “Are you ready to go?”

“You don’t?”

“It's just… You have nothing to bring you luck.”

“I don't believe in luck.”, she lied, ignoring the thought that she had been wishing for a lucky charm a few minutes ago.

“Why not?”

“I make my own luck.”

“But it's always good to have help, isn't it?”

“Come on, Beast Boy.”

He shook his head negatively and approached her, holding her arm firmly and preventing her from getting away. The difference in height between them remained almost nil, with Raven looking a little taller from a distance because of the hood.

She frowned and looked at him without understanding, trying to pull her arm out of his grip, uncomfortable with the position they were in.

“It's just…”, Beast Boy started to speak. “I shouldn't be here and I know it. You are always so focused and correct that you even embarrass me for acting that way, but, last time, you had the coin I gave you and we won.

“I don’t know where it is.”, Raven lied, lowering her head to hide the blush on her cheeks. Some of her emotions were manifested in Nevermore, reminding her of the small passion she held for him. Passion, that, that she was sure that she would never be reciprocated. He was not a philanderer, he had never dated anyone after Terra, but he was not unaware of love affairs like her. She had a little more experience, even though she was also small. “We can't keep others waiting.”

“I can't let you go without an amulet.”

“There is no such thing as luck, Beast Boy! How many times have I told you that we need to run after what we want?”

“Many.”

“And none of them fixed on your brain?”

“Apparently no.”

“I should have imagined.”

“Why can't you give me a credit?”

“You are acting like a child who believes in Santa Claus.”

“And you're being cruel to me.”, he complained. “I thought you stopped that a while ago.”

“I stopped. Are we going to battle or not?”, Raven asked impatiently. “The world is about to end!”

“I know!”

“Then let me go!”

“I can't let you leave here without an amulet!”

“So give me this shit!”

Raven's words echoed around the room, and Beast Boy smirked, as if he had been waiting for this ever since they started arguing.

Such nonsense fights and quick discussions were not new to them, who were used to being awkward a few times a day, always for stupid reasons. However, that time, the shapeshifter had a purpose and, knowing that Raven would play the game, he put his idea into practice, which ended up working very well, thank you.

Raven shook her head and shrugged, silently asking if he wouldn't give her anything. She was waiting for a frog charm or other coin, but all she received was a warm kiss on the mouth, which made her blow up the nearest computer monitor.

The touch of Beast Boy's lips on his made her close her eyes instantly, her body and mind embracing the fact that she wanted that kiss - she had even been waiting for him for a long time, having fantasized the moment several times in the stillness of his. room.

On the other hand, Beast Boy didn't explode at all, but he felt his whole body vibrating. Her cheeks were as flushed as Raven’s, and it had taken him a long time to have the courage to kiss her.

The kiss could not be considered "worthy of a movie" because the two were too tense to give themselves up completely. They did not know where to put their hands and neither should they do it; A light in their heads blinked incessantly, reminding them that the world was ending while they were kissing, and billions of people were at risk.

It could be considered an ordinary kiss, but for Raven and Beast Boy, it meant much more than that.

They separate after a few seconds, unable to exchange a direct look. Beast Boy cleared his throat and Raven clung more tightly to her cloak, almost disappearing inside it.

“Raven”, Beast Boy smiled, making her look him in the eye quickly. Without breaking eye contact, he simply stuck a five-cent coin in her hand. Like old times. “Good luck.”

—————————————-

ok, i had no idea that the text would lose the diagramming!!! i wrote this on my iphone notes, sorryyyy

[isitgintimeyet]

Just a Friend

So I finally started to write another story...

I will try and post weekly, but can’t promise on account of real life and my inability to actually focus on translating what’s in my head onto paper (or screen!)

Getting the courage to post never gets any easier, but here goes. I hope you enjoy this frothy bit of fun. I will also post on AO3.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for being an excellent beta.

Chapter 1: From Airport to Aggravation

Bank holiday crowds, on the whole, are hell.

And this one is rapidly turning into an even deeper level of purgatory. The hottest May for years in Scotland and I’m stuck at Glasgow airport with a dozen women, collectively known as ‘Geillis’s Hen Party Posse’, each displaying varying degrees of inebriation, hangover or general sleep deprivation, and all aiming for the luggage carousel showing the flight from Barcelona. Which apparently is where several hundred other disembarked passengers are also heading.

Eventually, I manage to get a view of the bags and cases slowly making their way around the belt. They’re pretty picked over by this time, apart from the couple of boxes covered in gaffer tape that always seem to be first off a plane—any plane—and last to be collected. They’re always there, on every flight. Why is that?

I pause from my musings to wave frantically at Geillis, who now has a trolley and is clearing a path straight towards me.

“I got us a trolley.” she informs me, stating the obvious. “I thought it’d be easier. Have ye seen ours yet, Claire? I canna see the others. They must have already gone through.”

“No,” I answer, keeping my eyes firmly on the little hatch, willing our bags to appear. All I want is to go home, put my sleep mask on and try and get some sleep. Three days in Barcelona celebrating Geillis’s forthcoming nuptials have worn me out, and, I glance at my watch, I am due in theatre in approximately seventeen hours time.

"It's there, it's there," Geillis points excitedly at the neon pink and green leopard print bag making its way towards us.

She makes a grab for it as I continue to look for my bag. Predictably, it’s one of the last ones on the carousel. I recognise it immediately from the piece of red gift ribbon tied to the handle of the plain black Samsonite. I load it onto the trolley and Geillis and I head through customs to join the rest of the posse.

We say our goodbyes loudly, with much hugging and kisses. A stranger viewing this scene might imagine we won’t be seeing each other again for weeks or even months. In truth, I’ll be seeing most of them in the next week or so at the hospital as our schedules coincide.

“Shall we two get a taxi, then?” Geillis asks me.

I start to answer as my mobile pings — a text from Frank...very nice, very caring, very predictable.

Darling, it’s been a long three days without you. I am ready to collect you from the airport if you would like. If not, might I see you later this evening? xxx

And that is very clearly Frank. Correct grammar and punctuation, even on his texts. I shake my head as if to drive away my inner bitch and pretend I haven’t read it. I will respond, of course, just later when I’m back at home.

So, I smile at Geillis and agree. “Of course, we can go halves.”

***********

As I walk into my flat, the peace and quiet and sheer bloody calm wraps itself around me like a swaddling cloth. It’s blissfully cool too, with all the shutters closed.

It’s not that I didn’t have a good time in Barcelona. It was actually great. But being in the company of others twenty four hours a day is wearing, much as I love them. And we all had to do everything together. No sneaking off for a solitary walk, or escaping to bed for a little siesta.

I deposit my suitcase by the bedroom door, slip off my converse, pour myself a glass of orange juice, settle down on the sofa and figure out how best to tell Frank not tonight without offending him.

Frank, Sorry but tonight isn’t —

I delete and try again.

Thanks for the offer to pick me up. I was already in the taxi when I got it. Can we give tonight a miss? Theatre in the morning and I’m knackered totally exhausted. You know what Geillis is like. Speak tomorrow, I promise. C

Frank knows what Geillis is like. Frank thinks Geillis is a bad influence on me, with her larger than life personality and wild ideas. I think Frank doesn’t really know me at all if he believes I can be influenced like that. I hang out with Geillis and my friends because they’re fun and we laugh… a lot.

Without realising, I feel my shoulder muscles relax as soon as I’ve sent the message. These are not good signs for my relationship with Frank. He’s investing far more into ‘us’ than I am willing to do. But as long as I’m honest with him…

There are advantages to being with Frank, of course. He’s punctual, very organised and a proficient and considerate lover. He always makes sure I come, even if I sometimes...er… exaggerate my reactions to hurry things along. So much for honesty, then.

I finish my orange juice and plan my evening. Four things to do - unpack, grab some food, shower and sleep. Not even going to wash my hair. That would really be too much effort, struggling with my untameable mane, and it’s going to be stuck under a surgical cap for most of tomorrow anyway.

It takes a bit of effort to actually move from the sofa. I could quite happily fall asleep there. But then I’d wake up in the middle of the night—starving hungry and still smelling of sweaty airports. Reluctantly, I haul myself into a vertical position and head for my bedroom picking up my suitcase en route.

Opening the suitcase, I am not greeted with the expected haphazard mass of sun dresses, t shirts and shorts—all with the evocative aroma of Hawaiian Tropic—but a layer of white dress shirts, immaculately folded and the faint scent of a musky cologne.

Shit, shit, shit!! Some else has walked off with my black samsonite with the red ribbon on the handle. My evening plans are rapidly going awry. I delve into my handbag praying that I kept my boarding pass with the sticky bar code luggage receipt. The relief when I find it lurking in the bottom of my bag is immense. Quickly I google the airline lost baggage number and dial.

After a few bars of some god awful plinky plinky hold music, I hear a recorded message. “Your call is important to us, please hold. Your call is important to us, please hold.”

Good to know, then back to the plinky plinky before another message. “The office you are trying to reach is now closed. Please try again during office hours nine am to five thirty. Thank you.”

“If my call is so important to you, why is no one there at six o’clock?” I yell down the phone, but the plinky plinky ignores me and continues its irritating melody.

I sigh. I don’t want to have to wait until tomorrow morning to sort this out. Besides, by nine am tomorrow morning, I will be somewhat unavailable - reshaping the hip bone of a seven year old boy. So, I have no alternative. I will have to have a bit of a dig around this stranger’s suitcase, looking for any clue or contact details.

As I start to have a feel around, it occurs to me that some stranger might, at this very moment, be doing exactly the same thing — having a poke around my suitcase in the hope of finding my details. No doubt judging me based on my choice of holiday attire.  And, I suddenly realise, his judgement may well be coloured by the discovery of some items of a more adult nature.

I say ‘he’, based on the XL white shirts, the pair of battered jeans and faded Scotland rugby shirt, but I could be wrong. I don’t have to dig any further into the case as I spy, in a mesh pocket, a neat rectangle of card with a name — James Fraser — a mobile number and an email address.

Relief sweeps over me. Perhaps we can get this all sorted tonight. Unless this James Fraser lives miles away and was just passing through Glasgow on his way to, say, the Outer Hebrides. That could be a whole other level of problem.

I quickly reach for my phone. Another message from Frank awaits.

Are you sure, darling? I’m looking forward to seeing you. Would tomorrow evening work for you?

I ignore it for the moment. Let me sort my luggage issue out first.

I dial the number on the card and begin to pace around my bedroom as it rings and rings. I am just about to give up when, thankfully, it’s answered.

“Hello?” A female voice asks warily.

I clear my throat and put on my most pleasant phone voice. “Is there a James Fraser there please?”

“Ye’ve the wrong number.”

“Oh, sorry, I must have mis—“ I begin, but find myself apologising to dead air.

I try again, carefully comparing each digit to those written, very neatly, on the card.

“Hello?” The same female voice answers, more than a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“I’m sorry, but this is the number I have for James Fra—“

“And I already told ye, ye’ve the wrong number. Dinna bother again.”

In the days before mobiles, I’m sure this would have been accompanied by a deafening crash as the receiver hit the cradle. Pressing a soft key doesn’t have the same dramatic effect. But I get the message anyway.

So, new plan needed. All I can do is email this James Fraser and hope he actually has written down the correct email address. If not, I’ll have to sort it out with the airline tomorrow afternoon.

My stomach rumbles and I suddenly realise that I’ve not eaten since breakfast, unless you count the slices of fruit in my jug of sangria. I wander into the kitchen and peruse the contents of my cupboards and fridge. I’m not the most gifted cook, but I’m not too bad and can usually rustle up something edible and fairly tasty. The bread feels a bit on the dry side but will be fine toasted, and I know I have eggs.

I put a knob of butter in a pan and text Frank while I’m waiting for it to sizzle.

Think tomoz will be ok. Talk 2morrow. C

I don’t normally use text speak at all,  but something about Frank’s perfectly formed text messages always makes me want to rebel. I can imagine him wincing right now.  He’s a professor at the university and is forever complaining about the standard of literacy amongst his undergraduates. If he thinks he has problems, he should try dealing with junior doctors.

With my scrambled egg on toast all eaten, I focus my attention on the email to James Fraser. I write it quickly, brief and to the point: I have your suitcase and therefore presume you have mine, can we meet to swap them over and here’s my phone number.

The longing for a shower and then bed is now overwhelming. I strip off and bundle all my clothes into the laundry basket, tie my hair up with a scrunchie and step into my shower. This is undoubtedly one of my favourite places on earth and possibly the reason that I bought this flat. Large enough for two, I suppose. Although none have yet been invited to partake in this heavenly experience. Maybe I’m saving that for someone extra special. It has a huge overhead rainfall shower head and a handheld shower head too.

My indulgences are all in here — a selection of expensive shower gels, scrubs and lotions and an assortment of huge fluffy bath towels. I choose a lavender scented gel and scrub all traces of the day from my skin.

Wrapping myself  in one of my pristine white towels, I slather shea butter lotion on my slightly sun-burnt skin, noticing the uneven red patches where the sun cream hadn’t quite reached but at least it’s not sore.

A quick check of my emails shows there’s no word from James Fraser as yet, so I decide to just settle down to sleep and leave luggage worries until the morning. Fortunately, I had changed the sheets before my weekend away, so I simply unwrap my towel, leaving it in a heap on the floor and slide into bed. The feeling of the cool, crisp bedding against my skin is wonderful. I assume a sort of diagonal starfish position, not having to worry about any other occupants. It crosses my mind whether to reach for the tiny vibrator in my bedside drawer, but I’m too comfortable and drowsy for that, so instead I check my alarm and settle down for sleep.

[yourehomesickiunderstand]

About/Rules/Verses

Hello, and welcome to my Bofur RP blog. This post is a HUGE wall of text, if you are on desktop and would like to see it a little tidier, please see the separate pages in the sidebar to the right. 

Promo Post Found Here

About the Mun

1. Firstly I am over 30, own a house, have a husband, 1 baby, 2 cats, and a wealth of commitments and responsibilities. I will do my best to reply in a timely manner, but will state up front that sometimes life gets in the way.

2. I am in EST and work M-F from 9-5, plus a half hour commute. Please understand that I can not post from work, and will not be posting during those times.

3. In addition, I am Mom to a very active toddler who is my priority over writing and who’s nap schedule tends to dictate when I can post.

4. My native language is English, though I can understand French, and a little bit of Spanish and Japanese. Don’t bank on me carrying on a decent conversation in any of those languages though.

About the Blog

1. When I first set up this blog I didn’t realize that secondary blogs can’t follow back, ask, or submit. My main blog name is Saffity, so if you see that blog follow you, it’s me. If I send an ask or submit, I will mention this blog name so you don’t get confused.

2. My inbox, ask, etc. is open. Please feel free to write me any starters, questions, or whatever.

3. Please send any critiques or suggestions to me. I’ve been on Tumblr forever, but have never really been a poster. If you see me doing basic noob mistakes with my posts that can be easily fixed, please let me know.

4. I will be tracking #yourehomesickiunderstand so please use that tag with our threads.

Mun’s Playing Style

1. I prefer my Bofur straight. I understand Boffins and other ships and have no qualms with them, I’ve been known to enjoy a good fluff fic once in a while, but this Bofur is straight.

2. Please send me an ask or fan mail if you would like our characters to have an already established relationship, I’m totally cool with it. I respond to all cannon characters as known as it shows in the books or movies, but if you are an OC and want something other than a “Nice to meet you” please let me know first.

3. I’m willing to do some fluffies, but not full on smut, if the thread calls for smut (which will often happen), I’ll fade to black when I’ve gone as far as I feel comfortable with. (Don’t worry, I’ll fade when I’m ready, you’ll never get any angry messages from me about going too far.)

4. Bofur here is multiverse, au, indie, whatever you want to call it. I’m sure he’ll fit into whatever crossover or world you decide to drop him in, he’s very easy going after all.

5. I tend to write in the past tense, third person. If you’d prefer a different style, just let me know and I’ll try to accommodate.

6. I’m bad with my images, so bad! I’m still figuring everything out, so if I’ve royally screwed something up, please let me know and I will delete and repost correctly.

7. I am super okay with editing anything I write if it doesn’t jive with your character or where you want the plot to go, please just let me know.

8. I mainly play on mobile, as such, I’m not able to cut my posts down. Please do so whenever you feel the need/want, I won’t be upset.

Head Cannons that go across all verses

1. Bofur has a Northern Irish accent and his hat, always his hat.

2. Bofur has named his hat Bundushathur, which in Khuzdul means “Cloudyhead” and will sometimes refer to his hat as a sleeping rabbit. If Khuzdul does not exist in the verse (like Modern) then the hat is called Cloudyhead and still referred to as a rabbit.

3. Bofur is the everyman, he isn’t special or high born. He is good natured, friendly, and the world’s best wingman, even if it means connecting someone he pines after with someone else. He would rather see them happy and keep their friendship than try to force his feelings on them or lose their friendship because of his pride.

4. The main characteristic about Bofur is that he is unimportant in the hierarchy of society.

Main Verse - The Hobbit/LOTR

Bofur is 4'6" but fairly thin for a dwarf.

Bofur is a dwarf who’s family line comes from Moria. He is of the mining class. He was born and raised in Ered Luin with his brother. Shortly after Bofur became an adult, his parents died, leaving him to raise his brother. Shortly after that, Bifur was injured in an orc attack. Bofur and Bombur took Bifur in, however there were a number of difficult years as they all got used to Bifur’s new personality.

Once Bifur was stable enough, the brothers decided it would be a good idea to head out and find new customers for their skills. They ended up at Bree, opening up a shop to sell Bifur’s fabulous toys, and offer tinkering services.

During their stay in Bree, Bombur got married to a passing female dwarf and moved his overly large family near the shop. Bifur and Bofur live together in living quarters at the back of the shop, Bombur lived with them until he got married.

Bofur travels around Middle Earth, usually west of the Misty Mountains, and most often between Bree and Ered Luin by way of the Shire. He collects supplies, sells wares, and visits many friends and family that are about the lands.

When Thorin calls for assistance in taking back Erebor, Bofur and his kin lock up their shop and head for the Shire.

After the quest they settle in Erebor, though Bofur heads back to Bree to close up their shop and settle accounts prior to settling in for a long life of enjoying his 14th share of the treasure.

Head Cannons that can totally change if my partner is a Bifur or Bombur

1. Bofur’s father was killed in Moria at the battle of Azanulbizar, his Mother died in an Orc attack when Bofur was in his 40s. He has taken care of his brother ever since.

2. Bofur took Bifur in after Bifur was orphaned as well, the three are like brothers, having shared the experience of loss and growing up together.

3. Bombur stopped speaking after their mother died. Bofur’s tried to get him to speak, and has managed to get him to speak sometimes, but usually just small replies and often with much prodding. Bifur and Bombur use the same sign language to speak to each other and those who don’t speak Khuzdul. Bofur takes care of both of them and is the one who speaks to customers.

Modern Verse

High School

Bofur is not popular, though he’s friendly and basically knows everyone. He enjoys shop class, classical music, and historical literature.

Studious and hard working, Bofur can often be found with his nose in a book, when not sitting on the bleachers playing the tin flute he always has on him.

College Student

Bofur is a TA in college. His major is historical literature, and his goal is to eventually become a professor. His passion is delving into historical fanatasy from cultures other than England and Western Europe.

He enjoys learning languages in order to read what he is researching in its original state.

General Modern Adult

In most modern adult verses Bofur is a general labourer, most often a janitor. If he is a teacher, he teaches music and drama.

Ice Cream Shop

Bofur runs a small home made ice cream shop that is part of a coffee shop run with a companion or family member (his partner can be any member of the company). He makes a variety of flavours, and offers lactose and gluten free varieties.

He prides himself on being able to guess his customers’ favourites on sight (like the movie Chocolat).

Marvel

Bofur is a janitor within shield. He can be found on the helicarrier, within the Avengers training base, or basically anywhere the heroes may be destroying things that need to be cleaned up.

While he is quiet and without powers, he has wisdom and a patient ear to lend to those supers who require a moment to vent.

Star Trek

This is the only verse where Bofur stands out. Bofur is a red shirt, but by some miraculous turn of events, he has gone on a number of away missions and made it back alive. Poor Bofur would love to get off the enterprise with his life, and shirt, in tact, but it appears some of the higher officers like to see him lose his mind and suggest him for more away missions, even if only in jest.

Head cannons that exist in all modern verses

1. Bofur and his family are from Northern Ireland, though Bofur travels around, goes to school abroad, and in general can pop up anywhere in the world.

2. Bofur is short for a male - 5'6", with a stocky build, and fairly strong.

3. Bofur’s younger brother Bombur is still at home (or married with kids depending on their age).

4. Bofur’s parents took Bifur in after he got injured during Armed Forces training, as Bofur’s family lives closer to the rehab resources that Bifur requires.

[storiesforallfandoms]

sweet disaster ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1516

request?: yes!

@livingmybestfictionallife​ “Can I request a Colson fic where he and the reader have grown up together have been best friends since middle school and it's about them realizing they love each other, but based off Dreamers' Sweet Disaster?”

description: after waking up from a crazy night partying, two best friends since middle school reveal their feelings to one another

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of drugs, mentions of alcohol

based on this song

masterlist

My head was pounding and my body was stiff when I woke up. I groaned as I pulled myself to sit up. I realized I had passed out on the floor, so that explained the sore body.

On the floor next to me, Colson was still out cold. He was in just a pair of sweatpants, a normal occurrence when he got trashed. I grabbed a nearby pillow and hit his face. Colson immediately jumped awake, looking around the room in confusion before his eyes landed on me.

“What the fuck (Y/N)?” he asked.

“If I have to be up then so do you,” I retorted, bracing myself before pulling myself to stand.

“Go back to sleep,” he groaned, laying back and using the pillow to cover his face.

“I can’t, I have to vomit.”

Luckily, I didn’t vomit, but my stomach was still churning, so I grabbed a glass of water for my breakfast. I decided to be nice and get one for Colson, too. He’d definitely be super hungover, too.

When I got back to his room, Colson was sat up with his back against the foot of his bed, his hands cradling his stomach. I offered him the glass of water and he gratefully took it.

“Thanks,” he said. “There’s Aspirin in my bedside table.”

I grabbed two tablets for the both of us. I took the Aspirin and a mouthful of water. The minute the cold liquid hit my stomach, I could feel it churning again. I hoped whatever contents were in there would stay put throughout the whole day, but my history with hangovers definitely said otherwise.

I sat next to Colson on the floor as I waited for my stomach to settle again. “What the fuck did we do last night?”

“We got super drunk,” Colson responded. “And super high. I remember sharing an entire blunt.”

I groaned. “God, I’m awful when I’m high. Why would you let me smoke?”

“Cause it’s lame to be high alone.”

I rolled my eyes and rested my head on Colson’s shoulder. The night before came back in flashes and blurs; Colson and I drinking, sitting outside his house to smoke the blunt, playing video games while drunk and high, watching movies, having stupid debates on the movies.

Getting super drunk with Colson was nothing new. Whenever he had time off, we always got together to drink at least once, but last night was different. Last night we got party levels of drunk, as if it weren’t just the two of us hanging out together.

“Do you think either one of us posted anything embarrassing?” I asked. “We were drunk enough for that.’

“Oh man, we should check.”

We took a while to try and locate our phones, and once we did we sat ourselves back on the floor. I went through all my social media and all I found was a picture I had taken at the beginning of the night of Colson playing video games with my legs over his lap.

“This one’s cute,” I said, showing it to him. “But nothing embarrassing. And no embarrassing texts, thank God. I have too many exes on my phone.”

“You should get rid of those,” Colson pointed out. “I don’t have any notifications, so I didn’t post or tweet anything publicly. Let’s check my camera roll to see if there’s any pictures.”

I watched Colson’s face as he scrolled through his phone. I couldn’t hold back my laugh as I saw his face twist in shock at whatever he found. I extended my hand for his phone, trying to take it from him.

“Let me see! What is it?” I asked. Colson held his hand out so that I wouldn’t be able to reach. I pushed against him, trying to grab it from his hand. “Dude, we’ve been best friends for years, whatever it is I’m sure I won’t give a fuck.”

“It’s nothing, leave it alone, (Y/N),” Colson insisted.

What he forgot about me was that I was very stubborn. So, I pretended to let it go, and when Colson let his guard down, I grabbed his phone and took off for the bathroom. Colson raced after me, but I got to the bathroom before he did and locked the door behind me.

“That’s not funny, (Y/N)!” Colson called as he pounded on the door. “Let me in, give me my phone back!”

I sat with my back against the door and unlocked his phone. That was one of Colson’s biggest mistakes: trusting me with his phone password.

The picture he had been looking at popped up on the screen immediately and I audibly gasped. It was a picture of myself and Colson when we were obviously very trashed. I had my arms around his neck and I was kissing him deeply, while one of his hands was under my shirt, pressed firmly against my back and holding me to him.

I stared at the picture for a long time, wondering if that was the extent of what Colson and I had done the night before. My clothes were all on properly, and we didn’t wake up naked. But I really could not remember us doing that at all. It must happened when we had both gotten absolutely black out drunk.

I sat on the floor for a while, just looking at the picture. Why wouldn’t Colson want me to see it? Did he regret it? Did he want me to just forget that it happened? I felt a slight ache in my heart at the thought of this.

I finally pulled myself up off the floor and opened the door. Colson looked down at me with a look of worry on his face. “Did you look at it?”

I nodded. “Yeah...here.”

I passed him his phone back. He took it, hesitantly, still looking at my face.

“Delete it,” I told him. “If the picture causes that much trouble, you can just delete it.”

“Trouble?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

“You obviously didn’t want me to see it for a reason. I don’t remember the kiss, I’ll forget the picture exists and you can delete it.”

Colson seemed shocked by my words. “What if I don’t want to delete it?”

I rolled my eye. “You’re not funny, Colson.”

“I’m not trying to be!”

I pushed past him into the room. I tried to remember what I had brought with me that night, but soon remembered that all I had was my clothes, phone, and the booze I brought. I shoved my phone into my pocket and made my way for the front door.

“(Y/N), seriously, what’s going on?” he asked. “Why are you so upset over the picture?”

“Why didn’t you want me to see it?” I asked him. “Are you ashamed that we kissed?”

“No! Of course I’m not ashamed. I was afraid that if you saw the picture, it would make things awkward between us and we’d stop being friends.”

I paused a moment, letting his words sink in. “Oh...well...yeah that makes sense.”

“It does. Why would me being ashamed of it make you this upset?”

I scoffed, trying to play off my real feelings. “No girl wants to be told that someone was ashamed to kiss them.”

Colson shook his head. “There’s more to it than that.”

“Maybe there is, and maybe there’s more to you not wanting me to see the picture.”

We stood in silence for some time. With those vague sentences, there was a lot put out in the air between the two of us. I leaned against the wall behind me and looked up at Colson. My eyes were drawn to his lips and I wondered what it had felt like to kiss him the night before. I really wished I could remember it.

“How long?” I asked him first.

He knew what I meant immediately and responded, “Since middle school.”

My eyes widened and, before I could stop myself, my hand swung out to hit him in the arm. “What?! And you didn’t tell me?”

“Okay, ow,” he said. “And no, I didn’t tell you, because you were my best friend. I didn’t want to lose you so soon after I met you.”

“Well, maybe you should’ve made some move or something. We wouldn’t be in this mess if you had.”

He chuckled at this and I couldn’t help but smile as well. “How long as you felt this way?”

“Also since middle school,” I responded.

“Why didn’t you make a move?”

“Because that’s the guy’s job!”

He playfully rolled his eyes at me and took me into his arms. I cuddled into his chest, taking in his familiar scent as he held me.

“So, where do we go from here?” he asked.

“I think that’s up to you,” I told him. “Where do you want to go?”

He looked down at me and smiled. “Out with you, on a proper date.”

I smiled back. “You smooth motherfucker. Let me get sober, we’ll go out together.”

“Deal.”

[yet-another-fan-girl9]

Inhuman (1)

Summary: All beings in the universe have a soulmate except for Midgardians. People can hear their soulmate in their heads. For almost five hundred and fifty years, Loki believed that he had no soulmate until 1513 when a Midgardian princess was born. Will fate be kind to them or will the universe tear them apart?

Warnings: violence, language, hella historical inaccuracies (I tried to do research but then got lazy), maybe some AOS season 2 spoilers(?)

Word Count: ~3400

A/N: Yay! The re-write is here! I changed it so now there are flashbacks and stuff and the chapters are longer! I’m also posting this chapter a day early because of reasons. Anyways, enjoy!

[New York, New York, March 2024]

‘Soulmates?’ You had never heard of the concept.

‘We are destined to be together. The universe made it so.’

You shot up in bed, a light sheen of sweat covered your body. Loki’s words replayed over and over in your head. You hadn’t heard his actual voice in so long but it was still as clear as if he was speaking to you now. It had been twelve years since you had seen him in Germany and he had tried to take over.

‘We are destined to be together.’

The words echoed in your mind. ‘Destined’ huh? Well, if you’d learned anything from the past four hundred and eighty-six years that you were not with Loki, it’s that the universe does a shit job at keeping you together. You ran your fingers through your hair, easily smoothing out the tangled mess. It was too early to think about Loki.

You slipped out of the silk sheets that covered your king-sized bed in your two-level, top floor Upper East Side penthouse. You were very proud of how far you had come. The view was amazing. You could see some of Central Park from one side and the stereotypical New York skyline from another.

As you walked out of your room, you caught your reflection in one of your full-sized mirrors. And that was definitely a nice view. When you came out of Terrigenesis almost five hundred years ago, you quickly discovered that you were now the blueprint for a perfect person. Straight, white teeth, surprisingly tameable hair, and clear, unblemished skin were some of the visually obvious changes. In addition to your perfected looks, you had increased senses, healing, strength, endurance, and your favorite, pain tolerance. Oh, and don’t forget you basically look twenty-five forever.

You checked your phone while you made breakfast in the kitchen downstairs. There were a couple of emails from your employees on their latest jobs. You opened one from Max, your right-hand man. You were reading over some job offers he had handpicked for you when you got a text from the man himself.

Bringing up some donuts!

Max was the only person from work to have access to your penthouse. He was your best friend. The two of you had met when you were at Afterlife nearly fifteen years ago. He was an Inhuman as well. All of your employees were Inhumans, using their specialties to carry out their jobs. Max had the power to change surfaces. It was a strange power, but he had learned to make it very useful. He could cause his pursuers to slip on the suddenly ice-like ground or climb up a glass skyscraper.

“Hello, bitch! I brought donuts!” Max called from the elevator.

“I’m in the kitchen!”

Max walked in holding the goods. He always wore eccentric color-coordinated outfits. Even the times you saw him in stealth mode, he had to have some lace or frill somewhere. Today he wore a mixture of neon green and pink with matching eyeliner.

“Are Cosmo and Wanda disguising themselves as your clothes?” you asked.

“Haha,” he deadpanned. “I knew you were going to say something like that. You’re so fucking funny. Soo…” He plopped the three large donut boxes onto your kitchen counter. “Have you heard of the Avenger’s new quote-unquote recruit?”

“Um, I think it’s your job to keep tabs on heroes.” You opened the nearest box and happily pulled out your favorite donut.

“Okay. Number one: I’m not speaking to you as your right-hand, right now, but as your friend.” He held up his finger. “Number two: it’s not really a job if I do it in my free time anyways. You’re paying me to do something that I do on an hourly basis.”

“You stalk the Avengers on an hourly basis?”

“No? Anyways, number three: it’s Thor’s brother. It’s your Loki.”

“What the fuck?” you choke on your donut. Max was the only person who knew you that you and Loki had a history. And that’s all he knew. Nothing about soulmates or all that shit. “What the fuck, Max? Did you try to use donuts to soften the blow? Stop laughing.”

“I-I wish I had caught that reaction on camera,” he said in between fits of giggles.

“Haha,” it was your turn to deadpan. “Fuck, man. I guess we just have to double our efforts to keep ourselves off of their radar.”

“Do you think they’ve forgiven him for New York?” Max composed himself.

“I mean, they must have if they’re letting him join the team.” You chanced another bite of your donut.

“But lots of people haven’t.”

“Lots of people still haven’t forgiven Barnes,” you pointed out. You didn’t know when or why Loki had attacked New York. That Loki was nothing like the man who you had grown to love back in the 1500s. But you were nothing like that girl either.

 “Have you chosen a new job from the list I sent you?” he changed the subject.

“No, not yet, and you have a little…” you motioned to the corner of your mouth.

Max got the hint and wiped some powder off of his mouth. You noticed the sprinkling of grey that was mixed into his curly black hair. He displayed the last fifteen years proudly while you remained unchanged. Max was the closest you’ve been to someone in a long time, and just like everyone before him, you would outlive him. But you would remember him. You remembered everyone. You remembered everything.

Right now, you thought of Agnes, your first real friend. She was your handmaiden and you had met right before everything went to shit. She had helped you cope after you underwent Terrigenesis, although you hadn’t known what it was back then. She had helped you run away and even died for you. You had only known her for nine years, but you compared everyone to her. Max held second place, right after Agnes.

“I think we should take the Senator’s offer,” Max said, jolting you out of your memories. He pulled up the offer on his iPad. “One million to off his upcoming competition.”

“Damn,” you whistled. “He’s desperate, isn’t he? Is there a deadline?”

“No, but I assume we should get it done quickly.”

“Send over the info.”

🌹

You shoved the flower into Jake Morano’s mouth. Blood from the bullet wound in his forehead trickled down until it turned the perfect, white rose red. You snapped a quick photo on your burner phone to send to the Senator as confirmation. With a huff, you looked around the apartment. Mr. Anderson had put up a fight, although it didn’t do anything to deter you and Max. A few glass awards were in pieces on the hardwood floor, family pictures were shattered, and the wall behind you held a couple of bullets from Anderson’s gun.

“All good?” Max asked from his location by the computer. He was deleting all footage of you being there. And everything else, just to be safe.

“Yep.” You walked over to him, your boots making a satisfying clicking on the ground, and proudly displayed the picture of the dead body. “Got the confirmation picture for the Senator. How’s it coming?”

“Almost… there. We’re good to go.”

The two of you left in your favorite black Lamborghini. Unfortunately, you actually had to drive places now that Gordon was dead. You followed his advice, though, and bought a plane along with four other sports cars, a helicopter, and a couple of motorcycles. You knew how to operate every single one of them. What else were you supposed to do except for establishing your contract killing empire?

🌹

Loki stood in the middle of his assigned room with his hands on his hips. It certainly was much nicer than the last prison the Avengers had kept him in. They may say it wasn’t a prison but the twenty-four-hour surveillance from Stark’s new AI said otherwise. Even though it was nicer than the shitty glass cylinder from twelve years ago, it was empty. Thor had shown Loki the few things in his room: books, photographs, and his own goddamned merchandise. 

Would Loki have his own merchandise one day? Everyone was redeemable as shown by Romanoff and Barnes. Maybe there would be plastic replicas of his helmet? No, Loki thought that was stupid. Only heroes got merchandise and heroes had to show up to events and sponsor health drinks or whatever the fuck they do. Heroes had to be nice.

Nothing good ever came from being on Midgard. Most recently, there was his father dying, although what followed was worse. Before that was the attack he had been forced to make on the city. And the first time he had ever come to Midgard had ended with disappointment and heartbreak.

Loki sighed and waved his hand to conjure green and gold accents, sheets, and blankets. At least there was color in the room now. No doubt the AI had reported that he had used his magic. He hoped it had also told them that all he did was improve the room, he didn’t need anyone talking to him at the moment.

“Good afternoon, Reindeer Games,” the AI echoed through the room. Loki glowered at the sound of Stark’s nickname. “There is a meeting in Conference Room Five that the entire team is required to attend.”

Loki hadn’t the faintest fucking idea where the conference rooms were. He left his room and caught sight of his brother and the Valkyrie. The God of Mischief followed the pair down to where the meeting was taking place. Did he really want to go? If he wanted to be part of the team he would have to. He preferred the Revengers, though. While it had lasted. It was smaller.

Everyone was sitting around the long table. Of course, Loki would be the last to arrive. Stark and Barton both glared at him when he entered. Understandable. Romanoff remained impassive, but Loki knew she would bash his head in the first chance she got. Rogers had to remain positive that Loki could be redeemed because if the Norse God could redeem himself, then so could Barnes. Bruce had warmed up to Loki on the journey to Midgard. None of the newer members of the team outright hated him, but they were still cautious around him.

Loki found himself sitting in between his brother and Bruce. Stark went up to the screen at the front and everyone fell silent.

“This is Jake Morano.” The screen turned on to show a dead man with a rose stuffed in his mouth. “He was going to run for Senator against this guy.” The screen changed. “This guy is William Anderson, a very corrupt Senator. In the last month, Morano began to gain a lot of support including a sponsor from us. Well, a sponsor from me in the name of the Avengers.”

“Are you implying that Anderson killed Morano?” Rogers asked.

“I’m saying that Anderson hired someone to kill Morano.” The screen changed again to display multiple bodies left with a rose in their mouths. “I had F.R.I.D.A.Y. do a quick search of bodies with roses found in their mouths and we found a shocking amount of similar deaths. The first ones dating back to the nineteen twenties. More recently, some of the deaths have happened at the same time on opposite sides of the globe. Deaths include, but are not limited to, shooting, stabbing, poisoning, drowning, burning, missing organs, being found stuck in a wall, and looking like a suicide. They all have a white rose soaked in blood in their mouths.”

“Are you sure it isn’t a serial killer?” Wilson questioned.

“Yeah, it’s probably not the same guy,” Romanoff pointed out. “Especially if it goes back to before Steve looked like that.”

“It’s gotta be an organization,” Barnes guessed. “Been around for a while, a couple of deaths happening at the same time, and one constant MO.”

“Loki?” Everyone looked at the God of Mischief when Stark said his name. “You’re technically a part of this team now. What’s your opinion?”

“Barnes is probably right,” Loki said after a moment’s hesitation. “The locations are all over the place and there are many different ways the victims met their demise.”

They nodded and Loki returned to silence.

“Alright, game plan.” Stark clapped his hands. “We have to get Anderson into an interrogation room. Round one is the good cops: Steve and Sam. When he doesn’t crack, and he won’t, we up the intensity. Nat and the Manchurian Candidate will do some intimidation. If he still doesn’t crack we can send in Wanda, or even Reindeer Games if she’s not comfortable, to search his mind.”

“Are all Midgardian politics like that?” Loki heard the Valkyrie ask Thor after the meeting. Thor only shrugged so she turned to Bruce.

“I mean, I haven't been here in a while but it’s always kinda been fucked up.”

Only an hour after the meeting, Anderson took out one million dollars in cash. Stark tracked him to a small cafe where he was going to, no doubt, pay the assassin. The team rallied, but of course, Loki wasn’t going. Apparently, he wasn’t ‘cleared’ yet. The only other people staying behind were the Valkyrie, Thor, and Barton due to a recent injury. 

Loki went to his room to sulk, although he told everyone he was thinking. He didn’t want to be here. Maybe he wanted to go somewhere that reminded him of home with tall buildings that reached the sky… 

🌹

"Hello, (Y/N)." Loki’s voice was as smooth as it was in your head, but it was different. The only way you could describe it was that it was solid. It felt less intimate. Like he could bless others with his words, but it was more special because he was here. 

"Loki," you breathed.

"You look more beautiful than I ever could imagine." He stepped closer.

You touched your hair self-consciously. There were multiple knots, and it probably looked like one of those bird nests the dogs always knocked out of trees. You had woken up in a hurry and your hair being trapped in the hood of your cloak probably didn't help.

Then it occurred to you that you were wearing only your nightgown, and you tightly wrapped your cloak around yourself. Loki wouldn’t hurt you, but no man has seen you in an outfit so revealing. Still, you took another step closer.

"I do not know what to say." Fortunately, your voice didn’t shake or waver as you had feared, but Loki could probably feel your nervousness.

You both took a final step closer. You reached up and cupped Loki's face in your hand which tingled slightly when you made contact. You admired his sharp features and bright blue-green eyes. Then you shivered in the cold winter air. Loki noticed and pulled you into a hug. You leaned into him and felt a shiver, a different, better shiver, shoot through your body.

“You’re real.” Your soft voice was almost lost in the biting wind. “I was so scared that I was dreaming.”

Another goddamned dream about Loki? You groaned into your pillow and pushed a few damp strands of hair away from your face. Why now, all of a sudden? Was it because he was so close? Just a few hours upstate in the Avenger’s compound.

Pushing the dream aside, you stretched and got ready for the day. You had sent the photo to the Senator, who you had learned was very fucking corrupted, and he replied with a location. That changed your plans a bit, you hadn't physically met a client in decades, but it was for the better for multiple reasons.

The first reason was that the cafe he had chosen was next to a flower shop where you got your supply of roses. The second reason was that it meant his apartment would be empty. While you went to get the money, and eventually kill Senator Anderson, Max was going to rob his house. It wasn’t something you’d usually do, but honestly, the shitty asshole deserved it.

Your lips were painted red and you wore your usual boots and a leather jacket. Your regular hair was hidden behind a pink and green wig, courtesy of Max. A baseball cap and large sunglasses further hid your appearance. Though if somebody knew your face, the hat and glasses did nothing. There were multiple knives hidden on your body as well as a handgun tucked into your waistband and a pocket pistol in your, well, pocket.

As you walked into the cafe, Izzy, the auburn-haired florist, nodded to you. She had Botanokinesis, plant manipulation, so your supply of white roses was never low. Every once in a while, Izzy would take a job but she had told you she was very happy in her shop.

You noticed the Senator immediately. He still wore a suit and the sunglasses did nothing to hide his identity. There were two young women behind the counter and you suspected that the four other ‘customers’ were too buff not to be the Senator’s security. Anderson had his back to the door which meant you would have to get past his security to get out. You zeroed in on the black briefcase on the ground by his feet.

“Senator,” you greeted and sat down across from him.

“You can’t possibly be the one I talked to,” the asshole replied. “You’re just a girl.”

“Well of course I couldn’t be,” you rolled your eyes behind your heavily tinted glasses. “My boss is too busy and smart to meet you in public.” He didn’t notice your sarcasm. You pulled out the burner phone and showed him the messages as proof. “Now, I’m also busy so if we can get this over with?”

“Sure, darling.” He put the briefcase flat on the table and pushed it towards you.

“Open it.” Even though small boobie traps wouldn’t hurt you much, it wasn’t a piece of information you wanted to give him.

Anderson sighed and complied. Then you turned it around to quickly inspect the contents. One thousand one hundred dollar bills. Hello Mr. Franklin. You nodded in satisfaction and comically rubbed your hands together to inconspicuously grab a knife that was hidden up your sleeve.

“Thank you, Senator. That will be all.”

You closed the case, stood up, and plunged your knife deep into his left carotid artery. As his security descended upon you, you pulled the knife out and his neck satisfyingly squirted blood. The Senator collapsed with his hands clutching his wound desperately. The pool of blood rapidly grew underneath him.

The two baristas screamed behind the counter and the Senator’s security drew their guns. You flipped the small table for cover as bullets pierced the cafe’s window behind you. Perfect. Just a bit more.

You pulled out the handgun from your waistband and with practiced ease, shot three of the four goons. The last one got the bloodied knife to the face. You elbowed the already damaged window and it finally broke, raining glass down on you. Ignoring the small cuts, you jumped out of the cafe through the window as a familiar red and gold suit landed in front of you. Why the fuck were the Avengers here? What about Loki?

You darted into Izzy’s shop and she played her part well, screaming that you had run out the back when you had actually gone into the side room. You listened as the Avengers followed her directions. One person, maybe it was the Black Widow, stayed behind to help calm down the seemingly hysterical Izzy. If she wasn’t so happy at her shop and she didn’t want to work directly for you, she could be a great actress.

You rolled back the rug on the ground to reveal a metal trapdoor. You entered the code to unlock it and climbed down into the darkness. Behind you, you heard the trapdoor’s magnetic lock click back into place. Two centuries ago, you had tunnels dug underneath Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens for easy getaways. If you went… that way, you would end up in Sandra’s souvenir shop which was a couple of blocks away from your penthouse.

With a million dollars in one hand and a handgun in the other, you walked down the concrete tunnel.

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