#turning normal shit into one big dramatic experience

[hyewka]

i seriously need some sub soob🫢

like imagine him squirming and whining because you ONLY kissed his red tip thats leaking precum ehishsisidjdd im going insaneeee

warnings; sub!soobin obvi, sort of pervy, best friends who fuck each other (fwb), puppy pet name, big dick soob, slapping ?? balls??, gets a boner from cleavage, soobin is extra sensitive down there and cums a lot

When Soobin invited you over to his dorm, you don’t exactly expect to have nothing but your phone to turn to as he simultaneously gets worked up over some video game he’s playing and ignores you all around. You should’ve guessed this was going to happen, but you’re bitter about it anyway.

Is it a crime to have thought that he was implying something else by inviting you over?

“I��m bored.” you whine for the umpteenth time, your thumb with no thought scrolling through your feed of posts you’ve already liked and reposted.

When he doesn’t even spare a glance, you scoff and resort to a kick at his back—which to your credit, gets him to adjust his headset and look back to you.

“Yeah?” he mouths, not having heard you before.

You can’t help but think he looked cute today, his pinkish lips and the hair over his eyes making him look even more of a puppy, but before you could even get a word out, his eyes suddenly widen at the faint yell you could hear from his headset, immedietley turning around has he aggresively spams buttons on his controller in panic.

“Holy shit dude, get off my ass I looked away for one—”

You groan into his pillow, making sure to make it as dramatic as possible, proceeding to sulk right after. This was not a productive use of your time. Fifty entire minutes of laying on his bed as he plays a video game. The switch out of your sport bra for a push up right before you came over really is doing nothing for you right now.

When you hear a string of curses spilling out of his mouth, you look over your shoulder curiously and see that his screen was in spectator mode. “You lost?”

He groans, taking off his headset completely, his mic muted. “Mhm, got killed. What’s up though?”

You take note of the screaming now louder from his headphones. Probably at him for getting eliminated. You don’t let him be though, exhaling dramatically looking back to your phone, “What’s up is your bestest, number one, most treasured, hottest friend is horny, sexually frustrated, and bored out of their mind.”

Soobin chokes on practically nothing at the casual mention of you being horny. It’s dumb, like he’s a middle school boy with no experience.

He really was not used to the ‘thing’ between you guys, like, at all. The stolen kisses (which is to be noted very quickly turn into full blown makeout sessions) when no one’s looking, the occasional need to send pics of his hard on to you, slight panic and regret settling in when he sees the ‘read’ receipt with no sign of a response for an entire five minutes (are you not in the mood? did you hate it? will you stop what you guys have going on?), or even the late night calls when you decide to facetime him instead of responding to his blurry nudes through text, and then…well, phone sex seemed to be a normal standard of your friendship. Weirdly enough.

Even if by now you’ve fucked him well over a few times that a mere mention of feeling horny shouldn’t have gotten him as flustered as it just did. But it’s so sudden, the shift from being friends who strongly, and vehemently denied of the secretly dating rumors to…secretly fucking.

“Oh yeah?” comes out a lot more in a loser way than he intended because he basically chokes it out. He’s never been nervous around you, save for the beginning of your friendship.

You’re very much aware of how unjusted Soobin is to the sudden change in your dynamic. Even you think it’s odd that the person you end up texting when you get…needy is Soobin.

Soobin was never the guy you’d think of starting anything even remotely sexual with.

You’ve known him since the years of being taller than him, and you’ve come to learn about his many deep faults along with gross habits you would never let fly under the radar if from someone else, so for him to be the exact type of man you’ve been seeking lately in bed is, well, surprising.

He seems to be the only person who can satisfy you nowadays. But you try not to show it too much, basking much more in how easily he gets flustered. It’s adorable.

“Yeah,” you sigh, shifting position from your stomach to your back and after much contemplation, deciding to take the chance of sitting up straight, “Did you really invite me over to watch you game? You know I don’t play video games.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes trail down, for sure because your chest was in full view now, his tongue prodding out just a tiny bit to wet his lips, almost like out of instinct. That dog. You show a bit of cleavage and he’s already drooling.

To be fair, it is the exact reaction you were fishing out of him. So you’re definitely not complaining.

You end up stifling a laugh, to which he immediately catches like he’s been trained to know your laughs on cue, breaking him out of his daze—an awkward coughing fit delayed a few seconds after to distract from the fact that he thinks he might’ve been caught, blush quickly warming his cheeks. “You think they’re silly, yeah, I know.

“But they’re—they’re not!” he splutters out, “I thought if you watched me play with Beo—”

“Were you just staring at my tits?” you cut him off with half the ability to not just start laughing. It’s worth seeing Soobin’s eyes widen like a cartoon character.

“No!” he says immediately— the crack of his voice doing nothing to help you keep a straight face. See? Adorable.

Then he huffs out a scoff like he’s surprised you’d ever accuse of him of such scandalous behavior. “Just because we fuck doesn’t mean I want to do you every second of the day. I respect you.”

It’s like a game of your cocked brow calling bullshit (more on the fucking thing than respecting you) and him staring back just as intensely as if he truly was not just ogling at your chest. Okay then, fair enough. You’ll get him to break. And admit to it.

“So if I did this…” you unbutton one of the two buttons of your crop top, and your eyes intently watch the way he struggles to not watch your every movement, still keeping his eyes on your face.

Stubborn. You can work with that. He won’t last long.

You drag the unbuttoning of the second one, and when it finally pops out, it’s a full view of your cleavage, cool air of the A.C being the cause of the goosebumps appearing.

And you’re right. He doesn’t last long. Barely even five seconds.

“My eyes are up here idiot.”

He doesn’t even try to hide the blushing anymore, once again licking his lips. You can see the bob of his adam apple when he finally meets your eyes. “Can I see your tits?” he says—the shame of asking is something that overtime became a numbing feeling, because with each time you casually lift your shirt at his request, the easier it gets to push down the feeling of being a pervert.

You break into a wide grin at how easy and straightforward he was—a passing thought of hoping he’s not like, like this for every living thing with fatty tissue on their chest. It’s not jealousy, god no, but it’s better if this was only between you two… for safety reasons?

You pretend to ponder on it but he should know by now that the enjoyment you get out of teasing him is way greater than any feeling.

You decide on what you’ll say, an evil smirk making way. “Am I just a pair of breasts Soobin? Just for you to ogle at? I thought you respected me.”

He shuts his eyes, whining at seeing that his words were very quick to bite him in the ass. “Please. You know I’ll be good.” he whispers the last few words and that has an affect on you. Big one.

Because he isn’t lying. Soobin’s very obedient. And god, you love it. So much.

But you don’t show that, you never do—letting him chase after something for once. Maybe if he gets a little more desperate, you’d think about a quick flash. “You have plenty of my nudes saved, can’t you jerk off to those? Y’know, like you usually do.”

Is it fair to make a jab at the occasional, every so often muffled voice messages in response to even just a slightly revealing picture that you’re asking him the opinion of, where you could hear his unstable breathing and the wet sounds of his pre cum covered shaft? Probably not, especially when you also get off of pics he’d unknowingly send to be the most delicious, mouth watering photo you’ve seen yet.

Soobin, on the other hand, is like, sure he’d go insane. Ever since he was allowed to look at you in the not-only-friends way, he took up every chance you dangled in front of him like a dog with a bone. Showing a little bit of your cleavage? His mind’s running to images. Just thinking of kissing and sucking until your tits go sore makes him so shamelessly a pervert. Seeing the head of his cock disappear between your tits when you took it upon yourself that one day of giving him a taste of what a titty fuck was like—god, it’s forever embedded into his memory.

He still sulks over the fact that you didn’t let him take a video.

Suddenly his well fitted sweats have easily become the most suffocating piece of clothing, his bulge shy of peaking through the fabric and making an obvious imprint. He tries to not look like a sore desperate loser, to look just a tiny bit cooler, but you make it so hard that he’s willing to get on his knees. Like seriously.

You’re back on your phone, looking to be disinterested which makes him bite the insides of his cheeks—already overthinking. Were you mad that he asked to see?

He tentatively puts a hand on your ankle, gauging at least some sort of reaction. You give him that—a glance. “Sorry if like, um— I didn’t invite you just for games obviously— well, okay not ‘obviously’ but I, uh, also don’t think you’re like, a floating pair of…breasts or something.” You cock a brow, really curious of where this Soobin ramble of the day would go.

“You’re my bestest friend—is that corny to say? Shit, well, you are and I think you’re smart, and obviously really funny, and bright and so pretty, like, really pretty and I mean—”

“Soobin where the fuck are you?”

You both look at the headset next to him on the bed, the yelling loud enough to transcend the reason the product was made anyway. He looks back to you and you could tell he intends on finishing his monologue. “And I mean—” he starts again before cursing under his breath at the second time he gets cut off.

“Fucking cuck, are you ignoring us?”

He groans at the stupid item, as if it just ruined a critical moment. Then he looks back at you apologetically. God, he hopes you don’t leave. “Um, well I have to keep playing they’d kill me if—” he panics a little trying to explain but you’re on another train of thought entirely, thinking that this was perfect timing.

“It’s okay, keep playing!” You say, practically gleaming.

His facial expression is a mix of skeptical confusion and desperation. But instead of questioning your enthusiasm, he bites down on his lip for a second. “You—you won’t leave, right? Don’t leave. Please.”

You shake your head, mouthing an ‘I won’t’ and finally, he lets out a breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding in.

He doesn’t know why he’s so desperate for you to stay. It’s not like you don’t see each other, like every day of the week or even call each other when you somehow don’t. But regardless he wants you to stay, and he doesn’t mind coming off desperate for once.

The situation at hand is too obviously right in your face.

His ramble that was cut off short by who you made out to be none other than Beomgyu, and then Heeseung was…kind of sweet.

No, it was sweet. He thinks you’re really pretty? Not just pretty but really pretty. And smart? And funny? He’s so cute holy shit you could just reach out to pinch his rosy cheeks. But you didn’t and you probably won’t. Because something else caught your attention.

His bulge.

It was too…out there for you to not subtly look down every few filler word Soobin mumbled. You’re not sure what got him to pop a full blown boner. The teasing? You only said a few sentences and showed modest reveal of your boobs. But nevertheless, you try really hard to bite away a smile because holy shit, he really is easy.

And it fucking turns you on. More than it should. And more than it would if it was any other person.

If you felt horny before, you were basically drenched when getting a glimpse of his wide eyes at seeing you on the carpet, on your knees as you’re face to face with his crotch. He seems to freeze for a second before he quickly works to get his headset off, trying to abandon the game completely.

“No.” you say sternly, grabbing his dick through his sweats, “Keep playing.”

He mouths a big ‘what’, nearly whisper shouting, his eyes bulging out. You simply shrug, feeling all too smug, and start to palm him over the fabric. He lets out a sigh of pleasure, shutting his eyes.

“Dude, why the hell are you not moving? Fuck’s wrong with Soobin today?” You hear someone yell.

“If you stop, I stop.” You mouth slowly, and he seems to catch it, hands shaking as he reluctantly picks his controller up again.

“You’re evil.”

To that, you give him a smile, not really denying it. Because maybe you were, knowing how sensitive he is.

You hope Soobin’s mic is as shitty as you’ve heard Hueningkai complain a multitude of times, because if not, he’ll have a very hard time on call with his friends from now on. Or maybe not. Maybe it’s a bragging point to have a girl suck you off while playing video games.

You imagine it’d still be a bit awkward anyway.

“How come you’re so big?” you whisper, more to yourself than him, but he catches it, and still reacts, bucking his hips to your touch, groaning. You click your tongue, pushing him down with one hand, as a warning.

“Don’t move. Don’t take your hands off the controller. And don’t make a sound.” It doesn’t take him long before he nods, obediently fixating his eyes on the tv screen.

You coo at how hard he narrows his eyes, thumbs working its action—but you want him to break. Maybe you really are evil.

And maybe he already was breaking.

He spreads his legs more and more, before lifting his ass off the mattress, already impatiently needy.

“Touch me.” he whispers, only for you to hear.

You raise a brow, huffing out a laugh as you decide that maybe you should stop playing around and pull his sweats down to his ankles. You don’t waste a second to.

When you take in the state of his cock, your mouth could water just at how pretty it looks. You’ve seen it well over a dozen times—over pics, over facetime, in real life, but you’re never not in awe each time. His slit was already bubbling precum, the thickness of his dick eye widening— It’s not like you have small hands either, and yet you still can’t fully wrap your hand around him. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to his size.

And god his tip was swollen red you’re sure if you just so briefly touched it he’d spasm and jizz all over your face. So you’re gentle. Or at least, you make an attempt.

Promptly grabbing his dick again, you could feel him grow heavier when you let it sit on your hand for a second. Soobin sighs into his mic, no doubt briefly catching the attention of his friends.

“Soobin, you’re dripping.” you comment, eyes following the trail of cum running down his length to your hand. It’s more in amusement, how he’s basically on the verge of an orgasm without much from you.

You could tell he’s using his last bits of patience to not just outright fuck into your fist, and it fascinates you. You start slowly dragging your hand on his shaft, made easier to navigate with his ridiculous amount of pre cum working as lube.

You watch as he adjusts his position subtly a few times, knowing that he’s trying to keep from slipping out any whines, pursing his lips. But his eyes betray him, they looked distant—not focused. “How many kills?” you ask.

“Zero.”

You furrow your brows, pouting as you still your hands. “I’ll speed up with each kill. You have to win for me puppy or I’ll get sad.”

Soobin doesn’t know exactly how he’d aim let alone manage a kill with the way you grip the base of his cock, but he knows that despite the sincerety of your words, he doesn’t like to think that you’d get sad. He so badly wants to make you proud in some way, happy with that glint in your eyes.

So, he gets a kill.

You hear the comments from his friends, passing compliments and you smile, slowly working your hand. “Got a kill.” he says under his breath, trying his hardest to not fall into the urge of shutting his eyes. Because god, you were good.

“Yeah? For me? Get another one puppy.”

A new fire ignites in his chest as he spams buttons, yearning to hear a praise slip from your lips. The way he knits his eyebrows in concentration and had his tongue peeking out was so adorable you almost lose control. Almost.

His breathing picks up as he says, “Another one.”

You get the confirmation he’s saying the truth by his friends again and you start moving your hand unfathomably fast as a reward, your hand getting sticky. “Gooood boy, getting all the kills.”

The sudden speed gets to Soobin, faltering his streak as he holds back choked up groans, head quickly becoming light. “Too much, too much.” he whispers, soft moans slipping through his breathing. You catch the way his hands loosen its grip on the controller and you smirk.

He’s way too easy to break.

“Too much? Should I stop?”

He shakes his head again, this time more frantic. You could make out the sparkly tears threatening to spill—you’re all too familiar with this. “Please don’t.”

“Then what? What do you want me to do?” you ask slowly, wet sounds of your hand working at his dick so dirty.

“Mouth,” he sighs, not controlling the way his hips buck into your hands despite your disapproval. “Want you to put it in your mouth.”

You almost laugh—your mouth? Last time, he barely lasted a second. You’re not doing that. But you’ll tease him about it regardless.

“Put what in my mouth?”

He doesn’t waste a breath. “Cock. My cock.”

You’re not even sure if he muted his mic by now, but the way he says it in that needy, desperate broken voice is so sinful you’re surprised you haven’t jumped his bones. Too bad you won’t give him what he wants—or at least not completely.

You rub your thumb over the head of his dick, dribbles of pre-cum still messily spurting from his slit. He’s not paying attention to the game—no, his eyes were focused entirely on you. You would scold him, but you’re entirely too aroused by the way his mouth basically waters in anticipation.

You maintain eye contact when you dip your head down slowly, an experimental kitten lick on his tip and he immediately thrusts his hip, dick slipping past your lips. You pull back, expecting that exact reaction—and he whimpers. Whimpers.

It’s not hard to pick up on the screaming from his headset, his friends clearly pissed off that hes been in the same spot for well over a minute now, becoming an easy kill to enemies on the other team. “Puppy, how come you’re losing? I thought you were doing well.”

Before he could respond, you tighten your grip on his shaft, and he groans, trying to bite down the noise—maybe he didn’t mute it after all. It’s almost animalistic how he chases your hand.

But you’re not as forgiving now—misbehaving boys get punished. You lick the underside of his dick, dragging the flatness of it up to his head, saltiness of his pre-cum overpowering your tastebuds before pulling back to see Soobin has basically abandoned the game, head thrown back as both his hands grip the sheets under him, letting out broken pitched moans.

You smile, knowing you gave him the impression that you’d put him in your mouth. No, you’re here to have your fun. He peeks through an eye at feeling you do nothing more, and the moment he does, you slap—hard. Maybe a tad bit harder than you intended.

Your aim was his nutsack, balls full of cum you could see he was holding from the week you’ve challenged him to not jerk off, and god—the way his eyes fly open, jaw slacking as his legs spasm, letting out a sound you’ve never heard a man make— you wonder why you haven’t done this sooner.

“You didn’t get off like I told you to right? Good puppy.” He nods frantically, his vision fogging.

He looks so broken, tears streaming down his cheeks faster than you could even take notice of. If his friends didn’t hear him before, they definitely heard him now. He’s a hiccuping mess, nose running when you decide to give him a little more, swirling your tongue around his tip, warm in your mouth— then you pull back before he loses control and starts fucking your mouth.

“Puppy can’t talk? Your friends know how much of a whore you are now…isn’t that embarrassing?” you coo, your hand still jerking him off. “What would they say knowing you’re my little mutt, obeying each and every word like a dog in heat?”

The words are getting to him. He tried to keep quiet for the sake of his pride— anyone knowing how desperate he gets for you is a hit to his ego, it’s embarrassing the amount of things he’d do just for a chance of eating you out, but this spurs him on— having you degrade him, telling him what exactly he is to you. Your obeying dog.

You could see his lips quivering, and notice the tensing of his body. Quickly, you part your hair to the side, take him in your mouth all the way, trying to relax your throat as to not gag when your nose finally presses against his abdomen—but of course you do, it’s hard not to with how thick he is. It doesn’t take a milisecond before you feel his load spilling down your throat, his big hands moving to hold the back of your head, orgasm crashing down like waves of the pacific came over him.

You stay there for a few more seconds, feeling yourself get lightheaded with how much he manages to cum, and even when you pull away with a need to take a deep breath, you see that his dick was still spurting little bits. “Holy shit.” you say under your breath, slightly coughing as you wipe away at the semen that managed to dribble down your chin.

Soobin had a lot stored.

Soobin falls backwards on the bed, chest heaving up and down, trying to catch his breath, some of his hair plastered to his forehead and his temple. There’s a lot of thoughts spinning in his head. And he doesn’t exactly know how to label them. Lazily, he takes his headset off, throwing it to god knows where.

“Hey. Question.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you fuck other people?”

You perk up at the question, the randomness making you stay silent for a bit until you shrug. “No, not really.”

Soobin sighs. He doesn’t know why. Was it relief? Maybe. Probably.

“Do you?” you ask it almost timidly, unknowingly playing with the threads of your ripped jeans. Thank god to Soobin because he answers quickly, not allowing for any space of anxiousness.

“No. Only you.”

You slowly nod, pursing your lips. “Cool.”

“Yeah, very cool,” then his brows furrow at a thought popping up in his head, “Wait, do you like,”

You raise your brows. “Do I what?”

“Like, you know, suck off other guys?”

You scoff, he’s so ridiculous. You don’t even get to see his reaction to your answers, as you’re sitting on the floor and his back is on the mattress. “No Soobin, I don’t suck off other guys. Well, not as of recently. You’re the only one I’ve been doing this with.”

“Oh, o-okay.” You snort at the cute stutter.

Too bad you don’t catch the small ‘good’ he says under his breath.

note: when i checked the word count I was so shocked we’re keeping that a secret 😭 appreciate any feedback!

[temporarywelcome]

Menace - Peter Maximoff

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: Peter's lovely girlfriend has super strength, and the clingy speedster wants to use that for the cutest thing

WARNINGS: some swearing

A/N: mention of a cell phone tower so modern AU

________

“Please please please please pleaaaaase,”

Y/N looked up from her book, giving her boyfriend a look, “You’re insane,”

Peter grinned, sitting himself in the chair next to her, sitting with his stomach pressed against the backboard of the chair, arms around it, because he could never just sit normally, “It’ll be so cool though! Please please please please please please please-”

“I’m not going move the whole cell tower, everyone will hate me. And for what? So you can get a few giggles?”

“A lot, actually,” he shot back, scooting the chair closer to her’s, “It’ll make me happy. Don’t you want to make your boyfriend happy?”

“Yes, with gifts and shit, not crimes,”

“The crime can be a gift,”

“No,” she looked down at her book, ignoring her boyfriend’s pout. Peter scooted until his chair hit hers, resting his chin on her shoulder as he pouted some more. “A cute pout isn’t going to get you shit,” 

Peter huffed, tapping on her shoulder next, silently demanding to be looked at. She groaned, turning her head to gaze into his sad, sad big brown eyes, glossy and innocent like a puppy’s. “Please?” he whispered, bottom lip jutted out.

Not the big brown eyes. Not the fucking big brown eyes.

‘Whatever you say, gorgeous. Whatever you say, gorgeous,’ She was practically chanting in her head, but she refrained from saying such words out loud, “No,”

Peter’s shoulders slumped dramatically, “Fine fine fine-” his eyes lit up, an idea forming, “I know another way you can use those powers for me…”

“No crimes,”

“No crimes,” he stood up excitedly, yanking her to her feet, “Pick me up!”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Peter rolled his eyes, “Turn around. I want a piggyback ride,” 

Y/N’s lips curled into a soft smile, “I mean, that’s better than removing a whole cell tower…” 

Peter nodded, “Yeah, so turn around. I always have to give other people piggyback rides because of the fact I’m so fast and awesome, but no one has ever given me one, except my mom till I was like, six.” 

Y/N hesitantly turned around, “Well, I have the ability to hold your weight, but y’know I don’t have that speed like you do. Or stamina…” 

“Yeah yeah yeah,” he clambered onto her back with a soft giggle, arms going around her neck, “I always see dudes give their girlfriends piggyback rides. It’s unfair. What about us?” he asked dramatically.

“Biology?” Y/N suggested, hands going behind his thighs to steady him on her back, “Luckily for you, your girlfriend is a freak.” 

“You’re not a freak,” he nuzzled into her as she began walking, “Your super strength is so hot,”

“Is it now?” Y/N laughed.

“Yes. It so is,” he suddenly pouted again, “Go faster!”

“Shit,” she groaned, starting a slow jog. “I’m going to die,”

Peter rolled his eyes, grip around her tightening, “No you’re not. My super hot girlfriend is super strong,”

“But I have zero stamina!” 

“Maybe this will help build stamina,” he replied, basically saying he didn’t give a shit. So she pushed through, continuing to jog with him on her back.

This was the worst experience ever, she really needed to run more. But at least he’s happy, giggling like a little kid in her ear. Oh, how she wished she could see his face right now. Peter Maximoff had the absolute cutest smile.

If there was one thing she enjoyed most in the world, it was making her boy happy.

“I can be like a physical trainer,” he continued, “Soon you’ll be sprinting with your lovely boyfriend on your back. Marathon running with me.”

“That’s such bullshit!” Y/N laughed softly. 

“You wouldn’t know till you try. Every day now, you have to go on a jog while carrying me,” he decided, “And then we have to cuddle right after,” 

“I mean, that part doesn’t sound too bad,”

“That’s only if you complete the route,” he added.

“Oh, so there’s routes now? Where does this route end?”

“Hmmmmm, there,” he pointed at a tree, which Y/N ran to quickly, just wanting this to end. She halted in front of the tree and Peter got off of her back, “That was so much fun!”

“Really?” she laughed. He’s given her her own share of piggyback rides, but she never really thought of them as such an experience. Peter, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy it a lot. “It never struck me as that entertaining,” 

“That’s because you’re boring,” he plopped down on the grass, looking up at you. His eyes clearly stated sit your ass down.

Y/N took a seat, bracing herself for the attack coming from the big cuddle bug next to her. Peter grinned, throwing his arms around her and burying his face in her neck. She laughed, rubbing his back, “You’re so clingy,”

“Is there a problem?” he huffed playfully, nuzzling his nose against her skin, “I just love my girlfriend,”

“Your girlfriend loves you too, unfortunately,” 

He playfully gasped at her, pulling his head away so he could look up at her, “What do you mean unfortunately? Am I not the literal best thing to happen to you? Possibly the best thing to happen to everyone?”

“Best thing to happen to everyone,” she repeated skeptically., “My boyfriend is so humble too,” 

Peter giggled softly, biting her neck like the little brat he was, “I love you,”

“Love you too, you monster,”

After that, Peter made sure to take advantage of his girlfriend’s strength. He would constantly demand piggyback rides, among other things. One of his new favorite activities is to ambush her at the worst possible moments, like when she was having a conversation with others.

He would yell her name from afar and she would turn, just to see him barreling towards her. He would then tackle her, arms around her neck, legs around her waist. At that moment, she would abandon whatever conversation she was having, priority immediately shifting to what matters most.

Him.

“You’re a menace,” she would say with a laugh, arms going around his waist to keep him from falling.

And he would just giggle like a little kid, playfully bumping her nose with his own, “That’s just what you’re into,”

______

sorry this is kind of shit... might rewrite after actually sleeping a good 8 hours

[lilpomelito]

“What's wrong with Pop music?”

Eddie stops mid rant and spins around. Steve is sitting upside down on the sofa, staring at the ceiling, his silky hair touching the floor.

“I mean,” Steve continues, his voice a little strained by his position, “if so many people like it, there has to be something good about it, right?”

Eddie shares a look with Jonathan, hoping to find an ally, but the man looks zonked out of his mind. Argyle really brought the good shit with him.

“That's not the point, Stevie,” Eddie explains as he sits down on the floor next to the guy's head. “It's popular because it's the only shit the big corpos are pushing on the radio. It's what everyone listens to, so everyone thinks they have to like it to be liked. To be accepted. And it's not even good music! Where's the artistic merit in cheap studio synthesizers mixed with braindead lyrics like wake me up before you go go?"”

Steve frowns. “Not all popular music is like that. Also what's wrong with wanting to be liked?”

“Do you not like Freddie Mercury?” Robin gasps, lifting her head from Steve's stomach, and she sounds heavily offended.

Eddie blinks for second, confused as to where the conversation has suddenly turned. But Steve nods, apparently following her line of reasoning.

“Yeah, man. Queen is like, the most popular band in history. Do they not have artistic merit?”

“No, of course not, that's not what I–”

“And the government is not conspiring to push pop music, Eddie, we've seen they're too busy experimenting on children and opening portals to a parallel dimension,” Robin says.

“What about Bowie?” Steve says. “You loved Labyrinth. Didn't shut up about it for like a week. He's pop!”

“The point,” Eddie insists, flustered, avoiding to watch directly Steve's upside down smirk, “is forced conformity. Queen are all nerds! Bowie is a huge nerd. Where would they be now if they had played high school football?”

Jonathan nods slowly, but doesn't comment.

“What about astronauts?” Nancy asks, from where she's sitting at Johnathan's feet. “They're nerds, yes, but they also have to be in great physical shape. I bet most of them were athletes in school.”

“Yeah, totally!” Steve nods. “Remember Casey Johnson? He was captain of the basketball team when I was a freshman. He was valedictorian, and I think he went to Standford on a sports scholarship!”

“Yeah, I remember him,” Robin says, rolling her eyes. “One of my friends had a huuuuge crush on him.”

Steve's cheeks go red. He incorporates himself, despite Robin's protests, and sits on the couch like a normal person.

“Whatever. He was a nerd and an athlete. What's conformist about that?”

Eddie stares at him, narrowing his eyes. “Nothing, I guess. Or everything. He succeeded at academia, which was designed to shape kids into exploitable workers under capitalism—”

Jonathan groans behind him.

“—and made captain in a sport that's basically throwing balls into laundry baskets and calling it strategy. Praising people for that to the point where schools are giving scholarships is a little too much.”

“You try it, then, man,” Argyle calls from where he's laying on the rug, star shape style. “I bet you ten bucks you can't win at throwing laundry into baskets against Steve. Or my boy Lucas.”

Robin laughs maniacally. “Oh, I want to see that! Steve please destroy him, his ego needs a little humbling.”

The conversation moves on after that, since everybody looks like they're already over Eddie's rant. He doesn't mind, really. It's fun to ramp up the dramatic indignation against The Man, or whatever. It always causes a reaction, and even people who agree with him somewhat eventually hit a limit. Eddie likes to stick his finger and find that limit.

But not Steve. He's looking at Eddie like he's fascinating.

“You're a hypocrite.”

Eddie falters, biting down a smirk. “How come?”

Steve scoots a little closer. “You want to be a rockstar. You don't just want to live off making music. You want to be famous. You want people to like you.”

Eddie stares at him for a second, frozen in place.

“That's not—”

But Steve smiles, gentle. “That's alright. We all do. And you want to know a secret about being popular?”

Eddie can't resist. For all he protests about popularity and conformity and being so normal everybody likes you, he does wonder what it feels like to be on the other side. So he nods.

Steve smiles sadly. “It doesn't actually change anything. You think it means more people like you, but it just means more people are aware of you. What you do, what you say. Who are your friends, who you date. Where you go, when you go there. And at some point you feel like you can't escape it. And yeah, you do start to conform to the norm. Not because you think it's what's best but because you're so aware of people's opinions of you that you always choose the path of least resistance.”

Eddie... has never considered that. He moves a little closer to Steve as his voice goes quiet.

“You think it was fun to run into a random suburban mom in the grocery store and have her be furious at me because I was dating Susan Davis? Who apparently was her daughter's cousin, and she had a crush on me, and was planning on asking me to prom? How on earth was I supposed to know that? And she was double mad that I didn't even know who her daughter was. Like there's two hundred kids in Hawkins High. I can't know everyone!”

Eddie tries not to laugh, because Steve seems upset by this, but the situation is kind of ridiculous.

“And I think they got into their heads that because they knew of me I was supposed to also know them. But they didn't actually know me. I made prom King, people were mad. I was captain of the basketball team, people were mad. I then turned down being captain of the swim team and was just co-captain, people were still mad. I took a job, and people made fun of me. I lost that job because the mall caught on fire, people also made fun of me. I took another job, and people say I'm "wasting my potential", whatever that means. I don't know man. I think you can never win with people.”

Eddie grabs Steve's hand, touching softly his palm. It seems to work, and Steve relaxes a tiny bit under his touch.

What Steve said sounded exactly like what Eddie was talking about: the pressure to be what society wants, not what you want. He can tell it's a touchy subject for Steve, who has been under the crushing spotlight of being a relatively small town's golden boy.

So Eddie doesn't push any further.

“You got me there, though,” he says.

Steve smiles again. “Yeah?”

“Yeap,” Eddie nods. “I do want to be a famous rockstar. I do want to be known and liked and admired. I've never had that. But I guess you're right. We can't have it both ways.”

Robin, who up to that point had been discussing with Argyle the difference between an oboe and a clarinet, jumps in. “It's the horrifying ordeal of being known.”

Steve laughs. Eddie can't help it, his laugh is too contagious. He can't understand how people in this hellscape of a town ever looked at this boy and thought "he's not enough." With him? He gets it. Eddie's list of failures is a mile long. But Stevie? Sunshine incarnate, puppy-eyed, bitchy beautiful and smart Steve Harrington? There's nothing to complain about.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 34: Fitz's Curtain Call

Previous Masterlist Next

June 1905

TW: mind control, captivity

"So here's how I see it, sir," said Fitz, walking down the hallway of the auction house alongside Miss Lily. "You want money, a motivation I'm well equipped to understand. I want an easy life with a rich, soft-hearted vampire. Putting aside the part where you kidnapped and brainwashed me, our interests align."

"They do indeed," said Miss Lily with a wicked grin. "I'm so glad you turned out to be so very reasonable."

Fitz, of course, was trying to cover up his terror with bluster, a technique he had honed very well over years of confidence schemes. He could feel the tug of the vampire thrall, feel it dampening his urges to escape or resist, feel it lulling his mind into submission. And it felt good, that was the worst part about it -- so easy to let his mind drift away from him, to dream about his newfound desire for fangs to sink deep in his neck. That particular fantasy was hard to deny, something akin to hunger or lust, filling his all too eager thoughts with the image of offering himself, and --

Shit. He had to stay focused. God damn these annoying, powerful, sexy, desirable vampires.

The enthrallment he'd been placed under hadn't done enough for his nerves. He still felt like he did the night before a big opening. Normally, the danger of an audience not liking him was that he'd be going hungry. Now, the danger was much, much more acute.

"Penny for your thoughts?" said Miss Lily, ruffling his hair. "You think too much for a thrall."

"Yes, the blessing and the curse you've afforded me," he said. "...Not that I'm complaining about the spell I'm under. Sir." He was fairly certain he still had something like wit to his name, and didn't want to encourage Miss Lily to change her mind on that point.

"So then, what are you thinking about?"

"The preparations for your little vampire soiree, sir," he said. "I was hoping I'd get a chance to take a shower and comb my hair. After all, it might be my final curtain call."

"So dramatic." Miss Lily laughed. Well, easy for her to do when she wasn't the one being sold. "Don't worry, you have an appointment with our chief stylist."

Fitz's eyes narrowed. He watched as a vampire led a group of empty-eyed thralls down the hall, all of them dressed in simple linens and looking like they hadn't been washed in days. "Are you serious about having a chief stylist, or are you pulling my leg, sir?"

"Oh, I'm very serious. I told you several times that you're prize merchandise."

"Lovely. So how does one style prize merchandise for vampires, sir? Am I going to be trussed up and placed on a silver platter, with an apple in my mouth for garnish?"

"No."

"Of course not, the platter wouldn't be silver. Gold, then, sir."

"It's actually traditional for high quality thralls to be put in fancy ball dress to be sold off."

"Well, you're in great luck, sir. Despite my intimidating masculinity, I actually pull off a dress very well." He was speaking from experience on this, as he'd had to wear all sorts of women's costumes for various theatrical and hiding-from-cops reasons. "They're all very low cut, I assume, to better show off the neck?"

"Oh, you do catch on quickly."

Miss Lily showed him in to a large, sumptuous dressing room, the kind that would be the envy of any of the small-time theaters he'd performed in. There was an impressively formidable vanity covered in all sorts of makeup, some of it very expensive-looking, but what really caught Fitz's eye were the racks of elaborate ball gowns. Miss Lily certainly wasn't pulling his leg about that particular detail.

"Hello, Florence!" said Miss Lily with the cheer of a woman who was about to have a very lucrative evening. "I've brought my special project for you!"

"Special project indeed," said the older woman, scrutinizing Fitz with a practiced eye like a jeweler appraising a stone. "Well, he's handsome, at least."

"Oh, you've got a good eye," said Fitz with a grin. "It's vitally important that I'm dressed to impress, sir, and I want to accentuate my finer points, of which I have many. Whatever will make me irresistible to Miss Lily's friend with the deep pockets."

Miss Florence's eyebrow lifted. "This is the thrall you're preparing for Alexander?"

"Alexander keeps telling me he wants a companion thrall, one who reads and plays instruments. He hates the recent trend of meek and muted thralls," said Lily. "Fitz here is very much the opposite."

"Exactly, sir," said Fitz, strangely eager to please these vampires, launching into his little spiel. "I can read, I can play guitar, I can do magic tricks, I can do real magic if you give me enough preparation time, I can tell your future, I can juggle oranges, I can wash windows, bake bread, mend fences, sew, and I play a mean game of poker. Plus, the handsome face, of course."

"Oh, my dear sweet devil. Be quiet, young man," said Miss Florence, placing her hand on his head, and suddenly he felt a deep compulsion to follow her command and stay perfectly still. She was looking him over more closely now. "He's far more charming when he shuts his mouth."

"They say that about me, too," said Miss Lily. "Perhaps that's why we get on so well."

Fitz couldn't help the small laugh that escaped him. He did respect Miss Lily, in a way, apart from the thrall that was placed on him. She played a good con game, and judging by the sheer expense of the outfit she had on tonight, she was raking in the cold, hard cash. Selling people for money was several bridges too far for him, but in another life where she weren't a vampire and had at least a faint impression of a moral compass, they could've gotten along.

"Anyway, I'll leave him in your capable hands," said Miss Lily. "Despite his talkative streak, you have absolutely nothing to fear from him in terms of obedience. He's a pushover to any kind of thrall, or even simply praise and flattery."

And any good thoughts about Miss Lily evaporated, as Fitz scowled at being described as an easy mark. It was far more true than he'd like it to be.

"Is that so?" said Miss Florence, petting his hair. "Can you be docile and still for me, child?"

"Yes, sir," he heard his voice say, meek and mild. He already hated Miss Florence's powers, his words catching in his throat and his muscles disinclined to obey his commands. The forced meekness and artificial calm made him feel so vulnerable. But he had no choice but to allow himself to be led to the dresses. Miss Florence was rummaging about, pulling this and that dress and putting them together on a rack.

"Here, I've put out appropriate dresses that could potentially fit and which might appeal to Miss Lily's friend with the deep pockets, as you so crassly put it," she said. "Go ahead and pick which one appeals to you."

Several days of thrall and prison related brain fog had made Fitz's decision-making skills -- dubious at the best of times -- particularly rusty. He didn't really know anything about his prospective buyers. He didn't really know anything about vampires and what would appeal to or discourage them, apart from necks pumping with blood. He could choose based on his complexion and hair, but --

"Focus, child. What calls to you?"

Fitz could feel Miss Florence's power over him lifting a bit. "I need to know what is most likely to appeal to the best target buyers, sir," he said. "For example, if older vampires are more well-mannered, I might go with older styles, but if --"

"You should choose what you want to wear. It's the only choice I allow thralls to make in this room," she said, her irritation apparent.

"Sir, what I want to wear is whatever will help me avoid being chained in a dank basement by a sadist, or a surgical removal of my personality, or -- " Fitz felt the spell being cast on him again, stopping his voice. 

"I'll allow you to try this one more time. You are to choose what you want. Not what you think an unknown patron would want, or what Miss Lily thinks you need to wear. What you want."

What he wanted? Fitz could start with freedom, even a few more days of it. That night of the magic show could easily be his last night as anything resembling a free man, and for all he knew, tonight was the last night he'd get to laugh and joke and pretend as though everything was fine.

When it came to what he wanted, a fancy ball dress didn't rate very high on his list of priorities.

Pointing this out would simply get him another swift dose of thrall dampening his voice, so instead he did what she wanted and perused the rack for something that might look flattering on him. If this was truly going to be his last night as anything resembling Phantom Fitz, he might as well go for the flashiest dress available.

Or perhaps he'd be purchased by a vampire who would appreciate his dramatic flair and show him mercy.

Perhaps he'd be purchased by a vampire who would appreciate breaking a confident human.

Regardless of the risk, he pulled out a very low cut dress made of crushed velvet in a deep red shade, the color of fresh blood, with golden trim. It was a stunning gown, exactly the sort of thing he might find alluring if he were a bloodsucking fiend. It was also suitably dramatic for a night that felt like both a beginning and an ending.

He checked the bust area as he looked it over, wondering how much padding he might need to wear with it, if it would accommodate him at all -- and he realized that it actually seemed cut for a man's figure. It did make sense that they stocked gowns cut this way, if they expected all of the fancy grade-A thralls to wear them.

"There you go," said Miss Florence, laying her hands on his shoulders, the hypnotic silence settling over his mind once more. "Now drop, and be calm and utterly still for me."

It was like cotton fluff filling his mind, dampening his thoughts. He could feel himself straining against it, so anxious from not being able to process and plot and scheme, but with no way of expressing that. He expected the peaceful nature of Miss Florence's power might be nice if he actually relaxed, but he had no intention of doing so. Not here. Not when so much was at stake.

He was pulled along into a bathroom, where he was unceremoniously stripped and dunked in a bathtub, scrubbed thoroughly with a thick pink bar of floral-scented soap. It felt nice to be washed, and he felt himself zoning out despite his resolve, mind wandering to the dreams Miss Lily had filled his head with. Dreams of the life he could live with a handsome and permissive vampire, of nights in an elegant mansion with a mysterious, dark master. The best case scenario.

Miss Florence sitting him down in front of a mirror and producing a pair of long scissors was what snapped him out of it. His golden hair, the feature he was so vain about -- and she was going to -- He heard himself involuntarily make a sound of distress, mind clawing against the vampire's spell.

"Oh, hush now, child," she said, as if she were talking to a fussy little boy getting his first haircut. "I have more experience cutting hair than any human barber."

While that was likely true, that didn't stop Fitz's chest from tightening as she chopped his hair far shorter than he liked to keep it. Vampires didn't want to have to deal with hair maintenance, he supposed, another unwelcome reminder of how little freedom he would have.

It was only hair. There were more important things to be concerned about. But his heart ached.

After rubbing his skin with sweet-smelling lotions, she brought him back into the main room and took out a small measuring tape. She began obsessively measuring every possible part of his body, from around his head to the size of his feet, in a way that seemed almost more like a ritual than an efficient way to measure him for a dress. Every time she brushed him, he felt the cottony prison for his mind growing thicker and more inescapable.

He was at least lucid enough to remember how to put on the undergarments required to wear fancy women's dress, with some assists from Miss Florence, particularly where it concerned the corset. Soon, the gown was being slipped over his head, and he found himself staring into his reflection in a large floor mirror as Miss Florence made adjustments to the dress here and there.

He looked stunning. And not just in the way he tried to convince himself every morning in the mirror, papering over his many flaws with cheap vanity. No, he actually looked fantastic in the deep red gown.

He only wished it were for a show and not for being sold to vampires.

And then the tailoring was done and he was whisked off to the vanity, Miss Florence applying makeup with a practiced hand. She was doing a much lighter look than the stage makeup he often applied himself, just enough to accentuate his skin.

"Now then, child, focus on me," said Miss Florence, dangling a ruby pendant in front of his face. It reminded him of the fatal pendant Miss Lily had used on him in his ill-fated five dollar bet. "You will remain calm during the auction."

Fitz felt something in him tug hard against that idea. How could he possibly remain calm when...

Miss Florence put a firm hand on top of his head, slowly swinging the pendant in front of his eyes. "You will remain calm during the auction. Repeat."

"I will remain calm during the auction, sir," his own voice droned.

"You exist to be a vampire's thrall. Repeat."

No, no, he was so much more than... "I exist to be a vampire's thrall, sir."

"You will know true obedience."

"I will know true obedience, sir." He could practically hear the echo of Miss Lily's voice convincing him how rewarding and pleasurable obedience would be. It had never been his strong suit. But the trance locking his mind said otherwise.

"Now, here is your final gift," said Miss Florence, taking his wrists with gentle hands, and snapping golden handcuffs around them. "You'll feel so much better once you've been sold off to a proper master, child. I can tell."

The amount of mesmeric power he was under made his twinge of despair seem distant, a storm cloud far away on the horizon. "Yes, sir."

Previous Masterlist Next

Next week is Christmas, so I plan to post a few Christmas specials (including at least one for Rare Bookseller) instead of a new part of the main story! The main story will resume in the new year, but until then, I have various AUs, asks, and a brand new series I hope to post.

Thanks for all your support for this silly little vampire story! I'm truly grateful for the reception I've had.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king

[toorusluvr]

❥ ҉ CHAPTER NINE - TRAPPED IN TIME

❥ ҉ CONTENT WARNINGS: n/a a normal chapter ehe just some emotional stuffs

❥ ҉ NOTE FROM NIS: hey everyone! i'm dropping chapter 9 for ain't my fault! this chapter is a bit emotional if you squint lol i wrote this based on my personal experience and i know it's hard to let go but it is for the best, trust me. i hope you enjoy! and happy halloween!

[previous][series masterlist][next]

The sound of the locker being slammed filled the male changing room in Shiratorizawa. All eyes turned to the source of the sudden noise. The boy with the ash-blonde hair gripped onto the metal locker, both hands balled into hard fists. He didn’t want to bang on the locker, the coaches would make it hell for him if he or anyone in the team ever does. 

“Whoa there, what the hell is wrong with you?” The spiky red-haired guy said as he walked past his friend. Semi gritted his teeth, jaw clenched as both of his fists tightened. What just happened fucked him in the head. His mother is now hot on his tail because he fucked up big time, he quoted what she said. 

Worst thing was, his mom found out first. The packaging was too-professionally-wrapped that he thought it was delivered from the clinic itself. He needed to talk to the girl in the fucking note. 

“Have you seen Naomi?” Semi asked in a disgruntled voice. What happened over the weekend was fucking unacceptable. 

“You expect me out of anyone else to know where she is?” Tendou scoffed at the absurdity of the question. He doesn’t like Naomi. Too whiny and too focused on grabbing male’s attention. To this day, he doesn’t know why the hell Semi would leave someone like you over the pathetic girl. Yeah, he once said it to Semi’s face but he dismissed it as if it was nothing. 

Semi then stormed out of the changing room. All eyes were on him the moment he stormed out, leaving curiousity amongst themselves. He tried calling Naomi over the last 24 hours but that shit sent him straight to voicemail. Fuck. 

The ash-blonde haired guy tried to be calm right now but the storm inside his fucking head just wouldn’t stop screaming at him. He couldn’t afford to fuck up. Not again. Semi has fucked up a lot of times this year and obviously didn’t want this to be the major fuck-ups he has committed. 

Naomi was spotted in the school’s hallway. She was standing in front of her locker, staring at it with a blank stare. Semi stopped in his tracks once he spotted her in the crowd. He then grabbed the girl by the wrist and dragged her into a quiet space where no one would walk past. 

“Eita! It hurts!” She hissed in pain, staring at the fuming mad guy. 

Semi was too consumed with his anger that he didn’t realise he was hurting her. He let go of his grip on hers. Naomi now standing in front of him, clueless. “The fuck were you on? You’re pregnant?!” He asked angrily. His fair skin is now flushed red, the veins on his neck were apparent.

Naomi opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. “I am not pregnant, Eita! Fuck, it was all false! I am not pregnant and I am positive about it! I took another test and it all turned out negative! Trust me on this, someone is fucking with both of us.” She then exhaled a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“I bet it’s that shitty ex-girlfriend of yours,” she gagged dramatically. 

Semi was quick to grab on her wrist again, “Don’t talk about her like that ever again. I warned you before. This arrangement of ours is only out of pity and you know it!” 

“ Pity ? Baby, I’m not the person that you should convince,” she said in disbelief. “Go check with her and see for yourself whether she did this to us or not. I am fucking confident that it was her. But if you choose to not believe it, it’s up to you then. As far as I am concerned, this deal will be done for once our fathers meet!” 

Naomi then left Semi in the corner space. He let out a frustrated groan. This whole fucking thing with Naomi wouldn’t have happened if his kind father didn’t put him in this situation. The arrangement is a mutual arrangement with Naomi’s father but fuck, this was killing him. 

Just when he wanted to straighten things up with you, this merger blew up in his face. Semi rubbed his face with both hands. As much as he was dying to tell you, he couldn’t. He cannot afford anyone knowing this or else his father and Naomi’s father will ship him off to somewhere else instead. 

He still remembers what his father said upon seeing the pregnancy test. “That’s a good thing. More of a reason to speed your marriage,” his tone was clipped and direct, cutting through the chatter with a seriousness. 

Naomi and him hooked up when both of them were tipsy as hell. He didn’t mean to cross the line, even though she is hot and whatnot. When she knew he was in a relationship with you, she demanded him to end things with you. Semi didn’t have the heart to do it so Naomi took the initiative to do it on his behalf. 

“Fuck!” Semi punched the concrete wall out of frustration. He felt a sharp pain as his fist hit the wall, the skin punctured and searing as blood trickled down his hand. Great. Now, his coaches will definitely lecture him on this injury. Thank goodness he didn’t break his fist or that’ll be even worse. 

—

“Have you seen our marks?” Iwaizumi asked, kicking the leg of your table. You turned your body at him immediately, not even sparing a moment to waste. The project was a difficult task but with Iwaizumi’s help, you got to complete it successfully. 

“Mhm, not yet. Have you seen it?” You asked, raising a lone brow at the raven-haired boy. Iwaizumi then kept a hand inside of his pocket. His sleeves were rolled up carelessly, and while everyone else needs to wear leather shoes, Iwaizumi chose to wear sneakers. Each defied rule details a silent statement of his refusal to be bound by rules. 

“I heard that it’s ‘outstanding’,” Iwaizumi sheepishly grinned, flaunting his perfectly aligned pearl white teeth. God, he needs to smile more because it’s so darn beautiful. 

That brought you back to Earth. Ah ! The teacher must have spoken to Iwaizumi. There’s no way in hell he discovered it by himself unless he saw it by mistake! 

You gave him a warm smile. “Alright. What do you want? It’s my treat. Thanks to you, I got to finish the project without losing my mind. Anything you want, it will be my treat!” 

Iwaizumi smiled at the statement, a rare, genuine curve of his lips that made his usual stoic demeanor soften. As he crossed his arms over his broad chest, the muscles in his tanned forearms flexed, drawing your attention. The way his veins traced a subtle map beneath the bronzed skin had your heart skipping a beat. You couldn't help but let your gaze linger on the strength that radiated from him, silently fawning over the way his forearms tensed with an effortless power. It was a sight that made your pulse quicken, your breath catching in your throat as you quickly averted your eyes, hoping he hadn’t noticed your staring.

He then let out a soft hum, as if he was deep in thought. Iwaizumi was far from the type of man to beg for gifts. “It’s fine. We both contributed a lot of time and effort in this project,” he said. 

Just when you wanted to speak more, he continued speaking with a grin on his face, “But a Mclaren would be nice.” 

Your smile dropped. How dare he try to rob you? Iwaizumi’s sense of humour slips out from time to time at the most random moments. You find it intriguing and also questionable. He likes to be sarcastic too most of the time. Maybe those two are aligned, that's why his sense of humour is random and sometimes questionable too.

“You are obviously rich. Don’t you dare try to rob me,” you shook your head in disapproval at him. Iwaizumi smirked, amused at your response. 

“Oh! Should we bring you to a strip club?” You gasped at the idea. Wait. 

“You peg me as someone who goes to a strip club? Try harder, princess,” Iwaizumi scoffed under his breath at the absurdity. He isn’t a pervert! 

“Well, it’s not for you. It’s for me . And you’re just my ride along!” Your voice chirped, happy with the thoughts.

Iwaizumi couldn’t believe that you actually asked him to go to a strip club. It’s an interesting place, for sure but he isn’t a pervert. Though he can go with you and enjoy the experience, it’s a pass. He doesn’t want to get into trouble in this crucial final year. 

Plus, the mid-term exam will start next week and then off to summer break. 

“Y/N!” Oikawa’s voice broke through the chatter in the room, carrying a note of urgency. He stood beside your table, his usually confident expression replaced with something close to desperation.

You glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah? What’s wrong?”

Oikawa leaned in slightly, his restlessness apparent. “I need your help. I’m not sure if Iwaizumi has mentioned anything to you yet, but both of us are in a tight spot. It’s urgent,” he explained, his voice laced with tension.

Iwaizumi, who had been standing beside your table, exchanged a meaningful look with Oikawa. It was clear he had wanted to tell you something, but for some reason, had held back.

You felt a knot of concern tightening in your chest as you took in Oikawa’s serious expression. “What is it? What do you need help with?” you asked, your tone shifting to match the seriousness of the situation.

Oikawa ran a hand through his hair, a rare sign of nervousness. “It’s about the summer camp. We’re short on staff, and it’s falling apart at the seams. We thought we could handle it, but it’s more than we anticipated. We need someone we can trust to step in, someone who can help us keep everything on track.”

Iwaizumi stepped closer, his usual calm demeanor edged with a hint of tension. “We’re not just asking as a favour,” he added, his voice steady but with an underlying plea. “We really need you, Y/N. You’re the only one we know who can handle this. The applicants are all girls. There’s a high chance they just want to be there for this dude right here. The coaches don’t want to take risks.”

You glanced between the two of them, feeling the weight of their request. The summer camp was a big deal, especially for Oikawa, who always aimed for perfection in everything he did. If they were asking for help, it meant things were serious. 

“Alright,” you said, nodding slowly. “I’ll help. But you two owe me for this.”

Oikawa’s face broke into a relieved smile, the tension in his shoulders easing. “You won’t regret it, Y/N. I promise.”

Iwaizumi gave you a small, grateful nod. “Thank you. We really appreciate this.”

—

After the mid-term finally ended, and the summer break started, you received this phone call from an unexpected person. You deleted his number everywhere but you’d still recognise it. That’s a problem you wish you would never have. 

“Who’s this?” You said as soon as you picked up the call. 

There was a sigh at the other line. With a gruff voice, the person said, “Y/N. It’s Semi. Don’t hang up, I have something to tell you.” 

You rolled your eyes. Even though Semi couldn’t see it, he knew you’d do it out of habit. “This is a familiar play. I still remember the last time I received your phone call, it didn’t end well. Don’t waste my time. What do you want?” 

Semi then cleared his throat. He was serious with what he was about to ask you. “I have something to ask you. And, it’s urgent. Let’s meet up at the mall at 2 p.m.”

“Surprise, surprise. What kind of urgent matter are you talking about here? You need me to fix your mistress’s attitude for you? A big NO,” you retorted. 

“That’s not what this is about. Just meet me at the mall, okay? 2 p.m. I’ll wait there,” he said, not leaving any room for you to argue more. To get under his skin and frustrate the shit out of him. 

“How do you know I’ll be there?” You fought. 

Semi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You want me to come over to your house? Sure, I’ll do that.” Even after breaking up, his threat never fails to falter you. He’s pretty adamant about this meet up and you wondered if the trap worked. If that’s the case, you cannot wait to see how it unfolded! That piece of shit’s downfall is amusing to watch. 

“Hell no. Don’t you dare show up in front of my house. Fine. 2 p.m. If you’re even a second late, I’ll get the hell out of there immediately ,” you said in annoyance and ended the call abruptly. Douchebag. 

His phone call got you thinking if the cheese in the trap was finally caught. From the sound of his voice, it sounded like it already did. You scoffed, imagining the things he’d accuse you of. He didn’t have proof of you doing it so it’ll be his words against yours. Whatever was about to go down, you couldn’t wait to see it roll. This is going to be so much fun! 

“If something happens to me, it’s my ex” you quickly crafted a text message to Iwaizumi. You bit your nail, waiting for his reply to come in. Texting him doesn’t come often but you thought he should know. Yuuji’s phone was on DND so don’t even bother to reach him. 

You

HEYY

If something happens to me, it is my ex

Grumpy Iwa

What r u even talking about

You

Semi asked me to meet up at the mall. Said it was something important lol

Grumpy Iwa

And you thought it was a good idea to go bcs???

You

HE SAID IT WAS URGENT!!!!!!

Grumpy Iwa

Urgent as in?

Y/N, it's a bad idea. Good lord.

You

I just want to watch him suffer. I'll keep you updated, though!

No worries. I'm not going back to him. He sounded like a damsel in distress just now so I gotta see it with my own eyes.

Grumpy Iwa

???????

You're quite evil.

Just kidding.

Or was I lol aight tc

Iwaizumi was oblivious to your master plan. That man might freak out hearing your little devious plan so you thought of sweeping it under the rug. If it ever gets out of control, you know it wouldn’t bug him. He is innocent and there is no need to drag him through the mud with you. 

As 2 o'clock was fast approaching, you asked your mom to send you to the mall. She agreed to send you and pick you up later. Taking the bus at this time of day was a hassle so you spared yourself the trouble. The moment you arrived at the mall, Semi sent you a text. 

“Food court upstairs. I’m already here,” his text came in. Your eyes widened. Shit. He beat you to it. Quickly, you made yourself to the escalator. The food court was on the fourth floor. Shit. Taking the escalator was a wrong move. You should’ve taken the elevator instead! Groaning to yourself, you quickened your walking pace. Once you arrived, you searched for him in the crowd. 

Semi was spotted sitting near the glass windows. You inhaled and exhaled, bracing yourself before meeting the devil. Yes. You’ve progressed. It was impossible at first but now you had gotten better at letting it go. But seeing him again in person made you sick to the stomach. Your palms had gotten sweaty and your breath started to feel unsteady. 

Slowly, you calmed yourself down by taking a deep breath. Iwaizumi actually taught you deep breathing exercises. He was the last person you thought to teach you that. But hey, people have their own way of surprising you. 

With a nervous glance around the room, you made your way to the table, your heart beating a little faster as you saw him waiting. Semi was burying his face in his phone with a furrowed eyebrow. He was donning a plain white t-shirt and light blue jeans. Feeling your pinned stare on him, he eventually lifted his gaze off of his phone. 

You hesitated to come near the table but what else could you do? Really, there was no way out. So, you inhaled another deep breath as you took a seat across him. Semi gave you a curt nod, politely asking you to have a seat. 

“Hey, how are you?” Semi asked, starting the conversation with a relaxed expression. No matter how hard he tries to hide his troubled expression, it will never work. At least that’s what you thought because you know… wait, knew him so well. 

“No small talk. Get on with it,” you said in a firm voice as you placed your bag in your lap to hide the nervousness. 

Semi raised one of his eyebrows at you before scoffing, “Harsh. Okay. Do you need anything? Drinks?” 

You rolled your eyes at him, “No, thanks. Please proceed. You’re wasting my time.” 

“O-kay,” he dragged out the syllable. “So, I received this one parcel. A very interesting parcel.”

Patiently, you waited for him to finish that thought. If you intercepted him, it would raise suspicions. You nodded for him to go on. 

“Naomi also received the same thing. Except that it was her father who received it,” he said. “Guess what’s inside the boxes?” 

“Huh?” You made a clueless expression. “How am I supposed to know what’s inside the boxes? What are you trying to tell me, Semi?” 

Semi let out a scoff. “There are positive pregnancy tests inside the boxes. The sender said it was Naomi’s. But she isn’t pregnant. Someone was trying to humiliate both of us by doing this. Does this ring any bells to you?” 

You burst out laughing in a sinister way. Semi’s eyes widened seeing you reacted in that way. It felt like he didn’t even know you. This person whom he has loved for the past years transformed into someone he doesn’t know. It felt like a punch in the gut for being laughed at. 

“Good lord, Semi. Are you trying to say I did it? That I did all of that just to spite you and her? Do you think I have the time to do all that nonsense?” You said while laughing. Your cheeks were hurting from how much you had been laughing. 

“Well, you kinda said she messed with the wrong person the last time we saw each other. So, it kinda made sense,” Semi shrugged his shoulders. 

“Do you know how disgusted I am by the two of you? Did you really think I would waste my time on you two? Not worth it,” you gagged. 

Semi’s eyes darkened as he watched your laughter spill out, the sound grating against his nerves. He had expected anger, maybe even denial, but the twisted amusement in your eyes caught him off guard, unsettling him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. This wasn’t the reaction of someone who felt wrongfully accused. No, this was something else entirely.

“You think this is funny?” Semi’s voice dropped, dangerously low, each word laced with a tension that made the air feel thicker. “I’m not joking, Y/N. This isn’t some petty prank. People’s lives could be ruined by this, Naomi’s reputation—my reputation—destroyed because someone decided to send those tests. And now you’re laughing like it’s a damn joke?”

You wiped the tears from your eyes, still struggling to contain your mirth. “Semi, listen to yourself. You’re accusing me of what, exactly? Sending fake pregnancy tests to you and Naomi’s father? You think I’m that unhinged? That I’m so obsessed with you two that I’d concoct some elaborate scheme to humiliate you?”

“Maybe I do,” Semi snapped. His glare was imposing, but you refused to back down. “You’re the one who said she messed with the wrong person. You’re the one who had a meltdown when we broke up. It’s not that far-fetched to think you might—”

“Far-fetched?” you interrupted, voice rising. “You have some nerve, Eita. The audacity to think I’d waste another second of my life on you, on her, is beyond insulting. You’ve already taken so much from me, and now you want to pin this on me too?”

“I’m not pinning anything,” Semi shot back, his frustration boiling over. “But it’s damn convenient that you’re the one who threatened her. You have every reason to hate us—”

“Hate you?” you hissed, venom dripping from your words. “I don’t hate you, Semi. I’m done with you. That’s what you can’t seem to grasp. You’re not even a blip on my radar anymore. Do you think I care about whatever mess you’ve found yourself in with her? Do you think I lie awake at night plotting your downfall?”

Semi’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. “It’s hard to believe anything you say when you’re acting like this.”

“You don’t get to decide how I act,” you snapped. The tension between you crackled like a live wire, threatening to spark into something more dangerous. “You’ve already decided I’m guilty without a shred of evidence. If you knew me at all, you’d know I’m better than that. I’m better than you.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and cutting, and you could see the impact they had on him. For a moment, Semi’s resolve wavered, the doubt flickering in his eyes. But then he hardened, steeling himself against whatever emotions your words had stirred.

“You’re right,” Semi finally said, his voice chillingly calm. “Maybe I don’t know you anymore. Maybe I never did.”

“Maybe you didn’t,” you shot back, not missing a beat. “And maybe that’s why we were never going to work. Because you never really saw me, did you? You only saw what you wanted to see.”

Semi’s silence was damning, and you could feel the weight of it pressing down on you both. The realization was bitter, but it was a truth you were finally ready to face. Whatever you had once had, it was gone, tainted by the very mistrust and accusations that now stood between you.

“I’m done here,” you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil roiling inside you. “If you want to keep playing detective, be my guest. But don’t drag me into your drama again.”

Semi’s voice stopped you, low and broken. “Y/N… if you didn’t do it, then who?”

You paused, a flicker of something—pity, maybe—crossing your face before you answered. “That’s your problem now, Semi. Not mine.”

Semi’s eyes searched your face, desperation laced in his gaze. “Look at me, Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice trembling slightly.

You lifted your eyes to meet his, and for a brief moment, those familiar butterflies stirred in your chest. Not anger, but the damned butterflies. But they were quickly overshadowed by the heavy weight of remorse that settled deep in your gut, a stark reminder of the betrayal that had shattered your world.

“I— I swear, I never meant to cheat on you,” Semi began, his voice breaking as he struggled to find the right words. “I was trying to be better for you, but then…” His words trailed off into silence, his breath hitching. He took a deep breath, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I love you, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

If he thought those words would change your mind, he was wrong. You had played this scenario in your head countless times, imagining how you would face him, how you would be strong, unshakable. But now, standing before him, the memories flooded back—those long, painful nights waiting for an explanation that never came, yearning for him to say it was all a mistake, that he still loved you, that he wanted to be better. But those hopes had died long ago, buried beneath the rubble of broken trust.

You had worked so hard to move on, even on the days when it felt like you were crawling through a storm, barely able to pull yourself out of bed. Each step forward had been agonizing, but you had taken them. You were rebuilding yourself, piece by piece, no matter how fragile those pieces felt.

And perhaps, deep down, it wasn’t just your strength that had pushed you to take those steps. Maybe it was Iwaizumi, with his quiet, steady presence, who had helped you see the truth—that someone who truly loved you would never do this. His words had resonated with you, spoken from a place of understanding, from a man who had known the same kind of hurt.

“I have so many things to explain,” Semi continued, his voice thick with emotion. “But I can’t. I’m in a tight spot, and it leaves me no room to make things right. But please, Y/N, I need you to trust me. What happened was a mistake. I never meant to hurt you. I still love you.”

His eyes dropped to your hands, his fingers twitching as if he was longing to reach out, to hold you one last time. But he held back, his heart heavy with the knowledge that you might have already moved on. He realized then, with a painful clarity, that sometimes the greatest act of love is letting go. The thought tore at him, knowing he had wasted someone who had once loved him so deeply, despite all his flaws.

“You’re joking, right?” Your voice was steady, but your pulse was racing, a storm of emotions swirling inside you as you waited for his answer.

Semi’s heart sank at your words, the slight tremor in your voice not lost on him. He could see the storm of emotions in your eyes, a mix of anger, sadness, and something else he couldn’t quite place. He had been hoping, foolishly perhaps, that there was still a sliver of hope, that maybe you still cared enough to listen. But as he looked at you now, he realized just how much damage he had done.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry. “I’m not joking,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know it’s too late, Y/N. I know I’ve lost you, and I hate myself for it every day. But I needed to say it… I needed you to know that you were never the problem. I was. And I’m sorry.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as his words hit you like a wave. For a moment, you were tempted to believe him, to let the walls you had built around your heart crumble. But then you remembered the nights you spent crying, the endless questions you had asked yourself, wondering what you did wrong. And it all came rushing back—the pain, the betrayal, the heartbreak.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you replied, your voice strained as you fought to keep your emotions in check. “You’re sorry? Sorry doesn’t fix what you did. Sorry doesn’t erase the months of hurt, the nights I spent wondering why I wasn’t enough for you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You had shed enough tears over him. You were done.

“I don’t need your apologies, Semi,” you continued, your voice growing steadier with each word. “I’ve moved on. I’ve had to. And you know what? I’ve realized that I deserve better than this. Better than someone who didn’t see my worth until it was too late.”

Semi’s shoulders slumped under the weight of your words, the crushing realization that there was no going back. He had always known this moment would come, but knowing didn’t dull the pain of it. Deep down, he had clung to the small, selfish hope that maybe, just maybe, you could forgive him, that somehow you could start over. But now, as he stood before you, facing the reality of what he had done, he knew it was impossible.

His heart ached with the finality of your decision, and yet, there was a part of him that understood. He had hurt you in ways he never intended, and no apology could ever erase that. Still, he had to try. “I understand,” he said quietly, his voice thick with regret. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, Y/N. I just… I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. Truly.”

You nodded, the weight of the conversation settling over you like a heavy shroud. It had taken so long to get to this point, to find the strength to let go. There were no more words left to say, no more explanations or apologies that could change what had happened. You had made your peace with it, though the scars remained, reminding you of the pain that had once consumed you.

But as you looked at Semi, you saw something in his eyes that mirrored your own—an understanding, a silent acknowledgment that this was the end. Not just of the relationship, but of the anger, the hurt, the endless cycle of blame and regret. It was time to let go.

“Goodbye, Semi,” you said, your voice steady, resolute. The word “goodbye” held more than just the end of a conversation; it was a farewell to the past, to the person you once were, and to the person he used to be.

He nodded, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Goodbye, Y/N.” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, as if speaking any louder would shatter the fragile truce between you.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air was thick with unspoken words, regrets that would never be voiced, and memories that would never fade. And then, slowly, you turned to walk away. With each step, you felt the chains of the past loosening, the weight lifting from your shoulders. It wasn’t easy, but there was a strange sense of peace in the finality of it all.

But before you could leave completely, Semi’s voice stopped you. “Y/N,” he called out, his tone different this time—calmer, more resigned. You turned to face him, and he looked at you with a mixture of sadness and acceptance. “I know we can’t go back. But… I want you to know that I’ll always be grateful for what we had. Even if it ended like this.”

His words struck a chord deep within you, and for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to feel the warmth of the good memories, not just the pain of the bad ones. You offered him a small, genuine smile. “So will I, Semi. So will I.”

And with that, you both knew it was truly over. There was no bitterness, no lingering resentment—just two people who had once loved each other, finally able to let go. As you walked away for the last time, you felt a sense of closure, a release from the past that had haunted you for so long. It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.

And now, finally, you were both free.

"I’ll walk you downstairs, if that’s okay with you?" Semi’s voice wavered slightly, betraying the turmoil beneath his calm exterior. He exhaled shakily, as though summoning the courage to make the offer. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans, and his eyes—once so familiar, now tinged with uncertainty—held a faint glimmer of hope, a plea for some semblance of normalcy in the aftermath of everything that had happened. 

You hesitated, the weight of his simple request settling over you like a heavy blanket. It was a gesture of politeness, a final act of courtesy, and despite the tangled mess of emotions swirling inside you, you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse him. Slowly, you nodded, giving him the smallest of confirmations.

Semi fell into step beside you, and together you began the silent journey toward the nearest lift. The hallway stretched out before you, every step you took accompanied by the quiet echo of your footsteps against the cold, hard floor. His presence so close to you felt strangely disorienting, as though the invisible barrier that had been erected between you during your breakup was being pushed and prodded with every passing moment. It wasn’t awkward, not exactly, but it was undeniably weird—a peculiar blend of tension and familiarity that neither of you could quite shake. The air was thick with unspoken words, the remnants of your recent conversation still hanging in the space between you like a ghost that refused to be exorcised.

As you approached the elevator, Semi finally broke the silence, his voice tentative, almost as if he were afraid of shattering the fragile peace you had found. “Is your mom picking you up?”

You nodded, grateful for the innocuous question that grounded you, if only for a moment. “Yeah. She’ll be here any minute. You?”

“My friend is picking me up. So, yeah,” he replied, his attempt at a chuckle falling flat as it escaped his lips. It was the kind of sound that lacked true humor, a reflex rather than a genuine expression of amusement.

You cast a sideways glance at him, skepticism creeping into your tone as you asked, “This friend you’re mentioning… it isn’t Naomi, is it?”

Semi’s reaction was swift, his denial immediate as he waved off the suggestion with a dismissive hand. “Nah, it’s my classmate. He’s nearby, so we kinda carpooled just now.” A brief pause, and then, with a hint of his old mischief, he added, “Jealous?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. The banter felt almost normal, like slipping into an old, worn-in pair of shoes—familiar, if not entirely comfortable. As you reached the elevator, the doors slid open with a soft chime, and the two of you stepped inside the small, confined space. You glanced over at him as you pressed the button for the ground floor. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Semi leaned against the wall of the elevator, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned to face you. His eyes narrowed slightly, a teasing glint in them as he asked, “You know it was a joke, right?”

You let out a sarcastic laugh, the sound echoing hollowly in the tight space. “A joke is supposed to be funny, Eita.”

As if the universe had a cruel sense of timing, the elevator lurched to an abrupt halt, the lights flickering ominously before dimming slightly. Panic surged through you like a lightning strike, your heart pounding in your chest. Of all the places, of all the people to be stuck with, why did it have to be here, with him?

“Shit,” Semi cursed under his breath, instinctively reaching out to steady himself against the handrail. Your own steps faltered, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, your bodies nearly collided in the confined space. The proximity was suffocating, every breath you took laced with the scent of him, the warmth of his body radiating like a beacon in the close quarters.

“Fuck,” you muttered, your voice tight with anxiety. The situation was bad enough, but being trapped here with your ex—the one person you had just finished the painful process of saying goodbye to—felt like some kind of twisted cosmic joke. “This can’t be happening.”

Semi’s concern was immediate, his eyes searching your face for any signs of distress. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and urgent, laced with genuine worry.

You forced yourself to nod, even though your breath was coming faster, the walls of the elevator seemed to close in on you with every passing second. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s just press the emergency button.”

Semi didn’t hesitate, his hand moving quickly to press the button with a firm, deliberate push. But when the button failed to produce any response—no reassuring voice, no indication that help was on the way—the silence that followed was deafening. The reality of being trapped in this tiny space with him began to settle over you, a creeping dread that made your pulse quicken and your mind race.

The air in the elevator felt stifling, the tension between you amplifying the claustrophobia that threatened to spiral out of control. Semi noticed your discomfort, and without a word, he took a tentative step closer, his voice softening as he spoke again. “We’ll get out of here soon, I promise. Just try to stay calm, okay?”

You swallowed hard, biting your lip to keep the rising panic at bay. It took everything in you to keep your breathing steady, to focus on anything other than the oppressive closeness of the elevator walls. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t escape the irony of the situation—trapped with the person you had just walked away from, in every sense of the word.

In that confined space, with nowhere to run, the air between you grew thicker, charged with emotions left unsaid. The silence was heavy, not just with the uncertainty of the moment, but with the echoes of everything that had been, and everything that would never be again.

Without thinking further, you shot Iwaizumi a text message. The line coverage wasn’t that good in the elevator and it was killing you that you could lose communication with Iwaizumi anytime now. 

You

SHIT!!!!

I'm trapped in the elevator with Semi. Out of all time and places?!

God loves me I guess

Grumpy Iwa

?

You guys are trapped? How come??

Where are you?

You replied to Iwaizumi’s last message, “This elevator is near to the long wing. I don’t know what level we’re on now.” Your eyes widened in disbelief as you glanced at your phone, the “No Coverage” icon glaring back at you. A groan escaped your lips, frustration bubbling up from deep within. 

Semi noticed, his gaze snapping to you, concern etched across his features. “Is everything okay?” he asked, his voice gentle yet tinged with worry.

“No coverage, for God’s sake!” you muttered, the exasperation clear in your tone as you waved your phone in the air, hoping against hope for a signal. Semi pulled out his own phone, a frown settling on his face as he realized he was in the same predicament. With a long, weary sigh, he shook his head.

“No answer from them,” he said, his voice laced with a sense of defeat that mirrored the sinking feeling in your chest. The reality of your situation hit you like a tidal wave, the claustrophobia of the elevator amplifying the helplessness that clung to the air. This was really the wrong time for something like this to happen.

Slowly, as if the weight of the world were pressing down on you, you slid down the cold metal wall of the elevator, your legs giving out beneath you. “I—I’ve had a tough week,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, each word laced with exhaustion. “And this… this is really the last thing I expected to happen.”

Semi’s posture stiffened at your words, his ears perking up in caution. He hadn’t noticed it before, but now that he looked closer, he could see the weariness etched into your features, the way your shoulders sagged as if they were carrying an invisible burden. How could he not have seen it earlier?

“Me too,” Semi confessed, his voice soft, almost tender. “It’s been a tough week for me too.” He hesitated, then asked, “What happened?”

A bitter chuckle slipped past your lips, a sound devoid of humor. “Semi, we’re not in a relationship anymore,” you reminded him, your tone hardening. “You don’t have to pretend that you care.”

Semi’s brows knitted together in confusion and hurt. Pretending? He wasn’t pretending. He cared—he cared more than he knew how to express. “I’m not pretending,” he said quietly, the sincerity in his voice palpable. “I do care. I always have. If you want to talk about it, I’m here. We’ve got time, given… the situation.”

You turned your head, locking eyes with him, but there was no warmth, no affection in your gaze—only a cold, empty resentment that cut him to the core. “We ended things for good, Semi,” you said, your voice firm despite the tremor that threatened to break it. “If you wanted to care, it’s too late for that now.” Your throat tightened, and you swallowed hard against the lump that had formed there. Your eyes burned with unshed tears, the emotional toll of the week finally breaking through the walls you had built.

Semi looked away, his gaze drifting to the reflective walls of the elevator, the tension in the small space almost suffocating. After a moment, he turned back to you, his voice soft and filled with something you couldn’t quite place. “What if that’s not the case?”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you furrowed your brow, trying to decipher the meaning behind them. “What do you mean?” you asked, your voice wary.

“What if it’s not too late?” Semi’s voice was shaky, but there was a thread of hope woven through it—a hope he had clung to despite everything. “What if it’s not too late for me to care? For us to fix things?” He had hesitated too many times before, letting fear and pride hold him back from saying what he truly felt. But now, trapped in this elevator with nothing but time and regrets, he couldn’t afford to hold back anymore.

You took a deep breath, your heart aching as you slowly shook your head. “It is too late, Semi,” you said, the finality of your words hanging heavy in the air between you. “We’ll only go back to square one. It’s a loop, a cycle. We’re not good for each other anymore. You said it yourself. Remember?”

The memory of his own words came rushing back to him, the pain of them sharper now than when he had first spoken them. He had thought ending things would be the right decision, that it would save you both from more hurt in the long run. But standing here now, hearing you echo his own doubts back to him, he realized too late how much those words had cost him.

Semi’s heart sank, the hope he had desperately clung to slipping through his fingers like sand. He had wanted so badly to believe that things could be different, that maybe, just maybe, he could undo the damage he had done. But as he looked at you—really looked at you—he saw the truth in your eyes. You were right. The cycle would only continue, trapping you both in a never-ending loop of pain and reconciliation. The time for saving what you had was long gone.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence in the elevator thick with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Finally, Semi nodded, his heart heavy with the acceptance of what he had lost. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible. “I remember.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, but you didn’t bother to wipe it away. The truth was harsh, but it was also freeing in a way. There was no going back, no fixing what was broken. But maybe, just maybe, that was okay. Maybe this was the closure you both needed to truly move on.

Semi's heart twisted as he searched your eyes, desperately hoping to find some glimmer of the past, something to hold onto. But all he found was the cold, unyielding truth staring back at him. It was too late. The realization hit him like a punch in the gut, making it hard to breathe. He leaned back against the elevator wall, feeling the weight of the silence pressing down on him.

"I know I said that," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "But that was before… before I realized how much I still need you. How much I messed up." His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and for a moment, he couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze.

You inhaled deeply, your chest tight with emotion. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but you forced them back, refusing to let them fall. “Semi, needing me now doesn’t change what happened. It doesn’t erase the pain, the betrayal… everything that broke us.”

He nodded slowly, understanding the finality in your voice but refusing to accept it. "I know it doesn't. But can't we just… start over? Wipe the slate clean?"

You shook your head, a sad smile playing on your lips. "There’s no starting over, Eita. There’s only moving forward. And I think… I think we both deserve a chance to do that without each other."

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Semi swallowed hard, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "But what if I can't move forward without you? What if I never get over this… over you?"

Your heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in his voice. This was the side of him that you had fallen in love with, the side that was now breaking your heart all over again. "You will, Semi. It might not feel like it now, but you will. We both will."

He shook his head, refusing to accept it. "How? How am I supposed to move on when every part of me is still tied to you?"

Tears finally broke free, sliding down your cheeks. You wiped them away quickly, trying to maintain your composure. "You let go, Eita. You let go of the memories, the pain, the guilt. You forgive yourself. And you forgive me."

The irony of the situation hit you like a cold gust of wind, chilling you to your core. There was Semi, standing before you, his voice trembling with desperation, pleading for a second chance. It was almost laughable, in a tragic way, because not so long ago, the roles had been reversed. You could still vividly remember the countless nights when you had stood in front of him, your heart in your throat, begging him to make things right, to not let go of what you two had built together. You had asked for his love, his commitment, and his honesty, only to be met with excuses, half-hearted apologies, and empty promises.

Now, here he was, echoing the very words you once whispered in the dark, hoping for a different outcome. The cruel twist of fate was almost too much to bear. The memories of you pleading with him, willing to do anything to save your relationship, played in your mind like a haunting melody, each note striking a painful chord. You had given him everything, bared your soul, and laid your heart at his feet, only to watch him walk away, leaving you to pick up the shattered pieces alone.

And now, with those pieces painstakingly put back together, he was the one grasping at straws, trying to hold on to something that had long since slipped through his fingers. The irony was bitter, a sharp contrast to the softness of his plea. It was almost poetic in its cruelty, how the tables had turned, leaving him to feel the sting of rejection, the hopelessness that had once consumed you.

The universe, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor, bringing everything full circle in a way that was both heartbreaking and eerily just. And as you stood there, watching him struggle with the realization that he was too late, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of that irony pressing down on you, a reminder of just how much had changed, and how much both of you had lost.

His breath hitched at your words, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I don't know if I can do that."

"You have to," you whispered, your voice trembling. "For your sake, and for mine."

Semi looked down at the floor, his shoulders shaking with the effort to keep himself together. After what felt like an eternity, he finally nodded. "Okay," he choked out. "Okay, I'll try."

–

Iwaizumi anxiously waited for your response, his heart pounding in his chest as he sat at the lunch table with his family. The untouched food in front of him was a testament to his growing worry. His family chatted animatedly around him, but their voices were drowned out by the storm of thoughts raging in his mind. It was unlike him to be this distracted, but the idea of you being trapped in an elevator with your ex-boyfriend gnawed at him relentlessly.

Jealousy mingled with fear, his thoughts spiraling into worst-case scenarios. The confined space, the tension—anything could happen in there. His mind wandered to places he didn’t want it to go, imagining scenarios that twisted his stomach into knots. He hated that his mind took him down that route, but he couldn’t help it. The thought of you and Semi, so close in that small, enclosed space, made him feel like he was losing control.

Iwaizumi had tried calling you repeatedly, but each attempt ended with your voicemail. The frustration and fear building inside him became unbearable, his leg bouncing nervously under the table. Without a second thought, he abruptly stood up, startling his family.

“I have an emergency. I’ll be right back, I promise!” His voice was tight with urgency as he grabbed the car keys from his parents and bolted out the door. He didn’t even wait for their response. The only thing on his mind was getting to you as fast as he could.

He sped through the streets, his heart racing faster than the car’s engine. The mall’s name echoed in his head—thankfully, you had mentioned it to him earlier. As he navigated through the traffic, his phone buzzed with a message. He slammed on the brakes, pulling over to read it.

Finally, you had replied.

Relief surged through him, but he didn’t waste any time. He practically sprinted through the mall, searching every floor, every elevator, until he found the one surrounded by firefighters. His chest tightened as he watched them work to pry the doors open. The minutes felt like hours as he stood there, his hand clenched tightly around his phone, knuckles white with tension.

When the elevator doors finally creaked open, Iwaizumi released a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He watched as you stepped out, your expression a mix of relief and exhaustion. You hadn’t seen him yet, too busy thanking the firefighters who had helped you. Iwaizumi’s heart swelled with a mixture of pride and possessiveness as he watched you interact with the rescuers. His worry wasn’t entirely gone, though. The thoughts that had plagued him on the drive over still lingered.

Then, you spotted him. The moment your eyes met, a bright smile spread across your face, and you called out his name cheerfully, “Iwa!” Without hesitation, you crossed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

He held you close, his grip on you firm, almost as if he was afraid to let go. There was a palpable sense of relief in the way he hugged you, as though he was reassuring himself that you were really there, safe in his arms. “How did you know I’d be here?” you asked, pulling back just enough to look up at him.

“Your message finally came through when I arrived. Thank goodness,” Iwaizumi replied, his voice shaky with lingering fear. He glanced over your shoulder, his eyes locking onto Semi, who had just emerged from the elevator. The tension between the two men was palpable, even from a distance.

Semi’s narrowed eyes and tight jaw made it clear that he wasn’t pleased with the situation, but you didn’t care. You met his gaze one last time, a silent exchange passing between you. It was a final farewell, a wordless acknowledgment that whatever you had with him was truly over.

Iwaizumi noticed the exchange, his own worry intensifying as he caught sight of the sweat glistening on your forehead. His mind raced, jumping to conclusions. “Everything okay?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

You chuckled softly, trying to ease his concerns. “I’ll tell you once I’m done processing everything that just happened,” you replied, your tone light despite the heaviness of the situation. “How long were you waiting?”

Iwaizumi hummed thoughtfully, trying to recall the time. “Uh, I think around 25 minutes? I’m not too sure. I didn’t keep track of the time.”

Your eyes widened in realization. “Oh, God. We were trapped for almost an hour? Shit!” The shock in your voice was palpable, the reality of the situation finally sinking in.

“I was worried when you didn’t reply to my message. So, I rushed here. That was when I got your last message,” Iwaizumi explained, his voice softening. The concern etched into his features touched you deeply. He didn’t have to come, but he did. He dropped everything and came for you.

Iwaizumi’s attention shifted back to you. Your attempt to change the subject, the way you seemed to brush off the seriousness of the situation, touched him deeply. He could see through your facade, recognizing the exhaustion and the pain behind your attempt to seem nonchalant. His mind was still reeling from the fear of you being in danger, and as he listened to you talk, he realized how much he valued your presence in his life. The ordeal had cemented his feelings for you, and he knew that whatever happened, he would be there to support you, no matter what.

As you walked away from the scene together, the weight of what had just happened settled over both of you. Iwaizumi’s presence was a comfort, a steadying force after the chaos of the past hour. You realized then how much he truly cared for you, how much he was willing to do for you. In that moment, the fear and jealousy that had consumed him melted away, replaced by the simple joy of knowing you were safe.

And as you left Semi behind, a chapter of your life closing with that final, silent goodbye, you felt a sense of closure, a quiet peace that you hadn’t known you needed until now.

As you both moved away from the scene, the reality of the situation began to sink in. Despite the ordeal, Iwaizumi’s presence was a steady source of comfort. Taking a deep breath, you gathered your thoughts before speaking.

“Iwaizumi,” you said softly, your voice carrying a note of genuine gratitude. “I really want to thank you for being here. For coming all this way.”

Iwaizumi looked at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of relief and concern. “You don’t need to thank me. I couldn’t just stay away. I was worried sick about you.”

You nodded, a small, appreciative smile touching your lips despite the weariness. “I know. I didn’t expect you to drop everything like this, especially given everything that’s been happening.”

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant but his eyes revealed the sincerity behind his actions. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I’m just relieved you’re okay. I was losing my mind trying to reach you.”

Your smile grew, moved by his genuine concern. “It means a lot to me, Iwaizumi. It’s been such a tough day, and seeing you here just made it a little easier.”

He met your gaze, his expression softening. “You don’t have to face things like this alone. If you need anything, just ask. I’m here for you.”

The warmth in his voice was reassuring, and you felt a swell of gratitude. “Thank you. I really needed to hear that. It’s been a rough day, and knowing that someone cares means a lot.”

Iwaizumi gave you a comforting smile. “Anytime. Just focus on getting through today. We can talk more once things settle down.”

As you continued to walk, the tension from the elevator gradually eased, replaced by a sense of calm and mutual support. For the first time in a while, you felt a flicker of hope, knowing that even amidst the chaos, you had someone who truly cared beside you.

[thebookishbruja]

Howl’s Moving Castle

Spoilers!!

So, I finished Howl’s Moving Castle (the novel) last night, and now I’ve been up since 4am going through the tags on tumblr. I saw someone say that in Howl’s Moving Castle, both Sophie and Howl are the beauty, and they both are the beast. It got me thinking.

This novel beautifully subverts two tropes: the Beauty and the Beast trope (girl goes to scary castle housing legendary monster and falls in love) AS WELL AS the Princess and the Frog trope (Wherein Sophie is the cursed and Howl is the princess longing for true love). 

Beauty and the Beast

So, I’ll be the first to admit that this trope isn’t normally for me. I absolutely understand its appeal. But it’s not for me. But this novel turns it on its head so delightfully I love it.

What is different about Howl’s Moving Castle is, first of all, the girl doesn’t go to the big scary castle against her will. She isn’t a tribute or sacrifice, and she doesn’t go there to free a kidnapped loved one. Nothing is coerced. 

This hat shop girl literally forces her way into the home of this terrifying beast (who kills girls and takes their hearts, mind you, oh and has a fire demon) because she wants to sit by the fire. Then she bullies him into letting her stay. It was hilarious as shit.

Secondly, he’s not a dick or emotionally abusive to her. He’s just annoying lmao. He just has normal flaws!! They are comedic in contrast to his reputation and appearances. This supposed terrifying man, this lothario who seduces women, is emotionally needy, melodramatic, vain, and he avoids his problems rather than confronting them. His house is messy, and it’s not even a castle, it’s an illusion. 

The descriptions of his tantrums are so fuckn funny and you just know...this comes from a place of experience and affection on the part of the author. And yes, in an interview, the author said that she didn’t need to invent Howl’s dramatics when he got a cold, that’s just what her husband (a medievalist/academic) acted like when he was sick. She was like...I just watched him and wrote it all down.

Another comment I saw in a tag of a tumblr post was someone saying...why do you guys like this guy (Howl)? He’s a mess!

Yes! And that’s the point! His fake castle, his hair dye, his fake reputation, it is all just a slightly heightened version of what we all are. We all project a front. We curate our image. (Can you IMAGINE how insufferable Howl would be if he had instagram???) We all have insecurities, and we all sometimes want more attention and validation than we get. 

Sometimes we all want to dramatically slink around the house going ‘oh woe is me, I need a bit of attention’. And so we smile when we see Howl just go for it lmao at least I do. Because of course, despite working overtime to seem more perfect than we are, we all just want to be loved for who we authentically are.

So then of course as Sophie gets to know the real Howl, she also finds out that he is kind. He undercharges poor people for spells, he takes in an orphan and an old lady looking for a rest, and he is very protective of his fire demon, and judges people based on how nice they are to Calcifer.

And again, that’s the whole point. We humans are bundles of kind, squishy hearts, as well as flaws. And we all work overtime putting up images, but in the end, we just want to love and be loved both for our good points, and our absurd, stupid, vulnerabilities and flaws. We want to find value in the soggy human condition.

The Princess and the Frog (where in Howl is the princess and Sophie is the frog)

So, Sophie is cursed into a shape that will (according to fairy tale villain logic) prevent her from finding love. And since the character is a girl, and this book has emotional intelligence, that shape is not a frog, it is an old woman. Women are still valued by society primarily for youth, fertility, and beauty, and are put out to the pasture of invisibility and irrelevance when we get our first crow’s feet. This ‘should’ have been (if Sophie bought into all that) the end of her life, so to speak.

But the absolutely amazing thing is, being an old woman turns out to be Sophie’s secret weapon, her path to self actualization. It gives her strength and courage. She is like...oh, old women can get away with just saying whatever they feel. Oh, people have to be nice to me. And she just gains all of this confidence. Maybe too much! Lol She gets pushier and nosier and more stubborn. 

Sophie has flaws too! But Howl falls in love with her too, and again in the theme of genuine love and inner beauty, he falls in love with her just like she is. He knows she is under a spell but he doesn’t know what she ‘really’ looks like. He just falls in love with who she is.

It’s like the polar opposite of the Little Mermaid (Disney version). In that movie, Ariel loses her voice, and the prince has to get to know her in the silence. In Howl’s Moving Castle, Sophie’s voice is amplified by her curse. She just comes tromping into his house, shouting at him. And he loves her for it.

Howl needs her honesty and her clear eyed assessments. He loves that she is protective of his found family (Calcifer and Michael). (They become her family too.) And, despite her complaining, she is very protective of Howl as well. She even goes to save the woman she thinks he loves, even though she is unbearably jealous.

And in the end, his love doesn’t break the spell. Sophie herself lets go of her ‘disguise’. Her elderly persona has become the armor that she wears to give her courage and strength. It is like assistance, or an aid to her personal growth, and when she grows strong enough on her own to make the choices she wants to make, (love Howl, embrace her magic, choose her own place in life) she lets go of it.

Another subversion to the Princess and the Frog is that Howl is the princess. I just love the gender fuckery of it all. Howl is the one who yearns for true love and relentlessly pursues it. It is Howl who wears jewelry, who primps, and who colors his hair. 

Men are told that if they enjoy anything associated with the feminine, then they are not men. I hate that. I want people to be able to express their gender however they see fit in their individual ways. So to have Howl be aggressively vain and embrace the trappings of femininity and for him to also be loved and the hero, Idk I just really like that. 

Sure, in the end, the fact that he rushes out to save her without doing his hair is a sign that he’s truly in love. But that’s just because he prioritized her wellbeing over his beauty routine that day to save her life. He doesn’t stop being Howl. You get the idea that he’s still gonna be traipsing around in dangly earrings and flashy suits for the foreseeable future. I’ve noticed that on tumblr, the bisexuals have embraced him and Sophie, which is right and good.

So yeah, I love the trope subversions and the idea that we can be messy, flawed, human beings and find humor, nobility, and love in that. All of us. Even princess wizards and even (if you can believe it) eldest daughters.

[noodlefluid]

Sick day | Leo×Sick!Reader

▪︎Sumary

You've been sick for a couple of days, Leo takes care of your sassy ass

❥Type: Fanfic

 ❥Characters: Leo Reader

 ❥Reader's pronouns: no mention

 ❥Relationship: Neutral (can be read as platonic or romantic

 ❥Autor notes: This is the request I lost because I'm an idiot who doesn't know how to use tumblr. Anyways the request was about Leo taking care of a sick reader, cause asker was sick (by the way, I hope you're better, if you're not...oof lmao/j), I hope this satisfied you. Also sorry for the wait and more because is really short, this is based on my own experiences of being sick, and I vave just been really sick like 2 or 3 times

Besides from that, english is not my first language, if you find any mistake in grammar, translation or sentences that don't make sense, please let me know, I would be grateful.

Warning: Mention of death (playfully), swearing, kinda short, things that come with being sick (pills, coughing, fever) mention of soup (soup haters dni/hj), fluff, online translator help

─────────────── »◦❀◦« ───────────────

It was a really bad day, you were glued to the bed due to a cold, you swear it wasn’t a big deal, but the thermometer says otherwise, you have been sick for a few days now, getting better, yes, but feeling like shit either way. You decided to check your social media to kill boredom before it killed you. A notification popped up while you were looking at some posts

Leo: How ya doin?

You: Still sick  :(

My head’s gonna explode

Leo: Lmao

Want me to come over?

You: WHY U LAUGHING??

Oh sure

Leo: omw :D

You put your phone aside for a moment, closing your eyes thinking that a little nap while waiting for Leo wouldn’t be bad. Before you could fully relax a sudden noise make you jump, sitting in your bed due to the panic, a green figure was standing in the door, dressing all black with what looked like a science book with a cross draw with sharpie in the cover in his right hand and a plastic bag in the other, it was Leo, who decide opening your bedroom door in the normal way just wasn’t for him and instead almost destroyed it.  You quickly change from a scared expression to an annoyed one, your forgot that this turtle can teleport

“Today we are here to say farewell to our beloved y/n, who was a- ugh" The red-eared slider couldn’t finish his speech when a pillow land on his face

“...Get the hell out of my house” Just as you said that, you turned your back, pulling the blanket over your face you were happy in the turtle presence, that’s just how your dynamic was

Leo then made an outrageous expression, putting his hand against his plastron and gasping so loud and dramatically that you wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbor had heard him “first of all, rude. Second of all”  he throw the book somewhere in your room while he walked up to your bed “I was gonna give you something but since little y/n here doesn't like ky presence, I would keep it” he make the plastic bag sound

You uncover your face to see “what is it?” you said as you sat on your bed, he gives you the bag and you looked inside

“I assumed that you haven’t eat yet, so I bring you some treats” He was right, you haven’t eat all day, not because you weren’t hungry but because you couldn’t bring yourself to get up the bed and make something

"Thanks, Leon”, you thanked him while looking a little closer to the plastic bag content, inside there were a few of your favorite snacks along with some drinks, you take a water bottle, it was starting to feel like you were dying from dehydration, cold water was just what you needed at the moment

“How's your fever?” The turtle touched your forehead trying to take your temperature 

“mmh…it did get a little better yesterday, but I think it got worse today” You sounded resigned, you took a big sip from the drink, leaving almost half in the bottle

“There’s ice cream there too” Leo took the bag from your hands, pulling an ice cream cup that was at the bottom, your favorite of course “We should really try to lower your temperature, or else I'll have to plan your funeral for real” both laughed at the comment

“Please throw the bouquet at the end, I wanna see who’s next” your laughs got increased, but you had to stop after starting coughing, making your head hurt

Leo looked worried "Don't you have some pills or something that you can take?"

It did takes you a few second and a deep breath to talk "I think there's some paracetamol in the bathroom's mirror"

"I'll go get them, don't die"

"I'll try" you felt like the world was spinning, being sick was the worst, you heard Leo making sound in the bathroom, you weren't a quiet person and small noises weren't a problem for you, but now just the sound of the cabinet makes your ears hurts

Leo once again enter the room, in a more normal way now "here found them" he was speaking in his usual tone, but for some reason you feel it so loud

You grumbled as you take the pills and put them in your mouth, the taste of pills wasn't really your favorite, so you take a big sip of water before you could feel the bitter in your tongue

Leo looked worried for a moment “Sleep a little, you have to rest” Leo’s voice sounded softer, making you think of a purring cat. He took the things from your hands leaving them on the nightstand next to your bed so you could get a little more comfortable

“Thanks Lee, love ya” You made a heart with your hands, smiling softly

“me too, y/n” He mirrored your gesture, smiling at you while leaving the room, closing the door behind him.  

_____________________________

You woke up, you didn’t know how long you slept, the sky in your window began to darken, you felt better, your headache almost gone. You sat to try and find your phone and check the time, but by doing so a wet towel fell on your lap, it seems that it was placed on your forehead, you took it, trying to figure out how it get there. Your head didn't hurt anymore, and your body felt a little more cooler

While you were thinking, the door opened up, it was Leo once again.

The mutant turtle had a tray with a bowl of soup in his hands, noticing you were awake, he smiled at you “I was just gonna wake you up, do you feel better?”

You nodded “What’s that?” you pointed to the bowl of soup

“Soup”

“Where did ya get that?”

“I made it myself for you” the turtle made an arrogance expression, he was proud of himself

“You know how to cook?” Your face was full of disbelief

“...I’m not gonna take care of you never again” You couldn’t help but chuckled at the answer while he pretend to tleave just to walked towards you immediately “Eat it, I have to go already, it’s getting late and I don’t want your parents to find me”

“oh…”You sounded a little bit too disapointed

“I can stay if you beg me” Leo smiled mockingly

“No, thanks.” your response was curt, once again making you both laugh “Message me when you get home and…if it’s okay…could you take care of me tomorrow again?”

“sure” 

[king-candy-lovemail]

stone face (ace ventura x reader oneshot)

requested: yep!! heres to you, YourMomIsBlowingMe (i will never get over that username LMFAO) on wattpad

a piece of my heart will always belong to ace, the hyperfixation on both movies (and the cartoon) got me thru some tough times 😭

kinda unhappy with how this turned out but at the same time kinda proud... ironic i suppose! :P

You hated people. Always selfish, and always out to get you.

All your life, you'd worked dead-end jobs. Retail, customer service, fast food, hell, even a pyramid scheme. You did what you could to scrape by.

And then, you finally thought you'd made it big.

There were a few openings at the local sheriff's office- entry-level positions with little to no required previous experience. Nothing life-threatening or hands-on, though. More like taking phone calls and sorting papers.

Of course, you'd brushed off the offerings when you'd first seen them posted. Yeah, sure, wouldn't that be great. 

And then you saw the starting wage.

Now, here you were, filing 'important papers' for your local police station. You didn't really care about the contents of the files. You always just had headphones in, listening to Satie, or perhaps Chopin.

Most days were the same. Life was fairly bland, and the one joy of life was dancing around the filing room as you listened to classical music.

Coworkers came and went, and no one dared to bother you while you were on your break. Even your current supervisor (a temporary one at that- a few months before you began working there, a whole lot of corruption and conspiracy had went down, causing the previous supervisor to be jailed) barely spoke to you. You got your work done swiftly and efficiently, and didn't care much for socialization.

All had been relatively normal until he showed up.

You relished the peaceful days at the station. Little to no reports, barely any paperwork to file, and a quiet afternoon in the break room. But it seemed that 'peaceful' day would head in a much different direction.

When a brightly dressed, energetic individual entered the station, you were already thrown off. Boisterous people weren't your kind of crowd.

However, this man was more than just boisterous.

He had announced his arrival quite loudly, to your annoyance. He threw his business cards up in the air, letting the cheap cardstock flutter down to the floor. You couldn't help but wonder if he held a grudge against the janitorial staff.

As you pressed your headphones closer to your ears, hoping to drown out this man's incessant noisemaking, you felt your self-proclaimed safety blanket be snatched away.

"Well, well, what are we listening to?" The man's voice came out in a drawl, surprisingly smooth. You snapped your head up, and the bright figure wore a shit-eating grin as he spun the headphones in his hand before slapping them over his own ears.

"Ah! Variation 5 from Paquita, correct?" he chatted idly, spewing some nonsense fact about the ballet. You glared up at him, grabbing your headphones back quickly as he was distracted by the sound of his own voice.

He shrieked dramatically, placing his hands on his head. "Hey, hey! Watch the 'do, woulda?!" His cries fell upon deaf ears as you adjusted your headphones.

"Don't make a fool of yourself, Ventura! That there's Y/N, they've been here for a few months and don't take shit from nobody!" One of your middle-aged female coworkers cackled at her own description of you, slapping you on the back much harder than you're sure she meant to.

You stumbled forward as a result of her force, your headphones being knocked out of your hands. You cursed under your breath, glaring back up at this 'Ventura' man as you picked your saving grace back up off of the floor.

'Ventura' stuck his hand out, imploring you to shake it. You did so, albeit extremely reluctantly. As his warm hand encased yours, you glowered.

"The name's Ace, Ace Ventura. I'm a... heh, pet detective. And ya see, I'm here to celebrate my three month anniversary of SHOWING UP THIS WHOLE STATION! OH YEAH!" He pulled his hand away to, well, pelvic thrust victoriously. You stifled a laugh at his antics, and your coworker made a strangled noise of shock.

"Well look at that, Ventura! You nearly cracked the stone face!" she joked. Ace tilted his head, staring at you.

"Stone face? What are you talking about, Montoya?" he inquired. You clenched your jaw, attempting to walk off. However, Montoya held you in a vice grip.

"Well, Y/N here hasn't cracked even a smile since they first started working here. Matter of fact, me and the guys were startin' to think it was impossible for them to show an emotion other than apathy!" she hollered, her dry fits of laughter becoming slightly grating to your ears.

Montoya was one of the few coworkers you could tolerate. She was motherly, but in a rough way. She gave off a tough-love vibe, the kind of woman to noogie you and smack you if she caught you underage drinking. Sometimes, though, she still got on your nerves.

Ace smirked slightly, and you grew even more irritated. "That so?" he teased. "Well, I bet I can get 'em to laugh by the end of the year, Montoya!" She stuck out her hand, and as they shook, they announced in unison, 'deal!'.

You threw your arms up in defeat, groaning. "Maybe your deal should be to see who can stop talking about me as if I'm not even here by the end of the week!" you cried. Slipping your headphones back on, you walked back to your filing room.

Finally, peace and quiet.

You hated Ace Ventura most of all. Out of every person you'd ever met, you were sure you despised him the most.

Your once-quiet and enjoyable breaks were now interrupted by your headphones being taken suddenly and a familiar voice sounding out from behind you, an irritating 'guess who?' leaving his lips.

You would immediately stumble to get your music back desperately, and each time he would name exactly the song you were listening to.

At this point, you were honestly surprised. Who knew such a foolish, idiotic man had such knowledge on works featured mainly in ballets?

And then, one day, he had caught you dancing along as you did your work.

You had never prided yourself in your dancing, but you had endlessly studied certain ballets for years on end. Call it a hobby or an obsession- either way, it was what got you by.

You were shocked when a pair of arms wrapped around you, lifting you up at the exact moment you had planned to check if the door was still closed.

"Guess who, sugarplum?" he sang cheekily, spinning you around slightly. You screamed, unable to control your sudden outburst of giggles. 

"Hey, please, put me down!" you shrieked, still laughing as he held you close. You tried to ignore the way your body temperature rose at his proximity to you, and the way his arms were wrapped around you...

His voice was unnaturally low now as he muttered, "Told ya I could make you laugh." You furrowed your brow, annoyed once again.

"Go back to whatever it was you were doing, Ace! Tell Montoya about your little bet, and that you won, alright? But leave me out of this shit," you sneered. As you continued your work, you could tell Ace hadn't moved from where he stood. He stood there, still watching you, unmoving.

"What? Go on, you won your deal! Now go."

"That was the first time you said my name," Ace cooed, a stupid smile making its way onto his face. You rolled your eyes, turning away again.

"I like it when you say it. It's a lot better than the other names you call me," he joked. You cracked a smirk at his words.

"What? You mean shithead, bitchboy, and bastard aren't endearing enough for you?" you teased, and Ace let out a laugh.

You sighed once again, trying to push down the feelings that arose over his laugh. "Just... go now, please."

You would never admit that you had wished he would've stayed.

The station's New Year's party wasn't an event you had been chomping at the bit to attend. However, with incessant urging from Montoya and Ace, you resigned yourself to a night of observing drunken buffoons.

The partying never seemed to take a break. Montoya was already shitfaced by the time you got there, while you couldn't seem to find Ace anywhere.

"H-hey, Y/N!" Montoya stuttered out, her words slurring together. She leaned on you for support, despite your body nearly being crushed by the woman's much more muscular frame.

You coughed- her breath reeked of alcohol. "Jesus, how much did you have to drink?" The woman simply cackled at your words, grabbing a random solo cup from a nearby table.

"Oh, please Y/N! My fun has just begun!" She downed yet another swig of beer- or was it whiskey? You weren't sure what this party had to offer- before growing closer to you once again. "I'm surprised, Ventura said he couldn't get you to crack even the slightest smile. And now, here we are, end of the year. I guess he'll be losing!" 

Your breath stopped momentarily, the shock seeping in. "A-Ace said that?" 

He didn't tell her that he won their stupid little game? I guess he's... a little more mature than I gave him credit for?

Your train of thought was disrupted by Montoya's drunken squealing.

"I did it! Ha! You cracked a smile, I WIN! I'm gonna go tell that cocky Ventura right now! He's going to piss himself, hell yeah!" 

You watched as Montoya slugged away, a small smile still on your face. You covered your mouth quickly, not wanting to draw anymore attention to yourself.

"How's it goin', sugarplum?" Ace purred, sliding into the space beside you. You turned away from him, desperate to hide your grin and the heat rushing to your face.

"A-Ace, I haven't, um... I didn't, oh, um..." Your words caught in your throat, and you had to stop yourself from burying your face in his chest that instant. He slowly moved your hand away, letting out a dramatic gasp as he witnessed your smile.

"Y/N L/N, smiling?! This isn't normal, you need to see a doctor this instant!" he shouted. Luckily, with the rest of the party noise, his showing off was drowned out. He pressed a hand to your face, pretending to be feeling for your temperature.

"Oh, my!" he exclaimed, a girl-ish Southern drawl being added into his eccentric speech as he continued, "Looks like you've caught yourself a fever right there!"

You ducked away, trying not to laugh. "Ace, enough! Now, being serious. You didn't tell Montoya about how you won your stupid deal?" you inquired. Ace sucked in a breath through his teeth, placing his hands on his hips.

"Well darlin', what can I say? My reward was just getting to see you happy," he teased, cupping your face gently. You felt like your eyes were going to bulge out of your skull as he leaned in.

Your moment, however, was interrupted by a victorious Montoya.

"Guess what, Ventura! I did it! I cracked that stone face like an egg, I'll tell ya! So you lost, and I won! Suck on that, pet boy!" she screamed, throwing her arms up (and subsequently sloshing the mysterious alcoholic beverage in her cup around haphazardly).

Ace chuckled, bringing you in closer to his side with an arm wrapped around your waist. "What can I say, Montoya. You won! But as you'll soon come to find, I've won a bigger prize," he said smoothly, fingergunning at the woman. In her buzzed stupor, she just shrugged and walked away.

You turned to face him, an unimpressed look on your face.

"Really? Now that was cheesy. What's next, you're gonna kiss me as the new year rings in?" you teased, pursing your lips.

Ace let out a fake laugh, pulling you in flush to his body. You looked away instinctively as he leaned in close, whispering to you as he had the day he won that foolish game.

"On the contrary, my dear, I've never been a man who likes to wait."

[cevansbrat0007]

As the GP kiddos get older, what are their favorite things to do with Daddy Andy? Or their favorite things to do with Momma? Just like one on one bonding things.

Great question!

Bianca "BiBi" Barber - She's a big soccer fan, just like her Mama and they often can be found practicing in the backyard together. BiBi is very good and currently plays for a club team that travels around the region. On the field, Andy and Reader's normally sweet daughter is a force to be reckoned with. She may be small, but she's scrappy. And she's got one hell of a mouth on her - all things she learned from Mama Barber. That kid can talk some serious trash when she's in the mood. While it makes her mother proud, Andy is constantly stunned by just how viscous teenage girls can be...including his Bianca Boo!

BiBi's favorite thing to do with Andy is take her father shopping. She's always trying to update his wardrobe. Now, she knows that her Dad lacks the necessary patience required to survive at the mall, but for her...he really tries. And when they're through, she likes to treat him to frozen yogurt. Well, she tries...only for Andy to slip the money back into her bag.

The last time she took him out for frozen yogurt, a grown man tried to hit on her while Andy was off using the bathroom. Sixteen-year-old BiBi dealt with the creeper just fine, but her father damn near had a heart attack. The older she gets, the more she understands just what her Mama means whenever she calls Andrew dramatic.

___

Katrina "KitCat" Barber - She and her Mama can often be found curled up in Reader's special reading nook. KitCat has her own space set up just for her, and when they can those two get lost in the magic of books for hours. So much so that it's not uncommon for Andy to come looking for them, something they all playfully refer to as a Barber Family Wellness Check.

This kid also has a budding passion for golf, of all things. Andy has been giving her lessons since she's been old enough to swing a club. And over time it's definitely morphed in a father/daughter bonding type experience. She's fairly talented, better than quite a few of the boys - which they hate.

I'll have to tell you all about the time one of those asshole boys tried to look up her skirt. He thought it was real fucking funny until KitCat's nine-iron almost collided with his thick skull. And then when Andy heard what happened...yeah, that shit wasn't pretty. Especially after the asshole kid's uncle tried to place the blame on Katrina. Something about her flirting in order to give herself an advantage.

She honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd seen her Daddy so mad. But they eventually finished the game before going out for double bacon cheeseburgers with extra bacon and cheese fries.

___

Aurora "RoRo" Barber - She and Andy have this thing where they sometimes wake up early on Saturdays and head down to his office. But first, they always stop by this little diner for a quick breakfast of cinnamon apple french toast and a mug of hot chocolate. And since they both know that Mama Barber would have a lot to say about their excessive sugar consumption, they tend to leave that part out.

And as the artist of the family, she's constantly traveling with her purple sketchbook. RoRo is also naturally curious and as well as easily distracted. Which sometimes gives Andy palpitations because she's constantly wandering off in order to get a better look at something that she wants to draw. He loses her sometimes...which typically results in panic.

RoRo also loves helping her mother in the garden. She thinks it's hilarious that her mother adores plants, but is somehow also terrified of bugs. And, although it's not her strong suit, she's not adverse to helping her Mama in the kitchen. It doesn't come naturally to her, but the other day she made a blueberry lemon cheesecake from scratch which turned out to be pretty darn tasty!

___

A.J. "Junior" Barber - He loves cooking with his Mama. They have a great time in the kitchen - and he's actually getting rather good. Baking is more his thing, but the kid has a lot of potential. Unlike his father who was born with the ability to burn water. He also enjoys horror movies, and those viewing parties usually consist of him, Mama Barber, and BiBi.

Now, when it comes to spending time with Andy, Junior loves himself some football. They have a great time going to games together when they can. I'll have to tell you guys about the first NFL game they went to when he was a little kid. It was a hoot! And when they're not trying to watch the game, you can find him tinkering in the backyard with his father breaking fixing things in the shed. They're both a couple of handsome, well-meaning menaces.

___

Finally, no matter how old they get, no Barber ever says no to family movie night. That's a must in their household. Fingers crossed that that never changes. Hope that answers your questions!

[foxofsunholt]

Hello author hope you are having a good day, so how would the ROs react to a mc that becomes a flustered mess when they are near then

Thank you and I hope you’re having a good day too!

This is really funny to me because Mars is also normally a flustered mess around when he’s near a (romanced) MC. And I just picture two beet red people having the most awkward conversation. “Weather?” “Good, yeah” “oh. Good” “yeah.” “Good.” “Mhmm.”

Adelaide, who also becomes flustered easily, is just insecure enough to think your blushing awkwardness means you hate her. Which means she tries extra hard to make you like her, which means you blush extra hard and she gets extra convinced that you hate her. She’s going to come to you in tears one day with a: “I’m so sorry I’m annoying and you hate me” and then maybe dramatically runs away

Camille will want to exploit the shit out of it. She’s finding excuses to touch you, flirting with a smirk on her face. She wants to see how far she can push you. Eventually she will come right out and said it: “you like me, don’t you?” Which amuses her greatly. Her watchful gaze turns a little more…intense. It’s not about watching what you’re going to do but watching what she can do to you. You’re a little hot under those clothes, aren’t you? Why not come take them off in Camille’s tent?

Faith is similar; she wants to see you do it more and more. She likes it! As a big flirt, she’s going to keep flirting and keep staying close to you. But unlike Camille, she harbours some patience. Will wait for you to finish your sentences, won’t touch you if she feels like you don’t want to be touched. She’s having fun, but she doesn’t want to do it at your expense. She comes in with a rare gentleness, easing you into the experience of being desired. She waits for you to make the moves, even though it would be easier if she did it.

Yoon is also in the camp of “make you blush as much as possible”, but after a while it would grow old to him. Honestly, he wants to know what the deal is. Yes he is attractive but so are Mars and Sid. Yes he does have a sultry voice. And he dresses great. And he’s charming and….okay, he gets it. But blushing means feelings and he’s not good with those. He keeps you away, skirting around the blushing elephant in the room. He’s made his interest in you known from the start, but he never expected there to be romantic feelings too. He doesn’t know what to do, and maybe for the first time, he’s the one getting flustered.

Sid won’t mistake your blushing for interest, but he will mistake it for discomfort. When he’s with you, he wants to talk to you. He wants to hear the world through your lips and know your life in your own words. How is he going to do that if you can only get out three words around him? He is gentle and patient and he tries to get you out of your shell and to see him as a true friend. Unfortunately, once you’re comfortable around him you’re stuck in the horrible state of being “just his friend”. And no amount of blushing is going to convince him otherwise.

???/the Seventh RO is confused. Why is this happening. What’s wrong with your face? Do you have a fever? Stay away from them they don’t want to get sick. What? Why are you talking so weirdly did you hit your head too? If they were still trying to kill you, they’d take this opportunity to do it.

[serendertothesquad]

Seren's Studies: Odd Squad UK -- "The Triangle Sisters" Episode Followup, Part 1

...Yeah, I don't think I need to elaborate much on this one in terms of what I hope to see.

But I will try and get myself out of that mindset and take the episode for what it is instead of twiddling my thumbs.

So with that said, let's move on to "The Triangle Sisters", below the break. (Whether Miss Triangle will appear...eh, she won't. Even I know that much.)

Your writer for this episode, who, unlike the writer of the last episode, has a pretty big resume of shows, including a few kids shows. So of course, I'm already immediately confident that this will be a good episode.

Really, anything could surpass what I had to experience yesterday when writing that followup.

(On top of that, somewhere Olympia is shaking in her Converses right now.)

Yeah okay, this one lyric in this short song already sold me on why they had to use AutoTune for Ozzie in "Odd Jubilee".

I'm...a little less critical of it now.

...But is it normal pizza, or is it pizza with odd stuff on it?

Because this is the same organization that has "scrambled toast with Gregs" and I've been sitting here for several years wondering if they're human Gregs or animals with meat.

Sounds like you need to call in a favor from a redhead fri- ah who the fuck am I kidding. There will be no living-legend agent mention this season beyond the Oona image Easter egg. I will stop being delulu and live in reality now.

Olympia wishes she had this kind of Flash-like power.

...Did I hit the Olympia mention quota yet?

Stupid question to ask of Orli, but Captain O's answer is just as hilarious.

INB4 "prop pizza", but that is the worst pizza I have ever seen and tormenting Orli with it is cruel.

HIS SPECIALTY IS MINT CHOCOLATE CHIP?!?!?!?!?!

I'm not even mad. I'm just happy Orli doesn't have to consume a human, hear the crunch, and go "what did I just put in my mouth?"

"Is mint chocolate chip pizza popular over here?"

"Not at all."

It's not the dig at Chicago deep-dish pizza, but someone on the British staff has got one hell of a vendetta against mint chocolate chip. Because it killed their grandma, okay?!

Is...is...

...No. Mm-mm. Wasn't surprised when Betty turned up in "Training Day". I've already gone apeshit over the parking enforcement officer in Chicago. This shit doesn't faze me anymore.

Let's be honest for a moment: if there were security cameras in "Training Day", it would have ruined Todd's entire dramatic comeback reveal.

I mean...they're in the museum...but it would have ruined it.

THEY DIDN'T SHMUMBER-FY THE SANYO CAMERA SANYO BRAND IS CANON IN THE ODDVERSE GOOD DAY.

*long deep sigh*

"The Great Grinaldi" is one example of a time when a character wants to do something but can't because they're occupied on a case. It's a great episode. Otto gets tormented to hell and back because he just wants to see his favorite magician before the chance slips away.

...

I had another example of an episode that was good that did the same thing, but typing that out reminded me that this episode is really just "The Great Grinaldi" but very unfunny. Orli getting tormented with wanting pizza is not funny. It's annoying. Maybe because she's not an idiot like Otto is and has...ehh...well, she's got whimsy, just not Otto-brand whimsy. But she's not an idiot, and she has self-awareness and meta knowledge, and Otto's idiocy is part of what makes "The Great Grinaldi" fun.

No, it wouldn't work with Ozzie either. He's also not an idiot. Nor is he the "I gotta put up with this shit every day" type like Olive.

...I changed my mind.

Transgender triangle villain.

With my cisgender aroace soul.

...I made up my mind.

Lesbian triangle villain.

With my cisgender aroace soul.

See, it's funny because villains normally can't math, but most of them are smart enough to know that squares can be cut into two triangles.

I CHANGED MY MIND.

THEY'RE BOTH GAY WITH THE ONE ON THE RIGHT BEING TRANS.

MY SOUL IS GONE TO THEM.

"And there was no door, so we assumed it was open."

The door doesn't lead to the outside, ding-dong. It connects rooms in the museum. And even if the door seen earlier was not the door she's referring to...common sense would tell you to go by store hours and maybe if the lights are still on inside. Maybe.

If neither of these villains plays the triangle at the end of the episode, it will have been a completely lost cause.

I can, uh...do without the screeching, though. I got that plenty when I watched The Amazing Digital Circus yesterday, thank you.

Oh, the fact that Orli doesn't even want to tell them the truth is absolutely savage.

Look, I don't know if they have neighbors...but do them a service, Orli.

Honestly, how many square villains are in Britain? Among millions and millions of niches, there can't be that many, huh? So this whole "out of town" thing won't be so contrived?

...Mm. Well, them seeing all the town squares got a chuckle out of me, so one point to Tasha.

The pizza thing is not funny.

It will never be fucking funny.

If I want this shit then I will go rewatch "The Great Grinaldi". Or...uh...that other episode whose name I was gonna mention but I forgot now. Yeah. I'll go watch either of those episodes.

Point fucking revoked, Tasha.

AAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA WHOT???????

I'm sorry, did...did they just play the sound of a ringtone...for a video call?

Because Season 3 proved in spectacular fashion that they were inept at including video conference calls in episodes and they didn't even improve???

God, I didn't think I could hate this episode more, but somehow they surpassed Orli's addiction to pizza and went straight into "hehe lawl Zoom".

Believe me, if graphic design actually were my unironic passion, I would design a Zoom conference call screen that would fit the show and be accurate to what they're referencing. But alas, it's not.

Ah yes, my favorite museum in Britain! Museum.

...'S it. 'S the name of the place.

(Also, Want It Need It cookies. Can't decide if that's an MLP reference or not, but I highly doubt it unless they show purple ones.)

"I close the museum at lunchtime so I can feed my cats."

It's like they heard my earlier rage about pushing the black cat stereotype and are trying to rectify it and y'know what? No, it does not rectify it. The man has integrity. But shifting gears doth not an unsin do.

Ohhhh...it's that, uh...the woman with...the hat and...the stick in her mouth that may or may not resemble a cigarette. Yeah. That woman.

Osgood, I love you. Even though you remind me eerily enough of Ohlm, I love you. Platonically. As a character.

But do not perpetuate further what is already a stupid fucking gag.

Perhaps not, but I hear having odd food qualifies you for Odd Squad tax credits, which are very hefty if you can get 'em. You can even cheat the people at the DMV!

"When will you learn, Osgood? No one wants mint chocolate chip pizza."

(On to Part 2!)

[firemandeanbuck]

number 27 for the dreamling prompts!!

Prompt 27: Photographer AU

Dream is one of the most in-demand model in the industry currently. Hob, on the other hand, is fairly a new photographer.

Hob always wanted to peruse photography ever since his sister gave him her old camera, which he uses for personal pictures even now.

Before he knows it, he is taken under the wings of one of THEE best photographer of the age, Eros Endless, also known as only Desire. They see something special in Hob. He has that sparkle of life that makes everything brighter. They say he is able to somehow capture a moment, not only a picture and retain its originality.

Hob gets his first big break, not at some gala, or with some known celeb, but on the wedding of one Morpheus Endless, aka Dream, with Tesslay. Naturally, Desire wasn't available that night, it was his brother's wedding after all, and they wanted to have fun.

It was celestial theme, so much glitter and shades for the camera to click and for Hob to pick from.

Since it was a midnight event with more candles than lights, Hob allowed the warm splash on the collection. It was his finest work till date, even better than the last photo he took of his late wife with 4 weeks old Robyn.

The event itself was not big, it was GRAND, everything was extra, the dresses, the decorations, there were trained RAVENS even. It all screamed of how rich the wed couple were. They looked somewhat repelled by the other as they were standing next to each other.

Dream was flawless, even more so in real life. His all-black suit with silver embroidered cloak made his pale skin stand out, like a vampire at a royal ball. His hair was as messy as it is on the runaway. He just looked so big, so unapproachable, like he doesn't belong on earth, he is too classy, too elegant to be on the same plane as Hob. His swirling blue eyes and fluid movements while he dances entranced Hob greatly.

Shortly after, he is recruited by many and is kept busy even since. Now, he knows his way around, he knows his people, he knows how to get into the good books of the higher ups. The right charm for the job, how to make others comfortable. He charges according to the person, the highest he ever went was Dream's wedding, lowest for his sister's bday.

Due to this, he rises quickly in both rank and experience.

He did get to photograph Dream. It was... a session, that may or may not ended up earlier than what was agreed upon.

Dream's eyes were on Hob the entire time. Hob tried his best to not be caught with him.

Hob was utterly breathless by Dream's posing with so confidently and so professionally. He was loosing himself, yet, he didn't forget who he was.

Afterwards, when Hob was processing the pictures on his PC with Dream, as he wanted to see how they turned out even though they were raw picture, Hob was not thinking of his work, he was thinking of how close Dream was standing next to him, he was thinking of how his voice was echoing in his bones, he was thinking of those hands on his body.

"You are wonderful at this",

The photographer can feel himself glow under his praise, he muttered a small thanks as he tried to keep his face from burning.

"What else are you this good at?" His impossibly deep voice dropped an octave.

It was clearly a hint, but Hob played dumb for both of their sakes,

"A handful of other things, I am fond of cooking. Best out there",

It was so close to leading up to tangled sheets and hot breath. Regardless, Morpheus seems to have approved of Hob and his work. He left with the promise that next time he hopes to see him at his place.

Shit hit the fan, there was no ONE person who was normal about the photos. They were instant internet hit and favourites. Hob was surprised to see his followings increase dramatically. Among them was Dream.

Then, one day, he finds Thesslay in his office, asking for a favour,

"Lady, I'm not doing you any favours", he heaves

"Do you know who I-"

"Yes, yes, I do, I was the photographer at your wedding, remember?" Hob tried to reason with her.

She stormed out just as Desire was entering their shared studio.

"What a silly woman she is", they bemused.

"She is getting on my nerves a LITTLE too much",

"Talk to Dream about it, then", Desire said as if its the most obvious solution. In a way, it is, but Hob didn't want to approach Dream. Maybe he didn't want to disappoint, maybe he has developed a crush on him ever since he saw him at his wedding.

"Why don't YOU talk to him?" Hob fired back. Dream was, after all, Desire's brother.

"Family grudges", they say so casually.

Hob finds himself in Dream's penthouse on a fine spring morning. The model agreed to see Hob. He did not speak of the last time they were alone in a room.

"So, what brings you here, Hob Gadling?" Dream asks.

More silent than usual, Hob turned his head to look out of the window. Hob's mind was slightly malfunctioning, you see. Dream was wearing nothing but a black silk gown, his smooth chest, white arms and long legs were on display. The way he carelessly sat with a fixed posture, his back straight, but his limb animated. It was a sight to see. He truly gave off the model aura.

"You-your wife. She has been bugging me for a while", he said, his eyes not meeting Dream's.

"Hmm. Worry not, she will bother you no longer",

Relief washed off Hob. He fear what will be his reaction. Finally, after 3 weeks, he don't have to look over his shoulder and be careful when passes the street.

"And she is no longer my wife", Dream said in his left ear. Hob whipped his head around so fast, he almost got a whiplash. That damn voice again.

Hob did NOT notice Dream getting up and sitting next to him. He did NOT notice the way the robe wasn't fully opaque. He did NOT notice the way he was leaning in, his focus fully on Hob, like he is a masterpiece to be fully appreciated up close.

There was distance of only inches between them. Hob wasn't thinking with his mind, he was thinking with his heart and dick, so he leaned in.

[gwydionmisha]

Personal: This Person Just Uncleaned My Apartment

I think I need to tell you about the Cleaner, because OMG, but for that you will need context on my pain/meds situation.

So less pain does not remotely equal no pain.  My hip joints were a mess Wednesday, and only a little better Thursday.  My shoulder joints, and thus my arms, started to go bad Thursday.  The fundamental things wrong with my body aren't fixable, but the new meds are doing a stellar job on what I think of as the secondary pain, IE: everything else not joint or tendon or in their immediate vicinity.  It is far more effective than the muscle relaxants I've been using for decades at this since it's hitting the nerves and not just the muscles.  It also adds to the tired.  So much to the tired.  Bonus: on the new dose, I get dizzy if I don't rest enough, and the heart palpitations hit longer and harder when they hit.

Dramatically better means for an extreme chronic pain/chronic illness perspective, not from a remotely healthy person's perspective, if you follow.  I was into about a month of unbearable torment when we tried the one pill dosage.  I'm still not sure my system can handle the two pills, and I plan to stick to this dose.  They are supposed to last eight hours, but I get an extra four hours of partial coverage per pill, and like I said the side effects are scaling up on me.

So right now my balance sucks, I'm exhausted, and my shoulder joints scream at me if I try to do anything remotely strenuous with them, you follow?

So far I've had four different cleaners turn up, two of them twice.  Three of those are hard and thorough workers.  One of those will not wear her mask.  I put up with it because I am wearing mine and turn on all the fans and I'm scared if I don't take her, no one will come.  (see five skipped cleaning appointments in a row).

Cleaning is a hard fucking job and they are underpaid, get no benefits, no set hours, and have to pay their own travel costs including for the ferry if they are coming from the reservation and that is a lot of gas.  I respect cleaners.  I've done it, after all, amoung the many shit jobs I had over the years.  I trust them to know what they are doing.  This has been the case in three instances.  Most of the conversation with those three cleaners has been things like: Where does this go?  Where is (whatever) kept?  What should i do next?  I refuse to micro manage.  In my experience, micro managing is dramatically less efficient and just insults the person doing the job.  I know I hated it, when I was the person being micro-managed.  This works great for Goth Millennial and for the other three cleaners on the other four occasions.

I'm sure you are sensing the big but here.

So the cleaner who came today, turned up the other time she was here high as a kite.  I don't mean a little buzzed, which is fairly normal in this town and this state.  Weed's been legal here for ages.  People with shitty service jobs occasionally come to work a schootch high.  It doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things if, say, your barista's a little buzzed.  I don't partake myself for a host of reasons, but most of my friends since... I'm going to say 1985, have/do.  A little high is no big deal.

Orbiting Pluto without a suit is.  She was way out of it girl at a party who's friends have to watch her like a hawk high.  She was barely coherent high.  She drove here.  O.o.  She drove home.  This terrifies me.  after some consultation with my friends including them seeing the mess she made and me acting out vignettes, our best guess is she must have dramatically misjudged an edible.  (It had to be vape or edible.  I would have smelled smoke.  Edible makes the most sense for both the degree of Jesus fuck high and the thinking she was fine when she left home, but waaaay not fine when she got here.  Surely she would have cancelled otherwise, right?).

So basically instead of my working away at the aggregate or tumblr queue programming or whatever, it was a lot like baby sitting a toddler who would not shut up, only the toddler would make more sense and the mess would have likely been confined to things in a toddler's reach.  I had to go around after she left and actually use the forbidden to me for safety reasons ladder to save a bunch of my cups and glasses from the accident I could see happening the second Squirrel opened a dish cupboard because he had jammed them in their so precariously that the door was the only thing preventing them falling.  Goth Millennial came the next day and had to take everything out and restack it.  I could live with the fitted sheet being inside out, so we left that for today.

I did not turn her in to the asshole agency because 1. worker solidarity.  I never went to work on a substance, but I've worked so, so many shit jobs and the Asshole Agency is terrible.  2. I was pretty sure it was a mistake involving an edible. 3. I was big on giving people another chance when I was teaching.  On fuck up shouldn't lat for ever unless that fuck up was malicious or really damaging to other people.

Well, fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice shame on me.

No, she was not noticeably high this time, though I couldn't rule a mild buzz out.  She also had a shamefaced and subdued demeanor that clearly told me she knew how badly she'd fucked up last time.  She said she'd signed up for me on purpose instead of her other option because I was really nice to her and my apartment was full of interesting things to look at while she cleaned.  My apartment is full of interesting things to look at and I suspect she liked me because I was consistently kind to her when she was a mess last time and hadn’t turned her in.   She really is sweet and nice and she is clearly trying her best but not remotely the sharpest tool in the shed.  Which can be fine.  I've known a lot of good workers over the years with significant developmental or accident related challenges and they did fine.  She wasn't in that category, but I realized she'd need extra supervision compared to the others.  I underestimated how much.

She did walk right up to Tavy and start petting him right away like last time which again confused and alarmed him.  Sure, Squirrel and I and a couple of the Millennials can do that because we are his particular friends, but he barely knows her and and she would NOT stop doing that last time no matter how many times I told her he was a biter and apt to maul when he was worked up.  I was so proud of him because he did not attack her the first three times, and honestly the forth time, I would have bitten her too in his place.  

Tavy was noticeably wary of her.  He did want to watch what she was doing, but he remembered her.  (By contrast, the other cleaners he'd watch from a distance for a while, and then follow around and in a couple cases, get me to pick him up so he could get a better look.  He really took to the GNC person who came once, and kept sniffing their legs).  He did let her pet him without biting her, and she was together enough to stop when I told her he was down, and leave him alone for the rest of the two hours when I said he was in a mood to hang out and watch but not interact.

I got her through the linen change okay and last time she was so high she forgot we had a dishwasher after she'd emptied it and it took her most of her shift except the linen change, but the dishes looked and smelled clean, so I set her to that and did not remotely supervise her enough.  This I did not discover until evening, but we'll get to that.

Then I set her to sweep and mop, which... Like I've worked a lot of restaurant jobs, often with people in a supported worker with severe intellectual challenges.  I've never seen one who'd been doing it for years who couldn't do it correctly.  She said she'd been doing this for several years.

Assuming makes an ass out of me, doesn't it?

Oh gods the mess she made!  I should have known it was too hard for her when she started prepping for mopping before sweeping.  So I told her to sweep first, which she did.  I told her to dump the water in the sink, not the tub, which turned out to be very, very lucky.  (The tub is the most expensive thing I own.  A city program that remodels for elderly and disabled people paid for it.  I will never be able to afford to fix or replace it.  There are super strict cleaning directions for a reason, because the mechanism is delicate.)  I told her to use the liquid all purpose cleaner under the sink.  I should have got it out and prepped the bucket myself, but bending hurts and I was exhausted and dizzy and my arm situation was deteriorating.  I should have done it anyway, because this is So.  Much.  Worse.

She used a ton of water.  Like way, way to much water in a way that suggested she did not wring the mop and/or she was dumping puddles out of the bucket.  It was a terrifying fall risk situation because this was the end of her shift and I really really needed to get ready for bed as soon as she left and forage delivery was late so I had to go drag it in, just as I'd given up and settled into bed.  So I'm dizzy with unreliable legs, using both hands and going careful back and forth over this swamp of a floor with a weird gritty, soapy texture.  Which is... not what you want in a cleaner for elderly and disabled people.  I could fall and end up in the hospital under those conditions.  And it;'s not like I could want a couple hours for it to dry.  There was no point in washing my feet in the bathroom, so I kept using wipes on them before getting into bed.

Then I woke up to pee and realized just how bad it really was.  *head desk*  My best guess is she used Ajax, which is stored under a bookshelf in the bathroom, not under the sink.  Like a TON of Ajax.  The kitchen sink and nearby counter was caked with it and the floor was tacky and gritty and full of muddy footprints.  I couldn't leave it like that.  I cleaned the sink.  I took the other mop with the disability friendly easy to wring it out attachment which had been to complicated for her head and wet mopped it all again, frequently rinsing and wringing it out, until my arms basically gave out and I had to wash up and take a nap.

It's still incredibly dirty.  I feel like crying, because I can't feel clean unless my feet are.  I've been skating around on damp towels, but though my hip joints are a lot better this evening, I wear out fast and it hurts quite a bit if I do it too much.  I hate leaving a terrible mess like this for the millennial, but I simply can't mop any more with these arms.  I'd have been so much better off giving her something else to do, but I couldn't think of anything else simple enough for her, and I know from last time she will not leave early no matter how much I tell her she can just clock out at the end of the hour.

At this point I was debating what to do.  I had settled on calling Monday and asking them to put her on my no list without giving a reason, because I simply can't go through this again.  It's too hard on my body and it's incredibly could seriously injure me dangerous.

Then I went to feed the Empress Livia and discovered something worse.

I'm medically fragile.  Amoung so many other things, I have an immune system that is far more interested in own goals than fighting pathogens.  I can and will catch anything you expose me too.  Anything.  I also have a dicey digestive system.  Anything I use to prepare food or eat or drink needs to be really fucking clean. We prewash for grease and stuck on food then run them through the washer to make sure the soap and anything else is off.  yes, I know this is bad for the environment as it uses extra water, but it’s a serious safety issue for me.

I was very, very clear on directions because I remembered last time.  “Wash the dishes and then put the in the dishwasher.  The dishes in there are dirty, so don’t put them away.  I will run the washer after you leave.”  Did she do that?  No.  Were the dishes cleaned and dried, which would be reasonably acceptable as an alternative?  No.  They were jammed in with the clean dishes, soaking wet and covered in soap bubbles six or seven hours after she left.  We'll have to go through all the pans tomorrow.  I pulled the pans and dishes I remembered were in the sink yesterday.  I have no way of guessing with the glasses and flatware and I don't know which things Squirrel put in there.  

I am exhausted and I hurt and I've been pushed way past the limit of what my body can handle in a day and I can't trust my dishes or the glass I'm drinking out of and I can't get the dirty Ajax grit off my feet.  I'm going to go take a bath, but my feet will be dirty again the second I touch the floor.

She's another poor person.  I feel like a class traitor just putting her on my no list, but she could theoretically kill an elderly person with her mopping, and I can't decide if I should say something, because anything I do will be a terrible option.

This person literally uncleaned my apartment.  I just....

Look, I know it’s a free service, but this is so very much worse than when they don’t send anyone.

[stormxpadme]

Whumptober 2024 No. 14 - Blackmail

06/10/2018

There were things that could ruin even the day of a phenomenal, unexpected triumph and of, hopefully, another, even more momentous one on the horizon. Entering your private quarters to prepare for a crucial briefing and being expected by your most important bodyguard in your own bedroom of all places, was at the top of that shit list.

By a visibly upset bodyguard no less, who seemed to be only waiting for the next best chance to explode, with bared teeth and trembling fists, white-colored fingertips ready on the triggers for his flame wristbands. And Raven somehow strongly doubted that Pyro just was in the mood for one of their usual brutal sparring sessions. At least he'd already gotten changed, his Kevlar-enhanced black latex top just like his main weapons signaling readiness for action with regard to what was maybe his most important quest for Raven's team ever ... But prepared, he was for this final meeting before the big strike clearly only on the outside.

“We got a problem?” Not even bothering to feign interest in one of the boy's regular mood swings, Raven came to stand in front of her closet and morphed a few utensils from her flesh that she actually rarely used for fights, but which would today when she was to appear as a warlord in front of her small army here in Watergate, feed the necessary enthusiasm among her followers. With her actual general notoriously having a different, at least as important job to do tonight, it was her turn to represent as her group's figurehead this time. That demanded a little more dramatics than she was usually fond of. The gun holster promptly uncomfortably scratched her bare hip, the tip of a long dagger danced across her skin when after a second of consideration, she produced a bulletproof vest on her chest as well. Under normal circumstances, such an appearance would have been out of the question ... But the revolution that the USA would see tonight went beyond anything she had ever attempted in the Brotherhood, even during Erik's lifetime. It was a battle unlike any even she had ever fought despite decades of combat experience. Giving her people the impression of a little exaggerated caution to assure them, they wouldn’t be suddenly off without their leader in the middle of combat, couldn't hurt. Not to mention, dressing up saved her from endless admonitions from said general, to whom in emergencies, she was ready to assign a lot more responsibility to than to this whining twink behind her.

And Pyro was perfectly aware of that, of course. The admittedly somewhat rushed start of their big endeavor tonight, of all nights, after Raven had delayed the latter for months without ever asking for Pyro's opinion, must have driven that point home once again in no uncertain terms. Only a last bit of defiance, which she hadn't been able to rid the guy of despite all the painful lessons over the years, probably prevented him from simply swallowing the facts and functioning as she expected every one of her people to do. Pyro was a very slow learner; that hadn't changed since he'd joined the Brotherhood as a teenager. “Why didn't you tell me?”

Raven wasn’t in the mood for an argument, actually, she simply didn't have time for one either. But unfortunately, thanks to his fire powers, which almost equaled those of a level 5 mutant, the boy was despite his immature behavior still one of their most important warriors. Today, she couldn’t just kick him to the sick bay to be left in peace with a well-aimed kick. “Because I know your temper. Westchester was a piece of cake. I couldn't let your ... past make this any more complicated than it needed to be.”

“You're the one making complications!” Pyro threw in her face. ”We agreed we wouldn't take those losers in until we were absolutely sure everything was going to work out! If the Field fails ...”

“It will work,” Mystique interrupted him harshly, without the slightest hint of doubt in her voice. She no longer relied on half-hearted research results like in Erik's days when it was about means that were supposed to ensure her victory today – the first of a long, historic series of triumphs in the years to come. The moment for the ultimate attack just had never been right so far.

Until suddenly that red-haired had showed up at her doorstep who'd represented the perfect tool to eliminate the last risk regarding Raven's plans. Nowadays, thanks to the necessary technical help to control them, defectors no longer posed a threat but made for quite useful slaves. And thanks to the emotionality of these people, helpful holes in the lines of defense of their arch-enemies came as a freebie together with such low blows of betrayal that they suffered. Summers and his band of limp dicks had basically taken themselves out of the equation once more. A still somewhat incredulous little smile curled on Raven's lips at the memory of how easy it had been this time to neutralize all of her favorite enemies at once.

If things would be just as easy in New York ... Then she was about to become invincible.

Her smirk seemed to make Pyro even more aggressive. He stomped towards her with clenched fists. Nervous sparks from his flamethrowers danced around his fingertips, more of an annoying habit than a threat. He knew it anyway that in spite of his mighty gift, her physical form, he had nothing to counter against. “That's what you think, and that's what Toad thinks. And while I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, I wouldn't trust the judgment of a drooling amphibian when the freedom of all mutantkind depends on it. What if the machine fails? Did you think about that for one second? Then we put the X-Men on alert, half of Watergate will probably be in ruins in case they track us down, and we can forget about using that weapon for a while, if not forever. Would it kill you to admit for once that you fucked up?”

“I'll let you know if that ever happens," Raven answered dryly. "Can you unclench your butt maybe? No one will be leaving the Xavier mansion for days to come. I made sure of that.” She still didn’t bother to even turn around. The faint orange reflection of Pyro's powers on the smooth silver surface of her closet told her that he had stopped to approach her, of course he had. So far, he'd never had the balls in the end. If against all odds, that would ever change, she would finally have to slit his throat after all. Or give him a promotion, depending on the outcome. “And even if they did, they'll come here, not to the city. For that, they're far too scared of losing their kids. Emotional blackmail has always worked on these losers when they've become a nuisance. The X-Men aren't our problem this time, Pyro. And in a few hours, we won't have to worry about normal people anymore either. After tonight, the East Coast will be a model city for this planet. Buckle up unless you want to watch the show from the cheap seats.”

Pyro stepped closer to her so suddenly now after all that his penetrating, harsh aftershave hit her nose, and waves of aggression welled up in her even before he put his sweaty hands on her shoulders. Her withering glance, with a raised eyebrow over her shoulder, met fear that was suddenly written in his light brown eyes. Interesting. Did he know that he rather should be afraid of her right now? “We only have fifteen flawless correct test runs! Don't get cocky, Raven. That already had Magneto end up on the losing side.”

Raven's fist hit him so brutally in the stomach that he collapsed with a choked scream, gasping for air. Not the slightest shred of compassion filled her soul. Only more anger at the realization of what weaklings she had to deal with in her own team, too. Disrespectful, spoiled brats. If Pyro, after all these years in which he'd actually proven himself not too badly as a fighter suddenly did no longer have the guts after all, she should probably indeed have taken him to Westchester earlier. Forever, in fact. “You can either do what you're paid for tonight, or you can get the fuck out of here, that in any way clear? I don't need you. But know that if it should enter our mind to reveal Brotherhood secrets to anyone, there's no place I won't find you.”

“I have always been loyal to you!” Pyro gritted out, between heavy coughs. With clenched teeth, he struggled to his feet, the fighting spirit already gone again, staring at Raven with a disappointed shake of his head. The lesson had been learned, hopefully. For the next few weeks at least. Now he no longer questioned it. Now he was just trying to understand, and that usually took him a while. Still a result of his upbringing by Xavier. “I sacrificed my damn future for Magneto's dream, you know that. I just want this to work. How can you be so damn sure?”

With that tiresome little dance over, Mystique could finally turn to her preparations again, to the most important one, to be exact. The combination that opened the safe behind one of three pictures in this room, the one showing her with Erik at the time of Inferno. One of their last moments together. She forced herself to avert her gaze before she could become seriously melancholic. There was no room for that tonight. Today, the only thing that mattered was the remote trigger, barely the size of a pencil, which was displayed in a bulletproof glass in the middle of the safe. It felt cool and strange in her hand ... and at the same time as reassuring as the barrel of a good old .38. It would all end tonight, years of preparation, everything she had been working towards since Erik's painful, silent disappearance. Wherever he was, a stupid sentimental part of her hoped she'd make him proud. “I've been working on this weapon ever since it was nothing more than a drawing on Magneto's desk. Nobody knows it as well as Toad and I. If you still don't know whom to trust in after all these years, maybe try your luck with your old teachers again. I'm afraid though, right now they have other things to worry about than babying yet another prodigal son.”

Pyro shrugged in a gesture of resignation. His fingertips absently traced the long, black scarred line on his face. His eyes narrowed when his thoughts finally turned to the matter at hand. Fine lines around them and the first signs of gray in his dark blond, shoulder-length hair revealed that the wheel of time had left its mark on the once young, headless members of the Brotherhood as well. “You won't be able to convince everyone as quickly as me. Some of these kids are still pretty green. They're too scared.”

“They'll join the ride if they don't want to keep on being scared of far worse things.” Unimpressed, Raven took the second item out of the otherwise completely empty safe, a holo-disk on which she or her general backed up the main computer's hard drive every day. A few hit buttons brought up an image from the sick bay, from one of the cooling tanks. The image that would support her speech in a second. When things reached a point at where these primitive bastards of men started to turn mutants into black corpses with the help of viruses, it was high time to rise up. She quickly closed the lid of the display lens again, more touched by this image of a child dying in agony than she would have admitted. No time for sentimentality. After tonight, such crimes would be history. “They're waiting for us. Get moving, St. John. Oh, and unless you plan to end up a bedside rug, stay the fuck out of my quarters.”

Pyro nodded slowly, letting out an incredibly bitter snort, and left her alone without another word.

*******************************************************************************

@whumptober | @whumptober-archive

[valodia]

ah 10:34 am GMT+1. perfect time to rate each flstudio plugin ive ever used

rating is based on: personal subjectivity, effort it costs to use, and number of times ive actually used it

-non native instruments- (all these are free btw)

"Accordion VST" ★☆☆☆☆ self explanatory. got it around 1 or 2 years after i started making music for lofi songs. i couldnt get it to sound like i wanted n blend in well with the other instruments so i only used it a couple times. im thinking of trying it again messing around with filters since at the time of use i didnt know how to do that

"Revitar" ★★★★★ acoustic guitar plugin, sounds very folk. absolutely adore and also the very first plugin i got. since my version of flstudio didnt have any acoustic guitar plugins. can be tuned to sound like a shamisen <3 revitar loads poorly in my experience (just doesnt open on boot/loading it) but i always manage to get it to work eventually and its so good i forgive it.

"DSK Dynamic Guitars" ★★★☆☆ classical guitar plugin. got it i think like 5 years ago bc i wanted a guitar plugin that wasnt revitar. not perfect but does the job.

"DSK Overture" ★★★★�� iirc second plugin i got after revitar. it's a plugin for orchestra type instruments. i think i got it bc i wanted a violin. this plugin is amazing as it does many many instruments n i do use most of them. also some "instruments" are actually combo presets. you can set 4 of instruments to play at once (including the combos) which is ideal to mix them and get interesting sounds. absolute fave.

"EasternONE" ★☆☆☆☆ another versatile plugin i got early on when i started music. it does several instruments (though not as many as DSK Overture) among which: aud, accordion, santur, kaman, etc. kinda like accordion vst i used it a few times but not that much. also have a hard time blending the sounds with other instruments in a satisfying way. it does sound way more real and less digital then other plugins.

"NES VST" ★★★★☆ plugin for retro nintendo shape sounds: square, triangle, noise. perfect for that electronic sound and easily tunable <3 loses a star bc requires some work to fit effectively with other instruments.

EDIT: I FORGOT MINI ERHU!!!!!!!!! here it is:

"Mini Erhu" ★★★★★ self explanatory: erhu plugin. has several presets to instantly get different ways for it to sound. mixes very well with other instruments. absolutely perfect i love it so much. its just a sound i love. makes my music sound so weird since i mash it with other instruments in like electronical music etc and yea! idk how to make normal music! anyway its only dramatic downside is that the range is abysmal. otherwise so good.

-native instruments- (came with my FLstudio 12 version fruity edition - bc im fruity and its the shit tier of the paying versions.)

"Boobass" ★★★★☆ very classical bass that fits most modern sounding songs. a lil bland for my taste but perfect for not emphasizing bassline too much

"FLKeys" ★★★★★ // ★★★★☆ piano synth plugin. used to be perfect but in my version it broke so i can only use the shittier presets and i have to tune it every single time i use it. does not save presets. does not let me use my fave setting which was the grandpiano one </3 never got to work normally again.

EDIT: I also forgot FLSlayer OTL here it is

"FLSlayer" ★★★★☆ electric guitar plugin for rock or metal. very versatile for bass, rhythm guitar or solo guitar sound. it comes with a bunch of different "amps" also. just pretty good. dramatical downside is that it takes forever to tune to get the exact sound you want and mix it with other instruments.

-native filters-

"Fruity limiter" ★★★★☆ it's a limiter. always on by default and i never thought to turn it off. have no opinion on it.

"Fruity Reeverb 2" ★★★☆☆ a reverb plugin, fun to play around with to make the song sounds like its in a big orchestral room or something. i cannot be trusted to use it responsibly so ive stopped using it altogether lately.

"EQUO" ★★★★☆ another limiter, very versatile to give interesting shapes to sounds. i use it to get kind of a retro, desaturated sound. very much love.

there. hopefully this gives some insight about how i fully use FLStudio to almost 1% of its capacity. good nite.

also i did not elaborate on drumlines plugins thats bc i broadly dont care about drumline so much so i have way less of an opinion on them. i use most of the native plugins + DSK Overture for the drumline

[kingnin64]

Nin life update #1

Let's get the big one out of the way: I'm going back to my old job.

I hate that I'm saying that, and I've felt a pit in my chest all day. They called me again, begging me to come back because they only have 4 workers. After I quit, the lady that drugged me eventually went to jail again and got fired, finally. Then, one of the people I convinced to work there quit because he found a better job. One worker is on vacation, and the other is only available on weekends.

So, after failing to get a job over the past month and getting to a financial point where I am consuming the last of my groceries and not paying rent, despite all the job applications I put in, I am going back to Dollar General, the job that almost sent me back to self harm.

Now, for some less depressing news: speedrunning is going very well :)

No world records or top 5's yet, but I'm doing great. Sludge Life 2 released, and I got to experience what it was like to make a speedrun route for a game. I feel like I did a very good job, because my sum of best is much faster than the other runners. I think, as long as I get my run done, I'll hold the world record for like... a day lol.

I had one really good run, but I got to the very end and realized I missed ONE tag. The door on the balcony opens if you've collected all 100 tags. You can see my heart fall out of my chest and shatter into a million pieces on the ground.

Don't forget to follow my Sludge Life speedrunning blog if you wanna see more about the runs :)

Finally, I checked out my old YouTube videos.

Nothing too big to say about it, but I do still feel really proud of everything I've created. With some inspiration from @voltbuttumblin during his streaming anniversary, I've kinda been playing with the idea of making YouTube content again. Unfortunately, this has to coincide with me getting a job that physically and emotionally drains me again, so it probably won't happen.

I just miss when I was making those "record while I play with friends and turn it into a video if it was funny" days. I was documenting the time I was spending with the people I care about. All my friends are very funny, and I love every minute I spend with them. I miss them so much.

And now, for some bonus rambling:

Nowadays, I'm more antisocial. My time at Dollar General really broke me. I lost a lot of friends, and my relevance has really died down since leaving Toiu's community way back then. I don't know if my relative popularity would have survived even if I stayed though, so I try not to think about it too much.

I've met a lot of new people I'm too nervous to talk to. I used to be a natural at approaching and communicating with people, but now I really think a ton about each thing I say to them. I don't think that's so much due to my anxiety as it is due to my self hatred. Over the years, losing friends, developing bad habits... working in retail... it's all really put a dampener on my self-image.

I used to not be a good person. A lot of people with BPD can probably relate to having some bad behavior in the past, or perhaps they're even struggling with it now. So now, any time someone even says the word "manipulative," it feels like it's instantly aimed at me, I take it to heart, and I feel like nothing's changed. This happens with almost everything negative now. All the lost friends? It's most certainly due to my behavior, and not due to people naturally drifting apart.

I get so much shit in my head. I take normal, meaningless shit, and I add so much meaning to it to make myself feel bad. Friend said something entirely unrelated to me but it potentially could be about me? Oh honey it's about me. It hurts to live like this.

Every time I'm in a group, I know I will eventually lose it because of my own insecurities. Even when nobody has anything against me- even if I was a perfect human being, I would imagine some dramatic reason people might slightly dislike me. EVEN PEOPLE I DON'T EVEN TALK TO. Like, I tweet a lot of shit, and there's some people I really respect that follow me, even though we don't talk, and I always worry that they will block me or something.

It sucks, dude. That's all there is to say. See you next update <3