#watch someone call me names for pointing this out

[ventismacchiato]

17 stuck with you — jealousy jealousy !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

content warning: oblivious idiots

MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT: YOUR POINT OF VIEW

When you and the others returned from the island, you walked into the dorms to find everyone either drunk or in the process of getting there. When Yae asked what everyone wanted for catering, the unanimous answer was alcohol—until Jean reminded them they’d need food too.

You’d had a drink or two and were playing a halfhearted game of cards on the floor with Venti and Aether. Nobody seemed interested in going to bed. Getting drunk was the perfect way to forget the stress of the show.

Scara sat near the door, absentmindedly pulling out blocks in the game of Jenga Fischl had set up beside him. The atmosphere was surprisingly calm…for now.

Then Mona stood up from where she’d been teaching Yoimiya how to make a drink and plopped down next to Scara. He didn’t look too thrilled by the move.

“So, Kuni?” she slurred.

You froze at the name. Scara had made it clear that nobody but you called him that.

“Don’t call me that,” Scara muttered, his voice flat.

“Aww, why not? I thought I meant more than that,” Mona teased, clearly influenced by the alcohol.

“Can you go bother someone else?” Scara shot back.

“Don’t be like that!” Mona huffed, nudging him with her shoulder. “Want a massage? You used to love my massages.” She said the last part while looking directly at you, her hand casually caressing Scara’s shoulder. You quickly looked away, trying not to make it obvious that you were listening.

Scara removed her hand from his shoulder, pointedly avoiding eye contact. Mona didn’t let it go.

“Why won’t you just pay attention to me?” she whined, leaning closer.

“Can you not?” Scara finally turned to face her, his voice sharp. “What the hell are you even doing here?”

At this point, the whole room was trying to act like they weren’t paying attention, but it was clear they were all watching

“I just wanted to talk—” Mona began, but Scara interrupted her.

“I mean, what are you doing on this island?”

“I came to win you over,” Mona said, as though the answer was obvious.

“You’re the one who broke up with me,” Scara huffed, crossing his arms. “Don’t give me that bullshit.”

Mona took a long swig from her drink, unfazed.

“I didn’t want to,” she sighed, her voice thick with alcohol. “I would’ve stuck it out if your mom hadn’t… well…”

You felt a flush of heat spread across your face at the mention of Scara’s mother. You weren’t the only one who noticed; Childe, Aether, and Kazuha exchanged glances, each looking more uncomfortable by the second.

Scara grabbed Mona’s glass from her hand, his fingers tight around it. “You should shut up.”

Mona, however, was too far gone to be deterred.

“How could I not take the contract? You know how bad my old management was. I had no choice. It was either that or you. You know how it is.”

It was only when she noticed the entire room was staring at her that a little sobriety seemed to return. She clamped her palm over her mouth and stared at Scara, wide-eyed.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to say that,” she mumbled, her voice the most sincere it had been all night.

Scara didn’t answer. He just stared at the ground, his face unreadable, while Mona rambled her apology. The rest of the room shifted awkwardly, unsure if they should intervene or just let it pass. You could feel your heart race, had that been the real reason for their breakup? You had always thought Scara had ended things on his own terms. 

Mona reached out for him, but Scara stood up abruptly, stepping over the scattered Jenga blocks on the floor as he moved toward the door. It creaked open, letting in a cold gust of night air before slamming shut behind him.

The room fell silent for a moment. Then, Mona stood, swaying slightly, and started after him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Kazuha murmured, but his words were drowned out by the sound of the door shutting once again.

“Did you guys know about all that?” Venti asked, turning to Aether.

“Since it’s out in the open, yeah,” Aether sighed.

“We need to stop giving her drinks,” Lumine muttered under her breath.

“I’m kind of worried about Mona going after him,” Childe said, rising from his seat to peer out the window. “Knowing Scara, he might drown himself… or her.”

“I’ll go be a witness to the murder then,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. Childe gave you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as you made your way out the door.

You didn’t know why you felt the sudden urge to follow him. It had always been about trying to surpass him before. But tonight…tonight you just wanted to catch up to him. To be equals.

SCARA’S POINT OF VIEW

The bench is cold beneath him and the sea breeze is a sharp slap against his face as he stares out at the crashing waves. It’s quiet but it does little to distract him from the turmoil in his chest. His fingers curl around the cigarette, the thin paper already loose from where he pocketed it earlier. He twirls it between his fingers absently, trying to focus on the motions instead of his thoughts.

The urge to light it is almost unbearable. He can almost feel the familiar ache, the way the smoke would crawl its way down his lungs and quiet everything inside him. It would help him forget. At least for a little while. 

But he promised he wouldn’t. 

Your words echo in his head like a soft, repeated prayer, something that clings to him even when he’s alone. He knows if he takes that drag, it’s one more step back from everything he's trying to hold onto. One more thing he’ll have to explain to you, and he can’t stomach that right now.

So instead, he flicks the cigarette into the sand, watching it settle there like a tiny, forgotten thing, and then turns his gaze back to the sea. His breath hitches in his chest. If it isn’t the lack of nicotine that’s bothering him, it’s something else. Something sharper, older.

Something that happened more than a year ago. 

Mona’s slurred words made the memory hit him with the force of a slap. It wasn’t her betrayal that stung, not really. He knew the two of them were never that serious. But it was the fact that she had chosen his mother over him. The fact that his own mother had paid her off like it was nothing. 

Mona had once been sweet back when they first met. Her determination to be an idol had reminded him of you in a way. Maybe he was just searching for a piece of you in anyone he could find. 

“Scara?”

He doesn’t have to turn to know it’s her. He can smell the alcohol before he hears the soft, slurred voice, and when he finally looks up, there she is, weaving on unsteady feet, her hair tangled around her shoulders, eyes glazed.

She’s drunk.

God, what a fucking mess.

“I—uh—can I sit?” She hiccups, and despite himself, he shifts slightly to make room on the bench, the muscles in his back tense, coiled, but his body obeys the unspoken politeness he’d long been taught.

Mona doesn’t wait for a response. She just slumps beside him, her hands gripping her knees like she’s trying to hold herself together.

“I didn’t mean it,” she says after a long silence, the words coming out in a rush, broken by more hiccups. “I didn’t mean to say it to everyone. I swear, I didn’t. I was just—I was just trying to make you… jealous, or something.”

Scara doesn’t say anything. He can already feel his patience wearing thin, his hand tightening into a fist. He knows where this is going.

“You know how I get when I drink,” she continues, her voice small, vulnerable in a way that makes his gut twist. She leans into him, her breath warm and sour with alcohol. “I was just trying to get a rise out of you. I thought... maybe it’d make you care more. Maybe it’d make you feel something for once, you know?”

He stares ahead, trying to focus on the horizon, trying to avoid the heat of her body next to his, the smell of liquor clinging to her like a second skin. She’s slurring more now, and with every word, the tension in his chest grows heavier, pressing down until he’s almost suffocating.

He can feel her swaying beside him, her body suddenly lurching forward as she clutches her stomach. He reaches out instinctively, used to her being like this, his hand awkwardly rubbing her back just to keep her from falling over. She feels so fragile in his touch, but that fragility doesn’t excuse the way she’s always tried to pull him back into her drama.

She leans in, too close again, her words spilling out in a rush like she's been holding them back for too long.

“You know...” she starts, her eyes dark and unfocused. “I only started acting out because you wouldn’t pay me any attention anymore. You were always complaining about YN. Always.”

She lets out a short, frustrated laugh, and then hiccups, her face flushing. “I know it wasn’t love, Scara. I’m not stupid. It was just a stupid distraction wasn’t it, from whatever you felt for them.”

He looks over at her, eyebrows furrowed.

“Even if you didn’t realize it back then, I did. Even if all we had was physical you can’t deny it worked. We were good at that. So yeah, I got a little carried away. But if you hadn’t been so busy chasing them around, maybe we wouldn’t be here right now.”

He can’t even find it in himself to deny it. After he had started dating her you’d started avoiding him for one reason or another. Maybe you thought everyone would get the wrong idea.

But it killed him. 

“That doesn’t mean you can just run off and take the first offer my mom gives to you,” he snaps, his tone cutting. “If you really didn’t like the way I treated you that badly, you could’ve left. You could’ve walked away. No one was holding you here.”

He shakes his head, frustrated they were having this talk now of all time, “But you didn’t, did you? You stayed. Because you knew being with me—even if it wasn’t love—would give you the eyes on you that you wanted so damn badly.”

“You’re right,” she admits, the words coming out quietly. “ But I didn’t know what else to do. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t care.”

Scara scoffs at that. 

“It didn’t look like it. All I saw was someone who was more interested in being the center of attention than me,” He shakes his head, turning his back to her for a moment. Honestly, he could keep going. But they were only having this conversation because she was drunk. There was no point, he was over it. 

He exhales sharply, his tone flat when he speaks again, as if he’s just given up.

"Yeah, okay," Scara mutters, voice distant. "It's fine. It’s not like you’ll even remember this tomorrow, anyway.”

It’s the only thing he says, just to make the whole thing stop. He knows she’s looking for something else. An apology, maybe, or some kind of validation. But he’s too fucking tired to give her that now. And it’s not like he’s going to receive one.

"Really?" Her voice rises in a way that makes him want to shove her away. "You're fine with it?"

He doesn’t respond, though now he’s just waiting for her to puke all over him. The sound of the ocean lapping against the shore is the only thing filling the silence, until she’s leaning in closer, her breath hot on his ear, her face too close.

“You know,” she whispers, her words slurred and soft, “I wouldn't mind going back to what we had. Just for a night.”

Before he can stop her, she’s pressing her lips to his, soft and insistent, her body leaning into his as though this is what she’s been waiting for all along. Her mouth is warm, her hands finding their way to his chest, and for a moment, Scara’s heart stops. 

Not because he wants it, but because he doesn’t.

He’s frozen, a quiet alarm ringing in his head. This isn’t real. This isn’t what he wants. Not from her. 

Even if it was only for a few seconds, the moment stretches too long until he can finally pry her away from him. And when he does finally pull back, his hand is shaking. 

“Don’t do that,” he says, voice tight with something: frustration, anger, confusion, maybe a little bit of pain. “Don’t try to fix this with... that.”

She blinks at him, confused, the haze of alcohol still clouding her eyes. "But... but I thought... we could—"

He stands up abruptly, cutting her off before she can make this worse. "Just... don't." The words hang in the air, heavy with finality.

She looks rather pitiful sitting on the bench like that, and he almost feels bad. Almost.

“You should just go,” he says, his voice flat, the exhaustion finally catching up to him.

But then, as he turns to leave, he sees you.

In the distance, walking towards the kitchens, your figure framed by the fading light. Seeing you makes something inside him twist. He starts to wonder why you’d come out soon after he stormed off. The idea of you coming back, walking over to him like you actually care. Just that thought is enough to loosen the tight knot in his chest. He didn’t even realize how much he was holding his breath, waiting for it. For a moment, he lets himself imagine you doing it. He almost expects it, but the longer he stands there, the more he realizes it’s just a fantasy. He watches you for a moment, then his stomach drops when he realizes if you were out there you must’ve walked by him. 

You had seen the kiss.

YOUR POINT OF VIEW

Your feet moved before your brain had a chance to tell you no. It was a strange instinct, one you didn’t quite understand. You’d never been one to comfort Scara. You’d been at odds with him for as long as you could remember, enemies in every sense of the word. 

But after what you’d learned about his mother just the thought of him being alone, struggling with it, gnawed at you. You wanted to check on him. You needed to check on him. 

The island was massive, and Scara wasn’t exactly known for his athleticism, so you figured it wouldn’t be too hard to find him. Still, your mind raced as you walked, trying to come up with something, anything, that would make him feel even a fraction better. What could you say to him that wouldn’t sound patronizing, or worse, awkward? You weren’t even sure you could help him, but you had to try.

And then, there it was.

The beach. The bench. The figure slumped against it. Scara. The cigarette in his hand. You’d found him.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried to steady yourself. This wasn’t a time to lose control. But before you could take another step, your eyes caught the familiar outline of someone else. Mona. She was walking toward him, wobbling a little as she approached, and suddenly the moment felt off.

You stopped in your tracks, half hidden by a few tall bushes nearby, your body suddenly rooted in place. You should’ve turned around and gone back to the party. Scara was clearly occupied. He would be okay, right?

But no. Your eyes stayed locked on the two of them. You couldn’t tear your gaze away.

Mona was standing next to him now, her chest heaving slightly from hiccups, and her words were slurred as she spoke. Scara wasn’t saying much, but his hand moved, almost instinctively, it seemed, to rub her back, slow and careful. As if he was...comforting her. You felt your pulse quicken, a strange sense of something building up in your chest, something like a heavy weight pressing down on your ribs.

A normal person would’ve walked away, turned around and walked back to the party, chalking it up to nothing more than two people talking, nothing more than Scara being himself. But you were never normal when it came to Scara. So instead, you stayed rooted in the shadow, just watching like some creep. The words you had rehearsed in your head seemed meaningless now, overshadowed by the confusion swelling inside you. What was happening?

And then, without warning, you saw it.

Mona leaned in, her lips pressing against Scara’s.

The world tilted on its axis. You didn’t even know how to react at first. A cold knot of jealousy, something sharp and unexpected, wrapped around your chest, and you felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. 

Scara, someone you’d considered your mortal enemy, the person you had spent years fighting against, was kissing Mona. She wasn’t even trying to hide it, her hands clinging to his chest. Just the sight was enough to leave you standing there, paralyzed. 

You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care.

It was a mantra you were repeating in your head. But the jealousy gnawed at you in a way you didn’t understand, the sting in your chest a sharp reminder that maybe you cared a lot more than you’d ever let on. You’d always been jealous of Scara throughout the years, that feeling was something familiar. But this was something different. Your stomach is twisting with something you couldn’t name. Something that hurt to acknowledge.

Oh.

Oh.

Without even thinking, you turned away, stepping back into the shadows, your feet felt heavy beneath you. You had no idea what you were feeling anymore. Or you did, but you couldn’t even voice it. 

Scara was kissing Mona. Your Scara. Your Kuni. And you were standing there, like a fool. 

If you had run after him a bit faster would you be the one he’d be kissing? That wasn’t the problem, though. No. The thing that bothered you the most was the way it made you feel like an outsider. The way it reminded you, in an almost painful way, that you weren’t the one he turned to for comfort. 

That was how it had always been. Always. It shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did.

You didn’t know when it happened. Maybe it was the way he looked at you when he was angry, or the way he tried to hide his vulnerabilities. Maybe it was the constant back-and-forth, the challenge. Maybe it was the fact that he was always there, whether it be to hit you with a snarky remark or laugh at you when you fell second to him again. He’d always been there.

But you cared. And that made you want to punch something, or scream, or both. You’d never imagined a day when you would care about Scara in any way other than annoyance, or the irritation of seeing him always one step ahead. 

Suddenly, your feet moved as fast as they could to get you out of there.

The walk from the beach to the kitchens feels like it takes longer than it should. The adrenaline from earlier is wearing off. 

You step into the kitchens, the cool air inside a sharp contrast to the warmth of the night outside. The lights are low, casting shadows over the countertops, still littered from the dishes from earlier. A clink of glass catches your attention first, and then a familiar voice. 

“You finally made it in here.”

You stop, looking up until your eyes land on Heizou. His casual smile is the same one he always had, though there's something softer in it tonight, like he’s been waiting. He’s got a glass of water in his hand, and you realize he must’ve been looking for you. He’s the last person you want to see right now, but he doesn’t seem surprised by your presence.

“You didn’t go back to the party,” he continues, setting the glass down on the counter. “I figured you might be hiding in here. You don’t look like you’re in the mood for another drink.”

You’re about to reply, but he catches you off guard by speaking up.

“Are you okay?” 

You pause. It’s a simple question, but for some reason, it feels heavy. Before you even know what’s happening, the words just spill out.

“No, I’m not okay,” you start, your voice a little more brittle than you intended. 

“I just... I just watched him. Scara. I saw him with Mona. It’s like everything I’ve been trying to avoid came crashing down in front of me. I don’t even know what to feel. It’s just... why is everything so complicated? Why does he have to make things so complicated?”

Heizou doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t look at you like you’re insane for spilling everything. He just watches, his calm expression making the chaos in your head even more prominent.

“Is that really what’s bothering you?” he asks softly, the faintest hint of concern in his eyes.

You blink, realizing that you’ve been ranting and completely unaware of how you’ve been projecting everything onto him. Heizou seems to sense it too, because next thing you know, he’s stepping closer, his presence warm and steady as he leans a little into the counter beside you.

“Hey,” he says, his tone gentle. “Come on. You need to relax.”

Before you can protest, Heizou wraps a reassuring arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. He places a hand lightly on your head, urging you to lean into him. You hesitate for a moment before giving in, resting your cheek against his shoulder. His body is a familiar comfort, though you didn’t expect it to be this comforting tonight. In the quiet of the kitchen, you realize how exhausted you are. 

“You know,” Heizou says, his voice quiet but teasing, “I have no chance now, do I?”

You blink, not fully processing his words. “Huh?”

Heizou laughs softly, caressing his hand over your cheek, “Still as oblivious as ever, huh?”

You feel your brow furrow. “What are you talking about?”

Heizou’s fingers brush through your hair gently, like he’s trying to sort through his own thoughts. “It’s him, right?”

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, your heart beating a little faster. “What? No. I—”

But before you can finish, Heizou cuts you off, a playful glint in his eyes. “You know, I saw you two kiss on the show. The hot tub.” He pauses, studying your face for any shift. “It was... something, wasn’t it?”

You feel your stomach tighten, the thought of the kiss now a distant, uncomfortable memory. “You know that was fake, right?” you say quickly, trying to downplay it. “It didn’t mean anything. It was just part of the show.”

Heizou’s eyes stay locked on yours for a long moment, and there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. He nods slowly, but there’s a slight edge to his tone. “Yeah, I get it. But it was your first kiss, right? It had to have meant something. At least to you.”

You swallow, the words suddenly feeling sharp. Your chest tightens, and you know you have to say something. You didn’t want to hurt Heizou’s feelings after he came all the way out here. 

“No. It didn’t,” you say, your voice firm but tinged with something that feels more like a lie than you want to admit. “It was all fake. The kiss...everything. It didn’t mean anything.”

You don’t notice at first, but Heizou’s smile falters just the tiniest bit. “Yeah. Sure,” he says, his voice warmer now, almost wistful. 

He doesn’t say anything else, but the silence between you both stretches out, heavy with unspoken understanding. You feel a little stupid for saying so much, for trying to convince him, or even yourself, that it was all nothing. You knew it was far from nothing.

Heizou finally breaks the tension, grabbing the water bottles he came in for. “Yeah, sure. Well, I guess I should get back to the others and sober them up. But... good luck, okay? With everything. With…him.”

You stand there, watching him leave, suddenly realizing you’ve just unloaded more than you intended. But before he walks out the door, Heizou looks back, giving you one last knowing look, then disappears back into the hallway.

You’re still standing there when you hear a soft voice outside the kitchen door.

“Interesting.”

You freeze. Your heart skips a beat.

You turn slowly, your breath catching in your throat when you see Scara standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, like he’s been listening the entire time.

For a second, all you can do is stare at him. And then it hits you, the way Heizou’s words must’ve sounded to him. The way you had tried to downplay the kiss. The way you’d tried to convince Heizou that it meant nothing.

Scara raises an eyebrow, looking almost amused, but his eyes were glazed over with something else. “Didn’t mean anything, huh?”

The words stick in your throat, and before you can even try to explain, the hurt in his eyes is enough to make you realize he’s probably already misunderstood.

SCARA’S POINT OF VIEW

Scara barely registered the words Mona was slurring anymore, his thoughts still tangled in knots from everything that had just happened. The sour taste of her lips still lingered. That wasn’t what bothered him. What bothered him was the thought of you seeing him like that. Seeing him with Mona.

He had to get out of there. Fast.

His mind raced as he stormed off, barely even registering where his feet were taking him. His body moved on autopilot, following after you towards the kitchens.

When he reached the door, he paused for a moment, chest tight with a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. There was a soft clinking sound from inside. The low hum of voices.

And then he heard it.

Heizou. Of course. Scara narrowed his eyes, already annoyed. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with him.

The door was slightly ajar, and without even thinking, Scara found himself inching closer, the need to know what was going on outweighing the nagging voice in his head telling him to turn around. To leave.

What he saw made his stomach churn in a way he hadn’t expected.

You were standing there, your face softer than he’d ever seen it, as Heizou pulled you into his side. The way your body melted into him like it was second nature to be close to him was unsettling, like something sharp had just slid under his skin.

For a second, Scara froze. His thoughts were clouded with the absurdity of it. You with Heizou? Who didn’t know you like he did? Absurd.

It wasn’t like you owed him an explanation. Yet the sight of you resting against him, affectionate, something Scara hadn’t seen you do with him made him... unseen. Like he didn’t belong in your life at all. The knot in his chest pulled tighter.

His breath caught, and before he could do something stupid he stopped himself. What was he even supposed to say? He wasn’t entitled to anything from you. He wasn’t yours. 

So he stayed outside, watching. Listening. 

He could hear Heizou’s voice, low and teasing, and then yours, soft but firm.

“No. It didn’t,” you said, your voice cutting through the quiet kitchen, and Scara’s chest clenched painfully. “You know that was all fake, right? It didn’t mean anything. It was just part of the show.”

His heart skipped a beat, the words slicing through the silence like a blade. His stomach churned, and the weight of them hit him harder than any punch. 

It wasn’t supposed to matter. It shouldn’t matter.

But it did.

Scara’s fingers dug into the frame of the door, his knuckles white. The words rang in his ears, repeating over and over. He tried to steady himself, tried to remind himself that it was all a game. The hot tub wasn’t supposed to mean anything to him, until it did. 

But hearing you say it, hearing you so casually dismiss the kiss, made him feel like he was choking on something sharp and heavy. It was all fake. He had no right to feel that way.

The worst part was, he didn’t even know what to do with it. With you.

You’d both made it clear from the start that this wasn’t supposed to be anything. A show, a performance. The kiss was meaningless. Just another part of the script. He didn’t expect anything different. But hearing you say it so coldly and without any hesitation made something in him snap. 

Before he could take a step back, Heizou’s voice drifted through the door again, a quiet laugh in his tone. “Yeah, sure.”

Scara could practically hear the smirk in his voice. 

“Yeah, I get it. But it was your first kiss, right? It had to have meant something. At least to you.” The burgundy haired nuisance continued. 

Scara's breath hitched, his chest tightening even further as he leaned in closer to the door, his pulse quickening. He felt an uncontrollable wave of frustration crashing through him. He could feel the words hitting him, one after the other, like Heizou’s voice was a punch to the gut. But worse was the feeling that came with it. The one that told him Heizou was right. That it had meant something. That he had somehow allowed himself to believe that the kiss between you and him had meant something beyond a simple game. He hadn’t realized how stupid you were making him. 

But then your voice came through, clear and harsh, “It was all fake. The kiss...everything. It didn’t mean anything.”

Scara’s fingers trembled at the doorframe. The knot in his chest was tightening, twisting around his lungs. You were denying it. Denying him. The kiss, the heat, the rush of it. You were dismissing it like it had been nothing more than a convenient illusion. You weren’t wrong, the rational part of him knew that. That didn’t mean he had hoped you’d thought otherwise. 

Everything he had been fighting so hard to bury flared back to life, hotter than before.

Heizou chuckled, a lighthearted sound, but it only made Scara feel more exposed. “Yeah, sure.” Heizou’s voice grew quieter, and Scara heard him getting ready to leave. “Well, I guess I should get back to the others and sober them up. But... good luck, okay? With everything. With…him.”

The kitchen door creaked as it swung open, and Heizou left without a second glance, his footsteps fading down the hall.

He was about to turn and leave, he had too. But just as always with you, he couldn’t help but fight back. 

“Interesting.”

You stood there in the doorway, looking caught between embarrassment and something else, your face pale, your eyes flicking nervously between the open door and him.

Scara stared at you for a long moment, his throat tight, before he spoke, his voice low and strained.

“Didn’t mean anything, huh?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

YOUR POINT OF VIEW

Scara lets out a dry chuckle, sharp and almost bitter, before walking off. Your heart is still racing, adrenaline surging through you. The confusion is all still a blur.

And yet you follow him. 

Something you’d never do, especially with him. But a part of you still wants to make sure he’s okay. And a bigger part of you doesn’t want him to walk away with the wrong idea. 

“Why’d you follow me here?” you ask, your voice louder than you intended, still thick with that adrenaline.

He stops abruptly and turns around, eyes dark, but there’s something else there, too: vulnerability. 

“Why did you follow me?” he shoots back, his voice low, taunting almost, but you can hear the frustration beneath it.

You stand there for a moment, trying to find the right words, but your thoughts feel tangled. “I just... wanted to see if you were okay,” you say, quieter now, your shoulders sagging. “I know your mom sucks, but...it seems like you were occupied.” You didn’t mean it to come off as bitter as it did.

Scara freezes for a split second, his gaze narrowing into something hard. “She’s the one who came onto me, okay?” His voice is biting, “I shoved her right off. And you can’t say shit, you were all over him back there.”

For a second, you can’t say anything. You feel a hot flush rise to your face. You take a breath, and then the words spill out, almost before you can stop them. “That didn’t even mean anything,” you mutter. “He was just... comforting me. I said that so he wouldn’t feel bad.” You don’t want to explain why. You’re glad he wasn’t there for the entire conversation.

Scara’s eyes flicker with something sharp. “Fine,” he spits out, hands gesturing in exasperation. “It’s all fake, then. Fine! It doesn’t matter. Whatever, you don’t need to explain yourself.”

You feel the words sting, and before you can even think, you’re snapping back. “Fine! Fine, Scara. If that’s what you want to believe, go ahead.”

You both stand there for a few seconds, glaring at each other, neither of you willing to back down. And then, just like that, you both start walking in the same direction.

You glance at him, a little incredulous. “You go first.”

Scara doesn’t even look at you. “No, you go first.”

“I said it first!” you protest, taking a step forward.

“No, you go.”

A beat of silence. Then, in unison, both of you groan.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath. “This is stupid.”

Neither of you says anything else, but you both start walking again. Side by side, but without speaking. The tension between you hasn’t fully dissipated, but now it’s more muted, like you’re both too tired to keep fighting.

By the time you reach the door to the dorms, the adrenaline has started to drain away, leaving only the residual ache of whatever you two just went through. You both stop at the doorstep, standing for a moment in the cool night air.

Scara's eyes drift lazily over to a bottle resting on the corner of the porch, a forgotten drink from earlier in the evening. Without a word, he picks it up, twists off the cap, and offers it to you, his face impassive.

“Want some?” His voice is quieter now, a little less sharp, though the remnants of the earlier tension still hang in the air.

You take it without thinking, your hand brushing his as you grab the bottle. Your throat feels dry, like you’ve just run a marathon, like everything from tonight has left you parched. He’s always left you out of breath.

You take a long sip, the alcohol burning down your throat, and pass it back. Scara drinks, then hands it back to you with a quiet gesture. You both settle onto the steps, the weight of the night pressing down around you, but the silence feels somehow comfortable now.

You’re not sure why, but with each sip, you feel a little less tense, a little less angry. It’s still there, but it's somehow quieter now. Maybe because it doesn’t feel like you need to have all the answers, not right now. Not with him sitting next to you like this.

For a while, neither of you speaks. The only sound is the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore and the occasional sip from the bottle between you. You pass it back and forth like it’s the easiest thing in the world. The weight of the argument is still there, sure, but somehow it doesn’t matter so much anymore.

SCARA’S POINT OF VIEW

The quiet hum of the night surrounds you both as you sit on the porch, the sounds of crickets and the occasional hum of the waves filling the spaces between breaths. The bottle you’re passing back and forth feels less heavy now, unlike the unspoken things still floating around like ghosts between you and him.

You break the silence first, your voice quieter than you intended. “So, what were you and Mona talking about?”

He doesn’t answer right away, taking a slow swig from the bottle, his eyes fixed somewhere off in the distance. His lips press together in a tight line, but he finally turns to you, his expression unreadable. “Well, she was talking at me, really. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. She was asking if I was ever in love with her…”

You raise an eyebrow, curious, “Well, were you?”

Scara’s gaze shifts. His body is tense. He doesn’t meet your eyes immediately, instead looking off to the side, like he’s searching for something. 

He feels the precipice you're both on. 

He wants to jump. 

“No.”

The word hangs there, and for a moment, everything is still. He can feel the air between you both shift, like the ground beneath your guys’ feet has tilted slightly.

“Really?” you ask, more quietly this time. “How did you know you weren’t in love with her?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He shifts on the step, his foot tapping idly against the wood. He wants to say he just knew, as cliche as that sounds. His eyes are fixed forward now, knowing if he looks at you his words won’t leave his mouth. He takes a swig.

The words come out slowly, like he’s still figuring them out as he speaks.

“I don’t know... I just knew, I guess.” He hesitates, then adds, “What I felt for her is different from what I know love is.”

The silence stretches, and he feels like you’re standing at the edge of something with him. 

He’s waiting. He thinks he’s always been waiting for you.

“And you… know what that feels like?” you ask, voice softer now, almost hesitant, like you’re testing the waters.

His eyes finally rake over you.

“I do now.”

You opened your mouth, and he’s hoping something, anything, comes out of it. He felt like he’d just sliced his chest open and was bearing his heart to you with bloodied hands.

His words hang in the air for a long moment, strange and heavy. Your gaze catches his, and for just a second, there’s a flicker in your eyes, something guarded but knowing. Scara holds your gaze, and for a fleeting moment, it’s like everything in him stills. The air is thick, as if the words you’ve both danced around are hanging just out of reach. His fingers tighten around the neck of the bottle, the cool glass a stark contrast to the heat creeping up his neck.

He knows this feeling all too well. The way his chest tightens when he realizes something he’s been waiting for will never come. His mother’s attention. You. It’s a feeling he’s all but accustomed too. But there you were, just out of his reach. He doesn’t expect you to understand. Hell, he doesn’t even understand himself half the time. But in that moment, sitting next to you, he wants you too. 

The weight of your unspoken words presses on him. But maybe that’s all this will ever be, a weight. The knowledge that he’ll never feel the same way about anyone else and that you’ll never feel the same about him. That thought stabs at him like a shard of ice in his chest, cold and sharp. He wants to say something, but the words aren’t there. Not yet. Not ever, maybe. 

“We should go inside,” he murmurs, breaking the silence, his voice almost a whisper against the night’s stillness. 

His voice drops further, and he shifts slightly on the step, his leg brushing against yours. It’s an unconscious motion, but it feels deliberate somehow. Like he wants to be closer but knows better than to ask for it. 

“Yeah,” you pipe up from beside him, “We should.”

Yet you both sit there for a few more minutes, passing the bottle until nothing is left in its wake. He doesn’t look over at you again, doesn’t dare too. Instead he gets up and goes inside, leaving you behind. 

Something you’ve always said he’s good at.

[00:00:00] POST PARADISE DATE TAKE ONE

YAE: So, do you want to talk about today?

SCARAMOUCHE: Talk about what?

YAE: The kiss, obviously. What else would we talk about?

SCARAMOUCHE: What happened to "Hi, how are you?"

YAE: [LAUGHING] This is a safe space.

SCARAMOUCHE: It absolutely is not, but you want to talk about the kiss? Fine. It wasn't real. I didn't even kiss her back, she was drunk and I don't love her. And I'm not that much of an asshole to take advantage of someone drunk. I'm a terrible person, but not that bad.

YAE: [SPEECHLESS]

SCARAMOUCHE: This is fucking stupid. Why did l even have to explain myself? I have nothing to prove to anybody. [GETS UP]

YAE: Scaramouche, wait—

SCARAMOUCHE: [WALKS OFF SCREEN]

stuck with you!

materlist — prev | next

(typos) *slide 6: feelings wheel / *slide 8: i just had this realization

first update of the year wow!

sorry guys i’m scared to do the keep reading button so…😛

after typing oh. oh. i was like ooh bitch i ate

also ignore how scara lowk littered uhm he picked up his cig after dw! environmentally friendly king!

pls comment or send me an ask if u enjoyed i need motivation 🤗

comment on the MASTERLIST if i can use ur user as a fan in the au!

notes — four updates during break ur welcome! my break ends in two weeksish so idk if ill be able post another one before then so let me rest xx

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

taglist — (closed) @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @flowerypesky @creammpuff @boxdisappeared @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic @reivelmin @animeobsessed56 @femaholicc @vi0let-writes @izayumi-chan @aloflapse

[reimaybe]

🎧: 'cause you have to — lany

"wait for me, okay?"

those were the last words you heard from sae. honestly, it seemed like he wanted to say more, but he held back. with a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure his parents weren’t watching, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead before walking away. you could’ve sworn his ears were tinged pink.

rin nudged you with a smirk, the kind that screamed mischief. "i saw that," he muttered under his breath, grinning annoyingly. you rolled your eyes in response, brushing off his teasing.

still, those unsaid words lingered in your mind. you hoped they were what you thought they were. the three words that would have secured his spot in your future, the spot next to your bed, and the spot on your left ring finger. but even without saying them, you felt like you were already his. that kiss said enough.

a few years. that’s not too bad, right?

your relationship with sae during his early months in spain was great. though he wasn’t the type to communicate much, you could tell that he was actually trying. every few days, you’d get a call from him. one time, when you asked why he always opted to call instead of text, he simply responded, "typing is annoying." in truth however, he just wanted to hear your voice.

but as the months passed, the calls grew less frequent. rin complained (and teased) especially, since you were the only one sae kept in touch with. you bribed rin with the popsicle sae used to buy to shut him up, and he immediately stopped sulking.

the turning point in your relationship came about a year after sae left. the calls turned into texts, reserved only for special occasions.

sae: happy birthday

[name]: i miss you

he left you on read, no response. after that, sae stopped reaching out entirely. your attempts to contact him went unanswered. you were his, but was he still yours?

no. was he ever yours to begin with?

in the three years without sae, you often felt like something was missing. the ache was subtle but constant. those years were especially hard: dealing with your studies, fending off a few persistent suitors, and enduring rin's teenage phase. honestly, you managed just fine. rin was great for scaring off suitors with a single glare, and you threw yourself into studying as a distraction. but the hardest part, the part you could never quite get used to, was the feeling of longing for someone halfway across the world.

once, you even tried to let someone else in, to open your heart just a little. and then you saw one of sae's interviews—calm, stoic, untouchable. that was all it took to slam your heart shut again. you felt sorry for the person you'd rejected, but not as sorry as you felt for yourself. you knew how pathetic it was to yearn for someone who probably didn’t even think of you.

now, at seventeen, you’re packing your life into boxes, shoving them into the back of a car. you hug your parents goodbye as they tearfully remind you to call often (which brought a dagger to your heart as you remember a specific someone), their voices cracking with pride and sadness. you’re not just leaving for university. you’re leaving behind everything—this house, this town, and the memories that haunted you.

and then, in a heartbeat, everything changed.

as you pulled out of the driveway, your thoughts consumed by all that you were leaving behind, the world outside blurred into an indistinct haze. a momentary distraction—a glance at your phone, a message from sae.

sae: i'm here. can we talk?

your heart dropped. why was he here, now of all times? you couldn't help but feel a spark of hope. you believed that he loved you—at least, the younger sae did. a part of you longed to believe that he still loved you like he did back then.

you loved him in that spring, and as much as you hated to admit it, you still loved him in this winter. but what about him? doubts began to creep in. maybe you had outgrown each other. maybe sae had outgrown you. maybe you'd become a distraction to him, dead weight—nothing but a reminder of a past he could no longer hold on to. perhaps this was just his way of giving you closure.

the questions lingered in your mind: “did you only love me because of that kiss? did you only love me because of the promises you made? does some part of you feel like you owe it to the boy you used to be? do you only love me 'cause you have to?”

the screech of tires, the crunch of metal against metal, and then the darkness swallowed you whole. in those final moments, as the realization of what was happening crashed over you, the last remnants of sae’s voice echoed in your mind, blending with the chaos of the moment. you had been ready to leave it all behind, but now, it seemed, the goodbyes you gave would be your last.

"i'll leave you two alone," rin whispers, taking one last glance at your tombstone before walking away.

"sorry," sae whispers. though there are a million things he wants to say, that's all he's able to let out. afraid that if he talks any more, his facade will break down, and the carefully constructed walls he built around his heart will shatter under the weight of his grief. he wishes he could have been the one to love you more. he clenches his fists, feeling the sting of unshed tears burning at the corners of his eyes.

it hurts to know he will never hear your voice again, never be able to kiss your forehead again, and the crushing weight of it all leaves him hollow. a shell of the person he used to be, forever haunted by the knowledge that he let you slip away when he should have fought to keep you close.

"i'll take my leave now," he whispers to rin, hands in his pockets with the coldest expression rin has ever seen.

the younger itoshi wanted to say something. fight in your stead for all the pain his elder brother had caused you, but he understood that causing a scene here wouldn't be good.

plus, the tears on sae's face spoke enough.

[lilghostiequinni]

Was Never Just You

Main Masterlist Lando Masterlist

Pairing: Single Mom!Girlfriend!female reader x Lando Norris

Warnings: Fluffy,

Summary: Somethings just start in a crisis, but it's not always a bad thing.

Requested: NO / yes

When you met Lando it was by complete accident.

The day started out normal and then later turned into a disaster.

Your sons, well, they wandered off.

It was the first winter vacation for the ski lodge you normally go to that they could come with, the boys were 3, having turned three the day you left for the trip.

But your mom didn't ski or snowboard and volunteered to watch them while you, your siblings, siblings-in-law, and your father had hit the slopes.

You snowboarding and racing two of your three older brothers, both also snowboarding, down one of their bigger slopes, you won, of course, maybe using some blackmail tactics, maybe.

When you got to the bottom of the slope after the fourth or fifth time, you went to see your boys and also got a warm drink.

You found your mother and your eldest brother's wife, who ended up staying behind because she wasn't feeling good, searching around the lobby; when your mom saw you, you could see the panic and fear in her eyes.

When you asked what was wrong, she told you that they and the boys were playing hide-and-seek, but they couldn't find the boys, and they had searched the whole inside of the resort.

When she told you how long she had been looking for your two sons, over an hour and a half.

You shred your winter gear faster than ever, leaving everything in the lobby, running around the hotel in just your socks, and having no shoes or slippers in the lobby to wear from leaving your boots there.

You ran through every floor calling your sons' names, "Theodore. Sebastian." You would knock on doors, holding up a photo of your two trouble twins if someone answered the door, asking if they had seen them.

You went from floor to floor and back down again.

On you, probably the third pass on the third floor, you ran into someone, expecting to feel the floor but instead feel the body of the person you ran into.

"I'm so so sorry." You apologize as you stand up, before trying to help the person you knocked over.

"It's okay," The man says as you help him stand and he takes off his hat and goggles.

"No, it's not, I'm sorry. I'm just looking for my twins, Theo and Seb. They were playing hide-in-seek with my mom and they... Well, they hid a little too good, and they have been missing for a couple hours." You explain, worrying even more when you realize the time.

"Maybe I can help. Let me change, and we will look together. Two sets of eyes are better than one, I can even get my girlfriend, she's just in this room." The man told you.

"You want to help me?" You were so distraught that you couldn't fathom that someone other than your family would help.

"Yeah, it's just kids. And I'm sure that my girlfriend will say the same. Just breathe and give me like ten minutes." He says, then goes into his room, and you start to take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your overactive mind.

Before the ten minutes are even up, you hear the door open and look up, it's a blonde woman who comes out and gives you a hoodie.

"This is one of our friends, I'm Pietra, and this is Max." She says as Max comes out of the room.

"Everyone just calls me Cookie. My boys, they're only 3." You say as you show the two a photo of them from your phone, tears in your eyes.

Max's eyes widen a little. "I think I know where your boys are."

"Really." You ask, your eyes widening.

"Yeah, I think they're downstairs with my friend, in the restaurant," Max tells you as Pietra grabs hold of your hand as MAx leads the two of you downstairs.

When you do get back downstairs and into the restaurant, you look around and then see Max pointing in a direction that you follow with your eyes and you see your boys.

"Theo! Seb!" You cry out and run toward them.

Your boys whip their heads around and yell out, "Mommy!" getting up and then running to you, not making it far from the table, though.

The friend of Max's following behind, just in case.

You fell to the ground to hug your twins, tears in your eyes as you hugged them.

"Where did you go?" You asked them.

"We was play seek with Gramam and Celi."

"Then we was hungry an fogot."

"Den Lanwo saws us and we gots food."

You knew their explanation was too little to be something for them to be missing just shy of three hours.

You must have looked in the restaurant three times.

But you just smiled at them and hugged them again, before standing up.

"Hi, thank you for looking after my sons." You say to the man who had also been at the table with them.

"It's no problem. I saw them on my way to my room from outside, and I figured that their mom would be with them soon. When I came back down for some food, I saw them close to the door looking out the window. One was trying to open the door, and I stopped them from going outside and offered food until you got here." He explained himself.

"Thank you again...."

"Lando. Norris. Lando Norris." He said as he offered his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Lando, everyone calls me Cookie." You said taking his hand.

That's how it started.

One singular mishap that had led to the best years of your life.

The fans were skeptical at best at first, but when they seen the smile that your sons brought to Lando's face, that you brought to him.

How you helped lift the weight off his shoulders.

At the end of the 2025 season, you basically jumped over the barrier to get to Lando after he won the championship.

He picked you up and spun you around.

He had to leave to go to the podium and do other after-race debriefs and media duties.

During December, not long after the end of the season, you and Lando both post a post on Instagram with two photos, one an engagement photo, the other a pregnancy annoucement.

Just like the year before with Max, there were retirement rumors the year before.

But when Lando came back in 2026, the rumors died out.

Life continued on, and the season was one of the best for him, only after his first wins.

A/N: First in the 100 Follower Cele Driver poll, I feel like I wanna redo this and make it longer but at the same time, most of my celebrations are usually just drabbles. But let me know if you'd want a longer fic using this idea

Tags: @poppyflower-22 @samantha-chicago @barcelonaloverf1life @tallrock35 @ellen3101 @llando4norris @mcmuppet @issi-loves-dannyric @1800-love-me @barcelonaloverf1life @scopeiguess @01rrdbull @charli123456789 @smashcrabsblog @hadids-world @amz824 @taetae-armyyyyy @watermelonslut @gigicisneros @hellothere9597

If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop

[amkyor]

K. BAKUGO SHORT STORY ᡣ𐭩

Liquid Courage:

The night started innocently enough. Bakugo hadn’t planned on going out, but with enough badgering from Kirishima, Denki, and Sero—and even a rare push from Midoriya—he begrudgingly agreed.

It was supposed to be a chill night, a few drinks, and some catching up among friends.

But, somewhere along the line, a couple of drinks turned into several, and now Bakugo was utterly and completely drunk.

Kirishima, Denki, and Sero were having the time of their lives, laughing and joking around.

Deku, on the other hand, was trying to keep everyone in check, a task that was growing more impossible by the second. Bakugo, of course, was the wild card.

His usual confident, no-nonsense demeanor was completely replaced by someone much… looser.

“Hey, Kacchan, maybe you should slow down,” Deku suggested nervously as Bakugo threw back another shot.

“Shut it, Deku!” Bakugo slurred, pointing a wobbly finger at him. “I’m fine! I can handle my damn liquor.”

Denki and Sero snickered in the background while Kirishima patted Bakugo on the back.

“You’re a beast, bro!” Kirishima cheered, though even he looked a little concerned about the state of his friend.

Deku sighed, and just about as he was going to let it go, Bakugo stumbled, nearly knocking over the table of drinks.

Deku shot up, his heroic instincts kicking in. “That’s it. I’m calling her.”

---

You were at home, relaxing in your sweats and watching a movie when your phone rang. Seeing Deku’s name pop up, you answered with a confused, “Hello?”

“Uh, hi, sorry to bother you,” Deku began, his voice sounding strained. “It’s about Kacchan… He might have had a bit too much to drink.”

You blinked. “He’s drunk?”

“Yeah,” Deku admitted. “We’re at the club, and he’s, um… not himself. Can you come pick him up?”

You sighed, already grabbing your keys. “I’ll be there in ten.”

---

When you arrived at the club, you weren’t sure what to expect. But seeing Bakugo slumped over at a table, laughing loudly at something Denki said, was definitely not it.

His cheeks were flushed, his hair messier than usual, and he looked… happy. Almost giddy.

“Hey, babe!” he shouted when he saw you, throwing his arms in the air. “Look who’s here to rescue me!”

You blinked, stunned. “Katsuki?”

“That’s me!” he said, standing up with a wobble. “The love of your life, here in all his glory.”

Denki and Sero were howling with laughter while Kirishima tried to help steady Bakugo. Deku looked at you with a helpless expression, mouthing, “Sorry.”

You sighed and walked over, grabbing Bakugo by the arm. “Alright, big guy, time to go home.”

He grinned at you, leaning down so his face was inches from yours. “Anything you say, gorgeous.”

Your face warmed as you led him out of the club, ignoring the amused stares from his friends.

---

The car ride home was… an experience.

“Katsuki, sit still,” you said as he shifted in his seat for the third time.

“But you’re so pretty,” he said, staring at you with wide, admiring eyes. “How’d I get so lucky?”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart fluttered. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not too drunk to know you’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said earnestly, reaching over to brush a strand of hair from your face.

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on the road. “Just… sit back and try to sober up.”

“But I wanna kiss you,” he said, leaning closer.

“Katsuki!” you snapped, pushing him back into his seat. “Behave.”

He pouted but stayed put, mumbling something about how unfair it was that you looked so good.

---

When you finally got him inside, you managed to get him to the couch. “Stay here,” you said, pointing at him. “I’m getting you some water.”

He saluted you with a cheeky grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

You were in the kitchen, filling a glass with water when you felt arms wrap around your waist. Startled, you turned your head to see Bakugo standing behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Katsuki, you’re supposed to be on the couch,” you said, though your voice softened at the sight of him.

“I missed you,” he murmured, nuzzling your neck. “You smell good.”

You sighed, setting the glass down and turning to face him. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “And you love me for it.”

---

After much coaxing, you finally got him to the bedroom.

He flopped onto the bed, watching you with hooded eyes as you changed into your pajamas.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice softer now. “How’d I get so lucky?”

Your cheeks burned, and you shook your head. “Go to sleep, Katsuki.”

He reached out, grabbed your hand, and pulled you onto the bed beside him. “Not without you.”

You sighed, settling in next to him. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “Love you,” he mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.

You smiled, brushing a hand through his hair. “Love you too, Katsuki.”

Within minutes, his breathing evened out, and he was asleep, his usual gruffness replaced by a peaceful expression.

And as you lay there, listening to his soft snores, you couldn’t help but think that even drunk, he was still your Katsuki.

FANFIC RECOMMENDATION ᡣ𐭩

Adult Bakugo x Female Reader Fanfic

[gd-dollopole]

Thank you for sharing the article! I’ve read many books about it and watched videos of Native people talking about how they feel about the word “Indian American”. As always, it is something subjective to the person. It is always correct to go by the tribe/population’s name (as it says in the article), and it is just because of personal history, if some people prefers to be called, “Indian American” instead of, “Native American”. As a non-native person, it is better for me to use the widely spread term :), and the one that’s more correct and less offensive, and with less offensive connotations as possible, by not knowing the specific tribe I’m talking to/referring to (I get what you say related to the LGBTQIA+ community, I agree, actually, but in this case I’m part of the community☝️😔and I know what I feel regarding certain terms. Of course, I would never go to someone who’s native or queer and tell them how to define themselves, if that’s what makes them comfortable, then so be it, but from an outsider point of view, it’s always correct to be grammatically correct, especially because everyone is different and everyone feels different regarding the term “Indian American”, since we also know the history of the term, it’s better to use a word we know it’s correct and go with it, to avoid any confusion :D!) I get what you say, but I’d rather use another term, also to avoid offending someone😌especially if I don’t know them personally😭

History aside, ACTUALLY! ARTHUR WOULD GET SO CANCELLED BUT☝️He would go all mad once he finds out calling a man a “girrrllll” is offensive too LMAOOOO

“What do you mean I can’t call you a girl anymore?”

“Pffff, well, in the house, maybe.”

“THEY SAY IT’S STILL OFFENSIVE!”

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM TWITTER!”

“IT’S CALLED X!”

“NO IT’S NOT!”

“If I was near a pyre I would stop it” HE DID NOT!!! HE SHOULD JUST SAY SILENT LMAOOOO😭😭😭😭STOP IT THIS IS SO FUNNY. Like thank you Arthur for stating the obvious🤨? FOR DOING THE BARE MINIMUM?! What if they start making thirst edits of them😭 SJDKFKLSLFKSKDKDK

THE MOON MOVING😭NOOOOO

“Sir, please, SIR STOP!!! SIR, THE MILKY WAY IS CHANGING THE FUCK SIIRRRRR PLEASE RESPOND!!!”

*user number 27485993*

“Oooh, the Great Emrys made Nasa curse!”

(he’s too busy making Arthur his husband)

What if they get married and the title on the newspaper is:

“BREAKING NEWS! TWITTER CANCELLED WIVES ARE ACTUALLY GOING TO BE WIVES!”

*Merlin reading the news on the TV and pointing at the screen*

“HA, THEY SAID TWITTER!”

*insert Leonardo di Caprio GIF pointing🫵*

(it earns him points, you know, and I also hate how it’s called X😭I mean I don’t have the app, BUT IT’S SO STUPID😭)

Why the fuck do they send dogs to space?😭What’s wrong with them. Merlin would have an entire farm of Nasa saved animals, no doubt.

I like to think that modern Merlin confesses to crimes and shit he did in medieval times completely unprompted and without context just for shits and giggles.

No one knows if he’s joking or not because he’s always completely deadpan when he says it

[coolemmasulivan2]

There For You

Pairing: Mason Mount x Physician!Reader

Summary: You’re a physician at the club who’s grown close to Mason. However, after he suffers another injury, he begins to distance himself, leaving you confused and unsure of how to help him.

Word count: 2729

I'll be there when you need me most I'll be there if you're ever alone Together, we can grow old I can't leave you

It was your first day back at the training camp after two weeks off, and your stomach twisted in pain as you scanned the list of injured players and Mason’s name was at the top.

You hated seeing his name there. He’d been through so much already, and every setback felt like life was testing him a little too harshly. Ever since moving to the club, he’d spent more time in your office than any player should. It seemed like he couldn’t catch a break.

In those long hours spent tending to his injuries and working on his recovery plans, the two of you had built a beautiful friendship, not because he was a regular in your office, but because of who he was.

Even when he was hurting, Mason had a way of lightening the mood. He always managed a smile. It was the kind of smile that said, I’ll get through this. Somehow, I always do.

Maybe that’s why, little by little, you’d fallen for him. It wasn’t just his courage or his never-quit attitude, it was the way he smiled, even when life knocked him down.

The night before, you had watched the game against City, and you didn’t need to be there in person to know it had happened again. The moment you saw Mason sitting on the field, head down in defeat, your heart broke for him.

"No! Bloody hell! Someone get this guy to a witch." Your dad shouted at the TV, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Someone’s playing with his voodoo doll!"

"Dad!" You called out, shooting him a look as your little nephew that was Mason's fan sank on the sofa.

"What? It’s true!" He replied, shrugging as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The United scarf around his neck swayed as he turned back to the screen. "The guy’s got more than bad luck."

You opened the door and stepped into the medical office. Mason was already sitting on the examination bed, his head down, eyes fixed on his hands as they opened and closed into tight fists.

"Hey, Mason!" You greeted softly.

His head shot up, his expression briefly surprised. "Hey!" He said, his voice deeper than usual. He didn’t smile like he normally did. "I thought you were still on holiday."

"They don't let me have three weeks off during the Premier League." You said with a small chuckle as you pulled on a pair of blue gloves. "And it’s a good thing they don't Let's have a look?"

He didn’t say anything, just nodded and laid back on the bed, stretching out his legs.

As you started examining his leg, you kept your tone light, hoping to break through his mood. "You've been through worse, right? I mean, you're basically indestructible at this point." That earned you nothing. No laugh, no smile, not even a glance. Just silence.

You focused on your work, carefully testing for swelling and tender areas. Mason didn't flinch, didn't make a sound, but the tension in his jaw told you everything you needed to know.

You sighed softly, stepping back. "Okay."

"It's bad, isn't it?" He asked, his tone clipped, as though he already knew the answer.

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. "It's not great." You admitted, keeping your voice steady. "The scans will give us the full picture, but you'll need to rest for a few weeks, at least."

At that, Mason let out a short, bitter laugh. "A few weeks. Of course." He shook his head and sat up, his movements stiff and frustrated.

"I know it's frustrating." You said gently, trying to reach him. "But we'll make sure you heal properly, and you'll come back even stronger. You've done it before."

"Yeah." He said flatly, his tone ice-cold. "And look where that got me."

The sharpness of his words stung, catching you off guard. You glanced up, meeting his gaze. His face was hard, his usual warmth replaced with a wall of indifference.

"You're allowed to be upset." You said softly. "This is a tough break, but it's not the end. You're one of the strongest people I know, Mason."

He let out a small, humorless smile that never reached his eyes. "Thanks for the pep talk." He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'll add it to my collection."

Before you could respond, Mason pushed himself off the bed, grabbed his phone from the desk and walked out of the office without a second glance.

You stood there, speechless, the weight of his frustration and pain settling heavily in the room.

"So, he just left?" Your best friend asked, setting her beer down on the table with a thud.

"Yeah!" You said, still in disbelief. "I mean… I get it. He's angry and frustrated with everything going on, but I... I was just trying to help him." You took a long sip of your beer, then lowered your voice to a whisper. "I just want to help him."

Your friend gave you a knowing smile, leaning back in her chair. "You're so down bad for him."

You groaned, running your hands through your hair. "I know."

You groaned, running your hands through your hair. "I know."

Your friend chuckled. "Honestly, I don't blame you. The guy's gorgeous. Moody, apparently, but gorgeous."

"It's not just that. It's… He's been through so much, and he still manages to stay so positive. He works harder than anyone I've ever seen. He deserves more than this."

"And yet, he shut you out."

"Yeah." You sighed, slumping back in your chair. "I don’t think it's personal. I think he's just… overwhelmed. But it still stung, you know? We've talked so much before. I thought I..." You paused, trying to find the words. "I thought I could be someone he leaned on."

Your friend reached across the table, squeezing your hand. "He will, eventually. Sometimes guys like him need time. Doesn't mean you're not important to him."

You gave her a grateful look. "I hope you're right."

The next morning, you were in your office early, sipping coffee and organizing your notes. You had barely slept, your mind replaying the tension with Mason over and over.

With a sigh, you shook off the memory and focused on the task at hand, jotting down follow-up plans for a few players. The knock on your door startled you.

"Come in!" You called, glancing up.

Your coworker, James, stepped in, clipboard in hand. "Morning." He said, his tone casual but hesitant, like he was bracing himself for something.

"Morning." You replied, eyeing him curiously. "What's up?"

He hesitated for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Uh… just wanted to give you a heads-up. Mason requested to transfer to me for his treatment plan."

You froze. "What?"

James gave a small shrug. "He asked me this morning. Said he wanted to switch."

"Why?" You asked, the word coming out sharper than you intended.

"I don't know." James said carefully "He didn't say much, just that he thought it would be better for him."

You stared at him, stunned. "Better for him? I don't understand. Why would he…" You trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

James sighed. "Look, I didn't want to get into it. I know you two are friends, you have a close relationship, but If you want to know why, you're going to have to ask him."

For a moment, you just sat there, trying to make sense of what you’d just heard.

"I see." You said finally, your voice quieter now. "Thanks for letting me know, James."

James gave you a sympathetic look. "Hey, don't take it personally, okay? He's going through a lot. You know how players can get when they're injured. It's probably just his way of dealing with it."

"Yeah." You murmured, forcing a small smile. "I get it."

But as James left, you found yourself staring at your desk, Mason’s name at the top of your notes. Why didn’t he want your help anymore?

Mason was sitting on the bench in the locker room, phone in hand, as he responded to a text from his brother. He barely looked up when Bruno walked in.

"Hey!" Bruno said casually, shrugging off his jacket with an air of ease.

"Hey!" Mason replied, his eyes still glued to his phone. "How was training?"

Bruno snorted, tugging on a clean shirt. "Good." He said shortly, clearly uninterested in lingering on the topic. Instead, he glanced over at Mason. "James told me you switched to him for physio."

Mason shrugged, leaning back. "Yeah. Figured it's better this way."

Bruno raised an eyebrow as he sat down, pulling off his trainers. "Better for you or for her?" His tone was light, but his words hit home.

Mason's jaw tightened as he turned to look at Bruno. "What?"

"You and Y/n seemed close." Bruno said. "She's solid, actually gives a crap about us, which, let's be real, doesn't happen every day."

"James is solid too."

Bruno held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Just saying, she might be wondering why you're icing her out." Mason didn’t answer, his gaze dropping to the floor. Bruno sighed as he stood, slinging his towel over his shoulder. "Whatever you're running from, just make sure you're not pushing the wrong people away, mate."

Mason stayed silent, the weight of Bruno's words settling over him. He kept his head down, listening to the sound of Bruno's footsteps as he disappeared toward the showers.

A week had passed, and you still hadn't managed to speak to Mason in person. You'd tried texting him multiple times, asking if something was wrong, if you'd upset him somehow, but he always left you on read.

Today, you were determined to put an end to the silence. It was your day off, but you knew Mason would be at the camp. So, you drove there, parking directly in front of his car and waiting.

As usual, Mason was one of the last to leave, even though he hadn't been training with the team. He emerged from the building, his bag over his shoulder and his coat zipped all the way up against the cold, as he made his way toward his car.

You took a deep breath and stepped out of your car. He didn't notice you at first, his focus elsewhere, but as you moved closer, emerging from the shadows, he froze on his tracks.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing there under the dim parking lot lights.

You suddenly felt nervous and exposed. You swallowed the lump in your throat. Slowly, both of you began to move, closing the distance until you were close enough to reach out and touch him.

"Hi?" You shot back. An avalanche of words was threatening to tumble out. "That's it? That's all you've got to say? Hi?" Mason opened his mouth, but you didn’t give him the chance. "No, Mason, I don't want your 'Hi.' I want answers. I want to know why. Why did you ask to be transferred to James? Why have you been ignoring me?" You kept going, every bottled-up thought spilling out. Mason stood there, silent, his gaze fixed on you. Even in anger, you were still cute. "Mason?" You demanded, pulling him out of his trance.

He blinked, suddenly lifting his eyes from your lips to meet yours. "What?"

You shook your head, letting out a sigh. "Have I done something wrong?"

Mason's swallowed hard, his gaze breaking away from yours. "You haven't done anything wrong, Y/n!" He said quietly.

Your chest tightened at his words. "Then why?" Your voice cracked, trembling under the weight of your emotions. "I thought we were friends, Mason."

Mason let out a sarcastic chuckle. "That's the problem!"

You furrowed your eyebrows. "What?"

"I-- I don't want to be your friend." He said, his voice just enough to make you freeze. "I don't want to be your friend because I want to be so much more! I want to be the one who carries you to bed when you fall asleep on the sofa. I want to be the one you ask to open jars, the one whose hoodies you steal. I want to be the person who holds you when you cry and makes you laugh when you need it. I want to take care of you—not the other way around." His words knocked the wind out of you.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You weren't one to be left speechless, but somehow Mason had managed it.

"I... do you like me?" You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mason bit his lip, almost nervously. "Was that not obvious?"

"But… why would you push me away? Wait--" Your eyes widened. "Did you do this because you were my patient?"

Mason let out a long sigh, his breath visible in the chilly Manchester air. "I'm tired, Y/n." He said, his voice low and pained. "You've seen me at my worst since the day we met. And I hate that. I hate that you've only ever seen this version of me: the injured, broken version."

"Mase--"

"No!" He interrupted, his voice cracking. "I feel like everything's going wrong. I feel like I’m failing as a footballer, as a person. And I hate that all you've seen is that failure."

You reached for him, your hands trembling as they rested on his arms. "Mason, listen to me." You said firmly. "The last thing I see you as is a failure." He turned his face away, but you cupped his face, gently forcing him to meet your gaze. "You’re the strongest, most hardworking person I know. Maybe you’ve had more setbacks than most, but you work three times harder than anyone else. I’m your physician, yes, but I’m also your friend. And I just want to help you. I want to be there for you, no matter what."

For a moment, he looked at you like you had hung the moon and stars. His hand rose hesitantly, cupping your cheek as if he were afraid you might disappear.

Slowly, his face leaned closer to yours, his lips brushing yours gently. When you didn’t pull away, your lips parted, and he kissed you.

The kiss was soft, hesitant at first, then deeper, carrying the weight of everything unsaid until now. For that moment, there was no cold air, no frustration, no confusion, just the warmth of his lips against yours.

When you finally broke apart, your breaths mingled in the frosty air. His forehead rested lightly against yours, his eyes searching yours as if trying to read you.

"I'm sorry." Mason whispered.

"For what?" You asked softly.

"For pushing you away. For being such a mess." He admitted, his eyes dropping to the ground. "You deserve someone who's got it all together, not someone who's barely holding on."

You shook your head. "Mason, no one has it all together. We're all just doing our best. And you're not a mess, you're human. You're allowed to feel frustrated, to have bad days. But you don't have to go through it alone."

"You make me want to be better." He said quietly.

"And you make me want to fight harder." You replied with a shy smile.

He pulled you into a tight embrace and you burried your face in his neck. The weight of his struggles seemed to melt away. The two of you stood there for a while, wrapped in each other's arms. When you pulled apart, he looked down at you and smiled.

You gave him a gentle smile, tucking your hands into your pockets, suddenly feeling shy. "So… go home, rest, and we'll talk... tomorrow? Properly this time."

"Properly." He repeated with a nod.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The night air was cold, but the warmth of the moment made it easy to ignore. Finally, you took a small step back as you said goodbye, offering him one last glance before turning to leave.

"Y/n." His voice stopped you in your tracks.

You turned. "Yes?"

He hesitated. "Do you… do you want to have dinner? Like... today!"

A smile spread across your face. "I'd love that."

[matthewswifeyy]

After awhile you went quiet, and I got mean 4

Summary: Exgirlfriend!reader lives with S4!rafe. She constantly has to watch rafe treat someone better and it finally gets to her

Part 1 part 2 Part 3 part 5

Rafes pov

I was enjoying my drink when I heard footsteps behind me and a voice calling my name. I put glass down and look behind me. I see topper walking up behind me. I roll my eyes and turn back to my drink.

Of course she went to him.

“Yo what the fuck is up with you huh” he said patting my shoulder.

“Nothing” I said shrugging his hand off me.

“Nothing huh. So you’re just kicking Y/n out for no reason.” He said sitting down next to me.

“There was a reason alright” I told him leaning back in my chair.

“I know you two have been arguing rafe but come on. You know she has no where and no one to go to.”

“That’s a lie.” I scoffed.

“Rafe are you kidding me.”

“What topper.” I said turning my head my towards him.

“This is Y/n we are talking about here. Not some random.”

“I know topper.” I said before calling the bartender over. “Get me another one”

“And you don’t care about how she’s doing after that at all.”

“She out of my hands” I said as the bartender placed another full glass of whiskey in front of me.

“I give up at this point. Will you at least try and talk to her about it. Whether you wanna make things right or not.”

“Will it get you to leave me alone about it.” I looked at him.

“Yes”

“Then fine i will talk to her. Tell her to meet me at my place tomorrow at 3.” I said before downing my drink and walking towards my car.

I really did want to talk to her. I just had to seem like I didn’t care to topper because of his big mouth.

I miss what I had with Y/n. I really do. Now I feel like I’m a complete idiot for kicking her out because of Sofia just for me to break up with her not even 10 minutes after she left.

I started my car and drove home.

Readers pov

I was sitting in the guest bed reading my book until there was a knock on the door.

“Come in” I said placing my book on the night stand next to the bed while topper busted into the room.

“He said he will talk to you tomorrow at his place at 3” he said quickly.

“Topper are you serious. I said I wanted to know what was going on with him. I don’t want to make things right with him!” I said to him.

“Oh” he said quietly before leaving.

I groaned and threw my head back into the pillows.

———

I was now getting ready to go on a date with a guy I met at the island club. His name was Jackson. I’ve seen him around before but I’ve never talked to him.

I’m extremely excited to say the least. All these years it been rafe. I’m glad it someone new.

I finished my hair, outfit, and makeup and it was now time for jewelry. I picked out a beautiful pair of small gold hoops. I now looked at my necklace options. I stared at the gold necklace with a small heart pendant that rafe got me many years ago.

I sighed as I picked it up. I bit my lip as I continued to stare at it contemplating putting it on.

Fuck it

I undid the clasp and brought it around my neck. I clasped it and brought my hands down to my side. I looked at myself in the mirror as I continued to chew at my lip.

I turned away from the mirror and grabbed my purse from off the bed. I walked out of the guest room and into the living room.

“Where are you going” topper said from the kitchen.

“A date.”

“With who?” He questioned.

“Jackson Moore.” I said proudly.

“You’re joking right. That douche.” Topper said as he tilted his head at me.

“What he seems nice.” I said as a knocked came from the front door.

I walked towards the door to open it to Jackson.

“Hey”

“Hi” I said with a smile.

“You uh ready to go.”

“Yeah” I say nodding my head.

I walked out the door and closed it behind me. I follow behind Jackson to his car. He opened the door for me and gestured me to get in.

I smiled at him before getting in. He closed the door and walked in front of the car and got in the car.

After about a 5 minute drive we had arrived to the island club. Jackson got out of the car while I gathered my stuff. I waited for the door to open but it never did. I looked out the window and saw Jackson waiting for me.

What the fuck is wrong with this guy

I opened the door and got out. Closing the door before walking over to Jackson.

“Sorry couldn’t find my purse.” I lied to save myself from the embarrassment.

“It’s okay” he said before wrapping his arm around my waist as he lead us toward the entrance.

“Table for Moore.” Jackson told the host.

“Okay right this way.” The host lead us to a table in the back corner of the island club. Jackson pulls my chair out and sits in his seat.

“Thank you” I said quietly.

Our date was going great. We ordered our food and talked. We currently were sitting in a comfortable silence waiting for the bill.

“I have a question Y/n” Jackson said breaking the silence.

“What’s up”

“I know that you and rafe aren’t on the best terms but I was wondering if you would want to go with me to his party tomorrow night.” He asked me.

“Um sure. You won’t have to pick me up though. All of my stuff is at his place still so I’ll probably get ready there if that’s okay with you.”

“Oh that’s okay.” He said as the host dropped the bill of at the table.

As he signed the bill as I grabbed my purse. I took one last sip of my wine before standing up. Jackson came up behind and put his hand on the small of my back.

“Shall we go, my lady.” Jackson joked.

That was something rafe would always say whenever we finished our dates.

“Yeah” I said with a fake laugh.

We walked to the car and saw rafe sitting at the bar. He turned around and locked eyes with mine. I quickly looked away.

Rafes pov

Jackson Moore.

He’s been on my shit list since 8th grade. He always has been going after everything I do.

I’m not surprised he’s with her. He probably only likes her because I dated her.

I was finishing my drink when I heard my phone ping.

Y/n:I’m coming to your place at 8 instead of 3.

Rafe:why

Y/n:I’m going to your party with Jackson. I have to get ready there because all of my stuff is there. We can talk then.

Rafe: k

I sighed and shoved my phone in my pocket before leaving the island club.

————————————————————————

Taglist: @tincanhat @maybankslover @esposamultifandom

[weepingwillowwonder]

A request: Asmodeus x Reader x Fizzarolli - 

“Could you do one where reader is a workaholic (always on computers and paperwork) and one day they've been working on a paper for so long that they haven't slept, but fizz and ozzie find out from them that it's due in a week. After this, they try to convince reader to come to bed with little neck kisses, reader is unaware that they plan to tire her out so badly that she falls asleep/can't remember she was working on a paper.”

₊✩‧₊ CW: Suggestive contest, honestly nothing too explicit, not really proof read either tbh <_<

~~~

“Baby…?” A gruff voice calls out into the room you occupied by yourself. Distracted, you let out a small hum in acknowledgment and continue typing away at the laptop in front of you. 

“Babe.” The sudden firmness of the voice startles you out of your trance and you look up to find the face of a worried Fizzarolli. He stood crossing his arms before walking closer to your spot on the couch. Your eyes meet his and you give him an apologetic smile before returning back to the work in front of you. 

“Hi Fizz, sorry I’ve just been…really busy.” You mumble, leaning into the screen of the dimly lit device. You hear him walk around the couch to lean over your shoulder to look at what you're doing. He then gives you a kiss on the cheek.

“I know. For the past few days you’ve been at this literally non-stop. You’re hardly taking any breaks-,” He starts, placing his hands on your shoulders to kneed the tension away.

“I have been taking breaks.” You cut him off defensively, glancing up to him for a moment before turning back around. He rolls his eyes.

“Using the bathroom doesn’t count.” You shoot him another irritated look. “I meant actually taking a break, you know, not just stopping to do the bare minimum to fuckin’ live. Plus you haven’t even been coming to bed at night, just passing out on the couch…” His voice softens and he buries his face into your neck with a sigh. “You need to rest and...I miss you.” 

His lips suddenly press against your neck, trailing slowly along the skin. Fizzarolli's kisses are sweet and gentle, and you know all too well that he’s trying to coax you away from the task at hand. You're hardly paying attention to him though and shortly after he begins, you dramatically groan. Much to his dismay, he realizes your reaction was not towards him, but rather at your computer.

You mutter quietly to yourself as you proofread your latest paragraph and unconsciously you lean away from him. Fizzarolli scoffs. 

“Seriously? Are you for real ignoring me?” You turn to him, genuinely surprised by his frustrated tone and open your mouth to respond. The sound of a door opening, however, stops you and you both look towards it's direction.

“Hellooo my beautiful partners!” Asmodeus cheerfully enters the living space, dropping his belongings on a nearby table. “And how are my babies today?” When he takes in both you and Fizzarolli’s body language, his tone quickly changes. “Is there something wrong…?”

You avoid both of their gazes and quietly get back to work. 

“Ozzie, tell them,” An accusing finger points in your direction as he walks over to greet the other. “That they're working too hard and they need to take a well deserved break. Also to stop ignoring me...” 

Fizzarolli's pout quickly slips away when Asmodeus’ arms settle around his hips to pull him closer in greeting. A low timbre of a hum is heard followed by the hitch of someone’s breath. While you don’t look up to watch them, you quickly get an idea of what’s happening… 

“Oz..?” He mumbles, a blush quickly growing across his cheeks as lips trail along his neck and shoulder. Your name is spoken in a sing-songy voice against Fizzarolli's skin and you bite your lip at the soft moans that fill the room. You try desperately to stay focused. 

“Oh? Are you ignoring me now too?” Asmodeus’ voice is teasing when he calls your name again, purposefully working Fizzarolli up to catch your attention. You shift in your seat, hoping that he doesn't catch on to your own growing interest.

Despite your silence, he responds to himself as if you both were having a conversation. “Mm if you are ignoring me, you’re not doing a very good job at it.” His grin grows in the corner of your eye when your lips press together. 

“What are you working on?” His voice changes less towards seduction and  more towards curiosity, but his actions still remain a distraction. Asmodeus’ hand finds its way underneath Fizzarolli's shirt, brushing against his sensitive skin, while the other sneaks into his pants. 

“A paper.” You mumble, trying to stay on task despite Fizzarolli's sounds of pleasure. Your legs press themselves together against your will and Asmodeus hums in understanding.

“When is it due?” He ponders aloud as he carefully watches you. As you explain your deadline is in a week, your eyes don't stray from your screen. You know once you take in the increasingly explicit scene in front of you, the concentration you’ve been desperately trying to maintain will be broken.

“A week?!” Fizzarolli's disbelief is cut off by a high pitched cry when Asmodeus pinches one of his nipples.

“Sounds like you have plenty of time to get it done then.” Asmodeus comments, taking his time to remove himself from your partner before commanding him to go wait in the bedroom. Fizzarolli is clearly not eager to listen, but does what he’s told. Pausing to watch his back as he leaves, you catch the way he looks back at you as well. 

When he’s out of sight, your eyes flicker back to Asmodeus who’s quietly watching you with a knowing smile. Your eyes timidly leave his yet again, even as he moves closer and purrs your name. Asmodeus kneels in front of you, his hands settling on both sides of your thighs. Your lip slips between your teeth as you peer over at him from above your laptop. You don’t say anything when he strokes small circles on the sides of your thighs, but when he tries to lift the device from your lap, you speak up. 

“Ozzie, pleaseee…I have to get this done, it’s really important…” You whine, tightly holding on to the sides of the laptop in an attempt to stop him from taking it.

“I’m sure it is important, but so are you.” He gently pries your fingers away and sets the laptop aside. “Just like you said, you have an entire week to finish it. Plus you’ve been working so hard…” His hands cup your knees and slowly spreads your thighs apart. “...You’ll let us take care of you, won’t you?”

Your eyes flutter at his touch and you turn away shyly as he continues moving closer to you between your legs. He leans down to press his lips along the inside of your thighs and your legs spread wider as you submit to his efforts.

 In the corner of your eye, the soft light of your laptop glares at you. In the moment when you look away from Asmodeus, the sentence you had been stuck on suddenly becomes clear as an idea comes to mind. With one hand on Asmodeus’ shoulder, the other reaches towards the device, but before you can make contact with the keyboard, you’re snatched up into the air.

“Oh no you don’t!” You hear as you let out a gasp. Both of your hands come to rest on Asmodeus’ shoulders now as you’re carried away from the living area. He makes his way into the bedroom with you in his arms and sets you on the bed.

“Took you both long enough...”  You hear Fizzarolli groan, then the sloppy sounds of skin against skin. Asmodeus chuckles, obviously amused by the other’s impatience and helps to turn you around to face him. Before you know it, your clothes have been shed and you’re sandwiched between your partners with their skin against yours.

“Fizzy’s been such a good boy waiting so long for us, it’s only right to make it up to him…right?” 

[katerinaaqu]

Oh yeah they do here too. I am talking on the day it came out

Hmm I see why that is because during a very dark time of politics for Greece emotions speak louder than cold logic and facts so many of the films might be deemed harmful or discriminatory against people who do follow the communist party and since communism is still a political movement in Greece they don't want to project it out of fear that it will spark such talks. Also that is because KKE as a communist party today it was not the same back in the day of the Civil War. Or at least the name and the original consistency which broke down in many pieces after its legalization back in the 80s if I remember correctly. So it is a matter that would spark a lot of talk. Especially with the role they played before at wars and such which was indeed of contribution and so on and so forth

I have to say that people complaining about "the state stopping them" is commonplace in Greece so i am not sure if there is such a strong political aspect here but since I am not aware of the situation I cannot comment more.

Right and left wing are not so intense in Greece as in other places like USA exactly because we do have many different political parties in Greece now. But again I don't wanna go through heavy political talk. I think the reason historical movies are "not the way they are supposed to" (and that already is a big statement for me as a historian I kinda hold myself back from such statements because history has many ways to be expressed) has more to do with viewers than politicians and politics. Also in difficult times it is important not to point fingers at each other which is often what such movies or shows want to do. It is not bad on it's own on the contrary but it also needs to be made properly.

I don't. We have many powerful productions and again I am against movies and stories that aim to point fingers from all directions (just for the purpose of pointing fingers i mean) because they offen no actual knowledge but increase the polarizing atmosphere. Call me naive but I think a country that has given chance from people from of one part of the spectrum have voice at some point is not THAT much into danger to stop someone from having voice but again maybe that is just me. Dunno. Freedom of speech is something I feel we have but again maybe it is just me.

The point is not to show to people who watch "how terrible the other side is" but to depict history so allow me to disagree with you a bit on that (in the essence i do not like to see the big bad government in every aspect of life even if i know they play their part always) and leave it there because honestly such stories are already powerful and polarizing so I think they point is not to offend or not offend but to show history as it is without being even more polarizing and as I said there are already plenty of political parties in Greece so just talking about "right" or "left" seems already a bit off to me given the complexity of the situation.

Christos Tsagas, Kostas Kazakos and Kostas Karras

As Odysseus, Agamemnon and Menelaus

In Iphigenia (1977)

You can't find a better trio! They look amazing together! Even their heights are perfect! Tsagas is simply Odysseus! Straight out! He was arguably the shortest of the team and corresponding to the description of Homer being like a ram (curly hair and proud posture) and very well built seemingly wider than Kazakos even! Moreover, Tsagas was born in 1939 making him 38 in 1977 when the movie came out! He is simply perfect!

Here's another image with him next to Dimitris Arronis as Calchas and Panos Michalpoulos as Achilles:

Gotta love the cultural details how Odysseus removes his hat within the conference room to show respect the same way that our men remove their hats in churches or during sacred moments (ex. Funerals) to show how he respects the process as well as Calchas as a prophet for his position.

[bokutosbabe]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° words that you will never say

( sae itoshi x gn! reader )

♡ a/n — for my new series :)

♡ content — sae itoshi x gn! reader, gn! reader, closed off sae, reader tries hard to save them (they can't), kinda toxic relationship?, mentions of sae going to spain, established relationship ( 7ish years ), angst?

♡ synopsis — for several years, sae itoshi has been the only person you've ever loved, but he couldn't (or wouldn't) love you the same way.

The stadium lights blazed, casting long shadows over the field as Sae Itoshi stood in the center of it all. Thousands of fans screamed his name, their voices merging into a deafening roar. Somewhere in the VIP section, you sat quietly, your hands clasped together, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. You had flown in just to see him, leaving behind the life you had built while he chased his.

This was his world, and you had always been a visitor.

After the match, you waited near the private exit, watching as Sae moved through the throng of reporters and teammates. He spotted you, his expression neutral, and walked over with the same measured steps he always took—calculated, precise, distant.

“You came,” he said, as if your presence surprised him.

“Of course I did.”

He didn’t respond, instead pulling out his phone as you both walked to the car. You wanted to tell him how proud you were, how incredible he had been on the field, but the words stuck in your throat.

Memories of when you first got together, when you were happy, came in waves.

You remembered the boy who used to kick a soccer ball around in the park, who would run to you after every game, grinning ear to ear. The boy who, at 13, promised he’d always come back to you, no matter how far he went.

“Long-distance won’t be easy,” he had said back then, “but we can make it work.”

And you had. For seven years, you stayed up late to match his schedule, traveled across continents just to see him, and celebrated his victories from afar. Every time he called, every time he smiled at you through a screen, it was enough to make you believe this was worth it.

But as Sae grew older, he changed. His smiles became rarer, his words colder.

That night, you had planned a quiet dinner to celebrate his win. You lit candles, cooked his favorite meal, and set the table for two. Sae arrived late, his hair still damp from a shower, his expression tired.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said, glancing at the table.

“I wanted to. We haven’t had time together in weeks.”

He sighed, sitting down without a word. As you ate, you tried to talk—about his game, about your life, about anything—but he gave curt answers, his mind clearly elsewhere.

Finally, you broached the topic that had been weighing on you. “Sae, have you thought about... our future?”

He looked up, his brows furrowing slightly. “What about it?”

“I mean... do you see us getting married someday? Starting a life together?”

His fork clinked against his plate. “Why does it matter? We’re fine the way we are.”

The words hit you like a slap.

The breaking point came the next day.

You overheard Sae speaking with his manager about a potential transfer to another country. When you confronted him, he looked at you like you were being unreasonable.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” he said. “You’re always so understanding.”

That was the moment you realized he took your love for granted. He didn’t see the sacrifices you made, the pieces of yourself you gave up to fit into his life.

“I can’t do this anymore, Sae,” you said, your voice trembling.

He stared at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What are you saying?”

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. But I can’t keep pouring my heart into someone who doesn’t know how to let me in.”

The goodbye was quiet.

You packed your things while he stood in the doorway, watching silently. He didn’t try to stop you, didn’t say the words you so desperately wanted to hear.

As you walked out the door, you turned back one last time. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Sae.”

Sae Itoshi was alone.

Days turned into weeks, and he went through the motions of his life—training, matches, press conferences. But everything reminded him of you. The way you used to sit in the stands, cheering him on. The quiet dinners you planned after his games. The way your laugh used to fill the silences he hadn’t realized were so heavy.

He stared at the photos of you that still sat on his desk, unable to bring himself to put them away.

For the first time, he felt the weight of his choices. He had always thought you’d be there, unwavering, no matter how cold he had been.

But now, as he sat alone in his empty apartment, he realized you had been the warmth he didn’t know he needed.

And he had let you go.

if i had two nickels abt fics i wrote abt sae being an absent bf...i'd have two nickels

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[ivysprophecy]

Am I Okay? Chapter Three

a/n: hi again! if you havent guessed already this chapter is going to include the gala i mentioned in part twelve! (which is linked) now as author im going to state clearly that this is not their first date 'canonically', however, its what i MYSELF consider their first date. <3

warnings: i dont think there are any, but i did add a little somethin somethin at the end ;) and i should mention this ones gonna be in rafes pov ;) im in no way saying that rafe is my character

word count: 1241

this shouldnt feel as daunting as it does right now. shes just a friend. its just a dinner party, theres no commitments attached or technicalities to worry over.

its just me and her making a boring evening more exciting.

thats all.

i knock on the door and wait patiently for her to answer. i did come a bit early so i wouldnt be surprised if she was still getting ready.

she has a tendency to get swept up in the music shes listening to when shes at her vanity.

but as soon as she opens that door and i turn to see her... i suddenly forget all the convincing was doing.

cause i know after tonight theres gonna be no more hiding just how into her i am. she looks incredible.

it does something to me knowing its the dress i bought her.

"hi," thats all she says and i swear i forgot how to breathe. how does she do this to me?

"hey," my smile widens, "you look... gorgeous. really you look great."

"cant take all the credit, the dress was all your doing. im just wearing it."

"and you wear it beautifully," just like that, a natural blush replaces the artificial pink on her cheeks "we should get going, are you ready or do you need more time? i can wait."

"i think im ready..." she searches through her purse, going over its contents making sure she has everything. "yep, im ready."

"perfect," i close the door behind her as she walks out, "its a little jarring to see you without your boots."

she chuckles as i open the car door for her, "i tried to clean up as nice as i could."

"you clean up just fine cowgirl," i cant hide my smile.

the drive to the event was that comfortable kind of quiet. i always let her take aux when we drive together. country music definitely isnt my favorite but she could play a lot worse.

besides she throws in the occasional kid cudi or metro boomin for me.

shes thoughtful like that.

"oh theres valet? how fancy," the valet opens her door for her before i can even get out of the car. i suppose thats his job.

"thats kinda how these things go. theyre a bit much."

"well i think its refreshing being so spoiled. dads done a lot of fancy business but nothing like this. its fun."

taking her hand, i lead her up the stairs into the building, "ill spoil you as much as you want cowgirl."

"youre such a sweet talker city boy. for someone who, supposedly, is a serial bachelor youre a total flirt."

"nah, i only flirt with you," i tell her, truthfully. part of me said it to see her all flustered but really there isnt a point in lying about it.

i know everyones got me figured out already, the guys and their girls are better gossipers than the real housewives. not that id know anything about the real housewives. i definitely dont watch that shit.

"thats exactly what im talking about," shes giggling as we walk into the giant room filled to the brim with investors, partners, staff, clients, a bunch of people i really want to avoid. i was about to lead her over to the bar when we run into someone conveniently.

her father. that i work with. awesome.

"cameron! thought i wouldnt be able to catch you tonig- y/n? pumpkin what are you doing here?"

"dad! were in public can you maybe not call me that-"

i let a smile peak through, "pumpkin?" its just too easy to tease her.

"rafe," she sends me a warning, and you know she means business when she uses my "government name" as she likes to call it.

i throw my hands up in defense jokingly.

"its good to see you y/l/n," i reach out to shake her dads hand, "i invited her, hoping a friendly face would make the night more barrable. i hope thats alright with you."

"nah its good for her. she needs to get out more. i trust youll take care of her."

"dad!" she raises her tone while keeping a hushed voice, "dont talk about me like im not here. please."

"you kids have fun tonight," her dad wraps an arm around her before pressing a small kiss to her temple before shaking my hand again, "good to see you rafe. take care of my little girl."

i nod with a smile as he walks away, heading over to a table of some other clients i recognize.

"unbelievable! rafe im so sorry that was embarrassing. he doesnt know how to act normal. i shouldnt let him out of the house. i need to put him in a home."

"cowgirl, youre rambling. its fine, i get it. hes a dad its his job to embarrass you a little."

she rolls her eyes leading the way back to the bar like we intended in the first place. leaning against the bar she tells the bartender her order and mine, already knowing id like a whiskey.

how am i not supposed to like this girl so much when she knows me so well? i dont care if we come from two completely different backgrounds. a part of me knows this is the girl for me.

taking our drinks i lead her over to our table for the night, pulling out her seat for her to sit when suddenly i see some investors walking my way.

i knew id have to work a little tonight but it doesnt stop me being disappointed from being pulled away from her.

the night goes on, i introduce her to a few of the people i know better than others, but i give her the chance to mingle when she wants too. shes so well spoken and holds her own well.

shes mesmerizing.

at one point i return from the restroom, and when i come back i see that after i stepped away one of the investors sons is making conversation with her.

hes far too close to her for my liking, touching her arm subtly, desperately trying to make her laugh. but i can see shes only doing it to be polite.

i step up right beside her, my hand naturally falling to the small of her back. innocently of course.

"jared! good to see you man, your dad let you come?"

theres nothing i love to see more than his confidence faulter. he needed to be put in his place, what can i say?

im just happy i was the one to get to do it.

"yea... yea he did. it was good seeing you rafe. nice meeting you...?" he smiled in her direction, asking for one more chance silently, i couldnt contain my laughter.

"have a nice night jared. tell your dad ill see him at mondays meeting," and with that i lead her away in the direction of our table.

"you didnt have to be so rude to him you know?"

"cowgirl, that was hardly rude of me. i was doing him a favor."

she plasters on an offended face, pretending to clutch her pearls, "how dare you, im a catch. hed be so lucky to have me, and so would you."

god, shes such a tease.

believe me gorgeous. i know id be so lucky to have you. its all i think about.

[ masterlist ]

[circuscrypt1d]

i said this on twitter but ill say it here too just because

i hate how silco was written

just bear with me

if silco and vander were friends with felicia, close friends at that, he was probably around when the girls were born. at LEAST, when vi was born. i mean felicia told them both at the same time, vander helped pick a name right in front of him, he agreed to help make zaun a better place for those girls.

and maybe he and vander had a fall out due to clashing interests in how to go about piltover (though i find this unlikely), but their real fight only happened after felicia died in the war at the bridge, as vander stated in his letter to silco. a letter which also implies that they could have gone back to being close (as they do in the powder timeline).

this all makes sense to believe that silco knew the girls, and helped raise them. however young they were, he was around. and despite his fight with vander, the powder timeline also tells us that he wasnt SO resentful that he would abandon them forever.

so why? WHY in hell did silco consider killing both vi and powder when he kidnapped vander?

he was okay with killing vi with his shimmer monster and all his other goons, and only wanted her as a weapon later. he considered killing powder with a knife when he found her near vander's body. he called her "little girl", as if he didnt know her. both her and vi knew about silco's abd vander's ex friendship. at least later on in life, they did. if they didnt they definitely would be more surprised by finding their stuff together and the letter.

still, s1 silco acts like he doesnt know the girls. considers killing them, or using them. as if jinx only grew on him later on and wasnt someone he already knew.

i feel as if the writers wanted to make a "big bad guy" out of him in s1, and didnt have the full scope of his moral compass and background in mind when doing it. he is inarguably made to be the villain, and they did it all to try and make him the worst possible, so that when he "turned out to actually love jinx and do things for her good" it would be more of a surprise to the audience.

except s2 breaks all of that. and its not to say i dont like his backstory, or him as a character. he was definitely one of my favorites since i first watched years ago, and i was so sad when he died. but if they intended on bringing him so close to vander, and at such a point in time too (because he could have been friends with vander BEFORE felicia, and then they had their fall out), why write him so detached in the first place?

not to mention, the reason why he and vander fought is left to interpretation for the most part. we have implications: that it was after the war; that they had conflicts of interest; that both of them were very shocked by felicia's death. and we also have others: that had he read the letter vander left him, they might have become friends again; that he wasnt SUCH a terrible person as to not forgive his closest friend.

but it is very confusing what the intentions were with his character and backstory, and it makes me sad because it could have been so much better.

[doiliedaze]

Bloodlust: part one

Pitfighter! Vi x Stripper! reader

Warnings: none in this part

Genre: fluff ish cause no real angst yet???

A/N: i was listening to strictly for the strippers by sexyy red so enjoy!! Vi is depressed and impulsive but she’s trying her best.

───────┈ · ·

Sounds of bottles popping, folks hollering, and ass thumping. That’s my typical atmosphere ‘round 11:30. I’ve only been stripping for three years, and I’ve learned a couple things.

Save your money

Get a buddy

Your real name is earned

Never sleep with your clients, this is fantasy

My stage name is Wisp. I got it when I auditioned based on how I move around the pole.

Recently there’s this new hardass that’s been coming to the club. She’s broad, covered in tattoos and has a chip on her shoulder. I avoid these types…but I can’t avoid her.

Think whatever you want about strippers but most of us are decent people tryna make it especially in Zaun.

I walk onto the floor getting what I can before I have to go on stage when I hear her whistle at me.

I roll my eyes fighting a little smile. I will admit she is beautiful but her attitude isn’t. Eventually I’m called onto stage. It never gets old when you are announced on stage. The crowd calling for you, the base thumping and the first moment you touch the pole and you whirl in the air…magic everytime.

The theme of the night was whimsical whores, I know subtle right.

No matter the lighting, fog of weed or anything else I see her through the crowd, heavy blue eyes watching me. Towards the end of my performance my heart was racing almost. She felt closer? She usually stays towards the bar and stares but this time she was closer to the stage.

The song fades out and I get off stage collecting my money when I feel someone hit my ass. Before I could react my new regular is picking fights. One fight, starts twelve here so I scurry off stage and change so I can leave early.

Outside I catch my breath and I see her get thrown out yelling and cursing when she makes eye contact with me. I don’t enjoy when customers get in my business it never ends well. She walks over to me, everything about her looking heavy. Her lip was bleeding and there was a cut under her eye. “You okay?” She said softly might I add.

“Yes but don’t do that again.” She tilt her head and scoffed at me.

“Is that how you say thank you?”

“Why am I thanking your drunk decisions?”

She rubbed her face like she was fighting to say something and just muttered a sorry. She’s obviously drunk and probably wanted to help, before she walks away I grab her hand and she snatches it away. “I just want to know how you’re getting home…”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m not leaving you alone till you let me take you home.”

We stare at each other for thirty minutes until she starts leading the way. Is this dangerous? Obviously! However I’d feel better knowing she’s home safe.

She slows down so I can walk next to her. She smells like wood and blood, not sure if that’s her natural scent or because of tonight. I see some of her tattoos peeking out, they look so intricate.

Her voice broke the silence letting me know we’re here. I thought it looked okay on the outside but my gods it was horrible on the inside.

“Have you ever cleaned or is this the aesthetic you’re going for?”

She side eyed me so I stopped talking.

“I’m barely here so I don’t see the point in caring.” She mutters as she takes off her jacket.

I swallow thickly when I get a view of her back, instinctively I want to touch it but I won’t.

“Like what you see doll?”

“No and don’t call me that, it’s wisp to you.”

“Doll suits you better” she walks towards me, there’s a sadness in her eyes like she’s done this before.

“What’s your name?” I say abruptly trying to change the conversation. She catches on and leaves some space in-between us, “it’s Vi.” She was ashamed to say her name. Then it all started clicking for me.

Vi lays on her makeshift bed and I stare at her crumbled form, “I’ll let myself out…”

“Can you stay?” She whispers, her voice so soft I almost missed it.

You shouldn’t get this close to anyone in the lanes just because they have shit going on, we all have shit going on…but sometimes people need help and I have a hard time saying no to helping people.

I lay behind her and slowly wrap my arms around her. Vi flinched slightly but she was tryna relax. I rub her hair a little trying to comfort her as I hear her sniffle. She grabbed my hand and just lays it across her instead. We stayed like that till we fell asleep.

My downfall has always been my heart let’s see where that gets me.

───────┈ · ·

A/N: im trying not to be corny whilst writing this so I hope y’all enjoy!! I love strip club based stories so there will be more stripper! reader. I’m gonna try to make part two longer and add angst but I suck at writing angst so we’ll see (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

Taglist: @manfuckthisimout

(Dividers- @dollywons)

[purinipod]

that cat’s got my tongue

part four . . .

the reader confronts jada about her derogatory comments, but jada dismisses the issue, claiming she was speaking about someone else. frustrated, the reader chooses not to engage further. meanwhile, satoru’s attempts to reconnect are met with minimal responses, leaving him confused and suspecting jada’s influence.

click here for the other parts enjoy reading

the tension in the apartment had been building for days. every time you saw jada, her offhand remarks or the casual way she laughed with her friends grated on your nerves. her voice, her presence, even her stupid floral-patterned phone case—all of it set you on edge. you kept replaying that overheard phone call in your mind, dissecting each word, each pause, wondering how someone could be so bold yet so dismissive.

you didn’t want to argue. you didn’t want to stoop to her level. but at some point, holding it in felt like swallowing glass. so, when you found her lounging on the couch scrolling through her phone, you decided enough was enough.

“jada,” you said, trying to keep your tone steady, “can we talk for a second?”

she glanced up lazily, her lips curling into a half-smirk. “about what?”

“about what you said the other day. on the phone.”

her brows furrowed, but the smirk didn’t fade. “you’re gonna have to be more specific. i talk on the phone a lot.”

“you know what i’m talking about,” you said firmly. “you were talking about me. saying i’m ‘nothing compared to you’ and that satoru’s only hanging out with me to get back at you.”

jada blinked, her expression blank for a moment before she burst out laughing. “oh my god. you think that was about you? seriously?”

“you said my name,” you snapped.

“and?” she shot back, her tone dripping with condescension. “not everything is about you. maybe you’ve been watching too many rom-coms or whatever, but you’re not the main character here.”

the sheer audacity of her words made your jaw clench. “so you’re saying it wasn’t about me?”

“obviously not.” she rolled her eyes, leaning back into the couch. “look, i get it. you’re insecure or whatever, but don’t drag me into your drama.”

your hands curled into fists at your sides. part of you wanted to keep pushing, to make her admit what she’d said. but another part of you—the part that was exhausted from overthinking and second-guessing—realized it wasn’t worth it.

“fine,” you said curtly, turning on your heel. “just stay out of my business.”

jada let out an exaggerated sigh as you walked away. “oh, trust me, i will,” she called after you.

you slammed your door shut behind you, leaning against it as you exhaled sharply. the confrontation hadn’t gone how you wanted, but at least you’d gotten it off your chest.

meanwhile, satoru was in his dorm room, staring at his phone in frustration.

satoru: hey, are you free this weekend?

satoru: or maybe after class one day?

satoru: you pick the time, i’ll make it work.

nothing. the read receipts were off, so he had no clue if you’d even seen the messages.

he tossed his phone onto the bed, running a hand through his hair. what had gone wrong? last week, you were texting him nonstop, telling him about your day, joking around, and even letting him pick a movie for your next “hangout.” now he was lucky if you replied to one out of every five messages.

his phone buzzed, and he snatched it up, his heart skipping a beat.

you: i’ve been really busy with classes. sorry.

it was short, almost dismissive, but at least it was something. he stared at the screen, debating whether to reply immediately or give it a few minutes.

satoru: no worries, school comes first. but don’t forget to take breaks, okay?

he hit send and waited. and waited.

nothing.

the next few days followed the same pattern. satoru would text, you’d either take hours to reply or ignore the message altogether. when you did respond, it was polite but distant, like you were talking to a stranger rather than someone you’d been opening up to just last week.

satoru wasn’t stupid. he knew something had happened, and he had a pretty good idea of who was involved.

“jada,” he muttered under his breath.

he remembered the way she’d glared at you during the party, the way her voice dripped with venom when she mentioned how he’d “moved on so quickly.” satoru had shrugged it off at the time, figuring jada was just being her usual dramatic self. but now?

he didn’t know

@purinipod pls don’t steal any of my work

[martian-astro10]

Nosferatu spent 2 hours trying to explain how count orlock is not someone who should be romanticised because he is a creepy ass pervert who does not understand consent. Now people are out there making hear me out posts for him, media literacy go brrrr

Attack on titan spent FOUR seasons trying to convey the message that there is no right or wrong in war, and that innocent lives are lost on both the sides and that you support the one whose side of the story was more accessible to you. Then aot fans made thousands of posts on how gabi was bad and eren was good, and vice versa. Media literacy again go brrr

The author of hunger games literally word to word explained how the people of Capitol were selfish pieces of shit who were consumed by superficial things and that led them to ignore the atrocities that were being committed in the name of "games". Then people made thrist traps of snow, saying they would join him in all the things he did since he was so hot. Media literacy AGAIN going brrrr

The author of Lolita literally saying that a young girl shouldn't be on the cover and that it's a story about pedophilia. The people romanticising the Lolita aesthetic and calling it a romance book. I'LL BANG MY HEAD ON A WALL

It's so incredibly heartbreaking when a piece of media does it's best to make a point and it completely goes over people's heads. We were just having a debate about this in the class and the opposition team made such dumb points like 😭 "let people enjoy things in the way they want to" NO, if a person reads a book from back to the front we call him dumb, because it's MEANT to be read from front to the back. The creator is explicitly stating their intention to make that piece and then people go, " well, actually.." IT'S SO ANNOYING

What's the point of reading and watching and studying if you MISS THE GODDAMN POINT. Every revolution In this world was caused by people reading and UNDERSTANDING, authors wrote stories in such a way that it didn't directly insult the monarchy but the message was there, a story about animals working together to drive away hunters from the forest, subconsciously the message was received by the people. If you don't understand and take the message seriously, then you're not even reading or watching anything, you're just looking, HUGE DIFFERENCE. You're looking at the words, but you're not understanding anything cuz BRAIN NO WORK 😭

So annoying Bhai so annoying, our team was so pissed with the opposition like what the fuck are you saying bro, it's not even...... IT'S INSANE. We need a better education system because this is simply not it. Do they even teach anything in schools anymore or what?

Or leave everything else, the comment section of a basic astrology post makes me want to cry, asking the same questions again and again, like bro, the person literally clarified what they meant in their post, JUST READ. They're so used to being spoon fed all the time, you have to direct people, "do this, do that, see that post", or when people are not able to connect dots, there is information available to you, combine that information, take points that match with your circumstances and create a new point that is applicable for YOU. "I don't resonate with this" OKAY, IT'S ONE FUCKING POSITION GOD 😭😭. I have seen such negative observations about my placements and THAT'S FINE, maybe they met people with those placements who exhibited such traits. Not every mars In 1st is going to be athletic, not every moon in 6th will have a weak immunity, you may have other placements to balance it out. The worst part is that they'll list down their placements and be like "what does this mean" LIKE I DON'T KNOW BRO, YOU SHOULD PUT SOME EFFORT AS WELL 😭 atleast TRY to reach a conclusion.

[one-with-the-goasts]

The magnus archives fan episode, season 1: Frostbite

👁🪽🏔❄️👁🪽🏔❄️👁🪽🏔❄️👁🪽🏔❄️👁🪽

TW: Gore, frostbite, uhhh, its a TMA episode.

Word count: 2,191

Jonathan was working in his office when someone knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” He called out. The door opened and a person with a cast on their shoulder carefully stepped inside.

"Hello! I'm here to.. make a statement? Is- Are you the right person to talk to about that?” Jonathan looked up, clearly less than thrilled to have a guest at this time. He sighed before answering,

“Yes, that'd be me. Take a seat.” The person carefully sat down and dropped their messenger bag next to them. Jonathan folded his arms in front of him before asking,

“To start, can I get your name?”

“I'm Brian… Brian Bentley.”

“And what exactly is this statement going to be about, Brian?”

"Well- Um- I would call it a hypothermia induced hallucination, but my friends call it a very real encounter with a pair of malicious spirits.” Jonathan leaned back in his seat before muttering,

"Of course they did,” He tapped the start button on the tape recorder on his desk, "Statement of Brian Bentley regarding an encounter with 'spirits'. Statement recorded directly from subject on March 5th, 2003. Statement begins.”

"R- right. Um- The encounter happened while I was on a camping trip with my companions, Emma Harker, Lilly Smith, and Sam McGregor. We had all been part of the Scouting Association as kids, so we decided it'd be a good idea to camp up on Mount Scafell Pike, where temperatures get below freezing nightly.”

"Mount Scafell Pike, in Cumbria, I presume?”

"Yes. We started hiking up the mountain at about 10 AM on February 24th, and set up camp at 8 PM. By the time we set up camp, the snow was thick enough to bury you if you took a wrong step and fell into it. We found an area where the snow had partially melted and resolidified into a much denser structure of ice crystals, which we used to construct an igloo. It wasn't very big, but it was surprisingly stable, and we could just barely all fit into it with our gear. Emma even complained about it being cramped, but showed no intention of leaving the warm protection of the space, especially when night quickly cloaked the land in a moonless cover of darkness. We used the tiny portable stove I had brought to melt some snow into tea, and heat up our ramen noodle dinners. The hike up was solemnly quiet since we were all too cold and tired to hold a conversation, but now that we were warmed up by food and drinks, and the snow walls reflecting the heat back at us, we joyously chatted away. After eating, I decided to go out for a short walk, which none of my companions had any interest in... I must admit, the location of the trip wasn't the best decision on my part. I've always had trouble maintaining a healthy body temperature in the cold, and there have been several cases of hikers getting lost atop the mountain and freezing... but I did have a good reason to plan the trip: The night sky. That night was a full moon, and as the weather forecast predicted, the sky was perfectly clear. There in the cold darkness, away from all the headlights and streetlamps, away from all the noise and pollution of the city, you could see everything. Every star, every planet, every comet. That's always been my favorite part of camping, gazing out at the night sky, which is why I failed to notice how far out I had gotten from the igloo until I was already actively shivering.”

“How far from the igloo did you get, exactly?”

"It's hard to say, I had completely lost track of time as I gazed out on the night sky... I panicked for a second when I realized this, before remembering that I had been watching the stars as I walked, and could use them to guide my way back. However, after some time of walking, I realized that I wasn’t passing anything. All I could see in all directions was just snow. No trees, no rocks, not even the side of the mountain. By this point, panic was starting to set in as thoroughly as the cold was. I could almost feel the icy grip of fatigue dragging me back, slowing me down. I could hear its whispers in the wind, begging me to stop and lay down in the pillowy soft snow. I knew that if I did, I would certainly die. That's when my torch illuminated them: the two shadowy figures approaching me. I would have sprinted to them if I could, but all I could do was continue pushing my way through the snow until they reached me. One figure turned out to be a woman with black matted hair, a fox fur on her shoulders, and a stained white dress. She had bits of thorny vines tangled into her hair and dress, and digging into her arms, although she didn’t seem to notice. The other was a small child with a light blue dress and pigtails. The dress had a shining snowflake design on the front, with a fractling pattern expanding from it and covering the dress in a shimmering icy film. She had a puffy jacket and beanie but was so small that the snow nearly buried her. Neither of them were wearing nearly enough layers to possibly survive the cold. The woman spoke in a calm voice that seemed to effortlessly cut through the sound of the wind. 'Hello. I'm Eira. This is Emberly. Are you lost?' I was taken aback by the calmness of the woman, but quickly replied, confirming that I was lost. She simply looked at Emberly and smiled, before turning back to me and saying 'Don't worry. Your journey will soon be at an end.' She was clearly trying to be reassuring when she softened her voice, but the coldness of it made a deep sense of fear settle in my stomach. Emberly picked that moment to smile at me. I couldn't make out anything wrong with her smile in the darkness, other than the fact that it did not look human. I began to back away, but Eria advanced, reaching out a frostbitten hand as I did. 'Don't worry,' She said in that sickeningly sweet tone, 'you'll finally get to rest.'…I don't know why, but that was what made me snap. In a moment of sheer panic, I punched Eria in the face, and she stumbled back into the snow. Then, I started to run. I didn't look back. Not when I heard Eira calling out to me. Not even when I heard a flapping noise behind me. Then, I tripped and fell into the slow, turning over just in time to see a shadowy thing flying towards me. It carried Eria in its owl-like talons, and flew through the air with its feathered wings, but its body looked like that of a malnourished horse, with leathery black skin. Its head was composed of a deer skull, with a soft glow reflecting out of its eye sockets. What caught my attention most of all, however, was the shiny ice crystals covering its leathery skin. They all converged into a single point at its chest, just like Emberly's dress. As it rapidly approached, my hand gripped something long and hard buried in the snow, and without a second thought, I brought it up and pointed the end straight at the thing's chest. I still remember the horrible cracking noise that erupted from its chest as the broken tree branch I had been holding pierced right through the snowflake pattern. It dropped Eria and let out a deafening screech. I had just barely scrambled to my feet when the thing swung its feathered arm down and dug its talons into my shoulder... Have you ever been out in the cold for so long that your hands go numb?” Jonathan thought for a moment, not expecting to be asked a question in the middle of a statement.

“I can't say that I have.”

"Huh, lucky you. That's the closest thing I can think of to describe the pain I felt in my shoulder. Only instead of happening over the course of two hours, it happened over the course of two seconds as the ice crystals dug into my shoulder, reaching through the skin, fat, and muscle all the way to the bone. Then, I couldn't feel anything at all. That was almost worse. The scream that I made was what alerted my friends as to where I was. Thankfully, they had already been out searching for me. I don't remember what happened next, but according to Lilly, she found me unconscious in the snow, my shoulder ripped up like it had been made out of paper mache. Emma ran down the mountain and called an ambulance while Sam and Lilly carried me back to the igloo. Next thing I knew, I was at the hospital. Apparently, I would have certainly bleed to death if it weren't for the fact that the blood froze into my veins, effectively cauterizing the wound." Brian started taking a folder out of their bag, seemingly struggling to get it out without moving their shoulder too much. "..I have photos, although some are a bit gruesome.” Jonathan was clearly uneasy as he leaned back in his seat slightly and hesitantly said,

“Sure.”Brian finally got the folder out and took out a printed photo of a hand with blood dripping from it. The photo was blurry, but clearly of a different person's hand.

“This is a photo of one of my friend's hand after they cut it while cooking. The wound healed quickly and with no issues.” Jonathan looked both confused and irritated.

“Why are you showing me this?”

“To prepare you for the next photos…” Brian then handed Jonathan three printed out photos of a gruesomely torn up shoulder. The skin of the shoulder was blackened by frostbite and covered in a shining layer of ice crystals. The photos were sickeningly clear and detailed.

“These were taken by the paramedics…”Jonathan swallowed hard as he struggled to keep a professional demeanor.

“Bloody hell…”

"Yeah... You should have heard it. Sam says it made cracking noises every time they moved my arm at all.” Jonathan looked at Brian with a mixture of disgust and concern.

“How on earth did you survive this?”

"It was entirely my friends. They were all trained in first aid because of the Scouting Association. They were the ones who took me to the igloo, called an ambulance, patched up the wound, and kept me warm.”

"It's a good thing they did all that then," he said, still a bit shocked at what he'd just been shown.

"It's frankly amazing you're even able to move your arm at all after that.”

"Yeah, physical therapy is a wonderful thing... Look, I don't know exactly what happened up there, but I'm assuming it was some combination of fatigue, hypothermia, and a falling tree branch... I just... I heard y'all look into this sort of stuff and I guess I need some assurance that it wasn't... real.”

“You're trying to tell me that,” Jonathan pointed at the photo, “This was caused by a falling tree branch?”

"Well the alternative is- I'm sorry, I promised myself I wouldn't come here and argue about the probability of it." Brian said before starting to get up. "Is that all you need?”

"For now, yes," Jonathan said. He glanced at the photos a moment before looking back up. "...But I would like to ask you one thing before you leave, if you don't mind.”

“Yes?”

“Why did you go out in the first place? I understand that you wanted to look at the stars, but it hardly seems safe.”

“It wasn't the first time I had gone out alone on trips… At night…” Jonathan looked doubtful and concerned.

"You went out on late night walks while camping, alone, on previous trips? And your friends knew of this, correct?”

“Yeah. I've been camping since I was twelve. I knew what I was doing… to a point…” Jonathan shook his head.

"It sounds like you didn't know what you were doing at all. Going out in the middle of the night, in the winter, while camping alone is foolish and dangerous. You do realize that, right?” Brian looked as though they were going to answer the question, before they changed their mind and sighed heavily.

“I'm sorry, I don't think I ever caught your name.” He took a moment to realize he'd been so wrapped up in this questioning, that he'd neglected to even introduce himself.

"I apologize, I should have introduced myself before..." He stood and held out his hand to Brian. "Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist at the Magnus Institute.” Brian shook his hand before picking up their messenger bag.

"Nice to meet you Jonathan. Have a lovely day.” Brian then left, leaving Jonathan alone in the room, which felt slightly colder than before.

“Bloody hell… end statement.”