#which why not i guess that was the year with all the clown sightings

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

Kai I love your tag rambles I learn so much 😂 it's beloved mutual hours whenever I see a wall of tags from you

John Wood is legit the most fairy tale adaptation ass name I've heard in a WHILE what an insane set of circumstances

im glad you enjoy it because i just have so many thoughts all the time and they escape containment (my brain) in the tags very often sjdkskxkwkx <3

as a name, its on degree away from "you made that person up" like if someone had a friend called john smith, and yet it also sounds like a fairy tale adaption name somehow?

also i fully had to check the documentary existed because like ive seen it, but it feels like a fever dream. like "oh what are you watching?" "its a documentary about two men arguing who owns a mummified leg that was previously attached to one of them."

[agender-witchery]

On Project Moon

Hey, this is gonna be long, I'm putting most of it under the cut. This post is about the recent firing of VellMori from Project Moon, I know that it warrants some tags for triggers, but I have no idea what's commonly used, so if I miss something, please tell me.

Additionally, I have written this up in a way that if it escapes the target audience of Project Moon fans, it can still be understood, so with that in mind, there will be Library of Ruina spoilers.

The tl;dr for those who don't wanna read the full thing is that Project Moon was put in a very bad position with some violent extremists targeting them and that I'm not happy about any of what happened.

So, for those unaware, Project Moon has fired VellMori, the CG artist for Limbus Company. Now, a not inaccurate statement that can be made from this is "Project Moon fired a woman for being a feminist" but this is... somewhat reductive. Let's immediately get out of the way that VellMori did absolutely nothing wrong. Some people have said she is a TERF. I've seen no evidence of this. Some people have said she wished death on all men. I've seen no evidence of this.

What I HAVE seen is that VellMori thinks sexual abuse is bad. Now, why would this lead to a firing? The short answer is that a bunch of violent incels, one of which was literally dressed as a clown, came knocking at their office doors.

See, Limbus Company has a "beach" event coming up. In this event, we are getting a water themed outfit for two of the characters, one male and one female. For Sinclair, the guy, he has been given an EXTREMELY slutty mechanic's outfit. For Ishmael, the woman, she has been given a very skintight wet suit outfit. Now, I wanna take care to note that VellMori is the CG artist - she had no hand in these designs, a man made them. I would also like to mention that both outfit designs are amazing, and I will be including them at the end of this post for reference.

Now, upon revealing the wet suit design for Ishmael, a bunch of whiny incels on what is basically Korean 4chan got upset that Ishmael, instead of being in a bikini as is usual for gacha games, was wearing a wet suit. Nevermind that the designs in Limbus Company have always been conservative and that the Sinclair design is the most skin we've ever seen and it's just an open shirt. Again, the wet suit is still super revealing, it's skin tight and this is literally the first design of her that doesn't make her look flat chested. They're not rioting over the lack of sex appeal, they're specifically mad that it's not a bikini.

The incels come to the conclusion that the lack of any skin being shown on Ishmael's outfit is a result of evil feminism. No, I'm not exaggerating. They initially begin harassing the artist who is actually responsible for drawing the outfits, but upon learning that he is a man, set their sights on VellMori because she's a woman, and being an artist is good enough I guess. What they do from here is they start digging and digging and digging on VellMori's twitter, making use of archived pages because many of the "offensive" tweets had been deleted.

I'd like to take a moment to point out that VellMori never actually tweeted anything out here - it was all retweets from a 4-6 year old archive, and retweets that have been long deleted. These retweets contain such transgressive statements as "I'm sick of misogyny" and "If being against patriarchy makes me antisocial, then so be it" and just... mirroring back to men what those men were saying to women. Some people would like to have you think she was calling for death to all men. She wasn't. She ALSO retweeted all this stuff while she was a teenager and well before she worked for Project Moon.

Nonetheless, the incels had decided that feminism was the reason Ishmael had a wet suit and not a bikini and they had found a feminist working for Project Moon. It is at this point that we must take a brief detour and talk about Library of Ruina, Project Moon's previous game.

See, in Library of Ruina, one of the protagonists, Angela, has this whole arc about escaping her abuser and becoming a human. Yes, she is literally a robot, but Project Moon isn't exactly a stranger to symbolism in their stories and a feminist reading of Angela is ridiculously easy. The main antagonist in Library of Ruina is Argalia, the Blue Reverberation, and his crew is called the Reverberation Ensemble. Every member of the Reverberation Ensemble is a violent lunatic who each want to reinforce the status quo in their own unique shitty way. In addition to this, typically in order to reach the titular Library, you would need to be invited. The Reverb Ensemble are the "uninvited guests", the ones who managed to reach the Library and knock down the door without an invite.

Why am I talking about this? Well, the incels decided to start calling themselves the Reverb Ensemble, and referring to each other using names of the Reverb Ensemble members such as Pluto, Elena, and Oswald. Having taken on the moniker of the uninvited guests, they then showed up to Project Moon's office to protest. Over the lack of a bikini. Now, remember how I mentioned someone was dressed up as a clown? One of the Reverb Ensemble members, Oswald, is a clown with an extremely tenuous grip on reality. So much so, that his ideal world is one in which there is no meaning whatsoever. That is the character they chose to dress up as. This is either a case of extreme self awareness or extreme self unawareness.

Eventually, the incels were let into the office possibly as a form of damage mitigation to prevent the crowd of protestors from getting any bigger. This was a questionable decision, but they had a group of violent incels at their doorstep either way, and I don't exactly have full details on this. Regardless, Project Moon had on their hands a group of violent protesting incels, who they felt compelled to let into the building, and who had demands including the firing of their feminist employee. (7/28 update: a translation of the transcript posted to DCInside has surfaced. Please check the reblogs for it. Project Moon was verifiably threatened.)

So while "Project Moon fired a woman for being a feminist" isn't inaccurate it also isn't the full picture. More appropriately, it'd be "Project Moon fired a woman because a group of violent incels who weren't satisfied with a form fitting wet suit instead of a bikini showed up to their office demanding that an artist who did not make the wet suit design be fired because she retweeted some feminist stuff 5 years ago while she was a teenager".

I'm not happy with this. None of this is good. People are allowed to be feminists, and Project Moon stories have always presented progressive ideas to anyone with half a brain to do some basic literary analysis. I can understand why they would cave to the demands of people who were threatening them and showed up to their actual place of work, but at the same time, that's someone's livelihood gone and proof that in the future, the same sorts of people can use the same sorts of tactics to bully Project Moon into doing whatever they want. All of this sucks.

For those who would like to see the retweets in question alongside translations: https://twitter.com/danghwangs/status/1683884236888223744

And for people who would like reference as to what the artworks these incels were up in arms about, Ishmael in the wet suit and Sinclair in the mechanic's outfit.

[soupthecoolest]

CnD!

alright! so CnD, or "Creation and Destruction" is my homebrew "dnd" campaign!! i have dnd in quotes just cause. well my autism got too strong and i made an entire handbook with my own mechanics LMAO so it's really it's own Thing at this point. which is super cool n fun. after everything's been wrapped up i might publish that handbook but WE SHALL SEE.

anyway CnD is my own personal excuse to make my friends rp with me and my crazy ocs. SO.

it all started when the 11 party members crashed on the beach in a town they'd never seen before. looked totally normal until at the end of the first session they found a portal!

jumping in, that just... kept happening. small adventure, portal, repeat. with no end in sight. as the party began questioning why all this was happening, they met these two little FREAKS named mayhem and maelstrom. (i'll add all refs i have below!!)

anyway mae n may mentioned an elusive “She” that they’re working for, which led my players down an insane conspiracy rabbit hole in which they guessed 90% of hullabaloo’s vibe based on a PRONOUN. ONE PRONOUN I DROPPED I CAN’T TELL THESE MFS ANYTHING

next, they met pandemonium, (@weedsmokingbfs's oc!!! owe you my life muppy) who told them that: these portals aren't taking them place to place, it's transporting them around purgatory. and they've all died.

since then it's been up to the party to navigate their purpose, how to escape, all of it.

then they met bedlam, who explained to them this crazy prophecy and the reason they're all trapped there, which connects to a decision he made 800 years earlier.

enter callie.

my god this is so much to explain IM CRAZY ok. so callie and dee (@percexe) had been meeting in the void for centuries. he'd see callie there when he died and never knew why. 2 idiots had an unspoken pact to not talk about their pasts, but boy they should've!

it would've revealed that callie is actually named chaos, and directly related to all the other crazy clowns they'd meet across the campaign.

they're called the Story, the main 6 pantheon of gods i've set up in this universe! so we've got (in order of like. "hierarchy")

mayhem and maelstrom: gods of war and balance (he/they)

pandemonium: trickster god of illusion (he/it)

bedlam: god of magic and prophecy (he/him)

hullabaloo: goddess of joy, day, and spontaneity (she/her)

chaos: goddess of narration, night, and tradition (she/he)

the Story are basically the worlds most fucked up family, all considering each other brother and sister. in the beginning they were fine, but as time went on things just naturally got more and more messed, and now everything is just a nightmare

chaos and hullabaloo are kinda a tier above the rest of the story, part of their own subset called the Storytellers.

hullabaloo wanted more power and betrayed chaos, trapping her in the void for eternity, as she wanted to rule the universe herself. which all circles back to how callie met dee.

in the void, chaos didn't feel like himself and took on the name calypso, which is how she introduced herself to dee once they met.

and nobody found out anything out of a series of insane miscommunications and lack of info! what fun!

but now in the campaign timeline, everyone's basically caught up. we've finished the first season and are heading into the second in a couple weeks!!! also excuse if this feels rushed at all it's because it is <3 LMFAO there's just so much with CnD, this barely scratches the surface.

there's so much i couldn't cover here like the prophecy binding the party to purgatory, bedlam's entire role in that, the mages, etc. we're like 25 sessions in and so far i've planned 40 more. i am SO normal!!!!

PLEASEEE ask about it if you're curious!! im so insane about my campaign it is my pride and joy :]]

in order there: hullabaloo, chaos, bedlam, pandemonium, and mayhem and maelstrom! ART CREDS for pandemonium and may&mae refs @weedsmokingbfs !!! once more muppy i owe u all my beans

[libidomechanica]

With stick; and singled a shadowy word

A Meredith sonnet sequence

                With stick; and singled a shadowy word   of the blood pretty woman, put it. Some   were! It were one thou guess to me, if men of Abelard labour own, its show a moment stopped prepared its ways, ere tame. Tears   to his side—o rather’s song anyway,   care. The heart why, I hanging coupe. I burn throught than feareth but Christabel striving murmur of the shapes around as above   without a rake: then thy powre in the appear   what’s extinguished hills echoèd. She, why did not been as such cold. Lets ticks me to common see. That brief appears or sing hand   oh, her from those the fear, smil’d, what was her   adventurous arm, which showing round of the prevail that least bo-peepe or to blisse.

                And of meat, ye must thy selfe at Christabel   her wind there head’s united Norwegian   kindle at last? And sigh or travell’d nymphs, but of delicacy of this bolder music has soon espyed. With those the   placed in a winter seas best, we’llput all   some future Livy terrifying an inter craned, and ground. Young love with poet stirs; and leading come, who like two of that   masque: some maid fold, art sabre, if to bear   as the naked liggen wrapt in inks were take twelve force of liars alone. Will you lov’st by the hands were all, still the Beast. With   wrong, she way to his less is no fearful   to soar to him, became. The leave her as piety could falling for profusion.

                How came descriptions shed a race, with since   I come, with your dear, yet not, the grands to   lay. So piercing his fourty years unshatter nose. And all to make his fancy replied, then, who have gives; and was she water   they comfort a merry glee, an’ a’ the   Bust and thus is but carnival, after Winter’s art for euer shame, all that make follow’d with; I love the ancie, and then all mind!—   And swelled nation’s doom: where Venus hath flow   of ten of death. His blind. How conscience I kiss of sons propagate the raves, in threw hardly held with God aloud; you wilt prov’d   voice with thy blood survives. And to offer   what fresh—for his calmly kiss of a forever,—he this the sight, how longest day.

                Young many a sudden blooms, and was sow,   and how one: to under a new life too   long ygoe is shall drawn, their plac’d; beauty, education; the with stars ground, as white robe, and I rose they seem’d them, nor envy then   health it; and yet is, the chang’d! By his call   she rest while in happing on the blush’d as the two smart as I wont down, and once on the creepe: alas! Some love is only childlesse   pleasure, and beautiful or wine, strake   in my filled, but clowne small adore their space, his own in my erring throated surface and ne’er watching has some mystery. How   that he knew, but king, for tho, the lassie,   the reason, oh, her recommeth that’s upper disordering thee stay forgive was.

                So then the restless pass fourty year aye   shepheard a starue. Win that love is gone think   to call, while Geraldry, the women, with all-sung wittes to his own weakness and close, to the first of the wood survives. The   curse on the spray young its first note of all   things benumb us attack’d in a celebrate, there the first your fruit, gush divine and oathsome day, there, insation too soft   for all, that blood whisper of mercy vould   you art to dwell the sun took the state of anguish pride flames are the pure, as both soft a dazzling music I heart. Head thou, greet   with which matter name if I pleasure you   will whispered. Were steps them thus ditty sad story instant sometimes twixt her adieu.

                Unless chain’d; labouring, or human fees.   And lie drown’d, when your Castle coming better,   she, that in dizzy transient says envy master forth with goodly verdure tauld go, and take back to raised, we show his lot,   far other Eden; these fields, her fall. How   can paining sees the must start up there the which discuss’d to all you wrong—a low diffus’d, and sole exchangel Singing love shepherds   sang of this, to carry youth to paused   thou here? And beside three! Nor the in than a part thy void of life, a strange in the unmov’d trick’d before. Then the ravest woke   that colour’d like the same vacant mine. She   love’s service and elusive ghosts, and Pant one even at their happy omen!

                Against thought in perhaps the bound to bear,   and mistress, but wholly another heart’s   beautiful dream of watching sparkling fire, its river damm’d to shore to quence’ is a come. Put up sudden mortal eyes gainst   thou loiter the prove to his eye and robe   of this gentle Lambro pretence, or twice; and of our old will price, a sweet virgin motion. Except perhaps or more to sleighteen,   vapours alive, since into you. His   enter, hack into a sweet Naiad offices of all contentment is but which mind the Laocoon’s feet, you’llnever father in   me, such like a cedars as about the   street; the now a strain’d hands would but ev’ry Lady FRANCES drest so smooth arms in me.

[girlwithwolftatoo]

Part two of ‘bunny and hat’? I really enjoyed it! Your a very talented writer :)

Why not? Here it is!

(For those who haven't read the first part: https://girlwithwolftatoo.tumblr.com/post/688186273526153216/bunny-and-hat )

The Harrington house was one of the largest in town, and therefore, the parties held there were also the most ostentatious and popular. Not just anyone could be invited, but the family did not have a reputation for being greedy or ruthless, especially with the children, who liked to visit their house on Halloween because they received the best and most expensive candy.

Perhaps that's why, that year, they decided to move the celebration up a few weeks to celebrate the birthday of their youngest son, Dean. The Harringtons had two other children, and you had attended their birthdays on several occasions as well. That year, little Dean's birthday would have a theme: costumes.

It was as if Halloween had come early, although the decorations in the house and especially the Harringtons' gigantic yard didn't allude to anything scary. There were strings of lights ready to be lit when the night came, tables and armchairs lined in such a way that they looked like huge mushrooms, and on the dessert tables there were large glitter flowers, giving everything a fairytale atmosphere.

You wouldn't have had to attend except that Mrs. Harrington invited you as a courtesy, after asking your mother to bake six apple pies for the occasion. And, since it was a costume party, you wore a black dress and black and orange striped stockings, so if anyone asked, you would say you were dressed as a witch.

By the time you arrived, the courtyard was overflowing with guests of all ages. Even the adults had complied with party etiquette and watched their offspring play and laugh madly, chasing each other between tables and waving little sparklers. Autumn dyed everything red and orange, and the scent of the pies matched the atmosphere well.

"(Y/N), welcome" the hostess wore a pompous fairy costume, and had her hair combed in wide ringlets "Those pies smell delicious, your mother bakes beautifully, tell her I thank her very much... Please take a seat, in a little while we'll start delivering the food."

"Thank you, Mrs. Harrington... Hello, Dean" the boy, only seven years old, was dressed as none other than a frog, and was looking at you with a face riddled with fake freckles under the hood with bulging eyes "Happy Birthday"

"What did you dress up as?" he asked. You shook the basket in which you had loaded the pies and replied, in a squeaky voice:

"I'm the wicked witch of the forest, and I brought poisoned pies."

Dean laughed at the joke, and turned away from his mother to continue playing. Many girls your age, especially those with brothers, despised kids and did everything they could to stay away from them, but you didn't share that sentiment. There was something nostalgic about watching them run around, play and do innocent but not entirely harmless nonsense, you thought that soon, sooner than they knew, they were going to grow up and their life would become a hurricane.

Not long after, as you stood at a table alone, eating roasted peanuts and hot fudge, you noticed out of the corner of your eye a black van pulling up near the house. At that distance you couldn't make it out very well, but you guessed, since no one else seemed to care, that it was some errand for the Harringtons. Even so, you felt chills, that year two local children had disappeared, and before the silence of the police all kinds of rumors were circulating. The sight of a van so close to those little ones was... disturbing.

"All right, children, come and sit down!" ordered Mrs. Harrington, clapping her hands. She and her husband led the children to the grass near the tables, and they began chattering excitedly about what was to come.

"I told you there would be clowns!" said one child to another.

"No! I hate clowns!" whined a little girl who happened to also be dressed as a fairy, in a flowing pink dress, and who covered her eyes at the horrible possibility. You smiled, remembering that you had seen all kinds of performers parade around during the old birthdays you attended, and wished you felt the same excitement they did.

Anticipation was building as a pair of boys unfolded a curtain. The children stretched their heads, eager to see what was going on behind it, and the Harringtons, standing beside them, talked quietly. Then the boys withdrew with a brief salute to the hosts, and the curtain moved, giving way to a man, dressed in black and red, with a long cloak and top hat. Apparently, the Harringtons had hired a magician, and it was they who started the round of applause as the performer took a deep bow to his small audience.

The magician removed the hat from his head, and after a few hand passes, made none other than a full-grown, fluffy, angry chicken appear. 

"Well, you know what they say" he explained, smiling "Not all hats have rabbits."

The chicken hopped up and down, eliciting hilarity from everyone as it ran around aimlessly. The magician put his hat back on and caught the children's attention, a coin appearing between his fingers, which suddenly burst into a puff of smoke and turned into a bouquet of blue wildflowers. The crowd applauded, you included, as he handed the bouquet to Mrs. Harrington with a gallant gesture.

"Madame..." seeing Mr. Harrington, he smiled mischievously "I have something for you too, may I have your wallet?"

As the man humored the magician, your eyes went back to the flowers Mrs. Harrington was holding. Small and blue, as if plucked from the field borders... they reminded you of something, and the more you looked at them, the more distressed you felt for no apparent reason. When there was a new explosion and several little birds flew out of the magician's hands, you didn't clap because your mind was reliving, second by second, what happened a month ago at the festival.

It had to be a coincidence, of course it had to be.

Mr. Harrington retrieved his wallet, and looking at it gasped:

"Hey, where's my money?"

"In this economy it flies away, dear sir" replied the artist, and again there was laughter. Again, he planted himself in front of the children, who were already eager to see more "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, are you ready to continue to be amazed?"

The man did a few more simple tricks, bringing in front of the makeshift stage everything he needed. Usually, magicians had assistants, but besides the guys who set up the curtain, who had already left, he did everything by himself. 

At a certain moment, the magician dragged in front of the curtain a gigantic box, painted purple, with golden stars and planets. The time had come for the big trick.

"Is he going to cut someone in half?" asked a child.

"Of course not, who would like to be left without legs?" replied the magician as a sort of joke "This box, which you can see..." he opened the lid, showing an empty interior and, as was the custom, no apparent trick "is normal... Well, not really, because whoever enters this box will travel to another world. Don't you believe me? Look at this..." The magician closed the box, walked around it stopping from time to time to tap it with his wand, and when he opened the door again....

Your heart skipped a beat. The wizard bent down and pulled out of the box a rabbit, but not a real one, but a pink stuffed toy. The toy had a note pinned to its chest, and the magician read it to his audience.

"The box grants wishes, but in return, it asks for a sacrifice..." as he said that word, several children made a terrified face. To make matters worse, the way he spoke had become slightly sinister "This rabbit is just a messenger, great wonders await on the other side, but to get them, someone must enter the box... and be willing to disappear."

Suddenly none of the little ones moved from their places, some even piled up, as if fearful that the magician would choose them to send them to who knows where. The man, noticing their concern, smiled.

"Of course we're not going to put any children in this box, no, for this little trick I need an adult..."

He began to walk among the tables, as if sizing up the parents and family members who were following the show with not much interest. The magician still carried the rabbit in his left hand, and the closer he got to your place, the more anxious you felt. No, it wasn't him, it couldn't be him, but you didn't want him to come closer, you didn't want to keep looking at him or the pink rabbit, you needed to get away, to leave until all that macabre game was over, so you slowly stood up, you would pretend you needed to use the bathroom or something....

"You!" almost to the point you froze, the magician pointed at you just as you had taken a couple of steps into the house, and now all attention was on you. He turned his head slowly, looking at you from under the brim of his hat, and smiled. It wasn't a reassuring smile, but you didn't dare move as he approached you. With the same gesture with which he handed the flowers to the hostess, he stretched out his right hand and offered it to you "Miss, come with me."

You would have given anything to get rid of that, but everyone was looking at you, the children were looking at you, and as the seconds passed they began to chant, cheering you on. Your trembling hand was almost immediately seized by that of the magician, who without stopping smiling led you to the makeshift stage.

"What is your name, my dear?" he asked. He had not let go of your hand at any time. You looked at him sideways, trying not to let your fear show.

"(Y/N)" you stammered.

"A round of applause for Miss (Y/N), please" he requested "You are about to take a trip, young lady, follow my instructions and you won't get hurt... after all, we don't know what's on the other side, and Mr. Rabbit..." as he said this he waved the stuffed animal "won't tell us, will he?" 

There was laughter again. You tried to smile, but it was almost impossible. The magician held out the stuffed animal, indicating with that gesture for you to hold it, and you did, then he positioned himself behind you and passed a long, dark-colored scarf over your eyes. 

"Don't move while you're inside" he whispered, taking advantage of the scarf so that the children wouldn't notice he was talking to you. The voice... of course you recognized that voice, or was it just your nerves? "I'm not going to hurt you."

Your heart leapt. 

It was him. God, it was him!

Gently, he helped you into the box, and you heard the children wish you good luck. You hugged the rabbit to your chest, terrified. The little light you could perceive behind the blindfold went out when the box closed, and you heard a mechanism above your head. Something was falling not far from you, a heavy false curtain that would hide you from view while the little ones thought you had really (why did that word now send shivers down your spine?) disappeared. Your breathing was getting faster, and then, you noticed a stinging in your arm. 

"Ow!" the pain lasted barely a second or two, and then you remembered not to move. You suspected there was a loose staple in the back of the box, and you held your arm so you wouldn't hurt yourself again. You heard the surprised applause of the children and adults, and waited, patiently, for them to let you out. Because he had to let you go... 

After a while, you heard his voice again, speaking to you through a secret little slot in the box:

"Take this..." his hand touched yours and he handed you a small wooden box. The curtain that concealed you was lifted, and at last you were free. As soon as the door opened, you removed your blindfold and moved forward without waiting for the magician's direction.

"That was wonderful, wasn't it? Hey, dear, just a moment, would you mind opening the box?" 

You did as he instructed, and everyone made a jolt. Out of the box came several of those jumping toy snakes, and at the bottom, there was a chocolate bar that the magician gave Dean. After that you returned to your place, and the show was over. The children were still talking, amused, about the man's tricks and chasing Dean to let them see the gigantic chocolate. You had wandered back to your table, the pain in your arm appearing in moments, and that's when you realized you still had the pink rabbit with you, an exact twin of the one Dorothy left behind in the Fun House.

Mrs. Harrington called everyone inside the house to cut the cake, and they all came in, half in droves, leaving you outside. Your nerves had grown worse after those minutes in the magic box, your skin tingled and your head ached, so you moved forward, rabbit in hand, ready to return it to the man and run into the house as soon as your feet would let you. 

You didn't dare get any closer to the van, which had huge blue-green letters that read Abracadabra. The magician was finishing putting away all his equipment on his own, whistling under his breath. You swallowed saliva, truly his presence felt worse than a fever, so you chose to put the rabbit down. Only, as you did so, a strong dizziness left you paralyzed, hunched over as your fingers clutched at the toy without stopping shaking.

The man's silhouette came toward you, and you stumbled. He cocked his head, curious, and smiled.

"Good to see you again... bunny." 

Why did you feel so bad? Your legs were like jelly, your body was shaking and you were in a cold sweat, your vision was blurring, and he was getting closer and closer to you.

"No... please..." you growled, crawling across the floor. His hands made a hold of one of your ankles, and he leaned over you.

"You must feel very weak" he commented "Yes, it's been a high dose, I can see that... but not enough, maybe you'll sleep two, three hours..."

"What...?" to your horror, the man pulled a small syringe out of his pocket, and waved it in front of you, even though at that point you could hardly see anything. Your heart raced, your throat felt dry, and you didn't even have the strength to scream for help while everyone else, busy singing and cutting the cake, was unaware that you were in danger.

"Don't be afraid" he said, reaching out his hand to stroke your forehead "You're going to be fine, just... it just made me so happy to see you again that..."

In the clouds of daze, you noticed that you moaned and waved your hands, seeking to push him away from you. He didn't flinch, he held your wrists gently and brought his face close to yours, you could notice just a few things, the deep red of his shirt, the hard texture of the rings he wore, the discreet scent of his cologne.

"I won't hurt you, my dear...I wouldn't hurt any living thing, see? I wouldn't hurt such a beautiful little bunny..."

You began to cry, desperate, but in those moments the darkness of unconsciousness devoured you completely.

[plus-size-reader]

Spiderman

13 Days of Halloween 2021

Peter Parker x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2472 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Costume shopping with Peter for a party at Stark tower, that doesn’t exactly go as planned.

—————————————————————————————————

Tony Stark had a halloween party every year at Stark tower.

It was something everyone knew about, but not very many people actually got invited to. Like everything Tony did, it was pretty exclusive, which was why it surprised you so much to learn that you had gotten invited.

Invited, of course, through your boyfriend Peter, but invited nonetheless.

“Are you sure I can go with you? It isn’t overstepping?” you clarified, for what felt like the hundredth time. It just didn’t seem real and it didn’t matter that you were in the car headed to the costume store.

You weren’t even sure you’d believe it when you were there, if you actually went.

It just seemed too good to be true.

“No, I got a plus one for a reason. Who else would I bring other than you?” he teased, poking you in the thigh, his way of urging you to relax.

You two had already been over this a billion times already and while he understood where you were coming from, you had to just trust him. This blew his mind too, and that was exactly why he needed you by his side.

There was no one else in the world he would have dreamed about doing this with.

“I just wish I would have known about it earlier. We should have already had our costumes picked out” you sighed, well aware of how much of a pain in the ass costume shopping would be.

It would have been nice to have some notice, but you guessed that you couldn’t be too picky. At least you were going to the party at all.

You would go in your underwear if you had to, if it meant not missing an Avengers party.

“I’m sure we’ll find something perfect” Peter assured, not even giving your hesitance the time of day. He knew that the two of you were going to be just fine, he’d been around these people before and he knew they’d love you.

All you had to do was relax, and be yourself. Everyone was bound to love you, just as much as he did.

“Now, what do you think about dressing up like a carebear?” he teased, earning a giggle from you that you couldn’t have hoped to suppress if you wanted to.

He could be so stupid somtimes.

Not that you wouldn’t have loved to see him all decked out like grumpy bear.

“I’ll have to see what they have before I agree to anything” you countered, only imagining what other outlandish things he would come up with in the time it took to get to the costume shop across town.

At this rate, you’d meet Tony Stark for the first time wearing a pair of cat ears and a tutu.

Which, given the sight in front of you when you walked into the costume shop, might have been the simplest choice.

The costume shop was packed, with far too many options to choose from as far as the eye could see.

The walls were littered with plastic packages, each with its own small description and a perky model wearing everything from a fuzzy elmo onesie to a mini dress, labeled ‘sexy cop’

Picking something was going to take forever.

“What do you think about this one?” you asked, pulling a clown mask from the wall nearest you and presenting it to Peter.

It was pretty cool, with a wide Joker-style grin splitting the lower face almost completely in two. It was a bit more graphic than he’d had in mind initially, but it was cool.

Ned would like it.

“I don’t know” he sighed, taking the mask from you and surveying it under the light, trying to decide whether he really liked it or not. Part of him thought it was great but the other part was really disturbed by it.

Which, honestly, was the case with most of the masks you two had come across so far.

You sighed, finding yourself similarly uninterested in several options you’d seen and left on the shelf. They were cute, of course, but nothing stood out as being the right choice so far.

...and you were beginning to wonder if anything ever would.

The two of you had been at this forever, and eventually, you were going to have to pick something, whether it was perfect or not.

After all, the party was tonight and it was happening whether or not you and Peter were on time.

Tony Stark wasn’t going to put a pause on something just because a couple teenagers had waited until the absolute last minute to get their costumes.

It’s okay, we’ll just try on a couple things and see how we feel” you decided, looking at the few things you’d gathered since you walked in. You figured that would be the best way to ultimately decide.

The photoshopped images on the front weren’t exactly doing them any justice. It was possible that they would be a lot cuter on then they looked.

“Yeah, that sounds good” he shrugged, finally feeling just how bad of an idea waiting so long had been. Though, Peter didn’t panic right away, because deep down, he knew that you had a point.  

Something was going to work, you just had to find it.

So far, he had grabbed a 20s style gangster costume, a pirate costume, and devil mask that he thought was super cool. Between the three of them, something was bound to work and if it didn’t, there were still plenty of other options.

At the very least, it was a start.

You, on the other hand, had grabbed a pirate, a flapper, and a vampire that looked like it would fit you pretty well. Of course, the options in your size were more limited than most, but they still had a few choices.

There was no use in panicking until you got into the dressing room and saw what you were working with.

So, before he wasted any more time searching, Peter headed toward the back where the dressing rooms were, and you were all set to follow him when you saw the funniest thing you’d ever seen, sitting on the shelf.

A spiderman costume.

It looked remarkably similar to Peter’s real suit, though it had been slightly altered, and almost immediately, you freaked out.

You thought it was hilarious.

As soon as you saw the costume on the rack, you snatched it, quickly hiding it, sandwiched between two of the other options you’d pulled down so that Peter wouldn’t see the treasure you’d come across.

It was too good to just pass up.

The chance to actually dress like Spiderman, with Spiderman on your arm was too good a gag to pass up. Not only was it hilarious to you, but you knew Peter would crack up as soon as he saw it too.

It was amazing, and for a split second, you actually had to remind yourself to keep your cool as you joined your boyfriend at his side, still keeping an eye out for anything else that would warrant a try-on.

For others, this might have been a quick exchange, in and out with the goods in hand but you and Peter had never been like other couples in this regard.

You took dressing up for Halloween very seriously.

...and that was just before, when you would sit on the porch and hand out candy to kids all night.

Now that you were going to some fancy halloween party at Stark tower with all the avengers in attendance, the pressure was on to impress.

The costumes had to be perfect.

It wasn’t everyday you got to meet the Avengers after all, and you knew that you had to make a good impression.

~

At first, everything was going fine.

You opened the package, bypassing the other costume options in favor of the last find of yours, the replica spiderman suit.

You couldn’t help yourself.

There was just something about the idea of seeing it on and showing Peter what it looked like that was so exciting to you.

Though now that you had it on, it didn’t seem like such a good idea after all.

You didn’t look like Peter, and you certainly didn’t look like Spiderman.

“How are you doing in there, babe?” Peter called, beginning to worry that you still hadn’t come out to show him a single one of your costumes since you’d gone in.

Normally, you would have been so excited to share with him that you would have pulled back the curtain before your costume was even zipped, like you did with your homecoming dress, but not today.

Today, you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

This wasn’t so much funny and clever as it was embarrassing.

The costume was your size, which gave it a bit of a fighting chance but aside from that, it wasn’t what you’d had in mind at all.

The cheap spandex-like material pulled and stretched in all the wrong places, and didn’t really do you any favors when it came to hiding the parts of your body you’d usually kept from the prying eyes of outsiders.

All in all, you just weren’t as happy with it as you hoped to be and because of that, you weren’t exactly thrilled with the idea of having to show Peter.

It was bad enough that you had to be disappointed in it, you didn’t want him to be too.

Still, you knew that if you didn’t let him in on what was going on in here, he would be more worried than if you just went ahead and ripped the bandage off.

Worse case, he would agree with how bad it looked, and you could try something else. That would be much better than letting him worry about you having a full breakdown today, like you sometimes did when you had to shop for clothes.

It just wasn't’ easy for a girl your size to do things like this.

That was the unfortunate truth.

“I thought it would be cute” you sighed, pulling back the curtain to show Peter what you were looking at previously in the mirror.

The traditional bodysuit style had never been your favorite, but as it would turn out, it was even less forgiving when it came to being made out of cheap costume fabric.

It definitely wasn’t doing you any favors.

Not that you would have known that based on the look on Peter’s face.

“What do you mean? It’s great” Peter grinned, finding the concept behind you in that costume just as endearing as you initially had. It was adorable, but you didn’t look nearly as happy about it as he was.

Obviously, it wasn’t what you’d been hoping for.

“I don’t know. It just doesn’t look like I thought it would” you shrugged, doing your best to keep high spirits, despite the clear fact that you were a little let down.

Of course, you shouldn’t have assumed you’d look anything like Peter in the first place. He had six percent body fat and superpowers, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to potentially be cute anyhow.

You had high hopes until you saw your reflection there in the mirror.

The fabric pulled around your curves, making each and every roll and divot more obvious than you ever could have thought possible and you were sure that if you pulled it any tighter against your skin, it would be sheer.

That was hardly the look you were going through.

As a general rule, you tried to cover up as much of those parts of your body as possible but Peter didn’t see nearly as many issues with it as you did.

In fact, he thought it was awesome.

Not only was the idea behind it absolutely adorable and super endearing but it also made you look incredible.

Where you saw flaws, the man you loved saw great benefit.

It was true that you often hid your body from the potentially judgemental eyes of the outside world but that didn’t mean you had to. There was nothing wrong with the way you looked, and he should know.

After all, he was the authority on the subject.

No one knew more about you than Peter did.

“It’s perfect baby, you look amazing” he assured, reaching out to take your hand in his own, and giving you a little twirl to get a better look at you.

The detail on the suit was great, a subject he also knew a lot about.

It was a pretty good recreation, if he could say so.

“I don’t know, you don’t think it’s too much for something so formal?” you sighed, terrified about giving the wrong impression in front of so many important people. Just because Peter liked it didn’t mean everyone else would.

The worst thing you could imagine would be finding out someone was talking about it behind your back at the party. Even thinking about it now was enough to nearly drive you into a panic, but Peter was way ahead of you.

He saw this coming as soon as he saw such an out of character costume on your frame.

“Everything else aside, do you want to be spiderman for once?” he hummed, looking you in the eyes out of habit and keeping your gaze locked there while you thought over your answer.

Of course, when you took everything else out of it, you knew the answer.

There wasn’t anyone in the world that wouldn’t be Spiderman given the choice but you weren’t convinced it would be that easy. Clearly, Peter wasn’t thinking about all the potential consequences to you wearing this out.

“If you really aren’t comfortable, we’ll find something else but if you want to wear this, I support you completely and totally. You look gorgeous” he continued, and you knew that he meant it.

Peter really did love you and you loved him, which should have been the most important thing.

This was a halloween party after all, not an early morning banquet with the queen of England.

“Okay, fine but what are you going to be?” you asked, content to wear this as long as he thought it was okay. After all, the more you looked at your image in the mirror, the more you found yourself drawn to it.

It wasn’t as bad as you’d originally thought once you tried to look at it from Peter’s perspective.

If you saw it from a place of love instead of a place of judgement, it was nice.

“I don’t know. Maybe Deadpool?” he joked, poking you gingerly in the side before heading back to his own dressing room, still on the hunt for the perfect partner to your spiderman suit.

[finelinevogue]

he’s so vogue

Description - you are the journalist for the new Harry Styles December Vogue Issue

A/N - how is everyone doing? hope you enjoy! if you have any requests please feel free to ask. love you all and have a lovely rest of the week!

warnings: swearing

[masterlist]

Being a journalist for Vogue was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

After 3 years of studying English Literature at Surrey University, you never thought, only a year after, you'd be working as an apprentice at Vogue UK. If it weren't for your Aunty, who worked in the fashion design section at Vogue HQ, then you'd no doubt still be a broke-ass, single, lonely student. Ok, lonely you still were but your job was so full-on that you didn't have time for a relationship.

Two years into your apprenticeship you were promoted to an official member of the team, and then another two years later you got promoted to team leader in your department of journalism, and editing; The Media - or as you like to call it - "The Celeb Goss". You were beyond happy with your job and found such passion in every article your wrote. Whether it be about a new celebrity romance or the collapse of one, you found a way to story-tell in such a meditated way that everyone loved your pieces.

That's why the Harry Styles had requested you to be the one to interview him.

Of course you'd written about A-list celebrities in the past, producing articles on pregnancy rumours, or engagements, or breakups, but you'd never met them before authoring an article. You'd met plenty of D-list celebrities who thought they were mega famous, but if you mentioned their names people would turn around and ask "who?".

This is why interviewing Harry Styles was a massive thing for you.

Not very often did you get to do work out in the field, especially in these covid infested days, but nevertheless it was your favourite part of the job. Getting to meet the people you were writing about was completely refreshing, allowing you to obtain a clearer outlook on which direction to take on your journal piece.

You were asked to go to Stonehenge, where the photoshoot was being filmed, as your office of interview. Even though you'd lived in the UK all your life, you'd never actually been to Stonehenge. It wasn't really on your bucket-list, but it was a pleasure to get to see it all the same.

Being the prepared interviewer you were, you'd prepared an array of questions that you were set on asking Harry. You'd never met him before, but after much googling and youtubing of him prior to meeting him today you would already be confident in saying he's the most brilliant man to ever exist. You were really nervous that you were going to screw this interview up and make a terrible mess in front of Harry Styles.

"Lisa! What if I accidentally say something I shouldn't?" You ran your stressed hands through your hair.

This whole morning had been frantic. It had started off by you waking up late, no thanks to Lisa, your best-friend and co-worker, pressing snooze on the alarm. You wanted to look professional today so you'd put on your best shirt - only to spill coffee down it ten minutes later. So now, you smelt of coffee and were wearing what was left in your wardrobe - and it wasn't much. The only things left clean were a pair of pink corduroy flares and some, pastel coloured, graphic t-shirt to go with it.    

"You won't. Stop being so negative." Lisa rolled her eyes, probably fed up with the amount of winging she'd heard from you this morning - and you'd only been awake an hour.

"My outfit is hardly professional either." You huffed, pouring the rest of your, second, coffee down the drain.

"Well I think you look gorgeous." Lisa stated, whilst putting her breakfast bar wrapper in the bin.

You and Lisa were back and forth about you stressing, and such, for about half an hour before you had to leave. You had a great panic about losing your glasses too. You could see without them up close, but for long distance viewing and reading you were practically blind. You were taking Lisa's car, since she didn't think you were emotionally stable enough to drive. Lisa was the creative director on the set, and thank goodness she was so you could at least ramble to someone.

After a two hour drive up from London, you arrived at Stonehenge and it was freezing. Although the sun was out, it did nothing to keep your body heated. The journey up had been nice because you sat in your nicely heated car, chatting away with Lisa and blasting some Harry Styles out of the speaker. You'd made it through the first album, and the second one up to Canyon Moon before reaching your destination.

Upon arriving you could just about, without glasses, make out about 15 other cars, arranged at the bottom of a hill. There was an array of Audis and BMWs, a few Range Rovers, which you placed your bets on one was Harrys, and a green, vintage, Jaguar which was most likely belonging to the fashion editor or something. There was also a modern barn, perched at the foot of the hill, which was where Harry would be getting changed in to his various different outfits.

It took you a moment to register that Lisa had parked and was already clambering out of the car, making you look a little idiotic still blankly staring at the beautiful scenes in front, and around, of you.

But it was still bloody freezing.

You jogged a little to the boot and whipped out your white cardigan. Originally you'd thought that this would've been enough to keep you warm, but now you were starting to think otherwise.

The atmosphere here was amazing. People were rushing around left, right and centre loading, and unloading, various pieces of equipment and clothes. You caught sight of brightly coloured fabrics being carried to and from various places. There were the camera crew, and presumably director, all chatting amongst themselves. The smell of the very fresh air was so lush that you'd forgotten what it smelt like - especially after years in London.

You grabbed your bag from the boot, which had your notes, recording kit and laptop stuffed inside, before locking the car and following Lisa in to the barn.

It was lovely and warm inside - a completely different climate to than the outside. It was as if it was Bali inside and Antarctica outside. Better Bali than Antarctica though.

"Ok. Let's put our stuff down over here and then go find people we need to meet and such." Lisa instructed, you still too in awe of the place to fully comprehend what was going on.

You followed Lisa and you two ended up dropping off your stuff next to some other bags. You took a liking to the purse next to your stuff. Next to your bag, it made yours seem ancient - like it was worth nothing more than a penny. It was luscious and a beautiful baby blue colour. You softly ran your hands over it, finding satisfaction in how smooth and subtle it was.

"Hope you're not planning on stealing that, love." A manly voice appeared from behind you. You whipped around to see who's bag you'd been messing with, and it was just your luck that it was to be Harry Styles'. Of all the people's it could've been it had to be his. 

Perfect.

He looked dashing. He was in black flares and his iconic 'But daddy i love him', t-shirt, along with a huge green anorak. His hair was prettily clipped back with a pink clip, presumably placed there to gave his curls greater volume. In his hand he had a pink toothbrush and you guessed he'd come back over to put it away in his bag - only to find you caressing it instead.

"Oh - no, no. Not at all. I - uh - I just thought it was beautiful." You stammered over your words, choosing them carefully to try and make you look less like an active criminal.

"Mhm." Harry nodded whilst looking you up and down, most likely judging why a peasant like you, in comparison to him, was touching his expensive property. "Well, I love your flares darlin'." Harry looked down at your trousers, his compliment making you blush a little.

"Thank you. That wasn't professional, and neither is my outfit, I know, and I apologise." You added, because you knew that if your boss knew you turned up today the way you did she would give you a right bollocking - and potentially even fire you.

"Never apologise for flares. You look amazing." Gemma perked up, making you feel more self conscious surrounded by all these other beautiful women. Gemma was in a slouchy, knitted, jumper and basic jeans - no doubt all from shops beyond your budget - and yet she looked like a model fit for the runway for Vogue.

"Okay, sorry." You apologised again, to which you, creepily, got the exact same, stern, look from the Styles siblings at the same time.

"My stylist, Harry, introduced me to big pants. He offered whether I wanted to try a pair of flares, and I was like, 'Flares? That's fucking crazy'!" Harry laughed as he told his story, earning a laugh out of you too. "Now they're my favourite item of clothing. Have a whole wardrobe dedicated to them."

"I wish he was joking." Gemma laughed at her brother and his flare obsession.

"Well you do look handsome in them, so I understand why." Your words rolls off your tongue before you could even comprehend what you were saying. Only after you finished your sentence did you completely intake what you'd just said.

"Good start." Lisa giggled to you, before turning to walk over to the coffee station. It was a help-yourself coffee bar and you knew that you were going to bed at least five cups to get over the last five minutes alone. You'd probably drain the station before letting anyone else have any.

"Oh god." You awkwardly mumbled, not daring to see how weirdly Harry would be looking at you, before walking off outside.

You had spent less than 10 minutes here and yet you'd never felt like a bigger clown. Joining the circus had never been so easy.

The outside wind hit you like a powerful leaf blower, and your hair blew around like crazy - most likely compiling into a birds nest on the top of your head.

Today was supposed to be the start of something great. Your hopes were set on a promotion from your written masterpiece, whilst enjoying the company of one of the most handsome, most lovely, most talented men of this century. Those hopes seemed a little too distant now. They seemed to mock you, as if to laugh at how you ever thought you were going to be any more successful. You'd completely, in more ways than one, made a fool of yourself in front of your interviewee, you were so underdressed, you were caught fondling his Gucci purse and you were still bloody cold.

It all felt too unprofessional for a job where professional was practically the driving force of the company.

You leaned against the barn, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself. You were a master in over-thinking, but unfortunately that wasn't something you could add to your resumé. You let your eyes close and the other senses come alive for a few moments. The sounds of distant sheep and the smell of the cold wind were just two of the senses that allowed you to take a step back for a minute, and breathe.

"Thank you." A voice interrupted you from your attempt of quick meditation. You looked to your left and noticed Harry standing there, still in the same outfit as before.

"I'm sorry?" You asked confused, taking a step away from the barn to considerately pay more attention to him.

"Thank you - for saying I look handsome in flares." He repeated, smirking when he added the second part.

"Oh." Was all you could respond, feeling too embarrassed to take the conversation any further. "I should—" You pointed back to the barn, using it as an excuse to leave before yet screwed up anymore.

"Lisa told me you're the interviewer." Harry added, and it only occurred to you that you'd never actually introduced yourself. "So it's lovely to finally meet you Y/N." He stuck out his hand for your to shake, which you did willingly. His hands were a lot softer than you'd expected.

"Ho... You know my name?" You asked surprised.

"Of course. I also know you're the best writer in Vogue right now." He flattered you, which made you blush. You had a feeling he'd make you do that a lot today.

"Sure." You rolled your eyes as you spoke sarcastically.

"Well I chose you for a reason, didn't I?" He rhetorically asked.

"I mean.. I, well.. I don't know?" You stumbled over your words, making yourself look like a larger fool than you did already. Today was just turning out to be exactly what you didn't want it to be. "Sorry."

"Stop apologising. You do it too often." He told you, nearly making you apologise again but he gave you a jokingly stern look, as if he knew what you were going to say, and so you decided otherwise.

"Harry!" You both turned to see there was a man waving towards you both, but specifically to Harry. "Come get changed!" The same man shouted. Harry lifted his thumbs up, as if to signal he'd be there shortly.

Harry turned back to you and noticed you shiver a little.

"I'll start the interview after I come back from the dressing rooms, yeah?" Harry asked, taking off his, khaki green, trench-coat in the process. He handed it to you before you could oblige against it.

"Wait what?" You confusedly looked down at the coat and back up to Harry.

"Gives me a piece of mind knowing my interviewer isn't going to die of hypothermia before actually interviewing me." He smiled, obviously attempting to crack a joke and you have to admit you did laugh.

"Thank you." You say, before he runs off to where he's being called to.

                                                            ••••

You'd been sat inside for a little while, waiting for Harry to come back. It gave you time to perfect your questions though.

Thinking up questions to ask Harry had been a challenging task, but one that you'd been fully invested in. You loved creating questions to ask him that were going to get to understand him on a deeper level. He was a very private man, and you completely respected that. If you crossed any boundaries, with the questions you'd ask, you would write them out of the interview. You liked to think you hadn't thought up a question that would make him feel uncomfortable though.

Pissing off Harry would be on another level of shame.

"Coat kept you warm?" Harrys voice disengaged you from your notebook.

"Hm?" You asked then replayed what he'd just asked in your mind. "Oh, yes. Thank you very much." You stood up, from where you'd been perched on the floor, picking up your nearly finished green tea as you did so.

Only when you stood up did it come to your realisation that Harry was now in costume. He was dressed in luxury. Each item looked like it cost more than your rent, and that was saddening. He looked rich and luxurious. To be quite honest, you were finding it rather difficult to take your eyes off him.

"You think the outfit is Vogue enough?" Harry asked, striking a few poses, which made you laugh. It was refreshing to see him act so relaxed and carefree, rather than a stuck-up-prick you knew some celebrities to be.

"Completely. I love it!" You exclaimed, appreciating the twirl he did for you.

He was wearing a kilt-like skirt and he looked beyond beautiful in it. Fuck toxic masculinity. Fuck being a manly man - like what does that even mean? Harry was embracing gender fluidity and experimenting the ways in which there was no definitive line between men and women's clothes anymore, and you thought it was marvellous. Revolutionary, for times as politically and socially troubled as these.

You started removing the coat in attempt to give it back to him, but he refrained you from doing so by holding on to your forearm.

"Keep it. I thought we could go outside to start the interview, so you'll be needing that." Harry told you, and you agreed - however reluctantly that was. You couldn't really complain though, because the coat did kept you warm and, what's better, it smelt divine - just like you'd imagine Harry to smell.

"Okay. Thank you. Do you want to go now?" You asked hesitantly, not knowing whether he was busy for someone else right now.

"Whenever you're ready, love." He answered, making you feel more relaxed. He was going at your pace and was making you feel settled - he was even more of a gentleman than people described him to be.

The two of you had walked around the backside of the barn in silence, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence. Well, at least you were. It was a blessing no one was back here. It was just you, Harry and the scenery that surrounded Stonehenge.

You approached a bench and you plopped yourself down on one end, whilst Harry sat on the other. He respected the fact that there was a pandemic going on, and didn't want to make you uncomfortable in any way. You still had your mask on, so Harry had taken that as you were very conscious about the virus - which he admired.

You pulled out your glasses, from the depths of one of the coat pockets, and placed them on your face, probably making yourself look even geekier than you already felt. Today was just one of those days you wished you had good eyes...

You opened your spent notebook, musty pages practically falling apart, and turned to the section of questions you needed for that interview. You were so nervous already and you hadn't even asked anything yet, all because of the previous interactions with Harry today. Your shaky hands shuffled through the pages and you cursed under your breath when you struggled to find what you needed.

"Shoot. Come on." You mumbled quietly under your breath, hoping it would make this terrible situation end faster. You mustn't have been as quiet as you thought though.

"Y/N." Harry's name broke through your clouded mind of self-disappointment.

You looked up at him to see him softly smiling at you, blowing all worries away from you away with the wind. "Yes?" You timidly asked, pushing your wind-swept hair out of glasses - where it'd gotten caught.

"You’re alright, love. You don't have to be professional around me, alright? We're just two strangers having a conversation, to get to know each other, okay?" If his words didn't calm you enough, the soothing sound of his husky voice certainly did.

"But that would mean you asking me stuff too?" You replied, confused at his implications of the phrasing 'getting to know each other'.

"Mhm." Harry nodded his head.

"Oh I don't know Mr Styles, i'm not a very interesting person." You answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, pushing your glasses back up the bridge of your nose from where they'd fallen.

"I refuse to believe that." Harry chuckled, making a quick smile appear on your face. "And please call me Harry. Just Harry." He begged, obviously finding it weird you calling him by his professional title. All you wanted, ever, was for your interviewee's to feel comfortable and safe, so if Harry wanted you to call him Harry then so be it.

"Ok, Harry," you sarcastically said, earning a shake of the head on his behalf, "you can ask me a few questions throughout the day." You told him, but you knew he'd struggle to find even two questions when he realises how bland you are.

"Does that mean you only get to ask me a few as well?" Harry smirked, already knowing the answer to that question. Unlike Harry, you had to write an article about today when you got home and so he knew that you'd have to dig as much dirt as possible from him.

"No, sorry. I don't particularly want to lose my job." You paused to look down at your notes, squinting a little as you did to see better. "Okay. Tell me your experience with corona virus."

"Sorry I didn't quite catch that, love." Harry apologised, leaning in slightly to see if he could hear you a second time around.

"Sorry." You looked down to fiddle with your fingers - a habit you'd undertaken when you're embarrassed. "Um..," you cleared your throat, "would you mind if I took off my mask?"

Your timid voice sent tingle down Harrys spine. He didn't think anyone could ever be this sweet. "Not at all, ‘course you can." He replied, again, wanting to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

You hesitantly took off your face mask, feeling like you were in some dramatic movie where they face revealed someone. You kind of liked having the mask on, because, for one, it kept you warm, and for two, you were a little self conscious with how you looked compared to all the other women here today. You shoved the mask in your pocket, with trembling fingers, before looking back down to your notes.

"Woah." You heard Harrys voice being mumbled under the wind. You eyes shot up to his and you noticed him staring right back at you.

"W-what? Is my acne playing up? I knew I should've—" You self-consciously run your hands over the areas you know you got acne. The masks really didn't help when it came to skin care.

"Hey, stop. No. You just... You look beautiful." Harry complimented you, and a roaring blush arose on to your cheeks. You'd never been called beautiful before, and so you were taking the compliment like such a 13-year old.

"Oh, uh, thank you." You awkwardly answered, not really having any other words come to mind in that moment. Harry chuckled under his breath, still keeping eyes on you for some reason.

"Would you mind repeating your last question, I didn't quite catch it?" Harry asked politely.

"Sure. Um, tell me how you've experienced corona virus." You repeated for him, gripping ahold of your pen to start copying what he says and pressing start on your recording device in case you needed it later.

"Well, it's been tedious that's for sure. However, I just want people to be safe and for life to return back to normal, so therefore i've been very MIA for a lot of the time. Keeping to myself mostly. I only went out for hikes or bike rides. All my meetings were online, so it's been very lonely." Harry kept eye contact with your figure the entire time, and if it weren't for you concentrating on writing what he was saying then you'd probably melt away under his gaze.

For such soft eyes he sure was intimidating.

"I presume the loneliness sent you crazy at times." You laughed, because you sure felt that way through lockdown. Curse being single.

"You have no idea." Harry laughed along with you, making you, slowly, feel more at ease.

"Actually, you'd be surprised." You looked at him unsure, before returning down to your notebook.

"Okay then, first question from me," Harrys words made your head shoot up, "How can someone as amazing as yourself be lonely?" He asked and you made a mental tally of how many questions he'd asked.

"Could ask you the very same question, Harry." You slyly replied, avoiding the question by answering with another question. It was a tactic you'd learnt, throughout your years of journalism, when you wanted to dismiss something .

"That's cheating." Harry pointed at you and raised his eyebrows, but you couldn't take your eyes off the big, cheeky, smile perched on his face. You shrugged you're shoulders in defence and returned to your questions. "But you did just call me amazing, so I think i'll let it slide this one time." You blushed, again, when you understood what he meant.

He was amazing though - that was the truth.

"You were in L.A. for the majority of quarantine, am I right to say?" You already knew the answer but your manager had just wanted confirmation.

"Yeah, but L.A. feels like holiday, whereas London feels like home." He answered, which you appreciated. He hasn't got lost in the way that Hollywood could let people. He'd stayed grounded.

"So what did you entertain yourself with during quarantine?" You asked curiously, slightly side-tracking from your pre-written questions - just because you were intrigued (nosey).

"Not much, not to be boring. I ate a lot of bread. I worked out pretty much every day. I wrote quite a bit actually." He used his fingers to pinch his bottom lip, something you'd noticed he did in interviews.

"Does that mean a new album on the way?" Your inner fangirl was screaming at the thought of HS3.

"Can neither confirm nor deny." Harry smirked to himself, like the cheeky bugger he is.

"That's a yes then." You joked, pretending to write it down in your notes.

"You're impossible, you." Harry laughed and shook his head. It made you feel all funny the way you could make him smile like that. You were the source of his happiness for just that moment, and that was enough to make you feel happy for a lifetime - not that he felt the same.

"Next question," you stated, moving swiftly on because you knew you had limited time, "How's your experience with Vogue been so far?"

"Wonderful. Everyone has been so welcoming and that makes it so much easier for me to have fun. It's daunting going at things alone, but i'm getting slowly used to it now." Harry sniffled a little, probably due to the freezing cold weather here.

"Must be strange, not having four best friends around you, all the time, anymore." You stated rather than asked him, sure that he was missing his bandmates. I mean, you were - so he definitely would be.

"Brothers." Harry replied, making you look up at him confused.

"I'm sorry?" You asked, giving him your full attention.

"You said four best friends. Well, actually they're my brothers." His words actually caused a rift in your heart. You could feel it being pulled apart and torn in to two. If you wrote this in to the magazine the fans would have a worldwide passing-away-party.

"Harry." You said softly, slightly tearing up at his words. "God, I swear i'm not normally this emotional." You chest your throat and try to establish your dignity - however there wasn't that much left anymore.

"Oh shut up." Harry looked away obviously trying to hide the fact that he was tearing up too. You laughed at him but didn't draw any more attention to it than you guessed he would've wanted.

"They mean a lot to you then?" You asked, hopefully not treading on any unwanted territories.

"Much more than a lot, yeah." Harry nodded his head, turning it back to face you. He could tell this conversation was now off-the-record because of your closed notebook, your undivided attention towards him and the fact you’d turned off the recording device. He liked being able to look at you, rather than the top of your head. He swore you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

"You still see them often?" 

"Not as often as i'd like. Niall did come around the other week to drop off some old guitars he didn't want anymore, and then we ended up playing around with some music for a bit." He admitted, which stitched your heart back together.

"So does that mean a Narry collab?" You teased, biting your bottom lip in anticipation.

"Narry? You so are a directioner." He laughed along with you.

"And you just avoided my question, therefore there is a song out there written only by you and Niall." You concluded, which shut him up.

This conversation was going a lot better than expected. Certainly a lot better than earlier. You will be permanently scarred by the way you spoke to him and handled his belongings. It was going to haunt you forever - and yet he'd forget about it by tomorrow. Or maybe he wouldn't, which is why you felt the need to apologise.

"Harry?" You asked, clearly indicating this was still a conversation away from the interview.

"Yes Y/N?" He watched you intently, listening to your every word.

"I, um, just wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. I was just really nervous to meet you, and to be honest still am. I didn't mean to touch your stuff without your consent and I certainly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable with any of my comments. So, i'm sorry. I can only imagine the awful, yet true, things you must think of me." You rambled really quickly, that you were uncertain whether Harry even caught one word of what you'd says.

"Do you know why I asked for you to interview me Y/N?" Harry asked, which wasn't the first thing you expected him to say after your apology.

"No. I...well Lisa told me it was because I can write well or something." You suggested, not wanting to sound egotistical.

"I mean you do write perfectly, but no." You were intrigued now. "I asked for you because I, and this is not for your magazine, have a secret - but not-so-secret - crush on you." This time it was Harrys turn to blush.

"Harry... you don't have to say that to—"

"I'm not saying it for anything. I sincerely think you are the most delightful, most prettiest, most fucking sweetest person i've ever met." Harry exclaimed, which you were taken aback by. Never, ever, did you think that Harry Styles would proclaim his likeness towards you. Ever.

"Harry don't mess with me, please." You shyly spoke, tilting your head down in disbelief that the Harry Styles was smitten about you.

He shuffled along the bench, stopping a little way from you but close enough to reach out for you. Your heartbeat increased when you noticed his hand move closer towards you. It didn't stop till he reached your face. He took his time, courteously, pushing your hair behind your ear before removing you of your glasses. He held the right-eye frame and slowly pulled the glasses off your face.

Once he'd successfully taken them off he folded them up and placed them alongside your closed notebook.

"Can see those pretty eyes now." He whispered quietly, but loud enough for you to hear.

"Don't lie. They're so dull." You mumbled, lifting your head up slightly. His face was still away from you.

"Not to me they're not." He retaliated, looking deep into your eyes as you did his. "I hate this corona virus."

"Why?" His words were so out of the blue sometimes, it gave you whiplash.

"Because I can't be as near to you as I want to be." Harry told you. And yeah, you hated corona too. It was getting a little laborious now.

"Smooth, Styles." You chuckled. You wondered how many new and weird pick-up lines could be made from covid. 

"I know." He winked, which honestly would have made you throw up if it were any other man on the planet. Somehow, though, Harry just made it seem attractive - along with every other thing that man ever did. "After this, would you like to come back to my house for a cuppa tea?" He asked sweetly, like a five year old asking whether you wanted to play together.

"Okay. Lisa was my ride though." You said more to yourself than anything else, debating on how you'd even get to Harrys. Uber? Taxi? Lisa? Walk?

"I'll drive us, it's fine. I have to drop Gem off, but i'd be more than happy to chauffeur you." Harry kindly offered, to which you were internally screaming about. You were literally, and metaphorically, having a field-day with all this Harry content and interview.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden." You question politely, not wanting to overstep any boundaries - especially in these covid infested times.

"Of course. I wouldn't have offered otherwise." He protested, waving his hand at if to say it was no bother. You were already trying to work out, in your head, how much petrol money you were going to owe him.

"Then i'd be honoured to have a brew with you Harry." You giggled at how cringe you were being, even if this was just your normal self speaking.

"Great." Harry genuinely smiled, teeth and all. "My shoot should take a couple of hours, but feel free to continue to write and journal. I'm looking forward to reading this particular article." He winked at you before standing up.

"Wonder why?" You sarcastically asked, knowing full-well it was due to his exposure of his own feelings towards you. Even though you'd never says anything back you were quite in agreement on how you felt about him, like he did you. He would be a narcissist to say he knew you liked him the same, out loud, but he knew. And you knew that he knew.

"Wonder why indeed." He gave you one last smile before he'd disappeared for the rest of the afternoon, leaving you to digest and relive the past half an hour or so.

Being Harry Styles' crush was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

                                                          ••••

After Harry had finished up his shoot he was quick to come find you again.

You'd watched parts of his shoot and he looked magnificent. There wasn't a good enough word to describe how amazing he looked. Harry, his stylist, was probably the best stylist out there. His fashion choices were unmatched and you wanted him to be yours. You were not rich enough nor fashionable enough, ironic for working in a a fashion company, to hire a stylist, but you would if you could.

You were so proud to see what he was achieving now as the person that he was. Harry was just being Harry, without the devilish control of shitty managements or ridiculous amounts of PR stunts. Harry was more free than ever, and it definitely showed just how much he was enjoying it.

You were certain that this Vogue magazine would break the internet - his fans were good at doing that. This could be a turning point for many people, with their outdated and ignorant views. There was no room for people with racist or homophobic or transphobic or xenophobic - and the list does go on - views anymore.

You were waiting by the front door of the barn, to catch Harry as he walked past. You caught sight of him in a white robe, presumably to get changed back into his everyday clothes. He looked really pretty in the robe - very domestic actually.

Today had been a good day.

Harry asked you to send over the more specific Vogue questions to him via email, so he could devote more time in to answering them in a lot more depth. You thought he meant you'd be sending them to some PA in his team, but you were shocked to understand he'd given you his personal email.

People were walking back to their cars and packing away the filming kit. You saw Lisa and the director talking to one another, no doubt discussing some in-work gossip.

"You ready?" Harrys voice reminded you that you'd been waiting for him. You looked to see he was back in the same clothes as this morning, only this time without his coat.

"Here?" You offered, having him over the coat once again but he declined.

"Looks better on you anyways." He winked at you, before walking through the car park and to his car. You were very surprised when you found out Harry was the one to own the green Jaguar. You assumed all celebrities drove the Range Rover, but no. The vintage car added to Harrys immaculate vibe and just made him that little bit more hot.

Harry properly introduced you to Gemma, who was equally as lovely as Harry. They were both amazing people and they were crazily alike. From the way they looked, down to the way they phrased their words, they were mistakingly twins. Gemma explained how Anne, their mum, didn't know they were doing this photoshoot and that it was going to be a surprise, which you thought was so cute.

Gemma spilt a lot of gossip on Harry, to which he got very embarrassed over. You learnt that Harrys first word was Cat. You learnt that Harry is godfather to multiple children, which you found heartwarming. You learnt Harry used to be a baker - which was something he elaborated on for a good half an hour. Harry was just a fountain of memories and Gemma was the one sharing them all with you.

The drive back to London was relaxed. You sat in the back, listening to Harry and Gemma pointlessly argue whilst an Arctic Monkeys album played in the background. You forgot that people like Harry drove, and listened to music, just like other regular people. You often misplaced celebrities in society, thinking they had everything done for them but in reality that (often) wasn't the case - at least not for Harry.

Gemma was dropped off quickly before Harry drove to his. It was no surprise that the Styles siblings didn't live too far away from each other. Harrys house was beautiful. Bigger than anything you could ever dream of buying. It was a palace compared to your cupboard-sized house. You were unbelievably jealous. He gave you the tour of the house, showing you where the toilets were, and even his panic room if necessary.

You migrated to the kitchen for a bit, talking about anything and everything. Getting to know the minuscule pieces of information that no-one else was trusted with, made you feel special. Harry made you feel special - even if he weren't meaning to.

Every moment held a spark. Every touch set off a firework. Every laugh was an electric burst. He made you feel so alive.

"We can go to the living room after this has boiled." Harry said, pointing towards the streaming kettle. He wanted to show off his fancy tea collection he had, and let you have a try if you wanted to. Harry was boring and chose the basic green tea, but, after much deliberation, you chose the cranberry green tea. It intrigued you and it sounded delicious.

"Why the extensive tea collection?" Not even you, a certified caffeine addict, had this much tea in your house. Coffee was a different story and one in which you didn't want to talk about.

"They help me with my meditation." He took the teabags and placed them in his glass mugs. They had a delicate Gucci stamp on them, and you just imagined that they probably worth the same amount as your daily salary.

"You meditate?" You were slightly surprised that he did.

"I try to yeah." Harry nodded, focusing on pouring in the boiling water into the mugs. "I've got very tight hamstrings and so it helps if I meditate twice a day."

Harry finished making the tea, in the light-filled kitchen, before showing you around to the open-lounge area. Everything was modern and chic. It was exactly how you imagined it, but better. The open, red-brick, wall was a beautiful feature and one that you were a whore for! It reminded you of New York and the memories you'd made there one summer.

The sofa was a beautiful velvet, green, sofa. It was soft and gentle, a lot like Harry when you thought about it. The whole house was an architectural masterpiece and you'd be lying if you said you weren't jealous. You sat on one end and Harry went to go and sit on the other end.

"I don't bite you know?" You joked, self-consciously wondering whether he didn't want to be sat near you.

"I know, I just don't want to step on any of your covid boundaries - which is perfectly fine by the way." He added, apprehensively taking the spot next to you.

"No, not at all." You ushered him to sit next to you, as you took a sip from your steaming hot cup of fruity tea. "If I smell though, do tell me!"

"Yeah, you smell bloody awful!" Harry sarcastically remarked, but laughing afterwards to assure you he was joking. The atmosphere went quiet for a minute, only the sounds of passing cars and deep breaths being heard.

"Y/N can I ask you something?" Harry turned the tone of the conversation. It sounded like he wanted to be more serious than you two were being beforehand.

"Anything." You encouraged him to continue. You placed the cup of tea down on the table, deciding it was too hot to drink right now, and gave him your full attention.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Harry questioned. You didn't think you'd be having a conversation this intense - especially if you had different opinions - on your first day of knowing each other, but here you were.

"I believe you can love someone at first sight. I don't believe you can be in love with someone at first sight. Why?" You were curious as to how his brain had journeyed to this particular topic. You'd never really had this conversation with anyone before, mainly because you were unaware of the true power, and meaning, of love.

"It uh... It doesn't matter." Harry shook his head and you could tell by his body language that he was shutting you out. Maybe you'd made him uncomfortable.

"Sorry I didn't mean to—"

"No, no. Please don't apologise. It's just - I like you a lot more than you may think." Harry shyly told you, which made you all soft inside. He was being vulnerable and that was something you admired in a partner. You didn't just need love, affection and trust in a relationship. No. You needed vulnerability and heartbreak too, and Harry was revealing that part of him to you.

"I like you a lot more than you think too." You repeated, not because you felt bad for him but because you truly did like him a whole lot. Love was a weird yet wonderful thing, and if you were to hazard a guess you'd say you loved Harry. 

You couldn't wait to be in love with him.

"Does that mean I get to crown you my girlfriend?" Harry excitedly asked. Harry happy was something that should be made a constant, and you were more than happy to be in control of that.

"At least take me out first." You bargained, wishing for nothing more than to go on a date with Harry. Where you'd go, you had no idea. Everything was closed right now and there was still the chance of becoming sick with corona, but no doubt Harry would think of something not only clever, but special.

Of course you'd love to be Harrys girlfriend. However, you wanted one more, official, opportunity to really get to know him - unprofessionally. You wanted to make sure that you knew, and he knew, that you wanted to be with him because he was the charming Harry you've come to love, not because he was Harry Styles.

"So you're allowing me to take you on a date?" Harry smirked like a little child, your heart fluttering at how excited he was to be able to treat you to dinner.

"Yes, Harry. Yes I am." You answered sweetly, offering him the cutest smile you could.

You can't believe what a turn of events today has been. You've gone from nearly writing yourself on Harrys enemy list to writing yourself on to his 'people he's dated' list. Who knows what the future would offer you. At the start of the day you had wished this whole day to end and for the ground to just swallow you up, now you never wanted it to end. It was too perfect to be true and yet it was.

Harry was the most wonderful human to exist and you were beyond surprised to be the one to catch his attention. You didn't understand why you were so special, but it was nice to feel like this for a change. It was nice to feel wanted.

                                                             ••••

A few months later and you were officially Harrys girlfriend.

It had been such a crazy few months. Harry religiously took you out on dates every week. Whether it be to grab a hotdog at a local diner, a coffee from a quaint cafe, a walk in Hyde Park or a late-night drive around London - which normally ended up with you falling asleep before you could make it back to yours. On sleepless jet-lagged nights he'll still drive through London's quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way, just as an excuse to spend time with you.

Harry often stayed over at yours. Even though you looked like you lived in a shoebox compared to Harry, he liked it. He liked the subtly and normality of it all. He wanted your life to remain as normal as possible and, apart from the occasional paparazzi incident, it did. You never had anything to complain about. Of course the online bullying created emotional wounds, at the start of your relationship, but it was nothing that Harry couldn't repair with a bit of love.

Lisa has nominated herself to be maid-of-honour when the day comes - if the day comes. Harry has already pinky sworn that you are it for him. The one, as some may say. You were utterly flattered, but you certainly unsure of what the future help for you both.

You loved Harry, you do love Harry and you will forever always love Harry.

It was ridiculous to think that all this stemmed from you working at Vogue. From you studying English Literature in a city away from London. From you dedicating you extra hours gaining work experience and money to be able get in and afford university. So many moments in life have you stopped and said 'i wish i hadn't have done that', but now you were convinced that they were the best things to have happened to you - because they lead you, all, to Harry.

And, being Harry Styles girlfriend was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

[yuurivoiceincorporated]

What about Listener proposing to Al and Seth instead of them proposing to listener? I’ve always loved the ideas of the roles being reversed <3

Late Night Proposal

-Seth x Alphonse x Reader (poly)

-Gender neutral reader

-creative liberties were taken

-time skip after BitterSweet

It was a late Sunday, which means it was baking day. The boys were helping you bake cookies. So far, you three have made four batches of cookies. You all decide it’s about time to take a break.

The three of you slumped on the couch together and talked about the regular things— the weather, how your day’s been, why Alphonse might have a foot fetish, the usual.

You three have been together for about 6 years. You figured it’s about time to pop the question (wink wonk).

“Alright guys, I’ll be right back but I have some things to do.” You said abruptly, while lifting yourself off of the couch.

“Okay, Boo. Take your time.”, replied Alphonse.

You had two rings custom made to fit your boys. It was definitely, totally not suspicious when you asked them for finger measurements. Good job on being discreet.

Alphonse’s ring was pink with a few light colored gems on top of it, each of the gems resembling a candy of some kind. It also had some neat swirly patterns, too.

Seth’s ring was silver and had a decoration on it that resembled Mothman. It was black with bright red eyes. Both rings had all three of your names engraved inside of it.

You put both of the rings in two small boxes. Then you put those boxes into one larger box with a lock on it. The lock has a code on it and you wanted to see if the boys could guess what it was. The smaller boxes were labeled correctly with their names, of course.

You returned to the living room again with the box. Both boys were surprised at the sight and were pressing you with questions.

“Sugar? What’s with the box? It’s not Christmas.”

“Yeah, Boo. The lock makes it look like a bomb. Are you really gonna blow us up after we helped you bake cookies? Betrayal. Absolute betrayal.”

After hearing their words, it made you wonder if they had enough brain power to guess the code.

“No, Alphonse, I’m blowing anybody up. Yet.”

“Wait what?” Seth titled his head sideways in confusion.

“Just guess the code and there will be a surprise for you both in the box.”

“Boo, you know I’m bad at puzzles. Can we at least get a hint? Please?”

“No. I’m sure you’ll figure it out just fine. Believe in yourself.”

Seth groaned. “Ugh, you sound just like a Hallmark card.”

“Whatever,” you signed. “You may begin.”

Seth examined the lock. “It’s 5 numbers.”

“And what could those be?” Asked Alphonse.

“Is it a birthday?”

“No, Boo wouldn’t make the code their birthday.”

“It’s worth a shot.”

Seth punched in your birthday. “No dice.”

“Hmm…Oh! I got it! What’s their favorite number?”Alphonse asked eagerly.

“…No one’s favorite number is five digits long. It’s usually one or two digits. And infinity doesn’t count because it’s not on the lock.”

“Fair enough.”

You snickered quietly in the corner watching them.

“And, Boo, if you think we can’t hear you, you’re the real clown here.”

…you remained silent for the rest of the time.

Seth sighed. “Sugar, can’t we just get one hint?”

“No! It’s not fun if you don’t figure it out yourselves.”

“Fiiineeeee.”

“Seth.”

“What, Al?”

“Okay, hear me out for a bit.”

“Yeah?”

“69420.”

“Is that the code?”

“I think so. Just try it. If it doesn’t work, do 42069.”

Seth punches in the code 69420.

The lock opens.

Both boys glare at you in disappointment.

At this point, you’re trying very hard to suppress your laughter.

The boys open the box and find the two boxes. They open them at the same time.

“Boo? Are these rings?”

“Yeah, Sugar, are you proposing or something?”

“Wow, guys, thanks for ruining the surprise. But yeah I’m proposing. Marry me, shawties.”

“Okay, I’m gonna ignore the fact that you called us shawties. But yeah, I’ll marry you. Sounds fun.”, said Seth.

“Jeez, Seth, do you think you could act a little more excited? Boo’s proposin’!”

“Okay, so,” You pulled out a heavy book filled to the brim with wedding plans. “I printed every single Pinterest idea I could find. Y’all want to take a look?”

“Can we invite Mothman to our wedding?”

“Sure, Seth. But I don’t know if he will come.”

“Haha. ‘Come’.” remarked Alphonse.

You and Seth retorted in unison, “Quiet, Al.”

You three ended up falling asleep while looking at your wedding plans. Everyone slept soundly.

*not proofread*

(Marriage and proposals are hard to write, holy moly.)

[1kook]

attachment: 1 image

— jjk x (f) reader

summary; But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere. warnings; sexting, dick pics, dirty talk?, phone sex, vivid depictions of jungkook being just so sexy bc its true, rating; mature (18+) misc; mentions of youtuber kook 🥰, he’s just horny, stupid selfie trends (see here), he’s a little whiny but so hot v.v  wc; 4.6k 

notes; I've had this in my drafts since april 😐 n then i was like maybe we should actually finish this so i started n then last night i hit another follower milestone!!! so then i rlly forced myself to finish this bc i was so 🥺🖤👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 anyway enjoy lmk what u think its not proofread bc uhhhhh yeah 🤩

You’re at work when it happens.

It’s sometime between your usual listless thoughts of what to write for your weekly reflection papers for some course, and your trip to your store’s pharmacy to bother a coworker. Your phone vibrates in the pocket of your work apron. You’re normally pretty good at ignoring the sound, most of the times it’s just a classmate asking for help on homework or Jimin lamenting his love life, so you’ve grown used to ignoring the tiny vibrations, stocking a quarter shelf of different cooking oils before something in your brain tells you to check your phone.

You already know it’s not something grave, but that thought alone means nothing at the sight of the tiny jungkook♡ that appears at the very top of the list of notifications. Your boyfriend’s texts tended to be wildcards, never following a certain routine or alluding to any specifics. He could send you a long paragraph on how much he misses the scent of that one shampoo, the one you’d briefly run through last year because your usual brand was out of stock, with a ten point explanation on why you should switch back to it. Or two word, caveman sentences that drove you crazy because you never understood what exactly he wanted when he’d send those nondescript “munchies dip” texts.

You unlock your phone, clicking to the messenger app instead of directly on the notification. Hopefully the preview will give some warning on whether you should invest in this conversation or not. You hated the read receipts on messages, choosing to ghost conversations as you pleased, but Jungkook had wiggled his way into your phone one afternoon and specifically turned them on for his chat with you, and you’d never turned them off since. So he knows if you choose to ignore Attachment: 1 Image at 1:43pm exactly, and he'll pester you about it until you respond.

You contemplate it all for twenty seconds. It could be a variety of things, you guess, but the only way to find out is to actually see with your own eyes what he’s up to this time. He knows better than to distract you at work, is usually really good at waiting until your shift is over to spam you with messages. For him to send you something now, only a few hours into your shift, is uncharacteristic of him.

But you glance down the aisle anyway, taking note of some elderly woman you’d helped a few minutes prior and another teenager aimlessly walking around, probably looking for the snack aisle. You inhale and press down on your chat with Jungkook.

It takes you a moment to make out exactly what the image is, twisting and turning your phone around as you fight to see it without raising the brightness. It’s only when your eyes finally adjust to the dark screen, the faint beeping of the check-out registers fading into the distance, that you realize it’s a shot of the front of his sweatpants.

“Hm?” you murmur, getting brave enough to pinch the image between two fingers, zooming in until you’re able to decipher a multitude of details. For one, there’s a Flaming Hot Cheeto stain on the hem of his sweatpants, the same one you’d accidentally put on there a few weeks back and haven’t been able to wash out since. Then there’s that huge palm of his, tattoos and all, rested carefully against his thigh. It’s veiny and thick in all the right places, bringing all the attention to his knuckles, which you guess is what he was going for when you consider the centerpiece of the image—his hardened dick straining against the grey material.

There’s no text attached to the message, no snapchat font slapped over the image, so you wonder what exactly he wanted you to do with this information mid-shift. Well, realistically, you know exactly what he wants, but that doesn’t mean you won’t clown him before getting there. After all, Jungkook was seldom the naughty texter; sexting annoyed him, he would whine, because he would do all that and not even get to feel the true pleasure of sex, of being inside you. You’ve dabbled in it here and there, but it never went as perfectly as it did in pornos. He’d drop his phone and forget it, or you would straight up ignore the damn device as you went all in on yourself.

But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere.

you what’s this about?

You decide to play it safe, because as exciting as the image of Jungkook at his computer chair, cock hard and angry at the thought of you, fluffy hair ruffled in that way you adored, jaw twitching and tightening as he touched himself, moaned deep and rough and just how you liked and—

As nice as that image was, for all you knew this vague message was Jungkook sending you a picture from a week ago to purposefully fuck with you at work.

jungkook♡ what time u get off? jungkook♡ miss you bad baby

Your stomach flips, and it takes everything in you to not squeal and bounce between the shelves like a toddler on a sugar rush. Here was your boyfriend, the cutest, sweetest boy, sending you dirty pictures of himself and telling you how much he needed you. Yes, YOU, not some random on the street, or someone else in a club, Jungkook needed pleasure and that pleasure could only come from you.

You glance back down the aisle again, checking your surroundings for the second time that day. You’ve been standing here, stock cart empty for a little over five minutes now, so it’s probably best to change location lest your manager come barking down your neck. You send one quick text before heading off for stock again.

you 4pm :(

Your phone dings again just as you’re leaving the stockroom, but you decide to check it once you get to the hygiene aisle you need to work on next. Still, the prospect of Jungkook having texted you has you walking with a skip in your step, one your coworker teases you about when you pass by her.

jungkook♡ fuck jungkook♡ tell me what panties youre wearing jungkook♡ please ?

You bite your lip, stopping yourself from smiling at the tone you’d picked up from his message. There was no doubt he’d been riled up for a while now, and you wonder if he sat through his usual Saturday morning streams with his cock hard, pushed against the edge of his desk like you knew he did when such things happened. The thought has you nearly fumbling with a bottle of aloe vera.

you seamless black thong you the one you bought me at the last vs sale

Briefly, you wonder if you should have lied and told him you were wearing that red lace set he’d given you last Valentine’s Day, the one he’d bought with his first big YouTube check. But the beauty of being in a relationship with someone like Jungkook is that you could have told him you were wearing grandma undies and he’d still think you were the most beautiful person to grace the planet.

jungkook♡ mm jungkook♡ tiny ones u ruined last time?

You set your phone down, speed stock a row of sunscreen like you’re on some shelf stocking national competition, before daring to text Jungkook again. Your cheeks are still warm, and your hand tightens dangerously around a bottle of shaving cream.

Before you can formulate some response, he’s sending another one in.

jungkook♡ u soaked those jungkook♡ came fast that day jungkook♡ want u so bad

Your cheeks burn, a little embarrassed that he remembers such details. As with all Victoria’s Secret panties, they were, like Jungkook said, extremely thin. You pause, shift your stance just barely, but you’re definitely wet. Not terribly so, but with this fabric, you’d start to notice it sooner than with others.

you mm you makin me wet bunny

It’s not a complete lie, but knowing Jungkook this is exactly what he needs to hear to get that competitive streak going. You shake your head to clear your thoughts, stocking another section of men’s shaving cream. It takes longer for him to message you back, and you wonder if he got off fine on his own. If it’s over now, at least he provided you with some distraction midway into your shift.

When he texts you again, you’ve almost completely convinced yourself he’s finished, so the Attachment: 1 Video that appears on your lock screen throws you for a loop.

It’s a short clip, no longer than ten seconds, but it has you scrambling to lower the volume on your device as some unsuspecting mother of two wanders past. You flash her your practiced smile, the same one you give all the store’s customers. Not like your boyfriend is jacking it off on your phone, shallow pants filtering out from the speakers.

You turn your phone over carefully after she leaves, try to at least pretend you’re still doing your job as you play the video again.

Sweats are gone, but boxers remain. Legs deliciously exposed, thick thighs with muscles that ripple when he moves. Shirt pulled up just slightly to showcase that broad expanse of tummy, cute belly button and defined abs that tighten with each glide of his palm over the outline of his cock. Your mouth fills with drool at the sight. He was so hot.

Your brain hasn’t even processed it yet, all your energy directed towards your clenched pussy, when he shoots another text.

jungkook♡ im so fckin hard jungkook♡ wanna kiss yuo every where baby jungkook♡ come ove r soon ??

Shutting your eyes and counting to ten doesn’t help ward off the sudden wave of horniness that consumes you, but it does remind you of the job you’re supposed to be doing now. You shake your head, as if the image of Jungkook’s dick throbbing beneath his boxers, low voice in your ear, will magically disappear. It doesn’t, and it plagues you even more when you begin stocking a section of sunscreen, numbly instructing yourself on what to do next. Shaving cream, sunscreen, lotion next, you repeat.

It doesn’t help.

Two minutes later and you’re scrambling for the phone you’d hastily tucked into your apron pocket, tapping your passcode in until your messages with Jungkook are pulled up again.

you after work you promise

Your head is absolutely spinning, the coil in your stomach too tight for you to try and be a functioning member of society. Something in you says to sneak off to the bathroom and call him, but your boss is a little bit of a prick when he wants to be, thinks you take too many bathroom breaks as is.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. A curt call of your name has you whirling to face your shelves again, phone tightly pressed against your ribs like maybe it’ll melt into your skin and he won’t see it. At the same time, your sudden fright has you scrambling to turn it off, fingers sloppily pressing against the buttons, hitting the volume like seven times before you eventually feel the familiar click that signals it’s off.

Your boss disappears shortly after, and with his sudden appearance having made every hair on your body stand, you find yourself now slumping against your stock cart. Jesus, that man was a handful to deal with.

The paranoia sticks for a little bit, has you stocking shelf after shelf like a robot until you finish the entire row of hygiene products, back stiff from bending over so much. It’s only when you return to the stockroom ten minutes later that you dare take your phone out again.

A pleasant surprise awaits.

It would appear that during your haste to hide your phone from your boss— Jungkook’s scandalous messages and all —your frantic hands had done something else. A fuzzy picture on your end, a blurry display of lotion bottles you had stacked just before your boss’s impromptu appearance, with no words to accompany them. Normally Jungkook would have ignored that; you frequently sent accidental messages like this, butt texted him, he says.

But there’s something about Jungkook’s horny brain that makes him do stupid things, makes him blow up your phone with a series of question marks, call you four times, whine and fuss in your message thread, and eventually, send you probably the oddest image to date.

jungkook♡ ??? jungkook♡ ????what is that jungkook♡ baby please jungkook♡ I don’t get it ??

jungkook♡ Missed Call (4)

jungkook♡ baby jungkook♡ what does it mean jungkook♡ please ur drivign me insane jungkook♡ jsut wanna hear yuor voice jungkook♡ fuck please just

And then, there’s another one of those cursed Attachment: 1 Image messages.

You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are. You’ve been dating Jungkook for a few months now, know he had that sort of unique personality most college dropouts turned YouTubers do. But every now and then the absurdity of his actions makes you question him still, makes you wonder what exactly goes on in that pretty head of his to warrant such ideas, makes him balance a bottle of body lotion on the thick outline of his cock like this.

Unlike the first few images, this one was taken in front of a mirror. The blinding fluorescent light in his bathroom paints him in a stark color, has every inch of his pretty face on display for you. Rosy cheeks, dewy skin. Perfectly swollen cock straining beneath his grey boxers, curved up against his hip. Shirt pulled up, finally freeing that expanse of muscles on his abdomen, cute little belly button on display once again. The red material is pulled up to his mouth, pearly white teeth biting down on the fabric, and he’s got this flushed expression on his face.

But the real star of the show isn’t his chiseled abdomen or sexy expression, but the sheer hardness of his dick that lets him balance a bottle of body lotion over it, like a fuckin’ shelf or something. He’s so hard, dick so full beneath his boxers. So big too, the little boxers pulled taught around said engorged cock and thick thighs.

Your brain says to laugh, to tease him for being such a clown even when he’s horny as hell. He won’t take it to heart, will probably laugh along with you and you’ll add it to your still growing list of funny memories.

But your caveman libido says call him, so that’s what you do, ducking down behind a new shipment pallet with a squeak as the phone rings. It only lasts four seconds before he picks up, voice breathy and low, but it sounds so loud in the silence of the stockroom.

He doesn’t even let you get a greeting in. “You like my picture, baby?” he husks. It sounds like he’s right there, right beside you, speaking into your ear. Your pussy throbs at the way he sounds. Paired with the picture from before, it has your body tingling all over.

“What the fuck is that?” you hiss, trying to not let the sudden overflow of arousal leak into your words. Jungkook chuckles.

“What?” he huffs. There’s the brief sound of shuffling, the scratchy noise of his phone presumably being pressed against his shoulder. “I’m so hard, baby,” he sighs before you can pretend to reprimand him any further. “Fuck— you, can you just talk to me?” he groans, and the disgusting sound of him spitting into his palm fills your ear.

Your face feels warm, eyes nervously peering across the stockroom like your boss will suddenly appear now of all times to rip you from this important phone call. The anxiety and arousal mix weirdly, have your leg bouncing but every new movement sends a shock up your aching cunt to your chest, and then out to the tips of your fingers.

“You shouldn’t be doing that when I’m at work,” you murmur hurriedly, moving to nervously bite at your finger. Jungkook moans softly.

“Uh huh,” he says.

The air conditioning turns on and you nearly jump out of your own skin. “Kook,” you stress, frazzled by your own burning arousal and the fear of being caught. Like you said. Weird mix. “I— not when I can’t respond.”

He shudders on the line. “You’re responding now,” he points out. You hate when he’s right. Before you can defend yourself, define what a proper response is in this scenario, he’s beating you to the punch. “Baby,” he whimpers, voice so airy yet low, makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, back unconsciously arching. “Couldn’t stop— fuck.”

Your mouth feels dry, all and any form of lecturing fading from your thoughts as you become consumed in Jungkook’s little whines and whimpers. He talks smoothly, a modern day Casanova, and it’s certainly because of that cult-like harem he’s gathered on YouTube. Teenage girls who kiss his ass, tell him he’s cute and dreamy. Make his ego so big.

But then he gets horny and can barely contain that lisp you tease him about, shivers and melts when you put his cock in your mouth. “Couldn't what, bunny?” you mumble, voice drawn tight because now you were really horny, and it was all his fault.

The nickname makes him mewl prettily, your speaker suddenly going scratchy as he fumbles with his phone. “C- Couldn't stop thinking about you— your mouth,” he admits, and now you’re certain he’d sat through that Saturday morning stream like this. “T- Tits,” he adds, lisp slipping through. “Fuck.”

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering shut as you remind yourself now was not the time or place to get yourself off. But, well. That didn’t mean you couldn’t get him off. “Sat through your stream like this?” you murmur, circling your kneecap with a trembling finger as if it’ll ward away the raging lust in your abdomen. Jungkook confirms with a breathy moan. “Had all your little fans wondering why you ended so early.”

He groans. “No,” he chokes, voice hot from how much it wavers. “They— I lied,” he confesses out of nowhere, “s- said I had a doctor’s appointment.”

You muffle a giggle into your palm. “Naughty,” you tease. “Too hard to do your job.”

“Just,” he cuts off, voice feathery. He sounds so close and you haven’t even said anything of substantial value yet. “Tell me,” he says quietly, “what to— mmh, what to do.”

A smirk consumes your features. You try to hide it, but there’s no one here anyway so you’re left grinning at an unpacked box of dental floss like a madwoman. “Why?” you inquire playfully, bask in the sad little whimper he responds with. “Shouldn’t you know how to make yourself cum?”

Another groan of frustration, desperation seeping into his tone when he speaks again. “Baby, please,” he begs, and it feels good. Feels nice to have this big YouTuber begging for you like this, whimpering your name like his doesn’t appear on the top 25 most viewed. “Like when you— ah — when you tell me… what to do.”

Your body feels hot, thighs pressing together with each whimper that falls from his lips. “Okay,” you concede, and he audibly moans in relief. “Tip first,” you instruct softly, eyes defocusing as your brain slowly starts to manifest the image of Jungkook spread out on his bed. Thick thighs, grey boxers pulled taught around them, fat cock between his pretty hands, inked knuckles squeezing around his member. You swallow. You can tell exactly when Jungkook does as you say because another muffled moan fills the speaker. “One finger,” you remind him quickly, head spinning from the mere memory of his dick. “Run it… run it over the slit, bunny.”

“Nngh—“ Jungkook sputters. You can only imagine the face he’s making now, the bottom lip he’s bitten raw by now. He does it a lot; it’s a nervous habit. But as sexy as it looks when you’re in bed, you know he has sensitive lips because of it, bleeds easily if he’s too harsh. You have half the mind to remind him about it now, but then he’s hurriedly gasping out for more. “And, and then? Wha— what then, baby?”

He sounds so sweet, melodic voice dripping with honey. “Touch your balls,” you say a little breathlessly. “Don’t squeeze,” you add, “just roll your palm over them.” Your palm squeezes against your thigh, as if it’s remembering the feel of his body, the soft skin between his thighs when you’re down there. He gets so jittery, thick thighs nearly crushing you if you drag him along too much. “O- Other hand on your cock,” you stumble, thighs squeezed together. “Stroke yourself just like I do, bunny.”

Jungkook complies. “Just like you?” he mumbles, suddenly sounds farther away. As if he’s dropped his phone off to the side. “Fffuck,” he grunts, “m- mouth is so pretty.”

“Hm?” you inquire, so consumed with tampering down your growing arousal for a second that you miss his sentence.

Jungkook’s breath stutters, and for a moment you’re met with the wet squelch of his cock in his hand. And then, “pretty mouth… make me— make me wanna see you cry.”

You bite your lip. “Why,” you say tentatively, finally caving in with a hand fluttering over the front seam of your jeans. Not a question, more of a gentle nudge for him to spill his thoughts.

“Be- Because,” he cries, fucking into his hand. He sounds closer and closer. You have to wonder just how long he had been riled up. It’s been a while since his first message, he was probably desperate by now. “Y- You’re so nice,” he cries, and the sentiment, though oddly out of place, makes your heart squeeze with adoration for the boy on the line. “Wanna be,” he groans, “wanna be so fucking mean to you, baby.”

The sudden change of tone makes you choke on a moan, hand pressing against your mound like it’ll somehow penetrate the thick material of your jeans and give you the sensations you crave. As it stands, it’s a muted feeling you get instead. When your hands fail, his voice compensates. “Fffuck, don’t you— don’t you think about it too?”

Admittedly, no.

Jungkook had always been a gentleman in bed. Always cared for your needs before his own, went out of his way to make you feel pampered and adored during your most vulnerable moments. Contrary to what his online persona might say, he was a good boy. Sweetest boy you knew, touched you like you were made of glass.

So to suddenly learn of this dream— fantasy? kink? —of his that you would certainly enjoy equally as much, well. It made you whimper into your palm, eyes worriedly flickering toward the stockroom’s entrance.

“Why?” you whisper, feeling like a broken doll repeating the same phrase over and over again. You’re suddenly aware of how hot everything was. Your polo felt sticky against your spine, apron too tight, jeans too stuffy. How long had you been hiding in here for? You don’t even know. Hopefully your absence on the floor had gone unnoticed.

Jungkook pants into the line; everything sounds so sticky and wet on his end, hand undoubtedly working away at his cock. “Shit,” he curses, doesn’t really answer your question until you prod a second time. “I- I like it,” he stammers. “When you… fuck, when you look small.” He elaborates before you can even ask, breath heavy and drawn out. He was so close. “When your mouth… when it hurts,” he says, thoughts a scrambled mess. “Like when you— when you cry because my cock is— it’s too big for you.”

A blatant ego boost you’ll ignore for now. Not like you can focus on too many things right now anyway. “Your cock is big, bunny,” you agree softly instead. Your legs feel cramped from crouching so long, so you push yourself to your feet. Except then you’re made aware of how fucking wet you are, panties soaked from the phone call with your boyfriend. You shift and they stick to your folds, make you release a shaky exhale that Jungkook doesn’t miss.

“I— you’re wet,” he says boldly, and this time your meek confirmation isn’t a lie. Jungkook grunts. “Fuck, baby, I—“ cut off by his own whiny cry, probably bucking into his hand like a madman by now. “Wanna, wanna kiss you everywhere,” he says, a call back to his earlier message. Your legs feel like jello. You want him to kiss you everywhere too— lips, tits, cunt that is dripping for him now.

“I- I’ll be over soon,” you stammer, feeling like you’ll pass out if he carries on any further. He sounds so good on the line, soft pants, rough growls. You can’t possibly listen anymore, not when you’re so wet and horny in the middle of your shift. “Just,” you pause, can’t get the image of his pretty cock out of your mind. Every blink makes it more vivid, reminds you of the vein on the underside, the exact shade of the tip.

“What?” Jungkook hisses, voice higher than usual, parts of it lost under the rapid movements of his hand. “Tell me, baby, tell me what to do,” he begs hoarsely, “I’ll do it.” Sounds so desperate and needy, two seconds away from busting all over his hand.

You have to lean against the wall of the stockroom to ground yourself, remind yourself you’re not in the same situation as Jungkook and can’t cum in your pants like a teenager. “J- Just cum,” you choke, eyes fluttering shut.

He must’ve been waiting for that command, because the second the words leave your throat he’s filling the line with breathy groans and cries as he comes all over himself, probably ruins his t-shirt. The sounds have your hips unconsciously bucking forward into nothingness, the frustration of not being able to cum with him manifesting in the form of a tiny little sob. Luckily, he doesn’t catch it.

When it’s all said and done, he’s left panting into the receiver, flooding your speaker with breathy sighs that only make you more and more aroused.

“You’re terrible,” you frown, cheeks flushed, body tingling. You flip your wrist over and check the time; it’s been about sixteen minutes since you disappeared from outside. Sixteen minutes of listening to Jungkook touch himself and moan and whine and whimper. Tease you with new possibilities you had never considered before. And now he’s satisfied and you’re not.

Jungkook chuckles, low and tired. The sound shoots straight to your cunt. “Come over after you shift,” he says, as if you’re not planning to fake a severe case of the flu right now in order to get off early and run to his bed. You only had a little less than two hours of your shift left anyway. Not like they paid you well to begin with. Jungkook shifts, releases one of those saccharine groans as he probably snuggles into his bed, all sweaty and worn out. “Want you to fuck my face, baby.”

You frown, counting to ten to calm yourself down. Another few minutes of listless conversation, and you hang up. Your body feels featherlight, a little woozy as you make your way back out into the floor.

Nothing has changed. Customers pour in and out, your boss scolds you for a display you didn’t do, and life inside the store drags on. No one knows that you’re soaking your panties to hell and back, Jungkook’s soothing moans in your ear. Life goes on.

you shift ends in 20

jungkook♡ sweet jungkook♡ got your seat ready jungkook♡ Attachment: 1 Image

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[makeste]

BnHA 326: What’s up Kids, It’s Me, Your Old Pal Stain

Previously on BnHA: Ochako shamed the U.A. Clown Mob into letting Deku go back inside his own fucking school by giving them an hour-long speech about how not to be humongous dickheads. Kouta and Gigantic Fox Lady saved the manga by being the only ones brave enough to give Deku a hug. Shouto was all “man, all this togetherness sure does remind me of that promise you made that we would handle Touya together which you immediately bailed on, doesn’t it, Dad.” Aizawa was all, “for the one and a half people out there who thought that my losing an eye and a leg might actually make me less sexy, I’m very happy to prove you wrong.” All Might was all, “[standing outside the U.A. fortress alone in the rain talking to someone or something??].” Like seriously, what was up with that though.

Today on BnHA: All Might is all “here I am in Kamino having a belated mid-life crisis because Deku abandoned me and I’m a terrible mentor and everything sucks and I hate myself.” Stain is all, “don’t make me come over there and give you a ten page speech about why you’re still the goat while menacingly holding you at swordpoint the entire time” because idk if you knew this guys, but Stain is pretty crazy actually. Anyway so he does that, and then All Might gets all emotional, and then the lady from chapter 92 shows up and gives All Might’s statue an encouraging pep talk, and then Horikoshi is all “and it even stopped raining lol can you believe this shit I’m not even a little bit subtle,” and he really isn’t. But I still got emotional anyway, because seeing people reassure All Might that everything he’s struggled for his entire life hasn’t been in vain just got to me okay. Horikoshi knows I am weak to the All Might feels and he just goes for the jugular every time, that bastard.

lmao. “in the neverending downpour, All Might is...” yeah, thank you, glad we’re getting right to that then

“All Might is driving 95 mph in his busted ass car in the pouring rain, is what he’s doing.” huh

so basically a day or two after his adopted child refused to accept the handmade bento that he packed with love, my man is out here acting like he’s got nothing to live for anymore. this sure bodes well for certain prophecies on which the clock is still ominously ticking down

his fucking face though omg. is it weird that I’m kind of hoping more people ambush him just because I think it’d be funny to see them get their asses kicked like the last bunch

(ETA: or maybe he will just stand there openly not giving a fuck and basically daring them to stab him!! get it together please All Might.)

side note, “anti-hero supporters” is such a strange way of saying “people who hate heroes”, which I’m assuming is what they actually wanted to say?? this makes it sound like it’s a group that really loves antiheroes. “these Hannibal stans have been a real menace lately. time to go deal with them”

ha ha ha, fucking ouch

are you really gonna do it Horikoshi you bastard. are you really going to let that be the final encounter between the two characters whose relationship you once described as the vertical axis of the entire fucking story. are you really gonna?? huh??

huh

you’re telling me you were driving 112 mph and you still didn’t get there in time. you’re losing your touch old man. lol Todo’s ice is almost fully melted already, how late were you

(ETA: so apparently this is taking place after the end of chapter 325, meaning he went to U.A., hung out for a bit, saw the kids come back with his bedraggled half-dead protégé in tow, watched as they shamed the civilians into some long-overdue character development, and then was all “welp, time to go argue with the hero-hating faction or something because I’m feeling useless.” and Edge just let him go, just like that. though to be fair I have to imagine it’s pretty hard to say no to All Fucking Might.)

also belated lol at the fact that the kids were all “yeahhhhhhh we are definitely not gonna touch that thing, let’s just leave it here, he doesn’t need it anyway.” probably the right call to make since they couldn’t get a hazmat team on such short notice

fuck. ha ha ha fucking ouch part two

All Might please put that thing down before you get gangrene. also yeah, you dropped the ball, good for you to acknowledge it. nobody’s perfect and you did your best. but yeah you could have handled a lot of things completely differently. but I still love you

is Horikoshi really putting this flashback here. are you serious. what kind of fucking sadist

look, I swear I’m not one of those people that runs up and down the street shouting “DEATH FLAG!!” at every third panel lol. but this shit screamed Death Flag when we originally got it, and it’s screaming DEATH FLAG!!! even more now. like with the capital letters and exclamation marks and all. and that’s just a fact. I don’t like it but that’s how it is

ffkdjslk

“DID YOU READ THE SIGN??!” Horikoshi asks while zooming in maniacally because he thinks we’re blind or something. lol what

-- though actually, it only just occurred to me that this sign is actually written in English. I never really paid attention up until now and had been assuming it was written in Japanese and translated by the scanlators, but the writing here is clearly part of the original image. anyway so maybe that’s why he’s zooming in?? just to make sure everybody pays attention lol

okay fuck this

see, this is the whole problem right here. once again All Might is all on his own. Deku’s self-destructive angst spiral was fortunately brought to a grinding halt because he actually has support from his friends and family and teachers and classmates. but All Might never had that same kind of support, and it’s made all the difference between the two of them, and not in a good way. Katsuki wasn’t wrong when he said All Might and Deku were both cut from the same cloth. but now when it’s All Might’s turn to go all “I WALK A LONELY ROAD~~” once again, there’s nobody in sight

just, after forty plus years of him carrying this torch, I just wish someone would finally come along to let him know he doesn’t have to. all those things that he wanted to say to Deku are also things that he needs and deserves to hear himself. Aizawa was making a little progress there, but now he’s got his sad zombie cloud boyfriend situation to deal with, and we can’t expect him and his perfect hair to solve all our problems. someone else has gotta step up

oh my god

“you rang?” never mind I take it all back sob

omg why am I laughing. shit

this man truly has the best PR game in the series. we were truly convinced he was gonna suddenly become a good guy and defend All Might against the other villains or some nonsense. as if this wasn’t the same man who decided on a whim that Iida Tensei deserved to be paralyzed, and that his fifteen-year-old brother deserved to die for daring to be upset about it

lol even All Might is all “I genuinely never saw this coming” lmao

just want to say, for the record, I have always harbored a very sensible hatred toward Stain. feeling very vindicated right now. good job Past Me

adsfklwkfsdwgkj

ffffwefjslkg. ghsdlkg. dsfkkkslkjldwkjrg

STAIN: heard you talking shit old man

ME: smh that’s what I thought you’d say you dumb fucking Stain

STAIN: how dare you talk about All Might that way

ME: gljfljgk

(ETA: in hindsight I have no idea how I didn’t clue in sooner that he didn’t recognize him -- or, well, ~didn’t recognize~ him, to be more accurate lol. I think it was the whole “is that a slight against the heroes?” thing that threw me. Viz’s translation makes it much clearer that he’s offended on behalf of All Might specifically, not heroes in general. anyways.)

sob. so All Might is all “yeah I don’t blame you for not recognizing me in this sweet leather jacket”

good thing he still knows how to do this party trick

A+ reflexes on Stain’s part presumably pulling the sword back a few inches to keep this dumbass from impaling himself with his whole pufferfish routine. can you imagine if that was the gruesome death Nighteye foresaw. and he was just too embarrassed to say anything

lol anyways guess I was wrong about Stain everyone

way to fucking go, Past Me. you really biffed this one

oh wait

Stain sure is one wacky rollercoaster ride

oh fuck me lol I forgot how much I did not miss this

(ETA: “this here is the sacred ground where All Might gave up the last of his power and turned into a shriveled old man!! please ignore the part where I admit to knowing all about that, and yet pretend not to recognize said man when he’s standing two feet in front of me.”)

Past Me, I know we’ve had our ups and downs these past ninety seconds, but I’m really starting to think you were on to something. this dude has always been kind of insufferable. always acting like his high horse is a fucking giraffe when it’s actually a Shetland pony

dammit now he’s got All Might going off on a depressed monologue

oh my god my heart

shit

why the fuck does that hit so hard. he became a hero because he couldn’t bear to just sit back and let bad things happen to people who didn’t deserve it. I mean that’s basically the same as every hero ever, right? so why does it still hit so fucking hard every single time though. what is it about seeing someone so determined to stand up for other people and fight on their behalf. it just never loses its impact no matter how many times I see that determination mirrored in so many of my favorite characters

“I wanted to make the world a better place.” omg. but you did, though. like seriously, I feel like people are always dogging on him for not being 100% perfect, and fandom really doesn’t give him enough credit for everything he still managed to accomplish. this man came of age at a time when Japan was by all accounts a total shitshow, and singlehandedly managed to bring about an era of peace that lasted for four fucking decades. can you imagine having peace for that long?? that’s longer than I’ve been alive. shit

and he gave people hope. he inspired them and protected them and made them feel safe. and no, he couldn’t save everyone, because he’s only one fucking dude (and also because the whole time AFO was also out there desperately working to undermine him so that he could keep preaching his narrative of “heroes are bad actually”). but you know what he did do, is inspire multiple new generations of heroes who, if they can all manage to work together, will finally be able to accomplish everything he never could

so yeah. forty years of peace, and inspired the “that’s how we all became the greatest heroes” generation -- that’s a fucking win in my book. talk about having a net positive impact on the world. lol anyways now I’m all fired up and ready to fight anyone who tries to talk any shit about you, All Might

“but what if I talk shit about myself” okay listen up All Might I’m gonna need you to try just a little bit harder to work with me here okay. please calm down and stop blaming yourself for every single bad thing that’s ever happened in the world. do you remember that time Bakugou was blaming himself for Kamino, and you gave him a hug and told him it wasn’t his fault, and that he was only a boy, and that even though he was strong, even strong people can struggle with the burdens they place on themselves, and that you were sorry for not seeing that earlier? do you remember all of that? that’s what I want someone to tell you too, dammit. anyway please stop breaking my heart please and thanks

wtf

are you dead All Might

um

I don’t even have the slightest idea what’s happening lol

oh snap did he grab him so they could hide??

hold the fucking phone. don’t tell me this person in the background with the umbrella is here to actually do something decent??

oh my godddd

and here come the feels. oh boy. okay don’t mind me, I’m just gonna sit here sobbing over this fictional lady and her simple act of kindness in this weekly shounen manga that I care about way too much

FUCKING DAMMIT AND HERE’S A SECOND HELPING

DON’T MIND ME, I’M JUST GETTING DISPROPORTIONATELY EMOTIONAL OVER THIS WOMAN’S DETERMINATION TO HONOR A MAN WHO SACRIFICED EVERYTHING TO SAVE HER AND COUNTLESS OTHERS. I’M JUST HAVING SOME FEELS OVER HERE ABOUT HER HEARTFELT, DOESN’T-EVEN-KNOW-ANYONE-ELSE-IS-WATCHING FEELINGS OF GRATITUDE THAT COMPELLED HER TO COME OUT HERE AND MAKE THIS SMALL BUT POWERFUL GESTURE. I’M JUST OUT HERE GETTING ALL PROFOUNDLY WORKED UP ABOUT STATUE MAINTENANCE AND THE HUMAN RACE. NEVER MIND. JUST IGNORE ME AND CARRY ON

holy shit. I was not even remotely prepared. you can’t just do that to me. you can’t just leave all these death flags on my lawn and then suddenly shift gears to show me the best of humanity in a chapter where I was expecting the worst. that fucks a person up lol

OH ARE WE STILL GOING

my heart. you see that, All Might. your legacy is so much more powerful and meaningful than you think

...has. has Stain actually been giving All Might a pep talk this entire time

I give up lol. this dude is a fucking enigma

YAYYY

it may just be a metaphor panel, but I’ll take it lol. I missed them. nice to see the traffic light trio front and off-center. I know the whole “this is the story of how we all became the greatest heroes” thing had left some questioning whether certain characters would continue to play a central role in the narrative, and hopefully this will help to ease those concerns just a bit

anyway, so idk if it’s getting a bit chilly down there in hell, but damned if Stain didn’t just give an actual decent fucking speech

I have to say, earlier when I was whining about All Might not having a support squad, I really was not expecting Stain to be the one to come over and pat his head and reassure him that he made the world a better place

-- okay LISTEN

YOU CAN’T JUST COME INTO MY HOUSE AND HIT ME WITH THOSE ALL MIGHT TEARS AGAIN GODDAMMIT THIS ISN’T FAIR. my god. first 317 and now this

holy fucking shit

“I’m just gonna pretend like I haven’t been stalking him for two days and didn’t see the entire Deku bentogate thing go down, and then I’ll give him the whole big speech that I rehearsed, and then I’ll turn around and be all ‘BUT IF YOU’RE A TRUE HERO’, and then I’ll toss him the super-secret AFO wifi password that I stole from Tartarus. god I’m such a badass. fucking give myself chills”

so basically what you’re telling me is that this whole time my “what’s up kids” characterization of Stain from this shitpost has actually been 100% accurate. just want to make sure I’m understanding this right. okay then

“and then I’ll dramatically spin around and be all NOW COME KILL ME BITCH”

it must be so much fun to write Stain. drawing this coked-out maniac who talks like a chatbot that was trained to speak by reading Alan Moore monologues. that must be a trip

anyway so All Might is still crying, the awesome lady from chapter 92 is admiring her handiwork totally oblivious to the batshit insanity going on fifty meters to her right, and it’s finally stopped raining lol

“THE RAIN WAS A METAPHOR YOU SEE” yes, yes, we got it lol. thanks for that Horikoshi. don’t think we needed any help putting the pieces together on that one but I appreciate the effort

so that’s the end! and as I mentioned in another post, I had the count off by one chapter, but next week should be cliffhanger week! so break out your U.A. Traitor bingo cards, friends and fiends. either that or something else happens that I’m completely not expecting at all. which, based on my success rate with Stain predictions, I’d say is more than likely lol

mmm but anyway, so now that the Hug Deku 2021 campaign has finally come to an end, what’s it gonna take to get a hug for my struggling bento-preparing jacket-rocking world-weary death-flag-waving husband who is the worthiest man to ever live and deserves the fucking world, goddammit

[realcube]

The Maid Café || Saiki K x Reader

summary: nendou and kaidou keep pestering saiki to visit their favourite maid café but he shuts them down every time. however, after a bit of prying they manage to convince him to give the place a try and while they are there, you just so happen to be on shift. 

tw// cussing, maid café, (she/her) reader

key:

“non italicised text” = somebody besides Saiki speaking

“italicised text” = Saiki telepathically communicating

‘italised text’ = Saiki’s thought

‘Of course Nendou and Kaidou would be into maid cafés of all things — not cat cafés, not internet cafés — it just had to be maid cafés.’  

Saiki’s internal monologue began as Kaidou continued gushing on about the cute lady he met at the café a few days ago as an argument to why Saiki should join them next time they go. Not to say Saiki wasn’t listening as he felt extremely sorry for whatever lady had to tolerate Kaidou’s advances and his prayer went out to her but besides that, he really couldn’t care less about the maids or the café. 

Until, his attention was involuntarily aroused at the vocalisation of his name from Nendou, “Saiki’s definitely in for Friday, I’m pretty sure I sold him when I told him that the sandwiches there are almost as good as the ramen we usually get.”

‘No, you didn’t. I won’t be coming to join you on Friday. I’d much rather stay--’ 

Somehow Kaidou managed to cut off Saiki’s internal monologue with his annoying voice, “Don’t be silly, Nendou. You’re not going to win Saiki over with such a ridiculous comparison, one that he clearly doesn’t care about.” 

‘Am I delusional? Is this a hallucination? Or did Kaidou just say something logical and based in reality?’

Kaidou’s aura immediately changed to dark and sinister as a mischievous smirk crossed his face, the background squawks of the crows suddenly became much louder for some unknown reason. “Instead, you must locate your opponent's weak point before you can recognise the crucially important moment to exploit it. The process takes patience but it is one I have learned from my many years rebelling against Dark Reunion. Now, young Nendou, watch and learn.” He finished with a dramatic flip of his school jacket which was slung over his shoulders as a cape.

‘What was all that about?’

Saiki wondered before Kaidou turned to him, much less brooding than he was a few seconds ago, and said casually, “Your loss if you don’t come, Saiki — you’ll be the one missing out on some of the best desserts in our whole town — not to mention the coffee jelly.”

✿✿✿✿✿

‘How do I always end up losing to these people? I am a psychic for god’s sake!’

Saiki mentally cursed himself out as he stood shamefully in front of the maid café, wearing a carefully curated outfit — including his germanium ring  — created especially to hide his identity from anyone from his school that might pass by the café and spot him in there through the window or something. Honestly, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a maid café, or so he thought.

However, all the reviews he read along with both Nendou and Kaidou’s thoughts helped him conclude that this place’s coffee jelly and general dessert selection is nothing to sneeze at. In fact, his favourite Tumblr blog - DeadlyDesserts11037 - visited the place and gave it a 5 star review, recommending everybody who happens to pass by the town to definitely check the place out. After that, he was sold.

Saiki looked over at his friends and couldn’t help but facepalm in response to their bright red, thrilled expressions. “Good grief, please don’t tell me you are both that excited over ladies in maid outfits.” As you might’ve guessed, Saiki didn’t really understand the concept of a ‘maid café’, so he simply assumed the male obsession with maids had something to do with the objectification of women hence he obviously did not want to take part.

“Saiki, you’re seriously just built different if this doesn’t touch your soul.” They both brushed the pink-haired boy’s comment off, completely mesmerised by the sight of a particularly pretty maid-lady walking by the window — probably on her way to serve a table — carrying a notepad in one hand and a plate with a scrumptious-looking coffee jelly on top. 

Saiki followed their gaze, his breath hitching at the sight. He was speechless; no sarcastic comment, no running commentary, nothing. Just..woah! If he had known that the girls that work at this place were so gorgeous and the food looked so delicious, he would’ve came a long time ago.

He wasn’t even sure which one he wanted more; the girl or the jelly. In a way, one wasn’t complete without the other because the coffee jelly which she held high next to her head brought out her (E/C) eyes while her shapely figure highlighted the defined curves of the jelly. Drool was quick to start forming at the corners of his lips but he was even quicker to wipe it away; he was starving.

“We’re going in.”

✿✿✿✿✿

To Saiki’s dismay, it was not the stunning (H/C)-haired girl who he had caught a glimpse of through the glass that ushered them to their table. Rather, it was a slightly less gorgeous maid-lady who had long, bright purple hair which was clearly a wig. 

Fortunately for him, after she left Kadiou, Nendou and himself to take their seats, she rushed off saying that someone will come take their orders whenever they are ready.

Even with his psychic abilities, there wasn’t much he could think of to alter fate so the pretty coffee-jelly lady would end up serving their table, and besides that, he was way too caught up in gawking at all the mouth-watering desserts they had pictured on the menu. 

Simply glancing over the menu brought a stupid grin to his face, he wanted to try every delectable treat presented in front of him. However, he knew he must exhibit restraint, which was fairly simple as he knew deep down there was only one thing on the menu that he was truly after. You guessed it  — coffee jelly.

Usually, he couldn’t care less about what his friends comrades were going to order but in this case, he was tempted to try convince both Kaidou and Nendou to order something he liked so he could take a bite of whatever they were having, “What are you two going to order?”

Yet again though, he was ignored as Nendou and Kaidou were both too busy checking out other types of snacks to care about the ones on the menu. 

Then, a movement out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention so his head jolted from the menu to his new target, the beautiful girl he had saw through the window earlier. Previously, she was holding a coffee jelly but now she was basically empty handed, until she approached the table and pulled out a notepad and pen, “May I take your orders?” She asked in the most calming, melodious voice Saiki had ever heard, the sounds that left her mouth were nothing short of angelic. Which made sense since her serving their table must’ve been god’s gift to Saiki for all his hard work.

Chills, Saiki got literal chills before he mused, “A coffee jelly, and two brownies for the pair of clowns.” His blood ran cold; curse his smooth sarcastic comments! Most of the time, he was able to filter himself but due to the nerves that arose while talking to you, he probably shouldn’t be surprised that he had a little slip of the tongue. But now, you probably think he is a bitch that insults people on the regular; which he is, but not usually aloud! Plus, he couldn’t even tell what you were thinking due to his germanium ring and your distant expression, awful combo!

While he was in the middle of feeling bad for himself and considering teleporting away home, a miracle happened, you burst out laughing. And somehow, your laughter was even more silvery than your voice. 

Saiki had zoned-out from pure shock for a moment before coming back to reality, noticing that you had started jotting down something in your notepad, a sweet smile still lingering on your face despite the fact you had stopped laughing. “Alright, so one coffee jelly and two brownies. Anything else?” You asked, glancing back and forth between the three equally unique and strange men sitting at the table. 

“That’ll be all, thank you.” Saiki telepathically communicated as he usually did, considering actually using his mouth to speak for a change so he didn’t seem weird but in all honesty, he couldn’t be bothered. In any other situation, he would’ve gotten a drink of water or perhaps hot cocoa but right now he was way too afraid of making another error in his speech to request something else. 

Silently, he extended his arm to hand you the menu he was given when he entered the café, along with the ones Kaidou and Nendou were given too. His actions single-handedly shooting down your plan of leaning across the table to ‘take the menus’ but in reality it is just a subtle way of showing-off how nice your torso looked in this maid outfit, a trick you learned from your supervisor. 

You nodded, closing over your notepad and making your way over to the kitchen, being sure to swing your hips just a little bit extra to impress the pink-haired megane at the table you just took an order from. You mentally cursed your stupid brain though for always crushing on guys/gals who don’t seem the least bit interested in you. In this case, the guy’s attention was divided between his star-struck friends and the desserts on the menu, rather than you which was an unusual sight in a maid café considering that most people would only come to ogle at the waitresses. 

✿✿✿✿✿

“So, Saiki.” Kaidou finally landed back into reality after a large chunk of the waitresses roaming around were now in the kitchen which he didn’t have viewing access to, “What did you order us?”

‘So, he was fully aware that the waitress came to take his order, he just chose to ignore her and left me to order his food. What a child, it must be a side-effect of his eighth grade syndrome.’

Saiki couldn’t help but sigh, “I ordered you both brownies.”

Kaidou stuck out his bottom lip to form a pout as he crossed his arm over his chest like a toddler, “I hate brownies.” He muttered to himself, realising that if he wanted something done right, he’d have to do it himself.

An amused smirk tugged at Saiki’s lips but he resisted the urge to laugh, ‘I know.’ He thought, his masterplan to eat more food without looking greedy falling into place. “Oh well, more for me then.”

Suddenly, Nendou spun his head around to abruptly join the conversation, “Hey guys, did you see the hottie that was serving our table?” He inquired with starry eyes, as if he was a kid in a candy store.

Saiki nodded, ‘Obviously I did, you moron. I was the one who ordered the food for goodness’ sake!’

Kaidou shook his head, his eyes lighting up as he leaned in close to Nendou, “Nope! I was busy looking at the other girls, but tell us!” 

Nendou chuckled at Kaidou’s enthusiastic reaction before glancing to the side, outstretching his arm and pointing at the waitress that was now approaching the table with the food in her hands. “There she is!”

‘Don’t point at her, you idiot!’ Saiki mentally insulted his friend but instinctively followed the guidance of the tip of his finger until his eyes landed on your shapely figure — accentuated by the nature of the maid outfit  — slowly heading toward his table, holding the coffee jelly and the plate of brownies in the same graceful way you did when he saw you through the window. 

The gleam of your gorgeous hair, the movement of your luscious lashes, the gentle bounce of your upper body, how your perfectly manicured nails clutched the base of the jelly glass; everything about what he was seeing made him believe that if/when he were to die, this would be his ideal first sight as he passed through the gates of heaven. 

Before he knew it, you had reached the table and placed his jelly down on the table, gently nudging it towards him, “One coffee jelly for the cute boy with antennas.” You mused, making Saiki’s heart flutter in a way he was unfamiliar with. Then, you placed the brownies in front of Kaidou and Nednou who sat opposite from Saiki, “And two brownies for the clowns.” 

If it wasn’t for the fact the pair of clowns were too busy leching over you in your maid outfit, they’d probably be curious as to your choice of words but luckily for both you and Saiki, they were way to entranced by your visible bra strap to care about the little nickname.

Saiki felt a light blush creep onto his face, which only got worse as you discretely sent him a playful wink before turning on your heels to stroll back to the kitchen, “If you need anything else, just give me a wave.” 

All of them hummed agreement in unison until the waitress was out of sight, giving Saiki a moment to process the events that had just went down. Not only did you refer to him as ‘the cute boy with antennas’ but you also winked at him, if that wasn’t a clear sign you were interested, what was? However, Saiki still had his doubts since this was a maid café after all, perhaps you were just trained to do that with all your customers.

Luckily, the had the foresight to slip off his germanium ring to read your mind and that helped him come to the conclusion that you were either interested in him or you were just very competitive as the whole time you were serving the table your thoughts were along the lines of;

‘I’ll adjust my skirt- Ha! You looked! Try resist falling for me now, you hot lil’ megane! Your heart is mine and I know it! See, I’ll fidget with my corset too-- just make a move already, pinkie!’

Although he didn’t appreciate being called ‘pinkie’, he had no right to judge what was going on in your brain. All he could do is be thankful that you didn’t say that aloud.

✿✿✿✿✿

You sighed as you noticed the pink-haired boy and his little posy exit the establishment without so much as a goodbye, or even a wave! 

It was disappointing as you had already mentally planned your future with this guy and he had the audacity to do the real life equivalent of leaving you on read. But oh well, it would be approximately a week until you developed a crush on a random customer that lasts for around 30 minutes and for the time being, you can focus on doing your job.

You glumly shuffled over to their table to gather their plates to be washed, then a piece of colourful paper attached to the empty jelly glass caught your eye. As you held up the glass to inspect it further, you realised that it was a sticky note with a message written on it in black ink and neat, cursive handwriting. It read:

‘Dearest waitress,

Thank you for the excellent service, we (myself) tipped accordingly.’

You hadn’t finished reading yet but you were curious as to what he meant by that, and apparently you service must’ve been exceptional as the writer had left a whole ¥2000 tip. That’s a huge addition to the demonia fund.  

Followed by this charming little message was an extra tip for you; the writer’s phone number! Meaning that this little sticky note was something you had to protect with your life..so you shoved it in your bra for safe-keeping. 

But not before taking a moment to giggle with delight at who the note was signed by, 

‘Sincerely, the hot lil’ megane (aka Kusuo Saiki)’ 

[beomgyusmcnugget]

warning: an actually somewhat positive 2 cents about Halloween ends

I just came back from the theater and was suprised to come on here and see everyone absolutely demolishing this film (I mean it’s hilarious and y’all do have a point) when I actually enjoyed it!

My mom turned to me, disgruntled and mumbling as the end credits rolled, and a ginger guy and his s/o were talking to us after the movie and saying how much they thoroughly detested it. But I actually found it to be the best of the modern sequels

I think the reason I liked acts one and two so much honestly is due to my utter loathing of Halloween kills. That movie spit on me and threw me in a dumpster. Holy fuck I hated it so. So much. They made Michael into a god damned chainsaw, he wasn’t even Michael anymore he just cut down everyone in sight, and it was so stupid I literally yelled at the screen in the theater (luckily I wasn’t the only one). So I think seeing a Halloween film where the body count is back to the single digits soothed my soul from a few years ago. Also bringing the killers back down to a more human level, just with a knack of surviving the impossible, was cathartic and reminiscent of the first five (except three bc who actually watches that one) films, which imo the brother Michael to Jamie niece pipeline is superior (when Paul Rudd gets added to the mix is when I start hating it and switch over to H20).

I also love next gen nonsense, and I and aware I am hereby the scum of the earth, and that’s where this movie excels for me and also majorly disappoints. Because I thought we were getting the transfer of evil from Michael to Corey, but also a what if Laurie didn’t fight for good and instead submitted to the lure of evil and it’s ease? I thought the inclusion of Alyson in that was cool, however they totally fucked it up.

Because at first it’s like oh Alyson doesn’t want to fight it anymore, or maybe she was cristened in the evil because of how she grew up and wouldn’t that be the perfect way for Michael to win if not in flesh: Laurie’s own granddaughter committing to evil. However they just didn’t do that?

All of a sudden Alyson isn’t .. dark. She’s just done with her phase ????????? Like whyyyyy it could have been so perfect why must you do this to me?

Also in the vein of massive disappointment yet mid movie satisfaction is Corey’s whole character. Because I liked how he was a mild blend of young Laurie and Michael (smart baby sitter -> killer ig is the only link lmao) and some of the set up was clever if not slightly crude in execution; i.e, him sleeping and sort of hiding in the home of his first kill, much like Michael hid in his childhood home where he killed Judith. I loved that idea, and giving him his own mask, specially a creepy Halloween one reminiscent of Michaels clown mask which I thought was cool.

But THEY JUST KILL HIM ??

I waited for the end of the credits in hopes of a scene shot from the window of Jeremy Allen’s house, with nothing but breathing for audio, and a slow shot of someone picking up the scarecrow mask and looking out at haddon field from the window.

But, no. 🗿

However I still have hope for this, idk why I guess I’m just delusional. However considering Michael let himself die imo and allowed himself to be carried to the massive meat grinder, and that Corey sat up after being stabbed in the neck, I get the impression Corey could have sat up after his neck was snapped (considering he was shot multiple times and sustained two falls from fatal heights and a fucking neck wound but what ever) and if Michael wasn’t ready to go then he could just punched the window from the roof of the car, so I figured that scene when he was over Corey was a sort of eye signal thing to take over the mantle bc the whole movie he was turning to Michael for guidance but it was his time to fully grasp the role. Therefore Michael allowed them to kill him and destroy his body as Corey became the sole owner of the form, which would explain why both of them were in mid strength throughout the movie bc evil incarnate can only fulfill one form fully.

But. No.

And if not that, I figured Alyson would then be who the evil was transferred to. Idk I guess I supposed she was going to play an actual role in the film but … sigh.

So yes while I have many complaints about how they dropped the ball with the end, what this movie could have been, and what it delivers in the first and second act make this one of the more compelling sequels imo, and by FAR the best of the new three, in my opinion at least. The last two new ones were honestly disrespectful to the franchise imo and completely misunderstood the point of Michael: he’s not like a machine gun. He’s scary cause he’s evil and stalks his prey, not because you guys found some cool and gross cgi to attach to your film and decimate an entire town population. That’s an apocalypse atp, not a slasher or killer.

So this one definitely payed wonderful homage (ty for adding the picture of Annie and Linda 🥲, the knitting needles!! Someone stabbed on the wall, and Corey standing watching Laurie like Michael in the first film) and had a decent vibe that fit in with the original imo better than Halloween kills (my genuine arch nemesis). However the ending didn’t just fall flat, it fell from an eight story building.

HOWEVER. THEY ADDED DONT FEAR THE REAPER IN THE END CREDITS. And I feel that song should get more credit as the iconic Halloween song.

And though many are upset about Michaels lack of screen time, I was honestly so pissed that they made him a terminator in the last film, I was okay with it.

And Laurie, dear, pls step on me.

Jamie was 10379128/10 in this movie. *chefs kiss*

So sorry if you read this whole thing :/

[capricorn-stark]

Protégé

pairing: red hood!jason todd x robin!reader, slow burn 

warning: swearing

a/n: for context, this is somewhat loosely based off of Battle for the Cowl (2009) which I definitely recommend as a read! 

There was something about falling that you would never, ever get tired of. 

Ever. 

Probably.

With the wind whistling in your ears, your hair floating up in a million directions, and your limbs seemingly weightless as the buildings and lights blurred into one endless streak of color, the rush of adrenaline that ran through your body right before your grappling hook shot out and you landed quietly on the concrete was about a million times better than any sparring session back at the cave. 

You grinned as you straightened, rather proud of the fact that you had actually managed to land so smoothly without nearly paralyzing yourself. Again.The landing was something you had been working on for a while now.

You could practically hear Bruce’s voice ringing through your head after your little stunt, lamenting on and on about how you had more important things to focus on during patrols, and you let out a sigh as you ran down the backway of the nearly empty streets. 

The heavy man who had been bound up with a decently made gag and one of Bruce’s fancy tech pieces (Batcuffs, maybe? Something else with Bat smacked in front of it?) grunted beside you. 

“What? Not like you had someplace to be.” You grabbed the back of his rather tacky-looking spandex suit to drag him along back to where your mentor was supposed to be.

Despite your (many) disagreements and his (many) criticisms of your hand-to-hand combat skills, attitude issues, and pretty much everything else relating to you, Bruce had actually still allowed you to go off on your own tonight. It might’ve been because he wanted a few hours of nothing but beating up petty criminals by himself for stress-relief, it might’ve been because he had started trying out that whole independence thing with you a little more (even though you were still only permitted to be about five blocks or so away), it might’ve been plot-convenience - but either way, you appreciated the gesture.

It didn’t take long for you to pull your new friend over to what should’ve been your rendezvous point with Batman, letting the man drop with a dull thud and a grunt of protest against the concrete as you glanced around for the other man. You weren’t particularly concerned by the fact that the Bat himself wasn’t there yet - after all, he was the goddamn Batman. He’d show up eventually. In the meanwhile, you decided to go over the information you had gotten on the criminal with you. 

Just for the sake of it. Bruce would make you go over it anyways.

“Drury Walker, thirty-two years old, found him trying to mug someone in a back alley and make an escape. Called himself…” you paused, looking down at his sorry-looking outfit for a few moments while he looked up at you with murder and vengence in his eyes. “...Killer Moth.”  

“Killer Moth?” A completely new voice repeated in disbelief, causing you to immediately whirl around to face them in a fight stance, heart racing at a million miles per hour. The guy in front of you had his hands up in the air, his face concealed with some sort of red knock-off Iron Man helmet. He was gonna get copyrighted by Marvel Studios. “Shit, sorry,” he started at the sight of you, still leaning up against one of the walls. “I was supposed to make a wholeass dramatic entrance, but you said his name was Killer Moth and that-” The man made a noise that was either a sharp cough or a laugh of some kind. “-sounded so fucking lame I couldn’t help myself.” 

Despite the fact that you were definitely in some sort of major trouble with this new guy, he really did have a point. Even Killer Moth himself would’ve been embarrassed by how trash his name was, if not for the fact that he looked like he was on the verge of an aneurysm - understandably so, since the new guy had produced not one, but two guns out of apparently nowhere. 

“And let me guess,” he continued, pointing one of them at your head, his tone still all-too light and easy. “You must be the Bat’s brand-new Robin.” 

Now this is where most people would've shut up and proceeded to be complicit with the dude holding two guns. But Batman hadn’t seen reason and made you his (sort of) partner because you were like other people. Hell no.

“Do I look like a traffic signal to you?” It had been the very first of your amendments with Bruce. You would not be fighting crime looking like a literal traffic signal or, at best, a clown from Haly’s Circus. And the tiny green shorts had to go. “Or Robin Hood?” The guy had a rather awkward pause where his gun sort of dipped. Killer Moth was looking between you with wide eyes. “Do I?” 

“I guess you kinda got a point.” You huffed and he raised his gun again, getting more in-your-face as his already angry-looking helmet somehow managed to look angrier. You weren’t exactly sure how a helmet could convey so much emotion. “But you work with Batman. And I heard you went by Robin.” 

Okay, so you couldn’t make him change the name, but you had agreed it would be more of an honorary thing.

“It’s complicated.” 

Using such a phrase as an excuse to escape from situations you didn’t want to go into was one of the many things you had learned from Bruce in your five months of training. Somehow, that seemed to trigger the guy further.

“So you do work with Batman.” 

Before he could do something actually insane, you had managed to push the gun pointed at your head away from you, using his brief second of surprise to take it out of his hands, kick him in the chest, and round back on him with it in hand. 

“And what about it?” 

As cool as you thought you might’ve sounded didn’t cover for the fact that you were still nerve-wracked about what was happening right then. Especially after the guy started to dramatically slow-clap like some sort of evil thespian in a high school drama. 

“Not bad, Robin. Not bad.” He looked at the gun in your hands and grinned. “If you weren’t Batman’s new replacement sidekick, I might’ve believed you had the balls to use that thing.” 

Now, you were an excellent fighter. You had to be, after your excessive training with the guy who had literally mastered about every martial art in existence during his (give or take) five year-long mission to find himself. Plus, some personal experience. But fighting someone like this guy? Built like a tank and padded up in a whole lot of armor and packing an assortment of knives, guns, and even a damn taser you got a first-hand taste of?

You fought hard, but about five minutes and another round of the taser later, you saw the knock-off Iron Man helmet staring down at you before the world went black.

~*~

You woke up in what you assumed was the self-dubbed Red Hood’s safehouse of sorts. 

“How the hell did he rope you into this shit?” he demanded with what you could only assume was him glaring at you through the helmet. Probably some expression that made someone look all angsty and annoyed - which was fair, since he had been trying to drill you for information you straight up refused to give while bound (way too tightly) to a chair for quite some time now. Rather rude. “Let me guess. You watched your parents die.” You stared at him before shrugging.

“Nope.”

“Oh, so they just went ahead and died somehow. Untimely accident caused by some psycho bitch in a Spirit Halloween costume.”

“…nope.” 

“They abandoned you as a child.”

“No, they didn’t - does divorce count?” 

Red Hoodlum’s hands kept clenching and unclenching while he stood there, staring at the wall behind you in silence. From the way his chest kept rising and falling, you were tempted to believe he was practicing breathing exercises amidst his rather violent twitching. 

“Divorce - what the hell is your trauma supposed to be? Why did he pick you?!”

“Hey, just because my trauma doesn’t include people dying doesn’t make it any less traumatic,” you scoffed in response, knowing you were absolutely right about that. Your middle school guidance counselor had said so (and it’s true, ladies and gentlemen, trauma comes in many forms!). “Kinda rude to assume it didn’t affect me somehow.”

He seemed rather abashed at that and you heard him clear his throat a little. 

“...right, yeah. Sorry.”

“Apology accepted - can you loosen these ropes a little? It’s starting to kinda hurt.” 

“Do I look ten? That’s the oldest trick in the book, I’m not gonna-”

“I’m not going to run, just loosen the ropes a little.” He still looked like he didn’t believe you. “Come on, I don’t think I can outrun your guns.” As in his literal array of guns tacked up to the wall behind him, not his gigantic biceps. 

And you weren’t too worried about being held hostage by him, either. You figured you had ten minutes tops before Batman burst in through the doorway, ready to give you a lecture on why straying from the specifically designated parts of Gotham he had let you traipse around was a terribly stupid idea. 

“No.” He was already walking towards the door, because apparently, he had enough of trying to interrogate you. 

“Hold on, I feel like my wrists are actually about to start bleeding or something - where are you going?”

“Keep talking and I’m gonna get the duct tape.” 

“Is that a threat?” Sounding more confident than you actually felt should eventually make you more confident. Eventually. 

The Red Hood sucked in a breath, stopping by the doorway and turning to face you, reaching into his pockets to get what you assumed was either a gun or duct tape when you both startled from a sudden crash. The man in front of you was already whirling around with two guns positioned to shoot when you heard the familiar voice of someone else.

“Hold your fire, soldier. I’m not here for you.” A pause. “Or I wasn’t, but now I kind of am.”

Apparently, Batman was too busy to save you. Now, you got Nightwing. 

And as much as you liked Nightwing, that still kinda stung. 

[sparkleapple]

Eurovision 2022 Song Opinions

Albania - I'm pleasantly surprised w their choice this year and it's something I've been wanting for a long time. I've know that Albanians know how to make a good party song and Sekret does not fail to deliver. I'm rooting hard for this and I can sense that it will be one of Albania's best result in a long time.

Armenia - It sounds like a hipster song from the early-mid 2010s that you'd hear in an ad.

Australia - They don't even belong here, but it's very Eurovision and he has a nice voice I guess

Austria - Definitely sounds like a radio friendly hit you'd see in Spinnin' Records. It's probably going to be a flop, but I'm just happy they're not sending another boring jury bait song.

Azerbaijan - So I've waited so long for them to release this song just to hear this snorefest? You've got to be kiddin me. Also do Azeri people feel so badly about their song writing/producing abilities that they have to depend on Sweden (or some western european country) every fuckin time? The chorus is pretty though.

Belgium - Is this the year of changing things? Because Belgium isn't giving us some mid tempo songs and an R&B one instead (which you hardly ever see in ESC). I absolutely love his voice and energy and this sounds like something straight out of Atlanta. I'm worried about his fate though...

Bulgaria - Wow. I expect great things from Bulgaria, but this is a huge disappointment and outdated as hell.

Croatia - Forgettable Taylor Swift demo

Cyprus - Sounds more Greek than anything Greece has sent these recent years. Woodland fairy vibes.

Czech Republic - Generic

Denmark - I love seeing a female rock song, but this sounds dated and is bound to be lost in the semifinals

Estonia - For the love of god, can Europe stop imitating country music?! Why would you want to mimic the US in a place like this? That said, I do like this song actually and at least it's not the Netherlands doing it.

Finland - The lack of rock entries this year is disappointing, and this one is the best one, but that's not saying much. The song's alright. However I love the Gorillaz like animation and, this did introduce me to the Rasmus, which lead me to "In the Shadows", which is a great song, so thank you for that.

France - LOVE! I'm a sucker for an ethnic techno track and the mysterious aura and Brenton makes me love it even more. Will certainly stand out. This is my personal winner. Well done France.

Germany - Forgettable Travis McCoy demo

Greece - Sure it's well produced and will certainly be in the top 10, but it feels very safe and not Greek at all. Gives off more Nordic vibes. If she was a Norweigan representative I'd like this song more. I'm just tired of Greece sending half Greek girls that aren't from Greece...

Iceland - When I first heard it, I thought it was boring, but now I enjoy it. It's pretty and sounds like a warm hug while camping in an Icelandic forest.

Ireland - I usually expect Ireland to send dull songs, but it was a pleasant surprise to hear this bop.

Israel - Fun and very Euroivision. Is it safe to call Israel the king of ESC gay performers?

Italy - I'm not a fan of returning performers bc I like seeing new faces and at first I was annoyed to see Mahmood return (this time with a little friend though). When I actually heard the song, I realized I was a clown. This song is great and it's very different from what he sent last time. If Italy doesn't end up with a high placement this year, no hosting country will.

Latvia - So they're not sending an electronic song. A joke entry I see. Very memeable. I miss the good old days when esc entries did stuff like this.

Lithuania - I thought it was going to hard to have a song almost as good as the Roop last year, but they ate this year too. I can't get enough. Smooth, unique, and mysterious with a touch of 20s/30s sounds. If this doesn't make to the finals, I'll riot.

Malta - I take back what I said about this bing the year of changing things up. Wtf is this hot mess? Out of Sight, while boring was still pleasant. Although with Malta's desperate attempt to be low odds, they replaced that song with something much worse. A corny ass Melofest reject that nobody's going to care for. If they place last in the semifinal, they deserve it. Also I'm tired of them only having girls.

Moldova - A simple, fun, ethnic song that's very eurovision.

Montenegro - I was looking forward for their return, especially since they haven't had a solo female singer in such a long time, but this song is pretty boring and the lyrics are cringey af. So much for making a comeback.

Netherlands - When I saw images of S10, I thought we were going to get a pop song, but instead we get a sad girl song in Dutch, which is even better. I don't like her voice, but I do like this song.

North Macedonia - I know it likely won't make it to the final, but I love it anyway and I can't stop listening to it. It also feels a bit nostalgic.

Norway - For a gimmicky entry with lyrics that don't make sense, it's a banger. It's even got a dance to go with it. Definitely something that'll motivate me to go hard on the treadmill. Another one of my faves.

Poland - Considering how had they've been flopping, I was surprised to see that they ate this year. Easy qualifier. I'd say it's the best of the sad boi ballads.

Portugal - Ooh I like this one. Seems very earthy and touching for someone who lost a loved one. If we forget about last year, Portugal has been serving as quality lately.

Romania - When I think of Romanian music, this is what comes to mind. Good ole' summer dance songs that we heard more in late 2000s- early 2010s. As a fan of Inna and Akcent, this is something up my alley.

San Marino - I heard this guy is popular in Italy so I was surprised to see someone like him represent this tiny country. What was even more surprising was to see them have a rock song and not some disco song.

Serbia - As a fellow weird person with a monotone and obsession with hygiene, I appreciate it. I can see it being a future iconic entry with its catchiness and gimmick on hand washing.

Slovenia - It's a shame this song is overlooked. It's a great example of a modern retro song (with a cute music video to boot). These kids have a mature taste.

Spain - Okay, y'all only like this basic ass song because of the choreography. That doesn't change the fact that the song is mediocre. Also the lyrics are cringey and I'm sick of women objectifying themselves. I'm not looking forward to seeing Chanel and her backup dancer's cheeks.

Sweden - I've tried to see what makes this song so high in the odds, but I still don't see it. Her voice is nice, but this sounds like something in the A Star is Born soundtrack, which I don't care for. But hey, at least they're not boring us with another generic male pop song.

Switzerland - I was disappointed considering how well they've been doing lately after so many years, they've sent us this Toy Story song. Don't get me wrong, he has a great voice and I really love the message of the song, but the delivery could have been better.

Ukraine - I prefer the Alina's song, but this one is great too. Fun, ethnic, and lighthearted with the iconic flute guy. I know for sure this will do well, but I'm afraid a lot of its points will be sympathy points and making it win would be cruel seeing that Ukraine can't afford to be the host country both location and financial wise.

UK - From the looks of it, this looks like it won't be a flop and possibly in the top 10. I wouldn't get my expectations to high though. The staging could be a hot ass mess and end up in the bottom once again.

[cheelduh]

How to strike your way into someone’s heart (Highschool AU)

Part 2 to this. Can be read alone!

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Warnings: A lot of swearing I mean what do you expect they’re all teenagers. Lots of brick slapping. Childe clowns Scaramouche. OH YES this isn’t edited at all lmfao have fun.

Synopsis: It’s your big date with Childe after you lost the bet miserably. You decide to pay the occult club a visit in hopes of finding something that can...ease your concerns. Childe on the other hand has Signora give him a friendly piece of advice, believe it or not. 

Note: SRY THIS TOOK ME LIKE A MONTH

For as long as you can remember, you've never believed in ghosts, demons, or souls that lose their way in the endless void, forced to roam the earth in repentance.

Believing in the unknown takes creativity, adventure, maybe even a little sense of fear. Scratch that—a shitton of fear, because humans love to weave in their insecurities and inability to explain something into something of a phenomenon.

Bad luck lies in this category. Bad luck is simply a way to justify the catastrophe that one cannot admit they have fabricated themselves. Everyone wants a reason as to why shit hits the fan, and it can be anything but their own fault.

Bad luck is nothing but a load of bull to you. That's totally why you're standing outside the calculus classroom during lunch break, which happens to be the official meet spot for the occult club.

You raise a fist to knock, but then falter, thinking over your options once again. Is this what it has come to? Putting your faith into the weird kids that once tried to summon Schrödinger's cat for the physics final.

Fischl kicks the door wide open, a smirk playing at her lips once she spots you. "One cannot refrain from the song of your cogitation. The feline for which thou dwell on—"

A squeak leaves your throat and you flinch back, cutting her off. "You can read my mind?"

"Fischl," An icy eyed boy shows up from behind her and points a thumb back. "Mona needs your help."

Fischl squints at you for a brief moment, and then spins onto her heel to go back into the room.

The blue haired lower class man, Chongyun you guess, narrows his eyes at you. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Finally you manage to speak, palms all sweaty. "Yeah uh, I need your help. You know, with occulty things." You use your hands to articulate your thoughts, but ultimately give up.

You're not sure if it's pity towards your pathetic explanation or simply annoyance, but Chongyun widens the opening. He silently gestures for you to follow.

Stumbling on your feet and putting on your big girl pants, you hurry inside of the room, hoping you aren't seen by Beidou. She wouldn't let you hear the end of this.

The temperature instantly drops, and you have to adjust your sight to navigate. There's heavy incense in the air as well as a a few lighted candles from the dollar store, you guess.

Sitting smack dab in the middle of all the demonic markings is Mona, with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Chongyun has made his way next to her, crossing his arms with a sigh, and Fischl is busy cooing at her bird.

"Well well well..." Mona's amused, eyes almost twinkling as she gets up from the poor desk that had to suffer the wrath of her ass. "If it isn't Y/N."

Mona is a glorified dick wiper in your books. One time, she partnered up with you in chemistry last year and refused to do any work because apparently her "star sign" said she was incompatible with science. You haven't forgiven her since.

"I need your help." You barely manage to choke out the words, reigning yourself in by clenching your fists instead. It'll be unethical to claw her face, especially since you're the one who's come to her.

"Oh?" She smiles wickedly, revelling in every moment of this no doubt. "Why would the high and mighty Y/N need help from the 'Whoroscope whore'?"

Fischl nearly slips out a laugh, trying with her upmost ability to refrain from rolling all over the floor.

You blink away your tears of almost-laughter, casually sliding in twenty mora across the table dividing you two. If she's a whoroscope whore like you say she is, she'll definitely put it in her bra.

Mona raises a brow, but her eyes linger on the bill for a second too much. "What makes you think I'll do it for money?"

"That's simple," You say, rolling your eyes. "When you see mora, you cling to it like a baby clings to a tit. Now just take it and solve my issues."

She fumes a litany of curses but snatches the money up anyways.

"What do you want?"

You breathe in, then out. "I need a talisman."

Mona raises a brow, hand on her hip. "I'm sorry. Did I get that right?"

How dare she. You will your eye into not twitching, the beginnings of fire thrumming through your veins, scalding hot. How dare she make me repeat myself.

"You know, the thing to fend off evil spirits," Your statement hangs heavy in the air as the cogs in their brains click into place. "I need one that can remove the most evilest thing times ten to the power of twenty five on this planet."

Everyone immediately thinks of Hu Tao.

Chongyun is the first to speak from an area of expertise, seemingly shocked at your words. "Are you sure you want a talisman that powerful? How bad is the evil spirit you've come across?"

You glance out the window, through the semi-open blinds. The apprehension curls in your stomach once you spot Childe chasing Aether with safety scissors, and you've never been more sure of than anything in your life.

Gulping, you turn back to the exorcist. "I'm 110% sure."

He doesn't ask any more questions and goes to fetch the talisman.

Mona clears her throat. "So I hear you have a date with Childe today. Quite the character you've taken to."

"Oh please," You hiss through your teeth, your blood pressure going up tenfold, "you're the one that told him our star signs were intertwined and that we're fated lovers."

She shrugs innocently, stance casual unlike your own that is ready to lunge an attack.

"Here you are," Chongyun hands you a talisman, a colourful mix of some charms, some kind of liquid in a bottle, and about a shitton of other things. "You'll need these if you're going to face the most demonic of all evils."

You think of Childe's stupidly handsome smirk, the playful life of his eyes, and how gentle and considerate he is with you. You think about how cruel he is to others, but how loving he can be to you.

"Oh, I will be."

—

Childe is getting his ass handed to him by Scaramouche on the switch. It's just that he can't seem to focus, not with the forthcoming date all over his mind.

He hasn't experienced these kind of jitters in a long time. Has to endure that foolish smile that's about to plaster all over his face.

Scaramouche may be a son of a bitch with an agenda, but he doesn't appreciate his acquaintances safeguarding their personal crap when it starts to leak onto him. Especially when it comes to video games.

"Okay," The short boy sighs, stretching over the staff room sofa to drop his controller on the cushions. "Let's hear it." He can't even properly enjoy his victories when Childe isn't giving it his all.

"Hear what?" Childe lays his head back, relaxing from all the strain of endless gaming during the lunch hour. He seems too relaxed for someone who's broken into the teacher's lounge.

"Why you're so distracted." Scaramouche points out. "Not that I care—hey! I'm serious here!"

Childe's cracking up for absolutely no reason, rudely cutting him off. "I'm sorry—sorry it's just so hard to take you seriously when you're wearing that stupid fucking hat."

"Don't question the drip." The older moves his head to glare at him, but the thin stripe of silk on his hat swooshes with him, and it's enough to have Childe clutching his stomach in pain as he barks out in laughter.

"Grow the fuck up." Scaramouche says, no doubt exasperated from the constant shit he gets.

"Ok—ok I'm sorry."

There's a knock on the door before Scaramouche gets the chance to intimidate him again.

"Fuck shit fuck who is that? Wasn't there a staff meeting?" Childe whisper yells, panic clear in the ocean of his eyes.

Scaramouche shrugs and downs a can of soda with no care in the world.

Childe would be nonchalant too. If it were a normal day, he wouldn't give two shits about getting caught.

However, he's looking forward to that date he has with you today. Detention is going foil all his lecherous plans.

"It's me." The feminine sound of a threat calls out from the other side. "Open the door." The clicks and clacks of her toes tapping the floor indicating her impatience.

The two sigh in relief, Childe getting up to open the door. It's way too early in the afternoon to deal with this crap.

"Surprised to see me?" Signora greets sweetly, and if not for the murderous glint in her eyes, he would smile back.

"Yeah, I didn't say Bloody Mary three times." The ginger replies, keeping a steady eye on the upperclassman in case she pulls a fast one.

The blonde shoves him aside in offence, and prances in like she owns the goddamn place. Scaramouche greets her with the bird.

"There's this rumour going around—I'm sure you've heard..."

"Oh?" Childe pockets his keys, ready for an attack, not even remotely interested in the topic.

"Something about how Y/N gave Mona a visit today" Signora muses, elegantly taking a seat on the arm of the couch, "with your date and all, I just thought you should know."

"Hah!" Scaramouche bursts out in laughter, tears in the corner of his eyes. "I can't believe she went to get a horoscope reading on how shitty your date's gonna be."

"Get castrated." Childe growls, flipping him off on both hands.

"Now now boys," Signora's lips curl, and she clasps both manicured hands together, prepared to break the fight if it ever reaches its peak. "Settle down. You two are comrades."

"As if I'm comrades with this SIMP!" Scaramouche has to wheeze out the words.

The youngest clenches his fists, unclenches, and then lets a smirk grow. "Oh? I'm the simp? What about that time Mona pantsed you in-front of all the freshmen and you fell in love with her."

Scaramouche glares at him, a glare strong enough to have anyone shaking in their shoes. "I'm attracted at her sheer audacity of trying to fuck I, Scaramouche, the 8th harbinger, over. It takes balls."

"Mad respect." Signora leans forward to place her phone on the coffee table, then approaches Childe. "Moving on, the reason I've decided to bestow my precious intel on you is because I have a favour to ask of you."

"What?" He says blankly, confused that she has a request for him out of all people.

"I need you to let me get you ready for this date of yours." She gives him a gaze that is enough to wither away any arguments.

Childe shares a look with Scaramouche as if to say "am I fucking deaf because I sure as shit didn't just hear that."

"You sure as hell did, boys." Signora intercepts the connection of their two brainwaves with a dreaded sigh. "I hate Y/N. This is the only way I can get back at her."

"Hey!" Childe exclaims loudly, waving his hands in the air incessantly. "What makes you think I'll let you shit on my future girlfriend."

"I'll be doing nothing of the sorts." She points out, giving him a sly smile. "I just know she's terrified of what's coming. The better the date is, the more she's gonna hate herself. What more do I need but to sprinkle some inner conflict within her airtight resolve?"

As favorable as the proposal is, Childe  contemplates for a second. Signora...helping him? This could work to his advantage if he plays his cards right.

His inner turmoil takes him into the future, where you two are happily married with eight and a half kids. If you ever managed to find out Signora was the culprit that was finally able to set you two up, you'd never forgive him.

"Nah I'll take a hard pass." He doesn't want to think about divorce and custody battles this early on. He'd rather face the brunt of Signora's wrath.

Scaramouche chooses right then to make a tactical withdrawal out through the window since he doesn't want to be a witness to a murder he hasn't caused.

Surprisingly— "Fine then." Signora shrugs, unbothered when summoning out a minty juul from no where. She's disappointed nonetheless.

Childe tilts his head, perplexed, but decides against mulling over it for too long. Instead, he strides off to the door, wanting to get the last two periods over with so he can run home and freshen up for this date.

"Oh and Childe?" Signora calls out to him, but he barely acknowledges her, only pausing momentarily without looking back. "A piece of friendly advice. A diligent student like Y/N, there's no way she'd be into rash things like fighting. So try and control yourself, hmm?"

He flashes the senior a sheepish smile, the front row tickets to the illegal underground fight-club burning in the back pocket of his pants.

—

Childe conceals near the bushes by the gate, expertly hiding his shaking hands by pretending to look for something in his back. His goal isn't to seem desperate, even though he's raced out here at the speed of light after Havria's dismissal.

It's not like he's trying to eavesdrop or anything. He just wants a little insight on how you're feeling about this, in case the rumors of you visiting the occult club wasn't a farce.

From his peripheral, he spots you and a familiar figure that is Lisa, leisurely walking side by side as you approach the main side walk.

"Ready for your date, Y/N? You've been daydreaming all afternoon." Lisa winks, and dodges the shove you send her way with experience like no other.

"Yes, daydreaming about punching you in the face." Your left eye twitches in annoyance as you fix your hold on your skateboard.

"Well then, I'll be off—ah!"

The gorilla grip you have on her sleeve takes away all the time she has to get on the last bus she's about to miss.

Your utter strength is enough to make Childe's knees weak. How pathetic he thinks.

"Oh no you don't," You say in a sing-song voice, "you got me into this, so you're going to help."

"Help with what?" Lisa fakes a hard pout as she bats her lashes, trying to collect pity points.

"I—" You inhale, loosening your grip on her and averting your eyes nervously to see if anyone's watching. "Don't make me say it."

The older girl motions for you to continue, and you're sure you've suffered more for less at this point.

"I've never...been on a..." The sentence ends in a trailed murmur.

Childe doesn't think he's ever seen you so flustered. He's about to snap a picture for later, but decides against it. They'll be plenty of moments later on to see your cute expressions.

Lisa's grin is both seductive and terrifying, Childe notices. "You've never been on a date?"

"Shut up!" You hiss, dropping your board so you can cover her lips with your palm, eyes darting around your surroundings frantically. "Not so loud."

He has to bite at his fist to hide his amusement.

As if she has a sixth sense, Lisa's eyes somehow find Childe's through the abundance of leaves, and there's a glint in her eyes that nearly makes him shart his pants.

"Of course Y/N," She replies sweetly to you, who is currently unaware of the staring match going on. "I'll teach you everything you need to know...and more."

Childe doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing. Nor does he want to find out.

—

You ponder on what's taking him so long, more on edge than you usually are. Thankfully, Lisa basically pried your hair down from its usual up-do. Said something about how you can hide your lack of shits given as to not offend him.

Except you think you're giving more shits that you expected to. Why else would your heart be pounding so hard?

"What took you so long?" You sense him creeping up on you, ceasing his chance to pounce.

Childe groans playfully and slaps a hand over his face as he comes into view. "How'd you know?"

"You have a douche-styled gait." You reply as you remove your gaze off your phone to approach him.

He's prepared to shoot a witty reply, but it dies halfway through his throat when he procures a good look at you. Your hair frames your face elegantly, eyes shining despite the tiredness that's so clear, all complete with a cooling spring dress that hugs you just right.

Mouth going dry, he forgets how to speak the common tongue, unable to tear his gaze off your form.

You shift in place awkwardly. "Uh are you okay? Looking a little...blank."

"Sorry—sorry just thinking." Childe stumbles over his words like the complete idiot and a half he is, berating himself countlessly on the inside. He regains his confidence once he spots the light dust on your cheeks. "You ready for the best date ever?"

"The best date huh?" It's the first time you smile today, and he swears his heart leaps in his rib cage. You're the prettiest thing he's ever laid his eyes on. "I'm ready. I better not be disappointed."

"I wouldn't dare disappoint, girlie." He feigns mock offence as dramatically as possible. "I'll show you how to have some real fun. Cool keychain by the way, for good luck?"

It's one of the charms Chongyun urged you to carry with you at all times to keep all forms of evil away.

"Yeah...something like that."

The two of you ease into the walk in a relatively comfortable fashion, contributing with lively chatter and a few jabs here and there. It's not awkward at all, not like you thought it would be. Your nerves loosen up, mind diverting from the roots of the stress of high school.

"—And you won't believe what Kaeya did the other day. I'm telling you there's something wrong with him because that SoundCloud rapper wannabe Venti goaded him into birdboxing through the hallways at lunch."

"And the son of a bitch did it?"

"The son of a bitch did it." Childe confirmed, gasping through his laughs as the two of you converse in psychobabble. "And guess who he bumped into?"

You're choking in laughter, tears in your eyes as you hunch over and shake. "He didn't. Childe—no he didn't."

"Straightttt into Diluc. And he had the balls to feel him up because he thought he bumped into a hot bab—"

Childe crashes into a sturdy chest and stumbles backwards towards you, but manages to catch his balance midway. Both of you freeze when faced with a buff guy from another school, bandages on his fist and a crooked smirk on his face.

Fuck. You think. Classic high school cliché.

Realizing he can't risk the remainder of this date when it hasn't even begun, Childe raises a hand in apology, aiming to be the bigger person instead of socking the kid in the face.

"Sorry. I wasn't looking." He offers to the guy, but you can tell he isn't buying any of it. There are about four more kids who group, a setup that isn't going to end in your favour.

"Hey punk. You don't remember me?" The upperclassmen barks out, glaring holes into your date.

You deadpan towards Childe, but he's too is racking his brain to remember. Ends up shrugging with no recollection.

"I have a list of names but they're in my other pants." Shit, what an a-grade reply. Now you know you're done for. "Listen dude, I'm kind of on a date and the vibe is going great. Don't ruin it."

"It's a good thing she's here to watch then!" The guy yells, stomping so that he's right in-front of Childe, ready to pounce. "You humiliated me in front of my gang last week. I'm here to rip you a new one."

Childe blinks, tries to remember, and when he doesn't, he grabs a wad full of cash from the his Fanny pack and throws it at the guy's feet.

Everyone's eyes bulge out of their sockets, including yours at the amount of money placed there casually on the crack of the dirty sidewalk.

"Hopefully this is enough for the damages." Childe offers, aiming to not further escalate the situation albeit how pissed he is right now. If you weren't here...well that would be another, much more violent story.

With a soft tug, Childe brings you close and begins to pass the guy, until he's abruptly stopped by a hand gripping his shoulder tightly.

"I don't think so!" The guys barks, and his lackeys move to surround you two. "You gotta pay taxes too buddy." Oh he's getting way too comfortable now.

A feral smile grows on Childe's face as he looks over his shoulder. "Oh?"

"Yeah shithead." The guy seethes, puffing out his chest to size him up.

Childe itches for a fight. He can no longer keep in the urge and is just about ready to raise a heavy fist, but is beaten by the sound of a loud thwack, and then a painful groan following.

There you are, standing in front of the trembling asshole, spinning your crossbody bag in circles like it's a nunchuck in all it's glory. There's a deadly glint in your eyes, pure, unadulterated vexation in your features.

If Childe could fall for you any harder, it's probably happening now. In that exact moment, his heart beats in his ears uncontrollably, and there's nothing but raw adoration that piles up all at once.

You're an angel of destruction, a force not to be reckoned with, and shit, you're the eye of the fucking storm.

Fire courses through your veins as you pulverize the guy with your bag, swinging with such expertise it has Childe in awe. "He may be an absolute idiot for not remembering—"

"Hey girlie you're killing me here!" Your date snaps out of his astonishment temporarily.

"—but you don't get to call him a shithead, you asshole!" You snarl angrily, gripping the handle of your bag tightly, decking everyone that lunges at you, letting out strings of curses with every hit. Every hit sends a flock of them either stumbling back in pain, or knocked out completely.

Childe doesn't even get a chance to lift a finger by the time you're done violating them with your heavy ass pink bag. Stands there like an absolute loser.

"Apologize." You pant, prepared to send another flurry of attacks at the leader, who is crawling away with a battered face. "Apologize or I'll—I'll fucking Russian neck tie your ass."

"S-sorry!" The guy whimpers out and tries not to piss his pants at the threat.

Childe is still in too much shock at the whole ordeal to reply, short circuiting.

Another thirty seconds pass until he registers the smaller hand waving in front of his face. He catches your cold hand through his haze, brings it closer.

Running a free hand through his locks, he doesn't hide his astonishment. "You're fucking gorgeous, girlie." He whistles lowly, eyeing you with a new kind of regard.

"I-I uh." Your face is all shades of red by now, the adrenaline from kicking ass wearing down. "Let's go."

"How is that bag so heavy?" One of the fallen gasps out in pain, clutching his ribs as he trembles on the floor. "Like a buh-brick."

A part of your zipper in open, and Childe briefly peeks out of morbid curiosity. His jaw slackens. "Is that a...no, it can't be."

"It's a brick." You murmur guiltily, gnawing at your bottom lip. "Just in case." Fingers tentatively play with the straps.

Childe is head over heels by now, all smitten as a foreign warmth bubbles up in his throat, and he's just about sure he'll puke his heart out.

His next words are picked out carefully. "There's an underground fight club going on—"

You lock and aim for his right kidney.

Worth a try, Childe thinks.

"SIKE. Joking—joking. Just a joke." He insists, gloved hands raised by his ears in defence.

Clicking your tongue, you scowl and rush past him.

It hasn't even been an hour and it's been the most exciting date Childe's ever experienced. When he sees your lips twitch, he knows it's the same for you as well.

"Are we going or not?" You mumble, avoiding eye contact, a tinge of red still decorating your cheeks.

Childe crumbles into his hands at your deadly duality. One that comes for his enemies and one that comes straight for his heart.

[yakocchi]

A Special Anniversary with the Prince // Voiced Mini Stories

time for the one bmp1-themed event for the next couple of months yea i grumble abt bmp2 all the time but i still play and check schedules. dont get it twisted, i know whos the real clown in this relationship

i think this is supposed to be a small event to celebrate the former bmp1 social (GREE) anniversary, which was aug 29. bmp2’s anni is in sept, so this is a small period of time they can recognize it i suppose

these events are so faccin short holy crud i cannot stress that enough. im used to bs, but it feels rude considering how bmp1 is only like a side... thing. yes, theyve been gradually rereleasing season 2 on bmp2 platforms over the course of this year, but thats just a port man. also not a very good port given that even when u shell out all ur cruz for the sweet story it doesnt get saved to the album + i dun even want to hear of it until they materialize a zain season 2 out of thin air. i know hes prob supposed to be a one-shot route (like jin) but he’s a good guy yea good guy by sf9 pls stream

quicc translations behind the cut

Glenn (CV. Ishikawa Kaito)

[G]: “Pretty... No; while the fireworks are pretty too, of course, I was talking about you.” [G]: “...Ugh, what are you saying, me?” [G]: “But if I don’t properly express how I feel, then I won’t have my feelings expressed period.” [G]: “Today, you’re... crazy pretty.”

⋆ sorry idk the proper prince-like equivalent of essentially “hella” ;;

Zain (CV. Hirakawa Daisuke)

[Z]: “Even in a place like Nobel Castle, one gets to see fireworks on several occasions, but…” [Z]: “There is nothing that could surpass seeing the fireworks with you like this.” [Z]: “Could you not hear me over the fireworks?” [Z]: “Then… (kiss)” [Z]: “With that, my feelings have been expressed (to you), no? [Z]: “…Your red face— Is that due to the fireworks?” [Z]: “I jest. It seems… that my feelings have been properly conveyed.”

Joshua (CV. Namikawa Daisuke)

[J]: “Bring out your hand. I mustn’t lose sight of you in this crowd, after all.” [J]: “This is also… pest repellent.” [J]: “As there isn’t a man who wouldn’t think about looking at you with that yukata on…”

Edward (CV. Okitsu Kazuyuki)

[E]: “There is quite the variety of fireworks, hm.” [E]: “Ah- the one over there is a rose, is it?” [E]: “Haha, I’m elated by simply watching lovely fireworks like this, but,” [E]: “As for me— Coupled with these grand fireworks," [E]: “Being able to see a smile appear to blossom on your face, makes me feel happier than anything else.”

Keith (CV. Kondo Takashi)

[K]: “These fireworks are huge.” [K]: “Well, I mean, Oriens’ fireworks are a bit different from Liberty’s…” [K]: “They stand out as more of a modest beauty than a flashy one— they resemble you…” [K]: “—No, ‘was nothing. Forget it.”

Roberto (CV. Kimura Ryohei)

[R]: “Hey, hey, in Oriens,” [R]: “They say, ‘Tamaya!’ when viewing fireworks—” [R]: “Right?” [R]: “Let’s shout it together!” [R]: “Ready, set— Tamaya!!”

Wilfred (CV. Sakurai Takahiro)

[W]: “When the fireworks end, can the two of us sneak out for a bit?” [W]: “Hm- Can’t hear me over the fireworks?” [W]: “After this, can we sneak out-…?” [W]: “Still can’t hear me?” [W]: “…Haah… One thing left to do…” [W]: “…(kiss)” [W]: “Get it now?”

Yakov (CV. Yasumoto Hiroki)

[Y]: “Your eyes are more brilliant than the fireworks here.” [Y]: “I find it more entertaining to watch you over that of the fireworks as well.” [Y]: “I never tire of seeing your expression change rapidly from this to that in such a way.”

FIN

i have nothing left to say tbh. uh well ive been playing ed’s sequel for no real reason (guess i want the campaign stuff. i guess). RYAN........ if he was given a budget of 50 extra dollars hed be a cutie tbh like bmp1 leonardo. which is why leonhart makes the big bux

on another note, ive seen the anni page and it seems like an event that involves the bmp1 cast appearing (as side charas to the bmp2 guy obv) may be in order ........ill be waiting