#why do we hold forks so weird

[lillotte17]

No idea when I will get the chance to finish this, so here is a sneaky peeky at that comic.

[soleilapproves]

You suspect that Simon might have a crush on you (much to your happiness). So you decide to harmlessly manipulate him into admitting it by asking him to set you up with one of his friends.

Note: fem!reader

main masterlist

—

r/advice

u/throwaway123:

How do I (F) subtly find out if my friend (M33) likes me?

Replies:

u/sudsysoap: there’s no need to be subtle. ask him to sleep with you lmao [+50, -10]

u/pricetag: agree with u/sudsysoap, men will sleep with anything as long as it has a hole [+30, -20]

u/log1cal: ask him to set you up with his friends. I did that and now we have 2 kids and a third one on the way. That prank will work wonders [+100, -7]

You had a feeling that Simon liked you. It felt obvious. He would walk by the street on the sidewalk to protect you, brought you deadbolts for your mangy apartment that you only live in for the cheap rent, would buy you groceries when you were too tired to leave your bed, and of course, would be very patient with you when you’d be feeling irritated.

Okay, maybe, he just treated you like how a best friend should but that still wouldn’t explain why he’d come to your apartment, in your crime ridden neighborhood and cuddle with you right after deployment. Not even bothering to shower before laying himself down on you like a starfish.

“I just want to feel warm.” Was his answer whenever you’d ask him why he did so.

You never complained though. Instead, you relished the feeling of his heavy and exhausted body against yours. Enjoying the almost territorial hold he had on you. Like most friendships, it was a symbiotic relationship.

You both never kept much from each other. Obviously there were many aspects of his job that you couldn’t ask about and you respected that.

However, you both had hidden feelings and neither of you wanted to put your cards on the table out of the fear of rejection.

You watched as the man scarfed down his Sunday breakfast- a sort of inside tradition where you’d both go to a cafe near your apartment and scarf down food. It always happened on the first Sunday after his return from deployment.

The words from that one Reddit comment lingered in your mind.

He felt your eyes on him from your end of the booth and placed his fork down, still in his grasp. “Somethin’ on my face?” His gruff voice asked. 

“No, I’m just wondering if they even fed you at all.”

He let out a sarcastic ‘ha’ and went back to eating. You were getting antsy to the point where you began to pick at your hash brown with your fork, the crisp golden patty crumbling with every poke.

You wanted to try the trick so bad.

But what if he doesn’t like you like that? What if he does end up setting you up with a man you aren’t interested in because you decided to be sly for a moment?

Fuck it. At least this would be the least explicit way.

“I’m so tired of being single.” You huffed as you leaned back into the leather cushioned booth. Simon did not give any sort of reaction. Instead he directed his attention to his coffee as he mixed it with some zero calorie sweetener.

“All the guys in this city are so weird. I’ve done everything to get a boyfriend.” You continued. Simon sipped his beverage and looked through the menu again (probably for a second helping of sausages).

Still no reaction. Sometimes you wondered how you even became friends with him.

“Wait, I know.”

His demeanor changed as his blue eyes flit to your figure. “You should set me up with one of your military friends.” You said as you smiled like a scientist who had just made a great discovery in his field.

Simon beckoned you over with his hand. Confused, you slid towards his end of the booth. “What?”

He lightly knocked on the top of your head like it was a door. “Thank God,” he muttered out.

“What was that for?” You replaced his hand with yours on your head, checking to see if he was trying to remove any lint.

“Tryin’ to check if your skull was hollow.”

“Fuck you, Simon. All I did was ask for a favor.”

The man folded his arms, biceps begging to be let out of the confinement of his sleeves. Your heart couldn’t help but beat a little faster at the sight.

“Is it because I’m not pretty?”

“Where’d that even come from? I-“

“So you agree that I’m not pretty.” You said before huffing and turning away from him.

“Oh my- fuck, just listen to me.”

You open your mouth to say more but you decide to give your friend a break.

He cleared his throat and turned your shoulders towards him. Your skin burned when his calloused palms situated themselves on you. “First of all, you’re not ugly. You’re basically out of their league.” You never understood why he couldn’t just compliment you like a normal person.

“Second, you deserve someone who will actually give you all their time. Something my military friends can’t do. You’re not going to be a priority.”

You felt like shrinking in your seat. His reasoning was ambiguous. You couldn’t tell if he was denying your request because he didn’t want your heart broken or because he actually liked you.

“Oh, okay.” You looked away from him in embarrassment. So much for miracles.

“Besides,”

He then went on to replace the deconstructed hash brown on your plate with his non battered one.

“You might find someone if you look hard enough.”

Your head perked up. Could he possibly be hinting at something?

“What do you mean?”

“Go out with me.” He didn’t beat around the bush this time. Went straight to the point.

“I don’t want you to date me out of pity, Simon.”

“It’s not pity. I like you.”

Oh.

OH.

You made a mental note to thank that one Reddit comment later. Trying your best not to smile, you let out a deep a breath before speaking. “Truth be told, I like you too. I don’t just let any man barge into my house and lay with me.”

“You’d better not.” Simon said as he pulled you into his side and then pushed your head close to his with his hand behind your neck.

“Been waitin’ for you to admit that,” he said before leaving a deep kiss on your mouth.

[p0orbaby]

Reader being Beth Mead’s little sister & is dating Leah. Beth finding them in a compromising position/situation (shagging) 🤣🤣 feel like this would make a funny story

-

Beth has always been overprotective. It’s in her nature, like her knack for nutmegging defenders or her inexplicable hatred of pineapple on pizza. Growing up, you couldn’t so much as look at someone without Beth launching into her overbearing big-sister routine: “Who’s that? What do they want? Do I need to have a word?”

So naturally, when you start dating Leah Williamson—her teammate and captain of England—you make a pact with her to keep it under wraps for a bit. Just until Beth gets used to the idea.

That was six months ago.

Which explains why you’re currently in Beth’s spare room, shirt on the floor, Leah’s hair sticking to her face, and your brain short-circuiting as the door slams open.

“What the actual fuck?” Beth’s voice slices through the air like a referee’s whistle.

“Beth!” you shriek, scrambling for the duvet, which is already half-tangled around Leah.

“Mead-o,” Leah starts, holding up her hands like she’s negotiating a hostage situation, except she’s also very much topless. “I can explain—”

“Explain what?!” Beth snaps, her face a mix of outrage and something dangerously close to amusement. “Why you’re shagging my little sister in my house?”

“This isn’t—” you start, but you’re not even sure where that sentence is going.

“This isn’t what?” Beth interrupts, arms crossed, one eyebrow arched in that infuriatingly smug way she’s perfected over the years. “What it looks like? Because it looks like my friend is banging my sister on my spare bed”

Leah winces. “Don’t say ‘banging’”

“Sorry. Would you prefer I say ‘fornicating’? ‘Getting it on’? ‘Knocking boots’?”

“Beth!” you yell, throwing a pillow at her, which she bats away with infuriating ease.

The room falls into a horrifically awkward silence. You can hear Leah’s breathing beside you, shallow and uneven, and somewhere in the distance, the hum of Beth’s washing machine hitting its spin cycle.

“How long?” Beth finally asks, her tone softer now but no less accusatory.

“Six months,” Leah admits, sitting up and grabbing her shirt from the floor. “We were going to tell you—”

“Oh, were you?” Beth cuts her off, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Before or after I walked in on this absolute nightmare?”

“Can you not call my love life a nightmare?” you snap, pulling on your own hoodie.

“Baby, it’s her love life now too,” Leah mutters under her breath, which earns her a withering glare from Beth.

Beth sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose like she’s trying to summon the strength not to kill either of you. “This is mental. Fucking mental”

“Beth, come on,” you say, standing up and crossing the room to her. “It’s not like we planned for you to walk in on us”

“Oh, that makes it better, does it?” Beth fires back, but her tone is losing its edge.

Leah stands, hands stuffed in her pockets, looking more sheepish than you’ve ever seen her. “Beth, look. I know this is… not ideal. But I love her. And I would never hurt her. You know that”

Beth stares at Leah for what feels like an eternity, then at you, then back at Leah. Finally, she sighs. “Fine. But if I hear anything—”

“You won’t,” you both say in unison.

Beth shakes her head, muttering something about needing a drink, and leaves the room.

As the door closes, you collapse back onto the bed, groaning. “Well, that went well”

Leah snorts, climbing in beside you. “Could’ve been worse”

“How?”

“She could’ve filmed it for blackmail.”

You shove her, but you’re laughing now, the tension broken.

Later, when you’re all sitting around the kitchen table, Beth pours herself a very large glass of wine and declares, “For the record, I still think this is weird”

“Noted,” Leah says, raising her tea in mock salute.

“And don’t think this means I’m going easy on you at training,” Beth adds, pointing at Leah with a fork.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Leah replies, grinning.

And as deranged and mortifying as the whole thing was, you can’t help but feel relieved. Because if Beth didn’t truly care, she wouldn’t be sitting here, threatening Leah with a fork.

[tastesousweet]

⭒ blurb : calling hamzah your “friend”

bf!hamzah x poc!reader

summary : headcannons/blurb based on the tiktok trend of calling your partner “friend”

mickey speaks : since ppl really liked my first lil blurb imma just play out all my tt fantasies with our fake bf :D also pls send me any hamzah reqs my brain is very empty lmfao!!!!

─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────

you prop your phone up against the vase of flowers on your dining room table, capturing both you and hamzah in frame.

“guysss!! look my friend brought me takeout hibachi for dinner tonight!” you squeal and lift the styrofoam box to show off your meal.

hamzah doesn’t catch it the first time, he’s honestly tweaking because he stopped to get you both dinner right after the gym.

he feels starved but maintains composure and a smile for your tiktok bit

“i just got the basic fried rice, veggies, and chicken. i think my friend got the same, hamzah what’d you get?”

his eyebrows pinch in confusion for a second, “uh yeah, i got the same as you.”

“okay first bites! i’ll have my friend go first” you can’t help but smile when you grab the phone and start to record hamzah, but he’s paused holding his fork in the air.

“why do you keep saying that?” he softly asks through a laugh.

“what?”

“callin’ me your friend?”

“are we not friends...?" "i mean yeah sure but like not just that?" "you're confusing me, just take your bite please we’re gonna run out of time on this”

he nods his head compliantly and exaggerates a hum of “mmm!” after his bite before taking your phone to film yours.

“okay friend, your turn!” he loudly mocks with a wide grin.

you try not to laugh while taking a bite yourself

“it's actually so good, i needed this right now.”

you now record the both of you, “okay my friend and i are gonna finish this and then we’ll be back with more bestie activities!”

as soon as you say 'friend' again hamzah leaves the frame to chuckle through the amount of food in his mouth.

“right, best friend?” you urge some more

he swallows and pettily glances from side to side, “where's the best friend at???”

“okay he’s trippin’ but we’ll be back”

you're both in your bathroom now, hamzah reads over the packaging of two sheet face masks while you pull your hair away from your face with a fuzzy cat-eared headband.

"'kay, now we're gonna do these face masks together, because hamzah’s such a good friend!” you hold and rub his arm.

he puffs his lips and closes his eyes in defeat while shaking his head, “stop,” he looks down at you, noticing your headband, “that’s cute,” he flicks one of the cat ears on your headband.

“you look like one of those get ready with me girls; you'd be like,” he mockingly pretends to push his hair back, “‘get ready with me to lie on the internet!’”

you laugh with him and add to the joke as well, "get ready with me to kill my boy-friend! my friend!" your eyes widen and you try hide the embarrassment.

hamzah quite literally points and laughs, "look at you! even you know you're a damn lie! girl, get outta here!"

cuts to a clip where it’s just hamzah talking to your phone as he shifts the mask around on his face, “i don’t even know if i’m doin’ this right, bruh.” he looks into the camera, “oh hell nah, i look crazy!”

“it feels so weird…” he taps at the slick, cold mask some more before coming close to the camera again, “guys im having a fucking identity crisis. why’s my girlfriend gaslighting me right now?"

“like, i didn’t even know that girls knew how to do that…comment down below right now and give me tips on how to understand women.”

“okay i found one, look how cute!” you’re back and holding another fuzzy headband with a bow in the middle.

hamzah laughs, “i love you, but im not wearing that.”

in the next clip of course he’s wearing it, “aw don't we look so cute?”

finally cuts to a clip of you later that night throwing yourself next to him in bed and flipping the camera to record him as he plays candy crush, curled under the comforter. “hi babbyyyyy! i was joking about the friend thing i know you’re my boyfriend.”

“i know you know i’m your boyfriend,” he distractedly mumbles, laying on his side while continuing to move his thumb around his phone screen.

you flip the camera once more as you wrap an arm around him and squish your face on top of his hooded head. he looks into the camera and smirks to himself when he sees your sweet face.

he sticks his tongue out obnoxiously, yells “goodnight vlog!!!” and covers your phone's camera with his hand forcing a loud cackle out of you.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Peanut and Liefje

England Lionesses x Child!Reader (Peanut) x Liefje

Summary: Liefje's your best friend

"Hey," Georgia says," Stop wandering. Your mums won't be happy if I let you run in traffic."

"Waitin' for Liefje," You say," She's coming today. Did you know?"

Auntie G laughs. "I did know that. Are you excited that your friend is coming?"

"Haven't seen Liefje in ages," You reply," Because she went with her Viv to the Netherlands. I want to see her."

"I'm sure that she's excited to see you too."

When the bus finally pulls up with the rest of the squad, you're practically vibrating in excitement and keep trying to push Auntie G's arm off of you as the doors open.

Liefje is one of the last off, with her blue fish backpack on her back and her cookie cutter shark under her arm.

"Liefje!" You cry, running towards and nearly knocking her to the ground if her mum wasn't there to stabilise you both.

"Hi!"

You hug for a super long time because Liefje's your very best friend and you love her so much.

You hold her hand nice and tight all the way to the lunch room where you sit at a table together with her mum, your mums and a few of the City girls.

"My mummies were naked cuddling a few days ago," You say over the sound of cutlery scraping against plates," Mum was kissing Mummy's neck and whispering things to her. Mummy kept making weird noises too and-"

Mum's hand covers your mouth so you can't speak anymore. Hempo and Chloe are laughing but you're not sure why. You haven't said anything that funny.

Liefje's frowning though, a little furrow between her eyebrows as she stabs a carrot with her fork. "My mummies don't naked cuddle," She says," Sometimes they make weird noises but I stay in bed. Sometimes, I go and see Carpet."

Beth covers Leifje's mouth too and the whole table bursts into laughter.

Chloe wrenches Mum's hand from your face. "Tell us more," She says," What else did you see?"

"Peanut," Mummy says," Less talking, more eating."

You know that really means no talking, just eating so you sullenly shovel food into your mouth.

"Mummy," You hear Liefje say," I'm done."

"Done?" Beth says," Well done, Liefje. Do you want something else?"

Liefje shakes her head. "When Peanut's done, can we go and play?"

"I don't know. You'll have to ask Peanut's mums."

"Keira, when Peanut's done, can we go and play?"

"I'm done!" You say," I'm done, Mummy! Can we go and play now?!"

Mum shakes her head before Mummy can speak though. "You're not done at all, Peanut. Come on, a few more bites."

"But I want to play with Liefje!"

"Eat and then we can play. It's just like at Barcelona. You don't get to go and play with Pina and Patri until you've finished lunch. You don't get to play with Liefje until you finish lunch."

"Two more bites," Mummy says," And then you can play with Liefje until training. Agreed?"

"Big bites," Mum tacks on," Not little girl bites. Big girl bites."

You huff but do as you're told. You don't want Liefje to think you're not a big girl and you grab her hand as soon as you're done, dragging her off to where Lessi and Tooney are sitting.

Lessi and Tooney are very funny sometimes so you and Liefje play around with them and a game of Connect Four. You're on the same team as Liefje because she's your bestest friend and she's very smart.

She knows lots of things about sharks so her brain must be very big so she should be good at Connect Four too.

You're mainly there to be her cheerleader. Your Mum says you're the best hype girl in the world and you really want to support Liefje so she can win for your team.

"No!" You say, standing up when Tooney flicks one of the counters at Liefje. "Stop it! No bullying! Bullying is bad!"

"Yeah, Tooney," Alessia giggles," No bullying."

"It's really bad!" You insist," So stop or I'll tell on you!"

Liefje goes to select one of your team's counters when Tooney flicks another one at her.

You don't like that all. Liefje's your bestest friend in the world and she shouldn't be bullied.

You stomp around the table and hit Tooney on the arm. Your mummy says never to hit people but Mum says you can hit to protect someone else. That's what you're doing.

You're protecting Liefje.

"No! No! No!" You say, hitting Tooney so she knows that there's consequences to her actions," Stop! Stop! Stop! No bullying!"

You want to keep hitting her but a soft hand takes yours and you turn to look at Liefje.

She looks a little sad, eyebrows drawn together and you glare at Ella for making your friend look like this.

"Come on," Liefje says in that quiet voice of hers," I think I'm tired. I don't want to play anymore."

"Okay!" You nod, taking her hand in yours a bit more firmer and pulling her over to where your mummies are sitting. You stick your other hand out towards your Mum. "Blanket."

"Blanket, what?"

You huff. "Blanket, please."

Mum hands you your blanket and you wrap it around Liefje's shoulders like how Mum does to you sometimes. You don't have a pillow but you drag a table cover off a table that isn't being used and bundle it up so Liefje can rest her head.

You don't really like sleeping without being in a blanket cave but you're feeling a little sleepy too so you cuddle up next to Liefje and lay next to her.

You're just protecting her in case Ella comes back to bully her.

[dogtoling]

RE: Question about whether the Deepsea and the Octarian Domes are directly connected to each other. sorry i'm stealing your reply @bucketsquid but i see a chance to talk about this i have to take it. So idk let's try to decode how they might actually be connected.

This is the obvious conclusion. For the record I think it's the RIGHT conclusion after Side Order because they seemed to REALLY imply it this time. I thought for a really long time that the Deepsea and Octarian domes HAVE TO be connected because not only are they both subterranean but also literally how else do you get that many freaking Octolings in there? Since the metro is connected to the Inkopolis subway anyway wouldn't it be WAY EASIER TO JUST GET SQUIDS? (though to be honest i still stand by this.)

Anyway the obvious assumption is that the Deepsea and Octarian domes connect to each other. though it's not so straightforward. How they connect to each other exactly? we don't really know. Anyway let's get back into this in just a second i need to show what absolutely dashed my hopes and made me really mad when it happened

THIS MAP. THEY POSTED THIS MAP. Before this map I was having a great time because this is what the map was in my head:

"why was that the map in your head" idk. the giant stretches of water surrounding both canyons and inkopolis stretching into said body of water gave me the mental image that the canyons were in the ocean by inkopolis' coast. alongside some of the very old concept art that shows some of the domes even being underneath inkopolis if i'm not mistaken!

from the art of splatoon 1. this is an ancient and I MEAN ANCIENT manga depicting what is obviously an early concept of the story so it shouldn't ACTUALLY be taken as fact (almost nothing in this manga holds up anymore). But some of the things WERE kept! I have to assume this is also why you get into Octo Valley through the sewer in the games because the story mode was meant to take place literally straight underneath Inkopolis... it makes a lot less sense in the final result when you supposedly take the sewer like 50 kilometers (i dont know the actual distances but i think they're able to be deciphered) underground to a canyon in the middle of nowhere.

Why is there even continuous sewage all that way. What is happening. Is it even a sewer or a really long underground secret tunnel that Captain Cuttlefish dug because he's been really bored for 100 years.

kind of besides the point. back to the issue of the deepsea and the octarian empire being connected. You know, with the Deepsea Metro being located in Inkopolis Bay and the domes supposedly being all over the Inkopolis underground and the surrounding locations, it didn't seem that far fetched that they could siphon Octolings from the underground (where they live) to another very close-by fork of the underground (the Deepsea). However,

1. the Deepsea is NOT Octarian territory, but its own type of society. which is really weird considering how much Octarian iconography is down there, let alone how many OCTARIANS are down there

2. We have SO LITTLE knowledge about the true scope of the Deepsea that you can't even say for sure whether the Deepsea is *JUST* the Deepsea Metro and the facilities and industrial cities in that exact specific area, or if it's a big underwater and underground empire similar in scope to the Octarian domes, maybe even built in the exact same dome network - or a neighboring one. (This would mean they have a border somewhere undefined, underground.)

3. At face value with only the map, this is the distance for a Single Octarian to travel in order to get from where they live/are stationed, to get to the Deepsea Metro which is cluttered with one billion octarians

HELLO? THAT IS SO FAR. it's even worse than the distance Agents 3 and 4 are swimming through the god damn sewer. This also makes very little sense if we assume all the subterranean domes in all of these locations are exclusively under their surface counterparts... which... well, we don't know.

We know that the Deepsea Metro is connected to the Inkopolis Underground (it even shows this on the map with the little dotted line). I don't really know the significance of that but I've taken it to mean that the Deepsea Metro that is highlighted in the map shows specifically the area covered by the Kamabo Corporation and the tests there, and honestly again, I don't even know if the Deepsea is any bigger than that. Since it's been stated to be an independent society from Inkopolis or the Octarians, you would ASSUME there'd be ample space for people to like, live, and maybe work, and produce stuff you need to like, live. Instead of the test facility being literally the only place that exists plus a city built around only that to sustain everything.

Furthermore, we don't know if Octarians have cities on the surface in their part of the surface world! This is something that really bothers me because I think knowing whether or not this is the case would change SO MUCH (i'm currently under the assumption it is a barren wasteland with Literally Nothing). However given the location of the Salmonid Swim Zone, we can SEE cities in the background of multiple stages, and judging by this map those would be mainly on the Octarian coasts. This could mean that Octarians have surface cities where they coexist with the Salmon, it could mean that they USED TO have surface cities and abandoned them, OR it could mean that Salmonids actually live on Octarian surface turf while the Octarians themselves live underground! Idk! There's a lot of options!

I kind of doubt Octarians have cities on the surface because if they did, then it would feel redundant for the game to keep coming back to "the Octoling world" being this horrible military regime underground that people try to get to the surface from. If it was that easy to get to the surface it feels odd that it would be a big deal. We know that the Octarian domes, at least in Octo Valley, are specifically an underground *secret* military base.

(*Secret* being explicitly stated before and it would imply that they wouldn't necessarily NEED to live underground, but it's just way easier to do Secret Things underground. Plus the surface is a wasteland so honestly not a lot to lose there.)

We still haven't really seen what they have aside from that. We don't know where they get their food, for example. There's got to be farmers in a society. There HAS TO be some kind of surface access or activity, and if you squint, Octo Canyon IS a surface city that they seem to have free access to. So why not have others? It seems only logical to have more. In this case the oppression of the Octoling world and being forced to stay underground feels really case-specific, but it seems to also be an overarching thing that's quite widespread, so... I don't know, I WANT MORE OCTARIAN WORLDBUILDING *PLEASE* i'm working with crumbs here.

Anyway. my current assumption of the subterranean areas of the Deepsea and the Octarian empire goes something like this, all things considered that I've talked about...

(Not exactly that but you get the general picture)

When you put it this way, it suddenly makes a lot more sense that Octarians would be getting into the Deepsea. Generally I tried to keep the locations of Octarian tunnel systems to their turf, and the locations of Deepsea tunnels under the ocean floor, though with Octarian domes explicitly stated to have been dug by humans there's. really no reason they couldn't stretch into Inkling territory. We have no idea how big these tunnel systems are in scope, NO idea.

And that's also the problem with trying to solve this part of worldbuilding, because my concept could easily be right but it could also be COMPLETELY wrong! It's totally possible that the dome networks are actually secluded and tiny and are *just* under the Octarian craters and nowhere else, and it's totally possible that the entirety of the Deepsea is JUST Kamabo Co and the few settlements surrounding it. I'm not that confident that I'm right but I'm not really confident that we'll get answers to these questions either, at least as long as the story modes keep intentionally avoiding expanding on existing game locations and pretending theyre not in the splatoon world at all by making their key locations abstract and closed off bubbles on purpoCOUGH HACK who said that

There is 1 thing I've completely failed to mention in this post and it's that Octo Valley and the Deepsea Metro are like, explicitly connected. Which by the way makes NO SENSE given they're on opposite corners of the map. But between what we know from Side Order and from this Official Snippet from Splatoon Base, the Official Splatoon Story Resource By Nintendo,

Ignoring that none of this makes sense anymore or is intentionally misleading compared to what we know from Agent 8's memory loss now. Anyway. This seems to just imply the Deepsea is *under* Octo Valley. WHICH WOULD LINE UP WITH SIDE ORDER, weirdly enough. It is possible that the Deepsea domes could actually OVERLAP with Octarian Domes, it's just built FAR under sea level, not bound to the actual location of the sea itself.

I want to point out that this segment in the splatoon base and the game itself and dev interviews all tend to contradict each other in some ways when you look at them side by side, which is frustrating, but also serves as a reminder that sometimes the official resources don't know exactly what they're talking about either. so it's often not worthwhile looking them up and trying to conclude something based on it just to find out that it's literally contradicted in the game itself.

anyway, we know One Thing now and it's that there's at least no way that Octarian domes and the Deepsea AREN'T connected to each other in some way. this post doesn't exactly solve the issue of How but there was an attempt. I don't think this is ultimately something you can come to a concrete foolproof conclusion on until there is more information. But in the meantime I guess there's speculation.

[poppy-metal]

when you come to in vamp artashis guest room, you wonder if maybe you had dreamed it. your neck throbbed, but there was no wound. you felt weak, but that was almost definitely the hangover. yes. a dream. you were probably too drunk to do anything, and they probably put you up in their bedroom out of pity. bless their hearts, you almost felt guilty. and regretful. how you would’ve like to fuck them.

but maybe it isn’t a dream, because the blonde one, art his name was, comes in holding a tray, with an expression on his face that borders on manic excitement. he looks thrilled with the novelty of the task he’s performing, which under normal circumstances would be extremely sweet, with no hidden layer of irony. but he lifted the tray up like you wouldn’t know what it was, and in a voice too loud for your pounding head said “eggs and bacon!”

he was so gorgeous. he was shirtless, only in boxers like he didn’t feel the morning chill. his hair was tossed to and fro but always looked angelic and framed his face, the picture of youth and vitality. you forgave him his loud entrance immediately.

“thank you so much,” you croak as he lays the tray on your lap gently,”i’m so, so sorry about last night, i didn’t realise how drunk i was. i hope i didn’t disappoint you and your wife.”

“disappoint us?”

he stood over you, waiting for you to eat his overcooked breakfast and love it, ringing his hands together like a dad finished with a woodworking project. you pop a piece of egg in your mouth. extremely mediocre.

“what do you remember of last night?”

“just coming back here, kissing. and i had a weird dream, so i don’t know how much of that is real. why?”

“it wasn’t a dream. do you like your breakfast?”

you pause with some fluffy egg on the end of shiny fork tensils. the way art is staring at you is sort of uncanny valley - you can't place what it is. just some displacement in the air around him. he stands too still, too perfectly still. you wouldn't notice how abnormal this is - except now you do. usually people are always moving in some way. shifting. even a slight sway when standing in one place. he's like marble. a statue of some greek god or angel.��

you lower the fork. he watches the motion. with your other hand, you delicately touch the side of your neck again, feeling. his eyes watch that movement too. his pupils dilate. blue almost disappearing entirely within black. he licks his bottom lip. 

“did you bite me last night?” 

you don't feel any marks. but your dream….. maybe they were somewhere else. you put the plate to the side and moved the covers aside, blinking down at your body. last night was fuzzy, yes, but you were definitely still in your dress last you remembered. you weren't in a dress now. you were in a soft cotton tshirt. white and large on your bodym, coming down to your knees. a mans shirt. 

“that's my shirt. and yes, I did. are you feeling alright, by the way?” 

you look up at him. the clouds in your brain begin to part, revealing something that is far more ominous and dangerous than the sun. even if you still can't place it. 

“did we have sex?” the biting isn't so abnormal. loads of past boyfriends had given you hickeys before. but really, you'd have liked to remember losing your virginity. you tried to focus between your legs- squeezed your inner muscles to test for any aches and pains, but felt none. mostly just your neck ached. he must have really bitten you, then. but then where was the mark? 

“we didn't.” art tells you. he looks a little forlorn about this. “you passed out in the middle of - in the middle of uh.” some pink comes to his cheeks. it's a beautiful color on his smooth pale skin. “in the middle of things.” he settles on. he sits down gently, the bed dipping under his weight. “I wanted to, though.” 

you feel your own cheeks heat. your fingers play with the frayed edges of your - his - shirt, nervously. the room is so quiet. no other sounds like a clock ticking or a fan whirring. it's just you and this practical stranger. alone in a unfamiliar room. 

“im - I'm kind of glad we didn't.” you admit. “I dont know if I told you - the night is a blur - if I didn't, I'm sorry - I should have. it's just that I'm actually a virgin? not that it's a big deal or anything to me - I just. well, it's something I'd like to remember, at least.” 

arts places his hand close to your knee on the bed. he has an athletes hand. somehow slender and beautiful, but powerful too. you think you remember something about him saying he was a tennis player. one of his fingers brushes against the bare skin of your thigh and a muscle twitches. 

“it is a big deal.” is all he says, and the way he looks at you silences any protests you might have had. like he sees inside you and already knows that you'd gone to that club with the very notion of losing your virginity already in mind - that you'd wanted rid of it like a bad disease - flushed from your system. but that you'd secretly always wanted the act to mean something. to be romantic and symbolic in some way, even as you deliberately set out to make it mean nothing.

art is so pretty. it's a combination of feminine beauty and masculinity that doesn't clash - but rather mixes like primary and secondary colors do together to make something wholly complementary. 

he has delicate but sharp bone structure. a strong nose and jawline. soft silky hair. long lashes. his body is lithe but solid. built and strong but not bulky. not a smattering of hair anywhere in sight. just miles and miles of smooth milky skin. 

“yeah…” you say, a little dazed. are the clouds rolling back in? 

art tugs his pink bottom lip between his teeth - blindingly white - flicks his gaze to your discarded plate. you think you should be asking more questions, but you don't know what those questions should be. 

“you should finish eating.” he nudges your plate back into your lap. “I want you to be healthy. we want to talk to you later, when you're feeling better.” 

you pick up your fork again, wondering at how the sight of his obvious pleasure at the listened to action makes warmth blossom in your chest. 

“we?” you remember tashi. flush. “your wife.” 

god, had you really planned to lose your virginity to two people at once? you couldn't risk drinking like that again. 

art nods. stands again and smiles down at you. he has dimples, you realize with some levity. not that you necessarily felt threatened, but the sight of something so boyishly charming melts you a little. 

“we like you.” he states. “well, I like you. and tashi likes what makes me happy.” 

you pause in chewing a piece of bacon. a little charred but still good. you imagine him cooking and fretting over when to turn the slices - blink and blink again. “um. t- thank you.” 

you should probably mention something about going home. you think you came here in a limo? did they own a limo? they were obviously rich. you wondered if it would be rude to ask if they buy you an Uber.

suddenly, art leans down - his scent fills your nose - something crisp and clean and minty - and his cool lips press against the center of your forehead. your fork haults against the plate, scraping in suprise. you suck in a breath, your heart beating suddenly as fast as a hummingbirds wings. he'd gotten to you so quick, you'd hardly felt a disturbance in the air - a shift in the atmosphere - something about the way he holds his lips to your skin is almost tender. loving. another beat starts, between your legs this time. 

art speaks - and his breath puffs the baby hairs wisping around your head back a little - his voice as soft and smooth as melted butter - 

“you look fucking delicious in my shirt, by the way.” 

[thepenultimateword]

Absentminded

“Good morning, love,” Civilian beamed.

Villain slumped groggily on the stair rail, rubbing the leftover sleep from their eyes. “What’s got you so chipper?”

“I don’t know.” Civilian threw themselves around their neck. “Just woke up extra happy I guess.”

Villain trudged toward the table, but Civilian didn’t loosen their grip, stepping with them until they plopped into a kitchen chair.

“You going to give me any breathing space?” Villain said, even as they gathered Civilian into their lap. They were always a little resistant to affection first thing in the morning. Civilian was pretty sure they got shy. Almost like each day was a restart of their first, like they had to be sure Civilian was talking to them. It was sweet.

They shook their head into their collar. “Mm-mm.”

Villain gave them a gentle squeeze around the waist. “Just how happy are you?”

“Brimming. Overflowing. Oh! I made breakfast!”

They hopped out of Villain’s arms and swept a great plate of chocolate chips pancakes from the counter.

“You’re pancake happy?” Villain said a little surprise in their tone. “You usually only get pancake happy on your birthday or our anniversary.” They stiffened. “It’s not our anniversary is it?”

Civilian smiled, placing a reassuring hand on Villain’s shoulder. “No. It’s sort of weird I suppose. I just woke up early this morning and I was looking at you—“

“Creep.”

“Shut up.” Civilian punched them in the shoulder. “I was looking at you, and I just started thinking how happy I am that I found you. You know from the moment we met…it was like I knew you. Like I’d always known you. I guess that’s how I figured it out.”

“Figured out what, my heart?”

“That we were meant to be together.”

Villain’s smile froze, thawed into a sort of grimace, then froze again wider. A sort of thin, strained thing, like a wash rag wrung out too many times.

Civilian backtracked. “That’s cheesy isn’t it?”

“No! No! It’s wonderful! I just feel guilty! You knew much sooner than I did. I let you chase after me for far too long. I don’t…I don’t always think I deserve you.”

Civilian grinned. “I didn’t mind. You’re just more cautious. I like that about you.”

They kissed Villain’s cheek and plopped down in the seat beside them, dividing pancakes between their plates. Villain’s eyes followed their movements as they slathered the stack with butter and cream and doused it all in syrup.

“How’s work? Any schemes planned for the day?”

Villain cut their stack in section and skewered three pancake pieces on their fork. “Not until evening, but I have to leave in a couple hours to organize it. It’s a museum heist, so I’ll be home a little late.”

Civilian nodded. “Are things smoother for you without Hero around?”

Villain choked on their breakfast. Civilian leaped for the pitcher, messily pouring a glass of water, and shoving it into Villain’s hand, then rubbing their lover’s back as they chugged it down.

“Hero?” Villain croaked once they had a hold of themselves. “Why are you thinking about them all of a sudden?”

Civilian didn’t stop rubbing their back. “I saw on the news they’re putting up a memorial statue in the park this afternoon. It’s been three years since they went missing, right? How well did you know them?”

“Fairly well.”

“Oooh?” Civilian rose their eyebrows.

“Not like that. I don’t know. We just fought. It wasn’t like we actually knew knew each other.”

Civilian nodded idly. That was about what they had expected. It was just their reactions around mentions of Hero were somewhat guarded. They supposed one didn’t have to be close to somebody to be struck by their loss. “What do you think happened?”

“They probably just settled down.”

“You think they’re ok?” It was the first they’d heard that theory, most everyone thought the vigilante was dead or kidnapped or undercover.

Villain nodded. “They weren’t the type to let someone get the jump on them. Besides they were always miserable as a hero.”

Civilian cocked their head.

“They were just always exhausted and angry and breaking down. I don’t think they liked being a hero, even if they were good at it. Anyway…” Villain ate the last bite of pancake and stretched their arms over their head as they rose. “I better get dressed and get going. What are you doing today?”

“Just grocery shopping,” Civilian said. “I’m going to make orange chicken for dinner.”

“Stop spoiling me,” Villain said, kissing them first on the head.

“I guess I just can’t help it. …I love you.”

Villain hesitated, but eventually, they took Civilian’s face in their hands and pressed a long kiss to their lips. “I love you too.”

***

Civilian swung the grocery bags in rhythm with their steps. The music blasting from the speakers in the square had them swaying and skipping like a dance more than a walk. A crowd of people were gathered across the street, some dressed in blue masks and capes.

Right. The unveiling.

Civilian idly crossed the street toward the crowd. They couldn’t stay long—they had ice cream in their bag—but they couldn’t say they were uninterested in this memorial. Hero intrigued them. What sort of person was willing to sacrifice so much for other people? Even after they disappeared, they were still making an impact. There was something sort of amazing and sad about all that.

The music died down and the microphone squealed in the hands of a smartly dressed woman in a grey pencil skirt and puffy, white blouse standing on the steps in front of the covered statue.

A dull pain started behind Civilian’s eyes. Was getting up so early affecting them?

“Welcome, everyone. I appreciate you all coming out this afternoon for Hero’s statue unveiling. Hero was my friend. No, more than that. They were my mentor. And I was with them the night they disappeared. You've probably all read the story. We got a call for help at an old factory, and Hero ran ahead.

“I was only a few feet behind when I saw a flash of light through the windows. When I got inside, Hero was gone. I never saw them again. Sometimes I still expect them to turn a corner or walk onto our old training grounds. To come back into my life.”

The pain spread up into Civilian’s forehead and temples, a throbbing sensation like someone knocking on a door to get in. Or maybe to get out.

Civilian clutched the side of their face. What was going on? A really bad migraine? They probably should just head home for some pain medication and lie down. And yet…they couldn’t seem to move. They picture the scene the woman had described clearly. Almost like each painful throb was focusing the picture clearer in their head. Had they been to the same factory? Maybe they’d seen a picture in the news when Hero first went missing.

The woman stared out across the crowd.

"It left me wondering, what do we do when the person who does the saving needs saved?" She paused. "We step up. We become the heroes. Hero inspired me to be better; they wanted all of us to be better. And today we honor their belief that ‘everyone possesses a little bit of heroism; they just have to be brave enough to use it.’”

Another stab of pain, worse than the others. Almost like their skull was being ripped in two. A scream pushed up their throat, lying threateningly just behind their teeth.

Villain. They should call Villain. They dropped one grocery sack and fumbled for their phone.

“Hero was always secretive about their identity,” the woman continued in the background, “but for the first time, I would like to share with you all the face of a hero. I would like to give them the honor and credit they deserve. Ladies and gentleman���our Hero.”

The sheet dropped.

Civilian’s scream was lost in the ecstatic shouts and applause. They dropped to their knees, legs and heads and bags blocking everything the bright spots flashing across their vision did not. For moment all they could do was tuck their head into their chest against the concrete and wait, trembling fingers still a button click away from calling Villain.

After what seemed like forever, the pain dulled and they were able to stumble upright.

Slowly, they blinked the blur from their eyes, taking in the horror of what they now already knew: the statue wore their face.

***

Villain flicked on the hall lights just after midnight.

Hero sat at the center of the room, kitchen chair dragged right into the entryway.

“Sweetheart?” Villain blinked a few times. “What are you doing sitting in the dark?” They seemed to quickly read the wrongness in their face. “Is this about missing dinner? I’m sorry, I should have called, but—”

“I’m Hero.”

Villain froze. Reddened. Paled. Ever the chameleon.

“Ah, so you did know.” They weren’t sure if that was better or worse. If Villain had fallen in love with them as a civilian maybe Hero could have excused them and saved some of the aching, quivering shards of their broken heart. But knowing that the deception had been intentional, well, now Hero had the freedom to explode.

“How did you…?” Villain swallowed. “Do you remember everything?”

“Not everything, but I remember you. And I remember me. And enough events between us to know this never should have happened.”

Villain took a step forward, and immediately, Hero stood to take a step back. Another step forward. Another step back. Forward. Back. Forward. Back. Until Hero was up against the wall and Villain only an arms length apart.

“We can talk about this,” Villain said, outstretching their hand.

Hero only stared.

“In what world is this getting solved with a talk? Our entire relationship, the entire three years we’ve been together, are a lie.”

“But you’re happy! You said it yourself! You’re brimming with happiness! Overflowing with happiness! With me!”

Hero slammed their fist into the wall behind them.“Happy? You took advantage of me! Manipulated me!”

At that, Villain looked affronted. “I didn’t manipulate anyone! You approached me that night! I tried to send you away; I tried multiple times to avoid you; you didn’t want to. And when I did give in, I never pretended to be anyone other than I am. I even told you what I do, and you were all too accepting, like you’d dealt with it every day.”

“Because I had!”

“Then what was I supposed to do?” Villain cried, throwing their hands in the air.

“You could have told me!”

“That would have defeated the point!”

Hero went rigid. Villain covered their mouth. Their eyes plead for mercy Hero was not capable of giving.

“You did this?”

Villain’s lip trembled. “It was meant to be temporary. A few hours. I didn’t know it was going to last three years! I tried to make it right at first! I tried to trigger memories or to come up with some sort of reversal machine, but I couldn’t figure it out, and meanwhile, you kept coming and coming and you just seemed happier this way! And things got so good, I got scared of ruining it!”

Hero stared them down, waiting for the ramble to sputter out. Their reply was slow and cold.

“You gave me amnesia and then made me love you!”

“I didn’t make you love me.” They took Hero’s chin. “It just happened.”

And that was what hurt the most. Hero couldn’t deny it. No matter the false circumstances or how their returned memories rebelled, the feelings had been real. But veracity did not make any of it alright.”

“Then I guess this is where it ends.” Hero smiled weakly. “Goodbye, Villain.”

They felt past feeling as they edged around their lover ex-lover nemesis’s shocked form, picking up their bag, packed and ready for the last six hours, at the door.

“Hero!” Villain lurched forward, seizing them by the wrist and yanking them around. Their other hand tangled in their hair as the pulled into a desperate kiss, gruff and noxious and pleading.

Hero stomped hard on their foot, ripping away as Villain yowled and fell back. The criminal barely allowed the pain a second thought, scrambling after Hero’s determined stride.

“Hero! Hero, I love you! I love you, I love you, I love—”

“You do not!” Hero shouted. Regrettably some emotion edged in on their fury; a few tears slid down their cheek. “You loved a version of me. A dead one. A made up one. Maybe I made them up. But they are not me.”

They stormed out without another word, leaving Villain crumpled and weeping on the floor.

Master Taglist

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[djangari]

I have to deal with this and all I get is a headache and a silver medal

~ 1616 words

“Third place? Hmm, do you remember who finished third in 2018?”, Marc jokes to the reporter and laughs as she answers that she doesn’t. “Me neither! So that's it.”

Pecco freezes, while the reporter joins in, and the video eventually restarts. He won’t like that. Hopefully, he will never see this or at least when he is not present- “What are you watching?”

A familiar figure leans over his shoulder and slowly he turns his head to look at his mentor, who suddenly appeared behind him. Whose smug grin got wiped out of his face, as he watches the video. How stupid he was to assume the other would need longer to join him in the trailer, of course he will visit him first to see how he handles the championship fight stress.

Vale laughs too. However, it's more of a pressed, dry, forced sound that is coming out of his mouth. So different from Marquez cheerful, honest sounding laugh.  In this moment, Pecco doesn’t dare to mirror it. Instead, he observes Valentinos mimic, how his eyebrows are pulled together, the wrinkles around his mouth disappeared, his eyes don’t agree with the act he is trying to play.

He taps on the screen, pauses the loop. Silence spreads in the room, while Pecco is waiting for Vale to do something. To speak, to react.

A few seconds go by and Vale hums. “He isn’t wrong. Do you remember who was third in 2008?” Pecco knows that the factually correct answer would be Pedrosa, but in this situation he would never speak it out loud. He rather shakes his head.

“See? Nothing to speak about. Let’s get Bez and eat pasta or something. We need to calm your nerves before your great weekend.” Vale straightens up again, already turning towards the door. “Come on, come on, I’ll pay.” Impatient as always, he already left the room before Pecco could protest.

Pecco quickly gets up from the couch and follows the older man. From behind he can still see the tension in his otherwise relaxed and flowing movements, can see the firm grip he has on his phone.

________

Later, when they finally found Bez and Vale nearly dragged him with them, they are half finished with their meals as Vales phone, which lies next to him on the table, screen clearly visible to everyone nearby, buzzes and lights up with a pop up notice. Vale unlocks it easily with the hand that isn’t holding the fork loaded with pasta and clicks on the message. Another video starts playing, just as Vale puts the fork into his mouth, and Marc’s voice is audible.

“The third place doesn’t matter at all!’

Vale instantly chokes on the noodles and begins coughing. Pecco exchanges a look with Bez and leans over to his left to slap Vale on the back so their mentor maybe would not die because of a meal when he has lived through over twenty years of riding a death machine for fun. Bez reaches him a glass of water, although he mirrors Pecco’s expression of desperation and can absolutely relate to being fed up with his behavior.

Who can blame him? The two of them should be cheering him up, motivating him and giving him the extra power to win. Now he is robbing him of his nerves instead of helping him to concentrate.

 “Who remembers who finished third in 2022 or 2015? I finished third, but no one remembers.”

And it gets worse again… Why did he have to mention 2015 again? Sometimes it seems like he is doing this on purpose- wait no he does. Sadly Pecco, besides to Luca of course, is the one who is mostly present to see Vale‘s reaction. Not Marc. Maybe he would stop if he sees the impact he has on the old man.

… Who is he trying to fool. He would do it even more. Pecco has been around for too long to still denial the painful obvious existence of their weird exhibition kink.

With a small sigh, Pecco reaches over the table and again pauses the video, pauses the sound of Marc’s laughter. Slowly Vale recovers and is able to breathe like a normal human being again. “Nothing to worry about!”, is the first thing he gets out of his mouth.

 Sure. Pecco suppresses the urge to bang his head on the table until he falls into a coma. This would look weird, especially in public. Rumors spread fast in this paddock. The press he would have to face, the mocking he would have to endure from his engineers, it ruins the whole experience. They would eat him alive if he did that, even more if he did it on this particular weekend. So, all he does is to roll his eyes and beg some higher power that this moment would soon be over.

The door falls shut and the whole cafeteria goes silent for a second. Pecco throws a small look over his shoulder, only to freeze in fear.

Anyhow someone heard him up there and decided he needed to feel even more miserable. Loosing the title apparently isn‘t enough. Please, please, please, let him at least not-

„You‘re okay?“ No. No. No. Keep your head up, keep your head up.

„Ah. Of course, of course!“ Suddenly, the relaxed Vale is back again. He can hear the chair scraping on the floor as he leans back. „No need to worry about a guy like me.“ Ok, this has gone surprisingly well- „If you couldn‘t kill me, pasta will never make it.“

Pecco‘s head falls towards the table. God damn it.

A kick against his shin saves him. He tries to kick back, but Bez already caught his glare. With another deep breath, he turns around to face the situation like an adult.

„Ciao“, he greets his future teammate, who is standing on the right side behind his chair. Never in the existence of the universe would he ask how the fuck he got into the cafeteria of the VR46 team, so instead he stays silent and waits for Marc to speak again.

The Spaniard looks relatively comfortable in this situation, or so it seems for outstanders.  For them his bright smile blends them enough to not see the signs. Only if you get close enough you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way he holds his head high up and the inconspicuous foot tapping. Yet something… something in his eyes displays the same kind of hunger he often sees in Vales eyes after an especially good race. His smile just looks a little bit too sharp and too pleased.

„I wanted to come over and wish you luck for the weekend. You will need it.“, he says sweetish and blatantly ignores the indignant glare Vale shoots him. Pecco swallows what lies on his tongue and tries to put on a similar act. „Thanks. Good luck to you too, Enea won‘t give up that third place easily.“ Marc just laughs. „Don‘t know if you already heard it, I don‘t really care about that. Next week we will try out the bike together and that is what matters in the end.“ Pecco hears the threat that lies in those words, fights for his small smile to stay on his face. „Ah right, I am also curious how they have improved the machine for next year.“

He couldn’t have said clearer ˋThis bike was build for me and you need to look how you get along with her.´ A small twitch in his smile indicates Marc understood. „Ah I trust the engineers, I‘m sure it will be a great bike.“  They just stare at each other, playing the act of a friendly talk between soon to be coworkers. It's like time froze.

Someone somewhere in the cafeteria laughs loudly and the tension breaks. “Well, I should go and find Nadia, we need to meet up with Gigi.” Shortly he bowes down to mutter something over Valentinos shoulder, who flinces at the slight touch. “You wouldn’t dare to die before I get my ninth, would you?”

Pecco sees Bez's mouth falling open and how Valentino stiffens up. Marc also notices that and his smile gets even sharper. Lightly his fingertips run over the edges of Vale‘s collarbone, centimeters away from the soft skin of his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, Pecco observes the way Vale now holds the fork, knuckles bright red, fearing he will do something drastic. The question is, would he be able to stop him? Thankfully Marc leaves Vales personal space before something like that could happen.

With a tap on Pecco's shoulder, Marc signals his exit and turns around to walk away. None of them wants to torture themselves so they surely won’t stare after him, watching how he nearly hops out of the cafeteria. Instead, they stare at the table, everyone trying to recover in their own way. Bez continues eating, hoping to forget everything what he just witnessed. Vale damages the cutlery and mumbles some curses under his breath. Pecco, finally, gives in and slowly bangs his head against the table before resting it on the cold surface. Why can’t this weekend just end?

______

Sunday night, when Marc's speech is almost over, Pecco feels his phone vibrating. Quickly, he checks his messages and sees a new one from Bez.

ˋWe need to replace the tv downstairs. He threw a bottle against it and now he doesn’t talk ´

Pecco grabs Domi‘s hand and tries to relax. Someone has to remember him that he needs a soundproof room next year for the case Vale decides to visit Ducati.

[sophswritingthings]

I was thinking abt english!reader back to japan with mizu, she doesn't have any experience with chopsticks, right? So I was thinking about having diner, taigen ranting and everything and mizu halfway through her meal just notices readers meal untouched and reader struggling so she just ends up feeding reader.

(also i don't know if you do rq but if you like I would be glad if you elaborated more :])

pairing: mizu x fem!english!reader

warning(s): light swearing, taigen is a warning in itself 

a/n: this hits home because I a basic american do not know how to use chopsticks

summary: your eating dinner when mizu notices you not eating. her eyes travel to your hands, messing with the chopsticks in your hands.

word count: 554 words / 3,063 characters

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

your eyes flickered from mizu to taigen, watching as the pair chatted. well, it was mostly taigen talking— ranting about his days work, and how his chignon had finally grown back after mizu had sliced it clean off. 

than, your eyes landed on your food.

it was good food, yes, ringo had cooked it—and he was an excellent cook.

yet you hadn’t touched it.

your eyes than drifted to the chopsticks, letting out a quiet enough sigh that mizu couldn’t hear it. you had come from england where they used utensils such as forks, knives, and spoons.

here, they used chopsticks. sticks, to eat your food.

it’s not that you didn’t respect the culture, by not using them—

—you seriously just didn’t know how to use them.

so, you left your food untouched. 

mizu felt her attention drifting away from taigen, tired of listening to his voice, if she were being completely honest with herself. her blue eyes landed on you.

you.. weren’t eating.

she watched as you spun the chopsticks in your fingers, gazing down at them with somewhat of a sad expression on your lips.

“my love…” she whispered, seeing your head perk up a little, “why haven’t you eaten?”

you looked away, embarrassed by your lack of knowledge, “I-I don’t..” you murmured. “I-I don’t know how to use these.”

you held the chopsticks up to her, her expression softening at your words. she nodded, sliding closer to you. she grabbed the chopsticks from your hands.

“I can show you later,” she whispered. “for now.. you need to eat.”

mizu slid the chopsticks into the noddles, picking a few up and holding them up to your lips.

you giggled at her, your face blushing red as you allowed her to feed you. 

".. you two are weird," taigen huffed, folding his arms across his chest, "now, are we going to get back to our conversation, mizu, or not?"

she rolled her eyes, "you think im weird for making sure my wife eats?"

"not that she eats, that you're feeding her like a baby bird!" taigen hissed, "now answer my question."

"hmm--no," she hummed, turning back to look at you as you happily allowed her to feed you.

after taigen and ringo had left, mizu sat you comfortably back at the table--sitting herself behind you. she grabbed the chopsticks, and adjusted one in the crease where your thumb met your palm.

"now bend your finger," she gently pushed on your pointer finger, creasing it a little and sliding the other stick under your bended finger.

she straightened out your middle finger, and curled the rest of your fingers downward.

"now hold this one with these two fingers," she adjusted your ring and pink against the first chopstick. "and this one with these fingers."

she adjusted your middle and pointer against the second stick, holding it firmly so it would slip away.

"now eat," she let go of your hands, and wrapped her arms around your waist.

you weren't the best at it, but you managed to pick up the food well enough to eat.

"now you don't need me to feed you." she chuckles.

you laugh along with her, and place a kiss on her forehead. "thank you, sweetheart. can we please go to sleep? i've had enough of taigen for one evening."

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

a/n: I literally pulled up a pic of how chopsticks were supposed to be held (step by step) and just wrote that shit down. next time I eat with those fuckers im coming back to this fic

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

My Yakuza Man (Mitsuhide)

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

✮⋆˙ Prologue

Mitsuhide: "What's wrong? You don't seem to have much of an appetite."

Mai: "I think it's weird to eat normally in a situation like this."

Mitsuhide: "Agreed."

(Then why did you even ask!?)

Mitsuhide: "However, on that first night we met, you stood up to a group of armed men with remarkable boldness. I figured someone like you might actually eat heartily even now."

Mai: "Sorry to disappoint. But seriously, that doesn't sound like a compliment at all."

Mitsuhide: "Not true. Back then, I did say you were interesting, didn't I? That's quite a rare compliment coming from me."

Gracefully holding his knife and fork, Mitsuhide smiled at me with an air of elegance.

I could feel the occasional glances from the other women seated at nearby tables, their gazes filled with admiration.

They didn’t seem to hear the unsettling conversation, which made me sigh with relief.

(He's talking about that, isn't he?)

That night, caught in a violent conflict, I ended up yelling, 'You should value your lives' when I tried to protect a young man named Ranmaru.

Mitsuhide: "That was a good first meeting."

Mai: "It was the worst for me."

Mitsuhide: "Don't say that. Learning your name and workplace so quickly was a stroke of luck. Thanks to that, I managed to keep you from slipping away."

(I should've just removed my ID back then!)

It was too late to regret it now.

Having had my identity pinned down, I found myself at the mercy of Mitsuhide. 

Under the guise of a date (blackmail), I ended up being dragged to this fancy restaurant.

Mai: "Um, you really don't need to threaten me into silence. I swear I won't tell anyone about what I saw that day."

Mitsuhide: "Silence you? That's an odd thing to say. What exactly did you see?"

Mai: "You know, um, possession of unauthorized firearms and swords?"

Even though I knew no one around could hear us, the topic was sensitive enough that I instinctively leaned in and whispered.

At this, he slightly narrowed his eyes as if holding back laughter before exaggeratedly raising his eyebrow.

Mitsuhide: "Oh dear. You've witnessed something amusing, haven't you, Mai?"

His teasing tone was lighthearted and annoyingly smooth.

(Ugh, it’s like nothing I say bothers him at all!)

(If this isn't about silencing me, then why is he involving himself with an ordinary office worker like me?)

Mai: "You really don't want me saying anything, do you?"

Frustrated, I tried to test the waters, but his perfectly composed face didn't flinch in the slightest.

Mitsuhide: "If that's what you want to believe, I won't stop you. But it's a bit sad."

Mitsuhide: "All I've done is genuinely invite someone I'm interested in for a meal."

Mai: "Y-You're so full of it!"

Mitsuhide: "What would it take for me to earn your trust?"

His evasiveness, paired with words that almost sounded like flirtation, was starting to confuse me.

Unable to read his intentions, I could only stiffen in frustration. Seeing this, Mitsuhide chuckled softly before saying something completely unexpected.

Mitsuhide: "Do you eat meat?"

Mai: "Huh, meat? Uh, yeah, I guess."

Mitsuhide: "Then try this. I've heard good things about the food here."

Cutting the dish into a refined, bite-sized piece, Mitsuhide held the fork up to my mouth.

(Wait, is this a 'say ahh' situation!?)

Mitsuhide: "Truth be told, I don't really care about food. As long as it fills me up, that's good enough for me."

Mai: "Huh?"

(This guy has perfect table manners, but his way of thinking is like that of a warlord.)

Mitsuhide: "But that wouldn't satisfy the chef, would it? So, instead, I'd like you to enjoy it."

Mai: "This is ridiculous. If that's the case, then why did you even invite me to a restaurant?"

Mitsuhide: "I figured you'd find it harder to make a scene in a crowded place. Plus, I wanted to see that kind of expression from you."

Mitsuhide: "Come on. Give up and open those stubborn lips of yours. You don't want me to force it open, do you?"

Mai: "………"

(This is already forceful enough.)

Even as I thought this, his voice, laced with a seductive tone, caught me off guard, making my heart skip a beat.

Mitsuhide: "I'm going to touch your lips."

Mai: "Mmm."

As he brought the fork closer, I had no choice but to surrender and open my lips.

The meat touched my tongue. I gently bit it down, feeling the hard touch of the fork.

Mitsuhide: "Good girl."

(Please don't smile so beautifully like that.)

He watched me quietly as I ate, pleased with my compliance, and finally withdrew the fork.

I felt an overwhelming embarrassment as if I had been forced into doing something shameful, and my cheeks burned with heat.

Mai: "I really don't get it. I have no idea what you want from me."

Mitsuhide: "I'm flattered that you're thinking about me."

Mai: "Stop joking around."

Mitsuhide: "I just wanted to know more about you. It'll be useful for the future."

His words felt loaded with meaning, making me feel uneasy and restless.

But at that moment, his gaze suddenly turned cold.

Mitsuhide: "It seems I have some guests."

Mai: "Huh?"

Man 1: "There he is! Mitsuhide Akechi of the Azuchi clan!"

Man 2: "Don't let him escape!"

Mitsuhide: "Fighting here would be uncouth. Mai, stand up."

Mai: "What!?"

He didn't even flinch when the men pointed at us and charged toward our table. He calmly stood up and, almost as if escorting me, elegantly wrapped his arm around my waist.

Mitsuhide: "You'll accompany me on this little escape, won't you?"

(----!)

He whispered into my ear with an almost playful tone, and it hit me again that this man was unlike any ordinary person.

(This guy is way too dangerous!)

Even as I realized this, I couldn't resist and found myself running alongside him.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Part 3 to the fwb series.

You leave Eddie feeling a little blue after your last encounter... In more ways than one. Wayne visits and Eddie finds out distressing news...

18+ only. Minors shoo!

Angst ahead 🖤

Eddie had spent the weekend after your visit unbelievably cranky, horny and on edge. His argument with Chrissy had resulted in her storming out. "I'm not coming back this time Eddie, I mean it" she warned him.

Was it bad that he was really struggling to care? All Eddie could think of quite frankly, was you. After you left there was a sick feeling in his gut, some weird ache in his chest that he hadn't felt before.

Whatever it was he didn't like it. Not one fucking bit. Even strumming along on his guitar was no comfort and that always helped when he was feeling out of sorts.

He jolts out of his by a knock on the door, it'd probably Chrissy he sighs and signals for her to come in, dreading the argument that's sure to follow.

Turns out that it isn't Chrissy, it's his Uncle Wayne who's holding a casserole dish full of macaroni cheese and sets it on the table.

Eddie greets his uncle with a wave, his uncle merely nods then promptly cuffs him around the head, Eddie yelps and his eyes widen.

"What the fuck old man?" Wayne glares at him, he looks disappointed and Eddie hasn't seen that look in a long time. It makes him feel like he's a kid again, or an unruly teenager.

"Sorry boy, you know I love you but you deserved that. Had a long chat with that lovely girl who's dating Joanthan, Nancy Wheeler'' Wayne pauses to glance at Eddie and make sure he's listening.

'Now you wanna tell me why you're stringing along some poor girl, hurt her real bad Nancy said" Eddie grows flustered, runs his hands through his hair and wilts under Wayne's stern gaze.

"It was just a friends with benefits type thing, I made that clear Uncle Wayne" his uncle cocks an eyebrow and settles at the rickety old table, that Eddie has been meaning to fix for a while.

"Right, and you never gave her false hope I take it?" Eddie opens his mouth to say something, then closes it and shuts up. ''That's what I thought boy" his uncle shakes his head.

"She left. We aren't together anymore" he tries to explain, doesn't dare mention what happened a few days ago. Wayne begins to dish out the macaroni cheese and two beers, sets the meal and the drinks down on the table.

"That's not the point son, the point is I raised you better than to be such an asshole to a lady. Same goes for Chrissy, that shit ain't working Eddie so you need to do the right thing"

Eddie slumps down on the chair and nods feeling suitably chastised. Begins to shove forkfuls of his Uncle's delicious mac and cheese in his mouth but his Uncle's next words stop him in his tracks.

"Suppose you'll be happy to know that you won't be bothered by that ex anymore. Yn is it? Heard she's on a date with some hot shot tonight" Wayne shrugs and looks to Eddie, who's mouth has went suddenly dry.

"She's on a date?" he asks just to make sure he's heard right, Uncle Wayne nods and he suddenly doesn't feel hungry anymore.

"It's not to late to fix things son" Wayne claps him on the shoulder, gives his a sympathetic look. Suddenly, the knee jerk reaction to saying to himself that he doesn't care isn't working so much anymore.

...

He doesn't know why he drives to your house, he's sure he's just being a fucking martyr... Or an idiot.

Still it doesn't take long before he's knocking on your door, shielding himself from the wind and rain.

You answer and don't look happy to see him, his heart sinks and he's beginning to realise how badly he's fucked up.

"Wayne said you had a date" he says to you and you nod, don't give anything else away.

"Why are you here Munson?" Munson not Eddie, he doesn't know what to say, he's scrambling for something, anything to think of.

"I messed up, I'm sorry sweetheart" you pause, clearly you weren't expecting Eddie to outright apologise, show up at your door.

"Apology accepted, but it's too late Eddie. You hurt me so many times, dangled hope in front of me that we could be more, then you swept it away. You didn't care when I left so why should I care that you're here now"

He growls frustrated, wants you to so desperately understand that he's sorry, that he knows he fucked up.

"I'm sorry okay? I don't want to lose you alright. I admit that now" he watches as tears pool in your eyes, you immediately chase them away and steel yourself.

"You already have lost me Eddie" your voice shakes but it doesn't stop you from closing the door on Eddie's face.

[kyasemi]

Murder Drones Incorrect Quotes

*Squad is playing Among Us* 

V: I believe Uzi is innocent, I was with them the whole time. N, what were you doing? 

N: Oh, I was just murdering… I mean, nothing!

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Uzi: Guys, I didn’t memorize my lines!

V: Just use your lack of common sense! Everyone knows the characters in plays are dumb as fuck!

*During the play*

N: Hey! You finally made it! Did you get the donuts?

Uzi: W-what’re donut’s?

V: hehe, nice.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Uzi: Where’s N?

V: Around.

Uzi: Around?

Uzi: You don’t have any idea, do you?

N, dropping down from above: Did you know there’s a space above the ceiling?

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Uzi: How do I make a date really romantic? 

N: Be mysterious. 

Uzi: Okay! 

*later, while on a date with V* 

V: So where are we going? 

Uzi: None of your fucking business.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

V: We’re about to do the taser challenge. You want in?

N: What’s the taser challenge?

Uzi: We tase each other, then drink.

N: How do you win?

V: What are you, a lawyer? You want in or not?

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

V: Guys, where did Uzi go?

N: They got arrested.

V: How the hell-

Uzi: *bursts in through the window* The cops are after me, I thought it would be fun to steal crackers and throw them at people.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Uzi: I’m this close to falling in love with N.

V: Your fingertips are touching.

Uzi: Exactly. 

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Uzi: As your best friend–

V: N is my best friend.

Uzi, holding a knife: As your best friend–

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

V: I hate Uzi.

N: Don’t say hate. That is a mean word.

V: Fine, I LOATHE Uzi.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

N: It’s pretty cold outside.. wanna hold hands?

Uzi, blushing: Okay.

V: It’s fucking summer.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

V: Want to hear a hard riddle?

N: Sure.

V: A rooster laid an egg on a roof. Which way did it roll?

N: …down?

V: N-

Uzi: Who cares about which way it rolled, it would be scrambled eggs by then.

V:

V: No, it’s that roosters don’t lay eggs… Jesus Christ…

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Uzi: Nice rock.

N: Thanks, J gave it to me.

J: I threw it at you!

N: Aren’t they the sweetest?

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

N: *finds a note* Hmm, whats this?

V: Hey, that’s mind! *tries to grab it*

N: Aww, it’s a love note for Uzi?

V: No-

N: 

V:

N: I can’t read this.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

N: I didn’t drink that much last night.

V: You were flirting with Uzi.

N: So what? They’re my partner.

V: You asked if they were single.

V: and then you cried when they said they weren’t.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

N: I’m not that stupid!

Uzi: N, you literally ate the wax from a babybel.

N: V TOLD ME IT WAS EDIBLE!

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

*Casually in the Middle of a High Stakes/Dangerous Situation* 

Uzi: How do you eat pickles? 

V: What do you mean? 

Uzi: I mean, there's a whole process. It's not like you can grab them from the jar with your hand, because it's cold and the juice burns if you have a cut, plus, it's pretty unsanitary. And you can't use a spoon because you'll have to scoop it out, and it'll be way too difficult to grab more than three or four without taking 10 minutes along with half the brine in the jar, even if it's one with holes. 

V: Yeah, that's why you use a fork. 

Uzi: Okay, sure, but what if you don't have one of the big ones clean? It's weird to use a small one. But there is always  one of those smaller sharp knives clean. 

V: But the straight edge doesn't really fit the cylindrical shape, and you have to make sure you don' t break it, it's too much work. 

Uzi: It makes me feel like I deserve the pickles though. Like, "Yeah, I did it. That's right. Good job me." It's empowering. But even after that, it's not like you can use a bowl. 

V: I get that, it's not ascetically pleasing. 

Uzi: Exactly! And it looks weird if you don't entirely fill the bowl, but you also can't eat that many. My solution: Use a mug. 

V: *Nods in agreement* 

N: That is all very interesting, BUT WE'RE TRYING NOT TO DIE RIGHT NOW! USE YOUR LIMITED ATTENTION SPANS AND FOCUS! 

Uzi: Jeez, okay. 

V: Quit yelling at us already.

[marlsswrites]

Summer camp AU, part 3!!

Boggart - @jegulus-microfic - words: 789

First part Previous part

It was lunchtime, the kids all squashed themselves onto the rotten woody benches in the woods after they collected their food.

Regulus sat in silence with his friends, mindlessly watching the teenagers and trying to pay no attention to James’ absence, even though he was supposed to be watching their group of kids as well. Incompetent, Regulus thought with a huff.

A few moments latter, two connective clatters of plastic boards hitting wood sounded in his ears.

“What the fuck do you two want?” Barty groaned, and Regulus could already tell who was sat there.

Picking his eye line from the table, he let his eyes flick upwards. He was faced with a bright grin from James Potter and Sirius scowling at Barty.

“Hi brother dearest.” Sirius spoke as he angled his sight away from Barty, looking towards his brother.

“What do you want?” Regulus spoke through a sigh.

“What do you assume we want something?” James whined, a playful smirk cornering on his lips.

Nodding along, Sirius took a bite out of his slice of pizza and spoke with his mouth full, making Regulus grimace. “Yeah! Can I not hang…” He chewed his food. “-oft wiv ‘m brover?”

“Chew your fucking food.” Dorcas gagged.

“You’re giving me puppy eyes.” Regulus pointed out James and Sirius’ big eyes, staring at blinking at him. “So you clearly want something.”

Sirius groaned. “Don’t be such a-“ He flailed his arms around in the air, clearing trying to think of what to say.

“Cant think of an insult, Black?”

“You lot are such, boggarts.” He hissed with a triumphant face.

“What the fuck is a boggart?” Pandora laughed, stabbing a piece of tomato with her fork and shoving it into her smirking mouth.

Dropping his head to the table, Sirius made a muffled noise that sounded a lot like ‘fuck you.’ Regulus watched as James looked at him with an amused look, both boys trying to bite back their laughter.

“There there.” James patted Sirius on the back with a snort.

James stood up, Regulus assumed he was just heading back to his table until he walked behind Regulus and whispered something in his ear, inaudible to the rest of the group. “I’ll tell you later.”

His voice was raspy, Regulus could feel his hot breath against his ear and sucked in a hopefully silent breath as James moved his lips away from his ear.

He looked over at Dorcas for a split second, before dragging Sirius away.

What did Regulus say about James? Oh yeah, he’s weird.

-

It was silent, the only sound filling the room was the sound of paper flipping every time Regulus flicked the page.

Regulus was trying to focus on his book, but he took very few words in. His mind was sorely focused of what James said to him earlier that day, and how it felt when he whispered into his ear.

He could just ask James, he was sitting on the bed only a couple of feet away from him. But he chose to be stubborn, he didn’t want to talk but he was so curious.

Two minutes later, he turned to his side to see if James was asleep or not, it didn’t seem like it. He was lay on his side, his phone hung lazily in his hand but his gaze elsewhere, at Regulus more specifically. He locked eyes with James, quirking an eyebrow as the other boy jumped his gaze away and coughed.

“Why are you looking at me?” Regulus fought away the strange feeling he got from that.

“‘M not.” James grumbled.

Nodding slowly, Regulus pushed the thoughts he was having to the back of his head. “What were you going to tell me earlier?”

“Oh yeah!” James’ face lit up. “Is Dorcas single?”

Regulus swore he felt his heart drop to the cold wooden floor beneath his feet. “Oh-“ Regulus stuttered out. “I…” He prayed the shock and pain he was feeling didn’t reflect on his face.

It clearly did. “Not for me!” James clarified with a laugh. “God I can imagine how that sounded, it’s for my friend Marlene.”

“Oh.” Regulus said again, releasing a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding. “Yes, she is.”

“Why did you care so much?” James smirked.

“No I didn’t.” He retorted.

He definitely did.

“Okay baby Black.” The brunette replied smugly, receiving a pillow thrown directly at his face by the boy next to him. “Hey!” He laughed as he chucked it back.

Regulus caught it with a triumphant smile, rolling his eyes and picking back his book back up and finally focusing on the words, ignoring the curious gaze he could feel burning into the back of his head.

Next part

[papuhater]

I THINK

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚a/n I don’t know actually, this is shitty and short. ┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ cw: reader knows spanish, miguels (both) are asses and say bad things, reader is harassed on the street but nothing happens thanks to the plot. ┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ pairing: miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader

series masterlist

something was wrong with y/n, miguel knew, she had not clocked in and wasn’t with webslinger or peter b. he wasn’t worried, no, he kept saying that to himself as he stared into the door, expecting her to appear. and she did

“you look dead.”

“you sure know how to charm a lady” she replied bitterly and she held a carton

“i hope you got it right this time” he shot a web and pulled it to him, she just let him take it. weird, she normally made him say thank you, what was weirder is that the empanadas were of meat, not mixtas. he huffed and side eyed her while she tried to leave

“lyla lock the doors.” he sighed and leaped from his platform “look, ninety nine, something is up” she opened her mouth but before she could speak she was cut off “and don’t try to deny it. you look as if you hadn’t slept all night, you come in late, and now you are very silent” she sighed

“why would you care?”

“i don’t”

“then stick your nose in other person’s business” she huffed and tried to open the doors, they were locked

“lyla open the doors.” miguel gave up, but the doors didn’t open “lyla?” suddenly, the lights went off “the hell?”

“boss, you might not like this..”

“we’re locked in, send people” he tried to talk to the gizmo, but it had no answer, the doors seemed to have locked it too hard and blowed a fuse, now he was locked with y/n in the room.

“you can’t communicate out of here, you imbecil, we just have to wait.” she huffed, clearly annoyed “they better come in soon” she looked at him “what time is it?”

“well it’s 8 in the morning.” she nodded and muttered something “what did you say?”

“nothing, it’s just that I have to be somewhere today, around 6:40”

they kept quiet after that, y/n not talking and looking nervously at the door, while miguel messes with his gizmo and trying to get the power back on. each of them seem on edge, as if any word could set them off.

“could you stop sighing? it’s distracting” he growled

“oh so now I can’t breathe?” she spat out, while glancing towards him

"yeah you can't, because you can't even do things right!" he scowled "everyday you come in, with a stupid smile, stupid empanadas mixtas, and a stupid teasing tone!" with every word, he got closer, until he was jabbing his finger onto your chest "you are everything i hate in a person! giving stupid advice and sarcastic remarks! no se como mi yo de otra dimensión se pudo haber enamorado de ti!"

"don't say that..." she said softly, slapping his hand off "don't even dare to day that! you know nothing!" her voice cracked, and just as it happened the door cracked too, revealing a few spider people who came to save them.

"we're done here."

and like that, she left.

"boss, not to say anything, but you're an ass."

miguel did nothing to deny it.

"amor? are you okay? you have barely touched your pasta."

"huh?" she snapped out of her daze, with a fork in her hand, she was swirling the pasta around "oh, it's nothing, you know, just a hard day."

"what could be hard about your days? cielo, you're a stay-at-home wife, not a geneticist." he laughed, he tried to lighten her up, but it only made her more gloom.

"yeah, i guess, it just gets lonely, i get sa-" before she can end the statement, she's interrupted by a vibration from her husband's phone, miguel held finger as he took the call, she just sat there in disbelief

"hey...yeah?" he let out a short laugh "oh? yes i can be there, when? right now?" he spared a glance towards y/n and mouthed a 'sorry' "hold on" he placed a hand on his phone, covering the speaker "i'm sorry, but i need to leave, see you at home" he said quickly and before she could answer, he kissed her temple and left her on the expensive restaurant.

she looked into her plate, then called a waiter.

"the check please"

after getting the plate, miguel had left in the car so she had to walk home, while she walked, her head was lost in thought, in miguel, in her miguel, was miguel even her miguel anymore? he seemed so distant, it was her fault, she never did anything correctly.

suddenly, a drop of rain fell on her head, making her look upwards, many drops followed

"mierda, esta lloviendo" she made a turn in an alleyway, a shortcut, but little did she know, that with her clouded mind did not choose the right alley.

as she made her way into the alley a vulgar sound was heard

a fucking wolf whistle

"ayo lady!" she tried to ignore them "i'm talking to you! didn't your daddy taught you good manners?" she grimaced at the comment, and walked a little faster, until she heard footsteps behind her, so she began to run.

"c'mon girly, we only want to give you a good time" one of the men said

they caught up with her, and when one tried to touch her, she punched him, hard.

"you fucking bitch!" the men grabbed a hold of her, she squirmed and kicked, scratched and punched but she was outnumbered, she wasn't gonna give up easily, she spat on the 'leader's face, and he punched her, on the nose, and she began to bleed

"i'd advise you to stop" was heard, everyone turned to the shadow, the rain droplets making a hard noise on the pavement "the lady clearly doesn't want it." her eyes tried to decipher who it was, and they did

it was miguel o'hara.

"and what if i don't you lucha libre fighter?" the man mocked miguel

with a sharp movement, talons and claws came out of miguel's body

"you won't like what come's next."

"look, macho, we don't want problems so turn around-" before he could even finish he was in a web, dangling in the air

"anyone else?" he growled.

"miguel.." she began, drenched in rain

"ninety nine, i know, i know i shouldn't have sai-" y/n hugged him, and began to cry

y/n was crying

he hugged her back

they stayed like that in the rain until miguel held her and shot a web, and pulled the two of them up, they swung through the city, until they arrived to a ceiling, her ceiling. in her ceiling, he gently let her go, and took a tuper, with empanadas mixtas, he helf them out as if they were a peace offering

"i'm sorry ninety-nine, i shouldn't have lashed out my pent up anger towards you"

she took them and smiled "call me y/n."

series list

translations:

no se como mi yo de otra la dimensión se pudo haber enamorado de ti = i don't know how me from the other dimension could've fallen in love with you

mierda= shit

taglist

@simeon-lovergirl

@allysunny

@autismsupermusicalassassin

@thel0v3hashira143

[cuubism]

Made in an Instant (2/5)

part 3 of Wish. Chapter 2: Dream's eldritch baby shower

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Later on, Lucienne and Matthew put together a baby shower for Dream in the Dreaming. It’s very sweet. Hob invites Death, though by the time he does she seems to already know, he’s not sure how. Death brings Desire, Despair, and Delirium along with her, which Hob is a bit dubious about, but he can’t exactly tell Death what to do. Even Dream’s remade version of the Corinthian shows up, which Hob is even more dubious about.

They all meet in Fiddler’s Green, ostensibly to surprise Dream, though Hob tips him off beforehand because Dream doesn’t actually like being surprised very much. “Just pretend you weren’t expecting it,” Hob tells him. When they arrive, Dream doesn’t do a very good job of pretending, though he does seem touched. Lucienne catches Hob’s eye and gives him a little smile, and he realizes she was probably counting on him to do just that.

They set up on the grass under one of Fiddler’s Green’s large shade trees. For some unfathomable reason, the Corinthian is the one who brings cake. Hob doesn’t know who allowed him to be in charge of that.

Corinthian sets the cake on a picnic blanket. It looks extremely normal, which is only more unnerving.

“That doesn’t have eyes in it, does it?” Matthew asks skeptically from where he’s perched on Hob’s shoulder—presumably positioned there to keep Hob between himself and the Corinthian. Thanks for that, buddy.

“So what if it does?” says Corinthian. “It’s important for the baby to develop proper bloodlust.”

Seemingly unperturbed, Dream takes a slice and starts eating it with a tiny fork. Under the vanilla frosting, the cake is pure red. Hob hopes it’s just red velvet.

He’s too unnerved to eat any of it himself.

Despite the possibly cannibalistic cake, Hob is briefly hopeful that it might be a nice event. No one’s tried to kill each other in the first five minutes, so that’s a plus. Maybe things will actually be normal.

Then Desire sits down in the circle.

“Why are you here,” Dream says with open hostility, and Hob mentally braces himself.

Desire just grins at Dream toothily. “She takes after me,” they declare. “I can tell already. We may be enemies, dear brother, but I hold nothing but fondness for my little nibling. I will be Auntie and you cannot stop me.”

“Auntie?” repeats Dream with derision, but Desire does not seem put off.

“Indeed. I do believe we will be the best of friends.”

“Your influence can only be negative,” says Dream.

Desire waves a hand. “We all need negative influences in our lives. And you speak as if your influence will be any better.”

Dream’s mouth pops open in outrage, but Desire thrusts a gift into his hands. Not only did they bring a gift, Hob reflects, but it’s even wrapped. Babies make people so weird.

Dream looks at them suspiciously, then at the gift with even more suspicion, but carefully unpicks the wrapping.

Inside is a knitted baby blanket in the shape of a large red heart.

Dream stares at it while Desire grins at him. “For sweet dreams,” they say.

Hob thinks it’s meant to be at least somewhat mocking but it’s… kind of sweet, too? In Desire’s twisted way.

“Do not taunt me,” Dream says at last, glaring at Desire, and they roll their eyes.

“Can’t you accept one sincere expression of love?”

“Are you capable of sincerity?”

“Enough,” Death cuts in, and they both quiet. “I didn’t bring you to cause trouble,” she says to Desire.

“I’m not!”

Dream still looks suspicious, but when he looks down at the blanket in his hands again, Hob sees something soft flit briefly across his face. “If you are sincere,” he says, “then I thank you.”

Desire settles back, satisfied. Somehow, Hob actually believes that they genuinely want to be their child’s Auntie. He doesn’t know how that will turn out, though.

Dream sets the blanket in his lap. “Perhaps you should attend your own grandchildren before worrying about mine.”

Desire waves a hand. “Oh, we’re thick as thieves, don’t you worry. I gave Rose dating advice just the other day!”

Dream looks alarmed by that, as does Death, but before either of them can react, Delirium, who’s been bouncing in her seat, jumps forward and hands Dream her gift. “Open it! Open it open it!”

Her gift is not so much wrapped as it is… an immaterial swirling ball of sparkles. Dream takes it, and it hovers in his hands, then explodes in a shower of light.

Inside is a mobile hung with glittery fish, to put above the crib. Only it’s not really a mobile, because the fish aren’t actually attached to any wires. They just hover in the air, swimming around each other in mesmerizing circular patterns. Hob has to admit that even to his adult eyes, it’s… pretty hypnotizing. Almost trance-inducing.

“I made it!” Delirium says.

Unlike with Desire, Dream has no cutting words for Delirium. “Thank you, little sister,” he says solemnly. He sets it before him, and the fish dart up to spiral around his head, then return to their meditative spin. “You must come to visit, and set it above her crib.”

Delirium claps her hands in delight. “Babies have such fun imaginations!” she says. “Even I can feel them.” She throws her arms around Dream in a bear hug. He tolerates it in good humor, but Hob sees his tiny smile over her shoulder.

Everyone else has brought gifts for Dream too. He seems nervous about it, not being used to receiving nice things. Hob urges Lucienne to go next as he knows she’ll have been sensible about it—God only knows what Corinthian’s picked out. Hopefully just the bloody cake.

Lucienne gives Dream a newborn-sized onesie that says future librarian. Dream raises an eyebrow. “Claiming my daughter as your apprentice already?”

She smiles. “More an offer of babysitting.”

Lucienne is one of the few people in Dream’s vicinity that Hob thinks is actually capable of taking care of an infant. Everybody else in the Dreaming… he’s really not so sure.

“I thank you, Lucienne,” Dream says, and clasps her hands with a small, but warm smile.

Then Despair, who’s been keeping to herself so far, passes Dream a small package wrapped in newspaper. Inside is what seems to be a plastic teething toy shaped like her hook-and-ring sigil—though with the sharp hook suitably blunted.

Hob’s immediate first thought is will the baby even have teeth, which is insane and makes him wonder how prepared he actually is for any of this. But before he can ponder it more, Despair says, “When she is hurting, I can ease it.”

Hob’s been a bit leery of letting Despair near the baby to begin with. But from what Dream has said in the past, when she isn’t being pulled into her twin’s schemes Despair can be the kindest of the Endless. Hob is still wary of that form of kindness, especially when it comes to Dream himself. But he thinks perhaps he can see what Dream means.

Matthew gives Dream the book Quantum Physics for Babies, which he seems to have procured from a Waking world bookstore despite there most definitely being a copy in the Dreaming library somewhere. “Listen,” he says, “I gotta give the kid a better start in life than I had. Speaking of which, should we set up a college fund?”

“Hob can afford higher education,” Dream says placidly.

“Great,” Hob complains, “just put all the childcare costs on me, then.”

“S’what you get for knocking up a guy who’s got no money,” Matthew says, then immediately croaks in regret for having said that out loud, hopping several feet away from Dream.

Dream just gives him a look but doesn’t comment. It’s not like Matthew’s wrong, after all.

Fiddler’s Green crafts a flower crown of budding blossoms, and floats it down onto Dream’s head, which makes him smile faintly, touching the soft petals. Corinthian gives him a stuffed toy cat with a baby-sized knife stashed in the belly; apparently, it can be eviscerated endless times and will just repair itself. Hob had been expecting body parts so he can’t complain, really. An indestructible toy might actually come in handy.

Death doesn’t have a physical gift for Dream. Instead she leans in close to his side and whispers something in his ear. When she finishes speaking, Dream is close to tears. And Hob thinks he knows what she’s said.

It’s something he hadn’t even considered. Dream had said the baby wasn’t Endless, but Hob had still been assuming she was like, kind of Endless, some sort of ethereal nonhuman creature. To think he was wrong makes his stomach drop; he nearly grasps onto Dream’s arm for balance before the past few seconds catch up to him and he remembers what Death said. Presumably said. Christ, not even born and the baby’s already giving him a heart attack.

“I thank you, my sister,” Dream says, with more than his usual solemnity, clearly—to Hob’s eyes anyway—blinking those burgeoning tears back. Hob finds his hand and squeezes it, close to tears himself.

“You know I just want you to be happy, Dream,” Death says, cheery despite the heavy topic. Not so heavy for her, though, Hob supposes.

“I do.” Dream almost seems to believe it.

Then, Death hands him a package wrapped in brown paper. Dream reads the label, frowning. Then just stares at it, for at least a full minute.

“Dream?” Hob asks tentatively.

Dream picks open the wrapping on the package and opens the box. He lifts out a child’s art kit, finger paints and crayons and so on. He doesn’t say anything.

Desire looks pale. “Is that from—?”

“Brother!” Delirium squeals, and snatches not the gift itself, but the wrapping from Dream’s hands. She turns it over, lifts it above her head to look at the underside, tilting her head and frowning. “No address.”

“Where did you get this?” Dream demands of Death.

“It was left on the doorstep, so to speak,” Death says, then doesn’t elaborate further.

Hob almost doesn’t want to ask, given their reactions, but he’s dying with curiosity. “Who is it from, then?”

“Our brother,” Dream says. It might as well be a sentence to death for the way he intones it.

Oh. Hob has heard about this. Or at least, he’s heard Dream say there are seven Endless and then only talk about six. He’s heard the space around that name.

“He’s not coming, though,” says Despair, twisting the lank strands of her hair between her fingers.

“I don’t think so,” says Death.

“Why would he do this?” Desire demands. “If you’re gonna stay away then just stay away.”

“But family,” says Delirium. She’s still holding the crumpled gift wrapping in despondent hands.

Desire snorts. “What family?”

“I’m sure he has his reasons,” Death says, defusing the argument. “Whatever they may be, he clearly wants to show he cares. I think we should leave it at that.”

Neither Desire nor Delirium look like they want to ‘leave it at that,’ but Delirium only fidgets nervously and Desire huffs, rolling their eyes, when Death casts them a look, but ultimately stays quiet. Meanwhile Dream has set the art kit down on the grass before him and is studying it, brow pinched. Hob rests a hand on his lower back.

“We will not solve the matter now,” Dream finally says.

The art kit vanishes, whisked away by dream sand to Dream’s chambers, or possibly deposited somewhere in Hob’s flat, it’s hard to be certain. Hob’s unsure whether it will make another appearance. Dream doesn’t seem like he’s quite ready to deal with that yet, and knowing him, their daughter will be as old as Hob before he is.

Gradually, the tension dissipates. Delirium folds the wrapping paper into a flower and tucks it behind her ear. Desire pulls the entire rest of the cake towards themself and starts picking at the frosting with their fingers. Despair joins in soon after.

Lucienne gathers herself and tries to rally them all. “Any other gifts?” she says.

“Hob’s gift! Hob’s gift!” Delirium chants.

Indeed, Hob is the only one left who hasn’t gone. Before he can even speak, Desire smiles slyly. “Hob doesn’t need a gift. He already gave Dream his sperm.”

“Desire!” Dream and Death say simultaneously.

“Wrow,” drawls Corinthian. “Let’s hear more about that.”

“Let’s not.” Lucienne glares at Corinthian. How she survives this on a daily basis, Hob really doesn’t know.

“Let’s not,” he agrees, and Corinthian grins at him with all three of his mouths. Hob shudders, but ignores the nightmare in favor of pulling a gift box from the fabric of the Dreaming.

He’s gotten better at manipulating the Dreaming. He’s pretty sure he even managed to hide his gift from Dream despite it being in the Dreaming the whole time and made of dream stuff.

Indeed, Dream takes the box, eyes widening in surprise as touch reveals its origins. He opens it and takes out a small rectangle, somewhat akin to a mobile phone in appearance. He tilts his head, studying it. Hob taps it, and the screen lights up, showing a camera view of the spare room in Hob’s flat they’d converted into a nursery.

“It’s a baby monitor,” he explains. “Has sound, too.”

Hob knows plenty well that, while he might be able to convince Dream to take some time off after the baby is born, Dream isn’t going to be able to just be with them all the time, even if he wants to. His job is too all-encompassing and too important. And Dream won’t complain about it, because he never does, but he will be sad about it, and he will worry about his baby when he’s not there. Hob just knows it.

Hence, the dream baby monitor that’s connected to the Waking world. Dream can, of course, look in on Hob via dreams if he needs to, or send Matthew to the Waking to be his eyes from afar, but he’s not omniscient, he can’t just know what’s going on in their flat. Except now he can.

“Getting it to connect to the one in my flat was the tricky bit, but I think I’ve managed it,” he says, and Dream turns to look at him.

“You made this?” he says.

Hob scratches the back of his neck. “Well, the Dreaming was inclined to help, I think.”

Lucienne is smiling. Death, too. Dream just keeps staring at him, perplexed, or surprised, Hob’s not sure.

He nudges Dream in the side. “I wanted you to be able to see her.”

“To see her,” Dream echoes. He looks again at the screen of the baby monitor. Touches the dream-glass with a light fingertip. His eyes shine, but he doesn’t cry—he never does in front of his subjects, and rarely does even in front of Hob. Hob rubs his back.

“Thank you,” Dream finally says, quietly, and tucks the baby monitor carefully into the inner infinity of his coat. “You have become quite adept at dreaming, it seems.”

Then he lifts Hob’s hand to his mouth and kisses his palm.

Delirium makes a squealing, cooing sound. So does Corinthian, but mockingly. Hob’s pretty sure he hears Desire gag.

But as usual, he only has eyes for Dream, and cradles his cheek in his palm, thumbing over the corner of his mouth. Dream’s eyes hold promises for later that needn’t be spoken in present company. But above all is the love there, the devotion, the promise that is the two of them. 

“Can we please open the wine now?” Desire begs, and the tension is broken, but Hob catches Dream’s gaze intermittently throughout the rest of the afternoon, and he knows what he sees there, subtle though it is. It’s happiness.

“He loved it,” Hob tells Lucienne later, when the group’s mostly dispersed.

She smiles, quietly pleased. “I know.”