#you’re telling me a ghost pulled this pork

[telestoapologist]

Glint: Remember, you haven’t spoken to him in a long time, so just keep it light and casual! You can use our conversation starters if you get in trouble. :)

Young Wolf: 👍

Crow: Light and casual, got it… (exhales) Thanks, guys.

—

Crow, panicking: I’M GOING INTO LABOR

Jolyon: ?!?!?

Glint: HE’S PULLING THE PREGNANCY CARD THIS EARLY??

Young Wolf, observing through binoculars: If he u-turns the topic back to becoming hunter vanguard we might clutch this.

[bearieio]

too hot for you...

cod guys during a heatwave

characters: simon "ghost" riley, john price, kyle "gaz" garrick, johnny "soap" mactavish, alejandro vargas, rudolfo perra, könig

warnings: fluff! gn!reader

a/n: the weather has been UNBEARABLE down here in the south.. send help! thanks a lot global warming! (thanks a lot industrial revolution!) (￢_￢;) i also plan on doing a cold weather version once the weather calms down, so expect a pt. 2 in the fall/winter! also this isn't proofread bc it's 23:49 on a school night...

gaz quite literally RADIATES heat... so he is NOT having a good time during this heatwave. he's never gotten to the hotter climates on missions that took place in the hotter side of the hemisphere. 

he definitely adores the cold. which is why his electric bill is so high..

  one hot days like this one, he makes sure to plan out the day accordingly because he knows that no one, especially you, wants to go out in the blistering heat. 

  he’d be a little weary about touching you for too long, knowing how it makes you feel uncomfortable to be hot and sticky (wink wink) for too long.

  kyle would most likely make one of those forts that have a fan running through it (cuz he crafty like that) to keep the both of you cool while laying down together, both of you in starfish positions.

-

price is the exact OPPOSITE of gaz. he likes the heat.. but not when it’s like this.

  “todays high is… 103 DEGREES? FAHRENHEIT? CELSIUS?!” 

  “yeah… let’s stay inside today, sweetheart.. the mall can wait.”

  unlike gaz, he’s immune to most amounts of heat, but in SOUTHERN WEATHER? this man gets RED when he even takes a quick look outside. the sun is this mans only enemy. 

  he makes a MEAN smoothie. filled with both veggies and fruits to make sure you take in as many vitamins and minerals as humanly possible. he loves taking care of you wherever and whenever he can :')

  definitely hosts the world’s best barbecues and invites everyone. he’s also one HELL of a cook. he gets the grill goin’ and he can make some shit happen. 

  ++ he also own those silly aprons that have like “kiss the cook,” “my wife loves my meat,’ “real men like their pork PULLED,” "bearded cooks are way better"

  +++ he takes ice baths in the backyard.. a cigar in his mouth, news paper in one hand, ice cold beer in the other.  idk it just seemed like something he'd be doing.

-

soap loves to cuddle and refuses to let go when you tell him that you’re getting sweaty.

  “ugh! c’mon, you know i love your hot n’ sweaty scent!” 

  “..ew johnny.”

  makes a KILLER lemonade. idk what he puts in it but oh my god it’s amazing. not too tart but also not too sweet. brings it to every one of price’s bbqs. 

  his tolerance to heat it quite moderate, and he doesn’t mind the heat. but naturally he’ll be outside until he’s about to collapse because of the sweltering heat.  

  he literally tries to fight heat stroke back. he strokes the heat stroke.

  when you complain about being hot he’ll fan you with anything, for however long. you always feel bad about letting him fan you for an extended period of time, but he reassures you that he doesn’t mind.

  “it's fine, baby. don't worry about me." he says with a slight smile, watching you lie there, enjoying the fanning johnny provides you with.

-

ghost is always cold to the touch, even when he’s been outside, going through drills with his other teammates. 

“how are your hands so cold?!”

he gazes over at you, breathing hard, a thin layer of sweat atop his skin, “what? i’m dripping with sweat. i been outside for the past 2 hours!?”

can and will drink piping hot tea while it’s 99191099 degrees outside. 

  “sweetheart can you get me a cup of tea?”

  “…what? in this weather?!” you reply, confused and kinda terrified.

  he returns the confused look, “um… yea?”

  i don’t think he likes dresses according to the weather.. like he will wear 4 layers of clothing + his trusty balaclava, and seem completely fine (he’s not). 

  ++ in winter he’ll be like one of those middle school kids who wears shorts and a short sleeve shirts, without a jacket.

  +++ i think he secretly hates the heat and prefers to live in colder places, since it was usually cooler where he grew up. 

-

 unfortunately, rudy's love language is physical touch and CANNOT keep his hands off of you. even when the A/C goes out and the both of you're left to fend for yourselves in the sun-drenched heat.

  “r-RUDY GET OFF OF MEE!” 

  “mi amor, PLEASE!-“

  hosts the best carne asadas with alejandro and invites everyone (mostly to one up price’s bbqs). serves the best horchata, limonada, and other agua frescas. 

  picks the hottest days to invite people over and spend hours with you in the kitchen, cookin up a STORM! most DEFINITELY loves teaching you new cooking techniques and ways to improve the flavor, texture, and presentation of your food.

  with having grown up in las almas, he’s pretty used to the heat. he enjoys the hotter months out of the year because thats when his family came together the most.

  ++ i actually think rudy is a really good cook… like his skills are literally otherworldly. and tamales de puerco are his specialty ^^

-

alejandro loves hot weather as much as rudy does. in fact, its the time of the year when they hang out the most. hosting parties, gatherings, and other events in the sweltering heat… but it’s okay because everyone leaves with new memories and smiles on their faces (and maybe a lil bitta heat stroke).

  the days where he isn’t hanging out with rudy or the rest of the guys, he’s at home with you. playing all kinds of games that he grew up playing with his friends and family. he beats everyone in loteria EVERY time. luckily he doesn’t make you bet like he does when he’s with the guys.

  ale stays outside more than the average person when it’s hot. you’d be on the couch, binge-watching a show you promised your friends that you’d catch up on, when you actually get to watching the show, ale heads outside. by the time you’re done with the first season, he’s coming back in, slightly red and covered in sweat. 

  “where did you go?”

  “around the block… why do you ask?”

“yOU’VE BEEN GONE FOR 3 HOURS?"

++ when the weathers nice and hot, he likes to get away and go on roadtrips with you. of course he's usually the one driving, but he loves when you offer to drive.

+++ he LOVES being by the pool. whether it's the one that you guys have, one of his buddies' pools, or the one located inside his base, he cannot stay out of the water. he also has MULTIPLE pairs of swimming trunks... for every occasion.

++++ he most likely keeps up the summer tan he has goin' on.

"it's not a skin color, it's a lifestyle [name]- see you wouldn't know that because you’re-"

-

könig doesn’t have any particular opinions about how hot it is. he notices it but it doesn’t bother him. not like how the cold bothers him.

  during the hotter months i think he doesn’t mind staying inside but he’d also love to be out n’ about, with you by his side. 

  the days end up being long and peaceful. especially because all the two of you do is nap and watch TV together. he thinks it’s nice to be with you, but he’d rather be outside. 

  the only time that the two of you would go out is during the evening when the sun decides to be less aggressive with the earth.

++ i just have a feeling that könig loves to be outside and “one with nature.” he loves how calm everything seemed when he takes hikes in the forest or atop a mountain. 

+++ i also think that könig would be the best bartender EVER. idk i feel like he knows his way around a martini glass or whatever. he puts those skills to use whenever you guys have date night/a night in, concocting drinks with flavors you don’t think you’ve ever tasted before.

“schatz, what will you be having to drink tonight?”

“surprise me” you chirp back at him, winking. 

he looks down at you, sitting on the stool at the island located in your guys’ kitchen “coming right up!” 

a/n pt2: alejandro's tan will never be better than mine (i'm black)

ANYWAYS! constructive criticism is appreciated !!!

[thegreyjoyed]

GirlDad!Ghost and LovingHusband!Ghost

In honor of my pookie pie Swiss

Fem!user (aka you’re referred to as ‘wife’, ‘you’ and ‘his girls’ are used and stuff)

The familiar sound of ‘Careless Whisper by George Michael’ is playing rather loudly from the TV in the living room, Simon quietly entered the foyer, taking his shoes off and setting his bags down onto the ground, creeping into the stretch of the house where he could see the dining room, the kitchen and you.

Simon leaned against the wall, his other two girls must’ve been in the living room because he could hear them screeching the lyrics to ‘Careless Whisper’. You were making dinner while dancing, stirring.. something and laughing at your daughters.

Simon was perfectly content to just watch his family as they sang and danced- well, your two daughters singing and you dancing. He pushed off the wall and walked over to you, finally getting noticed, “Ah! Si! You’re home, hi! I missed you.” You said with a big smile, setting the mixing bowl down as you walked over and pulled him into a hug, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Hi lovie, jammin’ out to careless whisper?” The man teased softly, his British accent clear as he hugged you back, a kiss pressed back to your lips and then another pressed to your temple.

“Maybe.” You mused back, a soft flush against your skin as you went back to mixing and cooking. Simon walked over to his two daughters who noticed him almost immediately. Your eldest- Sierra, who was 16 and obviously a daddy’s girl, got up quickly to hug her dad, greeting him with a smile.

Daphne got up as well, hugging him with a smile to him. Daphne was only 12, and also the youngest. The song changed after a few more seconds, now some other random song as the two girls sat back down on the couch.

Simon shook his head and chuckled as he pulled out two wine glasses, he set them both down before finding his and your favorite wine, carefully pouring it out, giving one glass to you after you finally finished running around the kitchen.

You picked up the wine and smiled, “Thanks, Si.” You said softly as you sipped the wine, the two of you moved to lean against the counter and each other, a strong arm wrapped around your middle to tug you closer.

“I love you.” Simon crooned into your ear as he sipped the wine, soon after a lengthy and rather weird conversation about what tree they would think each other were.

Simon ended up being an Oak tree and you ended up a Great Basin Bristlecone Pine. You weren’t sure what that was, searched it up, got jokingly offended and asked Simon if he was calling you old and how he even knew what that tree was.

Simon had to explain that Johnny(or soap), had gone on a three hour ramble of trees because Daphne of all people- had taught Johnny, about trees. Simon had also included in a more hushed tone that Johnny called him an ‘old fart’ with an amused chuckle.

You shook your head and laughed alongside him. “Daph! Mind telling Uncle J not to be an ass? Text him for me. You can use ass.” You called, getting your youngest’s attention easily.

“Alright! Sent, Mom!” Daphne called in response, not even five minutes later, Simon gets a call. ‘Johnny’ with the stupidest picture of him as the contact name.

“Your little lassie, Daphy jus’ called me an arse!” Johnny’s very Scottish and very offended voice came through loudly from the phone. “Oh I know.” Simon mused, “The hell ya mean ya know?!” Johnny crowed in response, “She was allowed to cuss. Now goodnight Johnny.” Simon said, quickly hanging up, chuckling.

You smiled and shook your head, finally collecting dinner and playing it all for the two girls, a husband and yourself. A good ol’ fashioned dinner. A casserole, pork, rice, green beans, corn, dinner roles- made all by you throughout the day.

Of course, everyone had a little of everything, eating happily and talking about school, drama.. life in general. You and your husband were both amused as Sierra talked about drama going on in her highschool.

Apparently, in the drama there was two girls who fought over this guy- the guy liked both.. the girls hated each other, they fought, got real hissy pissy about it, punching, scratching, kicking, pulling hair, playing dirty. Not really as much of a fight as it was a scrap.

Simon was throughly amused by it though and chuckled, Daphne thought it was a little funny too, poking fun as Sierra spoke.

You smiled and asked questions- needing context of course- you received some.. half-assed context, which you let slide of course.

When everyone was done, they all helped put everything away, leftovers got packed up, Simon shoved more food into his face after both Sierra and Daphne didn’t finish the rice and corn they had.

You let a long sigh out as both Daphne and Sierra finally went to their respective rooms. You and Simon went to your rooms. Simon tugged you closer into his chest, kissing at your face as you both cuddled into bed, putting on some random movie.

You snuggled into Simon, saying ‘I love you’ and ‘good night’, getting a mirrored- more sleepy response from Simon.

[yjhariani]

hiii dear!!

how are you? i hope that ur fine:) i really don't know if ur requests are open, please ignore this if it's not. could you maybe make a oneshot about Ghost seeing reader for the first time and he gets to know that she is muslim (how would he react?)and how would their small interaction turn into something more....

Thank you so much and have a wonderful day!!🫶

Thank you!

For the record, I don't think I'll ever open request, but if you send me an ask and I can work with it, I might. Also, if it's Ramadan/Eid related stuff I'll post them during Ramadan and Eid since we're almost there.

When you entered the restaurant, you found your friend, Gaz, already there with his squad. There was an extra seat on the table.  None of them noticed you until you arrived at the table and took a seat.

“Hi,” you greeted, looking around the table.

Eventually, your eyes stopped at the mask wearing man. You knew this would be the infamous Ghost and you just saw half of his face from the nose bridge up.

Your seat was placed next to him. Facing the wall. It might be because he did not want to be seen by the majority had he sat facing the other side. This way, you would not be able to actually look at him unless you turn your head towards him.

“Uh… this is my friend from intelligence,” Gaz chimed in. “The one I’m talking about. We can call—”

“Me classified because I just broke a bunch of rules,” you cut Gaz off. “I know who you guys are, no need for introduction.”

“You said you have information about the man we’re after?” the captain proceeded.

“Yes,” you nodded and put a file case on the table.

A pause.

“We’re about to… place our orders, maybe you’d like to order something?” Soap offered.

“Are there halal options?” you asked.

The men on the table exchanged glances.

“Elaborate?” Soap replied.

“Something that doesn’t have pork or alcohol. Or not cooked using the same utensils as something that does. Even meat is kinda complicated. I should’ve probably said vegan, it’s easier for people to understand,” you explained and ended it with an awkward chuckle.

There was another halt.

“Um… never mind. I’ll have water,” you said.

“I’m pretty sure I read salad on the menu,” Ghost said, eyeing Gaz as if to blame the sergeant.

“That’s my bad. I should’ve probably told them that you have a religious diet before we picked the restaurant,” Gaz said.

“I’m here to make sure that you’re being provided proper information before you leave, so food is not really my concern at the moment,” you said. “I mean, I could lose my job, but, sure, I’ll have a salad.”

There was a second where you and Ghost were looking at one another.

“So, what’s this?” Captain Price gestured at the file.

With that, you started explaining what you had. After hearing what you leaked, they were quite expressive towards how much they disliked your superior.

The squad started talking with you about your intel and eventually doing it whilst eating. It was hard not to keep looking at the man sitting next to you every now and again because he pulled his mas down whilst he eat. You made sure to give him his space.

By the end of your meal, everything was caught up and they seemed more eager to get their current mission done with.

Before leaving, the captain excused himself to take care of the bills. At the same time, Gaz left to go to the toilet. That left you, Ghost, and Soap.

Ghost tossed the car key towards Soap, telling him to ready the car. Soap eyed the two of you for the first couple of seconds, but took off anyway. When he did, you gathered yourself and was ready to leave.

You looked at Ghost and found him already looking at you.

“Halal food, you’re a muslim?” Ghost asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“I picked the restaurant. If I’d known, I would’ve picked a different one,” Ghost said.

“It’s alright. As I said, I’m not meeting you to eat,” you replied.

Ghost only looked at you after that.

“Well, good luck on your mission,” you said as you stood up. “I better leave, too, else I’m gonna miss my prayer. Hopefully we won’t have to meet in this circumstance again.”

“Thank you,” Ghost said.

“It’s alright,” you said. “Bye.”

You had already stepped away when Ghost called, “Wait.”

Hearing that, you stopped and turned your head around. You stepped back towards the table. Ghost stood up.

“Under different circumstances, in a different restaurant, at an appropriate time, maybe you’d like to, uh… eat with me?” Ghost carefully asked. “I would’ve asked you for a drink, but I know I can’t do that, so—I mean, if you like tea or coffee, that’s….”

Ghost did not get to finish his sentence, but he saw you smiling and nodded once, taking that you understood what he was saying.

“Yeah,” you said. “Totally.”

“Great,” Ghost said. “I can get your number, then? Your name? I don’t know your name. Unless it really is Classified.”

“It is,” you chuckled.

Looking at the table, you saw a clean napkin and took out your pen. You wrote down your number and name as quickly as possible. You gave it to him. He folded it in half and put it into his jacket pocket.

“Thank you,” Ghost said.

“No, thank you,” you replied.

By then, the captain returned and witnessed the exchange.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

“Additional intel. It’s not that important,” you said. “I really wish you guys luck for this mission. Have a great week.”

“Good luck to you, too,” Captain Price said. “Don’t get caught.”

[choicesmc]

"I will definitely remember this tomorrow! How could I ever forget?" doesn't remember anything in the morning For the pairing of your choosing!

okay so. originally, it was going to be gabe x fiona. <- why not, right? but then, had the most brilliant idea for jiahao and her mom instead and it ran away from me very very badly. it came out wonderfully, but it is also far above 300 words. like a couple hundred more than 300.

Charity paused, lifting her wine glass in greeting as Jiahao slipped into her room. It was early night. The window at the far east of the room let the soft light of the stars filter in, coating the room a silver hue.

Under the moonlight, her mother seemed younger. The lines etched by stress and worry softened, deep brown eyes made even deeper by pale moonlight. A ghost of a smile flitted across her face. 

The rich, salty smell of meats and cheeses wafted through the room. A charcuterie board was laid in front of her. Bresaola, mortadella, and pork tangled with vegetables, nuts, and cheeses in a tantalizing spread.�� 

“Join me,” Charity said, soft voice carrying through the silent room. 

Jiahao obliged. 

The wheely chair made no noise as it pulled it out, cautiously taking a seat before rolling back to the table. 

Charity took a long sip from a wine glass. The sound resounded through the room. With her free hand, Charity offered Jiahao the bottle of grape juice she’d kept on the table. 

“How’d you know…?” Jiahao trailed, breaking the seal on the bottle. Even he hadn’t thought he’d join his mother until five minutes ago.  

“Adanne and I used to do this together all the time,” Charity said, eyes lingering on Jiahao but seeing far past him, “When you were much younger. She’d always pick off the cheeses and breads and nuts but never the meats.”

 “That sounds like her,” Jiahao chuckled, “She’d even pick out bacon pieces from her salad.”  

“Yeah, that’s how she was.” 

Her expression shifted, tears coating her eyes. She reached for Jiahao, cupping cheeks and wine glass stem in hand, “Ennie, my boy. Do you love me? Be honest. I can handle it.” 

It was then Jia noticed the flush on his mother’s cheek. Alcohol laced her every breath. Somehow, it was just now Jiahao noticed the near empty bottle of wine on Charity’s nightstand. 

It was then Jiahao understood. 

“You’re drunk.” 

It wasn’t an accusation, simply a statement of fact. Yet Charity flinched from it all the same. 

“Ennie, tell me you love me.”

“You won’t remember this tomorrow, will you?”

 “Of course I’ll remember! How could I ever forget?” Charity said, eyes large and loving and voice continually softer, “You’ve never said it before. I want to hear it from you at least once.” 

 Swallowing hesitation, Jiahao murmured the words even as they burned against her tongue hoping her mother wouldn’t hear, “I’m learning to love you, ma.” 

It was the best she could manage now. It wasn’t complete. Not yet. But it was more than Jia had ever thought she would say. 

All the same, Charity beamed, easily rivaling the brightest stars, “Ennie, you love me.” Pride, warmth, and undiluted love gushed through the spaces between each word. 

It was far too much for Jiahao’s shallow statement. It was too much love for Jiahao to hold. She darted up from her seat, gulping down the rest of the grape juice. Words unsteady, she rapidly excused herself –almost collapsing once in her own room. 

The night dragged on, keeping morning at bay for as long as possible. Eventually, dawn broke and Jia rose with the sun. Fluffy, pink sleep robe wrapped around her as she descended the wooden stairs. 

Her nose wrinkled as the overwhelming smell of chocolate doused downstairs air. Her mother was already at the stove, flipping chocolate pancakes and steadily making a large pile that already filled three plates. 

“Ma,” Jiahao called, last night’s tenderness already buried, “I am not eating sugar for breakfast.” 

Charity waved her off, pointing to a lone plate at the end of a counter “Ehe, I made plain pancake plate for you.The rest are for me and my friends.” 

Jiahao stared at her. How did she already have friends close enough to invite for breakfast? 

“Whetin?” Charity asked, looking away as she poured batter into the pan, “You no know hunger?” 

“No, I was just,” Jia paused before reformulating her words, “I saw you drinking last night.” 

Charity’s attitude faltered, “Ah. I’m fine, I just wanted a late night snack.” 

“Is that all that happened?” Jiahao insisted. Relief washed through her that the alcohol had been enough to wipe the memory from mind. But still, it was the first time she’d told her mother anything close to ‘I love you’. Was it a crime to hope her mother had remembered?

“I believe so…?” Charity said, brows furrowed, “Did I do something, Jia?” 

“No, I just,” Jia said, scowling as she took her plate, “I just thought I heard you talking to someone.” 

“Oh,” Charity smiled, the confusion not quite gone but lessened, “You know I do that at times.” 

“Yeah,” Jia said, picking at her pancakes, “I know. Just hoping it wasn’t anything serious, I guess.”

[melliotwrites]

are you working on a musical/play currently? if so when will it be out on youtube (if you know)

We are currently hard at work on our next show, Ghost Story! We don't have a production lined up yet, much less any kind of video, but we'll update as we go along with getting it in front of eyeballs :) (Probably the first iteration of it will be a reading in New York City -- or maybe New Haven, CT. -- so if you're around there keep an eye out for more info once we finish writing it!)

For now, have our first demo for Ghost Story :) and follow our demos playlist for more stuff in the future!

lyrics:

ANTHONY: OUR MAP IS OLD, THE SIGNS ARE WRONG BUT SINGING SONGS, WE ROLL ALONG THE WIDE OPEN SPACES OF THE LAND OF THE FREE

AS THE SETTING SUN GROWS BRIGHTER THE TOWNS AROUND GET WHITER JOEY STAYS SMILING AS ALL EYES TURN TO ME

HAO: SHEEP IN WOLF COUNTRY, GAZE AT TAXIDERMY SHOPS SEE YOUR BEADY EYES UP THERE NEXT!

HAO/ANTHONY: SHEEP IN WOLF COUNTRY

ANTHONY: GETTING CIRCLED BY CROPS, WATCH YOUR SERVICE DWINDLE DOWN TO TEXT

ALL: SHEEP IN WOLF COUNTRY, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH WHAT’S MORE EXCITING AND NEW?

JOEY/JOZEF: WOLF IN SHEEP COUNTRY

ANTHONY/HAO: YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH

ALL: SOMEONE WHO’S ABSOLUTELY NOTHING LIKE YOU!

ANTHONY: REST STOPS BEGIN FEELING STRANGE BIT MORE LIKE A FIRING RANGE PULLING OVER FEELS LIKE LIFE-AND-DEATH JOEY TELLS ME THEY DON’T MIND

HAO/ANTHONY: BUT THEY CAN TELL I’M NOT THEIR KIND SO I’D RATHER HOLD MY BLADDER THAN HOLD MY BREATH

HAO/ANTHONY: SHEEP IN WOLF COUNTRY

ANTHONY: BETTER WATCH YOUR BACK

HAO: TEETH AND CLAWS COULD COME FROM ANY DIRECTION

HAO/ANTHONY: SHEEP IN WOLF COUNTRY

ANTHONY: OFF THE BEATEN TRACK

HAO: ‘ROUND THESE PARTS, YOU BETTER CARRY PROTECTION!

ALL: SHEEP IN WOLF COUNTRY

JOEY/JOZEF: YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH

ALL: EVERYBODY BETTER BEWARE! SHEEP IN WOLF COUNTRY

JOEY (turning to HAO): CHRIST!

HAO (turning to JOZEF): AH!

JOZEF (turning to ANTHONY): HELP!

ANTHONY (turning to ALL): FUCK!

ALL: EVERYBODY ’S IN FOR A SCARE!

HAO: I LEARNED TO COPY WHAT THEY WEAR, CUT AND COMBED AND SLICKED MY HAIR MAKE SURE NO ONE LOOKS AT ME TOO CLOSELY

TAKE THE SHORT WAY HOME AT NIGHT I’M NOT LOOKIN’ FOR A FIGHT STAY ALONE AND MIND MY BUSINESS (with a glance at JOZEF) …MOSTLY

ALL: SHEEP IN WOLF COUNTRY

HAO/ANTHONY: PERFECT ALL OF YOUR SMILES SO YOU LOOK A BIT LESS LIKE A THREAT

ALL: SHEEP IN WOLF COUNTRY

HAO/ANTHONY: NO ONE LIKE YOU FOR MILES

HAO/JOZEF: (to ANTHONY) AT LEAST YOUR BOYFRIEND HASN’T NOTICED YET

ANTHONY: AND YOU SHOULD BE HAVING FUN YOU CAME HERE ON VACATION IF YOU’RE GONNA BE UPSET, GO BACK TO WORK

BUT NOW LOOK WHAT I’VE DONE I’M CRYING OUT OF FRUSTRATION TRYING NOT TO RUIN IT LIKE A JERK

HE’S IN THE KITCHEN CHOPPING ONION FRYING PORK TO PATSY CLINE HAPPY PLAYING AT PAUL BUNYAN THE LEAST I CAN DO IS SAY I’M FINE

ANTHONY: SHEEP IN WOLF COUNTRY I CAN USE WHAT I’VE GOT MAKE THEIR MOUNTAINS MY NEW FRONTIER

HAO/ANTHONY: SHEEP IN WOLF COUNTRY LIKE IT OR NOT

ALL: BUT I’M BUILDING A HOME RIGHT HERE!

ALL: SHEEP IN WOLF COUNTRY YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH THOUGH IT FEELS LESS THAN GREAT SHEEP IN WOLF COUNTRY WE ALL LEARN TO TOLERATE SHEEP IN WOLF COUNTRY

HAO/ANTHONY: I’LL TAKE WHAT I’M GRANTED

ALL: SHEEP IN WOLF COUNTRY

HAO/ANTHONY: I’LL GROW WHERE I’M PLANTED! I’M A SHEEP IN WOLF COUNTRY BUT HERE I’LL

ALL: STAY!

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

WTNV quick rundown - 61 - BRINEY DEPTHS

Featuring the voice of Wil Wheaton as Earl Harlan. There's nothing under your bed. Nothing in your closet. Nothing waiting in the hall. You are surrounded by nothing. You cannot escape it. Welcome to Night Vale.

A vague yet menancing government agency asks Cecil to say 'Briney Depths' on his show. They send him many Facebook messages, Twitter dms, Snapchats and anon Tumblr asks (Cecil has a lot of social media it seems) about it. They claim they just really want to hear him say it. They continue to ask this all the way through the show, resulting in many repeats. Finally, it seems it works as a code word to wake up sleeper agents with unknown purposes. The sleeper agents are every citizens in NV. Every one of them. Including Cecil.

Hiram and the FOW (who has never actually been Seen, just heard) have been meeting up to talk about things they claim are completely innocent.

There is another 'Cooking Stuff' segment with Earl Harlan. He tells us that the tiramisu he taught us to make last time is actually extremely poisonous and shouldn't be made. This time he's teaching us how to make pulled pork. He describes the act of butchering a pig in visceral detail. Cecil says he'll give it a try with one of the pigs he has at home.

Earl also mentions that he's still confused about how he was 19 for so long, about his son (whose name he doesn't remember), and asks Cecil what year he was born only for Cecil to avoid the question. Earl tells Cecil that he's proud of Cecil for how he's dealing with Carlos being away. Cecil tells Earl he's proud of how he's dealing with time being weird and for somehow raising a son.

Little League coach Betty Lucero is worried that there's weird things going on in the haunted baseball field her team practices on. It's not the usual ghosts, but some kind of odd sulfur smell, anguished howls from a nearby neighbourhood and and a red glow at night that makes her skin feel loose and itchy.

Cecil apparently went their physically for this interview but ends up running away after being scared by Lusia, the third base coach, who died in 1843 and has gray skin, a tattered dress and pupil-less eyes.

Cecil receives a thank you letter from the Erika's, thanking him 'for what he did'. It comes with a picture which he immidiately loses behind the desk and has to go retrieve (indicating his desk is against a wall, if you're drawing his booth...) and it turns out to be a photo of himself at city hall fighting off a hoard of antiques. Cecil reacts with confusion as he's sure it was Intern Hector who did that, after all, he got bitten by an antique.

He decides he needs to talk to Carlos about it and he tries to understand how he did something heroic (like saving Dana) without knowing how. He doesn't actually think that science applies to the real world very much, but that it provides a nice metaphor.

Weather: "The Bends" by Doomtree http://doomtree.net

Stay tuned next for all the air being sucked out of the room you’re in we’re sorry we’re so sorry but this is the only way. Good night, Night Vale. Good night.

Proverb: I let my haters be my motivators, mostly they tell me I suck and then I get sad, this was a terrible idea.

[iboatedhere]

From my college AU

—

“I believe it,” TK says, “you’re a very good kisser.” He leans in to steal one. “Who taught you how to do that?”

Carlos kisses him, then gently pushes him back on the mattress. “Thomas Martin. He was a year older than me and lived on a neighboring ranch. I don’t know if he was into guys or just bored…I took what I could get.”

TK makes a soft, apologetic noise, and Carlos kisses him quiet.

“Out behind the barn,” he mumbles against TK’s lips, “I don’t know how we didn’t get caught.”

“I kind of hate him because I feel like he used you,” TK says between kisses, “but I also want to thank him because you are really, really good at this.”

Carlos laughs. “You said that already.”

“It bears repeating.”

“It’s also not the only thing that we did,” Carlos says as his fingers ghost along the waist of his jeans. “I would be very comfortable showing you that…if you want.”

TK’s eyes darken, and he runs his tongue along his bottom lip.

“Yeah?” Carlos asks.

“I’m home!” Owen calls, before TK can answer and Carlos pulls his hand away and rolls off the bed.

“Guess that answers that,” Carlos says as footsteps sound down the hall.

He scrambles to find his shirt and pull it on while TK tries to adjust himself. He gives up and drags a pillow over his lap while Carlos sits down at the desk and opens the book in front of him to a random page.

“TK, you here?” Owen asks as the door swings open and he steps into the room. He looks between the two of them, TK awkwardly lounging on the bed and Carlos at the desk, and smiles. “Carlos. I didn’t know you were here.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” TK says dryly.

“It’s nice to see you again, sir,” Carlos tells him.

“It’s been awhile,” Owen says. “At least, what…” He looks down at his watch. “Twenty five hours. I hope you’re staying for supper.”

“Oh.” Carlos looks at TK, and TK nods. “If that’s okay.”

“Of course it is. How do you feel about lettuce wraps?”

“Uhh.”

“You’re gonna love them, promise,” Owen says. “Chicken or pork? Or both?”

“Ummm, I—.”

“Dad,” TK says, “we’re not picky. We’ll eat whatever.”

“College life,” Owen says. “I remember it well.”

“Can you remember it in the kitchen instead of my bedroom?” TK asks and Owen nods.

“I hear ya. Dinner should be ready in twenty minutes. Thirty tops.”

“Do you need help?” Carlos asks, ignoring the way TK huffs a laugh.

“If you’re offering,” Owen says. “Might want to fix your shirt before you come out. It’s inside out.”

Carlos squeezes his eyes shut as Owen steps back out of the room, leaving the door open as he goes.

“That was awful,” Carlos says and TK waves him off.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Do you think he thinks that we’re—.”

“Carlos,” TK interrupts as he climbs off the bed. “I’ve been having sex since I was fifteen. I’m pretty sure my dad has already thought it all.”

“So embarrassing,” Carlos mutters, and TK shakes his head.

“It could have been worse,” TK says. “I mean, you were a half second away from touching my—.”

“Don’t say it,” Carlos says, “not while your dad is in the house.”

TK grins, then leans up to kiss his cheek. “Come on,” he says, “let’s go before my dad comes looking, again.”

[yrrebulb]

three bloody holidays — talks and noodles

“Order up!” The chefs yelled from behind the counter. The traditional style ramen shop was dimly lit and filled to the roof with mouth watering aromas. The sizzling of pork harmonized with the slurping of happy patrons. The clashing of pots and pans created a homey baseline to the jazz of shared cuisine. Sitting in the back corner, Blu waited at a table alone. Sunglasses looped into her hair, she etched quickly into a notebook while scrolling her phone. just as she flipped over her notebook, a warm bowl entered her view. Lightly colored broth with red chili oil floating amongst veggies and seafood, her favorite.

Looking up, her fist met Hoya’s with a joyous smile. He sat across from her, his messy peach mane pushed back under a zigzag headband. He always looked happiest in his element, surrounded by good food and good company. “What’s shakin, B?” He asked leaning into the table. Taking a small bowl from the end of the table, he spoon some of the broth into the smaller bowl before lifting noodles to his face. “I need your help figuring something out,” Blu sighed. Doing just as he did, they split the bowl of ramen. “Kei problems?” He questioned. Not meeting her eyes, the two could easily feel the uneasiness they both held. Hoya and Blu have been thick as thieves since the whole parts stealing incident. Even Souya, the trio have been unmatched in overflowing love for each other.

Anyone who met them could tell that they are true ride or dies. “Yea. Obvious, isn’t it?” Blu groaned, letting out a deep breathe. Pulling her sunglasses over her eyes, she slouched back into her chair. “Let’s make it fair and you help me with my girl problems,” he offered. Holding her hand out, he met it with a solid slap.

“Souya says I should tell him about what happened,” Blu informed.

“You should. He has a right to know why the girl sleeping and cooking in his house refuses to talk herself and goes ghost randomly,” he said between slurps.

“First off, fuck you. Second, way to call the kettle black, Mr. I’ll never love again”. Hoya’s expression dropped at her words. His eyes telling her just how petty that was.

“Look I know I should tell him but I don’t want him to look at me different. No one wants a car jacking, bike stealing, therapy mandated —“ she trailed off.

“Clearly, he does,” Hoya shrugged. “You’ve never hid your temper and he’s not appalled by your fighting habit”.

“Yea, but assault with a deadly weapon is different”.

“It was self defense and it’s not like he hasn’t seen worse. Your ex deserved it”.

“Even so, fighting and stabbing are different. I can’t even face him when he’s mad. If I black out and hurt him because of that bitch, I’m never gonna forgive myself,” Blu’s voice trembled as she thought about it. As she remembered the blow for blow fist fight that changed her life. The smell of blood and how mixed so well with the taste of sweat. The room around them roared as her sense dulled to the memories.

Putting his hand on hers, Hoya frowned. “Even more reason to tell him. He’ll understand. You want to trust him and all you can do is try,” the emotionally constipated chef did his best to settle her nerves. Pulling the bowl close to her, she eat in silence. “Nori wants me to ask her out,” Hoya speaks up. “I thought it was enough, my actions,” he revealed.

“Yea but you’re also the same person to flirt with women and tell her she’s free game when you see her do that same,” Blu stated.

“I know. I just. B”.

“I get it,” Blu sighed. “You’re scared of it happening again, of her suddenly not being okay with your reckless nature”.

“Shit changes when you add that title. She’s my girl, and I don’t want to lose her cause I can’t trust that she won’t won’t change”. The broad chested tattoo canvas slumped onto the table. Parting his head, Blu sympathized with his struggle. This fear that the people they want to be with will someday change for the worse. Turn into people they won’t be able to recognize.

“Take it from me, she’s not like her. She’s not gonna expect you to be anyone but yourself”.

“What if she does? What if she hopes that I’ll somehow become someone serious who doesn’t do stupid bike tricks on the highway or who doesn’t have a stupid story for every tattoo,” his voice growled as he thought about the things people have said to him. For him to grow up. To take life seriously. To put someone other than himself first. Hoya never meant to do anything that got anyone hurt. He just lived to have fun and enjoy his short existence.

“Then your answer is just as easy as mine. Tell her. You get jealous when she talks to and about other dudes. You guys look at each other like no one else is in the room. She’s kill you before cheating on you. You’ve got nothing to fear but yourself”.

“That’s a lot coming from you. You make triple what most of us do, and you’re afraid he’s gonna be turned away cause you bout your shit”. The pair laughed at each other. Lifting her sunglasses up, she couldn’t help the nostalgia that enveloped them.

“How about we bring them to the grind track and show them how we hang. Get them in our element, then talk it out. Plus, I think Souya needs to blow some steam,” Hoya held his hand out to make the deal.

“You’re on. If he gets mad at me riding again, I’m running you over with the trailer”.

[ 3B — Nahoya, Souya, Bleaulynn ]

[amjustagirl]

Notes: Title stolen from Song Of The Soul XXII by Khalil Gibran.

Companion piece: In the absence of sound (she hears her heart break)

Wrote this indulgent piece angst and fluff to reset after the very angsty The Astrophile (which took a lot of my own heart). As always, comments are gladly appreciated <3

Summary: Yaku bursts into her life like a hurricane, even whilst Akaashi lingers on like the memory of a summer breeze.

Pairings: Yaku x reader, Akaashi x reader

She runs into Yaku at the New Year’s Party the Japanese embassy in Moscow throws for expatriates (a fancy term to describe birds who’ve flown the coop after finding it unbearably small). He’s in the middle of chattering with a bemused waiter in very broken Russian about the spread when he explodes into a delighted laugh, so loud that she startles and spills her drink all over his shoes.

Pandemonium ensues – the restaurant staff scatter to fetch napkins and she’s trying to pick up the pieces of her broken glass, stammering out apologies (because dear god, her boss is going to have her head for upsetting a guest – especially one so prominent as Yaku Morisuke, the only Japanese volleyball player who broke into the Russian professional league), when his laugh cuts through the noise.

‘This was my favourite pair of shoes’ he tells her when he stops laughing, and she’s about to launch into a litany of apologies when he grins at her cheekily – ‘But you can make it up to me by buying me dinner instead’.

‘Now?’ she gapes at him in shock. ‘I can’t, I’m working’.

‘Whenever’, he answers, stealing her phone from her hands. ‘Look – here’s my number. Call me when you can’.

She’s left in shock, watching him in silence as he bounces off to join another conversation.

She texts him that night (because a deal is a deal, and she always pays her debts) and they arrange to meet the next day at a dumpling place he recommends.

She’s there five minutes early, and he bursts into the restaurant five minutes late, apologizing whilst complaining about goddamned Russian traffic. He orders for the both of them in such an excruciatingly terrible Russian accent that she winces, but he must have been here before because the waiter takes their order without batting an eye. The owner, a wizened old lady with apples in her cheeks swings by to smack kisses on his cheeks noisily.

‘It’s a little strange, but it’s the closest thing I can find to home’, he tells her when the waiter presents them with their dumplings with a flourish. It is indeed strange – the dumpling skin is thicker and doughier than she’s used to with Japanese  gyozas, stuffed with varying fillings of beef and pork and cheese, but his eyes are bright when she takes her first bite and gives a hum of appreciation because it is as he says, strange but good.

There is indeed an echo of home in her heart but she clamps it down firmly.

‘It’s good right?’ he asks and she nods mutely, mouth full of dumplings. He talks her ear away, telling her about his time in the Russian league, how he’s just made the first team this week. She learns he can’t remember a time when he doesn’t know the feel of a volleyball in his hands, and how he broke his mother’s heart when he chose to train outside of Japan, six thousand, four hundred and forty-eight miles away from home.  

He asks her why she’s in Moscow. She tells him she’s studied Russian as a child – her father, a math professor, believed it necessary for her and her sister to learn Russian, and while she’s never quite had a head for numbers, she takes to languages like a fish to water – and since she was looking for a new adventure, Moscow seemed like a good fit.

(She does not tell him she’s actually on the run from her broken heart)

‘You can teach me Russian then’, his words presumptuous, but there’s mirth and warmth flickering in his eyes that makes her hesitate to tell him off.

‘Maybe’, she responds with a shrug, standing up to pay the bill. To her surprise he lets her pay without a fight - very unlike Akaashi, who had only agreed grudgingly to allow her to split the bill on their first date.

‘It’s my turn to pay when we go out next time’, he tells her when they stand outside the restaurant about to part.

‘Will there be a next time?’ she asks him archly, and he pouts at her with puppy-dog eyes. He texts her less than five minutes after he takes his leave, inviting her to an ice skating rink.

To neither of their surprise, there is indeed, a next time, and a next time after that.

Yaku has an extremely sweet tooth, unlike Akaashi who prefers the bitterness of black coffee.

She tells him to drop in on her apartment after training (only if he’s up to it of course, she’s learnt that lesson from Akaashi after all). He does so without complaint, and she’s removing the pie from the oven when he lets himself in with the key he sweet-talked out of her.

‘Tadaima’, he calls cheerily, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he drops his gloves on the kitchen table. ‘Is that for me?’ he asks, gaping bug-eyed at the steaming pie in her hands.    

‘I don’t see anyone else it could be for’, she teases, setting the pie down on the table, cutting him a slice. The fruit seller at the corner of her street had a sale on apples, and she remembers Yaku telling her that he used to buy apple pie on the way to school every week, but would always end up giving it up to Kenma as a bribe to train harder during practice and finish running his laps.

He takes a bite and moans loudly even though he burns his tongue – it’s so good, a flaky, buttery crust hiding a jammy filling of caramelized apple and browned butter. It tastes like home in the fall when the leaves turn golden and red, when his mother brings home apples on discount from the store and he and his little brothers fight over the apples pastries his grandmother makes.

‘I love you’, he declares firmly, as he reaches for a second helping, and he pretends not to notice when she shrinks back and does not respond.

Yaku revels in public displays of affection - unlike Akaashi, who used to shy away from it.

‘I like your hair. Have you always kept it short?’ He asks her one day when they’re feeding ducks in the park near his house.

She laughs at him as he quacks exaggeratedly back at a very greedy duck chasing the bread in his hand and answers without thinking - ‘no, I cut it before I left Japan because I hear it’s what break-ups make you do’. Then she freezes, because this is the first time she’s ever alluded to Keiji to him – it’s a part of her life that she’d very much like to bury in a deep, dark vault and throw the key away.

But the expression on his face is very much like a cat eyeing a rat it’d like very much to trap and she’s right, he’s relentless (she should’ve known that, could’ve seen that from just watching one of his matches). As he walks her home, she finds herself telling him about Keiji - how his lack of affection and inability to step away from his job created a silence so still she heard her heart break.

When she finishes what she self-deprecatingly terms her tale of woe, he pulls her to a stop, ignoring the indignant protests of the people walking behind them. ‘What on earth, Mori’, she squawks, but he ignores her too, choosing instead to wind his hands into the ends of her scarf and tug her face to face with him. She does not want to look at him, does not want to see pity in his eyes – but there is none of that, only a quiet tenderness that warms her to her core.

‘I love you’, he tells her softly, and it’s a wonder she can hear every inflection of his voice through the rush of blood to her ears. ‘I will continue saying it as many times as you need, as loudly as I can until your heart is no longer broken and the silence is gone’.

Then, without an ounce of shame, he kisses her right in the middle of the busy street, completely oblivious to the glares of the people who pass them by.

Yaku is quick to anger, whereas Akaashi is the calm before the storm.

She’s told him again and again not to send her flowers – she swears she’s developed an allergy to them, the memory of Keiji sending her flowers every Friday even after they broke up sends bile up her throat (pink camellias for longing, violets for devotion, forget-me-nots for obvious reasons) – but Yaku doesn’t listen and sends her a bouquet of red roses for her birthday (for love).

So she screams at him when he pops by her flat after training –  because why on earth doesn’t he just listen to her, he knows she hates flowers, what on earth would possess him to send her flowers for her birthday, and he screams back that he does, damn it - but he’s not Keiji, he’s spent their entire time together trying to prove that, why can’t she just trust him for once.

Finally, he storms out shouting that he’ll come back when she’s calmed down, when she’s finally ready to forgive him for whatever Keiji has done – even though for the last goddamned time, he’s not bloody Keiji and she sinks to the floor, wondering why she’s allowed the ghost of Keiji to continue haunting her, six thousand, four hundred and forty-eight miles away from home.  

He’s right - it isn’t fair to him for her to keep comparing him to Keiji, to keep watching and waiting for him to slip up, not when he’s poured all his love and affection into her – into them . He’s not Keiji, never has been and never will be, and she wonders if this is the point his patience and kindness and love finally runs out.

But she’s not going to let another man she loves walk out of her life without a fight.

So she throws on her coat and climbs down the stairs, determined to march to Yaku’s apartment just a couple of streets away when she slams into him head-first at the corner of her street. ‘I’m sorry’ they both chorus immediately, and despite themselves, they break into a laugh.

‘I’m sorry for not listening’, he says, but she shakes her head, determined to say her piece. ‘You're right, it's my fault for not letting Keiji go. I should have figured this out earlier, but I know you’re not Keiji, you never have been, and I trust you never will be’.

And to drive the point home, thanking her lucky stars he’s not tall, she pulls him close by his collar and presses her lips to his. ‘I love you’, she whispers, when they finally come up for air. He looks at her like she just hung the stars up in the sky.

The next day, she presents him with a literal bushel of red roses, and he laughs at that - loud and clear and bright.

(The sound makes her heart feel whole again)

‘Why don’t you move with me’, Yaku asks her matter of factly through a mouthful of rice, at the end of her tirade about her awful landlord who just tried to stiff her by doubling her rent in less than a year with a month’s notice.

She stills, hand frozen halfway to her mouth. He does not swallow for fear of choking the mix of uncertainty and hope rising in his throat - because sometimes even though he promises to wait for her as long as she needs, he wonders if she’ll ever forget that he’s not her bloody ex – until he senses her relaxing her tense shoulders, and decides to close in for the kill.

‘Come on’, he wheedles. ‘We could even adopt a kitten so you won’t be lonely when I’m away for work’, and he laughs fondly when her face lights up. There we go.

‘You drive a hard bargain, but alright’, she pretends to grouse, but she laughs along with him when he triumphantly presses his lips to her cheek, dodging her swats when she scolds him for leaving grains of rice on her face.

They adopt a black kitten from the shelter and they name him ‘Kuroo’.

Much like its namesake, their cat is a piece of shit and contrary as hell. He doubles over in laughter when he comes home one day to find her chasing Kuroo (the cat, not the middle blocker) around the house, furniture upended everywhere. He later understands through her huffs that she meant to give him a bath.

He sends endless pictures of Kuroo (again, the cat and not the middle blocker) to the Nekoma groupchat and they all fall head over heels in love. Kai sends him advice on how to grow catnip in an apartment. Fukunaga asks to video call the cat more than he texts him. Shibayama and Inouka ship a box of clothes for the cat because they’re worried it won’t survive the Russian winter. The worst offenders are Kenma who sets up social media accounts for it, and bloody international supermodel Lev who pours oil on flames by tagging the damn cat on his own posts. Yaku is alarmed to wake up one day and find that his cat is more popular than him.

Well, all of them save for its namesake, who threatens to retaliate by naming his dog ‘Yaku’.

He gets drafted onto the National Team, and he’s elated until he realizes that he’ll have to spend months away from her.

‘It’s fine’, she reassures him. ‘Kuroo will keep me company while you’re back home’. The little demon licks its ass and looks intolerably smug when he shoots a glare at it behind her back, because he knows damn well the cat is going to take advantage of his absence to take over his side of the bed.

He extracts a promise from her to call him every day (screw the time difference, seriously) and he in turn promises to send her tickets to watch him play. Then he packs his bags and flies back to Tokyo.

It’s nostalgic being back in his childhood home. The posters from his teenage years are still on his bedroom walls (gods – he was such a horny bastard back then), and his mother smothers him with his favourite foods and far too much attention. But he lays awake at night thinking of their little apartment filled with the smell of her baking and the sound of her singing and realizes he misses  Kuroo - again, the cat, not the middle blocker, who’d miss him - despite its despicable way of stalking him while he takes a shit and most of all - he misses  her.

He figures he has it bad when he starts turning down his grandmother’s apple pastries because they remind him too painfully of the apple pies she makes after either of them have had a hard day at work, and wonders when he started thinking of Moscow and the little apartment he shares with her as  home.

But he soldiers on because playing for Japan is his dream (and has been, ever since he first learnt the thrill of keeping the ball in flight with his hands), and gets by on video calls and texts and pictures of Kuroo and the promise of dumplings and apple pies when he comes home.

He makes the mistake of mentioning that he has a girlfriend in Miya Atsumu’s earshot after practice one day.

‘You have a girlfriend?’ the piss-haired setter asks in disbelief. ‘You? Mr bossy - under five foot five – libero-chan managed to land himself a girl that’s willing to tolerate him?’

‘Just because you have an issue keeping girls from running away from you doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t find girlfriends’, Sakusa interjects flatly, face firmly masked up, trusty bottle of sanitizer pointed in Atsumu’s direction.

Yaku is about to claw Atsumu’s eyes out when Hinata prances by and asks to see a picture of said girlfriend. Growling, he whips out his phone, and is mollified when the rest of the team crowds around and pronounces her to be very pretty. Everyone – except Atsumu, who sulks in a corner, sneering that he could do better (no he can’t - he really can’t get a girl to save his life), and Bokuto, who corners him later when he’s about to leave.

‘She used to date Akaashi, you know?’ Bokuto tells him solemnly, a marked departure from his usual jovial self. ‘They broke up on a pretty bad note’.

Yaku does not in fact know, because she’s never mentioned her ex-boyfriend’s last name, always opting to refer to him as ‘Keiji’, a fairly popular name for guys their age. ‘Oh?’ he replies, and tries his best to sound encouraging and not derisive or threatening or whatever it is that Atsumu has accused him of over the past few weeks of training.

‘Yeah. She’s a nice girl, I met her once or twice, but between you and me, I don’t think Akaashi is really over her’.

Too bad for him, he wants to say but doesn’t, because despite whatever Atsumu might say about him, he’s tactful, thank you very much, and knows it’s probably not the best idea to badmouth his teammate’s best friend to his face, especially a teammate he likes as much as Bokuto. Instead, he stuffs his shoes in his bag, shrugging and grunting noncommittally before heading off.

He doesn’t mention this to her during their nightly video calls. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want them to have to talk about him being an old acquaintance with her idiot ex over a call, their time together is too precious to be tainted by any mention of him. But there’s a part of him that wonders if it’s because he’s afraid that she’ll bump into Akaashi when she’s back in Japan and he might convince her to let him sweep her away. Akaashi is tall, dark and handsome, and most definitely smarter and more educated after all - a better match for her than him, an idiot that chases balls for a living.

But then her laughter chimes through his phone’s speakers as he pouts when she carries Kuroo to the screen to ask if he misses his daddy (the traitorous hell spawn refuses to even look at him) and it banishes the shadow of his doubts away. It’s as clear as day that she loves him, ball chasing idiot Yaku Morisuke.

He falls asleep to the sound of her humming his favourite songs.

She flies to Japan with their cat in tow a week before the Olympics and even though he’s moved into the Olympic dorms by then, he sneaks out to meet her for dinner as often as he can. Atsumu catches him once and grumbles something about  ‘hypocritical bossy know-it-alls’  - but shuts up when Yaku turns up for practice the next day and is too busy grinning ear to ear to yell at him for flubbing an easy receive as he usually does.

When he finally steps onto the court for his first match, it’s easy to get carried away, because the light bearing down on the court is brighter than any game he’s played in before, and the roar of the home crowd is so loud he swears the tremors in his feet are from the floor - but he doesn’t. Because there’s a girl in the VIP stands shouting his name, and maybe it’s childish of him, but he has something to prove - he wants to make her proud.

And he does, because they win.

The entire team is in the locker room when he hears the clatter of familiar footsteps, then a shrieked ‘Mori’ before she tackles him into a bone-crushing hug. Atsumu barks at her ‘not to break our dear libero-chan’, but neither of them pay him any mind - she doesn’t even care that he’s literally dripping in sweat and snot and tears - because they won, they won, they won  -

Then he looks up and sees Akaashi staring at them. Ah. The idiot ex-boyfriend has to ruin their moment.

Just as he’s wondering whether his fist should meet Akaashi’s eye or nose first, Bokuto swings by at the moment to distract her. She’s so excited at seeing a familiar face that she disengages herself from their hug and throws her arms around Bokuto instead. Yaku thinks that Bokuto is probably a lot smarter than most people give him credit for as Akaashi approaches him, his hand outstretched.

‘Take care of her’, Akaashi says with a bittersweet smile on his lips. ‘You’re a lucky man’.

He pauses briefly to glance at her - and gods she’s radiant even as she’s chattering away to Bokuto, her eyes sparkling, the light shining softly on her hair -  fuck, Atsumu’s right, he’s whipped - and tries to imagine a world where she slips through his hands. Suddenly, the twisted knot of spite in his chest unravels, and he can only feel the dregs of pity pooling in his belly. He's not blind, he can recognise the look of wistful regret on the taller man’s face, and he's certainly not deaf - he suspects that if he listens hard enough, he can hear Akaashi’s heart break.

I know, I’m lucky to have her - he wants to say but does not because that would mean twisting a knife in an already broken man. Instead, he steps forward to take Akaashi’s hand.

‘Always’, he promises firmly. Akaashi inclines his head in thanks.

Her heart is safe in my hands.

She returns to Russia first, and he follows a few weeks later, after a whirlwind of awards and press interviews.

He breaks into a run when he sees her standing at the arrivals gate with a bouquet of red roses and a cheeky grin on her face. ‘You’re rubbing it in at this point’, he pretends to pout, but rather spoils its effect when he swings her into his arms.

She cooks dumplings for dinner and there’s an apple pie waiting for him in the oven. His jaw drops in surprise when the dumplings taste exactly like his mother’s cooking. ‘I learnt it from your mum while you were at training, in case you already miss home’, she teases.

‘But with you, I am home’, he responds, his voice earnest and low. She flushes pink and blushes bright red when he carries her off to bed.

She is his home now, she and their cat in their little flat in Moscow bursting at its seams with apple pies and dumplings and  love .

‘I want this to be my forever’, he tells her later, laying his head in her lap. His heart skips a beat, waiting for her response.

‘So do I’, she finally replies, running her hands through his hair. Her heart hums quietly, finally in safe hands.

[hotwings0203]

This is so utterly stupid but I have a few HC’s about Muslim Dabi(again obv this isn’t canon I just think it’s funny)

-Dabi would def be the type of Muslim dude who claims to be super religious cuz he never eats pork and “goes to the mosque to pray”(which is actually just code for hitting a blunt in the back of the parking lot w Hawks and Shigaraki💀), but yet smokes^^ and still has hella sex with like every other girl who bats her lashes at him from across the dining hall

-he also is a big cat lover, he claims since the Prophet Muhammad had cats of his own it’s sunnah to keep one

-on Eid namaz he’s the most dripped out one at the session, I’m talking black kurta dress, nice ass watch, slicked back hair...but funny enough, no one has actually seen him in line for the prayers themselves

-if he were back at home with the rest of the Todoroki’s, he’d most definitely be THE MOST spoiled one. Fuyumi would get on his ass for not cleaning the dishes, but he’d wave her off and tell her it’s training for her to be a better housewife for her future husband(cue a soapy sponge thrown at his head)

-Snitches.Constantly. Bro like this dude catches Shoto on his phone when he’s supposed to be doing a dua? Boom, instant callout followed by a long ass lecture about how he’s straying away from his religion and how he’s going to hell just because he spent one measly moment on his device instead of praising da lord

-Hes also always telling fuyumi to cover up her sleeves that come just a bittt before her wrists, claiming that she’s showing too much skin(especially when Hawks is over, that fucker’s got his eyes on every single one of his family members). But she’s quick to point out his secret tattoos, piercings, and hair dyes. He just scoffs and pulls the “women were created lesser than men so it’s okay for me to act a fool but not for you” card🙄stg I can’t stand him

-Since he’s the closest to Natsu, he’s always giving Eid money to him the most. The dude will slouch against his favorite brothers’ door, watching him play 2K. “What do you want?” Natsu asks with no real malice, not taking his eyes off the changing screen, furiously clicking away on his controller. “Mom says you gotta iron your clothes, Fuyumi’s doing her own so she can’t do yours as well. Oh, and Eid Mubarak by the way.” Natsu pauses him game and stands to stretch his arms above his head, groaning at the tendons popping in place on his back. “Yeah man, you too-what’s that?” He points to a fat parcel in Touya’s hand. The white-haired boy grins and chucks the bulging package at him, which Natsu catches easily. His eyes widen when he tears open the cream-colored paper envelope and reveals dozens of bills exceeding the usual 5-10$ family limit. “Yo, what-how-thanks Touya!” He sputters, throwing the package on his bed and throwing an arm around his brothers’ back in a man-hug. Touya rolls his eyes and barely suppresses a smile at Natsu’s excitement,(something he’s always wanting to be the source of) pounding his back to let go before he asphyxiates. He lets go and Touya smirks before heading towards the door, calling out over his shoulder, “Oh, and I’d thank Sho-turd as well while you’re singing my praise.” Natsu stops in his tracks and looks suspiciously at the withdrawing slender figure. “Why?”. Touya’s voice is distant as he moves to close and lock his door. “‘Cuz it’s his money after all.”

-The two brothers are always waking up at Sehri the earliest in Ramadhan, just so they can scarf down a majority of the food in the fridge and go to sleep without having to interact with the rest of their family at sunrise. And in the case that their family DOES wake up in time to see them chomping down food made for a WHOLE FAMILY and not just two boys, Touya is quick to grab his keys and jacket and cackle that him and Natsu are going to iHop to eat some more. Natsu ofc is quick to follow pursuit, throwing an apologetic grin towards his parents and other siblings.

-When they’re at the mosque and Enji has somehow bullied him enough to sit the hell down and actually ATTEND the lectures for once, Touya still has one up his sleeve. Planned out strategically, he always simpers to Rei that he wants to donate to the mosque, causing her eyes to water and a handful of cash thrown his way, her voice wobbly as she praises her son for actually taking the foundations of his religion seriously. Unbeknownst to her however, this just means that he’ll take a little bit more than he gives. Hawks will be standing at the front of the hall, bowing his head and using his silver tongue to graciously thank the many men and women who come forth to drop their allowance into the money basket. When he sees his best man approaching, he has to stop the smug grin from reaching his ears, instead slanting his brows and holding the basket out to the now black-haired thief. “Glad to see you’re taking eternal damnation seriously, for once,” Keigo flashes his perky whites and Dabi drops Rei’s money into the donation basket, dipping his hand a little lower for a second. “Glad to see you’re still standing here like some busboy peasant, as usual,” he fires back, the two boys catching each other’s eyes and stifling their cackles as the patched hand withdraws, a copious amount of bills in his hand, more than what he put in.

-100% steals shoes. Usually you hear about older men doing this, but age aint nothin’ but a number to Dabi, baby. “Nice kicks,” he nods to a boy Natsu’s age, noting the blue and black minimalist patterns adorning the shoes. The boy recognizes Dabi as one of the most revered figures at the mosque (and the most featured by adults. Who’d want their kid hanging out with the eldest Todoroki as an influence?) and bobs his head excitedly, spewing out the manufacture and release dates of the shoes. Dabi looks at the fanboy amusedly, continuing to lean against the shoe rack as more people crowd around and start to push the boy inside. “See you later Dabi!” The eccentric kid calls out as he’s pushed into the hall by grumbling uncles. The ravenette snickers fo himself, “Yeah, but you won’t be seeing these shoes anytime soon.”

-A notorious playboy in the community. Uncles glare at him, unable to scold him outright for his shenanigans due to his father’s close presence, and aunties steer their children away from him at dinner parties. Speaking of, Dabi’s at a dinner right now. He’s lighting up a joint in amongst 3 mesmerized girls sitting on the floor in front of him and 2 jealous dudes his age in a locked room, away from all the screaming little kids. “Wow Dabi, doesn’t it burn?” The youngest of the three girls asks him with imploring eyes. He smiles a charming smile down at her and he thinks he sees the other two swoon. “Nah, sweetheart, you get used to it after a little while. Don’t be like me though, keep yourself pure and clean,” he shoots a wink at them and they giggle, faces turning red. The other two boys sitting at the far end of the bed scowl at his successful flirting, but Dabi doesn’t care for any of them, honestly, they’re just target practice. Right as he inhaled the fumes of another puff, a little body throws itself at the door, banging its fists on the wood. “It’s time for food!” They all jump at the intrusion and chuckle as the intruder runs away, containing to scream about food being served. The group gets up to leave and exits through the door, but Dabi takes his time. He wasn’t done with his joint, and he has to waft the smell away anyways when he leaves. He’s opening a window to let out some air when he heads a soft shuffle from behind him. “Shows over guys, go eat-“ but when he turns around, the oldest girl of the three stands before him, fiddling with her hands and looking at the floor. “Um, Dabi? I know you said not to try it out by ourselves so...I was wondering if you could-if you could teach me how...?” She looks at the half-used roll in his hand, and he looks from the blunt to her face. He looks behind her. A closed door. Perfect. Taking a step forwards, he relishes in how she takes a hesitant step back, the breath in her throat catching but she still doesn’t back down. She looks to him like he’s a god, and he feels like one right now. And so he steps closer until she’s backed against the wall, his lids lowered to her wide ones, and he placed a hand next to her head. “Didnt your mom ever tell you not to take things from strangers?” He ghosts by the shell of her ear, and she shivers. “She never told me the strangers would be this hot,” and he has to laugh a bit at her tenacity. He pulls away and flops back on the bed, signaling for her to join him. “Well come one then, I’m hungry, better hurry up before I change my mind.” And 5 shotguns later, Dabi barely wipes off her bright pink lipstick from his face and straightens his kurta along with his hair before bounding down the steps, eager for food. At his command, she comes down a minute after him as to not cause any suspicion, but it doesn’t stop Rei from shooting him a knowing glare from the living room as he piles his plate with food. He shoves a veggie roll in his mouth as he turns to join the boys in the dining area, but his path is blocked by a large woman. “I know you’re up to no good. The children told me what funny smell was coming from the room upstairs, and I know you’re to blame, Touya Todoroki. I respect your mother a lot so I won’t make a scene here-“ he interrupts her, mouth half full with a roll, “-I mean, you already kinda are,-“ but she continues her tirade. “-I don’t think you’re a good influence on these kids, especially your siblings. What self respecting family would be okay with their son acting like a hooligan, having piercings, smelling like weed?” He smirks and swallows before swerving around her. “I don’t know Aunty, why don’t you ask your daughter? She didn’t seem to mind my, ah, influence.”

-When they were all younger, there was a time where End*avor wanted the boys the toughen up a bit and stop messing around so much. He brought the family up to the mountains in a nice cabin, purposefully choosing an area with farms nearby. It was around the time of Eid-e-Adha, so naturally goats and sheep’s were going to be sacrificed for the family feast. Touya already knew what was going on, so Enji left it up to him, a scrawny preteen boy to take over the initiation. Fuyumi wanted to come to the farm too, but Touya glared at her and told her to stay home because “girls are too emotional for this.”(he really did think that, but above all he held a secret soft spot for his only younger sister). Natsu and Touya both started heading down to the field to pick out a goat, and ofc little Shoto wanted to come along to. He begged and begged for his older brothers to bring him along and to not leave him at home for once, and with a sly glance to Natsu, Touya relented. He leaned down to Shoto’s eye-level and asked with serious eyes, “You sure?”. Shoto nodded eagerly, standing straight up as to look more solemn and mature. Natsu held back a snicker and grabbed Shoto by the collar as they dragged him out to the pasture. Oh, the little boy was in heaven among the bleating sheep and fluffy coats. “Go ahead, pick one out!” Touya said eagerly, nodding to the clueless toddler to choose a sacrificial sheep. And so the heterochromatic child pointed to one, looking to his big brothers for assurance, to which they gave an excited nod. Shoto yelped with glee and spent the rest of the afternoon frolicking with the soon-to-be-mutton chops, completely oblivious to its grim fate and creating a bond with the animal. So when it was finally sunset and the time came to start preparing for the feast, Touya walked over leisurely to Shoto, pushed the grubby hand away from the animal’s collar, and started pulling the creature towards the chopping block. “W-what’re you doing?” Shoto asked uncertainty. “Well, we gotta eat, right? Thanks for picking out such a fat sheep, ‘wonder how it’s gonna taste,”. The eldest grinned with malice at his youngest brother, who started to sniffle and ball his fists. “You’re lying! Leave it alone!” He cried out. “Nope, m’not lying, ask Natsu.” Natsu turns to Shoto and shrugs his shoulders without any real regret. “You’re the one who wanted to come along, right? Think of how proud dad will be of his favorite-he finally sacrificed his first sheep!”

-the first time he was ever asked to lead the namaz, Keigo and Tomura kept kicking the back of his legs so he would fall over while trying to recite the prayers, and in turn he’d immediately whip around in the middle of the whole damn hall and shoot fire at the two howling boys. Needless to say, he was never asked to read again

(one would think since Dabi knows sooo much about being a gOoD mUsLim and how to follow the rules he’d take some of that advice HIMSELF)

[oftenderweapons]

Lavender Honey | KNJ | Teaser

Pairing: Chaebol!Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Honey)

Wordcount: < 17k (approx.)

Genre: Angst (60%), Smut (20%), Fluff (10%); childhood friends to fwb to enemies to lovers.

Rating: 18+

Synopsis: Namjoon — man of many women, successful businessman is nothing but a rotten piece of soul living in memories and what-ifs. His life is nothing but completing his endless tasks fast enough to hide himself in a sweet scent from the past. What happens when the gentle perfume waltzes back into his present together with the only one he ever loved?

PART 1 HERE

a/n: Hello there! I decided to give you a 500 words teaser for Lavender Honey, so you'll have time to get acquainted with a new main character, and a new au too! This story is part of the Sons of Midas collab, hosted by the magical Mars (lob u 💕) and will come in two parts.

You can join the taglist through ask or dm (or you can comment under this post)

Get to know more of this story: send me a word through ask and I'll post a snippet of the fic with that word 🥰🤍

Here is my masterlist! Enjoy 💜✨

“It’s good to know you’re back,” Swan gave you a warm look and you felt infinitely better. Four friends, a few bottles of soju and the heavy smell of roasted pork meat was the best feeling in the world.

“Hard times, I tell you.”

Candy looked at you fondly from the other side of the table. It was truly good to have you back. Maybe some old balances would be refound — maybe the guys would find again the two pieces they lost the day you left. She was hopeful all at once, forgetting about how hopeless her situation was.

“I still can’t believe you pulled that trick on all of us,” Peach added. “Out of the blue. Puff, you were gone. And now puff, you’re here!” She laughed cheerfully. “You missed out so much.”

“Like what?” You asked with a mischievous grin.

“First. Taehyung became a heartthrob.”

“A what?” You exclaimed, remembering only the sweet face of a seventeen year old with ruffled hair.

“A heartthrob. A gentleman. A Casanova. A ladies’ man. And what a man,” Peach commented, wide eyed and swooning.

Candy wheezed and shook her head. “Come on, it’s not like that…”

“Our Taehyungie?” You asked, almost pouting at Swan, giving her a questioning look.

She blushed to her ears, looking at the other woman with mild discomfort in her eyes. “He’s a very good looking young man. You and I both know he isn’t difficult to love.”

Swan admitted.

“Well, if he takes after his brother… By the way, the female population of Seoul would like to offer you their gratitude and give you an honorary medal,” Peach hinted, making you look down with a blush on your cheeks.

“I didn’t do much—”

“You trained a beast!” She remarked.

“Peach,” Candy hissed with a concerned stare.

“Hey, don’t worry,” you reassured her, touching her forearm. Your conversation with Peach about Namjoon was very old business. She had slept with him and you didn’t mind. You didn’t mind one bit. It was just the umpteenth demonstration that you had lost all feelings for him.

“You don’t want to know about him?” Peach asked, trying to insinuate doubt in your mind.

You ceased. “How is he.”

“Rich as filth. Successful like no man his age. But cold to the bone.”

Swan looked away just as Candy pursed her lips. She was not okay with how you looked. She felt like she was still failing you, somehow; which of course wasn’t true. Your faith in Candy was unbreakable.

“He keeps binging on girls and alcohol. But he’s a ghost, babe. A hot ghost though, I’m not going to lie about that.” Peach explained, knowing that there was no reason to butter things up with you. “I can’t believe you kept up with him.”

Candy would have snapped if she didn’t know she could trust Peach, that the two of you had your own terms and agreements to talk about Namjoon.

Your smile was bitter. “We were just dumb kids.” But you’d been the dumbest of the two.

Tagging: @thejooncrew

[tummyachesandchocolatecakes]

i really liked your writing about the chinese food? don't know if you remember what i'm talking about lol but something else like that would be great. sorry if this is too vague

I’m pretty sure I know the one you mean! If it isn’t and this isn’t what you had in mind, just hit me up again and I’ll write something else!

The annual fair has come back into town, and you and your friends decide to head out. Everyone is excited as there isn’t much to do in your small hometown so the fair is a big deal. Everyone is excited for the rides and entertainment, but you’re most excited for the food. Just thinking of the sweet treats and savoury snacks has your mouth watering.

Upon arrival you all decide to have a bite to eat before exploring too far. You head to a food stall close by, and decide on loaded fries. They all sound so good you order two portions so you don’t have to choose, you pick the chilli beef and the spicy pulled pork. You all sit down at a picnic bench and dig in.

You take a bite of the chilli fries first, the flavourful spices igniting your tastebuds like fireworks. You devour half of them before deciding to try the pork. When they said spicy, they meant it. You can handle your spice but even you find yourself needing a drink. Leaving your food with your friends momentarily you head to the milkshake stand. Peanut butter chocolate chip of course, and you make it a large. Why not you think, it’s part of the fun!

Returning to your friends you have a large gulp of your shake, the sweet taste feeling amazing in your mouth. You finish off the chilli fries before moving back to the spicy pork. By now you acknowledge the fact that actually, you’re not hungry anymore. But you can’t waste the fries so you eat them anyway, interchanging every other mouthful with a swig or three of thick creamy milkshake. Everyone else is ready to leave so you eat it all at lightning speed. You finish the fries and down the last of the milkshake before leaning back slightly. You’re overly full. Not completely stuffed, but beyond the point of being “comfortably” full. You give you’re belly a little rub, it’s protruding a tiny bit but not hugely bloated. You encourage up a huge belch, it’s thick with the milkshake and it lasts a long time. You’re friends laugh, and you all get up and make your way to the next activity.

You all decide on watching a fire eating show, followed by playing some carnival games. By now you’re feeling a lot less full, so when someone suggests a snack you’re all for it. This is where you’re gluttony sets in. Choosing just one snack out of all of the wonderful choices is too hard. So you buy a selection, stating you intention is to share it all out with your friends, though you yourself know that you’re going to have more than your fair share.

Donuts, churros, candy floss, ice cream, popcorn, deep fried mars bars, and chocolate coated strawberries (fruit is healthy right?) fill your arms as you find a shaded place on the grass to sit.

You go for a donut first, followed by a churro. Your lips and fingers covered in sugar. Annoyingly you find yourself feeling full already. Another small rub to your belly brings up a little gas, allowing for some more room. Next you eat the ice cream, it’s soft where it’s started melting in the heat. Each lick taste wonderful and refreshing, you chose a vanilla and it’s super creamy. And of course what goes better with vanilla ice cream than chocolate strawberries? You devour the lot in under five minutes. To break things up a little and refresh your palate, you then chug half a bottle of water. Once you pull the bottle away from your lips, you become aware of a heavy feeling in your stomach. You try to encourage up yet another burp, but instead get a regurgitated mouthful of water mixed with undigested ice cream. Swallowing it back down, you lean back, suddenly acutely aware of how full you are. The fullness is increasing by the second, and you’re stomach begins to ache a bit. Letting out a deep breath, you place your hand on you belly and begin rubbing circles on it, praying to aid it in the digestion of all the food crammed inside it. Your belly grumbles and whines unhappily as it tries to break down all of the sugar and fat soaked food inside of it. You can feel it bloating, expanding to accommodate all of the food it’s that you’ve shovelled inside. You feel a gas bubble forming, but even the thought of burping makes you feel queasy. You rub a little harder, hoping against hope that you’ll be able to disperse the bubble and hold out on burning until everything is a little more settled inside you’re now pretty upset tummy. But no, the rubbing just encourages the air up and you feel it rising within you, along with a lump of undigested dough filled stomach acid. No matter how much you try and suppress it, this burp is coming. You lean forward over your gurgling tummy, anticipating vomiting. But all that comes up is a gigantic wet, sickly belch that vibrates through your entire being. Once again you’re friends laugh, commenting on you gluttony and your iron gut. You don’t have it in you to tell them that actually your belly was feeling far from iron clad, that in fact you were in a lot of discomfort, bordering on actual pain. But it’s okay you think, as you’ll have some time to let your belly recover before moving on. Except you’re wrong.

One friend suggests moving on to the rides and attractions. Everyone eagerly agrees and you’re encouraged to finish up. You place the popcorn and candy floss into your rucksack, they’re both in plastic bags so can be eaten at a later date. Then you get to the deep fried mars bar. The grease from the batter has already leaked through the wrapping, meaning you can’t put it aside for later. You offer it around but nobody else wants it, all of them seem a little grossed out at the idea of the deep fried candy bar. You go to throw it away, but you are stopped by a friend who tells you what a waste it would be. That leaves only one option, to eat it. Your belly is upset already, still bloating bigger as you’re all wondering around choosing rides. You can feel all of the food mixing together and not settling at all. You’re gut has started feeling bloated and gassy lower down too, meaning that the fries from earlier are also upsetting your intestines, as much as you love spicy food it doesn’t always love you.

But you do it. Despite your poor tummy practically screaming at you not to, you take a bite of the mars bar. The mouthful of batter mixed with the sweet candy bar tastes divine, but you don’t have time to enjoy it. You forcefully swallow it down, taking another bite before your belly has time to process what you’re doing. Bite, swallow, bite, swallow, bite, swallow, bite. It’s the last bite that gets you. You hold it in your mouth way longer than necessary, because you can already feel the rest of it practically sitting in your oesophagus because there just isn’t any room in your tummy to put it. After a slow deep breath through your nose, you force yourself to swallow. The battered candy slowly slides its way down your throat, and sits itself in what feels like your chest. But you’ve done it. It’s all gone.

And then you get a sharp pain in the centre of your stomach. You’re tummy catching up to what you’ve just put inside it. It’s not happy, not happy at all. A long, deep gurgle comes from your stomach as it moves things around to find room. Room that doesn’t exist. Your stomach stretches, pushing tightly against your skin, tighter than it’s ever been before. Your belly gurgles some more, and the food settles like a rock in your tummy. Hard, heavy and unmovable. You’re friends have chosen a ride, one of those ghost trains with questionable scares and even more questionable sanitation. You excuse yourself from this ride, telling a half truth, that you think ghost trains are lame. You place yourself on a nearby bench as they get in line.

Once they’re out of sight, you allow yourself to feel the full effects of your food consumption. You leans back into the wooden bench, spreading your legs wide to accommodate you’re severely bloated tummy. You pull up your top. You are huge, like 8 months pregnant kind of huge. Your stomach is protruding far out from you, your jeans cutting into you tightly. You would love nothing more than to pop the button, but know if you did that then it would not go back together. You place your hands on your stomach and rub it desperately. It’s solid, when you push it doesn’t give at all, it’s so tight and round it almost feels like it’s actively pushing out against your hands whilst your rub. Sickening groans and sloshing gurgles continue to be emitted, as you experience the hot flushes and tingling sweaty sensations of nausea. Your bend forward, cradling your aching belly and rocking back and forth whilst also rubbing hard and fast circles over your engorged abdomen.

All to quickly you see your friends returning and you straighten up, not wanting to be caught. They all agree that the ghost train had been lame, though you’re not really listening as you fight off wave after wave of nausea. Standing up to join your friends brings a new issue. As soon as you’re upright you’re stomach seems to go into overdrive, gurglings and sloshing in your tummy, whilst huge cramps suddenly engulf your intestines. You double over, not sure if you’re going to throw up or shit yourself. You cradle you’re tummy and groan, feeling like a bloated whale out of water. Once the cramps finally pass you’re able to straighten up, only to see that your friends had already began to walk away and hadn’t noticed. You sigh a small sigh of relief before slowly waddling to catch up with them.

Walking isn’t helping. Each step increases the pain surging through every inch of your poor bulging belly. Your jeans are cutting so deeply into you that you’re beginning to fear they’ll actually draw blood. You walk with your hand up your shirt, rubbing profusely at your aching sick tummy. And then someone notices. They slow down, joining you at the back of the group. They ask if you’re okay, and by now you don’t have it in you to lie. You tell them how much your tummy is hurting, how sick you feel and how upset your tummy is. You pull your shirt up and let them see the swell of your stomach. They’re shocked, placing they’re hands on your tummy and pushing it slowly. You feel something rising in your throat and turn away, but only a small sickly burp escapes you. And then you stop. Your friends have chosen a ride. A roller coaster. You begin thinking up excuses to not go, but know they all know that you’re a roller coaster fiend.

That’s when your friend turns to you and quietly asks if you want to leave now feeling so sick or if you want to feel a bit better first. You look at them questioningly as they point at the ride. Oh. You stand there, wondering what to do, but your tummy is so sore, so bloated, so sick, you know what needs to be done. As you all queue for the ride, you and your friend remain at the back of the group. They place their hands on your tummy, rubbing it gently and soothingly. The pressure in you tummy is still growing, your belly so big and so tightly packed you can barely breath. Your friend moved their hands down and pops your button. Your fly undoes itself from the pressure, and your belly let’s put a huge groan of relief as it has more room to accommodate the greasy food and ever building gas and awfully digested food. You groan in painful pleasure at the release of some pressure, though by the time you reach the front of the line your belly is fully bloated and tight as a drum again.

They sit you two by two, your friend sat by you to offer comfort and continues tending to your belly as everyone boards. When the lap bar is pulled down, it pushes tightly into your stomach, and you let out a huge sickly belch along with a wet, gut wrenching fart. Your friend chuckles a little, patting you reassuringly on the knee before the ride begins.

The rollercoaster begins it’s incline and the contents of your tummy sloshes backwards making you nauseous once again. And then the coaster drops, and turns and jolts along the tracks. The insides of your belly splash and move in all directions. You close your eyes as the nausea builds and builds and builds. All of the food mixes and swirls within you, and you can feel it all bubbling sickly. Your skin is prickly with sweat as you feel acid rushing up your throat whilst you swallow thickly to keep it down a little longer. Finally the ride stops, the lap bar raises, and you run off of the ride and out of the exit. You don’t have time to find a trash can, your tummy is so sick and upset and the nausea is building fast.

Finally you exit the ride area and dash to the side of the path before collapsing onto your hands and knees. You wretch once, nothing but spit comes up. You wrap your arm round your belly, it’s so tight and painful that you can’t not do it. And then you feel pressure building again and you know what you have to do. You push your hand into you tummy forcefully, and that’s all it takes.

A wave of sickly sweet vomit projectiles our of your mouth, splattering onto the grass. You have no time to even breath before another wave forces it’s way out of your mouth. You vomit with such force you feel like you’re going to fall into your own sick. But a pair of hands grabs your shoulders holding you up.

Wave after wave of projectile vomit escapes you until you’re left dry heaving profusely into the grass. Your friend pulls you away from your sick and seats you between their legs. They tell you that they’ve made the others leave and it’s just the two of you. They rub their hands deeply into your tummy, interchanging between circular motions and palpating you’re still very bloated tummy. You assess yourself, seeing that you still look pregnant and that your tummy is still rock solid. As they rub your tummy you begin bringing up gas, belching wet sickly burps that occasionally bring up mouthfuls of partially digested food that you forcefully swallow back down. Then your intestines cramp, you force your friends hand deeply into the pain, and they rub hard forceful circles into it. Once the cramp passes they then focus on the lower area of your tummy. Groans and gurgle escape, and they get louder and more urgent sounding. Cramps begin to hit more frequently, and pressure continues to build. You know you’re going to need a toilet pretty soon and you know it’s going to be an awful experience, but you’re glad you’re friend will be here to help you expel all of the upset and pain from within your poor distended tummy.

[strandedcrow]

thoughts on the glass animals album dreamland? (info dump welcome)

YES hi hello thank you

I talked like,, a lot so I’m sparing y'all with a cut

The album itself is just so well organized and executed it’s insane. The entire album just captures the feeling of taking a nostalgic trip through your own life and the way that it ends up forgotten in a way, sickly sweet and vague, subdued, and so easy to get completely lost in. And part of what makes it so well done is the pure authenticity it’s completely drenched in. The album itself didn’t exist until quarantine hit, they had been taking a break after a band member was injured and had to recover, and that isolation had that same impact on them as it did on most of us, and the result was this extremely genuine album embodying nostalgia itself.

As a band they’ve always done such an incredible job of maintaining a theme throughout their album that is consistent without becoming repetitive. The song Dreamland does such a perfect job of pulling you into the album, easing you into a subdued album, fuzzy around the edges but clear once you can hone in on the details, on what’s being said, perfectly reflective of the theme it’s introducing you to. While it’s doing that it’s also providing a smooth shift from the last song on the album before it, HTBAHB. Agnes leaves that album off on such an extremely a somber, desperate, and lost note, which Dreamland picks up, just as lost in itself, taking off so beautifully from Agnes’ “You’re gone but you’re on my mind, I’m lost but I don’t know why,” and getting into the why. But it does so by warning you first, “You see in kodachrome, you see in pink and gold.” This album is distorted, it’s not right, the colors are wrong and everything is sweeter than it should be. At the same time, it sets up for the songs to follow, like “That worst thing you said” for It’s All So Incredibly Loud and “You were ten years old, holding hands in the classroom, he had a gun on the first day of high school” for Space Ghost Coast to Coast.It’s those vague, unconnected memories that you haven't quite grasped onto yet in full, but you know you’re going to get lost in them once you do. You’re stepping back from the overload of information and action today to visit who you used to be and what made you who you are now.

Right after it, Tangerine does something that Life Itself did for HTBAHB, it smoothened the general sound’s transition between albums. Just as Life Itself, with its beat similar to the album before its own could have fit into ZABA with no issue, Tangerine could have been on HTBAHB without disrupting the album. The “retro” vibe, the themes revolving around both the nostalgia of Dreamland and those of past relationships deteriorating because of missed opportunities and growing apart fits so well into both albums, it’s such a great transition from the past album to the current. The “I’m begging, hands knees please, tangerine” is also a common expression used (often as a double entendre) by them, again like in Life Itself, with its chorus being “Come back down to my knees, gotta get back, gotta get free, come back down to my knees, lean back now, lean back and breathe,” which just sets up for a really smooth callback to previous songs and album. Something else that Tangerine establishes is something that’s been a running theme with Glass Animals since ZABA: fruit. There is a lot of fruit here. It used to be a running joke that Glass Animals wasn’t actually a band, but a cryptic pineapple worshipping cult (no amount of music made will fool me, this is definitely a pineapple cult). This album uses fruit to remind you of the sugary sweetness of nostalgia, but there’s more history and, well, fan specific nostalgia that goes with that metaphor, too.

Hot Sugar is similar to a later song, Waterfalls Coming Out Your mouth, in that it’s about someone who is so cool that they aren’t actually cool. The person isn’t genuine, the idea of them isn’t actually them, but this was someone that you still want to be anyways, because who wouldn’t want to be that cool? The song doesn’t have much deeper meaning underlying it compared to some other’s because that depth doesn’t exist here, with this person. You know they’re “faking it,” but it doesn’t really matter beyond deciding if you actually like them or if you just want to be them, and the answer is the latter. This song is also similar to another, later song, Tokyo Drifting, introducing the listener to this person that he wants to be like, referencing “Hot rubber on the tar,” and setting the stage for the later song to tell you more about what he wanted to be like. Also, once again, through a mention of watermelon, fruit continues to be a recurring theme in the earlier tracks on this album, when the trip through nostalgic memories is still more sweet than bitter.

Right after we get introduced to this idea of who he wanted to be, we move onto what became of someone he knew closely, shared a lot with, and very suddenly lost touch with through Space Ghost Coast to Coast. The music itself is reminiscent of the music he listened to at the time. This song, being a telling of something that actually happened, is so authentic and raw in how it ends up, all still told through the layer of confusion, hurt, and again, that sweetness of nostalgia, with “You look bizarre in the apricot” establishing a deceptively sweet but confused tone over something heavy through yet another fruit metaphor. This song also manages to hit on other songs from the album when he tries to delve into why his friend did what he did, “Were you bored of gender norms,” matching with Dreamland’s “Go ask your questions like “What makes a man?”,” “… of being alone,” matching Heat Waves’ “I don’t wanna be alone, you know it hurts me too,” and “… no mama home, a bad divorce” matching pretty much the entirety of Domestic Bliss. Like Hot Sugar, this song sets up for Tokyo Drifting, with his idea of who he wants to be but isn’t, with “Remember when you stole mom’s old Geo Metro, you wore her old bathrobe, too small to see the road.” There’s also more blatant references being made to both past shooters (Black cap back with a trench coat, ay) and the arguments afterwards of what motivated them (Playing too much of that GTA, playing too much of that Dr. Dre). While he still wants to understand his old friend, and what happened for him to change so abruptly and dangerously, he does not want anything to do with him anymore. It’s a song about a loss of innocence and the understanding that sometimes you just won’t understand why someone does something. It’s just a complete banger in general.

Which then takes us to Tokyo Drifting, which absolutely slaps. The song itself revolves around what he wanted to be like, singing from a new persona rather than his own (Cane Suga from HTBAHB was done through the same persona). It breaks the pattern of referencing to fruit, instead focusing on drugs and alcohol, dropping the sickly sweet lens of nostalgia for something more fitting of the song’s specific theme. Don’t worry, though, dragonfruit was used extremely heavily in this songs promotion as a single, so the fruit is still there, just not directly, and that lack of directly referring to a fruit in the song itself fits with the way that the song breaks from nostalgia of things that have happened and people he knew into something that was never real. There is no rose colored glasses needed for something that never even happened. I don’t have much else to say on it, it just goes hard, this was my most listened to song two years in a row lmao.

Melon and the Coconut is just sheer Glass Animals. It’s weird, it’s fun, and it sounds great. It cleanly splits the album in half, splitting the POV’s straight down the middle while making a reference to its own position in the album, “Sometimes B-sides are the best songs.” Needless to say, there are some super subtle references to fruit in Melon and the Coconut, the song about two fruit.

Then, the second half of the album kicks off with Your Love (Deja Vu), a song extremely similar in theme to previous songs about missed timing, like ZABA’s Pools and HTBAHB’s Pork Soda. Instead of fruit, “juice” is mentioned in this song. It takes the turn from thinking about people you were friends with, what you wanted to be like, to people that you were with, and things that just didn’t work out.

And then there’s Waterfalls Coming Out Your Mouth. It’s such a clean parallel to looking back on things with nostalgia and seeing them through the fake sweetness that time brings, with this song being about the rose colored glasses that were present in the moment, the time when you start getting to know someone but you aren’t actually getting to know them, you’re getting to know this other, more impressive version of them instead, and they get the exact same experience of you on their own end. He’s letting this other person have their own version of him while he has his own version of them in his head, and he knows their version of him is wrong, so he also knows whatever he thinks of them is going to be wrong, too. He knows them, but at the same time he doesn’t. He’s realizing here, that this person, like the Hot Sugar person, is too cool, and they aren’t real, it’s all just talk, and it’s all fake like the “chemical warfare, red lips and television eyewear, raspberry soda hair, in the pool with a blow up gummy bear.” It’s sweet, sure, but it’s also fake. “Chat shit but where’s the real you? Never seen The Price Is Right, I’m a liar been on that shit since ’99. You make me look like a clown, clap clap, you’re a clever clever cookie now” has no right go that hard, and yet it Does.

Then, abruptly, we get to It’s All So Incredibly Loud. The song itself is subdued, it’s that point in your trip through your own memories where you remember why things went wrong. You get shaken from your train of thought and lose your place in it, because you aren’t there anymore, you’re here and you can’t go back, you can’t fix anything, all that’s left for you to do now is mourn the wrongs and accept them, even though its painful. This is remembering what Dreamland meant by “That worst thing you said,” the realization that you have to break someone else’s heart, and how much that hurts.

((home movie: rockets)) is the longest home movie audio in the album, and creates a smooth transition back into childhood, journeying back through a sound similar to that of their first album, ZABA, on the way there for the album to transition into Domestic Bliss. This time, with someone else entirely’s perspective falling back onto knees, but this time under an entirely different tone, “Fight for me. We can leave I’m begging, please, on my on my knees.” These two songs back to back continue the downward spiral that too much nostalgia can leave you falling into, the wrongs, the regrets, this trip down memory lane has lasted too long, now.

Which drops us off at Heat Waves, which returns back to his own perspective after Domestic Bliss focused on a friend of his. It fits the bittersweet feeling in nostalgia, the understanding and acceptance that you can’t go back, you just have to keep going forward and separate instead for everyone’s sake, a followup less to the tangent in thought that is Domestic Bliss, and more to It’s All So Incredibly Loud. It also wraps up those previous album’s songs, Pools and Pork Soda in a way, bringing a sense of closure to the nostalgic feelings, as well as to the entire album.

And finally Helium, the bookend opposite to Dreamland. This song flawlessly embodies that feeling of when you realize you’ve just been sitting and staring at a photo album for an hour now, and you finally take a look around you, feeling the air conditioning on your skin, hearing the sounds of the world around you, snapping back out of your train of thought and into real life again. Things didn’t work the way that you used to think they would, but that’s a good thing. It is such a perfect ending to the nostalgic journey that is this entire album. Fading back into the melody that started this journey of sickly sweet memories of people you looked up to, when you learned for the first time that people can change and you might not ever understand why, ideas of who you once wanted to be, finding something light that you can laugh about, realizing how similar so many things in your life have been to each other, the realization that the people you used to look up to might not have actually been that impressive the whole time, your regrets, times you wish you could have done more, and the understanding that sometimes you shouldn’t have done so much.

I love this album so much man

[genesisrose74]

A/n: This idea just popped into my head this morning and I needed to write it out, guess who finished in one day instead of focusing on summer school aha ha...so here’s the next edition of Class 1-A quarantine hc’s! I think I’ll include a bit of background for all of these, just for future reference if anyone likes them lmao. Today we have everyone’s favorite nitroglycerin king, Bakugo Katsuki! Hope y’all enjoy cause I’m honestly so soft for this one okay BYE-

Surprisingly, you’re initially part of the Dekusquad, but you’ve always been close with Kirishima and Mina and feel comfortable hanging out with their group as well so you start gravitating to the Bakusquad 

At first, Bakugo is really standoffish because, “You’re seriously friends with that damn nerd Deku” - wow everyone be hating on our cinnamon roll smh

But then he sees how much the rest of Bakusquad likes you and he starts warming up

It starts with small little things like not hogging all the space on the couches in the dorms and having you sit beside him

Then he notices that you’re very forgetful of your jacket and he ends up keeping a spare in his bag just in case the weather gets really bad

“I mistakenly grabbed two this morning, so lighten my load and carry the jacket—I don’t give a shit if you put it on, just hold it will you!” 

He’s acts all aggressive whenever he tries to be subtle and someone calls him out on it pffft- 

“What the hell are you talking about? You trying to get punched in the face?”

And his feelings are emphasized when the whole class is allowed to use the pool one afternoon and you’re pulling up with Mina and Momo

You’ve got a cute swimsuit and a sun hat on, and King Explosion Murder starts sweating a dangerous amount of nitroglycerin 

Bakugo Katsuki has a thing for soft girls who can pull a one-eighty and kick ass no I do not take criticism

The class wants to play chicken and everyone is choosing partners, but in the corner of his eye Bakugo sees you getting cornered by Mineta 

You’re usually able to handle the horny tornado but you’re feeling a bit too exposed in a bathing suit and start losing your cool

When I tell you the whole Bakusquad BOLTS to come rescue you-

Mineta is literally launched out of the pool by Sero like a rocket ship in orbit and the rest of the group is in this protective barrier formation around you (yes the squad has protocols for this kind of thing don’t even deny it)

Bakugo is beside you in a second with his hands secured on your waist because no one is coming near you like that when he’s around

“Why don’t you be my partner, yeah?”

And that's the story of how y’all destroyed everyone at chicken with absolutely no mercy and Bakugo finds your competitiveness that entire day attractive as hell

Walking back to the dorms afterwards, he pulls you away from the group and the look he gives you is  s e a r i n g

“For the love of God, go out with me” and he does not have to tell you twice

Literally the entire class is SHOOK because you’re actually pretty mellow and Mr. My Only Vocabulary Word Is Die is...ya know...✨volatile✨

But let’s be honest he’s actually a softie if you’re close enough to him (sorry Deku you’re the exception but we still luv u) and everyone ends up adoring y’all being together

When quarantine rolls around and you both have to live back at your respective houses, everything is decently calm for about two days and then you both start getting bored as hell

Honestly longer than you expected 

Bakugo hates social distancing with a passion but he agrees to abide by the rules and ends up asking you to Facetime at least twice a day

His bedroom is actually very tidy ‘cause Bakugo hates clutter, especially when he’s doing schoolwork

I wholeheartedly believe that Bakugo is a beast in the kitchen and y’all can fight me about it because his knife skills are canon and you best believe he learned it to be more independent 

He’s been experimenting with new cooking recipes and is a master at making something out of practically nothing in his fridge, which is really handy when a trip to the grocery store is long overdue

He sends you pictures of his dishes and your responses are all praise and none of it’s exaggerated either; this boy can COOK 

Netflix Parties with the Bakusquad — the chat gets loaded with Denki and Kiri spamming and Bakugo yelling at them in all caps to shut up

Your lock screen is a picture of the group on Facetime and you all have filters on (somehow you got Bakugo to use one don’t ask how); literal friendship goals

And then it’s been about a whole month since quarantine started and Bakugo wants to come visit you, but his mom shuts that down quicker than Barry Allen in the Speed Force

He’s pissed because he and his family feel perfectly healthy but his mother will not let him leave under any circumstances

So when his parents go to visit some relatives who were more susceptible to the virus and needed help with a couple basic tasks you decide to sneak out to see him (in good health of course)

Imagine his surprise when his typically rule-following girlfriend calls and is already standing in his backyard, bags of groceries in your possession

***

Bakugo shot you an incredulous look as you sat at the kitchen table. “You know I could have just opened the front door for you.”

“Yeah, but going through the window was way more fun,” you defended. “It’s not like I’m very rebellious at any other time, so might as well live it up while I have the courage.”

The blond snorted, sifting through the numerous bags you brought along to his house. They were filled with an assortment of foods: vegetables, meat, rice, sauces and the like. 

“What’s all this for?” he inquired, pulling out a bottle of teriyaki sauce.

You couldn’t help the small smile that grew on your face as your boyfriend curiously examined the items. “It’s for you to cook with, duh.”

“And how am I supposed to explain the new abundance of food in the fridge to my parents?”

“Say that I had it sent over through Postmates or something. Even I thought of that, Katsuki.”

He rolled his eyes as he placed down the last bag of items. “I can’t believe you snuck out and brought all this stuff,” he murmured, leaning over to kiss the top of your head. “Thank you, babe.”

A faint blush rises to your cheeks, despite the fact you’ve been dating the first year student for a few months now. Girlfriend or not, verbal thanks from the King Explosion Murder was rare. “You’re welcome.”

Bakugo turned to the stove and started organizing a number of ingredients on the counter beside it, pulling out kitchenware from cabinets as he went.

“Since you’re here and all, I suppose I could make your dumb ass something,” he remarked. 

Your eyes practically sparkled with excitement at the offer; you were hoping the blond would make you one of his iconic dishes eventually. A ghost of a grin was present on Bakugo’s face at the cheer that left your mouth, his back facing you as he got started. 

You were quick to situate yourself on top of the kitchen counter, Bakugo lifting you by the waist to place you farther away from the flaming stove but still allowing you to watch as he worked. His knife skills were almost scary when chopping up the vegetables, the pace at which he was cutting them astonishing you, and the overall aroma of the space had your mouth watering before he was even close to finishing the meal.

“I feel like a judge on Master Chef,” you giggled, and the boy shook his head at the comment as he eyed a timer he had set for the pork he put on the stove. 

“I’m pretty sure my girlfriend of a judge would be a bit biased over the contestants,” he pointed out. 

You hummed thoughtfully. “I mean, if he keeps looking this attractive while making food I think my bias is justified.”

He glanced at you perched on the counter top, and took a few steps in your direction, cupping your cheek in one hand to kiss you quickly. 

“You’re distracting me,” the first year mumbled, running a thumb over your jaw. “Quit being so cute, dummy.”

You saluted playfully. “Yes, chef.”

He let out a soft laugh before moving back to silence the timer that had started beeping, alerting him that the pork on the stove was ready to go. The blond shooed you away and had you sit at the dining table as he took the skillet and turned off the stove flames.

As you waited patiently for Bakugo to finish up, you sang under your breath and set two spots at the table directly across from each other. By the time he was done, two plates of steaming food in hand, you were already sitting down and twirling a fork between your fingers. 

“What did you end up making?” You asked as he set a plate of rice and pork in front of you. 

“Tonkatsu,” he replied nonchalantly. 

It smelled like absolute heaven, and your hunger was only emphasized in the midst of the fast food you had been surviving off of during quarantine. This boy was even good at presentation, and you began to wonder if he was just talented at everything he tried.

Bakugo took the spot across from you and watched as you took the first bite. He wouldn’t admit it, but he felt a bit nervous that you wouldn’t like what he made. But that thought dissipated as quickly as it came once your fork flew into the meal for a second time, and you shot him a wide-eyed look.

“So good!” you exclaimed with a stuffed face, a few grains of rice falling from your mouth and back onto the plate.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full or you’ll choke, stupid,” he reprimanded, but your praise had an evident effect on the male as a smug smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“I expect gourmet lunches from you at least once a week when school starts again.” 

“Not a chance in hell that I’m doing extra work in the mornings.”

“I’ll buy you all the ingredients you want~” 

“...I’ll think about it.”

Next thing you knew, all the food on your plate was gone, gladly relocated to your stomach. Rounding the table, you wrapped your arms around Bakugo’s shoulders as he also finished eating. 

“Thank you for dinner, Katsuki,” you hummed contentedly, resting your chin on his head. “It was seriously masterclass, especially after all the takeout I’ve been eating.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome,” he waved it off. “I think a movie of my choosing is in order.”

“After we clean up, hot shot. Your mom would kill you if she realized someone was over.”

“Why wouldn’t she kill you too?”

“Please. Your mom loves me.”

The blond barked out a laugh before standing up and holding your waist, ushering you back to the kitchen. “True.”

Cleaning up was quick and easy with the both of you working together, stocking away dishes and remaining groceries. The evening sky, visible through a large window in the living room, glittered with stars as you sidled next to your boyfriend on the couch, the kitchen and dining room returned to its normal prestige.

“Katsuki?” you murmured, voice laced with a touch of contented sleepiness.

He turned his head from the television screen to face you. “Hm?” 

“I missed you, silly.” 

An arm was thrown around your shoulder and you were pulled closer to the male, who gently kissed your temple. 

“I missed you too, dummy.”

[weuschoiceheart]

⋘I-Land / Enhypen⋙ Love, I-Land (special chapter)

Tagging: @mari-kigold @akira-star @affectionaterainoflove @enhypenthusiast @periwinkle-ink 

Genre: just very nostalgic :))

Word Count: 2k+

Jay knew something was up when he walked into a dead silent Hybe building.

Looking around, he frowned at the emptiness. Am I too early? Too late? Checking his watch, he realized that he was exactly on time. So where is everyone? 

Sitting down on the couch, he decided to wait for everyone in the lounge. Perhaps the other members were playing some trick on him, to scare him when he lets his guard down. None of the other Hybe artists were here today, since Bang PD had let everyone take the day off, so the silence felt disorienting. 

A beep from Jay’s phone startled him out of his thoughts, and he clicked on the notification. 

Location change: go back to where we started. See you at the reunion! 

“Go back to where we started…” Jay muttered, a smile spread across his face as he thought back to the old box in the woods.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Remember when we first came here?” Youngbin sighed as he, Jimin, and Sungchul walked through the forest. “It seems so long ago.”

“Yeah…” Jimin stretched his arms above his head, pointing at the familiar building coming into view. “And we’re here.”

“It still hasn’t changed,” Sungchul said in awe, watching as the black door slowly flipped open and the three of them walked in. “I can’t wait to see everyone again.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Wow...I can’t believe it’s been a year already,” K traced the sides of the egg gate. “Everything feels older.”

“No, it’s just you getting old,” Kyungmin teased, ducking behind Nicholas before K could smack him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”

“Remember when we waited for you to come back from the dance unit test?” EJ asked. “You guys were so cool performing on stage.”

K smiled, thinking back to the old memories. The feeling of being on stage again, giving all he got to keep from getting eliminated. The cheers from the other boys, the smiles at the camera. He still recalled the nervous feeling of waiting for the results, and most of all, he vividly remembered the moment he, Jungwon, and Sunghoon got back to I-Land and hearing—

“Hello~”

As if on cue, the gate opened to present Enhypen crowding around the entrance, doing the exact same move K had created a year ago. Jaw dropping in shock, he heard the yells from the other boys as they tumbled out the egg and embraced the members they haven’t seen in months. Before he could fully comprehend everything, a wild blur of blonde hair suddenly launched himself onto him and Taki, wrapping his arms around them both.

“Taki! Hyung! You’re back!” K laughed as Niki jumped up and down, bursting with excitement to see his fellow Japanese brothers. Has he grown taller? K wondered, and he felt somehow proud and sad at the same time. Ruffling Niki’s hair, he watched as the younger hugged Taki, almost lifting him off his feet. “Let him breathe, Niki, we’re not going anywhere.”

“You’re finally here.” A familiar voice said, and K turned to see Seon making his way over. Grinning, he trapped K in another hug, and K feels like he’s finally back home.        

------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Did you actually framed the shirt?”

“Yes I did, do you want to come over to see it?” Jay boasted, trying to one up Nicholas. 

“He actually didn’t, he lost it when we moved into the dorms and this morning he panicked because he couldn’t wear it to the reunion,” Jake said, causing Nicholas to raise his eyebrows at Jay, who gave Jake a look of betrayal.

“You weren’t supposed to tell him that!”

“Well, it’s not like—ahhhhh!”

Before Jake could finish his sentence, a larger body wrapped his arms around him. He could sense the younger boy’s enormous smile before he could hear him. “It’s me, Jakey!”

“Daniel!” Jake tried to struggle out of Daniel’s embrace, though he was too busy laughing. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“He’s going around hugging everyone,” Jay explained, “Don’t be surprised if he actually gives you one next time.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ghost watched the boys crowding around the egg gate, a sad smile on his face. It’s been so long since he had any visitors, and seeing them back brought some light in his undead life. Literally. All the lights had been shut off since the boys left, and the ghost had to make his way around in perpetual darkness. Not that he needs any light to see, but it's nice to view the sun, even if it’s just for a little while. 

Turning around to look at the practice room he just came out of, the ghost could almost see the past images of the boys practicing there. The Fire team, organizing their formations. The Fake Love team with their hoods and shirts over their heads, trying to practice without laughing. The Flicker team, playing around with the curtains. It’s also the place where Seon first found him, and the first time the ghost ever revealed itself to anyone. 

There was the lounge connecting to it, where Niki had played the piano and Heeseung had sung. Where the infamous arm wrestling match had taken place and the boys had played with the video filters on the IPads. Where they had cried and comforted each other, and where Jay had written his heartfelt letters.

Making his way up the staircase that the Grounder boys had also walked up to see I-Land, the ghost drifted along the common room. Here, all of them had sat while playing Truth or Dare, the hoodies spread out and “Made by Jay” was created, where they waited anxiously to perform. If he concentrates just enough, the ghost can almost imagine the I-Land boys filming their PR videos, and sheep Niki making Sunghoon laugh. 

There was the dining area, the place where the morning zombies had sat, Sunoo had said “I’m cuter,” where they munched on macaroons and ramen. The ghost can almost see the nine reading letters from their parents, talking and joking around the table. There was the kitchen area, where Sunghoon had screeched about the pork, Hanbin had found the broken banana, and Heeseung had ranted about the ramen. The fridge was empty of spoons, and no one did any side squats to get rid of bloating now.

Moving on to the bedrooms. He had always wondered how K managed to fit his long limbs on the bed, or if he could at all. The mist that Sunoo had sprayed all over his face, and that Jungwon had almost eaten, was gone from the drawer, leaving only the empty reflection of the room in the mirror. The annoying fly that Geonu had tried to catch was gone, the light that Jay had turned off dark (no, the dressing room light does not automatically turn off by itself), all the beds stripped of clothes and necessities. Why Nicholas was sleeping naked would remain a mystery, no more Jay yelling at everyone to wake up and Niki going back to sleep right after.

The washrooms were next. He had to admit, Jungwon’s and Jake’s pranks against Jay worked pretty well, coming from a ghost anyway. There were the sinks lining the wall where K and Taki washed up like father and son, where K and Jay hugged and promised that they’ll debut together, where Jay scolded everyone for leaving their laundry around. 

Out of the washroom now, the ghost lingered outside the room that used to contain the stage outfits and BTS phones. The traces of the boys can be felt, thinking back to the selfies and pictures they took together, to when they marveled at the clothes for their very first “Into the I-Land” stage. He peeked into the practice rooms where he can almost see the Pretty U team helping Sunghoon struggle through aegyo, and where the I Need U team played zombies with the eye massager.

Drifting down the stairs again, remembering how Youngbin carried Jungwon down the stairs to the practice when the younger boy was barefooted, the ghost moved on to the stage itself. He recalled every performance here clearly; the nerve-wracking audition stages, the dance and vocal units battle, the incredible “I&credible” stages, the moving “Calling” performance, and the iconic “Dive Into You” stage. Jigeum Buteo saying “Standby,” Jake’s “this hyung is crazy!” and the confused “Rival? Live?” echoed through the ghost’s ears. The memories of it all hit him like a truck (not that he would feel anything if he was hit by a truck, he’s a ghost after all, but you get the simile), causing him to choke up a little. He missed them so much. 

Strolling outside now, the ghost walked into Ground, and reminisced some more. Here was where Rain taught them “Fire” and hugged every one of the boys. He could picture Jay giving back massages to Kyungmin, telling him how they must work through the pain to get to I-Land. There was Hanbin comforting Jaebeom (it’s so weird calling him Echan now), and helping the other boys learn the dance. Sunoo and Sungchul practicing “Save Me,” Jaeho practicing with Nicholas and Niki, Taki making faces at the camera. A blurry image of all the boys comparing and measuring their heights, trying to see who’s taller. Really, I-Land seems like a magical paradise, but he would never forget the fun times the Grounders had, and the hard work they put in to achieve their dreams. 

Outside once again, he spied the matted grass on the ground and smiled wistfully. It’s strange, he thought, how it was still there after Jungwon filmed his PR video in his sheep costume. He remembered how adorable he was, how all of them were, showing off their personalities to get fans to vote for them. And now it’s getting dark, so the ghost moved on to the small light from a campfire in the distance.

Settling down on the ground, he watched as all the boys talked and joked with each other. They were sitting down in front of the large screen, where the final 11 had watched the fan videos, and pulled the benches around in a circle. Their smiles lit up their faces, their arms tangled in one another, Jimin’s head leaning against Geonu’s, Taeyong holding onto Echan’s hand. The scene filled the ghost with a feeling he can’t describe, and being a ghost with no heart, it was definitely a little strange, feeling something after a long time of emptiness.

“....and I just want to say thank you, to everyone for staying by my side on this journey,” Seon concluded, snapping the ghost out of his daze as the boy sat down. As if reading his thoughts, Seon’s eyes flickered over to where the ghost sat, and smiled.

Thank you for looking after us.

Being a ghost is lonely sometimes, floating in and out of places with no purpose. The smile, that one kind thought, ignited a flame in him. In a world filled with countless people, it’s hard to spot a lone spirit, invisible in a crowd. It’s even harder to make them feel at home, in a place where they’re recognized and wanted. Yet here he is, enveloped in a family who coaxed him out of his shell. No, I should be thanking you, Seon. 

Maybe this is what the fans felt, watching them run for their dreams. Every Friday charged with anticipation and excitement, of finding who would get eliminated and who would stay. Away from lives permeated with pain, loneliness, and uncertainty, they found solace within these 23 boys as they followed them on this journey to debut. Along the way, the fans found each other as well, and a community full of eggies and engenes was born.

Thank you for the memories, I-Land.

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A/N: Thank you to all the eggies for welcoming me into this wonderful family. Whether you were a predebut stan or just started stanning Enhypen, thank you for supporting our boys. I-Land is over now, but our journey with the boys will live on.