#you're in someone else's playground entirely

[catchastarorten]

—One more game.

Pairing: the salesman (gong yoo) x winner!fem!reader

Summary: a year after winning your games, an unexpected guest shows up at your door, offering to play one more game of ddakji with you, just for the fun of it, and because you're his favorite winner.

Warnings: mentions of trauma, mentions of blood and gore, violence (basically just you smacking him a lot lol), masochism (<- on him, if you squint really hard?), English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1k

You almost didn’t answer the door.

It was late—the kind of late where the silence pressed in too close and left you too alone for your thoughts. The rain tapped against the windows felt louder than it should. You hadn’t been expecting anyone. Not anymore, anyways.

Your thoughts drifted to that moment. When you stood on that playground that reflected a childish innocence, yet your hands were trembling, blood drying beneath your nails and painted across your teal uniform, the sound of the final breath and the plea that the other player let out before you swung down the knife with a cold precision that pierced him right through the head. It was over. You won. But it never felt like you were the winner.

The knock had been deliberate, sharp. Three steady raps, not the kind delivered by accident or from someone who might go away if ignored, it broke you out of your haze.

You told yourself you weren’t afraid as you approached, but your heartbeat felt too loud in your ears. Your fingers curled around the lock, hesitating for just a second. Then, you opened it.

And there he was.

The salesman.

You hadn’t seen him since the same rainy day where he found you in the subway station, drenched and cold, in debt—out of money, when he offered to play a simple game of ddakji with you. Not since he handed you a card with a number on the back and disappeared without a trace.

Yet here he stood, wearing the same tailored suit, sharp as ever. His face was unchanged—calm, composed, as if this was just another evening, another game. But it wasn’t.

You could tell by the way his eyes softened the moment they met yours.

He didn’t speak right away. His gaze swept over your face, tracing every detail, as if cataloging how you’d changed. Or maybe searching for the cracks left behind.

Then, his hand lifted.

The red and blue ddakji were already there, pinched between his fingers as though they’d never left. Worn slightly at the edges, but still bold in color. Waiting.

“Care for another game?” His voice was smooth, calm. Too calm.

Your stomach twisted.

The paper. The slap. The start of everything that seemed to haunt you.

It all came back too easily—how the game had started with that simple challenge, the humiliating sting of his palm every time you lost. Until you hadn’t. Until you’d proven you could be a winner, until he handed you that card as a congratulations.

“No.” Your voice came out flat. You started to close the door.

His foot shifted forward, not blocking but close enough that the message was clear: not yet.

“You don’t seem so sure.” His gaze lingered, voice quieter now. More dangerous in its softness. “You’ve played before.”

You swallowed, hating how he made it sound like a compliment. Like something to be proud of.

“I don’t play anymore,” you said, sharper this time.

His lips parted like he might argue, but then—he smiled. It wasn’t smug. Not mocking. Something else entirely. You hated how it made your skin prickle.

His head tilted slightly, fingers flexing around the ddakji. “You won, though. You survived. Out of all of them… you were quite ruthless.”

You shouldn’t have let him say that. But it was too late. Something inside you cracked.

Your hand shot out before you fully registered the movement. A sharp, stinging crack as your palm met his cheek, the impact louder than you expected in the quiet.

He barely moved.

He just stood there, lips parted slightly in surprise. And then—he smiled again, slower this time, his head tipping back, exposing the faint pink blooming across his cheekbone in the dim lights.

It felt less satisfying that he just let the pain settle there.

“There’s that fire,” he said, his voice taunting. “The same fire that got you through the games, that made you kill all those people, hm? I always knew you had it.”

Another slap, harder this time. His head jerked slightly with the force of it, his cheek flushing a deeper red. He exhaled softly, just a breath, but it sounded too much like a gasp, like something he’d been holding back.

And when his eyes met yours again— no smile. Not this time. Just a flicker of something you couldn't understand.

His hand shifted between you, lifting the ddakji slightly as if to remind you why he was here.

“You’ll have to win first,” he said, voice hoarse but playful. “Before you keep doing that.”

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife, the air too still.

You snatched the red ddakji from his hand, the paper crinkling slightly as your fingers curled around it.

The game began like it had before. The slap of paper against the floor. The silence between rounds, broken only by breath and the occasional hiss when a piece landed just wrong.

But it wasn’t like before, not really.

Because you felt his presence too closely now—the way he watched you, not just your hands but your face, your mouth, your eyes. As if he was searching for cracks in your mask.

So you played harder. Sharper.

And then you won.

The blue ddakji flipped with a sharp slap, the smooth side landing face up, and you felt the victory surge in your chest—not just from the game, but because of him.

Your eyes met his, he didn’t speak, didn’t flinch when your palm connected with his face a third time, but this time—his breath hitched. A subtle, almost imperceptible sound, but it was there.

And his gaze? It was the same as before. The same as that first night when he watched you fight for your life with nothing but paper and desperation.

He took a step back, finally breaking the moment. Rain whispered against the window, the only sound in the room now.

He bent down and picked up the red and blue ddakji, stuffing them into his pockets as his smile returned, and you could've sworn you saw a hint of pride in his eyes.

“Still a fighter,” he hummed.

[lxndonorris]

workout - Carlos Sainz

Y/N x Carlos Sainz Theme: Smut (you've been warned) steamy workout session with Carlos x word count: 3410+ sorry for the poor attempt of being quirky with some words hehe

Carlos is in full pre-season training mode, and his home gym has become his personal playground—a space where he sharpens his body for the grueling F1 season ahead.

He's set up neatly in the corner of his house, with dumbbells, resistance bands, and a sleek bench press. The air smells faintly of rubber mats and his fresh cologne, mixing with the sounds of his steady, controlled breathing.

He's wearing that baby blue, form-fitting shirt that hugs every contour of his toned upper body, paired with dark blue shorts that give just the right amount of freedom for movement. Underneath, these light yellowish green spandex-like pants accentuate his thighs beautifully. His white cap sits snugly backward as he focuses on his form. The stubble on his jaw is growing perfectly, giving him that rugged, effortlessly handsome look.

You're sitting nearby, scrolling aimlessly through your phone, pretending not to care, but your attention keeps slipping. And he knows it.

Carlos would always ask you to accompany him during workouts, like he says, 'to have someone to chat,' but you both know that he's just happy and excited to show off.

He starts with some warm-ups—rolling his shoulders, stretching his arms—glancing your way between movements.

"You sure you don't want to join?" he teases, smirking. His Spanish accent lingers playfully in the air.

You don't look up immediately, playing it cool.

"I'm good here, thanks."

It is a little game you play anytime he's trying to tease you. He loves to play, but he doesn't like following your rules. If he isn't in control, he tries anything to get it back.

Carlos gets in position for two sets of push-ups, his entire body angled perfectly for you to stare at his behind—his broad shoulders, back, and ass. His tight clothes leave barely anything to your imagination.

He doesn't even need to see you; he just knows you're watching, enjoying every second—every push, every soft groan leaving his mouth.

As he gets up, he glances your way again, catching you staring, causing him to lick his lips. Your cheeks are burning slightly, flushing with color.

Carlos chuckles under his breath before moving on to the weights. He picks up a pair of dumbbells, positioning himself in front of the mirror now. His biceps flex as he curls them up, veins subtly appearing, visible through his hairy arms, his muscles tightening under that tight shirt.

"Don't get too distracted," he says, looking at you through the mirror with a knowing smirk.

You scoff, tilting your phone slightly to shield your face.

"Please, I've seen this a million times."

That is true, yet somehow, this display ignites something deep inside you every, single time.

He chuckles, switching to shoulder presses, lifting the weights above his head with slow, controlled movements.

"Mmm-hmm. That's why you're still watching."

You roll your eyes dramatically, your cheeks flushing still. "I've nothing else to look at."

Carlos shakes his head, suppressing a soft chuckle, setting down the dumbbells before moving to the pull-up bar.

With an effortless motion, he grips it and pulls himself up, his shirt lifting slightly to reveal the carved definition of his lower abs. His muscles work in perfect sync—shoulders, biceps, and core—all moving together in flawless rhythm.

"Still nothing to look at, huh?" he breathes out between reps.

You cross your legs, feigning indifference.

"Not particularly."

Carlos drops down with a soft thud and turns to face you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He tugs at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up ever so slightly, fanning himself as if he's working so hard.

"Maybe I should take this off," he muses, his smirk deepening. "It's getting hot."

You roll your eyes again, but your heartbeat stutters.

"Don't be dramatic."

He chuckles, deep and rich, stepping closer, his body radiating warmth.

"Come here," he says smoothly, flexing his arm in front of you. "Feel that?"

You glance at him warily but bite your lip, giving in. Your fingers wrap around his biceps, feeling the hard muscle beneath your touch. It's solid, warm, and completely unyielding.

Carlos watches you, enjoying your reaction.

"Tighter than last season?" he asks, voice low.

You hum, running your fingers up his arm before pressing against his chest. His pecs are firm, his breathing steady beneath your palm.

"I don't know," you say, teasing. "Might need more proof."

His smirk grows, his confidence unwavering.

"Oh? Keep going then."

Your hands trail lower, fingertips ghosting over his abs through the slightly damp fabric of his shirt. Each ridge is defined, taut beneath your touch. His breathing hitches slightly when you let your fingers drift even further down, brushing against his lower stomach.

That's when you notice it—the slight strain in his shorts, the way the fabric has begun to pull just a little tighter.

You tilt your head, raising an eyebrow.

Carlos isn't just enjoying the workout. He's enjoying this.

"Something wrong?"

He doesn't shy away. Instead, he steps closer, bringing himself just inches from you. His hands settle on the arms of your chair, effectively caging you in.

You feel the heat radiating from his skin, the faint scent of sweat and cologne filling your senses.

"Not at all," he murmurs, his voice lower, huskier.

You smirk, pressing your palm lightly against his chest again.

"You seem... tense."

Carlos exhales a small chuckle, then leans in, his lips grazing your cheek as he speaks.

"And whose fault is that?"

You barely have time to react before his mouth finds yours. The kiss starts slow, deliberate, his lips warm and firm against yours. He deepens it, one hand sliding up your arm, his fingers teasing over your skin.

You let out a quiet hum, finally dropping your phone, your hands slipping back to his chest, nails grazing lightly over his shirt. His body tenses beneath your touch, but he doesn't pull away—he leans in closer, tilting his head to kiss you deeper, like he's proving a point.

Then, he pulls away just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, a smug grin playing on his lips. His breath is warm against your skin, his dark eyes heavy-lidded with something between amusement and desire.

"You liked that, didn't you?" you murmur, your fingers still resting lightly against his chest.

He hums, a low, contented sound deep in his throat.

"Maybe," he admits, eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "But I think you liked it more."

You scoff, tilting your head.

"Oh? And what makes you think that?"

His smirk deepens, and before you can react, he leans in again, brushing his lips along your jawline, teasingly slow.

"Because," he whispers, the heat in his voice unmistakable, "you haven't stopped touching me."

You roll your eyes but don't move your hand. Instead, you let your fingers drift lower, ghosting over the fabric of his shorts, teasing the strain that's undeniably there. His breath hitches slightly, but he doesn't stop you.

He likes this game. Loves it, even.

"Careful," he warns, his voice thick, playful but edged with something deeper. "If you keep that up, I—"

You press your palm more firmly against him, a teasing squeeze that has him sucking in a sharp breath.

"You were saying?" You challenge, looking up at him with innocent eyes.

Carlos growls in his throat, his jaw clenching slightly as his hands tighten on the arms of your chair.

His control is slipping, and he knows it.

But instead of pulling away, he leans in, his lips brushing just below your ear.

"You really like testing me, don't you?" He murmurs, his voice dripping with amusement and something dangerously exciting.

You grin, dragging your fingers back up his stomach, feeling the way his muscles twitch under your touch.

"And you really like failing the test."

Carlos exhales a breathy laugh, shaking his head slightly.

"Oh, cariño," he murmurs, his hands finally sliding down to your waist, gripping just firm enough to send a shiver through you. "You have no idea what you've started."

His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers pressing just enough to make you aware of the heat radiating off his body. His smirk is still there, but there's something else in his eyes now—something darker, more intense.

He likes this game, but he also likes to win.

You tilt your head, feigning innocence.

"Started what?"

Carlos huffs a small laugh, his nose brushing against your jaw as he speaks.

"Something you won't be able to handle."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Is that so?"

Before you can react, he moves, his hands slipping down to the backs of your thighs. In one swift motion, he lifts you up from the chair with ease, his strength on full display as he carries you effortlessly.

You barely have time to gasp before he sets you down onto his workout bench, stepping between your legs, caging you in completely.

His hands settle on either side of your hips, his face hovering inches away from yours.

"You act like you're in control," he breathes, his voice smooth, teasing. "But we both know how this ends."

You exhale slowly, feeling your pulse quicken as he watches you, waiting for your next move.

You don't back down—you never do.

Instead, you trail your hands back up his chest, over his shoulders, fingers teasing along the hem of his shirt.

"Maybe," you admit, slipping your hands under the fabric, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. "But I think you like it when I try."

Carlos inhales sharply at the touch, his jaw flexing slightly as you ghost your fingers down his torso again, teasing the hard planes of his stomach. His muscles twitch under your fingertips, but he doesn't move- doesn't stop you.

Instead, he leans in closer, his lips barely grazing your ear.

"I do," he admits, his voice a low, velvety murmur. "But don't think for a second that I won't turn the tables."

You smirk, dragging your nails lightly down his abdomen, watching as his breath stutters ever so slightly.

"Then do it," you challenge softly.

Carlos pulls back up just enough to look at you, his eyes flickering with something undeniably dangerous and playful.

"Oh, cariño," he whispers, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smile.

Then, before you can react, he grips your wrists, pinning them lightly against the bench as he leans down, his mouth finding yours again—this time with no hesitation, no teasing.

Carlos' lips crash against yours, but it's not just a kiss—it's a statement. It's him taking control, proving his point without words. His grip on your wrists is firm but not unkind, just enough to remind you that no matter how much you tease him, he was always the on in charge when he decided to be.

You exhale sharply against his mouth, but you don't fight it. You let him lead, let him deepen the kiss until it's all-consuming, until your fingers twitch beneath his grasp, aching to touch him again.

He notices, of course—Carlos always notices.

Smirking against your lips, he releases your wrists, and you waste no time running your hands through his hair, knocking his cap off in the process. His dark strands are slightly damp from his workout, and when you tug just a little, he groans softly against your mouth.

"You play dirty," he mutters, his hands finding your hips, thumbs pressing into your skin just enough to make you shiver.

You grin.

"So do you."

Carlos hums in agreement, pulling you closer, eliminating any space between you.

His body is warm, his muscles tense beneath your hands as you drag them down his back, feeling every inch of his strength. His breathing is heavier now, the teasing from earlier fading into something else entirely.

His lips trail down to your jaw, then lower, grazing the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. You suck in a breath as he murmurs against your skin.

"You started this, cariño. Don't tell me you're backing out now."

You scoff, tilting your head to give him better access.

"You're the one who's been showing off all day."

He chuckles, his hands slipping lower, gripping your thighs as he leans in.

"And you love watching."

You smirk, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze.

"Maybe."

Carlos studies you for a moment, eyes dark and full of amusement, then suddenly—he lifts you off the bench effortlessly again. A small gasp leaves your lips as your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance.

"Carlos—"

"Shh," he smirks, walking you toward the wall, pressing you gently against it.

His strength is ridiculous—he's barely exerting effort, and it only fuels his ego.

"See," he murmurs, voice laced with smug satisfaction. "This is why I train."

You roll your eyes, but your heart is pounding.

"So you can show off?"

Carlos grins.

"So I can do this."

Before you can respond, his lips capture yours again, deeper this time, more demanding. His fingers dig into your hips, pressing you closer against him. The tension from earlier, the teasing, the buildup—it all snaps into something more urgent, more intense.

His breath is warm against your skin, his lips teasing along your jawline as he holds you effortlessly against the wall. His grip is firm and strong, and there's an undeniable smugness in the way he keeps you there like you weigh nothing.

"You were saying?" He mirrors your tone from earlier, pressing a low, deliberate kiss just below your ear.

You exhale a shaky breath, fingers digging into his shoulders.

"That you show off too much."

Carlos chuckles, his chest vibrating against yours.

"And yet," he says, moving his lips down your throat, "you keep watching."

You smirk even as your pulse races.

"You like that I do."

His hands tighten on your thighs, pressing you impossibly closer.

"I love that you do."

The playful game from earlier hasn't disappeared—it's still there, woven into every touch, every teasing glance—but now, there's something deeper, something more intense.

Carlos isn't just playing to win anymore; he's savoring it, enjoying every reaction he pulls from you.

He tilts his head slightly, eyes flicking to your lips.

"You gonna keep teasing?"

You hum, dragging your fingers down his back.

"Wouldn't it be fun if I didn't?"

Carlos grins at that, his hands sliding up to your waist.

"Then I guess I'll have to remind you who's really in control here."

He pushes away from the wall, carrying you easily as he walks you toward the bedroom.

His confidence is maddening, and you should protest—should at least pretend to fight back—but the way he looks at you, like he knows exactly what he's doing, has you melting into him.

Carlos smirks, his grip tightening slightly.

"Only when it means I get to hear you say my name like that again."

You roll your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you.

"Cocky."

His lips brush yours, teasing, playful.

"Only for you, cariño."

He sets you down onto the bed gently and carefully, and you slide further back, watching him pull at the hem of his shirt, dragging it across his chest, before he takes it off.

Licking your lips, you drink in the sight of him—his hairy bare chest, his taut muscles, strong arms, and tousled hair.

You run a hand across your chest, feeling your own heart racing, as he does the same, dragging his fingers across his damp skin, before resting on the ever-growing strain inside his tight shorts.

"All because of you," he muses, more to himself than to anyone else,

"You love that," you suppress a chuckle, watching him take his undergarments off as well.

"I do," he admits, running a hand through his hair before he climbs onto the bed, approaching you slowly, teasingly.

As soon as he's close enough, his lips find yours once more, and you melt into his kiss—deep, longing, demanding even.

You feel his hands everywhere, on your breast, your sides, and thighs, his fingers tugging, pulling, and clawing at the fabric of your clothes.

You stroke his chest when he lets out a low growl, the sound vibrating in his throat.

His fingers trace over your skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake as you work together to shed the layers between you. Piece by piece, he removes your clothes, replacing them with longing, burning kisses that leave marks on your skin, and your heart yearns for more.

There is something intoxicating about the way he watches you, his dark eyes flickering with admiration and want. He takes his time, savoring every inch of bare skin revealed to him, his hands mapping you out as if he's memorizing every detail.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, his voice softer now, reverent.

You cup his jaw, your thumb grazing the stubble that's grown in enough to roughen his otherwise soft kisses.

"You just like looking."

Carlos chuckles, low and deep.

"You have no idea."

He leans in, brushing his lips against yours, slow at first- like he's giving you the chance to set the pace. But you don't hesitate. You pull him closer, deepening the kiss, feeling the way he responds instantly, his body pressing against yours.

His warmth, his scent, the sheer presence of him—it surrounds you, consumes you. He moves with an effortless control, his hands steady yet gentle as they explore, as if he's savoring the moment as much as you are.

And when he finally slips inside you, it's seamless, like you were always meant to fit this way. A quiet gasp escapes your lips, swallowed instantly by his kiss, as he holds you close, his forehead pressing against yours.

You cling to him, fingers digging into his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath your hands flex with each movement. He makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that's almost too tender compared to the intensity of everything else.

"Carlos," you whisper, his name slipping out without a thought.

He groans softly, tightening his grip on your hips.

"Say it again."

You do, and the way he responds—his breath hitching, his hold on you tightening—tells you just how much he loves hearing it this way.

Carlos' breath turns ragged against your skin, his movements growing more urgent, more desperate, as you chase the inevitable together.

His grip tightens yet again, his forehead pressing against yours, eyes locked on yours as if he refuses to let you slip away from this moment.

"Stay with me," he murmurs, voice thick, his lips brushing yours between gasps.

You hold on to him tighter, fingers digging into his back, your body arching into his as the tension builds impossibly high. It's overwhelming—the heat, the closeness, the way he knows exactly how to unravel you.

And then, all at once, the world tilts.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips as the wave crashes over you, sending shivers down your spine.

Carlos follows right behind you, groaning your name like it's the only thing keeping him grounded. His grip tightens, his entire body tensing before he finally lets go, surrendering to the moment completely.

For a long moment, neither of you moves. Your breaths mingle, fast and uneven, hearts racing in sync. Carlos rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling heavily.

Then, finally, he exhales a slow, contented sigh and shifts just enough to pull you against him, his arms wrapping securely around you.

"Dios mío," he breathes, pressing a lazy, lingering kiss to your shoulder. "You really do like testing me."

You manage a breathless laugh, your fingers tracing light circles against his back.

"And you really like proving a point."

Carlos chuckles, the sound low and warm, his fingers threading through your hair as he presses another kiss to your temple.

"Only when it comes to you."

You hum in response, already sinking into the comfort of his arms, your body melting against his.

He shifts slightly, pulling the covers over you before tucking you even closer against him. His fingers lazily tracing patterns on your back, his breathing steadying.

"Stay like this," he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost sleepy. "Just for a little while."

You smile against his chest, letting your eyes flutter shut.

"As long as you want."

Carlos tightens his hold on you, pressing one last kiss to your hair before finally letting himself relax completely.

[slimepuparibaba]

Pip-pip | Squeak-squeak

Caleb x MC / Reader

A different take on the origin of the nickname that Caleb uses so much.

Tags: Light angst, fluffy, childhood friends

Contains: Bullying (kids are mean), signs of Caleb being overprotective (bro would change the meaning of words for you)

A/N: me and my sister are the only ones who have the pip-pip squeak-squeak call and response headcanon and we need more people to share it because it WORKS AND ITS CUTE AND—

Back at the shelter, little 001 now had a name for herself. But the boys at the shelter weren't kind to her. They called her a runt, a weakling. They picked on her a lot.

A pipsqueak was what they called her.

She was easy to mess with. They could kick her around, shove her, and she would cry tears. How fun, the little boys thought. And soon, the little girls would join too.

Little 001 was a pipsqueak. Tiny, frail, and scared.

But then a boy a little older than her came to her aid. He seemed angry, angrier than anyone else.

Barked at them to back off, said that he would protect her, that anyone who messed with her messed with him.

"I'm a pipsqueak," she cried to him. "I'm tiny and short and they all make fun of me."

But the little boy shook his head, wiping away her tears.

"Did you know that in aviation, a pip-squeak was a navigation system?" Unaware, she listened carefully. The boy continued, "it's true! So, if you're my pip-squeak, then you're my navigation system."

"But they said I'm small," she cried. "And that I don't mean anything."

"Without you, how would I be able to land?" he asked. "I need my pip-squeak more than anything. You're super important to me."

The boy knew that wasn't what the meaning behind the pipsqueak insult was. He knew that those in the shelter were using it to make fun of her. But he didn't care.

If he could change the colors of this world, if he could warp it to make it a paradise for her... then he would. All to stop her crying, he would do anything. He would change the definitions of words, he would rewrite entire books.

Anything.

"So from now on, when someone calls you a pipsqueak, you say that you're my pip-squeak, okay?" he requested. "And as my pip-squeak, if I call out 'pip-pip', you respond 'squeak-squeak' so that I can find you."

"Squeak-squeak?"

"Mhm. Just like that. Pip-pip?"

"...squeak-squeak!"

"Exactly!"

The word pipsqueak was warped that day. He molded it from a playground insult into something completely new. And despite how many times she had forgotten details... that little nickname was the one thing she never forgot.

She always liked being called pip-squeak. And though she may have forgotten the initial reason, she never forgot her fondness to it.

Even now, as adults... if you listen carefully, you can hear a man calling out lovingly to someone.

"Pip-pip?"

And in return, she will always chirp happily...

"Squeak-squeak!"

[pineconepie]

How would your Yandere Parents react if the reader, or darling ikr, hurts themselves BADLY by accident? Like hitting their head or cut themselves somehow?

I remember how I cut my leg while playing in the playground, I was such a rascal back then lmao

-🪼

Octavian would initially gasp, fearing the worst possible outcome, but he would also immediately jump to help you. After thoroughly checking the wound, cleaning and covering it, he would fret over you for days on end.

No amount of insistence would calm him down about the accident, and wherever you got injured would be forbidden for you to go to anymore (for example if you tripped by the kitchen counter, you're banned from going near it).

.

Vincent would be quietly cursing to himself the entire time he's rushing you to his private doctor, barking for them to make sure you're alright. His impatience during this time would be extremely obvious from his tapping foot or pacing.

Afterwards, he'd be holding you tight against him while he softly scolds you, threatening to not let you out of his sight again if you keep being careless. But after he's done scolding, he'd just silently hold you as best as he can from the hospital bed.

.

Indigo would shriek upon seeing you bleeding from anywhere and scooping you up to look it over carefully, demanding to know what happened and where you're hurt.

He'd try fixing up your wounds as best as he can, but if it gets worse, he'd swim as fast as he can in search for a healer of some kind. He wouldn't stop crying for even a second.

.

Magnus would bark for you to stay still immediately while he looks at the wound, and even though he wouldn't verbalize it, you can see the obvious panic in his expression.

Once he spots the open wound, he'd immediately scoop you up and rush over to a nearby river, rinsing the cut or wound and bringing you back to the cave. I think I mentioned it before, but he'd also kidnap a human doctor to demand that they fix you. He'll need you 24/7 in his grasp for a while after that.

.

Seradiel would appear within milliseconds, removing you from the situation and wrapping you up tightly in his wings. He'd use his own powers to heal you and teleport you both somewhere safer if need be.

Even after the wound healed, he would continue fussing over you endlessly and insist "this is why I am so protective!! if i weren't here to care for you... i don't even want to think about where you'd be!!"

.

Warren's usual calm persona is gone the moment he sees you injured badly. Immediately he's calling for assistance and taking you to another room.

Whether he patches you up or calls for someone else to do it instead, he'd never take his eyes off you. And once you're healed up, he'd spend the rest of the night cuddling you and if you injured your head, he'll kiss the bandage and insist kisses make the boo-boos better quicker <3

[the-raindeer-king]

If anyone so much gets a lil mean with teen!ghost I am throwing hands. So please continue

Someone mean to teen!Ghost.... so maybe I shouldn't drop this little blurb and run... (not part three, but enjoy this little blurb!)

You hadn't seen Simon all day, holed up in the med bay handling a rookie training course gone wrong. It's been a fucking nightmare, and you haven't even had time to think about Simon since you got to your station. All you can do is hope that one of 141 is keeping an eye on him.

That hope doesn't last long.

"WHO'S FUCKING SPOILED BRAT IS THIS?!"

The Lieutenant's voice cuts through the cacophony of the med bay like a clap of thunder. He's not even from your base, but visiting for a training course or something. You're not entirely sure, but what you do know is that over the last three days that he's been here, he's managed to solidify his reputation as an asshole.

You're halfway out of it, well used to working while spaced out, that you don't realize he's coming closer. Not until Simon crashes into your thankfully empty station, nearly knocking your setup over as he's roughly shoved into your station.

There's a cut on his forehead, right about his left eyebrow, and a bruise forming on his cheek.

"I didn't-

"Shut it!"

If you'd have turned around any faster, you might have broken the sound barrier. You whip around in your chair, shooting the Lieutenant a glare that a smarter man would've taken as a warning. The Lieutenant is not such a man.

"I caught this little miscreant snooping around Captain Price's office, and everyone said that he belongs to you," the Lieutenant sneers.

"I wasn't snooping!" Simon argues, his voice and body shaking with frustration. His hands clench into fists, and you can see the way his jaw clenches, the same way Ghost's does when he bites his tongue.

"I told you to shut up!" the Lieutenant roars, slamming his hand down onto your desk.

It's the way Simon flinches, eyes squeezed shut and body tense, ready for a blow that you personally won't allow to happen. He shrinks back from the Lieutenant, eyes darting between his assailant and the door, looking more like a scared animal than anything else.

Enough is enough.

"Lieutenant-"

"This is a goddamn military base, not some fucking playground! Keep an eye on this little bastard, or so help me God! You're lucky he didn't find anything important," the Lieutenant snaps at you, face red in his anger.

"Lieutenant," you begin again, doing your best to keep calm. Getting angry isn't going to help the situation, even if you'd rather knock the Lieutenant teeth out. "I'll be sure to let Captain Price know-"

"Good."

"-that you yelled at his nephew, as well as threatened and assaulted him."

You've never seen a man go so pale so quickly. All the redness of the Lieutenant's cheeks turns a splotchy white, and you have to stop yourself from laughing at the panic in his eyes.

"You what?" he squeaks out.

"I said I'll let Price know that you yelled at, assaulted, and shoved his darling nephew here," you reply, nodding towards Simon, who honestly looks like he might pass out any second now. Not that the Lieutenant looks any better.

While the Lieutenant has a reputation of being an asshole, Price has one of his own, and it's for being viciously protective of what he considers his. You've witness firsthand the way he handles the 141, and you've heard rumors of him punching other captains for just joking about taking his boys from him.

"No, that's... that's not necessary. I didn't- I wasn't -"

"Or should I tell him that you were manhandling the poor boy around the base? Making a spectacle out of an assumption you made?" You pause, letting the situation sink in. "You make these kinds of assumptions in the field?"

"I- I'm so sorry. I had no idea..."

"Don't apologize to me. Apologize to him."

The Lieutenant turns to Simon, stuttering out a jumbled apologize. Simon glances towards you, clearly a little unsure what to do. But the power is in his court, and you give him a shrug in response. Whatever he chooses is his choice, and you'll respect it.

"Give me a twenty, and we won't tell," Simon says.

You have to fight back a laugh. It's wrong, but you don't discourage his behavior. It's so quintessential Ghost, and it makes you miss the man even more. Once the Lieutenant leaves, you motion Simon to come closer.

Simon shuffles closer, shoving the twenty into his pocket. "You can't have it," he huffs, and this time you don't hold back your laughter.

"Don't want it, sweetheart," you laugh in response, and it eases the ache when you catch him smile. You brush back the blonde hair on his forehead, giving yourself a better look at the cut on his eyebrow.

"That asshole," you grumble under your breath, turning away to get a band aid. As you turn back to him, your heart plummets to your stomach when Simon responds quietly, "It's not that bad. I've been through worse."

You stare at each other for a moment, the silence in the room deafening. Simon knows he shouldn't have said it too, based on the way his eyes widen. And you hate that you can't keep him safe, knowing he'll return back to the correct timeline eventually.

But while he's here, you'll do your best to make him feel loved.

[slut4celebs]

You're Not Just My Best Friend

Gracie Abrams x Reader

Word Count: 1,505 words

Trigger Warning: miscommunications, public displays of affection

Synopsis: In which the pressure of tour and her feelings for the R becomes overwhelming, Gracie decides to talk to R about it. Only, the conversation leads to a misunderstanding and fallout. R still can't help but go to Gracie's show after a message from her brother and the two confront each other and their feelings.

Requests are open. < Please guys, on my knees begging.

Gracie Abrams handpicked (Y/n) (L/n) to be her friend of their first day of kindergarten. On that same day, they held a wedding on the playground and Gracie kissed (Y/n) and told her she'd love her forever. From that day on, she kept her vow to always love her, it being a sacred promise that she held to her chest. Their bond could be categorized as intense and passion, even when they tried to date other people. Truth be told, no relationship between them and anyone else could last since they were always on a collision course to this exact moment in time. Now, Gracie was standing in front of (Y/n), ready to pour her heart out and put their friendship on the line. If only she hadn't started it with "I can't be your friend anymore."

The statement sounded like glass shattering into a million people, scattering around her. It made (Y/n) afraid to move, to stand, to say anything as she processed Gracie's words. Due to Gracie's silence as she picked the words carefully in her head, not communicating them out loud, (Y/n) took this as a statement that solidified the end of their decade long friendship. She always thought that they would end up more, not just end entirely. Apparently that feeling wasn't shared, as it seemed that Gracie was just dumping her onto the curb while in a city far from home.

A million thoughts hit her simultaneously, making her spiral. Couldn't Gracie have thought of this sooner? Where was she going to stay tonight? How was she going to get home? She had, after all, quit her part-time job to be one of Gracie's social media organizers. It was really just Gracie's way to bring her on tour, putting her on her payroll. It took forever for Gracie to even convince her, and now she was just dropping her. Was there someone else? Had she done something wrong? Her head began to hurt and she grew nauseous, and she finally stood right when Gracie was finally finding her words, thoughts finally connecting together.

"So, you mean to tell me that you convinced me to come on tour with you just for you to tell me you can't be my friend anymore?" She hated the way her eyes welled up with tears, causing her to take a sharp intake of breath. (Y/n) couldn't allow herself to cry in that moment. She bit her lip to stable her wobbly lip as she cleared her throat, trying to find the right words. But there was no words, and Gracie couldn't respond quick enough. "God, Gracie, I left a stable job to come here with you. I dropped everything for you. We're in New York fucking city… I can't even look at you right now."

Gracie's eyes were wide as she watched (Y/n) make a break for her tour bus door. She quickly caught her wrist, brown eyes pleading for her to stay. Her words were caught in her throat, blocked by a sob due to (Y/n)'s retreating figure. Why couldn't she just confess her love right then and there. All she wanted to say was that she had always loved her and she will always love her. Nothing had changed from their kindergarten wedding. But, somehow, she managed to ruin it. "No, (Y/n), please. I was trying to-"

"Trying to what, Gracie?" There was her opening, the opportunity needed to get her thoughts out. But she didn't take it. (Y/n) shook her head, tears finally spilling over her tear line. Yanking her wrist from Gracie's tight hold as she silently begged her to stay, (Y/n) headed out the door into the New York streets. She, unfortunately, had the pleasure to be met head on with fans who recognized her from Gracie's lives and Instagram posts, and they attempted to ask for photos. (Y/n) had to wade through them, trying to remain polite as she made her way to a hotel, her phone battery a little too low for her liking. Thankfully, the girl at the front desk let her borrow a charger before she booked a room. Once her phone was in significantly better health, she made her way up to her room, allowing herself to finally breakdown and grieve what had just happened on the bus.

She wasn't expecting a call to wake her up in the late afternoon. Blinking away her sleepiness, her brows furrowed when she saw it was from Henry, Gracie's older brother. She let her brain process for a moment before answering. "Hey, (Y/n), sorry to call you so randomly. I.. I heard about you and Gracie, and I know this isn't my place, but you should go to her show tonight." He said solemnly, as if he just lost her, too. In a way, he had. If she wasn't friends with Gracie, there wouldn't be a real reason for her to come to the Abrams home anymore.

(Y/n) let a hand run down her face. She couldn't believe Henry was actually trying to find himself in the middle of this. Ever the diffuser, she found herself realizing this was kind of his niche. With that said, it wasn't any of his business. "You're right, Henry, this isn't your place. So, please, just fuck off." She groaned, ending the call and closing her eyes. She looked at the time and knew that Gracie was at soundcheck. She had missed over twenty phone calls from her from last night and this morning, and she had a dozen texts. Maybe Gracie regretted it. She shook her head. Gracie didn't deserve any grace from the situation. She had pulled (Y/n) all the way across the nation just to end their friendship. Still, for one final goodbye, she was going to go to this stupid show and rebreak her stupid heart.

She adorned her outfit from last night, jeans and a hoodie with 'The Secret of Us' on it. It was exclusive and made for just Gracie's team. She pulled out her pass, thankful she still had her wallet because of her other belongings were on the bus. She didn't have an actual seat, usually sitting behind stage, so she leaned on an entrance way. After Role Model's performance, Gracie came on. Admittedly, she did look a little disheveled, not that the fans would notice these little quirks that made Gracie look unlike herself. (Y/n) didn't have time to dwell on it as Gracie started speaking.

"Okay, so… I was going to sing Close To You first, but… I've changed my mind. There's this girl that I've loved since kindergarten. We got married the day we met and I kissed her. I told her I loved her, but when it mattered most, I couldn't tell her I still love her in the way I meant it when I was little. The innocent kind of love, only it's now more passionate." Gracie swallowed, looking at her deep blue converse. (Y/n) was watching with fresh tears, and when Gracie looked up, their eyes met. "Here's I miss you, I'm sorry." She announced.

(Y/n) wiped tears from her cheeks as she listened to Gracie sing, her heart racing. At the end of the song, Gracie passed her guitar to one of the people on stage before getting off the stage. Everyone's eyes were on her as she almost ran to (Y/n). As she made her way to her childhood best friend, their lips crashed. It was a movie moment, where the camera would spin around the couple and emotionally charged music would play. It was their moment as their tears mingled into the kiss, the taste of salt on their tongues. The crowd was cheering but it was drowned out. When the two finally parted, a silent message passed between them. They were going to be alright, and yeah… They couldn't be friends anymore because they weren't just friends. "(Y/n), you're not just my best friend. I love you."

(Y/n) felt her breathe hitch as she nodded softly. Her head was spinning from their intense kiss and she connected their lips again. "I love you, too," she said, looking up at Gracie. Worry was still ever-present in her eyes and she smiled softly. "We're okay. We're girlfriends now, or whatever." She said in a soft whisper, both chuckling. Then, they both remembered where they were. "Go, Abrams, I'll be right here, cheering you on." She nodded. Gracie smiled a bit, kissing her again on the lips and once more but on the forehead this time before returning on stage. Everything was different, their collision course causing their universes to come together as one. Then again, when had it ever been two separate universes. They've always been just one entity, in the long run. It was always going to be (Y/n) and Gracie together, just as they had promised the day they met.

[cosmicalily]

ʚɞ "written by the aces" - a 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒚 𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒔 mini series by @cosmicalily ★ view series 𝓷𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓰𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 ʚɞ

୨ৎ 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝟖: 'younger' with childhood sweetheart!yang jeongin ♡ 1.5kw | “you're not gonna know everything when you're 14." - '𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓' by the aces

ʚɞ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: there's just something about childhood sweetheart to best friends to lovers yang jeongin that gets me freaky (in a wholesome way trust). also this is like an entire love story seperated into chunks of the important bits bc otherwise it would be a full series (which i'm actually considering writing based on this fic would you guys fw that?) ʚɞ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: implied sex (no actual smut, you nasties)

Yang Jeongin was the boy at kindergarten who played with the kids in the year below. He liked looking after people, especially people who couldn’t manage to do certain things on their own. He’d teach them everything he knew and play their games with them, hold their hands as they walked around the playground and smile and wave to them when they were in their separate classrooms.

Yang Jeongin became the boy who was friends with the older kids in school, namely the group of boys in third grade, consisting of Jisung, Seungmin, Felix and Hyunjin. He preferred sitting with them at lunch to sitting with people in his own grade, and frequently sat by himself in his year level. He didn’t mind not having any best friends in his own second grade class; people still talked to him, and he had friends, but none he could talk to deeply in class, or offer snacks to.

When you moved into town during the summer, you were unsure of how you’d make friends. Your parents encouraged you to go outside and meet the other kids in the neighbourhood, but you much preferred to sit inside and colour in while the kids kicked soccer balls along the quiet streets.

One day, there was a knock at the door. Your parents were out, and had told you to go next door if you needed anything. You reluctantly opened the door, to find a boy with dimpled cheeks and fox-like eyes staring at you. You’d seen him before, playing soccer, wrestling, running around with a group of older looking boys. However, you hadn’t seen him or the group of boys recently.

“I saw them bringing a trampoline into your backyard when you moved. Can I play on it with you?”

You nodded without realising, feeling a strange amount of warmth towards him.

He smiled widely, his eyes forming into crescents. “I’ve always wanted a trampoline. Are they fun?”

“I guess so. It’s probably more fun when you have someone else to play with,” you replied, opening the back door for him.

“Don’t you have siblings or friends to play with?” he asked.

“No. I don’t have any siblings, and I don’t want any since they seem annoying, but I want a pet dog. And I don’t really have any friends here. My best friend lives where I used to live,” you explained as you climbed up the ladder to the trampoline.

He nodded thoughtfully. “Siblings are annoying. I have a dog, and he’s very cute but a bit slobbery. And friends can also be annoying. Han Jisung stole my ball once and he still won’t give it back.”

“Who’s Han Jisung?”

“The boy with puffy cheeks. He looks like a squirrel, but he doesn’t like it when we call him that.”

He experimentally let himself fall onto the trampoline, squealing when he was propelled back up. “This is so much fun!”

You smiled. “I don’t like jumping on it by myself, but it's more fun with another person.”

“We should be trampoline buddies,” he announced, sticking a finger up. “I can knock at your door and say a special word, maybe I’ll say bounce, and then we can go on the trampoline together.”

“We should also be dog buddies,” you added. “I can knock at your door and say puppy, and then I can come in and we can play with your dog.”

“Yes!” he beamed, grabbing hold of your hand suddenly. “And we should do this forever, even if I don’t have a dog and you don’t have a trampoline when we’re older.”

“Are you trying to ask to be friends?” you giggled.

“Not just friends. I think we should be special friends. Best friends,” he explained.

“Well, best friends know each other's names. I’m Puppy Queen Y/N,” you introduced yourself, doing a little twirl.

“I’m Trampoline Best Boy Jeongin,” he decided, doing a big jump as if to prove a point and landing in an uncoordinated pile. You snorted with laughter and then squealed as he pulled you down by your leg beside him.

“Are you going to school here, too?” he asked, suddenly very seriously.

“I’m in second grade,” you replied.

He smiled, wider than you’d seen before.

“We should go somewhere,” Jeongin said suddenly as you rode your bikes home from Jisung’s house.

“It’s too hot,” you whined, tugging at the back of your shirt, which was stuck to your back with sweat. Even though the end of summer was nearing, the days were still long and the weather didn’t seem to be changing anytime soon.

“That’s my point. What if we went to the beach?” 

You side eyed him. “The beach is an hour’s drive. We can’t get our parents to take us, they’ll be working till late.”

Jeongin wouldn’t give up easily; he never did. “You’re so boring and logical. You never want to do anything fun,” he whined playfully, knowing it would frustrate you.

“I’m not boring, Yang Jeongin, you’re just a dreamer,” you retaliated, tossing a braid over your shoulder. You suddenly thought of something, your eyes sparkling. “We should sneak into the school’s pool.”

“Isn’t it closed, since we’re on summer break?”

“Now who’s being boring? We can climb through the gates easily enough, and I’m sure there will be a window or something we can climb through. We’ll hide our bikes and backpacks in this bush here and sneak inside. It’ll be fun, and the water’s going to be so nice,” you sighed wistfully.

Jeongin pressed on the brakes and shifted his bicycle, shoving it behind the shrub you’d pointed out. “Let’s go then.”

“Really?” you unbuckled your helmet and pushed your bike beside his.

“Yeah,” he smiled, grabbing hold of your hand and leading you towards the school grounds.

You laid on your bed, bodies half-covered by rumpled sheets and pillows strewn across the mattress. 

The window was open, and a warm breeze blew through the curtains. Your bedroom was hot, despite the fan being on full blast, and you felt as if you were going to melt into a puddle.

Jeongin laid beside you, your leg on top of his. His bare torso was warm against your shoulder and had a glowy sheen to it, and you suddenly felt very aware of your body in its pale blue underwear and loose white t-shirt. You definitely hadn’t been this aware of yourself five minutes ago. You didn’t know how or why you’d let yourself go, not like this, not this fast.

Jeongin rolled over to look at you. He opened his mouth to say something.

“Don’t say it,” you whispered, staring at him. “It’ll make it all more real.”

Jeongin took a deep breath and nodded.

You stayed where you were, bodies entangled, the heat of a summer afternoon and the glow of the midday sun filling the room.

Yang Jeongin glanced out the window, noticing you waiting by his car. He sprinted downstairs and grabbed his keys, running to his car and flinging open the door, letting you in before jumping in himself.

You were both nineteen now. Your parents were going to move houses again, to be closer to the university they wanted you to attend.

You were leaving tomorrow.

Well, you weren’t anymore.

A room booked in a motel four hours away, money saved up for the past year, and a duffle bag with only your favourite belongings was all you’d prepared. You didn’t know what would happen next. All you knew was that you trusted Jeongin with your life, which was exactly what you were doing.

You drove along an empty road, his hand in yours, listening to a playlist you’d made together on your phone.

“Pull over,” you said suddenly, breathing deeply as you looked out the front windscreen.

Jeongin turned his head to you. “What? We’ve only been driving for twenty minutes. What if they catc-”

“I said, pull the fucking car over, Yang Jeongin,” you repeated, louder, looking him straight in the eyes now.

He did as he was told and pulled the car. He turned to face you. “What is it?”

You unbuckled your seatbelt and hauled yourself across the console, settling yourself on his lap, forehead against his.

“I want you to say what I didn’t let you say two years ago. What I was too scared to hear you say,” you whispered.

Jeongin’s eyes widened, and he took a deep breath, then cupped your face and crashed your lips against his. You let yourself let go, reciprocating and pulling yourself closer to him. He suddenly pulled away, eyes sparkling.

“I love you, Puppy Queen Y/N.”

“I love you so fucking much, Trampoline Best Boy.”

[phightingheadcanons]

SFOTH Headcanons bc why not

Windforce - Will just kind of appear around(mostly behind) banhammer sometimes. if he's talking to another inphernal when this happens he'll notice their reaction and just casually turn around and go, "hi mom" - She may have taken playground into the air, but she is surprisingly not there very often (you'd think that a deity that pulled an entire faction out of the ground and into the air would hang around, but nope) - Despite being very rambunctious and kind of impulsive (also just kind of crazy to the point where even the other SFOTH don't stop her from doing what she wants to do), she's actually a really caring person and would do just about anything to protect the other SFOTH and Banhammer. - It usually gets a bit breezy or windy when Windforce is nearby, so if the wind suddenly picks up out of pretty much nowhere, she's probably nearby. Also probably behind her son lol

Firebrand - He feels really bad about what happened to Dom and about his and Valk's parents not being present so he tries to take care of them the best he can, but often had to rely on Umbrella to take care of them (you can only do so much with hands that hot -- literally) - Before he just kind of disappeared he would actually try and see the inphernals as much as he could (mostly when Valk and Dom were around though bc grandsons) and was always kind, which is why he is(was?) the most beloved deity. - The air gets warmer smells kind of like campfire smoke smell when he's nearby, but really really faintly. Even when you're right next to him the campfire smell isnt very prominent. Its there, but not very strong at all

Venomshank - constantly has to break up petty fights between Sword and Sisyphus because they act like siblings in a lot of ways - ^ Venomshank has gone into a "small" panic because of these a few times before, but mostly only when Sword begins to pull out his gear or Sisyphus goes big bird. or both at the same time (the two never actually aim to hurt each other, they just basically do sibling things in fights and whatnot) - You can usually tell Venomshank nearby because the area will smell a little off. Like less fresh if that makes any sense-

Ghostwalker - Revives people even though he sometimes doesn't think they're worth reviving. Study purposes, lets say - Since Ghostwalker doesn't really feel emotions, he didn't really teach Ghostdeeri how to respond in certain situations, she both learned on her own and through Traffic - Ghostwalker is probably one of the most feared or at least like suspicious deities to the inphernal ( other than Windforce and maybe Darkheart) - When Ghostwalker is nearby the air just gets kinda dry. Like desert air, but without the heat. just dry (this is coming from someone who lives in a desert area)

Ice Dagger - Just a little little guy (but actually kinda scary) - Generally liked by the inphernals because he is mostly chill, but can and will sometimes just attack random people that are alone. why? great question, moving on (aka I have no idea) - its usually recognizable if Ice Dagger is nearby because the air will get a little bit chillier in that one area, but perfectly fine everywhere else, just around him. - ^ the size of the area can change depending on his mood or even the current weather of that time of year (if its more chilly outside it'll feel colder in a wider area than if it was warmer outside, that kind of thing)

Darkheart - Can and will use inphernals as fishing bait because why not - They refer to themselves plurally because they have this little voice in the back of their head that they think isn't them, but is really just their internal dialogue - The air will get a lot more humid when Darkheart is nearby, like, *really* humid. almost 100% humidity humid type humid. (which sounds like actual hell to someone who has only ever lived in desert air)

Illumina - tends to scare inphernals a lot. Sometimes intentional, sometimes not, but most of the time at least a little bit intentional - He'll kind of just appear sometimes just to scare ppl - ^ or he'll appear behind someone that's talking shit about either himself or another SFOTH (yes even if its shit talking Darkheart) and will just be like "You talking shit about ___?" and scare the shit out of them then disappear again - ^^ also sometimes he'll say more after asking. like if the person is shit talking Darkheart he'll just continue with something like "keep up the good work" or something stupid like that. just because he hates them - is mostly silent and doesn't appear often in the slightest. only appears to inphernals like, once every blue moon and he's fucking gone again, they don't even really know what happened and cant process it its so fast - The air actually doesnt really change much when Illumina is nearby. like, something feels off all of a sudden, but you cant really place what feels off. it just feels off.

- 🌌✨️ anon (I'm trying not to spam headcanons into the inbox, sorry if I am- I'm trying to space them out slower than my brain is making them but its making them too fast-)

oh nono anon its okay (i know im really late) but um. spamming inbox is okay!!

[the-kr8tor]

Fluffy friday!!!

And they were "best friends"! Who happens to like dancing together in the kitchen while cooking dinner together and giving soft kisses laced with promises and unspoken words while snuggling on the couch for date night.. I mean movie night. Lyla only sneaks in to take one picture of them all cuddled up, swear! 🤭

Hi, bestie! Thank you for the lovely request! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw food mention, cw vomit mentioned (just a passing joke, no detailed desc), FLUFF

It's fluffy Friday!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The popcorn pops on the stove, the sound blending in with the music on the radio. The microwave dings, signaling the butter's fully melted. Your flat smells heavenly. Bare arms wrap around your middle, Hobie's chin rests on your shoulder while you take out the hot butter from the microwave.

"I thought you were preparing the drinks?" Leaning on his strong chest, you take a peek at his face.

"I'm done already, you're just bloody slow on your end" Hobie side eyes you with a sly smirk.

You take the bait, "I can't make the popcorn pop faster or else It'll burn, do you like your popcorn burnt to a crisp?" You can smell your soap on his skin, heart thumping fast at the thought.

"I like this song" he ignores your quip, not wanting to ruin the night. Hobie turns the volume up on the radio, swaying you with him. He practically drowns in your laugh. Turning you around to face him, your 'best friend' holds you by your waist, while you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, fingers intertwined.

Despite the punkness of the music, Hobie dances with you like it's a slow romantic song. He feels the occasion calls for it, you're wearing soft and comfortable clothes, cooking in your sweats, the soft pitter patter of rain against the windows. Him smelling like you, the domesticity of it all makes him tender. You gaze at him softly as he sways you to the beat.

"And here I thought you were gonna throw me around"

"It's still on the table" he twirls you around, slightly dizzy from the movement and from his touch.

When he stops your little twirl, hands curling around your hips, thumb grazing the smooth skin under your shirt. Hobie chuckles at your flustered smile. "I think it would've been better if you threw me around because I think I'm about to throw up" you joke, pretending to hurl towards him.

"Disgusting, I just showered, y'know" He says as he continues swaying you to the music.

"You sure?" Pretending to sniff him, you lean up to his neck, lips dangerously close to his pulse. Hobie freezes in place, not knowing what to do. "Is that my perfume?" Teasing him, you pull away. Seeing his flustered face for one quick second before it returns to his nonchalant expression. You want to rag at him more just to glimpse it again.

"Nuh-uh, do I look like someone who uses perfume? Especially someone else's?"

"Yuh-uh, let me get another whiff to confirm" taunting him again, you try to lean up again, Hobie stops you with his palm right on your face. His hands are big enough to cover your entire face.

Smiling at your playfulness. It's not like he doesn't want you touching him, it's because if you did it again, his lips might meet yours instead of his neck. And he might not be able to hold back.

"Perv," He shakes your head, palm still resting over your face, making you giggle. "Go get the popcorn, I'll ready the movie"

"Okay" smiling, your voice muffled by Hobie's hand.

—

Bowl of popcorn in hand, Hobie beckons you over to the plush settee. "Did you add salt?"

"Of course I did," you scoff, sitting next to him, but not close enough for your thighs to touch his.

"Get your arse over here, bowl's too far" he uses the excuse to get closer to you, hand pulling under the soft blanket you're currently sitting on.

Sliding towards him, "whee!" You giggle like you're sliding down a slide in a playground.

Hobie chuckles, throwing his arm over your shoulders casually, his hand rests on your elbow, cupping it. You lean on his side, head nuzzling on his chest for extra comfort as the movie starts.

He reciprocates by rubbing soft circles on your elbow. Hobie rests his feet over the coffee table.

You click your tongue, "no feet on the table, Hobie!" Pinching his toned thighs.

"Ow, fine!" He puts his feet down on the soft carpet. Stealing popcorn that's already on your hand.

"The bowl's right here" you gesture at the bowl of buttery popcorn on your lap.

"I like this one better" Hobie winks at you before bringing the snack to his mouth.

Heat rises in your cheeks at his charm "fine, Two can play at that game" you take his can of soda from his lips, the fizzy drink spills a bit, Hobie watches in surprise as you take a sip. Your lips touching the can that were on his lips a few seconds ago.

Hobie has no idea how to survive the rest of movie night, he can barely make out what the characters' are saying on screen. He sneaks a peek at his communicator blinking awake, Layla slyly winks at him before her hologram disappears.

"Goddamnit" he accidentally lets out.

"Hmm?" You blink curiously at him.

"Nothin' when will they start killing each other?" He diverts your attention back to the screen as he watches you explain basically the entire movie to him. He doesn't care though, smiling softly as you excitedly talk.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it ❤️

[libraryofgage]

A Hop, a Skip, and a TARDIS Jump (2)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One | Two 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (you're here!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One | Two Queen Clarisse Renaldi One | Two | Three Leverage Crew One

Here's the second line jump fic! If you'd like to learn about line jumping, you can read this post

Anyway, after 84 years, here's part 2 of TenRose being Steve's parents. This time actually with TenRose lol

There's a meme at the end of this one, too, so I hope you enjoy it

Anyway, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :^)

-------

Hawkins, Indiana, 1974

Steve looks the same, but his organs are new, he's a tiny bit taller, and he's having the same growing pains as his father. He stretches his fingers, wiggles his ears, and feels his liver chugging along like never before. He's doing better than his father, though; he's not too caught up in the taste of a new pancreas, at least.

He is, however, subject to scolding from his mother.

"I can't believe you!" Rose shouts, pacing in front of the console before coming to a stop. "Are you thick? You could've been seriously hurt!"

"Oh, I don't think that's very fair," the Doctor says, pushing his hair out of his face, something he's never been able to do before. "He's a teeny-weeny Time Lord, Rose. He regenerates just as good as me. Well, better even."

"That's not the point, Doctor! You've only got so many lives before you run out. Don't let Steve join you for the beginning of each one."

"Well, maybe we should remember how we got here in the first place," the Doctor says, "Someone thought, 'Oh, I'll just take a little peek-a-boo into the time vortex,' for the fun of it!"

After listening to them argue for a few more minutes, Steve slowly gets up and quietly makes his way over to the console. He places his hand on a dial, holding still but feeling it turn under his palm. "Take us somewhere safe," he whispers, glancing to where his parents are holding a staring contest that could end in them kissing or shouting.

Steve feels the TARDIS hum around him, agreeing with his suggestion, and the engine kicks to life. "What?" the Doctor asks, looking around before spotting Steve at the console. "Hold on a minute, who said you could send us anywhere?"

"I didn't turn anything," Steve says, innocently looking up at his parents. "Maybe the TARDIS got tired of your arguing, too."

As though agreeing with him, the TARDIS makes a particularly loud whoosh as it jerks and nearly sends Rose off her feet. The Doctor catches her easily, an arm around her waist, but stumbles himself. "Oh, blast, this body is scrawny," he says, clenching his jaw as he grips the console to keep himself upright.

"I'll say. You're likely to stab me with an elbow there," Rose replies, her voice more amused than anything else, and Steve quickly looks away before he's subjected to the gross goo-goo eyes his parents start making at each other.

When the TARDIS finally comes to a stop, Steve barely waits before rushing to the doors. He hears his parents shout after him, but he throws one of the doors open without a second thought, an excited grin forming when he sees familiar trees and a familiar playground. It's been a few months for him, long enough to be an entirely new person, but he has no clue how long it's been for Eddie.

Maybe only a day has passed. Maybe a week. Maybe fifteen years. Well, he doubts it's been fifteen years. The playground doesn't look like fifteen years have passed. Either way, he looks over his shoulder at his parents. "I'm gonna go play now!" he says, letting the door slam behind him as he runs out.

He's only more excited when he immediately finds Eddie. It's odd, because most humans just look alike to him, other than his mother, of course. They're all kind of shaped the same and none of them feel like time and space; they're boring, completely untouched by and unaware of the greater universe beyond the molecules of stardust that formed them.

But Eddie is different. Eddie's hair holds red space and his fingers scatter time when he moves. Eddie's words drip with galactic dust and meteoric currents. His eyes are the brown of T'Lochlor royal jewels and contain the sparks of planetary births. His smile curls with the essence of alternate dimensions and black hole gates.

Steve tried explaining it to the TARDIS once, figuring she was the most likely to know what's so different about Eddie. The only thing she'd been able to tell him is that, somewhere in the future, Eddie would be destined for tragedy and stars. She wouldn't say (or simply didn't know) what order they would be in, but Steve decided to focus on the stars.

He rushes over, his smile wide as he gets closer to where Eddie is sitting on a bench, watching the playground with a slight pout and a cast on his right leg. "Eddie!" he shouts, practically tackling the boy in a hug when he's close enough.

"Stevie?!"

Steve pulls away, hopping onto the bench and settling next to Eddie. "Yep! Hi."

"Dude, it's been so long!"

"Oh," Steve says, frowning slightly as he looks Eddie up and down. They still seem to look the same age. "How long?"

"Like three years. Where were you?!"

"Uh, traveling. My parents go all over the place," Steve explains, figuring it's not exactly a lie. "Anyway, what happened to your leg?"

Eddie blinks, looking down at his cast before pouting again. "I broke it in P.E. cuz the coach made me play soccer," he says.

Steve doesn't quite know what P.E. is. Or soccer. But he gets the main point: Eddie can't play because his leg is still healing. "How come you're still here then?" he asks.

"Better than being home."

There's something weird about Eddie's words, but Steve doesn't ask him about it. His mother has told him that, sometimes, you just shouldn't pry into people's home life. Even if you care, it could make them angry or upset. They'll share when they're ready.

"Oh," he says, moving closer to Eddie on the bench until their shoulders are touching.

"Tell me something cool," Eddie says. "Where did you and your parents go?"

Steve thinks for a moment. He already told Eddie about being an alien, but is he allowed to talk about the time travel stuff? Is that too impossible to believe? Maybe he'll just ease Eddie into it. "Uh, we went a lot of places," he says, swinging his legs, "Oh, like this city where they have a super big hospital and the doctors are all cat-people."

"Why'd you go there?" Eddie asks.

"I died, kind of, and Mom wanted to make sure I was okay, even though Dad promised her I was. And Dad died, too, but he's done it a few times, so he's better at it than I am. Anyway, Mom was going crazy with worry, so Dad brought us there to get me checked out. Clean bill of health, according to the doctor."

Eddie stares at him for a while. "You died?" he finally asks, his voice sounding a little strained.

"Yeah, but not really. I mean, my people regenerate instead of die. So, like, my current body can't survive, so I pull on time and space to make myself a new one, one that can live as long as I need it to."

"Oh, right, cool, that's not confusing," Eddie says, huffing as he glances away. He swings his legs a few times before asking, "What happened?"

"Mom looked into the TARDIS's heart, absorbed the time vortex and became Bad Wolf to save us. If she stayed like that, she would've burned up from the inside out, so Dad kissed her to draw the time vortex out. He started to regenerate, but the backlash of it was destroying the TARDIS. We would've crashed otherwise, so I absorbed some of his regeneration energy, and that burned all of my cells up, so I had to regenerate, too. Mine was a bit gentler than Dad's, though, so it didn't cause much damage."

"I feel...even more confused."

Steve smiles at him, holding out his hand. After a few seconds, Eddie takes it, and Steve squeezes once. "That's okay. Alien biology is weird. Like, I think it's weird that you've got an appendix. You don't even need it anymore."

"What did we need it for before?"

"Something digestive, I think," Steve says, waving his free hand dismissively, "Dad knows more about that stuff than I do."

Eddie nods, looks down at their hands, and then looks at the playground. "Your parents sound...really great, Stevie," he says.

There's something in Eddie's voice that makes Steve hesitate. He bites the inside of his cheek, hesitates for a moment, and then scooches a little closer. Maybe telling Eddie about the time travel thing will make him smile again; maybe it will take that weird hurt in his eyes away for just a few minutes. "You wanna see something cool?" he asks.

"Sure," Eddie mumbles, looking over as Steve reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a phone from 2046. It looks totally clear, but the glass panel on the back is frosted, keeping people from seeing what's on his screen.

"What kind of music do you like?" Steve asks.

"Usually whatever my mom listens to," Eddie says, shrugging as he watches Steve tap on the glass in his hand. He jerks when the screen lights up, showing a bunch of tiny squares across it. "What's that?"

"A phone."

"Uh, nope, no way, phones are, like, attached to walls and stuff. They plug in. They're, you know, bigger, and stuff. And they aren't made of glass."

"It's, uh, a future phone. From the future. Many, many years in the future."

Eddie snorts, bumping their shoulders together. "Time travel isn't real, Stevie."

"I'm an alien. I just told you about a city with cat-people doctors. Time travel is the unbelievable part?" Steve asks.

They stare at each other for a few minutes, Steve waiting patiently as he watches disbelief fade into realization in Eddie's eyes. "Holy shit," Eddie whispers, his eyes getting wider as he looks down at the phone. "Where's your time machine?"

"Across the street. That blue box over there. My parents are inside."

"How did I miss that?"

"It's got a perception filter," Steve says, repeating his father's words easily. "So people's eyes just...slide over it."

Eddie slowly nods and looks back at Steve's phone. "I, um, my mom likes David Bowie."

Steve nods and looks up David Bowie music videos.

----------

Despite thinking Steve might hang around this time, that he might not disappear from Eddie's life like last time, that's exactly what he does.

He introduces Eddie to music that won't exist for decades, to bands like Green Day and Lovejoy and some singer from another planet called Ln'ra. Their voice makes Eddie's brain prickle between his ears, his heart lurching in his chest with the desire to sing the way they do.

Steve holds Eddie's hand the entire time, a gentle breeze passing over them, their heads leaning against each other. Music plays surprisingly clear from the piece of glass Steve insists is a phone. Time seems to slow down for a brief while, and Eddie forgets all about the world for a while.

He forgets about his mom crying. He forgets about his dad shouting. He forgets about the dull ache in his leg as the bone mends itself. He forgets about everything, and it's the most peaceful and relaxed he's felt for months.

And then the sun is setting, dipping beneath the trees and splashing the sky with oranges and pinks and reds. Steve sighs when he sees the colors, lets the music video play to the end, and then turns of his phone and slips it into his pocket.

"I've gotta go," he says, standing up from the bench but still holding Eddie's hand.

Eddie doesn't fight it, even though he wants to, because something tells him Steve can't stay. Something deep in his mind tells him that he won't. Not yet, at least. Because Eddie is sure, at some point, Steve is going to stay.

Or Eddie will stay, because he's technically walking away, too, right? He's not exactly begging to follow Steve wherever he goes, because he can't. He has a mom, a dad, an uncle, guitar lullabies at night and surprisingly good waffles in the morning, some friends at school and a group project that needs turning in.

So, neither of them can stay. Not right now, at least. But maybe next time. Eddie hopes---as he watches Steve push open the door of that weird blue box and wave one last time before going in---that one of them will get to stay sometime soon.

-------

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@romanticdestruction, @lublix, @jackiemonroe5512, @lee-da-vinci, @rowanshadow26, @didntwant2comecome, @katouasobi

And here's the meme! Very tiny text but it's basically just copy/paste Steve's dialogue about regenerating lol

[jokeroutsubs]

[ENG SUB] Bojan Cvjetićanin on Radio Sova (13.11.2024).

In this interview, Bojan talks about the new album ‘Souvenir Pop' and answers some questions fans asked.

Transcript, translation and subtitles by IG marija_rocen, @moonlvster and IG irenalemajic, proofread by IG GBoleyn123.

Full video and transcript below the cut👇

Host: Dear listeners, it's 8:30 p.m., you're listening to Radio Sova, a student-run show on Radio Rijeka. As we announced earlier, on the phone with us today is Bojan Cvjetićanin, the frontman of the popular Slovenian band Joker Out. Bojan, good evening and welcome.

Bojan: Good evening, thank you.

This week is a big week for Joker Out, in a little over 48 hours your new third studio album 'Souvenir Pop' comes out. I bet you're excited, but are you nervous about how your fans, and also the general public, will react to the album?

I have to admit that I am, I'm a little nervous. When you're releasing an album, I think it feels like the first time. So, even though it's our third one, let's say it's the first one this year and I'm nervous to the max.

The album is called 'Souvenir Pop'. Why that name and what does it represent?

You know, this year and a half since Eurovision ended has been really, like, interesting, to say the least. And a lot of things happened to us, a lot of new people, a lot of new places, feelings. So all of those things we brought home instead of fridge magnets, let's say, those are our souvenirs. So we said that 'Souvenir Pop' is kind of the name that best encompasses everything that happened in that period.

One of the songs on your newest album is 'Carpe Diem', the song with which you represented Slovenia at Eurovision in 2023 and the song which, you could say, opened a lot of doors for you. Your popularity has expanded from our region to Europe, but also to the entire world, which was confirmed by many sold out concerts around Europe. How much did the fact that you spent almost the entire last year and the start of this year on tour influence the creative process of creating the new album? How different was it to write and record 'Souvenir Pop' from 'Umazane misli' and 'Demoni'

Quite different. We had limited time in the studio for the first time and it was very clear in that period we had to finish the album and in that period I was writing, more or less. It was also interesting to me to think introspectively about how, in a certain period, I have to put all my thoughts into songs because I'm honestly quite a lazy author, so I don't create much throughout the year, so, to create more or less everything in that certain period while we were in the studio, was a bit hectic and tiring, but in the end I'm very satisfied with everything that happened.

What does it look like when you're in the studio? That is, what does your creative process look like? When you write the lyrics, how do you balance between personal experiences and universal ones? Do you think about what the audience will say and how the audience will experience a certain song or do you write entirely from your point of view regardless of everything else?

When it comes to writing songs, I write more or less entirely introspectively or retrospectively if I see that I’m trying to find myself in the story of someone else I know and whose feelings I want to take on and write about in a song. As for the creative process, it really depends on the song, some songs come about when I come up with the lyrics and the melody, some songs come out of a jam, from the band’s improvisation. So, there's a lot of playing, a lot of playing and it more or less looks like a playground, where everyone takes their own rakes and trucks and then we go on some kind of a trip, and try to get somewhere.

All artists draw inspiration from other artists. Is there maybe a musician or a book, a movie or a work of art that shaped you as an artist?

There are certainly quite a few musicians, I was more or less a big fan of bands from the former Yugoslavia. So, let's say, I was shaped a lot by them, I listened to a lot of Slovenian music. And as for international artists, we listened to the Beatles, Arctic Monkeys, ABBA a lot, so I think that as a band they are our mutual idols. And from our region, Indexi, Bijelo dugme, and a lot of pop, Zdravko Čolić, Toše Proeski… I mean, everything, everything, everything.

How important is experimenting in music to you, is there any musical risk you wanted to take, but you didn't have the courage or opportunity yet?

I think we experiment a lot as far as our band is concerned, at least within what we can do and what we know. I would certainly like to go down some other musical paths, but I believe that there will be some time for that as well. I don't know, right now I have a trumpet in front of me, so maybe the next album will be a trumpet solo, if my trumpet teacher allows me.

It's time for a short musical break, we will listen to the song 'Bluza.' Bojan, for everyone who hasn't heard 'Bluza' before, maybe it's best for you to introduce it?

'Bluza' is… well, 'Bluza' is lost, found and lost love in just one moment. I wrote it with a story about a kafana¹, where, let's say, I saw something that could exist, but never did, so it's for all found and lost loves in one moment that's 'Bluza'. Radio Rijeka.

¹Kafana is a distinct type of local bistro, common in some former Yugoslav countries, which primarily serves alcoholic beverages and coffee, and often also light snacks.

That was 'Bluza' by Joker Out, their frontman has joined us over the phone. Your new album comes out this Friday, and all your fans will have the chance to hear it on your album release tour, during which you’ll be performing all over the Balkans, but also beyond, so on the 3rd of December you're coming to Croatia as well, precisely, to Zagreb. How did you decide where to present your new album?

Well, you know, we spent a year and a half playing exclusively around Europe, more or less, and we weren’t present that much in the Balkans. We truly see the Balkan region as a concert at home, so at the end of the year, and for this album, we decided we wanted to feel like we're at home, which is why we have chosen those main cities, let's say, which are closest to us for this first round. I think the choice was very logical and very quick.

What can your fans who have decided to be a part of the album release tour expect? Will you perform some of your old songs or are these concerts meant exclusively for 'Souvenir Pop'?

No, of course, we'll play songs from all three albums, but we'll probably play the whole of 'Souvenir Pop' only on this tour, which means all ten songs, because later, when we make setlists, I doubt we’ll end up putting all ten songs on the same one. So, if people want to hear it from start to finish, this is their chance.

Last year you also had a fantastic concert in Rijeka which made a strong impression on the audience. How do you remember your first concert in Rijeka, and do you plan to perform here again sometime soon?

The concert in Rijeka was awesome, because many of our musical colleagues, who are a bit older than us, talked about Rijeka as sort of, how can I say this, concert treasure for musicians, because the audience is always really cool, and it truly was like that. The concert was awesome, and later in the backstage, we were joined by the members of the band… Oh, what's their name, "šč², mama šč, mama šč kupila traktora…"

²'Mama ŠČ!' is the song of the punk-rock band Let 3 from Rijeka. They represented Croatia at Eurovision in 2023. The English translation would be: "Šč, mom šč, mom šč, mom bought a tractor".

Let 3.

Let 3, Let 3, Let 3! So, we met for the first time after Eurovision, and it was really great.

So, you agree with everyone who says that our audience in Rijeka is completely different from others?

It is! I'd say that it has a bit of a punk vibe, I really like that. Aside from being in Rijeka last year, you also travelled, as you mentioned, all around Europe after your big success at Eurovision. Joker Out went on a grand tour and you certainly felt a huge growth in popularity. What did the transition from one intense experience to another one look like? What was the most challenging, and what was the most exciting thing when it comes to facing such a large and suddenly expanded audience?

Well, the biggest challenge was absolutely transportation. Even though we have a great crew and an excellent tour manager who organised everything, we were travelling last winter and it happened to us that four flights were cancelled during one night, so finding alternative options - buses, trains, and so on, that was really chaotic, because we had to make it on time for all our concerts. You know how it is - one night you're playing in Germany, the next in Poland and you have to show up, you simply have to, we were ready to run if necessary. But in the end everything went well.

I hope that you won't have similar problems on this tour.

We marathon runners³ will run the final lap maybe.

³'Maratonci trče počasni krug' - The Marathon Family (lit. Marathon Runners Do a Lap of Honour) is a 1982 Yugoslav black comedy film and it is regarded as one of the classics of Yugoslav Serbian cinematography. The story takes place in a small Serbian town in 1935, and focuses on the Topalović family, consisting of six generations of undertakers with a dark secret.

Let's go for another musical break, we'll listen to the song 'Stephanie'.

That was ‘Stephanie’ by Joker Out, whose frontman has joined us over the phone. In this part of the interview, Bojan, we have questions for you which your fans asked us on Instagram. I want to thank everyone who asked their questions. There were over 60 questions, and there was a wide variety of them and they were all great, but unfortunately I can't ask them all, so I chose some of them. I also apologise for any mispronounced usernames. Bojan, are you ready?

I'm ready.

@/talvikoira asked: What song was the last to be completed in the new album and why?

'Mesto duhov' ('City of Ghosts'). Because it was originally written in English, it was called 'Wembury Mews' and I decided to write it in Slovenian because I had that story ready about the city of ghosts I returned to after the tour, so that was the last one.

@/milapongrats asks: What's your favourite album you've made so far?

My favorite album is definitely 'Souvenir Pop'.

@/anačepelkina asked: Did you ever have a creative burnout? If yes, then how did you overcome it?

Well, I think I feel some kind of creative burnout quite often but I wouldn't say it's exactly a burnout, but let's just say I feel a little empty. But honestly, then I just talk to people who are close to me, with people who inspire me, and very quickly things fall back into place.

@/trickme asks: What kind of books do you read? What are the last three books you read?

Well, I honestly like reading all sorts of books, but the last thing I read was 'Kafka on the Shore' by Murakami. Then, I don't know what it's called, but in Slovenian it's 'Tuleči mlinar' ('The Howling Miller') by Arto Paasilinna, a Finnish author. And… How to…', I have no idea, something, How to Mend Your Mind,' or something like that.

@/GBoleyn123 asked: Do you like the interview/promo part of being a musician? What makes for a good interview?

I mean, I love doing interviews. The only part of interviews that I don't like is if I have to do them before singing, because I have to talk a lot and it exhausts me. For example, at Eurovision it was a terribly difficult part, because we had at least 40 interviews a day, and all the pressure is on you to sing your song as well as you can, so, yeah, it can sometimes be a bit tiring for a vocalist. And what makes a good interview? I don't know, good energy of the interviewer and good questions.

I hope this is one of those interviews.

Of course.

@/sara_gicevski asks: What is the most important promise or goal you made/set for yourself?

Huh! Well, I think that honestly I haven't really thought much about that and I don't promise myself many things, but I believe that once I promised myself that I would do what I believe in, that I wouldn’t create things I’m not 100% sure of and which aren’t 100% me, so there it is.

Finally, Bojan, what would you say to everyone who still doesn't have a ticket for your concert in Zagreb?

Well, to everyone who doesn't have a ticket for our concert in Zagreb I’d like to say that on the 3rd of December, December, right?

That's right.

On the 3rd of December we’re playing at Tvornica Kulture, we were there last year and it was phenomenal. We’re preparing our third album. It will be wonderful for us, so why shouldn't it be wonderful for you too, because it's more beautiful when we have a wonderful time together.

Bojan, thank you for the time you set aside for Radio Sova and we wish you good luck and a lot of success on Friday.

You as well, thank you very much.

[complainblogforthevoid]

People need to stop trying to write allegories for racism and putting them in societies where there are very real and tangible concerns for why the fantasy groups in question should not be interacting.

The entire point of racism being dumb is that there is literally no reason it should have happened--someone's skin being darker or eyes a different shape does not effect who they are as a person, and therefore should not effect how they're treated. The fact that something that doesn't tell you anything about a person affects how they are treated is the basis of racism and why it's stupid.

But media often misses this point entirely. The two that spring to mind are Zombies (2018) and perhaps the most egregious example in Elemental (2023).

In Zombies the two factions are zombies and humans. Zombies are naturally super strong violent mindless monsters who are driven to eat humans. They've come up with a watch that can bring them to human levels of strength and intelligence, but that doesn't change the fact that zombies are dangerous to humans, that humans are not being unreasonable when they're weary around them. Especially because within the 1.5 hour movie we not only see that the watches are insanely easy to hack, but our main boy falls and bumps his on the floor pretty lightly and it just fritzes and he reverts to a mindless monster in the middle of a giant crowd of people who are now in danger.

You see how this is different.

In real life racism is stupid because there is literally no world in which someone having a different skin color makes them more dangerous. But in Zombies this is not the case. And we can totally have a conversation about dealing with this sort of situation too, the rehabilitation of a dangerous subset who through no fault of their own are inherently violent and want to stop that part of themselves. But you see how talking about an inherently violent subset of people who need to be neurally rewired to exist in society is actually way bad as a way to talk about racism.

Alright the more egregious, because Zombies (while easily read as a racism allegory) never actually claimed to be one explicitly to my knowledge. But oh boy, did Elemental.

Again, the main sticking point is that racism is the oppression and denial of entrance and rights etc to a group of people who are just the same as you except superficial differences that shouldn't matter.

One example in Elemental is a playground for the wood children with a sign that says "no fire children allowed" or whatever.

Tell me. What happens when a fire child touches a wood child.

A fire child entering the wood playground is a massacre. This isn't pointless rudeness because you hate fire people, this is literally a precaution to stop your child from dying. Similarly a wood child shouldn't be allowed on a fire playground for their own safety, and the same both ways with fire and water children for the fire kids' safety.

In real life if you say you should always marry within your race that is problematic (of course there are points about culture and just wanting someone who has your same lived experience, no shade for that but the absolute statement that you SHOULD NOT marry someone of another race is problematic) but if you say "hey fire person are you aware that being physically intimate with a water person would kill you?" that is not racism. That's staying alive.

The fire family is having a hard time in elemental city because the architecture is either 1. wood and therefore they destroy it by touching it or 2. water and dangerous to their health. Those people should go live somewhere they can live without either destroying everyone else's livelihood or risking their own lives just by going outside.

Again there's a lot to say about this situation, understanding what is and is not someone's choice, giving them respect even though you're so fundamentally different, etc. But it's a horrible racism allegory because there are very real reasons, life threatening reasons that these people should not interact, it's not just one group arbitrarily deciding they don't like how the other looks and shunning or persecuting them accordingly.

tldr: for gods sake if you're writing about racism do NOT let me look at the oppressed class and go "uh yeah I think they shouldn't be here either"

[ochajima]

🍵🍊 ABOUT OCHA ISLAND 🍊🍵

Ocha is a secluded little island, but that doesn't mean it's lonely! The history of the island dates back a long ways, and not all of it's very clear, but it seems to be a hot spot to be, with plenty of new people and (animals alike) making their way out to call it their home!

Join us as we take you on a little tour of what you can find on our humble little island!

🌐 You can also visit my Carrd! 🌐

CODES

Creator: MA-4043-1093-6392

Dream: Working on it!

HHN: RA-5187-9042-9378

🎨 View designs catalogued from Ocha!

📸 View photos taken of Ocha!

EXPLORE THE SCENERY

Ocha has some neat little spots to explore, let's see a few of the most noteworthy locations to stop by on your visit!

The bridge is the only way to get across the river to the other side of the island. The view of the ocean is breathtaking and if you get hungry you can buy yourself a snack from the vendor that's set up shop on it. It's been said that if you head here in the middle of summer and see shooting stars with someone at midnight, you're meant to be together forever!

The playground is where all the cool kids hang out during the night (and during the day, of course). Built between the old hospital, the shrine, and the festival grounds, it's a perfect spot to spend a warm summer day! Someone even said they found a super rare trading card under the slide once!

The shrine is the absolute highest point on the entire island. A serene atmosphere surrounds the grounds and instills a sense of safety and an unrivaled calm. It's worth it to take a trip up the steps every day, even if it's just to feel young and healthy!

The graveyard is somewhere off in the northeast, right outside the oldest building on the island: the old abandoned mansion. The grounds that surround the mansion, including the graveyard, carry a dreadful sense of unease and who knows what else? It's not recommended to head beyond the signs that rest a little beyond the campground, but that doesn't stop unlucky visitors from testing their courage...

MEET THE RESIDENTS

Ocha is home to some pretty quirky characters, too! Why don't we meet some of the people you'll see around while you're here?

☆ 22 | She/Her | Lucky Dreamer ☆

Airy is a super lucky young woman who happened to win the lottery! Having decided it would be a good time for a fresh start, she purchased a big house on an old island and moved out there with her younger cousin. Enjoying the peaceful air, she makes the trip across the island to climb the stairs of the shrine every day!

☆ 18 | She/Her | Internet Enthusiast ☆

Fizz is a bit of an odd ball who made the move from the city out to the island with her older cousin! She's not very good at managing her money, she's a little sloppy, and she spends a lot of time online or playing games. Having a somewhat weak immune system, the girl also seems to always have a cold, but she's doing just fine!

☆ 20 | She/Her | Rain-Soaked Figure ☆

Hasumi was a worker at the old hospital on the island, where it's been said a tragedy occurred some years ago. Not much is really known about her, but if you're brave enough (or some would say foolish enough) to enter the building, you might catch a glimpse of her figure wandering about! Be careful not to listen to what she says, or you might end up like all the others...

☆ 19 | She/Her | Twin's Sentiment ☆

Hanako is said to have lived on the island long, long ago, back when things were a little... different. The abandoned mansion on the other side of the island is home to rather bizarre and unnerving secrets. If you head out that way, you should be careful, because you never know what lurks around the corner...

Something catch your eye?

As you can see, there's a lot going on here on Ocha, from exciting date spots to eerie hauntings, and so much more that we haven't covered!

The island shines brightest in the middle of summer! Plan your visits accordingly and witness the majesty of lush nature!

Catch the summer sun...

Book a stay on Ocha Island today!

[hlficlibrary]

hiiii i was wondering if you had any recommendations for fics where either harry or louis are single fathers and keep the kid secret when they met/started dating. I know I've read one or two like this but I can't remember the names and would like to read them again or others with a similar plot. Thank you!

Hi, anon! You're very welcome! Here are some that fit what you're looking for! I added the last one as a bonus because it has a similar premise but with a twist.

He Was a Different League (When I Was Nothing Much) by AFangirlFantasy / @afangirlfantasy

Prompt: Louis and Marcel dated at school, but they ultimately drifted apart. Years later, a lonely Marcel is made to start online dating by Niall, only to be matched with Louis.

Sick of being alone, Marcel is forced (by Niall) to join an online dating app. The idea is well and all, except for the inconvenient fact that he hasn’t moved on from his childhood sweetheart - Louis. If only Marcel could learn to let go, he might actually be able to love again.

Or, an AU where finding that 'someone new' actually leads to finding that 'someone old,' and Marcel is painfully oblivious.

How It Begins (series) by phdmama / @phdmama

New town, new job, new school for his daughter. It's a chance to start again for Louis Tomlinson, a clean slate.

Or is it?

Love This Christmas by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10

“Touch those toes, Mr Styles, come on, bend down a little more. Excellent, well done. Look, the five year olds are showing you up here!”

“I’m trying,” Harry replied through gritted teeth, coming back to a standing position, much more red in the face now than he had been at the start. “I can’t say I’ve seen you- oh.”

Louis promptly bent himself in half, almost laying his palms flat on the playground as he showed off, well aware this was entirely for Harry's benefit and no one else's. He could almost sense Harry's gaze burning into him, and he held the stretch for a moment longer before he slowly stood up, walking his fingers up his legs as he did so.

“Right, is everyone warmed up? Good. Now you need to line up, and listen to what Mr Styles says you need to do next.”

Teacher Harry is excited for Christmas with his class. When new TA Louis starts, sparks fly between the two men. But Louis’ always dashing off, and Harry's left pining. Will Christmas help them find love?

Falling in the Wrong Direction by @fallinglikethis

When Harry’s fiancé, Liam, passes away just before their wedding, he doesn’t know how to cope. As time goes on, Harry learns to heal, but is left living in the house his fiancé used to share with his best friends and Harry is uncovering a lot of secrets he didn’t know Liam had... while possibly falling for the one person who helped Liam keep them from him.

Harry never quite got along with Louis, but maybe he’s the one person who can help Harry bridge the gap between the life he thought he would have and the one he is now living.

A Catch and Release au

[velvet-paradox]

Heartstrings (Part Three)

Heartstrings (Part Three) Pairing: Vessel x Female reader Length: Medium Warnings: NSFW, 18 + ONLY, reader discretion advised, there's some drug mentions, angst, Vessel hurts readers' feelings, he's caught between a rock and a hard place, some flashbacks, how Sleep slips into Vessel's life, mention of self harm and a reunion! Tagging: @synnersaint @megangovier20 @thesoundresoundsecho

ENJOY!!!

He couldn't remember whose idea it was to break into the city pool well after hours but you'd all hopped the iron fence, II had let you step on his back to get over the height of it. Trying to keep quiet was hard, you and the boys had gotten high an hour before which lead to you all splashing each other to cool down.

Someone else was there though.

Some girl that had caught Vessel's eye that spring had tagged along, he wasn't sure she'd get into the antics of maybe getting busted, but she joined just the same. Clinging to his arm while his besties floated or somersaulted beneath the chlorine.

He watched you float by as the girl rested her head on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Hmm? Nothing's wrong."

The girl grunted. "I know we haven't hung out a whole lot, Ves but I can tell when something is bothering someone and you sir, are a bundle of nerves."

Vessel sighed with a shrug, focusing on III dunking IV. "It's nothing really. Don't worry about it."

She didn't press any further, which he was grateful for because how do you express to someone you're going steady with that all you care about is floating several feet from you, fully dressed without a care in the world? You didn't belong to him but in a way you did and he touched the necklace as an afterthought.

"That thing is so gaudy." She laughed and Vessel jumped as if she were made of fire, touching it. "Where'd you get it?"

"Y/N; she found it."

"Y/N found it and you wear it? What does it mean?"

It means everything.

"Uh well," Vessel started, his mind still a bit on the fuzzy side. "We play a game with it. She wears it for three days and I have to do whatever she says and then it's my turn."

She quirked an eyebrow. "You do whatever she says? What if she told you to jump in front of a moving car?"

Vessel snickered. "I have."

"And you just did it?!"

"Well to be quite fair, I deserved it. I did dare her to lay down on a set of train tracks until we heard a whistle."

"Oh my God!"

"It's all for fun though."

"Wait-- so only you two play the game, not them?" She pointed to the three boys attempting to play chicken and failing miserably.

"No. Just us."

"Sounds childish." She shrugged and got up from the bench, lighting up a joint of her own.

Was it? You two had been playing so long it just flowed easily, just something you did like take a shot, curse when a car cut you off, growl when you stubbed a toe. It was natural. But as he sat there, dry as bone on the pool bench he was a little upset.

Not with you and not necessarily at her either but the way she'd said like. Like he shouldn't be having fun, indulging like he was too old for playground games, even if he did enjoy them.

"Hey sourpuss," you said, splashing his shoes with water as your crossed your arms over the stucco concrete of the pool siding. Wet and glistening and smiling. "You comin' in or what?" ….

III knocked on the bedroom door, red wisps of memories dissipated entirely once the lankier man peeked inside. "You up?"

Vessel rolled over, having apparently fallen asleep as the bright light from the window was now setting beautifully below the horizon. He pushed himself up, still holding onto the necklace.

"Uh yeah man, what's up?"

"You got yerself a phone call, mate."

Vessel made his way downstairs, the boys made themselves scarce while he padded over to the tipped over receiver. smoky yellow with faded number pads. "H-hello?"

"Hello yourself."

Vessel gripped the bottom of the phone, his heart beating in his ears as if he were underwater.

"Ves? You there?"

"Yeah. Yeah I'm uh I'm here. How are you? It's been awhile."

"I know," you apologized and Vessel couldn't help but coil the cord around his fingers. "It's been forever. I hope you're not mad I sent you the necklace."

"I'm not but-- wait. How do you get this number?"

"Ask II."

Jerk off, Vessel grumbled but stayed on the line. "I'm not surprised actually. I haven't held the necklace in so long, feels foreign but… familiar. I can't believe we wore that thing constantly."

"I know! We had some good times with it though. So uh… not to be pushy after all this time but-- would you be game?"

"What do you have in mind?" ….

"MARRRIED?! Y/N's getting fuckin' MARRIED?!" III freaked out, IV gasped and II didn't make a sound. "She can't. She can't marry some loser!"

"You don't know if he's a loser, III." Vessel grumbled, the blood was rushing and pooling in his head, clogging his ears and making him close his eyes to block out III's dramatics, with his fingers at his temples. He'd been laid up upside down for twenty minutes after your phone conversation. Vessel bit back tears at your excitement, squealing on your end with glee.

"Says you!" III exclaimed and stomped around the living room. His heart broke into fractions, little petals of his heart fell to his feet. Sleep tsked in the corner.

"You know good and God damn well brother, that she belongs with us. A falling out, sure, that can be mended but to marry off to someone she barely knows… I don't like it. Not one bit."

"By the sound of it you'd think it was you whose still in love with her."

The room fell insanely silent. All eyes were on Vessel when he cleared his throat.

"After all this time…"

"It's not that big of a deal, honestly."

"You shouldn't lie to them, my pretty little host," Sleep cooed and manifested right in front of Vessel's face, hanging there like a fly caught in a spiders' web. "You should tell them how badly you miss her, pine for her, that you've been waiting for her until the end of time. Y/N is your puzzle piece is she not?"

Vessel let out a shaky breath as the other guys chatted and made all kinds of accusations and scenarios. Maybe this was a cry for help, a plea, she was trapped maybe. That Stockholm Syndrome shit.

Something foul.

He may have told them you were engaged, someone had taken his place; that had been heartbreaking enough. What he didn't tell them was that you'd dared him to walk you down the isle, give you away, hand you off to some stranger.

Tears slipped out of his eyes and made tracks over his eyebrows and hairline as the boys continued to argue. Maybe he'd give in and fly out to see you, see for himself with his own blue eyes that you were in fact safe and in love and not grasping at straws for your past life.

Maybe. Maybe…

"Calm yourself now, Vessel. If you keep up that heartrate Y/N will be able to hear from the parking lot!" Sleep quipped in his ear, dangling over his shoulder like an afghan shawl on his grandmother's couch. Vessel did in fact let himself go, along with the other eepy's in tow, all just as excited to see you again. Three years is a very long time after all.

Three years of heartache and loneliness he'd turned into music, got those fragile pieces out of his nervous system, out on paper and murdered with ink. He thought about that journal entry when he'd caught you kissing IV, tear stained pen reminded him of too many things.

The accident.

Only it wasn't an accident. More like an incident you weren't meant to overhear and one that he horribly regretted.

….

"Take that ugly thing off."

"What?"

"That stupid necklace! You can't honestly tell me you think that thing looks good on you?"

Vessel frowned behind his homemade mask. It wasn't Tommy Hewitt levels of grotesque or made of human skin but he was experimenting with becoming more anonymous lately. You'd gotten him into another fight of sorts, the one left a gnarly scar on his cheek that made him more self-conscious than he had been before. Even if you did claim he would be more devil-may-care that way if he chose to show his face.

Red flags flew up and landed at his feet at her words. She was being nasty and for no good reason.

"I don't see the problem with it. Or why you have a problem with it." In the back of his house he'd followed her outside when you showed up, happy and full of spirit. Vessel remembered it had just began to rain and you had shook off your head and kicked away your boots.

She had a problem with you and he couldn't understand why.

"Because you blind idiot! She's in love with you and you wearing that God awful necklace every three fucking days isn't helping and it's driving me nuts!" She shouted.

Vessel didn't know what to say.

He'd never been yelled at like that before especially by a girlfriend!

"I'm going to say this very clearly now, alright?" She motioned with her hands, rearing on Vessel in the back garden like she was reprimanding some rotten child. "What means more to you? Me or some silly little necklace Y/N found messing around in dirt? Hmmm? You're an adult now Vessel, a man. A grown man playing foolish games with a foolish girl with a foolish promise. Soulmates don't exist, Vessel. Fate isn't real."

Vessel took his time, holding the beads and coins in his painted hands, memories, all fond and full of fun and fancy. "It's real to us."

"Us? You and Y/N… why are you wasting my time? If you love her so damn much why aren't with her instead?"

"I'm not… I'm not wasting time. I like you."

"But you love her."

"That's not that same thing and you know it."

"Do I, Vessel? What I do know is this," She stood toe to toe with him then, soft hands on his shoulders that felt like a fire poker in a blacksmiths' cool bucket. "Either you tell me and show me how much I mean to you and take that dirty thing off or you go on and tell her you want to be with her and let me go. I can't sit by here another day knowing your heart only belongs to her."

Vessel didn't like this. At all. Commitment, ultimatums, hard lines drawn in the sand. It made him nervous, edgy, uncomfortable.

Yet on the one hand he knew what she was saying. That's why she didn't like you. You were filling the position she had wanted. So Vessel clutched the necklace, determined not to hurt or maim either one of you with his action of pulling the coins over his head. She smiled and watched as he held it in his hands. He'd just put it right back on once she'd left anyway.

No harm no foul, right?

Only it was the worst thing he could've done in that moment. Save for what he told her next.

"There. See? It doesn't mean anything, just some thing lost in the dirt. "

"Is that true?"

Vessel's face dropped, clutching the thing in his hands and with a grimace turned to face you behind him at the back door.

"Y/N-- it's not what it looks like."

"Vessel…"

"It means nothing to you?" You asked, your voice a little watery as you stepped down into the garden, your eyes only on him. "Was it all just a game then? None of this is real? Are you even my friend?"

This was certainly real as he could feel his heart began to scramble and throb out of his chest, up his throat and threatened to lurch out of his mouth at any given second. He could see you cry, muffled words and actions, your hands up in the air in anger he'd never felt the wrath of. You were shouting at him, even louder than his girlfriend had been moments ago. There were other dark figures filling the space behind you as you cried.

Only when you'd snatched the necklace from his hands, did he suddenly come back to life.

"It's a mistake I'm sorry I'm sorry--"

"This means nothing now Vessel! You ruined it," you pointed, gripping it so tight he was scared you might break skin. You righted yourself, not bothering to wipe your wet face, lashes full of dewy tears as you spat on the ground with a shiver and sniffle. Your eyes were like lava, molten and insanely hot with purpose. "You ruined it. If this means nothing to you, none of it at all… then neither does this."

You could hear a pin drop.

A shattered mirror; broken glass on a stone floor.

Pain.

Vessel watched you grab both sides of the necklace and tear in two. Beads and coins fell to the wet ground. He couldn't believe it. He didn't mean to… but it was too damn late.

You double fisted what was left and before you left his house for the last time, crying and rushing past your friends, even as they called after you, you had said the one thing he'd replayed over and over in his mind for the last three years.

"Game. Over."

He kicked everyone out after that, needing to be alone was an understatement. He broke plates and windows, screamed out in agony for the tenth time, the thought of the police being called was fleeting. And honestly, he'd probably want them to take him. He'd held a shard of what was left of his bathroom mirror to the tender side of his wrist. Pushing it in just enough to let his nervous system alarm him. All he saw was red.

Viscous red.

"You'll regret that, you know?" A raspy voice sang out in the mess that was left of his bathroom, bloody knuckles spilled over black paint, under his nails as he gripped the shard tighter. Had someone broken in while he tore his house apart? An intruder? A vagrant? Vessel looked around but came up empty.

"What do you want?" Vessel asked behind the shower curtain, scared of what might greet him on the other side.

"I'm here to help, silly. You poor thing tsk tsk tsk, such anguish you're in. What peril, one wrong move and you'll be on the other side with no way to fix what it ahead of you."

Vessel stood up, back to the ugly green tiles of his shower. sticking out the glass the other way now. "What are you-- what are you saying?"

"I can help you," the raspy voice swirled and sounded like it was coming at him from every angle possible. Above, below, in both ears and out of his own throat as if he were talking out loud to himself. Even though his voice was nowhere near what he was hearing. "I am in need of a new host and you my boy, absolutely reek of perfection."

"Go away. Whoever you are."

"Are you sure, boy?"

Vessel fell over, slashing at the air when a blood red cat with six black eyes perched at the top of his shower curtain, swaying its' tail and tilting its' head at him. "Ah! What the fuck?!"

" 'ello Vessel."

"Ho-ow do you know me?"

"I've known you a long time my boy, you just didn't need me like you need me right now," the red cat disappeared and reappeared at his feet, hugging Vessel's legs, looking up with blinking black eyes. "Like I've said; I can help you. All you need to do is ask?"

"Ask? Ask what?"

"I am in need of a host, you believe in me and everything and I do mean everything you've desired will be yours. I know you've lost a friend, a true, honest and loyal friend this night. Pity."

"I can't lose her, please. If you'll bring her back to me I'll do whatever the fuck you want."

"Now now, no need to be vulgar, Vessel." The red cat leapt and floated up to Vessel's eye level, eyes blinking one at time before it outstretch its' paws to his forehead, or where his forehead would be behind his handmade mask. Inky eyes merging into one as he gave in, without question. "It's quite simple really. Become my host. Take me in, swallow me whole and accept what is given so freely."

"And in return?"

"You do as I say."

"And for me?"

The cats' grin was evil, sinister even, all fangs and obtusely sharp and dripping with desire. "I will keep a very close on Y/N, she'll be protected but only if you succumb to me. Be my host, be my arms and legs darling boy," the cat said its' name, an ancient deity of desire, once a pillar of hope and granted longing. "Become you're true form; become my vessel, Vessel." ….

"Think she looks the same?"

"Will we recognize her?"

"Will she recognize us?"

"Of course she will! You're pretty hard to miss all the way up there!" II jeered up at III, bags in hand as they made their way through the bustling airport. They got looks, that was to be expected with their faces concealed with balaclava's. Security would have a field day and detain them rather quickly if they wore their full gear.

"Knock it off or I'll make you even shorter, punk." III countered and made II trip.

A feral squeal erupted throughout the airport, everyone looked around, the crowd of people parted as if this were some choreographed event or some dance mob scenario because as the people began to part and step aside, grab their loved ones, their children, their service dogs… there you stood at the end of the airport.

You were jumping and waving your arms around frantically, motioning for them to come closer, to hurry up that you might combust.

"She looks so happy." Vessel mumbled nervously the closer they got to you, Sleep appeared on top of his head, dangling his little paws over Vessel's forehead.

"She's about to be a lot happier, my boy."

You grabbed II and hauled him into a giant hug, somehow getting him up off his feet for a millisecond, IV did manage to pick you up after cupping your face and patting your head. III swung you around like a ragdoll, all eyes wet with feelings and lost sands of time.

"There you are." You said once III set you down, stepping over a downed duffel bag and marched right up to Vessel, excited and thrilled to see him wearing the necklace, the trinket of years ago swaying against his chest.

You smelled the same, God you looked good and healthy. Your arms locked around his shoulders, raising yourself up on to your tip toes. You hugged him tighter until he returned the same generous embrace.

"I missed you so much." You admitted and that made Vessel shudder and heat through like an oven. "I have so much to tell you."

"I missed you too." Vessel whispered back and as he pulled away he was uncertain by the watery look in your eyes. He thought they were glossy from happiness but the way you sniffled, took his hand, pointing towards the open doors to the outside world beyond, he wasn't so sure.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Parker Molloy at The Present Age:

Alright, folks, let's talk about the strangest new trend in politics: calling your opponents "weird." Yes, you read that right. In the past week, the Democratic camp has decided that the best way to take on Trump and the GOP is to break out their middle school vocabulary. It all started when Minnesota Governor Tim Walz (a potential VP pick, by the way) described GOP nominee Donald Trump and "cat lady"-obsessed running mate JD Vance as "just weird." From there, it's like the entire Democratic Party collectively went, "You know what? He's onto something," and ran with it. Now, I know what you're thinking. "Parker, are you seriously telling me that seasoned politicians are resorting to playground insults?" And the answer is... kind of, yeah. But here's the kicker: it's working. Or at least, it's getting one hell of a reaction.

The Evolution of Political Language

Remember when political debates were all about tax rates and foreign policy? Yeah, me neither. Welcome to the era of political discourse where calling your opponent "weird" passes for a campaign strategy. But before we judge too harshly, let's take a step back and look at how we got here.

Over the past few decades, we've seen a gradual shift from policy-focused debates to character-driven campaigns. It's no longer just about what a candidate plans to do, but who they are (or who they claim to be). This isn't entirely new; politicians have always tried to sell their personalities alongside their policies. But social media has cranked this up to eleven. In a world of tweets and TikToks, nuanced policy discussions don't exactly thrive. Instead, we get catchy slogans, memorable insults, and yes, apparently, the word "weird." It's like politics has merged with reality TV, and we're all just waiting for someone to say, "I'm not here to make friends." But here's the thing: as much as we might roll our eyes at this trend, it's not just about dumbing down the discourse. These simple, punchy messages often cut through the noise in a way that lengthy policy papers never could. They stick in people's minds, spark conversations (or Twitter wars), and sometimes reveal more about a candidate's values than any carefully crafted speech ever could.

Unpacking the Appeal of "Normal"

Let's talk about "normal" for a second. It's a concept that's been at the heart of conservative messaging for decades. The idea is simple: we're the normal ones, the real Americans, the default setting. Everyone else? Well, they're the outliers, the deviants, the ones trying to change everything. As writer A.R. Moxon puts it in a recent Twitter thread: ["What recent discourse is exposing is something I've been trying to say for years now, which is that there is little conservatives care more about than being considered the only normal ones by everyone else, and they'll use bullying and the threat of punishment to get it."]

This obsession with being seen as "normal" isn't just about feeling good. It's a powerful political tool. If you can convince people that your way of life is the default, then anything else becomes a threat. It's why we see so much fear-mongering about the "radical left" or the "gay agenda" or whatever the boogeyman of the week is. But here's where it gets interesting. By labeling the GOP as "weird," Democrats are flipping this script. They're challenging the very foundation of conservative identity politics. And boy, are conservatives not happy about it. Julia Serano, in her recent blog post, nails why this is hitting such a nerve: ["I think it has to do with the MAGA worldview being centered on them being the supposed norm. They are heavily invested in the notion that their perspective and lifestyle is the one true and righteous way that all others must follow. Calling them 'weird' upends this worldview."]

Parker Molloy with another gem of a post on the GOP’s weirdness to Americans who aren’t in the MAGA Cult.

See Also:

The Advocate: Democrats embrace ‘weird’ label, turning tables on conservative rhetoric often used against queer people