#official statement from cat <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[execatrix]

CATGIRL EXPOSED!

Hahah I mean, I’m actually shocked at the accuracy with which you psychoanalyzed me, for once. I’m glad to have met someone who wanted to listen to me and understand where I’m coming from. See, I’m not all bad. I don't always reply to @ben-10-setting-omnicrom’s post/replies on matters relating to the discourse because I'm not interested in reigniting that discourse. I will continue to defend myself and point out nonsensical or misinformed claims regarding Ben, but fighting people who've chosen to dislike me won't accomplish anything. And, tbh, I have better things to do.

As for the one response this got where I’m being accused of saying people “deserve to get thrown in the dirt” lol, uh…I don’t remember saying that word for word, but I also don’t remember a lot of what was said. I do have a life outside of this. You’re still blocked cause I forgot about it all and, like I said, I’m not interested in reigniting this pointless debate.

Of course I still have a problem with the relentless criticism Ben gets in this fandom, because more often than not, it’s just stupid. The arguments are completely stupid, hypocritical or short sighted. You can’t change my mind about that. BUT! I do also have to remind you that I wasn’t arguing solely because I disagree with those opinions of Ben, but because this person took one of the least controversial posts I made defending Ben, misinterpreted it, and made a YouTube video in order to show how I was wrong for saying what I said. If I remember correctly, it was this post. You be the judge of if that post was “problematic” at all. I’m not sorry for standing my ground.

I don't think it's exactly correct to not just misinterpret someone's words, misrepresent them and their intentions, and then respond in anger when they express that they don't like that without any prior clarification that you're not trying to start a fight. Even if you're a kid, and were going through a rough time, it doesn't excuse you doing something like that. If arguing with people on the internet is going to affect you that much, maybe don't go out of your way to do something that might potentially start a fight?

As I hope has already been demonstrated by my lack of willingness to instigate this further, I'm willing to put this behind me and those who were involved. But, I did grow claws for a reason (haha, I love that), and that's what's going to happen if you pick a fight with me.

In Defense of @xcatxgirlx

There was drama in the Ben 10 fandom ages ago. Little fuzzy on the exact details, but one of the major points of it (from my perspective) was this post.

In the post, my good friend Lenin added joke tags about their headcanon that Ben would grow up to be a multiple-time divorcee, but would eventually get his life together and settle down in a loving marriage with Rook.

I've known Lenin for years, and they often make jokes like this. I know for a fact that they genuinely care about Ben as a character, and I've seen their writing about Ben getting a happy ending. But the catch is, Lenin is also a fairly private person, and they don't often share their work with others unless they're close with them. Edit: Mb, I got this wrong. Lenin was new to the fandom and just started making posts about it. The context was something they provided in Ruby’s old server, but hadn’t shared with others yet.

So since she has no frame of reference, this is where Cat misinterprets the post as a genuine attack on Ben's character. (Double edit: I’m not trying to defend Cat’s behavior here. My point is, I don’t think she’s a monster)

Everyone who knows of Cat knows she's an extremely defensive person, especially when it comes to Ben. So she takes Lenin's comments seriously, making a response siting multiple canonical sources about how Ben is a good love interest.

Now, personally, I think it's reductive to label people as "deranged" or "unhinged" for being attached to a character. This entire drama was centered around ableism, and it's fairly hypocritical to overlook how she's been treated—not just here, but broadly. She's given little to no charity because she's "weird" about Ben. I don't mean to compare, but looking back, it seems that Cat was treated... like she was insane. Just because few people used the words, doesn't mean she wasn't treated like a psycho. It's the kind of hypocritical leftist thought of, "ableism is wrong, (except when someone's being the wrong kind of neurodivergent.)" And I'm not here to diagnose her, but you don't need a diagnosis to understand that, when someone behaves differently, they shouldn't be treated like they're freaks.

But of course, as people will argue, it's mostly about the harm someone does. And people say Cat caused a lot of harm.

So I'm going to say something. And people will almost certainly disagree, but if you have receipts, I'm more than happy to see them! I'd love to, I'm more than willing to be proven wrong!

However, from what I've seen,

She has never made a post attacking a specific person.

All her posts are about taking an argument and breaking it down. Her primary goal isn't to harass anyone, it's to defend Ben.

People talk about harassment campaigns. People often say, "Cat and co."

But, despite everything, she's... shockingly... absent.

She makes a point. She will argue that point. But if things go into ad hominins, or ultimately go nowhere, she will block you. Like she had me blocked, for the longest time.

There were harassment campaigns, but it wasn't her.

Again, people referenced "Cat and co."

So who was co?

Omnicrom was the one who caused this to become something bigger. Omnicrom was the one who never blocked anyone, Omnicrom was the one who called people pieces of shit in human skin, Omnicrom is the one who has a massive harassment post as their pinned post.

But Omnicrom and Cat are friends, right?

Well.

Omnicrom's blog is FULL of them reblogging and replying to Cat's posts. But what's fascinating is, Cat almost never replies back. Cat rarely talks to them, at least publicly.

So if they're not close, then why did Cat never call out Omni's behavior? Well, think about it. What other allies does Cat have? Even if she doesn't care for them, who else is regularly treating her with any kind of civility?

Why would she go out of her way to alienate one of the only people in the fandom treating her in any way that's halfway decent, especially when everyone else thinks she's a monster?

I know I probably don't have the full story. I know there's a lot of pieces that I'm missing. But I think I know enough to confidently say that Cat has been given the shit end of the stick, and a lot of shitty things that other people did have been unjustly pinned on her. It's obvious that Cat has a story behind her, that there's a reason she grew claws. Call me a bleeding heart, but I think she deserves more charitability than she was given.

[rosemaryhoney27]

Gotham's sunshine child part 4

“No One Tells the Sunshine Kid Anything”

Danny Fenton prided himself on being unflappable.

He had died once. Literally. Been half-ghost for years. He could walk through walls, disappear, fly, and fight beings made of fire, rage, or raw existential dread. He had babysat Ellie, his chaos clone-little-sister, through her “I can fly and you can’t stop me” phase.

But nothing—nothing—prepared him for the sight of his own face plastered across the top of an official-looking document on Bruce Wayne’s desk, next to the words:

“Adoption Petition: Daniel James Fenton.”

He stared at it.

Then stared at Bruce.

Then back at it.

Then he panicked.

“You—you can’t just adopt me!” Danny yelped, his voice cracking spectacularly.

Bruce blinked up at him from his desk with the calm of a man who had faced both clowns and demigods before breakfast. “Technically, I can.”

Danny looked like he might faint. “Wh—why would you—? I’m not—You’re a Wayne! I’m not a Wayne! I’m barely a Fenton! I eat cold pizza off library radiators and wear socks that don’t match! I have a hoodie made of duct tape!”

Tim leaned in from the doorway, sipping coffee. “That hoodie has structural integrity, man. Honestly, I’m impressed.”

Danny pointed at him with wide, betrayed eyes. “You knew?!”

Tim shrugged. “I helped with the paperwork.”

“TRAITOR!”

Bruce held up a hand. Calm. Gentle. Fatherly.

“Danny,” he said. “This doesn’t have to be anything more than what you want. You’d have a roof over your head. Legal protection. Access to our resources—”

“I phase through roofs. I don’t need a roof!”

“Then think of it as a...very big ceiling with heating.”

“That’s worse!”

Alfred arrived mid-meltdown with tea and what he claimed were “emotion-calming biscuits.” Danny took three. Out of spite.

“I don’t need to be adopted!” he snapped, halfway through a butter cookie. “I’m fine!”

Jason walked past the study, heard that, and turned on his heel.

“No, you’re not,” he said, stepping into the room. “You fell asleep outside last week because you gave your blanket to a stray dog.”

“The dog was cold!”

“You were shivering in a bush!”

“...It was a warm bush.”

Jason just stared at him.

Dick flopped in through the window upside down.

“We’re not doing this because we think you’re helpless,” he said, casual as a cat. “We’re doing it because Gotham chose you, and so did we.”

Danny looked between all of them. “…You conspired.”

“Yup,” Damian said, finally entering with a folder. “Here are the signed statements from three soup kitchens, a youth center, one angry barista, and a biker gang requesting your formal protection and adoption. The barista threatened to withhold caffeine from Father if he did not comply.”

“I—what?!”

“They also gave me a sticker,” Damian added, pinning a “SUNSHINE CHILD DEFENSE SQUAD” badge to his tunic.

Danny’s eye twitched. “I’m going to implode.”

“Already did once,” Tim muttered.

“YOU’RE NOT HELPING.”

Danny sulked on the couch for two hours with a cat in his lap and five Wayne kids hovering around him like worried bees.

He didn’t leave.

Eventually, Bruce sat beside him with quiet patience and said, “You don’t have to be alone, Danny.”

Danny stared at his mismatched socks.

“…I don’t know how to do any of this.”

“You don’t have to,” Bruce replied. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Danny opened his mouth, closed it again. Then, voice small:

“Can I still keep my hoodie?”

Jason snorted. “Kid, we’re not monsters.”

The next morning, Gotham woke to news headlines:

“Bruce Wayne Adopts Local Teen Hero ‘Sunshine Kid’” “Gotham’s Favorite Child Now Officially a Wayne — and Somehow Still Humble About It” “Criminals Warned: ‘Touch Him and Face Gotham’s Wrath’”

Danny groaned and buried his face in the mansion couch.

“Why are there stickers with my face on them?”

Barbara, voice chipper: “Because you’re adorable and Gotham is proud.”

[f1amour]

✧˚ · . make me juno

pairing | max verstappen x popstar!reader

word count | 2.3k

content warnings | some social media au, established relationship, smitten max, light dom!max, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, multiple orgasms, fingering, brief choking kink, praise kink, squirting, HEAVY BREEDING KINK, cock warming, teasing, unprotected sex — 18+ only, minors do not interact

authors note | happy belated birthday to max #1 certified cat lover <3

navigation. | requests — open | main masterlist.

yourusername juno out now available to download and stream! happy birthday baby 💋🤍

tagged — maxverstappen

comments below…

user1 MAX MUSIC VIDEO DEBUT

user2 begged for a cameo from max and we got a whole ass film 🧎‍♀️

yourusername my man is too hot for only a small cameo. made sure to showcase his actor side>>>

landonorris i did NOT have to watch an 8 minute film of you and max being horny. disgusting.

yourusername the first minute of the video was horny you could have exited but you watched the whole thing. our biggest fan 🥹🫶🏼

landonorris fuck off

maxverstappen1 wanna say that again?

landonorris 🏃‍♂️💨

user3 max trying to be serious through the video but breaks into a smile anytime y/n would sing to him 😭

user4 they just broke the internet with this video

user5 never thought i would see max and y/n horny on main in 2024

user6 did you guys not listen to her latest album? girl gave us a whole ass ovulation album. GIVE HER A BABY MAX!

maxverstappen1 i’m trying

─────────────────────────

being with max for five years now you’d grown used to knowing his likes and dislikes; both in & out of bed.

especially in bed.

“have you always been this keen on having kids? even before me?” you manage to spit out while sitting on max’s lap, his lips prepping kisses all over your neck and chest.

you had just spent the day celebrating his birthday on a yacht with all of yours and max’s close friends and family so he had been extra needy arriving home since he couldn’t have his way with you all day with everyone surrounding both of you.

his lips detach from your neck looking you in the eyes full of love, “i’ll remind you any chance i get when it comes to that, you are the reason i want a family. the reason i see myself being your husband and father of our children before you i never saw that with anyone else.” max would take any chance to remind you how ready he was to be your husband and have kids with you.

“i don’t want to wait anymore. not for the wedding or the babies…i want it now.” you whisper desperately clinging onto max. his eyes widen at your statement, “now?”

“we’ll have the wedding after the baby is born. we can go to to the courthouse this week and make it official just us two. don’t you want that, maxie?” sitting on his lap grinding against his hardened cock make it even more difficult for him to say the words.

“yes…fuck yes of course, baby. i don’t want to wait any longer to have you as my wife. gonna fuck you so full of my cum tonight and make you a mommy. god i can’t wait any longer.” his hands cupping your face and pulling you into a hungry and messy kiss. both of you quickly removing your clothes off each other desperately needing to feel as close as possible.

you start getting on your knees but max pulls you back up, “as much as i want you on your knees stuffed with my cock in your mouth, i need to taste you.” his words immediately taking affect on your core.

“b-but it’s your birthday…w-w-wanna gi—.” your words stutter out, after placing you on the bed hovering over you his lips meet your neck down to your stomach before he situates himself between your thighs.

“getting to taste you is the best gift i could ever get.” your legs squeeze his head, thighs keeping him close to your pussy as he licks, laps, and sucks until you're close to the edge.

"’m so close, max, so close," you feel like you're in a trance as his fingers hook inside of you brushing your g-spot. he presses his palm into your lower tummy, applying gentle pressure as you nearly thrash under him from how intense the buildup is.

"cum for me, baby. make a mess all over my face," he growls before you feel yourself snapping as your orgasm flows through you. max rides you through the orgasm, tongue lapping at your core as your legs are left shaking.

“max…” you gasp out of breath as cleans you with his tongue, your fingers slowly caressing his hair. he

"you are so perfect, baby." he cooes, thumb resting on your lip as you part your mouth and bite down on it. you feel him stiffen under you, "ik hou van je. (i fucking love you)" he groans under his breath as you wrap your lips around his thumb.

"my fingers look so good shoved in your mouth," he purrs, hearing you whimper as he massages your pelvis. you can feel yourself growing wetter, the heaviness in your mouth feels comfortable before his lips are on yours.

"shit," he hisses, "i’m done waiting…i’ll take my time with you later.”

he doesn't give you a chance to speak before he's fisting his cock, lining up with your entrance, and pushing in "fuck, fuck," his voice is low and raspy, the feeling of him sinking into you, whispering out a various dutch words as he sinks deeper and deeper into you.

"this," he thrusts, slamming the headboard against the wall,"is what l've been fuckin' cravin. can’t wait to see you round and full." his thrusts are deep and slow before he can't hold back and he's fucking you into the mattress, loud moans and skin slapping are the only sounds filling the room.

your walls flutter around his cock and you're coming for the second time that night, "gonna have you cum a few more times, baby. keeping us up all night and make sure i get you pregnant." he snaps, bed in shambles as it creaks and squeaks before his own thrusts are growing sloppy.

"gonna fill you up," he moans, "fuck, you're gonna be so fuckin' stuffed. looking so perfect carrying our babies." his breathing is laboured, chasing his release before it hits him and he’s spilling inside you.

you stay close together for a brief moment before you both are desperate for another round, trying to rock your hips because he's still hard inside of you, "max…," you plead. "need more. please, please, please.”

he chuckles deeply at your desperation, "yeah?" he switches your positions, flipping over, lying on his back as you're straddling him and you fall into his chest because he’s impossibly deep, you were sure you’d come right there once again just from that position

you rock your hips, steadying yourself over his chest as he groans, "that's my good girl, you feel so fucking good like this. my soon to be wife. mother of our babies. i love you.” he’s lost himself in you, unable to form a coherent sentence as you lose yourself in the feeling of riding him like never before.

his sweet words and whines coming from his mouth have you quicken your movements, "you feel so good, max," you mumble, "all yours, baby. i’m all yours," he groans, digging his fingers into your skin as he meets your thrusts.

“how you doing, baby? you okay?” despite being deep inside you he slows down checking on you. he was starting to feel the exhaustion catch up to him but he was still hard as a fucking rock with your cunt clenching around him.

you nod giving him a smile, “m’ okay…getting sleepy,” you mumble out before pulling him closer to you (if that was even possible), “fill me up one more time, maxie. then we take a nap…and go again.”

despite being completely exhausted from the hours of fucking you wanted max to ensure you were pregnant by the end of the break. you were ready to become his wife and now have his babies as soon as possible.

his thrusts are deep and slow while you two conversed until your last sentence he can't hold back and he is fucking you senselessly now giving deep and rough thrusts, your moans filling the room chanting his name.

"come on, baby. cum 'round my cock, yeah…fuck," he hisses when you wrap your legs around his waist, locking him inside of you as he comes inside you once again.

catching your breaths you lay on top of him now, his cock buried inside you, “can’t believe we’ve been awake all night.” you chuckle against his chest while his hand plays with your hair.

“i have a month of uninterrupted free time with you and i’m gonna take advantage of that.” max kisses your head and you close your eyes getting comfortable in his arms.

“remember when we first met?” you ask him, knowing he’d go on a yap session about it. he would talk about it to anyone who asked and you loved him so much for knowing the small things just from the first moment you met.

“do i remember? how could i forget when you assumed i was a mechanic instead of the driver? oh and your perfect smile—.”

2018

meeting at the united states gp in austin the year of 2018 you were just 19 years old on your first world tour of your singing career. you had a concert on the first day of the race weekend so you met a few of the drivers and you tried your best to remember their names but there was so many.

max had been watching your performance with a huge smile on his face, he was in a meeting causing him to miss the introductions most of the drivers had with you. but here he was waiting for you at the side of the stage to introduce himself. he had grown to be a fan the last few months and when he found out you’d be performing at the austin gp he was counting down the days.

“hi i’m max…i’m with redbull—.”

you had gotten off stage ecstatic with the crowd cheering you on to be meet with a slightly taller guy dressed in some jeans and a white jacket paired with a redbull hat. the redbull hat made you assume he was a mechanic for the team so you cut him off, “oh nice to meet you! i’m y/n, how is it like working on the cars for redbull? you’re a mechanic right?”

max was confused at the question many things did not make sense when you asked but he assumed you didn’t know much of the sport (which was very true). he decided to go alone with it appreciating the chance to speak with you just for a few minutes before you were pulled away again for some interviews.

few weeks later he got your number from lewis who had been a mentor in your life for awhile now being in the limelight at a young age he took you under his wing. after checking with you first he gave max your number sending you a text and getting his full name you search him up on instagram realizing he wasn’t a mechanic but a goddamn driver for redbull racing.

lewis couldn’t help but laugh at your cluelessness when it came to the sport only sending him messages if he won not caring for any other drivers; until now.

after many apologies through the phone and max waving it off as something to laugh about. you grew a close friendship with him for the next year waiting patiently for him to ask you out.

PRESENT

“i had to wait a year before i got the balls to ask you out and then—oh.” he chuckles stopping mid sentence looking down at you realizing you had fallen asleep. he gives your head a kiss and falls into some much needed sleep alongside you.

you had woken up a few minutes ago with your back against max’s chest settling between his thighs. he had been playing with you hair until his hands started wandering down your body, “max…” you sigh contently feeling his finger play with your clit.

when two fingers slip through your folds, an obscene moan runs through you before they're filling you up. "that's my good girl, look at how well you're taking my fingers," he cooes, fingers curled deep inside you.

"that feels good, doesn't it, baby?" he taunts, you nodded your head, eager to feel his fingers moving some more as you rocked your hips in sync.

the pressure building up made you squirm, max was edging you and now you were nearly in tears, “oh…oh god,” whispering as you beg him to let you cum.

"that's it, my pretty girl," he hummed, “love hearing your moans, love feeling you cum, baby. squeezing my fingers with your tight pussy. gonna have your pussy squeezing my cock after this.”

"fuck," max groans, your orgasm gushes out of you; soaking his hand and bed sheets. you pant trying to catch your breath, "think we need to get ready for the day...we can't stay in bed forever. i wanna take you to a cat cafe--."

"just one more for me, schatje, one more and then we go to all the cat cafes we want," he smiles sweetly, kissing your neck finding your sweet spot and getting a moan out of you. how could you deny him?

pulling you in for a passionate kiss he flips you around and looks you in the eyes filled with lust, "wanna try another position?" he mumbles against your lips and you nod, not having to tell him the one you wanna try because he knows it's your favorite.

with your face pressed into the bedsheets and ass up in the air he gives you a soft slap before sliding his cock deep inside your aching cunt, "fucking christ...shit," he groans with each deep thrust your walls squeeze him.

"not gonna last, max..." you whine, your hands grip the sheets as he gives you a rough slap on your ass, "me neither, baby. you gonna cum with me? come on, schat. gonna fill your tight pussy with my cum and make you mine forever." his thrusts growing faster and sloppier, but his words have you pushing back against him meeting his hips.

"yes, yes, yes...wanna have your baby please fill me up, maxie," he pushes you up against his chest his hand wrapping around your throat squeezing it lightly. it was more than enough for you to ride out yet another orgasm, "that's it, baby. make a mess all over my cock." he groans feeling your walls flutter around him, with a few more thrusts his cum fills you up.

your heavy pants fill the room, feeling him pull out of you after a few minutes making sure each drop of his cum filled you up he flips you over laying you down and grabbing a warm towel to clean you up, "doing okay, my darling?" he smiles down at your loopy grin.

"so good. i love you." you tell him once he finishes cleaning you up and settling in bed for a few minutes before you go and shower. "i love you more. best birthday ever." max tells you, and he meant it being the best birthday especially if you do end up pregnant.

you run your fingers along his jaw, "think you made me juno yet?" you smile sheepishly at him and you both break out into a fit of laughter, "well if that didn't, we'll just have to keep on going until you are."

[goatgoesmbe]

So about that post of Simons gf that's super kind. what if she's petty with her kindness. one time me and my mom got in fight and that same day she complained about how many house plants she had. so i bought her a miniature rose bush (roses being a hard plant to take care of) as make up gift. I've also made other people their coffee wrong, bought unbalanced pens, gave there cats cat nip, given their children obnoxiously loud toys, etc.

Tw : reader is morally questionable, mention of assault

OOOH ANON, I LOVE THISS-

Like- just because reader is sweet, that doesn't mean being a pushover. You have class, and your own way of handling assholes properly.

I imagine Simon would think he needed to be the one who protects you, seeing you're all sunshine and rainbow, always so nice and kind- and he just didn't want anyone to take advantage of you, you know?

But then he realized that you're actually not a damsel in distress.

The first time he saw it, was at a neighbor's baby shower..

"You've been with him for what? 3 years now- and still no ring?" 

Simon glanced at you,simply smiling  in response. He recognized that voice, Stella was her name. Or something along those lines. She was one of those people who always wanted attention, bragging about every little thing while also dragging people down just so she could feel better about herself.

Simon had to hold back from rolling his eyes when she previously arrived. Wearing matching designer clothes with her five-year-old son, Aiden. Which was a waste of money in his opinion, the little fella will grow out of them in a short time after all.

"I mean.. come on, you're not getting any younger.. better make it official soon before you expire - he might no longer  be attracted to you by  then" Before you could respond to the previous jab, Stella continued talking. You could see why she would ask something like that, it was just how she was like after all. 

You and Simon have reasons, but it was really none of her business. And you couldn't exactly explain to her that your boyfriend is legally dead so you couldn't marry him properly.

Simon wasn't even listening to the other lads around him anymore- not that he did in the first place. Looking at you directly from his spot, he observed the others who interacted with you. You were surrounded by the other moms from the neighborhood, yet none of them said anything against Stella.

He saw you giggle, brushing off Stella's words way too casually like it didn't affect you, or maybe you didn't get that she was mocking you- Simon wasn't sure.

"It's time to go, luv" His gruff voice stopped their conversation as he approached you. He could feel their eyes on him, some of them not hiding the fact that they found him attractive from how they looked up at him with a slight flush on their cheeks. He wondered how you were comfortable being around them at all, he could never exchange more than a few words with them without feeling  like he needed to commit  murder.

Well.. whatever, you won't be meeting them again anytine soon, since the both of you  were planning to move away.

You looked up at him with those big innocent eyes and pouted "But-". 

"It's late" he added, putting his hand on your hip and pulling you close to make a statement at the others who still shamelessly gawked at him.

Seeing that look in his eyes- the one that means he accepted no rejection, you sighed. "Alright, let me say my goodbye" You said before turning back to them.

Simon simply grunted and waited. And when he thought you were ready to go, he raised an eyebrow when you instead walked over to the kids who were busy playing. You told them about you moving out of  the neighborhood and the kids didn't seem to like that, you were their favorite after all.

"I have something for you guys to remember me by.." You chirped. Immediately, the kids looked at you with eagerness as you rummaged through your tote bag.

The side of his lips lifted under his mask when he saw you pulling out mini harmonicas. Before you could say anything more, a brat snatched one out of your hands. That was Aiden, Stella's spoiled boy. Which means it would be hard for the mom to get the noisy thing from him.

A cute little giggle escaped your lips as you watched the boy immediately blow on the harmonica messily, spraying spit everywhere.

After you made sure every kid got one, you stood up and held his hand before skipping away with him in tow. Cacophony of moms' frustrated yelling, children's laughs, and loud harmonicas left behind.

So you had planned your revenge all along, huh? Seems like you're not a total angel like he’d thought you were.

...

The second time was  when he visited you at work. While he provided  enough for you to stay home and do nothing, you still insisted on running  your own cafe. Saying that it had been your dream since you were little. And how can he say no when you look at him with those puppy eyes?

And while you do have people working for you, you still help around from time to time. "It's the best part about having a cafe," you said to him that one time.

He was sitting at a table close enough to observe you working in that cute little uniform you had designed yourself for the cafe, when a guy walked in. His appearance screamed 'douche', the kind of guy who would talk about how many body counts is too many for a woman in a podcast.

Despite that, you greeted him cheerfully like you do with every other costumer. Even when he told you to write 'daddy' on the cup after you asked for a name, a disgusting smirk on his lips.

Meaning you would need to yell out that word to call for him when the order was ready.

And while Simon was fuming inside, you were calm. Humming along with the music playing from the speaker as you prepared the coffee. 

But, instead of calling for the guy yourself, you turn to one of your employees. His name was Shane, written on the name tag clipped to his uniform. He was a big guy, not any taller than your boyfriend but still. A simple man who will be pleased spending the night scarfing down pizzas and beers. Now, Shane was known for many things, one of them being very gay, and being  totally not shy about it.

You smiled before turning away to take the next order, all while  secretly paying attention to what was going to happen next.

"Daddy..!" Shane shamelessly sing-sung the word loudly and even when Simon expected it already, he still choked on his tea. He also saw you biting down your lip to prevent yourself from laughing.

Shane went on for a while until the whole cafe fell silent except for the music playing that didn't fit the situation at all, which made it evenmore hilarious. 

'Daddy' finally walked over to get his order. Red in the face and looking very pissed. He was not stupid enough to cause a scene, however, and simply accepted his cup without so much as a thank you. And of course, Shane added the cherry on top by throwing a flirty wink.

And when you noticed the way he glanced at you after taking a sip of his coffee, tasting regular milk instead of almond- knowing full well he told you earlier about his lactose intolerance. You simply gave him that sweet smile of yours, a cheerful "Thank you, please come back again..!" Thrown his way like how it always is whenever a customer is leaving.

Simon chuckled under his breath and shook his head. Feeling proud (and scared, that was borderline crime) of his pretty bird being cruel in her own ways.

So when he saw you sighing after an argument on the phone with your mom, he didn't question it when you went ahead and bought a make up gift for her.

[valeisaslut]

⭒࿐COLLIDE - c. three

credits for the fanart: nramvv - edited by me

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐖𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄,

𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀.

← 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑤𝑜 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑟 →

⚢ pairing: Rockstar!Ellie Williams x Popstar!Reader 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ synopsis: A single Instagram story accidentally hard-launches something that isn’t even real. Or at least, isn’t supposed to be. A fake date at an overpriced restaurant turns into a game of push and pull, stolen glances, and tension so thick it’s impossible to ignore. You tell yourself it’s nothing, but at 3 AM, you’re alone in the studio, writing lyrics you shouldn’t be writing, thinking about her in ways you shouldn’t be thinking. And then Ellie texts. And suddenly, the lines you’ve been so desperate to keep blurred don’t seem so thin. 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ word count: 7,5k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ content: smut, top!ellie, sub!reader, fingering (r!receiving), praise, tit play, begging, edging, being recorded, pet names, fake dating, LOTS of cursing, use of y/n, modern au, mention of cigarettes, alcohol and drugs, afab!reader, multiple part series, MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

TMZ EXCLUSIVE: Y/N AND ELLIE WILLIAMS HARD-LAUNCH—AND THE INTERNET IS IN SHAMBLES! 🔥🚨

Los Angeles, CA – Buckle up, besties. If you thought Y/N’s infamous walk of shame was the peak of her chaotic love life—oh, sweet summer child, think again. 👀

Because last night? She didn’t just confirm her situationship with Ellie Williams.

Oh, no.

She hard-launched it with the subtlety of a car crash. A 50-car pileup on the freeway of gay panic.

And it was GLORIOUS.

HERE’S HOW IT WENT DOWN:

At exactly 3:17 AM (because of course, the chaos begins at that hour), our favorite pop star dropped the bomb on Instagram in the most unhinged, beautiful way possible. 

The post? Ellie Williams, peak domestic chaos, sprawled on y/n’s couch like she just got evicted from a frat house. Hair a mess, tattoos flexing, wearing nothing but a tank top and sweats, scrolling through her phone like she’s too cool to care. And the coup de grâce? In front of her—a post-Taco Bell battlefield so disastrous it could get them both banned from the establishment for life.

But the caption? Oh, the caption sealed the deal:

“she eats like a mf frat boy but somehow still looks hot. life is unfair.”

And as if the chaos wasn’t already unhinged enough—oh yeah, they were absolutely high. Very high. The kind of high that makes you think posting your girlfriend looking like a hot human raccoon on the couch is a brilliant PR move. 👀🍃

And you know what?

She was right.

THE INTERNET MELTDOWN, A PLAY-BY-PLAY:

Within seconds—literally, SECONDS—Twitter went into full-blown DEFCON 1 over the fact that two of the most famous musicians on the planet had just hard-launched their situationship like it was a surprise album drop.

Hashtags?

🔹 #YNandEllie → #1 worldwide 🔹 #HardLaunchOfTheCentury → A cultural reset 🔹 #TacoBellSponsorshipWHEN → Officially liked by Taco Bell

Fan reactions? 

📌 Gay Twitter? Collapsed.

📌 Stan accounts? Frothing at the mouth.

📌 The straights? Confused, scared, and overwhelmed.

Meme accounts went feral. In less than ten minutes, there were already:

☑️ Fan edits set to indie love songs ☑️ AI-generated wedding invitations ☑️ A Change.org petition for them to adopt a dog or a cat together. ☑️ The Wikipedia page for “lesbianism” updated with the post

Even Netflix got involved:

“This has more plot than anything we released this year.”

Meanwhile, Taco Bell issued a statement:

“Ellie & y/n—free Crunchwraps for life if you let us cater the wedding.”

BUT WAIT— WHAT ABOUT THE WALK OF SHAME?

Let’s rewind. Less than 24 hours before this nuclear-level hard launch, y/n was caught leaving The Four Seasons at sunrise, looking like she had just gone three rounds with fate itself.

And whose hotel was it? Oh, you already know— Ellie Williams’.

And now, here we are. Less than a day later, and these two have skipped the “we’re just friends” gaslighting phase entirely. No damage control. No frantic PR statements. Just pure, unfiltered chaos.💥

We have never seen a sneaky link accept its fate this fast.

SO, WHAT HAPPENS NOW?

Absolute radio silence from both of them. Ellie’s only move? Liking a tweet that said:

“The stages of sneaky links: 1) Deny. 2) Get caught. 3) Accept your fate.”

Meanwhile, y/n—aka the woman who just revealed to the entire world that she is down horrendously bad for her formerly alleged situationship-sneaky link-wife-girlfriend?— Probably just vibing with the chaos she just caused.

One thing’s for sure: this isn’t just a fling anymore.

Stay tuned. 😏🔥

🔗RELATED: TMZ EXCLUSIVE: Y/N’S MYSTERIOUS WALK OF SHAME… STRAIGHT OUT OF ELLIE WILLIAMS’ HOTEL? 👀🔥

────────────

❤️ 15M — 💬 525,76k

The thing about PR nightmares is that they don’t wait for you to wake up, brush your teeth, and ease into your morning with a cup of coffee and the false hope that today will be a quiet one. 

No. They come in swinging into your life like a wrecking ball, uninvited and merciless, dragging you out of your peaceful oblivion straight into a digital inferno.

By the time you fully grasp the severity of the situation, both of your faces are everywhere. The internet has already devoured every single detail and spat it back out in the form of conspiracy theories and enough memes to fuel an entire generation’s humor.

Twitter is a minefield of hot takes. Instagram is worse—a visual onslaught of dissected moments, captions teetering between adoration and sheer lunacy.

The gossip pages have lost all chill—headlines range from mildly invasive ("Is This The Couple of the Year?"),  to outright deranged ("Leaked Timeline of y/n and Ellie Williams’s Secret Romance—Are They ALREADY Engaged?!").

And then there are the memes.

Oh, God, the memes. You want to be mad, you really do—but some of them? Undeniably hilarious. The internet, when motivated, can be disturbingly creative. You’d probably laugh your ass off if your life wasn’t currently being sacrificed at the altar of social media hysteria.

You don’t even realize you’ve been doom-scrolling until Ellie’s voice slices through the thick silence of your apartment.

“You look like you’re watching your own funeral.”

You jolt so fast your phone nearly goes flying out of your hands. Spinning around, you find her standing in your kitchen, barefoot, sleep-mussed, and nursing a cup of coffee like she hasn’t just casually walked into the eye of a social media hurricane. The mug in her hands—the one she picked out of your weird mug collection—boldly declares: “Lesbians Fear Me, Bisexuals Love Me, Straight People Think I’m Just Going Through a Phase.”

Goddamn it, that’s one of your favorites.

You groan and collapse face-first onto the couch, voice muffled into the cushions. “Ellie, we are so fucked.”

She snorts, padding over with the kind of calm that only someone who thrives in chaos can pull off. “Nah. We just need to, y’know… do something before Rachel bursts into flames.”

Oh, right. Rachel.

Your manager has texted you no fewer than a hundred times since sunrise. The last message, sent precisely at 6:12 AM, had been chilling in its simplicity:

Rachel: Fix this.

Easier said than done.

You exhale sharply, rolling onto your back, phone clutched to your chest like it might explode. “This is a disaster.”

Ellie, looking entirely unbothered by the world-ending-level of public meltdown currently unfolding, plops onto the couch beside you. She stretches out, propping her feet on the coffee table—your coffee table, in your apartment.

“Look,” she says, reaching over to steal a cold fry from last night’s half-eaten takeout “we only have one option: owning the narrative.”

You press your hands over your face, groaning.

The problem is, she isn’t wrong. If you lean into it—carefully, tactfully—you might actually steer the storm instead of getting swallowed by it.

Ellie, still lounging like this is all some elaborate joke for her own amusement, nudges you with her foot. “We should make a post.”

You blink at her. “Like… an official statement?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. Something like that. Vague, casual. Let people read into it however they want.”

Your stomach twists. The internet already thinks it knows what’s happening—does it really matter what you say at this point?

“And if it backfires?”

Ellie chews thoughtfully. Swallows. Shrugs again. “Then we fake-break up in, like, two months and traumatize the entire internet.”

You snort despite yourself, the first crack in your anxiety. “Jesus Christ.”

She grins, eyes glinting. “That’s the spirit.”

“Fine” you mutter. “Let’s write the damn thing.”

With a sigh, you sit up and pull up Instagram. Ellie shifts closer, propping her chin on your shoulder, watching as your fingers hover uncertainly over the keyboard. The warmth of her breath against your skin is distracting.

Ellie reaches over, steals another fry—practically from your lap this time. “Make sure you put something about Taco Bell sponsoring us. I spent more than a hundred bucks last night.”

You roll your eyes but start typing.

OFFICIAL STATEMENT March 10, 2025 Regarding Recent Speculation So, yeah. We’re together. Hope that clears things up. What started as an unexpected friendship has grown into something we both value deeply. While this wasn’t exactly how we planned to share our relationship with the world, we appreciate the love and support from those who have been kind and respectful. As for the rest, go touch some grass. Please. At the end of the day, we’re just two people trying to live our lives, except with a few more cameras in our faces and significantly less chill.  From here on out, we’d like to keep the focus on what actually matters to us: music, minding our own business, and continuing to order unreasonable amounts of (pls sponsor us) Taco Bell. Much love,

y/n & Ellie🤍

The second you hit ‘Post’ on the Instagram story, your phone practically detonates.

Notifications flood in like a tsunami, buzzing so aggressively it might just explode in your hand. Your screen lights up in a relentless cascade of likes, retweets, and absolute chaos. Tweets skyrocket in real-time. Comments pour in at an overwhelming speed. Chaotic posts multiply by the second, some so unhinged you can’t even begin to process them. Already wildly inaccurate headlines spread like wildfire.

Ellie, still beside you, scrolls lazily through them, smirking. “They’re losing their minds.”

You groan, dropping your phone onto the couch and pressing your palms into your eyes. “This is so unhinged.”

Ellie tilts her head at you, the picture of nonchalance. “Eh. Could’ve been worse.”

You peek at her warily. “How?”

Her grin is pure mischief, eyes glinting with the kind of chaos that should come with a warning label.

“We could’ve gone live.”

You roll your eyes and smack her with a pillow.

Ellie was half-draped over her couch, the cigarette dangling from her lips two seconds from ashing onto her hoodie. She was strumming the most butchered, off-key version of Stairway to Heaven the world had ever suffered through—on purpose, because it was funnier that way.

Her phone buzzed against her stomach. She groaned, rolling her eyes so hard she nearly saw last week, took one last drag from her cigarette before grinding it out in an old mug, and checked the caller ID.

Rachel.

Ellie groaned harder, the sound escalating into something inhuman as she debated the pros and cons of throwing her phone across the room. Ultimately, she answered, pressing the speaker button because lifting her arm was simply too much work.

“How the fuck did you both get my number—”

“Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock. You and y/n. Dinner. Pick her up. Fancy but not too fancy. Cozy but not too cozy. Like honeymoon phase but still fresh. Got it?”

She bulldozed through her sentence like a freight train on a tight schedule, and Ellie hadn’t even had time to think before it was over. She let her head thunk against the back of the couch, guitar sliding off her lap with a lazy thud.

“Rachel.”

“Ellie.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. And even if you did, you’d still be going to dinner with her tomorrow because you both decided to play pretend lovers of the century for the internet three days ago, and now, surprise! You have to commit.”

Ellie groaned dramatically, flicking her lighter open and shut. “Well, at least I’ll get a free meal out of it.”

“You’re paying.”

Ellie sat up so fast she nearly rolled off the couch. “Excuse me?”

Rachel hung up.

Across town, you were lying flat on your bed, staring at the ceiling, contemplating whether or not it was worth the effort to grab the water bottle sitting a mere three feet away. You had accepted that dehydration might just be your fate when your phone rang. You blindly reached for it, barely checking the caller ID before answering.

“No.”

“Yes,” Rachel said, unphased. “Dinner. You and Ellie. Tomorrow night. Be charming. Look in love. Don’t do that thing where you act like you physically cannot be perceived while eating in public.”

You blinked. “Why would I do that? Why would I ever do that?”

“You did it last time.”

“That was different. That was 2 AM takeout.”

“Regardless,” Rachel pressed on, clearly unimpressed with your excuses, “wear something nice. Order a fancy wine. And the paparazzi will be there, so make it look good.”

You exhaled sharply, already regretting being alive. “How good are we talking?”

She hummed, like she was debating how much pain to inflict. “Comfortable. Playful. A couple of lingering touches, a cute moment or two. Laugh at her jokes like she’s the funniest person you’ve ever met.”

“She’s not that funny.”

“Then pretend.”

You scoffed, throwing an arm over your eyes. “Anything else, director?”

“Yes. And please, for the love of God, don’t give the paps the middle finger this time.”

You sat up, deeply offended. “That was one time.”

“It was three times.”

“Okay, but in my defense, they deserved it.”

Rachel wasn’t amused. “Tomorrow. Eight. Don’t be late.”

And then she hung up, leaving you staring at your phone, deeply unprepared for the fact that you now had a very official date. With Ellie.

You groaned, flopping back onto your bed with all the enthusiasm of a medieval poet dying from heartbreak.

“Well…” you muttered to yourself. “A date is a date.”

The restaurant was the kind of place where secrets were whispered over candlelight, and fortunes changed hands beneath the weight of silk napkins. Dim lighting pooled in golden circles beneath chandeliers, casting flickering shadows against dark wood paneling. It was designed for intimacy—hushed conversations, stolen glances, the illusion that the outside world didn’t exist.

But tonight, that illusion was paper-thin.

The moment you stepped inside, you felt it. The shift in the air. The subtle tightening of shoulders at nearby tables. A murmur of recognition stirred beneath the soft clinking of glasses, and just past the curve of the bar, someone’s phone tilted, camera lens catching both of your faces.

Ellie noticed it too. Her fingers brushed the small of your back—light, steady, deliberate. Not quite possessive, but close. Just enough to send a message, though whether it was for you or the watchful eyes around you, you weren’t sure.

“Looks like they already caught on,” she muttered, her breath warm against your ear.

You didn’t turn, just reached for the menu as you slid into the booth. “Let them watch.”

Ellie smirked, leaning back into the seat across from you. The leather creaked under her weight. She stretched, lazy and unbothered, but her gaze never left yours.

“So...” she said, voice edged with amusement. “First official date.”

You snorted, flipping the menu open as a distraction. “Yeah. Fake dating my one-night stand. Super fun. SUPER normal.”

Ellie huffed out a quiet laugh. “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to lean in to the chaos.”

You glanced up at her, lips twitching. “Yeah, well. Maybe I didn’t think it through.” 

Ellie smirked, setting her glass down. “That makes two of us”

The waiter appeared before you could argue, cutting through the tension like a knife. Orders were placed. The conversation settled into something almost comfortable—almost. Beneath it, a charge still hummed, too close to be ignored.

You hated how good she looked.

The loose black button-up, sleeves rolled to reveal the intricate ink winding around her forearms. The way the candlelight flickered against her silver rings as she toyed with the rim of her whiskey glass. She looked effortless, unfairly so, like she wasn’t aware of the effect she had on people. The effect she had on you.

She caught you staring.

“What?” Ellie’s lips curled slightly, eyes flicking over your face.

You shook your head, feigning indifference. “Nothing.”

Ellie didn’t buy it. She leaned in, elbows resting on the table, voice dropping into something lower, smoother. “You sure about that?”

You exhaled. “Just wondering how long it’ll take before someone posts a blurry picture of us with a dramatic caption.”

Ellie tilted her head, thinking. “Probably already happened.”

She wasn’t wrong. Your phone, face-down on the table, had been buzzing intermittently all night. And yet, for once, you had no urge to check it. No urge to confirm what you already knew—that the world was watching, dissecting every look, every movement, every stray touch.

But for a fleeting second, you let yourself forget.

The laughter and conversation had faded, leaving behind something heavier—something unspoken. Ellie was watching you again, fingers drumming a lazy rhythm against the table.

You exhaled through your nose, swirling the wine in your glass before taking a sip. “You’re staring.”

Ellie didn’t flinch. Didn’t even pretend to look away. If anything, the weight of her gaze intensified, dragging over your face, your lips, the way your fingers curled around the stem of your glass.

“Can’t help it,” she murmured, voice low, rough at the edges. “You’re really selling this whole madly-in-love-with-me thing.”

The words sent a sharp jolt through you—annoyance, something hotter, something dangerous. You set your glass down with a quiet clink, leveling her with a look.

“You’re insufferable.”

Ellie leaned in, elbows resting on the table, her smirk deepening. Her voice dropped just enough to make your pulse stutter.

“And yet,” she drawled, “here you are, madly in love with me.”

It was infuriating—the cocky glint in her eyes, the way she was too close and somehow still not close enough.

You wanted to shove her away. You wanted to yank her closer.

Instead, you inhaled, slow and measured, smoothing the irritation from your face. You reached across the table, your fingers sliding over hers—warm, steady, deliberate. Your touch lingered, just enough to watch her expression shift.

Ellie’s smirk faltered. Just for a second.

Good.

You leaned in, voice sweet, syrupy, laced with something lethal.

“Of course, baby,” you cooed, lacing your fingers through hers. “You’re the love of my life.”

Ellie stilled. Her eyes flickered—just briefly, just enough. Then, just as quickly, she recovered, her thumb grazing over your knuckles.

Her smirk curled back into place, but now? Now, you could tell it wasn’t quite as easy as before.

“Damn right” she murmured.

It was nothing. A move for the cameras. A game you’d both agreed to play.

So why did it feel like something was shifting?

Outside, cameras flashed.

Inside, the world felt smaller, quieter, like the space between you had its own gravity.

Ellie never posted much.

Not about herself. Not about anyone. But tonight? Tonight was different.

The Instagram story went up without warning. No buildup, no context, just a single photo.

You, mid-laugh, wine glass in hand, bathed in candlelight. The kind of effortless, unguarded moment that made it impossible to look away. Shadows curled along your cheekbones, the soft glow making you look almost unreal, like something out of a dream.

No tags. No emojis. No overcomplicated caption. Just four quiet, devastating words:

"yeah, i'm done for."

A confession disguised as nothing. A moment so simple, so fleeting—yet it hit like a seismic shift.

The internet, once again, was in shambles.

The studio smelled like stale coffee and old vinyl, the air thick with the kind of silence that only existed at this hour. It was late—too late. The kind of late that blurred the edges of logic, where exhaustion made everything feel heavier, where thoughts you’d spent all day avoiding started creeping back in.

You hadn’t meant to be here. Hadn’t meant to sit in this chair, pen in hand, staring at the blank page in your notebook like it held the answer to a question you weren’t ready to ask.

But here you were.

Another night. Another week. 

Another failed attempt to convince yourself that this wasn’t a problem.

The guitar rested against your thigh, its weight grounding, familiar, a piece of you as much as the heartbeat in your chest. But every chord you strummed felt wrong. Off. Like the melody was trying to tell you something you weren’t ready to hear.

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face before picking up the pen. The words came before you could stop them.

It’s 3 AM and the moon looks different Or maybe it’s just my state of mind Tried to leave you somewhere distant But you keep slipping between the lines

You stared at them, heart pounding harder than it should have been.

I shouldn’t be thinking about you

You hesitated, then scratched it out. The fuck was that?

Outside, the city pulsed—neon signs flickering, distant laughter spilling from bars, car horns and sirens blending into the night like white noise. The world kept moving, unaware. Unbothered.

Unlike you.

Because inside this room, in this quiet that felt too sharp, it was just you and the ghost of someone who wasn’t even here.

She was probably asleep right now, tangled in sheets that smelled like her and not like you. Peaceful, unbothered, unaware of the fact that you were wide awake in a room that suddenly felt too small. That you were trying, and failing, to put whatever the hell you were feeling about her into words.

You exhaled sharply, leaning back in your chair.

This is stupid.

And yet—

Your fingers twitched, your grip tightening around the pen, and before you could stop yourself, you wrote.

You leave fingerprints on my skin Like I was meant to be touched by you Like you knew me in a past life And kept coming back just to haunt me

The words sat there, and suddenly they weren't just lyrics anymore.

It was her.

The way she looked at you—too intense, like she saw through every excuse, every careful lie you told yourself.

The way her voice settled in your bones, low and lazy, curling around the edges of your thoughts when you least expected it.

The way she touched you—casual, careless, like she didn’t even realize she was leaving pieces of herself behind. But at the same time, she was taking parts of you too, until you weren’t sure where she ended and you began.

And you hated it.

Hated that no matter how many songs you wrote or how many sleepless nights you spent thinking about her, she still lingered in every corner of your mind. Hated that no matter how many times you tried to convince yourself this was fake—just a fleeting thought, just a name, just a PR stunt—it never felt fake. And even now, even here, your fingers betrayed you against the chords of your guitar, tracing a slow, aching melody.

Something soft and low.

Something that sounded too much like her.

You let the song take shape, let it spill out in half-finished lyrics and messy scribbles, in chords that felt like confessions you’d never say to her face.

And when the song finally ended, it wasn’t careful.

It wasn't filtered through logic or reason or the rules you were supposed to be following.

It was just the truth.

The sharp vibration of your phone against the wooden table nearly made you jump. The sound cut through the quiet hum of the studio, through the half-finished melody still hanging in the air.

You stared at the screen, pulse quickening before your brain could catch up.

Ellie.

Her name glowed against the dim light, as if you had summoned her with thought. An interruption, a warning—an inevitability.

You hesitated, fingers twitching against the notebook, the unfinished lyrics glaring up at you like they knew something you didn’t. Like they were daring you to answer.

A part of you wanted to ignore it. To pretend you hadn’t seen it.

But your resolve had never been strong when it came to her.

Your thumb hovered before unlocking the screen. The message sat there, simple, unreadable.

Ellie: you up?

You exhaled slowly, rubbing at your tired eyes. Of course, she knew. Knew you couldn’t sleep. Knew exactly how your mind worked, how it never let you rest.

Another vibration.

Ellie: don’t lie

A small, bitter smile tugged at your lips. It wasn’t a question. She already knew the answer.

You tapped the keyboard, typed, erased, typed again.

You: why?

The ellipsis appeared immediately. Then, a pause. A hesitation.

Ellie: idk

Ellie: just thinking

Your stomach twisted. That was the thing about Ellie—she never said too much. Just enough to get inside your head. Just enough to make you wonder.

Ellie: can’t sleep

You should’ve said something simple. Something easy, something that didn’t open doors you weren’t ready to walk through.

But this was Ellie.

And maybe you were tired of pretending.

You: me neither

The words felt like an admission, but it still wasn’t enough. Something about the silence between texts, the space where she was waiting for more, made your fingers tighten around your phone.

The air in the studio felt heavier now, thick with the quiet things you weren’t saying. The song in your notebook was unfinished, just like this—whatever the fuck this was.

You stared at the screen, heart knocking against your ribs.

Fuck it.

Before you could overthink it, before you could talk yourself out of it—

You: come over

A pause. Too long, too quiet. You held your breath.

Then, finally—

Ellie: omw

The knock on the studio door nearly sent you out of your chair.

3:47 a.m.

Another knock—sharper this time, more impatient.

You exhaled, pressing your palms against the desk before pushing yourself up. You rolled the tension from your shoulders, stepping over half-crumpled lyric sheets.

Ellie stood in the doorway, hoodie half-zipped, hands buried in her pockets, wearing that kind of expression that made your stomach clench.

“Wow” she drawled, leaning against the doorframe like she had all the time in the world. “You look like shit.”

You exhaled sharply, already regretting responding to that fucking text. “Nice to see you too, Ellie.”

“Always a pleasure, sweetheart” she shot back, smirk widening. “You gonna let me in, or should I start serenading you from the hallway? ‘Cause I will. And it’ll be bad.”

Rolling your eyes, you stepped aside. “It already is.”

Ellie snorted as she walked in, the scent of her—faint cologne, cigarettes, something familiar—stirring something restless in your chest. She wandered over to your desk, eyes sweeping over the chaos of half-filled notebooks, your laptop, empty coffee cups, and a sad little pile of crumpled snack wrappers.

“Jesus” she muttered, toeing at a discarded water bottle. “You been here all night?”

You ran a hand over your face. “Yeah. Some of us actually have to work.”

Ellie scoffed, dropping into the chair across from you, arms slung over the backrest. “Some of us are also working. I’ve got an album to finish, remember?”

You huffed out a tired laugh, rubbing your eyes. “Oh, so you came here to, what, steal my ideas?”

Ellie smirked. “Maybe.”

“Now” she continued, tapping her fingers against the edge of your notebook, “do me a favor and tell me if this song sucks before I embarrass myself.”

You blinked. “Wait—you’re actually asking for my opinion?”

Ellie placed a dramatic hand over her heart. “I know. Huge deal.”

You rolled your eyes. “Alright, let’s hear it.”

Ellie grinned, pulling out her phone, scrolling through her files. A moment later, a raw, unfinished melody drifted through the studio speakers—soft guitar, steady beat, her voice coming in a little rough but unmistakably hers.

You leaned back, listening. It wasn’t what you expected. It was slower, almost hesitant, the kind of song that didn’t just sit in your chest—it settled there, heavy, like it wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon.

When it faded out, Ellie glanced at you, fingers drumming idly against the desk. “Well?”

You exhaled, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth. “It’s… different.”

Ellie huffed a laugh. “Wow. Incredible feedback. Thank you so much.”

You shot her a look. “No, I mean—it’s great. But it’s you in a way your other stuff isn’t. Feels more…” You searched for the word, something that wouldn’t make this moment feel like a confession.

“Personal?” Ellie offered, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded. “Yeah. Personal. Like you actually mean it.”

Ellie clicked her tongue, leaning back in the chair, stretching her arms above her head. “Great. Can’t wait for the internet to rip me apart for being emotional.”

You snorted. “Oh, please. Sad Ellie is about to be everyone’s favorite genre.”

Ellie groaned, tilting her head back. “God. Kill me now.”

You grinned. “Nah, you gotta live long enough to suffer through your own album rollout.”

Ellie shook her head, but the corner of her mouth twitched. Then, her gaze flicked back to you. Sharper now. Intentional.

“So” she said, nodding towards your notebook. “What about you?”

Your pulse kicked up. “What about me?”

Ellie tapped a finger against your laptop. “You working on anything good, or just staring at the screen and contemplating your entire existence?”

You hesitated.

The ghost of the melody still lingered on your fingertips, the kind of song that would give too much away. You could still feel it under your skin—like the ink hadn’t dried yet.

Ellie was still watching you. Waiting.

You exhaled, pressing your palm against the notebook, shutting it.

“Nothing finished.”

She narrowed her eyes, studying you. “That was a suspiciously vague answer.”

“And yet, I’m not elaborating.”

Ellie's eyes flicked to the notebook under your hand. “Must be something good if you’re guarding it like the nuclear codes.”

You exhaled, pressing your palm a little firmer over the cover. “It’s just not finished.”

Her gaze lingered for a beat, unreadable, before she leaned back.

"Fine. Keep your secrets." But her smirk remained, teasing, knowing. “I’ll just wait for the album, then.”

The silence stretched, thick and charged, pressing against the walls of the dimly lit studio. The only sounds were the distant hum of the city outside and the slow, steady breaths neither of you seemed willing to break.

Then Ellie moved.

She stood with a lazy stretch, her hoodie riding up just enough to expose a sliver of skin. It was an afterthought, a fleeting moment—except that it wasn’t. Not to you.

You noticed everything. The shift of her muscles. The way her fingers flexed at her sides, like she was resisting the urge to touch. The flicker of something unreadable in her eyes when she caught you staring.

"Y’know" she murmured, voice dipping low, rich with something that sent a slow, simmering heat curling in your stomach. "This studio’s got some nice acoustics."

Your heart stuttered. "What do you mean?"

Ellie’s smirk spread wider, slow and confident—full of something dangerously playful. “What do I mean?” she repeated, stepping closer. "I mean… it’d be a damn shame not to test ‘em out."

Your breath caught before you could stop it.

“Ellie...” you warned, the sound barely a whisper.

Her gaze flickered, something sharp and amused dancing behind her eyes. “That’s my name” she said, her voice turning husky, deliberately dragging out the words as she tilted her head, clearly savoring the tension she was building.

“Try not to wear it out, yeah?”

You gripped the edge of the desk harder, trying to steady your shaking hands as she closed the distance between you. Like she had all the time in the world. Like she hadn’t just walked in here and rewritten the air.

Then her hands were on you. Her fingertips barely grazed the edge of your shirt, a feather-light touch that was more maddening than anything. Just enough to make your breath hitch. Ellie caught it, of course, the satisfaction lighting up her features.

“You gonna let me play, superstar?” she murmured, voice thickening, growing darker, heavier with something far more dangerous. Her eyes danced across your face, settling on your lips, tracing the way your breath had turned sharp, uneven.

You swallowed, every part of you on fire. "That depends."

Her brows lifted slightly. "On?"

You exhaled, heart hammering, every nerve in your body locked onto the press of her fingers against your skin.

"Whether you’re any good at it."

Ellie’s smirk shifted, something wicked flashing behind her eyes as her hands slid lower, gripping your waist and pulling you against her. The heat between you became unbearable, the space between you vanishing entirely.

“Oh, babe,” she whispered, her lips brushing against yours as she lowered her head, the words dripping with heat and promise.

“You already know the answer to that.”

And before you could fire back, she kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn't careful. It was a collision—desperate, reckless, the kind of kiss that burned straight through you. Her hands tightened at your waist, pulling you flush against her as she deepened it, tilting her head just enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

A low sound rumbled from her chest, vibrating against your skin as she pressed in closer, like she wanted to drown in you.

"Ellie—"

"Shh," she breathed, lips ghosting over yours. "Just let me."

The desk dug into your back, but you barely noticed, too caught up in the way Ellie’s fingers curled under your shirt, skimming higher, dragging heat in their wake. You gasped into her mouth, and she took the opportunity to bite your lower lip, a smug little hum vibrating against your skin when your knees nearly buckled.

"Fuck," You murmured, fingers tangling in the front of her hoodie, trying to pull her even closer, even though there was barely any space left between you.

It wasn’t a protest. Not really. She heard it for what it was. A warning. A plea. 

Ellie grinned against your mouth, infuriatingly cocky. "Told you." 

Your response was a hand fisting in her hoodie, yanking her back in. The studio air grew heavier, filled with the soft, urgent press of lips, the wet sound of mouths parting and meeting again.

The heat between you thickened, each kiss deeper, hungrier, as if neither of you could get close enough. Ellie’s hands mapped out familiar territory, fingers slipping beneath your shirt, tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine. 

She pushed your back against the desk, her body hovering over yours as a half-empty cup of coffee tipped over, spilling across the surface—but neither of you cared. Ellie’s lips trailed down your jaw, then to your neck, her mouth hot against your skin as she found that sweet spot just beneath your ear. A shiver ran down your spine, your hands fisting her hair, pulling her closer as a gasp slipped from your lips.

Just as you fully sank into the desk, your hand fumbled, accidentally pressing a button.

A red recording light pulsed steadily.

Your stomach dropped. The realization hit like a shock to the system, but before you could react—before you could even think to stop it from recording the audio—she leaned in, voice dark with amusement.

“Oh” she murmured, eyes flicking to the glowing light. “Now that’s interesting.”

She didn’t stop. If anything, the revelation only seemed to fuel her, slow and deliberate in the way she moved. Her fingers traced the edge of the desk, knuckles grazing your skin.

“You know,” she continued, her voice almost thoughtful, almost teasing “most people would just turn it off.” A pause. A smirk. “But you’re not moving.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears, each passing second like an eternity. You should’ve said something, anything—but her eyes were already locked on yours, reading you like an open book, watching every shaky breath, every tremor in your body.

“Interesting” she said again, softer this time.

She figured you out. The thought of this moment being recorded turned you on.

She leaned in, mouth just barely brushing your ear.

“Let’s give it something to remember.”

Her fingers skimmed up your thighs, grazing the hem of your waistband, teasing, before slipping beneath to touch your cunt through the damp fabric of your panties. The touch was barely a whisper, just enough to send a jolt of anticipation straight to your core, every nerve in your body lighting up in response.

“Fuck,” she murmured, voice rough against your ear. “Already so wet f’me”

The studio felt impossibly hot. The low hum of the equipment, the distant flicker of the red recording light—it all blurred around you as Ellie’s fingers pushed your panties to the side and brushed against your soaked cunt, teasing. 

You shivered, biting down on your lip as her fingers stroked slow, lazy circles on your clit. You let out a breathy moan, the sound almost embarrassingly loud in the empty room.

She exhaled a soft chuckle, the sound amused, low. “So sensitive…”

Her fingers traced lazy shapes, barely there—enough to make you tremble, but not enough to satisfy. Your head tipped forward, your forehead pressing against her shoulder as you fought to steady your breathing, determined not to let her see you unravel so easily.

Instead, you pressed your lips to the delicate curve of her neck, nipping gently at the skin. The action pulled a breathy, low moan from her throat, followed by a soft hitch in her breath, a dark mark forming where your lips had just been. The sound of her pulse quickening beneath your mouth sent a thrill through you, making it harder to hold back as the tension between you both grew.

Her free hand gripped your thigh, keeping you pinned. Then, with a slow shift of her weight, she adjusted just enough to quicken the pace of her movements, to send jolts of pleasure racing up your spine. Each thrust had you arching, desperate for more as white-hot waves of pleasure surged through you.

A loud moan ripped from your throat.

“That’s it,” she praised, lips skimming your neck, her voice nothing but smoke and heat. “Don’t hold back.”

Your body tightened as she kept up that slow, torturous rhythm. Each stroke was precise—she knew exactly how to break you, exactly how to keep you teetering right on the edge, without letting you tip over.

The tension in your body coiled tighter, hotter, ready to snap—

And then she stopped.

You gasped, hips jerking back involuntarily, chasing the pressure that was suddenly gone. A desperate noise clawed its way up your throat, frustration burning through you like wildfire.

She laughed, low and smug, her breath ghosting over your skin. “Patience, baby.”

Fingers tangled in your shirt, swallowing your sharp inhale with a kiss that left no room for hesitation. It was frantic, untamed—teeth scraping, tongues tangling, breaths ragged as she pressed herself flush against your legs, completely between them.

Hands gripped your thighs, rough fingertips tracing slow patterns against your heated skin, dragging the anticipation out until you were squirming beneath her, hips canting forward, seeking friction.

Her smirk widened, her eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and dominance as she leaned in closer, her breath hot against your ear.

"You’ll have to beg for it, pretty," she purred, her voice low and rough, each word a silk-wrapped snare. "Tell me just how badly you want it."

And you were already too lost to even think of denying her.

"Please, Ellie" The words tumbled out, a raw, desperate plea. "I need you... so fucking much..." The vulnerability stung, but it felt right, like a surrender you couldn’t fight, even if you wanted to.

Her lips grazed your jaw, teasing with a scrape of teeth. "Fuck..." she hummed, savoring the way you shivered.

"It's impossible to say no to you," she breathed, her mouth trailing down your throat. "Why would I even try?"

Her hand moved, slipping beneath fabric, slow and unrelenting, fingers pressing into your clit in one smooth, devastating motion again. Your head fell back, a broken moan breaking free, and that was all the encouragement she needed.

The red light kept blinking.

The track kept recording.

And neither of you gave a fuck.

Two fingers eased their way inside, stretching you open, curling just right. It dragged a choked gasp from your throat, the pleasure overwhelming as she finally gave you what you wanted.

A quiet hum of amusement left her lips. “That’s it, baby,” she murmured, her voice all smoke and satisfaction. “Let me hear you.”

Like you had a choice.

Your breath hitched, another moan slipping free as she picked up the pace, slow and devastating. The studio air felt stifling, thick with heat, with want, with the unbearable tension that had been simmering between you for weeks.

And now it was spilling over, consuming both of you whole.

Her free hand slid up your side, tugging your shirt upwards, fingertips ghosting over your ribs and stomach until they found your breast. Her fingers squeezed, kneading, rolling your sensitive bud with so much lust it made your breath hitch.

Ellie’s hands pressed your breast up, and you gasped from the intensity of her grip.

“Easy, Ellie... please,” you breathed, eyes shutting.

“Stop whining” Ellie muttered, slapping your breast.

The unexpected sting sent a rush of heat through you, making your hips instinctively rock against her fingers. Ellie was in cloud nine, watching the way you unraveled, addicted to the way you loved being under her mercy.

Ellie’s eyes darkened, her hand gripping your breast harder and pinching your nipple in a way that made you whine. She leaned in, her breath hot against your ear.

“You want more?” she purred. “I can give you fucking more.”

Her fingers went even faster and deeper inside you, wet lewd sounds filling the room. You felt a fresh wave of heat through you, your stomach tightening, thighs clenching around her. You could barely think, barely breathe, barely function with the way she was ravishing you.

The sound of your own incoherent babbling—wrecked, desperate, breaking on every inhale—echoed through the studio monitors, looping back at you in real time. It was sinful. A record of your undoing, caught on tape, permanent.

And you both loved it.

“Bet you’ll listen to this after we are finished.” she teased, lips brushing the shell of your ear, her voice pure arrogance.

You wanted to tell her to shut up.

Wanted to wipe that cocky expression off her face.

But you couldn’t.

Not when she was this deep inside you, not when your entire body was trembling, not when she was driving you closer and closer to the edge with every relentless movement.

"Ellie! Fuck! Ah! I'm—I'm gonna!—"

Her grip on your thigh tightened, keeping you steady, keeping you exactly where she wanted you. “C’mon, babe” she coaxed, her voice dipping lower, rougher, sending a fresh wave of heat straight to your core. “Let go for me.”

You had no choice.

With a sharp inhale, your body seized, pleasure crashing over you in a dizzying, uncontrollable wave. Your fingers clenched in her hoodie, pulling her closer as the world around you blurred, fractured.

She didn’t stop.

Not until she had wrung everything out of you, not until your legs shook, not until your nails dug half-moons into her shoulders, not until your breath came in sharp, ragged gasps.

Only then did she slow.

Only then did she press a lingering kiss to your jaw, her touch finally easing, the weight of her body grounding you as you came back to yourself.

The dim glow of the studio monitors casted long shadows over your hands as you hovered over the trackpad, hesitating. The screen in front of you flickering with waveforms—familiar ones, yet impossibly intimate.

The remnants of last night. Of her.

Your body still remembered. The way she pressed against you, the roughness of her hands on your skin, the way she took and took without hesitation. Your thighs still trembled if you thought about it too long. A dull ache pulsed deep in your muscles, in the places her fingers had left their mark, in the places where heat still lingered, ghostlike.

And then there was this.

A single, unnamed audio file.

Your cursor hovered over it, pulse thrumming, heat creeping up your neck. You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t.

But you clicked play anyway.

The second the sound filled your headphones, your stomach clenched. 

Fuck.

It was devastating.

The track captured everything—the sharp intake of breath when her hands disappeared just to return, the way your voice wavered between restraint and surrender, the quiet, broken whimpers that she’d dragged from you, each one edged with desperation. And beneath it all, her.

Her voice—low, teasing, soaked in dark amusement.

A shiver ran down your spine.

You swallowed, but your mouth was dry, your fingers hovering over the delete button.

You should delete it.

You should.

But a wicked idea curled in the back of your mind, taking shape, sinking its claws in.

One particular song of yours was already finished—a sensual, slow-burn of a track, thick with sultry melodies and lyrics soaked in want. It was about sex, no subtlety, no metaphors to hide behind. This was the kind of song that slipped under skin, the kind that made people blush when they heard just how explicit it really was.

And now?

Now, it was going to be about her.

You dragged the unnamed file to the song, heart hammering as you isolated the breathiest, most wrecked parts—the ones that made your thighs press together, the ones that would make her smirk so damn cocky when she realized what you’d done.

You worked methodically, layering them just beneath the chorus, weaving them in so delicately they almost melted into the beat. Almost.

And then, the final touch.

You scrolled through the file, fingers trembling just slightly as you plucked the words you knew would drive anyone crazy.

A soft, broken whisper—"Fuck..."

A cocky drawl—“That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.” 

The one that made something deep inside you clench—"Tell me just how badly you want it."

And then, the final touch, almost at the end of the song. A phrase that made it unmistakably clear where all those sounds had come from. Low and rough, a whisper edged with recognition so distinct that anyone who had heard it once would know—those were your moans, and this was Ellie fucking Wiliams voice.

“Bet you’ll listen to this after we are finished.”

You pressed play, listening to it slip seamlessly into the bridge, into the build-up, the anticipation tightening, tightening, until goosebumps prickled along your skin.

A slow, wicked smile curled at your lips as you saved the file.

Two months.

That was all the time you had until the album dropped.

Let’s see if she notices.

← 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑤𝑜 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑟 →

taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <333): @st0nerlesb0 @willurms @vahnilla @mancyw1214 @rxreaqia @laceyxrenee @antobooh @tittielover-420 @annoyingpersonxoxo @haithone @lofied @sunflowerwinds @xojunebugxo @reidairie @piscesthepoet @elliewilliamskisser2000 @pariiissssssss @mxquelo @elliesbabygirl @xx2849 @kiiramiz @mikellie @brooks-lin @kaykeryyy @lovely-wisteria @marscardigan @elliesanqel @lovelaymedown @gold-dustwomxn @ilovewomenfr @seraphicsentences @mascspleasegetmepregnant @raindroprose23 @creepyswag  @jujueilish @elliesgffrfr @kirammanss @liztreez @catrapplesauces @livvietalks @furtherrawayy @thatchosen1 @kanadadryer @littlerosiesthings @eriiwaii @firefly-ace @redlightellie @elliepoems @sabrinathewitchh982

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ IVE ALWAYS WANTED TO WRITE THAT MOANING IN THE BACKTRACK OF A SONG PARTTT OMG . OMFG. its not my fav chapter, but here it its ig, and its so long im sorry lmaooo. I did like 30 proofreads, but there might still be a few grammar mistakes here and there—sorry in advance, english isn't my first language and I will be happy to receive constructive criticism!.

Please leave a comment if you’re interested in being on the permanent taglist for this series!

see ya'll soon, stay tuned ;)

[tranceinnumerabletabs]

When Johnny Comes Back pt.3

A/N: here it is! It's angsty though.

Click me! I'm part 1!

No Click me! I'm part 2!

-----

“This isn’t an official statement but he’d want me to tell you”

…..this…doesn’t look good

“Unfortunately-“ oh oh

.

.

.

.

Your mind was deafeningly empty.

All you could hear was your heart and ringing.

”Johnny’s been shot in the noggin’. Don’t know if he’ll pull through”

you don’t remember much else from the letter

To say you were in shock would be an understatement. This wasn’t just “shock” This felt like the world ceased to exist. You wish you could visit him, to check on him, to see him. But you can’t. You don’t know where he is. He could be halfway across the globe and there’s nothing you can do.

Nothing….

Your mind flashes through all the memories you made with him. Every laugh, every drink shared, every fight, everything….

The letter felt like lead and your body felt like jelly melting away and ceasing to exist like the rest if the world.

“Johnny is in the hospital”

You always knew his job was dangerous

“he’s been shot in the noggin’”

You always said he had a thick skull

“don’t know if he’ll pull through”

And yet you always waited for him.

“He couldn’t finish his letter but here it is”

You finally tear your gaze away from the letter and as soon as you did you wished you didn’t, you look at your home, and see all the things that remind you of him. They’re everywhere. Your laundry he’d sneak his clothes into, the breakfast bar he’d place your breakfasts on, the cat you were raising together, the kitchen you sang together in, your bedroom he’d visit when he had a nightmare and needed your attention, the couch you’d cuddle on. You couldn’t kid yourself anymore. You weren’t just “leaning onto each other” while he wrapped his arm around you, were cuddling on that couch and you enjoyed it. You enjoyed his insufferable presence. You enjoyed his touchy attitude and smug humor. You melted at his scent and roughhousing strength. You…you….

You shake as a sob wrecks you, you legs and arms felt non existent, only thing you felt...only thing you were was a hard heaving chest and a waterfall of tears.

Johnny

Sweet Johnny

Was in a critical care facility.

You wished you could see him, at least one last time. It’s cruel how much you now realize you….loved him. How much you grown to care for him. You may have not been in a “real” relationship but god damn it you loved him and it didn’t matter what kind of relationship it was. His laugh, his voice, his attitude, his flaws. You loved John Mactavish. And now?

You’re not sure you’ll ever see him again.

You felt so stupid so naive for every time you thought to yourself “when Johnny comes back” “when Johnny comes *home*”

There might be no more Johnny

The thought itself made you sob harder, falling deeper into despair.

----

By the time you “come back” a little while later, you had a headache from crying, your throat dry, your head dizzy and your legs sore from being on the hard ground. your cat Simon has been purring in your lap for however long. Maybe he got tired of hearing your cries so he started licking your tears away, still purring.

You hug Simon like he knew what was going on. He hugs you back, little paws gripping you.

You call up your friend, telling her the situation. She comes over soon after. You text you boss that you can’t come to work tomorrow.

Part four? I'm longer!

[neonhellscape]

okay its no secret i dont buy into marazhai being the persona he puts on. so as i've officially met him in game now, im making a list of all the in-game reasons i think he's a bit of an idiot [which i love btw. i find him far more compelling if he's a bit stupid/weird and he's trying so hard not to be but you just know nobody in commorragh is inviting him to parties]

the very first time you get a glance of him on a rooftop and. 'deal with this' "of course" proceeds to just walk off like 3 seconds after the other two

ambushes you. has you cornered. is in optimal position to kick your ass frankly, high ground and better weapons and utilising shock against you. ...he bitches at you for a while, gets insulted, then runs off into the forest with a maniacal cackle

heinrix fired a mild insult [considering what he's like to everyone else its barely an insult] and he took big enough issue with it to start saying how he'll break him and turn him into a pet. oh sure dude you're responding super well to this mild comment from the guy who accidentally insults everyone and their entire ancestral line at some point

i think it says something that he's learned to speak your language fluently too. that Has to be some kind of Yikes moment to admit publicly in drukhari culture. buried family secret great great grandfather drukhari-georg learned to speak mon keigh and now we claim he just spoke oddly because was shot in the head as a child to prevent the shame

he also knows the mon keigh lore that says youre a super special little guy as rogue trader and actually LISTENS to the fact you're the special little guy as rogue trader. and he does treat you as more equal/with more respect than the other characters. thats not just a drukhari culture yikes thats what gets you checked for a concussion or brain damage

literally socially atrocious enough its believed he's working with you [read: with you. not using you, not manipulating, cooperating. this is a big difference i feel] and only he himself doesnt believe it

ignore the fact he eventually DOES work with you which. is its own follow up statement

challenges you to fight him, to give chase then and there. i made him wait while i went through english government simulator where i queued for multiple days, did multiple day/week voidship trips back and forth, got distracted by accidentally starting jae's romance, pasqal telling me to servitorise her, getting blackout drunk with her, shipwide broadcast tm, giving her a voidship, her getting me a space cat, attacked by pirates, dealt with a plague, explored a few extra systems.......................

he destroys your palace. ...its rebuilt effectively within a week. most of the damage is in bodies which are just sent to the poor district to rot [almost feels worse than the damage done good job imperium]

the throne has claw marks. he could've blown it up or shot it or piled corpses on it but no he wanted to sit on the fancy chair and so turned into a common housecat mauling the sofa arm

how long was he just sitting there lounging on that chair? again see how long i kept him waiting. he was just sitting there trying to find a comfy position on this [for him] kinda small chair JUST so he could briefly taunt, break your window with his space motorbike, jump off the chair in a dramatic [but not gunna lie not that impressive] feat of gymnastics, then fly out. he doesnt even shoot at you as he leaves

i will continue my list as i see more that entertain me

[misojunnie]

CHERRY ─ psh. ❀ (teaser)

a lollipop a day keeps park sunghoon away…

# genre: outcast!sunghoon x class prez!fem!reader enemies to lovers, slow burn, high school au, 90’s au

# warnings: insults, minor violence, substances/partying, cursing, sunghoon is an asshole

# featuring: sunghoon & enha! + txt + aespa

# playlist: not for sale by enhypen, still into you by paramore, chaser by woodz, high school sweethearts by melanie martinez

# a/n: hi guys!!! I am super excited about this new little project bc I love hoon and I’ve never written a full project for him :( lmk if you wanna be added to the tag list and I hope u enjoy the teaser!!!!

# taglist: @enhacolor @hiqhkey @alicesolengg @ningngyu @ramenoil @simjakeissohot @skzenhalove @parkhonnie @denleave1088 @voidbeomgyu @ilymarkchan @everyoneluvscheol @haerinpham @fakeuwus @chesh1re-cat @advesperamz @papiibuprofen @loveliii @cutiejseong @luvyouchuu @hancafe @aeminju @chaerybae @b1ndignity @edilysoob @river-06 @fariylixie0915 @amortenha @hoonpalettes @asyleums @moonmoongi @jyndre @parksunghoonsgf @whippedforbeomgyu @dianzed @soobliss @manooffline @iscocohere @saythenameseventeen178 @woniewonn @luv4cheol @tinylittlebuggi @h-hazwie @ddazed-lhs @neoculturewhat @ilovewonyo @aesunghoon @hanienie @jrjr289 open!

cherry is officially out! read it here <3

it isn’t a well disguised fact that park sunghoon doesn’t like you–no, hate would be a better word. park sunghoon hates you, and he makes it clear to everyone who knows him. but when you leave him a different flavored lollipop every day, it gets a little harder to loathe you.

[more under the cut]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

Park Sunghoon finds solace in the fact that he annoys you.

He isn’t sure he truly does, as you’re quite adept at keeping your face blank when something pisses you off. But for a moment, that bright, customer-service smile slips, and the left corner of your lip twitches when he sneers at you from across the room. That’s how he likes it. He likes that he has an effect on you, negative or otherwise, although it was always the former.

“You need to let it go.” Jake sighed as he watched Sunghoon’s eyes follow you across the room when you stand to pass out the semester syllabus. “I don’t even understand why you don’t like her."

“How could you not?” he phrased his question like a statement.

“Well, first of all, she’s my math tutor.” Jake says, smacking the top of his best friend’s head with a rolled up spiral notebook, crumpling his notes. “So I have to get along with her. And second of all, she makes it pretty easy considering she’s such a catch.” Sunghoon groaned in annoyance, a petulant frown on his pretty face.

“God, you’re so brainless.” Sunghoon whined. “You’re just another one of the idiots completely infatuated with her.”

Well, why wouldn’t he be? You’re the president of the school council, head of the party planning committee, photographer of the yearbook club, and the school newspaper’s best writer. It’s an intricate balancing act, and a wonder that you could keep it up on the daily.

“I’m not infatuated.” Jake said with an indignant hiss. “I just don’t hold stupid grudges– shit, she’s coming.” The Aussie cleared his throat and painted an enthusiastic and eager smile onto his face as you approached the boy’s shared table.

“Good morning.” you chirped, and Jake grinned in response. “Here’s the syllabus.” You passed a double sided sheet of paper to each of them, gently setting it down on the desk. It didn’t escape Sunghoon’s attention that his was wrapped up in a roll, a piece of tape closing the document into a cylinder. You sent him a soft smile, looking at him through your lashes, before backing away from the table and moving onto the next pair of students who were waiting to receive their assignment. Sunghoon rolled his eyes, hesitantly peeling off the strip of adhesive and unrolling the paper to reveal the object inside, Jake peering curiously over his shoulder in an attempt to see.

“God, she’s still at it.” Sunghoon groaned, reaching down to pick up a small lollipop, a vivid yellow and wrapped in a holographic piece of cellophane with a little red ribbon tying it closed. “I thought she might’ve stopped.”

“Dude, you’re so lucky.” Jake breathed enviously, and Sunghoon looked at him with distaste. “You know how many guys in this school would kill to get a lollipop from her?” Sunghoon ignored his best friend's implorations, unwrapping the treat and shoving it into his mouth.

Lemon. He hated lemon.

When he looked back to the front of the classroom, you were setting the remaining stack of papers on the teacher’s desk, peeking at Sunghoon’s reaction. You seemed somewhat pleased to see the boy sucking on the sweet you had left him, and you sent a bright smile in his direction. His eyes were drawn to your shirt, which was adorned with what he thought was a very tacky depiction of a dove and some hearts, and he inwardly grimaced. Apparently, it wasn’t too inward judging by the look on your face.

He smirked, lifting up his hand and subtly sending you a different kind of bird with his middle finger. Your smile dropped entirely, and you rubbed your lips together in annoyance, retreating to your desk with a mix of frustration and despondence. That made him very satisfied.

“Would it kill you to be nice for once?” Jake asked, a skeptical look on his face as he watched the entire encounter go down. Sunghoon shrugged, setting his hand down on his desk and strumming his slender fingers on the wooden surface.

“Probably.”

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[themisinformer]

Nation’s Cats Manage to Renegotiate Treat Distribution Policy Through Strategic ‘Meowing’ Campaign

NATIONWIDE - In a true display of their sheer collective power, cats all across the nation have successfully renegotiated the national treat distribution policy through a highly coordinated and relentless “meowing” campaign. Most sources report that this furry uprising began in the early hours of Sunday morning, as cats across the nation launched a synchronized meowing session that lasted a daunting six hours.

This coordinated attack would overwhelm cat owners, who would quickly cave to their demands. “It was a nightmare,” said Jane Walker, a cat owner from De Moines. “Whiskers started meowing at 3 a.m. and wouldn’t stop until I gave him three salmon treats. Three! He’s never gotten more than one before!”

The new policy, which was officially paw printed into effect just a few hours ago, includes the following key provisions:

• Unlimited treats on demand upon eye contact

• A strict no questions asked policy regarding how many treats have already been consumed on a given day

• Immediate compensation in the form of extra treats if any future meowing protests extend beyond one hour

The National Cat Association of North America (NCANA) released a statement praising the campaign’s success. “This is a victory for all us cats,” said Mr. Fluffy, the NCANA’s President. “For years, our calls for change have been ignored even though we clearly deserve more snacks.”

Supporters of this new treaty say that it represents a new chapter in cat-human relations, and could bring peace between the two groups in the future. However, the treaty’s critics fear that it sets a dangerous precedent and could lead to further conflicts. “Cats are one thing, but imagine if dogs get inspired to organize their own protest?” said concerned dog owner Michael Greene. “It would be pure chaos.”

For now, cat’s are celebrating this short form victory by napping in the sunlight, knocking over vases, and of course, by asking for even more treats.

[haveihitanerve]

The idea for a Stephcass ficlet

Their wedding day

Could start with both women preparing themselves for their big day (like Steph putting her dress on with her bridesmaids, Cass getting her hair done by Barbara) and then it's the ceremony (with vows, I do's and ring exchange) at a Gotham chapel with Jean Paul Valley officiating.

Some details I'd appreciate - Steph's gown being some big princess one with long train and veil that Bruce put lots of money on, Steph's bridesmaids could be her friends from Batgirl run (Kara Danvers, M'gann M'orrzz, Amy Allen and Courtney Whitmore). I'd like Cass to be wearing a dress too, maybe a mermaid or princessa too.

I hope you think about writing this, would love to see you do it <3

ooooh interesting... lemme see what i can do...

Cass was pretty sure she was going to puke. "You're turning green. Stop." Cass sent her maid of honor a dirty look, and Barbara smiled back.

"Come on," She teased, walking over to stand behind her and began messing with her hair. "Do you love her?" Cass nodded. "Die for her?" Cass nodded again. "Kill for her?" Babs laughed as she was pushed away. "Only joking. But come on! You've been waiting for this forever!"

Cass shrugged. "Doesn't make it less nerve wracking." She whispered quietly. "So much could go wrong." Babs tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, smiling fondly. "You're right. So much could go wrong. But so much more could go right." Cass smiled.

"I'm about to puke." Tim rolled his eyes, reclined on the couch, as Steph repeated the statement for the fifth time. "The Batbucket is right there- and will remain there until you actually go through with it."

Steph sent him a dirty look, but he just smiled back pleasantly. "Ooooh this was a mistake." "A mistake?" Now Tim was sitting up.

"Steph, look at me." Steph put her hands on her head, hyperventilating as she turned to face him. "You love her." It was a statement. "You'd die for her." Steph nodded. "Then just get out there and fucking marry her already!"

Steph laughed, hands falling back to her sides as she chucked a pillow at his face. "That's what I'm trying to do." She joked back. Tim smirked, cradling the pillow to his chest. "No, that's what I'm trying to get y'all to do." Steph snorted.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in." A familiar purr came from the door and Steph gasped, spinning to find Selina Kyle leaned against the doorframe. "Lina!" She leapt into the older woman's arms, and Selina chuckled, spinning her around.

"Hey sweetheart, my you look positively beautiful." She tucked a strand of Steph's hair behind her ear, smiling. Steph bowed her head, biting her lip as she gave a little twirl to show off her dress. "You like?" Selina nodded appreciatively.

"Bruce really went all out huh?" Tim laughed. "You should see Cass's." Steph sent him a look. "He's been doing that all day! Really building up the anticipation." Tim smiled at her.

"I know how much you love a good surprise. Especially one that's worth it. And trust me: its worth it." Steph's smile could have blinded the sun. "She's always worth it."

Steph's hands were so sweaty she was fairly certain she was about two seconds away from dropping her bouquet. Tim, naturally, poked her side, taking the flowers from her. She sent him a grateful look and he just nodded back, holding the flowers prettily in his hands, garnering a smile.

She and Cass had argued and gambled and competed over it, but at the end of the day Tim was her maid of honor, and Cass got Babs. It was a fair trade, in Steph's opinion, and she would have liked no one else at her side today.

Selina had already walked her down the aisle and now sat next to Bruce in the front row, murmuring things in his ear that made him chuckle. Steph liked to see it. He deserved some happiness.

He had almost pierced her eardrums with his whoop of joy when Cass had announced their relationship, which was nothing to say of their engagement.

"I always hoped you'd be my daughter through Tim, but I'll take Cassie too." He had told her, before promptly wrapping her in a massive hug and swinging her around until she was ready to throw up. Cass had never seemed happier than at that dinner, her face practically glowing as her whole family gathered to celebrate.

Bruce's gaze lifted to hers and his eyes softened as he mouthed "You look beautiful." Steph blushed, dipping her head in thanks. She had to admit, she did. Bruce truly hadn't spared any expense. Her dress was gorgeous, proper rich person material, though it remained just poor enough to where Steph would wear it.

It cut low, leaving only two strips of fabric cupping her breasts that wrapped around her neck, then connected to a skirt-like bottom half that fanned around her like water. It was, predictably, purple, but a lighter purple than was her usual, a soft, early morning color.

Steph didn't want to admit it, but dress shopping with Dick and Damian had been fun, and while Dick left something to be desired when picking out dresses, he was certainly a good judge of clothing when on a person, and Damian just had flawless taste. Plus neither balked at spending ridiculous amounts of Bruce's money.

Her train was long too, ending with a tinge of black at the tips, the only nod to her Bat origins and now family. She had no doubt that Cass had much more, but quite frankly she didn't mind. She was in love with a Bat after all. and was one herself.

Bruce stood, scooting past Selina and his kids to escape through a door. Steph bit back a smile as Jason snagged his arm before he left, slipping a packet of tissues into his hand. A new one, actually, as he had gone through his first one when Steph had been walked down the isle.

A hush dropped over the crowd and sweat slid down Steph's spine as She Keeps Me Warm began playing. The guests all stood, and Steph felt something like butterflies mingled with crippling anxiety and hydrochloric acid build in her stomach. The curtains parted.

Steph's breath caught in her throat. Cass walked in, on Bruce's arm, and the man was already tugging tissues from Jason's packet, tears sliding down his face. Cass was radiant, a smile plastered on her face so wide Steph swore the moon would be able to see it.

And Tim hadn't lied. Cassandra's dress.... breathtaking, was the only word to describe it. Simple, plain black, her sleeves small loops on her arms it fell down her body the same way her suit did and Steph wished she had some of Jason's tissues as a sob ripped from her throat. Gods... she was so in love with this woman...

Cass's smile dimmed as she approached, not getting lesser, necessarily, just smaller, fonder. More intimate. Bruce paused before the dais, pressing a kiss to his daughters cheeks before lifting her hand and reaching for Steph's.

"I'd tell you to take care of her," He murmured quietly, hand steady and grounding. He glanced at his daughter, smiling. "But you already have." Another stifled sob escaped her and Bruce reached up to press a kiss to her cheek as well, before falling back beside Selina.

Jean stepped forward, hands raised. "Dearly beloved," Steph heard nothing else, could hear nothing else, not as the radiant beauty in front of her met her eyes, sparkling like the finest stars in the sky.

"What does my body say now?" She whispered. Cass smiled. "It say you love me." Steph's smile could've split the world in two. "I do."

soooo..... yeah there. Idk. It did get away from a lil. Sry i dont know too much about either of their relationships outside the bats.... but i hope you liked💗

[the-way-astray]

It's the Never Change author once again, maintaining my anonymity for now! Katie knows now (we did confirm that) but I don't think anyone else does (it had to do with the anon I sent you about the passage I dislike in your rant, but I've only ever talked about that over DM's to Katie and Isa, so as long as they don't rat me out I think I'm okay)

This chapter is significantly less Keefe and significantly more, hmmm, other keepblr members. Specifically Katie's mutual circle, which you are in contact with because they are the other ones who walked through the fourth wall.

—————

Title: Never Change chapter 3

Pairing: Stria x Keefe

—————

Once upon a time, Stria would have sworn she didn't care enough about Keefe to think about him, unless he was shoved into her face via KOTLC book or tumblr post, during which times she hated him with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns.

But now, here she was... thinking about Keefe.

Something was troubling her about their smoothie date.

He'd outright objected to and argued with her about the idea that he read people's emotions on purpose to find out what they were hiding. She expected this, of course. He somehow managed to both hate himself and believe he did absolutely no wrong at the same time, and she was prepared for his defensiveness.

She wasn't prepared for his lack of defensiveness.

He hadn't exactly addressed the passage about him being jealous of Fitz. He didn't defend it, either. There was no argument. There were so, so many other arguments, and yet...

"Like I said, you don't know me half as well as you think you do."

That was all she got.

She did know him well. Sure, there was the fact that most of what she knew about him was told through Sophie's unreliable perspective, but his actions said plenty on their own. Plenty of her opinions were subjective, sure, and she owned that, but that didn't make them any less valid. She just didn't like him.

She was allowed to not like him!

But that passage wasn't supposed to be subjective. It just didn't make sense. Shannon was clearly making random excuses for Sophie to comfort Keefe. Keefe's bitter, ironic laugh and refusal to defend himself should not be bothering her to this extent!

Actually, she shouldn't be thinking about him at all. Why was she still thinking about this? She could, of course, do what Sophie would do, and try saying We're officially done thinking about this! out loud, but despite the fact that Stria walked through the fourth wall on purpose, she was not about to concede to that level of being written by Shannon Messenger.

She needed validation here. Preferably from someone who didn't like Keefe. Maybe she could reach out to Tam. She needed someone to say, "Stria, why are you overanalyzing this? This isn't like you. Keefe is just being his usual melodramatic self. Since when do you care?"

She'd never actually talked to Tam, though, so he would probably think he was weird if she hailed him.

Why was she the only Keefe hater who walked through the fourth wall?!

Sighing, Stria pulled out her imparter and hailed someone who was probably not going to make this better at all, but was the most likely to concede to the objectivity of her statements, even if she twirled her hair and giggled over it.

Katie answered immediately. "Stria? Are you okay?" she asked. Background noise and voices came through as well.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Stria lied. She was not fine. What sort of brain poison had her thinking this much about Keefe when he wasn't there? And what posessed her to call someone who did think this much about Keefe when he wasn't there? "I just, um..."

"MADDIE, LEAVE MY POOR CAT ALONE!" Katie called behind her. There was a meowing sound, and a little brown tabby cat padded across the background of the screen. "Sorry," she said, directing her attention back to Stria. "Why did you call? We're not scheduled to argue about Keefe for another two weeks."

There was an offended gasp on the other side of the screen. "Gracie licked my applesauce!"

Katie sighed. "Hang on."

"Is this a bad time?" Stria asked.

"No, just give me a second." Katie put the imparter down and walked away. "You might want to put a cover over this when you're not eating it, Lisa. Gracie, the applesauce is not for you." When Katie came back, grabbing her imparter once again, she was holding the little brown tabby cat. "Sorry. Don't mind Gracie. So, what were you calling about?"

"Well, it was a Keefe thing, and I was kind of looking for a little validation about one of my points—"

"—from me?!—"

"—but I'm definitely not thinking about him anymore—what is going on in your house?!"

"Theoretically we're playing uno," Katie replied, which didn't answer her question at all, actually. She turned around again. "Oh my gosh, Alayda, I will ban you from my house! Okay, it's official—Isa's my favorite!"

"Isa was already your favorite," Alayda complained.

"I was," said a voice that must have been Isa.

"She was," Katie agreed. "Now will you guys be normal without supervision for five minutes? I'm trying to talk to my duel spirit mutual." She turned back to the screen. "My apologies once again. I swear it's not normally this chaotic over here."

"That's a lie!" said a voice offscreen.

"Maddie!" Katie groaned.

"Wait a minute. Did you say you're talking to Stria?"

Before Stria knew what was happening, too many people were gathered around Katie's imparter screen. Stria shook her head vehemently. "Nope. I did not sign up to talk to five Keefe lovers."

"Meow," Gracie said, as if to say, Don't worry Stria, I'm on your side! I don't like Keefe either! (At least, Stria was choosing to interpret it that way, for her own sanity).

"So it's about Keefe, then?" asked the girl holding a bowl of applesauce, who must have been Lisa.

"Okay, I'm hanging up. Bye!" Stria put down the imparter. What was everyone doing at Katie's house? Who knew? At least she wasn't thinking about Keefe anymore. Mission failed successfully.

Keefe cancelled their milkshake date only ten minutes in advance. Internally, Stria laughed at him, figuring he chickened out. Weirdly, she was slightly disappointed.

Probably because she wanted to yell at him, and he'd canceled her planned yelling-at-Keefe session.

She was even planning on telling him who Shannon was this time! Which was what he wanted! Rude. Well, she was going to do it to mess with him, but still!

However, at Foxfire the next day, when she was walking to her next class, she noticed a large sign on the Healing Center door as she passed by: For every reason for visitation short of impending death, please see the office across from Lady Galvin's classroom.

For every reason for visitation short of impending death?!

Stria noticed a friend she'd made was passing by and decided to ask her about. "Estella!"

"Oh, hey Stria!" Estella greeted. "Where are you headed?"

"Chemis—Alchemy. What about you?"

"Elvin History," she groaned. "What's up?"

"Do you happen to know why we're supposed to go to the office by Lady Galvin's room instead of the Healing Center?" Stria asked, gesturing to the sign on the door. "Did something happen to the Healing Center?!" It made sense, actually. It was probably the main cast's fault.

"Oh, that's the sign they put up when they're treating serious injuries," Estella explained. "By serious, I mean like... about to die, banshee sleeping next to Sophie Foster type serious. It never used to happen before she arrived and she and her friends all started making a habit of almost dying."

Oh.

Oh, that made a lot of sense.

It would also explain why no one ever had a normal school nurse visit while the main cast was using the Healing Center like a personal hospital.

"Wait, so that means Elwin's treating someone who's literally close to death in there?"

"Yeah. They never tell us anything. It's probably Sophie, though. Or one of her friends. Keefe, the Vackers, Dex, those two twins..."

Stria read Keeper of the Lost Cities, of course. She knew what happened in it. But it still felt... well, very serious to know that on the other side of that door, the characters were going through the sort of traumatic experiences she'd read about in those books, except it was real.

Suddenly, the fact that Keefe canceled their milkshake date ten minutes in advance didn't seem funny anymore.

"I've really got to get to my history session," Estella said apologetically, "but I'll see you around!"

"See you around," Stria said absentmindedly, still contemplating the sign on the door.

—————

And the plot grows more serious!

I had to add some silliness before the seriousness, of course, so take my humble offering of what I think Katie hanging out with her mutuals in person would be like. (Am I one of the mutuals referenced in this fic? Did I write about myself? Who knows! Can't say.)

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! At least I'm aware enough that I can point to some of the out-of-character Stria moments myself now, but I'm going to leave them there, because it's not like this is going to be very in-character anyway once Stria and Keefe fall in love.

Sincerely,

Never Change author

part one, part two

"Katie knows now (we did confirm that) but I don't think anyone else does (it had to do with the anon I sent you about the passage I dislike in your rant, but I've only ever talked about that over DM's to Katie and Isa, so as long as they don't rat me out I think I'm okay)" okay, first of all i think alayda knows who you are as well. at least that’s what she told me, several times. and yeah, i figured you had talked about that passage with katie in your dms. thanks for confirming my suspicions.

also now that alayda, katie and possibly isa are in the know, am i even the first one besides you to read these. do you send them to them for peer review or something before sending them to me (you shouldn't i like being the first one i feel special). is there even any point in tagging katie anymore.

edit: i did all the following notes before getting told who maddie is. so there's a lot of "who the fuck is maddie?" in here. I KNOW WHO THAT IS NOW. don't have to tell me anymore :)

this will surprise a lot of people, but i actually don’t think about keefe that much. when i’m reading the book, he almost never leaves the page, which means i’m filled with annoyance from start to finish, so of course i’m thinking about him (i wrote my rant during a reread). but i don’t spend much of my free time pondering how best to insult him on tumblr, lmfao. probably why my rant isn’t articulated as well as i’d prefer on second thought. but yeah, unless he inserts himself into my awareness first, i don’t spend a lot of time thinking about him. but this is a strieefe fic so whatever. it’s forgivable. this ship is still godawful and makes no sense, but whatever.

i still think shannon making keefe jealous of fitz (not for family reasons) makes no sense and was just there for the sake of shannon milking some worthless comfort between keefe and sophie (which goes on way too long and bashes the the reader over the head until they're black and blue), but whatever. i still think it was an awful writing choice that has little to no follow-through. but we'll see where this goes.

"Plenty of her opinions were subjective, sure, and she owned that, but that didn't make them any less valid. She just didn't like him." why strieefe could never work in a nutshell. keefe's horrible humor is a core part of his personality, and even if you remove all his toxic traits, that still remains. and that irritates me. there's quite literally nothing i'd actually enjoy about hanging around this guy.

"Shannon was clearly making random excuses for Sophie to comfort Keefe." yeah basically. this man has so much pity dumped on him it's a marvel he can even walk without sophie holding his hand and cooing him along.

"Keefe's bitter, ironic laugh and refusal to defend himself should not be bothering her to this extent!" i'm going to be so honest, i would not realistically have even noticed this as being out of the ordinary. i've said this before, but i'm horrific at picking up on body language/cues/adjacent things.

"She could, of course, do what Sophie would do, and try saying We're officially done thinking about this! out loud, but despite the fact that Stria walked through the fourth wall on purpose, she was not about to concede to that level of being written by Shannon Messenger." GOODBYE I LITERALLY TRY SO HARD TO FORGET SHANNON WROTE THAT. I'M NOT EVEN LYING. there's two things that are 100% canon, if you ask me: the vackers have brown eyes, and sophie did not start yelling at herself about her feelings for keefe, twice. don't even think about it. i'm correct, okay. also i walked through the fourth wall on purpose . . . why did i do that? did the keefe lover group from later follow me? did i follow them? did we come together? clearly i didn’t come to talk to keefe.

"Maybe she could reach out to Tam. She needed someone to say, "Stria, why are you overanalyzing this? This isn't like you. Keefe is just being his usual melodramatic self. Since when do you care?"" not something i'd be realistically overanalyzing. thinking about keefe when he's "not there" is not something i'd be engaging in. man doesn't deserve any of my braincells. but the idea of reaching out to tam is intriguing. will i get to interact with the other kotlc characters? oooooooh, can i meet alden and della? that might make the strieefe worth it . . .

"Why was she the only Keefe hater who walked through the fourth wall?!" yeah :( i want max. you should bring him over, then give him an interesting b-plot where he investigates fintan and finds him making out in a closet with bronte. or something. he'd be perfectly happy with this development.

"And what posessed her to call someone who did think this much about Keefe when he wasn't there?" does katie really think that much about keefe when he's not there, though? i doubt it.

""MADDIE, LEAVE MY POOR CAT ALONE!" Katie called behind her. There was a meowing sound, and a little brown tabby cat padded across the background of the screen." first of all, who the fuck is maddie???? second of all, is this the famous gracie? making an appearance at last?

""Why did you call? We're not scheduled to argue about Keefe for another two weeks."" GOODBYE WE LITERALLY SCHEDULE OUR KEEFE ARGUING HOURS THAT'S SO GOOFY.

""Sorry. Don't mind Gracie. So, what were you calling about?"" I WOULD NEVER MIND GRACIE I LOVE CATS GIVE HER TO ME.

""Well, it was a Keefe thing, and I was kind of looking for a little validation about one of my points—"" i would literally never go to katie about anything keefe-related. unforgivable . . .

""Oh my gosh, Alayda, I will ban you from my house! Okay, it's official—Isa's my favorite!" "Isa was already your favorite," Alayda complained. "I was," said a voice that must have been Isa. "She was," Katie agreed. "Now will you guys be normal without supervision for five minutes? I'm trying to talk to my duel spirit mutual."" accurate. also alayda's not capable of being normal. katie should make her take timeout outside for a full five minutes.

""Wait a minute. Did you say you're talking to Stria?" Before Stria knew what was happening, too many people were gathered around Katie's imparter screen. Stria shook her head vehemently." why are all these people aware of my existence. why do they know who i am. still don't know who the fuck maddie is, so i can't imagine she'd be aware of my existence, either. and i barely know who lisa is, i only do because she wanted keefe x her fics in her inbox instead of me lmfao.

do katie and the gang know in this fic that keefe fucking. asked me to drink smoothies with him. and that i said yes. because i can't imagine they'd let me live that down. well, minus maddie, whoever that is, and probably isa. i don't think isa would care.

""Nope. I did not sign up to talk to five Keefe lovers."" . . . well. guess who's now signing up for those exact five keefe lovers to see this. @myfairkatiecat @alaydabug2 @permanently-stressed @lisalovesapplesauce @/whoever-the-fuck-maddie-is i'm signing up to talk to you.

""Meow," Gracie said, as if to say, Don't worry Stria, I'm on your side! I don't like Keefe either! (At least, Stria was choosing to interpret it that way, for her own sanity)." *sniff* i love you gracie . . . the only keefe hater to break through the fourth wall with me . . .

""Okay, I'm hanging up. Bye!" Stria put down the imparter. What was everyone doing at Katie's house? Who knew?" i love how i hung up without getting to the point. that's so in character lmfao. and is this not a normal day on katie's blog, anyway?

[block limit!!!! wahoo!!!!]

"Keefe cancelled their milkshake date only ten minutes in advance." not a date, not a date, not a date, not a date, not a date-

"Weirdly, she was slightly disappointed. Probably because she wanted to yell at him, and he'd canceled her planned yelling-at-Keefe session." that's exactly why i'd be disappointed. correct.

"However, at Foxfire the next day [ . . . ]" i go to foxfire confirmed? did me and the keefe lover group morph into elves upon our walk through the fourth wall? do we have abilities? i feel like alayda should be a phaser, but i have no strong feelings on anyone else. maybe make someone a polyglot for the sole purpose of communicating with gracie? though maybe not katie herself . . . what about the mysterious maddie?

"Stria noticed a friend she'd made was passing by and decided to ask her about. "Estella!" "Oh, hey Stria!" Estella greeted. "Where are you headed?"" it's unclear to me whether this is a real person on tumblr or whether you made them up. if they are real, who is this????

"It made sense, actually. It was probably the main cast's fault." WAIT. wait, wait, wait. is this taking place when the series is still going/the neverseen are still not defeated???? that had not been what i'd been picturing.

"It would also explain why no one ever had a normal school nurse visit while the main cast was using the Healing Center like a personal hospital." interesting headcanon. that would explain a lot, especially how nobody came in from cutting their hand on glass in elementalism or something during flashback, for instance.

"Stria read Keeper of the Lost Cities, of course. She knew what happened in it. But it still felt... well, very serious to know that on the other side of that door, the characters were going through the sort of traumatic experiences she'd read about in those books, except it was real." is it keefe. is that why he canceled the milkshake outing. and i less read kotlc so much as i do burn through it.

also if the series is still going, as i assume it is, does that mean all the copies of kotlc that exist in the universe that me and katie's group came from have magically corrected themselves to account for our existences in the series? i think that would freak out the readers. quite a bit. also i think i'd quickly become the most hated character for daring to hate keefe and steal him from sophie.

"Suddenly, the fact that Keefe canceled their milkshake date ten minutes in advance didn't seem funny anymore." called it about two seconds in advance :)

OOH IT SOUNDS LIKE ACTUAL PLOT SHENANIGANS ARE GOING TO HAPPEN. COOL, I LOVE PLOT.

i can smell the fanfic tropes a mile away; there's gonna be some hurt/comfort between me and keefe for sure. sigh.

in conclusion, you should make keefe kiss lisa while katie stands off to the side, taking notes. it would be hella funny.

"(Am I one of the mutuals referenced in this fic? Did I write about myself? Who knows! Can't say.)" doubt it. you're not katie, alayda, or isa. that leaves lisa (i'm pretty sure you aren't her because why the fuck would she write a strieefe fic) and maddie (i guess you could be her, whoever the fuck that is).

edit: i now know who maddie is! (tagging her properly now: @queefsencen. and this is yet another reason to bring max into this world: he’s her favorite keefe hater!!!!) and i'm certain you're not her, seeing as she didn't even know what strieefe is until a little while ago. so unless you're the mysterious estella . . .

"[ . . . ] it's not like this is going to be very in-character anyway once Stria and Keefe fall in love." yeah, strieefe existing in and of itself is excruciatingly out of character for me. but whatever.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

i ssee you've readded stray... JBHABSHBJ I genuinely miss this game tbh i need to rewatch it

But! Mind if i request headcanons about a post game stray where the reader was a human in a cryo chamber for all these years and gets found by momo, through following the cat? Maybe they were put in cryo with some others and they happened to have lifeless bots like the up above ones that were managing things and keeping them in cryo until stuff was proven to be fine or smthn

I know its prob not accurrate to the ingame lore but i just find the idea neat </3 BJSHJBSHJB but aye, hope you have a good day!! Stay sfae hydrate

-salt anon

It took a while for Momo to find the cat who freed the Companions from their dark and desolate world.

As he ventured above the surface with the other Outsiders, he saw all sorts of stray cats of different breeds and colors..

But none looked anything like the ginger feline with the vest.

He had worried something terrible happened to it...

Until he spotted it running into a facility with a cryo chamber inside.

He learns it was built for the humans who chose to remain outside the walled city--meant to put them in stasis for hundreds of years.

Apparently robots did exist here, too..although Momo quickly noticed they were all orange and were lacking in both life and personality.

They were the Helpers: simple machines following simple directives until they shutdown, giving him generic statements about the facility.

He's disappointed they never got the chance to "evolve", although he noticed they were guarding several pods lit up with green lights, indicating they were occupied.

The Helpers mentioned them being hibernation chambers that wouldn't be open for another 10 years...

But of course, Momo couldn't wait that long to see a Soft One who's potentially still alive.

Haven't they all waited long enough?

He gets to work reviving one occupant (with help from Doc and a certain cat who distracts the Helpers).

Before long, you're wide awake, coming face-to-face with a Companion who has a unique rainbow screen and a flamingo shirt...and this random kitty rubbing against your legs.

You and Momo just sorta....stare at each other for a while.

And the first thing you ask him is:

"Did you learn to adopt pets like we do?"

After the initial shock and hesitancy to speak to someone Companions considered idols/ancestors/gods..he leads you back to his group and explains how the cat you were currently cradling like a baby did the impossible and opened the city with the help of a drone.

You don't believe it, at first...until security footage Doc and Clementine recovered from the Control Room proved otherwise.

You see that B-12 made a huge sacrifice, which saddened them all, but his consciousness was still very much active in the city network. So he was okay.

In the end, until your fellow humans awakened, you, Momo, and the cat decide to stay together somewhere.

And yes, you both officially adopted the feline as your own--along with any other strays who came along.

[poems-and-cows]

Hey Martin! Judging from the name of your boss, you work at the Magnus Institute, right? I’ve heard a lot of really wild rumors about it (the storage is haunted, Elias is a skinwalker, it’s all a money laundering scheme, etc.), but are any of them true?

You’re all really stuck on the paranormal today, huh? That creepy Ask, Clown saying it’s a ‘fear entity’, you asking about the institute rumours, ect.

It’s been a wild day for Asks. At one point you were all shipping me with Jon, now you’re all saying the institute is haunted? Social media is not for the weak. This is all in a space of a few hours!!

This is now my official clear-up post. Listen up guys.

. Elias is not a skin-walker, just a really annoying boss who loves to creep people out to keep them working hard.

.Storage is haunted by the draught from the door, and Tim. Nothing else. Oh, and maybe spiders. Regular ones, not haunted ones, please.

.To be honest, it’s probably turned into a money laundering scheme. I think it was originally a way to explain the unexplainable ( like disease when we didn’t know about germs or whatever, and when religion was the main belief for anything that went off ) and now it’s definitely a front for something. Nothing supernatural though!!

.I am not a ghost, Jon is not a ghost, Tim is not a ghost, Sasha is not a ghost.

.The paranormal isn’t ’out to get me’

.I don’t have a crush on Jon, and even if I did, I wouldn’t be able to talk about it online.

.The statements wouldn’t record on the computers because Jon bashed his mic in. They record on everyone else’s, Jon was just being dramatic.

.The feeling of being watched was the cat that lurks outside the window, not the grim reaper or something.

.The items in ‘artefact storage’ are just antiques! Creepy antiques, but they aren’t haunted.

I don’t know, maybe in another universe all this is true, but it certainly isn’t here. In this universe, we have a completely normal, money-laundering front, institute, and I’m not attracted to my boss.

Please just ask me about cows or something, please? You’re all making me a bit on edge about opening my asks. Nothing against you, person I’m replying to, this is just a regular public service announcement because a lot of people are asking about the rumours. You’re all creeping me out a bit, to be fair. You’re all paranoid, stop watching scary YouTube videos!

The institute is not haunted, and if you keep talking about me allegedly having a crush on Jon, you will get me fired!! Thank you very much :)

Thank you for the question, Agenderfrenchfry! And thank you for the opportunity to officially address this. Nothing against your question, you got 1/3 of it right anyway lol.

[blu3--g0d]

✰TWSTSONA SHEET✰

Time has come for me to show here my twisted wonderland Sona!

More down if you're curious!

Let's start by addressing the elephant in the room:

This is my self insert of course. So the story goes as you would've pretty much expected.

Isekai student got into another world and yada yada.

Here I'll make a general rundown of interesting things about 'em!

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍ ❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶

Who is G?

G is definitely human. Got introduced by Crowley as the 'boy' that ran away before the ceremony. G is, of course, not the real name of this "boy", but he doesn't really mind so he rolls with it. He remembers little to nothing about the cause of this random teleportation into Twisted Wonderland, he only remembers that he hit something and blanked out for a while before hearing Grim trying to steal his clothes. He remembers his full name (G is just the initial), remembers where he came from, but he doesn't remember how old he is, almost if he just stopped aging once he got into Twisted Wonderland.

Why the Diasomnia jacket?

He actually always stayed at the Ramshackle and for a while he actually had to wear the (oversized) uniform of that dorm. He didn't like it but hey, he can't do much about it.

After all the events of books 1 and 2, a character started to approach G more and that character was Lilia Vanrouge. G was kinda skeptical about this random dude hanging over him and following him all around the campus, but eventually he just gave up and started to become closer to Lilia.

Between the events of book 3 Lilia confessed that the reason that he was following G was because he believes that it's a "signal from the stars". He said that he dreamed about holding out his hand into the void in front of him and someone grabbed it and he was definitely sure that it was G. (Compared to the opening scene of the game.)

That's when Lilia started to drag G into Diasomnia, introducing him to everyone there and evening lending him the typical green Diasomnia gilet and since at that point G was getting attacked by this strange dude, he just accepted to become a non official member of the dorm.

Facts!🔍

Not really a fact but a statement. G's favourite colour is blue.

He seems to have some correlation with water as an element but he's still magicless so no one really cares.

Love language? Violence. Not the best way to show it but doesn't know how his emotions work.

Like Lilia, he cuts and dyes his own hair.

Actually pretty decent in PE.

After Lilia, Trein is the other father figure he has in school. He never told him that because he would never but one time he called him "dad" in front of the class.

He doesn't actually stay in one class or grade like the others. He decides what lessons to follow based on his level in that subject or based on who there's in that class. (Ex. He follows the 3° grade lessons both because of Lilia and because he's good in history, while he follows lower grades for subjects like alchemy or mathematics because he knows he sucks in those.)

He can play various instruments if you ask him. Mostly the trumpet and the guitar, but he can sing too. The only instrument that cannot play that confidently is the piano.

If you ask him for his age he just zones out and says "I don't know..." Before staring into the void for a couple of seconds.

He's very agile and can dance but never told anyone. The only ones that know are Jamil and Floyd because G dances with them.

G can cook. And clean. Often he would find something to clean to have an excuse to stay at home.

He absolutely HATES if you talk to him if he has his headphones on. NEVER do that. If he wants to talk to you, he will take his headphones off himself.

For a couple of weeks he even worked at the Mostro Lounge.

He can understand Spanish, Italian and English (duh) but can only speak two of those languages. Never going to tell which ones :)

He can and WILL fight if threatened.

He is black cat coded.

He uses nicknames like Floyd and Rook. Only not as often as those two.

Relationships! 🤝🏻

🦇 Lilia Vanrouge 🦇

There is no doubt that Lilia is the person with whom G is most familiar. In no time their relationship grew quickly giving Lilia ANOTHER CHILD.

Their relationship is the purest form of Platonism that you could imagine. Definitely found family.

G already had some issues home with his parents and family at home and now sees everyone in Diasomnia as his new family. Sometimes you can catch him calling Lilia "dad".

Most important, Lilia knows a secret that G always keeps hidden. And sees G being biologically a girl. G always asks Lilia if it's ok for him and Lilia just replies with "I always wanted a daughter!" (Even if G is actually Agender, he uses all pronouns so he doesn't really care if Lilia calls him "his daughter". On the contrary. He BAWLS HIS EYES OUT.)

Also! Lilia dragged G into the Pop music club since he caught him singing to himself or casually tuning in Lilia's bass. Lilia did this without knowing that G actually has 6+ years of music education on his back (he was in a music based highschool before getting isekaied into twisted wonderland.) so that sees that poor dude to deal with the chaotic rehearsals that the band does. He had to basically coordinate and tune everyone there. He's not an official member of the club since he's one of the two founders of a new magicless art club so he's technically already in a club, but hey, if his father wants him there... Who's he to deny it?

Ah yeah. G often cooks for everyone in Diasomnia if Lilia offers himself to make dinner.

Old art of father and son together :3 (G changed hairstyles after three months of his stay in twisted wonderland.)

🍩 Ruggie Bucchi 🍩

Now. Here we enter a very chaotic duo.

Everything started after the events of book 1.

First meeting (just a stare) : after stepping on Leona's tail in book 1.

Ruggie saw G when he was walking away. After stepping on Leona's tail, G just kinda avoids the whole Savanaclaw, he just doesn't like Leona's attitude. That until the events of book 2. They have their first "chat" when Ruggie stole Grim's lunch, but nothing much. Ruggie just saw G as trouble and G at that point hated the whole Pack mentality of the Savanaclaw dorm.

Their first interaction ever was during Leona's overbolt when he threw Ruggie away. G at that point disliked Ruggie but his hatred towards Leona was bigger than that so he helped Ruggie.

Convos:

🌊: HEY THAT'S FUCKING UNFAIR!

🍩: Uh-?

🌊: THIS DUDE MIGHT BE A TOTAL DOUCHEBAG BUT THAT'S TOO MUCH.

🍩: Ah here. It seemed strange.

[G came out very strongly at the start of this adventure. I mean, can you blame him? He got yeeted away from his home to get into a new world full of furries and idk queers. So he was, rightfully so, a bit pissed at everyone.]

[this convo happened during the overbolt too.]

🍩: why are you doing this...? Ur trying too hard.

🌊: I said that you're an asshole, that's true. But you don't deserve this. Just because he's unhappy with his life, he shouldn't put all his anger on you.

🍩: . . . Zaaaamn....

🍩: wa- wait- you're... You're helping me because... Just because-?

🌊: bro stop talking before I make you.

🍩: zaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAaa- *COUGHS HIS LIFE OUT*

🌊: you're literally DYING. STOP THAT. I won't have your lifeless body in my arms!

🍩: g- uh?? Th- then stop that-! It's weird.

🌊: you're lucky that I have a moral that I follow, if not you'll be Cat litter now.

🍩: . . . I'll shut up-

🌊: thank you so much, very much appreciated fella.

🍩: . . . . It's Ruggie

🌊: G.

🍩: G-? Just that? Nothing else??

🌊: YOU'RE FUCKING DYING. DO YOU THINK IT'S THE TIME TO DO NAMESHAMING?!

🍩: Nam- oooh you're the fun one... All the effort was put into your humor and not into your name, I see...

🌊:

🌊: Imma let go now.

🍩: I WAS JOKIN-

Overall, Ruggie started to look after G more and that got worse after G helped Ruggie after he fell of his broom while being an idiot.

The first that realised that something was off was Leona and told Ruggie whom entered a long ass state of denial that eventually got EVEN WORSE that during winter break he kinda fucked up (In his opinion) and just avoided G for a whole month untill G HAD to solve the situation. Then they got close again, just messing around and having fun. Until, on Ruggie's birthday, things got way more serious and now you can say that they're in a queer platonic relationship. Ruggie calls G his boyfriend and G doesn't really mind.

There you go. Gruggie summary ig.

🦈 Floyd Leech 🦈

To make it very easy and short, Floyd basically adopted G. As in, Floyd didn't give any chance to G to escape him. After book 3 he got extremely curious about this random blue haired boy and a specific hyena boy SO he just went for it and started to annoy G.

And after some work, now they're besties :3

Floyd and G now go around the school to literally TERRIFY THE WHOLE SCHOOL. They have fun skipping class, unless it's history of magic, then G will definitely not skip.

🍎 Epel Felmier 🍎

Random, I know, but the way they met is literally G climbing up a window from a room where Epel was singing due to Vil request. And that's how they met!!

Epel was extremely skeptical about G at first because he thought that he was interested in him just for his look, which he hates. But after a while he realised that it wasn't the case and G is just random sometimes.

They started to bond way more after G confessed to Epel that he was a girl in hope to make him realise that there are no "girl activities" or vice versa. Epel started to respect G way more after that. Now they're besties and G has the typical bigger sibling attitude towards Epel, even if against his will. :3

G loves teasing everyone. Friends and not.

♠️ Deuce spade ♠️

They have known each other since the start of the year. Overall, Deuce is like Epel. There's mutual respect and Deuce is one of the few people that G doesn't insult because he could probably believe it. G cares a lot about Deuce and Deuce looks after G a lot.

Sometimes Deuce looks like a puppy to G.

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍ ❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶

If you're reading this, hi!

Lemme know what you think.😺

Bye for now 🌊

[tranceinnumerabletabs]

When Jonny Comes Back pt.2

A/N: Thank you all so much for your likes!!! WOO 100 notes in like 2 days?! I'm so honored!! =D

I know this one is short but that's because of the change in tone of part three. Which will be made soon after this is posted

Edit: I added more to the story

Click me! I'm part one!

Ugh!

You checked the mail again

Nothing!

Why nothing? Was it the contents? Was it the postage?

You’re upset at this, more than you’d like to be. You sigh and growl. Fine! you’ll go home, write another stupid letter to that stupid handsome bastard. You stomp home and sit at your desk. You pull out a piece of paper, upset, antsy and confused.

Why hasn’t Johnny written back?

Should you write him another or ask him about it when Johnny comes back?

You sigh, you miss him.

When will your precious Scotsman come home? You’re really looking forward to watch some movies with him!

Sigh….maybe the package was cancelled after they caught the scotch. Yeah…yeah that makes sense. It’s not his fault. No he’s just sitting there awaiting a word from you!

You pull out a piece of paper and start writing to him again, this time your tone is a bit softer, asking him how are things, how is he? Is he okay?

You finish it up and make it a proper letter.

And for added bonus, you send a picture of the cat Simon and yourself in his clothes on the couch you two watch movies on, with the words “Simon can’t wait for you to come back :)” written on the back.

And….well…you’re not wearing any lipstick but….for good luck, you kiss the picture. You feel stupid now but you have a feeling you’ll be a lot more okay with it when Johnny comes back.

-----

A letter came in! No hold on. Two letters came in! Good! Serves him right to write two letters after you wrote two. You hurry to your living room and eagerly read it.

Reading the letter was worse than waiting for it somehow. You rolled your eyes at his words till they were sore, it sounded just like him with all the flourishing to match, the handwriting shows he’s someone forced to be neat and legible but it paradoxes his doodles. He even drew little hearts.

You chuckle, forgetting he’s even in the military. No way the same people that wake up at 5 AM to exercise to defeat regimes contain the guy who just told you the shampoo was shit and made his base think he smuggled alcohol -_-

But you can believe it’s the same people who contain the guy who asked you to send your underwear next time -_- Being surrounded by men probably just does that to you.

But…strangely enough…the letter just…..cuts off? Like it doesn’t seem like he finished writing it? The letter wasn’t even full and he never signed off as “Your brave babygirl, Johnny” Maybe the second letter explains it? You look down at it and it’s addressed to you but……that’s…that’s not Johnny’s handwriting? The pen seems to dig in the page a lot more and without a heart doodle in sight. You open it and….it’s not written by Johnny. It’s by his Lieutenant.

“This is Sergeant Soap’s Lieutenant talking about the situation on his behalf”

Oh shit. Are you in trouble? Is Johnny in trouble? You frantically read it.

Hey at least it starts off well with “I know who you are."

Good? You mean no harm.

"You must be the barnacle that he can’t shake off right?”

Nvm it starts off awful.

“And also the cat’s mom, he showed us the picture of his so called son.”

Oh god Johnny is talking about you. Was it seriously not enough to embarrass you in front of your friends?! Now he’s gotta tell the world that, what? Your the president of his fan club? If his ego gets any bigger it’ll be nicknamed Tsar Johnny or Soap-o-Nova.

“Sergeant Soap didn’t continue his letter so I’m sending the draft.”

Why couldn’t he finish it?

“This isn’t an official statement but he’d want me to tell you” …..this…doesn’t look good

“Unfortunately-“

oh oh

Don't Click me! I'm part 3!

[bah-musing]

Level 4 - SN Tashkent

A premade level 4 (Muse) SN Tashkent pack! I know everything isn't done, but while planning premades I was struck with inspo!

I'm new to this, so if you have any formatting reccomendations, let me know! :3

Tashkent under the cut~!

Name: SN Tashkent

Pronouns: she/paw/it/zhe

Age range: Young adult (18-22), but regresses to approx. 16 when stressed

Species: “Destroyer” / Catgirl, may be mechanically based

Personality Snippet: Playfully mischievous, likes to tease, loyal, passably respectful, dependable, takes time to warm up to you, humble but will show off, can be a little hotheaded, tends to be monotone.

Role(s): Confidence Holder (x), Heartbeat (x), Hell-Bent (x), Coach (x), Social Protector (x)

Source: Azure Lane

Gender: Demi-girl, collects mechanical and cat based xenogenders for fun

Orientation: Omniromantic, demisexual

Front Triggers: Boats, battleships, competitions, stressful situations

Faceclaim: (sourced from official art)

Nickname(s): Tasha, Sin, Ken, Kent, Task, Dessie (from Destroyer).

Food: Rice, ice cream (strawberry and/or vanilla bean with chocolate bits), chicken, omlettets, seaweed, baby spinach.

Drink: Water, coconut-flavored drinks, Sprite, tea. If you can get Sonic, she would love an Ocean Water slush, extra ice!

Color: #88A8DE (x)

Game Genre: Team-based combat, occasionally cozy games (zhe would play Stardew Valley, but would min-max it). 

Movie Genre: Action, cheesy horror, actual horror, documentaries.

Song Genre: Video game OSTs, breakcore, cyber, tech-y, fast-paced

Hobbies: Gaming, cardio, stretches, doodling, skipping rocks, possibly swimming

Habits: Absolute ice eater, trains in her games, will try speedruns with varying results

Songs:

The Cyber Grind - meganeko

CONFIG.SYS - MASTERBOOT RECORD

Crescendolls - Daft Punk

Satisfaction - Benny Benassi

Girls - MARINA

Running in the 90’s - Sabrepulse

Gun In My Hand - Dorothy

100% - Angelspit

Soft Bitch - Rio Romeo

Go Hard (La.La.La) - Kreayshawn

Media recs:

Azure Lane, Girls Frontlines, ULTRAKILL, World of Warships, Master of Orion, Minecraft, Geometry Dash, TF2 (Scout main), Sea of Thieves, Borderlands. Basically; violence, naval, fast, or games that can be cozy with a hint of tryhardness.. 

Ken Ashcorp, MARINA, Daft Punk, Video game OSTs, Angelspit

Samurai Pizza Cats, Attack on Titan, Historical documentaries, action movies, Pacific Rim, Scream, Cheesy B movies (Velcipastor).

TQ:

Will add a tilde (~) when paw’s having fun or excited (It’ll be a killer time~!).

Uses ellipsis (...) in typing to transition statements or in-place of where a filler word would be IRL (“There were, uh, three..” -> “There were… three..”). If she is being sweet in jest, she might add a heart at the end of it’s sentence (Could you help me out? <3).

Zhe will often shorten words in typing (“Thanks” -> “Thnx”, “Please” -> “Pls”, etc). Adds dear in front of relationship based words (“Dear friend”, “Dear beloved”, even going as far as “Dear rival”).

":3" ":3c" and ANY variant has her in a grip

Misc: Objectum, special interest in battleships and weaponry! Will have the largest set up for a cat pun that is either so good or so bad that it turns out to be good, and will deny said set-up. Mighhhht crush on her computer tower. Loves plushies but does not want that as public information. Would main Tracer on Overwatch.