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xxblairexxss · 1 year

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Jealousy (part 2)

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Angst / fluff

I tried ending it in 2 parts but failed miserably I’m so sorry 😭 What’s the best remedy for this week’s GP. That’s right. Another angst. Enjoy!

“Where are you going?”

Charles turned around and drew in a breath, his hands were shaking. “I– I need to go and find Y/N, I’ll be right back.” He strode away, sidestepping the invited guests who called out his name and found himself back to the bar that he had seen you earlier.

You were not there.

Fuck. He trod to every corner of the area, ignoring every crowd because he knew you wouldn’t be in any of the groups but still, nowhere in sight.

“Charles!” Ocon came and sauntered closer, resting his hand on the lad’s shoulder.

“Hey.”

“I just saw Y/N. She was walking out through the back entrance if I’m not mistaken so I never thought I would see you in here as, you know, you guys were always together. So–” Ocon had his mouth opened and was going to start on a different topic when Charles made himself scarce, rushing steps towards to the back entrance.

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“Asshole!” You crouched down to pick up the small stones and hurled it towards a random direction. “I hate him!” Another small stone hurled in front of you.

“I can’t believe I’m ruining my makeup for a dick.” Hurled another one.

You were going to throw another small stone when a sound of footstep put your next actions into an abrupt halt.

“Who’s there?”

Your heartbeat went louder and faster, it felt like you could hear every lub and dub outstripped every other sound. A sharp click sound came from your heel as you took a step back. How you wished you were inside of the building with neon lights flashing all over your face than being in here at the moment.

“I’m gonna throw this at you if you don’t come out now! I’m really good at throwing things. Don’t challenge me!” You lifted your arm in the air and shrieked when you were greeted by a man.

“Chill, girl.”

“Who are you?” You muttered, as if you weren’t shouting your throat out few minutes ago.

“I’m a photographer. I take pictures of those rich folks inside.”

You too another step back when you saw him moving another step closer, too close for your liking.

“Sure. I think I’m gonna head back inside.” You said, trying to leave the situation right away.

“Hold up.” He clutched your arm and drew you back, causing you to bump your body against his chest. “I could use a company.”

“But I– I mean– I really need to head back. My boyfriend might be looking for me.” You jerked your hand away from him, the grip he had on you was so tight that you were so sure it would leave a bruise.

“I don’t think he would mind sharing you for a minute.” He trailed his palm across the side slit of your dress, causing the hair on your back to stand up.

“Leave me alone, you creep!” You walked away after pushing him on his chest which made him stumble back as he lost his balance.

“Dang, you are a trouble. Where are you going, sweetheart.” Another yank from him which took you by surprise, causing you to fall on the pavement. The sharp-edged of the small stones piercing through your palm, making you winced in pain.

“I’m gonna scream if you don’t leave me alone. I’m serious.” You scooted backwards, one hand pulling your dress away so your heels wouldn’t step on it as you tried to stand back up.

“Bitch.” He yanked your hair which made you scream as you fell back on the pavement, flinching as the pain on your palm shoot through your body again.

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“Leave my girlfriend alone, son of a bitch.” Was all you heard before you grimaced and turned away, gathering your dress to be on your feet again. You didn’t see clearly happened but whatever it was, it had assuaged the fear you had when you were facing the stranger. It was when you turned back that you saw Charles had his hand on the man’s shirt collar, one hand ready to pound on the face again. The man’s nose was bleeding and you knew right away it was from the first blow Charles had given earlier.

“You are fucking disgusting.”

“She’s a fucking dog. Keep her on a leash if you don’t want me to pound on her.” Charles’s fist had met his face before he could blink and you heard him groaned in pain.

“Say that again and I’m gonna smash your fucking face, bastard.”

“She’s—“ He winced, expecting another rush of pain to come.

“Charles! Stop!” You pulled him back and he ended up letting go of the grip on the shirt. The man immediately scurried away, tumbling on his knees a couple of times before he was gone, leaving you and Charles alone.

“I am so–“

“What is wrong with you, Y/N?!” Charles’s voice was too loud, too harsh that it made your breathing went shallow as you stepped away from him. “I told you to never leave the venue, didn’t I?!”

“I just wanted to get some fresh air.” You were struggling to breathe and let out a series of hiccups while your tears started to continuously fell, wetting your cheeks. “It was suffocating in there.”

“And look what happened to you?!” He bellowed, veins in his forehead popping. You had never seen him this infuriated it made you trembled in your spot. You hated to admit but this was similar, if not, way scarier that what happened earlier.

“Why can’t you just listen to me, Y/N!” Charles yelled again, feeling the blood roaring in his ears. “What if something worse than that happened to you and I wasn’t here? Can you just fucking listen to me for once?! What’s so hard for you to do that? Do I need to be on my fucking knees and beg for you to listen?! I wasn’t even asking for anything, I just asked you stay inside and you promised! You promised me, Y/N! We made a promise.” Charles was tired. He was so, so tired. When he walked out and saw you on the ground with a man who looked like he was salivating over you, he feared of the worst. He couldn’t understand what made you so hard to heed his words, the words and promises he made between both of yo in order to protect you.

You didn’t say anything. You were looking down, your trembling hands went back to fiddle with the ring, the birthday ring. Few of your tears rolled down your cheeks to your chin, down to the pavement. The blood from your palm was seeping through the fingers but it didn’t hurt. The fear had numbed the pain from the wound.

“Get in the car. We are going home.” Charles strode away, leaving you behind and you rushed after him, one hand holding your dress so you wouldn’t trip. You were so glad that you didn’t bump into anyone because you were so sure you looked horrible. Those hours spent in front of the mirror were just a waste of time.

Charles slammed the door as you got into the car but it didn’t shocked you anymore. Your heart was still thumping and you were sobbing in silence along the car ride. The ring you had been twiddling were stained with some of your blood from the cuts but you still, didn’t feel any of the pain. Your wrist was red from the force that the man put on you when he yanked you earlier which you had just realised when you had yours hand on your laps.

Charles had left you, again, once both of you arrived home. When you walked into the apartment, you saw him laying down on the couch and didn’t even bother to spare you a glance as he went on to play with his phone. You went straight to the bathroom to freshen up and finally saw yourself, how you looked all this time in the mirror. You looked dreadful. Your cheeks were red, not from your blush but from all those tears. Your eyeliner is gone. Your mascara was smudged that it made your eyes looked like a pair of panda eyes.

“Waterproof my ass.” You cursed under your breathe and pumped the makeup remover oil onto your palm, the other palm and began smothering it all over your face, wincing once in a while when the oil seeped through your cut and washed it off once all the makeups were melted. You went on to take a shower and changed to an oversized t-shirt with a pair of plaid printed sleep pants.

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Charles had fallen asleep and woke up hours later by a sudden ring of notification coming from his, no, your phone. The one he had snatched away from your hand and forgot to give you back. It was with him this whole time. He groaned, fingers pressing onto his temple from the sudden movement that jolted his awake from his slumber. “Why is it so loud.” He sat up and threw his phone back on the couch, making his way into the master bedroom.

You were asleep, the quilt was draped up to your chest with your hand dangling off the bed. Charles had sat at your side of the bed when he walked in. A picture of you and him flashed up when he placed your phone on the bedside table. A 4 x 6 photo of both of you taken when you accompanied him for Japan Grand Prix.

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flash

“Let’s try that!” Charles was going to devour the baby kasutera cakes when you pulled him by his arm, causing the cake to drop back into the packet.

“Try what, baby?”

“This!” Both of you stopped in front of a baby pink coloured photobox.

“What is this thing?”

“It takes pictures of us! Let’s go in!” You swept away a curtain that was hanging at the small entrance of the photobox, revealing a small seat with a camera lens in front of it along with a screen that looked like some sort of iPad.

Charles listened attentively to your explanation while munching on the mini cakes and quickly placed it away when the machine started counting down to 3 seconds. You hugged him by his neck, taken him by surprise and camera flash went off. “Oh! Another one!” Let’s make a funny face!”

“Funny or ugly face?”

“Both!” The camera flash went off again and started counting back to 3 seconds. Charles went on to grab your chin, facing him as he mouthed the words “I love you”. He saw your radiant smile, the one that instantly lighted up your entire face with joy, making his heart warm as he felt that tingling feeling in his stomach.

“Last one!” You squealed with excitement and his hands went to the side of your face, gently yet firm as he brought his lips to yours. A kiss that was full of tenderness. You felt his fingers tracing a line down to your jawline. The camera flash went off again.

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“Why do you have to be so stubborn.” He heaved a sigh and gently propped your hand on his lap. The cuts on your palm were no longer bleeding but the skin around it was still red.

He had taken a healing cream from the first aid box as soon as he got into the room. He saw your hands were bleeding when he shouted at you earlier. He saw the way you kept playing with your ring in the car on the way home, too scared to do anything, to say anything. He wanted to pull you into a hug, wanted to tell you it was all fine but his heart was hit by a wave of fury whenever the image of the guy, the sight of you on the pavement, the blood, the bruise on your wrist flashed into his mind. He was mad at you, but it was more directed towards himself for allowing that to happen to you and to hear the guy talked down to, the most important girl in his life, like an animal. He softly smeared the cream onto your wound, hand circling on the bruise on your wrist gently and stopped every time he saw you frowned and winced in your sleep.

“I could never forgive myself if something happened to you, precious.” He whispered, feeling a lump in his throat as he blinked away the tears.

“I’m sorry I went too harsh on you.” He brushed the back of his fingers against your soft cheek and pecked on your forehead, leaving your side as he went to freshen up.

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Charles woke up next morning, more like afternoon as the sun seemed to be way brighter for it to be early in the morning. He was stretching his arms with a yawn and turned to the side when he was then greeted by an empty side of the bed.

An empty bed, a handwritten note, and a ring. The birthday ring.

‘I need some space. I’ll be at my parents’ house until then. Please don’t call or text me. Good luck on your upcoming race.’

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✧.* tags! @i83andrew @cltrlne @buendiabebeta @needtokeepfeelingsincheck @ironmaiden1313 @teenagedreams-cl @sheslikeacurse @love4lando @be-your-coffee-pot

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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quotesfrommyreading · 1 year

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Much of the public discussion of Ukraine reveals a tendency to patronize that country and others that escaped Russian rule. As Toomas Ilves, a former president of Estonia, acidly observed, “When I was at university in the mid-1970s, no one referred to Germany as ‘the former Third Reich.’ And yet today, more than 30 years after the fall of the Berlin Wall, we keep on being referred to as ‘former Soviet bloc countries.’” Tropes about Ukrainian corruption abound, not without reason—but one may also legitimately ask why so many members of Congress enter the House or Senate with modest means and leave as multimillionaires, or why the children of U.S. presidents make fortunes off foreign countries, or, for that matter, why building in New York City is so infernally expensive.

The latest, richest example of Western condescension came in a report by German military intelligence that complains that although the Ukrainians are good students in their training courses, they are not following Western doctrine and, worse, are promoting officers on the basis of combat experience rather than theoretical knowledge. Similar, if less cutting, views have leaked out of the Pentagon.

Criticism by the German military of any country’s combat performance may be taken with a grain of salt. After all, the Bundeswehr has not seen serious combat in nearly eight decades. In Afghanistan, Germany was notorious for having considerably fewer than 10 percent of its thousands of in-country troops outside the wire of its forward operating bases at any time. One might further observe that when, long ago, the German army did fight wars, it, too, tended to promote experienced and successful combat leaders, as wartime armies usually do.

American complaints about the pace of Ukraine’s counteroffensive and its failure to achieve rapid breakthroughs are similarly misplaced. The Ukrainians indeed received a diverse array of tanks and armored vehicles, but they have far less mine-clearing equipment than they need. They tried doing it our way—attempting to pierce dense Russian defenses and break out into open territory—and paid a price. After 10 days they decided to take a different approach, more careful and incremental, and better suited to their own capabilities (particularly their precision long-range weapons) and the challenge they faced. That is, by historical standards, fast adaptation. By contrast, the United States Army took a good four years to develop an operational approach to counterinsurgency in Iraq that yielded success in defeating the remnants of the Baathist regime and al-Qaeda-oriented terrorists.

A besetting sin of big militaries, particularly America’s, is to think that their way is either the best way or the only way. As a result of this assumption, the United States builds inferior, mirror-image militaries in smaller allies facing insurgency or external threat. These forces tend to fail because they are unsuited to their environment or simply lack the resources that the U.S. military possesses in plenty. The Vietnamese and, later, the Afghan armies are good examples of this tendency—and Washington’s postwar bad-mouthing of its slaughtered clients, rather than critical self-examination of what it set them up for, is reprehensible.

The Ukrainians are now fighting a slow, patient war in which they are dismantling Russian artillery, ammunition depots, and command posts without weapons such as American ATACMS and German Taurus missiles that would make this sensible approach faster and more effective. They know far more about fighting Russians than anyone in any Western military knows, and they are experiencing a combat environment that no Western military has encountered since World War II. Modesty, never an American strong suit, is in order.

— Western Diplomats Need to Stop Whining About Ukraine

#eliot a. cohen #current events #politics #ukrainian politics #american politics #warfare #strategy #tactics #diplomacy #russo-ukrainian war #2022 russian invasion of ukraine #war in afghanistan #vietnam war #ukraine #usa #toomas hendrik ilves

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orangesaek · 2 years

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phone or video sex with mark please? where he’s been on tour and calls reader when he misses her

hi! thank you so much your request 💚 i hope you see this and tell me if you enjoyed it as much as i made it ♡ this was honestly a bit challenging to write — it's so difficult to keep myself from feeling so turned on by kinky mark 🥹

genre: smut, a little bit of fluff

pairings: mark x female reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mentions of: porn, sex, masturbating, fingering, cum, kinky stuff, cussing, horny couple lol

a/n: lowercase intended, slightly proofread. also, i'm not adding "fluff" in the tags since this is 98% smut lol

⚠️ MINORS, PLEASE SCROLL AWAY! ⚠️

mark kept tossing and turning in his hotel bed, feeling quite relieved that he and jaehyun were sleeping on separate beds. otherwise, he would have definitely woken the latter up already from his restlessness.

it had already been 2 weeks since the group started their world tour, and they still have a few stops left for the month.

and that means it had already been 2 weeks since the last time you and mark had sex, which also means that he hasn't touched himself since then.

mark never thought he would become addicted to sex until the two of you started dating.

you were just so amazing in bed to the point he stopped relying on porn to jack off, and just imagines fucking the life out of you to do the trick.

he was just blankly staring at the ceiling before he raised his left arm to check the time on his watch. mark heaved a deep sigh after realizing that he only had a few hours left to sleep before they need to wake up for the rehearsals.

"she might be in the middle of work right now..." he mumbled to himself, staring at the ceiling again. this was definitely one of those nights he missed your touch the most.

ever since the two of you started dating, mark has come to love the kinkier side of sex. sure, he enjoyed the slow, more intimate kind, but he has come to enjoy the hard fucks more, bdsm, the quickies, and a lot more — all because of you.

mark dimmed the table lamp and grabbed his phone from the bedside, thinking he could just watch porn at this point instead of disturbing you at work.

he looked over at jaehyun, whose back was facing him before opening his phone's browser in incognito and typed in his favorite go-to porn site. mark heaved another sigh after scrolling through pages of videos, trying to find something to jack off to but failing. nothing really caught his eye enough to get a boner.

mark closed his browser and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. thinking naughty things about you might help him get off, but it had been 2 weeks since he has seen and touched your body that he just felt the absolute need to actually see it again.

"i guess i can try..." he quietly said to himself again before opening your chat thread and quickly sending a 'hey sexy. i miss you sooo so bad :('.

mark closed his eyes, phone held tightly on his chest as he anxiously waited for your reply.

not even a minute later, a buzz on his phone signalled a new text. mark hastily opened the notification before smiling to himself, biting his lower lip in the process.

"hey pretty boy ;) i miss you, too :* but why are you still up?" you replied before sending a follow-up message, "isn't it, like, 2 a.m. over there?"

"yeah, can't sleep, baby :( i wish you were here :(" mark replied almost immediately, a follow-up message coming right after, "are you busy at work right now?"

a smirk fell on your lips after reading mark's follow-up message. you definitely knew what he wanted at that moment, as it wasn't the first time he has texted you like this when he was on tour (and when he was supposed to be sleeping).

mark's heart started beating faster in excitement after reading your reply, "i got you, baby ;* will call you in 10 minutes 👅"

he jumped out of his bed and dashed to the bathroom, quickly locking the door and making his way to the large bathtub. he got inside it and patiently waited for your call.

after sending your reply, you excused yourself from the ongoing seminar, informing your manager that you just had a really bad stomachache and will be heading to the infirmary for some medicine.

of course, that was all a lie.

as soon as you stepped out of the conference room, you ran as fast as you could to the elevator and went down to the parking lot. you got into the back seat of your car, quickly stripping off your clothes and your underwear.

the frequent car sex you had with mark was the reason why you have decided to invest in a really good dark tint for your car.

"hey, pretty boy," you greeted on the other line as soon as he picked up, voice already sounding so seductive for him. he bit his lower lip in a smirk and chuckled lowly, feeling the tingling sensation down his cock.

"hi, sexy." he said. "how are you?"

"not really feeling all too well... i want to see you,"

mark quickly requested for a video call with you, fixing his hair a little bit as he waited for you to accept it.

you quickly secured your phone on your car's phone holder before accepting his video call request.

"holy shit!" mark blurted in surprise as soon as you came into view. you were seated at the backseat, completely naked.

"you like what you see, baby?" you purred, cupping one of your breasts in one hand before playing with your nipple and dangling both of your legs on the sides of the seats infront, allowing mark to see the thing he's been craving for the past 2 weeks — your pussy.

mark could only gulp in response, feeling his boner growing by the second.

"let me see you, babe." you said, letting out a quiet moan as you used your free hand to lightly massage your clit.

"m-mark... baby..." you moaned in pleasure. "feels so... good..."

"fuck," mark grunted, positioning his phone in front of him and letting it lean on the bathroom tiles for support. he then shimmied out of his boxers in a hurry, with his hard cock springing out in full view.

you let out a gasp at the view of his big, hard cock. oh how you've missed it so much.

"fuck, baby. i want to suck your cock so bad right now," you moaned, still touching your now-wet pussy.

"oh yeah?" mark said, lips slightly parted as he started pumping his cock slowly, his eyes focused on your body. "i miss seeing you choke on my cock, baby."

"f-fuck," you moaned some more, turned on by the memory of deepthroating mark and how he would hold onto your hair to fuck your mouth until he cums.

"suck your nipple for me, angel." mark said. he let out a moan, increasing his pace as soon as you cupped your other breast higher and brought it to your mouth, licking and sucking on your nipple.

"fuck," he growls. "you're so hot."

you stopped playing with your nipple and used both of your hands to part the lips of your pussy, letting mark see its pink flesh. mark moaned again in pleasure, remembering how he'd hungrily eat it and how addicting its taste was for him.

"two... fingers..." mark said breathlessly as he pumped even faster, his eyes focused hazily on your pussy.

you adjusted yourself for mark to get a better view of you before placing two fingers on your clit, lightly massaging it, and the other two at the entrance.

"lift your shirt, baby. i want to see your nipples," you said, biting your bottom lip at the pleasure from your clit. hearing mark moan whenever you'd lick, suck and softly bite on his nipples was one of the things that turned you on, and for mark, it was one of things he never thought he would find so hot for a girl to do.

mark took off his shirt and threw it somewhere in the bathroom before spitting in his hand and pumping his hard cock again. you licked your lips at the sight of mark's fully naked body.

still massaging your clit, you licked your other hand's middle and ring finger and sucked on them seductively, moaning in the process.

"ahhh, fuck," mark groaned as his head lolled back in pleasure.

you let out a long moan as soon as you inserted your fingers into your pussy, slowly pumping it in and out, and massaging your clit at the same time.

"fuck, fuck," mark hissed, pumping faster, eyes rolling at the back of his head.

"hmm," you moaned, feeling so turned on by mark's reaction. you pumped your fingers in and out faster, now aggressively rubbing your clit.

"babe... your c-cock..." you said in between breaths, feeling your juice dripping. "want... it..."

"fuck, babe..." mark let out another groan, feeling another tingling sensation in his cock. "i-i'm g-gonna... cum..."

having been with mark for a while now, you have come to learn the things that drove him crazy in bed. and one of those things is when you would suck on your nipple as you fingered your pussy, which was exactly what you did at that moment.

"shit, i'm cumm—fuck!" mark grunted as he pumped even faster, his head lolled back again and eyes closed tigtly as he heard you moaning loudly on the call.

"m-mark... fuck, i'm cumming!" you said, your own eyes closed as you quickened your pace and pinched your nipple hard, the sensation driving you crazy.

"fuckfuckfuckfuc—shit!" mark hissed when he finally reached his high, his cum dripping all over his beaten cock. he heard you moaning quietly and chuckled tiredly.

"did you cum, babe?" he asked, panting. you could only hum in response, still catching your breath.

"i love you so much, baby," he said. "i love you, and i miss you so much."

you chuckled in response before giving him a tired smile, "i love you, too, mark. so, so much. and i miss you."

after catching up for a bit (while quickly putting on your clothes again and fixing yourself, mark did the same and cleaned the tub), the two of you ended the call with a promise from mark that he'll take you out on a fun date once he comes home from tour.

mark jumped up in suprise as soon as he opened the door to the bathroom, his face drained of color.

"i just hope there's no residue on the tub, bro." jaehyun said as he patted mark's shoulder with a knowing grin on his face before walking past him into the bathroom.

- end.

requests are OPEN! feel free to send in an ask ♡

oh, and HAPPY NEW YEAR! i wish for whatever everyone's been manifesting to fall into place this year ✨️

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oneforblu · 2 months

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oikawa tooru: facing a world of geniuses

i always wanted to write my thoughts about oikawa and i thought it would be perfect to do it in time for his 30th birthday!!!! he's one of my favorite characters ever and is exceptionally well-written. the main idea behind this post is that despite oikawa being skilled, he had to face the realization that there are players who are leagues above him. however, even when oikawa felt lost, he never gave up on his dreams. oikawa tooru was a player in a world full of geniuses and made it to the top of the world despite the challenges.

of course, we have to start with oikawa's ICONIC introduction! "the Great King". before we get into his story, we know he's an incredible player and kageyama's senpai. from the beginning, oikawa is a threat. he is introduced with his fangirls screaming, seeming "superficial," and very confident in himself. compared to the other characters we've seen in haikyuu, at this point, there was no one like him. it was obvious he was a fantastic player. however, we don't see his skills until the game between karasuno and aoba johsai.

it's such a simple phrase, but before every game, without fail, oikawa tells his team that he has faith in them, and in return, his team believes in him. unlike the setters we've met, oikawa is truly one of his own. he is known for his amazing skill and leadership and has been respected and praised; it's apparent that oikawa is leagues above many others. he is also able to bring out the best in his players. with oikawa as your setter, you have someone who will understand your strengths and weaknesses and give you the tosses you need to succeed. however, skill alone isn't enough for oikawa.

"it becomes clear that oikawa, while skilled, is not a natural"

despite being an amazing setter who has the ability to bring out 100% in every teammate, knows the ins and outs of his team, and is incredibly skilled, oikawa is not a genius. compared to ushijima and kageyama, oikawa is not a natural-born prodigy. this is when we are introduced to oikawa's inner conflict. no matter how great he is, the amount of time he spends dedicating himself to his craft, the long nights practicing by himself won't be able to make up for what a "genius" has to offer.

in middle school, oikawa's frustration hit an all-time high. after seeing the difference in skill between himself and ushijima, he is now on the same team as a young kageyama. he sees the difference in skill at every practice, watching kageyama learn a new skill in one day that took oikawa ages. it's clear that oikawa, who was praised for being incredibly skilled, is now face to face with a whole new world far from his reach.

oikawa finally snaps in this scene with young kageyama. all the thoughts and insecurities he has had to deal with, the unbearable fact that there may always be a gap between him and a select few, has been weighing on him for so long.

imagine you are praised for being so skilled, and here comes someone new who is not only catching up to you but has the potential to exceed you?

i think what makes oikawa so interesting is how relatable he can be to many people, including myself. there were times when i was praised for being talented, for getting great grades, and for doing something good, and then someone new came along who did everything I could do but even better. every person faces the frustration of seeing someone grow at a faster rate than you are. it doesn't necessarily come from a malicious place, but the thought of someone taking your spot and performing better than you ever could is painful to accept.

however, iwaizumi reminds oikawa that it isn't just him on the team. there are always six players on that court. oikawa uses this lesson to push forward, deciding that no matter what it takes, he will take his team to the finals.

although oikawa has moments where his insecurities run wild, he is one of the best players in haikyuu. from his killer serves, his incredible fast-paced thinking, his technique, and his ability to bring the best out of every single player. he can do it all.

however, all of this isn't enough against the second game between karasuno.

this conversation oikawa has with his idol, jose blanco, is not only fundamental to oikawa as a character but also a real-life lesson for many of us.

the reason why this conversation is shown at this moment is because kageyama makes a toss that causes karasuno to have their set and game point. while the members of aoba johsai wish they had some of kageyama's skill or some of his "guts," oikawa goes back to what jose blanco tells him.

you can wish you had someone's skill, talent, and smarts, but that idea will only be detrimental to your growth. while oikawa has always made it clear he detests geniuses, not once has he stopped and given up. he continues down this challenging path with his goal in sight with no intentions of ever walking away from volleyball.

accepting that there is more for you to do and that you haven't done everything you can to grow may be difficult for many, but once you make peace with that fact, there is a world of opportunity.

after this flashback, oikawa comes to the conclusion that everyone could have their talent bloom whether it be tomorrow, the day after, or when you're 30, but it won't ever happen if you don't believe in yourself. if you let yourself stay stuck in the idea that "so and so is better than me, i can't do it," you will never fully unlock your potential.

“talent is something you make bloom, instinct is something you polish”

there are many interpretations of this line, but i believe it means that talent will only show if you're willing to allow yourself to grow. the instincts that make you a better player will only happen through your sheer will and dedication.

oikawa has given so much of his time, energy, blood, sweat, and tears to volleyball in hopes of someday going to nationals. unfortunately, his goal never did come true, but this would only be the start of his amazing journey.

"nothing is over yet. not my volleyball career...or my "petty pride." never forget that."

it's one of the most memorable lines of the manga and one of my favorites. ushijima believes oikawa would have succeeded if he never went to aoba johsai, that because of his pride, oikawa never set foot at nationals.

however, none of that is true. oikawa made all the decisions because he believed they were best. he stayed at aoba johsai because he believed in his team. of course, there were many opportunities someone as skilled as oikawa could have taken, but he didn't, and he's more than okay with that

he isn't going to let anyone tell him that the choices he made were wrong. he won't let the realization of never making it to nationals tear him down. not only is oikawa a remarkable player physically, but his mental strength is something else entirely.

although pride is sometimes seen as something negative, oikawa's pride in himself drives him forward. his belief in his team, his dreams, and his own future or what makes him who he is. he isn't someone who will let others' thoughts and feelings sway him. oikawa will do what he believes is best for himself, and if that path is not the one to nationals, he can accept that.

oikawa will never give up on his dream no matter how many obstacles stand in his way. It doesn't matter if it's a team full of geniuses, a difficult teammate to work with, or his own insecurities; oikawa will never give up until he makes his mark on the world.

oikawa tooru in brazil has to be one of my favorite moments in the entire manga.

after not seeing him for so long, we finally see oikawa thriving in brazil with his teammates. now, he is playing for the argentina league as their setter, and all of his efforts to become a pro proved to be worth it.

seeing oikawa in the timeskip full of confidence and succeeding in his career made me so emotional. I relate to him in many ways, and to see someone succeed in such a remarkable way despite the challenges is extremely motivating.

oikawa moved across the world, leaving his friends and family behind in hopes of making his dreams come true. it was more than difficult, having to power through every obstacle with sheer willpower and skill. even though oikawa went through so many hardships, he loved the sport.

volleyball is something oikawa has loved since he was young. spending hours watching his idols play, learning how to play himself, and falling in love with being a setter. volleyball is everything to oikawa.

i think what makes oikawa's journey so impactful is that we see someone who presents himself to be full of confidence have his own insecurities and struggles, but he never let any of that stop him from giving up on volleyball.

seeing him in brazil, happy and thriving makes me so happy. the flashback to him as a kid, smiling and full of amazement, and then cutting back to him as an adult makes me so emotional.

oikawa's last words to hinata in brazil are a testament to his character.

what i love about this panel is that oikawa is telling us that he will beat everyone. he reminds us that we haven't seen the last of him yet.

oikawa tooru has been working for so long with the desire to beat every and anyone. he could have let himself stay with the same ideology he had in middle school, where he would never be able to be equal to a genius, and let that thought destroy him. but oikawa never gave up. he worked hard every day, honing his skills and growing as an individual to have this moment.

it is unbelievable that Oikawa, who was always full of immense talent and determination, is now at an entirely different level.

oikawa tooru may not be a genius, but he made his way to the olympics despite that.

this is the perfect ending for a character like oikawa. someone who, from the beginning, had a strong desire to defeat everyone and now steps onto the court where the world can see him at his best.

although it's never specifically stated who wins, i will always believe that oikawa tooru, took the world by storm and won the olympic gold. the man who wasn't a genius made it to the top of the game.

it makes me so happy to see him work so hard and have it all payoff. not only is the journey to becoming a professional player difficult, but as someone who had a hard time accepting his limitations, oikawa made his way to the world stage.

UPDATE:

there are colored versions of the manga going around, so I just HAD to add this iconic oikawa scene to this post.

I'm so proud of him.

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

reading and watching his journey is such a beautiful experience. oikawa is such a fantastic character who's so authentic and entertaining. he'll always be a character i can relate to and see as motivation.

i hope this was a fun/interesting read!! i always wanted to write something about oikawa so this was very fun for me to do. he's a character i will always love, and i hope this post showed how great of a character he is!

#oikawa tooru #hq oikawa #happy birthday oikawa #haikyuu manga #haikyuu #i love oikawa #i can't believe he's 30 #yahoo~#oikawa #oikawa tooru is not a genius #my meta

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aylish91 · 1 year

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Mafia! Nightmare x Reader?

After being cursed to never sit down, and a long wait, we finally get to see a bit of the man himself! Hope you enjoy!

~ ~ ~

When Challengers Fall

“W h a t...”

The phone creaked dangerously within a black skeletal hand, body unnaturally still in its seat at the desk. Even Killer stilled from the sudden change in his boss. Though he thought he’d seen it all, something much more sinister began brooding within the Don. It had him on edge. Whatever this was, it wasn’t like the rage or anger that normally occurred in this line of work. This, was something else completely.

It caused sweat to bead on his skull with dread.

Kingpin Lord Don Nightmare had more than earned the moniker after becoming the undisputed head of the mafia currently in and around Ebbot City. Though he was far from allies with the other factions, his reach was far and hold strong.

A true king of the Underground. Unyielding and unmovable.

Something, was very wrong.

In eerie calmness, the phone was placed back onto the receiver. Then with a slow breath and a steepling of fingers, the dark lord opened his one good socket to a blazing and sharp eyelight.

“Contact Error. I wish to make a d e a l.”

~ ~ ~

You had to grit your teeth against the stings and aches as you were half dragged through multiple rooms and hallways into a more secluded part of the building. Multiple men followed behind while more ran ahead to unlock any door that got in your way. Dark hair did little to hide the furious brown eyes of your tormentor as you went, the fresh cut across his cheek and ear making you uncomfortable.

You were still bound when he came for you, chaos already spreading throughout the building. You hoped it was help. Prayed it was salvation and not a rise before a fall. The only thing going for you at the moment was the fact you hadn’t been outright killed as soon as he showed up.

But things could always change.

An explosion somewhere behind you had a few men cursing, plumes of smoke billowing down multiple hallways. Manic glitched laughter could be heard over muffled panicked screams. It made your group move faster. With only a few more turns to make it to a recessed keypad that opened a hidden elevator, the laughter growing unsettlingly close as everyone attempted to fit inside the small space. It wasn’t much longer that you arrived at an underground garage.

The grip on your upper arm tightened.

It was quiet, a single light the only thing keeping the darkness at bay. You were surprised to see several bodies littering what little you could see of the area, some disappearing within the shadows.

Slowly, the first few exited, guns drawn and ready.

“I’m curious. Did you really think I would roll over so easily?”

The familiar voice had your hope rising in your chest, unshed tears threatening to fall as you thrashed against your restraints and called out. During your struggle, you ended up between the open doors, forced to your knees by your hair with a gun to your head. Tensions were high as your captor cursed you and gave your head a firm shake.

“I’m getting tired of these games, Nightmare! All you had to do was give me what I wanted! Now I’m tempted to put a nice pretty hole in your little sunshine’s head. Your parlor tricks don’t affect me!”

Nightmare’s reverberating growl echoed through the garage as the darkness around the light shifted. “Damn fool. You have failed to account for a great many things, Reed. I didn’t get this far by giving orders from the safety of closed doors, nor listening to whelps like you!”

Everything moved at once.

Nightmare formed from the void, fur-trimmed overcoat elegantly slipping from his shoulders as black sharpened tentacles sprang from his back. His once gentle and saccharine smile was now sharp and contorted, almost crazed as he bore his teeth in anger. His eyelight was the brightest you’d ever seen. Dust had appeared from the right, a volley of sharpened bones already formed with his raised gun, Axe charging from the left.

Just as bullets, magic, and tentacles converged, the light shattered.

The doors closed.

Only a couple of other men remained inside with you, frantically trying to get the buttons to work. Reed pushed you over to slam a fist against the doors in his rage. Turning back to you, a sick expression of glee formed on his face as he raised his gun, only stopping when the elevator shook with a bang.

“Surprise!”

The upper panel flew open as blue strings snaked in, Killer effortlessly sliding down while simultaneously kicking one man in the face and then stabbing the other in the chest. He was fast, making short work of the two stragglers before turning his attention to Reed. Dodging a round, he pushed forward to use his shoulder to slam him into the far wall, effectively disarming the man. You maneuvered yourself as best you could out of the way while Killer leveled a gun back at Reed's chest.

With a smug grin and a snap of his fingers, the doors to the elevator opened, grin ticking higher at the sight of his freshly stained boss patiently waiting just outside. “Unfortunate really. I won’t be able to finish the job. Seems the Boss wants a word.”

Reed wasn’t even able to retort before black tendrils wrapped around his neck and body, dragging him out and squeezing. Admiring the struggling figure dangling above the floor, he waved a hand at the others.

“Watch over them. I have business to attend to. I think it's time to show the others what awaits them If they DARE touch what’s M I N E.”

…

Tainted but safe arms took you home and away from that hell.

...

You weren’t allowed to watch or read the news for a month. You figured you didn’t need to know about it anyway.

Grandmaster Post Mafia Master

#writing requests #my writing #mafia nightmare #nightmare sans #mafiatale #mobtale #nightmare #nightmare sans x reader #nightmare x reader #mafia! nightmare x reader #x reader #killer sans #dust sans #horrortale sans #bad sans gang #undertale #undertale au #error sans? is that you up there?

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psychelis-new · 1 year

Text

pick a pile: "Yes or No?"

take a breath and think about a question of any type; then choose the photo/number that calls you the most to read your answer.

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life.

(photos found on unsplash)

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

1 2 3 4 5 6 - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 1

answer: maybe You may have a goal or wish of sorts but it's like you're finding many impedimentson your road (or you're looking at other roads/possible shortcuts to get "faster" where you want: the fact is that, usually there are not shortcuts). Take some time for yourself, breathe, regain control, and go back on the road your guts/intuition are suggesting you. That is the only road that will take you where you want. Don't let emotions control you, use them (and what you have) at your advantage.

song: unplayed piano (instrumental) | damien rice, lisa hannigan

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 2

answer: yes It is time to stand up for yourself. To put things into perspective, to change your pov. To let go of the past that was blocking you. To move forward and take your decision for yourself. To stop worrying and letting the past (even your past behaviours) stop you or make you think about the worst. Now it's time for things, for you, to change. To move towards your dreams, to not let your fears sabotage you. You're doing it all right, take a breathe and keep going. Never look back, unless it's to look at the experience you gained and act accordingly.

song: happily ever after | case

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 3

answer: yes! Your question may be love related (for some: yes they are the one). Whatever it is, let your intuition guide you. If you need to follow a specific dream, just do that, whatever the outcome will be, it will be good. You've done the work, now it's time to challenge your fears, to try new things without fearing messing up or "failing", to treat yourself and receive (drink water btw). Universe wants to gift you something, stay ready. Oh and yes, you can gift yourself that thing (book, ticket, purse, tarot deck?...) you want. You deserve it.

song: my universe | coldplay, bts

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 4

answer: no Fox may be an omen/sign or you may be dreaming them. There's something you're not paying attention to or not listening at. You need to change that, to change an approach to something to receive a yes. It's like you've turned off your intuition atm. Maybe things are a bit overwhelming or stressing... it's okay, take a break, find your balance. It's okay if it's a new balance and it takes time: it happens after we go through big storms, we need to readapt, reconnect, to know our new self. Just realize it is a momentary thing. All is good, and good things are coming too (especially friends/lovers), don't worry. Have no fear.

song: dream a little dream of me | the mamas and the papas

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 5

answer: yes Smile. Talk. (Focus on mouth). Stop and think if it's really you talking or it is your wounded ego trying to block you through fears. It's time for a new change after all the ups and downs. Think different: you've seen both worlds, so you know which can apply to you the most. It's time to let go of what others want you to think, it's time to be your own person. Calm/slow and steady, to win the race.

song: relight my fire | take that, lulu

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 6

answer: no You may be getting signs already: for a new start to happen, you need to close an old chapter first. Stressing over something that cannot happen because you're unconsciously blocking it (staying connected from something in the past), wouldn't bring anythig different than what you have atm. I think you already know it, so take the right type of action. Take a breath, and let go. Even if it hurts. It will hurt more if you keep yourself there for no reason. New people coming in or a celebration of sort ahead!

song: pulse | the venice connection

#pac #divination #yes or no #pick a pile reading #pick a pile #pick a card #pick a photo #pick a picture #pick a card tarot #free tarot reading #tarots #tarot readings #tarot reading #clairs readings #psychic readings #intuitive readings #intuitive #tarotblr

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starcrossedslytherin · 1 year

Text

The Little Puffskein

Ominis Gaunt x reader

WC: 1.8K

A/N: Let me know what you guys think or if you want more! I’m open to ideas for other fics!

Summary: To cheer you up after you lost your Puffskein, Ominis decides to get you another one.

---

Poppy sweeting didn’t know what to do.

It wasn’t often she found herself hidden behind a tree watching Ominis Gaunt try- and ultimately fail- at catching any kind of magical beast. She hasn’t spoken to the boy much since she has come to hogwarts, although she heard about him plenty.

Poppy was close with you, outside of her beasts, she considers you one of her closest friends, and you consider her the same. Along with that friendship comes the privilege of hearing all about your crush on Ominis. Poppy doesn’t mind hearing about it, in fact, it’s nice to hear that Ominis Gaunt isn’t as terrifying as everyone else paints him.

He was trying to catch a Puffskein and Poppy stifles her laugh as the third puffskein rolled away after Ominis has to put his wand down to catch it. She knew it wasn’t trying to get away from him, it just thought they were playing.

Ominis let’s out a huff of annoyance before freezing at the sound of what could only be someone giggling at him. He tenses and Poppy slaps a hand over her mouth, suddenly terrified of the idea of Ominis catching her. He raises his wand, pointing it all around him and she can see the red on the tip of the wand blink faster in her direction. He's facing her, his wand pointed directly at her.

Ominis sighs and lets his wand slip gently. There is only one person he's heard of at this school fascinated with catching beasts, and he knows it can't be you as you've told him you were spending the day completing Imelda's flying challenges. "I know you're there, Poppy Sweeting."

Poppy knew her face was no doubt as white as a ghost but if she could return a dragon egg to an actual dragon, she can face being caught by a classmate. She clears her throat, letting Ominis know he was correct in his guess and steps forward through the bushes in front of her.

“Would you like some help?” She finally offers. Ominis stays quiet for a moment, but he knows he’d appreciate any help he could get at the moment.

“Yes.” He sighs, letting his chin fall. “Thank you.”

Poppy doesn’t say anything back but she smiles wide as she joins his side, looking over all the adorable creatures in front of the two of them.

“Were you hoping to get a certain color?” Poppy asks, a bit unsure if she should be asking a blind person about the color of a Puffskein.

Ominis was about to shake his head, happy with any color until he realizes he doesn’t need to be okay with just any color. Instead, he quickly blurts out your favorite color of Puffskein. His cheeks redden at his suddenness. “If you can find one of that color.”

Poppy smiles to herself as a Puffskein that was perfect rolls by not far in front of her, the only one of that color. “Wait here,” she says to Ominis, “I see the perfect one!”

Ominis can feel Poppy’s happiness radiating next to him before she skips away, chasing after the Puffskein. He can hear her sigh for a moment and he supposes she’s had a bit of a struggle like he did. “If you don’t mind me asking,” Poppy calls out from behind Ominis and he turns slightly, “why are you looking for a Puffskein? I’ve never seen you take an interest in them before.”

Ominis nods. “They are adorable, are they not?”

Poppy giggles again as she finally manages to grab the Puffskein. “They absolutely are!” She knows Ominis hasn’t answered her question, she was a bit concerned she shouldn’t have asked it.

“It’s not me who has an interest in them.” Poppy looks up at him, staring briefly at his clouded eyes before back at the Puffskien, slowly putting together why he wanted this color.

“It’s for Y/N?” Ominis nods and his cheeks turn a light red. Poppy can’t hold back her smile. “You’re giving her a Puffskein? That’s so cute!”

Ominis’ cheeks darken further. “That’s not- It’s just-“ he wasn’t sure what to say as he shakes his head, “she told me yesterday how a Puffskein managed to fall out of her bag while she wasn’t paying attention. She was upset about it, so I thought this would cheer her up. She always loves getting new beasts to care for.”

Poppy’s excited smile slowly turns into a soft one, imagining the look on your face when you see the little furry guy. “She’ll love it.” Poppy assures him and placed her hand on Ominis’ arm. Ominis’ lips upturn at Poppy’s reassurance.

“Thank you for helping me.” Ominis says as he reaches out for the Puffskein. Poppy lets him take it and immediately the Puffskein snuggles into Ominis’ arms, looking up at him with what Poppy can only describe as adoration. She’s seen that look on your face quite a few times when you look at him.

She quietly giggles at her last thought before Ominis was on his way back to the castle. Poppy decides to rescue as many Puffskeins here as she can, hating the thought of leaving them.

---

There was a frown on your face as you finally get back to the castle after completing Imelda’s races. It was nice to finally befriend the girl and beat her times, but you were exhausted. Half of you wants to head to your bed and not wake back up for a few days, but the other half of you knows you have a few things you need to take care of in the Room of Requirement first.

You tried to find Ominis on the way there, but you hadn’t seen him, something that only managed to make you feel worse. He always had a way of cheering you up, or at least offering you a hug, and you could never pass those up.

Your feet drag as you walk into the Room of Requirement, tossing your bag on the chairs you keep by the door before falling into an empty one. Despite wanting to sleep in your nice comfy bed, you couldn’t stop your eyes from drifting close as you start to fall asleep.

The only thing that stops you was the feeling of a furry round something jumping onto your lap. “What the…” you whisper before looking down, staring into a pair of the cutest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Oh, where did you go now?” Ominis groans as he holds his wand out, coming up from the stairs to your potion room. He was frowning, his brows drawn together and you couldn’t help the little laugh you let out at seeing him.

“Loose something?” You catch him off guard. Ominis stops, turning in the direction of your voice until his wand lets him know he has found exactly what he has been searching the room for in your arms. His cheeks redden.

“Y/N,” he says quietly, not exactly sure what to say now that you were here holding the Puffskein. You look between him and the puffskein, a smile on your face. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Ominis is frowning as you finally focus on him. You chuckle, coming closer to him until you can place your hand on his shoulder. “It was a surprise, I didn’t even know you had an interest in beasts.”

Ominis’ frown turns up a little as he plays with his fingers in front of him. “It’s for you.”

Your heart skips a beat. “What?”

Ominis grins sheepishly, unable to stop himself. “You said your puffskein got lost. I know I can’t just get you another puffskein to replace him, but I thought this one could at least cheer you up a bit.”

You are so happy he can’t see how flustered you were at the idea of Ominis rescuing a puffskein for you to cheer you up. You didn't know what to say. You were so distraught when your little puffskein went missing yesterday when you weren't paying attention. You went out looking for him, but you weren't sure where you lost him. You were running around quite a bit yesterday. Feeling happy tears prickling in the corners of your eyes, you shake your head to keep them at bay and look down at the furry beast. "That's too kind. You didn't have to-" your words end abruptly as you catch sight of something on the beast. “Ominis, out of curiousity, where did you find this little guy?”

Ominis was confused by your question before thinking back on where he was. “Oh, just on the way to Hogsmeade. There was a den of them, Poppy helped me collect this him." He reaches out slowly before finding the Puffskein and ruffling his fur. "Why do you ask?”

You are quiet for a bit and Ominis was concerned you had some sort of problem with the cute beast until you let out a quick laugh of relief. “Because this is my puffskein I lost!”

Well, that surprised him. He couldn't tell by looks that this puffskein was the same, but he will admit that this puffskein has been a bit more cuddly than other puffskeins he's just met. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! Here, feel this?" You take his hand, gently moving it around the puffskein. "The little bald spot it got when he was chasing us in the vivarium?”

“Oh my!” Ominis' heart was racing at the thought of finding your exact puffskein, but also your hand was still firmly grasping his in your excitement. He couldn't stop smiling.

“You found him! Ominis Gaunt, I could kiss you!” Before you even have a moment to regret the words that you let tumble from your mouth, a pair of lips meet your own. Your eyes close as you melt against Ominis. Your puffskein jumps out of your hands and into the chair and Ominis uses his leave to pull you closer. One of his hands find your waist as the other cups the side of your face, his fingers rest on the back of your neck as his thumb finds your cheek, gently dancing across your skin. You throw your arms over his shoulders as he deepens the kiss, putting all the feelings he’s built up for the last months into his touch.

Neither of you truly want to separate after the kiss and you settle with resting your foreheads against each other. You smile as Ominis’ hand moves to tuck a stand of your hair behind your ear, using the movement to steal one more chaste kiss from you. You giggle into the kiss, letting the sound be muffled by your lips meeting his only briefly.

“I’m sorry-“ Ominis begins to say but before he can even think about finishing his sentence, you cut him off with another kiss.

“Do not be sorry for anything, Ominis Gaunt.” You whisper, watching his lips quirk up and his cheeks flood with pink. “I quite enjoyed it.”

“So, you wouldn’t mind if I did it again?”

You smile, cupping his face and trailing your thumb softly over his lip to his check. “I hope you never stop.”

•

Hope you liked it! Let me know by commenting and reblogging? 🥰

#ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt imagine #Ominis gaunt fanfiction #Ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy imagine #Ominis gaunt x fem!reader

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cyanide-latte · 2 months

Text

So after Book 6 left me completely and utterly devastated and a crying wreck in my bedroom, I've finally started Book 7 of Twisted Wonderland and I figured I'd just do a basic drop of my thoughts so far. I'm keeping them under a "read more" cut and I'll also tag this post as having spoilers (even though it's not really the more recent spoilers) just to be safe and considerate.

Beyond that though, my thoughts aren't going to have a filter so please take this with a grain of salt. (I'll mention at the end where I've stopped for now in the plot, so please don't spoil past that point for me if you reply to or reblog this post. I really really don't want spoilers.)

Got it? Good. Here we go.

- Exasperation and loathing, thy form is Michael Mouse, I viciously beseech thee to get out of my house

- we need more of the freshmen just interacting with one another in general

- Rook wanting to take an internship in archeology make so much sense for him. "I'm not a patient person but this will challenge that" BRO, SAME.

- Idia just interning at Google basically

- Lilia like "btw I need to drop out of school, gonna throw a party later before I leave, kthnxbai"

- all of the characters doing impersonations in this book is a DELIGHT

- "I declare the mopefest official over!" Spoken like a man who bottles his stronger emotions up out of fear of having to face them, Ace

- Fucking love the meta commentary

- Idia "I'm not going to some farewell party for a junior I barely know because I need to actually mourn losing contact with an internet friend who ghosted me and I'm despairing the possibility I could ever possibly make a friend again" Shroud is too fucking real, he's relatable honestly

Malleus: here's my lil sob story abt the time I threw a tantrum so bad I almost froze an entire castle of people to death. Lilia made it all better but gave me a stern talking-to I've never forgotten.

Me: why do I feel like you learned nothing.

Also Malleus not long after: because I took your words to heart Lilia I've been looking for a solution to this problem, and Silver and the Ramshackle prefect with their random venting to me gave me the perfect idea, so I'm going to trap THE ENTIRE ISLAND in stasis sleep so NOBODY CAN EVER LEAVE ME AGAIN a good hoard knows to stay put for the dragon who owns it haha you'll all be fine, dw about it, I've got everything under control

Me: so you learned nothing.

- Malleus has no rights, he needs to be sent to the Time-Out Corner

- I also love that that Malmal fight loads up with an infinity symbol because it's like oh lol yeah, infinite-turn battle but then you see Malleus's fucking 300K HP bar and I was instantly like "hmmmm I think you're lying" and then his regen heals for like 60K damage each turn and he casts fire damage immunity on himself and I was like "mmhmm I knew you were lying to me"

- I demanded Mickey get the fuck out of my house so of course naturally the game decides to be cheeky and put me the fuck in his instead

- no but why the fuck is he here. I'm so fucking annoyed

- WE DON'T NEED MICKEY.

- I get it, I get why he's here but he really doesn't need to be. Disney you CAN in fact make a fucking video game without shoehorning the damn mouse into it. The Hidden Mickeys in various backgrounds were fine, we didn't need more than that.

- for the record, I've been pissed off about this since it started happening books ago, but I remain aggravated by Mickey just being shoved into this.

- I love that Silver shows up to bail MC and Grim's collective ass out of danger and then meanwhile you've got Ortho like "I've seen dial-up faster than this shit, what the FUCK bro, I expected better of you, logging this in my database as an Epic Fail."

- but also ORTHO MY CHILD. BE FREE. YOU GOT THIS.

- The Shroud parents are EXACTLY how I imagined. They're everything I wanted from their characters and more. They even SOUND like I hoped they would. Beautiful. 10/10. My intuition about their entire family remains, as ever, on-point.

- I do love everything I've gotten with Silver to this point. I was very baseline neutral on his character until now, but the more I'm seeing of him, the more I appreciate what I am getting.

- Sebek is autistic. I will die on this hill. Even if he represents autistic traits the internet DOESN'T like to woobify for the most part, that boy is autistic. He's autistic as fuck. This book is so far just further proving it.

- I mentioned earlier that Malleus has no rights but I'm saying it again because it's fucking rude as shit he's got epic choral BGM in Sebek's dream. Also creeping on people's dreams and threatening to forcibly make them sleep forever when they defy you because you feel entitled to ownership of your victims? Wow. Hey by the way Malleus, you got a phone call, we got a guy from Ohio on the other line, says his name's Freddy, you're one set of full-body burn scars away from him sueing your scaly ass. Yeah, just thought you'd wanna know.

- Listen I really want to appreciate and like the Malleus I hear everyone among my friends and mutuals say they see him as but no. No. Is he well-written? Well, I'm still early into this, so I'm withholding judgment on that point though I AM hopeful that I'll eventually appreciate how he's written. But do I like him? No. I didn't give a single flying fuck about him to begin with and I still don't. Throw onto it he's being a bitch right now, and that's not helping. If you genuinely like Malleus as a person, that's your prerogative, that's whatever. I'm not entirely sure what you see in him to like as a person but again, your prerogative. If you like him as a character because of how he's written for the role he is in, in the overall story, power to you, I REALLY hope I'll eventually agree with you. But as of right now, just so you're aware if you've read this far, I still don't give a single flying fuck about Malleus and I'm slowly starting to teeter into the direction of actually disliking him as a person.

- Silver: QUICK, TAKE MY HAND!!! Sebek: ew.

- Currently I've stopped on the chapter where Silver has dream-hopped from Sebek's dream with Sebek, Yuu and Grim in tow, into the dream of a mysterious bat-masked figure with a familiar voice who couldn't POSSIBLY be Lilia, not at ALL. So please don't talk to me about anything past that yet. I'll reblog this post with an update when I get further.

#twst book 7 spoilers #twst book 7 #TWST #Twisted Wonderland #random thoughts #messy thoughts #Cyanide speaks

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radiocreature · 4 months

Text

📻 The Freedom To Be Whatever We Want (Radiorose Week Day 6) 🌹

Word count: 7,738

Summary: Alastor has been in hell for eight years. His friendship with Rosie developed quickly, the two bonding much faster than they could have anticipated, and they're riding high together. After a perfect night of dancing, Alastor asks Rosie out again twice in quick succession, but something about him seems less comfortable, and Rosie is determined to figure out why.

Warnings: cannibalism, unbeta'd, this will be getting a massive edit/rewrite on AO3 after I've had some time to SLEEP.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56617597

@radioroseweek

The Freedom To Be Whatever We Want

Nothing happens in Cannibal Town without Rosie knowing. Sometimes she knows what people plan on doing before they know themselves. The honest ones will seek her out first. The less honest ones will get a visit from her if their plans may harm others. One of her most reliable sources of information arrives to her fresh on a silver platter from her favorite clients: good, old-fashioned gossip. And right now, something has the young cannibal beaus and belles all atwitter.

It starts with an influx of singles’ advice. How to tell if they like you back, how to make the first move, what does this or that very-specific behavior mean? Then, three young men in relationships with women book her on the same day to ask what to do if his partner looks at other men, how to tell if she wants to break up, the signs of cheating, all of which leaves Rosie concerned after they leave. Her nicest, most expensive dresses and suits fly off the racks with urgent requests of custom tailoring. By the time her head and hands stop spinning, the entire town feels alight in a way it hasn’t in decades.

At first, her pointed questions get her nowhere. “Oh, it’s probably nothing.” “Oh, it’s just wishful thinking.” “Oh, it’s no one in particular.” “Oh, it’s a shot in the dark.” Then, “it” gets a gender. “He’s just so handsome.” “He caught my eye so long ago.” “Everyone wants him.” She drives herself to the edge of madness trying to find answers and solutions to a problem that might not even be a problem.

And then Susan, of all people, comes in clutch. Sometimes blunt has its uses. “It’s that fellow with the stupid voice and puny antlers, they all think he’s fixing to court someone. All the ladies want it to be them, for some reason, and all their men are rolling over. If that prude could handle seeing another person naked, he wouldn’t be goin’ for no dames, I can tell ya that.”

And sometimes blunt people have no more of a clue than anyone else. If Alastor wanted a relationship, Rosie would know years before he figured it out himself. She saw him two months ago, not long before this hullabaloo started, and he made no mention of it. Alastor claims very few friends, but she knows without a doubt he considers himself closest to her. The idea of him seeking out a relationship without consulting her not only sounds out of character, but also strikes a nerve somewhere near her heart.

Whatever inspired this, the cannibettes have it all wrong. Though she must admit, imagining the look on Alastor’s face when she tells him what’s had the town all out of sorts gives her a good laugh.

With perfect timing, he calls on her soon after for a night of “sorely-needed” music and dancing. “I’m feeling rather boisterous, and it’s been a while since we upstaged an entire room of people, don’t you think? Wear something extravagant, my dear, and let me know the color so I can match you.” He never fails to charm her into saying yes, not that she ever has any objections to his plans. Their tastes align to an uncanny degree.

As a challenge, she tells him red and white: a dress he’s never seen, that she’s sat on for years, waiting for the right extravagant occasion. A multilayered and tiered evening dress with an uneven hem falling to her ankles in the back and rising to midway up her shins in the front. She dyed the fabric herself to get the perfect fade, from pure white at the neck down to a bold crimson when it reaches the skirts. It gains more jewels and beads every year in her failure to leave it alone. She twirls in the mirror a few times to watch it move, fantasizing of how it will catch the light when Alastor tosses or spins her. She chooses shorter, chunkier heels to stick the landings, a pair of black pumps with a web-like design pattern over the foot that ties at the front with a bow. Ornate, but not too distracting.

He arrives in a striking white pinstriped suit, with a red waistcoat over a white undershirt, red-tipped white shoes, a red bowtie and pocket square, and a wide-brimmed white hat with a single black stripe, his antlers acting like hat pins to keep it secured to his fluffy head. She stands in stunned silence for a moment before squealing with delight and spinning him around.

“Oh my stars, don’t you look gorgeous!” She says.

“I believe I’m meant to say that to you, my dear,” he laughs, petting her back with his free hand hand. The other digs his microphone cane into the ground to prevent them toppling over, as can happen when Rosie forgets her strength.

“You can say that about me every day. I have to wait for you to clean yourself up, first, and don’t you just clean up so nicely!” She smooths out his coat when she finishes smothering him.

He bows for her to hide the anxiety in his amused chuckle. “And you, darling, just when I think you can’t possibly be any more beautiful. I can hear the hearts breaking already.” With his microphone tucked behind his back, he offers her his arm. “May I have the honor?”

She giggles, slipping her arm through his. “I suppose you’ll do.”

As a general rule, she avoids leaving Cannibal Town for prolonged periods. The peace her people enjoy relies on her as a permanent fixture. She can leave for a few hours to attend meetings or make social calls without worrying, but will return at the first drip of uncertainty. And, not for nothing, she spent a long time carving her own niche into this corner of hell. She promised the cannibals protection, and in exchange, they dedicated themselves to her vision. While not a utopia, the residents of Cannibal Town avoid the stress and suffering of other sinners by crafting their own reality.

Alastor spent an entire year as a fixed resident, but his ambitions and wanderlust coaxed him back out into the greater city, even as the shifting culture started to displease him. Cannibal Town’s singular place in time will turn into a safe haven for him, but for now, Pentagram City still has the best jazz clubs.

Some new developments leave him feeling sour, but he took to the evolution of jazz and swing into the 40s very well. They’ll jump, jimmy, jive, shake, shimmy, and swing until their feet fall off, or until they collapse, though she can’t see him ever tiring from dancing. Given the tension in his body for the entire walk to his favorite club, he needs the release. Slaying Overlords won’t fix everything—much to his chagrin, she imagines.

The arrival of the infamous Radio Demon brings the dancers to a halt, or tripping over one another, but the band plays on. Alastor tips his hat to the bartender, who waves a hand before grabbing a bottle off the top shelf. She allows herself a smug grin, something she may allow herself many times tonight. The last (and first) time she visited this club, when he found it several years ago, they treated him like anyone else. Now, with the identity of the Radio Demon known, he gets treated different everywhere, but the composure of the barkeep and the band suggest they see him as a VIP rather than a threat. The VIP treatment suits her well, too.

They start with drinks to assess the crowd, the bar patrons putting space between them. It thinned down a little when they entered. The standees all watch them, and the dancers keep eyes on them when facing in their direction. She wants to think it’s because they out-dressed everyone here—no one else even tried—but she can’t ignore the Overlord effect. Especially when Alastor’s antlers grow more points.

They finish their drinks after sizing up the place. Dismissing his microphone staff, Alastor bends at the waist and holds out his hand in invitation. She takes it, and lets him lead the way to the dance floor. The other dancers give them a wide berth. The band changes songs on a dime, starting them off with a classic Charleston number. With matching smiles they face each other and kick into the rhythm.

Weight falls off her with every movement. She watches Alastor shake weeks of tension out of his limbs. They never had the pleasure of knowing each other in life, but she gets a glimpse of his vitality when they dance. Bold movements of simultaneous control and abandon, colorful and vivacious and bursting at the seams with spirit. Dancing makes it easy to forget her ill fate, the pain and the sweltering heat and the personal torments and the insatiable, ravenous hunger that curses all of cannibal kind. Dancing with Alastor, though, makes her feel alive again.

For the first few songs they stick to fancy footwork and simple hops or skips. Exhausting themselves in the first thirty minutes of the night won’t do. They pace themselves as the band takes them through different styles of jazz and swing, challenging them to get creative. Building towards more demanding moves.

Years ago, the first time he tossed her, she went over his head and lost her grip on him. She expected to fall on him, or get dropped, but he caught her with ease and corrected her position to land her on her feet. After that, she trusted him with anything. She loves rolling over his back, or flipping upside down to kick her leg behind his neck. He often uses that momentum to flip her around his head instead of working against it, then spins back to his full height.

As if reading Alastor’s mind, the band transitions into a fast-paced jive with snappy drums and the type of taunting, choppy brass that precedes a wild tune. Rosie beams when she catches his pupils dilate in the dim light. They wink at each other and take their starting pose. Over years of improv, trial, and error, they perfected their own Lindy Hop routines. The slight points to his pupils tell her everything she needs to know about how he plans to lead, and her veins thrum with anticipation. He wants them to wipe the floor with everyone here. When the brass kicks to life, so do they. Pulling, pushing, circling, and twisting light on their feet with snaps of their arms and hands for balance and flair. The wind from her dress flowing with her movements sneaks a squeak of excitement past her lips before she can stop it. Their controlled chaos never threatens to bump into any of the other dancers, but the crowd clears the floor and forms a circle to watch with slacked jaws.

Alastor signals her for a lift. Well-past the point of warmups, she aligns their bodies and lets him flip her up and over his shoulder in a somersault. The crowd whoops and cheers, stress and tension giving way to fun at last. They join hands again to keep circling one another. Once they have momentum again, she signals him with a request to go low. She bends her knees and he whips her with one arm, her lead leg and free arm extending out to graze the crowd. Some scoot back to give her room, others reach out their fingers to meet hers. He leaps over her when she reaches him, spins into the movement, and scoops her back onto her feet.

They separate for a segment standing side-by-side to dance in synch. A chance to soak in the joy and wonder from the crowd cools the ache in their lungs. Rosie adds a few extra wrist movements to wave to those waiving at her. They transition to facing each other, mirroring one another’s kicks and flairs.

It takes Alastor hours to break a sweat sometimes, the fit bastard. Some strands of his hair cling to his forehead now—hers adhered to her skin after three songs. They breathe as one, steady and deep to fuel their frantic moves, their grins stretching to their maximum points. She keeps her eyes locked with his as long as she can. She loves him like this: the most candid of his smiles, the red of his irises consumed by blissed-out pupils, The Radio Demon left at the door. His right hand takes her left, his left hand pulls her in by her shoulder blade, and for a moment it looks like he means to kiss her. She hops and skips into the next steps, letting him push and pull her with the momentum from his larger frame. Their tempo increases in unison with the band, the frills of her dress almost invisible from the extra speed. The song ends soon, and she dares Alastor with her eyes for a big finish.

Delighted, he spins her by her arm above her head, and spins her, and spins her, stopping her by her hips with her back to his front. She bounces on her toes, then leaps as he lifts, kicking her legs out to clear his head when he tosses her up and over. His hands await her when she lands. One bunny hop to keep the rhythm, then she launches herself as high as she can, his arms twisting to help pull her into a somersault. When her hips meet his shoulders, he pushes out, allowing her to straighten her legs and flip straight up and down back over his head. For a few airborne seconds, their joined hands are their only point of contact.

Though she sees it upside down, the heartwarming smile he flashes vaporizes the last of her bodyweight. High on his smile, his scent, his energy, his unwavering, grounding grip on her hand that promises never to drop her, she relaxes into the motion and lets him guide her back to the floor.

She bends her knees to absorb the shock, rolls backward into his parting legs, and releases her hold on him. As he bends down, she continues rolling back, parting her legs and letting him guide them around his torso. With his arms hooked around her legs, she lifts from her core when he straightens his back, resulting in him swinging her straight out from his middle. They both release her legs so the lift lands her back on her feet, their hands joining in the air again.

She sinks to her knees again, pulling his arms with her. He goes over her shoulders this time, springing from the balls of his feet up and over. He rises to his feet out of the somersault in one fluid motion, hoisting her into his arms. She strikes a pose midair on the last beat of the song.

The crowd loses their fucking minds.

They bask in the glow of the whoops, cheers, whistles, and claps for a few seconds before looking at each other. Chests heaving, muscles aching, grins from ear to ear. Alastor’s hair got tousled during their big finale and his pupils still swallow up most of his irises. The static and crackles emanating from him get a little louder when their gazes lock. Heat rises to her cheeks.

She throws her arms around him and hugs him as tight as she can from her horizontal position. Laughing, he spins her around one more time to put her back on her feet. They join hands for a bow and curtsy, her free arm lifting her skirts while his tucks behind his back.

They head straight to the bar. Emboldened audience members follow to strike up a conversation. Someone offers to buy their first round so they can ask for pointers, questions about how much to prepare versus improvise, and improving their dancing in general. Someone else buys them a second round to keep the conversation going. It feels so good, so good, to have a normal conversation again outside of Cannibal Town. They both love the cannibals, and the Overlord treatment has its up sides, but others evading them when they go out to socialize gets frustrating.

Hours of dancing mix with top shelf booze, warming her from head to toe and liquifying her muscles on the way. Lightheaded, she leans against Alastor for support. His arm slips around her waist and pulls her closer, letting her head rest against the side of his. Her heart lurches, heat rushing to her face. From the booze. Definitely.

After a third round, Alastor and his unparalleled stamina look ready to keep dancing. He can drink himself senseless and still dance like he’s sober. With the way alcohol sloshes around in her stomach and her tendons wilt like noodles, she has to decline. Summoning his microphone, he offers her his arm, and they bid the club farewell.

With no sun down in hell, it doesn’t appear much different at night. The Pride Ring’s crimson red sky darkens some in the night hours, but the city’s bright lights keep it looking like daytime. Still, the crowd thins out at night, giving their walk a quiet start. She stays close to him to keep from swaying too much.

They walk past the movie house right as an audience leaves. Half of them light up smokes, puffing out clouds of putrid gas in their path. Alastor’s gums show through the disgusted curl in his lips. Rosie tries to make out the posters next to the ticket booth.

“Have you ever seen that Fleming fellow’s pictures?” Rosie asks.

“I haven’t,” Alastor says. “I never cared for them. I prefer the pictures in my head painted by the radio plays. If Orson Welles ends up down here Hell might finally get some culture.”

“I’m torn on whether to build a picture house in Cannibal Town. I know there’s interest, and you know I’d do anything for my clients, but where to put it, how to make it match,” she waves her hand in an et cetera gesture, “what to play. The worst of them get down here before the directors are even dead, like that Fleming fellow, and some of them are just garbage. Don’t watch Birth of A Nation.”

“Duly noted.”

“I think I saw a flyer for that one,” she nods towards the last poster on the end. “It looks like a romance. I don’t think I’ve seen a romance before, no one’s making those once they get down here. Wonder what he did.” The possibilities bring a smile to her face.

“Directed a romance?” Alastor says, earning a laugh from Rosie.

They walk in comfortable silence the rest of the way back to Cannibal Town. A low, dark saxophone tune reaches their ears when they round a corner, dancing around their heads as they approach. Alastor tosses a coin in the busker’s open case. They hold on a note to tip their hat, and the pair give courteous nods.

Rosie pulls Alastor into a tight embrace when they reach her front steps. “This was fun. I didn’t know how much I needed a night of dancing until we got there.”

His whole body turns rigid. Static and radio feedback try parting the alcohol fog in her brain. She knows Alastor’s dissonant relationship with touch, and her sober self usually waits for him to initiate or gives some indication first so as not to alarm him like he is right now, and she should let go, but his friendship makes her so goddamn happy—

—His hands rest on her shoulder blades, careful not to dig sharpening claws into her dress. Static dulls to a hum as the tension leaves his thin frame.

“It was a wonderful night, thank you for joining me,” he says. “I couldn’t ask for a better dance partner.” His hands slide down to the small of her back, then rest on her hips.

He snaps out of the embrace, tension back in full force. She blinks. With a bashful cough, he folds his hands behind his back and flashes his default charming smile.

“Have a good night, sweetheart,” he gives a slight bow before disappearing into a cloud of smoke.

Her mind struggles with what just happened. She regrets that last round as she heads inside to bathe, change, and try to commit the evening to memory so the alcoholic fog doesn’t make her lose anything. They must have made quite the pair on that dance floor with their coordinated colors and flawless routines. She removes her dress with care and hangs it back up in her closet after her bath.

A memory jumps to the front of her mind, of a split second where it felt like him pulling her in for a kiss. A delayed reaction to this hits her now. If he had meant to kiss her, she would have let him.

She climbs in to bed with a tipsy sort of befuddlement. He held a genuine smile the entire night and never once felt uncomfortable, until their hug goodbye, when he tore himself away from her and slipped a mask on. When his hands cupped the swell of her hips.

“Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhhh,” she slurs, and giggles to herself. Whether he intended to touch her there or not, either way, he spooked himself. A few more giggles bubble out from her.

“Dammit! I forgot to tell him about the cannibettes!” And then she passes out.

She rides the high of a perfect evening for several days. The next week, another young bachelorette books a session with her to ask for relationship advice. The new dating trend of seeing more than one person at once confuses and frustrates her. She wants to know how to tell the difference between someone looking for friendship and looking for a romantic partner.

“They do look similar nowadays, don’t they?” Rosie empathizes. “It comes down to intent. If you’re not interested in dating someone, but you think maybe they are, or vice versa, ask them for clarity. It might feel awkward, but it’s the easiest and most surefire way to set expectations.”

The rest of the day she spends working the floor of the Emporium. Assisting with garment fittings, helping people pick out the right snacks or raw ingredients, upselling her recipe book, and anything else her customers need. She has help on the weekends, but during the week she prefers running the store on her own to prevent downtime. Locking the door behind the last guest at the end of a long day on her feet brings immense satisfaction.

Not long after she secures the deadbolt, a swirl of black smoke slips under the door. Alastor materializes in a spiffy red and black suit. A solid burgundy coat and trousers over a black collared shirt, with a red bowtie and red-tipped black shoes. A visible sliver of the waistcoat suggests a more crimson red, with light red or pink stripes.

“Shop’s closed,” she teases, still counting the till.

“Pity,” he says, admiring his nails, “I had such grand dinner plans.”

“Should have planned better.”

He laughs, approaching the counter. “Well, since a nice home-cooked meal is out, how about this instead?” He holds out two tickets to the theater downtown, the same one they passed on their way to the jazz club last week.

She takes one of them. “You bought us tickets to the movie house?” She looks at him quizzically. “You bought us tickets to the movie house?”

“You pointed that one out on our way home last week, and tonight’s its last night. I thought you might like to go.”

“I do,” she says, “but do you? It’s a romance, dear. Your eyes twitch when you see couples holding hands near you.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “My mother listened to her romance stories on the radio all day, every day, my whole life. I’ll survive one more. They told me it’s based on a play, which gives me hope for the writing, at least.”

She beams. “You’re a peach, Alastor.”

His nose crinkles. “On second thought—”

“NOPE!” She grabs his collar so he can’t escape while she rounds the counter. “Too late! You’re coming inside for a snack while I get changed and then we’re going!” She chuckles as he stumbles along in her grip, knowing full well he could turn to smoke if he wanted out.

She fixes something quick for him to eat in the kitchen while she gets changed. She has a burgundy gown that deserves to go out for a spin. Pink chiffon on the neck and chest with black trim separating the neck piece from the body of the gown. A simple black tie at the waist adorned with a small skull accentuates her curves, matching the black stripes at the end of the skirt. The puffy red sleeves tighten into pink chiffon cuffs midway down the forearm. She pairs it with an umbrella and her favorite hat.

Alastor lifts onto the balls of his feet when she emerges from her room. “You look wonderful, dear,” he says with a soft smile, “I fear no one will be watching the picture but us.” He offers his arm.

“Always such a charmer,” she says, slipping her arm through his.

“Keep it up and I may have to marry you.”

“Oh, I’d never restrict like that. A woman of your integrity should never be chained down by a man.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” she teases, “you’re just afraid of ending up like my first husband.”

“Your first three husbands, if I recall.”

They poke fun at one another and gossip their way down to the theater. They arrive early enough to wait in line for concessions, ordering a popcorn to share, two beverages, and some candy for Rosie. He lets Rosie choose their seats. When the lights dim and the opening title card announces Sol Lesser Presents: Our Town, he nudges her with his elbow. He reaches into his jacket to reveal a bag of fried fingers he snuck out of her kitchen to bring with them. He winks and takes one to nibble on. Giggling, she takes a few and snaps them into thirds to mix in with the popcorn.

She sneaks glances at him throughout the runtime. He puts on a good front, but his discomfort shows through at the most amorous scenes. The story takes its time setting up the romance of the main couple, from courtship to marriage. They both snack throughout, with him losing his appetite during the more amorous and poetic moments. His eye twitches at the first kiss. And every subsequent kiss.

The film lasts for an hour and a half. She enjoys staying for the trailers, but the fuzzy radio crackling emanating to her left encourages her to leave without them. Wrapping her arm around his confirms the tension in his body. His arm stays rigid at his side while they make their way to the front of the building.

Outside, he takes a deep breath, and exhales. He looks down at their arms. “Oh, pardon,” he says, relaxing his arm to free her from its death grip. They carry on walking with an appropriate hold. “I hope you enjoyed it, dear.”

“It was cute,” Rosie says. “Thank you for taking me, and for putting up with it. Even when I hear about things I rarely think to actually go out and see them. Maybe I should be getting out of Cannibal Town more frequently.”

“Not at all,” he says. “It’s where you’re comfortable and where you’re needed, no one will fault you for that. Live theater performances will always be superior to these picture shows, and Cannibal Town has some of the best theater in Hell.”

“All our props are real,” she laughs. “The film seemed harmless, though, and I overheard someone say the director’s not dead yet. I wonder what he’s doing up there that let us get it this early.”

“There’s a war on, from what I’ve gathered,” Alastor says. “I’ve acquired some fresh souls recently with the same type of shell shock I saw after the Great War.” He smirks. “Promise them never to have to fight in another war and they’ll shake your hand without even asking for a contract. It almost feels like exploitation.”

“Almost, eh?” She shoves him with her body. He shoves back.

Back at her home, she gives him a hug on the stoop again, with proper warning this time. He hugs back, still a little hesitant.

“Where are you staying right now, honey?” She asks as she pulls away, fishing out her keys to unlock the front door. “I know you move around a lot. You know if you ever need somewhere—”

“I’m set up at the radio station right now,” he says with a hint of pride in his voice, “I converted part of the second floor into a living area. Since they won’t be needing so many broadcasters anymore. But I appreciate your generosity, as always.” He takes her hand to kiss her knuckles. “I can’t say I enjoyed the film as much as you did, but your company is all I ever need. Have a good night, dear Rosie.”

“Goodnight,” she says, clear and calm despite the odd emotion caught in her throat.

He dissipates into a cloud of smoke, his shadow lingering behind to wave at her before catching back up with its master.

“Huh,” she breathes. That has so many wonderful implications, and she can’t wait to analyze all of them instead of sleeping tonight. He never fails to give her much to think about.

Dearest Rosie, I hope you’ve been well. As you may have heard from my broadcasts, I’ve been quite busy. Please allow me to treat you to lunch next Saturday afternoon. I know a good spot in Pride Rock Park where we shouldn’t get disturbed by any dissenters with no taste. I know you’ll insist on making something, but don’t strain yourself, it’s my treat to you. Yours truly, Alastor

Another Overlord falls victim to Alastor’s broadcast a few days after their outing. In all honesty, she expected this one to end up as one of his special guests a lot sooner. He treats each Overlord like an episode of an anthology series, spinning a tale for them that they will help perform by way of their screams and pleading for mercy. Some stories conclude in one broadcast, others take several days to conclude. This one, he savors. He switches between the little sketch he prepared and airing out the true reasons why this one ended up on his broadcast. All the distasteful transgressions that built up over years, most of which harmed others, not Alastor himself. How this one Overlord embodied so many things he cannot stand, and will not tolerate anymore. This one’s story took over the airwaves for nine days before reaching its conclusion.

Eight years in Hell, and Alastor has rewritten so much of it. Entire power structures, dominant for centuries, gone overnight in comparison to how long they endured. Every year his power grows, and each new voice on his broadcast demonstrates it. Though they’ll never admit it out loud—to each other or themselves—the other Overlords started fearing him long ago. He took nine days to declare even the oldest and most powerful among them shouldn’t get comfortable.

Rosie uses it as background noise to make her signature “strawberry” “lemonade” and brew sweet tea (unsweetened, though it always tempts her to sweeten it and watch Alastor’s face pucker).

His letter inviting her to lunch in the park told her not to go overboard, since he intends to treat her, but she knows he’ll forget refreshments. She also wants to try out a new recipe on him, so she makes enough for two. Extra plates, napkins, and silverware sit on the counter as a reminder. The last time he treated her to a picnic, he forgot to pack the utensils.

She rushes to the door the moment she hears the knock. “Come in, come in!” She exclaims, pulling him inside by the arm holding the picnic basket. She registers another new outfit on him, a red-on-red-on-black three piece that she will pick apart later. Peaking inside shows he remembered everything this time. “Oh good, we’ll actually be able to eat.”

“It was one time, and we still ate,” he says.

“After having to run down the street and buy new utensils.”

“Which I needed anyway.”

She makes room in the basket for the beverages. “Which you wouldn’t have still needed if you lived somewhere.”

“I do live somewhere,” he goads.

She waves kitchen knife at him before dropping it in the basket. “You’re lucky you’re cute, mister.”

“Why are you bringing that.”

“I’m not,” she suppresses the urge to laugh as she takes it back out and replaces it in the knife block, “that’s just how crazy you make me.”

He balances his microphone staff with the same arm that holds the basket so he can offer her the other. “Well, crazy loves company.”

“That is not how that expression goes,” the joy with which she takes his arm contrasts with her grumpy tone.

According to the plaque, Pride Rock Park takes its name from one of the stones cast at Lilith by Adam when she left him for Lucifer, which heaven threw at them again when they banished the couple to Hell. Casting stones became a common practice for punishment against sin. The rock in the park could crush an entire house, so either humans in the Garden of Eden started life as giants, or the rock here is symbolic.

They set up their blanket under a tree. Despite the heat in Hell not coming from a sun, settling under trees in parks remains a habit for a lot of sinners. The breeze off the toxic saline lake deters others from picnicking near it, but having both grown up by the ocean, they both find the scent pleasant.

Alastor throws down the blanket, using his microphone to hold down the side against the breeze. Rosie spreads out their meal. Her mouth waters at the sight of all the treats Alastor made. Cannibals all throughout hell know Rosie’s famous cooking, and will travel from halfway around the ring to get a taste. The fact that Alastor is a better cook than her—something she has said aloud to him with no shame—stays their secret. She takes great pleasure in knowing sides to him no one else will.

They start the meal in silence, savoring every bite and enjoying one another’s company without need of conversation. She tells at least one cannibal a month that sitting in silence with another person reveals a lot about your true comfort levels. She and Alastor can sit in silence together for hours: reading together, listening to the radio, or enjoying a picnic.

And yet, he seems… off. Stiffer than last time, unsure how to position himself, and unsure what to do with his hands when not holding a fork or plate. Each time he adjusts his position, he inches closer to her, but it also adds to his tension. She relaxes her posture, opening her body language more, and leans back. Mirroring her appears to take some of the tension out, but his gaze never quite reaches her eyes.

After finishing most of their meal, they sit back and enjoy the post-feast sluggishness. Some light helpings remain that they’ll pick away at before returning home. Both of them planned their day around this, intending to spend all of it here with each other.

“I’ve never actually seen a boat at that dock before,” he says, nodding towards the lake.

“Maybe someone drowned,” she says, amused by the thought.

Alastor stands and offers his hand. She looks up at him with suspicion. “Seriously?”

“It’s been an age since I was last on the water,” he shrugs, “care to join me?”

Her eyes stay narrowed, but she smiles, and takes his hand. She takes her parasol, and he conjures his microphone back into his hand, but otherwise, they bring nothing else with them. Lifting her skirts, she steps into the boat, keeping a hold on one of his hands until she sits. Once inside, he pushes them off the dock with one leg, and rows them out towards the center. The lake stretches long enough for them to lose sight of their belongings, but anyone stupid enough to steal from a cannibal cookout deserves what it gets them.

“The cannibettes have been all atwitter the past couple months,” she says as he rows them further and further, “took me days to figure out what had them all acting up.” She considers her words. “They got it in their minds that you were looking to court someone, so they all started asking for relationship advice and buying up my best clothes. I had no idea where they got that from, until I saw you with three new suits in a row and you took me to see a movie.” Rosie puts her head in her hand and smirks. “A talkie, no less, and a romance. You barely tolerate silent films, I know that was torturous for you.”

“Silent films at least have a dream-like quality to them,” Alastor lambasts, “you don’t get distracted by whatever drivel the characters say at each other. Why are we listening to something we’re meant to watch.”

She giggles. “I’m not saying I haven’t enjoyed all of this, because I have, very much. We became friends very quickly because we have a lot in common, and we trust each other, which isn’t something I take or do lightly. I think it’s safe to say we’re close to each other.” Her smile falls a bit. “I know you well enough to know you were uncomfortable that whole day, and again today. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

His eyes pinch as he tries to maintain a charming countenance. He pulls the oars in so he can let them go, then takes a moment to crack his back and stretch out his legs. One hand wipes down his face, shifting his expression to something conflicted. A smile that doesn’t understand the effort it takes to maintain. His hands dangle off his lap.

“‘There’s someone out there for everyone,’” he breathes down at his shoes, as if quoting or reciting a rule. “My mother always told me that everyone has someone. Another person they’re meant to fall in love with and marry. Despite raising me alone and never remarrying after my father abandoned her.” Those last few words come out in a slight snarl, his lip quivering to reveal some of his upper gums. “I had several acquaintances whose parents permitted me to call on them, or others who wanted to introduce me to their daughters, or so on. I tried a few times, but I didn’t really care to get to know any of them better, and mother always said I’d know when it was the right person.”

He combs his fingers through his hair, scratching at the bases of his antlers; a stress response, not one she sees often. He keeps his gaze pointed down. “Down here there’s a higher concentration of degenerates, but it’s much the same as up there, couples courting, marrying, having sexual relations, all of that.”

“And mariticide,” Rosie says.

That gets an amused huff from him. “That one I understand. My mother wanted me to be happy, and she was certain meeting ‘the right person’ was the key to my staying happy after she was gone. She died before she got the chance to see me marry, or have the grandchildren she always wanted. And I died young.” His fingers clench and relax as he talks, trying to grasp something that keeps slipping through the cracks. “Besides my mother, you’re the first person I’ve been this close with, in life or after. It didn’t require any thinking, so it took me some time to realize how much we’ve….bonded. How I enjoy your company.”

At long last, he looks at her. “How I trust you. I thought that was the ‘knowing’ she spoke of. And she had me read all the etiquette guides when I was a boy, so I’d know what to do for what came next. How to court a lady properly and be a gentleman so we might both marry for love, not solely as an obligation.”

“It doesn’t sound like you find any of it appealing,” Rosie says, keeping her tone soft.

“I find you appealing.”

“Oh, well thank you, darling!” She teases. “Don’t you just know how to butter a woman up. Learn that in one of your etiquette guides, did you?” He stares at her while she has a laugh at his expense. She chooses her next words with care, keeping her tone fond and earnest. “Alastor, sweetie, listen to me. You’re dead. None of those silly rules matter anymore. There’s no books to follow, no laws or societal expectations or cultural norms to force you into a position you don’t want to be in. Not for you or for me. As weird as it is to say, down here, we’re free of all that.”

She meets his eyes and holds them. “So, what do you want? Right now. For yourself, or for our relationship.”

He stays silent while he thinks, his hands still trying to close around something out of reach. “I think… I like us how we are. Is that… is that alright with you?” The worry in his eyes makes her want to fling herself across the boat to hug him, but she knows touch would overwhelm him right now. “I don’t… want any of this to have impacted our friendship, or to hurt you if you were hoping for more with me.”

“Ha! Don’t flatter yourself.” Oh, how she wishes she had her Rolleiflex to capture his bewildered, affronted expression. “I’m just kidding. No, I’m not upset at all. I like us how we are, too.” She smirks. “Why mess with perfection?”

Palpable relief washes over him. He sits up straight, smooths his hair out, and takes up the oars again. “My thoughts exactly. What do you say we get off this lake? I’m curious if anyone tried stealing our stuff and, frankly, I hate boats.”

“Why the blazes did you bring us out on a boat, then?”

“Saw it in a picture, once. My old boss at the radio station used to call them the devil’s handiwork, I’m starting to believe him.” He joins her in laughing, this time.

Back at the dock, he hops out of the boat with a fresh spring in his step, and offers his hand to help her step out. They return to their blanket to find nothing stolen, which almost disappoints them. A hunt would have made for a fine afternoon.

She sits against the tree, and he sits next to her, all tension dissipated. The difference in his demeanor feels light night and day. They watch the other sinners enjoy the park, commentating while munching on their remaining snacks and giggling like school children. He summons some books from his library for them to read. And when the food coma hits him the way she expected, he starts to slump into her. Putting her book aside, she pulls his head down into her lap, scratching his scalp with her free hand while the other brings her book back into view. He tries to continue reading but dozes off in less than a minute.

The large park sits far enough away from the city that, when night begins to fall, the park will darken some. When the incandescent street lights flicker to life, she wakes him. They pack all of the containers and plates up, fold the blanket, and lock arms for the walk back to Rosie’s. The loud, bright, bustling avenues of Pentagram City give way to the quieter, oil-lit streets of Cannibal Town not a moment too soon.

She expects him to resist coming inside with her, but he follows without complaint. In the kitchen, after he helps wash and put away her beverage containers, he pulls her into a hug. It stuns her, but only for a moment, before she hugs him back twice as tight.

“Thank you, Rosie,” he whispers.

She rubs his back. “Thank you, Al, for being the best friend a girl could ask for.”

“Actually, I’ve changed my mind,” he mocks distaste, wrinkling his nose and standing up straight, “I don’t think I like this friends business, either.”

“Oh shut up,” she swats him with a dish towel, then flicks it at the picnic basket, “and hand me all that. You’re staying here tonight.”

“Rosie—”

“Nope. I’m not done with you. I don’t care if you’re staying at the studio, you fell asleep at the park, so you haven’t been sleeping at the studio. You sleep when you stay here, so you’re staying here tonight. Not up for debate.”

His shoulders sag in defeat, the fight leaving his body. He dries dishes while she washes, placing all of his belongings back in the basket when dry. The night clothes she keeps for him stay in the dresser in the guest room. When they retire for the night, he gives her a kiss on the cheek. His shadow stays behind to wave at her before joining him in the guest room.

“Huh,” she says again. More shadow behavior to ponder.

She takes her time with her night routine, starting with drawing a bath. As she removes her clothes and folds them on the counter, she hears the water turn on in the guest room. Smiling to herself, she slips in and soaks the day away, knowing her companion does the same.

Alastor shows little interest in connecting with the other Overlords, or many other sinners in general, but they gravitated towards each other early on, and haven’t left each other’s orbit since. Whatever the future holds for them, however their relationship develops from here, she has no expectations, but she knows one thing for sure: they’re going to have a bloody good time together.

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skyloftian-nutcase · 1 year

Note

Do you remember the asks I sent a while ago about how another hero would have risen faster if Zelda had let link die in the calamity and the new hero’s « imaginary friend » was the spirit of botw link acting as the companion for the new hero? And how it would make botw link’s family feel? Do you think you could write something with that?

(@wildsage00 @luckybyrdrobyn @artisticgamer)

There was chatter of a strange swordsman amongst the gossipers in Hateno.

Abel was wary of it. He didn't like when there was "exciting" news in Hateno. He preferred it when the village was quiet. It had been quiet for so long, any change in the status quo immediately put him on edge.

He could only handle so much these days. Hylia knew Lyra was enough of a handful.

It had been fifteen years since the Calamity. Fifteen years since he'd lost nearly everything, fifteen years since he'd failed in his duty as a knight, as a husband, and as a parent, fifteen years since he'd buried his soldiers, civilians, his father-in-law, his wife, and his son all within the span of a few weeks.

He still had never spoken of it since then.

In a way, it was foolish of him not to bring it up. Clearly Lyra was just as affected as him, and she had far more of her mother's temperament than his own. He handled the matter silently while she fell apart. He held her while she cried herself to sleep night after night, shivering from nightmares, begging him to make it better and find a way to bring her family back.

She'd stopped crying, after a while. He'd hoped it meant she was improving, but he knew better. His daughter's one saving grace was that both her parents were stubborn, and she had inherited that. It had been interesting, watching which child took after which parent and how they blended them together. Link had always been sensitive, and he had grown quiet under pressure, putting duty above all else like his father. Lyra had always been louder like her mother, understanding the importance of duty but always questioning it; despite this, she held much of her father in her, growing resistant, angry, driven, outright frightening in the face of pressure. She would rise to the challenge and destroy any obstacle in her way out of pure spite if she had to.

As the years had gone by, Lyra's stubbornness and anger came to a head in her adolescence, that horrid time when a desire to grow, naiveté to the world, and self centered viewpoint all mixed into a stubborn and emotional teenager who wouldn't listen.

Those years had been difficult. Abel and Lyra had fought many times, and he'd had to leave the village in search of her more often than he cared to recall. She'd been insistent on learning how to fight, on reclaiming Hyrule as if she could do so by herself, on picking up her brother's sword and killing Ganon singlehandedly.

Those years had... strained their relationship. But they were trying to rebuild. Abel had compromised, teaching her a little of how to fight. She patrolled the forest just outside of Hateno and fought off monsters. Every time she returned with excited tales of her victories his smile grew a little more. It was a fair arrangement, and it kept things quiet and peaceful.

Until the talk of a swordsman started.

Visitors to Hateno Village were a rarity. No one dared venture out of whatever safe haven they had found the first few years after the Calamity. Refugees trickled into town the first few years and Hateno could barely support them. It wasn't until close to a decade later that anyone dared explore once more, and that was when word spread of the dangers of travelers. Strangers were watched warily these days.

Abel washed some dirt off his hands by the pond as he listened to some women gossiping. He heard feet shuffling and glanced to see Uma, one of the village teenagers, approaching him.

"Sir Abel, Mom says there's a swordsman in town," she noted.

Abel hummed noncommittally in acknowledgement.

"Have you seen him?" Uma continued gently.

Abel sighed. Uma was one of the chattier kids in the village, and she found events outside of Hateno fascinating. Naturally, she gravitated towards those who had any sort of experience with the rest of the world, so Abel had been victim to her interrogations in the past. An exciting visitor was definitely likely to pique her interest. "No. And you'd best be careful about him."

Uma gave a small pout, nodding a little in acknowledgement before asking, "Do you know where Lyra is?"

As a matter of fact, Abel did not know. Given the current excitement buzzing through town, he probably should look for her. "No."

"Oh. Ok. Can I get you anything before I go, Sir Abel?"

Abel paused from drying his hands on his tunic. The question was spoken innocently from the lips of a child who didn't know any better, but its origin was something he didn't care to think about.

Hateno Village was not a large place. Everyone knew everyone. They had all known Abel and his family, they had all seen Link walk through town to get home with a legendary blade on his back. Though many didn't know the happenings of Hyrule, word spread of the Hero of Hyrule, the Princess' Champion, and his role in destiny. Just before the Calamity it had gotten bad enough that Link no longer spoke in to anyone in the village and barely uttered a word in the safety of his family's home. When everything had fallen apart...

Well. Abel didn't care for the way people looked at him. Most did so with pity. Some with curiosity, eager to hear what had actually happened. The mayor had been kind enough to prevent any sort of interrogation. Over the years the concern and nosiness had transferred to their children. Uma was a kind soul from a kind family, and had clearly been told that Abel was in need of help, and so she always offered when she could.

He hated it.

"No," he answered quietly, and the teenager traipsed off, likely in search of Lyra, unbothered by his short responses.

Sighing, the world weary man turned and nearly ran into yet another teenager, though he immediately realized this one was not from the village. Based on the boy's dark complexion and black hair, he looked like he could be from Lurelin Village, one of the few remaining hamlets in the entire country. He was built strong; though short in stature, his muscles were apparent, sculpted from training though still softened by youth. He wore garb from the fishing village, all the more confirmation to Abel, and, as suspected based on the rumors, he had a sword on his back alongside multiple travel supplies.

Abel watched the boy warily. He hadn't expected the swordsman to be this young, but he still didn't trust him. What was he doing here, anyway?

"Um... hi," the teenager said, shifting in place awkwardly. "I... heard that girl--Uma? She... she called you Sir Abel. Are you Sir Abel?"

"What do you want?" Abel asked, crossing his arms and staring the boy down.

The teenager shriveled a little under his gaze before glancing to his right, staring at something for a moment. He took a shaky breath, his hazel eyes darting back to Abel for a moment.

Something about this kid was off.

"My... I..." the kid tried awkwardly, and then gave a sharp bow. "Sorry! I'll leave now!"

With that, the boy rushed by him, heading for the village inn. Abel watched him go, hackles less raised than before as he grew bemused.

XXX

The inn was really nice. Like, much nicer than the one back home. Of course, he guessed more people came here. Hateno was more centrally located. Maybe that was it.

Link didn't know. All he knew was this place was so big and overwhelming. He missed home.

After paying for a place to rest, he dragged his feet upstairs, thankful that he had the place to himself. Then he looked hesitantly to his right. "I'm... I'm sorry. He's... I..."

"It's okay," came the always quiet voice as the Hero reappeared, eyes downcast. "He can be intimidating."

Link watched his companion worriedly. The Fallen Hero often had an air of sadness to him, but he usually tried to hide it behind a neutral face or a small smile. Today had been a nerve wracking day for both of them - as soon as he'd been given this new task he'd seen the tension in his companion increase, and he'd spoken even less.

"You said he was the captain of the guard," Link offered with a shrug, trying to cheer him up and also trying to figure this out. "I mean... captains sound intimidating."

The Hero huffed a little, not commenting, still gazing somewhere far beyond where Link could reach. He wondered if it had to do with the Hero's guilt. Link had seen his friend through the years, playing with him, and as he'd grown older the visits had been fewer and far between until the Hero had finally admitted his true destiny with reluctance. He had apologized, stating that the fault was his own, but had promised to be with him every step of the way. Link had found what answers he could from his family and his village, but not much was known about the Hero of Hyrule except that he, alongside all the other Champions, had been killed.

Link supposed the true issue, then, was that the Hero's guilt made him think that he had failed the captain of the royal guard. After all, he had been tasked with protecting not just Hyrule, but the princess specifically. Now she was trapped in the castle.

This entire side quest was... terrifying to Link. He had been traveling with his friend for a good while now, but after many battles and growing in strength, the Hero had said they needed to find Sir Abel, who would be able to help him find the legendary sword that they would need to defeat Ganon. That had led them to Hateno Village.

The idea of taking the mantle of Hero had not quite sunk in until he'd realized that once he accepted that sword, he accepted his destiny. Having to do so was already weighing heavily on him... having to speak to such a scary looking man didn't help.

He kind of looked like his friend, though. That was weird.

"I'll talk to him, I promise," Link said as he sat on the bed. "I just... need to come up with a good way to approach him. Got any tips?"

The Hero hugged himself, looking opposite of Link.

Well, great. His friend was really upset about this. Link sighed. "Hey. It's... don't feel bad about... him. The Calamity destroyed the entire country and killed all the Champions. You know that it's... it's okay, right?"

He'd been trying to have this conversation for a while now. It was obvious his companion bore the weight of the entire Calamity on his shoulders. He'd tried dancing around the subject, thanking him for his help, saying he was great fun to be around. It had been complicated at first - he'd wondered if the Hero had befriended him as a child just to manipulate him into doing his duty when he was older. But he knew this person - he knew the reason he'd befriended him was out of shame, not some devious ulterior motive. So he'd been trying to cheer him up, because any joy he'd seen in his friend had slowly drained out of him as their quest had progressed.

The Hero looked back at him, face stony.

Link huffed. "It's okay. I wouldn't expect you to stop an entire freaking army of guardians. They look really creepy."

"You haven't faced one yet."

"Yeah, yeah, so I don't know how strong they are, whatever," Link said dismissively. "They still look freakishly strong."

"That's why I've told you stay away from Central Hyrule."

"Okay, but like, there were a million of them at the fort on the way here."

The Hero grew silent.

"Did... did Sir Abel fight them?" Link asked hesitantly. When he got no response, he sighed. "We'll figure it out, okay? I'll get the sword."

"Please," his friend suddenly said. "Don't... don't try to do this for me. I don't want you to do this for me."

"You want me to do it for Hyrule?"

"I want you to choose to do it."

"I already did," Link answered immediately. "I chose this. And I'll, uh... choose to maybe try some of the local food and go fishing before I get near that guy again."

His companion chuckled, a rare smile pulling at his lips. "I'll think of a way you can approach him in the meantime."

"Great! You think about it so I don't have to," Link chirped happily, hopping to his feet. "Maybe we can talk at dinner?"

"You know I can't maintain my form that long."

"Breakfast?"

His companion pointed outside the window, and Link slowly walked to it. This was another trial, wasn't it?

"Get the spirit orb from the shrine," the Hero instructed. "I'll meet you after that."

"Spirit orb. Got it." Link nodded, turning to smile only to find himself alone in the room. He felt a little cold and empty all of a sudden, sad and lonely, but he tried to shake it off. He wished his friend could just stay with him, but he guessed it took work being a spirit in a land of... not spirits.

Link looked back outside, catching sight of the knight he was supposed to talk to. The man was wandering by the inn, throwing a wary glance its way. The fisherman gulped.

Later. He'd deal with it later. It was time to relax for the day, and then defeat the shrine in the morning so he could talk to his companion.

They'd figure this out together, like they always did.

#I remember those asks! :)#this got way longer than I expected it to lol but it was quite fun #wild spirit #now it has a tag so we can find it whenever #writing #writing prompt #you ask skye answers #lovely anon #breath of the wild #I guess technically #legend of zelda #loz au #breath of the wild link #botw link #abel

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surplus-of-sarcasm · 11 months

Text

Bloody Love Letter

The overdue fluff (I tried, okay?) snippet for @thelazywitchphotographer

TW: Blood, murder mention, knife mention

To most people, the sound of footsteps padding across asphalt in the middle of the night would have been worrying, but Villain didn't exactly fit into the category of 'most' people. Besides, these particularly heavy footsteps were dragging across the street slowly, probably belonging to a drunkard, all the more reason for her not to give a damn.

Still, she decided to humour her unfortunate stalker, turning around to face them, the expression on her face something between irritable and smug, one dark eyebrow arched and a very slight upturn of her lips.

The familiar mask that she was so used to wearing seemed to practically melt into nothing as she realised who the footsteps actually belonged to: Civilian. The man was dressed in his usual business casual, a pair of jeans and a white shirt, except this time, it was more of a shredded rag of blood-stained fabric than a shirt.

Scratches and bruises littered his face, dark crimson encrusted on the corner of his lips, and he was also sporting a black eye. Except the civilian was unfazed in the slightest, as though this was some sort of everyday occurrence. "I'm sure you've seen a lot worse," he remarked casually in response to the look of utter shock the villain had failed to hide, her eyes going wide.

"What happened?" she questioned, as the muscles of her face worked to pull it into a neutral expression.

The civilian snorted incredulously. "I skipped my skincare routine, so I don't look as pretty as usual," he retorted, his lips stretched into something between a smirk and a dark scowl.

This was the kind of insolence that the villain would kill people for, but Civilian had been sharp enough to notice he was an exception, an idea that was frankly poisonous to the villain. She wished to remind him exactly just how dangerous the game he was playing was, but in his current state, it really didn't seem like the time.

So, she simply ran a hand down her face exasperatedly, "Who did this to you?" she demanded, a slight edge of well-concealed anger to her tone that she knew the man would catch.

"What I did to him. You should've seen the other guy." He grit his bloodstained teeth in a feral grin, an expression the villain had never known he was capable of, thanks to his usually mild-mannered nature.

The villain sucked in a sharp breath, folding her arms across her chest. Whatever had warranted this kind of reaction from the civilian was definitely terrible.

Or maybe, if his words and cocky attitude weren't misplaced, this was an indication that the man was a lot more dangerous than he'd seemed, and she just wasn't entirely pleased with that conclusion.

"Alright, hotshot. What did you do?" she challenged, her own piercing blue eyes trained on the civilian's sage green ones, trying to stare through him as though he was no more than a sheet of paper, as though something in his resolve would crumble.

It was the civilian's turn to take in a heavy, measured breath, his gaze refusing to meet the villain's. He seemed almost lost, for lack of a better word, worrying his lip between his teeth, his smug attitude crumbling incredibly fast. "I- killed him," he admitted, trying hard to hide the solemness in his tone with a matter-of-fact intonation, a poor cover-up he failed to paint over the nervousness.

The civilian was never the type to take risks. Before he'd met the villain, he was as cautious as could be, a normal man with a normal job who lived in a very normal neighbourhood. Or that was what the criminal had took him for at first, until she'd found out that this was merely the tip of the iceberg. The civilian had gotten tired of trying to glaze over every side of him with well-fabricated normalcy.

But to confess to murder? That was lightyears away from "trying to change things", from driving a little faster than he was used to or any of the new things he'd done after he'd known her. If there was any shred of his old self, of any basic common sense, he should've already noticed by now that there was a great chance he'd ruined his life, shredded it to pieces.

"Why?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper, instinctually feeling like she would despise his answer.

This time, there was no hesitation in the civilian's tone. "He said he'd go after you. Said he'd hurt you, and I wasn't giving him that chance. Consider it my bloody love letter," he half-snarled, his fists clenched and the muscles of his face taut with conviction.

The villain tried for a few false starts, only for nothing to come out, her lips left parted in surprise.

At that, the civilian's expression softened into something she'd never seen before, into something she realised she wished to see more often, something that lit up his features beautifully.

The civilian was a good-looking man, in a strangely dishevelled sort of way. Dark, wind-ruffled hair with very slight flecks of grey and unwaveringly bright tourmaline eyes that never seemed to dim no matter how exhausted he was. Surprisingly, the crimson streaked across his face seemed to highlight the high-set cheekbones; somehow rendering his current frazzled state even more beautiful than what he usually looked like.

And the realisation that she found the civilian attractive seemed to hit her like a freight train, as did any wave of strong emotion she wasn’t accustomed to. Still, the lingering tension in the air as he crossed the distance between them was very palpable.

“I love you.” The soft smile he gave her at her expression of surprise was equal parts cruel as it was kind. The villain had never been the oblivious one, the shocked audience of a plot twist. So openly vulnerable with someone who downplayed his own cleverness more often than not as a protective tactic.

But she wasn’t exactly sure she hated it. Quite the contrary. She’d evaluated their relationship as that of two unlikely friends aware of each other’s attractiveness and no more, something surface-level and entertaining, but she’d come to realise in that moment, that she’d been wrong.

“I love you too,” she offered as the civilian’s surprisingly warm fingers skirted across her hand, and Villain tentatively got closer, her lips pressed to his jawline, almost fitting there perfectly. She didn’t mind the blood on her mouth, she probably didn’t even notice as the civilian pulled away for a moment, her breath catching in her throat until he got closer again, a soft, almost high-pitched laugh of euphoria escaping his lips as they made contact with the crown of her hair, velvet-soft and blissfully cool against her skin.

“Do you trust me enough to let me take you home so I can fix you up?” she asked.

He pulled away again, a wild, wolfish look in his eyes. “You know, I didn’t even need a knife to kill him,” he answered cryptically, except between the two of them, this was a clear enough response.

✨Timeskip✨

"Just one more left," she said placatingly.

"Well it burns," he hissed, pulling himself away from the cloth soaked in antiseptic near his face, and yet he made absolutely no effort to stop her from pushing him down on her lap again, unless you considered a petulant mock-pout an effort.

"I'm sure you've seen a lot worse," the criminal replied swiftly, quoting him from earlier with her lip curling upwards subtly as she wiped away the last of the blood and dirt on him. The civilian looked significantly younger with all the gunk off, the white hairs seeming to have shown up prematurely, with him being so stressed half the time.

Except right now, he sported a lazy half-smile, looking at her admiringly through half-lidded eyes, lashes so enviously long they fell against his cheek when he blinked. He lifted himself upright, easily pulling her into his lap and tracing the shape of her cheekbone with his finger and then slowly kissing it. "It's never been fair, how gorgeous you've always looked, but now that you're mine, maybe it is, only slightly more just," he crooned, kissing the other cheek with a haunting gentleness that made it seem impossible that he could've killed someone, but with enough passion to prove the previous assumption incorrect.

The villain hummed thoughtfully, pulling him even closer somehow and running her fingers through his hair, smooth like strands of silk now that he'd showered. She felt him shiver, knowing full-well he was touch-starved, "It's alright. You'll get used to it."

"I will," he replied with a smirk, except he leaned further into the touch as she ran her hands through his hair and down to his shoulders, still unaccustomed but the small smile on his lips as he closed his eyes indicated his approval of the touch.

Love is not as concrete as we like to believe. It is certainly senseless to try and learn the exact mechanisms of it because only a fool would wish to learn of something that does not exist and never could. And sure, it is a terrifying product of fate, an outcome of a game where you can only control half of the moves, but still, love is such an awfully human quality; just as wild, just as unpredictable and just as beautiful. It holds the power to draw blood, to start fires but also to bring the taste of euphoria to your lips better than any drink or drug could ever hope to.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @a-fucking-simp-00 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @m3rakii @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername @pendarling @avloki-pal @kaiwewi @those-damn-snippets @whatiswhumpblog @ghostofnorth

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

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actualbird · 1 year

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do you think marius has ever fainted or passed out from the sheer workload and stress he deals with on a daily basis? they always talk about how he has this fatigue and tiredness but honestly im surprised he’s never had a breakdown or anything

OH ABSOLUTELY YES YESSSS

i very much think hes passed out due to sheer fatigue probably many times, but that he just....got really good at making sure nobody notices. like, the moment marius feels his balance failing or feels the telltale lightheadedness of unconsciousness ready to ram into him, he tried to either find an empty room or some place to sit down and ride it out. and then when hes conscious again, if anybody saw him he just goes like "just needed to rest my eyes, hehe"

people who arent close to him cant tell hes lying. hes a fantastic actor, and it is very important for marius to appear invincible and invulnerable within pax, so he makes sure of this. hes passed out plenty, but nobody notices

the few people who do notice and know are probably:

1 ) vincent

oh the things vincent has seen....this one is definitely the most worrying one, and whenever he catches it happening he does his best to try and shift schedules to somehow lighten marius' workload. i figure maybe one time he garnered up the courage to suggest marius rest, but...it's not that marius is disrespectful or anything, but the suggestion just slides straight past him

"i appreciate the concern, vincent, but it's really no problem," marius says easily. just a few minutes ago, he'd fainted the moment he got into his office and it sent such a shock of adrenaline into vincent's system. "after all, nobody else can do this work right now, so i just...gotta keep going."

and the worst part was that marius was right. not about this being a non-issue, but that nobody else can be pax ceo right now. it all falls to marius, and vincent can try his best to help, but moments like these remind him how isolated marius really is all the way there at the top.

2 ) the nxx team

the team see marius at a special level of fatigue: where he always pushes it past it for the newest case, to investigate the latest lead, to keep on going. given how perceptive the team is and how theyve worked with marius for a While, marius can never hide it from them

but it's also really hard to bring it up sometimes, because theres usually always something more important, high-stakes, and pressing at hand when theyre all together

"don't worry about me," marius would say. he might even make a joke like "you should go check on vyn, i know he gets cranky when he's up past 10pm"

deflection is one of marius' skills, so oftentimes during cases, none of the team can really confront him on his overwork

but while marius might like to pretend that this isnt a problem, none of the others have to do the same and can show their support in little ways: a very soft blanket from artem placed on the nxx hq couch for anyone to use for a nap, relaxing sleepytime teas from vyn stocked in the pantry for anyone to have a drink of, a suddenly and inexplicably overhauled digital file system luke made to make some of the tinier clerical nxx tasks a bit faster to sift through.

and mc's learned some of marius' tricks now by this point and is totally fine using them against him. she'll sit down next to him on the couch with a yawn and lean on marius' shoulder. "be my pillow for 10 minutes, i need a nap" and whats marius gonna do, say NO to that? he would never. and he'd end up drifting off for a little nap too.

conclusion: marius von hagen go to bed challenge! pls, before u just DROP FROM THE EXHAUSTION!!!

#asks #anon #tears of themis #marius von hagen #tot marius #had this in my drafts unfinished but all the marius feels today made me wrap it up. his impact...

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mmuzzledmuttt · 8 months

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Shangliu Thoughts

More beneath the cut!

Based on my last Shangliu post (seen below)

After the initial few months of Liu Kang trying (and failing) to change Shang Tsung for the better, he gives up. He cannot win without breaking the sorcerer down to his base, taking away any and all things that made him Shang Tsung.

Believe it or not, Liu Kang genuinely liked parts of him, Shang Tsung’s quick wit, adaptability and effortless charm were hard to ignore. After all that attitude and snark boiled away (or perhaps when Liu Kang learned to ignore it) it was hard to deny the fact that he was a pleasure to have around. Shang Tsung was quick to be sarcastic towards the god, but it always had a level of truth to it. He challenged Liu Kang, pestered him to Netherrealm and back, but he didn’t hate it?

Liu Kang would also be lying if he said he didn’t find this iteration of Shang Tsung to be attractive. When making this timeline, his hands moved far faster than his brain did, and his acquaintances were sculpted differently, yet beautifully. Shang Tsung was no exception. Liu Kang had made him last. Liu Kang, with all the anger burning in his heart, with all his disdain, created Shang Tsung last. And with each little freckle added to his cheeks, each eyelash and strand of hair, he was shaping up to be one of Liu Kang’s greatest creations. So yes, Liu Kang found Shang Tsung attractive, had been the one to make him so.

Shang Tsung wasn’t dumb, noticed the moment when Liu Kang softened just slightly, and so he reached out and brushed his fingertips along the frayed edges of him. A little less aggression here and there, more sarcasm there, it was almost like an experiment. He didn’t know what he was testing for, it what would happen, but he did watch as the rest of Liu Kang’s roughness sagged beneath the newfound attention. They definitely fought, they were bound to, but there was something new there, the abhorrent, relentless animosity was starting to disfigure, it’s gnarled face melted, dripping down to its feet as a new one grew into place.

Liu Kang noticed it last, and perhaps he was fearful of it, the way his hate took a backseat, the way he was starting to find positives in Shang Tsung. However, as a god, he understood change, how it was inevitable, how even he wouldn’t be able to stop it. So he let Shang Tsung slide his pretty nails beneath whatever tear he found, and let him pull it back, exposing parts of him that Liu Kang never expected him to find.

#liu kang #mortal kombat 1 #shang tsung #shang tsung mk1 #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat #shangliu #liushang #writers on tumblr #writing

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jsprnt · 1 year

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Healing Hearts PT.2 | Virgil van Dijk

Would a fresh start bring you more than just a new job?

WC: 2.892

Summary: Y/N L/N is a very skilled and praised physiotherapist. A certain event pushing her for a fresh start, as a physiotherapist for Liverpool FC. One question always being in the back of her mind: Will she be able to let go of her past and allow herself to experience new things?

I am awoken by the blaring sound of my alarm. Why do I always have to wake up when my bed gets so comfy? I groan, fighting the urge to snooze my alarm, checking the time while at it. It's six now, two hours to make this face look like it has seen more than four hours of sleep.

I check my messages before washing up. Walking out to the bathroom to put on my outfit. Some 90's style jeans and a body hugging cropped shirt. Nothing too much, I'll have to wear my scrubs anyway. I make my bed and do some breathing exercises to calm my nerves, meeting new people was still a big challenge for me. I finish eating breakfast and turn on the coffee machine for a nice frothy cup of coffee. Admiring the view behind my window as I sip the last bit of my coffee. The city is not entirely up yet, people still enjoying their last minutes of sleep before going to work or school.

Walking back to my room for the best part of my morning, doing my make up! I apply my base carefully. First day means first impressions, I can't go overboard, not yet. I curl my long lashes, coating them with mascara. Lining my lips with brown liner, some lip balm on top for a subtle look. I take out my jewelry box, grabbing my usual gold necklace. It was custom made, adorning my name, a graduation gift from my mom. I look into the mirror, humming a song in satisfaction as I do my hair. I grab my bag, stuffing it with things I might need throughout the day. Finally, putting on my Nike dunks and leaving my house.

I walk downstairs to my car. Thankfully my dad had arranged for it to be imported from Spain a couple weeks ago, when I accepted this job. My dad had a thing for paying for my things, maybe it was to make up for our strained relationship or something. Either way, I wasn't going to refuse his help, it benefited us both anyways. He'd feel like a present father, and I'd feel like he cared.

I jump into my car, the dashboard lighting up. I run my hands around the steering wheel for some comfort before I hit the road. The leather soft as I trace the Mercedes logo, I loved this baby. My G-class never failed to make me feel like the bad bitch I am. I told you working hard and spending hard had its perks. I turn on the navigation system, hoping it would take me straight to the training grounds without any issues.

I turn on some music, trying to drown out my nerves and thoughts. It was never too early for some Drake. I try to pay special attention to my surroundings, since the more I memorize, the faster I can get used to this route. My navigation system pings as it tells me I've arrived. I scan my surroundings, being greeted by a security post. I drive up to it, turning my music off and rolling my window down.

"Good morning, I'm here for the new physiotherapist job." I flash the security guard a smile, he is an older man, his hair graying slightly. I might as well get friendly since I'll be here almost everyday from today onwards. "Morning to you as well. Could you some show me some sort of identification, please?." I can't help but stare at the man, his scoucer accent making it hard for me to understand right away, I should get used to it quickly. I nod quickly pulling my ID from my wallet. He looks at it, scanning through a list, probably a list of staff? His eyes light up as he, I presume sees my name on the list. "Welcome, Dr. l/n, I'll call up the head coach so he can greet you at the door." He gives me a kind smile, handing me my ID back. "Thank you, I appreciate it." I shove my ID back into my wallet, driving into the training center parking lot as the gates open for me. I park, collecting my bag as I jump out of my car. Though, not before fixing my hair and make up.

I take in my surroundings, so this is what I'll be partially calling home now. I notice some other, what I presume to be staff walk into the training center. I walk in as well, immediately being greeted by the huge Liverpool FC emblem. I hold onto my bag tightly, trying to contain my nerves.

I look to my right, the reception. The woman behind the desk looks up, flashing me a smile as I go up to her, sitting down on the chair in front of her desk.

"Hi, I'm y/n l/n. I'm here for the physiotherapist job." She stares at me for a moment, before typing something on the computer. "Nice to meet you! I'm Clara, welcome to our family. I'll call down our head physio, just a second honey.”

Her response warms my heart as I nod. So far, I think I'll feel quite comfortable here. She picks up the phone, though her expression changes into one of surprise as she looks behind me, over my shoulder. "Oh, he is here already."

My eyes follow hers, being greeted by a man, around his 50's. He walks up to me, extending his hand to me. "Welcome Dr. l/n. I've heard a lot about you, nice to finally see the woman being so highly spoken of by my colleagues." I smile and grab his hand in a firm handshake. "It's an honor to finally meet you, Dr. Woods."

He chuckles, before letting go of my hand. "Let's talk more inside, the boss wants to meet you as well." I turn back towards Clara, mumbling a quick thank you to her, before following Dr. Woods inside the training center. I glance around, it’s is even bigger in real life. I had watched some YouTube video's of the club just to prepare and calm my anxiety, but seeing it in real life was very different. We stop in front of an office, the label reading 'Manager'. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. I'd already be meeting THE Klopp. I rub my hands together trying to get rid of that anxious feeling.

Dr. Woods knocks on the door loudly, the door is opened a couple of seconds later, revealing Klopp.

"Hey, I'm here to introduce our new physiotherapist." The doctor informs. Klopp looks at me, giving me one of his famous smiles. "Right of course, come in." He opens the door wider, we both walk in. He ushers us to sit down on his red sofa's. He sticks out his hand, we shake hands as he introduces himself, with that all too well known German accent. "It's always nice to greet new members of our big family. Welcome, I'm Jürgen Klopp." I introduce myself as well, his eyes light up in recognition as I tell him my name. "I've heard very great things about you Dr. l/n. I'm very happy to see you here."

"No it's an honor for me, this club is amazing and I'm happy to contribute to the team." I reply, my worries and nerves had been washed away just like- that. I just know that this was one of the best decisions I've ever made.

We start chatting about how I've adjusted to living here, my education and my experience before they start asking different questions.

"So that means you speak how many languages?"

Dr. Woods asks curiously.

"Well my native tongues would be Dutch since I was born and raised in The Netherlands and Turkish, since I'm half Turkish. I'm also fluent in English as you can hear." We chuckle. "Though I do speak some Spanish and Catalan since I worked at FC Barcelona for two years, as you know."

"Great so you'll have no problem with speaking to the players huh? Especially our very loved Dutch players." We laugh at Klopps comment. I secretly hope that too.

Our conversation comes to an end as Klopp suggests I meet the players. He checks his watch, before looking at me. "Players will come in any moment now. They'll start with warming up." Dr. Woods chimes in. "It will be a recovery day since the team played a match yesterday as you may have followed."

Oh yeah I did. I watched it just so I could take notes on the players, the draw at the end was kind of disappointing. Though, it was better than losing.

"Right, I did watch it. Just to study a little before I do see the team play in real life."

"You're impressive Doctor, doing homework before even starting to work." Klopp says. "Oh it's nothing really, just prepares me for what I might encounter as I start working here." I dismiss.

We stand up after a short while, Dr. Woods taking me to put on my scrubs. I mentally pray they have pink ones, both of my former clubs did have them. He walks up to a machine, telling me exactly how the scrub dispenser worked. I nod, pressing some buttons before choosing my size. The scrubs are a- dark red? Well, at least they are part of the club colors. Dr. Woods leads me to the woman's staff changing room. I walk and change quickly putting my hair up in a claw clip.

I walk out of the room after putting my stuff in my locker, and installing a code on it. "I'm ready."

I tell him, he looks at my scrubs for a second. "Red looks great on you Dr. l/n, part of the family already." We chuckle before he leads me to the gym.

A sudden wave of nervousness hits me. I had known that the players were very friendly, still I couldn't help but feel like an unsure inexperienced intern again. We walk into the gym, it's big with plenty of space for calisthenic training like, push-ups and burpees. I look around seeing some the worlds best star players. I've worked some of the best football players like Lewandowski and Frenkie de Jong, but this still felt super insane.

I notice Klopp walking in as he calls for the players to gather around to introduce me. I glance around, they all give me a kind smile as Klopp tells them I'll be their new physiotherapist starting this new season, and of course he couldn't help but mention I'm Dutch. "Nice to meet everyone, I look forward to working with you all." I give them a smile, my dimples on full display. Suddenly, one of the players walks up to me, I immediately recognize him, who wouldn't? It's the caption of the team, well of his national team too. Virgil towers over me, sticking out his hand, his tall frame couldn't be compared to what you see on TV or the pitch. "Welcome to our team y/n, or should I call you doctor." He flashes me a beautiful smile, making me shake his hand and smile in respons. "Hi, y/n is fine, it's good to be here." Other players come to greet me as well, not to forget Robertson, who has to crack a joke about another Dutch person joining the club. "You'd think it was planned huh." We laugh and chat for a bit before Klopp redirects the attention back to him.

"Alright everyone, it's recovery day so take it easy and tell our doctors if something's up as they assist you."

Dr. Woods turns to me, telling me to follow his lead as I slowly start getting the gist of how everything works here. I nod at him, watching as he talks to the players about any soreness they're experiencing.

The day progress quickly as lunch time hits, we walk into the canteen. Seems like players and staff eat at the same time just like in Barcelona.

I walk through the the buffet as I'm greeted by Gakpo.

"Dus je bent echt Nederlands?" (So you're actually Dutch?) he asks in Dutch, full of curiosity. "Natuurlijk, geboren en getogen. Net als jij." (Of course born and raised. Just like you.)

He gives me a cute smile before we continue speaking in Dutch as we fill up our plates with healthy and delicious food.

He invites me to sit with the team. I glance at him wondering if it is a good idea. Well I did sit with the players at Barca too. "Are you sure?" I ask. "Yeah, look around players sit with staff at every table." I take a glance around, he was right staff and players were sitting together at every table. Chatting and laughing together. "Okay then, I'll sit with you guys."

He leads me to a table, already occupied by Trent, Virgil, Joel, Andrew and new star transfer Dominik Szoboszlai. "Doctor, very nice of you to sit with us." Virgil chimes in. "Well I couldn't refuse when Cody offered, we're practically already family based on the fact that we're Dutch hm." The table erupts in laughter, as we glance at Cody. "Of course the Dutch lad steals the doctor before we get to know her." Trent teases, his Scouse accent thick. "Where did you work before joining us?" Robbo asks, shoving a spoonful food into his mouth. Everyone at the table turns to me for my answer.

I clear my throat before answering. "I first interned at Ajax, I got a three year contact there after graduating. Then I got offered a position at Barcelona, worked there for two years." They nod in acknowledgement. Before Cody mentions something. "Oh you're the famous pretty doctor?!" I stare at him confused. "What do you mean?" "Well the national team players used to always talk about a pretty doctor working at Ajax." I raise a brow at his words, glancing at Virgil to confirm, since he also is apart of the national team. "Can't lie Doctor, they did talk about a pretty Doctor." I give them an impressed look. "I guess that would be me?" I chuckle.

We chat some more as everyone chimes in, though some of their faces turning confused. "Wait how old are you then?" One of them asks. "Oh I'm twenty-five." I reply. "Wow, you're pretty impressive for someone so young." Joel says. I thank him as we all continue eating and chatting in between bites.

Recovery training had gone by fast. I had gotten much more familiar with team and how they operate. Klopp dismisses everyone, as we all walk back into our designated changing rooms. Though, I'm quickly stopped by Dr. Woods. He tells me he'll make sure someone adds me to the staff group chat, as well as the group chat the entire club is in. We then bid each other goodbye as I enter the female staff changing room. I take a minute to sit down and to take it all in, that really just happend huh.

I change quickly putting my outfit back on and discarding my scrubs into the laundry basket. I do a quick make up refresh and hair fix before I grab my bag and take out my car keys. I walk through the hallways slowly, looking around for things I might have not seen yet. I’m totally in my own world before I hear my name being called. I turn around, I'm greeted by both Trent and Dominik, seems like they had been getting along nicely since Dominik had transferred here.

"Are you going out?" The new star asks. "Yeah, you guys aren't?" I lift a brow at them. I can see small smirks on their faces, they look like schoolboys hiding something. "Oh yes, we're leaving just now." We chat a little before we walk outside, saying goodbye to Clara at the reception. I notice other cars had parked right next to mine. "Bye doctor, we'll see ya tomorrow, right?" The Scoucer says. I nod "See you guys!" They wave before they both get into their respective cars.

I unlock my car, climbing in before closing the door. I place my bag onto the passengers seat, leaning back for a second. First day: survived.

Sadly, my peace is interrupted by a loud car horn. I raise my head and lower my window, it's the car next to me? I squint, it's an English car so I can see who it is from my seat. The person lowers down his windows as well. It's Virgil?

"What's wrong?" I half shout, so he can hear me through the loud engine of his car. "Nothing just wanted your attention." I chuckle, man these football players never got tired of teasing people. I roll my eyes playfully, before starting my car. I wave at him, before driving my car out of the parking slot.

I get home rather quickly, my speakers playing my favorite songs loudly. I enter my house, feeling fulfilled. I throw myself on my couch after washing up. I reflect on the day, the players and staff were amazingly kind. Though, that small interaction with Trent and Dominik was weird, why were they so smirky?

#virgil van dijk fanfiction #Virgil van Dijk #Virgilvandijk #Liverpoolfc #Van dijk #Virgilvandijkimagines #Football #Football fanfic #Football imagines #Liverpool fanfic #Liverpoolimagines #Virgil x reader #Virgil van dijk x reader

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