#also just to distract from the… everything…

[mcrdvcks]

afterglow

summary: Matt is used to you—your routine in the morning, your humming while cooking. But one day, you stop, sending him into a spiral. word count: 2.8k+ pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader notes: i don't know where this came from, i just knew i needed soft, protective matt who's in love and married. also the tags give a little away, lol warnings/tags: slight angst, a little miscommunication (or rather none? it's a surprise), fluff, mention of pregnancy, protective!matt

Matt woke slowly, awareness settling over him in layers—the gentle hum of the city waking up outside, the familiar warmth of the sheets beside him, the quiet shuffle of your footsteps. He smiled softly, turning slightly in anticipation of the ritual he'd grown to love.

Every morning, without fail, you'd lean over, your breath warm against his cheek, murmuring a quiet goodbye before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

Except today, you didn't.

He waited a heartbeat longer, then another, a crease forming between his brows. The sound of your footsteps moved farther away, toward the front door, the jangle of keys loud and grating in the unexpected silence.

“Y/N?” he called out softly, confused. “Everything okay?”

A brief pause, then your voice floated back, strangely distant, slightly distracted. “Yeah, Matt. Everything’s fine. I—I just have to go. I'll see you later, alright?”

He listened intently, straining to read between the lines, but your heartbeat was steady, calm. Nothing to suggest anger or distress, just... preoccupation.

Before he could respond, the door closed quietly behind you, the latch clicking with a heavy finality that settled uncomfortably in his chest.

Matt stayed sitting on the edge of the bed, suddenly aware of how empty the apartment felt without your voice to fill it. It was strange—disturbing, even—how quickly he’d grown accustomed to you, to the soft murmurs of your laughter, your whispered reassurances, your casual chatter about your day. He’d never intended to become this dependent, this attached again.

The minutes ticked by, and he reluctantly forced himself to stand, shaking off the uneasy feeling in his gut. You're fine, he reminded himself. It's nothing.

But the nagging thought lingered, refusing to leave him alone. You never left without a goodbye kiss. Never.

He tried to go about his morning—coffee brewing, shower warming—but everything felt off. The rooms echoed in your absence, the silence more pronounced than usual, more uncomfortable.

By the time Foggy walked into the office later that morning, Matt was already restless, fingers tapping absently against his desk.

“You alright, buddy?” Foggy asked cautiously, stopping in the doorway. “You're doing the pacing thing.”

Matt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose beneath his red lenses. “It's nothing. Probably nothing.”

“Yeah, right,” Foggy said slowly, unconvinced. “Want to talk about it?”

Matt hesitated, lips pressing into a thin line before he finally admitted quietly, “It's just... Y/N left in a hurry this morning. Didn't say goodbye like usual.”

Foggy snorted softly, leaning against the doorframe. “You mean she didn’t give you your customary farewell kiss? Tragedy strikes Nelson, Murdock, and Page. Should I call CNN?”

“Foggy,” Matt warned lightly, irritation tinging his voice. “I know it sounds trivial—”

“Hey, it’s not trivial,” Foggy cut him off gently, stepping closer, his tone softening. “Not to you. And if it bothers you that much, maybe you should just ask?”

Matt sighed deeply, leaning back against the desk. He didn’t want to admit just how much it bothered him—how your silence felt more painful than any physical blow. He’d promised himself he'd never become this vulnerable again, never let someone’s absence affect him so intensely.

But here he was, unraveling at the mere lack of your whispered goodbye.

Foggy cut through his thoughts. “Also, Karen’s not coming in today. Said somethin’ personal came up.”

Matt straightened slightly, his brow creasing again. "Personal? Did she say anything else?"

Foggy shook his head, moving toward his own desk. "Nope. Just that it was important. Why? Think it's related to Y/N?"

Matt hesitated, shifting uneasily. "I don't know. Just feels weird. Karen usually gives more details."

"True," Foggy said thoughtfully. "Maybe it's just a coincidence. Or maybe they went out shopping or something. Who knows? You know girls—they have secrets we mere mortals aren't allowed to understand."

Matt sighed softly, rubbing at his temple. "Maybe."

Foggy watched him closely for a moment before offering gently, "Listen, if it's bugging you this much, just call her."

Matt shook his head firmly, mouth tightening. "No. It's probably nothing. I'm overthinking this."

"Yeah, because you never overthink things," Foggy teased gently. "Look, just promise me you'll ask her about it tonight, alright?"

Matt hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'll talk to her."

"Good," Foggy said decisively, dropping into his chair. "Now, can we please do some actual work around here?"

Matt smiled faintly, but his mind stayed firmly fixed on you—wondering where you'd gone, what you hadn't told him, and why that sudden distance between you felt like a rapidly widening canyon.

---

In the sterile brightness of the doctor's office, you sat quietly beside Karen, fingers nervously drumming against your knee.

"You alright?" Karen asked softly, nudging you gently. "You've barely said a word since we got here."

You gave her a small, nervous smile. "Sorry, just—thinking."

Karen tilted her head slightly, studying your expression carefully. "Is there a reason you haven't told Matt you're here?"

You hesitated, eyes downcast. "It's... complicated."

Karen sighed patiently. "Y/N, it's Matt. He adores you. Whatever's going on, he'll understand."

"I know," you admitted softly, glancing away. "I just don't want to get his hopes up, you know? Especially if it's nothing."

Karen squeezed your hand reassuringly. "Well, whatever happens, I'm here."

You relaxed slightly, grateful for her presence. "Thanks, Karen."

The door opened gently, and Dr. Reed stepped inside, clipboard in hand. Her smile was warm, calming. "Y/N, sorry for the wait."

You sat up straighter, heart suddenly pounding. "No worries. So...?"

Dr. Reed's smile grew brighter as she nodded. "Congratulations. You're pregnant."

Your breath caught sharply, a sudden rush of relief and nerves flooding through you. "Oh, wow. Really?"

"Really," Dr. Reed confirmed warmly. "You're about five weeks along. Everything looks good so far. Any questions?"

You blinked slowly, mind still spinning. "No—um, not yet."

"Take your time," the doctor said gently. "Make sure to schedule your next appointment at reception before you leave."

"Thank you," you whispered, still in a daze.

Karen waited until the doctor left the room, then turned to you with a wide smile. "Oh my god, Y/N! Congratulations!"

You laughed softly, the sound shaky, but happy. "Thank you."

"So," Karen asked cautiously, watching your face. "Are you gonna tell Matt tonight?"

You hesitated, biting your lip. "I—I want to surprise him. I need some time to figure it out."

Karen gave you a knowing look. "Alright. But don't wait too long. Matt picks up on things faster than most people."

You nodded quietly, a faint smile touching your lips. "I know."

---

You stepped into the apartment quietly that evening, heartbeat steady but slightly quicker than normal. Matt was already home, sitting on the couch, head turned toward you at your entrance. "Hey," he greeted quietly, carefully neutral.

You crossed the room, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Hi."

He tensed slightly, barely perceptible. "You left early this morning."

You winced inwardly, keeping your voice casual. "Yeah, I had an appointment."

"Oh," Matt said softly. He paused, clearly waiting for more. When you didn’t continue, he cleared his throat. "Everything okay?"

You settled beside him, hesitating only slightly before nodding. "Yeah. Everything’s good."

Matt's jaw tightened briefly. "You sure? You've been... quiet today."

You reached over, squeezing his hand gently. "Just a busy day, Matt. I promise."

He sighed softly, nodding slowly. "Alright."

You could sense the faint distance in his voice, and guilt twisted uncomfortably in your chest. You had no idea your quietness was hitting him this hard, but you needed time to plan how you'd break the news. A pregnancy was big—life-changing—and you wanted to do it right.

"So," you said softly, changing the topic gently. "How was your day?"

He tilted his head slightly, voice carefully neutral again. "Fine."

You squeezed his hand again, leaning gently against him. "Just fine?"

Matt sighed, pressing a kiss to your temple, clearly trying to relax. "Better now."

You smiled softly, reassured. Soon you'd tell him everything. For now, though, you allowed yourself to enjoy the comfort of Matt's presence, blissfully unaware of how deeply he'd felt your silence that morning.

For now, the secret could wait. Just a little longer.

---

The next morning, Matt woke up earlier than usual, awareness pulling him awake slowly. He lay still for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo lingering faintly on the pillow. Turning toward your side of the bed, he realized you weren’t there, again.

He sat up, rubbing at his face, trying to shake the uneasy feeling settling deep in his chest.

He dressed quickly, fingers brushing along the familiar surfaces of the apartment. Something about the air felt different, emptier somehow.

He moved toward the kitchen, listening for the comforting sounds of your usual morning routine—the gentle humming, the low hiss of the coffee maker—but instead was met with silence.

“Y/N?” Matt called out softly, brows knitting together in confusion.

“Right here,” your voice answered, coming from across the room. You sounded distracted, a little hurried.

Matt stepped closer to you, hand finding your shoulder gently. “No coffee today?”

You paused, body stilling slightly under his touch. “Oh—right, I’m sorry. I got caught up in something. Let me put it on real quick—”

“No, it’s okay,” Matt interrupted quietly, pulling back slightly, unable to keep the slight edge from his voice. “I can do it myself.”

“Matt,” you said softly, picking up on his unease, “I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“It’s fine,” he said quietly, attempting to soften his tone. “Just surprised me, that’s all.”

You hesitated, clearly torn between wanting to explain and needing to maintain your surprise. After a beat, you squeezed his hand lightly. “I have to head out a bit earlier today. I’ll see you tonight, alright?”

He nodded slowly, listening to the rustle of you gathering your things. “Yeah, okay.”

A moment of silence passed between you before you stepped closer, your fingers brushing against his cheek lightly. You leaned up, pressing a soft, careful kiss to his lips. It was brief, different somehow, as though you were holding yourself back.

“Have a good day,” you murmured gently.

Matt swallowed quietly. “You too.”

When the apartment door clicked shut behind you, he remained standing there, heart heavy with uncertainty.

---

Matt was restless by the time he got to the office, his steps heavier than usual. As soon as he entered, Foggy spoke up from his desk, sounding a bit concerned.

“Morning, sunshine. You okay?”

Matt only sighed in response, shrugging out of his coat. “Just tired.”

Foggy was silent for a beat before cautiously adding, “And Y/N?”

“Left early again,” Matt answered quietly, his voice carrying a weight that Foggy recognized immediately.

Before Foggy could respond, the office door opened, and Karen stepped inside. “Morning, guys,” she greeted warmly.

Foggy smiled at her. “Glad to see you’re back. Everything okay yesterday?”

Karen paused briefly, her eyes flickering toward Matt. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just helping out a friend.”

Matt’s head lifted slightly, his attention fully focused on Karen now. “A friend?”

Karen cleared her throat gently, moving to her desk. “Just something she needed moral support for. Nothing big.”

Matt went very still, realization dawning slowly. “Y/N?”

Karen hesitated, clearly unsure how much she could say. “Matt, it’s not—”

“Is something wrong with her?” Matt interrupted quickly, a sharper edge creeping into his voice. “Did she ask you to keep it from me?”

Karen sighed softly, choosing her words carefully. “She’s fine. Completely fine, I promise.”

Foggy, picking up on the tense atmosphere, spoke gently. “Hey, buddy, maybe just ask Y/N about it directly? She’ll tell you, I’m sure.”

Matt shook his head, frustration slipping into his tone. “That’s the thing—she hasn’t. She’s been acting distant, distracted. Now she’s going to you instead of me. If something’s going on—”

“Matt,” Karen cut in softly, firmly, “it’s nothing bad. Trust her, okay? She loves you.”

Matt was quiet for a long moment before nodding slowly, exhaling deeply. “Right. Yeah, okay.”

Karen exchanged a glance with Foggy, clearly wishing she could say more.

But Matt sat heavily in his chair, frustration gnawing at the edges of his thoughts, because he knew Karen was right. He did trust you. Completely. But the small, unsettling changes, your silence, your distance—it all felt painfully familiar, like the calm before the inevitable storm.

---

It was evening when Matt finally made his way back home, standing quietly outside the apartment door for a moment. He paused, breathing in deeply, his senses flooded with familiarity—the scent of garlic and spices wafting from inside, the soft melody of your voice humming along gently with a quiet song playing from your phone.

He relaxed slightly, your calm voice comforting him more than he cared to admit. Maybe he'd been overreacting after all. He opened the door slowly, stepping inside.

The moment the latch clicked shut behind him, the soft humming stopped abruptly.

"Matt," you greeted quietly, clearly startled. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Hey," he said carefully, sensing the immediate shift in your demeanor. He set his cane aside, turning toward you hesitantly. "Smells good. You've been busy?"

"Yeah, I thought I'd make dinner tonight," you replied softly, a forced casualness in your voice. You moved away, turning down the music. "It'll be ready soon."

Matt felt his shoulders tighten at the sudden distance in your voice, and he stepped closer, gently catching your wrist as you brushed past him. "Y/N, wait."

You stopped, body stiffening. "Matt?"

He hesitated, his voice suddenly thick with a quiet insecurity he rarely allowed himself to show. "Did I—did I do something?"

You froze, heartbeat quickening. "What? No, Matt, of course not."

He shook his head slowly, his voice quiet, unsure. "You've been pulling away, and if I've upset you, I—"

You felt the guilt pierce deeply at his words, your vision blurring with tears despite your best efforts. Your voice shook slightly as you interrupted, "Matt, that's not it at all."

He paused immediately, sensing the faint tremor in your breath, the subtle hitch in your heartbeat. Realization hit sharply when he felt the slight warmth of tears slip silently down your cheek.

His hands rose instinctively, gently cupping your face, thumb carefully brushing away the tears. "Sweetheart, you're crying. What's wrong?"

You shook your head softly, voice trembling. "I—I wanted to surprise you. But I messed it all up, and now you're mad at me, and—"

"I'm not mad," Matt said quickly, gently pulling you into him. "I'm just confused. Please, Y/N, tell me what's going on."

You took a shaky breath, leaning into his touch, voice muffled against his shirt. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry."

"It's okay," he murmured gently, holding you close. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. Just talk to me."

You nodded softly, calming yourself before pulling away slightly. You took a steadying breath, gently pulling his hand with you. "Come here. I have something for you."

Matt followed quietly, confusion and curiosity flickering across his face. You led him to the kitchen counter, carefully placing the small box you'd prepared earlier into his hands.

He paused, fingers slowly running over the smooth cardboard. His brow knitted together in confusion. "What is it?"

You smiled softly, heart fluttering nervously. "Open it."

Carefully, Matt opened the lid, gently feeling around inside. His fingers brushed the soft fabric inside, tiny buttons and sleeves of the little baby onesie beneath his fingertips. Realization crashed into him abruptly, his breath hitching sharply in his chest.

"Y/N," he whispered hoarsely, voice choked with emotion. "Are you—?"

You bit your lip nervously, tears pricking your eyes again, this time from relief and happiness. "Yeah. I'm pregnant, Matt. We're having a baby."

He stood utterly still for a long moment, absorbing your words, before a radiant, disbelieving smile slowly spread across his face. "A baby? Really?"

You nodded, laughing softly through your tears. "Really."

Matt let out a breathless laugh of disbelief and joy, quickly wrapping you into a tight embrace, pressing soft, urgent kisses against your temple and cheeks.

"You had me worried," he whispered shakily, voice filled with relief. "I thought—"

"I'm so sorry," you said softly, holding him tightly. "I didn't mean to make you worry."

Matt shook his head gently, smiling warmly against your hair. "It's okay, sweetheart. This—this is the best surprise you could've given me."

He cupped your cheek gently, thumb brushing away lingering tears as he pressed his forehead softly against yours, voice filled with warmth and quiet awe. "We're having a baby."

You smiled gently, your heart finally calming as the misunderstanding melted away. "We are."

And for the first time in days, everything felt perfectly right again.

[factual-fantasy]

Recently I've been thinking a lot about Breakdown and Knockouts friendship and how it started, since they seem so different. Also how their re-written pasts make the transition from con to bot a lot more seamless/plausible.

It was only after all the line art was done that I stopped to think "They probably have canon backstories outside of the Prime show that I should look into.💀" But by then I had already brainstormed a bit too much for them--😅

That being said, the general idea I'm starting with is that Breakdown and Knockout both bonded over having joining the Decepticon cause for similar reasons.

For Breakdown, he had a huge family and a large circle of friends before the war. When the political stuff between OP and Megs started, Breakdown never really looked into it. He was never the "smart type" anyways. "Not like I'd even understand any of that political slop." He'd say.

Instead he got the info filtered to him through his friends and family. All of which were devout Decepticons. He trusted that they were more intelligent than him so he believed all that they would tell him about the Autobots and Optimus. Eventually becoming a devout Decepticon himself.

When the war began, of course he joined the cons with his friends and family. Why would he ever fight against them or question them?

By the time he had lost his loved ones to the war and had no one he loved to fight along side.. and by the time he really began to think about what he was fighting for and was questioning the morals of the cons.. he felt like it was far too late. He had killed one too many Autobots by that point. And his fate as a con was sealed.. there was no room to question what be believed now. He had no choice really, he was a con and that's that.

For Knockout it was similar. He didn't have a huge family or group of friends, but he did have a handful of people whom he highly respected and loved. When the politics came about, Knockout wasn't really sure he wanted to be a con. But his cowardice and anxiety ruled over him. He didn't want to turn against his loved ones who chose to be cons, and he felt like he had more protection with the cons then he did the Autobots.

When the war broke out and things got real, Knockout was terrified. Clinging to the little family he has left with the cons and doing everything he could to stay useful.

By the time his loved ones had all passed from war and he had no reason to stay with the cons. It was FAR too late. He felt like with the amount of aid he's provided to the Decepticons, there was no way he could join the Autobots. And he couldn't possibly survive on his own as a rogue. So for his own survival, he had to stay with the cons..

After learning of their similar backstories and feeling trapped with the cons, Breakdown and Knockout became very good friends.

All of this to say, this comic was supposed to show a bit about what my BD and KO's friendship looks like. Under his confident persona, KO is rather emotionally fragile from this war. And occasionally he has these nervous breakdowns over all the stress and loss..

Since he's become friends with Breakdown, he's never had to face these times alone. Somehow Breakdown always finds him, with a energon refill in hand, and talks him through it. BD thinks he's just really good at distracting KO with small talk and that's what settles him.

The truth is, its Breakdowns genuine sympathy and kindness in these moments that makes him feel like everything's gonna be ok.

[robbysreaders]

In love with your jack series can we have a hint of what might of happened to cause them to break up ?

This literally made me so sad i need to follow up with a fluffier moment tonight but it was fun to write, thank you for asking!!!!!

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader  word count: 800ish notes: prequel of ex!reader and babydaddy!jack also yes i did steal another scene from ER so SUE ME

It was never one big thing. It was the slow build — compounding fractures on both sides that never quite healed.

Jack wasn’t the one to suggest space. You were. He would’ve let it spiral into a blowout or let his guilt fester into something ugly. But you knew you both deserved better than that.

You’d been dating for six months when you realized you were late. He was on a tangent about work, barely coming up for air.

“These budget cuts are bullshit. We don’t have enough nurses upstairs, the boarders are piling up, and it makes everything ten times harder—”

“Jack,” you whisper, “How early can you get a pregnancy result from a blood test?”

“Seven days. Did I tell you what Robby said Gloria said?”

“Several times.”

He blinked. “Wait. Did you just say… pregnancy? You think you're pregnant? But—we’ve been really careful.”

“I know.”

“Did you miss your period?”

“Three days.”

“Okay. Okay. That could be stress. We’ll figure it out.”

It wasn’t stress.

A month later, you moved in.

One night, as you were getting ready for bed, Jack leaned in the doorway, “Will you marry me?”

You sat on the edge of the bed, towel-wrapped and exhausted. “No, Jack. We haven’t even known each other a year.”

“I’d marry you tomorrow,” he said softly. “Any day. I want to make this work. I love you. I love him.” His hand settled on your belly like a promise.

“I know you do. But I don’t need grand declarations. I need the little things.”

And Jack... Jack has never been good at the little things.

Sure, he never missed a doctor’s appointment. But he also ran to the hospital on his days off, stress trailing behind him like smoke. He brought work home and snapped, even when he didn’t mean to.

He was on rotation when your water broke. Of course, he wasn’t answering his phone. You called an Uber to get to the hospital alone.

He saw your texts and rushed to L&D just in time. Everything turned out okay. Except it didn’t feel okay. It felt like the beginning of an ending.

Jack was a devoted father. An incredible one, even. But he was a distracted partner. And you couldn’t blame him, not entirely. Postpartum knocked you sideways. You didn’t feel like yourself anymore. And the truth was, you both were just going through the motions — two tired adults playing house around a beautiful, babbling baby.

Beau was just over a year when it truly cracked.

You were walking through the park, leaves crunching underfoot, Beau kicking his legs in the stroller.

“Jack,” you said carefully, “are you happy?”

He didn’t hesitate. “I’m good. I’m good.”

“I think you should talk to someone. Therapy’s helped me more than I expected—”

“I said I’m good,” he cut in. “I’m just tired. The baby. Work. It’ll get better.”

You stopped walking. “Jack. I don’t think this will work if we keep going like this. I think I need a break. I’m going to take Beau to my parents’ for a week.”

He blinked. “I can’t really take time off that short notice—”

“I wasn’t inviting you,” you said.

--

Back at the house, you packed. Enough for you and Beau for a week. Jack held him while pacing the room, in and out like he couldn’t decide whether to stay or bolt.

Finally, you said, “Jack. Just say what you want to say.”

He stopped. Face flat, eyes hollow. Something at the edge of his lips — then he straightened.

“Yeah, um... just let me know what I can do to help.”

The next morning, you left.

Jack called off work for the first time in his career. Claimed he caught Beau’s flu. Robby knew better — especially when he showed up at Jack’s and saw your car gone, the house quiet, Jack hungover on the couch.

It didn’t take long for Robby to coax it out.

“This doesn’t have to be the end,” Robby said, flipping a beer cap off with ease. “She’s giving you space. That’s a gift. Don’t waste it.”

“She’s sick of the big declarations,” Jack mumbled. “Sick of me being all show and no change.”

“As she should be. You want her back, you rebuild the foundation. You follow her lead. Think about what she’s asked for. Start there.”

The next morning, Jack called.

He asked how you and Beau were doing. Asked if your parents hated him now.

“They could never hate you,” you said quietly. “I wouldn’t let them.”

“So, when you get back… maybe we talk? I need to have Beau in my life, and I’ll take whatever part of you I’m allowed. But you’re unhappy, and I can’t be the reason why. I’ll take your lead. If you want lawyers, I’ll pay for both of us to get them. Whatever you need.”

You were silent for a moment, heart cracking a little.

“Yeah, Jack. Let’s talk when I’m back.”

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part thirteen | r.c

summary:

JJ only snickered as he fixed his cap, before turning to you with a smirk. “Hey. Kie run you off yet?”

“I don’t think she’d ever manage do as much damage as you yourself could,” you pointed out and JJ laughed, his hand curling around the arm of your chair, pulling you closer to him.

“See, when you used to say things like that, I thought you meant it, but now I know you’re just trying to hide that you actually like me.”

OR; JJ sees another side of you and you distance yourself from Rafe and your friends

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: mention of smoking weed and driving while intoxicated, vulgar choice of words (idk why I put this, I always use vulgar words help)

word count: 4,2k

author's note: hi. highly anticipated new chapter 👀 also I've noticed that the chapters do tend to be longer now (compared to the 2k-ish chapters from season one) but I just gotta pack everything in that needs to be in the chapter and i know you guys don’t mind hehe. hope you have sooo much fun reading! 🫶🏼

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. thirteen: "tell your friends you’re out for a run”

kelce in 3 musketeers and their precious [05/02/24: 3:54 pm]: we hanging out this week?

top in 3 musketeers and their precious [05/02/24: 4:12 pm]: I’m down. Time and place?

rafe in 3 musketeers and their precious [05/02/24: 4:19 pm]: ask Precious

kelce [05/02/24: 4:21 pm]: hey what’s up??? why are u awol?

JJ [05/02/24: 4:26 pm]: gotta finish this up with john b and then i’ll meet you there

With a small sigh, you flipped your phone around, screen face down. It had been about a week since you got back from Nassau. It had been the same amount of time since you had seen your friends last. Rafe definitely knew you were blowing him off, and you did feel bad, especially since he had been worried about things between the two of you. But really, what other choice did you have? You needed some distance before you could pretend like you didn’t care that he was apparently starting some relationship with a random girl he met. And staying away from Rafe meant staying away from Topper and Kelce, too.

Topper definitely knew what he was talking about when he was warning you about having sex with Rafe.

“Can I get you anything, or…?”

You lifted your eyes from the wooden table top you were staring at to see Kiara look at you expectantly, raising a brow.

As it turned out, you didn’t have a lot of friends besides Kelce, Topper and Rafe, which honestly was never a problem before. Now, however, that you were trying to get some space from Rafe, it proved to be more lonesome than you had expected.

Not that lonesome though.

You had been spending a lot of time with JJ lately, which did manage to distract you. It also meant spending a lot of time over on the Cut, mostly because it was more convenient, but also lowered the chances of running into your friends. You weren’t exactly trying to hide that you were out with JJ, but honestly, you knew you were preventing a lot of headaches that way.

Another place you had been frequenting more often was the Wreck, where you were now. It was one of the last places anyone would expect you to be, despite it being on Figure Eight.

“Can I just get a diet coke on ice?” you said, and Kiara gave you a brief nod, disappearing back inside. It didn’t take long for her to return with a can of diet coke and a glass filled with ice.

“Thanks,” you said and Kiara only responds with a wry smile, which was fair. The two of you barely interacted before, considering you were in very different circles. Despite her parents’ lavish home and their establishment on Figure Eight, Kiara considered herself a pogue, distancing herself from your part of the island as much as she possibly could, whereas you did enjoy the privilege your parents were able to provide you. Though you did see where she was coming from. In spite of all your differences, you both were two sides of the same coin. Before Sarah joined their friend group, Kiara was the only girl among her friends for the longest time, if anyone could understand you, it was her.

“Can I ask you something?”

Kiara paused, eyeing her parents behind the bar and the rest of the customers who seemed to be content, before she nodded with a small sigh, sitting down across from you, serving tray in her lap. She looked at you expectantly, while you struggled to find the right words.

“You’ve been friends with those guys for years… Did you ever.. Catch feelings for any of them?”

You knew you were revealing your feelings with your words, but what was Kiara gonna do? Go tell Rafe that you loved him?

“If you’re asking because you’re worried that you’ve got competition with JJ-“

“That’s not why I’m asking,” you quickly intervened, huffing. “You know my friends.”

Kiara leveled you with a look, squinting her eyes at you before she sighed, shrugging a bit with her shoulders.

“Well, it helps that JJ is a fucking idiot.”

You quirked a smile at her. “No argument from me.”

Kiara rolled her eyes with a scoff but you could detect a hint of a smile when she turned away. It took her a minute, before she finally found an answer to your question.

“I think it’s easy to mistake platonic love for romantic one, especially because you do spend so much time with your friends. There were times where I thought I was in love with one of them,” Kiara said, making you raise a brow at her. “But then I imagined kissing them and immediately realized that I would hate doing that.”

Yeah, you were definitely fucked.

You exhaled softly, leaning back in your chair, clearly unhappy with her answer. Kiara stayed silent, allowing you to wallow in your misery before you lifted your head again, finding her still looking at you. Right, JJ was one of her best friends and you basically just admitted that you were in love with one of your best friends.

“So is this the part where you’re telling me to stay away from JJ or…?”

“Nah, I ain’t touching that with a ten foot pole,” Kiara jeered, crossing her arms in an x. “JJ and his mortal enemy’s best friend is just a disaster waiting to happen. I want no part of that.”

“Mortal enemy?” you echoed, snorting. “What, are they going to fight for my honor?”

“What would you describe them as then, missy?” Kiara shot back. “Besides, I think you’re capable enough of fighting for your own honor.”

With a small laugh, you nodded, taking that as some sort of gesture of peace, which was nice. You were in no mood for more drama.

“And I think you know what you’re getting yourself into by getting involved with JJ, especially when your friends find out,” Kiara added, “I’m assuming they don’t know yet?”

You pulled a face, which was answer enough for Kiara. She didn’t have to tell you that this would end catastrophically, you knew and yet, here you were.

“Who died?”

JJ let himself fall into the free chair next to you, his crude words serving as some sort of hello. Kiara rolled her eyes, giving you a look which you knew meant really, this guy? and stood up, pushing JJ’s cap further down his face before she left to take care of the rest of the customers.

JJ only snickered as he fixed his cap, before turning to you with a smirk. “Hey. Kie run you off yet?”

“I don’t think she’d ever manage do as much damage as you yourself could,” you pointed out and JJ laughed, his hand curling around the arm of your chair, pulling you closer to him.

“See, when you used to say things like that, I thought you meant it, but now I know you’re just trying to hide that you actually like me.”

You rolled your eyes grinning as JJ looked you up and down, taking you in now that you were much closer.

“They’re not mutually exclusive.”

“Undercover ray of sunshine posing as an ice princess, I get it,” JJ said, like it was a matter of fact. Before you could argue with him, he leaned over to you, pressing his lips against yours.

Cheap trick.

Still you kissed him back, everything else pushed into the background for a while. While you didn’t want to think of Rafe while you were kissing JJ, you couldn’t help but compare them as you were with him. It was easier, being with JJ. Whenever you kissed Rafe all you kept thinking was is this the last time? am i kissing��too much? this kiss feels different. With JJ, it was just kissing, no worries or thoughts behind it. It was nice, for a change.

You didn’t know how long you kissed, only breaking apart when someone cleared their throat. Looking up, you found the rest of JJ’s friends surrounding you, all wearing different expressions.

“Hey guys, didn’t see you there,” JJ greeted them cheerfully, as if this was the most normal setting.

“Hey,” you greeted them, lifting your hand for a wave.

“Hey,” Sarah said, sitting down next to you, glancing between you and JJ. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling a little awkwardly. “How have you been?”

As you and Sarah spoke John B took a seat next to her, leaving Pope to stand.

“I’ll go grab another chair,” he said, gesturing to a table in the back, but JJ stopped him.

“No need. We’ll make some space.”

“Please don’t,” John B said dryly, but JJ had already tugged you over in his lap, freeing up another chair.

“Jesus,” you muttered, brushing your hair out of your face, giving JJ a dirty look. Pope only sighed loudly, dropping into your now free chair while you got comfortable in JJ’s lap.

“You good?” JJ asked, his hand coming up on your back to support you.

“Yeah,” you sighed, “Can you just warn me beforehand next time? I don’t like being manhandled.”

“Sorry,” JJ apologized, wincing. “Was trying to act fast.”

You huffed quietly under your breath and as you lifted your head, you realized that that the others had watched you the entire time. Especially Pope seemed particularly interested, leaning his chin in his hand.

“So how exactly did this happen?” he asked, gesturing towards the two of you, like he didn’t quite understand.

“Oh Pope my boy, you know it was only a matter of time before she fell for the Maybank charm,” JJ said with a waggle of his eyebrow, though they quickly creased when you dug your elbow into his ribs. “Guess I was a little persistent.”

“Now that sounds more believable,” Pope stated and John B nodded in agreement.

“Gotta say, I do like the two of you together,” he added, throwing his arm around the back of Sarah’s chair. “Maybe you can get JJ under a control a little, tighten his leash.”

“Big surprise, John B supports pogue and kook macking,” JJ snorted and you furrowed your brows.

“Hold on, I know for a fact that I’m not the first girl JJ’s been with that’s not from your side of the island.”

“You’re different,” Pope replied and the creased on your forehead deepened even more.

“How am I different?”

Before either of them could answer your question, Kiara returned with several bags of food, and another bag filled with drinks.

“You guys ready to go?”

You all piled out of the restaurant, getting more than one look thrown in your direction and you were sure that Kiara’s parents were glad that you left.

You had come in your own car, so you split up, JJ riding with you, while the rest of his friends piled into John B’s old VW van.

While you drove over to the Cut, soft music filtered out of your car’s speakers. Out of the corner of your eye, JJ was relaxing in the passenger seat, his hand out of the window, following the motion of the wind.

“Enjoy being the passenger princess for once?”

“Excuse you,” JJ said, affronted as he looked over to you. His long hair was swept over his forehead, but it was no use pushing it back, the wind blowing through the open window kept tousling his hair. “I was a passenger princess long before you decided to grace me with your presence. John B doesn’t trust me around the Twinkie anymore after I drove it into the tree in his backyard.”

“… You know what, I’m not even gonna ask.”

“Smart,” JJ acknowledged with a nod and you only rolled your eyes with a laugh.

The drive to John B’s place didn’t take too long, his van already parked in front of his house when you arrived. There wasn’t really a parking spot per se, so you parked right next to him. As you got out, closing the car door behind you, you couldn’t help but notice how your car seemed to stand out like a sore thumb. Your jeep was sparkling, especially after you had just picked it from your your monthly detail the day before, the blue car paint shining even more than usual, a stark contrast to John B’s van and house.

You tried not to think too much about how it mirrored you and your place here with JJ and his friends. Pushing your thoughts to the back, you followed JJ into the house, where it was clear that the Pogues had a routine; while Kiara unpacked the food on the small coffee table that was surrounded by the couch and an odd assortment of arm chairs, Pope cleared the paper bags, Sarah and John B disappeared somewhere, before returning with plates and cutlery. Everyone seemed to contribute to the shared meal that you were going to have.

Well, everyone except for JJ, who made himself comfortable on the couch. His eyes found yours and he patted on the empty nook on the couch next to him. Letting out an almost unperceivable sigh, you joined him on the couch. You felt a little weird, sitting around doing nothing while the others were fixing up food, like you were just a picture perfect “kook”, but honestly, JJ was the definition of the pogue, and he couldn’t be more relaxed sitting next to you, opening a can of beer while his friends finished setting up the table.

It wasn’t much later that everything was set up so you could finally eat, the food more than enough for the six of you. After you finished eating, everyone leaned back in their seats, tummies full.

“The food was really good, Kiara,” you said, the other girl looking up to you. “Your parents really know what they’re doing.”

“Thanks,” Kiara answered with a small smile, frowning when Sarah accidentally yanked on her hair when she reached for her bag, rummaging in it before she cheered.

“You know what’ll make today even better?” she asked before thrusting her hand forward. “This!”

The others clapped and cheered, but it took you a second to see what Sarah was holding was a joint between her fingers. In about a second, the joint was lit, and burning in qualms in Sarah’s mouth before she passed it around. You were impressed at their speed, not even you and your friends were that quick. Even though you didn’t really feel like smoking, you figured a little wouldn’t hurt.

You had suspected it the moment Sarah pulled the joint out, but when it finally reached your hands, it confirmed your suspicions. The joint felt familiar between your fingers, like one you’d smoked so many times before when you put your lips around it.

You wondered Sarah had just snuck the joint when she was at home, or if she had asked Rafe for one of his hand rolled joints. It was funny, you thought, how Rafe would do something so trivial like rolling his own joint, but you knew he liked knowing what was actually in there.

You passed the joint to Pope, already starting to feel the effects of the weed spreading into your systems, your limbs starting to loosen. Leaning your head back on the couch, you allowed yourself to relax a little, JJ’s warm body close to yours. The others talked among themselves, what exactly they were talking about, you didn’t really know, but you also just didn’t care.

It wasn’t long until JJ had the joint again, taking a few puffs before he offered it to you.

“I’m good,” you declined, making JJ pout.

“Come on,” he tried to coax you. “Just one more drag.”

“I said no JJ.”

JJ sighed, shaking his head, taking another drag. He leaned over you to pass the joint to Pope, but before he sat back down, JJ curled his hand around your neck, pressing his lips against in a kiss, blowing the smoke into your mouth.

“Jesus, JJ,” someone said behind JJ. You weren’t sure who it was, probably John B.

You were too busy coughing, not having expected the smoke filling your lungs, your hand coming up to punch his shoulder. You being you, not one to to back down, you kissed him back, biting down on his lips, a little more forcefully than needed. JJ grunted, his knee slotting in between your legs so he could press closer to you.

“Ugh, guys, really?”

“Get a room.”

You barely acknowledged their words, unusually so. It was rare that you engaged in public displays of affection and this was definition more than affection.

“I don’t think they’re gonna stop.”

The rustling of the couch and the door opening and closing was distant to your ears, too busy being surrounded by JJ. He however, seemed to clock immediately that the two of you were alone, moving to lay you down on the couch. JJ didn’t waste a second, his mouth finding your sensitive skin on your neck, working himself down your chest with small kisses, sucking on your skin every now and then.

You lifted your head a little, watching JJ plant kisses on your chest, sprawled on the couch gave you the worst kind of flashback. This was not the time to think about Rafe.

“Wait,” you stopped him, both of your hands on his chest to push him off of you.

“What?” JJ breathed out. His blonde hair was in streaks over his forehead, and you couldn’t help but notice how pink his lips were, undoubtedly your doing. Served him right.

“I’m not gonna fuck you on this couch.”

“Oh good,” he sighed, “cause I was planning on fucking you on this couch.”

You snorted out a laugh, slapping his chest and JJ sat up with a laugh, running a hand through his hair.

“You know they’re not gonna come in, right?”

To be completely honest, you had forgotten all about this friends.

“It’s not about them,” you answered, somewhat evasively. “Just not today, okay.”

JJ cocked an eyebrow at you. “You sure I can’t convince you?”

“Yes, JJ.”

Still, he leaned over, his hand on your waist.

“What about second base?”

“Jesus Christ.”

The house was dark when you got home. You tried not to happen too often especially too many nights in a row, knowing your parents would be on your ass if you spent too much time away. To be fair, you hadn’t expected to be hanging out with JJ and his friends for this long, because you just didn’t know where you fit in with them, with your friends disliking his friends so much. The joint helped though, and against your smartest instincts, you smoked another round with them, making you relax and turn your thoughts off for a while. Despite the darkness of the night, you could make out someone sitting on the steps of the porch, and first, you thought it was one of your parents. But as the headlights of your car shone over the front of the house, you realized it was Rafe. Was it too late to wish it was your mom instead?

The trilling of insects was the only sound when you turned your car off, getting out without any difficulty. The slam of the car door echoed through the drive way and Rafe seemed unamused as he pushed himself off the stairs, walking towards you with deliberate steps, his phone in his hand.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, with a frown and Rafe pressed his lips together.

“You’ve been MIA. I was worried,” he said, eyeing you up and down. “Where were you?”

“Out.”

“With whom?” Rafe wanted to know, knowing the same thing you knew. You didn’t have a lot of friends besides of him, Topper and Kelce. “You hanging out with someone you shouldn’t have?”

“Just Scarlett.”

You tried acting nonchalant, shrugging with your shoulders but the movement only allowed the strap of your purse to slip off. Before it could drop to the floor, Rafe caught it with his hands, giving you a look.

“You’re high?” he asked, but it sounded more like a statement than a question. You weren’t sure if it was the weed he was smelling on you, or if it was just plain obvious.

“And you drove like that?”

“How else would I get home?”

Rafe looked at you like you were stupid.

“You could have called me.”

“Because I need you to save me?” you scoffed. You weren’t entirely sure what was up with you.

Lie. You knew exactly what was up with you.

Rafe only stared at you, his nostrils flared, clearly agitated, and for a split second, you expected him to leave, leave you standing in front of your house, but he only wrenched your keys out of your hand, unlocking the front door for you. Despite the anger radiating from him, his touch was gentle when he ushered you inside the house, his hands steady on your back as you walked up the stairs, like he expected you to fall.

Surprisingly, you got into your bedroom without making too much noise, but instead of leaving, Rafe shut the door behind you, placing your purse on your drawer.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, frowning in confusion, the devil’s lettuce clouding your mind. You really needed to sleep.

“Getting you shower, because you might actually fall and drown yourself,” Rafe huffed, his hand around your arm when you moved to sit on your bed. “Don’t. The smell will seep into your sheets”

You rolled your eyes at him but you still let him drag you to your bathroom. He let go of your arm when you stood on the pink bathroom rug, gesturing towards your clothes.

“With or without clothes?”

Your face was blank as you stared at him.

“You’re not watching me shower.”

“Precious, I trust you to shower by yourself about as much as I would trust Kelce to drive my truck,” Rafe sighed, sitting down on the small ottoman, crossing his arms. For a while, you stood in the middle of your bathroom motionless, before you realized he wasn’t joking. With a small sigh, you started undressing, letting your clothes fall on the floor. You hesitated, pulling your top over your head, your bra soon following. Even though Rafe had seen you naked before, you still felt vulnerable as you got naked in front of him your eyes flitting to him.

His eyes zeroed in on your chest, but instead of making a lewd comment like you had expected, his face hardened before he turned away without saying anything. Your brows knitted together, but you kept quiet, your underwear joining the rest of your clothes on the floor, before you stepped into your shower, turning it on.

The water sobered you up a little, the cool droplets feeling refreshing against your skin. While your head was still in a daze, it lifted slightly, and embarrassment started to settle deep in your bones. You made quick work of washing the lingering scent of the weed of your skin, before you turned the water off, the stream becoming smaller drops, before the water stopped completely. You didn’t get out immediately though, trying to let go of what you were feeling, having to face Rafe, who was still here to take care of you, despite your behavior.

When you finally got out of the shower, your clothes on the floor were gone, and so was Rafe. Before he had left, he had put out your bathrobe and a towel, which you quickly used to dry off and wrap your hair. Exiting your bathroom, you went back into your room, and it looked like Rafe was never here, except for the glass of water that stood on your nightstand.

You picked it off, taking a sip and before you knew it, the glass was empty. You hadn’t even realized how thirsty you were until you’d seen the crisp water. With a small sigh, you pushed the empty glass back on the nightstand, before crawling into your bed, knocking out as soon as your head hit the pillow.

The next morning, when you woke up, you felt slightly less terrible than you had anticipated. The sun filtered in through the closed blinds, which you didn’t remember closing, though you did appreciate the sun not completely shining into your bedroom.

Throwing the blankets back, you got out of bed, your movements slow. With a yawn, you padded to the bathroom, turning the lights on your feet coming to a halt when you caught your reflection in the mirror.

“Fuck.”

Slowly, you traced your finger tips across the splatter of hickeys that JJ must have left on your chest. You honestly hadn’t even noticed.

Rafe knew you lied to him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: so there were two version of this ending, one with rafe tucking precious in and the one you got. if you don't like it, @eldrith said to go the angstier route so complain to her <3 BUT WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS???!!?! <3

[lonelystczennie]

Dating Chan Headcanons

Chan x Plus Size Reader

Summary: Headcanons for boyfriend Chan w a plus sized partner

Warnings: swearing, slightly suggestive, not proofread

A/N: Guess who remembered this blog after like 6 months!🎉 Thanks to @bethanysnow for supporting and encouraging me to finally write this hc series. These hcs are written with plus sized partners in mind, but most points could apply to anyone regardless of size. Hope you like it, lmk if y’all want part 2(or the nsfw version)!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Dating Chan is incredibly soft. Everything with him is comfort and gentle intensity and the two of you learning to feel safe with each other.

He would definitely be friends first. Even if he fell head over heels the very first time saw you, he would instantly friend-zone himself, bc he worries about how busy he always is and thinks you deserve someone ‘better’ who can give you more time and attention.

He’s also very slow to fully put his trust in people I think. He’s had his trust betrayed and been let down really badly in the past, so it takes him a while to let the walls down enough to let you in.

Once he lets you in tho, he’s fiercely loyal and protective of you. He’s always on the lookout for your best interests and making sure he’s there for you if you need to talk or a shoulder to cry on. Lord help if he catches anyone disrespecting or talking shit about you, he can make them shrivel up with just a look and a few choice words.

He won’t dare hear you talk badly about yourself either, turning any disparaging comments around to show you how absolutely amazing he thinks you are. He takes every opportunity to call you beautiful, even using it like a nickname for you(it’s honestly rarer to hear him call you by your actual name than a petname, lol)

He still flirts and teases you tho, even when you’re still just friends, because there’s no real harm in it right? Not if it makes you smile.

He’s actually a terrible flirt tho, because he will start out trying to be smooth and seductive and making you flustered, but then you both just end up blushing or dissolving into giggles cause y’all can’t keep it together(I think he would legit play the pickup line game with you like he used to on Channie’s room)

He has a habit of making you flustered without even realizing it sometimes. Like the way he gently guides or moves you with a hand on your back, always so careful and respectful. Or how he bites his lip absentmindedly when you’re talking, not realizing just how distracting the small action is(once he does tho, he does it all the time bc he’s menace)

He’s naturally very cuddly and affectionate with people, but once one of you manages to fess up and admit you like each other, he turns into the softest, cuddliest teddy bear you’ve ever met. He’s always hugging or holding onto you, and it’s not even a suggestive thing majority of the time, he just takes a great deal of joy and comfort in feeling you close to him.

Acts of service is also definitely one of his love languages, he loves getting to take care of you, especially in more domestic settings. Like you will come home from a shitty day at work/university to find your laundry done and him in the kitchen cooking you dinner. He loves when you take care of him as well, tho he has a hard time admitting it at first.

Sleeps better with you by his side, and has stolen your sweaters or hoodies on multiple occasions to sleep with when he has to go on tour or be away from you for long stretches of time.

Strong AF and loves to show off for you(anyone else remember those bubble messages where he said he trains to be strong enough to lift Stay?? Like I died??) he loves flexing the fact that he can lift you or move you around with ease.(don’t dare ever say that you’re too heavy for him, because he will take it as a challenge and will do his damnedest to prove you wrong)

Like he is lowkey obsessed with your body, he loves how soft and warm you are, how your figure fits against his or presses him into the bed when you’re on top. He also loves that he can be a lil rougher with you, not having to worry about breaking you if he manhandles you a little bit(or a lotta bit hehe)

You learn firsthand the differences between Chan, Channie, and Christopher.

Chan is soft and comfy, he likes to surprise you with little kisses whenever he passes you and still acts like the goofy lil bean that you fell for when you were friends.

Channie is extra sweet and clingy, nuzzling into your chest when he’s tired after a rough day, wanting nothing more than to be cuddled and called sweet names. He’s not afraid to bust out the aegyo to get your attention and make you smile.

Christopher however is quiet and intense, dark eyes that follow your every move and is constantly not-so-subtly trailing his hands over your curves, murmuring thoughts in your ear that make your knees weak.

Overall tho, he’s just a big softie who adores you and will do anything to make you smile. He’s your best friend, bodyguard, personal therapist, and ultimate hype man, and no matter what else is going on in your worlds, you know you have each other.

Taglist:

[immediatebreakfast]

Once again, the underlying themes of spousal abuse between Jonathan, and Dracula resurface after the chain of events that distracted both of the dance of societal manners is over. Or, let's say, after so many things happened that Dracula deemed today good enough to "punish" Jonathan for what he has done, despite never breaking the paper agreement of employer and employee.

Because, for all that matters to Dracula Jonathan has not a single bit of power to do anything against him, and that he is trapped in his hands for the time being... or until Dracula gets bored of the poor solicitor just like he got bored of the three brides he now keeps on a dusty room.

Every scrap of paper was gone, and with it all my notes, my memoranda, relating to railways and travel, my letter of credit, in fact all that might be useful to me were I once outside the castle... The suit in which I had travelled was gone, and also my overcoat and rug; I could find no trace of them anywhere.

It's a surprise how blantant Dracula makes to Jonathan that not only he won't leave the castle, but also how he can treat him like a "disobedient" wife by taking away everything which could help him on the outside. The narrative is painting this horror from the angle of the ever growing isolation of Jonathan which spells his death... But, by combining last entry where our good friend almost succeeded in communicating with another human (which ended up with Mina's letter specifically being burned), and how today Dracula answers with taking away his identification, his money, and his clothes, it's very compelling to read this from an angle of spousal abuse.

Financial, physical, and emotional abuse were now being studied in the victorian era, except it was only focused on the lower working classes where the close knit homes, and the packed people were not equiped to hide abuse towards wives from neighbors. Where it could be hidden? On the privacy of the middle and upper class houses.

In an essay about victorian domestic abuse Jenna Dodenhof says "For many Victorian women, the ideal home described by Davidoff and Hall isolated them from society and hid their suffering from the world at large." Where is Jonathan now? On the highest end of the class hierarchy, on the isolated castle of a wealthy noble where he is forced to play the role of "new young wife" if he wants to survive, and now suffering of the very same "invisible" abuse that many victorian women suffered on the privacy of their homes.

[coffeegnomee]

I don't know if I'll ever recover from Spoke making the pitch of his life to Minute.

All Spoke knows how to do is use his words to manipulate players into doing whatever he wants them to do. It was his forte in s4. It fueled him with boundless ego.

But this time, especially after watching all povs, this time was different. Was it entirely truthful? no. But it was different.

Spoke has yet to really push Minute to his limit. He's never tried to see what this new owner of lifesteal will be like. Will he be like Parrot and be morally grey and embrace chaos and the occasional rule break and exploit for the sake of content? Spoke doesn't know. He hasn't had the opportunity to check.

But they made the team in order to be the villains. And in Spoke's eyes, how could that not mean being the world enders.

So when it came time to be who they were meant to be, Spoke pitched the idea and didn't hold back any stops. It's so fascinating to analyze the conversation and see the layers of persuasion and manipulation Spoke did.

He starts with some low balls. Drops the word "exploit" twice just to see Minute's reaction. Smoothly changes the word when Minute questions him on it.

It's like he wanted to be above the board with it. Or maybe see if Minute would find it an interesting challenge to catch Spoke in the act. Or maybe feel the thrill of pulling off the impossible under the nose two admins. Or maybe something entirely secret.

But both times Minute pushed back against exploits. And Spoke should've known that this was never going to work. But he continues anyway.

When I first heard him pitch the orbital I deadass thought it was the coverup, the distraction for Minute to feel like he was productive on the team, the moral justification to stay out of the exploits. Or better yet, the thing Spoke gives to lower Minute's guard. Get him accepting the small stuff before he gives him the big stuff. Get him in too deep.

Because for real. What is exploitive about the orbital? Nothing. It's entirely above the board. That couldn't actually be the plan. He said "there's legal ways to do this" as if the exploit would also produce a hole to bedrock. But the two cannot be related.

But given how Spoke crashed out to Zam about Minute being stupid, given how he mentioned it to Mapicc too, given how unbelievably unserious Ash and Squiddo were about the orbital, given how Squiddo told 4c that Spoke said he didn't want to do it:

I think the orbital was hand picked by Spoke so that Minute would have fun.

He wracked his brain for what world ending things Minutetech might be interested in. What previous video idea would work for his straight edge teammate.

And he came up with the orbital. Minute even said earlier this season that he wanted to build the mark 6.

But immediately Minute's voice wavered "you want to do this to spawn?" in that one word, it was over. Minute cares too much about spawn. He's not a world ender.

Spoke heard and pulled back immediately. This was just a possible future, not for sure. Spoke had a vision and he was going to inspire Minute. And for that you need a little delicacy, a little back and forth. Push on the mark then back down, stoke their ego then push it to greater heights.

He brings up morality, allows for the possibility of Minute to stay good. Admits it's a test of morals.

Minute is silent, Spoke pivots, this is about sending a statement, this will change lifesteal forever. Vision cast.

He brings up that it's basically ready to blow everything to bedrock. Minute sounds uncertain and Spoke goes quieter, softer, repeating that that's the thing.

Minute rallies, envisions himself making it, envisions the past when he made the other one, places himself in his old shoes and sees what it could feel like.

Spoke goes for jovial, excited. Make Minute see how good of a thing this is, how it will be fun. How much Spoke sees it as fun, as a way to play on the sympathies that even if I don't want to do it, I'll do it cause my teammate is excited to do it. He thinks a nice clean reset would be beautiful. oh my sweet sweet thinly veiled metaphors. The next season would be beautiful I agree.

Minute asks if they do this, would there even be anything left to love. Oh minute.

Spoke pivots to talk about the ego death, how many dumb plots have happened at spawn, how many pathetic tnt attempts. If you get rid of everything, you're free to just love again. Start fresh.

Oh how I love how Spoke will never say he's doing this to start the next season. Everything is about this season. He stays perfectly in rp. I wonder if that hinders people understanding why he does what he does.

But Minute brings up his moral journey, so Spoke takes the hands off the wheel, says what Minute is thinking before Minute can say it so Minute doesn't hear it from his own lips first: he can kill Spoke. He even validates how good that feeling will be. It's a risky play. But he's in the thick of it.

And the mircosecond Minute takes a step towards him he pivots again and plays to the ego, this would be the most insane project ever pulled off. It would completely change history. That that feeling would be better than any momentary hero feeling.

Minute says every time he's followed his dark impulses he's gotten the short end of the stick. And Spoke capitalizes on it, saying that was cause his vision was too low, he has the ultimate plan that will not give Minute any short stick.

But Minute chooses himself. Chooses the blocks on the ground. Over his teammate.

Minute thought he was banning Spoke. Like. okay. Win by absolute power, way to do that again Minute.

But to Minute's credit, and the cinema that is that stream, Minute proved his quality. Was put to the test and passed. He's not manipulatable. Not temptable. He's upright and will choose what is good when he's given the option with a lot of lead up and a very level head. Ok maybe he's not that proven. Because we do know when he's pushed through backhanded devastating situations he follows those dark impulses and wins at any cost. Which isn't moral goodness. But he passed the can-you-manipulate-the-owner test.

Which Spoke needed to experience. He needed to test it. Perhaps as the first of the experiments.

But it's just tragic. Cause we know Spoke's not doing the orbital. If he does I'll be shocked.

There's four players I could see that would make the orbital: Minute, Zam, Clown, and 4c if someone else had the idea. Well, or if Spoke told him to do it directly. Maybe it happens. Literally no idea.

But for how short that list is, that was something Spoke picked out specifically for Minute. A gift he made him. And Minute just threw it out.

I will never get over how decided that he had to test if Minute would be okay with exploits on the same day he tested Minute being okay with being evil.

Which is why I spent most of the day thinking it was never going to be an orbital and all Spoke wanted to know was about Minute's reaction to possible exploits.

Which, okay, maybe I do still think that.

Because he has an exploit. He wouldn't have mentioned it if he didn't. If it was Just the orbital, why scare Minute with talk of exploits. And we literally know he has the bugbombs. Love that he's convinced Squiddo he has nothing, and that she immediately showed him everything. Sure, did he ever figure out how to dupe successfully on the server? no, based on player activity. But he knows the theory.

And then there's Jumper. Oh how interesting this will be.

Wait actually I take that back. Jumper would be on the list. I can see her doing the orbital. It's just so fascinating for how Spoke is both teasing and saying it's not it, back and forth, is he or isn't he. Keep everyone guessing.

There's so many layers to how Spoke talks, what he does, how he does it. He's not dumb at all. Everything has a reason, but I think the bigger picture is that anything can be turned into a success if he just pivots a little.

Because, out of all of this, Spoke now has an enemy that know's he's coming. Which is very wormhole. He leaked things to Planet and Parrot in advance of the finale week so that the opposition would get ready for whatever was coming.

It's too easy to say that was his plan, cause if Minute said yes that would've been the best for Spoke. But this is still a win, in a way. Spoke always wins.

[hwnglx]

what bts need in a partner

based on tarot. i don't know these idols personally. energies are always changing. everything i state is for entertainment purposes only, alleged and NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

seokjin

seokjin needs a person who's firm in their boundaries, and who helps him remain firm and unyielding in his own as well. someone not afraid to be direct with him, especially when he falls into habits or mindsets that don't serve him.

though he might be drawn to softer energies, what he actually could need, is a partner who can steadily stand their ground. an individual who isn't afraid to speak up and call things out, even if it shakes things up a little. someone who's bold and sure of themselves -> able to match his strong energy.

he also needs someone who can handle and tolerate his need for privacy at times; a person who respects his desire for autonomy and independence. his ideal partner would be confident enough to be comfortable on their own too.

he needs a person who's devoted to facilitating a foundation of trust for one another. that deep sense of trust would allow the two of them to be their own people, without feeling the need to control, or have their nose in each other's business all the time. a relationship where both people have the room to breathe, is what makes him feel comfortable.

he also needs someone who can be his best friend. a partner he can laugh with, celebrate life with, and just plainly enjoy being around. the connection has to feel light and natural at times, not overly serious or emotionally heavy all the time.

shared joy matters to him. he thrives when there's a sense of ease, playfulness, and effortless understanding. where inside jokes, deep talks, and comfortable silences can all coexist. the kind of bond that feels like home, but also like freedom.

yoongi

yoongi needs someone who knows how to connect emotionally, without pressure. someone who can show him that intimacy isn't about losing yourself or being consumed by another person, but about being seen, and still feeling safe.

the relationship has to feel like calm, not chaos. he needs a bond that's strong, but breathable. a comfortable one, where there's room for space and solitude.

co-dependency is a hard no. the kind of connection that he needs, is one where emotional closeness unfolds naturally and is built slowly, without forcing it, or trying too hard.

at the same time, he needs a partner who's not afraid to push back. someone outspoken, with their own sense of self. firm in their opinions, grounded, and powerful. a person who doesn't flinch when he tests the limits, is confident enough to call him out, and doesn't soften just to keep the peace.

what actually brings yoongi growth, is an existence that keeps his ego in check, perhaps even humbles him at times, without needing to dominate. someone who leads and behaves with grace and strength. resilient, emotionally composed, and unbothered by surface-level drama.

over time, his ideal partner would help him let go of some of the defenses he's built up, and release things like his protectiveness, skepticism, and the idea that relationships are more trouble than they're worth.

with the right partner, he would start to see that love doesn't have to be a burden or a distraction. instead, it can be a supportive part of his life that helps him feel safe, and more like himself. this kind of connection doesn't weaken him; it empowers him, and helps him feel stronger.

hobi

hobi needs an optimistic and joyful person. someone who's full of life, and carries a light energy that makes people feel at ease. a partner who's naturally warm, kind, and uplifting. someone who doesn't just brighten a room, but makes it feel like home. their presence should bring comfort, like a safe space he can return to over and over.

he is one of the members, who would benefit from being with someone similar to him. someone who shares his positive outlook and capacity for hope, but balances it with a quiet emotional maturity.

if he were with someone too heavy, too serious all the time, or overly rigid, it would throw off the balance between them. they'd be unlikely to see eye to eye.

emotional intelligence is key. hobi needs someone gentle and sincere, with a deep sense of compassion. a person who feels things deeply, unafraid of fully embracing their emotions.

he'd thrive in a connection where feelings are expressed freely and openly. where love is shown through heartfelt care, and consistent emotional availability.

there should also be a sense of wonder to them. hobi's ideal partner would be an individual who still looks at the world with curiosity, regardless of their age. someone who's playful, excitable, creative, and open to new experiences. a person who finds joy in the simple things, and is able to appreciate the mundane, but beautiful moments many people overlook.

most of all, he needs someone who's capable of cultivating a real and raw emotional bond. a connection rooted in genuine love that's mutual and gentle, but secure.

namjoon

namjoon needs a person who's ready to challenge him. there's a strong emphasis on discussions, of all kinds.

he thrives in a connection with someone who's opinionated, sharp, and firm in what they believe. someone who's not afraid to disagree with him, and knows how to hold their own, without necessarily turning it into a fight. debates wouldn't threaten the relationship, they'd strengthen it. he needs that kind of stimulation.

his ideal partner is confident, self-assured, and self-aware. they know who they are, what they stand for, and what they want from life. the last thing he needs is someone who's overly whiny, needy, messy, or stuck in a pattern of insecurity and immaturity. it wouldn't just drain him; it'd feel like a distraction from the life he's working hard to build.

he's not looking to babysit, or carry someone else's chaos. what matters most is that their paths align in a way that allows them to grow individually, while still pouring into each other's lives in meaningful ways. his partner's existence should enrich and add to his world, not weigh it down.

he also needs someone who's intellectually smart. a partner who can be a match in terms of his intelligence. his ideal partner would be someone who's articulate, direct, clear and straightforward in how they communicate. mental compatibility is key for him.

he also values loyalty and strength. he needs a person who stands up for what they care about. someone very protective. not necessarily in a possessive way, but in the way they show up for their loved ones. a steady and fiercely committed individual, with thick skin. someone who won’t back down when it matters, who knows how to defend themselves and the people they love. that kind of fierce loyalty is what earns his respect, and keeps him feeling safe within the relationship.

jimin

he needs someone curious and inquisitive, without being invasive. someone who asks the meaningful questions. not to pry, but to understand.

for jimin, conversation is a bridge to connection. his ideal partner listens closely, speaks thoughtfully, and respects the layers it takes to get to the depth of his heart. someone who's willing to stick by his side, despite potential early hesitations, especially around trust. they need to make him feel like his thoughts matter. allow him to speak freely, without feeling the need to hold back.

he'd need someone mentally suave, quick-witted, and able to offer him the kind of mental stimulation he craves. someone who's not afraid to challenge him. ready to disagree, ready to engage and debate. a connection filled with rich discussions and the occasional argument, where each clash becomes a path to deeper growth and understanding of each other.

his partner needs to be ready to face the weight of old baggage that might possibly follow him into the relationship. someone emotionally aware and in tune, but also direct in how they show affection.

they can't be reserved or passive when it comes to love. jimin needs to feel it. he needs someone who can draw out that deeply romantic side of him, the one that risks getting buried beneath all the overthinking. someone whose way of loving can pull him out of his head, and into the moment. lots of reassurance, lots of compliments. he needs to feel good in their presence. jimin feeling confident, wanted, and adored, will bring out the best side in him.

taehyung

taehyung needs a person who can keep a cool head, especially in moments of tension. his ideal partner would be someone level-headed and smart, who's capable of holding interesting conversations. but also, emotionally composed. an individual who doesn't get overwhelmed and clouded by emotion, but instead responds with calm, clarity, and maturity.

taehyung himself is someone who can burn hot in the moment. his emotions can rise quickly and feel intense, sometimes spilling out, before he has time to process them. therefore, he needs someone who won't meet his occasional fire with more fire, but instead knows how to remain collected.

taehyung can also naturally put a lot of pressure on himself in relationships. he can have the tendency to get in his head, overthink, and read into things more than he lets on.

for that reason, there's something essential about his ideal partner's way of communicating; it has to be clear, honest, and genuine. building that trust is key for him; he needs to know his partner means what they say, and says what they mean. no confusing mind games, no mixed signals. emotional consistency and transparency help him feel secure.

above all, taehyung needs someone who's willing to meet him halfway. a partner who values an equal give and take, and sees love as a shared and mutual effort, where both people bring their part to the table with reliability and respect. when that balance is there, it allows him to truly relax, let his guard down, and feel comfortable.

jungkook

jungkook needs a partner who's self-sufficient, and content within themselves, and their own world. an individual who's confident, self-sustaining and not reliant on his attention or affection to feel whole. he needs a person who won't become overly dependent, clingy, or emotionally demanding. they need to know how to stand firmly on their own.

this is important for jungkook, because he's not very predictable. his lifestyle, his occupation, his mood.. it all leans towards unpredictability. perhaps even restlessness.

he does read as someone who's more used to rowing according to his own boat. if the relationship was relying on his efforts solely, the stability could eventually take a great toll. so, while jungkook may crave connections, adjusting to another person’s rhythm doesn’t really come naturally to him.

there's a kind of patience, and emotional maturity jk's partner would be in need of, in order to help him grow, and evolve into someone more stable. they'd need to be a fair-minded person, who can hear him out without judgement, and make the effort to respect his unique circumstances and perspective, even if they don't always understand.

someone who's okay with him being focused on his career, and ready to grant him the space he needs for himself at times, but who still inspires him to compromise in the relationship. someone who feels like home; an unchanging and warm existence in his life, that provides him with comfort.

his ideal partner isn't forceful. they gently show him that a healthy relationship, based on a ground of mutual consistent efforts, can be worth it. like they're creating something fulfilling together, instead of sacrificing their autonomy.

jungkook also carries a softer, quieter need; one that stems from the parts of him, that never really had the chance to fully blossom. there's an inner child in him that still longs to be seen. to play, to be silly, to feel safe being vulnerable, without needing to be perfect.

his ideal partner would know how to nurture that side of him too. someone playful and warm, who laughs easily with him, who pokes and teases him, who makes space for joy. a partner who reminds him that love and affection is something he's worthy of; it doesn't have to be earned through effort.

[forsaken-headcanons]

Yoo was the person to make this ask:

https://www.tumblr.com/forsaken-headcanons/781859721592373248/the-yksteldehs-skin-has-his-own-version-of-1x?source=share

I kept on having ideas for the other survivors so I made it into an au kind of

I call it nekasroF

ertcepS - actually a good guy, they originally trapped the survivors there because they're all evil in some way, but added the Killers because they want to see if they can get the survivors to work together and become good through the power of friendship or sm

booN - no clue what to do for them tbh. Thinking they'd hate snacks and stuff (might give them an eating disorder but i dont want to offend anyone so maybe not) the friendship with 666 tseuG wasn't that great and ended alot sooner than cannon forsaken

7n700 - was actually a normal guy at first, he was a pretty good dad too. After his son ddikl00c went missing, he decided to learn code and eventually started hacking and causing mayhem to distract himself from his grief.

emiT-owT - probably the sanest one there. Had beef with ezruA, like haramA and the other cult leaders probably had to make sure they didn't kill each other, until nawpS needed a sacrifice that is. After that they just handed emiT-owT a knife and let them go crazy

yksteldehS - was originally Telamon (i like to think that no matter what universe theyre from Telamon is morally grey before seperating the good and the evil from himself), and decided to be extra good to even out the evil done by his co-workers and did the whole separating into shedletsky and 1x1x1x1 deal, but fucked up and instead of removing his hatred he removed everything but his hatred. Causing him to be evil.

ecnahC - least evil of the gang tbh, only really did bad things because they had no other option. Grew up poor, gambles in hopes of winning big and helping his family instead of doing it for the adrenaline rush. Poor aim, they don't have alot experience with a gun before nekasroF, but they know enough to use it. Worked in the Mafia for a bit, but ended up leaving because it was too stressful. Idk what to do for their lore with itrapped tho, might do a follow up or something with it once their lore gets reworked.

7331 tseuG - idk how to turn this guy evil he's just that good of a guy, might make it to where he was taken to one of the guest camps when he was young and like murdered his way out of it but other than that I have no idea ToT

toillE - little greedy bastard. loves pizza, like to an unhealthy degree. He barely heals anyone, only giving pizza out if you're like one hit away from death (if you get to him before he eats it all that is) also doesn't have a grudge with 7n700 because he think their hacker shenanigans are funny

namredliuB - discourages creativity, only wears his work uniform cause self expression is bad. Probably stole his blueprints from a how to build book.

rakkesuD - doesn't rhyme, only uses magic for his own gain. etc

hpaT - not paranoid, only really covers his face and stuff because he blows shit up for fun and didn't want to go to jail. Fucking HATES namredliuB, exploding stuff is how he expresses himself so they don't get along. namredliuB doesn't know why hpaT hates him.

Killer time!! I only have ideas for 1x and c00lkidd so here are those two

ddikl00c - actually a preteen, currently in his "too cool to be into playing" phase. Still has his provision, but knows somthing is wrong with it. Everything's too uncanny and stuff. Realizes immediately that he just killed a bunch of people and tries to pretend that everything's fine until the ertcepS resets his memory to try to help.

x1x1x1x - everything but yksteldehS's hatred, only really kills because hes competitive and wants to win. Doesn't hate yksteldehS but still wants to defeat him because of honor or somthing

ertcepS really said "with the power of friendship!!" and tried putting them all into a get-along shirt I'm sobbing

side note emiT-owT's lore going from gut wrenching doomed yaoi to just "OH FINALLY I CAN KILL THIS BASTARD" is too funny

[jamesmcalover]

worst plus one 8

Hálfdán Helgi Matthíasson (Væb) x Reader

Warnings: iceland not getting any jury points

Summary: Reader is Matti's best friend and is brought along to this whole Eurovision mess. His annoying brother is making this trip even messier.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 9

2k words - not proofread

The morning of the final feels like standing on the edge of something. Everything is louder, brighter, more rushed. There’s energy in the hallways of the hotel, but also pressure. The kind that squeezes behind your ribs and makes even breakfast feel like too much.

You don’t see much of Hálfdán.

Or Matti, Úlla, Ola, or Baldwin, for that matter. The whole Væb team is gone before you’re even out of your pyjamas. Off to hair and makeup, rehearsals, camera checks, press. It’s the busiest day of the whole contest. And even if your own country is in the final too, your team is smaller, your role quieter.

Which is why you end up with Sirry. Not that that's a bad thing. She makes everything feel a bit calmer.

She knocks on your door sometime around ten, holding two to-go cups and a lopsided grin.

“Thought I’d steal you,” she says. “We both need distraction.”

You spend most of the day wandering around together, moving at an easy, unhurried pace that feels like exactly what you needed without even realizing it. Sirry is good at that. Making things feel simple. Light. Like there’s no rush to get anywhere or be anything other than yourselves.

You grab lunch in the old town, at a tiny outdoor café tucked between pastel buildings that look like they were painted by a daydream. Sirry insists on ordering too much food, plates full of fresh bread, salty cheeses, olives that taste like summer. She talks with her hands and bright eyes, telling you stories about her childhood in Reykjavik and how she met Matti at a sweaty summer concert. She makes you laugh so hard you nearly choke on your water, and she doesn’t stop until tears are streaming down your cheeks.

When her stomach gives up halfway through the meal, she pushes half of her plate at you with a grin and says, “You’re too thin to be wandering these cobblestones, eat up.” You don’t argue.

Afterwards, you stroll along the river. You find a low stone wall to sit on, your legs dangling over the edge as the city drifts by around you. A group of teenagers nearby is singing “Rim Tim Tagi Dim” at full volume, off-key and fearless, their laughter rolling down the riverbank like a second melody. You and Sirry join in when they hit the chorus, clapping and singing until your voices are hoarse.

Later, you duck into a tiny museum that Sirry swears is a “hidden gem,” a cramped space full of vintage postcards and Eurovision memorabilia. There’s a cracked glass case displaying ticket stubs from shows decades ago, and Sirry’s eyes go soft as she runs her finger over a faded 1981 program. She tells you about the first time she ever watched Eurovision with her grandma, and you tell her about your own family, how you never thought you’d actually be here, part of it all.

It feels like the kind of day that isn’t about winning or losing or how everything might end. It’s just about two girls who found each other in the middle of the chaos, sharing too much food and too many stories and not worrying about what happens tomorrow.

She keeps you laughing all afternoon. But in the quieter moments, she’s gentle too. She talks about Matti like he’s the sun, and she still can’t quite believe she ever got close enough to touch him. There’s something soft in her eyes when she says his name. Like she’s still in awe of the fact that he’s real and hers.

Being with her is like exhaling after holding your breath all week.

She never asks too directly about you and Hálfdán, but when you trail off mid-sentence or look out across the water too long, she gives your shoulder a little bump.

It helps.

By evening, the nerves creep in.

Matti and Hálfdán's family meets you in the lobby to head to the venue, and joins you when you slip into the back entrance for friends and crew. The arena is already packed when you step inside. The crowd is a living thing. Flags waving, glitter everywhere, camera lights flashing like tiny stars. You’re close enough to feel the rumble of the bass in your chest when the music starts. You follow the signs to the VIP seating area, and even from here, the stage looks massive.

It’s happening.

It’s all happening.

And as the first beats of the opening act echo through the hall, you hold tight to her hand and let yourself get swept away.

The show blurs by at first. Pyro, key changes, crowd roars, a dozen languages tumbling over each other in the green room and the crowd. You find yourself caught up in it all, the swirl of sequins and flag capes and the unstoppable tide of music and lights. Every time the camera cuts to a green room, you catch flashes of nervous smiles, fingers crossed, voices cracking with excitement or fear.

Iceland is announced.

The Icelandic flag bursts across the LED screens, a bright wash of blue, red, and white. And there they are, all silver and light and glitter. For a second, you forget how to breathe.

You clap until your palms sting, eyes fixed on the stage like nothing else matters. Hálfdán’s sunglasses glint under the spotlights, his grin wider than you’ve ever seen. He’s eating it up. The energy, the cheers, the absolute rush of it all. You swear he looks straight at the camera, straight at you, and your heart stutters.

The beat kicks in, and the whole arena seems to move with it. You and Sirry scream yourselves hoarse, arms around each other, singing along even though your voices vanish under the music, and for those three minutes, nothing else in the world exists. Just them, the lights, the sound, the way your chest feels too small for the rush of it all.

By the time the song ends, you’re both breathless, hands shaking. Sirry’s eyes are bright with tears, and yours probably are too.

And then the long wait begins.

The jury points are brutal.

Country after country calls out their top marks. Twelve points to Austria. Twelve to Switzerland. Italy. The arena is deafening, the camera swooping from green room to green room, excitement boiling over in cheers and confetti.

But Iceland isn’t called. Not once. Not a single point from the juries.

Your breath catches in your throat each time another country’s points flash on the screen and Iceland doesn’t appear. The camera cuts to the green room, and you see them. Hálfdán, Matti, Ola, Baldwin, Úlla. They’re still smiling. Still clapping for the others. Hálfdán’s grin never falters, even though you can see the tightness in his jaw. Matti throws an arm around his brother’s shoulders, shaking him like he’s congratulating him anyway.

The scoreboard glows, country after country stacking up their totals. But Iceland stays at zero, a bright, brutal zero. It feels like a punch to the chest every time.

Still, they cheer for every twelve points that aren’t theirs. Still, they wave at the cameras and the crowd like nothing in the world could break them. You’re not sure whether to cry or scream at how unfair it is, but all you can do is watch, your heart in your throat and your nails biting into your palms.

“God, they’re trying so hard to stay upbeat,” Sirry murmurs, squeezing your arm. “Matti’s gonna pretend he doesn’t care but he’ll be devastated.”

You nod. Your chest aches.

The televotes come next. The final chance. Your heart’s beating in your throat as Iceland is announced.

Thirty-three points.

The crowd gives a polite cheer, a polite applause. On the screen, Hálfdán and Matti explode like they’ve just won everything. They’re on their feet, fists in the air, screaming so loud you can almost hear them through the cameras. Ola wraps her arms around Úlla and tackles her sideways off the couch, both of them in hysterics.

It’s just 33 points, but to them, it’s everything. It’s something. And they’re still celebrating it like it’s gold.

You’re laughing and crying at the same time. Your throat burns from how hard you’re cheering, from how much your voice shakes with relief and pride and that raw, electric hope. In that moment, you swear they’re the winners anyway.

“They’re insane,” you whisper.

Sirry wipes her eyes. “They’re perfect.”

San Marino ends up last. Iceland second to last. Definitely not great but not terrible. Just not what they hoped. Not after everything they put in.

When the winner is announced – Austria, unsurprisingly – the arena explodes into cheers and confetti. It’s chaos, a thousand voices screaming at once.

Before you can even process it, Sirry’s already on her feet, hair flying. “Come on,” she shouts over the deafening roar. “Let’s go find them!”

You don’t hesitate. You just run.

Security barely glances at your lanyards, the staff corridors a blur of bright lights and echoes. You sprint past dressing rooms, catering tables stacked with half-empty champagne bottles, someone sobbing into their phone in Croatian. Sirry weaves ahead of you, driven and focused, and you follow her like she’s a lighthouse in the noise.

And then you’re there. Backstage, everything still buzzing. The Icelandic team is locked in a tight, laughing group hug. Silver and sweat and relief.

Matti sees you first. He lets out a whoop and launches himself forward, nearly bowling Sirry over. She clings to him, laughing breathlessly, both of them tumbling back into the wall.

You pause for a second, caught in the moment. Not sure what to do with all the joy and relief and wanting to be part of it.

Then Hálfdán turns.

For just a heartbeat, he freezes. Eyes wide, mouth open, like he’s not sure if he’s seeing you or just dreaming it.

And then he’s moving. Closing the space between you in three quick steps, pulling you in like the rest of the world doesn’t even exist.

You don’t even try to say anything. You just throw your arms around him, hold on tight, and let the noise of the crowd and the confetti and the bright stage lights fade away.

He pulls you in tighter. Like he’s afraid to let go. Like maybe if he holds on long enough, the disappointment, the pressure, the long, surreal blur of the night will finally lift.

You can feel his heart pounding against your chest.

His voice is quiet in your ear. “We didn’t win.”

“I know.”

“We didn’t even come close.”

You pull back just enough to look at him. His eyes are a little glassy, but he’s smiling through it, that stubborn Hálfdán way of refusing to let anything crack him completely. “Thirty-three points,” he says, like it’s a punchline.

“You made it to the final,” you say. “You performed your hearts out. Everyone in the hall was dancing.”

“And San Marino still did worse,” Matti pipes in from somewhere behind him, sounding more proud than mocking.

Hálfdán huffs a tired laugh, but his gaze is still on you. “Thanks for being here.”

“Wouldn’t have been anywhere else.”

For a second, it’s like everything fades again. The crowd, the cameras, the noise. It’s just the two of you. You can still hear Austria being announced as the winner somewhere in the background, but it barely registers. Hálfdán leans his forehead against yours, and for a heartbeat, nothing else matters.

Then someone yells their name. Úlla, maybe, and you both look up.

She's already dragging Sirry into a chaotic group hug. Matti’s hopping around like a kangaroo, yelling “we’re top thirty!” with so much enthusiasm it draws a few confused stares. The Austrian delegation is screaming in the background. Confetti’s falling from the ceiling.

Sirry tugs you into the madness with her, and you don’t resist. You just take Hálfdán’s hand, and this time, he doesn’t let go.

Even in the middle of everything, lights, music, cheers. You catch him watching you like he still can’t quite believe you’re real.

You squeeze his fingers. “You were amazing tonight.”

“So were you,” he says. “Watching. From a distance. Looking incredible.”

You laugh, leaning your shoulder against his. “Smooth.”

He grins. “I try.”

And maybe they didn’t win. Maybe the votes didn’t reflect the love the crowd gave or the hours of work behind the scenes. But right here, right now, surrounded by the people who mattered most, he doesn’t look like he’s lost anything at all.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

Part 9!!

[bluebnny]

Scenario - they take an interest in your hobby

characters: law, ace, kid

contents: what the title says, just how i think they would engage with your hobby, G/N reader, fluff

warnings: none

a/n: ok i'm trying something new bc the longer fics are, well, longer and i want to also try more characters :) and this was sooo much fun to write! Let me know if you would like a part 2, because i already have ideas (i mean i'll post it anyway, but y'know, maybe there's some specific characters or hobbies you would like me to include). Sort of proofread. Dividers made by me, please enjoy!! <3

word count: 2.313 (700-900 each)

Law - Fandom

Law would love to have a partner who’s into fandom just as much as him. He excels at being a pirate, being amidst the most sought after in the world and known everywhere for his ruthlessness and cruelty. But the nerdy fanboy side of him is a little neglected at times. As it turns out, not a lot of pirates really care about Sora, Warrior of the Sea as much as he does, if they are interested in comics at all, that is.

I think he would immediately become even more head over heals upon finding out that his partner likes to read them too. He’d like it if you had the same taste as him, but would probably prefer it if you didn’t, because it means you two could give each other recommendations and even swap comics to read.

If you’re also a pirate with your own crew, you two would naturally spend long amounts of time away from each other. You usually go months at a time before meeting up again. So, as with any long-distance relationship, you have to get creative and make it a whole thing.

When you two see each other, you’re constantly talking about what comic you read, how far you are in the story, talking about your favourite characters, and sharing your own interpretations and theories. It quickly becomes the highlight of every encounter you have, both of you already looking forward to the next reunion the moment you part ways. This is also when you have the chance to swap back the books you had borrowed from one another, and to give each other the next volume in the series.

When you’re apart, however sad it makes you, at least you have each other’s books to cling on to, both of you having a special spot to keep them safe. Yours was on your nightstand, liking to read in the evening before bed, or even during the night if you can’t sleep. Since you miss Law, having the comics he lends you always in reach makes you feel a little less alone, and it just makes you look forward to your next reunion that much more. Law keeps yours in his desk in the top drawer, so he can quickly reach for it when he’s too distracted to work. He would rather die than tell you this, but he always pretends it’s your voice reading it aloud to him. You had done that one time when he had had his hands full, wanting to show him a funny passage. He loves imagining the intonation you would use for every line, and how you would chuckle at a specific joke, your laughter echoing in his head.

You basically have a two-person book club at this point and have started leaving little pieces of paper with notes and theories in the books after reading them, maybe even the occasional drawing. It’s always a comfort to read through your favourite volume again and stumble upon a little note from your partner.

Law loves reading your random thoughts on certain characters, everything from who you ship, to what food the characters would like (you make it a point to add “bread” for all the ones you think law would like most, and “onigiri” for those he would hate, just to tease him). It always puts a smile to his face. The notes you find in your books are less creative, but they make you burst out with laughter, because they’re just so Law. The most common thing you find are little post-it notes critiquing medical inaccuracies, like “Patient bleeding out from cut in abdomen! Chest compressions would NOT help with this !???” He even adds citations if it’s less obvious knowledge, as if he thinks you will fact check him or something. The rest are usually weirdly accurate predictions for how a specific aspect of the story will unfold. When you question him about it, he will assure you he hasn’t read ahead, always saying “Well, it’s obviously what’s going to happen!”

Whenever you dock at a new island, you always see if there’s a place that sells comics, trying to find new stuff to read, and keeping a list of titles to lend the other once you’re done.

Ace - Pottery/Clay

Ace, curious as ever, would instantly take an interest in any one of your hobbies, as it means also taking an interest in you. He’ll notice you moulding some clay one day and become super interested in hearing about it. From then on, every time he sees you working on something, he’ll rush over and ask what you’re making, genuine interest on his face. He loves that his partner is talented and will quickly start to brag about it to anyone who will listen.

He'll even go as far as to ask you to teach him, and his attention is immediately caught by the polymer clay with all its different colours, especially after you show him some simple things you’d made from them, like some charms in different colours.

Ace learns. Fast. But if you go over to him to watch him work, he’ll stubbornly hide it, telling you it isn’t ready yet. It wouldn’t take him very long to make stuff, though, generally focusing on smaller items. He also had the enormous advantage of his particular devil fruit; he could simply hold what he made in his hands and bake it just like that, wherever and whenever.

Contrary to Ace, you prefer working with natural clay, being far more durable and versatile, but also taking much longer, as it needs time to dry before being burned in a kiln for days. This isn’t a big issue if you’re not on the same crew, though. If you’re on different ships, you often go months without seeing each other, but since Ace has quite a bit of freedom as first commander of the 2nd division, he would sometimes visit you on a whim if you were within a day’s travel of each other.

Being the best, most affectionate boyfriend in the world, Ace always made a quick stop somewhere first to pick up a snack for you, even stopping to pick a handful of wildflowers or a pretty seashell to bring you if there was no town nearby. You had always insisted that it wasn’t necessary, but he would have none of it, preferring to act like some sort of bird performing a mating ritual than visit his partner empty-handed. Plus, despite you teasing him for his seashells and shiny rocks, he knows you keep them all in a little box under your bed, with the dates of his visits written on each one.

You had always liked knowing he took that tiny bit of extra time and effort to put a smile on your face, even if it was just from handing you a funny looking acorn. But after being introduced to your hobby, Ace’s casual presents have become more thoughtful, now almost always showing up with a little handmade something. The first time he showed up with a creation he deemed good enough, the gesture rendered you speechless. And he remembered that.

Ace’s first gift to you was a bracelet made of red beads that matched the ones on his necklace, just a little smaller. You were torn on how to react. On the one hand, you were about to cry from how sweet of a gesture it was, on the other, you couldn’t stop smiling over the fact that the beads were a little uneven in size and shape. It was so endearing to you, seeing how Ace was clearly still in the process of developing the precise fine motor skills required for making little beads.

His second handmade gift was a little flame-shaped charm made from red, orange, and yellow clay mixed together. It had a little hole at the top. “For putting on a necklace.” He explained. This time, you had a gift of your own ready, already expecting his. You had made him a personalized bright orange mug with a red handle shaped like the beads on his necklace. This time, he was the one to get emotional.  

His third present was far more impressive than the first two, not that you were comparing them. He had made a tiny replica of his hat, again with a little hole in the brim, so that you could use it as a lucky charm.

“Ace, this is amazing! I should teach you to cook next.” You joke, but he sees the emotion in your eyes as you hold it close to your chest.

Kid - Knitting

Kid is not the type of guy to avidly ask about your hobbies, and he won’t sit and watch you for hours while you do them (at least not openly). But he does love you, so he takes an interest, nonetheless. You had previously joked that he should take up knitting as a calming activity, since he’s an emotional guy who often gets angry, but he had just scoffed and ignored you, preferring to stick to metal.

It started on a slow afternoon, with you sitting on the deck and knitting while enjoying the afternoon sun. Kid was nearby, staring at the horizon, lost in thought, the only sounds around the rushing of the ocean and the soft clicking of your knitting needles.

“Shit!” It’s you who breaks the silence first, having stopped your movements. Your boyfriend only reacts with an absent-minded hum, eyes still locked on the ocean. “My stupid needle broke.” You continue, trying to minimize the damage to your work now that all the loops were falling off. “Kid, do you think you could make me another?” You ask him, finally pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Another? You already have a million, no? Just get one from your stash.” He answers, not annoyed, simply confused. You get up from your spot and walk over to him to explain the different sizes, and how all your other ones were either too big or too small. He seems mildly interested, examining the two broken halves you hand him.

“I can make this.” He simply states when you are done explaining.

“Really? You’re amazing!” You pull him into a tight embrace, partly to show your gratitude, partly because he’s just a really good hugger, so any excuse is welcome.

“Calm down, it’s just a stick. No big deal…” But his chest swells a bit at the prospect of being able to assist you, and so you follow him into his workshop, where he makes another in no time.

From then on, he became more interested. You even tried to teach him, but he simply couldn’t get the hang of it, quickly becoming enraged at every mistake and making the learning curve extremely steep with his regular outbursts. You give up on it after that, thinking it simply wasn’t his thing and at least glad he tried to take an interest in it.

So, you’re all the more surprised when he walks up to you the next time he finds you knitting, and confidently asks “How do you do that pattern?” as though it was the most normal question in the world. You start explaining, only getting more and more confused from the way he actually seems to be trying to understand.

After that, Kid spends the next days mostly in his workshop. It doesn’t strike you as odd, since he has a habit of disappearing every now and then. What you did not expect, however, was for him to request you in his workshop, to then hand you a hat that he had clearly made himself. It’s a little rough around the edges – kid doesn’t seem to have fully gotten the hang of how to properly do a decreasing stitch – but it still looks much better than his first attempt.

“I know you and your crew are planning to go to that winter island next, so I thought I’d make you this.” It’s evident how hard he’s trying to look tough while carefully putting the bright red hat on your head. “Y’know. So you don’t get cold.” He even attempts to remain stoic when you give him a tight squeeze but is clearly pleased that you like it.

“How? I thought you hated knitting.”

“I did.” He admits. “But then I remembered how easy it was to make you that needle. And I thought that I should just make some metal ones for myself and control them with my fruit. It’s not as much of a pain in the ass like that.” He explains, and you have to hold back a smirk at how cute he is talking about knitting of all things, despite being over 2 metres tall and generally a little scary looking.

Next time you see him; after returning from the winter island, there’s something off about the crew. You quickly realize that it’s due to them all wearing matching knitted hats.

You look at Kid questioningly, but he just grumbles and says “I don’t want to hear it. Killer and the others have already been giving me enough shit for it.”

But the crew’s teasing isn’t enough to stop his newfound hobby. More often than not, you find him somewhere on the ship with some knitting needles floating next to him, clicking away at lightning speed as he makes yet another hat, grumbling something about how knitting is “very in line with my political ideology” and that “going against over consumption by making my own clothes is extremely punk.”

One evening, while Kid is in his workshop – no doubt knitting another hat – Killer pulls you aside and whispers “Look, I really like the hats, he’s getting weirdly good at making them, but everyone on the crew already has at least two pairs. Could you maybe teach him socks next?”

Thank you so much for reading! (This is my fic, don't repost! Reblogs are always appreciated <3)

[weirdsht]

Perilous - Cale/Reader

a/n: uni is so hectic i can barely breath... but we defended our thesis! so I'm gonna flood you all with fics as thanks for being patient huhu

tags: no specific gender mentioned for reader, yandere cale, yandere everyone if you squint, gaslighting and manipulation if you squint, cale wants to lock you up but he wont because he loves you

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Requests are open and welcome

Navigation Masterlist

anon said: Hello may we have yandere cale with someone who likes to take a risk lmao

People may disagree on things, but they all unite on this one fact.

Cale and his significant other have similar personalities, and that must be why they get along.

It’s an indisputable fact that unites everyone.

It’s also the one thing that Cale refuses to acknowledge.

He and you have similar personalities? Please, don’t make him laugh. You are vastly different.

Cale Henituse is someone who prioritises having an easy life. He doesn’t like doing hard work, and he certainly doesn’t like running head-on into dangers when they can be avoided.

On the other hand, you, his lovely sweetheart, are someone who likes taking risks. 

It’s not on purpose, of course, you don’t even seem to be aware that you have such tendencies. It just so happens that your heart is so big that sacrificing yourself for others is your first choice. 

Whenever something bad happens or someone gets injured, you are ready to risk your entire being. You don’t like expensing other people and tend to carry every risk by yourself.

But you are Cale’s lover.

So that has to change.

Someone got injured, and you’d like to substitute that guy? No chance, you are staying right where you are and are gonna let Cale handle everything.

Running out of time and ideas, so you offer to buy everyone time? Say that one more time, and Cale will lock you up in his villa.

Honestly, Cale doesn’t know why he chose such a difficult life. But hey, the heart longs for what it wants, and who is Cale to deny his heart when that person is within reach?

So he trudges through this difficult life of his. 

Sometimes it feels particularly hard as his selfishness gets the better of him. 

Sometimes it comes to a point where he physically has to stop himself from preventing you from talking to anyone else. Has to stop his urges to physically bind you next to him every minute of the day.

And you certainly don’t make it easier.

“Oh no, is that so? I would like to help, but everyone said that I must recover from my previous battle first.”

See, not only are you a chronic risk-taker, but you are so, so lovely as well.

Even at this moment, Cale would like to gouge out the eyes of this soldier looking at his love while faintly blushing.

“A-ah, that’s alright [Name]-nim! I am merely reporting, as you are one of our leaders!”

Oh, the difficult life Cale trudges.

Good thing that no one dares to covet what belongs to Young Master Cale Henituse.

“Huh..? Is that so?”

You ask yourself out loud as you watch the soldier practically run away when he sees Cale within the vicinity. He may or may not have used dominating aura, but you’ll never know.

“Oh, love you’re here. A soldier just told me that the situation in the northeastern part of the battle seems difficult… I wanted to help them somehow…”

Cale slithers his hand on your waist and pulls you close to him, successfully distracting you from another self-sacrificial idea.

“But you promise to stay by my side. Besides, Choi Han and Rosalyn are on their way there right now, so you don’t have to worry.”

Choi Han and Rosalyn are, in fact, not on their way. They didn’t even know of the situation until they caught up with you and Cale. But again, there’s no way you would know because after Cale spoke, they were already moving. Acting as if Cale had given them such orders a long time ago. 

It’s an unspoken agreement between all of them. They do it not only because they follow Cale, but also because they don’t want to see you getting hurt again.

You pulled way too many stunts before that gave everyone heart attacks.

Honestly, if Cale wakes up one day and puts you in house arrest, no one will bat an eye. They aren’t blind to Cale’s actions and feelings. Everyone else in the group can see how hard his holding himself back. They are just waiting for the day his patience finally snaps.

But a patient man is what Cale is when it comes to you.

So he indulges you. Makes you think that you have everything in control when, in fact, Cale is manipulating things behind your back.

It’s the only way to keep you happy and safe.

Well, if Cale wills it so, he can make you believe and enjoy the life of captivity. You won’t even notice that you’ve fallen into his web if he wants.

But you look better with your wings spread out to the world.

So Cale Henituse steel himself. Tells himself that it’s the last resolve.

However, such patience is only reserved for you.

And so may the universe help his enemies that dare harm you.

Because Cale and his group certainly won’t.

Not when they even borrowed Tasha’s dungeon to deal with them.

[chadobi]

Hii!! I would have a request if it's ok...

So- I was thinking.. could you do one of the (or all separately) turtles with s/o that is.. kind of autistic, and their special interest are turtles, and they know absolutely ton of fun facts and know their anatomy very well and stuff

And maybe that would be the reason why they didn't freak out when they met em

Yeah anyways, thank you very much!!

Heyyy! Life’s been kinda crazy lately, so sorry I haven’t been around much! I’ve been writing some stuff for you guys when I get a chance tho! Btw, I freaking love this idea!

ROTTMNT boys with an S/O who knows everything about turtles

Rise!Leonardo (Red-Eared Slider)

•When you first meet him, Leo’s fully braced for the usual mix of panic, screaming, or fainting.

•But instead, you look him up and down and immediately say, “Oh wow, you’re a red-eared slider, right? The stripes on your face are a giveaway.”

•He freezes. “Uh… yeah? How do you…?”

•Cue you info-dumping about red-eared sliders being semi-aquatic, thriving in slow-moving water, how they bask to thermoregulate, and how some males vibrate their claws during mating displays—

•“WAIT—hold on—are you calling me flirty or just biologically accurate??”

•You tell him you’ve been obsessed with turtles since you were five, and Leo just falls in love a little on the spot.

•You literally never panic around them, and it makes Leo feel seen. Like… you met him as he is and you were just excited.

•He starts asking you about turtle trivia. Sometimes he’ll quiz you in battle just to distract you from danger (“What’s the average lifespan of a slider again?!” “20 to 40 years depending on habitat—wait, Leo, DUCK!”)

•He starts using turtle facts as cheesy flirting. “You know, some turtles can breathe through their butts. Not me though. But if I could, I’d only do it for you.”

Rise!Raphael (Snapping Turtle)

•Raph is so used to people being scared of him. He’s massive, he’s spiky, he’s got that intimidating edge.

•But when you meet him, you just kind of… blink up at him and say softly, “You’re a common snapping turtle, right?”

•Raph is baffled. “How’d you—”

•And suddenly you’re lighting up as you start talking about the ridged shell, the prehistoric jaw shape, and how snappers have powerful necks with lightning-fast strikes.

•He kind of… melts? Like he’s never had anyone recognize his species in a way that wasn’t fearful.

•You add, “But you’re way friendlier than a snapper usually is. You’re like… a gentle tank.”

•And Raph just turns red. No one’s ever used “gentle” and “snapping turtle” in the same sentence for him before.

•He’s super protective of your special interest. He learns to spot when you’re overwhelmed and helps ground you by letting you gently touch his shell (you tell him the name of each scute and he listens like you’re reciting poetry).

Rise!Donatello (Softshell Turtle)

•Donnie thinks he’s prepared for anything. But when you first meet and don’t flinch or stare, just go, “A softshell! I’ve never seen a living Apalone spinifera so close before!”

•His brain short-circuits.

•You immediately launch into the unique adaptations of softshells: how they’re built for speed, their snorkel-like noses, their leathery skin, and—of course—how sensitive they are to touch and water quality.

•Donnie: “…Are you flirting with me through turtle taxonomy?”

•You: “No, I just like turtles.”

•You: “…But also, yes.”

•He lowkey records your turtle info-dumps and listens to them when he needs to self-regulate.

•You start helping him upgrade his tech with ideas inspired by actual turtle physiology (like better humidity sensors in his suit to mimic softshell needs).

•You two go off on wild biology tangents for hours and the others can’t get a word in.

•“Donnie, did you know some turtles can absorb oxygen through their cloaca?”

•“Babe, if I had a cloacal respiration system, I’d be unstoppable.”

Rise!Michelangelo (Box Turtle)

•Mikey finds you in the lair just casually reading a book titled “Turtles of North America” and doesn’t think much of it.

•Until you look at him and go, “Oh wow, a box turtle. That explains the domed shell! You’re like a walking tank!”

•He GASPS—“You KNOW what kind of turtle I am???”

•You happily rattle off facts about box turtles: their hinged shells, how they’re land-based but still need humid environments, how they can close up completely inside their shells—

•Mikey demonstrates immediately and gets stuck. “Babe, help. The shell got me.”

•You gently help him wiggle out and he’s like this is love.

•He starts calling you his shell-mate.

•You two start a shared turtle scrapbook where you paste pictures, drawings, and funny facts. Mikey adds stickers. You add footnotes.

•You have a habit of using turtle anatomy metaphors when talking to him—like “don’t retreat into your shell” or “your plastron’s showing” (when he’s being vulnerable).

•He responds by lifting your mood with turtle puns 24/7: “You’re turtley amazing,” “Shell yeah,” “You’re the snap to my crackle.”

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

HISS — Jhea

s/o to @spiicii cause she inspired me😏😏😏🫠🫠🫠

🐍 Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, dominant Omega x dominant Alpha power struggle, knotting, knot drunk behavior, begging, spit play, slapping, slurs used filthily (“bitch,” “daddy,” “good girl,” etc.), spit-in-mouth, mild choking, manipulation via sex, excessive cum/flooding, no aftercare, degradation, orgasm control, marking, venom-coded language, toxic control themes, public tension → private destruction, praise + mockery overlap, Jey on his knees but still in charge, Rhea getting ruined with the consequences of her own mouth. 🐍✨ Not for soft hands or fragile egos.

🖤 Premise:

She told him to crawl.

He did.

But now she’s on her back, wrists pinned, knot-stuffed and sobbing, begging the same Alpha she spat orders at an hour ago to please stay knotted just a little longer.

Toxic? Yes.

Hot enough to drown in? Also yes.

This is what happens when a bitch plays power games with the only man willing to break her just to prove she can’t win.

The lights backstage at RAW buzzed low, almost as if they were holding their breath. The camera was rolling, red light on, catching every inch of Rhea as she stood center frame in a shredded Civil Regime tee, sweat sliding down her collarbone like war paint. Her eyeliner was smudged in that intentional way, like she’d just wiped blood off her cheek and left the rest. A glint of something mean sparkled behind her stare.

Her arms were crossed, dominant and inked, her stance wide and unbothered. The interviewer beside her looked nervous. Not that Rhea cared. Her mouth was curled in something between a smirk and a threat, her jaw ticking in boredom as she waited for the next dumb question.

“Rhea,” the interviewer began, all smile and soft voice, “earlier tonight Zoey Stark suggested that lately, your focus has shifted more toward your image than your in-ring performance. Any thoughts?”

Rhea didn’t blink at first. Didn’t even turn to look at the interviewer. Her head cocked slightly, and then slowly…painfully slowly as she dragged her gaze sideways, one eyebrow rising with precision.

“Did she say that before or after I pinned her last week?” she asked, dry and rich, laced with venom in true snake fashion. “Just wanna get the timeline right.”

A short laugh echoed from someone off-camera. Rhea didn’t break. Her face stayed stony, lips twitching just slightly like she was chewing on her next sentence. She liked this part: the slow dissection. The humiliation served cold.

The interviewer pressed forward, either brave or stupid. “She also hinted you’ve been… distracted lately. Something about a certain person always hovering backstage?”

That made Rhea shift her weight. Barely. But it was enough. Her eyes gleamed now, and her voice dripped with condescension.

“Oh, we dragging my sex life into this now?” she said with mock curiosity. “Cute. Thought we were talking about wrestling.”

Then she turned fully to face the camera, spine straight, her chin lifted just enough to look down at whoever was watching on the other side of the screen. Her mouth curved into something deadly and proud. Her scent was sweet, spiced, candy coated at the edges, everything a certain Alpha wanted.

“I beat girls like Zoey half-asleep, half-dressed, and halfway to an orgasm,” she said. “Next question.”

Across the room, obscured by shadows and the steel frame of a lighting rig, Jey stood motionless

He hadn’t blinked once since the interview started.

His arms were crossed over his chest, his hoodie unzipped, his chain swaying with each subtle shift of his jaw. He looked calm, almost disinterested, but his eyes told the real story. They were locked on her. Dark. Unforgiving. Possessive.

She was wearing his scent like perfume. Not strong enough to be recent but deep enough to mean something.

And fuck if he wasn’t proud.

Jimmy was next to him, leaning just slightly against the wall. “She always talk like that?” he asked, quiet and casual.

Jey didn’t answer right away. He licked his bottom lip, jaw flexing.

“Nah,” he said eventually, low like a growl. “Only when she wants me to lose my fuckin’ mind.”

Rhea was wrapping up the interview now, and the mood had shifted. She had the mic in her hand, holding it like a blade.

“To the women in the back,” she said, clear and final in true ‘Mami’ code, “if my name stays in your mouth, I suggest you get comfortable choking on it.”

Then she dropped the mic. not with drama, just indifference and she turned on her heel. And as she walked away, she didn’t look at the interviewer. Not even once. She headed straight toward the hallway where she knew.. hers…would be waiting.

And as she passed him, the scent of her had brushed up into his nose again, very teasing and electric.

Jey stepped out of the shadows.

He didn’t reach for her. Just leaned in, his mouth close enough to graze her ear if he wanted to.

“You wanna act like they ain’t about to get a show?” he said. “Bet.”

Rhea didn’t stop walking, but her smirk sharpened as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Her voice came with amusement.

“Don’t say it unless you mean it.”

And Jey, already following now, already burning, just chuckled under his breath.

“You’ll know I mean it when you can’t walk back to your locker.”

Rhea approached her locker room and pushed the door open, she didn’t rush. She never did. She stripped off her shirt and tossed it onto the bench like it was dead weight. She smelled like blood, victory, and sex not yet had.

The leather of her shorts creaked as she sat, legs spreading without a second thought, elbows braced on her thighs. Her boots… her fucking boots, the platform ones with the thick silver spikes up the sides had caught the light as she rested one heel flat on the ground. The other tapped, impatient.

Jey had stepped in like a storm dressed in silence. His chest was rising. Eyes locked on her like he was starving. She could smell him before she had started the interview, that damn Alpha heat boiling in his stomach, going up through his throat.

But she didn’t flinch. Didn’t stand. Didn’t submit.

She dragged one palm down her inner thigh. Her fingers ghosted right over the curve of her pussy, just enough to make him twitch. Then she smiled.

“You wanna do this to me, huh?” Her voice was a purr sharpened into a knife. “Want me all fucked open and knot drunk, crying all over your dick?”

Jey didn’t answer.

“You always get like this,” she went on, tongue pressed to the back of her teeth. “All mouth backstage, but the second I open my legs, your knees get soft.”

Still no answer.

She leaned back, bracing one hand behind her. Her scent flared and that smile he loved so much, had turned cruel.

“On your knees,” she said.

And he dropped.

Just like that.

No hesitation. No question. He just sank to the floor like the Alpha in him had been leashed, broken in by her presence alone. His breathing was ragged now. His hands flexed at his sides. But he didn’t touch. He knew better.

She spread her legs a little wider.

“Crawl.”

He did.

Big palms on the tile, his muscles locked, throat bobbing with restraint. He moved toward her like a worshipper crawling toward an altar… one made of flesh and fury and sweet Omega poison. Every inch he closed, only seemed to turn him on even more

When he reached her, she raised one boot slowly and rested it square on top of his head. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind.

Jey stopped under the pressure.

Her gaze burned as she looked down at him from her seat.

“Always such a good dog for me,” she murmured.

Her boot pressed down harder.

“Now…” she said sweetly, coldly, “…be a good boy and bark for me.”

Jey’s lips parted.

And he did.

A low, guttural bark tore from his throat and if we are being honest.. a bit embarrassing.

Her grin widened.

She removed her foot and reached down and grabbed a fistful of his hoodie. She then yanked his head back so he was staring straight up at her.

“That’s what I thought.”

She tugged his face higher, her fingers threading into the front of his sweatshirt and curling the fabric tight in her fist.

Rhea looked down at him like he was nothing and everything. Her thighs flexed. Her scent was sweet now, more like a dangerous sweet. Her body was already primed, heat brewing just beneath her surface. And when she pushed her hips forward, just a little, just enough, his mouth opened without command.

That made her smile.

“Take the fuckin’ hoodie off,” she said, voice low, gritty. “You’re gonna drown in me anyway. Might as well feel it.”

Jey obeyed. Hoodie peeled off, arms flexing, chest rising in time with the tension in the room. When he came back to her, he pulled off the leather shorts, managing to effectively leave her in her boots, she was not wearing any underwear.. perfect. He then placed his hands on her knees, steady, spreading her wider. He kissed the inside of one thigh. Then the other. Gentle.

Too gentle.

She curled her fingers into his mullet and yanked his face; not away, but closer, until his breath was ghosting right against her.

“I said eat,” she hissed. “Not pray.”

And then he did.

One deep, filthy stroke of his tongue and she was arching off the bench.

Her hand slammed into the wall behind her, palm smacking the metal hard enough to echo. Her other hand stayed fisted in his hair, guiding him, holding him, daring him to stop.

Jey groaned into her, deep, desperate, hungry, and she rolled her hips forward in answer. It wasn’t soft. Nothing about it was gentle. She rode his mouth, grinding down like she needed to erase herself and be rebuilt by his tongue alone.

“Fuck.. yeah.. yes.. yes yes, that’s it, baby,” she moaned. “Just like tha… oh my fucking God… fuck you eat pussy like it’s a sport.”

Her thighs squeezed around his head, tight enough to bruise.

“Look at you,” she panted, eyes fluttering. “God, you love this shit, don’t you? My sweet little Alpha. Tongue-fucked and obedient.”

Jey growled against her. It sent a vibration up through her pussy that made her curse again, louder this time. She bucked her hips, chasing it. Daring him to keep up.

And he did.

He licked and sucked like he was starving, tongue darting and flattening, dragging over her clit just how she liked. Every time he pulled back for breath, she shoved him back in.

“That’s it,” she hissed. “Fuck me with that mouth. You’re so good at it. Always so fucking eager. You’d live between my legs if I let you, huh?”

He moaned in agreement. Didn’t stop.

She was shaking now, legs trembling against his shoulders, stomach tight, hands desperate for something to hold onto. Her head dropped back, mouth open, eyes shut.

“God, I should keep you on a leash,” she whispered. “Lock you in my locker, just for this. My fuckin’ Omega tamer. My perfect, messy-faced little freak.”

Her orgasm crested fast.. way too fast, but she didn’t care. Didn’t want to slow it down. She wanted the crash.

“Don’t stop.. fuck, don’t you dare fucking stop… ah.. ahh… fu—“

She came hard.

Her hips lifted off the bench, thighs clamping down, one boot slipping and knocking over a bench beside them. She screamed his name, “JEY!” It sounded raw, vulgar, voice cracking. She kept grinding through it, gasping, twitching, eyes rolling back.

When it finally passed, she sagged.

Still panting.

Jey pulled back just an inch. His mouth was soaked. His lips swollen. His eyes dazed.

She looked down at him, still breathing heavy, her smile very sinful.

“Good boy,” she murmured. “Didn’t even need to be told twice.”

She leaned forward, grabbed his chin, smeared her cum across his mouth with her fingers.

“Now,” she said, licking her lips. “Get up and don’t even think about putting your knot in me unless I say so.”

The taste of her still coated his lips. His beard glistened with her cum as his fingers dug into her thighs as he stood up.

She was still catching her breath, legs splayed wide, sweat clinging to her ribs like armor. Her pussy twitched. She was already ready again.

“Pants off,” she ordered, hoarse but firm. “Now.”

Jey didn’t hesitate. He peeled off his sweats, his dick springing free, a little curve to it, already flushed and leaking at the tip. She glanced down at it, then dragged her eyes back up to his face, unbothered.

“I said don’t even think about knotting me,” she said, smirking. “You get in, you stay soft. Got it?”

Jey’s jaw ticked, but he nodded once.

She had no idea what was coming..

She patted the seat next to her and said, “Sit.”

He grunted and obeyed. Rhea smiled and she adjusted her as she hovered over his dick. She rubbed her pussy along his dick before deciding to.. quite literally… sit on his dick.

Rhea arched immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck, her boots digging into the bench on either side. He filled her perfectly, maddeningly. He didn’t thrust… no not yet. Just sat there, letting himself twitch inside her, letting her grind against him like a bitch in heat.

She rode him slow at first, savoring the stretch, hips moving with precision. Her pussy wrapped around him like a glove that was two sizes too small. She leaned in, mouth brushing his ear.

“You gonna stay good for me?” she whispered. “Let me use you?”

Jey’s hands slid down her ass. His grip tightened.

“I was,” he muttered.

It all happened so fast. One second she was on top, smirking, claiming him.. and the next she was on her back on the locker room floor, the wind knocked out of her chest, her legs thrown wide.

She gasped but not in fear. It was a moan… a fucking beautiful moan.

Jey stood over her, smug and sweat-stricken, towering.

He didn’t give her time to talk back. He dropped to his knees, grabbed her thighs, and slammed back inside her in one brutal thrust.

Her head snapped back.

He fucked her like she was just a challenge that needed breaking. Every thrust knocked a sound out of her; curses, moans, screams.

Her arms flailed once, but he caught them, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand.

His other hand curled tight around her throat.

“You thought I was yours, huh?” he growled. “Thought I’d bark and crawl and beg for pussy like a good little dog?”

He slammed into her again.. so deep that she screamed.

“I did everything you said. Didn’t even try to knot you.”

Another thrust. Her mouth dropped open. Her eyes rolled.

“But you forget—I’m daddy!”

She twitched beneath him, her body unraveling fast. The floor was cold against her shoulders, her boots useless in the air, her mouth too full of moans to fight back.

“Oh my God,” she sobbed. “Jey—fuck—Jey—”

“Say it,” he taunted. “Say what you are.”

“I’m—,” She couldn’t finish the sentence with that perfect dick fucking her like there was no tomorrow.

He smirked. “You mine you fucking bitch. Look at you. Look at this pussy drunk on dick that ain’t even knotted you yet.”

He pulled all the way out, just to let her feel the loss and then slammed back in so hard her legs jerked.

“You don’t run shit down here,” he growled in her ear. “You just take it. You just need it.”

And she did.

Rhea’s back arched. Her legs shook. Her vision blurred. She wasn’t just riding the edge.. she was about to fall through it.

“Jey,” she whimpered. “Please…”

He nipped her jaw. Not gentle.

“What’s wrong, mami?” he mocked. “You wanted control. You got it. Look at you. So fucking knot drunk and I ain’t even filled you yet.”

She moaned again. Louder. She was close… way too close.

He grinned against her ear.

“You want it?”

A pause.

He slowed just enough to make her scream.

“Beg.”

As it continued, she didn’t know which thrust had broke her. Maybe it the one where he held her jaw and spat on her tongue? Or maybe the one where he slapped her across the face after she rolled her eyes while begging? All she knew was that somewhere in between, she lost herself completely. No thoughts. Just need.

Rhea Ripley, the baddest bitch in the room, had been reduced to lying on her back like an offering: wrists pinned, body slightly red, mascara streaked down her cheeks, begging.

Literally. Loudly.

“Please—fuck—Jey—knot me—please—”

He sat back on his heels between her thighs, bare chest gleaming, dick flushed and thick, soaked in her. He tapped it against her pussy. Didn’t push in. Just watched her lose it.

Her eyes were glassy. Her lips were trembling.

“Oh, now you want it?” he taunted. “Now you need it?”

She nodded frantically, tears slipping out of the corners of her eyes. “Yes—fuck, yes—I need it, Daddy, please—”

He leaned forward, slow, mouth hovering just above hers.

“Need what?”

“The—knot,” she sobbed. “Your knot—please—I wanna be full—I wanna feel it pop—”

He spit right in her mouth.

She choked on it. Gasped. Moaned like she’d just been kissed by God.

“Swallow it,” he said.

She did.

“Good fucking girl,” he whispered.

Then he slapped her. Not hard to alarm her, just enough to jolt her.

Her pussy throbbed.

“Oh my God,” she whined. “Please, Jey—I can’t—I need you—”

He circled her clit with the tip of his cock, slow and lazy. Her hips jerked.

“You said not to knot you,” he reminded her. “Told me to stay soft. Told me to crawl.”

“I didn’t mean it—fuck—I didn’t mean it—”

He slapped her again.

And again.

Consensually of course..

They were tiny smacks, back and forth across her cheeks. Nothing bruising. Just punishment. Just control.

“You’re so fuckin’ loud now,” he growled. “All that mouth backstage. All that attitude. Where’d it go, mami?”

She was sobbing now. Her voice was gone.

“I’m sorry—please—I learned, okay? Daddy, I fuckin’ learned—just fuck me—fill me—please—”

He laughed. This motherfucker actually laughed.

Then he lined himself up and pushed just the head in.

Her entire body twitched with want.

“Not yet,” he said.

Pulled out.

Did it again.

Her arms were shaking. Her pussy was dripping, twitching, spasming. She was completely flushed to her chest, tits bouncing with every shallow breath. A true Omega in heat, broken by denial.

“You want the knot?” he asked.

She nodded so hard she almost hit her own head on the floor.

“Say it.”

“Please, Daddy—fuckin’ knot me—I wanna feel it—I wanna be your bitch—I want you to fill me up with your cum—tie me up—make me wear it—please—I wanna drool around it—I wanna be bred—please—”

He finally slammed back inside her.

No warning. No mercy.

All the way to the hilt.

And she screamed—body arching like she’d been electrocuted.

“Oh my fuckin’—” her words disintegrated into nonsense. Her eyes rolled back. Her hips twitched uncontrollably. She was already drunk on it—and the knot wasn’t even in yet.

Jey leaned in, grinding slow.

“You wanna be my bitch?” he growled.

She nodded, drooling. “Yes—fuck—yes—yours—yours—yours—”

“Fucking knot drunk slut,” he said, and grabbed her throat. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Her legs were shaking more now..

She couldn’t hold eye contact, couldn’t form words anymore—her mouth hung open, drool slipping down the corner of her lip. His cock was buried to the base. And the knot at the base of it was starting to swell.

She felt it.

That unbearable stretch, that growing pressure, that pop pop pop deep inside as her body tried to fight it.. and sadly failed.

Jey was grinning like the devil. His sweat was dripping onto her chest, his fingers curled bruisingly into her waist as he forced her to take it. No more teasing. No more play. He was fucking her like she asked for this.

Because she did.

“Look at you,” he panted, a mean tone in the way he spoke. “Thought you was in control. Thought I’d beg for pussy. Now you can’t even form a full fuckin’ sentence.”

She was choking on a moan, her nails scraping helplessly down his back.

“You begged for this knot,” he sneered. “And you’re gonna wear it ‘til I say otherwise. You hear me?”

Her mouth opened but no sounds.

He slapped her again. Her whole body jolted.

“Say it,” he snarled. “Say you fuckin’ love this knot. Say you want me to cum in this pussy.”

“I—I—” her voice cracked in pleasure. “I want it. Daddy—I wanna be bred… knot me harder, please—please—”

She was convulsing now, each thrust dragging her higher, making her shake like a toy with the battery dying. And then… it happened.

That pop.

That sudden swell, locking them together with a brutal jolt of pleasure that stole the air from her lungs.

Rhea screamed.

Jey groaned deep in his throat, eyes rolling, his grip tightening like he was about to anchor himself or black out. The knot had locked in, massive, throbbing, unrelenting.

Then came the cum.

Hot. Endless. Violent.

His hips jerked again and again, filling her with so much cum it dripped out around the knot, spilling past her pussy, soaking the floor beneath them. It just. Kept. Coming.

Thick, hot ooey gooey pulses.

Over and over.

Her stomach twitched.

She could feel it splashing inside her and feel it pooling. Her pussy clenched helplessly, milking him, dragging out every last drop.

She sobbed.

“I’m—so full—so fucking full—Jey—oh my god—”

He gritted his teeth, jaw tight, chest heaving.

“You wanted venom, mami?” he growled, breath ragged. “Now live in it.”

Her hips rolled instinctively, desperate, drunk, trying to fuck through the tie.

He didn’t let her.

He shoved her flat, his knot keeping them locked, cum still dripping down her thighs like honey off a blade.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered, voice gone hoarse. “You said ‘Daddy’—you begged—so now you’re mine. And I’m gonna fuckin’ knot you every week until you remember who the fuck you belong to.”

Rhea whimpered. Her body ached, used, overflowing.

She nodded like a fucked up little doll, throat sore, pussy still spasming around the swell.

“Yours,” she whispered. “Always fuckin’ yours.”

[allbornscreaming]

some of my faves (apart from the ones already on this list!): the leather blazer from outside lands '16, & then various fits that blend italian, football, mod, & rocker style to create looks that are just so *miles*! (& shoutout to his gucci x adidas boots & loafers in particular lol, i'm obsessed with those!)

top 5 miles outfits for the ask game, if it's not too late! 🐢💕

omg this ask is an absolute GIFT. thank you so much for giving me the excuse of going through all my miles photos 😘 it was super hard to narrow it down to five because let’s be real, the man is an absolute style icon. but here are some of my all-time favourites:

1. his scarface t-shirt

idk why i love this particular t shirt on him so much, it just feels very *him* to me. it goes so well with his casual jeans looks and i also love the fact it’s become progressively more faded over the years. you can tell it’s a really loved item 🖤

2. his bowie inspired jumpsuit

i mean… do i even need to say anything about this? absolutely iconic 💅 i loved the way he leant into a more flamboyant rockstar style during the cdg era tour, and specifically the cool blues of this jumpsuit combined with his silvery make-up is dramatic and starry and gorgeous. he always commands the stage, but it feels like this outfit gives him just that extra bit of magic ✨💫

3. the blue ray brown pinstripe suit

miles has worn SO many beautiful suits over the years, but i think this is one of the ones that suits (no pun intended lol) him most. it’s sharp and a little edgy and the colour suits him so much, plus the cut is just ridiculously flattering. it makes him look even more longer-legged and graceful than ever. actual supermodel vibes ⚡️

4. his fluffy teddy coat

okay i might be a little biased on this because a big factor in why i love it so much is because i got the biggest, softest hug from him when he was wearing it. BUT i did already love it before i encountered it in person. a lot of miles’s clothes are obviously quite mod inspired and edgy, and I love the contrast of something this soft and cuddly. it also just suits him so much 🥺

5. custom made ray brown kimono

miles in a kimono during the eycte era exudes a power and magic unlike anything else. maybe i love this one especially because he was just so electric during this particular show (i get goosebumps just thinking about it), but also i think it gives him a slightly dreamy, almost otherworldly quality during his performance.

honourable mentions to:

the stripy long sleeve t-shirt

these diva esque jeans

and this INCREDIBLE suit and jacket combo

conclusion: is there anything this man can’t pull off?! his style is so versatile and has gone through so many different evolutions over the years, yet always retains this sense of innate identity. i can’t wait to see where he goes with his style choices for his next album 👀

(please feel free to reblog with your favourite miles outfits! 💓)

[rip-headphones-users]

2 Point Perspective Ch3: Let Yourself Feel Weak

AN: Hey guys whats up whats good. So for some fucking reason Ao3 HATES me and wants me to DIE and has not been letting me post 2point for some unknown reason. So I’m posting it here on tumblr dot com my favorite website instead because it’s pride month and I need people to read it. I need people to peep the horrors. Also yes the chapter title IS another fragment of a GILT lyric. I probably should be posting this in 2 parts. Idk man. Happy Pride month or something.

A deadline was approaching. Kasper was sitting at his computer scouring the regretevator’s files, looking for any inconsistencies that stood out to him. He knew he needed a certain amount of bug fixes by the end of the week. His father made that abundantly clear as he had been continuously grilling him on his lack of progress every time he did see him. He would go out and streamline things for enhancing performance, but that would require he actually go out and test floors for himself, and he really did not have the money to spend on that many floor tickets just to test and retest to make sure it was running the simulation correctly as he repeatedly died. Granted, Builderman preferred the term “Forcing a Reset”- but Kasper figured it best that he call it as is. It’s just dying, over and over.

Of everything he was in control over, Kasper wasn’t allowed to touch the behavior of other NPCs, including himself. He had to wonder then, if there was a bug in his own code that gave him this call of the void. Not even that, there was probably something wrong with him in there that made him outright suicidal. The other possibility that he was just sort of hard-wired to be this way and forced to cope with it unsettled him, and genuinely he hated thinking about it. He resented that his dad didn’t have the time or resources to go fix it himself.

Though seeing as he had long since moved on to other projects, it was more so that Builderman straight up couldn’t go in there and do it anymore. Understandably though, doing something like that on his own would probably give Kasper some weird messed up crisis. Outright deleting himself would more than likely have dire consequences on the games function as a whole, and he wasn’t about going in and fucking up the lives of literally everyone he’s technically in charge of. Would it be fair to refer to Kasper as a demigod? … maybe.

Kasper’s hands dug into his hair, absentmindedly tugging at his outgrown roots. Every drag on the scroll wheel felt as if he were trying to run through a nightmare, horribly slow as a singular beast approached from seemingly every direction he turned, the dread only consuming him further. A few rapid notification pings drew his attention quickly, allowing himself to get distracted.

PartyHardy111: Haiiiii

PartyHardy111: Kassssssss

PartyHardy111: Kaspurrrrrrrrrrr

PartyHardy111: U Awak???

FriendlyGhost: POOB!!! :D

PartyHardy111: AKSPWER HI HI HI HAI HAIIII <:DDDDD

FriendlyGhost: Wutz up bru??? OuO

PartyHardy111: IIIII Hav a questn for uuuuuu <:3

FriendlyGhost: Shoot! ^-^

PartyHardy111: APPARENTLY

PartyHardy111: Da lite ov ur life stepped on tha ‘vator absolutey GLOWING.

PartyHardy111: mah pestest friend in tha whoooolllle wide world tolddd meh <;p

FriendlyGhost: Pest told u??? ,’:0

PartyHardy111: YUPPPPP

PartyHardy111: But he said itt more like a (imagine big meen meanie pest voice <>:() “That stupid lampshade wouldn’t turn his brightness down the entire ride here, that idiot was smiling so bright I thought I was gonna get a migraine. What’s he so happy for? He never does that.” an den sum stuff in his beetle language that idk what it wuz lol prolly swear wordzzzz <xD

FriendlyGhost: 0///0?!

PartyHardy111: I gotsta kno!!! Wai is he so fulla da whimsy!!!??? <:3

Of course this would come back to bite him in the ass. Kasper let out a long, drawn out sigh before standing up, and slamming his forehead against the wall a few times. What The Hell. He growled to himself under his breath, “Thanks, Lampert, for the fucking subtlety.” He might as well delete himself right now. Well, no use lying to Poob, their ability wasn’t exactly derived from the meta like his was. Kasper made a search, ‘Is it possible to fully delete characters that have already been implemented into a game?’

FriendlyGhost: k so ofc u kno how Lampert likeeeeeee

FriendlyGhost: LIKE likes me???

PartyHardy111: Neva hear da end of it wen I c himmmm LMAOOO!

That was news to him. Results on his search bar were… inconclusive. Nothing about deletion, which made sense, he wasn’t even allowed. But maybe… he could find a workaround…

FriendlyGhost: So, he came over 2 check on me n shit, yea?

FriendlyGhost: Cause ya know he b worried 4 nothin.

PartyHardy111: <:0 o u good bud???

FriendlyGhost: yea yea dw dw ^^”

FriendlyGhost: He helped me with a tunnn of stuff n like?

PartyHardy111: okokok caus I don’t wantt u 2 b a friendlyyy ghostttttt <XDDDD

FriendlyGhost: ISRHBFEIHRFBYEIRBBSKDJBCKJ LITERALLY STFU!!! XD

FriendlyGhost: N-E-WAY. -_-

Kasper made a search, ‘accidentally overwriting preexisting characters in a game?’

FriendlyGhost: I took him out for icecream and we had a really good time. -u-

PartyHardy111: is dat it??? <‘,:3

FriendlyGhost: I… totally kissed him. By accident.

PartyHardy111: DOOD???

Kasper made a search, ‘most common file corruptions’. Now this? This was a little more conclusive. Ways to fix files, different kinds of corruptions, and different ways files can get corrupted. His eyes led him to something interesting… chainmail viruses… Ransomware. If he could perhaps isolate a virus to his own file…

PartyHardy111: literally y don u 2 jus start dating???

FriendlyGhost: cause idk if that’ll be good 4 either of us… :(

PartyHardy111: u are in top 10 biggest denial EVARRR!!!

FriendlyGhost: but he has like

FriendlyGhost: SOOOOO much goin 4 him

FriendlyGhost: and like I just…

FriendlyGhost: idk. I’d drag him down.

PartyHardy111: <:,[ I feel dat

FriendlyGhost: I’m sorry 4 bein all venty n shi but like

FriendlyGhost: idk I just don’t think I’m worth that effort?

FriendlyGhost: idk what he sees in me.

PartyHardy111: Kas…

FriendlyGhost: Lampert is my best friend, yk? Idk if I would be able to live with myself if I fucked it up.

Kasper made a search, ‘What happens to someone if their file gets overwritten?’.

FriendlyGhost: that being said, the second time wus on purpose B)

PartyHardy: WATTTTTTTTTTTTTTT ??? <:000000000

Kasper found something. A new website had been added to his bookmarks.

Poptart laid curled up and purring on Kasper’s lap as he sat quietly on the floor in the darkness of his bedroom. His ceiling fan hummed idly above him, tussling his bangs just enough to make him aware of the airflow. His phone rang for probably the seventh time that night, letting each call go straight to voicemail. He knew at least one had to be from Poob, which he would normally pick up but didn’t feel like getting his ear talked off for the next hour (especially at the information he just dropped on them). Another from Builderman, who more than likely called him by mistake, at best Kasper would usually get an email from him, anyway. The rest… he hoped weren’t from Lampert. They probably were if he had to hazard a guess.

Doing his best not to disturb the cat, Kasper reached for his phone and flipped it open. Three new messages. Well, at least only two of them were from Lampert. He listened to Poob’s voicemail first.

There was some rustling behind the speaker before he heard them yell “Hey! Gimme mah phone back!!!” Followed by the blow of a party horn. The gravel of Pest’s voice came out of the other end.

“You. Kasper. You need to be aware that what you said caused this freak to elbow me hard in the ribs with their excitement. Expect the favor to be returned.” More rustling, and a chittering growl as what he could only assume was the sound of Poob reclaiming their phone could be heard through several bumps against the speaker.

“Sorry!!!” They squeaked, “Pest- do NOT elbow Kaspe-” and… that’s when that line went dead. Kasper stifled a laugh, fully unexpecting to have Pest say something to him, of all people. Even if that was a threat.

Kasper then readied himself, mentally preparing for Lampert’s voicemails. The first began, and Lampert sounded… nervous of all things. “Hey Kasper, uh- it’s me. I was wondering if you’d like to hang out again some more tomorrow? You don’t have to call it a date if you really don’t wanna, I mean- not that I’m asking you out on a date, or that I’m calling it a date. But… yesterday was really nice, and I can’t stop thinking about- hah, I’m sorry, I sound like a moron right now. Hold on.”

The first voicemail ended, and the second one started up. “Hey Kasper, It’s me. I think we should probably hang out again tomorrow. I know you’re probably nervous about whether or not I’d see it as a date, but if you don’t want it to be, that’s fine! I just wanna hang with you, and we can take it at your pace. If something’s bothering you, you know you can always talk to me. I…I really care about you, ya know? And I want to be there for you as best I can… Kasper, I uhh…” The second voicemail ended. And seconds later, a third voicemail from Lampert popped up.

“Hey Kasper, sorry- hopefully you’re listening to this one first, uhh- ignore those last two. Delete them, actually. Or I don’t know- call me back when you get this and I’ll delete them myself, hahah… Anyway, I wanted to ask- but like, whatever since you aren’t picking up… but I’m gonna come over tomorrow and we’re gonna hang out. I don’t care if you’re embarrassed about what happened earlier, cause like… obviously I’ve been losing sleep over it too, just thinking about it. I know you’re scared of this sort of thing, and I get it, but… I really want to be there for you Kasper.”

There was an intermission of silence as the dread began to stir within his chest again, it was almost as if Lampert was waiting for a response from him on his end, despite the message being pre-recorded over the course of listening to the last few minutes. It sounded as if there was a pen scratching against paper on the other end, Lampert either live-journaling or scripting himself for this voicemail… he wouldn’t be surprised if he had a list of bullet points, actually.

“I know you’ve been shouldering a lot, dude. And… I want you to not have to be alone through that. I want you to talk- uh, I want you to be able to talk to me about this. I… I really don’t care if it’s supposed to be confidential- you’re clearly suffering and it’s… it’s really hard to watch. I hate feeling like I’m just on the sidelines not able to do anything while you go through all this, Kas.”

Another pause.

“I just… I want to tell you… that you mean a lot to me. Genuinely. I love you, Kasper.”

He snapped his phone shut, that- no matter the sentiment- was genuinely hard for him to hear. It was a real question that he had, as much as he hated thinking about it. That he might actually mean something to other people. Well, at least his room was clean for Lampert’s visit… not that he actually put in the effort behind that.

Poptart rubbed her face against his, getting his attention with a “mmrp” before jumping off his lap and rubbing her body against the door. Kasper stands, following her outside of his room as she trots into the kitchen, looking behind her to see if he was following. He sighs, and looks into the living room where Unpleasant now lounged on the floor, playing its DS.

“UG- you fed Poptart while I was out, right?” Kasper asks, knowing he’s not gonna get a useful answer.

It huffs, morphing in a way that would appear to have it kicking its legs in the air. “The fuck do ya think I am? That's your job to feed your fatass cat, idiot.”

Kasper groans in annoyance as he takes a can of wet food out of the fridge, and steps around Poptart as she curls around his legs. “She is NOT fat,” He chimes back, “and I don’t know- maybe you could stand to help out around here. No wonder dad sent you here to live with me, you’re insufferable”

“Kinda in the name, don’t you think?” It shrugs, and rapidly opens and closes the DS as Mario repeatedly goes ‘buh-bye!’

Wet food falls into the dish, and Poptart immediately starts scarfing it down. “Gah- why do I even bother talking to you.”

There's a brief moment of silence before Unpleasant says something.

“Yo, who do you think dad hates more, me or yo-“

“Shut the hell up.”

Lampert fidgets with a tiny keychain of bottled hand-sanitizer, anxious to make his way onto Kasper’s floor. He debates getting a floor ticket as he takes a wipe from his bag, dabs it in sanitizer, and begins wiping down the floor buttons. He wouldn’t be opposed to just accidentally pressing the ticket button… and while the menu flashes onto the screen, he wouldn’t be opposed to just looking at the feed from just outside Kasper’s door… and checking to see if there is a change in the price… okay he might as well just buy a floor ticket while nobody else is in here. Not that he’s gonna bother anyone with an extra stop… and… oh- that’s the door closing the entrance to Kasper’s apartment.

Lampert rushes to slap the elevator’s open door button, and practically topples inside. Well, at least he didn’t have to buy a floor ticket, he figures, as he enters the apartment. He can’t help but wonder to himself, ‘Does Kas ever lock this place?’ As he moves through the apartment, he practically dodges Unpleasant Gradient, opting to find Kasper on his own instead of making the mistake of asking.

The lamp opens the bedroom door gently, illuminating the dark room around him with the warm glow of his bulb. There is Kasper, once again sleeping soundly having shoved himself into a corner of his bed. The sight makes his bulb grow brighter for just a moment, before he represses it entirely. He walks silently over to the corner and just watches Kasper sleep, placing his bag next to him, filled with wipes, plasticware, and two containers of takeout he had picked up from Rokea before leaving. He watches as Kasper’s chest rises and falls, the cool surrounding air becoming warmed just from the pass through his lungs.

He can’t help but wonder how it would feel, to breathe like that. Or perhaps even to be something so fleeting as a breath as it is taken. Simply just to exist as air, inhaled and exhaled. What would it be like to be drawn into a pair of lungs? To have your very essence be warmed? To provide such sustenance that allows someone to continue living off of the oxygen you hold? It must be as exhausting as it is comforting. A routine as key to a continued survival as it is thankless. Nearly every breath taken is taken for granted, provided that someone isn’t in a state of asphyxiation.

Lampert shoves the train of thought out of his mind- placing a large dab of the clear sanitizer and rubbing it between his hands, wiping the excess onto his lampshade while thinking to himself ‘No, stop that’.

It’s absurd, almost- the amount of restraint Lampert held when it came to Kasper. Normal people didn’t think about their friends like that… and yet.

He grazed his hand along where Kasper had kissed him.

No- no… that would be asking for too much. He’s just a lamp. He’s just a lamp.

He couldn’t tell how long it had been until Kasper had begun to stir awake again, but he found himself waking up as well when Kasper reached over and yanked the pull chain of the lamp on his bedside table. Kasper gasped at Lampert with a startled look, eyes wide- though this was a common enough circumstance for Lampert to just be standing there in his room as Kasper slept.

“Dude-” Kasper inhaled sharply “you could have at least called me to let me know you were here!” He spoke through a raspy morning voice. “I’da woke up!”

Lampert smiled, “yeah whatever man, I brought breakfast. Or lunch. Or whatever you want to call it.” He lifted up his bag, “It’s just some meatballs and stuff from Rokea, nothing special.”

“Yo momma meatball.” Kasper grumbled (knowing full well he was talking to the guy who had two dads made out of completely inanimate material) as he flung the blanket off of himself.

Lampert quickly averted his eyes the moment they made contact with Kasper’s bare chest, his lightbulb flickering as soon as he realized he didn’t have a shirt. He heard Kasper stifle a laugh as he got up, opening a drawer to pull on a layered shirt. Long sleeves as usual. “Shut up” Lampert hissed, crossing his arms as he faced the other way, more drawers opening and shutting as Kasper presumably continued to get changed behind him.

Kasper tapped Lampert’s shoulder when he finished, “you done being nervous?” He asked teasingly, waiting for Lampert to turn back around.

“Oh?! Says the guy who kissed me and ran away about it- what was that about?” Lampert huffed, watching as Kasper’s face turned red.

“L-listen…”

“Nah dude, we’re gonna sit, we are gonna eat, and we are gonna talk about your problems because I am tired of you just dancing around your issues.” His tone comes off more confrontational than it's intended to be, watching as Kasper backs up from his intimidation. Lampert promptly sits on the middle of the floor, opening his bag to reveal the two (slightly cold) takeout containers and setting them in front of him. “Get down here.”

Kasper blinks rapidly, “can I at least get a drink…?” To which Lampert pulls out a bottle of water and a can of bloxy cola. He sighs, and takes a seat across from Lampert.

Lampert looks Kasper in the eyes, his gaze a little harsh. “Look Kas, you wanna get better, right?” To which he nods sheepishly. “Then you have to talk to me.” Lampert explains. “I don’t care if you love me like that- well… obviously I do care, but you are my best friend, first and foremost.”

“Lampert I…”

“Hey- let me finish, just focus on eating.” Lampert pauses him. “I don’t think you know how hard it is, having to watch you not take care of yourself, Kas. When I offer to help you, and I can help you- it’s hardly an issue, then you deny me at every turn until I basically force you to let me help you. Not talking about it isn’t going to make this go away, you know that?”

Kasper nods, swallowing his food before speaking up again. “Lampert, I legitimately do not know if I am allowed to talk about it.” He says, watching as Lampert’s gaze barely shifts away from his face, only reading a twinge of frustration. “Plus, I genuinely don’t know if you can handle the information.”

“Well I want to know!” Lampert shouts unintentionally before catching himself.

Kasper looks up at him with surprise, craning his neck as he sits hunched over his food, almost guarding it with his arms. “It’s… about my job.” He finally admits.

“I didn’t know you had a job?”

“… well you’re not supposed to.”

Contemplative silence hangs between the two of them, lingering for a few minutes as the two of them eat. Lampert looks up at him from his meal, wondering “Is there anyone who’s supposed to know?”

“Only unpleasant.” He shrugs, twirling the fork between his fingers. “But uh- if I tell you, like. Just the basics of this. You promise you won’t freak out on me, right? Or uh. Go around telling anyone else?”

“I swear.”

Kasper sighs, pushing away the weight of his cosmic insignificance. “Let me… phrase this as a bunch of questions, okay?”

“Sure thing.” Lampert leans forward intently, his tail flickering with intrigue.

“Have you noticed anything… weird, about Rokea? Like you swear certain displays looked just slightly different last you saw them, or that for some reason the legs of a chair seem to be uneven, so as you pick it up to fix it, you could pull the chair out of the floor… without leaving a hole in the ground? Or leaned back onto a wall just a little too hard and without realizing you’ve ended up on the floor?”

Lampert nods, eyes flickering with subtle small realizations of things that he thought was supposed to be normal, but never openly spoke of.

“Or you’re on the regretevator, and you’re about to fall to your death but you manage to cling to the wall and suddenly… you’re standing with your feet firmly planted? Or you get impaled by a spike and instead of dying you seem to be completely unharmed? Or you’re forced to play one of those game floors and you phase partially through the solid floor instead of falling as it disappears? Or that suddenly you see so much more detail in the environment around you that you never noticed before?”

“I thought… that I was going insane…”

“No, you aren’t.” Kasper says quietly, reaching out and taking Lampert’s hand in his. His brow furrows as he averts his gaze. “I’m the one who is in charge of fixing all of that.”

“Wow… so you’re like… in charge of everyone’s life then?” Lampert asks, his motor whirring as he tries to process the implications.

Kasper clicks his tongue, sighing before telling him “no- well… yes, But it’s more like I’m in charge of making sure everyone dies correctly.” He says. “And walks correctly, and talks with the right people in the right way, and makes everything look the way it should…” he trails off. “It… doesn’t feel right having people even try to know. It’s…”

“It’s a burden, isn’t it?” Lampert sits silently again, squeezing his hand a little tighter. Now he understood why Kasper struggled with this underlying sense of futility in everything he did. “Have… you ever had to fix me? Like in the way you would fix something else like that?”

Kasper looks at him, and closes his takeout box, placing the fork inside and moving it away from himself. “Well, things involving you.” He says, “I’m not really allowed to fix you directly.” When Lampert does the same, Kasper moves in closer to Lampert. “Besides… I wouldn’t wanna fix you anyway.”

Lampert’s face lights up as Kasper grabs his other hand and just holds it. Kasper moves quickly to shut off the smaller lamp on his dresser, allowing Lampert to illuminate the room himself.

Kasper continues, “I’m scared cause like… what if I make a mistake and end up hurting so many people? Not even a what if- I have by accident. Several times… and none of them remember or even realize that it’s my fault… I’m scared it’ll all suddenly be permanent.”

“Have you hurt me before?” Lampert asks.

Kasper doesn’t want to answer.

Lampert wraps his arms around Kasper’s chest, pulling him in and resting his head on his shoulder. “I’m not gonna be mad, Kas.”

“I care about you Lampert, but…”

“So you feel guilty, then?”

Kasper nods, sniffling as he buries his face into Lampert’s sweater.

“You’re just doing your job, listen to me. I’m here… I’m here and I’m fine.”

��I just… it’s so scary and I’m scared I’m gonna keep fucking up, and I’d… I’d rather just…” Kasper’s voice begins to tremble, and Lampert quietly strokes his hair with one hand, using the other to grab a wipe from his bag to place between himself and Kasper’s nose, preemptively holding it to his face before snot begins to rain down onto his sweater. Kasper takes the tissue and rubs it against his face, discarding it off to the side.

“…Is it bad that I want to remove myself from this entirely?” He asks, almost as if he was trying to get some kind of permission from Lampert as he lifted his face, looking into the warm light emanating from his lampshade.

Lampert frowns, “Like- quitting your job?”

Silence from Kasper.

“Like… like quitting your job, right?” He asks again, more panic seeping into his voice. Kasper just slumps against him now, digging his fingers into the knit of the sweater. “Kasper- Kasper please I need you to elaborate, I need you to explain, I need you to tell me. Just…”

Lampert pauses, wrapping his arms even tighter around Kasper now. His own metal fingers pushing into Kasper’s sides. “…Don’t remove yourself from me.” he begs, pulling him even closer still, letting his lampshade rest on top of Kasper’s head. Hoping with everything in him that through the glow he surrounded him with, he would be able to feel even just a fraction of the comfort that he wanted Kasper to experience. Hoping that his hope alone could somehow manifest physically, and make him feel just a little more okay. Hoping that maybe… he could absorb that pain into himself, and hold that burden, splitting between themselves, so that Kasper’s life would hurt a little less. He could handle it, his body isn’t living- his body could just be discarded if it couldn’t handle the pain. Kasper’s wasn’t. Kasper-

“I don’t think you understand the implications of what I mean, Lampert.” Kasper sighed, just allowing Lampert to move him as he continued to rest against him, at this point no longer caring about the fact that Lampert was holding him like this- he just needed to be held. He could literally feel Lampert getting warmer the second he used his name. If Lampert wasn’t so hopelessly in love with Kasper, he figured that this information would have certainly come to his lips so much easier.

“I want to.” said Lampert, who was resolute in his desire to help him.

Kasper felt as his throat squeezed closed with anxiety, a tear trickling down his face as he tried to muster his voice to speak once more.

What the fuck, it’s not like Lampert was going to remember this anyway. At least for as long as Kasper had a say about it.

He’ll worry about that later.

Lampert wiped away the tear from Kasper’s cheek, gently allowing his hand to rest on the side of the young man’s face. His soft squishy skin melted into the touch, holding still as Lampert leaned in and kissed the opposite cheek. (The best he could, anyway, he did have a lampshade for a face after all.) Kasper sobbed even harder, now, attempting to choke up the words.

Lampert should never have to remember things like this. It’s for his own good.

“This isn’t real.” Kasper whispers between sobbing gasps for air. “None of this will ever be real.” It’s vague, but honest. Lampert might as well have never kissed him, or even be here with him right now, but that’s not the notion he’s trying to drive home currently. “It’s… it’s all this stupid fucking elevator. That’s all it’ll ever be.”

He waits for Lampert’s question of ‘what do you mean?’, but it never comes. Instead he shifts slightly, giving himself room to look Kasper in the eye. He seems more contemplative, casting his gaze a way for a few seconds before telling him “I know what you’re talking about.”

Kasper feels his heart drop in his chest when Lampert says this, twisting, aching, wondering- how long could he have known? How long has he been failing for? Why didn’t Lampert tell him sooner? Lampert clearly notices his expression trembling with guilt and fear, and moves him back into his arms, motor whirring as he realized he had to explain something as well.

“There’s this thing I do,” he starts, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “You know when I choose a new lamp to inhabit It just looks like a flash of light? And how that light is uh… that’s my ‘me’?” He states, feeling awkward in his wording. “Well sometimes I just… walk around like that. Usually when I feel overwhelmed by everything surrounding me and having to feel things, or when I… I want to be close to something, but am too scared to touch it...”

“…Then I can move through walls, and the floor, and just… I keep walking. Sometimes I go, and I go, and inevitably the world loops back round before you even know it. Except obviously it’s not the world, all it is, is just a single set of a few rooms with a bunch of random objects sitting around outside of it. That's all it is...”

“…Is that what you mean?”

Kasper nods. “Yeah. Yeah that’s what I mean.” Close enough to it, anyway.

The silence between them is more comfortable now at least, as Lampert leans against the side of Kasper’s bed, stroking his hair gently as Kasper lay against Lampert’s chest, still crying- but not fighting it anymore at the very least. Kasper would occasionally move to blow his nose, Lampert not necessarily bothered by the building pile of tissue at their side. This was more important. He feels Kasper’s body relax in his arms, and kisses him again on the top of his head. It just… held right to do, he supposed. Only to be surprised when Kasper moved upwards, kissing Lampert on the lampshade for a few seconds before handing Lampert a hand wipe, just in case, but still making Lampert smile and glow bashfully. Kasper then returned to his resting spot right on Lampert’s chest, wrapping his arms around him tightly.

He keeps his head firmly planted where it currently is, and doesn't move as he speaks. “I- umm… I just want you to know… that I didn’t want to tell you cause I thought you’d be worried, or that it would upset you.”

“Yeah?”

“…And that I do love you? Right? It’s just that… ya know- with the position I’m in…”

“It’s hard to justify?”

“Yeah, like… Like ethically.”

“…”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know… I just… hate how that’s the answer.

For a long time, the two of them just stayed sitting there like that, Kasper unsure if he would, or even could ever get to kiss him again.

It was midnight, and Kasper sat on the edge of the bed as Lampert slept soundly. It had taken hours of back and forth conversation between the two of them to get Kasper to calm down, but those hours were long enough to prevent Lampert from returning to Rokea. Kasper suggested what he knew to do best, and offered that Lampert might as well stay the night- to which he almost immediately got to work changing and washing Kasper’s bedsheets completely unprompted.

Kasper sat there, watching him briefly as he lay on his side in complete stillness, the only indication of life being the occasional dull flickering of his bulb accompanying brief bouts of mumbling in his dreams. He thought about all the times that Lampert would just stand there, doing this to him as well. There was something to be said about that amount of focus that Kasper simply did not possess for himself. It’s not that he wasn’t comfortable sleeping next to Lampert. In fact, it was really the opposite. It just felt right, as he laid there having the most peaceful sleep he felt he had in weeks. Unfortunately for him, what felt good and right wasn’t necessarily what he felt was deserved in many cases. So he stood up, leaving the room and Lampert. There was work that needed to be done tonight.

It’s another night spent sitting at that stupid, slow ass, ancient hunk of junk that was his PC. Though tonight it’s not necessarily combined with thoughts of self destruction as was typical. It seemed tonight that Kasper would trail away from his work, consumed by thoughts of Lampert. He wanted to go back to bed, and nudge Lampert awake until he was just conscious enough to shift into a position where Kasper could hold onto him, and let the heat from his robotic frame seep into his chest. That wouldn’t be fair for either of them, though.

A new email notification popped up about five minutes after Kasper booted up his computer, headliner reading “0p3n Mii : D!!!”

Yeah, no. He deleted that. He didn’t need some stupid junkmail clogging up his inbox right now. Much like Lampert was clogging up his stupid brain. He had to wonder, why hadn’t Lampert told him he could traverse through no-bounds before? That idea alone made him heavily consider not just going into the game’s autosave and just… deleting the last few hours worth of safe data from the entire world, leaving the only evidence to be his own memory that he had done it. Obviously he’d never tell Lampert that he could even do something like that, and if he did, he’d delete that too.

But this no-bounds thing… that would actually help Kasper with his job, funnily enough. Assuming Lampert wanted to help, that is. That would save Kasper having to “force a reset” on himself more than he would ever usually need to, especially having someone who could look beyond the confines of their small world and tell him exactly what he needed to fix. He could get so much done- maybe his dad would finally…

… would Builderman even care?

Kasper sat as he blankly stared at the unopened files, another pop-up for an email titled “0p3n Mii!!! :)” which he once again promptly deleted fifteen minutes after the first one.

Sighing, Kasper thought to himself that no- it couldn’t just be as simple as having Lampert do all that. After all, Lampert didn’t even know he had a job prior to today. Not only that- Lampert had work, and responsibilities of his own to take care of back in Rokea.

Kasper opened his browser the second after a third email showed up in his inbox, taking a sticky note and jotting down the web domain of the website he found earlier: “ScarieztPrankzNHaxxerz.com” figuring that might have been the source of those stupid emails, and promptly blocking it. He’d investigate further, in his own free time tomorrow probably, if he didn’t forget.

Whatever, man. Trying to delete himself was probably a idiotic thing to do, anyway.

Kasper reopened his email, figuring that he might as well just check and see if he had received any bug reports since last he checked. Feeling his stomach lurch when he saw over 50 new notifications.

“0p3n Mii!!! XD”