#also forgot how time consuming actually editing is

[nitetrait]

all the time; continually

(night and day)

Before!

w/o reshade

w/ reshade

[dimeadozencows]

I have endured what no one on earth has ever done before

I put my lips to the hands of the man who killed my son

[simplybakugou]

Could you do another drink bakugo?

⋆ PAIRING: drunk/prohero!bakugou x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing; alcohol; all characters are adults ⋆ WORD COUNT: 3003

A/N: taking a break from mystic academia cause this has been sitting in my inbox for so long and i wanted to save it until i got some inspiration for another drunk!bakugou and i finally found the inspo hehe. also when i first started writing drunk!bakugou oneshots, i was 17 LMAO and now as a 23 y/o that has actually been drunk i can write this a little more accurately lol. also i was struggling trying to end this cause i didn’t want it to be longer than it already is (imo) lol so im sorry for the awkward ending. ty for requesting and i hope you enjoy!

© simplybakugou — all rights reserved. DO NOT REPOST/REUPLOAD, TRANSLATE, OR EDIT ANY OF MY CONTENT ON HERE OR ANY PLATFORM

It was a stupid idea. Why the hell would Bakugou go into a bar with the most loud and raucous people he knew even though he’d never drank a day in his life?

He couldn’t think of something he wanted to do less in that moment. He was exhausted, coming from a day of patrolling and hero work. Although his friends also came from their jobs, they actually drank alcohol and wanted to unwind after five years of constantly overworking themselves.

“Are you really not gonna get anything, Katsuki?” Sero questioned, giving the table’s drink orders to the bartender.

“I’m not fucking up my body just to look like an idiot like you dumbasses,” Bakugou huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. 

“Why’d you come then?” Kaminari quipped, interested in hearing Bakugou’s answer.

“Cause your dumbass wouldn’t stop bothering me about coming out tonight!” Bakugou replied angrily.

“Oh yeah!” Kaminari exclaimed, laughing at himself. “I forgot.”

“It’s good to come out with us once in a while,” Kirishima said, nodding his head. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone since we graduated, man. We haven’t seen you in years.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Don’t be fucking ridiculous. I’m not stopping until I’m number one. You shits can drink all you fucking want but I’m not gonna sit around every week just to catch up.”

Kaminari sighed, shaking his head. “This is why you’ve never had a girlfriend.” Sero nodded along with him.

“And what the fuck does that have to do with anything?” Bakugou snarled, slamming his fist against the table out of annoyance.

“You’re a workaholic, dude,” Sero stated matter-of-factly. “When are you gonna have the time to date? If you slowed down a little you could’ve at least gone out with Y/N back when you had a crush on her in U.A.”

“I did not have a crush on that shitty girl.” Bakugou felt himself getting even more angered just hearing your name uttered. 

“You keep telling yourself that,” Kirishima said, patting his friend on the shoulder only to get shook off by Bakugou. 

The drinks Sero ordered arrived and the rest of the guys cheered each other before downing their beverages. Bakugou sipped on his water he was forced to get after Sero berated him to order something.  

The more alcohol his friends consumed, the more rowdy and even more raucous they got and Bakugou questioned even more why he decided to go out with them. It was karaoke night at the bar and Bakugou swore his ears were bleeding as Kaminari consistently kept attempting to serenade him.

Despite how chaotic it was in the bar that night, Bakugou eventually found himself enjoying it. Kaminari and Sero got the most drunk, getting up to dance and stumbling over one another, which made Bakugou and Kirishima burst into laughter. He would never tell them, but he needed this time out and away from the constant need to work towards his one and only goal. 

The night was going great; until the door to the bar opened. Bakugou turned his head to the noise of the bell ringing above the door. It stuck out amongst the voices and loud nature of the room and he felt his face drop at the sight.

There you were, five years older than the last time he had seen you in person. And you weren’t alone as your arm was looped around the arm of another man.

Bakugou couldn’t help but stare at the sight. He drowned out the sounds of Kaminari, Sero, Kirishima, and a few strangers they had recruited at the bar playing drinking games as his focus was only on you. You scanned the area, waving shyly to a few people that recognized you as their favorite rising hero and sat in the corner of the room with your mystery man.

Kirishima glanced at Bakugou, recognizing that he was distracted by something else and looked towards what had caught his eye. He immediately understood the reason for the defeated look on his friend’s face.

“I’m sorry, man,” Kirishima stated simply. 

“Sorry?” Bakugou scoffed. “For what? There’s nothing to be sorry about. We were never together.” The last part Bakugou muttered to himself as he finally tore his eyes away from you and down to his glass of water.

And it was true; you and Bakugou were never together back when you attended U.A. with him and the others. Matter of fact, you didn’t even know Bakugou liked you back then as he made it his mission that you never found out. Not only did he refuse to let himself be subjected to such vulnerable feelings like love and infatuation, you and your peers were constantly bombarded with hero work and dealing with the League of Villains to ever have the time for confessions. At the time, romantic relationships were trivial. 

As things died down by the time class A graduated, Bakugou busied himself with his long-time goal of wanting to become the number one hero. He kept telling himself that it was time to grow up and forget about what he assumed to be a little crush but the more he kept shoving his feelings inside, the more intense they became.

That was why it felt like a punch to the gut to see you laughing with and leaning onto a man that wasn’t him. 

“Hey, dunce face,” Bakugou grunted. Kaminari lifted his head and looked over at Bakugou with hazy eyes. “Get me the strongest drink here.”

“Dude, you really should slow down,” Kirishima urged, concerned as he watched Bakugou down shot after shot. “You’ve never drank before and this’ll probably mess you up fast.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Bakugou said in a rush, out of breath from the abundance of liquids he furiously ingested. He held the next shot glass to his lips, preparing himself to throw it back along with the countless shots he had already done; he felt like he was going to be sick, to no one’s surprise. Bakugou slammed the shot glass down onto the table, still full of alcohol, and he slammed his head onto the table as well. His head was throbbing but he felt like he could float in the air if he really tried. 

Kirishima chuckled at his friend, taking advantage of the situation and taking the shot glass away from Bakugou. 

Kaminari swung his arm around Bakugou’s shoulders. “See, dude, now we’re having fun!” The last word was elongated as he let out a small hiccup.

“Get the fuck off of me, dunce face,” Bakugou mumbled with his head still on the table, causing his words to be muffled. Nevertheless, Kaminari knew exactly what his grouchy friend had said but ignored him.

For the first time that night, Kaminari looked around the room and noticed you sitting alone now in the corner of the bar. He shot up, waving his hand out at you. “Y/N!”

Bakugou’s eyes, which were once closed shut as the alcohol was rushing to his head all at once, shot wide open as he whipped his head up. He felt dizzy from how quick the motion was. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Come on, man, she’s sitting over there all alone,” Kaminari reasoned, turning his attention back to you. You also had finally noticed your old classmates, smiling at the sight. “Hang out with us, Y/N!”

“Alone?” Bakugou questioned softly. He looked over at you and felt a wave of relief wash over him as he carefully watched you make your way to their table, mystery man out of the picture.

“I didn’t know you guys were here tonight,” you said with a smile. You sounded level-headed and Bakugou determined that you were probably the most sober person in the room that night.

“Yeah, we come here a lot after our patrol shifts,” Sero commented.

“All of you?” You questioned, interested as you scanned each of the guys sitting at the table. Finally you locked eyes with Bakugou and he swore your gaze could’ve pierced right through him. He broke eye contact first as he felt his face burning up even more with the effects of the alcohol. 

“We usually have to beg Katsuki to come out. You know how he is,” Kirishima teased, wanting to lighten the mood for his friend. It didn’t work as Bakugou still had a sour expression on his face.

“Wanna get a few drinks with us?” Kaminari offered.

You shook your head. “No, it’s alright. Tonight hasn’t gone the way I wanted so I think I’m going to call it a night. It was nice seeing you guys.”

You waved goodbye to the boys, sending a small smile towards Bakugou as you understood he was in a bad mood but not understanding why. Your back was turned to them as you walked towards the exit and it was a miracle how you didn’t have two vermillion holes in your back the way Bakugou was staring at you leaving.

Bakugou stood up abruptly and he grabbed his coat and wallet. He sloppily pulled out a few bills and slammed them on the table as he made his way out as well.

“Where are you going?” Kirishima questioned.

“Don’t worry about it.”

You cursed at yourself for leaving your jacket in your date’s car as the winter snow began to litter the streets. Your body was shivering terribly. The bar had a few tables and chairs in front of the building and you sat yourself down as you contemplated how on Earth you were going to get home. 

Before you could come up with a game plan, you felt a heavy leather jacket plop down onto your shoulders. You jumped at the sudden contact, watching as a clearly drunk-but-pretending-to-be-sober Bakugou sat himself in the chair across from you. “Bakugou! What’re you doing here?”

Bakugou ignored your question as he bluntly asked, “Where’s that fucker you came in with?”

You were taken aback by his questions. Only a few minutes ago did you realize that Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero were there in the bar with you that night. If he had seen you with your date, that meant Bakugou had seen you when you walked in. 

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and pulling Bakugou’s jacket closer to you as it kept you warm. “He was being… weird.”

“Weird how.” It was a question but you sensed the animosity in Bakugou’s tone as his expression harshened in a way that made his question a statement.

You waved your hands to calm him down. Why was he so upset? “Nothing bad, don’t worry. He’s just some guy I started dating. We weren’t official or anything but I liked him. He said he didn’t like me being a hero and said I should get a job that’d suit me in a feminine way.” You chuckled humorlessly as you recalled the misogynistic comment.

“What a fucking loser,” Bakugou grumbled, loud enough for you to hear and laugh at. He leaned back in his chair, resting his eyes. “You told him to fuck off, right?”

You nodded, amused as you always were back in U.A. with Bakugou’s colorful vocabulary. “Yup. He got pissed and left me here and I left my stuff in his car like an idiot.” 

Bakugou opened his eyes and reached into his front pocket, cursing at himself as his fingers kept missing the opening seam. He pulled out his car keys and tossed them onto the table. You furrowed your eyes at the sight in confusion.

“Take my car to get home.”

You widened your eyes at his insane proposition, looking at the insignia on his keys as an expensive brand. “Bakugou, your car’s worth like a hundred million yen! There’s no way I can drive that!” 

“Just do it, idiot,” Bakugou groaned, placing his forehead on the cold, snow-covered table. “Can’t let you just sit here in the cold.”

A moment passed as you were contemplating your choices only to realize in that time, Bakugou had fallen asleep. You chuckled softly, never expecting to see health-conscious Bakugou who’s always been adamant about never drinking inebriated. 

You grabbed his keys and put them in the pocket of his leather jacket, slipping the jacket onto your arms. You knew you couldn’t just take his car and leave him here like this so you got up and went over to his side, gently shaking his shoulders to wake him. “Come on, big guy. We’re going home”

Bakugou let out a groan as you got him to his feet, your arm around his shoulders and you wrapped his arm around your waist to support him, resting your hand on his hand. You felt his body stiffen in reaction and you looked up at him curiously. His face was red again and you assumed it was a combination of the alcohol and the frigidness in the air. It most definitely was not either of those things.

“Where’d you park your car?” You asked as you slowly helped him walk.

He nodded in the direction ahead of you and you assumed he was referring to the parking lot that was thankfully right next to the bar. The two of you continued walking towards the lot and you found it unusual how quiet Bakugou was.

Once reaching the lot, you were originally going to search for Bakugou’s car only to not have to put any effort at all since his bright red sports car stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the Subarus and Toyotas.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Why am I not surprised by this at all, Bakugou.”

Bakugou flinched and he slowly pulled away from you, shoving his hands in his pockets as he wobbly made his way to his car. “Stop calling me that.”

“What? You don’t want me to call you Bakugou?” You question, confused. “Oh! I get it. You want me to call you by your hero name, right, Dynamight?”

“That’s not it either, idiot.”

“Oh, then, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight?”

“You’re so stupid.” Bakugou stopped right in front of his car and turned around, slowly so that he wouldn’t fall over. He had his signature frown on his face only this time it was out of frustration. “Back in U.A. you’d call me Katsuki.”

“Yeah, I guess I did,” you said, nodding your head as you recalled doing so. “But that was five years ago. I haven’t seen you since then and I just wanted to be polite.”

Bakugou kept quiet but his eyes never faltered or wavered as he kept them on you. You felt like he could burn right through you if he tried as you didn’t understand his frustrations. “Is everything okay, Ba– I mean, Katsuki.”

Bakugou’s eyes slightly widened for a moment and he felt like he was transported back to being a teenager. “No. Everything’s not okay ‘cause I still have this stupid crush on you that I’ve had since our first year in U.A.”

He let out a sigh, feeling a weight on his shoulders dissipate and he turned around back towards his car. You stood in place, shocked at the confession that you did not foresee at all. There was no way the Bakugou Katsuki had a crush on you, especially when you were just teenagers.

“Open the door.” Bakugou turned his head to you as he waited by the passenger door.

“Wait, wait, wait.” You waved your hands in front of you, still unable to wrap his words around your head. “This has to be a joke. There’s just no way– Why would you have a crush on me?”

Bakugou shrugged. “Dunno. Just happened.”

Your face felt hot and it wasn’t because of the weather. So much of your relationship with Bakugou made sense with this new realization. The reason for his cold shouldering you on numerous occasions or annoyed stares he’d give you when you got in a relationship in your second year all started to make sense. It was his way of conveying his feelings for you. 

You shook your head, shaking the complex thoughts from your mind and snapping yourself back to reality as the cold air and Bakugou not having a jacket, since you were obviously wearing it, made you unlock his car with the key he gave you. You watched as Bakugou entered his car on the passenger side.

You knew you needed to give yourself a minute before you could enter the car beside him. How did you feel about him? You always thought he was handsome, when he wasn’t scowling at least, and you enjoyed seeing him mature every year in U.A. Even after graduation, you always watched the news fondly as you watched him evolve into an incredible hero, one that you knew was worthy of becoming number one. 

So Bakugou Katsuki liked you. If your poor previous relationships taught you anything, it was to not turn down a good man when he was right in front of you. Or at least sitting in his sports car waiting for you to drive the two of you home since he was unexpectedly inebriated to do so himself. 

Taking in a breath, you knew what you had to do; you wanted to see where this would go between the two of you. You opened the driver’s side door, sitting in your seat and collecting your thoughts briefly before turning to Bakugou to tell him exactly what was on your mind. You wanted to give it a shot.

And you were intent on doing just that until you turned to look at Bakugou only to see he was once again fast asleep, his chest rising and falling. You chuckled at the sight, taking in how adorable he was in that moment. Slipping his jacket off your body, you draped it over his body.

“Guess you’ll have to stay with me tonight.”

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[socheckitout-mikey]

do u think u could do something where johnny and the reader aren't officially dating or anything but she keeps stealing and wearing his clothes, and the gang starts teasing them for it, which eventually leads to him actually asking her out? i'm sorry if this is too much or anything but thank you so much!!

ahhh this is so cute! idk how i missed this one. my apologies for taking so long writing it out. it came out waaay longer than i anticipated, but i hope you enjoy what i came up with. (': <33 - mae

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Title: The Shirt Thief

Pairing: Johnny Cade x reader

Summary: A cold night with Johnny Cade in the vacant lot brings you an unusual sense of warmth in the form of his denim jacket. What starts off with said jacket, causes you to end up with multiple articles of Johnny's clothes. It all seems harmless until the gang starts digging their noses into Johnny's business. Are you guys friends or are you more than that?

Word Count: 9,472

Disclaimer: THIS IS EDITED! I fixed the spelling mistakes and some of the grammatical errors. I also added a few new things to it, mainly in dialogue. I hope you like it though! :)

Warnings: Mentions of abuse in Johnny's home (with his parents), animals hunting and fighting, Soc's bullying the reader - vice versa, almost attempted assault, the gang coming to the rescue, rough housing with the gang (banter mainly) and a whole lot of sass! Johnny is somewhat ooc here because he's more talkative and sassy, but it's just how the piece came along! Let me know if I forgot anything else.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

  The story of our pesky shirt thief begins in the vacant lot under the sparkling night sky. This night was a relatively clear one in the cusp of autumn’s frost. The full moon was ample, a stunning silver glow that hypnotically danced, shrouded slightly from the wispy clouds sent onward by the chilly fall wind. Amber, golden and burnt brick red crumpled leaves tumbled noisily across the sandy dirt in a mini whirlwind. A toasty fire was being nurtured timidly upon the outskirts of this deserted place, courtesy of Johnny Cade. Underneath the jagged canopy of an almost bare tree, losing its wrinkled leaves, our greasy raven haired boy’s fingers quivered around the spindly stick in his hand. Gave an experimental poke to the half snapped branch swarmed by the smouldering, orange flames. He did not shiver from the cold, but from rampant nerves that pertained to someone he was particularly fond of being there beside him. That person being you.

  In a gloomy haze, stretched over sixteen years, the dependent vacant lot with all of its decaying junk left to rot had become his home away from home. It was somewhere he could come to in order to escape the harshness he had just down the street, riddled with its cluttered and intense violence. The one he had with his parents – if he could ever really call them that – had never been consumed with even an inkling of love or nurturing. It practically rotted away from the inside out with its creaky floorboards, dust riddled insides and the damp lining the walls like a thick winter scarf. A location where he was destined to be neglected in, for the only attention he obtained was to be hollered at by his mother when she was hacked off at whatever or whoever it was that particular time: Whereas his father brandished anything he could in hand to pelt him with. The thought made Johnny shudder, a sick nauseous feeling welling up inside of him. Slimy and cold.

  However, not all was lost. There had been some silver linings in teaching him things such as love, loyalty and camaraderie: His gang of reliable buddies that would stretch to the ends of the Earth for him were the culprits. Although they had nothing too, they gave him everything he’d been missing. Well, almost everything. They were the sole reason he had not run away about a million times by now. They grounded him, created a net of safety and support that he never would have experienced otherwise if he had not been born in this very downtrodden neighbourhood. Yet they could not save him from everything – a harsh reality he came face to face with daily. Nothing and no one could ever replace the lacking love of his parents.

  Nevertheless, the youthful greaser that looked as if he were a puppy that had been kicked one too many times had grown used to bumming around most nights on the busted leather car seat left to waste away in the lot. A frequent bed he now sat upon to gaze up at the glittering stars in the midnight haze of the dark sky. He pondered to himself, watching it while his most favourite person in the world sat off to his right. The silence between you both wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Just off experiencing your own inner worlds whilst you enjoyed the other’s presence. Johnny wasn’t much of a talker as is. You understood the chips he had on the table and didn’t mind in the slightest, but you had your ways of getting him talking.

  Despite the fact that he had a warmer and much more benevolent destination to crash at nightly: The Curtis House. He felt an immense pang of guilt and shame engulf him entirely at the thought of taking up that space. This house did not consume the same dreamy and abundant riches that one would desire at the core. Instead those fantasies were only destined for reality on the Wicked West Side of Tulsa, Oklahoma. “The home to the rich and greedy,” as Sodapop loved to put it.

  Although the Curtis House lacked in material volume, it oozed a charm in its bare necessities and rundown appearance, with its peeling papered walls and well played piano that needed a miracle of tuning. What it lacked when it came to standardised beauty was made up for by its glowing warmth of love, companionship and acceptance of all the inhabitants that nestled under its rickety roof. It was a safe haven for anyone needing a place to lay low to avoid getting into trouble that could be avoided; a.k.a trouble with the law. Dallas and Steve were also regular inhabitants of the well loved couch perched up against the wall by the front door of the home: A product of powerful tempers that needed quenching. They found solace on that old, brown cushiony hunk of junk just as Johnny did when the nights grew too cold or unbearable on his lonesome.

  Johnny stared up at Orion's Belt wondrously, remembering the time he'd heard Ponyboy rattle on about how he'd woken up to find the notorious Tim Shepard occupying his couch, reading the morning paper.

  'Now, what in the hell was someone like Tim Shepard doin' on the Curtis’ couch?' Johnny thought silently.

  Never had he bagged the likes of the eldest Shepard to reach out for a lifeline like that. It was almost unheard of, unfathomable. Tim was a handsome young man with a gnarly looking scar running from his temple to his chin. He was hard, cold and twisted. Jail, booze and all the criminal endeavours he had under his belt were like a morbid toolkit of how to be the best hoodlum out there. He looked about as capable of accepting charity as a lost soul in Hell. Then Johnny supposed that he never really knew him like Dally did. Johnny's silent disposition made it challenging for him to get close to anyone outside of his gang of buddies. Sometimes he preferred it this way, but usually he loathed it. Loneliness was easy in warping the soul of a good man.

  From what Dally had told him of Tim Shepard, it'd be an immense knock to his swelling pride to reach out for help and have everyone aware of it. Inflated prides and fragile egos didn't do wonders for people with big mouths. Hence why Johnny kept his damn trap shut about it after Pony had told him.

  'Man, he's gotta be pullin' my leg or somethin'.' He said internally before shaking his head.

  Expelling a breath, Johnny settled back into the leather seat as comfortably as possible. He swore he'd get a bad back after opting to take the lumpy side of the car bench with the springs gnawing their way through. It had been the gentlemanly thing to do after all. He was a good guy with a good heart.

  Warmth pervaded nicely from the reasonably sized fire he'd established in front of you both, but the chilly wind licked at any bare bits of skin daring to peer through tiny cracks in clothes. He hardly shivered outside of a nervous twitch. Perhaps that was only due to the fact he'd grown accustomed to the elements no matter the weather – unlike yourself.

  Instead his charcoal eyes were doe-like, shakily flickering to his right where you sat. Only then in this moment did he fully come to the present moment, understanding the cold bit at your nose, ears and fingers in a way that looked cute. Yet despite your shivering that you so desperately attempted to hide, you sat there in all of your beautiful glory with only a few inches of space between you both. A comfortability you bathed in that seemed so raw, as if you were merely sitting on your living room couch with both of your knees and feet tucked under you and just off to the side. Peace prevailed from the tender smile gracing your features. A subconscious practice, you definitely seemed to be lost in your own thoughts. Johnny stared at you, and wondered what kind of movie was flashing behind those pretty eyes to have the sun dawn across your face like that. To him, all he could see was the vacant lot – a desolate place where only hoodlums would hang in droves, drawn in by its trashy grounds.

  "You starin' cuz I got somethin' on my mug or it's just that ugly?" You grinned like a chessy cat, turning to look him directly in the eye. Thinking that being a wise cracker was funny.

  Damn you and your perceptiveness.

  Instantaneously Johnny ripped his gaze from yours, stiff as a plank. Embarrassment dashed across every cell in his body and left his lungs flat of oxygen. Man, if he thought his usual heartbeat was fast, what was happening inside of his chest right then must have been the speed of goddamn light!

  All he could do was stammer out, "U-u-uh n-n-neither!" The poor guy sounded like Porky The Pig. 

  Your eyelids fluttered in astonishment at the stuttering mess of a young man he was. So jumpy. A mouse scuttling around on sharp eggshells. Part of you would've felt proud of your handiwork if it had been anyone else, but it was Johnny, your best friend. "Awe shucks, Johnny-cake," you offered him sheepishly, "I didn't tell you to stop. I was just messin' with ya. Gotta keep you on your toes somehow."

  Messing with him? That was evident. He wasn't cross with you for pulling on his leg, just bothered by himself for getting caught out in the act. "S'okay, I g-get it." He shrugged, trying to play it cool whilst he stared into the portal to the Underworld.

  "Penny for your thoughts?" You tried again, bumping him softly with your shoulder.

  "Nothin' much," He lied smoothly, picking at the hole in his tennis shoe.

  "You sure you ain't developin' the cure for cancer or somethin'? You're pretty smart." You inquired with a cheeky beam.

  "Shoot! Do I look like I know what two plus two equals?" Johnny was getting a little bit sassy.

  "Okay okay, I get it. I'll back off." You chortled.

  'Yeah, thank goodness for that…' Johnny thought to himself. Suddenly he was uneasy with the idea of you ever discovering his little moments of staring at you because he loved the way you looked in candid moments like this one just passed. How did one go about saying these kinds of things? Johnny didn't know a lick. He was a dejected lost cause in the romance department. An awkward bump on a log. Felt he looked cruddy right about now too so he scratched the back of his head fervently for a second. No one really gave him a second glance. He was invisible and too quiet to be noticed.

  Yet he failed to realise that you noticed him.

  His forlorn expression had been obscured by his shaggy bangs that hung on his forehead. In fact, they no longer existed. You watched him struggle with something akin to wrestling a twenty foot gator inside of that skull of his. It made you feel funny on the inside, as if you were to blame. Diligently Johnny picked up the jagged stick he'd used to poke the flames with earlier. Started drawing in the dusty cold dirt at his feet. Back and forth, left and right, then round and round. A tedious therapeutic cycle.

  'Yup, he's off to the moon again.' You thought. 'I'll give him a sec to recoup. I think I made him short circuit a little too hard.' 

  Just then the bleakness of the night pressed its breathy lips against you. You shivered in response, huddling unconsciously to Johnny for his radiator heat. Part of him was shaking too. The flames jolted haphazardly. A violent twirl of dead leaves kicked up into the air before the wind relented altogether and they fluttered into the fire that engulfed them. It was a beautiful sight indeed, albeit destructive. The elements typically were unforgiving. That was the cycle of life. Mother Nature worked in wondrous ways that went beyond the mere perception of the human mind. Ever evolving and always there. It had put a smile on your face, and Johnny looked at you once more.

  "Now, you wanna give me a penny for your thoughts?" He asked.

  You slowly turned to look at him, your smile unwavering, "And cash in my trade secrets when you won't give me yours? That don't tally up to me."

  Johnny shrugged, trying to hide a ghost of a smile on his features, "You just caught me off guard that's all…"

  "Oooooh so I got the element of surprise on my side?" You wiggled your eyebrows. "Who knew I was mighty smooth!"

  Johnny rolled his charcoal eyes, shook his head with a laugh, "Don't get too big headed now," he warned.

  "Why, cuz I'll float away?" 

  "Naw," Johnny shook his head, "You sound like Two-bit."

  Your countenance fell from grace then; all of the humour drained completely, replaced with a sulk. "Now you just went and ruined it."

  Johnny laughed heartily, "I dunno why you got it against him, yn. It was only fifth grade-," 

  "Don't remind me of fifth grade! He put gum in my hair and you saw it." You warned with a finger pointed at him. “I looked like a coconut headed bum for two years, Johnny Cade! Two years I ain’t ever gonna get back.”

  "Alright, alright! Don't shoot." He mumbled with a half smirk on his face.

  "And don't laugh either. Who's side are you on anyway?" You mumbled with your arms folded over your chest.

  Johnny met his match in attempting to swallow the laughter down, "Who knew you were this much of a sore loser," with a shake of his head.

  "Sore loser my ass…" You retorted, looking off to the side like a petulant child.

  All Johnny could do was laugh.

  The sourness of your mood forced you to realise the lateness of the night. The cold showed its first signs of frost that danced mistily away from the firelight. You quivered fully this time, rubbing your nimble hands up and down your arms. "Are you cold?" Johnny finally had the courage to ask.

  "Uh-huh! But I'll be okay."

  "You know you don't have to tough it out for me, right?" Johnny said sincerely. "You shoulda brought a coat. It's November not August."

  "I forgot, mom." You mumbled wryly.

  "Man, don't call me that. It sounds strange." He pulled a face as he spoke.

  "And why not?" You demanded. 

  "Cuz you sound like T-," He began, but you cut him off.

  "Don't even think about saying that name!"

  Despite himself, Johnny was laughing something awful. A grin spread across his face akin to a mixture of pride and victory. He'd bested you in the end and even you knew it. "You asshole-," You muttered, but it all bled through into your own sense of laughter that mingled with his. 

  Then it seemed to die down, a comfortable glow encasing you both. In the midst of it you hardly realised Johnny shimmying beside you – too caught up in the afterglow. But then an uncanny warmth of freshly worn denim was draped over your shoulders. Ghosts of fingertips touched the nape of your neck as it was laid there. Your head turned to find Johnny retracting his hands shyly and passing it off without a word. The gesture touched you, made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

  "Why?" Your better judgement couldn't stop the question from flying out of your mouth.

  Johnny squirmed uncomfortably under your focused stare, "I dunno…" he shrugged. "You were cold and didn't have a jacket. It was the right thing to do I guess."

  The right thing to do. It made you beam beautifully then. Johnny Cade was always doing the right thing. Well, maybe not all the time when he was with his buddies, but usually he did. A good guy with a good heart that made yours flutter at the touch. The act of giving you his most prized possession really touched you in ways that made your eyes begin to water. You needed a second to blink them back. Hoping he hadn't noticed. Luckily he hadn't. 

  You thanked him in the only way you knew how to, by leaning your head on his shoulder. He stiffened to the touch, unfamiliar with it. Johnny wasn't much of a hugger, so physical contact was reserved for special moments. He allowed it this time and you felt his body shake, unsure with what to do with himself. Your fingers wrapped around his bicep, a reassuring squeeze so light it helped him realise you weren't going to hurt him. You never could. He was too special, too gentle, but wild in his own way when he let himself out freely. Yet the person he was now, the boy that gave you his jacket and talked with you the most; that was your Johnny Cade.

  "Thank you, Johnny-cake." You whispered into the air, gently holding his hand and squeezing softly. It was sweaty.

  "D-don't mention it." He swallowed, giving you an experimental squeeze back. "It's just my jacket, softie."

  "Who you callin' softie?" You look up at him with a cocked eyebrow.

  "You."

  Silence befell you, and it was laced in a tranquil dose. Hushed whispers reverberated off of the caverns in your hearts, growing more prominent. All the giggles filled with the springy frolicking of baby lambs. Clumsy and endearing. Johnny lit a fire in you unmatched and vice versa. Young love that was mutual, but unknown to the other. You stayed with him for quite some time, until he walked you home. You'd sent him off with a wave after him shyly telling you to keep it. Made him promise not to sleep out in the cold, and Johnny kept his word. Slunk all the way to the Curtis House three hours before sunup to fortunately find it free. Rest was his, all with a smile screwed on tightly to his features.

  Many more instances of thievery occurred with your pesky little fingers and the growing feelings that possessed you like a restless spirit. Time spent with Johnny became your drug of choice, and you could not get enough of him. No funny business was happening, it was just your personalities melding well together. You brought out a sassy part to him, and surprisingly he could keep up with you. Each meeting was set in colder conditions than the last. Forcing Johnny to bring in what little reinforcements he had. You either seemed to forget a jacket or your layers weren't nearly enough. His jacket was a chameleon's skin, bouncing from his shoulders to yours. His shirts were a comforting reminder of him when he wasn't around – shields against the bleakness of winter. His grey sweatshirt was your favourite. Everything began to accumulate. 

  One day you were both coming from the tracks in the Shepard outfit where a little creek was running through another vacant lot by an old abandoned factory. The water was still frozen and the trees were barren. All sorts of junk stuck to the frosty ground. It was kind of niche-like, a quiet place that seemed abandoned when the sun shone its rays upon Tulsa. It had been an accidental find during a summer day the year before. A superb place to explore when things were warmer and less soggy. Though it was apparent that neither of you had the courage to explore the dangerous insides of the abandoned warehouse in its entirety. Anyone could be lurking there, boobietrapped the innards to protect their stashed hoards. So the pair of you stuck to the outskirts towards the vacant lot beside it.

  There you both were, sat upon a crumpled wall, admiring a winter's afternoon like a pair of Humpty Dumpty’s. The sun was bright in the sky, threatening to melt the world entirely. The first inklings of spring graced reality. The robins were chirping, hopping around in search of food nearby. Adorable feathered critters, so fluffy. They reminded Johnny of Christmas as one turned its neck beside him, curiously looking up into his black eyes. Both were inquisitive of the other.

  "He looks like you-," your half whisper broke out into the air too loudly. The disturbance made the robin jolt and fly off.

  Johnny sighed, "Man, he got so close this time. You just had to go and ruin it didn't you?"

  "I'm sorry. Was there a spiritual connection happening? How rude of me!" You gasped with a hand over your heart.

  He shook his head, grinning because he wasn't angry about it at all. "He was a cute little guy though…"

  "Hence why I said he looked like you." You clarified.

  Johnny exploded with a blush, shaking his head again, "You must've hit your head when you fell on the ice earlier."

  "My head is not any worse off than it was before, thank you very much!" You defended yourself.

  "You know, the first sign of someone tellin’ porkies is denial, right?"

  "I am not tellin’ porkies!"

  "Are too-," Johnny countered, nudging you with his elbow.

  "Am not!"

  Falling back into that effortless banter made you both grin like chessy cats. It was silly, but very much needed. You knew Johnny got extra embarrassed whenever you'd start complimenting him, especially in the looks department. You didn't say these things just to throw him off, but because you truly meant them. Johnny was cute. One of the cutest guys you'd seen in a longtime. Maybe he wasn't moviestar handsome like Sodapop, but girls were missing out when they overlooked him. He had his own things to bring to the table; loyalty, kindness, abiding the law… Just to name a few. You suddenly shook these thoughts out of your head, deciding if you went too deeply down this path that it was best not to be done in Johnny’s presence. Lest you were to blabber about it like you'd done to your other friends who'd told you to ask him out already. They just didn't understand how delicate the matter was really. Johnny wouldn't say yes anyway.

  "Hey look! Those cats are back," Johnny quietly hissed by your side, pulling you out of your daze.

  You followed his line of sight and sure enough the two male felines were there. Lithe in nature and mean looking. A skinny orange tabby trotted forward, a snaggle tooth protruding from his mouth. By his side was his black Bombay counterpart, scraggy bodied with dirty fur and a distinct chip taken from his ear. They were silent, far from their former glory days when they knew what a good home was. The Bombay was a little bigger than his cheddar companion, and it was easily understood by any human looking in that a pact had been formed between them through a necessity to survive. The pair of you had spied them before, a distrusting set that initially hissed and growled. They were all claws and teeth so you kept your distance to avoid any surprise visits to the clinic. However now they seemed to tolerate your presence, acting as if the silence you exuded exempted your existence. Johnny and you admired them, goofy grins on your faces, because the cats were ready to commit their timely crime of hunting for some grub of the day. You knew who they reminded you of.

  "Well if that ain't Dally and Tim," You consciously made the effort to whisper.

  Johnny nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I can see it."

  "Which one's which?" You asked, genuinely curious about Johnny's take.

  He was reluctant to take his eyes off the cats, watching them begin prowling forth towards an unsuspecting robin. "Huh?" he hummed, finally looking at you just as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

  "Which cat is Dally and which one is Tim? You know 'em better than I do." You pressed softly.

  "Oh, that's easy, Dally's the ginger tabby and Tim's the Bombay." He offered with a nod of his head in the felines direction.

  "What why?" You demanded it up at him.

  “Well if we’re goin’ off their looks for a start, Tim looks like the Bombay cat. Guy is a real alley cat – got a lot of street smarts and carries himself well. Besides, he's tougher than a bag of nails.” Johnny did have a point – Tim looked just like that black cat with his curly jet hair.

  Speaking of the black cat, it had entered a state of hunting, kneeling down with coiled taught muscles – just ready to pounce on that unsuspecting robin below, pecking at the seeds you and Johnny had left behind earlier. You hoped it wouldn’t be eaten, couldn’t stomach to see something so savage. However, you supposed that was only the way the circle of life worked.

  “The orange tabby’s Dally cuz of that cool look in his eyes. The way he carries himself so freely. Out of the two, the tabby’s the one that’s in charge somehow. He writes the rules that the other cat’s always tryna best.” Johnny offered with a brief shrug before continuing, “Not that the black cat is following any rules. Both have minds of their own.”

  Boy, you could really hear the way he admired Dallas Winston from the way he spoke about the orange tabby. It was wholesome. Dally was Johnny’s hero — the kid practically worshipped the ground the guy walked on. You didn’t see why. To you, Dallas Winston was a rotten hoodlum with a track record of breaking the law in every way, shape and form that he could. He frightened you like The Boogeyman had when you were nine. Where you both engaged with each other somewhat cordially, you preferred to keep your distance. You supposed that you had no room to judge after all. There was a deep friendship that had developed between him and Johnny; you’d seen it in Dally’s cold hard eyes… affection. It made you grin then, wondering if Johnny thought strangely of your heroes too.

  “And both of them are jackasses.” You countered, bumping his shoulder mischievously.

  Johnny laughed a little, looking at you for a few short moments. “Yeah alright, I’ll give you that.”

  You liked the way he’d described the two though. It was a statement that fit the pair of hoodlums in a peapod together. Yet the orange tabby did appear to be the leader as it licked its wonky chops delectably. Inched closer by the second, a silent assassin to carry out its hunter gatherer lifestyle. It was intelligent, mimicking the movement of the robin that had caught onto it. It lured the bird on a swift and winding course, swiping for it good and hard but missed. Never mind. The robin fluttered up and into the line of sight of the black cat, a moment of fear in its beady eyes. Yet just as the night-like feline swept its razors at it, the robin burst into the air and flew off in the opposite direction. It had missed its meal by a feathers length. Every other robin in the vicinity flew off instantly, leaving the two cats dumbfounded.

  In frustration, the orange tabby yowled and darted forth. Its clawed paw zipped out and popped the mouth of the black cat. The black cat hissed, stunned for a mere second before it lunged for the only comrade it had in this god forsaken world. The two tumbled together in an infuriated Halloween special of blurred fur. A gasp floated from your mouth as they rolled back and forth. A genuine cat fight unheard of. They sounded like two ghouls trying to out spook the other – alien and loud.

  Johnny couldn’t help but laugh out of nervousness. He wasn’t trying to be cruel whatsoever. Didn’t like to see animals fighting and hurting each other, but it humoured some sick part of him. “Just like Dally and Tim, huh? Buddies one minute then at each other’s throats the next.”

  “Amen to that.” You found the humour of the situation, only because it was too similar to the real life hoodlums you both knew.

  You’d seen your fair share of those guys beefing it out in the past together in The Dingo parking lot, let alone practically in your own backyard. They were a strange duo – too competitive and cut from the same cloth. They’d never find another person just like them, that was for sure.

  Just then an icy gust came throttling through the area, reminding you both that it was still winter. A tremor ran through the pair of you, and you huddled together for warmth. By now the cats had slumped off to their own corners of the lot, hissing and growling as they went. Sore egos and bodies made them sulk and mewl in the shade whilst they licked their wounds.

  “Dammit-,” your teeth chattered, moving closer to Johnny. “March my ass…”

  Johnny breathed a laugh, shaking his head. He scanned your features humorously, those bushy brows hidden by a thick blanket of his black greasy bangs that flopped onto his forehead.

  “What?” You mumbled, your fingertips unconsciously reached for him in the space between you both. Johnny didn’t notice.

  He stared at you for a good three seconds before opening his mouth to speak, “How can you be cold with all those layers you got on?”

  “Well I mean it’s obvious, it’s winter.”

  “Uh-huh-,” Johnny sassed, smirking slightly, “As if you ain’t wearin’ my shirt, my sweater and my jeans jacket too. Got the whole department store on your back.”

  Abashment took hold of you as your gaze dropped down to inspect yourself. There was Johnny’s jacket on you, and underneath his tattered grey sweater, that black t-shirt poking up above the collar. And Johnny? He was adorned in a wrinkled white shirt with a blue and creamy egg yellow flannel over the top you guessed was one of the gang’s. Worn over that was Dally’s brown leather jacket with the cosy sheepskin lining. You pouted with a bruised ego, looking off to the side, “It’s not like you’re naked or nothin’…” you murmured petulantly.

  Johnny chuckled breathily, your joined hands jostling as he tugged on it without any semblance of awareness, as if to gain your attention. “Not yet, but I’m gonna be! Man, do you know what I had to say to get this jacket from Dally?” He was teasing you.

  “Mmmppppffff…” you grunted, crossing your legs on that wall.

  “The guys are askin’ questions and I dunno what to tell ‘em any more!” His voice broke a bit before he continued, “Two thinks I’m preparin' to run down the centre of town butt naked!”

  That made you burst out into fits of giggles. The thought was so unorthodox it was hilarious. “You’re tellin’ him that’s the truth right? God, could you imagine? I can see the news articles now: Johnny Cade, Teenage Delinquent Gone Buck Wild!” You beamed, throwing your free hand out to elaborate some unseen picture.

  Johnny shook his head again, laughing with you, “Man, you’re just as bad as Soda!”

  “I’m twice as good looking too!” You offered with all the cheekiness you could muster.

  All he could offer was an entertained roll of his eyes. Your shoulders bumped together, old comrades turned into something more. His soft gaze fell onto your interwoven fingers, and his heart fluttered like dove wings. A widened gaze, then that notorious blush exploded under that tanned flesh. His mind was incapable of functioning. It was wholesome, but you read everything wrong. Made a move to release his hand and he stopped you.

  "Don't." It was the strongest word you'd heard from him as he held your hand tighter than he ever had before. Not enough to hurt you, but to let you know it was real too.

  "Y-you sure?" It was your turn to stutter.

  The look he shared with you may have been wavering to some degree, but there was certainty in those eyes. His mouth opened to speak, "Yeah, I don't mind one bit."

   I don't mind one bit. It ran round and round in your head. A starstruck expression invaded your beautiful countenance. The reassurance was a bonus that made your belly fill with a plethora of butterflies. Cloud nine had nothing on this moment.

  Johnny explored the expressions flitting across your face with a newfound sense of wonder. That pleasant delight racing through you was infectious as you stared off into the junk riddled vacant lot, your mind preoccupied with his hand in yours. The sun dawned across your features once again, like that autumn night you'd spent with him in your neighbourhood's vacant lot. The understanding that he was the source of that made his belly squirm, a giddiness overcoming him. He could no longer deny the fondness he had for you so blatantly.

  With him leaning a little closer to you, he whispered, "How about you give me at least some of my stuff back?" 

  "Mmmmm maybe,"

  "yn-," there was an uncommon sense of sternness in his voice.

  "But-," You tried objecting.

  "No buts-," he rushed out with a shake of his head, "At least give me one! I've been wearing this shirt for three days now!" He was hilariously incredulous.

  "Is that why you stink?" You taunted him.

  "Not funny-," He made his best attempt to be cross with you.

  "Okay, okay! I'll give them back." You said begrudgingly.

  "You better bring the cavalry with how much you have stolen from me, you little shirt thief."

  "In my defence, you did give them to me… But I'll have them for you next time I see you, scouts honour!" You spoke sincerely with your free hand held dramatically over your heart.

  "Uh-huh, that's what you said last time and I still didn't get 'em back." He bantered.

  "Well, that wasn't a real scout's honour." You admitted with a diffident rub to the back of your head.

  "yn-," he shook his head.

  "Hey! I'm serious this time."

  "Good…" He trailed off, his other hand beginning to play with the rings banded around your fingers absentmindedly.

  Blissfulness carried upon the wind, a promise of returning what wasn't yours already settled. Golden light broke through the clouds, catching Johnny in the face directly, which made him grimace evidently. You grew lost in his handsome physique, feeling the pad of his thumb drag up and down the back of your hand. The sensation was special, because Johnny had warmed up to you so much.

  It was a lively Saturday night, and with the determined honour of a scout member, you showed up like clockwork with a bag filled with Johnny's things. It was just as the crowds at The Nightly Double encroached upon the Tulsa streets in boisterous droves. Everyone was high on the giddy delight of the movie they had just watched – the late night viewing of two specials before the drive-in closed its doors for the night. Previous arrangements with another friend had you missing out on the fun, but here you were wearing your very own leather jacket with Johnny's denim one bunched up nervously in the palms of your hands. Speaking of Johnny, he had tagged along with the gang – minus Darry, because movies seemed to bore the older man to death.

  A pair of scrawny looking Socy guys stalked out of the front doors, acting like big shots, cutting in front of a dark green Corvair on its way out and into the oncoming traffic. The driver of the same social class hung out of the driver's window whilst his girl attempted to pull him back in.

  "Hey watch it, wise guys! If you're lookin' to get your asses run over, then be my guests and step back in my line of sight!" He snarled aggressively before his girlfriend won the battle and pulled him back inside to tell him to "knock it off".

  A line began to form behind them as the couple argued incessantly, presumably over the guy's foul temper. Car horns honked on the spring breeze, forcing the guy to nervously step on the gas. They almost crashed into a Chevy Impala before zipping off home. You could see the animated scowl of the girl refusing to talk to her boyfriend in the side view mirror as they retreated. She glowered at you as if you were the scum of the earth. It didn't make you feel too hot.

  The two wisecracking Soc's cackled at their attempts at being hard, stalking forth when they caught sight of your lonesome form. Vile cackles were shot your way as they walked past you before deciding the better option was to encircle you like a couple of hammerhead sharks.

  'Boy, these dingbats don't know what tree they're barking up.' You thought, stiffening your body up for any form of unexpected physical contact. You weren't gonna let yourself get blown over that easy. 

  "What's up, greaser? You lookin' to bum around on our streets?" The six foot tall pencil with the sour breath sneered down at you, bumping your shoulder, making a come around to your left. When he disappeared behind you, the other one with chestnut hair the texture of straw invaded your face.

  "Yeah, who said you were allowed round these parts anyway?" He jeered, smacking his gum obnoxiously.

  Typically these dorks wouldn't have been graced with so much of your attention, but being on your own with a whole sea of onlookers made you weary. However you sure didn't show it. No one was there to stand up for you so you had to do it yourself. All you could do was raise your eyebrows, feeling the burning sense of humiliation rise from the pits of hell beneath your feet. It felt toasty, but the wrong kind. A glower of pure vexation was sent up their way. 'Who are these cocky jackasses, anyway? I've got the same right to use these streets like anyone else!' You contemplated.

  "Oh really? I never knew white trash chequerboards like yourselves owned the streets everybody walks on." Your lips flapped wryly before you could even say a word.

  The entertained gazes of onlookers of every social class stopped to stare. Murmurs of speculation broke out: Two against one didn't typically seem like a fair fight, but with the sheer scrawniness of the socially elite, it seemed to look like the chips fell in your favour. Though you knew appearances could be deceiving, harbouring a surprising sense of physical strength.

  In a rift of the crowd, six pairs of familiar eyes honed in on your shining moment of unprovoked confrontation.

  "White trash chequerboards?!" The pencil growled out, sharing a glance with his straw haired counterpart. For the most part they were dumbfounded, not having expected you to stand up for yourself.

  "If anyone's white trash, it's you, greaseball." The second one jutted his finger in your face.

  Nothing about your countenance betrayed you. Cold and detached you stared at that finger in your face with a deep sense of boredom. Then an almost smug smirk etched your features as you stared up into his grey eyes.

  "Oh my, my!" A dripping sense of mocking venom entered your tone. "Seems like I got more class than that finger you got pointed at me. Seriously, you got a licence to be armed with carryin' that thing? You better watch what you do with it before it falls into the wrong hands. You know, because with great power comes great responsibility and all." You were armed with so much sass it made you invincible.

  The crowd surrounding you burst into a fit of laughter so potent that it burnt these punks into a startled pile of ash. The pair of Soc's were so vapid that they were a bore even to themselves, which is why they were acting out as if they were five times their sizes. You were lively, armed with a silver tongue that could slice just about anyone to pieces who tried to humiliate you.

  "Oh yeah, you little punk?" The first one growled, invading all sense of your personal space.

  You took one step back, your eyebrows raised, "It's his responsibility, not mine. Whatch'yu gettin' all riled up for, eh? Can't take a joke, Mister Funny?"

  "I'll show you a joke when I knock your two front teeth out." He barked.

  Oooh's and aaah's broke through the crowd on a symphony of guffawing. You cocked one eyebrow up at him, a cockiness overcoming you. What could you do otherwise? If no one had your back, you had to have your own. That was just the way the cookie crumbled when you were a greaser – if there was a cookie at all.

  "Oooooh~ Don't threaten me with a good time, pencil dick." You snorted. "I will bend your ass like a goddamn pretzel before you can even have a chance to beg for your mommy to save you."

  The two guys shared a look, the degradation burning their senses of pride to withering embers. Their faces were pinkened beyond recognition, boarding on a fiery red. Your insults only poured gasoline on the fires. They couldn't back out now with the engrossed mass around the three of you. Your body stiffened as they went to grab you, preparing yourself for a fight that would no doubt cause the fuzz to come shutting it down. The image of yourself being cuffed in the back of a cop car had you overcome with a sense of terror. You weren't made for jail with your sharp tongue and sass. Wouldn't last two seconds flat in a grim place like that.

  Before any contact could occur, a boisterous New York accent throttled into the air, a familiar arm slinking over your shoulders, "Hey Dumb and Dumber, you really wanna go gettin' your asses handed to you by a girl in front of all of these people?" Dallas was snickering with a smoke hanging out of his mouth, leaning against you smoothly as he patted your upper arm, but he wasn't your only saviour.

  The other five lean and hard looking members of the Curtis gang had rolled up in all of their greasy headed glory. Pony and Johnny were Dally's flanks whilst Sodapop and Steve jammed themselves on either side of the pathetic turkeys that had bothered you. Two-bit prowled like a cat, that smug, wild grin carved onto his handsome features. The oldest of the six came in the centre of the perpetrators, an arm slung on each of their shoulders. It was overly friendly, even for Two.

  "Well, well, well, if it ain't the socially elite barking up a tree they didn't know was a mountain! I'd get your eyes checked if I were you." He laughed, squeezing them together under his impressive arms. The others joined in.

  "I think it's time these tuff lookin' sons of bitches got in the ring with the big shots." Steve yipped sarcastically, clapping the straw haired guy on the back a little too roughly.

  "Lookin' like a bunch of heavyweight champs, am I right?" Soda leered, his once kind blue eyes filled with a mischievous malice.

  The two Soc's looked at each other, realising they'd made a mistake in targeting you. "We don't want any trouble." The first one said, fumbling.

  "Yeah! We was only just jokin' around." The other made a pitiful attempt at joining in on the laughter.

  "Oh really now?" Dally quipped through dragon's breath, plucking his smoke from his lips and wiping the back of his index finger under his nose like he was annoyed. "I call bullshit, beanpole. Ain't that right, Johnny?" Dally asked Johnny, motioning towards him.

  With a black gaze as cold as obsidian, Johnny nodded his head, "Sure thing, Dally." He refused to take his gaze off of the perpetrators who recognised that hoodlum's menacing name anywhere.

  "Pony?" Dally turned, looking over your head at the fourteen year old greaser with the greyish green eyes. He put that smoke back in between his lips and inhaled sharply.

  "Yup!" Pony popped the 'p' at the end of the word.

  "Great, it's settled!" Dally exclaimed, pulling his arm from over your shoulders and rubbing his hands together like a fly with an evil plan. He stepped forward, his face a mere couple of inches from theirs. "You dumbasses get to go toe to toe with me for fucking with the wrong person, and then my buddies will have what's left of you. How do you like the sound of that?" 

  The way Dally seethed it even had you shaking in your boots. There was almost a sense of honour riding on your guts. It wasn't everyday that Dallas Winston was standing up for you, but when it happened you took it willingly. The two guys had become pale ghosts, shuddering with sweat dewing their foreheads. Dally meant those words, but it seemed he was mainly toying with them. So were the rest of the gang too. With matching Cheshire grins plastered on their faces they watched as the two shoved past Soda, tripping over the boot Johnny had stuck out and shot in through an opening in the crowd to salvation. Sent to faceplant on the ground with a series of laughter as the drama seemed to be over for the most part and people lost interest.

  "Where are you goin'? Wait until we set her on ya!" Sodapop called, wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulders. 

  "Yeah, she may seem like she’s all bark, but she's got one hell of a bite!" Steve cackled.

  Lost in an ocean of chaos, Johnny's inquiry of concern for you slithered back down his throat. He bled into the background, admiring the way your eyes rolled as the wisecracking descended upon you.

  "The hell was that, kid?" Dally said between inhaling his smoke. Rubbing the top of your head with his ringed fingers awarded him with a generous shove from you. His treatment hurt, but he was happy to see you, which was unusual.

  "Get offa me-," You grunted and he eventually relented.

  Before Steve could chime in about you being a smart ass or wandering around on your lonesome, your most dreaded member of the gang came blundering on over. A half drunken stupor holding him up by some invisible string, "Haha! Where did you learn to talk like that? Dare I say you got some inspiration from somebody in particular?" He waggled his eyebrows at you.

  "Oh, well ain't those the biggest words you’ve ever said! Ugh, don’t make me sick, two cents." You bit at him.

  "Eh, at least I'm worth somethin' in this world." He chuckled, clapping your shoulder.

  "That was meant to be an insult." You retorted.

  "Really? That's a whole compliment and a half!" He exclaimed with his arms thrown up.

  "Yeah yn, I sure can hear the church bells ringin' right now!" Soda grinned at you, cupping his free hand over his ear. In fact, to seal the deal he wrapped his arm around your shoulders as the seven of you began walking to your neighbourhood.

  Steve came up on the other side, walking the tight line of the curb, "From haters to lovers!" He beamed, spreading his palms out in the open space before you like he was presenting a far away picture. "It all started when you were in fifth grade and he was in sixth, gum to the hair, a pop to the mouth and the rest was history!"

  Johnny listened and observed, laughing halfheartedly along with his buddies. Something about Soda's and Steve's words tugged on his heartstrings in a plucking fashion. It was uncomfortable and didn't sit right with him. Yet he couldn't be too mopey about it, it wasn't like anybody knew his growing feelings for you. By now there was a confusion in your friendship, as if all these special moments you'd experienced together had evolved the friendship into something else. He was afraid of what that meant. Things would never be the same ever again, and he found himself eyeing up the bag full of his clothes on your shoulder and his jeans jacket wadded into your hand.

  Well, at least your promise had been genuine this time.

  If you weren't riled up before you were now. A sucker punch to the gut was minutely dodged by Steve, who hopped to safety behind Dallas like a kangaroo. Being surrounded by people you knew was nice as the mood settled somewhat. Johnny found his natural place to the left of you, keeping in time with your easy pace.

  Sodapop raised his eyebrows and asked the question everyone had been wondering, "Hey yn, what were you doing there all alone?"

  "Ain't that Steve's line?" You quipped.

  “Gettin’ to be more and more like Ponyboy everyday, yn!” Steve warned, messing up Pony’s hair for comedic relief.

  Pony was certainly not pleased, pulling his comb out of his back pocket and using the sideview mirror of a car to fix his hair in the dark. “Stupid Steve…” grumbled past his lips.

  “What was that?” Steve barked next to Soda.

  “Nothin’, said I looked stupid…” He lied with burnt cheeks and ears to match.

  "That's what I thought, little guy." Steve stared at him.

  Once the commotion had somewhat settled Dally eyed you up and spoke through his smoke, “Soda’s got a point. What were you doing there?” He noticed that bag over your shoulder and whistled, “Did your goody two shoes ass get kicked out or are you just droppin’ by to bid your farewells on us common folk before you skip town?”

  Put on the spot, you hesitated for a second, “Uh, I just came to see Johnny.”

  “With the entire mall's inventory?” Two grinned wickedly, pressing for more information. "Johnny's become quite the charity case lately." He teased, noogying Johnny playfully who shrugged him off with a small laugh.

  “Hey wait a sec, isn't that Johnny’s jeans jacket?” Pony spoke up once his precious hair had been rearranged.

  Dallas’s pesky fingers swiped the jacket in your hands with a mind of his own – and like a chimp, he examined its authentication closely. The five other members gathered around him as if he held the fifth wonder, which left you and Johnny with the liberation of simultaneously backing up at the edges of the throng. “You wanna make a break for it?” You hissed your suggestion at Johnny, who nodded his head.

  That’s when five heads whipped up with dumbfounded expressions. This was Johnny’s jacket! The one he said he’d lost. Soda’s eyes were the first to eye up that bag strapped to your shoulder, a familiar grey sweater poking out through the zipper that wouldn't close properly. “Hold on one stinkin’ minute.” Realisation hit him with a dopey grin.

  Two caught on next, his hand grasping the bag strap and pulling it from your shoulder. In the same motion he’d freed the grey sweater from the confines, only to find more clothes underneath. “Haha!” He cackled noisily, “You’re the one who’s been swiping his clothes? You sly fox!”

  “Johnny and yn sitting in a tree-,” Steve cackled, only to get cut off by Dally who smacked him in the chest.

  “What are you man, four?”

  “Four?! I’ll show you four!”

  “Oh glory-,” You mumbled, looking at Johnny, “I think I made a mistake.”

  “You think?” He hissed, his tone was somewhat biting, looking scared stiff for the incoming of terrible teasing.

  "Johnny's got a girlfriend! Johnny's got a girlfriend!" Soda and Two started chanting, patting and shaking their pal with enthusiasm. It wasn't long before the other three started in on it too. The chant of the year belted out from strong chests on shrill wails of hyena laughter.

  "Check him out, famous ladies man! I knew you had it in ya Johnny." Dally clapped his back.

  "Should've known you were stealing my girl, Johnny." Two teased. "You can have her the first five days of the week, but I call dibs on weekends! That's when she gets extra sassy."

  "In your dreams, two shits." You barked.

  "I dream of sixth grade every night!" Two swooned, making you laugh.

  Johnny was as red as a beet, even Ponyboy couldn’t contain his laughter. 'Boy, do we have something to tell Darry!' Pony's and Soda's eyes gleamed dazzlingly.

  "Eh, guess you won't be needing this!" Dally grinned from behind you both, softly tugging on his leather jacket Johnny was wearing. In one fell swoop it was off of his shoulders and draped over Dally’s humble forearm.

  “Here you go, young sire!” Sodapop bowed with a roll of his hand, an English accent flawlessly executed.

   In came Steve on one knee, holding up the humble denim article he'd swiped from Dally's pesky digits. “Oh Johnny, with all of my love for you, will you take this humble offer?” he exclaimed dramatically.

  Johnny snatched the jacket from Steve’s gripey hands, along with the bag of his shirts you’d brought along from Two-bit. He was embarrassed, that was evident. Wished you’d done this at a different time, but hey, duty called; a promise was a promise. Scout’s honour, right?

  Without even thinking he grabbed your hand in his, reeling you away from the madness, all sassy. “Alright, that’s enough now!”

  A chorus of wolf whistles expelled into the air. Wildness evident in the five guys who'd grown up with the both of you. They were just playing of course, excited that Johnny finally had a lady in hand. It wasn't often the raven haired greaser picked someone up, let alone initiated any physical contact – romantically of course. Johnny had always been quite reserved, but here he was taking the initiative, pulling you around in the opposite direction of them. Surprisingly assertive despite him shaking like a goddamn ghost.

  You guys got maybe a few feet away when Dallas called out on the wind, “Hey yn, you better not be takin’ off the clothes on Johnny's body or he’ll be arrested for public indecency!”

  "I said that's enough!" Johnny called back, heat vivid on his cheeks.

  With that you both escaped around the next corner, the gang's calls and laughter fading into the background. Dipped into an alleyway to lose them for good. Glory knew they'd follow you both, and Johnny couldn't bear the thought of that. There was exhilaration in your chests. Johnny's hand was hot and sweaty in yours when you wound onto Pickett and Sutton. The air felt tight and you were afraid you'd just made an inconsolable mess of everything.

  “Honest to God Johnny, that wasn’t planned-,”

  He was sour, scrunching up his face, “Shoulda just let you keep these things.” He said with a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. “They looked better on you anyway.”

  “Johnny Cade,” you gasped, stopping in the middle of the street, the yellow light from above illuminating you both, “was that you flirting with me?”

  Albeit clumsy, he was endearing. “Maybe, I dunno.” His cheesy grin warmed your heart.

  All you could do was gawk at him.

  “Look, all I know is that I kinda don’t mind you stealing my crap, okay?”

  “So I have special authority to steal? What is this, a secret mission for your girlfriend?” You grasped onto his arm, leaning into him.

  Girlfriend settled in the air in a peculiar fashion. It had never been uttered before, you both had just been friends up until this point. The confusion between you both seemed to fizzle away. The term sounded right. Johnny didn't want to be your friend any more, the guy on the sidelines dreaming of being with you. He swallowed thickly, looking at you.

  "I'm sorry I-," he cut you short.

  "Nah don't be." He shook his head softly.

  "So uh," you breathed a laugh, "that means we're like dating? " You tested the word on your tongue.

  He exploded with a blush, and a sense of pride swelled in your heart. "Y-yeah-," he nodded softly.

  It went quiet, but nothing was awkward about it. Two hearts galloped like wild horses through summer filled fields. You found the courage to speak first, whispering mischievously into his ear, "So what about that secret mission?"

  Johnny rolled his eyes, but breathy humour expelled from his lips, “Operation Shirt Thief!” He said in his best movie man trailer voice.

  You burst out in a fit of giggles, the walk home feeling bountiful and warm.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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requests: closed!

[justtwotired]

Hello ! I hope you’re doing well. I was wondering if I could get an ask for Sam and Colby. Maybe reader (female or gn neutral pronouns are fine !) is invited to go with SnC exploring an abandoned place but she’s been struggling with body image (I’m kind of in the slumps rn :/) so she’s cut back on food. Through the trip they notice her lagging behind and getting tired easily. She ends up fainting due to exhaustion and lack of food and they take care of her when she comes to. Preferably Colby pairing and lots of angst ! Only if your comfortable writing about this thank you xx 🫶🏽

Why hello there, I am so sorry for posting this rather late, I wrote a part of it, then got busy and forgot about it and just finished and edited it, so hope it’s alright!

I really like this request! Mostly because I can really relate to reader, this is always chill because then I can write five that actually make sense ya know.

I did write some angst but not LOTS, because angst is one of those things I still find difficult to write, but I hope you still like it<3

“What’s up guys it’s Sam and Colby!” Colby started. “Today, we are at an abandoned manor in the woods right behind us. It is quite a walk, but I think we will survive!” Sam told the camera.

“Also, we brought someone with us,” Sam then pointed behind him where I stood rather awkwardly, wearing a huge hoody that I may or may not have stolen from Colby’s closet.

“This is Y/n, you guys know her of course, we had lots of questions to bring her back to the Chanel, so we did of course.” Sam explained before turning the camera fully on me.

I sucked in an unnoticeable sharp breath. Did I look alright? Was that pimple I hid under makeup this morning still invisible? Did the hoody hide my body enough?

“So, N/n, are you excited?” Sam asked and I gave the camera a genuine smile. “I am actually, this place is not too far from my home town and I’ve been wanting to go here for a while, but I didn’t want to go alone, so now I have these two idiots to come along.” I joked and Sam pointed the camera at Colby.

“Did you hear that, dude?” He said in fake sadness. “I thought you where coming with us?” Colby said also jokingly hurt. “I’m still stuck on the fact she called us idiots.” Sam said and pointed the camera at himself.

“Seems like we have to change the channel name to ‘Y/n only’ because she is taking over.” He said and I chuckled. “Oh yeah, definitely, and I’ll give them weekly uploads instead of your monthly shit.” I said and Colby grinned.

“What you’re going to the conjuring then? Staying a week there?” He asked and I pursed my lips. “Well I didn’t say that.”

The two laughed and Sam shut off the camera. “Heading to the forest, then?” He asked and we nodded. Suddenly my stomach made a growling noice and they stopped.

“We could get something to eat first?” Colby suggested and I shook my head. “Nahh, it’s fine, I’m not that hungry really,” I waved it off and kept walking.

“Are you sure? You haven’t eaten breakfast yet and it’s almost two in the afternoon,” Colby said and I just chuckled.

“I’m fine, really,” I smiled at him and kept walking, not missing the look the two of them exchanged before following me.

Truth to be told, the last time I ate would be the crackers from the day before, as I had just a bit in the afternoon after almost passing out.

Colby walked in the back, having taken over the camera from Sam and he recorded as we entered the forest.

I knew the walk would be about 20 minutes, so it wasn’t that bad, but I felt myself stress out when I became light headed.

Oh no, please, please not now.

Passing out has become normal now, the lack of food I’ve been consuming has been taking a toll on me. I never tell anyone, it’s my little secret, I didn’t need them to worry about me or feed me lies of how I was ‘beautiful’ because I know I’m not.

I stumbled and almost fell but steadied myself. “You alright there?” Sam turned around with a small grin and I gave him one back. “I’m fine,” I lied and we kept on walking, Cole shutting the camera off.

When the building came in sight he started it up again, and of course, as if fate had planned it, I fell and I noticed my consciousness slip away.

The last thing I felt was two arms around my waist and I was out.

I heard someone calling my name from afar and my eyes slowly opened.

“Oh, thank god, Sam! Sam she’s opened her eyes!” Colby called out. I slowly sat up. I was laying in the grass and I noticed Sam jogging over with his phone in his hands.

“Are you alright?” I looked at Colby who had a concerned look on his face and I nodded, trying to stand up but he put his hands on my shoulders.

“Woah, lets keep sitting down for a minute, love,” he said and I sat, rubbing my head. “How long was I out for?” I asked and Colby looked at his watch.

“Five minutes at least.” He told me. “Yeah, I tried calling for help, but there’s no service,” Sam said and I gave him a weirded out look.

“What help did you try to call?” I asked and he shrugged sheepishly. “Your mum, I thought maybe this had happened before,” he said and I sniffed.

“It happened a few times, but my mum doesn’t know, and don’t even think of telling her,” I said and the exchanged glances.

“You know what’s happening then?” Colby asked and I sighed. “I haven’t eaten in a moment, that’s probably it.” I confessed and Colby sighed.

“I told you that you should it this morning- when is the last time you ate?” He questioned. “Uhh, yesterday, some crackers,” I said and he clenched his teeth slightly.

“A decent meal,” he clarified and I bit my lip thinking back. “Tuesday, I think?” I said a bit uncertain. “That’s five days ago, Y/n!” He scolded and pursed my lips.

“Sorry,” I said in a small voice. Sam got his backpack of his shoulders and started to rummage trough it, pulling out an apple.

“Eat this,” he said and I took it from him, frowning at it a bit. “N/n,” he said and I sighed taking bite.

They made me sit for about ten minutes, and demanded I tell them why I wasn’t eating. With a bit of reluctance, I told them about how I felt, how I hated how I looked and that I felt like I was to fat.

The next twenty minutes where spent with them telling me all the things they liked about my look and my personality, giving me reasons to eat and demanding we go to a restaurant after this so I could eat a decent meal.

They also demanded I ate a desert, encouraging me to continue eating and not worry about my looks, because in their opinion, I looked beautiful.

At the end of the conversation, I had tears in my eyes, and I wiped them away, and I reassured them that it’d be fine to still film the video, as we all wanted to continue.

[allastoredeer]

HIIIII your Just Kiss Already series has consumed me!!!! I’m OBSESSED! Do you have any idea how long it’ll be in total? I adore slow burns but also the painnnnn of waiting. I totally understand if you don’t know but I am constantly refreshing for updates even though I know this stuff takes time! Do you happen to have any recs for radioapple fics that are similar or you’d recommend to hold me over?

Hello! Sorry for the late response.

I'm still doing a bit of reading myself, I haven't gone through all the fics I've wanted to read, but here's some of the RadioApple I've found so far that I enjoyed:

Lucifer and His Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Relationship by keelywolfe - A series following the overall dysfunction and strange terrain of Lucifer and Alastor's relationship...of sorts. There is smut involved. I really enjoy the fun, disjointed dynamic between them, especially with Lucifer having to learn/figure out how Alastor thinks to get a grasp of how to interact with him. Do mind the tags, there is some unhealthy relationship in there, miscommunication on both sides, lots of dysfunction involved, and smut, but I really enjoyed their interactions and how they're learning to read each other. Also, it has bottom!Alastor which is my favorite :3

My Kingdom Come Undone by literalmetaphor - Charlie roping Alastor and Lucifer into doing trust exercises to help them get along. Heheh I really like the humor in this one. Both Alastor and Lucifer are such petty little bitches, and it amuses me to no end. They do not hold back their verbal punches. I also really like a lot of the author's descriptions. They're fun and scratch my brain in just the right way. I haven't finished it just yet because I've been busy, but it's still open in my browser so I can get back to it whenever I get time.

Unhealthy Attachments by keelywolfe - More dynamic between Alastor and Lucifer, and what Alastor gets out of having sex with Lucifer (Rated E in case that wasn't obvious). Alastor and his strategic brain, and how that bleeds into the dynamics he builds with other people. I love getting insight into his brain like that. (Another bottom!Alastor fic because 😫👌 I love that shit).

And...huh, that's it, actually. I have a few more pulled up in my browser that I'm gonna get around to reading, but as for RadioApple these are the ones I bookmarked. LOL I'm actually just noticing how many RadioStatic fics I bookmarked.

Hope you enjoy these! I love fics with a fun, bitchy Alastor and a deep-dive into his brain and social interactions with other characters. It's my bread and butter.

EDIT: I forgot to answer your question at the beginning of the asks XD Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying the series! I'm not sure how long the series is going to be just yet. I know, at the very least, they'll have to kiss, per the name. My brain loves developing plots though, so it may span longer and REALLY deep dive into Alastor and Lucifer's relationships and the trials and tribulations that put it to the test.

Hopefully, I can get around to writing the next part soon!

[nighttimeebony]

Unanswered questions about Dazai's backstory that are driving me fucking insane

(Yeah, so, completely against my will, Bungou Stray Dogs has been consuming every last neuron in my brain for the past several weeks, so I thought I'd share my unraveling)

(mentions of eye injuries and self-harm/attempted suicide below the cut, if you're sensitive to those kinds of things).

(1) In season 2, episode 3, when Ango turns out to be a spy in the Port Mafia, Dazai says, "Everything I never want to lose is always lost. Everything worth wanting is lost the moment I obtain it. And nothing I pursue is worth the cost of prolonging this life, this suffering." Like! What the fuck does this mean?!?!! What happened in Dazai's life that made him think this? The way he says it indicates that him "losing things he wants to keep" has happened often enough for it to become a pattern for him, so what was Dazai talking about when he said this?

(2) In season 3, episode 3, why did Dazai say "thank you" to the old Port Mafia boss when he killed Rimbaud's double of him?

In the sub, he says "let me thank you for once," and in the dub, he says "I'll never get another chance to say this, so thank you". Why did he say that?

(3) Why did Dazai keep his eye covered as a teenager? At first, I assumed it was because Dazai had some kind of injury that he was covering, considering how easily it bled every time Dazai sustained some kind of damage to his head or face, but never to the eye directly. In episode 1 of season 2, when a bullet grazes the side of his face, his eye starts to bleed

and the same thing happens again in episode 1 of season 3 when Chuuya kicks him into a wall.

BUT! When Oda's dying and he pulls Dazai's bandages off, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with his eye. And it can't be that Dazai was just wearing them as some kind of intimidation tactic; there had to have been something wrong with it, because we see it bleed twice (even though the eye itself never sustained any direct injury), but there is no visual indication that anything is wrong with his eye, either in the flashbacks or in the present (no scars, seemingly no vision issues, and no discoloration in the eye like you might expect to see as a result of permanent damage). So I am asking WHAT THE FUCK WERE THE BANDAGES FOR

(4) Where did Dazai come from before he was in the Port Mafia? We know that he was a witness to the old boss's murder when he was 14, but Dazai wasn't an official Mafia member until he was 15 when Mori tasked him to work the Arahabaki case. Was Dazai always connected to the Mafia in some way, or did he come from a normal family before Mori inducted him?

(5) FOLLOWING THAT: where are Dazai's parents? In the "Fifteen" novel, it's stated that Dazai wasn't a mere orphan that Mori just picked up, but we don't know if Dazai's parents are dead or alive or where they would be if they were alive.

(6) What are Dazai's bandages actually for? Given Dazai's track record of suicide attempts, it's a common theory that the bandages are to hide self harm scars (I subscribe to this theory myself, as it's the most plausible), but we don't actually know because we've never seen Dazai without his bandages before.

EDIT: (7) Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. In season 3, episode 2-

What is the motivation behind this scene? Why does Dazai keep shooting? Why does he think that the soldier deserved to suffer more? Dazai offers the guy a more merciful death, but Dazai also thinks that a merciful death is "more than he deserves". Why does Dazai think this? This can't just be about this one soldier, because Dazai hasn't had any kind of encounter with him before this. Dazai is clearly having some kind of small breakdown, but what triggered it and why?

[myrkkymato]

Guys! Guys!! guysguyssss!!!! I was fucking around and found out that you can blend and layer with black and white permanent markers!!! I'm always excited to find out "new" techniques. I'm going to show what I mean with the Dina-sketch on the left.

I took pictures of the steps and what types of pens I used.

(I'm demonstrating how think this technique could work, not how I draw from reference but the link to the original post I used as a reference is here) EDIT: I forgot to post the actual link smh

Here I did some rough sketching and gave Dina some of facical features. Doesn't need to be too exact yet (still, I don't know how I managed to make her look THAT drunk)

When the black marker is still somehow wet the white mixes with it and blends it for some time until it's "white" again (the hue is also a lot colder than my paper)

With layering I mean literally softening shadows with the white and adding black where it's needed

And here are the final details of this sketch

I wanted to make a post about this because these pens are some of the cheapest pens and art community can be very elitist. Art is all about self-expression and creating something, not just about using expensive materials and equipment. I'm so annoyed how big corporations benefit from my hobby and studies that are supposed to be based on creating not consuming. (I know I'm a hypocrite, I used drawing paper but I'm still just as annoyed)

[i-think-too-loud]

saw this and agree with everything, but also…reg being the exact opposite?

some silly little thoughts i need to get out of my head before they consume me

|

|

V

-never gets caught pranking people because he’s convinced a detention is the worst punishment in the world (knows even one mistake would give his parents enough reason to disown him, too)

-smells like lavender (bc of the hc that he needs sleeping potions to be able to sleep and not have nightmares) and coffee and maybe flowers

-hates fire and will sit as far away from it as possible even if he’s shivering soooo badly (hc that he used to love sitting in the rain and swimming before the whole cave incident and he’d come into the common room soaking wet and shivering and still refuse to sit near the fire) (evan and dorcas mother-henning him bc they’re genuinely concerned with this habit)

-his day will go absolutely horrible if he doesn’t make his bed in the morning or his schedule gets interrupted (is he on the spectrum? probably)

-he and panda (all the skittles really)smoke all of the time, r does it because he has Anxiety and it calms his nerves

-was a big fan of Poe and Dickens and all kinda of muggle authors (he’d sneak out of Grimmauld when he was little and buy books from muggle shops. he just never got caught or told anyone, unlike Sirius who was very vocal about it) (he also borrowed some from Remus or Lily at times)

-also learned about love and marriage from watching his parents and for the longest time didn’t think love actually existed and that it was only a tale for children (like the tooth fairy or something) (forgot until editing this that Cupid exists, so he probably assumed it was a story like that with the love arrows)

-i don’t know many 70’s bands but he would have LOVED lana and conan, i’m convinced. (J would be such a swiftie tell me i’m wrong)

-doesn’t smile much but when he does it’s absolutely perfect (j absolutely melts when he sees it. R knows this and will absolutely use it to his advantage)

-doesn’t doodle but he writes poetry, often in the margins of book or on scraps of paper or whatever is closest to him. sometimes he’ll just lean over to james/panda/barty/whatever love interest you hc him with and scribble a little poem on their arm or hand just so he can get it out of him (see: Non-Stop from Hamilton)

-usually only wears black or green in public (but secretly loves when he and j are in private and he gets to wear all of j’s clothes, which are so loose and colorful and the complete opposite of the ones his parents allow him to be seen in)

-doesn’t dislike mcgonagall, but hates how pushy she can be about him joining ECs or whatnot (also hc that r, who’s favorite subject was potions and would even brew in his spare time, used to help make healing potions or sleeping droughts and whatnot for Pomfrey since she was always busy and never have time) (he would never admit it to anyone where he was going everyday when he was brewing them, though) (probably also how he realized Remus was a werewolf was because he was always around the infirmary helping out) (r would have been a healer in another life. one where he wasn’t expected to harm instead.)

-wouldn’t like most muggle sports (hates the rich people ones like golf or tennis but also hates how violent hockey or football could get) but he’d like ice/figure skating and ballet, and he would LOVE music (not so much listening to it, that’s j’s thing, but playing it. the piano or the violin, maybe. something delicate and pretty and requires precision)

-gay. the gayest little guy you’ve ever seen. (he and panda/dorcas tried hooking up just once while they were Realizing and it was so embarrassingly awful they both decided never to mention it again)(also Reg and barty/remus being fWb because….well, bc i said so)

[its-raining-honey]

Okay, hear me out Rain! yandere thoma with a flirty reader. The urge to see men blushing is slowly consuming me 🤧 Oh, and could it be NSFW?

Yan!Thoma x Flirty!Reader, Headcanons + Oneshot

A/N: THIS WAS SO LATE I’M SO SORRY!??!!!!!!??!!! I CANNOT APOLOGIZE ENOUGHH OMG BUT HERE IT ISS (TOT) [Edit: I FORGOT TO SAY BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYY]

- WARNING(s) - Yandere!Thoma, slight dubcon, nsfw/nsft content later on in the oneshot

- OTHER TAG(s) - GN!Reader, Flirty!Reader, Thoma x Reader

Okay, so! First off, Thoma himself is also a big flirt.

When you start he hits you back with double the love,

It starts out very friendly, maybe you start up a conversation with him while he’s helping to fix up an area of the apartment where you reside.

You just can’t help but bother the cute worker while he’s on the job,

His responsible nature falters at your presence. Sure, he’s bugged off before, dipped himself into a distraction or two while he should’ve been working. But it never got this bad.

Your words never left his head, the dull red of his cheeks never fading at your banter.

And even when he went back to the Kamisato estate as needed, after his task of the day had led him to you, he was keen on picking up another one to have an oficial excuse to see you again.

The feeling of his heart skipping a beat when he was with you was addictive

And when he could no longer just pick up small, time consuming jobs in your vicinity to interact with you— he decided that fitting himself into your schedule would work best.

He has friends in many places, y’know! You think that pretty face and those sweet words only work on you?

Your job started sending you over to the Kamisato estate almost daily, no matter what you did, whether it being sending over paperwork or a message. Going over the data history of the business the commission and your company have together, even if it seems trivial.

It may be easy work more than not, but the constant walking doesn’t leave your feet feeling exactly pleasant.

But the routine has grown on you, especially the people in said routine.

Thoma has definitely cemented himself into your day. Every time you walk through those doors he’s there to welcome you, no matter what hour you arrive. It’s almost like he always knows when you're on the way, even though you have no set schedule to come there. Yet.

He isn’t actually always the one you cover tasks with, he’s always just, at least.. in the room.

He’s doing normal Thoma things. He cleans quietly, fixes and replaces small things in the room you may reside in for the hour.

At worst, he just stands there..

The first time he did it was right inside the room with you and another assistant of the estate. For observation, he insisted.

The assistant didn’t seem to be on the same page, but before they could speak Thoma shot them a look you didn’t catch. But then Thoma laughed to brush off the tension he just created between him and the subordinate and commented on your wristlet, peeking out of your sleeve as you write something down on a the white sheet in front of you for records.

You smiled and complimented his silver chain, “It sure does twinkle in the light, almost as brightly as your own eyes do, Thoma.”

You relish in the bashful response he gives, stifling a snort and blocking his mouth with the back of his hand ever so slightly to cover his giggle. Pink turning into a bright red on his peachy cheeks.

But he swiftly straightens himself up in a matter of seconds,

“Ah, but I shouldn’t interrupt you two anymore. Carry on.”

You turn to focus on your business acquaintance and can’t help but notice how on edge they were from that point on. In fact, compared to other visits, this one seemed to take longer than usual. Your partner working slowly and carefully, as though their life was on the line.(Which, honestly, it might have been..)

Still, once finished you bid them goodbye and on your way out, bid Thoma farewell as well.

But one day, leaving the room you first resided in to speak lightly on company charges and trades, when you turned to the door he wasn’t there. Had he really left so quietly? You enter the hall and look towards the entrance. You really couldn’t afford to go deeper into the estate to look for him—you don’t even think you were allowed. So you left, a little upset you couldn’t say goodbye to Thoma.

Once you made it to your work premises though, you were sure met with a surprise.

Thoma was in your boss’ office, they seemed to have just finished a conversation.

You greet Thoma happily, but quickly bring your attention to your boss, giving them the reports you gathered and trying to relay them, but they interrupted you, unintentionally receiving a hard stare from Thoma that made them stutter.

“—Actually, y-you don’t have to worry about anything else for the day!” They laughed and shakily took the few written papers from your hands,

“You have been eh—excused! For the rest of the day, ahah..” They tried not to let their eyes so noticeably flicker over to the blond to their right, desperately wanting his approval rather than the threat of his disdain.

You look at your boss, confused—a little worried for their head.

“But aren’t we totally strapped today? Are you sure you can afford to—“

This time, Thoma interjected sweetly, “Don’t worry! Your boss was just telling me about this new system they’re all gonna try out, it’s sure to prosper, so don’t you worry!”

He not so subtly started dragging you out of the room, tugging your arm and pushing the small of your back forwards for you to walk with him.

He continued on, “I’ve really been missing you lately,” he smiled and you teased him back.

“We see eachother practically everyday—matter of fact, not practically. We do.” You smiled sweetly at him and cocked your head. “You really can’t get enough of me?”

He laughed, high pitched and honest, embarrassed.

“I really can’t.”

///////////////////////////////////////

You walk with Thoma out of the Kamisato estate for the third time this week, following your new daily schedule together. Your work day always seems to end here now.

“Why don’t you come to the tea house today?” Thoma persists, he’s been talking about it a lot this past week, apparently he has just decorated a new private room in the tea house. He assures you it is worth the detour from your home, even on this rather late evening.

“I could always walk you home after, if you would even want to go.” He seemed a little jittery, excited. He couldn’t keep his hands off of your body, ushering you towards the path leading you two down and into the town.

You put up little resistance to the pushy behavior, trusting his judgment, and a little excited to see the room yourself. He’s really been talking it up, for some odd reason you couldn’t seem to pin down. You teased the obvious delight in his words, his body language. He laughs, warm and sweet.

You two go back and forth on the rather long walk back into the city of Inazuma, that fortunately, felt short on behalf of your conversation.

You enter the Komore Tea-house, and immediately greet the cute dog at the counter before anything else. Thoma had spoken of him on the way,

“Taroumaru-kun!” You gush at his happy yips and the wag of his little tail at your greeting. Thoma brushed himself just over your shoulder to pet the dog’s scruff with care.

“Taroumaru, you’ve been a good boy while I was gone, yeah?” The dog barked and sat up straighter. You laughed at its cute behavior, no doubt trained by Thoma, or at least you’d assumed so.

Thoma excused himself, telling you to wait here with the “Owner”, while he added a little something more to the room he wanted to show you.

You smiled as he left, turning your head back to the dog in front of you.

The back and forth you two had for the next minute was surprisingly fulfilling. He responded to every question you asked, albeit in a way you wouldn’t ever be able to understand. You wondered, could he understand you? But Thoma brought himself to your attention before you could ponder.

“Come, follow me to the back—,” Thoma went ahead and brought you into the last of the three rooms of the tea house, and upon entering, you softly gasped.

Ribbons your favorite colour flowing from the ceiling to the walls in a delicate, intricate manner. Tall, red candles in a shade that complemented the ribbons burning brightly and adorning the room in a warm light. You also noticed the statues occupying the corners of the room, ranging in size, shapes based off of your zodiac. Beautiful art was placed on the walls, and there was a small table near the window in the room, large enough for two, carefully carved into with patterns of dragons and flame. A wispy table cloth atop it, silky and soft to the touch, and cushions to sit on made of crushed velvet and smelling of cinnamon.

You could smell incense burning too—could it be lavender?

Thoma moved with you silently as you gawked at the room and eventually seated yourself at the table.

“This is so beautiful, Thoma..!” You couldn’t stop looking around and discovering new little details in the decor to fawn over.

For the first time in a while, you felt bashful. Usually so confident and ready to tease and court—this response has really left you…shy.

“Did you do this… With me in mind, Thoma?” He wouldn’t stop looking into your eyes, and it made you want to shrink.

“Yes.” He finally answered.

You softened at the tone of his word even though you felt all the more rowdy inside. You went on, saying how beautiful it was, and how… relaxed you were beginning to feel. What was that incense again? Vanilla? It felt as though every guess you could come up with was just off the mark.

His smile was wide, brimming from cheek to cheek with pride and something else you couldn’t name. He placed a teapot onto the table that you hadn’t noticed before. Maybe it was under the table? Oh, and that painted porcelain of the pot, it really seemed to catch your eye—

“Tea?”

You blinked back up to Thoma as he pushed a cup towards you and lifted the pot.

“Sure,” you smiled, “what kind is it?” Thoma gave up another cheeky smile and poured. “It’s a special blend.. I know you’ll like it.”

Sipping and talking and admiring inside the room, it felt like you had been there for hours. Time felt so slow. You could notice Thoma inching closer and closer to you as the evening went on, and you let him.

“What time is it?” You asked, a bit worried when the sun was fully set. Thoma glanced at the window before paying his attention back to you. He didn’t answer.

The bitter leaves and herbs spared at the bottom of the pot with what little tea was left would go on cold, as you and Thoma minded each other. His hand slipped to yours, and tugged on your sleeve, barely scraping the skin of your wrist with his nails.

You shifted on your seat, nervous and warm. “I should really get home, I don’t know if I…can…”

You had to mind the time, you still had work tomorrow, but… Thoma looked so eager. So enveloped in your presence. The closer he got to your face the more you felt like it was too late to leave. His lips brushed past yours and braced themselves onto your cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered,

You let out a short breath, preparing to answer before a wave of heat pooled into your body seemingly out of nowhere.

Thoma seemed to notice the sudden change as well, and you could feel him smile into your cheek. “Finally…”

You could barely hear what he had said—but you groaned, and felt as Thomas’ lips moved to your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin.

“Can I kiss you.” He was certain of your response.

You’d cry out for him to kiss you, touch you, do anything. Your body seemed to twitch at the mere thought and you couldn’t fathom why.

But you let out a shaky breath, “Yes,” you whimpered, tugging onto his shirt to pull him closer.

Oh you could definitely feel his smile on your neck now. He let out a dark chuckle and grabbed at the collar of your coithes, tugging them down almost seamlessly to expose your shoulders and upper chest.

You flinched back but he brought you closer, forcing your body to melt into his.

You moaned when you felt his tongue swipe over your collar and bite.

The sensation made you arch your back, fixing yourself up more against his body. He hummed in approval and reached back to pull at your clothing from behind, successfully exposing the wholeness of your bare chest and upper arms with a strong tug.

You almost chocked on air seeing yourself so naked in front of Thoma—but he didn’t seem to be put off in the slightest.

“I’ve dreamt of seeing you like this up close..”

His eyes held a deep lust that almost frightened you, he looked as if he could devour you any second. He moved from your neck back to your lips, slotting his own against them swiftly, ready to swallow your moans and suck at your tongue.

You couldn’t stop the noises from coming out of your mouth, the desperate whines, the high pitched moans.. Thoma loved it. He was almost worried he didn’t put enough aphrodisiac into the tea when you didn’t have a more immediate reaction.

But this, this was perfect.

You couldn’t bare to tell him no, and you melted at his very touch. Just as desperate to have his tongue down your throat as he has been for the past few months. Archons, you couldn’t begin to comprehend how much he needed you.

You were so focused on how he worked your mouth, you almost didn’t notice your legs had become bare. After peeling your bottoms off without your knowledge, Thoma’s other hand slid itself against your outer thigh, damp with your sweat, smelling like salt and cinnamon. You shot your hand down to try and cover up as much as possible, thankful for your sex to still be covered, but Thoma grabbed your wrist almost immediately.

The two of you separated, with your joined spit connecting only for a second before it fell. You gazed up at him, lips glossy and eyes lidded, filled with lust.

And he watched you. Watched your eyes tear up, your chest rise and fall with breath—and watched your legs shake and try to close themselves, much to his dissent.

Even against your best interest, your body fell against your own will. Thoma guided your body and limbs so that you were pressed against him, straddling his lap.

You could feel something twitching under his pants, and it didn’t help that with the position you two were in—your covered sex was pressed right against it.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders for purchase as he moved his lower body against yours, moans mixing with your own in the air.

“Ah… It’s okay, darling—we don’t have to go all the way… Mmf.. Tonight.”

You let out a confused sound, dazed in the feeling of his body grinding against yours.

“Yeah… We’ll just practice getting closer.”

You buried your face into the crook of his neck and groaned as he rocked his hips against yours—uncertainty and a bit of fear being overshadowed by lust and the inner aching feeling that your body seemed to need him for.

The panic from before, once subsided, rose again at feeling his hand slip past your underwear and press lightly against your bare sex. You flinched and tried to move your hips but your body barely reacted to your mental request.

Thoma chuckled and braced his other hand against your back firmly, securing you in your place.

“I’m gonna make you feel good.. I promise. You know I’d never hurt you, right?”

You cried, thighs shaking and alarm ringing through your body.

“T—Thoma, stop, wait…” You tried to speak clearly but it came out as a faint whine. A plea rather than an order.

He heard you nonetheless, and cooed at your failed attempts at slowing him down as he let his fingers slide against you, making you mewl.

You couldn’t bare to continue but your body seemed much more in tune with what Thoma wanted.

“Don’t you wanna give in to me, darling? Doesn’t it feel good?”

[l0t4n]

HOW DO THEY TALK TO CUSTOMER SUPPORT???

a/n Inspired by my own terrible experiences recently trying to claim a warranty replacement… I didn't realize until just now that I forgot to add Solomon pretend it's because he's died or something. Rip old fart

Includes the brothers + dateables, minus Solomon. Luke is there too, rare mentions of gn mc for good luck :)

LUCIFER

-doesn't bother emailing or using any kind of text communication ever, always calls

-claims that it's because they brush you off easier when you aren't on the phone

-on the phone, they need to hang up on you, which is rude, but in text they can just say they aren't going to respond anymore

-this is his logic

-nobody questions him because he is an absolute customer support expert

-has to force his brothers to contact customer service themselves, otherwise they will always ask him to do it for them

-is relatively polite to the person on the other end of the phone

-but will not hesitate to raise his voice and make demands

-and yet.

-even he is not immune to spending hours on hold, waiting in queues, and trying to communicate issues in a way that will not void any kind of warranty or contract

-frequently is not patient enough to actually undergo all that, but will endure if the situation is dire enough

-when he is capable of reaching the end of a call, he is always victorious

-even if he is lacking necessary documentation or proof

-probably just as terrible as doing paperwork for hours anyways

-he's bothered by it less than he shows

MAMMON

-exact opposite of Lucifer in his approach

-also believes that any customer support system that isn't calling is built to turn people away, but that's where the similarity ends

-even then, he learned that from Lucifer

-by default, yells at the other person on the phone

-once they show signs of not wanting to help, he will only then backpedal and act polite

-because of this he hardly ever gets anything done when contacting customer support

-either bails the moment he's put on hold or complains about how long the call is from the second it starts until the moment it ends

-always ends up spending many hours on the phone when he does persevere, substantially longer than anyone else because of how demanding he can be

-let's be honest though: he hardly ever calls customer service for real reasons

-he's always trying to scam his way into a fake warranty replacement or refund

-on a blacklist for multiple different companies, gets angry and acts shocked when they tell him this

-despite how bad he is at it, he will jump at any opportunity to call customer support for mc when needed

-may even act very polite on the phone at first

-that will not last long

-mc will witness the worst in him by the time that phone call hits one hour and it's only downhill from there

LEVIATHAN

-does not call customer support

-does not call people period

-he will never ever pick up a phone call from an unknown number. Hates being on the phone with strangers more than anything

-usually forces Lucifer to make important phone calls for him

-or spends hours freaking out over a call to the doctor's office because Lucifer said he has to make the appointment himself

-so, obviously, he never ever calls customer support

-might email them or otherwise communicate over text, although still does not like going through the hassle

-if it's majorly important - a figure that arrived damaged or a forgotten password and email - he is actually very patient and thorough in making sure he can get it fulfilled

-otherwise it's too time-consuming and boring, he'll just fix the issue himself or avoid it entirely

-one time though

-his limited edition ruri-chan figure, of which only 50 were produced

-arrived BROKEN

-he didn't think twice about calling customer support. Paced his room like a businessman in the midst of a serious deal the entire time

-all his anxiety gone the second ruri-chan was on the line

-came out victorious with a replacement

SATAN

-strict protocols for how he must approach contacting customer support

-after many an incident, Lucifer put him on a step-by-step plan for how he must go about making any sort of contact with people in customer relations positions

-he must run the issue by Lucifer first to prevent him from making any rash decisions in the spur of the moment

-then, he must create a script outlining exactly what to say to maximize the chances of the interaction staying friendly

-only then can he contact support

-obviously though, since this was a plan made by Lucifer, he never follows it

-as time passes, and he becomes more and more capable of managing his anger, he hardly even sees a reason to contact support outside of rare incidents anyways

-when those rare incidents pop up, however, there are MANY parts to the customer support ladder that lead even the regular individual to anger, much less the avatar of wrath

-has to do silly shit to calm himself down

-mc comes home one day to find Satan pacing the living room, visibly pissed

-wearing his emotional support cat ears

-about as successful at getting what he wants as the average individual

-when he fails, though, the house of lamentation will suffer

-learns how to send curses over phone lines for this exact purpose

ASMODEUS

-will call customer support every time. No emails

-not because he prefers the phone or anything it's just easier to charm the person on the other end that way

-will physically go to an establishment to complain if it's an option

-if it isn't, will settle for the phone

-none of his brothers ask him to call customer support for them, because they think his methods are embarrassing, but there is absolutely no denying they work insanely well

-never gets put on hold, never gets told no

-always ends the call with exactly what he wanted to begin with

-for that reason he will, however, occasionally delay making the call for a number of days to really consider what he wants

-would a refund or a replacement work best? Does he want to change his username too when he calls to reset his password?

-it's not like he's actually bound by any contract or protocol, he can surpass all that easily

-probably the best option if mc needs to call customer support regardless

BEELZEBUB

-the most normal one

-prefers calling to text-based communication because he thinks it frees up his hands to eat while on the phone

-always forgets the most important appendage for speaking: mouth

-the support people must learn to decipher what he's saying inbetween mouthfuls of food

-frequently has no real reason to contact support, unless he happens to swallow a piece of technology whole

-they don't even listen to him in those cases, just redirect him to a poison control center or a doctor

-he knows well enough by now though that he can handle it, he just needs to claim warranty

-either doesn't exactly enjoy lying about the nature of the “damage” or has a very complex script the others helped him compose

-maybe both

-sometimes will make a call for Belphie since he can't stay awake during holds

-frequently gets what he wants by being mild mannered and reasonable

BELPHEGOR

-yea. You will never catch him bothering with that shit

-cannot stay awake at all

-both text and call won't work

-only thing that would ever work is email, since there's no immediate demand to reply

-even then, he has a track record of waking up, typing an incomprehensible email in response, then immediately falling right back asleep with no memory of events once he's fully awake again

-then needing to go back in and correct himself to the person on the other end

-but anything instant messaging, or God forbid, a phone call, which will likely put him on hold, he gives up on immediately

-it's probably some faulty state of the art pillow or something, he'll just buy a new one

-beel may go through the effort of calling support for him if need be, although Belphie almost never directly asks him to

-in the absolute most dire situation arises and he needs to contact customer support, he will need someone else there to monitor him and keep him awake, almost always beel or mc

-of the one or two times he's bothered, he's had so-so luck getting what he wants

-he doesn't actually care about what the other person thinks, so doesn't have the patience to make up lies to maximize the issue being taken seriously

-for this reason he already knows most things he may have a reason to call for won't be covered by warranty

DIAVOLO

-wants so desperately for the rugged experience of customer support

-the getting put on hold. The getting put in a queue. The lying to representatives

-just the thought makes him excited

-it's the same romantic approach he has to the dmv

-he wants to experience the shared commoner suffering of bad service systems

-a part of that is a genuine desire to know the issues and fix them

-but more than anything he just sees how other people bond over their hatred of things like this and he wants in on the regular person experience

-sadly, Barbatos does not let him

-even he hardly contacts support, just the slightest nudge by the demon king’s estate will have any company scrambling to accommodate any request

-rapt attention when hearing lucifer complain about needing to lie to get what he wants out of customer service

-needing to lie! Imagine that! Barbatos is just honest with what happens over the phone and they will always receive a replacement or gift for their troubles regardless

-lucifer does not enjoy engaging in diavolo’s silly whims so instead he just bottles it all up

-while Dia pesters him for customer service stories like they're some kind of freakish, bland version of bedtime stories

-if the day ever came that he got to call customer support all on his own, he would not get the issue fixed

-he would just ask the support person unrelated questions the entire time

BARBATOS

-of course his overworked ass is highly familiar with making customer support calls

-hates them because of the massive wrench they tend to throw into his carefully planned schedule

-the privilege of having direct contact to company CEOs instead of the lowly regular support lines largely cuts the call time down to a fraction of what it would be otherwise, however

-makes calls for castle staff more than he does for diavolo himself

-shipments of cleaning supplies that arrive damaged, or the wrong grocery order sent out

-but when he does need to make a call for dia, the ability to namedrop the devildom prince himself usually earns him even more special privileges

-always gets what he wants and more

-hates when the calls get long but persists nonetheless, as long as he can leave with more than he started with

-a call getting “long” for barb is usually about half an hour anyways, nothing compared to the multi-hour ordeals of regular service lines

-may mop a little while holding the phone in the crook of his neck

SIMEON

-can hardly even navigate to the call app, much less use email, or web messaging

-can text marginally

-in the event of contacting customer support through text, he will either be full grandpa or professional author about it

-”help . ComputEr brok”

-”Hello, to whomever it may concern, my personal computer appears to have gone out… “

-no inbetween

-he's so polite though they usually let him get what he wants

-doesn't mind the waits, will only have good things to say about his support people after the fact

-”oh well their jobs are just so hard… “

-lucifer got tired of reminding him he can be a bit firmer with service workers centuries ago

-Simeon won't have it

-he will die before he yells at someone whose job involves heavy exposure to the general public

-learns this doubly so after running the café

-on the bright side, that experience did, in fact, give him just a bit extra confidence to get firm with strangers

LUKE

-Simeon tries to get him to make a call himself once so he can earn the experience

-it scares him so bad, can't do it

-going forward he's afraid Simeon will make him go on the phone again though, so he always opts for text-based customer support options instead and just doesn't say anything

-sometimes goes behind Simeon’s back and gets his stuff replaced/refunded when he sees him struggling a bit too much with how a certain customer support system is structured

-finds out that people sometimes lie to customer support to get what they want

-or worse, finds out about the sort of scams Mammon runs with regard to warranty fraud

-is so horrified by the idea of both

-has a nagging fear in the back of his head whenever he needs to talk to anyone who works in customer service that he'll accidentally lie to them or scam them without realizing

-has nightmares about it constantly

[4uru]

My personal problems:

My clusterfuck of a rant (ft. Cassandra clare)

Buckle up besties bc im about to trauma dump. Like actual baby gay trauma.

(@faithfromanewperspective you wanted to know, i dont think i can freestyle angst on an ask like i can on a post so here it is)

Tw: incest, gender dysphoria, homophobic parents, sexual assault.

In our country you have to give a board exam (goverment??? Exam??? Similar to SATs) at the end of your 5 grade. So you need a primary school certificate (PSC)

After my PSC, my parents fixed up my Tablet. And went to work., i sat on my leaving room couch with blankets and pillows for a whole month (there was a dent on the couch when i actually got up for 6th grade) and i surfed the internet in those weeks.

I saw the malec video on yt ( i didnt click on it and didnt think much of it)

So my friend told me to watch anime. Somehow searching 'anime' on yt lead me to an anime 'Super lovers' (yaoi, pseudo incest, pedophilic and rapey everything under the sun you can find, its in super lovers) also i was like 11. 5 years old at this point. I have no concept of whats right or wrong. And bc of these animes (theres so much of it) i thought incest was fine. I also got into Todobaku and bakudeku. And thats part was fine i was mainly watching edits on yt. Then i started reading yaoi mangas and wattpad stories and gacha vids (And yes incest is still featuring on these stories for the most part)

Somewhere along the line, i was like, this feels weird (it was a particularity bad wattpad story with incest i think) i was already consuming gay content for months by then. (I still hadnt started 6th grade mind you.) and my standard for content increased a bit. And i stopped engaging with incest fics and mangas completely. After i distanced myself from it i realised how fucked that was and moved on from it.

But i still engaged with gay content. Somehow i stumbled upon the malec vid again. I watched it. (The first time im seeing live action gay ppl on screen) then i got into thai bl. ("Love by chance" was my first) the thai bl scene was a bit better. Around this time i read bl, watched bl and started to research about gay culture and what not. I figured out i was attracted to girls before i even went back to school

When i went back to school I became friends with a girl (lets call her bunny) I knew bunny since 5th grade but i didnt talked to her that year. she was smart and cool and i had a bit of crush on her from afar.

(5th grade before gay awakening) One time in my school bus while guessing one of my "friends" crushes i asked if he had a crush on bunny, he laughed, i "joked" if i was a boy, i would grow up to marry her. That 'friend' emptied his water bottle on my head as a response.

In 6th grade, the first week (maybe 2nd /3rd January), bunny and i got selected for a group project along with other friends. Me and another friend went to bunny's house for the project. The other friend left. After that friend left bunny and I started to unpack our traumas for each other. Family troubles and what not. I (being the dumb bitch i am) told her that i liked her (and also the water bottle thing) and that i liked girls too (at this point I identified as bi)

In class 6 and of fuckery happend, but me and bunny became bsfs so fast, with in a day. And we were inseparable. I asked her out and she laughed in my face. And we laughed about it years later too. 6th grade ends with her being made at me for smth i didnt even do wrong and some other shit with out toxicest friened. (We werent hanging out by the end of the year)

(Also i finished all off the percy jackson and percy jackson spin offs in 6th grade) and i also told my dad that i liked girls too. He conveniently forgot it for the nest year.

I come back for 7th grade knowing I was bi or pan (couldnt decide which i identified with the most) i start hanging out with a group of boys. Then covid happens.

Lockdown at the begining was fine (terrified but fine) around the second month of lockdown some genderfuckery started to happen. I would forget my own gender (round the time i was falling asleep or waking up). I started consuming for trans stuff around this time. And i journaled on my sketchbook with doodles and cried on it. I had terrible dysphoria. And i didnt even have a name for it in the begining. And one day the pain became too much and i broke in front of my mother. I came out to her. She ignored me. (Muslim parents) she said i was just a tomboy and "theres nothing wrong with me" and other stuff. I was sure i was trans. And non binary (trans tiktok helped with that bit).

My dysphoria became worse as time went on. Just before time of my birthday. My step mother bought me some books i asked for (queer books) and it had Chain of Gold She saw that it had just come out and thought i would like it. So i was reading chain of Gold. And i didnt get shit. I maybe read 100 pages before i decided that i needed context. I went on goggle and searched the best ways to read cassandra clare books in order and they said that Series wise is best. So i started City of bones (worse mistake of my life)

It was on yt so i started with it first. I already knew before starting that jace and clary werent related and incest might come up. (I didnt know it was that levels of fucked in the books) i just saw a pinterest meme where it was said rather jokingly.

Anyway i finished the whole part one and two of The mortal instruments. I read it for Malec bc they were the only gay characters. I have 101 problems with this series but my most major one was Malec. So at this point in my life i was a closeted trans, (multispec) queer kid Something about reading Queer characters tell each other horrible things about bejng closted and bisexual made me hate myself more. Malec didnt not develope my internalized homophobia, it definately fueled it tho. After my birthday i got grounded (my parents found out the queer content i was engaging with. It was very traumatic. I came out to them and my dad to my face said that i am not queer, instead i am fetishizing queerness and i was engaging in perversion.)

Alot happend many times my parents tried to distance me from queer culture and media but gave up.

As 7th grade ended me and bunny reconnected (shit also happend when my mother read our chats)

Around 8th grade i cried and begged to my mother that i am not going to change and all that jazz, she didnt say anything. But she became more on gaurd, she would analyze my interactions with other girls differently (one time while riding in her scooty, i was in the back said and waved to a girl that was starting at me for some reason) my mother told my dad that shes afraid im flirting with girls AS IM ON THE SCOOTER WITH HER-

In class 8 bunny pulled some shit (i explained it in another post i think) also i finally watched the shadowhunter series show malec healed the wounds that book malec anf my parents left. I was for the most part okay i think (academic studies were my biggest problem)

In class 9 around second half of the year i joined tumblr (helped my mental health immense, finding other gay ppl) and i asked for a book from my step mother (it was a bangla book about a trans girl) my dad delivered it to me. And said that he got that i wasnt going to change (BC LORD KNOWS THEY TRIED) he told me to study well so i could go live abroad bc this country will have me dead. I agreed and took the book (i couldnt finish the book, it was too dark for me at times, i gave the book to bunny).

Bunny and my relationship is vented about in another post. I wont get it.

So my problem with cassandra clare happens for three major personal reasons, one of them i didnt even mention bc i still feel weird about it.

1. The Malec part.

2. The incest part : reading TMI made me relive that first part where i engaged with incestuous content. And just disturbed me to my core this time around EVENTHOUGH I HAD A MILD HEADS UP i didnt know the extent of its fuckery. I dont know why but it just turnt the disgust at incest meter up the roof. Like completely fucked my brain and i wasnt okay. (I was 13/14 my birthday fell in the middle)

3. The sexual assault of Aline.

(Tw: my SA)

As a child (9/10 yrs old) i was assulted in an crowded elevator, my dad was in the elevator, i didnt not see the assulters face. I just remember being sqished against the wall, with a mans hand jammed between my legs. I rember trying to flatten myself against the wall to get away from the hand but it woulnt stop. The hand was knuckles deep between my thighs. I didnt see the mans face. I dont rememeber what he looked like from the back. After we got out i told my dad. He barely reacted and said 'people are assholes'. I told my mother about it.... Earlier This year. I thought if i had told her, she wouldnt let me hang out with dad anymore. He was so nonchalant about it that i thought i was over reacting.

Reading the Aline SA scene fucked me up. It was the first time i had come across an SA scene in a book, before that it was lightly mentioned. In the Aline scene, my mind visualised the whole thing. And it nearly drove me to a panic attack. I was 13 at this point. And in the books it was never brought up again, like it was no big deal. Like it was normal. It was for shock value. And i fell for it.

And the rest of the tsc is still bad writing and i hated it. But tmi fucked right up mentally and yeah. I have other posts explaining my journey with it, under the tag auru's tsc rant. Those explain it better.

[danandphilchronology]

Phil the Viking + Tim’s Adventure +  Worst Day Ever. + The Rabit iz comin to get you

Video #1

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Hello besties! Another day of AmazingPhil circa 2008! We have quite a few I wanted to cover in a single sitting because I was inspired by their very in-depth and meticulous Met Gala review that you can see on Phil’s Instagram. Just looking at the titles, I can tell we are going to be in for an adventure!

Phil the Viking

I’m already nervous for what this could be. This past weekend I did a ton of independent research into Dip and Pip lore and I watched a video that was just Phil barking at the camera and let me tell y’all, that shit has scarred me. 

Wayback Machine (16 February 2008)

Muhammad Ali… Recipe for Life by loutyr

News In Color - College Edition by NewsInColor

Black History Month Presents- BLA… by agordon101

Ok, originally I was nervous because in these early youtube days, Phil doesn’t really have any rhyme or reason to his titling UNLESS he has made some kind of music lipsyncing video. I was pleasantly surprised to find that this was a vlog! Phil and some of his friend stared ina move called Faintheart which billed itself as “the first user generated movie”. Over 1400 myspace users auditioned for the movie and 11 non-professional actors were selected including our own Phil Lester who played Tim. I will link the imdb page here if you are interested in the plot of the film, but just to be warned, it sounds like it was as… good… and you think it is. 

It was presented at a film festival, received mixed reviews, and actually was nominated for a couple of awards. It’s crazy to think that Phil could have continued a career in actor. What a life that would have been. 

Total Watch Time 15m 30s

Tim’s Adventure

Wayback Machine (11 June 2008)

David Byrne: Playing the Building (BBTV) by boingboingtv

THE COMPLIMENTS COLLAB by PickThisCar

TAG! INSTANT KARMA! PASS THIS VID 4 HUMANITY!!! By KingHuman

Ok yall, the last video spoiled me because Phil is back in business as the king (I assume) of the weird side of youtube. It is very interesting to think that this era of Phil is the one Dan was like, “Yeah, we need to be friends”. 

Tim is a little guy who lives in Faceland (Phil’s actual face). The story of Tim is sad and short. He wished to find live and had to fight many uphill battles to be with his beloved, just for them both to be consumed by a dragon. This is not animated. This is nearly a minute of drawings on Phil’s face that I assume took at least a couple hours. This was, honestly, peak creativity. Bonus points for Phil for washing his face, I guess. 

Total Watch Time 16m 27s

Worst Day Ever.

Wayback Machine (25 June 2008)

the Trons - self playing robot band by pieplateindustries

PiKAPiKA THE MOVIE ~ GO! GO! PiKAPiKA!!~ by pikata08

Sing A Long by checkyourself

This was a song for men about how to check yourself for testicular cancer. I did a bit of research on that one. (10/10 for prioritizing health)

We love a storytime youtuber! Apparently Phil has a fear of rollercoasters? Not really, but he dreamed that he had killed an entire cart of passengers on a rollecoaster because he forgot to engage the harnesses. He was actually killed in his dream by a group of theme park mascots. While wearing a full suit and tie, he just talks us through an awful day from beginning to end. The ending, however, is true 2008 Phil and I 100% recommend you watch it. 

Total Watch Time 19m 11s

The Rabit iz comin to get you

I promise that I did not decide to spell it like that. That title does not contain any mispellings by me, I promise. That is all our Philly’s doing. 

Wayback Machine (7 July 2008)

The Blood Arm featuring Anais “Do I Have Your Attention” by laundryLA

Dynamic Architecture by dynamicarchitecture

The Cheese Incident by hiddentracktv2

CHILDHOOD STORYTIME!! Yay! Did you know baby Phil wanted to be a vet because he liked animals and wanted to help them. I could cry. He has always just been a little bean. He also wrote a murder story though, so I guess the sweet and terrifying evens out. The title comes from a story her wrote with the same name. The rabbit killed everyone and he could only be defeated by an entire army. I feel like I understand Phil less than I did before actually? Like what is going on? Why didn’t he become a horror author or horror movie director? Why didn’t his parents put him in therapy? Maybe they did. Imagine being Phil’s primary teacher and you notice that he as a tendency to write stories about murder and death… I would have nightmares.

Total Watch Time 21m 41s

[katyspersonal]

Ogay now your turn, who was your blorbo(s) before???

Damn... This is a harder question than it seems, because it is... hard to remember? My brain got SO rotted with Soulsborne world that I legit am forgetting how things used to be before that? It doesn't help that my feelings about the character and how much I talk about them / do for them do not always match! As a result, I have three types of blorbos:

1) The 'real' blorbo: The one that evokes the most feelings and I actively fantasize about being with, one that sparks yearning and attraction and consumes the most of my thoughts, but I won't do enough with

2) The 'productive' blorbo: The one which I practically breathe life in and create entire story and world for when canon didn't provide much and/or this character is unpopular. They often become crucial part of my online identity, or JUST my identity o_o'

3) The 'fanmade' blorbo: It is either an AU version of the character, an interpretation so unfitting and far from canon vibe that it almost works as an OC, or JUST an OC. I actually love/hate this one, because this is the asshole that will always make me stray from working on canon!! They will make me focus so much on them that depending on the nature of the character, I will forget the canon vibe in my love for this version or will forsaken general source material to join an AU/RP where this character is. Let me focus on canon-palatable creativity and stop wasting my time, dipshits!!

So, to give you the idea, in Bloodborne, type one would be, of course, Micolash, Edgar and Maria (but mostly Micolash)! Type two would be Rom and Izzy. And since recently my Laurence is between 1 and 2 because he is really S E X Y but also I have to create everything for him xD. Type three would be... uh...

My previous "fandom" was UTDR, but that stay was a little short-lasting, since Deltarune is work in progress and Undertale did not have the same grip on me. In there, my type one blorbo were Rouxls Kaard and Mettaton! You can tell I love the flamboyant sexy man with fake depth, fair level of depravity but not evilness, and intelligence of a brick dshhfdsdds My art never felt good enough to capture Mettaton's confident energy, however, I'd like to show this fanart of Rouxls:

Type two blorbo were Mad MewMew, Catti, and Diamond King! The latter two were sort of underdeveloped in canon at the time, and for MewMew I actually had a bunch of things, and even RPed as her for some time! Developing Diamond King was quite fun, though he was dangerously close to type 3 because of AU stuff where HE was the bad guy and not Spade King (and Catti was the 'monster' of the prophesy). Besides, we did give him a wife who is not getting used in canon but exists in the cards deck that WAS used for the 'cards'.

(EDIT: I made these sprites and I forgot that I made them and not Val o_o" Because it's been a few years ago + I am scatter-brained. Oh jeez)

And type three happened when I delved into helping to work on an AU for Deltarune, a project a passionate person started in hunger for completion of Deltarune, following after Chapter 1 and ignoring everything. Basically, attempt to finish the game that had AMAZING story and characters! I lended many designs, ideas and characters for it, improving it very significantly. I no longer work on that project and gave all rights to my designs and creative solutions to the developer, but it was FUN. And like I said, distracted me from the canon-palatable creativity. And helped me to finally come to terms with the fact that I am way better at nurturing, supporting, editing and improving someone else's projects than creating my own. It was a long time coming realisation considering how half of my drawings for any fandom used to be fanart of other people's ideas and OCs or fanart for our RP plots. Not something that can happen in this fandom because... you know. But yeah, I've always been the guy that would draw a pile of everyone's OCs/interpretations in the community, or help someone with no coherent design idea to GET that design down!

...ak-hem, where was I? Right, blorbos. So, the 'fanmade' blorbos were, of course, our version of Diamond Queen and... this BITCH:

This is Ace of Hearts! And Insight joke is actually something I just made up, since I made this guy before I knew anything about Bloodborne! It aged like fucking milk, hahahahaha!! To give you the idea of what I had to do to design the Aces, here are the cards by Kanotynes that Toby was using:

These are the face cards ( x )! If you saw Deltarune's chapter one, you can see how and which designs were used, and which changed.

And this is the only image of all cards I can reliably find ( x ). You can see that number cards were de-personalised and are just various things. So what I did was combining the face card look and find a way to "fuck it up", since Aces learned A LOT of 'Chaos' and not only part of it like Jevil (and now Spamton)! Here are the rest of them:

You can tell, even in healthy forms, they'd still be a bit... 'strange' compared with face cards. Ace of Clubs in healthy form would have only one head and one horn, and his 99 Insight Chaos version has 11 heads each with one peace of their body or face... And Ace of Diamonds would be a snake with 'umbrella' skin, which is nothing like other Diamond suits!

I was the one to insist that we have Aces in the project, conceptualised them, designed them, wrote them lore etc. And Ace of Hearts was my favourite, and also the scariest one. (of course I like the most creepy one -_-) It was also the first situation where I got obsessed with my OWN non-canon stuff... although, technically, they are no longer mine, since I passed the designs and right to write and use to the owner completely. Maybe it is to the better, as I moved closer towards enjoying my own content more!

(Idle sprites I've made back then!)

___________

Thank you for listening and giving me nostalgia, lol xD

[aviad1b]

Broken language rant below the cut, I have no idea where this is going but it's gonna go somewhere

Edit: This turned out very, VERY long.

"If you like Hebrew so much, then why are almost all of your posts in English?"

I ask myself the same a lot. It does feel like I throw the "Hebrew is the most beautiful language ever" card a lot without actually, yk, showing it? Standing by my words? Ironically enough I can't figure out what the right English term would be here

I joined tumblr a couple of months ago, with the sole purpose of escapism. Life was... difficult. I needed a way of escaping reality. Before that, I was in several Hebrew-speaking spaces, but as time went on, I just kinda didn't want to stay there?

And it's really hard to explain, even to myself. It's like I made a seperation between my day-to-day Hebrew and this picture of the language itself in my head (which is pretty easy in Hebrew because in day-to-day people very much do not use the language to its whole potential).

I still held the view of Hebrew as the Most Beautiful Language Ever ™, but at the same time, it reminded me of reality. Because it's the language that I speak every day. It reminded me of trauma. It reminded me of endless screams and of doors that have to remain shut. It reminded me of how impossible life was looking. And English, being the Language Of the Internet ™, distracted me from that. It was almost as if I forgot that English is a real language, with real people who speak it and that includes many people who would rather have me dead than alive. I'm saying "almost" but I think it's safe to say that's percisely what it was.

Add to that the fact that Hebrew handles gender absolutely terribly. Absolutely terribly. There's little to no room at all for gender-neutral terms. And I really needed a way to refer to myself in gender-neutral terms at the time. Or at least a non-masc way which when I say it like that does exist in Hebrew but

I... don't think I'm ready to explain that one properly, even to myself. Tho in a sense I really do want to, but I also really don't. The way I described it here feels very underwhelming and slightly incoherent but I'm afraid that's the best I can do. Bottom line is, I even started thinking in English because of that.

This all blew up in my face, obviously. And I was so frustrated with myself for that. I took it hard. I had two little personal projects that I wrote in English. I abandoned them. Physically erased one of them from paper, page by page. I wanted to stop consuming any type of media in English at all.

So in that case, why do I still post mostly in English? I don't know. I don't post for anyone else I do it for myself. To try and make sense of things. Tumblr exposed me to a lot of diaspora Jews. Who have this different perspective to a lot of things. It's like a sense of optimism I used to see here in Israel when I was a kid, which slowly faded away as time went on. Maybe that's why I keep using English?

I really don't know.

Eli'ezer Ben-Yehuda made himself think in Hebrew for the aim of renewing the language. Meanwhile I still catch myself thinking in English from time to time, despite natively speaking Hebrew and never living in any English-speaking environment, and despite Hebrew being the most beautiful language ever made. I hate myself for it. Every. single. day.

I suppose that at the end of the day, I'm a big fan of Hebrew only as long as I don't have to use it to refer to myself.