#and laugh knowing that dying here is better than living in space with people like hi

[kaepop-trash]

I want to know how jaehyun in no time to blame would feel like if he knew she was with someone else? Without knowing it was johnny? Is this too weird to ask?😬

Ask: "What is Jaehyun and y/n's "relationship" like?"

Where the Light Is

Not to weird at all. I love unexpected questions like this because they make me think about characters in a way I wouldn't usually. As a result, I see them in a new light. Always fun so ask whatever you want! I loved writing this. Their relationship is like an old song you can go back to, one that always sound like the first time when you listen to it after years. It's having someone understanding you without needing the right words.

_

Summary: Jaehyun goes to his first party since returning. (Y/N) is trying to piece together her entire life. Who understands that better than someone who had to pull their own life apart?

Warnings: Suggestive sexual content, existential breakdown, kissing

WC: 4.9k

_

Jaehyun walked into Taeyong's apartment, looking behind him to check who was at this little gathering.

"Who are you looking for?" Taeyong asked, following Jaehyun's wandering gaze.

"No one in particular." Jaehyun spoke, distracted by his keen search.

"Johnny isn't here." Taeyong warned him. "He's still in Scotland. Just go talk to your other friends." Taeyong gave him a pointed look.

Jaehyun swallowed, giving Taeyong a nod. Catching up with his other friends was something Jaehyun had every intention of doing. But every time he had the opportunity, his nerves interrupted his efforts. 

Everybody around him had their own spaces here; it was Jaehyun who didn't belong. The stories they shared, the knowing looks, and especially the nostalgic nods were all memories made after Jaehyun ceased to be a part of their lives. He wasn't bitter about it. He just didn't want to intrude.

But Taeyong had that look in his eyes that spelt determination. So Jaehyun dutifully followed.

Everywhere he looked, he could see at least one familiar face. Yet none of their eyes wandered like his. They were satisfied in the conversations they were engaged in.

"Make yourself a drink." Taeyong's voice caught his attention again, hand pointed at a table with an array of liquor bottles. "All of us are dying to know what you've been doing all these years. Don't be a stranger, Jaehyun." He squeezed his shoulder, gesturing at someone behind him. 

When Jaehyun turned, Irene, Yeri and Taeil waved. Taeil made space on the sofa beside him and beckoned. Jaehyun's reciprocal smile was one of sentimental surprise.

"Why is it that you've been here for five days and I'm only just getting to speak to you?" Irene asked, crossing her arms and giving him a frown.

Jaehyun smiled, his relief coming off as sheepish. "Every time I've seen you, you've been busy talking to other people." He shrugged.

"At least come up with better excuses." She rolled her eyes, taking the spot beside Jaehyun and shoving his shoulders, "How have you been?" She asked with a kinder voice.

The question made Jaehyun's stomach churn because, while he had a ready-made answer for the question for years, this was the first time that he wasn't sure.

"I've been good." He lied, nodding his head. "Busy." It was the truth, "But this trip is a nice excuse to relax and smell the roses."

"There will be plenty to smell at the wedding. The theme is pink and blue roses." Yeri smiled, making Jaehyun mirror it.

"They stole my favourite motif. Don’t even get me started on my restaurant’s decor." Taeyong pointed at the couple in question. Everybody laughed as the conversation dissolved into talks of how seriously Taeil was taking the wedding planning.

Amongst the teasing and the laughs, it was easy for Jaehyun to get lost in the past. He remembered it all in that one moment. The wet chill of the common room in the resident's hall where they used to hang out. The halls of the undergraduate business building, patterned with sunlight coming through the window. The smell of stale beer at the dingy bar where they would all hang out. The same place (Y/N) broke up with him despite them never being together.

The last memory jolted him out of his galvanised nostalgia. He looked around the room like he remembered an important task, trying his best not to be very apparent. But when his eyes finally found what they were seeking, his brows knit.

(Y/N) sat by herself in the opposite corner of the room. She was nursing a beer in her hand, lost to some deep thought with her gaze lowered. 

Jaehyun wondered what she was thinking about; why she had isolated herself this way, and why it looked like she was missing something. He stared at (Y/N) long enough that it caught Taeil's attention. 

Jaehyun had fallen out of the habit of keeping his feelings to himself, it seemed. He wondered if certain habits were best left in the past.

"Oh don't worry about (Y/N)." Taeil laughed, "She must have had a long day at work so she's quiet." He reassured Jaehyun, no doubt having had this conversation with someone before. “ She only came because I insisted. Just like you.” He laughed. 

Taeil didn't know that Jaehyun didn't need to be told.

"Yeah, the only person she'll talk to when she's this tired is Johnny." Yeri smiled, sharing a look with her friends. Jaehyun's eyes remained on (Y/N), thinking back to the past as he did more and more recently.

He knew too well about her reclusive tendencies. When drunk or tired, (Y/N) became all too cautious of what she'd say. For Jaehyun it was never a problem. Neither of them ever needed to talk in each other's company because words weren't needed in whatever they had shared. In his company, she had been as comfortable as Jaehyun was in hers.

She looked around the room once, reaching into her back pocket as she did so. Jaehyun’s breath hitched in anticipation, but she looked down at her phone before her eyes landed on him.

"Oh she's smiling." Yeri laughed, "Must be texting to her mystery man." She giggled, earning a gentle shove from Irene.

"Who?" Jaehyun asked too quick, not even noticing the strange look he got from his friends.

"I don't know his name, Johnny might. But she caved and told us about it once." Her shoulders rose in pride.

"Yes, in confidence. Don't go around telling people about her personal business." Irene chastised Yeri, giving Jaehyun an apologetic smile but still keeping a cautious hand on Yeri's back.

"It's just Jaehyun." Yeri countered but then sighed, "But you're right." She grimaced.

There was an undertone to the exchange that Jaehyun didn't catch. He couldn't have possibly because just as (Y/N) looked away from her phone, his own buzzed in his pocket. Even as the idea of this mystery person started to sprout in the back of his mind, his current focus was on this moment.

She texted him. He was the person she was texting with the smile on her face that made their friends speculate. 

At that moment, he was the mystery man.

"I'm going to go eat something." Jaehyun announced to nobody in particular after what felt like an appropriate gap. He stopped up and immediately got his phone out of his pocket, heart beating incredibly fast.

🖂 Are you coming for Taeil's party? 🖂

Jaehyun grinned, amused by the question.

🖂 How many beers have you had? Look up.🖂

Jaehyun couldn't help the tug at his chest when she looked up. Her eyes full of anticipation was enough to make him feel a little weak in the knees still— just like the first time. When their eyes met, he was back in the basement of the record store off campus.

"Oh." She said as realisation coloured her eyes, followed by a wash of pink on her cheeks. "I didn't see you."

"It's a good thing. Now I know that you were missing me." He bit the inside of his cheeks as he felt his neck getting warm.

Her lips tugged at the corner, "How much did you hate saying that?"

"A lot." He admitted, squeezing his eyes shut as he shoved his clenched fists into his pockets. "But I still like it."

"You're bolder than I remember." She noted.

Jaehyun's eyes flew open, the next words slipping out before he could even think them through. "And you're more beautiful."

None of them spoke for a moment. Out of habit, Jaehyun wondered if he overstepped. Then he heard (Y/N) take a sharp breath.

Head falling back, she burst into laughter. The sound bubbled up effervescently and popped against his ears till they tickled.

"You're crazy." She shook her head, cheeks flushing nonetheless. "When did you come?" She leaned over in her chair, resting her head against her knuckles.

"Just a while back. I was just catching up with Taeil and the rest. I was going to get some food when you texted." He shrugged, his words distracted. Despite being present in the moment, a corner of his mind stayed distracted as Jaehyun kept playing with the idea of sitting down beside her or maintaining the facade of acquaintanceship they had always had in public.

"Good. They've really missed you. There has never been a gathering where you and your whereabouts weren't brought up. I know everything that has happened in your life since you left." She scoffed, looking away from him and taking a swig at her beer.

"Oh, I wish I had the same. I've only heard a few things here and there. I knew nothing about you."

"You could have asked." She looked back, something quick flashing passed her eyes before she shook it off.

"Johnny told me to stop asking about you last year.” Jaehyun shuffled, deciding against sitting down. “He was right, of course, so I stopped. I did hear about your job though." He grinned.

"Don't." She interjected, "We don't have to talk about my job."

The curt request caught him off guard, but he respected the boundary, giving her a nod. She closed up for a beat, and Jaehyun wondered what he said. 

After a few moments of chewing her bottom lip, she looked up at him.

"Do you remember Diana from our eco class?" She asked, clearing her throat. Jaehyun nodded, and a conspiratorial smile lit her features. "She's marrying that TA."

"See I knew there was no way that Diana, of all people, was topping our class." Jaehyun clapped his hands together, practically spilling his drink.

"Leaving you as the second." (Y/N) teased, grinning when Jaehyun's nostrils flared.

"Clearly not!" He huffed before realising that he was getting riled up over something from more than half a decade ago. "Don't laugh! It was the only class I was second in." He poured.

"My condolences." She bit the corner of her cheek, mischief colouring her eyes. His gaze fell on the movement like water flowed downhill, gravity always working against him.

"Didn't you say you wanted food?" She questioned. Jaehyun nodded. "So?" She added.

"I want this more." Again his words spilled out. Like they were being pulled into her orbit.

Her lips parted. An effect of the shock from his words. But it did nothing to help his state. Heat spread from his neck to the tips of his ears.

"I think I might need a snack, actually." He pointed an accusatory gaze at the glass in his hand, a false premise. Her lips tugged at the corner. 

"Try the pigs in a blanket." She gave him a confident nod. Before he could ask she sat back with a concluding slap to her thigh, "See you later." She promised with a wave, eyes returning to her phone. 

Those were one of his favourite words to hear from her.

(Y/N) felt lighter after the interaction, a smile still lingering. But her mind kept going back to what he said. Johnny had told Jaehyun to stop asking about her. She could point out the exact moment it had probably happened, too— the night Irene and Taeil announced their engagement.

She fell into the past, thinking of that day like she tended to do a lot more lately. Everything seemed to have changed so much since then, yet it still felt the same. Like her life was passing by while she remained in place.

After several moments she broke out of her thoughts. Jaehyun had already moved on, eyeing the spread of snacks. Having two restauranteurs in the group meant that all gatherings had the promise of great food. Yet she waited to see if he'd pick hers.

His pout rested on his nose as he surveyed the limitless food options. Finally, landing his eyes on something made him smile as he picked it up.

(Y/N) buried her beating heart and looked down to see that his food of choice had been pigs in a blanket. His eyes fluttered, lips tugging only slightly at the edges to make his dimples dig in: he liked it. The realisation made her heart emerge from its hole with a renewed flair. 

Right now, she felt like nothing had changed at all.

__

Jaehyun stopped walking back to Taeil when he spotted Jaemin picking up a beer. He’d grown so much since he last saw him that Jaehyun had to squint to make sure that it was actually him.

“How have you been?” Jaehyun questioned once he was sure. Jaemin looked up, eyes colouring with the same recognition that reminded Jaehyun of his elder sister.

“Oh wow. I heard you were back.” Jaemin gave him a funny smile, looking Jaehyun over. “Success is a good look on you.” He noted, raising his bottle to him.

Jaehyun felt himself blush, the odd compliment strangely poignant. He mumbled a quick thanks, and Jaemin grinned with amusement.

“I heard you and your roommates started a company together? I guess I should take notes on success from you.” Jaehyun remembered.

Jaemin laughed, “Who told you that?”

“Johnny.” Jaehyun shrugged, “I didn’t know who else I could ask.”

“Ah.” Jaemin scoffed. “That is the only bridge you didn’t burn after all.”

“I had almost forgotten how harsh you can be.” Jaehyun winced, trying to hide the pang from the words with a laugh.

“I’m just honest.” Jaemin just shrugged.

“How have you been?” Jaehyun asked.

“Surviving. Life’s good now, so I’m making the most of it.” Jaemin frowned when Jaehyun laughed hard, “What?”

“I missed that ‘living in the moment’ energy (Y/N) and you have.” Jaehyun shook his head, “I envy it so much.” Taking a sip of his own drink, Jaehyun chewed on his bottom lip.

“What is it? What do you want to ask?” Jaemin said with a knowing look on his face.

Jaehyun smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he considered his words. Like his sister, Jaemin was also perceptive. As embarrassed as he felt by it, the itching in his throat won over. 

He cleared his throat, "Your sister is with someone?"Jaehyun tried not to give away his inner turmoil. But nothing ever hid from the boy in front of him.

Jaemin just nodded.

“Serious?” Jaehyun asked, holding back his sigh when Jaemin shook his head.

"Old habits die hard." He shrugged, turning to (Y/N) with some thought weighing on his mind.

"Who is he?" Jaehyun couldn't help himself.

"Some dude."

Jaehyun winced playfully, taking the hint in Jaemin's clipped tone. "Will you take her home?" He changed the topic.

Jaemin considered it momentarily, looking his sister over before turning to Jaehyun with a sigh. 

"No, I have to take that one home." He pointed behind him, turning his head towards his roommate, Renjun. “He’s in a worse state.”

"Oh." Jaehyun responded.

"You can do it." Jaemin told him.

"Old habits." Jaehyun mused before realising he had spoken out loud. "Who is this guy?" He couldn't help himself; Jaehyun was sure that if anybody knew who it was, it would be Jaemin.

"Someone she met at a grocery store." Jaemin scoffed. "You know that you can't bribe me with iced coffee anymore, right? You want to know so bad, just go ask (Y/N)."

"It doesn't matter." Jaehyun kicked the ground, his shoe squeaking.

"Sure." Jaemin said, taking a step back from Jaehyun.

"Is he nice? Good to her?" Jaehyun asked, not sure what answer he was hoping for. 

"You would like him." Jaemin answered with incredible confident, taking a deep sigh after. "I'm going to give you some advice because I never would have graduated without your caffeine sponsorship." Jaemin put a hand on Jaehyun's sagging shoulder. "You're afraid of the wrong things, Jaehyun."

Jaehyun's brows furrowed, lips parting to ask for clarification. But Jaemin was already walking off, always as elusive as his sibling.

"I'm trusting you to take my sister home safely." He waved with his parting words, going up to his roommate with a gentler smile.

When Jaehyun looked around, (Y/N) stood before the food. From the distance and the safety of solitude, Jaehyun got his first good look at her. He took in the slump of her shoulders, the glazed apathy in her eyes for the first time as well. She let out a deep, defeated sigh that quivered her bottom lip. 

Jaehyun frowned.

He thought about how she had stuck to the corner all evening, how her younger brother was keeping a watchful eye on her. He took a look around to see if anybody else thought what he did. But they were all in their space.

When Jaehyun turned back, (Y/N) was speaking to Irene. She gave her an apologetic smile and waved. Irene’s gave her a concerned nod, giving Jaehyun’s speculation credence. Something had to be wrong.

She was leaving and Jaehyun had to follow her. To keep his word to Jaemin. Or so he told Taeyong when he caught his eye.

He called out to her when he saw her walking into the elevator. Instead of stopping, she rushed inside.

He had to wait for the elevator to come back, tapping his foot against the metal edge on the floor. The moment he stepped out into the lobby, he searched for her. He found her sitting at one of the large sofas the excessively lavish lobby had, trying to exhaust his look of relief before approaching.

"Waiting for someone?" Jaehyun asked. She looked up with wide eyed shock.

"Oh." She said once she registered his presence, "My Uber."

"Leaving so soon?" He tried to play off the curiosity, shuffling up to her slowly.

"Yeah, I'm just tired. Long day at work. I feel like I was being an eyesore just moping in the corner." She scoffed, finger tapping on her phone screen.

"The only time you can be an eyesore is in absence." He played the words off as a joke. To his surprise her brows furrowed, eyes darkening in the shadow.

"Did you want anything?" She asked curtly, detaching her gaze from his.

"Jaemin told me to drop you home." Jaehyun shrugged.

"I can drop myself home. I'm not that drunk." Her lips pursed in a displeased frown.

"Nothing to do with alcohol. I just told him I would." He shrugged again, his disposition always edging on awkward— especially when having to voice his intentions like this.

"You can go tell him I said no." She shrugged back. Jaehyun wondered if she was mocking him.

"What's wrong? Why did you run from me when I called out to you upstairs?" This time Jaehyun frowned, feeling unsure again.

Her nose flared for a moment, clearly losing her patience. In the next moment she sighed. 

"I've had a long day, Jaehyun. Just leave me alone." She slumped back into the chair.

"Talk to me about it."

"I'll call you when I get home. I'll call Jaemin too, I'll be safe." She urged, tapping her nails against the side of her phone.

"Talk to me." Jaehyun insisted, sitting down on the chair opposite her.

She gave him an incredulous look, at the same time surprised and irritated by his persistence, "Why?"

"Because I want to listen."

Jaehyun expected her to spit harsher words at him. Instead she sat back, groaning as her eyes welled up.

“I just. I love everyone in that room." She sighed, pausing to consider her words. "I know they know that. I know they love me too." A tear slipped down her. "I just." She looked up, blinking rapidly like it would stop her emotions from spilling out.

She groaned again, still debating with her thoughts and fighting something inside her.

"This is dumb Jaehyun." She groaned, "It's a stupid feeling that will pass. Just go back upstairs. I'll be fine tomorrow." She looked away from him.

"I know that. I also know that you aren't fine now. Who am I going to tell? Who cares if it's stupid?" He sounded so gentle, her eyes welled up a little more.

"I hate my life." She spoke the words with the force of a colossal damn cracking open, "Everybody makes more money than me, happier than me and I feel like I'm frozen in a glass aquarium watching them go by around me." She rushed through the words, groaning right after.

"I thought I'd be happy by now." She continued after a restless pause, "And there are things that should make me feel that way. I thought this new job would make me happier.” She took in a breath that made a tremble rake through her, “But all I see is how nothing is right.”

She squeezed her eyes, her tears flowing unchecked now. Rubbing her cheeks with the back of her hand was futile, but she kept doing it until they looked sore. Jaehyun wanted to reach out to stop it, but it felt like an intrusive thing to do while she let out her words.

“Ever since I moved out of home, everything has felt like a mistake.” Her voice faltered, “I feel like I'm living a borrowed life, you know? But it's mine. And that scares me. There are too many things I've taken without considering. I got the apartment that I think I should want. I hate my job, but I wanted it so bad.” She sat up, giving him a look that begged for understanding. 

“I break myself into a billion pieces everyday hoping that one day it'll all just be dust. Then finally I'll be able to mould myself anew. But these days I feel like I am just blowing away in the wind." She stomped a foot on the ground, groaning again.

She turned to face him, eyes rimmed red and lips quivering. "What am I doing wrong, Jaehyun?" She asked so honestly, both of them wishing he had the answer she seeked.

Jaehyun's heart tugged, her dilemma at the same time familiar and entirely different. He got up from his chair to sit beside her, taking her hands in his.

"There is no right way to do this, you know? Life's not a recipe. You can’t put the right ingridient at the right time and bake it at the right temperature for the right time." He finally reached out, gently wiping her tears with his thumb.

"That's easy for you to say. You did everything right, and now you have it all." Her lips quivered some more, fresh tears escaping her eyes.

Jaehyun wished she would have said anything else. The words sliced his chest open and left him at a loss.

"Quit your job first. That's the easiest one to solve." He spoke after a moment, trying to gather himself.

She look at him like he burned her, wrapping her arms around her waist to distance herself from the reckless ease of his words. But Jaehyun cupped her cheeks in both hands to keep her eyes on his. And his eyes weren't dismissive at all.

"It's not that simple." She whispered, "What if I change it all again and it’s still the same? What if I let this life go too and it still doesn't feel right?"

The words stirred Jaehyun's heart, knowing that this was something he had real advice to give about.

"I know, I get it. You're scared. You're scared because you hate uncertainty and you don't like things to change. I know that. I know you.” He reassured her, wiping more of her tears away. 

“But you can't just continue living a life you hate. Or more importantly one that makes you hate yourself." He pushed the hair that was sticking to her wet cheeks away, "Your brother doesn't need your sacrifices anymore, (Y/N). Live your life, look for something better. I'll help you look. But you need to decide you want to accept that change first. Otherwise it will truly never feel right."

"Jaehyun." She sighed, trying to get away from his hold. But his hands were as resolute as his words.

"I'll help you look for a better job. Hell, I'll help you find what you really want to do. You deserve that." He nodded, trying to get her to agree. “You deserve to do something you love. Not just work to feed yourself.”

"Why would I deserve your help after everything?" She breathed the words out, light as a feather. At that moment, both of them were back in that college bar, the smell of cheap beer and young dreams breaking around them.

"You deserve good things, (Y/N). I don't know when you decide otherwise and what made you think so. But everybody deserves good things. And you," He smiled, squeezing her cheeks, "You deserve the best.” 

He laughed when her lips squeezed between her cheeks, “You're kind and you have so much love. You work hard and you've always done more than you need to. I've seen it all." His voice was full of confidence. She didn't speak but her eyes bleeded distrust, at his words— at herself 

"You deserve more than you'll ever feel you do. You might not believe that, but I do. I believe in you."

"I don't think I've ever worked hard, Jaehyun." Her eyes glittered with tears, " The biggest reason I hate my life is because I know I can't blame anyone but myself for it."

Jaehyun frowned but still looked over her face with careful grace. "You don't remember it like I do. I've seen you. You are the person I think about when I need motivation."

(Y/N)'s heart hammered so hard that her breath started to stutter. Under his tender gaze, with his previous words hanging, it was easy to remember why she was so hopelessly in love with this man. 

"And you're mine." She sighed, nodding like she wanted him to know that she meant it.

His thumb stroked her neck hypnotically while his eyes shifted the way they did when he was trying to form his words. Before he finished dressing them neatly, his eyes shifted behind her.

"I think your uber is here." He spoke, his voice deflating the same way her back did. His hands dropped to her waist just as she turned to see. He was right. Her back deflated a little more.

The warmth of his hands were the reminder of the precipice. She wanted to say so much more to him. But words were never their language.

When she turned back to try anyway, he proved her point. 

Jaehyun’s lips pressed against her with desperate insistence. His fingers dug into her waist and her hands flew to his neck almost immediately. Both with reckless regard. Both, because they didn't know how to accept an end that never came; a change that never felt real.

In this regard Jaehyun was the more honest person, she realised. At least he didn't pretend he'd changed, nor did he ever pretend he was something he was not.

When he pulled away they both came up for air rapidly.

"(Y/N) I–" Jaehyun started, his words thick with the grate of lust and something softer tinting the edges that she didn't recognise.

"The driver isn't going to keep waiting." She paused to take in the way Jaehyun's face shattered, like she needed that last thread of reassurance. "Let's go. We can talk later." She tugged at his arm, sliding her hand down further to hold his.

_

The sound of something shattering was the only thing to break their kiss since she slammed her door. 

Jaehyun pulled back, "Shit." He muttered, earning a breathless laugh from her. "Switch on the lights, you might get hurt."

"You're the one standing on the floor." She pointed out, trying to reach for the switch from her perch on the table anyway. With a flick, her living room came into view.

Jaehyun's hands came up to his waist, eyeing the glass bowl he dropped along with the house keys he had tried to shove in while refusing to break their kiss.

He clicked his tongue, "I’m so sorry. Should I—" His gaze met hers, apologetic.

"I'll get it tomorrow." She tugged at her t-shirt. After a moment of honest contemplation, he let her pull him in.

Lips crashed into lips, hands travelling everywhere. It would always that be easy to get lost in the moment like this. For Jaehyun, it was like being thrown into the crashing waves: limbs remembering each stroke and manoeuvre with ease. This was one sea he could never drown in— or so he hoped.

His hands wrapped around her thighs. Losing himself for just a moment, he squeezed the flesh desperately. (Y/N) yelped, sitting back with a start.

“Sorry, sorry.” He hissed, pulling his hands back, cupping her cheeks to check on her.

“I’m fine.” She laughed, bringing her arms up to her neck, “You’re being very handsy today.” She wiggled her brows. “So much bolder than I remember you, Jung Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun’s face flushed a bright crimson and she laughed, the kind of laugh that burst into a million specks and glittered against his vision. She licked her lips, bringing her hands up to wrap over his. She pulled his hands away, bringing them down to her waist. 

“Do it again,” She asked.

He didn’t need to be told twice, squeezing her with intentional force this time to lift her up. “I missed that spark in your eyes. You can do anything you want with that.”

She grabbed his chin in her hand, squeezing his dimples till his pout showed itself. “Right now, I want to do you.” They both laughed as he led her into her room.

“I can never say no to that.” He kissed her eye, kicking the door closed with his foot.

[f1-giuki]

ello lovie! here with a prompt suggestion for you!! you tagged your post with ‘lestappen prompt’ so my i request Them 🫶🏻 my song vibes are either bellissimissima by alfa or welcome to st tropez by dj anthoine. two very different vibes, so you choose which you prefer!!! 🩷

HI SWEET DARLING ANGEL<3<3<3<3<3<3<3 i loved the alfa song, so i went for it!!!! I did some lestappen fluff!! It's a bit longer than previous drabbles, but I was very inspired!!!! Hope you like it💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

bellissimissima - prompt post

-

Max likes Padel. Scratch that, he should rephrase it. Max “likes” Padel. Fuck, no, not even this works… Max likes Padel only because Charles plays with him. That's the truth. Sue him, he likes to see Charles smile in those little Puma shorts of his, is this a crime? Max is sure many people, including the entire Italian population, would agree with him.

He hates the bloody sport, if he has to be really honest, with those ugly courts with walls, the small rackets, the balls, which to him are just a stupid more expensive copy of a tennis ball. Max likes tennis, and Jannik Sinner lives in his building, the floor right below him, so he happily listens to the Italian Sinsplaying (?) matches and shots, so it feels familiar. Max feels like he has to protect his ginger neighbour from Padel players.

But let's be clear, Max likes to watch tennis, there's no way in hell he'd embarrass himself on a clay court for the whole world to know. He already has the padel courts for world-class embarrassment.

Unfortunately, Max also likes Charles, even if he keeps denying it and avoiding Checo's death stares after too many third-wheeling sessions, so once a month, when they're back in Monaco, he has to succumb to his heart's desires.

That's why he's currently in a town the size of a post stamp, with a stupid padel bag on his shoulders, listening to Charles charm his way into getting a padel court for the day without a reservation or giving any names. Max would like to know what the Monegasque is doing, but he has a better time staring at Charles' ass in his tie-dyed heart jeans. And he doesn't know French.

Charles also drove them there in his Alfa Romeo Stelvio. Max feels really useless.

“He said we can have the court, nobody plays padel here, the last couple of players apparently died!” Charles says, nonchalantly, leading Max to the locker rooms.

“They what?” Max asks, pushing the door open and raising a brow.

“Oh, shit, not like that! They were two old men! Anyway, nobody has come here since then, so we can have the court for ourselves!” Charles says again, taking off his t-shirt and standing in the room half-naked. Max wants to die.

“Ahah, fun,” Max shrieks, making Charles laugh. He's so fucked.

Max changes in a nanosecond, praying God Charles hasn't seen him trip on his feet and nearly fall down as he pulls his shorts up.

“Ready?” Charles asks with a soft smile after Max ties his shoelaces. He nods and they walk out to the court. 

The facility is empty. Ghostly so. Max can fill it with his embarrassment and his humongous crush, there could be enough space for those two.

They get inside the court and Charles drops his bags down, taking his racket, and six balls, and putting them on the ground. He looks at Max and grins as he starts running around the court, to warm up. Max sits down and pretends to do his usual stretching session. That's obviously an excuse to stare at Charles. 

That motherfucker is so pretty. Extremely pretty. Illegally pretty. He's so soft and kind, with fluffy hair, Dorito-shaped. Charles smiles at him every time he passes by and Max blushes, as Charles giggles.

After another lap Charles stops and stands in front of him, hands on his waist. His eyes are right at crotch level. Max wants to die. Charles' shorts are really short today.

“Wanna play padel or you're going to stare at my pretty face all afternoon, uh?” Charles jokes.

Max chokes on his spit and starts coughing, making Charles laugh. “Ah, fun, yeah, coming! Let me grab my racket!” Max shrieks, voice breaking in the middle of the sentence, and does his little walk of shame to his bag.

He takes out his racket and as he turns around Charles is standing right behind his back. Too fucking close for Max's liking, he can see all the moles on his face, he could do something stupid, like kissing each one of them.

“If you win today, you can take me out to dinner,” Charles says with a teasing grin.

Max likes this, even if he's blushing like a maniac and his ears are ringing loudly.

“A or V, Leclerc? I'm going to destroy you!” He mumbles, feeling as competitive as if he was on a race track.

“V, Verstappen,” Charles giggles, winking with both eyes at Max, who rolls his eyes.

“Game on, baby!”

[tally-kiza]

A Kind Stranger

Summary: You're just the clerk of Arkham State Hospital's information desk. The days are long, the paperwork is innumerous, the people who approach your window are uncaring. But for whatever reason, you just can't help yourself from being moved when you are approached by one Arthur Fleck.

Words: 3223

“Wait!” you yelled, watching with fear as a man sprinted away from your window with his mother’s file clutched to his chest.

Not fear of him. Fear for him.

Arthur Fleck had approached your information desk shortly earlier with exhaustion painting every deep line of his face, introducing himself and requesting to read Arkham’s file of his mother, Penny. A file from 30 years ago, stored deep in the halls of Arkham’s basement. You hadn’t had the heart to refuse. His long, curly hair was greasy and unwashed, his ill-fitting clothes rumpled, and the bags under his eyes were heavy and dark, like he hadn’t slept in days. He kept his head bowed, hands stuffed in his pockets, and the quiet rasp of his voice was halting and unsure. This man had just looked so... deeply sad. 

As reluctant as you’d been to go hunting through decades-old records, you couldn’t send this poor man away empty-handed. If it was his mother’s file, he must’ve had an important reason for needing to see it.

Arkham Hospital’s basement’s organization system was a living nightmare. The room itself was dark with flickering and broken lights. Your footsteps and drips of something echoed through the cramped space. Nothing was ever in order, alphabetical or otherwise; it had taken you longer than you liked to finally find the box the file was stored in, with blooms of mold creeping up one of the lower corners. As you hunted, you were afraid this Arthur had gotten tired of waiting and must’ve left, but he was still patiently waiting at your window when you returned. Your footsteps announced your arrival. As you approached you caught a glimpse of him pushing his hair back and running his hands over his face as he faced your window.

Arthur hadn’t seemed bothered by the wait, almost as if he’d hardly noticed. He was clearly lost in thought while you apologized. As you rooted through the decaying box for his mother’s file, he’d asked a question: how someone could even end up in Arkham. You’d glanced at him; the shadows of his face looked heavier under Arkham’s harsh fluorescent lighting, his skin pallid. Well, some had hurt themselves, you’d responded. Some had hurt others. Or both. And some just had nowhere else to go. Arkham was the only safe place they had. 

Arthur had accepted this answer with the smallest smile tugging at his thin lips, not quite looking you in the eye. 

“Yeah... being in here is better than dying on the sidewalk,” he’d joked. His delivery was flat and cadence off but you’d smiled and quietly laughed anyway.

“That’s funny,” you’d mumbled down into the box, growing shy.

A drop of eagerness creeped into Arthur’s voice. “You know, I’ve been in here before, a few times.” 

You paused and glanced at him. “...Oh, yeah?”

“The accommodations left something to be desired,” his smile turned wry, like he was letting you in on a secret. And you suppose, in a way, he was. Most wouldn’t share something so personal. “But you can’t beat the views.” 

“Views? But there’s bars over the windows, aren’t there?”

“Exactly.”

Arthur’s eyebrows were raised, tired face almost expectant, as if trying to gauge your reaction. It was cute how hard he was trying to joke. You shook your head with a soft laugh. “Bars. Average Gothamite’s favorite place, I suppose. Oh, here it is―”

As you finally discovered Penny’s file, still intact and safe from the creeping mold, you hadn’t noticed the sparkle in Arthur’s green eyes, or his small wry smile growing more genuine. When you looked back up at him to show it to him, it was difficult to tell through the plastic grate but he’d almost looked... lighter in a way. Softer. Not by much―Arthur still looked pretty haggard, shoulders still heavy and still leaning his tired head against the grate―but the difference was plain.  You preferred this lighter look to him.

Penny’s diagnosis hadn’t shocked you as you read it aloud to him: you’d been a file-keeping clerk at this crummy window for years and had read files that were tougher to stomach than this. But you’d faltered when you reached a mention of the endangerment of her own child. Arthur. Coldness washed over you. Your eyes skimmed the rest of the first page quickly and caught bits of descriptions of the abuse he’d suffered as a child, too young for him to possibly remember, but severe enough to leave marks that would never heal. On the inside at least. And there were so many more pages.

Your heart grew heavy and sunk in your chest as you met Arthur’s wide, unblinking eyes staring into yours. He was as frozen as you were. 

You couldn’t let him see this. This man had looked so sorrowful and close to breaking already; you didn’t want to think about how reading this file would affect him. He clearly had little idea of what was in it. When Arthur questioned you, with a small, broken ‘what,’ you had fumbled and tried to make up an excuse as to why he couldn’t read the full thing. Something about rules and regulations, but your excuse sounded flimsy even to you. 

Arthur remained silent, still staring wide-eyed at you, then after a moment lowered his gaze towards the file in your hands on the counter. His jaw set. You’d barely registered his very quiet ‘sorry’ before he’d snatched the file out of your hands through the aperture of the window grate and bolted away. 

You shouted after him, stunned and scared, but he was halfway down the hall already. Arthur spared one glance back at you over his shoulder. Even through the grate and the distance, you could see the fear shining in Arthur’s eyes. 

He stumbled slightly as he turned back around, and sprinted around the corner out of sight. Your heart pounded in your chest. He was desperate. Despite barely knowing this man, you couldn’t stop yourself from following after him. 

The distant heavy slam of a door almost didn’t register to you. Almost.

You’d been stuck behind this dead-end window for years, unable to get employed as an actual therapist at Arkham. This minimum wage clerk job had been your best foot in the door here, but before you’d known it, three years had passed. All you’d ever wanted is to help a struggling person in need. That was your dream, the whole reason you’d wanted a career in mental health. But who could you have helped through a window, reciting information to? 

But Arthur could be helped. Something about him cried out for it, like he’d been reaching out for a little bit of kindness his whole life. In the way he carried himself, in the way he spoke, in his tense gait, in how he had seemed so eager to make you laugh―a complete stranger―in the fragile vulnerability wrapped around him like his tan jacket.

But you could reach back to him. Or you wanted to try, at least.

If you caught up to him first. 

Uncaring of who would man your desk, you dashed out of the side door and down the hall after him. Stragglers in the hall watched you with dazed confusion. You felt just as confused as to why you felt so strongly for this near stranger. Crossing the corner, you froze. Arthur wasn’t in this hallway. There’s no way he could’ve crossed the next corner so quickly, and every door on this level was locked to unauthorized personnel.The memory of that one distant slam of a door flashed in your mind. The stairwell, you thought, before darting to the heavy door. 

It slammed shut behind you. You were preparing to race down the stairs, but froze in your tracks. 

The echoes of agonized laughter bounced through the empty stairwell.

The voice was unmistakably Arthur Fleck. Your heart caught in your throat and you swallowed. Energy faded, replaced by unsureness. You creeped down the stairs cautiously, peeking over the guardrail to try to see him on one of the lower levels, to no avail. Arthur’s laughter pulled at you, pulled you down step after step. It shook you. How could laughter sound so much like crying?

You crossed a corner and finally saw him on the level just below. Arthur, looking so small, hunched over and clutching his mother’s file to his chest. Pained laughter shook through him, mixed with sobs, chest heaving with tears streaming down his face. A deeply private, vulnerable moment. Tears pricked at your eyes. You shouldn’t be here, you knew. This wasn’t a sight meant for a stranger. But now that you were here, you couldn’t leave this man to suffer alone. 

He seemed like he’d been alone for a long, long time.

But what could you even do...?

“Arthur?” you called out softly.

Arthur startled, making a surprised, scared noise and hunching over farther. He ran his sleeve against his nose. His voice was thick with emotion: shame, fragility, horror, and a dozen others you couldn’t place. “I― I’m sorry. I had to―”

―Was all he got out before laughter constricted his chest again and wrung itself out of him. It was a pained, wheezing sound; your heart squeezed. Before you knew it, the distance between you had disappeared, footsteps clinking on every step, until Arthur was right before you in arm’s reach. 

“Are...” You trailed off, unsure of what to say. Or what to do. 

You gently placed a hand on his shoulder, small and boney under your hold. Between guffaws beginning to sound more like sobs again, Arthur shook his head and choked out in ashamed defense, “I’m― sorry; it’s a― a condition.”

He took one small shuffle towards the next flight of stairs leading down, but didn’t retreat any farther. You vaguely remembered a condition that caused uncontrollable laughter from your studies, though the name escaped you. It had always looked painful. As painful as Arthur’s laughter seems to be now. His eyes were red and squeezed tight, face brightly flushed. Just as Arthur ducked his head and wrapped a hand over his mouth, you couldn’t help yourself. You wrapped your arms around him. In an embrace.

The embarrassment of hugging a near stranger was absent at that moment, though you shook with nerves and emotion regardless. So many times you had been in his position, distressed and suffering, and no one had ever been there to console you; you wouldn’t let this man struggle through the same. 

Arms around his back, every rib and vertebrae prominent and shaking under you, Arthur against your chest. His laughter faltered for just a moment as he froze; he inhaled sharply trying to catch his breath, before a new, albeit quieter attack seized him. Though he didn’t embrace you in return (and you didn't expect him to), his head fell against your shoulder. Echoes of laughter through the stairwell became muffled into you. Tears and mucus were staining your work shirt but none of that mattered.

“You apologized,” you murmured. “Don’t. I’m the one who’s sorry. I wish I knew what to say.”

You weren’t sure how much time passed like that, holding Arthur protectively until the traces of his muffled laughter and tears petered out. Until all that was left was a haunting silence. But he didn’t pull away. 

Neither of you said anything for a long time, as Arthur sniffled and tried to catch his breath. 

When Arthur finally pulled away from you, his eyes were downcast. Brows remained knotted, redness still colored his face. He was still hunched over his file, like an attempt to keep himself small so he couldn’t be noticed. Or hurt. His gentle, raspy voice was now raw and numb when he finally spoke. 

“I don’t... ...Are you real?”

Your eyes softened. “I think so, yes. As real as you are.”

Arthur didn’t react, didn’t move, didn’t speak.

Ah. You added on, “And you are. Real.”

The shake of Arthur’s head was almost imperceptible. He didn’t believe you. Your heart grew cold and heavy anew in your chest. Had he struggled to believe that? That he was real?

A moment passed. He gazed down at his file, the many pages containing pain you couldn’t have fathomed for him. You couldn’t read the look in his eyes. Steely anger and hollow vulnerability swirled around Arthur. Then he looked away and held the file out to you.

“...Here.”

Concern twitched on your face. Not quite taking it from him, you held one of the worn edges. After a brief pause, you said, “You can keep it... if you want to.”

“I don’t,” he whispered. 

You didn’t need to ask if he was sure. After such a painful episode, it was no surprise to you if he never wanted to read a single word of this file again. As if it was made of glass, you took it gingerly. 

Before you could say anything, Arthur spoke. “Why...?”

“Why what?”

For the first time since he pulled away from your embrace, Arthur looks at you. His pale green eyes were hollow. “Why are you nice to me?”

Caught off-guard, it took a moment to collect your response. But you didn’t shy away from his gaze. “Because there’s something good about you, Arthur. I can tell. ...Look, I’m just a clerk at a shitty information desk. Nobody asks me nicely for help. Nobody is respectful. Everybody just...” your tone grows more frustrated now, “makes demands. And treats me like dirt. Like they’re entitled to it, just because my job doesn’t mean shit. But you’re... one of the very few who... seem like you understand. You’re kind. That’s special, here in Gotham.”

Your face felt warm. Being this vulnerable wasn’t second nature to you; it was tough to get the words out. But all of it was true. Something about this man drew you to him, and you couldn’t make yourself pull away. Not in actions, not in words.

Arthur retreated into silence again; he stared at you as you spoke, expression impossible to read. Wet eyes searched your face, as if looking for lie or deception. When you finished, after a long moment, he hung his head. Brown curls flopped. He slid his hands into the pockets of his tan jacket and made a quiet lilting noise. Somewhere between amused and disbelieving, but still with an air that in his mind, Arthur was somewhere else entirely.

It was difficult to read him, difficult to figure out what was going through his head . Something about him felt fragile, as if made of glass. Yet he wasn’t transparent, like glass was. The vulnerable walls of Arthur’s heart seemed opaque, concealing―protecting―its contents.

Finally, Arthur sniffed and turned away from you, just slightly. The lower level of the stairs beckoned him. “I should go.”

“Oh... will you be alright? Do you have... someone you can talk to?”

For a moment, it looked like he was considering; something in his expression twitched. But then he shook his head again. You didn’t know which question his shake was reply was to, but you had a feeling it was both. 

Thunder rumbled distantly outside. It was muffled through the thick concrete slabs of Arkham’s wall, but the sound remained foreboding. And it was going to rain, you suddenly remembered. The news had been predicting a furious rainstorm today all week long. The thought of letting Arthur go home, however far home may be, all alone, in that rain... You would feel horrible if you did nothing. You felt horrible already. 

An idea sparked in your head, probably an unwise one, all common sense considering. After a moment of fidgeting, you made up your mind. “Arthur, I, um. I wouldn’t normally do this―”

Stuffing the file under your arm, you dug through your pockets to find a scrap piece of paper. Nothing. Your pockets were as bare as your heart right now. You made a noise of frustration and swore under your breath. 

At least you had a pen though, tucked into the pocket of your work shirt. Arthur’s paper-thin lips were parted when he turned back, a hundred questions running through his tired eyes. 

You grabbed the pen, before gesturing to his hand. “May I?”

Confused and almost dazed, Arthur gave you his hand; you held it tenderly in your own, palm-up. Not surprisingly, his hand was freezing, almost shocking you with the frigidity. Surely the cold seeping into this stone stairwell wasn’t helping any. The weight of his hand though was solid and real against you, sturdy fingers thin and stained with nicotine―a smoker, then. 

You held the tip of the pen to his palm, not quite touching yet, before trying and failing not to sound too self-conscious as you ask, “May I write my number on you? I don’t... ah, have any paper on me.”

“...Okay,” Arthur said after a moment, watching with wide, wet eyes the careful strokes your pen made against his palm, as you gave him such a personal part of you. The pungent smell of the wet ink curled around the two of you, the only sound in the empty stairwell the soft scratching of the felt tip against dry skin.

“Um, I still have work for another few hours, but you can call me later, when I get home? Around seven.” Anxiety setting in, you continued in a ramble, “If you want to, I mean. If you need someone to talk to. Or someone to listen...? I dunno. Whatever you’d like. Forgive me, if this is too forward.”

As the final number dried, before you let go of his hand, Arthur mumbled something you couldn’t make out. 

“Pardon?”

“I don’t even know your name...” 

“Oh. Sorry,” you flushed, and gave your name to him. Arthur’s hand finally dropped from yours. It didn’t slide into his pocket again just yet, hanging at his side. Not ready to pull away from you completely.

Arthur repeated it softly, just under his breath. It sounded special, in his gentle voice, and your heart thrummed. 

“Thank you,” Arthur said. “...You’re one of the only people who’s ever been nice to me.”

He shuffled to the stairs, murmuring a quiet, bye. 

You watched him go dolefully, and a part of you went with him. “Get home safe, Arthur.”

When he didn’t respond, with a soft sigh you turned away and pushed yourself back up the stairs, back towards your window, back towards your dead end. You never saw Arthur pause on the bottom step of the next flight for just a moment and bring the hand you penned your number on up to his chest. As if grounding himself. Or making sure he was real. Arthur still doubted that you were real, either. He didn’t know anything anymore, not after reading that file. The whole world felt muffled and dull around him. 

Arthur delicately traced a finger over each number. Though mostly dry, the ink left the faintest stain on the pad of his index finger. But this was real, Arthur realized. This was real. And against his better instincts, Arthur allowed himself a small, quiet moment of hope. Maybe this kind stranger was the first good thing to happen to him. For maybe the first time in forever. 

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

are you perhaps willing to give a tiny snippet of the desert husbands whip 🥺

a snippet! a snappet! a small snitch of s'maul??

as you wish!

-dilf season 2 ch 37-

Obi-Wan runs a hand back through his hair to neaten the strands a bit, some sixth sense telling him the humidity is playing havoc with it. "If you must know, I was there as a slave. The order had decided I was… best placed as part of the agricorps. Except I was kidnapped from my post, and put in chains. It took time, but I eventually staged a revolt."

Maul chokes on air. "You mean to tell me- the jedi order nearly sent-" he stops to cough a laugh, "-the greatest soresu master they had seen in an age, to be a farmer? A ploughman?"

"It's a… noble career. Feeding people is important," he tries, but it sounds unconvincing even to his own ears. He had been devastated to be relegated to agriculture instead of knighthood. Not that it wasn't a powerful calling… but it wasn't his.

Maul loses it, wheezing quietly with mirth, his force presence flaring obnoxiously.

Obi-Wan sighs, expansively. "It's not that funny."

"Farmer! They would have made you a farmer!" the man crows.

He glowers. "If you're quite done, we could maybe focus on the test…"

"Oh, cursed line of Aith'zin, that is truly the most hilarious thing I have ever heard. Obi-Wan Kenobi, expert in- in radishes and soil amendments." He hears a slap, like the sith had struck a palm to his metal thigh. "I am even more grateful the jedi did not come for me! Can you imagine what mundanity they would have subjected me to? School teacher, hmmm? Secretary? Potter?"

At this rate, Obi-Wan is sure he will run out of sighs before they reach the end of this place. A lifetime supply used up in an afternoon.

"Oh, no, I know!" The sith smacks him on the shoulder, "A mechanic! I could have spent my sad little life as a jedi puppet repairing watering drones right alongside you in the agricorps."

Obi-Wan thinks about that for only a minute, and immediately resolves never to think about it again.

Him, Maul, quiet days, and the steady growth of crops? If the worst he had ever done in life was to be mediocre at growing things and argue all the time with his mechanic…?

...it would have been so much better than the fruition of reality.

"You never know," he says without tone, "It could have been a fulfilling life."

The sith makes a noise like a dying space whale.

Obi-Wan glares. "You sound like a demented purgill, I hope you know… I- wait, how did you know where my shoulder was? It's pitch black in here. I'm surprised you didn't smack me in the head."

"Oh see, there is this thing called the living force," Maul begins, snide, "and through it all living things are connected."

"I hate you," he replies mildly.

"Good," the man purrs.

[stxr-du5t]

The horrors of Pennhurst

part one

Summary: Being a medium was always a secret for Olive, even with her friends of many years

Pairing: Colby Brock x Olive Blake (reader)

Warnings: Angst, Nightmares, Horrible Place History, Feelings (kind of)

How do you tell your friends of almost ten years, that you see and hear dead people? Olive asked herself that question every day and the living situation didn't help to that dilemma, nobody knew about it but her, as she experienced many things since she was a child like hearing disembodied voices and deformed figured, who looked nothing like humans, a couple of weeks ago she moved in with Sam and Colby spending most of her time with Colby when Sam was with his girlfriend

She saw a figure walk past outside the opened door that made her a little bit jumpy

"Colbs?" She called to her friend, feeling uneasy

"Yeah?" He peered on her room door

"Nothing, you just scared me" She smiled to not make him feel bad about it "I'm just jumpy, i think I'm going to sleep"

"I wanted to watch a movie, do you? So you can relax" He asked leaning on the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest

"Sure, but i might fall asleep on the couch" Olive got up from her bed and followed Colby to the TV room

"it's ok, i will protect your sleep" Colby said, she smiled tiredly "Do you want pop corn?"

"Sure" Olive sat on the kitchen counter, watching as Colby moved making the pop corn

A few minutes into the movie, Olive fell asleep against Colby's shoulder and suddenly everything felt unreal

«Olive was walking through hallways, deteriorated hallways, the vibe of the place felt off, everything was pitch black

And then she heard a loud scream, a woman screaming for help, if only Olive could knew where she was, the place seemed gigantic, with lots of door and hallways, it clicked suddenly, a hospital

She could feel the sorrow of the poor people that inhabited the place long before when it was still open

The redhead girl knew it was a dream but still felt terrified of everything in that place, she walked down the hallways as if she was one of the patients, trying to look for something to identify the place but it was nothing but a waste of time

A tall man saw her, he had a angry face and was wearing a white coat

"You aren't supposed to be here!" Screamed the man to her face

"I'm just as shocked as you are, are you dead?" Talking to dead people wasn't a bit deal to her, she has done that most of her life

The man vanished in front of her eyes, and then heard another scream for help »

As soon as she heard that scream, and creaks approaching her, Olive woke up screaming, a cold sweat coated her forehead, breathing heavily, she felt arms around her, Colby, her dear friend was there holding her as she calmed down

"It was just a bad dream" He said with a reassuring tone

"It was more than that, Colbs" She held onto the body of her friend, trying to feel him closer, as she was trying to process everything

"What was it then?" He asked, letting her go to give her more space

"Well... I haven't told you this, and you might get mad because you might think I lied, which i didn't"

"Try me then" He challenged her playfully

"Remember when we were kids? I told you I kinda dreamed about my grandpa dying?" She whispered to him "You thought I was crazy, so did Sam, i never spoke about it again"

"What do you mean?" Colby remembered perfectly that day, and regreted laughing about it

"My grandpa died three days later"

"Premonitory dream?" He asked, surprising her "You just had one, what was it about?"

"A hospital, i don't know exactly where or what hospital, it was old as fuck, creaked like nothing i heard ever, and the screaming lady" Olive recalled everything, and sent shivers down her spine "I spent years having this "gift" shut as much as I could"

"It's not a bad thing, you know, i would love to see things like you do" Colby tried to make her feel better but it didn't worked

"I just... that place was pure evil, the things they did, i could feel it and one of the doctors i assume, screamed at my face, said i wasn't supposed to be there" She saw Colby shiver as she was telling him everything "i wouldn't tell Sam about it or i will be like human rempod"

"You're like Amanda, she's cool, you're cool, not just because you're a medium, but you have always been cooler than us"

"I'm not cool, I'm a freak" She said harshly on herself

"You, Liv, are cool, amazing and so beautiful, that gift it's just one more reason to love you" Colby realized what he just said "As a friend, of course"

"You are great, thank you for not laughing"

"I was a stupid kid" He admitted

"You are still kinda stupid, stupidly cute tho" His cheeks went a cute shade of pink blush as she said that

"Insulted and complimented, that's so you" Colby said offering his hand to take her to the kitchen "Let's make a mess" He suggested

Colby Brock and Olive Blake made pancakes and as he said they made also a mess

The hospital still roamed in her head, the screams were still there, creaks and that terrifying doctor, she just hoped it was just a dream and nothing more that active imagination.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

A/N: Well... There it is, i dreamed about being lost in a haunted hospital while Sam and Colby were outside, it was horrible

[tameodesza]

💍 Househusband AU: Headcanon 1

masterlist

a/n: Sadly, school, work, and moving has taken over my life. I’m still working on fics with whatever free time I have, but in the meantime, here’s some HC ideas I’ve been collecting (also, I need to clear up some space in my notes, 🫣)

 What do they like most about each other?

💍Shawn really appreciates Bret’s wisdom and patience with him. Admittedly so, he’s a bit of a himbo. Don’t get him wrong. He’s a smart guy, but there are moments where he questions how he even graduated college. But he loves that Bret doesn’t get annoyed with him or make fun of him. Just guides him or explains the situation to Shawn again with more clarity, such as:

“No, Shawn. You should not pour hot water on the windshield just because you don’t want to wait for it to defrost”

“Yes, Shawn. The car battery will keep dying if you keep leaving the lights on”

Or Bret’s favorite silly moment: “Bret, I can’t find my glasses!” “Shawn, it’s on top of your head” “….oh….well, how’d they get there?!”

💍Aside from Shawn’s beauty, Bret loves Shawn’s humor. Shawn’s pretty goofy, more so when he’s purposefully trying to make Bret laugh after a particularly bad day. Bret thinks he’s one of the funniest people he knows, aside from Owen of course.

What do they like the least about each other?

💍This was kind of hinted at in my last post, but Bret strongly dislikes Shawn’s drinking habits. It’s one of the reasons why he doesn’t like being gone too long from home. He sometimes asks his parents or one of his siblings to swing by the house to make sure Shawn’s not indulging too heavily without him there.

💍Shawn doesn’t think it’s a big deal. He knows his limits, but Bret’s seen him inebriated more times than he’d like. It’s one of many reason why Bret dislikes Shawn’s friends. He thinks they are enablers and a bad influence on Shawn

💍Bret also hate’s when Shawn turns down their plans so he can go hang out with Hunter, which is ironic given the amount of times Shawn’s chosen Bret over Hunter, but I digress

💍Shawn hates how stubborn Bret could be sometimes. He knew he could be bratty and stubborn himself, but Bret had him beat by a longshot, oftentimes not budging or not willing to compromise on something he feels strongly about

Who’s the better cook?

💍Shawn, hands down. He wasn’t much of a home cook when he lived in Texas. However, since marrying Bret and having more free time on his hands, he tests out a lot of different recipes with Bret in mind, hoping he can impress the older man with his mad cooking skills. He’s gotten so good over the years that he was sure he could give Julia Child a run for her money.

💍Bret would love to cook more, but he’s on the road too often to hone in on that skill. And Shawn usually kicks him out the kitchen anyway, so he doesn’t have many opportunities to learn.

💍To Bret’s credit, he knows how to make a mean turkey sandwich, and he’s really good at grilling meat (mainly because the grill is doing much of the cooking for him). Anything beyond that and scrambled eggs is beyond him

Common interests?

💍Gardening. It’s one of many random hobbies Shawn picked up while being home alone

💍After being on the road for a couple of months, Bret was surprised to come home and find bundles of daisies and tulips growing in the backyard.

💍During his short vacation from being on the road, he became Shawn’s little helper, carrying the fertilizer, handing Shawn gardening tools, helping Shawn pull up dead weeds. Anything Shawn needed

💍Then it just became something they did together all the time, sometimes Bret seeming more excited about the progress of their flower garden than Shawn

Bonding activities?

💍Aside from gardening, their favorite bonding activity consists of Bret testing out ring moves on Shawn

💍Although Shawn hadn’t wrestled in a while, last time being years ago with Hunter, he still was comfortable getting thrown around, though Bret tried his best not to be too rough because he didn’t want to hurt him

💍That was the least of Shawn’s concern, the blond man often finding himself getting turned on in the midst of the action

💍His favorite move was being in a headlock. He doesn’t know why, but it was something about being trapped between Bret’s chest and biceps that really did it for him 🥵

💍And yes, Bret thought he was weird for that, but Bret still loved him nonetheless

Random Character Quirks

💍Shawn is an avid gum chewer. It’s a nervous habit he picked up from college to help calm his nerves and it just kind of stuck. Bret noticed it a couple weeks into dating, but he doesn’t mind because it makes kissing Shawn all the better

💍Surprising to most, Shawn is actually a neat freak. He always notices if something is out of place. He’s constantly sprucing up the house – sweeping, mopping, dusting, rearranging furniture – especially when Bret’s away. Bret’s learned the hard way that its better to ask Shawn before he decides to move anything in the house

💍Shawn loves booping Bret’s nose because he thinks it’s cute. He does it randomly and Bret never sees it coming, but it never fails to put a smile on his face

💍Bret’s an avid note taker. More often than not, he carries a mini notepad or sticky note and pen, jotting down any ideas that come to mind. It’s more of a stream of consciousness type thing. Whether he’s at the grocery store and gets an idea for a wrestling angle or he’s traveling on the road and sees something he thinks Shawn may like, he’ll quickly make a note of it, afraid he’ll forget something important.

💍Shawn hates coffee with a passion. He doesn’t understand the appeal Bret sees in it. He’s ranted to Bret plenty of times that it tastes like poison, to which Bret brings up a good point that maybe it’s because Shawn didn’t use enough sugar. “Then it’ll taste like sweet poison!” was Shawn’s reply.

💍Shawn loves debating Bret on his “controversial” food takes: 

 Poutine’s not that great? Shawn thought it was a national treasure  and was jealous it wasn’t popular in the States. Bret should get his citizenship revoked for thinking otherwise.

Turkey bacon’s better than pork? Blasphemy. 

Oatmeal raisin cookies are better than chocolate chip? Get out.

Pouring milk before cereal? Are you ok?!

💍Shawn’s not that great of a driver. He’s not awful, but his road rage blinds his ability to make wise decisions. Bret’s had to clutch the armrest for dear life more than a few times due to Shawn’s speeding. Owen downright refuses to carpool if Shawn’s driving. The final straw was when Shawn nearly went on a high-speed chase after some guy who cut them off, threatening to track the man down, jump out the car, and I quote “give him a real country ass whoopin’.” For everyone’s sanity, and the safety of his fellow Canadians, Bret usually drives whenever he’s home or if Shawn’s traveling with him between house shows on the road

💍They both truly changed each other for the better. Shawn helped Bret come out of his shell, often encouraging the older man to engage in his goofy antics, Bret doing so willingly knowing he wouldn’t be judged for Shawn. If anything, the blond would judge Bret for not engaging in his crazy antics. Shawn attributes much of his growth and maturity as a person to Bret. Throughout his time of dating and being married to Bret, Shawn’s become more level headed, patient, less reckless, and thinks things through before he acts (except when it comes to his driving of course lol)

Bonus!

💍Bret refuses to attend another kliq Christmas party after seeing Hunter in a g-string. He didn’t mind seeing Shawn in the same getup of course. In fact, Bret and Shawn had to leave the party early that night 😏.

💍Bret also had the dishonor of taking a picture of both Shawn and Hunter in said g-string, which Shawn thought was hilarious

[imekitty]

Star Error VII

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Star investigates Danny’s glowing freckles.

-----

"Star, where have you been?" asked Kwan.

Star took her normal seat at the A-List table in the cafeteria. "Nowhere. Sorry. Just had a thing I needed to take care of."

"Aren't you going to eat?" asked Paulina, taking a bite of her chicken salad.

Star looked down at the empty table space in front of her. "Oh. Uh, actually, I already ate."

"What did you eat?" Dash grinned, chewing his food as he spoke. "Fenton's face?"

Star balked. "What kind of a question is that?"

"He walked in literally a minute before you did," said Dash, looking over in Fenton's direction where he was sitting with Manson and Foley a few tables away. "His loser friends were here on time as usual, so that means he was also 'taking care of something.' That 'something' probably being you, right?"

"So you and Danny are really hitting it off, huh?" Paulina playfully elbowed her in the side.

"No!" shrieked Star. "You guys have got it all wrong."

"Star, you don't need to keep denying it." Dash took a huge bite of his burger, a glob of ketchup smearing above his lip. "Paulina's dated him, too. Clearly that nerd's got something going on you girls like."

Paulina made a face. "I don't know what you're talking about, but could you please use a napkin, Dash?"

Dash wiped his mouth with his hand. "Paulina, we all remember that week when you were attached to Fenton's hip and we had to temporarily kick Kwan out of the A-List to make room for him."

"I could never forget," sighed Kwan with a pout.

"You're all crazy," said Paulina. "That never happened."

"Come on, Paulina." Dash took another bite, even more ketchup dribbling down his chin. "Just tell me what that nerd's secret is already. I mean, why would you date him of all people before me?"

Paulina pursed her lips. "Well, for one, he's not gross."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Stop talking with your mouth full, Dash! See, Danny's not a pig like you are."

"That's because Fenton barely eats at all. He's a twig."

"He's not a twig." Paulina looked in Fenton's direction and twirled a lock of her hair. "He's put on some muscle this past year. Don't you agree, Star?"

Star rolled her eyes. "Who's keeping track of that?"

"Look, all I'm saying is, I could kick his ass from one end of this school to the other." Dash sighed. "God, I actually kind of miss whaling on him. Coach said I had to knock it off or I'd get kicked off the team."

"Does Fenton know that?" asked Kwan.

"No, and I'm not gonna tell him." Dash smirked. "I'd rather him live in fear that I could pound him any day now."

"He's not afraid of you, you know," said Star with a shrug.

Dash furrowed his brow. "What did you say?"

"Fenton's not afraid of you," said Star more slowly.

"And just how do you know that?"

"He told me."

"Oh, did he tell you yesterday on your little date?"

"It wasn't a date, as I keep trying to tell you, but yes, it was yesterday at the cafe."

"He was probably just trying to impress you." Dash laughed. "You know, act like he's tough for his new girlfriend. But I think it's real cute that you two are starting to get to know each other so well."

Star wrinkled her nose and pouted.

"So how is he?" Paulina nudged her.

"What? How is who? What do you mean?" asked Star irritably.

"Danny," said Paulina. "I mean, is he a good kisser?"

"Shouldn't you know, Paulina?" asked Dash. "Surely you sucked face with him at least once when you were dating him."

"Shut it, Dash." Paulina glared at him. "I'm asking Star a question."

Dash rolled his eyes and stuffed the last bite of his burger into his mouth. "Yes, Star, please tell us what it's like to kiss one of the biggest geeks in school. We're all dying to know."

"I just want to know if he's better than me," said Kwan anxiously. "He's not, right?"

Everyone looked at her expectantly, waiting. Star chewed the inside of her cheek as her eyes darted between them.

And a few tables over, Fenton was chatting it up with his friends, all smiley because he had the upper hand again.

And then Star got an idea.

"Well, actually…" She put her elbows on the table and leaned forward. "We haven't kissed yet. Fenton—I mean, Danny says he wants to practice a little more first. You know, to make sure our first kiss is perfect."

"Practice?" Paulina tilted her head.

"Yeah," said Star, grinning. "He has all these dolls and pillows in his room that he likes to practice on. They all have pictures of girls at our school taped to them. He says it makes it feel more authentic."

"Ew, are you serious?" Paulina crossed her hands over her chest and shuddered.

"No way, he doesn't do that, does he?" Kwan's eyes were wide.

"He's got at least a dozen of them," said Star. "He mostly uses pictures of cheerleaders."

"Oh, I have to tell everyone right now." Dash whipped out his phone and began furiously typing out a text message.

"Cheerleaders, so does that mean he has a doll or pillow with my picture on it?" asked Paulina.

"Oh, yeah." Star nodded. "I think he might practice with yours the most."

"Ugh, gross." Paulina stuck out her tongue. "But is it at least a good picture of me?"

Star's smile dropped. "Is it—what?"

"Just tell me it's not that picture of me after I ran that marathon last semester, is it? Where I'm all sweaty and my eyeliner is running?"

"Uh—"

"I know it's been circulating between all the boys, so please just tell me he's not using that one because I really hate it."

Star rolled her eyes. "He's using a great picture of you, don't worry."

Paulina sighed. "Okay, good." She also pulled out her phone. "The other cheerleaders are going to want to know about this, though."

Star smirked triumphantly as Dash and Paulina busily typed away on their phones, then she turned to look at Fenton across the way, catching his eye after just a few moments. She waved at him and flashed her most dazzling smile. Fenton's brow furrowed, his bottom lip sticking out slightly in a puzzled frown.

Star flipped her hair over her shoulder as she turned away. The game was back on.

Part 8

[filterpermanentlyattached]

...And the Curse of Cindy

I think we can start by saying that none of us believe that Ezekiel was in love with Cindy. That was preposterous and there was no reason for that to be the reason he wasn’t madly in love with her after a love potion. 

“We really need to find wider door!” Yes Ezekiel, agreed. Ah yes, Flynn immediately complaining about Ezekiel’s use of time. Cassandra handing the flower back and Ezekiel keeps it is very big brother behavior. Ezekiel complaining that it’s not a selfie, sweetheart there are more important issues at hand. Flynn immediately falling under the spell is peak Flynn. 

Ezekiel being unable to identify why he recognizes her. We have all be there! I just feel like watching the same video of yourself over and over is not good for you. “This could get irritating.” That’s going to be your feelings this whole mission. Jake telling Ezekiel to go as though he could actually do any better. Then the smirk. It’s too bad they get caught. 

It is incredibly funny that Ezekiel starts knicking stuff as they wait in Cindy’s room. Jacob Stone telling Ezekiel Jones to stay strong, calling him a beta; boy you have no idea what you’re talking about. “Stay strong.” Jake says before he falls under her spell. Ezekiel just appalled and confused. Ezekiel trying to just say he also fell under her spell and then just asks where he knows her from. Our boy is getting all of the information right now. Ezekiel ready to start beating people down for giving up The Library. He should have. 

I’m dying! Eve: Fine, you two stay here. She likes Ezekiel better anyway. And then they DO care and believe her. Why? Why are you more concerned about Ezekiel than literally anything else that has been happening?!? 

Ezekiel having his priorities straight by filming Jake and Flynn as they go on and on about Cindy. He’s having so much fun with that. Hold on. Mr. Jenkins actually bringing up that Ezekiel was with Jake the whole time and he was unaffected and our boy admitted “she’s not my type.” Jenkins being cryptic again. Eve just getting all up in Ezekiel’s personal space as she smells him and he just agrees that it’s weird but lets her do it. 

Kind of like a wild pack of Beliebers. I have no idea what that means. That was a very cute interaction. Then that whole exchange about Jones being obsessed with himself (first of all he looked very fond when he said that). That’s just factually untrue and it’s kind of annoying that that is what he picks and the others all believe. “No! Jenkins I’m immune! I don’t need any of your funky junk remember!” ‘Yes. I remember.” He looked like he was so fondly amused right as he said that. Jenkins, you’re not fooling us. It’s okay to actually like Ezekiel. 

It’s really comical that no one has removed Flynn’s gloves. He’s stuck with the yellow rubber gloves until he wakes back up as himself. And then Jenkins makes Stone and Flynn fall in love with each other. Which I think Ezekiel would have found endlessly entertaining. 

I love that Ezekiel breaks into the room and just watches to see what’s going on. Eve and Cassandra just falling for the witch without even really questioning it. Girls, you just walked right into that. And then he breaks out of his cover because he realized where he recognized her from. “Because I already love, trust, and believe in someone so much I could never be swayed. And that person, is me.” “I don’t need other people to make me believe in myself to validate me” Ezekiel out here telling us all that you can love yourself and believe in yourself and anything is possible. 

And then he tried to convince her that her plan doesn’t make any sense. Working to get her to see how her ‘plan’ didn’t make any sense and wasn’t really a plan at all. And here we get our first insight into the backstory of Ezekiel Jones. In the 3rd season in the 7th episode...”I am just like you. I grew up dirt poor. We had nothing. Other kids laughed at me because of what I wore and where I lived. So I decided one day that if this world isn’t going to give me what I wanted, I would take it. So I became a thief. And not just any thief, I became the greatest thief that ever lived. And you know what? No matter how much I stole, I always needed to steal more. When you allow a hole in your heart to grow that big? It can never be filled.” Man if he didn’t break all of our hearts right there. 

She really was convinced that those people all loved her and our boy had to set her straight. I’m absolutely sure that Ezekiel was thinking back to the rage people, and the werewolves when those people went crazy. But then he gets back in there and saves her. He wasn’t about to let her be trapped in that. “Magic corrupts.” He was speaking as a true Librarian at that moment. 

Everyone freaking out, Cassandra runs for the controls, Ezekiel follows “eeny meeny miney..” “Moe!” Colonel Baird saving the day!! Mama Baird couldn’t let her baby bird be flying in the dark. Ezekiel grabbing Cindy and pulling her out of the way. Jenkins showing up with a spray gun and hosing everyone down. He for sure enjoyed that. And of course the witch was possessed by Apep. Zeke, buddy, you don’t have to keep holding her up. It’s very chivalrous of you though. 

I can understand if Cindy fell in love with Ezekiel. Asking how he filled the hole in his heart, “it’s not about who, or how many people love you. It’s about who you love. I finally found the right ones worthy of mine.” He’s so freaking cute!!! You just admitted you like the people you work with baby. And then he gets all tongue tied. Cindy, girl, he was not expecting that. then they’re all in the Annex laughing at Flynn and Stone. Jenkins and Cassandra are very sweet. I don’t ship them. But they are very sweet. Freaking Jacob Stone. Why would you think that Ezekiel was in love with someone he never met before? You two have healthy egos too, no, you were full of yourselves, he loves himself. He’s not fake, he doesn’t pretend to be anyone else. He just is who he is. 

Him getting ahold of some of the love potion is very curious. I do wonder why he took it. And then we see that DOSA has no clue what they’re doing. Naturally. 

[pinkiepiebones]

@somethingmuchmuchworse

"I guess you missed me," I chuckle as Robbie frames my face with his hands and leans down to pepper me with kisses. I fumble to get an arm around his neck and use my free hand to take my glasses off so they don't get in the way of his adoration. Both arms around his neck now, glasses in my fingers, I can and do kiss him back, maybe a little too deeply considering we're still at the bus depot, but we're a straight-passing couple so screw the apprehension of displaying affection publicly. He pulls back from the kiss and buries his face in my freshly re-dyed purple hair, giggling like that was our first kiss. I love him.

I put my glasses back on. He slings my backpack (full of fiber arts material, books I want to lend him, and some DVDs for our movie date night) onto his shoulder and we hold hands on the walk back to his place. He glances down at me and asks, "mind if we take the scenic route?" Of course I don't mind. The weather's nice. And it means I have that much more time with him.

I steal a look at the sky. We had worried about the moon for a while; between us we had consumed enough stories to know that tampering with space and time tended to fuck up the moon, but no one ever considered the sun, so I had taken to making little mental notes about it.

Still one sun here. Good.

Robbie takes me on a winding path and I love every step. "I saw three cats in that window one morning." "Ooh, that place has a Dungeons and Dragons night, do you play?" "I keep hearing that that building's haunted, I just think it needs some nicer paint is all." He's lived here long enough now that every road and alley has told him a story or two and he's recounting them to me like I live here, too, and I've been gone for a time, so he wants to get me up to date on the goings-on. I love him.

When we get to his apartment building he squeezes my hand and asks, "can I carry you up?"

"I can walk, Robbie."

He smiles. His eyes are as blue and warm as the sky. "I know. I just like holding you."

I duck my head so he can't see my grin. "Well, fine, if it's that important to y-eep!"

I don't know how he so effortlessly gathers me up- I'm definitely not some wispy slip of a thing- but he does and every fucking time he does this it takes me by surprise and I put my arms around his neck like I'm afraid he'll drop me, fingers interlaced, and he's grinning.

"I love how you startle when I pick you up."

"Shut up" I giggle, pressing a kiss to his lips. He practically hops up the stairs and we're in his place before I know it. I still don't know how he unlocks his door with my in his arms, but I don't ask. I slide out if his arms and take my backpack off his shoulders. He straightens up and looks at me with a sort of mock concern.

"I think that's why you're so short, you carry a heavy bag on your back. Stunted you."

It's part of our dance. I set my bag on the coffee table and take my step. "Or maybe you're just too old?" I say with the same mock concern. "There's not much in here, Robbie. You should really think about talking to your doctor about osteoporosis."

He blinks. "Isn't that something to do with bones?"

I sputter into a laugh. "Yeah, but what else am I supposed to say? 'Osteoporosis' sounds better than, like, 'muscle atrophy' or somethin', y'know?" I take a breath. "Point is, you're old. Super old."

He nods and busies himself in the kitchen. I start digging stuff out of my bag and he says "does that make you a grave robber?"

I take my glasses off in that dramatic way people do in movies. "What?"

Robbie comes back into the living room and sets a drink for me on a coaster on the table and settles on the couch with his own. "If a 'cradle robber' is someone who dates someone much younger than they are, would a 'grave robber' be the opposite? Someone dating someone much older?"

I put my glasses back on just so I can look at him over the tops of the lenses. "Are we really doing this? Or... are we doing this..." At the last word I turn and lean in to him, take the drink from his hands. He looks utterly confused- receptive, but confused.

I raise my hand and place my fingertips on his forehead, then, slowly, drag them down his face.

"The fuck," he whimpers.

I lean back and pick up a DVD from my little pile of bag contents.

"We're gonna watch this, and then you will understand."

Robbie straightens to look at the DVD case, then collapses backwards.

"Oh, no..."

I get up and put Face/Off in the DVD player. I flop back on the couch and Robbie pulls me into an embrace and nuzzles my hair. "The things I do for love," he sighs contentedly.

I love him.

[onestepbackwards]

Well, I hope you know that now that I've talked about it, I'm writing bits of it. I am this close to just making an OC and doing a full blown story with it. I hope you're happy (I am! But also dreading the writing process...)

Here's a tidbit of the Slumbering Gods AU!

***

You were putting off actually going into the tunnels. You could go to the other stations first, but the higher-ups made it clear they wanted the underground documented as well. As most of the maps had been lost, and while you were no master cartographer you certainly could make a basic, legible map. You weren’t too worried about wild Pokemon, as you and yours have dealt with them often enough, and have also undergone rudimentary Pokemon Training and even participated in mock battles (that you rarely won, but that’s what happens when you face off against experts whose entire careers bank on battling ability). 

It was just. Well. Being in a dark, confined space, with no guarantee of finding an exit… the possibility of getting lost down there, perhaps trapped in a cave-in, or a Pokemon causing the tunnel to collapse, or getting ambushed by a Pokemon while you’re alone… not to mention all the spooky, supernatural, superstitious dangers that could possibly lurk down there in the deep, dark, tunnels that span across the entire city and possibly the entire region.

You were scared.

But, of course, you could only put it off for so long And your superiors might begin to notice if you didn’t at least make an attempt, and soon. It sucked, but you suppose this is what happens when you talk out of turn. Though, you heard that the knight you scolded had been forced to take remedial history lessons with a focus on the influence of past customs and systems had on their modern day lives. The Tangela of gossip was a sweet thing, sometimes.

Finally, you got a backpack ready, alerted your superiors and fellows of your next venture, and made sure to get an extra good offerings for the station. A collection of the best berries you could this season, a box of those little cake collections, some chocolate, some tea and coffee in disposable take-away mugs, and of course more energy drinks. You thought about getting alcohol, but you remember the ‘no drinking’ signs half-faded on the walls, as well as on some pamphlets and books you had managed to salvage (the book-keepers had been ecstatic at your finds, certainly), and decided against it. If this was a ‘no alcohol zone’ then you would respect that. 

Shade was a cool comfort at your side, watching your back even before you entered the tunnel. Houdini was whizzing about and cackling, excited for this new adventure. You were too, you just- had to get going. Once you’re in the tunnel, and had some time to adjust, you’d be fine. You know you will. You’ve done this before in actual caves. Far less stable. Far more winding and easier to get lost in. But they also had maps, and -usually- markers. This did not.

(There have also not been rampant rumours of people disappearing in the tunnels, and the few who make it back out are change, haunted looks sunk in emancipated faces, moaning and screaming and crying, stuttered warnings of demons and monsters, figures of bright lights and clinging shadows and horrifying ramblings of the mad and dying. They always died, not long after being found.)

You dropped down onto the tracks, having tested to make sure it wasn’t live. Just in case. Better safe than electrocuted to death. Your ears pricked when your landing echoed through the open space, and you swore you heard something in the gaping maw of the tunnel entrance. Like a shifting in the walls, a dusty, whispering skittering or scuttling.

Pokemon, probably. You don’t know whether to feel comforted by that or not.

You breathe, deep and slow, steeling yourself for the journey ahead-

“HAUN!” 

You scream.

You could have cleared the platform with how high you jumped at Houdini appeared in front of you, a weak Astonish adding flare to his scare. He laughs, rolling through the air as tears of mirth fall from his eyes.

“Houdini!” You screech, you don’t deny it, “You little shit! That wasn’t funny!” You are more incensed by the instinctive tears that pricked your eyes, and you know you will laugh at this later, but right now you are scared and nervous and your bastard of a Pokemon saw an opportunity to scare ten years off your life.

Shade is disapproving, clearly scolding her fellow Ghost Type along with threatening, if by the way she flies after him as he runs away from her retribution is anything to go by.

“Alright guys, enough playing around, let’s get- hey!” You yell as Houdini snatches the torch at your waist while he passes you by, using you as a shield against an angry Shade, and uses the torch to make scary faces at them both. This only pisses Shade off more, and she actually throws ice at him. He dodges and makes for the tunnel, Shade in hot pursuit, and unthinkingly you follow after.

“Guys! Wait! Houdini, Shade, both of you need to settle down!” You yell after them, following the flailing light that your pilfering poltergeist had nicked. You give a small prayer to the station, “Please. Please, please, please, don’t let me get lost and die here. Don’t let me get lost and die. I don’t wanna die because of something stupid like this.” 

Somehow, you lose sight of the light. You lose the sound of your Pokemon. You reach for your spare, and pull out a notebook, and as you carefully make your way through the tunnel, marking your way as best you could, you call for your Pokemon. Hoping they answered, and feared what would happen if something else answered.

It’s okay. You know which direction your going. You have a compass. You marked out the locations of other known stations within the city. You roughly calculated how long it would take to reach one by walking (you tried. You’re lowballing it at six-hours, but it could be a full day of walking and you would rather not camp here-) and you have enough provisions to last at least three days. Four if you ration. Six if you really ration. And that’s assuming you don’t find something to eat down here.

Or get eaten.

Okay! Bad thought. Let’s try good thoughts. Shall we? 

…

Wow this is harder than you thought.

Okay. Okay. Good thoughts. Positive. You haven’t run into any wild Pokemon, or cave ins, and the tunnels look structurally sound. Which is impressive, considering it’s been- what? Nearly three centuries? More than two, you know. The rest you’re unsure of. The records are iffy, so clear dates are hard to come by. Which every scribe is universally miffed by.

Your ears prick at the sound of scuttling. It’s distant. You freeze all the same. Strain your ears for the source. Tilt and turn your head back and forth. Slow. Careful. Steady and quiet your breathing. Distant. Getting quieter. Farther. Gone. 

You sigh. And decide that calling out is too risky. You continue on, deeper and deeper, on and on. You turn off your torch, when you feel rumbling, when you hear skittering, when you feel a breeze that shouldn’t be there. When you want to be, you can be near-invisible. Unnoticed. Unseen. Ignored and unimportant. Not worth the time. 

You still feel watched. You almost wish it was Houdini, planning another scare or a prank.

You feel the wall curve, and follow. You turn your light on, see that the track tilts to the left and down. You follow.

Left and down.

Left and down.

Left and down.

Left and down.

You blink. Left and down. You blink again. Can trains bend this way? They had couplings, you know, connections that allowed them some flexibility so they could turn. But to turn, and turn, and turn? Why does that seem wrong?

Left and down.

Well, it’s not like you have seen a proper train before. Most of them were buried and abandoned on these very tracks. Or destroyed during the various conflicts during the Time Of Strife, the Chaos Period. The line straightens, and you sigh. Continuing. You glance down as the sound of crunching changes in tone, dry and brittle compared to the gravel and pebbles of the tunnels.

You see white. You look back up.

Left and down.

The tracks themselves are in surprisingly good condition. You would think that the tracks, rails, would have suffered from oxidation. Rust should be coating them, but they look fine. A little dirty, maybe, but perfectly functional to your non-trained eyes. The wood would rot, though, surely? You lean down and press against the wood, it held firm and did not yield. Strong. Good quality? Maybe the dry, cool air helped preserve everything? You know that is important for preserving things.

You looked up, ignoring the white, and checked the walls. Bleak grey with lightless light fixtures. Concrete. That’s good. You were worried it would be stone and rock and dirt. Far less stable than reassuring concrete.

You look down, avoiding the white. The rails are thin lines crossed with stone. Concrete. Something.

Left and down.

You blink. You may have gone the wrong way. But it hasn’t been too long. You can go back up, maybe take a different tunnel. You think there is a divergence somewhere. You turn around, back the way you came.

Down and left.

You continue, hand grazing the wall. Feel it change from concrete, to something smooth and cold like glass. Tile. Then something rougher. Stone. Then softer. Dirt. Then harder. Concrete. You don’t look. You know. The walls are changing. The rails are changing. You do not look.

Down and left.

Ah. You are lost. Your feet hurt. Your legs are beginning to ache. You know that isn’t right, since you’ve lived an active life, and books are no light cargo. You haven’t been walking that long. Have you?

You stop. You stare at the tunnel ahead.

Down and left.

Turn around. Look back around the other way.

Down and left.

This is really well done! Bravo! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

I really hope you continue this, whether its a reader insert, or oc, the concept is incredibly interesting! You can also really feel the anxiety here! You did really well! I dunno, the concept alone of Ingo and Emmet being Forgotten Gods is so good, i think I've talked about this idea a while back in some friend's dms. It was such a fun topic! The world building though you have here is amazing! It's genuinely a good read! The idea of such a bleak future, and finding such caring gods who want to help you,,, its sweet. Even if you get terribly lost in their domain first jfkjdfjsfj I do hope you continue this at some point!

[red-hood-vigilante]

it's so disheartening to watch bc i just KNOW it was bc of the writers seeing audiences hate sam and glorifying dean and playing into that narrative that sam is unreasonable, selfish and cruel to dean when he just... isn't.

YES you literally stole the words right from my brain! I actually saw an article that someone wrote saying supernatural would have been better off without Sam after season 9 or something, and I just stopped reading because it was absolute bull. Sam is one of the only reasons I watch spn, if they'd have dropped him I never would have watched it again

and it sucks to watch bc sam doesn't give the same shit back to dean and there's no catharsis for sam's pent up frustrations and anger so their relationship is so one-sided

Also this. One scene that bothered me was when right before dean left with cas while Sam was doing the trials, he said that Sam of all people needs a chaperone while he's doing the important stuff. And I literally just thought to myself, if there was ever a time for him to stop being a dick it should probably be when his brother is dying and trying to save the world by closing the gates of hell, but no not even then. And worse was when Sam overheard and instead of defending himself, decided that completing the trials and dying would be better than living with a brother who thought so little of him :( until dean talked him out of it of course.

I just couldn't understand why the writers would make Dean such an asshole but still make almost every other character in the show love him while still leaving Sam isolated and lonely. Honestly I would have been very happy with an episode that was just Sam being happy with his own life outside of Dean, without someone dying. It seems like we saw a lot of that with dean but not with Sam. Instead it seems like the writers tried their hardest to make him seem boring just because he didn't like the same music as Dean, didn't eat the same things as Dean, didn't laugh at Dean's jokes and basically just because he was his own person and not dean 2.0

I'm sorry if these asks are too long and rambling I just have a lot of frustrations with what they did to the show 😅

don't be sorry, i love rambles and rants 💗 as you can see my answers are just as rambling

i was genuinely baffled when i saw sam go through the trials and carry this burden for the greater good only for dean has the damn nerve to say something so shitty. again, dean has this ingrained idea that sam is a kid who doesn't know what he's doing - to some extent i can understand this notion bc dean did help raise sam since he was a baby and struggles with letting go of this kid (interesting pseudo-parent and child dynamic here) and accepting sam as an adult (which was what their s5 dynamic was about and it led to some growth on dean's part that regressed since) - but since sam has proven himself perfectly capable of surviving and completing the trials (as well as hurdles from past seasons), it's so utterly condescending and demeaning on dean's part to say something like that (s2 dean would never!).

at the point of s9 in the show dean was so utterly despicable to me i couldn't wrap my head around how he was so respected and loved by side characters (bobby, jo, castiel, charlie) bc the thing is right, that dean was so rarely written to be in the wrong by the narrative when it came to any conflict bc regardless of what he did and who he did it to, there would always be bigger issues going on so his wrongdoings would always take a backseat to the Big Bad of the season and the show would twist his actions be accepted or even 'necessary' at times bc for whatever reasons. it was such a blatant response to major parts of the audience putting dean on a pedestal and declaring him the poor misunderstood bisexual king. AND he was constantly prone to violent outbursts and temper tantrums when he got bad news or you know... somebody just disagreed with him...mans a walking red flag

the more space they gave dean and his emotions, the less there was for sam or anyone else and the writers didn't know how to take dean's mistakes and turn it into a redemption arc/an arc where he realizes how much the people around him have been hurt specifically because of him, his words and his actions, sam in particular. while kripke era isn't perfect, sam still had anger, sass, snark and the ability to stand up for himself even when he felt guilt or shame bc there was to some degree a balance to their dynamic. sam being the opposite of dean was never boring, writers post kripke era just wasn't capable of handling properly him as a character parallel with the storylines, which is a shame i think

[beatfreesmysoul]

❛ you look like you've got something to say. ❜

@xenjoyedthat pressed play!

In a flood of red and blue, with occasional black and white thrown in, green became even more vivid when it appeared in the corner of his vision. All it had taken was a drift of his gaze, the habit of a lifetime to assess and respond to potential trouble, and every other object blurred out of focus, every other sound dimmed except one from that singular view screen.

He heard Gamora's laugh again. That irreplaceable sound that had soared through his atmosphere, filled it with all the light and warmth that it could ever hold, the sound that had become the most beautiful song he had ever heard. Every hall he walked through, every room he sat in, every view he took in--all felt hollow, void without the potential of him saying some ludicrous thing (easy enough to do) in the hope to see that lift of silver brows, that fond eye roll and to hear that laugh echo in the space, in his heart.

"...She survives in every other universe, doesn't she."

If anyone would know that, it would be the person beside him, the one who held the threads of Fate in their hands as she parsed through them--well, the code strings of Fate, perhaps.

"Not surprisin', really. She's the most capable, fierce, intelligent, an' powerful woman in the galaxy. It'd take a real idiot to fail her so much that she'd die in the way she feared most." In the hands of the monster that had already taken so much from her, alone...not dying among her friends.

He tore his gaze from the view screen, sensing what might be a concern of the other, a placating hand lifted. "Don't worry, Lyla--even if I could, I'm not goin' anywhere that'd cause ya'll any more work. Every reality of her has better odds the further away I am."

He didn't have to be an AI or from the future to calculate that, just a man who consistently got close to people only to lose them.

A smile he didn't feel graced his features, a forced lightness in his step and tone as he began to walk away.

"But seriously, how can you have this nice a place with this many recruits an' not have a decent sound system for music, huh? I'm tellin' ya, I can rig somethin' up in less than a week an' it'll sound like you've got live concerts goin' on here!"

[roxy206]

listen here | watch here

Is this a fucking vibrator?

I still use [Tumblr] for porn — …

You & I first bonded over you explaining mung diving to me — a tale as old as time 😂

What is your ancestry White

Are you insinuating that drug users might be impulsive, impatient, & a little bit reckless?

The Desperate Housewives mention

Katya not liking drag names that are drug related — honestly this whole convo was a bit ☹️

Wait hold on … Marcela’s dad was president of Mexico?? Or was this a guest at the wedding

Katya being like I could be a cult leader 😂

No but the way Whitney was like if you have to have sex with them & they’re Virgos & Katya asked a different question instead

I just turned 40 & let me tell yah it’s everything you want it to be & more

I convince myself that this thing [smoking] is going to make me feel better, I know it to be true. It’s an indisputable truth in my life. It’s not true

No matter how bad my life is going, no matter how bad the situation in my head or how intolerable it is, I can just go away & smoke & everything’s going to be fine. But it’s not fine of course

It’s like when Trixie started wearing like hats, like fedoras, & I was like oh so we’re doing that now

I’ve never had a boyfriend for more than 3 months, never had a serious relationship, I’m 40 & I like it

I will often get lonely & I’ll often like romanticize — I’m a huge romantic fantasy person. But I know enough about the reality of living with people & spending a lot of time with them that it’s like, there’s good times & then there’s a lot of not great times. And so I mean I love being alone & I love having really good friends & I love working with, like, cool people & I like traveling — or being able to go travel & not have to worry about anything, but I dunno. I’m like totally, totally at peace

Katya the over-tipper 💕

Her having a crush on her Starbucks barista

I hate this age thing The thing we do not talk about enough is ageism. We talk about sexism, racism, homophobic, all that. Ageism is a big one I’m over it, I’m over it because I am over like, if I weren’t famous, especially like gay famous & walked into a gay space looking the way I do out of drag I would be invisible, absolutely invisible

Ohhhh this is what it takes is a Sharon Stone thing

Oh. Trixie must be paying those people to do that to me at my shows. That makes sense, I’m not bad

Omg her laugh 🥺

I am always about to cry. I can pretty much cry whenever I need to I feel the same way, but not when there’s cameras

Crying is super contagious to me

Not Katya’s dream way to go being dying on stage

Her saying if she didn’t live in LA maybe she would live in Europe & specifically the south of France

We’re learning Mandarin — okay so she is making Eden learn with her

I’m like the antidote to her ambition. I’m like the, the, um like you know in Nightmare On Elm Street where the stairs get all marshmallow-y, toothpaste-y & it slows her down, I’m like those stairs to her ambition. So like I need to keep her like from going too fast

She truly is a, I’m going to say workaholic. Like, whatever. I don’t think anything’s going wrong … yet

She works, I smoke

[kom-poetry-channel]

Grieg's poem "London", about the Blitz, translated into English. The physical imagery here seems to me to describe personal experience - little details like "kikker på hattemodeller" (which I have translated as "look for the latest dress") and "nobody gives it ear" have the feeling of something the poet personally saw, unlike the more abstract reflections like "souls are killed by lies".

English text:

I

We lie in darkness and listen to bomber-engines moan. Like factory wheels, unsleeping, the dutiful turbines drone. Restless, across the heavens, the death-mills chew their grains. The product is thrown down freely, on buildings and human brains.

We sense the whining plummet of dynamite and steel as if bodies, vulnerable, extended magnetic fields. Our shelter sways in the shockwave, until it finds footing anew. That one was meant for others. We wait for the next one, too.

Still we can smile in the darkness, protected by this fact: There are far worse fates than dying in a stupid bomb-impact. They are not Gestapo-weapons that threaten from the skies. It is not our souls that may perish; souls are killed by lies.

Better our fate than those others', deep in Europe's night, who fear their courage will waver when there is no hope of flight. In freedom we work to answer imprisoned nations' call; and so we smile in the darkness, even while bomb-sticks fall.

II

Morning comes, with the ocean's wet and fitful breeze. Seagulls, cawing hungry, fly 'twixt befogged trees. Here, where men had builded, stand ruins, burnt and black. Where towers had pierced the heavens is only an aching lack.

Churches and graveyards and salt-grey Elizabethan homes - How calmly the people write rubble into history's tomes. There is no avoiding losses. Blessed each bomb that fared into a Gothic building, if only a child was spared!

Art cannot be bought with bondage nor with liberty's sham. What aids it to lose one's freedom, and keep one's Nôtre-Dame? Artists have also a right to work with bodies by weapons rent. And the world shall love this London, for lack of monument!

Perhaps the mind needs freeing from signs that anciently shone that summoned us to halt. Across the rubbled stone space looms higher, larger; unhindered the south-winds blow. And freedom draws breath more deeply in that naked flow.

III

Despite machine-gunned roads, or bombed-out bus and train, the farmwife hawks from the corner the ruins' bright refrain of asters from the country. Up to the street's morning pallor stream laughing flocks of children, pale soldiers of the cellar.

Is that which gleams in the heavens expressly made for the young? Barrage balloons lumber about, like silver elephants slung in blueness. And, where at night the cannon roar defiant largesse girls stand along mirrored windows and look for the latest dress.

The lion sun rises yellow, and London's millions fight ignoring nightly terrors, bathed in cool flowing light. The siren's moaning yammer shimmers a ring of fear around us all imprisoned; yet nobody gives it ear.

Life swarms through the alleys as though the signal were: All Clear. A raid is a little matter: For our defenders are here. They battle up there, we can see them. The speed of the warcraft rips in the blue-painted whelming soaring whitened strips.

At evening we know the price of another unconquered day. "Twenty enemy aircraft, and eight of our own to pay." Those dead and unknown comrades gave what they had to lose. With charcoal hands they proffer a day for our use.

Today, tonight and tomorrow the pilots' storm-blue band shall gift the people of London the measure of their land. A sky of dear-bought seconds under which to work and live; a day to be used, that the fallen used their deaths to give.

[mieczyhale]

Okay, lads, we’re venting here.

And maybe getting weirdly emotional and personal about it.

They finished watching episode 8 and the general consensus, aside from like.. one guy, is “i still don’t get why everybody loves him and no matter what he does in the finale i’m still not gonna get it”

Like okay first of all: he’s not for you. You don’t have to get him because he isn’t yours. He belongs to the queers and the freaks. Second of all: a character does not have to be “useful” or a genius or whatever the fuck to be a good character, to be a well loved character. What the fuck kind of take is that?? “He hasn’t done anything so why do people love him??” Excuse me?? He is RIGHT THERE being unapologetic-ally himself, his authentic goddamn self, despite a whole town being out for him basically because of it. He’s a dungeon master, a nerd, kinda snarky but goofy and caring, the guitarist for his own band. He’s a relatable character. He’s a realistic character. 

“All he does is run and hide” HE HAS PEOPLE HUNTING HIM??? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT HIM TO DO, STANIEL?? 

We meet him in the first episode and he’s loud and weird and tells it like it is: forced conformity IS what’s killing the kids, they ARE being unfairly treated because they play a fantasy game instead of playing sports or going to parties. He takes Hellfire seriously not only because he loves D&D but because that club is so clearly also a safe space for kids who don’t fit in. He didn’t know Mike, Dustin, and Lucas were into D&D when he approached them, but he knew they were nerds - he knew they weren’t going to force themselves to fit in like a lot of other kids do. “You were wearing a Weird Al t-shirt. Which i thought was brave.” Them being themselves without a second thought is all he needed to take them in. If anybody knows how fucking cruel the world is it’s Eddie

He just wanted to be himself, have fun, play music, finish his campaign, and graduate.

He tries to help Chrissy - in getting her the drugs she’s asking for, in going out of his way to make her laugh and make her feel safe, in trying his hardest to wake her up when something was clearly wrong.

And then he saw a girl die - horrifically and right in front of him, he learned that monsters and alternate dimensions are real, he now has a whole town hunting him - quite a few who want to kill him (Jason, the more he losses it especially. You don’t buy a gun because you wanna chat, Karen) 

Instead he ends up fighting inter-dimensional monsters, sacrificing himself for his friends because he wants to make sure they make it - make sure they save the world - and because he thinks poorly of himself for running away (even though running away is the reaction just about anyone would have to what he saw) He hates himself for something he shouldn’t so he plays hero, even knowing it could kill him, because dying a hero is better than running again i guess?? At least in his mind apparently right then. 

He distracted hundreds if not thousands of demobats with a goddamn Master of Puppets performance on top of his trailer in the Upside Down. Which was not only metal as fuck, it was also HEROIC as fuck. 

He distracted the bats. He tried to make sure Dustin couldn’t come back through the gate bc there’s no way Dustin was going to stay out of the Upside Down if he thought he could help. none of us were surprised right? We know Dustin. And so does Eddie. So he tried. Dustin, fortunately or unfortunately, is too stubborn to stop. But Eddie tried. He tried to keep Dustin safe. And then he tried to make sure everyone would be safe. Robin. Nancy. Steve. He wanted to make sure there was no risk of the bats fucking up their job, and that there was no chance of the bats finding their way into the right-side up (not sure if the duffer brothers thought of that but i mean if a tentacle can make its way through the gate to grab steve w h a t is stopping a demobat from coming through??)

Eddie is just a dude, out here living his life the way he wants to, he falls into a mess he NEVER could have expected or been prepared enough for, he does his best with the information he has and the heart he has and his ever-growing insecurity about the fucking running and he dies. Because he’s just a dude, who isn’t a genius, who hasn’t cracked Russian codes, who was faced with an evil bigger than the creature made of human corpses and - for the most part - is left to himself. To overthink and work himself up all while knowing like.. just about nothing. Like truly we see him get filled in on the bare minimum. 

And shit keeps happening and people are after him and these people are helping him and now they needs weapons and he wanted to be “better”. Because he thought Chrissy (and later Patrick) deserved better. Because his new friends deserved better. Because they believed him and helped him and they didn’t have to do shit - most people wouldn’t have done shit for him. But they did. And that means something to him. Because he might just be a dude, but he has a heart and he cares. Despite *gestures at everything* he. cares. 

He is loud yet soft in a world that has been unkind to him. Like.. Okay: consider a porcupine. Spiky and defensive. But that doesn’t mean they’re mean or horrible animals. They are just cute little guys, but they need a way to protect themselves from the things that would harm them. That’s Eddie. He looks the way he does because that’s how he wants to look, yes, but it’s also excellent armor. That and add in his loudness, the performative outwards personality. Not saying it’s not him, because it 100% is, but that’s not ALL he is. He’s got layers. Like an onion. Or Shrek. People only see Eddie the way he wants to be seen, and while it’s 100% genuine Eddie Munson, it’s turned up to 11 around people he doesn’t know or trust. And they will never see any other side to him. 

For all of that, he is relatable. He is what it’s like to be lgbtqa+, to be labeled a freak because you don’t know how to / don’t want to pretend to be someone else, to find your own armor to protect yourself in a way that gets you through the goddamn day without sacrificing who you are. He is what it’s like to find a small group like you, in a place you thought you were alone. He is what it’s like to have a small town whisper opinions and pass judgement on you when they don’t even know you. 

Being a bad student, maybe because you arent smart or maybe because you struggle or maybe because you just dont care, almost not graduating or actually not graduating. Having shitty parents, or at least one parent that’s shit. Being passionate about things that get you bullied. Being just.. a fucking mess.

If you people pulled your heads out of your asses and looked beyond “usefulness”, and beyond the surface level of the content you’re watching, /maybe/ you’d “get it”. 

If you used your brain to consider people who aren’t yourself, who don’t live like you, for a moment - /maybe/ it would occur to you that you don’t have to understand why people love him. You don’t have to get it, and you don’t have to love him yourself. Nobody gives a shit if you do or don’t. But you could - and should - stop being such an obnoxious fucking jackass about it.

Eddie deserves all of the love he gets from people who get him. 

Whether you agree or not.

End of.

[villanize]

🎰 omg hi bestie ⠀/ / ⠀@halowe

SORARU & CHUUYA: sometimes you're just some guy with a large underground following, regarded to be so endearingly sweet and nurturing that you sort of accidentally (teehee) brainwash a group of people to heed and worship your ever call. idk, maybe you put them up to tests to see just how far they go and that means giving a poor shinigami a lot of work to worry about. like, people are suddenly just dying. oh nooo. it could be curiosity that piques? maybe the urge to kick his ass??? maybe they want to participate?? i don't know enough about soraru personality wise to determine but i'll leave it vague so you can come poke me about the concept!!

SEIJUN & LEON: you would think a lot of bad things wouldn't happen but then you forget you're leon and you accidentally just spilt some really really yummy sauce you spent like way too embarrassingly long on (its cooled down so the poor enby will not suffer injuries besides the damaged staining of sauce on whichever item of clothing) followed by a constantly apologizing leon whose also trying to not publicly mourn the dang stuff in front of the person arguably suffering more, esp if its anything they particularly like. anyways it's one of those classic "please let me make it up to you" type beats, maybe it's a reallllly nice dinner or maybe its seijun being able to get a bunch of money to either try to clean it or buy something new!!!

ALLEN & STEFFAN: funny thing about steffan— he's into dads. like, actually. that's one of the type of men he really likes. sure, liking men older than him might earn him a multitude of looks and a wide array of judgmental comments but hi allen, are you single? a hot local farmer in his area? and he's really reallllly stubborn when he likes someone. he devotes a lot of time to getting to know them. maybe it's a coincidence the first time he appears in your space or bubble. it's okay to start finding him suspicious after the fourth or fifth. actually an attempt on his life would be deserved but pleaseepleasepleaseplease give him a shot. he is NOT the biggest red flag ever.

SCARLET & DEAN: do you want a classic little adventure of ... i'm concerned for this twelve year old who is out alone so i'll approach and see whats going on. do you need help getting somewhere? dean is uber caring!!! will do anything for you. so he'd make it fun like heeey--- want to see a cool magic trick? completely fumble it.... laugh at himself. oops!!! before breaking into that casual convo of; i get it's a big ol scary world out here. how'd you end up here? are you waiting on someone? he's like a hovering older brother.

KAIDEN & AERIC: what could come from putting two men full of very violent feelings and various other shit together????? man on man violence? aerics lived a long life full of all kinds of bullshit, and arguably he's at the best point. his biggest hurdle is being called lucky. maybe it could get even better just by meeting kaiden. or not. that's a possibility too. what does kaiden think of birds btw. not that anyone's asking. what about mythological birds. like, would he think a phoenix is interesting??? no??? yeah?? it's not that important but also.