#and on top of that this thing is laggy as fuck

[helennorvilles]

oh. i see why people complain about victoria's education recruitment online website now

[cosmic-kaden]

KYLO KYLO TELL ME EVERYTHINGGGG MY OTP

[VIBRATES]

-What made me like them.

Initially a shallow ass response; he's cute but then like as I watched on and on and noticed just how conflicted this man was and how he struggled it had me actually rooting for him to be good Just everything about him struggling to find his place made me like him because I get that, I felt that. I used to be like that maybe not to his extremes but I used to copy other people's personalities because I couldn't find who I was and I really struggled. I related in a sense dlkfjdlksf

-My favorite thing about them

IS EVERYTHING AN ANSWER!? BECAUSE I LITERALLY LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS MAN! His eyes, his hair, his personality, his strength, his resilience, his courage, his size(tol), his hands, his intelligence, his ability to EASILY navigate/pilot, his lightsber, his VOICE Help meeeeee

-Nicknames we have for each other

Well of course he called me his starlight. I recently started to call him my moonlight~ <3 Even though we aren't technically married yet I call him my husband We call each other types of names like Love, darling, babe/baby etc~

-A headcanon of our relationship/friendship

A headcanon is that once we started dating we were stuck to each other like glue, you wouldn't find Ben without me and vice versa. Also he constantly has to be touching me in some way just to feel close, anything from hands brushing against one another's or his hand on the small of my back, head pat or shoulder touch. We're sitting? You know damn well his leg is pressed up right beside me and our shoulders are touching. WE'RE GROSS! <3

-My favorite image of them

YOU CAN'T ASK ME THIS QUESTION! I DON'T HAVE JUST ONE OH MY GODDDDDD IM GIVING YOU A TOP THREE AND YOU CANNOT STOP ME THIS IS PAINFUL I LOVE ALL IMAGES OF MY MAN HHHHH (Technically I have 4 because I really love the one where I get to hold eye contact with him at the end of TROS dfjdsflj but I dont have a screen of that cause my pc died before I could :c I mean I could do it via laptop but its laggy ;_; ) So heres all my screens! <3

LOOKIT MY

LOVELY GORGEOUS STUNNING

HUSBAND TO BE, MY LOVE, MY LIFE, MY EVERYTHING GAH ILU BEN BB <33

-Anything else!

YES! I FUCKING LOVE HIM WITH MY ENTIRE HEART AND SOUL HE IS MY ENTIRE WORLD!! <3

[priconstella]

Scvi thoughts! Negatives and positives.

Tldr; I like the game despite its flaws

Things I like

The world feels alive, there's pokémon everywhere

Theres so many new pokémon I've yet to get near to finding them all

So far it seems that most of them don't have ridiculous evolution methods (unlike legends arceus)

The facial customization is so in depth it's great

Arven

The characters have nice designs, even the generic NPCs look nice

Raids have been massively improved, both with the timers, the lack of a turn system, the cheers, and the internet menu! I don't have to wade through other unrelated posts to find raids to join anymore

The map is so much better than swsh's map

Multi-player is massively improved now you can only see the few people you choose to connect with, not a random group of laggy strangers

Most things you can see others doing in multi-player. Battling, terastalizing, setting up picnics, and using the let's go feature can all be seen. I haven't had an evolution while on multi-player yet, but I'm pretty sure that can be seen too.

Multiple storylines give you many options

There's so many areas

I really love the general vibe of the world. I kept running off to fill up my pokedex and only progressed to the first titan because a friend told me I'd get a speed boost and I'd run quicker. Other than that and one gym, I haven't progressed the story at all and there's still plenty for me to explore.

The camera feature!

Being able to change your phone case is a really tiny detail that I like

You can go to classes! And actually learn lore tidbits! (I don't wanna put this in the negative section even tho it is but fuck that math teacher with the rigged question)

Exploring the huge school

And reading all the books in the library

And I've been told there's both midterms and finals so you actually have a reason to pay attention

Mystery (wtf are these stakes I keep finding.)

Things I don't like

No clothing customization

Still can't choose your pronouns, despite supposedly having no gender and only styles, whatever style you choose at the start locks in your pronouns

Shinies don't have noise

The lock on is very unintuitive and often doesn't work

Can't throw pokeballs to catch without battling like in L:A

Can't lock the minimap to north like you can the map

On that note. What the hell is up with the pokemon icons on the minimap. When you look different directions the map moves and so do the pokemon icons and it's clear they're supposed to rotate with it but they *don't.* They rotate strangely and end up in different spots on the map, so it's hard to find their actual point when they could be at any of them. Why don't they rotate normally.

While I honestly haven't had the game breaking glitches I've seen people online have, I have had lots of lag in the menus. The PC and clothing stores don't load models, so when I'm trying to look at things I have to wait for them to load in.

Speaking of, the PC is accessible a movement before it loads. You click box, it loads on top your current and you can move around, and *then* the screen fades to black and opens in the box with proper backgrounds.

And again, nothing gamebreaking or anything constantly or consistently happening, but why did all of the lighting give out and the background severely drop in quality when I choose my starter. I did the opening 3 times and all 3 times or did that. Why.

Sometimes when you start a battle the opposing Pokémon will be a low polygon model. It looks like they were taken from Pokémon rumble.

The camera feature. I can't move while it's open and I can't zoom in. Also, the menus I have to go through to change my profile picture is ridiculous when it should've been built into the camera as an option. Because you have to go to profile before changing your picture, you can't get a picture with all your pokémon in the picnic, because you literally can't open that menu during picnics. You can use the camera and take pictures, you just can't use them as profile pictures.

I hate convergent evolution so much or whatever it's called. I hate wiglett with a burning passion. Just because they have a real life excuse doesn't mean it's not just bad game design that they copy and pasted a Diglett and took away its spine and color

Everytime I leave a shop the camera moves causing me to reenter the shop

You can't use rare candies to evolve unevolved pokémon at Lvl 100 anymore, which seems like a pointless/backwards decision to take that away when they only implemented it last generation

Conclusion: I honesty really like the game. The performance issues are what's most glaring for most people, but I'm just questioning the many tiny decisions to made to include or not include. Why no set mode? Why can't rare candies evolve at 100? Why no shiny noise? So many why's. But I honestly so like the game so far, and I've barely progressed at all.

They removed set mode

There is no more pokerus, supposedly. I'll have to recheck that but I did read it somewhere that it's not attainable in the same anymore

[vanosslirious]

BBS Dialogue Prompts #207

BBS Dialogue Prompts & Sentence Starters: [ 10 ]

VANOSSGAMING

What did we get?

No, this joke is not over.

Don’t tell him how to actually do it.

What is it?

Do you have more coal?

How does this help us?

He fucking didn’t do that on purpose.

That was the last time we ever saw him.

Why are you out of breath?

Well, you’re normal sized.

And you chose the coffee table?

I was slowing down for you, that's why.

I like that, it's dangerous.

How do I get back in the air?

Hey, listen man, we didn't get to practice.

What is this, Starbucks?

That’s right, I made that joke.

I’m glad you practiced that on Sunday.

Stop being a dumbass.

Ooo, Buttons.

SMII7Y

I might go push him.

Oh shit, we can set up cameras.

Oh my God, it is dark.

I’m gonna set this camera out here, and hope I don’t get killed.

Why don’t I have a weapon?

I keep hearing shit!

We are hiding the whole night in this motherfucker!

Dude, he’s here.

That scared the fuck out of me!

We have to get away, my voice is cracking, I’ve had enough of this game.

TERRORISER

You killed my woman…thank you.

I made something special to start today off.

I made someone a home…

You have to go earn it you little fucking bitch.

We're in a different dimension!

What have you done to me?

This is nice…let's go fuck it up.

What the fuck did I just draw?

I always enjoy recording with you.

Just so you know, I'm desperate for footage.

KRYOZ

Now this guy probably wants a lot of money from me.

I shit you not, we missed it by one.

You rolled the bad number for us.

Oh my God, this guy and his logic.

Look at you now, broke bitch.

Gee, this guy gots some anger problems.

Dude, this game is laggy.

They don't have time.

We didn't talk strats at all.

I died and there was no lamp.

NOGLA

Call him a bitch when you hit him!

They're gonna hear you in the halls.

Give it to me, I know how to read.

You might have enough.

My game’s crashing.

It'll be fixed in a minute then.

I knew I would be the fucking last one.

He’s always doing that shit, man.

That’s useless.

I deserved that!

PUFFER

Are we allowed to snitch, I’m snitching.

I have the most boring cards.

That’s a mystery, isn’t it, my friend?

I shouldn’t have lied.

This game is trash!

I clicked it too!

That is not what you should’ve done!

It’s like we haven’t played for an hour.

What, it’s your turn, go, I’m letting you go again.

I'm on fire…wait, I'm actually dying!

WILDCAT

I can't see anything.

It growled at me and ate my ass and I died.

You can try, I'll watch you, go for it.

It’s pitch black outside.

I don’t know, but I totally didn’t just drop him off a ledge onto your head.

What is our goal here, by the way, are we going to get shit on by shit we don’t understand for two hours and be done or what?

Wait, you guys are just now getting here, you were trying this whole time?

We killed that thing five minutes ago.

You're the one who got fucked by that possessed demon cow.

Go run away and bleed all over the place, you fuck.

BLARG

Don’t put that in either.

I’m a broke bitch cause I jumped off the edge.

I need money!

This guy gets top.

I have dog-shit cards.

You couldn’t keep it going, you suck.

Who’s clicking like a motherfucker over there?

I don’t give a fuck what you got, bitch.

This guy’s got layers to him, he’s like a lasagna.

Kermit's getting his second DUI right now.

BASICALLYIDOWRK

He transformed into something else.

I'm good.

This fucking witch is still in the lava.

How many did you fucking make?

What is the lumbar for?

Sounds about right.

Why won't the trees grow?

Is that where we are going?

We’re hella late.

Don’t shoot him.

CARTOONZ

You read like me.

Can’t even do that right.

I know it’s there.

And we’re still getting chased.

Til death do us part, bitch!

You gotta let go!

Hey, he’s about to stab that goat in the ass.

We’ll kill them on the way back.

Right, I’m stuck in a tree!

Santa, son of a bitch!

[lapeaudelamemoire]

headache. getting sick of using tumblr actually. getting sick of using everything.

usb-c adapter for wired earbuds got bent out of shape because it's a sticking-out liability. always hated it for that reason but it was the only way i could use wired earbuds. now it's no different from the wired earbuds from when we were teenagers and you had to bend it just a certain way and hold it to keep it going. but wireless earbuds get lost fucking easily and headphones make the keloid scar on the top of my left ear fucking hurt and worsens it by pressing on it.

got a tv to watch things on so my eyes won't be so fucked by watching at a shorter distance on laptop so much but can't fucking watch youtube where many chinese dramas are uploaded because the ads are relentless, and the video players on random chinese streaming sites aren't supported by chromecast.

try to go on tumblr on laptop so i'm not looking at my phone so much. rich text editor is a fucking laggy pos. now i gotta remember to type extra < br > and < p > < / p >s for everything.

can't buy contact lenses online here without a prescription which you have to have updated every two years. who tf has time for that when everything is only open during office hours? you want me to have to take time out from placement for this?

probably have to make another appointment with rent legal aid, which is also limited solely to only during working office hours.

i'm so fucking tired of rent shit taking over my entire month, all the energy and time i have, while trying to deal with school and placement.

that's not even what i came on here to say.

also hate typing on this laptop tbh which is a crying shame but

-

i'm not okay and i don't think we should be. i think we should all stop going to work or school or whatever and i don't want to see another mental health practitioner to talk about how i feel about what's going on in the world today and palestine especially because actually i think this is the correct response that we all should be having, we shouldn't be going on with our daily lives, we are being affected as we fucking should, and i don't want to go see someone about it to 'deal with it' so i can carry on going to work and school like this is fine.

i don't want to be 'well-adjusted' aka inured to this happening. we should be feeling shit. we should be doing something about it in the sense of stopping this atrocity, not in the sense of going to talk to someone to normalise it so we can go back to work or go about our day.

i don't mean we should all traumatise ourselves and not attend to our own health mentally and emotionally, but being deeply affected and depressed that this is going on before our eyes is not wrong or a sign that we need to go see someone to diffuse it. it isn't a maladjustment, we're working as we should - as social creatures who co-regulate. and we should be affected enough to be turning out in the streets en masse to stop things going on as if this is acceptable.

[thegreathomestuckreread]

i have no idea why my computer was so fucking mad at me when i shook it out of sleep, i did nothing out of the ordinary with it

so. i wanted to open task manager to see just what was fucking things up so badly. but my computer was still being laggy so i decided to just press and hold the task manager keyboard shortcut until it showed up

which. rather stupidly why the fuck would they code it like this. opens MANY task manager windows at once

so now i'm trying so hard to shut it down properly so i don't lose my stuff or fuck anything else up, but my mouse is impossibly laggy like straight up not moving because on top of whatever else the actual problem is i now have infinite task managers open

i think i'm going to have to call my losses here and just hard shutdown my computer because this is getting very stupid and it has now been 50 minutes since the lag started in the first place. look at how dark the overlapping shadows of the task managers is. i will never know exactly how many i managed to open but i can be very confident one such correct answer is "a completely stupid amount"

[aaaggghh]

A pretty fantastic thing about Tumblr monile that I wished was elsewhere (reddit mobile) is that when you refresh a page it shows you brand new posts posts you'd never seen before. Sometimes these apps get laggy, sure, but me hitting the back button one too many times and reddit sends me right the fuck back up to the top of the page without changing a damn thing is usually what gets me to close the app and go to a different one. I really like that Tumblr just shows me new stuff because it feels like part of the experience of browsing.

[saltypiss]

Boneworks is so overblown. Congrats on having decent tech, but literally every other aspect is below amateur hour, if it at least reached amateur I could say it felt like the devs were trying, but clearly in terms of making a Game, they really, really suck at it.

Every few minutes I'm bitching about yet another very obvious flaw easily solvable by, you guessed it, playtesting even once.

What, you LIKE pixel perfect platforming with a VR headset strapped to your face, and every mistake is restart the the beginning city? You LIKE that you can't climb shit accurately because your character simply refuses to lift their feet onto the platform they have the knees bent by and being held up soley by their hands? You LIKE walking around empty non-interactable areas that offer nothing of worth in it's exploration? You LIKE that the game has like 3 enemies and they all suck? You LIKE having to unlock sandbox, the only mode this shitty game is worth getting? You LIKE the poor melee controls with extreme delay to emulate the feeling of weight while you feel literally none of it and it ruins every single swing you make? You LIKE that 90% of your hits will not register as a hit for no discernable reason? That they force upon you to use melee most of the damn game?

You LIKE that it's just a cheapo knockoff of Half Life that has nothing original in it's core and nothing visually striking to boot? You LIKE the fact the game is so devoid of content it feels like an early indev version of the game? You LIKE that the game forces you to physically redo platforming? You LIKE the godawful control scheme that hardly makes sense in anyone's mind? You LIKE that they don't even have an ability to make NPCs invincible? You LIKE that the only enemies that shoot are so poorly concieved that the fact they're only holograms is indicative to how much they intrinsically add to your experience? You LIKE that the game has exactly one blood decal that use for absolutely everything? You LIKE that this piece of shit lets you lock yourself into the first level with no way to exit to the menu without doing one of the worst introductions to any game yet? You LIKE that they force you to throw stuff into very small holes that you will never gage correctly? You LIKE that the very first thing thry have you do is basically throw your controller? You LIKE that reloading guns is so impractical and non-reliable that you're better off just using them as melee weapons? You LIKE that the zombie warehouse stage is such a wet mop of garbage that you can't even purchase guns in the gun shop because they never fucking playtested this god forsaken software before releasing it? You LIKE that the devs in their infinite wisdom, have the worst, least functional manu menu of any VR game so far? You LIKE that the game arbitrarily decides whether to holster, unholster, or pull a clip/magazine out? You LIKE that when you're trying to grab a pistol from on top of a box, your character will only grab the box? You LIKE that they made it so force grabbing will grab absolutely random shit from off screen except when you want to actually do that? You LIKE that this game has zero artistic intention nor expression throughout the entire experience? You LIKE that the VR headcrabs put you in what can best be described as the cheapest and laziest possible implementation of a VR room yet? You LIKE that the game, at no fucking point, will teach you some of the most basic fucking buttons in the game?

It's 30$, be a bit more fucking critical because holy shit do 99% of VR games simply fucking suck. It's like every developer has never played or made a game before, it's embarrassing everytime.

You have this shit strapped to your god damned head and they don't understand simple QoL and convenience. Oh no, please, make everything a 7 step process. I enjoy fumbling with laggy broken controls while the game struggles to even stay running. Ffs.

This doesn't even go into how many games don't let you move around with the joystick, oh yes please, force me to walk into an actual wall to play the game you fucking specimen. How any of these games are sold is impressive. VR is a massive unity asset dump right now, and if not, it's just below amateur work that should never have had a pricetag considered when walking is forced physical. Dumb as hell that people are enabling this shit.

Thank fuck I didn't pay for boneworks because my fucking god I'd have been pissed that I couldn't get a refund by the first level forcing you to pixel perfect platform in a fucking VR headset. Cmon. Platforming. Source engine, non-bunny hopping, platforming. Over pits. Ffs.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Desperate Measures 1

Warnings: nonconsent and rape (miniseries); stalking, fear, intimidation.

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: At first, you think it’s a joke when you get the strange messages, but when they don’t stop, you realise too late how real it all is.

Note: This was going to be a one shot but it kept going and going and going, so it’s gonna be split in 2.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Have a piece of American dream Open up, and swallow, on your knees And say Thank you I'd like some desperate measures, please

💌

The first picture was sent on Monday. You remembered it clearly unlike most Monday mornings. It was the same boring ritual; a coffee that had long turned cold, a pen that wouldn’t write, and a computer that ran as if on dial-up. 

The only bright side was that your small desk was near a window and you could look out onto the city streets, though they were hardly less miserable than your own existence. You were so high up the people were merely moving specks. You often found yourself distracted by the crowded traffic below.

You were drawn from such a distant reverie by the buzz of your phone. You kept it face down by your monitor. Despite the temptation, you limited yourself to succumbing only once an hour. You sat back and your chair creaked as it tilted beneath you. You checked the time in the corner of your screen and reached for your cell, the rubber case scuffed and scratched at the edges.

Notifications for the same emails that sat open in front of you and a few personal ones in the next bubble. Another for the game you played on the subway or when you were overly listless, several updates for your hoarded apps, and a single text. 

There was no number attached to the message, only the foreboding thick font that read ‘unknown number’. You chewed on your thumb as you leaned forward on your elbow and swiped your screen up and punched in your password. The screen flashed and you hit the last notification. No words, just a file. You hit download.

You blinked as it ate your data and the image of your apartment door appeared. You glanced around and laughed to yourself. You shook your head and keyed in your response; ‘very funny, Eva.’ You hit send and set your phone back down. 

Your old friend liked her jokes and you hadn’t missed her little ploy the last time she showed up at your place angry over her latest fling. You had thought she was getting a picture of the stain on the hallway carpet that looked suspiciously like blood… or feces… or a mixture of the two.

You went back to your work and switched the document you’d been picking at for most of the morning. Your job was as entertaining as watching paint dry then peel from age. When you applied for an editing position, you’d expected thrillers and melodramas. Instead, you got dry textbooks and educational guides.

You yawned and pushed through to your scheduled break. You dumped your cold coffee and headed down to the café to grab another. The coffee they kept in the office was cheap and bland. You ate your salad in the lunchroom as you watched the clock tick away. You checked your phone. No reply to that unusual text. Eva must’ve chickened out.

You scoffed and switched chats to send her usual number an ‘lol’. You tucked your phone in your pocket and punched back in before you headed back to your desk. A couple more hours and you’d be home to stew in the early week daze.

The last half of the day went quicker and your subway ride was uneventful; well, for New York. You walked home from your stop and pulled out your phone as you climbed the stairs. You slowed down and moved your feet blindly. You’d finally gotten an answer. ‘Eva?’

You opened the chat again and hit the image. It filled the screen and you squinted as you came to a stop. The stain wasn’t there. Your landlord had finally relented and had the entire hallway torn up and replaced with an even duller shade of grey. The picture had been taken since then; within the last month. The last time you’d seen Eva, you’d gone to hers.

Your chest clenched and you gulped. You hit the little icon in the corner of the conversation and hit ‘block’. You continued to your floor and neared your door. You looked down the hallway and back to your door. You tried the handle. Locked. You took a breath.

It could still be a joke. The stoner next door, Perry, had your number from when you agreed to feed his cat that one time. Maybe he was high or just trying to be funny. Still, it hadn’t come up under his name. Well, he might have changed his number since then.

You unlocked your door and scurried inside. You made sure to turn the latch and slide the chain into place. You tossed your bag beside the mat of shoes and added your flats to the pile. You dropped your phone on the coffee table and untucked your work shirt as you walked around the small living room. 

Nothing was out of place, not that you truly believed whoever it was had gotten past your door. You rubbed your forehead and went to the small kitchen that looked out into the living room. You grabbed a can of sparkling lime whatever and plopped it next to your phone.

You went to your bedroom and stripped yourself of your stiff work clothes and pulled on the night shirt crumpled atop your blanket. You looked down at the thin grey cotton and reached under to unhook your bra. You flung it in the corner knowing you’d be cursing yourself when you couldn’t find it the next morning.

You flopped onto the couch and grabbed your remote. You turned on some mindless Youtube video and opened the mobile game which had taken too much of your life from you. You connected three and four and five and somewhere in between your existentialism kicked in and had you wondering at the point of it.

You closed the app before it ate all of your battery and your phone shook in your hand. 

‘You didn’t tell me who Eva is.’ The message flashed over the top of the screen then disappeared. You pulled down the notification and hit it. You were certain you’d blocked the number. The other messages were gone though and ‘unknown number’ was still emblazoned across the top. You blocked the convo again and dimmed the screen. 

You plugged in your phone and sprawled out across the sofa. You stared at the television, a blur and a buzz to your frantic mind. 

It was dark already when you dragged yourself off the couch and heated up a microwave dinner. You ate it without tasting and your phone chimed to signal a full charge. You left it as it was on the arm of the couch and resumed your repose on the sofa. You fell asleep to the angered commentary of a gamer trying to fight a clam.

You awoke with a start. You blinked through your daze as your television showed stills of mountain and grassy fields. You sat up and grabbed your phone. You checked the time; midnight. Another message.

‘She’s the one you had coffee with last week.’ It said.

You gaped and dropped your phone. You looked around as if whoever it was would be hiding in the corner. You shook as you reached down and took the phone. You swallowed and began to type.

‘Whoever this is, this isn’t funny anymore. Cut it out.’

‘Funny?’ The response came quickly.

‘I mean it. Stop.’

‘Good night, sweetheart.’

You recoiled at the message and bit your lip to keep it from trembling. You checked your door again, the chain still in place, checked every inch of your apartment in your paranoia. Nothing. You let out a breath and took a blanket from your bed and huddled up on the couch. You turned on a playlist, not sure you’d be sleeping much that night.

💌

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep again but you rose before your alarm. You drank your coffee as the sky turned a duller shade of grey. You went through your usual morning dance and headed out the door with a bagel hanging from your mouth. You chowed down on your way to the subway. You felt your bag buzz as you stepped on the train.

You ignored it and clung to the bar as you counted the stops. You got off and stopped by the coffee shop. You ordered a black tea and headed down to your building. Your desk was as it was when you left it. The chair was tucked in and your mouse was hidden behind the keyboard. You sat and booted the laggy machine.

As you waited for it to start, you stirred around in your bag for your phone. You had another message. You dreaded opening it but the circle just kept spinning in the middle of the monitor. You hit the bubble and your phone unlocked.

You took a sharp breath as the image glared back at you. It was you, on the subway, that morning judging by the jacket, staring at the door as the photo was taken unknowingly. Your phone slipped from your grasp and you spun in your chair.

Everything was as it should be. Your co-workers looked just as dead inside as you. Your boss was boxed up in his office on a ‘conference call’. You shuddered and turned back to your desk. You burned your tongue on your tea and signed into your computer. Your phone vibrated beside your shoe and you bent to retrieve it.

‘You looked tired this morning’. The next message blipped on the screen.

You were quick to sweep the clock upward and type. ‘Who the fuck is this?’

‘Sweetheart. I don’t like that kind of language.’ The response was quick and sharp, even in text.

‘Tell me who you are? Why are you doing this?’

‘One thing at a time.’ The letters burned into your vision.

‘Who are you?’ You keyed in again. No answer. 

You set the phone down and watched it. Five minutes, no buzz. You hovered your hand over your mouse and tried to focus on your monitor. Your heart was so loud in your ears, your head began to pound.

💌

When you got on the subway at the end of the day, you looked around frantically as you settled into a seat, your bag hugged to your chest. You glanced up and down the car a dozen times over as you awaited your cue. Your toe tapped anxiously and you stood so fast you were dizzy when your stop came up.

You rushed down the sidewalk, peeking over your shoulder every other step. You didn’t say anything unusual; no one following you, no one watching. You ran up to your building and unlocked the door clumsily. 

You hurried up the stairs and down the hall to your apartment. The key slid in roughly and you turned it so quick, you were certain it would bend. You skirted inside and put the chain in place.

You looked down as your thin-soled boot brushed over something. A pile of flyers slipped through the slot in your absence. You picked them up and sorted through them, an envelope amidst the mess. On its face, it read ‘for my sweetheart’.

You hovered by the door, staring at the envelope. After a moment, you slung your bag down on the floor and placed the flyers on the end table by the lamp. You clicked on the light and ran your thumb along the lip. You carefully opened it and pulled out the paper inside. You unfolded it and your breath caught in your chest.

It was a sketch, quite well done, of you. You’d worn that sweater last week. You went to the park and walked around, sat by the fountain, tossed rocks into the babbling basin. They had been there, whoever it was. How long had they been watching?

And they had been at your door, close enough to slip this through the slot. You folded the drawing and shoved it back in the envelope. You stomped into the kitchen and tossed it into the bin beneath the counter. You backed up and gripped the other counter behind you. You felt a lump in your throat. 

What the fuck was going on?

💌

You started going in early to work; catching the train half an hour before your usual one. You left late and changed your route between the station and your building. You entered through the back, hopping the low concrete barrier between the apartments and the backlot.

Still, it only gave you a single day of peace. No messages, no pictures; and you thought the game was over. You hoped it was. That it was just a sick joke that had finally grown tiring. 

But Thursday saw another image of you just outside your work building. Friday, another of you on the subway.

The weekend was listless. You did your shopping quickly and on Sunday, you wore a loose hoodie to the laundromat. You could find nothing peculiar around you. The city was full of sketchy people but none seemed to be watching you. The hordes were still about their own lives; ignorant of those around them. You felt entirely alone, as if you were being hunted.

Monday was much the same as the last but how could it ever be dull again. You shut your phone off so you could focus on your work. When you were finally done, you dialed the toll-free number for your provider. You took a taxi home and spent two hours on the line but you got your new number and a sense of relief.

You kept your phone on, ringer on max, and nothing. You watched the screen rather than the television but it only lit up with emails and a random text from your mother. You slept in your bed that night,almost soundly.

You still kept your eye over your shoulder. Still searched out any sign of unusual interest. Perhaps you were clueless or maybe your lack of response had finally gotten through to them. Once their messages bounced back as out of service, they might have given up. They got their laughs, now you wanted peace.

It lasted until Friday. 

A full week and you were certain it was over. You finished work and stopped by the liquor store for a bottle of wine on your way home. You could finally let loose. Life had gone back to its usual tedium. You browsed the reds lazily but pondered a pack of coolers instead. Your phone buzzed. You slid it from your pocket out of habit.

‘That cabernet on the top shelf is on sale. Just to your left.’ You stared at the message and backed away from the shelf. You looked around but all the other customers seemed intent on their own purchases. You gulped and blocked the unknown sender.

You left emptied-handed and ran for the train. You got home an hour later than usual. You raced up the stairs and stopped dead in front of your door. The tall gift bag looked familiar; it had been hanging in the store by the till. You neared and peered inside. The golden cap of the wine that had stood in front of you; top shelf.

You bent and flipped the little card attached to the string.

‘For you, sweetheart. Enjoy your weekend.’

You stood and grabbed the bag. You glanced up and down the halls and stormed back down the grey carpet. Your feet hammered down the stairs and you burst through the back doors. You threw the bag into the dumpster and heard the shatter. Your lip trembled as you spun and sprinted back inside.

When you reached your apartment, you called Eva. You struggled to open your dresser with one hand and started pulling out clothes and stuffing them into your neon duffle. She finally picked up.

“E-eva,” you stuttered, “can I-- Can I stay with you, please? J-just a night or two--”

“Wohoa, whoa, slow down,” she said. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t… I can’t tell you now. I’m just-- I’m freaking out and I can’t stay here.” Your voice cracked and you sniffed back tears, “I-- Please. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I… I have plans but I can cancel,” she offered.

“No, no, I… don’t--”

“You’ll have the apartment to yourself,” she said, “I’ll just let Ray know I’ll be late.”

“What time are you supposed to--”

“Seven but it’s fine,” she assured you. “You okay?”

“I… Wait, you’re fucking around with Ray again?”

“Do you want the couch or not?” She half-kidded, “you want me to meet you there or--”

“No, no,” you whisked into your washroom and grabbed your toothbrush, “I’m coming right now.” You returned to the bedroom and shoved an armful in the bag. “Eva… thank you.”

“Stay on the phone,” she said softly. “Please… you’re scaring me.”

“Okay,” you zipped up the duffle, “yeah, I’ll stay on.”

💌

You hung up as you came up to Eva’s building. She met you at the door, a thick silence between you as you sensed what she wanted to ask you. You weren’t sure how to tell you. You weren’t sure if you could.

You pushed the door closed behind you as you entered her apartment. It was cuter than yours, a spiral staircase led to a loft above and the curtains were lace and matched the dainty pillows on the couch. You placed your bag on the floor and she turned to you.

“Just give me a moment,” you said. She didn’t need to ask.

She went to the desk in the corner of the spacious room and turned on the ring light of the round mirror. She fished through her make-up box and pulled out her eyeliner. She was already done her base and highlight. You neared and hovered just beside her desk.

“I don’t even know…” you stopped yourself and went to your bag. You pulled out the paper you’d shoved in the side pocket on your way out. “Look.”

You crossed to her again and unfolded the sketch on her desk. She glanced down from drawing a wing along her eye and lowered the pencil. She blinked and shrugged.

“Look, someone dropped this through my mail slot. No address on the envelope, just this.” You felt crazy. “And I thought it was all some joke. They were sending me pictures, of me, of my building… I blocked them but they just kept on. I even changed my number.”

She scrunched her lips and looked back to her mirror. She finished her other eye and set the pencil down.

“You call the police?” She asked calmly.

“I… the drawing is all I have. I just deleted the messages when they came because… well, I didn’t think much of it at first. Not until… There was a bottle of wine waiting for me when I came home. The very same I was looking at right before I booked it for my train,” you rubbed your cheek, “Eva, I’m not crazy. I swear.”

“I believe you,” she said, “why wouldn’t I but… there’s nothing you can do but keep a log of what happens from here on out. Screencap everything.”

“You think… you think the police would help if I did?” You asked.

“Not much. Stalking isn’t really something they take seriously. I knew this girl in college-- Well, the evidence can at least get you a restraining order… if you ever figure out who’s sending you all this,” she paused and glanced down at the drawing. “Whoever it is, they got talent.”

“I’m sure they’d be happy to hear that,” you scoffed and crossed your arms.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay here with you?”

You pondered her offer but shook your head.

“As much as I think you should send Ray along, no. I can’t ask any more of you.” You sighed and grabbed the sketch. You dragged your feet to the couch and flopped down on the cushions, “I really do appreciate it.”

“I always told you to get out of that neighbourhood,” she said as she searched her assortment of make-up, “but you know I never mind you hanging out.”

💌

You spent the night on Eva’s couch, alone. She didn’t get home until three in the morning and you waited until noon for her to wake up. When she did, her face was smeared with eyeliner and her hair a mess. 

You hadn’t touched your phone since the night before. You chewed your thumb as you waited for her to emerge from the shower, restless and unsure what to do with yourself. She slammed the lid down on her coffee machine and growled as she turned and crossed her arms.

“Are you okay?” she asked sharply.

“I’m sorry,” you said as you stopped pacing. You barely remembered getting up to walk circles around the coffee table, “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, how about a latte?” she yawned behind her hand, “my coffee machine is fucked… again.”

“Um, maybe that’s best, get out and… distract myself,” you twiddled your fingers as your stomach ached. You hadn’t eaten anything since the day before and that was just after noon.

“We’ll get lunch,” she rubbed her forehead, “soak up the wine.”

You shook your head and said nothing. She always drank too much around Ray but you didn’t have the energy for that argument again. So you stayed quiet and watched her disappear into her bedroom.

She emerged as you zipped up your purse. You didn’t bother with your phone as you waited by the door but felt listless without the device. It was like a shield you used when you went out in the world. It kept you from eye contact or awkward conversation.

You set off and headed down the street to the pub that seamlessly shifted from brunch to ladies’ night every Saturday. You ordered breakfast tacos as you sat just inside the large floor length windows that looked out onto the shady patio. The other guest lent a sense of normalcy as they carried on their own conversations and reminded you that you were just another ant on the hill.

As you got your latte in the stemmed glass, Eva pulled out her phone and scowled at the shaking. She was so wrapped up in her texts with Ray she hadn’t even mentioned the reason for your overnighter. You were happy for it and yet, you couldn’t think of anything else.

“Jesus, I told him we were having breakfast and he’s blowing up my phone,” she huffed, “just a second.”

“Eve,” you said as she stood and slid her thumb across the screen, “our foods gonna be here--”

“I won’t be long,” she promised and lifted the speaker to her ear and turned away, “Ray, I’ll be over later, promise. I barely slept--”

Her voice trailed away as she wove between tables and pushed out onto the patio and went to the short fence to chat beyond the ears of diners. You sipped from your drink and stared down at the splintered curve of the table. You couldn’t stay with Eva forever and she was hardly any comfort in her distraction with her on-again, off-again dirt bag. Maybe, if you moved--

“There you are, sweetheart,” the low voice startled you and you sat stalk straight as a figure smoothly slid into Eva’s empty chair, “you gave me quite a scare, up and leaving without a word…”

You stared wide-eyed at the stranger across from you. Well, you knew who he was. Everyone in the city, in the country, even the world, knew Steve Rogers. He smiled at you as his blue eyes glimmered. His posture was cool and confident and it was you who felt out of place.

And you knew, it was him. The shock was not enough to fuel your denial as that feeling deep down assured you of it. That little voice that told you this was your tormentor and that you were fucked.

“I…” you breathed and blinked. You couldn’t find the words, you hardly understood the storm of emotions flowing through you. You glanced through the window as Eva threw her hand up and continued berating her phone, “it’s you?”

“I hate that it has to be this way,” he said, “you know, my work keeps me out of town so much and I just wish we had more time.”

“Wha…” you gulped and gripped the edge of the table, “why--?”

“You haven’t been answering me,” his smile fell, “I don’t like being ignored.”

Your hand shook and you kept it in your lap to hide the rising terror along your spine. You sat paralysed as he sighed and glanced around the restaurant. He tilted his head and pushed his shoulders back.

“You threw out my gift,” he said evenly, “that wasn’t very nice.”

“Go…” you uttered, “go, please--”

“Sweetheart, we’re just talking,” he took a gulp of Eva’s Americano casually, “I missed you… I miss you every day and it hurts that we have to be apart.”

Your shoulders slumped and you clutched your hands in fists on your lap. You could scream but what good would that do. He was Captain America, the first avenger, a hero. 

As if your thoughts sent a banner waving, a young kid approached the table and smiled nervously as he held one of the colouring pages supplied by the restaurant in his hands.

“Um, Captain, uh, America,” the kid stuttered, “will you sign-- Will you sign my--?”

The kid smiled through tight lips and held up the colouring page. Instead, Steve chuckled and took his cap from his head and fished around in his pocket. He pulled out a sharpie and signed the brim and placed it back on the kid’s head.

“There you go,” he said.

“Thank you, Cap!” the kid almost squealed, “oh my gosh!”

“No problem,” Steve laughed and watched the kid run back to the table where his mother sat, she waved at the man across from you and mouthed a thanks. He cleared his throat and stood as he tucked away the marker, “sorry, this is why I didn’t wanna do this in public,” he gripped his hip with one hand, “but… we’ll have our time.” He slowly backed away, “I’ll text you. You’ll answer.”

He grinned one last time and strode away. He stopped before the door as he held it open for Eva and she batted her lashes at him as she gushed. You could guess at her star struck words but couldn’t make them out. He left as she finally stopped her babbling and she almost skipped over to you.

“Oh my god, did you see him?” she trilled, “I didn’t think he’d be even better looking in-person.”

“See who?” you asked dumbly as you tried to disguise your discomfort in your latte.

“Steve Rogers,” she announced, “ugh, even without your phone, you got your head in the ground.”

[zarara]

something else?

pairings: dense!diluc x traveler!reader, a little kaeya x reader moment plot: read it and find out (pls my brain is laggy but one day i will write a summary) genre: fluff, angst perhaps note: i am apparently capable of writing fairly straightforward stories

if there was anything in the world you would pay to have an endless supply of, it would have to be tea… though the idea of infinite mora sounded as interesting, you were sure your talents in combat would make sure you didn’t find yourself broke or clueless like zhongli.

it’s just that tea was perfect — coffee was a close contender but the bitter aftertaste always found you having to pile it up with more sugar than healthy. tea also had no aftermath on your already deranged sleep schedule. it tasted sweet but rich, it was efficient, and it was warm.

you usually enjoyed your daily cup of tea in the solitude of your chambers but today you were making an exception because kaeya, your superior and over-the-top flirt of a friend, insisted you take your evening snack with him at the tavern.

“there isn’t even a snack provision at the tavern! it’s a tavern for archon’s sake!” kaeya is great at ignoring your complaints as he pulls you into the seat next to him.

“i asked sara to bring some honey roast over for us,” kaeya winks at the young man handling the counter in lieu of an order and you hurriedly pipe up a “tea for me please!”

“now, would you please stop your whining, you baby?”

your mouth drops open, “i’m the baby? you were the one begging to take me to drinks instead of helping me finish that pack of hilichurls!”

“i did mention that i got rid of that abyss mage for you when you weren’t looking.”

“i don’t understand you, kaeya,” you take hold of the cup that the man behind the counter sets down, “but anyway, what is it you want from me?”

kaeya smirks over his glass of dandelion wine, “ah, quite straightforward, aren’t we?”

you kick his shin ungently, “let me ask again: what do you want?”

kaeya takes a sip and becomes uncharacteristically quiet. in fact, he doesn’t even comment when you keep staring at him.

“kaeya…?”

before you can continue to investigate what’s up with him, you hear a familiar voice behind your shoulder.

“well, what have we here?”

“diluc!” the red haired man takes place of the young man who looks relieved to not have to bear witness as a bartender.

“hello, y/n, how do you do?”

you smile, the warmth in diluc’s voice going unmissed, “i’m just fine, although a certain someone has taken it upon themselves to ruin my ritual of tea and silence.”

kaeya props a hand around your shoulders, “i’m just repaying you for getting rid of all those gnarly hilichurls.”

whatever was bothering kaeya a moment ago seems to have disappeared, especially in the presence of his arch rival, diluc.

diluc calmly reaches over to lift kaeya’s hand off your shoulder as if it’s the corpse of a slime he’s picking up and hurls it away. “please, kaeya, i thought you didn’t pursue women who’d clearly expressed their lack of interest.”

“and i thought you were too superior to everyone else to stick your nose in their business.”

“well,” you butt in before the two can actually slit each other’s throats, “i thought it was reasonable to agree to work under jean but i guess we all have things we’re wrong about, don’t we?”

diluc’s expression dampens into something like sadness when you mention your overworked state but you brush it off by chugging the rest of your tea. “oh, before i forget,” you rummage through your meagre backpack before removing a package, handing it over to kaeya, “this is for you.”

kaeya looks perplexed, looking between you and diluc, and slowly places a hand on the package, “for me?”

“a client painted the scenery from luhua for me because i found his paintbrushes and supplies, and i know you like your souvenirs, so you can have it.”

“....” kaeya is still speechless and diluc has you pinned with a look of suspicion.

“but why would give it to him?”

“because i go to luhua way too often already and i know kaeya is usually stuck around monstadt so…”

“that’s incredibly sweet of you, my love,” kaeya regains his senses and as you stand up to leave, he pulls you into a hug.

“you’re welcome, boss,” you smile as you pull away, “anyway, i must be on my way.”

“do you think the traveller is with someone?”

maids at dawn winery sure do love to gossip.

“with her looks and strength, for sure! my bets are on master diluc.”

okay, look, you didn’t meant to eavesdrop on them but they were right there when you came out of the washroom. you were going to walk out and pretend like you hadn’t heard them but hearing diluc’s name shook you.

“no,, what about mr kaeya? i heard they hang out after long, tiring quests all the time.”

“but she and master diluc love to discuss-”

all righty, time to evacuate.

“!!”

you manage to keep a poker face as you throw the door open in their faces and stride past them, making your way to the room with diluc.

you quickly dash in, closing the door behind you. you knOW your face is flushed so you turn away from diluc.

diluc frowns. that’s weird. why are you hiding from him?

he rises from his chair, “y/n? is everything okay? are you hurt?”

“y-yeah, i’m just embarrassed.”

you feel yourself being turned around by two big hands on your elbows.

diluc’s concerned eyes meet yours and you almost melt into a puddle of slimy plasma because he’s so hot even though he’s just worried.

“you’re red. why are you red?”

“...i’m fine.”

as if he’s aware of your flustered state, he moves closer to your face in order to look into your eyes which makes a new batch of blood flow to your face.

“y/n, you need to tell me what’s wrong. is it a fever? i can call—”

“nO! it’s nothing. just—!” you break away from his (very intense) hold and move away into the room for fresh air. “stupid me.”

“no way, she did not!”

diluc is immensely frustrated with venti. he has the most unusual reactions to everything diluc says and usually he doesn’t give a shit, but this is about you and your weird state yesterday, so yES he gives a shit!! >:-(

“yes, she did. i’m telling you she did. why are you—”

“oh, i heard you, i just can’t believe that the calm and strong little traveler would lose her cool and around you of all people!”

“heY, what do you mean? i’m perfectly fine as a person to lose one’s cool around.”

yep, diluc has no idea what he’s saying.

it’s just

he thinks the world of you

he really, really likes spending time with you (even when you guys are just talking about the fatui’s next move! or how you found new cool ways to take down an abyss mage!)

you’re so sweet and you don’t take his words for what they’re not. you’re not taken aback by his bluntness and you’re able to make him laugh.

what more does he need in life

well, apparently, venti because he has no idea what to do after you suddenly left the dawn winery that day.

“ugh”

“you’re really worried, huh?”

“was that not crystal clear by now? i came all the way to windrise to talk to you!”

venti chuckles his annoying chuckle

“okay, okay, i’ll help you,” diluc sighs as he waits venti to go on, “here’s what i think: she likes you back.”

..

what

diluc.exe has stopped working

man just blanks out

short-circuits, fireworks, malfunction — you name it.

“diluc?”

“no.”

“what do you mean, no?”

“first of all, why did you say ‘likes you back’? i- i don’t like her or anything. and secondly, no, she does not like me.”

“i’m going to pretend like i didn’t even hear the first part. about the second thing, here’s a question for you: why?”

“because she likes kaeya!”

venti pauses, “i was not aware there was another contender. diluc, you bastard, tell me all the details next time.”

“does this mean she just hates my guts?”

“no, it just means she may or may not like you. back.”

“i told you—!” venti stands up breaking off diluc’s sentence midway, brushing grass off his palms.

“take her to dinner or something tonight and ask her.”

“ask her? ask her what— wait, where are you going, you stupid bard— ASK HER WHAT?”

life is hard for a traveller

you’ve just managed to finish delivering grilled fish to a jack who wants become more manly when katheryne sets you thREE more commissions saying there was a crazy influx of requests suddenly.

you barely manage to uproot two hilichurl camps, and by the third quest, you’re quite dead inside. if only some rogue eye of the storm wasn’t terrorizing civilians.

you’ve gotten in a hit or two in when you skip over a stone and fall right on your face

“fUCK!”

shit

ouch

ouch shit

that hurt

you manage to twist around and keep the eye away with a half-earnest windblade attack and try to sit up.

damn it, is this the pitiful way you die? dammit, you at least wanted to drink your evening tea—

a flash of fiery thunder catches your attention

is that…?

“y/n! stay where you are!”

yup, it’s diluc in all his dark knight hero glory. he finishes off the stupid green eyeball in less than three fire-charged strikes.

you sigh in relief, falling back against the grass.

“hey, hey, hey,” diluc enters your field of vision, red strands falling into his face as he leans down to cradle your head in his lean arms, “where did you injure yourself?”

you tremble a little as you try to lift your foot, “a-ah, my right foot. i twisted my ankle probably. thanks for fi—”

“shh-shh, you’ll have plenty of time to thank me. come on, can you sit up?”

you grab his wrist and prop yourself against his chest so that you’re practically in his lap.

“that’s great, let me take a look at—”

“mhm!! don’t move. please,” you can feel diluc’s breathing tense behind you as you lean into him, “i think the eye hit me while i was down- my neck— ah, fuck—” your hand comes away from your nape soaked in red, “it’s bleeding.”

“it’s all right, you’ll be just fine. just get comfortable and i’m going to lift you up. think you can manage?”

you nod as one of diluc’s hands comes to rest under your knees, folding them and the other tenderly embraces your upper back.

“tell me if it hurts too much.”

he heaves the both of you up and the shock stings your exposed neck a little but you’ll survive.

everything is beginning to become blurry so you lift your hand to feel diluc and meet his chest. despite everything, you smile, aware he’s speaking because you can feel him vibrating but the words are all mushed up and you can feel yourself slipping away.

even though usually you would panic at feeling your consciousness fading but right now, it’s okay because it’s diluc who’s holding you and you know it’s him because just before the black collapses on you, you hear him.

“you’re fine, kitten.”

“—up! y/n, it’s me.”

mhhm, what a sweet voice. so soft and melodious.

“y/n, i can see you smiling in your sleep,” the voice comes closer, “come on, everyone’s really worried.”

the world materializes in front of you as you fight against the closing of your heavy eyelids. “barbara?”

“y/n! you’re alive!”

“i am?”

why would you not be alive?

…

oh

right

the eye

stupid thing

wait a minute,.,.,.

you remember diluc saving your arse.

oh righT

that’s because he did!

he—

he was holding you?

you were in his lap????????

wait a minute!! that sounds wrong

“am i dreaming?”

“really, of all the people you know, do you really see yourself dreaming of me, traveller? last time i saw you, you wanted to steal the holy lyre from—”

“y/n!!”

holy shit

that’s the voice of your saviour

noo

noo

stop the clock

you’re not ready to meet him!!!!!!!

“ah, it’s master diluc! he was so worried about you the whole time you were dead— i mean, asleep,” you redden as the tall man appears in front of you, “kaeya had to force him to leave and get some food but—”

“ahem!” diluc cuts barbara off with a strong clearing of his throat and she throws him a look before standing up from your side.

“i guess i’ll leave you two alone then!”

“wait, barbara, you should stay—”

and she’s gone.

you slowly look up to face diluc

“how are you feeling?”

“much better,” he sits next to you and you smile, “thanks to you.”

diluc frowns as if remembering something unpleasant, “i really wish you wouldn’t just bear all the load.”

“you found out from…”

“kaeya mentioned he hadn’t seen you around the town square as he usually does and when i went to speak with katheryne, she said she’d had no choice but to send you off on extra commissions.”

you look down, “i’m sorry. i wanted to ask someone to come along but everyone seemed busy and—”

“you never checked up on me though,” you bite your lip, “i would have known.”

“that’s- that’s because you’re always busy, what with the winery and your dark knight—”

“y/n,” you stop speaking with a pout and diluc raises your chin with his finger, “promise me you’ll tell someone next time things get so overwhelming. tell me, i’m never going to be occupied enough to not help you out.”

you blush agaiN

stupid kind diluc

“thanks, diluc.”

“and you can stop feeling sorry for me.”

when you look at diluc he looks he’s just caught you red-handed.

“what—”

“i wanted to help you,” you nod, “what’s more, i think i quite enjoyed it.”

“enjoyed. . . carrying an injured woman to safety? you might have a saviour complex, diluc. or perhaps, some sort of a kink.”

you expect diluc to lash back with a defensive retort but to your absolute and complete surprise, he smirks.

the man smiRKS

he’s all ;)

“oh? i won’t deny that,” your stomach suddenly feels queasy all over again as diluc inches closer (and you’re wondering in your head WHEN DID SATAN, OR WORSE KAEYA, POSSESS THIS MAN?!), “but while we’re on the topic of kinks and enjoying ourselves, you seemed to quite like sitting in my lap.”

“diluc!” your exclamation is one of disbelief because you cannot believe that diluc, the man who has never once made an inappropriate joke around you, is openly accepting that he has a kink and is accusing you of having one.

“what? am i wrong? when i tried to move, you stopped me immediately.”

“y-yeah, i did, but—” you’re trying with all your heart to defend your actions but diluc has managed to come close enough to tap his fingers against your outstretched knee. “it was— you were warm and my neCK was bleeding. was i supposed to just die out there?”

“i suppose you’re right, i am warm.”

“exactly.”

you seemed to have dodged a disaster because diluc is distracted by the cuts on your knee and the bandage around your ankle. his slender finger dance down your shin to touch the fabric of the white material tied tightly and he gently holds it.

“does it still hurt?”

“i don’t know, i haven’t tried walking.”

“do you wanna?”

you nod eagerly and diluc offers his hand but before you can be tempted into taking it, you cross your arms.

“why should i hold your hand?”

“because we need to first test if you can even walk without help.” diluc looks confused and you decide that whatever demon possessed him moments ago is long gone.

“correct answer,” you take his hand, and slowly stand up.

“hmm,” your right foot hurts a little but it’s better than you imagined. you tell diluc that.

“that’s a relief,” you reach the door of the empty cathedral and diluc puts his hand on the door, “would you like to take a walk?”

“is diluc around?”

“ah, he said he’ll be back in five. he’s personally delivering some paperwork to the acting headmaster.”

“alright, thanks!”

you’re excited!! it’s friday and today, you and diluc are going aLL the way to liyue to get dinner and stargaze as a post-dinner activity. diluc said he was friends with xiangling who’d always wanted him to come and try her dishes out sometime and he’d asked you earlier if you’d be interested to join him.

of course you were. it sounded like a date! in fact by the way you had spent all afternoon choosing the deep maroon skirt and contrasting white blouse, you were convinced to view it as a date.

“y/n, i apologize to have kept you waiting,” a breathless (and dashing) diluc appears by your side and you smile.

“no problem, diluc, i heard you were doing some important work.”

the both of you leave the tavern, “not exactly important, but let’s just say that while i may not be interested in the knights of favonius, i do value my life somewhat.”

“jean’s scares you, too, huh,” you laugh.

it’s not like diluc is realizing this for the first time but: you’re beautiful

like yeah, you have great hair and dazzling eyes that are bright when you’re happy and a dangerous smile but in the night, in this ethereal lighting, you’re taking his breath away.

“this place looks so fancy,” you’re seated across from him as you play with the ends of your hair. “when i come to this inn, i usually remain on the periphery but wow, this is quite impressive.”

“well, xiangling did say she got pretty famous as a cook around here.” diluc feels dazed especially since half his attention is occupied by how adorable you look.

the night progresses like this; diluc captivated by your blinding beauty and you trying to wrap your head around the fact that you’re on a daTE with diluc.

“oh, hey, look, it’s a silk flower!” you run over to the short, maroon plant, plucking a few flowers out, “xingqiu was telling me how much he loves these.”

he kneels next to you, smiling, “they are quite the pleasant plants.”

“they sorta remind me of you.”

“me?”

diluc touches the stem as you play around with the buds, “yes. for starters, you’re both red. and you both smell nice. you make wine, these make clothes. and if you think about it, wine is the silk of alcohol.”

his fingers collide against yours in the quaint flower, “that’s an intriguing comparison. wine and silk. . .” before you can pull away, diluc takes hold of your hand, pulling you up after him.

he can feel you stiffen a little and then mold back into place, your tiny hand squeezing against his bigger one. the road has become quieter as you travel further from the inn, and more stars start to peek out from the sky.

“thank you for taking me out to dinner, diluc.”

“thank you for having dinner with me, y/n.”

you suddenly giggle a little as if remembering a memory. “what’s funny?”

you look at him and then back down, biting down on your lip — a terrible habit really but especially terrible right now, because it only draws his attention to the soft pink lips he was trying not to look at the whole night (which was made even harder when xiangling decided to serve you the spicier dishes).

“that time you saved me from the eye, you called me something right before i fainted.”

diluc smiles fondly, “kitten?” he is pleasantly surprised when you giggle again, cheeks tinting the loveliest pink. “what’s this? could it be you enjoy being called kitten?”

you squeeze his hand slightly, “maybe…”

diluc’s heart almost gives out on spot

he’s sO whipped for you it hurts physically

“y/n—”

before he can say anything else, you pull him ahead with you because well,,,, you’re embarrassed

“come on, we should go stargaze before it gets too late.”

diluc smiles and allows you to drag him to the clearing at the edge of a cliff.

“i remembered this cliff from one of my adventures,” you plop down onto the grass and hesitantly, diluc follows

“hmm, it’s very peaceful here. i’m going to have to note this down as one of my future hideouts.”

you grin, “don’t reveal that to me. i might end up following you here and you won’t have any of your good ole introspection time.”

your tone is teasing but for once, diluc feels that his needs for alone time are being acknowledged by your light-hearted threat. he shifts closer, heart on the verge of bursting.

“i like you, y/n,” it comes right out of his mouth, clear and loud, the way diluc always dreamed of confessing but never managed to nail during his endless practices

you, on the other hand, are at the risk of a heart attack. you don’t want to pretend to be clueless and dense — diluc did ask you out for dinner when he could be spending the evening doing something more intellectually enriching — but at the same time, you feel like you can’t be sure enough

because it’s diluc!! he’s so complicated, he has so many layers

“you like me?” you keep your gazed fixed on the stars above just so you can mask your disappointment in case he clarifies that he likes you but, of course, as a friend who easily gets in trouble and happens to be around his tavern all the time

but inside diluc’s head are alarms. literal ALARMS. red, blaring alarms.

“i- you have no obligation to accept my feelings or give me answer but i’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time now. i really like you in a way i didn’t think possible. you’re so kind and funny and you make profound judgements about people, without being swayed by the biases that surround them and you’re so brave. but i know you have many men courting you and you did seem to have a soft spot for kaeya so this is—”

“i like you, too, diluc.”

diluc.exe has stopped working part 2 the finale

no more brain cells for him

“diluc?”

“you’re being honest?”

“of course i am. i’ve liked you ever since you took down that abyss mage with me. i don’t know how i’m expected to not fall for the dark knight hero.”

despite his dislike for the nickname, diluc blushes and you laugh at his small adorable smile

but the next moment it’s as if a switch has been flipped and suddenly his flustered face turns into a look of lust

his hands are on your waist, pulling you close until you can feel his hot breath against your lips

your hand comes up his face, tenderly cupping it and your lips crash

diluc groans against your lips when your other hand gingerly finds his hair and to say the least, you are extremely attracted to the sound of him groaning, low and deep

“come closer,” your plea is almost petulant as your grip on his hair tightens. diluc lifts you into his lap, arms around you

but he suddenly pulls away and it kills him to do so because you are a sight to behold, lips redder than ever, mouth half open, and breath heavy

“what in the fuck—” your dismay is clear as you frown at the concerned expression on diluc’s face, “hey, what’s wrong? did i—”

“why did you give kaeya that gift?”

for a moment you think you must be dreaming because it would be absolutely ridiculous if the man stopped your make-out session just to ask you—

“i mean, why not… me?” diluc’s voice has become small, gaze averted as if he’s scared he messed up

you sigh, bringing both your hands to cup his face, squishing his cheeks slightly to make him look at you

“listen, diluc, i have no feelings for kaeya. he’s just one of my nicer superiors and i wanted to thank him for being understanding. and i meant what i said that day — it genuinely reminded me of how he’s stuck around the favonius headquarters.”

diluc processes what you have to say and then, after a few silent beats:

“he’s only nice to you because he’s into you.”

“diluc, will you please just make out with me?”

you pull him back into a kiss and this time, he returns with more passion, one hand boldly cupping your ass and you can’t help but shiver at the sensation of his warm hand

you begin to reach under his shirt when you realize something

“wait, diluc,” you sit up, twisting to look up at the sky, “we were supposed to stargaze. you seemed so excited about it, you even called it the post-dinner activity.”

diluc caresses your arm as he slowly restores the distance between you, eyes on your lips.

he whispers against the nape of your neck, “i’m sure we can think of another post-dinner activity,” his fingers graze your stomach, “right, kitten?”

[couchpotatoaniki]

One Year ❣︎ Seven: Never Ask Friends for Help

Chapter Summary: As San expected, he caught a cold after your little prance through the storm in Hallim Park the previous day. Luckily, you're fine, which gives you the wonderful opportunity to look after him and the even more wonderful opportunity to let your chaotic nature shine.

Pairing: Mafia!San x Fem!Reader Genre: Mafia AU, fluff, angst, eventual smut, lotta crack and stupid shit ngl Chapter warnings: swearing, (this chapter is pure fluff and crack) Word count: 3.2k+ A 365 Days parody

Previous: Chapter Six For the rest of the series, click here

Speech in bold means they’re talking in Korean

Speech in italics is whatever the reader wants their native langue to be that’s not Korean or English

Speech without either means they’re talking in English

Silence filled your room when you woke up the next morning. It was strange, since San had said he would be waking you up, and there you were, still lying in bed by the time noon rolled around.

It wasn’t as if you were waiting for him to come and get you, but you just wanted to take advantage of the time in such a warm blanket. Yeosang often joked about how you became a cold-blooded reptile whenever you felt sleepy, body temperature dropping and your tongue sharp like that of a snake.

Basically, it was his long-winded way of calling you a cranky, heat-stealing bitch.

Not that you minded at all, since Yeosang was a cranky bitch himself when sleepy.

But then half an hour passed, and there was still no sign of San. Throwing the blanket off your form, you slipped on a pair of slippers and got ready for the day, finding him becoming the very next thing on your agenda.

And the state you found him in was certainly laughable--to you anyway.

“Did you seriously get sick after a little storm?” you chuckled, eyes taking in San wrapped in the covers as if he was a baby, sniffling every few seconds.

“Oh, shut it,” he glared at you, speaking with a nasally voice.

You took a step into his room, one looking fairly similar to yours, with little pictures or much personalisation in general. Must not have stayed here often then, or had many memories he wanted to keep.

That thought... it made you feel a little sad.

Once you reached the edge of his bed, you sat down beside him, noticing just how sickly-looking he was. Skin paler, hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat, flush cheeks and nose, uneven breathing, soft whimpering.

Your smile faded slightly. “How long have you been like this?”

“Since last night,” he coughed, brushing away your hand as you reached out to check his temperature. “Don’t touch me, I don’t want you to catch whatever this is.”

Clicked your tongue at his response and did so anyway. “Holy shit, you’re burning up. More than you should be. Has anyone seen to you yet?” Instantly, you brushed the hair from his eyes, simultaneously wiping away the sweat. Was pretty gross, but you didn’t mind at all.

San relaxed under your gentle touch, finding it cool and soothing against his muddled senses. “N-No. I texted Hongjoong to tell everyone to leave me alone. Clearly didn’t do a good enough job if you’re here.”

Lightly hitting his chest over the blanket, you scoffed. “You’re happy I’m here, don’t lie.”

Grinning, he sighed. “Can’t hide anything from you, now can I, Hun?”

“Nope,” you huffed as you got up. “Now, I’m going to prepare something for you to eat since you probably haven’t had anything since yesterday.” On cue, his stomach grumbled painfully loudly, making the man visibly cringe as he was about to decline your offer so you would stay with him for a little bit longer. “Looks like Mister Tummy’s already answered for you.”

“Mister Tummy doesn’t know shit.”

“Mister Tummy knows more shit than you do. In fact, it processes all of your shit for you.”

“Gross.”

“I know. Mister Tummy’s gross. But full of wisdom.”

“You know what, just go. Leave me be for a bit.”

Evil chuckling reached his ears. “Now that you’ve said it, I’ll just be here to annoy you as much as I can. But before we do that, keep yourself bundled up and make sure you’re sweating buckets. It’s the most effective way to break a nasty fever like that.” You began wrapping him up in the thick blanket like he was a burrito.

With that, you left for the kitchen, calling Seonghwa’s number. As the ringing continued, you looked around, noticing how there were few guards and servants around the place. Not even Wooyoung, Jongho, or Hongjoong could be seen in your trek to make food.

“What do you want, troll?”

“You’ve got to stop calling me that. Whatever happened to ‘hello’? Too mainstream for you?”

“...Hello, troll. What do you want?”

Narrowing your eyes ahead of you, smirk pressing against your lips, you tried to look around for the chef. Not there either. “Much better. Now, can you give me a recipe for that soup with ‘magical healing properties’ you used to give me?”

“Bone broth?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m on adventure to nurse a sociopathic cuddle-demon back to health, now are you going to give me the recipe or am I going to get Yunho to drag it out of you? Because I know very well that he will.”

Seonghwa’s sigh was loud enough to be audible through the phone.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Just text me the recipe, thank you, love you, byeeeeee.” Immediately ended the call, looking in all the cupboards, the pantry, the fridge, and the freezer. This place was stocked to the brim.

Shortly after, your phone began buzzing, Seonghwa requesting to video call you. Swiping the green button, you were met with a (slightly laggy) picture of Seonghwa’s chin, hearing him yell off screen. “--UNHO. MINGI. I SWEAR TO GOD, YOU BETTER PUT THAT DOWN BEFORE I SHOVE IT UP BOTH YOUR ASSES.”

You could make out the response, “Hehe, kinky.” Most likely Mingi from the very nature of the comment.

“What do you want, troll?” you echoed his words back to him, catching his attention--the other boys most likely long gone into the depth of the house.

“Well, well, well, how the tables have turned,” he smirked, moving the camera so you could see him better.

“It’s ‘how the turntables’.”

He looked at you with an unimpressed expression, not pleased with your Office reference, and carried on to ignore it. “So there is no way in hell I’m sending you the recipe through text, since people can easily hack that--”

“And by people, you mean--”

“Yeosang, yes, who else? Little rat bastard keeps trying to steal my recipes.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him you said that.”

“As if he hasn’t heard it already about a million times.”

You chuckled in response, knowing how true it was. “Fair enough. Now spill your secrets and bless me with the ability to cook.”

One word to describe the last hour of your life would be... Well, you couldn’t really think of a word. It was purely of Seonghwa screaming over the phone and you screaming back. And panicking. Both of you definitely panicked.

But all in all, the bone broth was made and tasted fairly decent--a worry you had after fucking up so many times in making a simple recipe.

With a pale and dreary look upon his face, Seonghwa looked at you through the phone, narrowing his eyes on you pouring some of the hot mixture in to a bowl. “You’re actually gonna feed him that? Sure you’re trying to nurse him, or was this a master plan to kill him after that ordeal? Because if it’s the latter, then there were much easier ways of doing so.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, whispering prayers in your head that it would actually help San’s fever. “And goodbye.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Is that it? You’re gonna use me and then lea--”

You hand pulled away from the phone screen, after having pressed the red button. Chuckled to yourself with your comedic timing, completely forgetting the earful you’d get of the elder the next time you call him.

Gathering a tray, you placed the bowl of bone broth on top of it, as well as a packet of painkillers, a glass of water, and some turmeric tea; why San has it, you have no idea, since he seems to be a hot coffee-kind of person.

Would’ve added a flower, because you felt like being extra, but that would seem more like a romantic thing than a... well, whatever the hell you two were right now.

This situation wasn’t exactly common enough for it to be given a name.

Wafting away the thought, you grabbed the tray and walked quickly to the mobster’s bedroom. Didn’t need to worry about any spillage since you’ve had years of practice being quick and precise with movement.

Holding one hand beneath the tray (feeling a little heavy, but again, you’ve had practice), you used the other to open the door, finding San still swaddled in his blanket, sweating like a pig.

“Y/N...” he whimpered, an eye opening at the sound of you entering. Seeing him in such a vulnerable state was different to how he usually was--and you weren’t sure if you liked it.

“I’m right here, San,” you replied in a soft tone, brushing back his hair once more as soon as you placed the tray on the bedside-table beside you. “Brought you some food too. Can you sit up for me?”

Letting out soft whines, he tried to lift his body up, but was too weak and too caged in to get his back even a centimetre off the mattress. You saw the issue, and pulled the covers apart slightly so he could move a little more, both hands pulling gently at his shoulders so he could sit up properly.

Never had you seen someone this unwell from a simple fever. Sure, you’ve felt like shit before, but San’s condition was a little worrying. “Is there some private doctor I can call?”

“What,” he huffed, a smile etching onto his face as he looked into your eyes, “makes you think I have a private doctor?”

“Oh, I dunno, you’re a rich asshole?”

Chuckling, he let his head flop to the side, neck suddenly too weak to hold it up properly. “You’re beautiful, you know that? Annoying, but funny, but sarcastic, but beautiful.”

“Okay, do you wanna continue with that word vomit or are you gonna eat?” You cocked your brow, head tilting to match his posture. “Also, you’re not gonna flatter me by calling me beautiful. That shit doesn’t work on me anymore.”

It had slightly upset San knowing that you had said ‘anymore’--upset him knowing that there were others complimenting what his. But he couldn’t blame them. You really were beautiful in his eyes, even if he hadn’t thought so when he initially laid eyes on you.

“Don’t wanna eat.”

Sighing, you fixed yourself and picked up the bowl, mixing it as you blew to cool it down a little. “You’re not well, you gotta.”

He looked at you with big wide eyes and a small pout--and you couldn’t help but think it was a little cute. “Don’t wanna... unless you feed me?”

Okay, maybe it was a little less cute.

You exhaled, still stirring. “If I do, then you’ll have it all?” He put his hand over his heart, nodding with a sincere look on his face. “Fine then.” You lifted a spoon full of the bone broth to his lips, which he look into his mouth promptly--eyes glued to yours as he did so.

San hummed earnestly. “It’s...actually pretty good.”

Eye twitching, you lightly pushed him. “Why? Did you expect it to be shit?”

“I mean, I heard faint screaming and what I assume was swearing, which could have only come from you because I let everyone have a day off for today. So, yes, forgive my assumption that it would murder me,” he chuckled, opening his mouth once more, in which you carefully put more broth in.

“Be happy that I’m doing this much for you.”

“Because you feel guilty for getting me ill?” 

“No, it was your fault for not taking a hot shower when we came back, like I told you to--and your immune system for being so shit.”

“Okay, first of all, I can’t help it if my immune system wants to act out. I usually don’t get this ill.” You sent him a ludicrous look, continuing to feed him. “What? I really don’t!”

“Tell that to the rain.”

“I-- nevermind. But the second thing is that I offered to take a shower, but you said no!”

“That’s because you wanted to shower with me. No way in hell I was gonna let that happen!”

“You have the shower room for it!”

″Yeah, and I've already passed on my grievances to you yesterday about that hell-room!”

“Well, at least with me with you, you don’t have to worry about--what did you call it? Oh yeah--’Casper the fuckin’ Perverted Ghost’.”

“I’d take a ghost over you any day.”

“You won’t be saying that in a year.”

“Bold of you to assume that I won’t be choosing Casper over you. After all, I’ll be spending time with him as well.”

San scoffed, slightly amused but annoyed at the same time. “Are you actually trying to get me jealous of something that doesn’t exist?”

“Who said Casper doesn’t exist?”

“‘Cause ghosts don’t exist.”

“Tell that to Casper. You’ll find him in my shower room.”

Amidst the conversation, neither of you had noticed how the bowl and cup was now empty, their contents now residing in San’s stomach. But when you did, you got up--ready to walk to the kitchen and put everything away--until his very warm hands wrapped around your elbow gently.

“Please don’t go. You can put all that stuff away later. Just... stay with me.”

Sighing, you decided to listen to him for once an put the tray down before tightening the covers around him again--making him whine. “Noooooo, I wanna hold you.”

“What happened to not wanting me to get sick?”

“I’m ill, stop taking my muddled brain so seriously.”

Your brow cocked up, amused while you looked over his flushed face. “So you’d be willing get me sick too?”

Another pout formed on his face. “Of course not,” he mumbled. “You know what, you’re right. You can go.”

He avoided looking at you, instead fixing his saddened gaze at the window. Your natural scepticism told you that he was just faking it, only putting on an act to get your attention and affection. Yet, for the first time in a while, doubt began to seep in.

Maybe... maybe you could give in. Just this once.

Sighing, you slipped off your slippers and lay down beside him, an arm and leg wrapping around his body to bring him closer to you. A stronger tint of red covered his face as he looked at you, flabbergasted, as he tried to wriggle out of your touch. “What are you doing, you’ll get sick--”

“My immune system is much stronger than yours, I’ll live. Besides, you look cosy,” you muttered, nestling your face into the soft blanket. Even his blanket smelled like a garden in the rain, despite the amount of sweat that’s probably seeped into it.

Truly, he did, and you couldn’t deny that you wanted to hug the human burrito.

San had, instead, found you cute, cheek squished against the fabric surrounding him. Let his mind wonder to the image of you pressed against him--without the covers coming between you two.

Again.

Would you look this peaceful, sleeping on his chest, on a regular day--he thought.

“Are you just going to stare at me or are you gonna get some rest?” San could feel your voice vibrating through the covers despite the thickness of it.

“Hard not to stare at you, ya know?” he relaxed himself, despite feeling like he was baking beneath the blanket, and let his head rest on the pillow, cheek pressed against your forehead.

“Goddamn, you’re hot. Did you take any medicine while I was cooking?”

“Oh, Hun, there’s no cure for sexiness,” he coughed, a smirk pulling at his lips from the joke he made.

Another sigh was pulled from your throat as you got up to look for any painkillers he could take. Sane began to whine once more, rolling over since he could barely had enough energy to move with his arms when he was this tired--a full belly of warm broth and tea not helping what so ever.

“No--wait. Come back...”

“You need painkillers.”

With a straight face, he stared deep into your eyes, slightly glossy and sparkling under the dim sunlight coming into the room. “But you’re my painkiller.”

“Yeah, I’m going to get you some meds,” you deadpanned, scooping up the tray to leave the grown-ass mafia boss whining and rolling around, throwing a tantrum.

After some hard thinking and remembering that Wooyoung had given you his number, you called him up as you stood in the doorway, looking at San’s calm state of sleeping.

“My dear sister,” you heard a voice finally say over the phone, “what requires my assistance?”

“...Wooyoung?”

“Yes, dear sister?”

“What in the world has possessed you call me your ‘dear sister’?”

“Because you’re gonna be my friend’s wife some day, so I need to get used to seeing you as my sister-from-another-mister.”

Rubbing the bridge of your nose, you decided to not comment on his outlandish claims. “San’s not feeling well.”

“Is that why he sent us all away?” he laughed, somehow finding this situation amusing--since this is what his best friend tends to do; finds his weakened state as vulnerability, and if there was one thing San hated, it was feeling vulnerable.

But if he truly hated that, then why pursue this why you--when he know that it would force him to bring his guard down?

“I think so. No one was here when I came out of my room. Not the cooks or the maids or even the guards,” you said, taking another gander as if there might be someone roaming the halls to disprove your statement.

There wasn’t.

“Okay then. You want me to give you our private doctor’s number?”

Chuckling to yourself because you knew you were right (immediately confusing Wooyoung), you hummed, “yeah, that would be great.”

“O-Okay. Lemme text it to you. But do you need anything else? I know from experience San can get a little clingy when he’s not in his right mind,” he said, a boisterous giggle passing his lips.

“Nah, it’s fine.” You let your gaze brush over your captor’s figure. “Just send me the number and I’ll take it from there.”

“Okie dokie then, dear sister. I’ll leave you to deal with that enigma.”

“Alright, Wooyoung. See you tomorrow?”

“Call me ‘dear brother’, then maybe I’ll hang u--”

You shoved your phone into your back pocket after ending the call, thinking that it would take him a few minutes. Proving you wrong, the phone buzzes to life within the next ten seconds, Wooyoung sending you a couple of messages.

Wooyoung: Well that was a rude Wooyoung: No matter, I still love ya, dear sister Wooyoung: Probs should clarify that it’s platonic in case San sees it and gets all jelly Wooyoung: Anyway, here’s the number Wooyoung: XXXXXXXXXX

Y/N: Thanks, bro

Wooyoung: 🥺🥺 You called me ‘bro’

Smiling a little, you called the number--which had indeed taken you to a doctor’s clinic. After hearing of his exact temperature and other symptoms, the woman over the phone had concluded that it was as you first suspected--the common cold.

She told you to keep giving him painkillers and he should be fine within the week. Ending the call with a polite ‘thank you’ and ‘goodbye’, you left to get San more broth and medication, and hopefully you’d lay down with him again.

Which is exactly what you did for the rest of the day, opting to stay with him for the night too in order to make sure he really was okay. Thankfully, the worst of his fever had passed by the time morning came around and he was feeling much better.

You, however, were exhausted after looking after him, deep in your slumber as you shifted closer to San, who had broken free of his blanket prison and wrapped it around the two of you. The sunlight peeking through the window paled in comparison to the faint smile of glee San had adorned when he saw you.

Cheeked pressed up against his shoulder, and arm and a leg draped over his body like a koala clinging to a tree.

Just like he had thought the day before.

☕︎ Tag list: @little-precious-baby​​​​ , @sparklychangbin​​​​ , @shawkneecaps​ If you wanna be tagged, feel free to ask!

[blasphemecel]

Hidan ― Undecided

PAIRING: Hidan/Reader WORD COUNT: 3.7k WARNING(S): Derogatory Language, Codependency/Unhealthy, Inferiority Complex, Death Wishes, The inherent tragedy of capitalism? TYPE: Modern AU, Angst, Humor (but in a weirdly depressing way lol)

━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Why do you two always do this?" Kakuzu asks, exasperated, the 'this' part of that sentence referring to you and Hidan's habit of pulling all-nighters. He's trying to sleep, not listen to you wail and clap like seals at shitty movies during ungodly hours.

You don't know what the old man deal's is, if you have to be honest. You just know he's a greedy fuck, and that seems informational enough for the likes of you.

"Maybe because we're miserable?" you offer as a joke, though there's a silver of truth in it. You've been unhappy with your situation for a while now; living day-for-day, doing nothing. It's... too loser-core for your liking.

"Hey, speak for yourself," Hidan says through a mouthful of some soggy burger, smiling and too proud of himself for reasons unknown. You don't even remember where he found it. "I feel like a cherry, meaning on top."

"Ok bro, that doesn't make living in a trailer park cool."

He glares at you, and Kakuzu lets out a slight noise that somewhat resembles a laugh when you think about it for long enough. The geezer narrows his eyes at you, realizing his opportunity to make a jab. "You don't like the trailer park, yet you sleep over enough to charge you rent."

"Fuck off with that rent shit," you dismiss with a wave of your hand.

"Maybe if you had a job," Kakuzu prods.

You scowl at him.

"Eh," offers Hidan, intelligently, with a shrug of his shoulder. "No one wants to be a lame, old fuck whose only trait is keeping up with supermarket sales."

"You do not know how much money you're losing by not checking out the virtual brochure."

"Everyone knows the government made sales up. Grow up," you say. Hidan snickers and high-fives you for your retort, while Kakuzu gives you one last pensive stare before disappearing.

"Job? As if, I almost had a stroke outta spite when we had to do community service," he recalls once Kakuzu is out of earshot.

You nod. "Shit was awful, but at least there was something to do."

There are many things you and Hidan would do together, back then and to this day, too. Stuck by the assholes as troublemakers, the two of you serve as examples to your respective relatives' kids of what not to do and what you shouldn't be when you grow up. You're more of a blemish than a person by now.

"I don't see it that way. It's just lame, and I was wasting education time." And of course, he's not referring to any useful tuition.

"You're talking about that religion thing again?" you ask. He'd been into some underground 2chan satirical deity since the two of you were in your second year of junior high, and he never let go of it, trying to join communities with other gullible morons. You're pretty sure he genuinely believes in it, too. If he doesn't, this would make for the longest running joke in the world.

"You mean Jashin?" He perks up. "We had a real life sermon a few days ago―"

"Woah buddy, this was not an invitation for you to start thinking that I care or that you can talk about it."

"Dumb cunt, I hate you. You fuckin' suck."

"Calling me genitals isn't going to convert me to jaganism."

"Jashinism."

"Jashitism," you muse.

Hidan levels you with a potent glare as if to accuse you of wrongdoing for feeling distaste towards his fake, volatile cult. Or perhaps for not approving of his blind support for it. You're surprised he hasn't clocked your ass yet, with the way you speak about it. You know he's not above it.

Despite the hateful language the two of you often hurl at each other, you and Hidan are far from enemies. It's rare for you to be apart from one another. Maybe you're best friends, maybe something more ― you never cared to label it. It feels like it doesn't matter, somehow, insignificant.

Hidan takes a beer can and you turn your attention back to the laggy movie playing on the virus-infested laptop the two of you pass between each other depending on the day. Damn him for trying to download free skimpy Overwatch skins that one time.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Here's what we're going to do," you explain as you pull out a sheet of paper and start jotting things down. Hidan peers over to look in mild curiosity, and he notices you're writing numbers. "I need a reference of recommendation to make sure they take me in. You're gonna pretend to be our math teacher from high school and kiss my ass a lil' bit, call the number and everything."

"I'm not kissing your ass!"

"Come on, bro, for me?"

"... So you're serious about this job shit?" he says, staring down at the numbers as if they spat in his breakfast. Not that the two of you eat breakfast often, anyway.

"Yeah."

"You ain't cut out for it."

"They said they'll train me," you say. "It's just a janitor position, not a big deal."

"This is community service all over again," Hidan grumbles, frowning like a child. You're not sure what for. "Except, I won't be there to be better than everyone."

"There are more positions open," you propose.

"Go to hell."

Silence.

You cross your arms impatiently, sliding the number towards him again. The purpose of the gesture is to give him a subtle hint, but it ends up coming across as figuratively dangling a neon sign in front of his face instead. "So, are you gonna do it or nah?"

"It'd be funny if your lying ass got caught. I'm in," he agrees with a smirk. Easier than you expected it to go. "You got anyone else willing to do that for you?"

You shrug. "I'll figure it out. Is Kakuzu―"

He punches you in the arm and cackles a terrible laugh. "Pushing your luck much, asshole?"

Snorting a shallow one yourself, your eyes crinkle. You're not sure you're ready to be busy all the time by any means, but you're trying to convince yourself it's better than existing through the void, slipping through cracks.

Hidan seems okay with it, but he's stupid. His judgement isn't anything to go by.

"Well, you know me. I love pushing things. Like carts into the diary aisle until everything falls over, or people towards mental breakdowns," you deadpan.

Hidan nods in approval at your spiel. "Of course. My religion teaches me things like that are acts of Jashin."

"I am not the messiah."

"Oh, trust me, I know. Bitch, you're unholy," he says, in full seriousness.

If you could make the blinking sound effect in real life, you probably would do that right now. Fluttering your eyelashes proves futile. Hidan takes in the dumb expression you're making, and doesn't bother masking his amusement.

However, his fun doesn't last very long when his mind drifts off elsewhere. He wonders what you getting a job would mean, and selfish, he prays you get turned down. You don't though, and he wonders if he should step on more ants next time he tries asking for favors from the higher plane.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

"My back hurts," you complain before sitting your ass down, juice in hand.

"You say that all the time now. You're turning ancient," Hidan says with a roll of his eyes. He hasn't seen you in a while, you have little time to swing by, and he half-considered going to your workplace to embarrass you and get you fired, but he sees that as a way of losing.

To Hidan, most things are arbitrary and nonsensically simplistic ― a stack of victories and losses to one-sided competitions. You're... winning this one.

Whenever he hangs out with you, you don't have much energy to spare him. The only topic that seems to interest you is what happened at work and complaints revolving around the matter. (He doesn't understand why you'd take more hours if it's such a problem.) Half the time you don't appear to listen to him, either, lost in thought.

"Whatever," you say, then avert your stare to the thing in your hand. You point at it. "Look, I bought this one by myself."

"What? It's just some dumb juice. I don't get it," he disregards.

Your smile drops. Yeah, it is pretty stupid, but you were trying to convince yourself that you achieved something. Who does he think he is to ruin your fun, anyway? You decide to let it go, however, lacking the energy to argue with him.

"You can come back to me when you buy some real expensive tequila." Hidan smirks.

You give him a pointed look. You don't even drink anymore, but you don't bother bringing that up either. He'd probably take it personally like he takes everything else and that is to say, redundantly, personally.

He continues. "Like, super expensive."

"I wouldn't share it," you tease.

"Well, I'd steal it."

...

Neither of you adds anything, ruining the flow. It's the unbearable awkwardness that's enough to make someone throw themselves off the window just to escape the situation. Such moments have been happening between the two of you often as of late. Before, the idea that either of you would shut up was insolent. You could talk about the dumbest shit until both your voice chords went dry.

"Let's just watch the movie," Hidan urges, opening the shitty laptop. You don't swing by to pick it up lately, either, so he figures you have no use for it.

"Ok, but I have to go home early today. Work starts at 7."

"I didn't ask."

"Die then, Christ," you say, glaring at him.

"I think you mean Jashin?"

"Jashin Christ."

"I don't even know what to say to you right now," he starts, closing his eyes while his nostrils flare. Uh oh. Those are all symptoms of an incoming deranged rant. "You're lucky you haven't had some kinda divine punishment thrust upon you, godless degenerate. Not to mention, He's always watching. And listening. So if I were you, I'd watch my goddamn mouth―"

You tune him out as you read the subtitles. Looks like the beginning of another boring horror flick. You don't know how many more you can bear to watch.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You look like you don't have a streetlight up your ass for a change," Hidan points out before stopping without warning and going off-track. You almost broke your nose stumbling into his back. Following him with your eyes, you see him disappear behind some bushes and bite down a laugh. You learned by now not to show amusement at such things.

"Peeing in public again?" you ask.

"It's not much different from the outdoors toilet," he says. "Being one with nature and all that." He expects at least a snort at the comment, but you don't provide. Go you, give us nothing.

"Well yeah, I quit my job, so I have some free days."

"You did?" Hidan almost yells, though he contains his cool. Despite not being the best of actors and not having the common sense to lie when needed, he knows what's a blow to his pride, and desperation is definitely on the list.

Regardless, the mention of the word some in that sentence is suspicious.

"I'm getting a new one," you elaborate. "I told you about it."

"Sorry, not sorry, moron, I was bored," he says, reappearing in front of you. His rudeness makes you flinch, even if, in most cases, you would've told him something worse in retort. You don't have it in you anymore. Something about a nine-to-five beats the attitude even out of scumbags like you.

"Wash your hands," you scold.

The remark goes ignored as Hidan opts to wipe his hands on his jeans. Though, to be fair, the two of you are outside and you doubt he has wet wipes on him. You certainly don't. Despite his supposed disinterest in the topic, he pries, "What kinda job?"

"Night shift. Security guard," you reply, bored. "Watching some dingy cameras."

"Night shift?"

"Night shift," you repeat, looking at him as if he's some clueless neanderthal that appeared in front of you straight from the prehistoric ages.

Your puzzlement at his reaction enrages him, but he opts to stay quiet, not willing to lose the game he's making this situation out to be. You do realize that's when the two of you hang out, don't you? He's barely awake during the day.

You... you think you're so above him now, don't you?

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Hidan sees you for the first time in half a year in the library which is, by all means, not a place he regulars. Most of his friends doubt he even knows how to read. Half a fucking year, over that stupid fucking job he knows you hate, but you're too stubborn to admit you do.

Regardless, you agreed to show up with him and Deidara to some cheap concert. You text him often anyway, but he isn't used to messaging you since you're over all the time. At― at one point, you were over all the time.

Communicating with you through a screen is already unusual as is, but you make it worse all on your own. He's not sure how you manage to not be yourself. He doesn't recognize the person he's embarrassingly yearning for anymore ― this husk of a being that has nothing funny or interesting to say, no aggression left, just a compliant little plaything for your employers to torment. That's how it goes in his head, anyway.

He swings by earlier than agreed on, which is also odd. Hidan doesn't approach you at first; just stands there in the room's corner, observing you with a vacant expression. If someone noticed him watching you in such a way, they'd probably feel concern for your safety.

You sit in front of one computer, hunched over and typing. You have access to all sorts of technology now, here and at your workplace, that you never bother borrowing the sorry little laptop that's nearing its death.

Curious by what you're doing, he finds himself dragging his feet in your direction until he makes his grand arrival. "Hi."

"Hey," you say, glancing at him, looking more tired than usual. "You came early."

"What are you doing?" Hidan asks, ignoring your irrelevant commentary. Lacks your usual personality, but perhaps by now he should've stopped acting sick over times that clearly ran by their expiration date. Who knows? Maybe he'll never see you do anything entertaining ever again, and maybe he should quit the surrounding melodrama.

It looks like you're editing something in Photoshop― "Forging a document."

"Huh?" Hidan exclaims, in genuine surprise. He almost spills that nasty beer he stole on the way here all over the floor. Scratch that, you still have it! He knew he could trust you as his partner in crime. "For what?"

"New job. I'll lie."

He almost deflates. So that's what this is about. "What if you get caught?"

"They'll fine me and throw me in jail for fraud and put my face on beware sites," you explain, emotionless, your eyes trained on the cursor and the layers and whatever is going on. Hidan doesn't have much experience with these kinds of things. He's pretty sure the laptop would explode if he even thought about installing a 10th program on it.

"That's funny." Hidan laughs, maybe to emphasize his point that he'd find your misfortune a merry occasion.

"It's hustling," you insist, a dormant sense of sarcasm laced in your tone.

"No, it's pathetic." He guffaws again at your expense, but doesn't bother saying anything else as he watches you commit a crime in front of him. Not that he's one to care. If whatever bozos you're trying to fool fall for it, it was an act of Jashin.

He finds mild fascination with how precise you appear to be with using the program, and he wonders when you had the time to learn all that. Though, there's probably not much to do during the night shift. You could've used that time to strike up better conversation.

"Alright, let's head out," you say, after emailing the file to yourself and logging out of everything. "I'll deal with this later."

"Is it worth it?"

"Is what worth it?"

"Doing all that for some shitty job," Hidan says.

You don't answer for a while, then give him a strained smile. "Of course. Why else would I waste so much time doing all this?"

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Hidan: wanna come over

cuck: busy Read 05/10

Hidan: deidara peed in a bottle lol i hate him tbh

cuck: lol

Hidan: wanna come over im kinda tired of him

cuck: job trip for two weeks sorry

Hidan: u dident tell me?

cuck: i did when we called last time lol you just werent listening Read 15/10

Hidan: you back?

cuck: yep

Hidan: can u hang out? kakuzu wanted something from u but i had to be like i havent talked to the cuk in a wile

cuck: cuck*

Hidan: fine ill change the contract wait you dident answer my question

cuck: can't Read 30/10

Hidan: watched this thrash ass movie with deidara it was sooo bad i think ill write them a bad review and also send spam hatemail to the actors (dnt worry its an indie movie so theyll see it)

cuck: swear to god you never have anything better to do

Hidan: i realie hate u tbh i hope u die Read 04/10

Hidan: wanna take the laptop for ur job? its been at mine for a wile

cuck: it's ok the offices have computers Read 09/10

Hidan: are you free ppl have been asking me about you Message Not Delivered 18/10

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Hidan walks up to the building you work at with resolve. As much fun as he'd find in storming in and making a scene in front of your coworkers, therefore embarrassing you and probably changing the trajectory of your job experience forever, that's not his intent for now. He knows you're going to go on break soon, so he waits for you to storm down the block and towards where he's standing on your journey to buy a quick snack.

You show up in clothes that don't look quite right on you, and you must be going on autopilot the way you take a second to realize he's there. When you do, you back-step out of the store, and stare at him with exhausting written over your features. "Oh, what are you doing here?"

"We need to talk," he says.

"About what?" You walk away from the door as to not block anyone's path, trying to go somewhere more discreet. Hidan would like to say he wonders where that common decency came from, but he knows.

"About how you fucking left me," he states, his tone icy and his glare lethal.

You blink. "That's an interesting conversation starter."

"Or maybe about how you think you're better than me now that you have things I don't. I've noticed. You won't win this."

"I'm... not sure I understand," you reply with a yawn, looking straight at him but not really seeing him. To you, all this sounds like his usual deranged nonsense. Better not set him off.

Hidan's scowling only gets worse, eyebrows furrowing and securing him with permanent wrinkles in his twenties, which must be some kind of record. He crosses his arms. "For one, the you I know doesn't let anyone talk to 'em like I am right now, and the you I know doesn't wake up at six to bust ass just for a fifteen minute break, and―"

You open your mouth to say something, but he interjects.

"Don't tell me you grew up, and I didn't. Just fucking don't."

"I wasn't going to," you defend.

"What's wrong with you?!"

"Me?" you ask, incredulously. "You're acting like a― something. I don't know."

Hidan came all the way here to pick an argument, but you sound so defeated just standing, and he doesn't know how he feels about it. For one, it doesn't make for a satisfying encounter and it's furthering the divide between you two. He's not sure what he thought would happen, now that he thinks about it.

You glance at your watch. "Listen, I've gotta go. We can talk about this later."

"No."

"What do you mean, no? I'm literally walking away, I'm busy," you seethe, already imagining the trouble you'll be in for extending your break, and you didn't get to buy anything to eat either. Hidan does something unexpected, grabbing you roughly before you can walk off.

"I'll make you listen to me," he spits. "Even if I have to ruin your life, I'll―"

"What do you want to say?" you say, lips settling into a frown. You don't look mad at him either, which pisses him off.

"You're changing. Now look at you, you're acting like some kinda depressed zombie."

"And you're stuck in the past. I wasn't happy before either," you point out. "You'd have to be delusional to think I was, or maybe you're romanticizing the stupid shit we did."

"I'm not saying you were happy. You're just lying to yourself that you love this job and that it's better. It's the same shit, and you're trying to convince yourself you're improving things, but you still can't afford anything and you're acting like some dumb conf-something, whatever Deidara said. Some artsy word. The only difference is that you left me behind."

"Sorry, but we can talk later. I have work, seriously," you disregard, stomping away from him before you break off into a sprint as if to make your chances of arriving on time higher. Hidan mentally burns a hole in the spot you'd been standing.

If it was always you and him, joined by the hips getting in trouble together, then how come you're fine with this and he's not? You have some nerve treating him like that, leaving him behind as if he's second priority. Jashin never liked you anyway; he wonders if you'll survive some kind of evil telepathy sent your way.

What the two of you were, he didn't know. Maybe best friends... maybe nothing at all. It was too insignificant to label, clearly.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

this was actually Originally way more detailed but I cut a lot of stuff out to convey how the fallout between the two of them was sudden and unexpected to Hidan . Feel free to tell me your thots! thoughts*

[chirp-on-loop]

This a very long post so you have been warned (1/2)

I know Mcc has passed an all and you probably are all sick of seeing talk about it but I want to so I’m going to lol, consider this a part two to my previous post about Tommy in mcc. I think a major issue that happened this mcc and seems to have happened in some other mccs from this season has been Tommy having to play too many roles within the team. Tommy is considered a really good player in mcc, when looking at ranking overall he is 12th (apparently) and is in multiple top tens overall and if it has to do with pvp will be in top 5. Tommy also is a natural leader who is confident in aspects he knows he is good at. Tommy also has a great strength of being a golden retriever boy who is all about optimism and staying positive and as he’s states before considers having fun and staying positive the most important thing in mccs. Tommy has the makings to be an s teir player easily and as we’ve seen before if given the right members in a team can pop off. For example in sbi mcc (btw can i just say hurts to watch) Tommy does fucking amazing and in mcc 14 had very supportive team members leading him to be in the top ten and if it weren’t for ace race I think we all agree RR could have been in dodgebolt. Tommy is willing to put in the time and effort and takes his time to learn from anything and everything and wants to actively be better. Tommy is a great leader and a great cheerleader for his team but the issue is he has had to wear all the hats. Wilbur was very down for a majority of this mcc and Tommy (who said his goal was to make Wilbur laugh as much as possible) recognized this and went into Tommyinnit mode instead of just being Tom. Making bits left and right, asking Phil to help, using his optimism, using little brother bit, you name it he did it. At the same time he was having to take over a lot even though he wanted Phil to lead. Tommy understandably takes over for pvp games but everything else planned to listen but when it was Phil’s time got nothing. Tommy had to practically babysit during survival games because of Wilbur and Phil constantly leaving and not communicating and left with a laggy Ranboo. Parkour tag he had Wilbur going off and getting frustrated with following him. Btw can I just say where was Tommy supposed to go??? Like Tommy starts on the right corner and most times the hunter went for him so he couldn’t go forward or down he would have to go left also why was Wilbur standing still if he saw the hunter going for Tommy?? Anyway, he was constantly having to either try to lighten the mood or lead and sometimes both. Tommy is great but Tommy also had to take on way too much which we know affects him. That’s clear by every time his team does bad will completely blame himself. I understand Tommy is a good player so usually in a team he is the highest in pecking order but the issue is the team mates he gets don’t take it as seriously. Yes it could be because dynamics or who they put down but Tommy usually gets put with dsmp members. Which inherently doesn’t seem like an issue because they must have better communication right? Wrong. I believe (IMO) I think dsmp members tend to not listen to Tommy because they are used to content Tommyinnit when streaming, therefore ignoring him till it gets to pvp plays. Dsmp members also aren’t really that high ranking. The only dsmp members considered really good are Dream, Sapnap, Punz, Techno (which as we know will no longer participate in mcc till further notice) MichaelMcchill, Phil, and Tommy. Tubbo is also good but as I’ve seen isn’t placed with these people as much in regards of skill). A major issue that is happening with Tommy’s teams is communication, Tommy is someone who can spout plays and ideas and facts but with the groups he is with its all pretty much useless. As we saw Wilbur didn’t understand the doc at all and I don’t think the other members even looked at it. Tommy has the brain of an S teir player or a very high A teir but due to his own personal ranking isn’t getting the members he needs to do really good.

[phantomato]

Uber

Nottmort (Tom Riddle/Nott Sr.), Modern Muggle AU, ~2k words

Thanks to @yletylyf for kicking around this idea! Tom drives an Uber in the Bay Area. Thoros & co need a ride.

—

Abraxas and Orion are bickering over luggage in the background when your Uber pulls up. Black, of course, so it’s a Mercedes that will smell a little too much like leather cleaner when you get in, but none of you have ever ridden in an UberX or, god forbid, an Uber Pool, and you’re not about to start.

Your colleagues—never forget, you are not friends, no matter how much time you spend with them—slide into the back seat before you can even begin to help load bags into the trunk. You’re left alone with the driver, and though he offers to help, you haven’t let yourself sink that low as to make this man pile all of your shit in his car while you sit around and watch. And anyway, it feels like the polite thing to do. More than Abraxas or Orion, you’ve been raised to be polite.

So you fold yourself into the front passenger seat, too kind to push the seat all the way back and give yourself the leg room you need even if Orion, behind you, is just 5’8 to your 6’3, and smile at the driver as he confirms your destination.

He’s pretty. You’ve been in a lot of Ubers and you’ve never seen a driver this pretty. Is that classist?, you wonder to yourself, remembering something you read in Vox the other day. Probably. Nevertheless, you’re taken by the curve of his mouth, the sweep of his dark hair, and you throw a smirk over your shoulder at Abraxas who you know must have also noticed.

“Traffic to SFO will be busy,” he says regretfully, and you roll your eyes. Orion refuses to take the early morning flights, unwilling to wake at 3 AM, and you’re always stuck with these long, miserable Uber rides down from the city to the airport. “And Terminal 2—right in the middle of it. There’s construction around those doors, if you haven’t been there—”

“We know,” Orion butts in rudely, shutting up your driver for the few minutes it takes to get out of your neighborhood.

You use those few minutes to swipe through your phone. Email—nothing important. Messages—you clear the notifications. Your Instagram is alight with people reposting the same infographic about voting rights and you make a mental note to kick some money to that non-profit that’s been all over Twitter lately. You close out apps and end up back at Uber, watching your car’s laggy progress through the San Francisco streets. Your driver’s name is Tom, the app informs you. It’s a nice name.

You clear the side streets and Tom offers amenities. “If you want any water, there are bottles in the cooler between the seats,” he calls back to Abraxas and Orion, “and mints in the cup holder. You can adjust the air conditioning if you like, and there’s a charging cable attached to the back of my seat if you need it. Would you like to choose any music?”

“No,” Abraxas says, and whether he means the music or the entire spiel doesn’t really matter, given his withering tone. You look back at him, trying to convey ‘Be nice’ with just your eyebrows, but Abraxas is fussing with his hair and ignoring you.

Tom’s one of the chipper ones, it turns out, because he takes the rejection in stride and shifts to the dreaded personal conversation. “What do you all do for a living?”

“Ah, we invest in companies, mostly start-ups,” you say, trying to avoid—

“Venture capitalists!” Tom guesses, and he’s right but you hate the term and its connotations. So what if you are all white men whose family money has bankrolled tech speculation? It’s what anyone with half a brain would do. You donate, you read the liberal news—at least, you think that’s true for all of you, though Orion was friends with that Republican mayoral candidate and Abraxas’ father sponsors that conservative think-tank and…

Ah, fuck. “Yeah, pretty much,” you agree, hating yourself.

Behind you, Orion digs his AirPods out of his pocket. You hear the snap of the magnetic lid as he closes himself off to the world. Abraxas is slouching, the hem of his third-favorite cashmere cardigan catching on the seat behind him, and you realize that you’re alone in this conversation.

Well, fuck it. If those two pricks are going to make you call the Uber, deal with the reimbursement paperwork, and sit in the front seat, you’re going to talk to the driver and make this car conversation as painful as possible for them.

As if reading your thoughts, Tom does the one thing that guarantees a terrible ride: he pitches his app idea.

“You know, I’m also a software developer,” he says, which is at least more promising than when someone isn’t, “and if I had the kind of funding that companies like yours provide, I would absolutely make this app.” He proceeds to describe something completely inane, the type of exclusive, niche social networking app that hasn’t had legs since before the Trump presidency and you would be content to let him drone on, to let Abraxas keep melting into his own seat and to let Orion channel his anger through a knee driven into the back of yours, but—

But for all that Tom’s idea is stupid, he has the energy of the best pitches you see. His energy is infectious. His eyes light up, he gestures with one hand, and when he stops to take a drink (one of those water bottles with a built-in straw, which you associate with joggers and your lamest employees but which does very different things to you when it’s Tom’s mouth wrapped around the top) you’re transfixed by the wet sheen over his chapped lips.

And so, yes, maybe it’s mostly lust, and maybe this is a sign that you need to download Grindr again, even if only to jerk off to the dick pics you’ll get, but you start to actually talk to him.

“There’s no future in niche social networks,” you say, halting Tom in his tracks. “There will always be new ones, don’t misunderstand me, but the broader landscape is saturated by the top names, and they’ll buy out their competitors if they need to. Perhaps you can topple Tumblr, but that’s not a path to profit. If you want to impact the social market, you need to pinpoint the novel interaction model that you want to offer and make yourself buyable.”

“Buyable,” Tom repeats, like he’s never been interrupted before. He probably hasn’t. The first rule of Ubering around the Bay Area or the Valley is to never engage the app pitches, and Orion has started kicking your seat for your transgression.

“Yes,” you enunciate. “You want to be bought out and brought in at a high level. The giant that eats you may or may not use your idea, but you’ll make a comfortable sum as a consolation prize.” You’ve helped companies through this before. You’re flying out to New York this week in part because one of your investments is considering purchase offers and you want to strategize in-person. The founder is dallying, sending emails about independence and integrity, and Orion will bully him into selling while you and Abraxas negotiate the best terms for the contract.

You can feel Tom’s eyes on you. Abraxas might be calling “Thoros…” from the back seat, and Orion might be attempting to annihilate you with his gaze alone, but you’re smiling at that handsome face behind the wheel and hoping for an accident on the 101.

Unfortunately, you make it through San Bruno without running into more than the usual level of traffic, and Tom’s pulling up to your terminal much sooner than you would like. Abraxas and Orion jump out of the car with uncharacteristic speed when it stops, Orion even moving to stand by the trunk in readiness to take his bags. You delay.

“Do you have a business card?” you ask, when it’s clear Tom’s waiting on you.

He fumbles to pull a wallet from his jeans. You can’t quite get a view of his ass as he does, but that doesn’t stop you from looking.

His card is bent at the corner, printed cheaply, and probably from his last job. You’re pretty sure that company doesn’t exist anymore. Tom taps the phone number. “I can be reached here,” he says smoothly, but his professionalism cracks when he adds, “by call or by… text.”

You know what sort of texts you’d like to receive from him.

Pulling out your own card case, you hand him your card. “Text me,” you say, your voice just this side of appropriate, “any time.”

Tom visibly swallows and jumps out of the car. You take your time getting up, and if your cashmere sweater—Margaret Howell, not that Elder Statesman piece of shit Abraxas is wearing—ends up in the footwell of Tom’s passenger seat, well, you’ll be back in SF next week, won’t you?

“Thanks for the ride, Tom,” you tell him as you take the handle of your luggage, letting your fingers brush his. “I enjoyed our conversation.”

“Yeah,” he nods, and you don’t care that Abraxas is snorting behind you, he’s been judging you this whole trip and he lost out on a hot guy’s number as a result. “It was…”

“Thoros,” you interrupt him before he can ramble and psych himself out. “My name is Thoros, and I really would like to hear from you.”

Tom looks at you then, and you see him pull together the same sureness that drew you into his initial pitch. “I’ll text you about the app.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you say, meaning it.

—

Bonus:

“You know,” Abraxas drawls as you sit in the United club lounge, gesturing lazily with his overpriced airport Fiji water, “if you tip him too much it’s like you’re paying him for sex.”

Orion looks up from his phone then, removing one earbud for the first time since he put them in. “I’ve paid more for sex with less attractive men.”

“Welcome back,” you say, “I didn’t realize you had paid any attention.”

“Someone would need to not have eyes in order to miss how hot that Uber driver was,” he bites back, returning to his phone.

“Well, I’m tipping him extra anyway,” you announce, confirming Tom’s five-star rating. Should you write a review? Is that too much?

Abraxas, with a grumble, declares, “I’m telling Alecto not to approve this expense.”

—

Bonus bonus:

Your phone buzzes at the end of dinner, the celebratory affair to close the sale which someone had insisted must be at Lilia, even though Abraxas doesn’t eat carbs and you would have preferred to grab a slice at Scarr’s rather than haul out to Williamsburg, anyway.

It’s Tom. Of course it’s Tom—you’ve been texting all week, and between a few late-night flirtations and one very bald statement of interest, you’ve got a date set for when you’re back home. You’re going to Mensho Tokyo, since he lives in the Tenderloin and you live… vaguely around the Tenderloin, at least, you tell people you live there when you want to seem cooler, and Tom is the type of guy that makes you excited to stand in line for hours to get seats. You’re already thinking about whether you might put your arm around him while you’re waiting, and you unlock your phone to see what he’s saying now.

It’s a picture message.

A picture of Tom, wearing your Howell sweater and no pants and oh god oh fuck—

“Was that Uber driver’s dick?” Abraxas whispers, next to you, and you curse your luck. “Remind me to call the next Uber, Jesus Christ.”

[antivirus-mh-au]

Antivirus - Chapter 4

First Chapter Previous Chapter Ao3 Link TW: None Note: I am completely exhausted and working on a laggy computer. I will add these links when I’m not a zombie trying to use a zombie laptop. Thank you for your patience.

Click the link. Let the page load, the old laptop whirring as it opened. A YouTube video, like so many others. Opening shot, an abandoned building in the middle of the night, muffled voices talking.

Shrieking, screaming. The camera lowered as the one holding it ducks for cover. Four voices yelling at once. Suddenly, laughter. Relieved laughter.

"Fucking bats!" A man called out. The camera raising, focusing on the dark shapes fluttering out the window.

"We need to be careful," a woman said, voice light-hearted. "Those things carry rabies."

Laughter breaking through the group again, a logo of a camera appearing on the screen.

He paused the video and glanced down at the title. "OUR GREATEST HITS, VOLUME ONE." 

He sent a text to his friend.

Phoenix: who are these assholes?

The reply was immediate.

Skully: they're my assholes. College kids I made friends with on Twitter. Really cool. I don't remember being that cool when I was twenty.

He grunted aloud. Lucky him, remembering anything about his twenties. Not everyone was so fortunate.

Skully: They’re part of the MH fandom. They actually live in Alabama and were able to track down some of the locations in the videos.

He rolled his eyes.

Phoenix: Find any bodies?

Skully: Just blood.

He shuddered, pulling his hooded jacket closer to his body.

Phoenix: Cool. Morbid, but cool.

He was such a liar.

Skully: Anyway, not what I was sending them to you about. They just made a new video today and I think you might be interested in it

He grimaced.

Phoenix: This is about your crazy boyfriend, isn’t it?

Skully: He’s not my boyfriend!! I don’t know him!!!

Skully: And you know my partner doesn't share.

Phoenix: But it’s still about him. The prophet guy.

Skully: … Yeah. But you should still watch this! I think you’ll find it interesting

He leaned back against the wall and huffed.

Phoenix: Why?

Skully: … the kids talk about Tim, alright?

Skully: They talk about him a lot.

His fingers hesitated over the keys. He lingered, reading the words again and again. Tim…?

Phoenix: Fine.

Phoenix: Send me the video.

The video, almost thirty minutes long, took its sweet time to load. First thing on screen was the same logo as before, a camera with a generic full face mask behind it. The name of the channel followed, MH Unlocked. He shook his head.

The name faded out, replaced by three people on a couch. Two women, one man. A second man sat on top of an end table on the right side of the couch. The lamp that probably belonged in that spot sat on the floor at his dangling feet.

The woman on the left, a bushy haired brunette with deep tan skin, a high ponytail and golden brown eyes, gave the camera a grin.

"Hey investigators!" She waved. "We're back with another video."

"And this one's a doozy," the woman beside her said, raising her mug, which proudly bore a pride flag. If he had to guess, it was the lesbian one. Her hair was dyed orange, peachy skin flushed by makeup or a light sunburn, it was hard to tell.

"Before we start," the first woman said, "be sure to leave a like and give us your thoughts and theories in the comments! I promise, we read all of them."

"Eventually," said the man on the end table with a grin. He was the palest white guy ever, with curly black hair, glasses, and about a thousand freckles on his face. The man next to him gave him a shove, and the first man burst into laughter. 

The other man, with skin several shades darker than the brunette and a suit far too good looking for this kind of environment, rolled his eyes. He waved a hand, with a silver ring on his index finger, at the camera.

"You already know us," he said. "I'm Mix."

"I'm Holly!" The brunette on the other end said.

"I'm Wren," the orange haired woman said.

"And I'm Steve!" The freckled man grinned wide, his green eyes practically glowing with excitement. "We've got a big story for you guys today."

"Oh, very big," Wren said, before taking a drink from her mug.

"Big like the worst headache you've ever had," Mix said with a smiling roll of his eyes. Wren smacked him on the shoulder without looking away from her drink.

"So." Holly reached up from the floor and pulled up a laptop. The brand logo was covered up with a pineapple sticker. Her eyes scanned the screen as she fiddled with the touchpad, Wren leaning over to see what she was doing.

"Last night," Holly said. "Something weird happened over on the Neophyte_Calling YouTube channel."

"Weirder than normal," Wren said.

"Yeah," Holly said. She glanced over towards Steve, who swiped at the screen of his phone. He looked up.

"We'd show the footage but people don’t seem to like when we do that," Steve said. "Something something spreading the sickness." He shrugged with a smile. "But we've all watched it and we can give you a play by play of what happened."

"It might not seem that dramatic," Wren said, "but the implications are pretty intense."

"I'll say," Mix said. 

"Last night, at around ten pm," Holly started, "in the middle of his usual stream, the Neophyte went quiet. The way he does when whatever he's supposedly channeling is trying to talk through him. After about thirty seconds of silence, he started bleeding onto the table from his head, which remember, is mostly off screen. He said, "he's coming," and fell over as the screen glitched out. For another hour there was complete silence before the stream randomly ended."

"Weird shit," Steve said.

Holly nodded. "Very weird shit - but in character for him."

"Now, for those of you that don't know who the Neophyte is," Mix said, "he's the guy you see people calling 'the Prophet' in this fandom. Talks like a drug addict on a high, but many people believe there are secret messages in his words that can be decoded. They say those messages predict the future."

"Not everyone believes this," Holly said.

"I don't," Steve said, hunched over and watching his friends. "But there's definitely something funny-weird about the guy. Very… uncanny valley."

"Sometimes, unprompted, he'll stop talking and do this creepy voice." Holly cleared her throat, and when she spoke again, she lowered her voice, taking on an odd pitch to her words. "Grains of sand in the hourglass of time. Your existence is irrelevant." She shuddered, and let her voice go back to normal. "Something like that."

"That's an awful impression but it gets the job done," Mix said.

"You try doing one better," Holly said.

"The one thing all of these coherent messages have in common," Wren said, "is that they're all addressed to the same person. Someone called Tim."

Steve nodded. "And you can guess who most people think that 'Tim' is."

"It's been ten years since Marble Hornets ended," Mix said. "But it would make sense if it were Tim Wright the Neophyte was talking to. He was the only survivor, after all."

"But that would imply that Tim is watching the Neophyte streams," Wren said.

"And if he's watching the streams, he could be aware of us, too," Holly said.

The four went quiet. Mix looked at the floor. Steve traded a look of discomfort with Holly. Wren took a sip of her mug. She pulled it away from her lips with a sigh.

"If he does know about us," Wren said, "why not come forward and tell his side of the story? He could change the whole game by revealing himself."

"Probably because he's a fucking murderer," Steve said. Mix glared at him, but Steve only shrugged. "You know I'm right!"

"He did kill two people," Holly said, looking at her laptop. "Just because Kralie killed Jay doesn't make what Tim did right."

"But what other choice did he have?" Mix said. "Alex wouldn't have stopped trying to kill Tim. One of them needed to die."

"That doesn't matter to the legal system," Holly said.

"We're getting off topic," Wren said, raising a hand. "It doesn't matter if the Neophyte was talking about Tim from Marble Hornets or not. What matters is that someone is going somewhere and that's apparently good news for the Neophyte or whatever he's channeling."

"You can say the Operator, it's okay," Steve said.

Holly glared at him from over Wren's head.

"It does matter, though, if he's talking about Tim in particular," Mix said. "What if Tim is heading back to Alabama? Maybe he left after the end of the series."

"It's possible," Holly said, "but that's pure speculation. We don't know that."

"Isn't speculation all we do?" Steve said, swinging his legs gently. "Come on, let's give the audience something to chew on. What do you guys think the Neophyte was talking about? The crazier the theory, the better."

Mix frowned. "Well…"

With a shake of his head, the viewer closed the tab. He'd seen enough. Enough to make his eyes burn and hands shake. He took a deep breath, and shuddered, pulling his jacket around himself. It was a warm day beyond the safe confines of this abandoned house, but that didn't stop the chills shooting through him.

Was he afraid? Or was he angry? 

With a growl he thrust the laptop away from him and reached for his sketchbook. The pen he'd been using before still rested inside. Forcing his thoughts away from the video, he focused everything in his mind onto his art.

He wasn't a great artist, but his memory was good, and with nothing else to do most days, his skill was getting better. With proper art tools, he could've even gotten great at it. But there was no need for greatness right now. Art was supposed to be healing, and that more than anything was what he needed.

In his mind he captured the image, something he'd seen so many times before. Grinding his teeth, he let the image flow onto the page once more. His favorite thing to draw, the one thing that really made him smile.

Losing track of time was part of the appeal. With the light from his laptop, he could see the whole page, or at least enough of it to work. The ink bled into the paper, the lines assembling into a rough image that soon became a face. He could see it so well in his mind's eye. As if the man he pictured was right in front of him. But he wasn't. And if the man knew what was good for him, he'd stay that way.

The sound of a new message on Discord got his attention. He glanced at the time instead. An hour, flown by, his mind lost in an ink-based daydream. Exhaling hard, he looked back at the art on the page. It wasn't finished. It would probably never be finished. But as it was… it was perfect.

Tim Wright made a very good model, unaware of that as he was.

Running his hand over the page, feeling the indents where his pen dug deep into the paper, he shook his head, and smiled.

"Better not be coming back, Tim," the man, the Maniac, said. "If you do… I'll have to kill you.”

[plagiarizedx]

BIG-O TW for things like://blood//panic attacks//inability to breathe//???//it's 4am guys I cannot think of all the things. It's soft tho. A lil. Kinda creep. Anywho, enjoy, *finger wiggles* OH and ghosties too-ish.

The tube-shaped halogen light mounted into the bathroom ceiling above his head exploded, and with it, a burst of expeditious glass rained down upon him. Bare skinned and shower fresh, the loud pop from the bulb alone was enough to send Proko into fight of flight mode, gasping as the panic and the terror immediately settled deep into what the brunette could've only described as his soul, it left him chilled and nearly emobolized as he frantically reached for the door.

Something stung at the top of a crooked shoulder blade, a very similar sensation radiated throughout his left cheek and the pain had already managed to tunnel it's way into his ear canal, the light flickered. And it was in between those flickers of dark and light that the images took place, inaudible shouting from familiar voices, the lustrous shine of a chrome forty-four magnum, blood, so much blood that he could taste it. He was trying to breathe but he couldn't, unable to yell for K even though they were barely thirty feet apart, their only form of separation was a wooden door but it was still too much.

Someone was clutching his throat, stopping him completely from something as simple as breathing, reminded of his mortality. But there was no one else around, he was alone, and in that moment he didn't know what scared him worse. Something else in the bathroom shattered but he could barely see long enough to tell what it was, pupils failing to adapt to the strobe of the light, feeling stunned and dizzy and nauseated.

He ducked again and shards cut into the soles of his vulnerable feet and the reactivate twist of his ankle knocked him right on his ass, arms reaching out to grab at whatever he could, pulling the shower curtain down right along with him. It felt like he had been punched in the chest, it was instinct that had Prokopenko backing up until the warmth running down his shoulder was soothed by the cold porcelain of the tub, the commotion and clattering of metal must have been enough to wake K up because he was outside the bathroom door banging on it repeatedly but it was the sound of his voice that had managed to somewhat ground Proko down to earth again.

It didn't take him much long after to bust the door open, despite the fact that Proko never locked doors, they both knew this much from several awkward experiences. Never awkward for K, though, of course. And the light that was suddenly flipped on was bright and blinding and for a second Prokopenko thought he might've died right there from some sort of panic induced heart attack, cowered up in the corner of the bathroom in nothing but his sweatpants, but then K's face came in from a pixelated view to something more clear after he had rather stealthily tip toed around the chunks of glass despite Proko's breathless warnings, speaking soft and gentle words that the curly-haired boys brain failed to translate and compute. Nearly as laggy as the turbo on his car.

They didn't talk much after, and if Proko was being honest, he was pretty positive he had passed out a couple of times. Left feeling so exhausted that he couldn't even find it in himself to get up off the floor, to process what in the literal fuck had just happened, but that was okay because Kavinsky had just stayed. Tattoo and scar decorated hands cupping Proko's face, a thumb stroking unlacerated cheek, he wasn't even sure how long they had stayed like that but by now he was certain he had blacked out a few more times before he was being helped to his feet, his head had lulled back ever so slightly and a set of bloodshot glossy moss-like-green eyes had looked up at the light. Blast radius strong enough that the fixture itself now hung from the ceiling, leaving ugly wires exposed, but that wasn't the thing that unsettled Proko the most. He had managed to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror, or what was once a mirror, now all shattered and cracked up the center. The writing scribbled across the fogged up reflective surface, somehow unaffected by the damage, was almost mortifyingly similar to his own mediocre handwriting. He noticed the purple bruising quickly gathering up contrast around his throat.

And the words read:

You're dead as dead can be.