#for you my friend I was possessed to write this

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

No Words *ೃ༄

Summary: max defends his girlfriend and gets into trouble

𖤓 mv x reader ⋆｡°✩

𖤓 fluff + slight humour (iykyk) ⋆｡°✩

masterlist ☾☼

y/n had been a fan of formula one since she was a child. every parental figure in her life had been a fan of the sport, so it was natural and she got into it too. thankfully, it also made her realise very quickly in life that she wanted to work in the field of motorsports. she wasn't sure yet, and she was still working her way to getting into the sport, but it was a sure, clear path for her.

after meeting max, and falling in love with him, everything had changed. her family approved of the two of them, obviously, and so had his, though she hadn't cared much about jos' opinion. y/n made it clear in the beginning that she wanted to work in motorsports and she wanted to earn her place. she refused to let max talk her up or anything, because he was the kind of guy who would do just that for his girlfriend. max agreed, and promised to keep their relationship private for as long as she wanted.

it had taken her a few years. she bounced from indycar to motorgp to nascar and eventually made her way to f1 as a journalist. she had gained far more experience than she would've gotten if she had only focused on formula one, and she was confident in her abilities to finally be formula one.

max and her had stayed strong throughout, even if they kept their relationship private. she had met and become friends with daniel, lando, carlos, and all of max's friends. they often played padel together as well. mix the competitive spirits that max and she possessed, it was always fun.

after a year of being in formula one as a journalist, max and y/n had decided that it was time to stop hiding. they skipped the soft launch part, and jumped directly into the hard launch phase that left a lot of fans shook.

unfortunately, it also got her a lot of hate. y/n went from being one of the best journalists in f1 to one of the most hated ones for the same reasons that she was loved. the fans adored her because she was a woman of colour making a name for herself in such a sport, and that her parents had sacrificed a lot for her and she was making them proud. now, she was hated because her success became max's story and how he put in good words for her and how she was only with him for the money.

it broke her heart, but max was someone who had received a lot of hate before in his life, so he taught her all the ways to ignore the comments and focus on what she did best. it helped a great deal, but it also made her determined to prove that her career had nothing to do with max.

it was getting better, slowly and over time. max and y/n promised to never lose their temper on the comments. a lot of interviewers and fans had also asked the other drivers on the grid to comment on their relationship, asking if it was ethical for a journalist and a driver to date. but the other drivers always responded with the same thing, always saying how they've known max and y/n for a long time, and their relationship was no one else's business.

unfortunately, after a particularly hard race, max finally lost his cool.

"well, max, it's safe to say that this particular race of yours wasn't the best that you've performed. what do you have to say about that?"

"uh, nothing, really. we just didn't have the pace, and with some mistakes on my side, i lost a lot of points. but, i'm sure we can cover it up next race." max replied.

"you don't have to worry about us writing a bad article about you. your girlfriend and we will only be writing praises, don't you worry. the only difference would be that we won't take your hard earned money like she does," the interviewer laughed, nudging y/n.

the cameras were all focused on them, there were fans nearby, and other drivers. everyone was watching. it was live tv. the entire world was watching. the thick crowd of an audience had their gaze fixed on y/n, and all she could do in that moment was hang her head and try not to cry.

that's the moment max lost his cool. y/n was standing right there, and the interviewer had disrespected her on a very public platform.

"actually, my girlfriend will always tell me what i need to hear, whether it's good or bad. y/n y/l/n, a well known journalist, who is also standing right there with you, will write exactly what happened on track, because that's the part that she reports on. she made her own career, so fuck you for dismissing all of it." max bursted, before he stormed off.

the interviewer was spluttering, not sure how to react, but completely outraged as he forced the fia to take actions on max's outburst. y/n slipped away silently, needing to go back to max.

later on, the fia decided to punish max for using "language during the fia sunday press conference". their decision: obligation to accomplish some work of public interest.

later, an interviewer asked him if he regretted his decision of defending his girlfriend and getting a punishment, max responded, “no.”

“so, what do you think of the punishment given to you? do you think it’s fair?”

“no words.”

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

i hope you guys enjoyed this! i had a lot of fun writing this, mostly because i had no idea what my brain wanted me to write, but somehow i kept on typing. anyways, this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

[ssailormoonn]

❛ REPUTATION ❜

YANDERE!Chrollo Lucilfer X Fem!Reader

WC; 900+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW :: chrollo is a yandere here, well he def ats like one, fem!reader, virgin!reader, AGE GAP, gonna say reader is around 18-20 bc she a virgin and a good girl, chrollo is still 26, possessiveness, claiming + more

⋆·˚ ༘ * REQUEST :: (filled request) Hi! Could you please write with yandere Chrollo and virgin female reader(she likes him, but didn’t want to be with him because of his reputation) - ANON

HONEY'S A/NOTE :: I WAS FEELING DIFFERENT DONT MIND THE PINK/PEACH THEME LMAO, lmk if you like it tho 👀

m.list | hxh m.list

You knew this was a mistake the moment you caught his eye.

Chrollo Lucilfer was the type of man who commanded attention. He's dark, unreadable, and dangerous. You'd been warned by friends, by acquaintances, by common sense to steer clear of him. None of them knew that he was the leader of the Phantom troupe, but they could tell that something was up with him.

You, on the other hand, knew very well who he was. He had made it loud and clear that should you ever leave or do anything rash, Chrollo was in a position to threaten you with all he could do. Every time being on duty with him, fear always boiled up inside your stomach.

But the fear that was evident within you, there was just something so irresistible about him, something that couldn't make you stay away no matter how much you did. Chrollo's presence causes your heart to beat in ways that it really shouldn't. You, however, because of his reputation, are to be kept from him.

But standing now in this darkened room, boxed in by his stare, one knew there was no more escaping Chrollo.

Not anymore.

"I know what you're thinking," his voice is like silk. "You're afraid of me, you think you can keep your distance because of what you've heard. But you forget one thing."

He leans in closer, each movement intentional. His dark eyes never left yours, staring with an intensity that would make you want to shrink under his gaze, at the same time you wouldn't be able to look away.

"You want me, too."

Your breath had caught in your throat. How could he know? You'd tried so hard to conceal it, to deny the pull you felt whenever you were near him. It was wrong, all wrong. But his tone made it sound as though you had no say in the matter.

"Chrollo, I... I can't." Your voice less than a whisper. "You're dangerous. I don't want to get involved in. whatever this is. whatever you do."

He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face, and the touch sent your heart racing even faster. You suck in the air shakily while your lip trembled softly.

"I know that's hard to accept," he whispered, almost softly. "But I've made my decision already. You are mine. "

There was a finality in his words that dropped the bottom of your stomach into a sick feeling. This wasn't a silly love confession, this... this was more like he was claiming you. And much as you tried to deny it, the thought stirred something within you.

"Chrollo, I... I am not." You had managed to stammer out the words while a hot fire had burned in your cheeks.

How would you even explain that you have never been with anybody in your life? That part of you does want him, but the fear of his world and your inexperience holds you back? You have never done a relationship in your life, never kissed anyone, never touched anyone, never had sex.

His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze once more. Something... changed in his gaze.

"You're scared of what you don't know," he whispered. "That's okay. I can be patient. But don't you ever think otherwise. I will have you. Every piece of you."

His hand slid down, stroking your jawline, and a chill ran down your body. There was no hesitation in his touch, no doubt in his claim over you. It was terrifying and yet you enjoyed it.

"You can run from me if you want," he said, continuing now in a voice so much lower it terrified you. "But I'll find you. Always get what I want."

Your chest constricted as Chrollo left you no choice. He made it clear no matter what you did, he would find you and when he did. he would take you in every sense of the word.

"I. I don't want to be a part of your world," you finally stammered out, beyond your shaking lips. "I can't."

He chuckled low and it was a shiver you felt run over your skin under his touch. "It doesn't matter. You're already a part of it. The moment I laid eyes on you, it was over. For both of us."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words died in your throat as he leaned in, his lips caressing the shell of your ear.

"Accept it, love," he whispered. "You can't get away from me. Not now, not ever." "N-" Chrollo cut you off, his lips trailing up your neck, his voice low, humming against your skin. "You don't struggle against me. I'm going to take care of you. No one else can have you now. Can't you see? You're already mine, and nothing you say will change that."

His breathing was hot against your skin, the weakness rising inside you as the fear coiled in your body. But despite that, despite all you knew of him, the fact that he wanted you with such intent sent your heart racing within your chest.

Honestly, could you resist?

He drew back just enough to look into your eyes, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. He knew. Your gaze betrayed your thoughts, and he noticed, of course he fucking noticed.

"You're mine," he leans down, his warm breath dancing across your ear as your hands clench into fists against his black suit, trembling. "And I will make sure you never forget it."

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | hxh m.list

[shannonallaround]

When you love your friend's au so much that you write fanfic for it

Based on @punkinspice's @shadouge-family-au ***

Everyone froze as the glass shattered on the floor. 

Then little three-year-old Monty started crying because it scared him, quickly followed his twin sister Mabel, who cried because he was crying. Chase (who was five, almost six) simply looked at the glass mess and said “Oh oh.” 

Amy tiptoed around the kitchen table to reach the crying twins, soothing them with gentle hugs and soft words. She glanced up at her husband. 

Sonic stood exactly where he’d been when the glass had left his hand (by the kitchen sink). He stared at the floor, expression unreadable; a rare moment of him being perfectly still. 

He’s normally fast enough to catch things like that, Amy thought to herself. “Sonic?”

No answer. 

Any hid a worried purse of her lips, instead turning to her oldest. “Chase, you still have your shoes on—can you grab the broom for mama so she can clean up the mess?” 

Sonic then seemed to jerk awake. “Sorry. I’ll get it.” He quickly left the room, not meeting Amy’s eyes. Amy heard the shutting of a cupboard, followed by Sonic returning with a broom and dustpan in hand. 

“Let me help, Dad!” 

Chase had gotten down from his chair and now stood by his dad amid the mess. Sonic looked down into his son’s eyes, and managed a smile—small, but grateful. 

“Thanks, kiddo.” 

Chase chatted away about what he wanted to do after dinner while diligently holding the dustpan in place. He made Sonic chuckle once or twice, oblivious of the tightness in his dad’s shoulders. Eventually, he and his twin siblings left the room to play. Amy stood and took the broom from Sonic. 

“I’ll finish here,” she said, gesturing with her head at the living room. “Why don’t you go relax? It’s been a long day. I’ll join you in a minute.” 

Sonic looked at her, his eyes somewhat distant, but he gave her a half smile and nodded. Amy heard him sigh as he left, noticing him shove his hands behind his quills as he plopped down on their woven pink couch. 

A few minutes and a vacuuming job later (just to be safe), Amy came into the living room and sat beside Sonic. He stared up at the ceiling, frowning at nothing.

If Amy was going to get anything out of him, it was now or never. 

“What’s on your mind, Sonic?”

Sonic sighed through his nose. He closed his eyes as if thinking of what to say. In the end, he gave a defeated shrug. “You’ve seemed on edge for a few days, now,” Amy said carefully. “Ever since our last fight with Eggman.” 

Sonic’s eyes flew open. “I hate that man,” he spat out. He sat up, face scrunched with more choice, but unsaid, words. Amy stared at him, surprised at his strong language. Certainly it was universal knowledge that Sonic didn’t like Eggman (and frankly, Amy hated the man too), but to hear her husband say it outright in such frank terms was… unusual. 

“Are you upset about the forest he ruined?” Another sigh. “Yes… and no.” Sonic leaned forward, pressing his mouth against folded hands. He took a deep breath.  

“Do you… ever think about us as kids?”

Amy tilted her head. “How so?”

“You know… all the stuff we did.” Sonic stared at his shoes. “How… crazy it was that we were kids?” 

Amy took a small breath, understanding his meaning. She bit her lip. “Yes. All the time.” She waited for Sonic to continue, but he went quiet then. He began tapping his foot at the base of the couch—a nervous habit when he was thinking. 

“My earliest memories are running,” Sonic said finally. “I was, I dunno—maybe four? Five? Chase’s age. I didn’t know where I came from or where I was going, and I didn’t care. It didn’t matter. I thought I was fine. I was fine! I couldn’t even talk yet, and I was fine! I just ran wherever the wind took me.” He took a shaky breath. “But imagining our kids in the same position just-!” 

He cut himself off, burying his head in his hands. After a moment, he dropped them into his lap. 

“We were so young.”

Amy nodded slowly. “We were very young,” she echoed. After a moment, she asked “Does that scare you?” 

Sonic’s face scrunched again, but not in anger this time. “I was never afraid for myself growing up. I knew I’d be fine. But I was afraid for Tails, when he came into the picture. Some days I was so scared I didn’t know what to do with myself. And I guess, now… I’m afraid for them, too.” He ran a trembling hand down his face, forcing a laugh. “Heh… Guess things don’t change as much as you think they would, huh?” 

“No,” Amy said, watching him, “I guess they don’t.” She put a soft hand on Sonic’s knee, leaning into him. “But I think that’s a good thing. It means you love them.” 

Sonic sighed, his hand going to his forehead. “I just… I don’t know how to do this.” 

“Do what?”

“Raise our kids! Especially when we’re practically badnik magnets! It’s a miracle Eggman doesn’t send a squadron after us every week!” 

Amy rubbed his knee reassuringly. “Even if he did, you know Tails’ security system would warn us long before anyone was in danger.” 

“I know…” 

Amy thought a moment, then she leaned forward, trying to see her husband’s face. “You know, you know how to do this better than you think you do. You forget that you raised Tails.” 

A husky laugh, almost desperate. “I didn’t know what I was doing then, either! It's a miracle that kid's even alive! I pulled him into so many things without even a second thought, and I had no idea how to raise a kid, I—!” 

Sonic felt Amy’s hand on his chin then. It rested there for a moment, and then he relaxed just enough to let it guide him, lifting and turning his head so he could meet her gaze. Amy beamed at him, eyes soft and gentle. “And look how well Tails turned out.” 

Sonic stared at her. Then suddenly he realized his cheeks were wet, and he went to wipe them with his gloves. Instead, Sonic found himself sinking into his hands. He gasped. 

Amy started as her husband began to sob. A second later, she slid over again on the couch and encircled him in her arms, leaning her cheek against the side of his head, rubbing a soothing hand along his back between his quills. 

“I don’t deserve you,” Sonic coughed out from behind his hands. 

“I don’t deserve you,” Amy whispered back. She continued to rub between his quills. Then she kissed his head, feeling him tremble beneath her touch.

“Do any of us really know what we’re doing?” she eventually murmured in his ear. “We’ve never done this before, and that’s scary. I’ll admit, I worry about our kids sometimes too.” 

She continued as Sonic struggled to catch his breath. “We don’t know what the future holds. But,” she said, a soft smile in her voice, “you don’t have to do this alone. You won’t be alone—I’ll be with you every step of the way. We’re in this together.” She kissed his head again. “It’ll be another grand adventure.” 

A few more shuddering breaths from Sonic, and he gradually began to still. Then he nodded, though his head still rested in his hands. “Another adventure,” he whispered. “Like it’s always been.” 

“Like it’s always been,” Amy nodded affirmative. She moved her hands to hug him around his shoulders. 

They sat there for a few minutes, neither willing to move. They could hear their three little ones playing in the other room. Monty laughed. 

“You know what I think?” Amy eventually asked. “I think that, with our kids along for the ride, it’ll be even more fun. More so than it’s ever been before.”

At that, Sonic finally smiled. “Yeah…” He lowered his hands, revealing it, then he glanced her way. “The more the merrier, right?” 

Amy giggled. “Right!” 

She stroked Sonic’s cheek for a moment. Then she stood and took Sonic’s hand. Surprised, he followed her outside onto their balcony. It had been built directly onto the tree that had become their literal treehouse, overlooking their backyard. Sonic stopped beside Amy. 

“Woah…”

A vibrant explosion of oranges and deep pinks greeted them as the sun set over the distant mountains. They stared at the glorious sight, still holding hands. 

“The beauty still gets me every time,” said Sonic.

“Yes,” Amy sighed. 

After a moment, Sonic cleared his throat. "Sorry that I—" 

“No. It’s ok.” Amy looked away from the sky and into her husband’s eyes. She squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you told me.”

Sonic’s cheeks tinged pink as he smiled, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand. “Tryin’ to be better.” Then he met her eyes. “Thanks for listening.” 

Amy grinned. “Like I said: we’re in this together.” Then she pecked him on the cheek, which made Sonic laugh and blush harder. He squeezed her hand in return. He pulled her into a hug, his arms around her waist, head resting on hers while facing the sunset. 

“You know… I may still be scared silly,” he said, “but there’s no one else I’d rather be with on this crazy new family adventure than with you.”

Amy now felt herself blush. “Oh, Sonic.” She leaned into the fur on his chest, smiling as the sun ducked behind the horizon. “Me too.” 

[psychotic-nonsense]

"I'm sorry."

It's the first thing Steve says after everything.

After getting Vecna Cursed. After nearly dying. After a hallucination of Eddie saved him. After running through a looped forest. After finding sanctuary in Steve's memory of that Starcourt bathroom. After Eddie reveals himself as Eddie.

It's the only thing he can think of. It's not big enough to fit everything, but it's the only thing that fits in his mouth.

"Don't be."

Maybe that's the only thing Eddie can think of too. The only thing Eddie can bear to say.

Because don't be can't stop Steve's eyes from watering when he sees the vest in his closet. Don't be can't stop Steve's feet from dragging him to the cemetery every evening to clean Eddie's graffiti-covered tombstone. Don't be can't stop Steve from sitting beside Wayne and listening to him talk about the Eddie he remembers. Don't be can't stop Eddie's body from showing up in Steve's dreams, nor Eddie's corpse from his nightmares. Don't be couldn't keep the pain away enough, didn't stop Vecna from latching onto it while Steve was walking alone in the woods.

Don't be isn't enough for what Steve wants to hear. But even stuck here waiting, hoping, for someone to get Steve out, there just isn't enough time.

"I miss you."

"...Why?"

Eddie says it back so quickly, so quietly, like it's just unfathomable to him. Maybe it is, considering their last memories. But their eyes meet and he looks just as sad, just as longing, as Steve.

"You were my friend."

Steve can't help but say it like that. Like they were friends for years instead of days. Like Eddie was that important to him in their final moments. Like his heart really aches for Eddie every second of the apocalypse.

Can't help but say it like he means it.

"I wish we could've had more time..."

Steve's voice cracks a little there as he turns away, hiding. It's all he wants. It's all Vecna used to entice him with. It's all that's keeping him going, to finally fulfill the last request Eddie made. It's all he has left to feel close to Eddie.

The Eddie that's sitting right next to him, silent, his sight weighing on Steve's skin. Conscious and aware and the real Eddie. Trapped in Vecna's head as a backup power source, yet who still risked everything to come save Steve. Who Steve will never see again because killing Vecna means killing Eddie for good, and his heart doesn't want it, is begging for another solution...

But for once, his broken head overpowers his shattered heart.

"Maybe we did."

Eddie takes Steve's hand. Meets Steve's surprised look with his own small smile of hope. They're both suddenly tearing up, eyes glistening with life in this gray stall.

"Maybe in another world, we got a second first chance. A first second chance. Maybe even a third, or fourth. Maybe in a different life, we had everything we wanted. Because you, Steve Harrington, are too good for me to be doomed to meet just once."

And for a moment, Steve sees it. Feels it. Versions of them connected through the universe.

Little kids playing in the lake. One with bruised skin and shaved hair, loud but unfathomably lonely. One with a bruised heart and soft eyes, timid but stubbornly hopeful.

A rockstar with glittering chains, center stage in the spotlight. A set of eyes in the crowd or behind the curtain, watching only him.

A werewolf and a vampire, two cryptids of horror, meeting in the dead of a full moon night to feel safe with the only other one who understands.

A future where they won, where the only death was the one that mattered. A process of healing and learning, coming home to a family every single day.

A world without pain, without their hell, where two high schoolers found freedom from their shackles and company in each other. Hiding away together in the dark corners of the town.

Steve even sees other versions of them. Versions that he knows were originally never supposed to meet, yet forces so much greater than them pulled them together.

A metalhead drug dealer, constantly getting into trouble with one nail-bat-weilding cop.

A criminal's fugitive nature leading him to a rugged trailer park, and the dangerous owner within one such home.

An eccentric king in an old coliseum, always choosing one particular warrior as his champion.

A young programmer being pulled away from his work by sobs above his apartment, running upstairs to check on the law student that recently moved in.

Two actors, finding an easy friendship in the months of filming one season of a show that would change their lives.

In that moment, Steve's overwhelmed by the closeness he suddenly feels with the soul beside him. Falling into tears, he pulls Eddie into a tight hug, holding him so so close to convey everything he can't say. Feeling Eddie hold him back, hearing everything Eddie can't say in return.

Familiar music comes on outside the stall. Robin's voice calls out to him, telling him to come home.

And when he does leave, Steve hopes that someone out there will understand that he never can. Because here in Eddie's arms is the only place that will ever truly feel like home.

"Thank you... for everything, Eddie."

Thank you, Steve. For everything and more..."

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

- List of AUs, in order, after, "Versions of them connected through the universe": Childhood Friends / Rockstar!Eddie / Werewolf!Steve & Vampire!Eddie / Eddie Survives / No Upside Down & High School

- List of Multiverse Steddie AUs, in order, after, "...yet forces so much greater than them pulled them together": Eddie x Gator / Baron x Michael / Geta x Sean / Keys x Eric / Quinn and Keery

[princess-of-purple-prose]

HIII writing prompt “monster” and 7? 💕

Giggling the teensiest bit, I love you <3 No, really, I love you, because 7 was, amusingly, the wildcard number, so randomly picking landed me on TIM STOKER, and I don’t think I’ve ever written in his pov before but this CONSUMED ME?? I haven’t written this much in one go in weeks, forget this fast?? This also, uh, turned into full-out jontim, which was a complete accident because this was SUPPOSED to be a meditation on him mid-Research era. Aha. Enjoy!!!!

“—and that,” Jon declares, “is why it’s so vital to continue establishing Hope Spots, not just in spots ripe for ecotourism, but across the world.” He takes what must be his first breath in ten full minutes, and it’s only then that he seems to register Tim and Sasha’s twin gleeful expressions. His own expression goes a little funny. “Tim, Sasha, please tell me you weren’t—”

Sasha is already stabbing at her phone, fumbling a little before she actually hits the right button. “Twelve minutes and forty-six seconds! A new record!”

“The man’s a monster!” Tim toasts Jon with a whoop, and Jon—there’s really no other word for it: he fully pouts at Tim, wrinkling his nose so primly it makes Tim want to bear-hug him right then and there. He sublimates the urge by being even more over-the-top, trying to see if he can make Jon’s nose scrunch up even more. “Attenborough who! I want all my documentaries voiced by this man!” Opposite him, Sasha dissolves into tiny giggles, sweet and delicate as a spray of mayflowers.

“Sasha missed the ‘stop’ button about five times, you can’t call that—” Jon snorts, but his cheeks have turned the rich cherry of his desk back at Research, so he can’t be that mad about their subpar timekeeping of his latest incredibly disorganized, incredibly endearing overview of the last documentary he watched.

“Jonnnnnn, take the win!” Tim cries, and he gives in and slings an arm around Jon’s shoulder like it belongs there. God, the man’s teeny, they need to make sure he gets some carbs in him. On that note— “Take some chips, too, you’re built like a bird!”

“And you’re built like,” Jon grumps, “a—a—” He scowls and takes a chip, presumably only to cover the fact that he’s too drunk to come up with a simile. Contrary little bastard, he is. “Get off me, you arse.”

Tim makes a complaining sound even as he immediately pulls away—only for Jon to jolt and then practically butt up into Tim’s hovering arm, far more housecat than bird. Tim freezes, not putting any pressure against Jon even though they’re skin-to-cardigan again.

“Jon…?”

Oh, there it is, there’s that wrinkled nose. Tim loses his breath, a little bit. “I didn’t mean it,” Jon says, scowling even harder than he’d been before and refusing to look Tim’s way. “It’s—It’s cold in here, alright?”

As a matter of fact, it is a comfortable degree of stifling in here, and Jon is in a cardigan that’s more than enough to ward off the mild autumnal chill and drunk besides. Jon seems well aware of this, or maybe not aware at all, because as Tim settles tentatively against him again, he grabs for his long-forgotten glass and downs the rest of it. Tim gives Sasha a wide-eyed look, only for her—traitor! Disloyal turncoat!— to smirk back, propping her chin up with a hand and arching her perfect eyebrows at him.

“Oh, shut up,” he snips, cheeks warming, just as Jon sets down his now-empty glass. Jon turns to him curiously, having entirely missed the exchange, and Tim turns his brightest beam on him and coos, “Not you, you’re a delight and I’m glad you’re sitting next to me and not”—he aims another scowl her way, and Sasha sticks her tongue out at him—“Sasha over there, because she gives me a hard enough time without you there to egg her on worse.”

Sasha smirks harder. Tim wishes he could kick her under the table without Jon noticing.

“I’m perfectly capable of siding with her even while sitting practically on top of you,” Jon sniffs, drier than anyone should be capable of being with that quantity of liquor in them, and Tim gapes in outrage even as delight fills him up to the tips of his ears to match Jon’s still-red cheeks.

“That’s what I like to hear, Jon!” Sasha cheers, raising her own empty glass to him. Jon quirks a wicked little grin and does the same.

Tim emits a high-pitched squawk of disbelief. “With friends like you, who needs enemies?” He sags dramatically against Jon, relishing in his little grumble of annoyance as he gets crushed. “What’s a guy to do?”

“Buy us more drinks?” Sasha suggests innocently to the tune of Jon’s sniggering, and Tim groans theatrically even as he flags down the waiter for another round. Monsters, the both of them! he laments to himself. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

[waitineedaname]

“I’m the emperor. I could have a dozen alkahestrists on my doorstep tomorrow if I wanted. What I need, I only trust a couple people with.” He was being cagey, and Alphonse knew it. “Get to the point, Ling,” Al said, exasperated. Ling’s mouth quirked briefly in a smile, but he remained serious in tone. “I want you to help me bring Greed back,” Ling said, as though he were commenting on the weather and not talking about something that had haunted him for years. Alphonse stared at him, wide-eyed. A piece of eggplant slipped out from between his chopsticks and splatted on his plate.

if I want to read the content I want to see in the world, I'm gonna have to write it myself. please enjoy my "here's how greed can still live" agenda <3

[hoperaypegasus]

I thought up random stuff for Beyblade... again

Bladers call their beys by nicknames or shortened names instead of their actually names outside of battles (like Storm Aquario might be called Storm or Hades Kerbecs might be called Kerbie).

Bladers who travel on their own a lot often train their beys so that the avatar can accompany them. This technique is also more common in performer spheres as it does drain energy and wouldn’t be smart for a battle blader to constantly be doing.

Beys tend to listen to people who are close with their blader as well (for example Toby and Zeo can command each others beys if they want) and generally all beys being willing to listen to a mechanic if they’ve been to them numerous times before and trust them.

Some beys can alter their avatar if what they are based on has multiple forms (like Horuseus can be a falcon as well, or Aquario can take on the form of a wave and a water spirit).

When bladers get to a really high level of strength and control, they can temporarily embody the power of their bey (as seen by Pluto at the battle of Nemesis and Ryuga’s teleportation). This power varies in form from bey to bey and can be built up over time (Kenta with teleportation and a bow, Gingka with wings, Kyoya with creating wind currents, nile with shields etc).

Even if they stop battling later in life, former bladers often still carry their beys with them, often hiding bey boxes in professional settings in increasingly creative ways.

Tag team partners who battle together a lot typically end up mimicking each other subconsciously and usually have some form of matching item in their appearances (tattoo, jewelry, etc).

DJs often got into fights about "blader custody" during the world championships, aka who got announce for them since they were DJing for them the longest. And it wasn't just National DJs with each other, regional ones jumped in too. It was chaos.

Different types of bladers value and aim for different things in their beys, so comparisons between different groups by each other tend to fall short as they hold them to their standards. Because of this, there are sheets on the WBBA websites of what is common goals of each groups for reporters who might not be fluent in these.

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

hiiii mackerellll good morning gmm <333 did u know. u r so cool & good at writing forever.... ur stuff always makes me feel shrimp emotions every single time & u literally understand every character so good & ive been thinking ab ur ghostknife snippets literally all night.... <- im hitting the fic preview cheat code button 1 billion times but also literally so gensrs ur writing is everything 2 me dude

HI ROS GOOD MORNING YOU GET THE GAYEST BITS I HAVE SO FAR 🏳️‍🌈‼️🏳️‍🌈‼️🏳️‍🌈

PEACE AND LOVE AND BLOOD ON PLANET GHOSTKNIFE 🤞

[unfunnyaceartist]

Vent post ahead that may change your view on me and that may sound dramatic (NOT DIRECTED AT ANYONE, THIS IS JUST IN GENERAL) Mostly just to get out my feelings. I only ask that if you look, to be kind and understanding and patient. Also the tags are silly and id appreciate if you read em. id appreciate if you didnt ask me anything on it

I feel toxic sometimes because i can get so jealous i borderline gatekeep things and I always feel so bad because its never intentional but then I end up hating myself because I know its unhealthy and irrational but I cant help it, and I know im so lucky and have a lot in many senses of the word, but at times it feels like they can be taking everything, because when I like someone or something, they tend to matter a fuck-ton to me. Im sorry to anyone ive lashed out at a bit for them wanting what I have, I really am. Its not coming from a place of hostility, rather a place of trauma responses and hyperfixation that stem from my adhd and autism but like when I try something and it goes great, and then someone else is like "OOH thats awesome I wanna do that too" It feels almost like when Im finally happy or excited or proud to have something, someone comes and takes it. Usually Ill play it off as a joke, but in reality, its complete honesty that im trying to soften so I dont upset anyone, especially when its over fiction or a person, because I do NOT own them and I know that, but it bothers me when someone swoops in to do the exact same things or even one-up especially when its really soon after me, and since my self worth is already abysmal, it just makes me feel worse, like I should be lucky to have what I do to begin with, but I feel the need to hold it close to me and protect it so I dont lose things that make me really happy.

Recently Ive even started reverse gatekeeping in response to others, where ill just tell myself I cant or dont deserve to have anything special because I'm not, and only others can enjoy this. But thats why people making me ship content makes me so happy. Its dumb to get jealous over others selfshipping with a character I like. Its dumb to get upset over someone I know copying or taking heavy inspiration from one of my ideas. Its dumb to get possessive over someone else trying to befriend my new awesome friends or wife/wives. I rarely selfship anymore due to my reverse gatekeeping and instead serve the others who simp or enjoy content. I provide since I feel I cant take. It makes me happy and distracts me. But the moment someone else does something similar to what is my toxic coping mechanism for my toxic coping mechanism, it only hurts worse. Thats why sometimes, for example, I get a bit snappy when someone else provides gummybunny (that and also shipping jealousy sometimes). Thats why I get snappy when I make a friend someone else super cool and then another person comes in and wants to befriend them (No darken, this wasnt directed at you, its happened more than once with more than one person but I know how you tend to assume). I LOVE giving but I hate sharing, because all my life whenever I shared, I lost something.

Introduce a friend to a friend? They leave me behind for eachother. Let someone wear my fitbit because they wanted to feel "rich"? It got stolen. Give money to someone in a "rough spot" who promised to repay me somehow? Never saw them again. I was always so trusting and understanding, and I always made excuses for others. Always so naive and gullible. So much so, in fact, that in elementary I kept letting my bullies pretend to be my friends when they claimed they changed, and let them destroy any ounce of worth I had whatsoever. Things that make me happy I CHERISH because of all the things ive lost and all my experiences. Ive never been hit, not once, but the abuse all my life came emotionally and mentally, and I only recently realized through therapy. Now its hard to trust people in certain situations. Sorry for my probably hard to follow and melodramatic rant.

sorry im dumb haha

[krikeymate]

I think Wednesday and Yoko should become friends.

Yoko is an interesting specimen, on good terms with her sire - rare these days - and snarky enough to keep up with Wendesday, but doesn’t seek to challenge her directly, like Bianca. She also favours black, which instantly makes her more agreeable to be around. Crucially, Enid cares for Yoko, and as someone who also cares for Enid, Wednesday decides that it is her duty to at least be as amicable as she is able with Enid’s bes- othe- previous best-friend-who-is-still-a-very-close-friend.

Enid hates this.

Wednesday doesn’t notice at first.

She’s taken to dedicating her entire attention to Yoko when they speak, determined to unearth and discern every aspect of her and trusting that she can at the very least rely on the vampire to warn if not protect her if danger appears. Trust. It’s a new thing. A very new fragile thing.

It - shamefully - take a week of interrupted conversations before Wednesday turns her eyes back to Enid and a mass of strange behaviours unravel at her feet.

Anger; growls and claws and scowls. Beautiful and unfamiliar and wrong. Enid has developed a short-temper recently, it seems. There’s a bitterness to her, she’s even short with Wednesday, something which throws her entire day out of wack. Pathetic; out of sorts because a girl snapped at her. Her ancestors are rolling in their graves, the next family reunion will be abysmal.

Wednesday is a clever woman however, the cause is pitifully easy to determine. It’s her. As usual, Wednesday is the problem. Wednesday began talking to Enid’s best friend, and now she’s upset. Perfect. Even when she’s trying to do something right, she’s doing something wrong. Not for the first time, Wednesday curses herself for caring at all, and briefly considers actually cursing herself. No, no, the chance of backfiring is too high. She’s an Addams after all, what if she begins to care more. The risk is too great.

So, as someone who has an invested interest in Enid’s state of mind - they live together after all - she disengages with the fledgling friendship. Actually, perhaps she should recede from the social group entirely, the relationship is entirely casual and interaction is hardly regular anyway, but it clearly makes Enid uncomfortable. Yes, that’s the best cause of action.

[randomwriteronline]

"Pohatu."

The voice echoed like a knife hissing as it scratches marble. The prisoner (the only one, completely isolated from the rest of the city), huddled in a nook, shivered a little further away into the corner he'd tucked himself into and held onto himself a little tighter.

He did not respond to his own name.

Deliberate steps moved closer: clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Their rhythm was slow, cold; they accompanied a scrutinizing stare.

They stopped before the cell.

The air felt freezing.

"Pohatu."

The prisoner did not answer.

"You are not stupid. That I know."

The chilling voice was soft. It spoke lowly, taking the time to properly enunciate each and every word perfectly.

"I am certain you know what I am here for."

Once more, only silence replied.

"I would advise you do not make this harder than it already is."

He watched as the prisoner's knuckles shook while tightening around his own trembling shoulders, as though trying to hide his weakness.

"Collaborate. For your own sake."

A sob tore through the room.

Another.

Another.

Another.

"Please," the prisoner finally babbled, voice hoarse from disuse.

Broken.

It was his turn to be faced with the silent treatment. Not a word reached him as he cried inconsolably, naked face pressed against his arms, for what seemed like hours.

His brother stared on, unmoving, expressionless, until the wailing died down and the body slumped on itself from the release of pent up emotions.

"I take it you have returned to your senses."

A crooked whine.

"I do not believe I understood that."

A confused mumbling.

"Speak clearly."

"Yes!" his brother sobbed.

His orange eyes looked into blue ones pleadingly, begging for help, for forgiveness. He watched them furrow, watched clouds of condensation pour from the sides of the white mask.

"You are guilty of a terrible crime."

"Yes."

"You are aware of your misconduct."

"Yes."

"You are aware that I cannot call you brother."

A pained wince: "Yes."

Another long moment of quiet passed.

The prisoner had shifted his gaze onto the floor.

The Toa watched him, fists clenched as tight as he could.

"Are you sure your forgiveness is deserved?"

The body shook from another hysterical sob, as though it had just been struck by a lash: he inhaled sharply a few times, but could not bring himself to speak.

"Answer me."

There was another attempt. Again, nothing came of it.

"Pohatu."

"Please..."

He stared.

He stared at the pitiful thing so powerless and miserable, completely alone, curled on itself on the floor as it shuddered.

"Please..."

He stared at the pitiful thing speaking in a voice that crumbled upon itself like gravel rolling uselessly down the side of a mountain.

"Please, I... Please..."

For a long stretch of time, nothing happened.

Then the door to the cell unlocked.

Pohatu dared to look up: Kopaka stood over him, unflinching, unreadable, hands balled up in fists hard enough to crush boulders between his fingers, looking down with his glimmering blue eyes as the air around him crackled with frost.

He could have so easily torn him apart right now.

Only the two of them, here, in the dark, far away from any other form of life who could have heard any commotion or cared enough to investigate.

Nobody would have even known. Not until it was too late.

Kopaka kneeled before the former Toa and pulled him into a tight embrace, one hand cradling his nape while the other pressed hard on his back to squeeze him closer to himself.

He allowed himself a sigh in relief only when he felt the other's arms wrap around him, his face against the crook of his neck.

Pohatu held him by the waist tight.

"I missed you," he sobbed.

I missed you too, Kopaka could not say despite how desperately he needed to.

He tightened his grip.

Then the pain came.

Blinding and sudden, cruel, immense, so profoundly unexpected that all he could do was choke on his own breath.

His torso fell backwards, bending much farther that it should have. His heartlight pulsed erratically as he heaved, adrenaline rushing through him and locking his every muscle in place. His legs were slumped, completely unresponsive like the rest of his lower body; all that was keeping his entire form from crashing on the pavement like a broken doll were the kind, solid, dependable arms of his brother.

A hand wriggled in the now empty space where it had shattered his spine in a morbidly playful way.

He was laid down gently, all things considered.

His eyes only stared at his butcher wide and thoughtless like those of a helpless Rahi before a much faster predator.

Pohatu smiled down at him sweetly, exactly like he always did.

"I missed your soft spot for me."

He tore his hand out of his brother's spine with a ghastly crackle, not even flinching, to wrap it around his throat. He yanked: Kopaka coughed out an anguished wheeze as a chunk of his neck was thrown out, clattering a few bio across the floor.

Pohatu pressed his thumb between the Toa of Ice's face and his mask, applying just about the slightest leverage possible to part the two. It seemed to take ages, for the 'pop' of a dislodged Kanohi to echo through the silence of Kopaka's frantic breathing; but even with all that time for a counterattack at his disposal, he did not manage to raise even a single finger against the other. He only stared, fearful, shocked, in denial.

His brother laughed in the same way he always laughed - a gentle, booming sound, friendly and pleasant, that warmed one's heart.

"You couldn't hurt me if you wanted to with all your being," he mocked him, making the sneering words seem like yet another lighthearted joke as he twirled the Akaku between his fingers: "And isn't that why Tahu and Photok are dead?"

He looked onto the other's face. He'd seen it so few times - after being overwhelmed by the Piraka on Voya Nui, for example.

He remembered it had been awfully surreal, to see it; almost frightening, but familiar somehow.

It stirred nothing in him now.

How lovely.

Pohatu leaned closer to it, until he could feel the shaky breaths from Kopaka's mouth curl around him. They were barely fresh.

"A shame, eh?"

Blue eyes stared at him, horrified.

What a beautiful thing to see.

"That you couldn't save me after all."

He laughed his usual jovial laugh again as he stood up, joints cracking a bit while he stretched. The Akaku clicked onto him in a perfect fit.

How nice of him: pure unwarranted trust, forgiveness, an open door, a hug, and now even a fairly useful Kanohi to replace the one he'd been stripped of lest he use its powers to break himself out of containment. Truly, he was almost starting to feel spoiled.

Kopaka squirmed between his feet. Was he trying to get away?

He couldn't help but giggle.

"There's your only flaws: you're too smart for a leech to bite you."

Pohatu gifted him the sweetest of his smiles.

"And you love your siblings too much."

The air shattered beneath his foot with a sickening crunch.

Pohatu didn't even spare a glance at his brother as he walked away from his corpse, face crushed to bits making an absolute mess on the cold unfeeling pavement, body twitching before the rigor mortis settled in fully; the Toa of Shadow hummed a mindless, cruel song, something right out of a Makuta's repertoire, as he he made his way into the halls of Metru Nui's colosseum in search of whoever else in this enormous playground would have the honorable misfortune to be his second victim of the day.

[merlin-wolfgang-trades-hale]

“I may teeter the line between pretty stupid and pretty beautiful, but the important thing being is that I am always pretty!” a very tipsy but not exactly yet drunk, Steve McGarrett stumbling home wanting a smooch from his husband, having just been delivered by the other now out and proud navy buddied who’s op that night was getting Steve home because it’s the only way to shut him the fuck up about his Danno who he obviously missed so damn much, but it’s very much not Steve’s fault that this reunion fell around the same time Danny was getting back from Jersey after visiting for his sister’s birthday. 

Danny’s listening to him ramble about how one of his friends called Steve pretty annoying but Steve corrected him. 

The imagery could be added with Steve tripping and stumbling to the ground before ninja-ing(tipsy) onto the couch desting his head on Danny’s lap. Trying to get comfy and hug Danny while in this position. Telling him about his night, momentarily forgetting his goal before he’s reminded again and trying his best to get a kiss. 

[djarinova]

seeing someone from secondary school post an Instagram story with 'i hate it here' from ttpd playing ... why i outta...

[magnus-rhymes-with-swagness]

Rating: General

Summary: Gloreth has never had a friend before, but when she sees a mysterious girl in the forest, everything changes.

Baby Nimona and Gloreth being friends is something that can be so personal 💚

[ferromagnetiic]

❝ HEEEEYYYYY I wanna try on your goggles!! ❞ he doesn't even wait for a yes or no, eyes staring wide and intense at the protective gear atop Kid's head. with lips sucked in and an immense amount of concentration, the straw hat immediately shoots a stretchy arm out to attempt grabbing the gear from the other captain's head. // (saved this one just for you)

          【 UNPROMPTED ASK. 】                      @futurepiratekiing

          The one single lesson Luffy should have already learned from Eustass Kid was that he did not in any way appreciate having the rubber boy's stretchy arm tendrils thrusted towards his person, and particularly not towards his face. His spine curves backwards in an attempt of creating some distance between himself and the sticky hand rocketing towards him, but it changes nothing, and he still finds himself, very much against his will, on the cusp of being handled by the Straw Hat boy. He's reaching for the mechanic's goggles, the little bastard thief. Kid moves to protect his belongings and is working entirely on defensive impulse, without taking a single moment to consider his actions.

He bites him. Very hard.

The sharp points of his teeth sink down into chewy, gummy skin; unable to break it due to its elastic properties, but still delivering a fierce amount of pressure. Much like a dog who has been taunted with a toy, he doesn't release his grip, and holds Luffy's open hand between his jaws. If he squirms, he'll only dig his teeth in further.

His message should be quite clear, even to the infamously clueless pirate.

Do. Not. Touch. His. Shit.