#guys i have opinions on mops now

[ratspider]

i gotta be honest i am stoked to be a janitor. i see mops and i get excited

[transvampireboyfriend]

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

"I'm just saying, if the heat bothers you so much, you could cut your hair" Nancy points out, after declining Eddie's pleas for her spare scrunchie.

Robin sits on Nancy's lap, clutching the back of Steve's seat and she looks at Steve through the side mirror like she's afraid that he's about to go on a mission to defend Eddie's honor or something but Steve rolls his eyes at her. He's not that gone.

Or at least he knows how to hide it well.

Eddie's lost several of Nancy's favorite hair accessories and two weeks ago she bowed to never lend him any ever again.

Which, does not stop Eddie from asking her anyway at least once a day.

But the point is, even if Steve wanted to, Eddie's honor cannot be defended in this situation.

Nancy's leaning behind Argyle's back now to glare at the metalhead. Steve can see them in the rearview mirror.

Eddie gasps "I would never" he says, clutching his chest dramatically.

Steve secretly breathes a sigh of relief.

Johnathan chuckles at the wheel. "But you could" he comments, eyes on the road.

Steve can see Argyle subtly laughing and shaking his head out of the corner of his eye.

Today is a rare occasion, Jonathan is driving them in Steve's car.

The goal of Steve's rant earlier about having to drive them everywhere was to get Eddie to drive them, so Steve could sit shotgun and watch Eddie drive.

Instead, Jonathan had offered first and then Steve couldn't go in the backseat because he's in charge of their map.

But whatever, this is fine too. He trusts Jonathan and it is nice to get a break and to be able to fully turn around when he's talking to someone in the backseat.

"Jon, I would lose all my sex appeal, you don't get it" Eddie answers, getting a box of Twinkies from one of the many bags they packed and placed on the floor of Steve's car.

"I get it" Argyle chimes in, watching Eddie pull out a Twinkie and shaking his head no when Eddie offers him one.

"You'd still be sexy with short hair" Robin comments from her seat on Nancy's lap.

Everyone turns to look at her.

"What?" she shrugs "I can say that"

Nancy chuckles into her shoulder.

Steve opens their map again to stop thinking about Eddie's 'sex appeal', even as the guy is excitedly munching on a Twinkie in the backseat of Steve's car.

He's got cream in the corner of his mouth and he clearly put more in his mouth than he can comfortably chew. He's leaning one elbow on Argyle's shoulder, his hand holding half a Twinkie, his other hand holds his mop of hair up in a high bun, causing his cut off tank to sit barely covering his nipples, his tattoos on display and his armpit hair fully visible.

Steve's fairly certain nobody else in this car would get it, but to him the sight is mouth watering. The guy is practically irresistible.

"I don't think i would've gone on even half the dates I've gone on if i didn't have my hair" Steve muses, for something to say and to add to Eddie's point, even though he agrees with Robin.

Almost everyone answers with agreeable noises, except Eddie and Robin.

Robin snorts and says "You are relentless"

While Eddie says "You don't get dates for your hair" at the same time. In a tone that suggests he thinks this is an obvious thing.

"I mean- it doesn't hurt" provides Nancy, she sends Steve an apologetic look but Steve waves her off. It's a compliment as far as he's concerned, he loves his hair.

Eddie finishes his treat and opens a new one while everyone else gives their opinions.

"For a lot of people, hair is a big part of attraction" Jonathan is saying, trying to seem like he's not speaking from experience.

"Especially hair as luscious as Steve's" Argyle agrees, leaning forward to lightly comb the side of Steve's hair, making him laugh.

"Thanks, man" Steve says overlapping Eddie's response.

"And I agree!" he exclaims "I'm saying he doesn't get dates because of his hair." Eddie goes on, waving his new Twinkie around for emphasis. "People throw themselves at Steve, and always will, but it's not because of his hair" he repeats.

Steve feels his cheeks heat up but still asks "Then why?"

"Well, because you're very pretty!" Eddie answers easily, like everyone should already know this.

Steve keeps his eyes carefully trained on the map, like he needs to study it meticulously, right this moment, while they're in the middle of a highway.

His cheeks are burning up and he can feel it spreading to his ears.

"And that's if they don't know you!" Eddie continues "If they do know you they know you're kind and brave and strong ...and generous and funny. Who wouldn't want all that in a date?" Eddie finshes.

Oh I don't know, you? Maybe? Do you? Steve thinks.

"Even bald, people would still go crazy for you" Eddie adds, his words slightly muffled towards the end as he shoves almost all of the new Twinkie in his mouth but apparently thinks better of it, biting all but a small piece.

"Here. You want the rest of this?" Eddie offers Steve, talking through his mouthful, and presenting the small piece with his ringed fingers, right in front of Steve's face.

Without thinking, Steve leans forward and takes it with his mouth, his lips burning where they touched Eddie's fingers.

As Eddie retrieves his hand Steve realizes what he just did and how quiet the car got.

He sends Robin a panicked look through the side mirror as Jonathan awkwardly clears his throat.

"Argyle's got nice hair" Robin tries.

The car immediately fills up with enthusiastic agreement and Steve slowly breathes out.

He can't bring himself to look at Eddie as he chews on his bite. He practically licked Eddie's fingers. Unprompted! The guy probably meant for Steve to grab the treat and then eat it. If he even accepted it at all!

Steve feels like an idiot and he frowns at the map again, willing himself to ignore the goosebumps in his arms and the tickling on his lips.

He doesn't see Eddie worriedly staring at him for the remaining of their conversation, until Nancy takes pity on him and offers up her spare scrunchie to distract him.

part 2

[sku11s1asher]

idk if you do poly relationships but can you do a wrio and neuvi cuddle/movie night?

neuvillette & wriothesley x nb/male reader

notes: gulp… pretend i didn’t neglect yall for months! i had a rough patch mentally, but im now starting to get into writing again so yay!! ill post an apology for you guys, make up sex or whatever you guys want idk im on my knees begging for forgiveness 😓 ily (say it back)

cw: ooc wrio + neuv (or are they just in love?)

Neuvillette and Wriothesley, two of the hardest workers in Fontaine, at least in your opinion. Every time they came home, they were beyond tired, barely undressing themselves before joining you in bed at 1 in the morning, just to wake up in a couple of hours. The cycle was as tiring for you as it was for them, you rarely got to see your lovers, and when you did all you saw was them on the verge of passing out.

It wasn’t like they didn’t try to make it up to you though. When they got an off day, which was rare, they would always show you how much they loved you in different ways: sex, cooking, cuddling, dates, etc. Today was surprisingly one of those off days, you expected to wake up by yourself with just the leftover warmth from them next to you but instead, you woke up with a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. You let out a yawn as you opened your eyes, you could see a mop of black hair lying on your chest.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you tried to sit up, only to get pulled back down. “Don't move.” a deep voice mumbled. “Wrio?” you asked in a sleepy voice, one of your hands going to rest in his hair. You looked toward the window, you noticed Neuvillete staring outside, drinking a cup of tea. You felt more confused than ever, why were both of them home? It's not like you were complaining about it, you were glad, just confused. It wasn't your birthday, nor either of theirs, and it most definitely wasn't your anniversary.

“What are you guys doing at home?” you asked Neuvillete while your hand subconsciously started petting Wriothesley's hair. “Have you already forgotten? I marked it in the calendar.” Neuvillette responded in an amused tone, slightly turning to look at you. He loved the way you looked when you first woke up, eyes all droopy, hair messy, that cute confused look on your face, how your voice dropped a bit, just everything about you. “I would never forget anything you said.” you lied while flopping back on the bed, and going back to sleep.

—

When you finally woke up, it was noon, there was still someone right next to you. A groan came from you as you pushed them away, you could tell it was Wriothesley by the way his deep voice said some complaint. “It’s 12 in the afternoon, I’m getting up.” You told him as you tried to get up, only to feel a hand grab your arm. “Five more minutes, please?” He begged, gently pulling you back. But before you could respond or he could open his mouth to try to persuade you anymore, the door to the bedroom opened, prompting the both of you to look towards it.

“Both of you need to get up,” Neuvillette spoke, “shower then come to the living room. The movies are ready, I'll start the popcorn when you both decide to join me.” Once he walked out, Wriothesley sat up in bed, prompting you to fall off him. You looked up at him as he rubbed his eyes, he looked so cute, almost like an actual puppy. You decided to get off the bed, stretching as you stood up, letting out a small groan. You walked to the dressers, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and clean boxers before heading to the bathroom. Halfway through your shower, the door opened and the sink turned on, you didn't have to look to know it was Wriothesley.

When you finally got out of the bathroom, you could hear popcorn popping which made you quickly go to the living room. It looked like Wriothesley made Neuvillette his new cuddle victim, the black-haired male had his head on Neuvillette's lap while his hands were lightly touching the other male's leg. “Hello, dear,” Neuvillette greeted you, turning his head towards you with a soft smile, “I’ll go get the popcorn then we can start the movies. Take a seat.” You made your way over to the couch, letting out a soft chuckle when you saw Neuvillette gently take Wriothesley off his leg. Wriothesley scooted over on the couch, pulling you into the spot next to him.

—

A bowl of popcorn was on the table in front of you, Wriothesley was lying across both your and Neuvillettes laps, while your head was leaning on Neuvillette’s shoulder. The movie that was playing was a random comedy that you weren't really focusing on. Instead, you were focusing on how Wriothesley was playing with your hand: lacing and unlacing it, squeezing it, making shapes on it, laying it on his stomach, all types of things. You slightly moved your head, getting a small glance at Neuvillette, seeing how he was engrossed in the movie. He looked so handsome from this angle, like a true angel. His hair was up in a ponytail, he had a relaxed look on his face which came with a slight smile, no makeup on, just looking amazing.

Neuvillette looked at you, gently moving your head to kiss you, “You stare a lot.” he teased before letting you go back to your previous position and turning his attention back to the movie. He always knew when to catch you off guard, he loved seeing the slight blush on your face and how your body got slightly warmer. A small chuckle came from Wriothesley, “This movie is pretty hilarious.” he stated, which made Neuvillette hum in agreement. “You laugh at the corniest shit, Wrio.” you teased, pinching his stomach. “Yeah, I always laugh at your corny jokes.” he countered which made you pout. “Rude,” you mumbled before finally turning your attention back to the movie.

You were on the fifth movie, the popcorn long gone but neither of you felt like moving to get more. You felt yourself start to get tired, slightly moving yourself to get comfortable before letting out a soft sigh. You felt content, your boyfriends had you practically trapped in between them, their scents surrounding you, and both of their bodies were warm, it was true heaven. You felt your eyes slowly start to close, you didn't feel like focusing on the movie anymore, or anything for that matter. Wriothesley was quiet, not making any comments or a chuckle anymore, which meant he was most likely knocked out. Right before you fell asleep, you felt Neuvillette’s head slightly drop on yours and heard his breathing even out. Looks like all of you are going to sleep on the couch tonight.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

M O O N L I G H T ™

Chapter II

On my last sweep of the house, I check each pledge before the party. Moonlight™ is now partnered with Greek life on campus, and it's the perfect tool for hazing. As president, the app recognizes me as their manager, so I alone get to boss the mind controlled idiots around!

"Pledge!" I snap.

"Yes, brother, sir!" he barks back, yelling it loud and clear without any reservations.

I forget what his name is; Jason, maybe? As long as he's being puppetted around by the Moonlight™ app, it doesn't matter. He'll answer to anything I call him with a rigid smile and a purple stare. He might technically be asleep, but honestly I prefer underclassmen this way. They're much less annoying.

"Scrub these toilets good!" I sneer enjoying the way he hangs on my every word, "You're the janitor for Delt-Ep-Phi's party tonight! I don't want to see any shit or puke unless you're mopping it up! Got it?"

"Yes, brother, sir!"

Just like that, my obedient janitor agrees to my orders and resumes mopping like his life depends on it. At the very least, Moonlight™ has made these pledges more effective. It would have been impossible to force menial work on a freshman without getting a half-assed result. Too many of the guys at this school are rich kids from prep schools: the kind that would be mortified to be near a mop, let alone clad in some sticky maintenance uniform. I bet Jacob, or whatever the fuck his name is, would be mortified to find out that this thing hasn't been washed in years. We just keep throwing it in the closet for the next pledge we have moonlight as janitor. The only thing that makes the dank BO of the garb bearable is the accompanying scent of cleaning chemicals.

I ignore the smell and give the guy a slap on the neck, leaving him to mop the bathroom in silence. My next stop is the kitchen, where I check on my younger cousin Tristan. Tonight, he's just the dishwasher.

"Sup, dude," I say, "Grab me a beer."

"Yes, brother, sir!" he yells back like an army cadet, obediently fetching a bottle from the fridge and opening it for me.

"How's dish-duty?"

"It's amazing! I love being the dishwasher, brother, sir!" my cousin beams.

It's weird to see him like this; with glowing eyes and forced grin. The Tristan I know is charming and unbothered, normally gliding through conversation with subtle looks and gestures. He's normally got this cool style that wins over girls and intimidates guys, so it doesn't help that he's all dressed up in the frat's old dish-boy uniform. I really hate that an upperclassman wrote on his forehead. That'll make classes next week a bit awkward. I suppose it's just a normal part of hazing, and I'm not going to make an exception just because he's my family.

"You gonna be a good dishwasher for the party tonight?" I probe, taking a sip of beer.

"Yes, brother, sir!" he declares, "I'll be ready at the sink for anything that needs cleaned, and I'll be ready to refill any of my brother's drinks."

"That's right, and remember only brothers can get a refill. Girls have to ask one of us to get it from you," I make sure to clarify. It makes it a lot easier to pick up girls when they have to approach us for their next drink. If only I could use Moonlight™ on them to put them to work as the frat's strippers or something. That'd really be getting the most out of the app!

Heavy bass blares from the other room: the party's getting started. I've already spent too much time with Tristan, so I say bye to my cousin and head on out to the main area.

Standing by the door is our coat rack: his name's Kyle, and he's much better as furniture.

"Your arms tired yet, Kyle?" I sneer.

"No, brother, sir!" he grins back.

I laugh a bit when I notice someone wrote a 'kick me' message, pointing at his crotch. A guy like Kyle could definitely use a good kick in the nuts. The freshman came to our call-out with an insanely high opinion of himself. He seemed to think he had every right to get in because he was a legacy. Apparently, his dad is rich alumni so we couldn't refuse him, but that didn't make him immune to our new hazing ritual via Moonlight™. He definitely got the worst job in the house. He might not be scrubbing toilets or cleaning dishes, but his arms are sure to be sore as fuck by morning; not to mention all the kicks in the groin he's guaranteed to get!

"Are you gonna hold those coats, pledge?" I snarl in his face, getting only a cold smile in return.

"Yes, brother, sir!"

"And why is that?" I spit menacingly.

"Because I'm a coat rack, brother, sir!"

"That's right, and coat racks don't react when they get a kick in the balls, right?"

"No, brother, sir!"

With a chuckle, I swing my foot into his crotch. Kyle jerks, but his lips remain stretched across his face in a toothy grin. His body can't help but flinch at the sudden pain, but it only takes a second for Moonlight™ to reassert control. Barely a few seconds have passed and he's back, stiffly holding his arms out, sweating from the effort of being completely still.

"Thank you, brother, sir!" he manages to say. I guess one of the upperclassmen told Kyle to thank anyone who gives him a kick. That'll be a fun little party trick!

I give the guy a little slap on the face before I leave. Tonight's party is gonna be off the hook! I've still got some time before it starts, maybe I can catch a minute to relax in my room. It's not that late yet, but I'm starting to feel the effects of a long day. I'd love to just lay down, even just for a second.

Unfortunately, I fall asleep...

The next day, I wake up when my phone dings with a notification from the frat group chat...

"What the fuck!" I jump out of bed, "What is this picture?"

Though I don't want it to be true, the picture appears to be me. I'm dressed up like some stupid waiter, with the same cringe smile and glowing eyes as any the other Moonlight™ employee, but that can't be right. We only use the app on pledges! There's no way in hell any of my brothers would sign me up like this!

I rack my brain for any memory of last night's party, trying to recall any clue that'll tell me this picture is a lie. The endeavor only hurts my head, but I do notice that I feel unusually sweaty for having just gotten an entire night's rest. My arm feels sore, and my pajamas feel awkward like I was drunk pulling them on.

"Dude, you were a great manservant last night!" one text reads.

"Totally think you should quit that finance degree and be a full-time butler!"

"I could get used to you fetching us drinks and giving us foot rubs!" another adds, "We should have done this years ago!"

I stare at the texts in horror and step into my bathroom. Sure enough, I see the word 'buttler' written across my forehead in sharpie. Someone must have thought it was hilarious to draw a stupid goatee on my face as well. My eye twitches as I stare at my reflection, rage boiling up inside of me.

"Why the fuck did you do that to me!" I text back, "I'm the fucking president!" Even through the phone, my words drip with malice.

"Don't dish out what you can't take!" one replies simply, "Just a prank, bro!"

I try to slow my breaths, but my fists are clenched painfully tight. I'm gonna beat whoever's idea this was! It's one thing for us to use Moonlight™ on freshmen, but I'm a senior and I refuse to spend my last year in this frat moonlighting as a butler! I'm supposed to be getting drunk and laid at these parties! Not marching around with a bowtie and silver tray, serving drinks and whatever the fuck else!

"I wouldn't get yourself too worked up, dude," a guy texts, "You might be in control now that your awake, but remember you're at our whim the second you fall asleep. I could have you scrubbing the floor with your toothbrush tonight if you don't behave yourself. Lol."

The message makes me see red, but he's right. An overwhelming sense of helplessness falls over me. I could beat those fuckers up now, but what would that make them do later? They already wrote on my face with permanent ink! What if they made me shave my head or get a tattoo! Fuck!

This can't be legal, but honestly, I have no idea what the contract stated when we signed up for the app! How do I even go about cancelling this Moonlight™ job? The tech is so convoluted and hard to use!

In the meantime, I'll be lucky if all they make me do is serve them their drinks and do their chores. I guess I can live with that for a short while.

With a grimace of resignation, I text back, "Good one, guys."

[thesillyexpresser]

Finally finished Saiki K and I just wanna say

I HATE THESE MFS 🗣️🗣️🔥💥💥💥

(Uhhh spoilers for the whole thing)

(Oh yeah ramble warning)

(Edit: considering how much traction this is getting, I just want to make it clear that these are my opinions. I’m open to hearing you out on yours as long as it’s not too heated. This wasn’t really meant to be too serious. It is also alright if you disagree with my opinions. These aren’t facts. I am also also well aware that most of their characterization are supposed to be gags and that they’re fictional so I respect them from that point. I just wouldn’t like them if they were actual people.)

I hate these motherfuckers, and I’m surprised there’s almost no shade thrown towards them. Let’s crack it down with these sorry excuses of the parents first.

Now, I’m well aware that this is a comedy anime and characters flaws aren’t exactly a bad thing. Their flaws are supposed to be comedic and I respect that from that stand point.

BUT AS A PERSON WHO CONSUMES MEDIA AND HAS OPINIONS, I WANT TO SACK THEM SHITLESS.

They practically only view Kusuo’s powers as an excuse to do less work, in both inside and outside the house. They constantly use him as a mop to clean up their own shortcomings without doing anything theirselves. Even until the very end, when Kusuo wanted to give up his powers, his own fucking father only thought about his so precious and convenient transport to work. What is this man. I know no one is a perfect parent and that all people have their quirks but this guy is actually so fucking horrible.

The mom isn’t all that bad, but she isn’t unexcused for the way she and the “dad” just allowed the relationship between Kusuo and Kusuke get so fucking toxic. When Kusuke made Kusuo’s limiters and revealed that if he look of the right one that his powers would get revealed to the world, a thing they would all know Kusuo would absolutely hate, they could’ve easily scolded him for it but NO. They could’ve taught the siblings to actually appreciate each others’ abilities to a healthy degree but NO. They could’ve taught Kusuo the importance of respecting and being humble to others without his abilities but NO. They even just allowed Kusuke’s toxic competitiveness to grow by allowing him to go to London and shit. I know no parent is ready to raise an Elon Musk and an esper but at least try to make your own fucking household a home for your own children. Now, onto the rotting maggot that is Kusuke.

I FUCKING HATE KUSUKE.

Now, I know anyone would be jealous of their younger sibling having more ability than them and I know that his parents are (as I already established) just the worst but can this guy actually fucking relax??

Like has once in his sorry excuse of a life has he thought that “hey isn’t this just a tiny bit petty??” “Isn’t putting a tracker on my younger brother an invasion of his own privacy??” “Is making a fucking robot clone of my brother, making it do the things my own brother is obviously uncomfortable with, making it fucking attack him on sight, and then brainwashing his friend into hating him so much that it sprouts another psychic ability just a bit more fucked up than I thought??”

I know people hate this line but YOU’RE A FUCKING ADULT. YOU’RE NINETEEN YEARS OLD. GROW UP.

Also can we talk about how he’s all “I want to prove I can control my brother” when he already has his thumb pushed down on Kusuo? What’s that? You have a way to make everyone know about his powers? You can track his moves? You know everything about his powers and the ways and money to stop them? And you did this for fun? Con-fucking-grats you have control over him. He has anxiety now. Thanks for your hard work. I’m pretty sure that if he had any less morals than Kusuo would be his fucking slave.

(And yes, I know that the right limiter gimmick was taken off but it’s the thought that counts and there’s nothing but MALICE behind those thoughts.)

His only defense for putting his brother through inhumane experiments is “oh Kusuo has psychic powers he practically isn’t human”. KUSUO ISNT HUMAN MY ASS. Kusuo has more humanity than you. That robot clone you built of him has more humanity than you. That poor rotting maggot that I unfairly compared itself to you has more humanity than you. This mad scientist shithead has practically ZERO HUMANITY.

And I think we all fucking knew that the stopping-all-of-Kusuo’s-powers limiter was so he can do his world domination shit. Without his brother’s powers, who was there to stop him from doing that robot world domination thing from that one episode all over again? NO ONE. THAT’S WHO.

and I know that I’m getting so worked up over a fictional story but I JUST WANT TO GIVE THEM A SWEET REIGAN ARATAKA TALK.

“Aren’t you his parents? Shouldn’t you act with more responsibility instead of treating your own son like a fucking taxi?? For shame. I’m calling child protection services. He’s still a fucking minor after all. Minors aren’t that mentally mature, you know.”

“Oh? You put your own brother through inhumane experiments because of his ESP? That same ESP that he had no control over being born with? Why are you harassing someone just because they were born with something they didn’t have control being born with? Should I call the cops?”

Heck, I just want to shake their brains out, beat some senses into them, and give Kusuo some therapy because my goodness.

sigh

Yare yare

[hotvintagepoll]

NEED to know which poll you think is a grave injustice 👀👀👀

As poll administrator, I'm not allowed to have opinions. I must not sway the tournament or influence others' decisions in any way. I am very careful about this. however.

CAGNEY. CAGNEY. IT'S CAGNEY. I CAN FINALLY SAY IT BECAUSE ROUND 1 IS OVER AND AS ADMIN I'M FREE TO HAVE OPINIONS NOW

YOU GUYS DITCHED CAGNEY??? I WAS GOING TO SET HIM UP WITH LAURENCE OLIVIER ORIGINALLY! I WAS LIKE! THAT'S FAIR! EYELINER VS GANGSTER! BUT NO, WAIT, THIS GETS RID OF TWO GOOD MEN TOO EARLY—THEY SHOULD WAIT TIL A LATER BRACKET—I CAN'T LOSE TOO MANY GOOD HOTTIES TOO EARLY!

SO I SET LAURENCE UP WITH ROONEY OF ALL PEOPLE, AND I SAY, YOU KNOW WHAT, I'LL GIVE CAGNEY BING. THAT FEELS FAIR! THERE'S A CHANCE THE WHITE CHRISTMAS PEOPLE WILL SHOW UP FOR BING, WE'LL HAVE A NICE FAIR COMPETITION, CAGNEY WILL CONTINUE ON AND BING WILL HAVE GOTTEN OUT, SEEN THE FLOWERS, SMELLED THE SWEET FRESH AIR BUT NOTHING DRASTIC

AND THEN WHAT DO I SEE???? WHAT DO I SEE???????? YOU PEOPLE VOTE FOR BING??????????? THE SEARCH ENGINE????? NOW I WON'T HAVE NEGATIVE PROPAGANDA ABOUT ANY CONTESTANT! BUT!! JAMES CAGNEY!!! WAS RIGHT THERE!!!! DID THE TAP DANCING MEAN NOTHING TO YOU? THE EVIL ANTICS? THE WAY HE'S FUCKED UP BUT LIKE. IN A LOVABLE WAY? I'VE BARELY EVEN SEEN A CAGNEY MOVIE AND I KNOW HIS HOTNESS IS TRANSCENDENT LEVELS!! HE CAN YANKEE MY DOODLE DANDY ANYTIME HE PLEASES!!!! MEANWHILE OLIVIER IS USING MICKEY ROONEY AS A MOP!!!!!! THE WHOLE BRACKET'S GONE TO HELL IN A HANDBASKET AND MY GLORIOUS EYELINER'D TAPDANCING EVIL GANGSTER MAN HAS BEEN LEFT IN THE DUST BY A JAZZ SINGER ! ! ! ! ! !! ! ! ! !!!!!!!

[filmofhybe]

airport buddies.

🥥 pairing : ot7 x oc! 8th member of enha • GENRE : fluff

WARNING: mention of food , crowding , pushing , Profanity

; AUTHORS NOTE : sudden thought of me being the 8th member of enhypen hit my brain while watching Golden Disc Award. And obviously credit to @srjlvr bc her 8th members works inspired me!

MASTERLIST TO MY OTHER WORK

정원 jungwon

as one of the members in the hyung line, jungwon as the leader, still keeps his eyes on you as fans would be crowding you guys despite them keeping a distance. Because you guys was once mopped at the terminal before and you got really injured, he would tell you to grab onto his bag as you walk towards the exit. He would sometimes tell you to link arms with him, and these sweet moments are captured by fans, speaking up about how attentive jungwon is about previous situations and how he cares about his members safety. You feel really safe around him and your glad he’s taking care of you. (You would also guide him through the crowd if it gets to chaotic.)

“y/n hold onto my bag so you don’t get lost.”

“wonnie I’m fine trust me.”

“no I don’t trust the crowd after what happened. You deserve to stay safe around me.”

“If you insist, but one day I would need to stop doing it because you won’t be with me.”

“DONT GO ALL SAD NOW.”

“IM NOT IM JUST SPEAKING THE-“

“you both shut up please I’m too tired for this argument every damn time.” Your manager chuckled as he watched both of you having the “I need to keep you safe!” Argument every time before stepping out of the terminal.

희 승 heeseung

He treats you to food before you guys board the plane. He knows your morning temper is horrible, having to wake up in early in the morning to get to the airport, than having to deal with flashing cameras before checking in already made your day ten times worse. So when you guys are waiting to bored the plane, he will treat you to something sweet, like a chocolate cookie along with a blueberry muffin. Or just anything you want. He cares about your health especially your body is still growing. (Sometimes you would reject his offer, however he would still buy it just in case you start complaining about how hungry you are on the plane)

“y/n~ let’s go get food shall we?”

“I would love to but I’m tired…” you sigh as you cuddle into your hoodie more, keeping yourself warm.

“come on, let’s go get some food before boarding, you can pick whatever you want.” He smiled as he noticed you jump out of your seat after what he said.

Walking towards a small café, you picked out a cookie and a refresher. Heeseung picked something for each member and himself before paying everything. He watches you munch on your cookie, smiling once again to know that all he needs to do to make you happy is food.

박종성 Park Jeongseong

MR DRAGS YOU ALONG TO SHOP. He’s the person to shop at those designer shop before boarding in his spare time. Even though he has good style, he would always drag you along with him. He thinks you giving him opinions about what he should get makes his purchases worth it. Like he had said before “y/n has better taste than I do, people may not admit it but she really does. I’m glad she is always willing to come shopping with me.” Despite you being so tired, you still enjoy walking around with him. You guys usually come out with around 3 bags of stuff. Fans always assume you both have some spending problem at the airport 😭

does this sweater look better than the other?” Jay placed the black sweater in front of him, holding the other color beside him as he switch in between the two.

“I like the navy blue more. It suits you better… it also matches the Prada sunglasses I got you.” You suggested as you grab the navy blue sweater. Placing in front of his torso.

“Nevermind i agree with you. My jawline stands out more.” He smirks, before trying to escape from your slapping.

“We get it park jeongseong you have sharp ass jawline now get your sweater.”

“Jesus Christ I enjoy shopping with you BUT NOT YOU HITTING ME?!?”

심재윤 Sim Jaeyun

The “I can’t stop gossiping” duo. Oh my gosh you both just can’t stop yapping the moment you step out of the van. Is like you guys are high school best friends talking about the latest gossips. You guys would link arms and whisper into each others ears, but laughing extremely loudly after what you heard from the other. Is the media pressed about your interactions? Sometimes (because they can’t take good pictures of the group without you both not talking) however they enjoy watching you both laughing your ass off to whatever your laughing about at 5 in the morning.

“no because I heard that he’s really bad at singing..” Jake whispers as he links his arms with you. Leaning into you as he tries to tell you the latest updates on the entertainment industry.

“No way I thought she was good enough to make it..”

“bitch he was like iM sUpER sHyYYy iM sUpeR sHY.” Jake intimates whoever he was talking about, making you both burst into laughter behind all your members. The members were confused on the sudden laughter. Who on earth laughs this much at 5 in the morning with camera flashes in their face.

“But who are we to judge…? I mean he tried at least.”

“Stop we can’t be rude at least he tried…”

“Keyword tried..”

The ones to say they shouldn’t be judging after gossiping about it😭 just too unserious

성훈 Sunghoon

The matching fit duo. You both somehow always have matching airport fits. Making favs believe you guys did it on purpose (sometimes). But both of you never complain about it. Because of how good both your stylist it, fans always try to take lots of pics of you when you guys are standing next to each other. But sometimes it’s the opposite, you would accidentally wear his shirt while he is uses your bag. And fans loves how you guys share each others items for time to time. (Ps. They love to question you guys.)

“y/nnie!! Where is your bag from?”

“I don’t know, sunghoon got it. It was the first bag I saw so I took it. I’m so sorry!”

“Is okay!! Sunghoon! Are you and y/nnie matching today?”

“We didn’t mean to match again today. It was by coincidence. Do you guys like it?” Fans started agreeing that they love your matching outfits. You both thanked them for noticing and were both flattered by how cute your fans are.

선우 Sunoo

THE SERVING CUNT DUO!! Because both of your age are really close to each other and you both have basically the same brain cell. You both constantly like to tease each other and laugh at each other. You guys do not care if it’s 12 at night that your at the airport, you guys would do the must random shit ever. Eg. A catwalk while linking arms, or writing on your phones pointing towards each other. “SUNOO SPILLED MY COFFEE.” “I DIDNT YOUR FOOT KICKED IT!!” Sigh the members are tired of you both but I guess they find it kinda funny as well.

“WHY ARE YOU TRYNA EXPOSE ME?!?” You asked sunoo as you watched the younger boy laugh at the message - “Y/N FORGOT TO WEAR SOCKS TODAY!!” On his phone. Ready for fans and media to see.

“YOU ARE EXPOSING ME TOO!?” he gasped as he reads yours - “SUNOO CRIED ON THE WAY HERE BECAUSE HE FORGOT HIS DITTO DOLL!!” You shrugged your shoulders as you quickly stepped out of the van before he can reach you.

Fans and the media captures this funny moment as your members silently laughs at how immature you both are. But they don’t complain at all.

にしむら りき Nishimura Riki

The mother and son duo. Being one of the oldest of the group, and you promising to take good care of Niki. You constantly make sure he is alright and his passport is kept safe with him. Fans starts taking notice that you would hold onto his passport after hd lost it once, and he is comfortable enough to hold onto your bag as you make your way through the crowd. Some even noticed that he would buy you medicine before boarding because he knows you get ill easily while traveling. Lots of people treasure your relationship dearly and they always appreciate how you take care of each other very well. (You take Care of other members as well but most of the time Niki because he’s the youngest.)

Fans and media captures a brief moment of Niki handing you his passport. “y/n can you hold onto my passport so I don’t lose it again?” He whispered beside you. Nodding as you take his passport into your hand.

He grabs onto your purse as you walked through the crowd of people. You would look back at him from time to time to make sure he is behind you. Grabbing his hand when it starts getting more chaotic. His grip is now tighter around you, you look back reassuring him that your here and he would be okay. “Niki is okay I’m here your fine. Your passport is safe as well don’t worry.” He can sense you smiling at him, even though your mask covers half of your face.

Fans was touched by both of your little interactions at the airport. Knowing Niki still relays on his older members even though he just turned 18. They know he is still a baby at heart and still need caring. And they thank you for taking care of him like he’s one of your owns.

© filmofhybe on tumblr — do not copy , translate or share.

networks ~ @kflixnet @k-films @/k-labels @k-neighborhood

[eiraeths]

y’all know janitor from scrubs? he gives me ghost vibes. if y’all don’t know who janitor is just know this: he’s a pathological liar (but it’s over minor things for his own entertainment) and two he actively tries to make the main character of scrubs, JD, life harder over a small little incident. dude can hold a grudge.

anyway here’s a bunch of janitor quotes from scrubs except replacing it with ghost being janitor and soap is JD because it honestly made so much sense in my head. I also think a lot of dr cox quotes fit price or ghost so some of those too. actually price could also be dr kelso in a lot of this good lawd.

———

Ghost: [mouths] I'm going to kill you.

Soap: [silently] What?

Ghost: [gestures and mouths] I'm going to kill you.

Soap: Why?

Ghost: [shrugs]

———

Price: Look, you and I are alike in a lot of ways.

Ghost: We both harbor an internal struggle between the desire to do good, and the urge to become a master criminal.

Price: We don't.

Ghost: We do.

Price: You hate people, and I hate people. What nobody gets is that we never hate indiscriminately.

Ghost: That is so true. I only hate those that have wronged me. Like if they stole my stuff, or put a penny in a door. Or... that guy. See this look he shot us, like he's so much better than we are.

Price: Plus, he's only 25, and earlier I heard him use the phrase "Back in the day".

Ghost: Well, he's dug his own grave, hasn't he? Let's do this.

———

Soap: Did you lose something?

Ghost: No, why? Did you take something?

Soap: No.

Ghost: What'd you take?

Soap: Nothing.

Ghost: What'd you take?

———

[Soap walks out of the elevator as Ghost mops the floor]

Ghost : Hey!

Soap: What? I didn't say anything. I didn't do anything. What imaginary slight have you concocted in that paranoid brain of yours?

[Ghost looks down to the trail of muddy footprints trailing Soap]

Soap: [internally] Crap.

Soap: Well, shouldn't there be some sort of sign... Oh, look at that. Well, you should put it back down before someone slips and falls.

Ghost: Oh, is that what I should do? Good, because I make most decisions based on your opinion. You know what, I'm thinking of splitting up with the wife. Maybe you could mull that over, get back to me, maybe pow-wow. [a woman slips] Floor's wet, ma'am. Little help over here. Little help.

———

Gaz: Cap’n, what's our plan of attack?

Price: When I crush a person's spirit, I like to use a combination of intimidation and degradation.

Soap: I prefer to create an environment in which the subjects end up crushing themselves.

Price: Uh-huh.

Ghost: I like to pick one person and torment them relentlessly for no reason. If I could find them I'd show you.

[poor rookie of the day walks up behind Ghost and wisely decides to back away]

Ghost: He's near.

———

[Ghost sprays a window with blue cleaning fluid and wipes it. He then aims the spray in his mouth. Price takes a second look as he passes by.]

Ghost: I filled it with blue Gatorade. I just do that to freak people out.

Price: Scintillating

———

[As a boy plays with a toy car in his bed, he accidentally knocks over his juice carton]

A Boy: Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no!

Gaz: Hey, it's okay.

A Boy: But now the Ghost Who Hates Spills is gonna come.

Gaz: Who?

Ghost: You're right, boy. He might come this very night. And as you know, that ghost's entire family was killed by a careless spill. Just like yours. Just like yours. Hmm.

———

Gaz: Oh, hi. Are we going out? What's with the jumpsuit?

Ghost: Okay, first of all if we're gonna make it, not a jumpsuit. Shirt, belt, pants.

Gaz: Oh. Ok.

Ghost: Secondly, I think it's time that you knew the real me. All right, here we go. I'm not like normal people. I don't have superpowers, but I'm working on it. For instance, watch me move this pen. [looks at pen, which doesn't move] It worked at home. I don't know. Maybe my table is slanted. Um, anyway, in my spare time, I also enjoy stuffing animals. Usually with other animals. For instance, a badger will hold five squirrels. A squirrel will hold most of a cat. A mouse will hold a shrew and a vole. You get the idea. Circle of life. I have broken the sound barrier, but you must never ask me how. I don't believe in the moon. I think it's just the back of the sun.

Price: Ha! I love a good train wreck.

Ghost: Furthermore, I think if you look closely a monkey-

Soap: Stop it, you. he doesn't know you're joking.

———

Ghost: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa whoa. Watch your step, there, Gaz.

Gaz: Thanks, Ghost.

Gaz: [internally] He is so sweet. But why doesn't he just put up a sign that says "wet floor"?

[Soap screams as he slides across the floor and crashes]

Ghost: Wet floor.

———

Soap: [gasps] Why do you have to jump out and scare me all the time?

Ghost: I don't jump out and scare you. I follow you around all day. I only got about an hour-and-a-half worth of work around here, and the rest of the time, I track you, like an animal.

Soap: You're kidding, right?

Ghost: [chuckles] I don't know. Am I?

———

Soap: Holy-

Ghost: [whispering] Calm down. I didn't mean to scare you.

Soap: [whispering] Why are we whispering?

Ghost: [whispering] I wanted to see if you would whisper because I whispered.

Soap: [whispering] I think I would.

———

Ghost: I convinced everybody in on base that's afraid of me to go outside and spell out the score of the game.

Price: Really?

Ghost: No, you idiot. I'm just gonna tell you the score of the game. Maybe knock your head against the glass.

Price: Look, I was way out of line telling you how that movie ended, but, God save me, watching sports is one of the last pure pleasures I have left in my life, so you tell me what's it gonna take for you to let me go home, sit in my massage chair, and enjoy the game?

Ghost: I would like to perform open heart surgery.

Price: No.

Ghost: How about you perform surgery on me so that I can breathe underwater?

Price: No.

Ghost: I would like a shark that read minds.

Price: No.

Ghost: You and I trade lives for a year.

Price: No.

Ghost: How about a home-cooked meal and an hour in your massage chair?

Price: Done.

Ghost: Done.

[Ghost walks over to the window and looks outside, where a large group of rookies have arranged themselves to spell out "98-97"]

Ghost: Hey, guys, it's off.

[He looks again and they have rearranged themselves to read "Why"]

Ghost: Wow! You guys are organised.

———

Ghost: Look, if I learnt one thing from my parents, it's this. The key to a good marriage is keeping your emotions bottled up until they finally explode and you have to lash out physically.

Soap: You mean, beat each other up?

Ghost: I mean beat yourself up. My mother once snapped her own index finger because my father was late for church. She dented the car, he threw himself down the stairs.

———

Gaz: Soap, you're not that self-destructive.

Ghost: Really? I was gonna suggest he seek professional help. Would you be interested in seeing a cognitive therapist? 'cause I know a guy, he's good. I'm going to give you his card, then I'm gonna bash your head in. I'll see you in the morning.

Soap: I'm in at 7.

Ghost: Wear a helmet.

———

okay that’s it

[joyaphoria]

growing up, kiyoomi never had many friends.

he didn’t know how to talk to the other kids, and so he wasn’t very good at socializing.

having curly hair didn’t help either, because while his moms friends called him adorable and fluffed it, the other kids just thought it was weird.

‘you aren’t normal!’ they would shriek, running down the hall when he would approach them. ‘normal kids have straight hair!’

when kiyoomi would come home, sometimes with a trembling lip as he struggled to contain his whimpers, his mom would twist one of the ‘abnormal’ curls around her finger.

“there’s no such thing as normal, baby.” she would whisper against his head. “kids just aren’t used to things that they don’t see everyday.”

knowing that his curls were popular with the adults made him feel a little better, but it didn’t change the fact that he still wasn’t accepted amongst his peers.

then one day, a new student was introduced to the class.

the other kids were fascinated with you, because you moved around a lot, and came here from abroad; the teachers were just as in awe, because even at the young age of ten, you spoke both japanese and english.

you’ve been to so many places around the world, that the other kids began to trust in your opinion of what was and wasn’t cool.

and so one day during recess, while kiyoomi was playing on the swings, the same troublesome group of kids came after him.

“he looks like he’s wearing a mop!” one of the girls shrieked. “no way! even i wouldn’t use that to clean the floor!” a boy retorted.

kiyoomi closed his eyes and ignored them as he kicked his legs on the swing, urging it to go higher. block them out, his mom had told him. show them that they aren’t important.

and kiyoomi was trying, he really was, but the things they said got nastier and nastier, until one of them said “no way his momma touches that mop!”

his lip was trembling by the end, and he hung his head to save himself from the embarrassment of being seen crying.

“where i’ve been, curls are super cool.”

and all the giggling and snickers went quiet, as kiyoomi looked up to find you, arms crossed as you stared down the other kids. “bullying isn’t though, and the big kids would usually come to hang you upside down.”

their eyes went wide in fear as the scrambled away, leaving omi on the swing with his head bowed and cheeks tear stained, his curls shielding his face.

“i think your curls are great,” you exclaim, taking a seat in the swing next to his. “my big sister has curls too, and she styles them really pretty!”

kiyoomi blinks, slowly looking up to meet your eyes. you smile even brighter, and kiyoomi’s cheeks heat when you ask, “may i touch your hair?”

nobody had ever asked, not even his moms friends who did it regardless.

and maybe he was just so used to the names he’s been called, because he asks, “aren’t you afraid that you’ll get cursed? or that worms will crawl out?”

and kiyoomi watches as you burst into laughter, so hard, that the other kids were turning their heads to whisper and mumble. “if touching curly hair curses me, im way passed saving!”

kiyoomi finds himself smiling faintly alongside you, before tilting his head towards you, as a silent way of approving.

he listens as you hold one of his curls, exclaiming, “it’s so soft! your ma takes care of them so nicely!”

and ever since that day, kiyoomi had grown attached to you.

you guys became the best of friends; occasional play dates, sleepovers, always together at school, and always confiding in each other. you two were inseparable, and you made kiyoomi’s elementary days less and less insufferable.

that is until you turned twelve, and kiyoomi found out that you were moving away again.

“my dad found a job back up in canada,” you explained hesitantly one day at recess, as you both sat side by side on the swings. “my dad doesn’t like to stay in one place for too long, and it turns out that my mom has been pushing the move back for some time now.”

you don’t mention that it’s because you’ve been begging her not to go, your little heart suffocating at the thought of leaving your best friend behind.

kiyoomi hangs his head — just like that day two years ago — shielding the world from the tears that were making their way down his face.

“i’m sorry, omi.” you whisper, entangling your tiny hand with his. he can hear the sincerity in your soft voice, and the way it trembles tells him that he isn’t the only one loosing a special part of him. “one day when i’m older, i’ll find you again.”

kiyoomi lifts his head once more, finding courage in your oath. “you promise?” because kiyoomi had never had been promised anything, just the small things from his parents, that were often forgotten about.

this, though, isn’t small. this is big and important, and it’s a promise that you need to keep, if made. “i promise, omi.”

and kiyoomi is guilty of forgetting about you by the time he becomes a teenager, because let’s face it; you were children. your little hearts had entangled and grown fond of each other, but eventually, you were no more than the first friend he had made in kindergarten, long since forgotten about.

little does he know, come twelve years, you would most definitely find your newly grown hearts, once again, entangled.

[maple-the-awesome]

Erwin Smith & Shy! Reader Headcanons

Pairing: Platonic! Erwin Smith & Levi x Shy! Reader

Requested by anonymous: Hello! Do you think I could ask for Headcanons with Erwin Smith being a father figure towards a shy, quiet but sweet reader? Of course! I'm afraid I'm not the greatest at writing headcanons, but I did my best 💪(◡̀_◡́҂). Here you go 💜

Attack on Titan Masterlist ❤️ Fandom Masterlist

You joined the Scouts as soon as you could, but have always tried to maintain a low profile, in fact out of everyone who has encountered you, at least 98.99% are certain they've never actually heard your voice before.

Are you mute? Do you just think you’re too good for everyone else? The world may never know.

…Alright, so that might've been an exaggeration. Some people know, notably those who don’t survive off of a single brain cell (aka Erwin and Levi, sometimes Hange depending on the day???).

Okay, let's start off with Levi's opinions of your first. What does he like about you? You're quiet. Plain and simple. You don't talk his ear off about stupid stuff. You don't make dumb annoying jokes like Springer or Braus. You don't butt heads with others like Yeager and Kirstein. You're one of those rare cadets who has decent manners and clearly wasn't raised by wolves (although a bit more on that later).

Erwin isn't as shy when it comes to giving you praise. If he notices you feeling insecure or particularly shy, you can bet he's on that shit right away the same way Levi's on dirt with a mop. Oh, and his words of support aren't just 'words'. Expect a full on speech with the same sort of passion he pours into his job.

Now, there's a reason for Levi and Erwin often encouraging you that goes beyond you simply being their favorite (which you probably are). They can relate to you. You're an orphan. They're both orphans. The difference? They didn't have anyone there for them. They each lost the only father-figures they had when they were young and know the pain well, so they'll be damned if they let you suffer the same path.

Yep, they're self-proclaimed dads. Levi, of course, won't admit it aloud because he's stubborn, but that doesn't apply to Erwin. He doesn't necessarily go around saying anything, however if someone asks if he has a kid, he'll shameless say 'yes' with a sly smirk on his face (is he lying?!).

You don't mind the attention. It may have been uncomfortable at first since you weren't used to having any parent figures, although you quickly realized how nice it could be to have two scary dads hovering over your shoulder especially whenever someone gives you a hard time for being so timid. Mind your own business or get assigned extra cleaning duty. You choose.

Added bonus? Expert advice that isn't handed down in an intimating way that could be mistake for harsh criticism like everyone else gets. Feel free to go to Erwin any time you have a question. He'll go over with you in detail, and if you don't understand his explanation, he'll try different ways to get it across, even taking you to others who might be able to explain it better. You also might just be the only scout who isn't afraid to ask Levi for critiques on your fighting skills since you can so easily see beyond his 'tough-guy' act.

Hell, sometimes you just follow them around like a lost puppy, too, just to soak in some bonding time. Erwin actually really enjoys this, liking the quiet joy that comes with having you help him with important documents. Levi may huff and puff about it, sometimes waving you off when others comment on you being his shadow, yet know that deep down he takes a lot of pride in your presences.

Yep. They're both wrapped around your silent little finger. Do what you want with this information.

[otakuworks]

❛ 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍, 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈. crossover

feat. Kayden x Fem!Dazai!Reader | wc. 1.9k

sum. Kayden's meeting with a certain suicidal maniac took 10 years of his life

note. this is shorter because i still yet to know about duke's background, if you still haven't been updated to the webtoon then you definitely should, there's a lot plot twists waiting for you y'all.

main m.list eleceed m.list

PART 1 < PART 2

as FRIENDS (frenemies?)

There was once a saying in the Port Mafia that made everyone tremble in fear that is equivalent of the Awakeners hearing Kayden's name

'The greatest misfortune of being Dazai's enemy is the fact you are her enemy.'

Whether Kayden is aware of who you really are or not, it was wise of him to keep you on your good side.

But is that really the case? Were you still the same person you were back in the Port Mafia? Do people still need to heed the warnings about you?

You had asked Kartein about it once during your unexpected stay in Jiwoo's abode. He was silent for a few minutes and you thought he also doesn't have the answer you were looking for.

Actually, it didn't need to be a wise answer, you only need his opinion and outlook regarding to your change. Kartein knows you way back in the PM, not on a personal level but enough to trust his opinions on you.

"A stranger won't be able to tell the difference. If I'm being honest, I can't also tell what change are you referring to."

You theatrically gasped, "After all we've been through, you're still treating me as a stranger? How could you, Kartein!"

Admittedly, you weren't expecting much out of his answer. Both of you haven't been in contact in years, it'll be difficult for him to pin point what actually changed to you.

You were still the same suicidal maniac, that's a definite answer.

Thinking back to it, if you could only talk to Odasaku, would he have a different answer?

For the first time in your life as a detective at ADA, you were in deep thought. Gone with the rambunctious proclamations of your sudden undying love then proceeding to find an equipment for your demise.

"Dazai-san is unusually quiet. . . I don't like it." A mop of grey hair popped its head on the doorway of your office, "Should I ask Ranpo-san if he knows what's going on?" He pondered, particularly no one but to himself.

"Maskhhhh mweee whatm?"

"If there's something wrong with Dazai-san that we should be—" He abruptly paused and glanced behind him to see an over bloated mouth munching, "ACKK! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Eh? Aren't you a weretiger who's supposed to have heightened senses?" The said guy continued to eat, unfazed.

"I'm still partially human, Ranpo-san." He pouted, hurt, before turning back to the door in which Dazai is leaning over with an enigmatic smile.

"My, my, Atsushi-kun. Were you spying on me?"

Deep hues of red painted his cheeks as he tries his best to come up with an excuse, "It wasn't anything like that!"

On his behalf, Ranpo spoke, "The President has a mission for you."

Your eyebrows perched, "Oh? I wish it has something to do with—"

"No suicide is required to accomplish this mission." The greatest detective just knows how to deflate your mood, truly worthy of his title at ADA. While you are now deflated from hearing this.

"This might get difficult. Apparently, one of the Top 10 Awakeners is planning an ambush in the World Academy."

You snorted, "And you're expecting me to diffuse the situation?" Atsushi was more confused than comprehensive.

"Awakeners? I thought Ability users don't meddle in with their business?"

Awakeners and Ability users are basically the epitome of the phrase 'two sides of a coin' and no one can be categorized as a hero nor a villain.

"Correct, however, this is a special request from someone with strong connection on both parties." Ranpo supplied as he keeps chowing down his sweets.

"Like who?"

"You read my mind, Atsushi-kun." You made your way out of your office, not that you were doing something productive anyway.

"Ranpo-san, why did the President accept such request?"

"Who knows what thoughts running in his head, but I do know he wouldn't have done it without any benefits."

". . .But why would he send Dazai-san?"

"Why wouldn't he? She may be a nuthead, but she's one of our best."

Your investigation led you back in South Korea, more precisely, in the Academy of Awakeners where the retired strongest in Korea resides as a principal.

Jiyoung and Inhyuk were the first ones who got informed of your arrival and immediately greeted you at the airport.

And Jiwoo certainly wasn't far behind the news as he begged Kayden to give him an off day to see you.

Even Subin went with Jiyoung to see you. Kartein is only excited to brag about his new attained skill of turning into a cat. Wooin, ever the sweetest big boi, bought extra food to treat you for your return. Now that you're back, Jisuk and Kayden's sixth senses of protecting their precious cinnamon roll are on high alert.

Their mixed reactions caused mayhem on the way to Jiwoo's home, while the lad is certainly delighted to have you back, others have different opinions.

You had forgotten why you were actually in Korea and hang out with them for the rest of the day. It's an oddity how easily you lose yourself to the fun whenever you're with them, especially to Jiwoo who's easy to have fun with.

"I'm so glad you came back! You never got to say farewell to us when you left last time." The blonde boy pouted.

Wooin wordlessly nodded at the back as the your group walk to Jiwoo's house to drop the shopping bags they bought, "You just disappeared out of nowhere then came back without a notice."

"Though I don't think it's great timing since we're going to attend in Awakened Academy next week, we won't be spending time with you as much as we are now." Subin said.

You halted your steps, ". . .Right."

The mission. Dang it!

Jisuk snorts, "I'd be glad if she won't waste our time by tomorrow."

That earned him a kick from the cryo user.

Fortunately for you, Jiyoung is affiliated with the principal and took charge to make it easy for you. Meeting with the retired Awakener was. . . anticlimactic to say the least.

It doesn't seem like he's involved in any shady business, and he does his job to protect young Awakeners diligently.

Oddly enough, he informed you about the upcoming visit of the World Awakened Academy students.

You went home to Jiwoo's with troubled thoughts. He let you stay in his house if you don't have anywhere else to stay and you're broke so you really have no choice ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Kayden seemed to pick up your unusual furrowed eyebrows and had doubts to question you or just let you be. He finds it highly suspicious you went back to Korea just to have fun with his apprentice. You must have some business going on.

But his pride won't let him inquire what's boggling your mind, he simply watches you struggle to come up with a solution to your own problem. You're a grown woman anyway.

By the time Jiwoo and his friends are gearing up for their return in the Academy, you disappeared, again. Unlike last time, they were more concerned about your whereabouts as you have left a note that says "I'll be back with a surprise.''

Either your dead body hanging is on the way to surprise them or you got murdered.

That's all the options Kayden could think of, and no, he doesn't take constructive criticism.

"A new instructor? Who is it?" Jiwoo overheard from the students there was a new teacher who taught them. . . questionable things.

Thinking his friends might know who it is, he asked them, but it seems as though they're clueless as who it is.

"Moshi Moshi!" Jisuk fell over his chair and nearly threw the culprit over the window, "WHO THE HEL— Huh?! It's you again?! What are you doing here?"

In contrary to his reaction, Jiwoo welcomed you with open arms, "Y/N, I'm so glad you're here!"

You chuckled at this and patted his head, "Are you now? Don't worry, you won't get rid of me that soon."

"Why's that?" Subin looked particularly surprised but refrained herself from embracing you out of relief that you survived another day with your suicide tendencies.

You grinned like a chesire cat, "I'll be your mentor from now on!"

©OTAKUWORKS | 2023

[verdet-cadet]

Little isn’t in too many of your fics, so would love to get your take on him for the ask game!

@themundanemudperson also asked for this too.

First Impression: Oh God. I wasn't paying attention for my first readthrough and entirely missed that he canonically had dark hair and a beaky nose, so for my entire first readthrough he was played in my head by Aaron Tveit, complete with sunshine mop of golden curls. Oops.

Impression Now: Tragically brunette.

(Though I will say its still not the blow that blue eyed Granby is canon was.)

There's basically like, two canon facts about Augustine Little and I already started by immediately getting one wrong.

I think he's usually just a slightly reserved (for an aviator) even keeled, pleasant dude. Unless someone he loves (Immortalis) is in danger, in which case he will rip out a man's throat with his teeth. He's got a very fond multi-year situationship going with Granby, which maybe will deepen post canon when they get to spend more than 5 minutes with each other.

Favorite Moment: I'm very soft for the moment in EOI when they try a potential cure that fails:

"I would not have regretted it, not at all," Sutton muttered, hunched over the table and speaking to himself, but so violently that it could not but be overheard. "How could there be any regret, in such circumstances; there could be none," in anguish as great as though his guilt over the prospect of a cure for his own Messoria, when so many others might be left to die, had been the very cause of failure; and Little was so white and stricken that Chenery took him into his tent, and plied him with rum until he slept.

Its a very small moment, but I think the only bit of canon where we get the beat that Chenery and Little are friends and I love that for them.

Idea for a Story: Granby seeing Little, going “yep, that’s the guy” and doing the absolute most to make it happen. I'd love a getting together fic where Granby is the pursuer, nor in a "extrovert beams his spotlight on a shy boy" sort of way but it a "Guy who'd prefer to drink his tea in peace discovers Persistent Flirt is actually a decent human"

Unpopular Opinion: Little's poetic nature is largely ascribed to him by dint of being slim, fey featured, and having Good Hair. The knack for sketching doesn't help either, but I think he's otherwise much more pragmatic than romantic/Romantic.

Favorite Relationship: I mean, it has to be Granby/Little, but a strong honorable mention to Little and Chenery. I headcanon him and Chenery being thick as thieves since they were runners.

Favorite Headcanon: Little was absolutely amused and unbothered by his boyfriend's Book 1 weird hate-crush on his new boss.

Also just the idea of him showing up intermittently on the sidelines to check in with Granby, get a few smooches in, and watch Tharkay and Laurence doing *gestures vaguely* whatever the hell it is those two had going on for six books simmer until ready to plate.

I'm also fascinated with the idea of Little having some degree of connection to the queer community of the time. I think it's feasible if he was stationed in Dover for a large portion of his service. Given the large overlap between queer spaces and spaces frequented by artists and creatives, that's possibly another reason why his fellow officers saw him as so poetical.

[issie-https]

Hi, I have another idea, inspired by the song Rocket Queen

what if Izzy and the reader were trying to record their audio for the music?

Rocket Queen

Izzy Stradlin X Reader

A/n: Omg! Thank you everyone for your requests and all the follows and likes, it means the world to me. I hope you enjoy this🩷 Also, I love this song(still pissed off w Axl and Adriana tho bcos popcorn for life🍿).

Word count: 823

Warnings: Smut(unprotected p in v(Protect your lightsaber!)), breast play, Oral(F!receiving), fingering and swearing.

Masterlist

༺✩༻

"Hi, gorgeous. Would you mind coming to the studio after you've finished work?" Izzy asked over the phone. "Yeah, is everything okay?" I replied. "Everything is good but we need your help and opinion on something." he said. I could hear Axl and Slash giggling like little bitches in the background. "That's fine. What's up with gingerbread and mop man?" I asked. "They're just being weird." he replied. "I've got to go." I said. "Okay, see you later, princess." he said. "See you later."I replied and out the phone back on the receiver.

"Anna, I'm leaving now." I said to my boss. "Okay, see you on Monday." she smiled, her smile lines appearing. "See you Monday." I waved.

I headed straight for the studio with two things on my mind. One, my heels are killing me. Two, why do they want me at the studio?

"I'm here." I grinned as I entered the studio, seeing the guys talking to each other. "There she is." Izzy said, walking over to me and squeezing me in a hug. "We've got to make this quick because these heels are fucking my feet up." I grumbled. "Oh, it'll be quick alright." Axl said, making Izzy slap his arm. "What?" I asked. "Listen to this song and let me know if you think anything is missing." Axl replied, putting a pair of headphones over my ears.

He pressed play and the song that I was told was 'Rocket Queen' started playing. Now, in my opinion, it sounded great but it was missing something but I had no idea what.

"It is missing something." I said once the song ended. "That's why we were thinking some female vocals." Slash said. "I can't sing." I laughed, slightly awkwardly. "We meant that maybe some female... uh, moans." Izzy replied. "I'm not faking an orgasm." I said. "That's w-". "I'm also not having sex in front of you lot." I said, flatly. "Please, Y/n. We won't watch, we'll have a cigarette outside." Axl begged. "I get Izzy right? It's not a masturbation thing?" I asked, looking at Izzy. "You can have Izzy," Slash said. "Fine. But no one will hear about this or I will bury you where no one can find you." I groaned. "Just let us know when you're done." Axl smirked. They all headed out and I pressed record and grabbed Izzy's hand and went into the recording room.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He said. "Yes. I need this after today." I replied, kissing him. He walked me over to a couch in the middle of the room which I decided not to question. He took my heels, tights and panties off and bunched my skirt around my waist. He suckled my clit into his mouth, making me moan out in pleasure. "Fuck." I whimpered out, lacing my fingers through his hair. He circled two fingers around my entrance and then pushed them in, eliciting a lewd moan. He pumped his fingers in and out of me while working on my clit with his mouth and lips. Pornographic moans left my mouth as I pulled on his dark strands. He pressed a kiss to my swollen clit before standing up and removing his shirt and belt and pulling his pants down. I whimpered at the loss of contact, getting needy for his cock as I saw it spring free from his leather pants. He pumped himself a few times, spreading his precum over his swollen tip.

He sat down next to me on the sofa and pulled me onto his lap, lining himself up with my entrance. He thrusted up into me, making me scream and dig my nails into his shoulders. He pulled me in for a deep and heated kiss as I moaned into his mouth. He moved one of his hands down to my swollen nub, rubbing furious circles as I moaned loudly. Desperate for some extra stimulation, I moved one of my hands from Izzy's shoulder to my breast, kneading the flesh and toying with my nipple. He swatted my hand away and attached his swollen lips to my nipple, sucking it into my mouth. "G-god." I rasped as I felt my climax nearing. Izzy continued his circles on my clit as his thrusts got sloppier as he twitched against my g-spot. I looked into his eyes as he took his mouth off my breast. "I'm gonna- fuck." I gasped. Izzy just nodded his head, acknowledging my orgasm. I came around him, a mix of profanities fell out my mouth soon followed by him burying his cum deep inside me.

We rode out our orgasms before he kissed me and lifted me off his lap. "Let's hope Axl is happy with that." He panted, rubbing my thigh. "If not, I'm always happy to re-record." I said, nuzzling up to his arm. "As am I." He laughed.

[bettyfrommars]

are you still writing that delicious fic about biker steve and the new girl at the bar?

oh yesss baby, I'm so glad you asked.

I might not finish it until I'm done with I'm on Fire, but here is a little something to tide you over. I'm not sure what I'm calling the fic yet, but it will be nice and long and juicy. This blurb won't be in the fic exactly like this, but I felt I needed to add some backstory. wc: 950

biker!steve x fem!reader

18+ONLY for mature themes, thoughts of smut, and mutual yearning

from the I'm on Fire au

Steve had been getting his hair cut by Rudy, the barber in Old Town, for over a decade, and he looked forward to his time in the chair, especially now that it was fall and things were finally settling down from the insanity of that particular summer.

It’d been 2 months, 5 days and 11 hours since he first laid eyes on you at The Velvet Hammer---the bar where you both worked.  He remembered checking the clock and thinking: this moment is important. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t know when, but he would have you.  He’d know your taste; he’d decipher every whine and whimper until no words were necessary.  He wanted to share the kind of passion with you that blossomed into blind, stark raving mad obsession.  He wanted to do and say things he’d regret, to embark on a mutual fixation that was borderline embarrassing.  

But you wanted nothing to do with him.  

You’d made it clear that “friendly co-workers” was all it would ever be.  You’d heard the rumors about his reputation as the local lothario and were familiar with the motorcycle club he belonged to that further accelerated his bad boy appeal.  Sure, you caught yourself thinking about him when you weren’t at work, secretly hoping that your schedules would sync up over the weekend so that you could indulge in that feisty banter the two of you excelled at. All flirting aside, one thing was for certain: getting intimately involved with a guy like Steve Harrington would not be good for your heart.

A very nice guy named Sean asked you out on a coffee date a few days ago, and you had accepted.  He had a stable job, he liked animals, and he didn’t look anything like the heavily tattooed biker with the thick mop of slicked back hair that you couldn’t stop fucking thinking about.  

The meetup went fine, the conversation dry but respectful, and you might’ve dozed off once while he was in a particularly long monologue about a trip he took with his ex before they broke up.  The guy was a snoozefest, honestly, and the corners of your mouth jerked in a quick smile when you thought about the faces Steve would make if he were there.  

Steve stepped out onto the sidewalk from the barbers in his scuffed boots and cupped his hand in front of his face to light a smoke, scowling down at the lighter that he had to flick more than once.  He’d asked Rudy to go a little shorter on the sides this time, and there were two lines shaved in above his right ear.  He ran his thick fingers through his freshly styled locks, tee shirt sleeve straining tight around his muscles, and took a long drag, hollowing out his cheeks.

He looked up to put his wayfarer sunglasses on, and there you were--- coming out of the coffee shop with some…dude.  

The sight made him pause his sunglasses in mid air before slowly sliding them on the rest of the way. He stepped off the curb to straddle his 1993 Harley-Davidson Wide Glide, never taking his eyes off of you.

Sean had you locked in conversation again.  Not so much conversation, but his very one-sided opinion on something that left no room for your input, and you didn’t look over until you heard the bike rumble to life.

You couldn’t help it, you smiled so wide when you saw him that your teeth showed, and your eyes lit up in a way that Sean could never earn from you.  You tried to stifle your reaction by lowering your gaze to the sidewalk, letting the sound of the chrome beast drown out the voice of your monotone coffee date.  

Sean stepped closer, took his hand out of the pocket of his khakis to touch your arm, and the movement was met with a few snarling revs of the bike.

Steve was glaring at you now from behind his dark lenses, cigarette hanging loose between full lips, the knuckles of his tattooed fingers almost white from his tight grip on the handlebars.  

He’d heard you mention to one of the other servers that you had a date, but he didn’t know he’d have to actually see it.  The jealousy that flared in him was unreasonable, considering he had no claim on you, but goddamn—in his mind, you were his.  He’d been loyal to the thought of you in a way he couldn’t understand, and a month-long celibacy streak for him was something he hadn’t suffered since he was a teen.  

You moved away from the guy, letting him know with your body language that you weren’t interested.  

“Can I see you again?” Sean asked, eliciting a few more aggressive revs of the bike.

This time, it made Sean glance over with a frown, and Steve stared right back, taking the opportunity to rev the bike one more time before tossing his smoke to the pavement and grinding it with the toe of his boot.  

“Do you know him?” Sean asked, turning to you.

Your gaze flicked between them, and then landed on Steve, and he gave you a two-finger wave, his expression a mask of intense disinterest.  “Yeah, we, um, we work together.”

You told Sean you’d call him, but you never would, and when he offered to walk you around the block to your car, you declined.  

You made a point not to look behind you as you heard Steve’s engine grumbling along in your shadow, keeping pace. Once you got to your driver’s side door and popped the lock, you looked up, expecting Steve to stop and say something, but he cruised on, pausing at the stop sign without even a nod or acknowledgement of your presence, and then sped off into the distance.  

[lazywriter7]

Written for Stony AUgust over at @stonyauniverse , for week one/alternate professions. 

non functional requirements

There’s a man-shaped twig blocking the door to the lecture hall.

“You coming or you going?”

The twig startles – blue eyes darting under wheat yellow hair. Gwen pulls the worn strap of her tote bag more firmly over her shoulder, MacBook weighing it down, grimacing all the while.

“Sorry.” The twig apologises in a surprisingly deep voice, then opens the door for her. Cute gesture if class hadn’t already started and now she’s gotta squeeze past him through the tiny door.

The guy re-evaluates his chivalry after a couple seconds of awkward silence. He ducks through into the hall but lingers, and Gwen sidesteps him to dump her crap on the floor near the closest seat on the second last row.

“Recording’s kicked off, so we might as well. This is lecture four of System Design Engineering.” The lecturer’s voice crackles over the speakers. Looks like he’s just gotten started, so that gives her a couple minutes to get setup. “Today we’ll be going over NFR’s, or non-functional requirements. What they are, how they’re defined. These can apply to any kind of computing systems, system architectures, front end or backend APIs, you name it. Any kind of – sorry, was that a hand?”

“Morning Tony.” Someone greets from close to the front row. Gwen, who’s waiting for her Macbook to complete its primeval, laborious booting up procedure, feels her shoulders sag even further down. God, not this shit again.

“Did your coffee machine explode again?”

“Implode, and no.” The lecturer – Tony – cracks a brief smile. The band t-shirt he’s got on is mostly just wrinkles, his hair flattened straight down the sides like it hasn’t been washed in a couple days. Really gives Gwen such an inspiring picture to look up to for her own prospective career in academia. “And just for that not-so-subtle commentary on my opening salvo today, I’m gonna teach this entire lecture using a metaphor.”

“Was it Justin Hammer?” Someone else calls from the front. “Did he hog the servers to train machine learning models on LinkedIn posts?”

“Fuck no.” Tony says, and winces immediately in the bout of snickers that erupt. “And now you’ve got me swearing on the recording. Gonna put all of you heathens on a bus to the downtown community college, don’t think I won’t do it.”

The students hush in anticipation. Tony blinks, knuckles at his nose under the wireframe glasses, and looks to the ceiling as if in despair. “I mean. I… pre-emptively apologise, and intend no insult to any students, or family of students listening to this, who may have attended community college. Community college is an institution. Just like… jail.”

“You sure your coffee machine didn’t explode?”

“Shut up Miles.” Tony gestures half-heartedly at the screen behind him, where the slide has finally changed.

Gwen’s brought up her note-taking tool by habit on her up-and-running Mac, but she doesn’t have high hopes. It’s not like the guy doesn’t know his stuff, he’s just easily derailed into tangents and rambles and spicy opinions on SpaceX, and Gwen likes to be systematic about learning new things. Start at the beginning, finish at the end, with preferably zero stand-up material along the way. If she’d wanted jokes, she’d put on a late-night show.

And then to add insult to injury, someone creeps up the side and sinks down on the seat right in front of her, blocking her eyeline to the lower third of the screen. The bluish light dances silver over the light-coloured mop of hair… it’s the twiggy dude, from the doorway. Did he just find a seat?

“Think about a relationship.” Tony’s saying, up at the lectern. “Parent and child, cousins twice removed, romantic partners. Whoever. There are the expectations, the responsibilities… the requirements, you could say, which are obviously defined and the bare minimum for the relationship to exist. If you’re a parent, you gotta house and feed your kid. If you don’t do that, you fail at the basic requirements of being a parent. So if you turn up with your deadbeat ass at your kid’s wedding, they’re justified to go all, ‘you’re not my dad’.”

A guy in the third row raises a pen into the air. “Can I explain it like that in the exam?”

“I’m not going to be the only one marking, Ganke, so I’d actively encourage it.” Kinda nice, how he remembered so many names though. Gwen has been in this course for six months and only knows faces. “However, there are certain requirements which may not be essential for the relationship to be defined and functional but are still important. Like if your parent loves you.�� A twitch. “Loves the kid, that is.”

In the seat ahead of her, Twig’s shoulders have risen up to his ears, frame gone all stiff. Gwen bites back a sigh and moves over to the next seat, just to eliminate the distraction.

She thinks about Dad in the next breath, awkwardly jabbing at his cereal and darting glances at her over the table, and immediately shoves it down.

“You might be tempted to think of it as how good a system is at fulfilling a base requirement – like how good of a parent they are, depending on if they do or don’t love you. And that’s not incorrect; whether a website is able to serve a high volume of traffic, or have an uptime of ninety nine percent, is absolutely about how good it is at serving its base requirement, which is to present an accessible resource over the internet. But if the thresholds of those non-functional requirements aren’t met, if the website keeps throwing a 404 more frequently than is acceptable, then it impedes said basic requirement. Even though uptime isn’t in the strict definition of the deliverable. You feel me?”

Silence. Someone from the far end meekly chirps a yes.

“Ohhkay.” Tony paces out from behind the lectern, keen eyes scanning the room like he’s actually, really invested. That’s… that’s a nice thing about him too. “Imagine I’m in a relationship, right? My partner and I, we define what a romantic relationship means to us and what we expect of each other going in. Like… monogamy, maybe. Or meeting at least once a week. So as long as I don’t go cruising, or ghost this guy for a month, I’m technically fulfilling my promises as a boyfriend. Those are your functional requirements.”

There’s a tiny murmur in the room at ‘guy’, but it dies out quick. Not exactly a surprise from the man who wears bi flag-coloured sunglasses to Orientation week.

“But to the enlightened, relationships are about more than that.” Tony’s lips curl at one end, like the words amuse him. Or that he’s speaking them? “Dependability. Emotional support. Prioritising the other person’s needs. All that chicken soup for the soul stuff; your non-functional requirements.”

“So I gotta think about it, the third time I reschedule date night. Get lost in a work thing and forget to respond to a text. Several texts. Forget to buy the milk, even though he told me to and put a reminder on my phone. Make life decisions on my own. These things take… a toll.” Tony isn’t making eye contact with the crowd anymore. His eyes skitter up to the ceiling and away again, restless even as his voice continues on methodically. “Maybe my partner can put up with it. Does put up with it. But just because I’m serving the base functionality of a romantic partner, doesn’t mean I can ignore these things. These are also essential to the health of the relationship.”

“But you gotta design for that. I can’t sit there like a dimwit going, ‘oh I’ll just do better next time’ and expect it to magically happen. That I’ll just… be better, with no effort on my part aside from intending to.” Gwen drops her eyes to the plastic tabletop, scratches and pen marks running over the surface. This is weirdly intense. “I have to have the right system in place. Maybe I vow to reply to a text every time I’m downing a cup of coffee. Set up regular delivery orders for milk online. Make it to the date, even if it is an hour too late and not in the place I wanted, just so we’re there together. Plan in advance so that things can get better, instead of crossing fingers and blowing on an eyelash. Do the work.”

She lifts her gaze by an inch, still vaguely discomfited, and catches Twig’s jaw clenching in profile, limned by the light of the screen. He shifts in his seat, raises a fist to wipe brusquely at something under his eye. It’s all very quiet. Tightly controlled.

“And that’s how systems need to function. Sure your primary focus is to get the thing up and running, but you need to think about performance, and security, and reliability when you’re architecting a solution. Two weeks before go live is not the time to realise that you’re pulling from an old-timey relational database when you actually needed caching. That the base components of your system just… don’t work together the way you want.” Tony pauses, blinks a couple times. Like his words have outstripped his thoughts and it’s all starting to come together. Form an obvious conclusion. His mouth turns down, goes wry again. “It gets real expensive to fix things then.”

And so it continues. The hour goes by faster than usual, Gwen startling a little by the time Tony wraps up the lecture, a whole five minutes before time like he always prefers to do.

Or… plans to do, perhaps. Mid-morning lectures, people usually have to empty out of these halls fast to get to the next one, but there’s a disordered cluster of students still lingering around the lectern, shooting the shit and exchanging laughs with Tony. He looks visibly better at the end of the hour, more energetic than he did at the start of the lecture. Like it actually rejuvenated him – which isn’t the worst ideal to look up to as a prospective academic.

Whatever, Gwen isn’t getting ahead of herself. She’s got band to get to.

 Of course, when she stuffs her laptop into the tote bag and does a brief check to make sure everything’s in there, she can’t see her fob. Can’t get into the rehearsal room without it, so she gropes for it fruitlessly for a couple of minutes, before resorting to dumping the bag out on her seat. Chocolate wrappers flutter to the ground, a pen cap without a pen rolling down to join them. Handouts from her other classes, worksheets, one physical notebook, a set of drumsticks… no fob.

Ugh. She ducks under her seat to check, nose twitching as the longer end of her bangs ruffle past. There, small and plasticky-blue against the maroon carpet. Fishing it out through the tiny gap is an ordeal, and by the time she has it secure in her pocket, the hall’s empty.

Or not quite. She’s shovelling her stuff one-handed while pacing up the stairs to the exit, when, “–mean to show up at your place of work.”

“You’re my boyfriend Steven, not a stalker. It’s fine.”

Hang on. What?

Tony and some guy – Twig, she can tell by the bony shoulders – Steven, are standing in front of the door. Tony and his boyfriend. Who was in their class. Who was probably not in their class, just physically present in this… particular class.

Tony seems to be frenetically running through similar thoughts, because his mouth just doesn’t stop moving, hands gesturing through the air like a conductor gone loose. “Well, not fine fine. I guess, considering what I – considering all of the… I didn’t know you were in the audience, obviously. I’ll just do as Taylor does and write a song about it the next time.”

Fuck. Can she just… push past them, really quickly? Or right in the middle of them. She’s been to parties where she doesn’t know anybody before, this can’t be any more awkward than that. Probably.

Steven’s already thin lips press tight together. He’s standing very, very straight, not a thing to criticise in that posture. Captain Stacy would be proud.

“Are we,” He starts, deep voice as startling out of that reed-thin frame as it was the first time, stumbling over the words just a little, “breaking up then?”

“What?” Tony breathes, and it’s like it’s stoppered his flow of thought completely.

Steven’s lips flicker up weakly. “You said Taylor.”

“No, no,” Tony’s hands flutter again – he pulls them back and tucks them close over his chest, just a little protective. “Stupid joke, you know me.” And then, just a little wry. “Of all the times to know a modern music reference.”

It’s like he’s laying out bait, an easy diversion. Steven could say something about preferring The Beatles and they needn’t tug on this line of thought, make things unravel.

Maybe it’s why Gwen hasn’t cleared her throat or done anything to clue them off to her presence yet. Something in her is so discomfited, twisted up with the second-hand awkwardness – she can’t let them go on but it would be worse if they saw her – but there’s also a second voice in her head, the one that’s good at moderating and peeling people open from a distance.

if you stop them talking now, when will they try again?

Steven doesn’t take the bait. Something in him strains like he wants to take a step forward, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he says quietly – “I do know you.”

“I know how much you think about us. How much it matters to you to get things right, and I guess I just…” Steven’s mouth purses, soft and unhappy, “take it for granted, all of that work, because it just happens to be who you are. Who you’ve chosen to be.”

“Steve, don’t – we’re both workaholics–”

“We are.” Steve acquiesces, but the words that follow sound implacable. “But you plan around it. Every single thing you said in the lecture, you… you booked those regular grocery deliveries for us, and I cribbed at you about it because they deliver in those plastic bags and the emissions from the delivery trucks–”

“It was a valid fucking point–”

“It was a stupid point, and you were right to tell me that.” Steve says it without hesitation. “I cancelled on our weekend away, again, and you were right to call me out on that this morning too. You just don’t…” A little softer. “Sometimes you don’t say anything.”

A beat.

Tony unfolds his arms, eyes fixed somewhere off-centre around Steve’s collarbone. His voice has dropped to match Steve’s, simmering with something indecipherable. “I was really… happy when you agreed to be with me. Stunned out of my head, sure. But happy. I wanted to get it right. It would have never occurred to me to… with our history, with my history, it just didn’t compute sometimes that…”

Steve cuts in, mouth twisting with it. “That I’d be the screw-up in the relationship?”

“Careful sweetheart.” Tony lifts his eyes, and they’re still warm. “Name-calling is my department.”

But he seems to be taking Steve’s previous words to heart.

“I know…” He swallows. Drops his hands completely, lifts his chin and talks. “I know how much that place means to you, I know how much you’d have killed to have a queer shelter in the neighbourhood, heck in the city, growing up like you did. I want someone who cares about what they do, I’d have been bored to shit with a person coasting by on a job that meant nothing to them. You wanna do paperwork till one am, I’ll be right there on the couch with you marking papers. That is fine, the donations from your own pocket are – don’t cut me off Steve – are fine, even if it is a little like Mrs. March teaching the kids to give away their Christmas meal to the less fortunate. That’s the guy I chose to be with.”

“You need to save the world. You can’t help yourself.” Tony bit into his lip, smile here and gone in a flash. “And I’m just a guy who teaches a couple university classes, while trying to get a startup off the ground for the last five years. But this morning when you…” He sucks in a breath, exhales it soundlessly. “When you looked like you couldn’t imagine how I’d think we wouldn’t cancel… how you disdained the idea of. Of spending time with me, instead of saving the world. Then it felt pretty shitty.”

For a moment, Steve doesn’t say anything at all. His face is pale, cheeks lost of any colour. His eyes have gone red. “I. I’m sorry.”

Tony clears his throat, voice forcibly bright. “Not gonna say you’d never think like that?”

“… doesn’t matter.” Steve says simply. “It’s how I made you feel.”

“There are those unrealistic moral principles I know and love.” Tony’s smiling, only a little watery around the edges. He moves into Steve’s motionless frame, hands reaching out again, this time to catch him by the elbows and smooth down to hang onto his wrists. “We’ll work on it.”

Steve is staring down at their hands, both like they’re condemned and something miraculous. “In the lecture. When you said that the components of the system didn’t work together the way you’d want…”

He looks up. Tony meets his eyes, gives a little shrug. “A better guy would know how important what you’re doing is. Would maybe resent its importance a little less.”

“Tony, I’m not a better person than you are.” Steve’s voice is thick, almost choking with the entreaty. His hands turn in Tony’s loose clasp, gripping back tightly. “Tony.”

Tony gives a little burble of a laugh. Bends over low, forehead brushing Steve’s shoulder. “We’ll work on me too.”

They lean into each other for a moment. Tony’s face is almost hidden behind Steve’s golden locks. “I don’t really care, if you’re better or worse than me. I’m keeping you.”

Steve pulls back. Leans up a fraction to press their lips together, both their eyes fluttering shut.

They pull apart, smiles pulling up on those mouths like mirroring sunrises. Steve leans in for another peck, then quietly pushes the door to step outside. Tony follows him.

 Gwen sits down on the floor, fifteen metres away, laptop thunking into the carpet. She bends her head down to her belly, and breathes.

Fuck, she’s going to feel the anxiety of this in her back for weeks.

Band practice is a loss. The entire morning might be a loss. She needs a cupcake, and some grunge music. But even as vague ideas for the upcoming day begin to coalesce, she can feel a curious lightness shoot through her body. Like she can take it. The aches and pains, the barista shift in the afternoon. Like the world is alright, actually, and she’s not gonna keel over just yet.

This is why she doesn’t watch rom-coms.

She pulls herself up eventually and finally exits the hall. And there, by himself in the corner, completely failing to look like he’s doing anything but waiting for her – is Tony.

The world is a nightmare. She doesn’t stutter. “Did you know I was in there?”

Tony looks like he’d be rubbing the back of his neck abashedly, if he were that kind of guy. Instead, he visibly decides to brazen it out. “Not until the last thirty seconds before we left.”

Small mercies.

“Were you… did you have something to talk to me about? My office hours are 2-3, but–”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Gwen interrupts, entirely out of patience. That’s what’s going through his head right now?

Tony shuts his mouth with a click, eyebrows rising.

“There’s nothing.” Gwen forces. And then, just as involuntary as the swear – “You’re a good teacher.”

Tony blinks. Gwen remembers him bantering about with her classmates, not losing a step.

“Thanks, Gwen.” His nose looks a little red. So do the very tops of his cheeks. He looks unaccountably pleased.

Gwen’s lips tilt up.

“You could do better than him, you know.”

“I wouldn’t want to.” Tony beams at her. Turns around, waves two fingers. “See you next week.”

The rehearsal hall is in the same direction that he’s walking in. Gwen unerringly walks the other way. By the time she loops the quad and makes it there, she’ll have thirty minutes left. Half of band practice is better than none.

She taps a rhythm on her outer thigh, blows a strand of her bangs out of the eyes. Tugs the tote bag higher up. Band, then lunch, and then maybe she can call her dad.

[philtstone]

38 (fake kisses), your choice of Star Wars characters

#38 -- fake kisses

this is very silly, but the idea remains a classic one

Critical as it is to protect their strung-out ranks from Imperial infiltration, the subject in question necessarily cannot be an easy one to bring up. First, they need all the bodies they can get, if not in the least just to keep warm. Second, and more importantly, morale is at stake. If order and cohesion are to be maintained, one can't be going around throwing accusations of treason at just any guy who looks at you funny.

The assemblage has outlined this point very clearly for themselves, on the pilfered clearboard set up against Hobbie Klivian's ship wing.

"Well, sure, but we're not just going around throwing accusations," says Luke, to general mutters of approval. The fact that Luke is here lends weight to the conversation; Wes is owed money, Wedge is owed money by Wes, who cannot pay him back until he is paid in turn, Hobbie has to share a bunk with the man -- he snores -- and Han's opinions on the matter stopped being relevant the moment The Accused got that girlish giggle out of Her Highness.

Luke (much as he has his own giggle-related biases) is a decent sort. He'd never throw an innocent under the proverbial Y-Wing for selfish reasons.

"I don't know though," Luke is continuing, with a thoughtful, consternated shake of his golden head, "there's something about him that doesn't sit right with me, guys."

"Unreliable," offers Wes, referring to the unpaid debts.

"Inconsiderate," says Hobbie, of the snoring.

"He's practically a stranger," says Han, gesturing widely in the air with one hand, as he is wont to do. "What the hell do we know about him, anyway? He just waltzed in here two weeks ago and now he acts like he owns the place? Me and the kid had to prove ourselves, you know."

"Han's not even enlisted yet," agrees Wedge, as if this illustrates a grave necessity for long-term probation.

"And I'll tell ya what, Luke --" Han, who is ignoring Wedge, points with significance -- "his eyes are too close together. That's never a good sign."

The subject in question -- one Erich Telv, having committed no obviously evidenced sins outside of being a slightly below average sort of being who was unfortunately charming enough to make Princess Leia laugh -- is still in a debrief with the brass. He was sent on a scouting mission not two days ago, and with little to go on but their individual gripes and the general impression that Leia has been more stressed than usual in Erich's absence, a committee has convened. Chewie, who gracefully declined participation, has been spending the duration of the meeting cleaning his favourite hairbrush in the corner.

"Now see here, gents," says Wedge. "We gotta be real sure of ourselves here. We need evidence. Hard facts. This could be serious."

"The morale," says Wes, pointing with the wrong end of a mop at their clearboard. It reads ORGANA WILL KILL US IF WRONG in Wedge's poor Basic penmanship, underlined twice.

"Who cares about the morale!" says Han. "I'm telling you, this guy's trouble. By the time we get your hard evidence he'll have already pulled a fast one."

Chewie, who is now inspecting a matted lump of hair just extracted from the brush, makes a low growling sound that even the most amateur of Shyrriwook speakers can understand.

"WHAT?!" comes the collective outcry.

"Kissed him!" says Luke, distraught.

"When?" demands Han. "Telv? That wormy little nobody? He ain't her type!"

Nobody suggests that there is no real evidence for this declaration.

"A gambler and a snorer, you mean?"

"Hobbie, in the grand scheme of things, your insomnia is not the worst of our troubles --"

"I knew I had a bad feeling about this ..."

Chewie confirms it happened just before Erich's scouting mission. He saw Leia do it and everything -- he thought everyone knew. Wasn't that why this meeting was taking place? Because they were concerned for her safety?

"Gentlemen," says Wes, amidst multiple spluttered protests that yes, of course, that was exactly why -- perhaps also the good of the Alliance -- and then of course, Han's added insistence that he didn't care what the Princess did or when, or, indeed, what happened to her at all -- "I am starting a new betting pool."

The door to Command, situated across the hangar bay, opens at this exact moment.

Erich Telv is bodily thrown out into the hall. He lands face first onto the floor.

"Pathetic!" comes Leia's raised, icy voice, immediately behind him. She strides out into the bay, her sleek little blaster drawn and pointed; the occupants of Echo Base's Hangar One pause to watch with open-mouthed interest; Erich, rather visibly, cowers. "Despicable! Moronic! Really, Mister Telv, to think that I wouldn't notice your especially idiotic brand of spy games is possibly one of the most singularly dolt-headed things I have ever encountered in my natural born life!"

"Please," pleads Erich, the yellow thatch of his annoyingly abundant hair standing up wonkily as his quivers. It appears as thought Leia literally kicked him out of the command room via his backside, as he keeps rubbing it. "Please, I was only just --"

"You were trying to make a few extra credits and you tried it with the wrong Rebellion, Erich. If you weren't such a miserable slimy little freight blister I'd almost feel sorry for you. Celchu, Darklighter, put him in the brig. We'll decide what to do with him later."

The whole thing happens in less than two minutes. Afterwards, Leia walks over to them.

"Hello," she says, a touch awkwardly. She looks pleased with herself, but also hesitant, as though the events that just transpired might garner her ill will of some kind. "I'm sorry everyone had to see that -- it's awful for morale. But Telv was being so obvious about it it was starting to get on my nerves."

Hobbie, Wes, and Wedge blink; Han's mouth closes with an audible click.

"Force, Leia," Luke manages, after a beat, "you knew Telv was a spy the whole time?"

Leia looks startled. "Oh -- of course. He was using an open channel to send our supply inventory to anyone who was listening. I'm not too worried about our location, but --" Her eyebrows crease, highlighting her large expressive eyes, "Don't tell me you all had suspicions too -- oh, but you should've said something --"

They scramble to assure her otherwise.

"No -- no! Uh, ours weren't really concrete," Luke says quickly.

"Just a gut feeling," says Han, over-loudly, not meeting Leia's eye.

"We, you know, didn't much like the man, but it's a serious business, accusing someone of treason --"

"Luke just had a Force premonition or two ..."

"... Never killed a guy to have a brainstorm session, if you take my meaning --"

"Now, don't take this the wrong way," interrupts Wedge, glancing sideways at both Han (who is still staring at Leia in faint amazement) and Luke (who keeps nodding, like this will absolve him of his participation in The Committee), "but did you really kiss the idiot, your Highness?"

Leia's look of confusion is very momentary. She arches a pointed brow at Chewie before turning back to the group, whereupon she seems to notice their clearboard. Looking on in mild amusement, she says, somewhat dryly, "Well, Carlist didn't believe my suspicions. I figured the stupider Telv thought I was, the easier it would be to have my evidence."

Again, there is a tightness right at the end of her words that stops any otherwise thoughtless comments that might have emerged. Luke's distressed expression clears into one of gentle understanding. Han visibly swallows down any lingering disgruntlement and grins widely. Wes, who is in charge of the clearboard, writes down evidence: slimy little freight blister under their other points.

"Well, there you have it," says Hobbie. "One of us should've just kissed the man."

"I vote Luke, next time," says Wedge. "The Princess shouldn't have to do all the work."

"Aw, Wedge, volunteer yourself, why don't you -- I don't wanna kiss the Erich Telvs of the galaxy!"

"Yeah, give the kid a break," says Han. "He hasn't got the necessary experience to fake a good kiss."

While the others bicker, Leia catches his eye; in spite of everything already said, she doesn't expect the touch of genuine concern in Han's expression.

Wild and unplanned, she mouths I'm sorry I kissed him -- what has she got to be sorry for, Leia will ask herself later, a bit viciously -- and any lingering bad feelings over the Erich Telv debacle are forgotten in wake of the honest, stunned look on Han's usually cavalier face.