#i wouldn’t blame him if he quit youtube

[redstone-sun]

I was watching Iskall's VH 1.18 vods as they came out until around VOD 30 or 40, and almost every other stream - which were 3-8 HOURS - he'd mention the comments or a chat member would ask. He'd have to START streams asking people to stop commenting on his VODs & videos if they have nothing nice to say. He'd call them nasty, hateful, rude, mean, dicks, but never did he lose his spark to keep his streams light hearted. He HATES having to make announcements about negative things, and it's been so repetitive that you can hear him getting more and more tired and frustrated. It even started fucking spilling into Hrry's chat after they hung out more and started to do their silly little dance (pranking each other, teasing, having a good time). It's affected STRESS'S chat at times if they're talking. It's insane the lengths people are going just bc they hate that Iskall isn't doing what they want all the time like a fucking doll. Sorry I am SO mad about this and I have been for nearly a year. It's revolting how he's been treated, and how long it's gone under the radar.

oh my GOD what the actual LITERAL fuck is wrong with them?? if any one of you have ever been shitty in one of iskall’s streams or left a shitty comment unfollow me right tf now. what the actual everliving fuck that is so disgusting. he has done nothing to merit this kind of hate.

how the fuck is it this bad??? who the fuck are these people who are harassing ISKALL of all people??? for fucking what???? i’m so fucking mad.

[querenciasturniolo]

never really over ⮕ m.s.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: swearing, angst, mention of a breakup, crying, self doubt

summary: „thought we kissed goodbye, thought we meant this time, was the last, but i guess it’s never really over”

a/n: this song played at work the other day and i started daydreaming, so here’s this LMAOOO. this song SCREAMS summer and lemme tell you, i’m so fucking sick of winter. also the picture of matt gives me heart palpitations, so enjoy.

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

You knew coming home this summer was a stupid idea. Standing across the bonfire, staring directly into the dimly illuminated face you hadn’t seen in person in two years, you felt as though there was a pull screaming at you to move towards him. He hadn’t seen you yet, he was too busy laughing quietly at his brothers and a friend of his you weren’t particularly close with when the two of you were together. You, on the other hand, haven’t been able to keep your eyes off of him since you’d gotten to the party half an hour ago. It felt surreal, being in his space again after so long. It felt as though it was just yesterday you had your arms wrapped around him, your tears soaking the front of his shirt as he comforted you for the last time.

It seemed the only thing you and Matt were good at was breaking up, since it happened more often than not. Every other week you would decide that you didn’t deserve Matt and the two of you would call it quits. Then, a few days later, he’d show up at your door. He wouldn’t leave until the cycle repeated itself, but you knew he’d be back. You guys were never really over, after all.

You thought the last time you two said goodbye truly was the last time, considering you were going off to college and he was staying with his brothers to continue their YouTube career. You always knew he’d make it. Matt and his brother’s were the most genuine people you’d ever met, and it always transferred over into their videos. You watched them periodically while you were away at college, when missing him hurt so bad that you knew if you didn’t alleviate it somehow, you’d call him, and you couldn’t do that to him. The two of you promised each other that the last time was the last time, to keep the both of you from hurting each other. But seeing him only thirty feet away from you had your skin crawling in a familiar way you hadn’t felt in years.

“Who are you staring at?”

You jumped and whipped your head to the side, sighing and shaking your head when you met Nate’s eyes.

“Nothing, Nate. No one.” You said, clearing your throat and not letting your stare flicker back to Matt. You watched in horror as Nate’s eyebrows furrowed and he tracked your previous gaze until realization spread across his face.

“Matt, huh?” He asked, his voice casual as he slowly met your eyes. You hated the look on his face. It was almost as if he pitied you and your pathetic staring, which you couldn’t blame him. You scoffed and shook your head.

“No, I’m clearly staring at Dylan. What do you think?” You asked sarcastically, running a hand over your face to try and hide your embarrassment. You knew he meant well, but everyone always meant well, and they made you feel insane. They all had the same silent question; why couldn’t you just let him go? It’s been two fucking years, why did looking at him now feel the same as it did then? Your chest ached with how hard your heart was pumping against your ribcage. Goosebumps stayed prominent on every inch of your body just knowing he was so close to you. “I’m sorry, Nate. That was rude.” You said softly, moving your hand and sighing into the cool evening air.

Nate didn’t seem to take it to heart, he never really did. He was there for the entirety of your relationship with Matt, and unfortunately, he was one of the only few people who witnessed the aftermath. He’d answer your midnight texts, and when you were in town during breaks that first year of college, he’d pick you up from your house at three in the morning just for the two of you to drive around and blast music to keep your mind from racing.

“It’s been hard for him too.” He said, which was not at all what you were expecting him to say. You met his eyes with furrowed brows, though not a single one of his tells was showing. It was still hard to believe, considering how much of a mess you were when you went off to college and Matt moved to LA. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you processed what he said, your heart telling you he’s genuine, but your mind telling you he’s just trying to make you feel better.

“What makes you say that?” You asked, your voice almost breathless as Nate scoffed and shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh, I dunno. Maybe the fact that I’ve known the kid for forever and we talk every single day.” He stated, your features dropping into a blank stare as he shook his head and glanced back over in Matt’s direction. You couldn’t bring yourself to look that way again, otherwise you’d be walking towards him immediately. “You’re allowed to talk to him, you know?” He said after a short while, meeting your eyes again with a soft smile. You knew he meant well, and you knew he was right, but the thought of walking over to Matt and him not wanting to talk to you had you shaking your head fervently.

“I know I can, but I also can’t. Besides, he doesn’t want to talk to me.” You said, your eyes flickering over in Matt’s direction once more. He was gone from his spot, Nick and Chris and the friend you couldn’t think of were still talking away as you furrowed your brows.

“Who doesn’t want to talk to you?”

You froze in place, your chest warming and your body relaxing the moment his voice washed over you completely. When you turned around, it felt as though a swarm of butterflies were flying behind your ribcage and hitting every single corner and bouncing off. There was no doubt in your mind he could hear it, no matter how impossible that seemed. Your eyes met the familiar cool blue, and you were back in every single moment you’d spent with him. He was smiling the same smile he always gave you, his eyes crinkling slightly as they flickered over your more than likely shocked face.

“How have you been?” He asked, his eyes meeting yours once more as you fought your useless brain to say something—anything to him.

“I’ve been alright.” You finally said, your heart hammering in your chest as your own lips stretched into a smile against your will. You couldn’t help it, he always had that effect on you. “What about you?”

Matt sighed through his nose, his shoulders dropping a few centimeters as the two of you began to fully relax again in each other’s presence. “I’ve been okay.” He said breathily, his eyebrows twitching inward as he studied you. “Were you talking about me to Nate?” He asked, the slightest hint of teasing in his voice. You snickered and shook your head, dropping your eyes to the grass below you.

“You were listening?” You teased back, lifting your head again. You couldn’t meet his eyes, so you studied his shirt. It was a simple flannel, similar to the one most of the guys at the bonfire were wearing to keep warm on this chilly Boston night. He grinned and nodded his head, dropping his eyes to his shoes right as you felt brave enough to look at him.

“Can you blame me?” He asked, his eyes meeting yours once more through his eyelashes. Your breath caught in your throat. That familiar pull was working against you without you realizing it, the space between the two of you had dwindled enough that you could feel the heat from his body, you could see the push and pull of his breaths and the rise and fall of his chest. Fuck, you missed him.

“How’s Los Angeles?” You asked dumbly, wanting to smack yourself as he inhaled softly and shrugged.

“Warm, sunny, crazy.” He mumbled. There was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite place, and it was driving you nuts. Two years ago you’d be able to tell what he was thinking just by the way he breathed, but you were out of practice. “How’s college?” He countered. You shrugged in return, a playful smile forming on your lips.

“Stressful, expensive, exhausting.” You said. Matt rolled his eyes and shook his head. His eyes were nothing but fond as they scanned over your face slowly. A million thoughts were racing through your mind at once, but all you could do was keep looking at him like it was the last time you ever would.

The two of you were silent for only a few heartbeats, the both of you just basking in the other’s presence for the first time since that last goodbye. He was the first to speak, and it took everything in you not to fall into his arms at the warmth and sincerity in his voice.

“I missed you.” His voice was only a few decibels above a whisper, but those three words were screaming in your mind the moment they left his mouth. You weren’t the only one wanting, yearning, wishing, hoping, praying, waiting. He missed you. He missed you. Your composure crumbled slightly, and you couldn’t help but smile sadly at him.

“Fuck.” You whispered, running your hands over your face and closing your eyes. “I missed you, too.” You said. Before you could open your eyes, you were pulled into his arms and against his chest. You couldn’t believe you were worried about the beating of your own heart as you listened to the rapid thumping of his against your ear. Like it was second nature, you wrapped your arms around his neck and stood on your toes to fully embrace him like you used to. Your face rested in the crook of his neck, the skin warm against the chilled tip of your nose.

He felt the same—the same warm chest and tight arms making you feel safe, the same familiar scent of vanilla bourbon soap and laundry detergent with the smallest hint of campfire, the same gentle movement of his thumb lightly caressing your back. You relaxed completely against him, his grip on you the only thing keeping you from sliding down his body and laying limp in the grass. He was so familiar, so comfortable, so fucking safe that you never wanted your embrace to end.

“Matty?” You asked, a shiver running down his spine when the warm breath from your lips puffed against his skin. He hummed in reply, swaying softly with you to the quiet music playing from someone’s car speakers. “This is gonna fuck everything up for us, isn’t it?” He didn’t pull away from you, like you expected. He didn’t stiffen either, which was odd. His lips pressed lightly against the top of your head, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you somehow relaxed further.

“I don’t care.” He whispered. You pulled back to meet his eyes, your pulse deafening in your ears as you searched for anything on his face that wasn’t sincere. Matt never broke eye contact with you, a small smile forming on his lips. “I’m being serious. These last two years have fucking sucked, and I don’t care if we fuck it up because I missed you. Can we forget about saying goodbye, just tonight?” He asked. He sounded almost breathless, begging you for just one night together like old times.

Before you could say anything, his eyes were flickering to your lips and he was leaning in. You gasped lightly, his lips barely brushing against yours as your eyes fluttered closed. Warmth completely enveloped you the moment you tightened your arms around his neck and closed the space between the two of you, the cool summer night completely forgotten as your fingers tangled in his hair and scratched lightly at his scalp.

You’d forgotten what it was like to kiss him, you’d forgotten how he’d hold the back of your neck with one hand and grip your waist with the other like his life depended on it, no matter how gentle the kiss was. It drove you wild every time, your body feeling like it was on fire as he pulled you impossibly closer to him. His kiss was gentle, soft, full of passion and yearning, yet rough, hard and full of tension and desperation. You could feel the pain he’d felt the last two years with each soft brush of his tongue against yours, and it took everything in you not to break down in tears mid kiss. Your Matty was back, and you didn’t think you’d ever be able to let him go again, even though you knew you had to.

When the two of you pulled a part for air, you couldn’t help but stare up at him with soft, gasping breaths leaving your lips. Matt’s eyes remained closed, his eyebrows furrowed tightly. He looked…miserable, and you hated it. You untangled your hands from his hair, one of your palms resting against his chest while your other hand reached up and cupped his cheek softly. Your thumb caressed the crease between his eyebrows until he relaxed, finally opening his eyes to meet yours. Every single bit of anguish you’d felt for the last two years was written all over his face. It was etched into the lines by his eyes, the twitching corners of his mouth, and it was glimmering in the cool blue of his iris’. He was in as much pain as you’d been in, and it made you want to scream.

“Did you stop loving me?” Matt asked, his voice thick and raspy. You inhaled sharply, your own brows furrowing.

“Matty, I—”

“Just.” He interrupted, exhaling deeply through his nose and looking into the flames of the fire rippling a few feet to your left. “Just answer the question, please.” He didn’t return his gaze to yours, no matter how badly you wanted him to look into your eyes and see the answer screaming out at him from your heart. You fish-mouthed for a few seconds before taking a deep, shaky breath and closing your eyes.

“I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if I stopped loving you.” You said, Matt’s gaze finally returning to yours. You smiled brokenly, letting your eyes well with the hot tears you’d been fighting since seeing him and his brothers the second you looked across the fire. Your hands clenched into fists in his flannel, your body desperate for him to stay close to you. “Loving you…fuck, loving you was the best thing I’ve ever done, even if it went up in flames. It made every argument, every bad day, every break up and reconnection worth it. I didn’t think it was possible, and I thought I was doing so well getting over you, but I love you just as much as I did the day we broke up for the last time. And it’s okay if you stopped loving me completely, because I can understand how you could.” You whispered the last few words, closing your eyes and letting the depth of your words fall over the two of you. You dropped your head, sniffling to yourself and trying to pull yourself together before you made a mess of things again.

Matt’s fingers lightly gripping your chin had a shaky exhale leaving your lips as he lifted your head. Your eyelids fluttered open, the tip of his nose almost touching yours with how close the two of you still were. His tongue peaked out to wet his lips and he opened his mouth to speak as his grip moved from your chin to his hand cupping your jaw and holding it firmly.

“The one thing I didn’t miss was the lack of faith you had in yourself being loveable.” He said clearly, firmly, matter-of-factly. He’d told you a million times before that there was absolutely no reason for him not to love you, but you never stopped looking for that one reason to present to him. “I have loved you so completely, so wholly, so entirely since the day I met you, and the day we said goodbye. You were and are the last person I think of when I fall asleep, and the first person I think of when I wake up in the morning. For so long, you were the only person I wanted to be around, and the only person I knew that I couldn’t live without.” He said, your eyes wide as you stared up at his smug face with a slack jaw.

“The fact that I came back each and every time you looked me in my face and tore my heart out of my chest, still wanting and needing to be a part of you and your life should show how much I loved and still love you. If you can’t see how deep my love for you is, then I truly don’t know what we were doing in the first place.” He finished, the tears that had welled in your eyes had begun to fall, Matt smiling softly down at you as his thumb tenderly swiped the tears away. “Don’t cry, baby. I was only telling you the truth. I’m just glad that it seems now you finally choose to believe it.”

You sniffled and shook your head up at him, not understanding how only a short time ago you were staring at him from across a bonfire, absolutely petrified of him seeing you and not being interested enough to even wave, and here you were. You were standing in his arms, only a few feet away from the fire, listening to him tell you that all of your sleepless nights full of tossing and turning, overthinking, watching him and his brothers’ videos on YouTube for some semblance of normalcy, he was missing you and loving you just as much as you were him. You couldn’t help but smile up at him and pull him closer to you, wrapping him in the tightest hug you could manage. You wanted it to feel the way his words made you feel, warm and safe and protected and loved. So fucking loved that you could hardly stand it.

“What does this mean, Matty?” You whispered against his shoulder. He sighed into your hair, his grip around your waist tightening as he shook his head.

“Just enjoy the moment, baby. We’ll talk about that later.” He mumbled, pulling away from the hug to press a kiss to your forehead, cheek, and then pressing his lips firmly to yours. It was only a firm peck, and he pulled away. “Watch the fireworks with me?” He asked. You nodded your head and turned around, letting him press himself against your back and wrap his arms around you like he’d done a million times before. His chin rested against your shoulder, and you leaned your head slightly to the side to rest your temple against his as the first firework shot into the sky. Each and every breath you took, you breathed him in, not wanting this moment to end.

It was possible that by the end of the night, the two of you would go your separate ways and leave one another again for an indefinite amount of time, or maybe even continue your cycle from two years ago. But it was also possible that the two of you would start something new, maybe change the cycle and make sure it wasn’t repeated again. You had a feeling it was one of the latter two options.

After all, you two were never really over.

tags: @strniolo , @ssturniolo , @thetriplets3 , @stvrni0lo , @gabbylovesreading , @dwntwn-strnlo , @tylerscreat0r , @toyourloves , @lvrsparadise , @angelcake-222 , @20nugs , @obsessivencrazy , @lollibumblebee , @stargirlv0id , @jellybeanbby , @idontexistman , @emssturniolo , @soursturniolo , @bernardenjoyer , @ev3rgreenxtrees , @reveriewave , @mxqdii , @leah-loves-lilies , @mattsnutsack , @champangekisses , @floofparker

[frothingatthemaw]

> puzzling

summary: vessel and reader do some puzzling. pairing: vessel x gn!reader warnings/tags: softbf!vessel, clingy!vessel, mentions of guilt, reader has autistic/adhd traits, use of petnames (love, darling), slightly suggestive (if you want to view it that way), bad dialogue. word count: 1.2k a/n: i was compelled by thoughts about this while watching a puzzling youtube video, this was supposed to be a very small thing but turned into this. also my first sleep token fanfic so please be nice to me. this hasn’t been proofread either, apologies for typos or something of the such.

You had decided to take up the challenge of completing a puzzle. This was something you hadn’t done since childhood, a hobby that would take up some hours of your time at Christmas, as your family seemed to like gifting you puzzles. You didn’t mind though, even as a child you enjoyed sticking the pieces together. This struck your love for them at all.

By this time, you had been going at this specific puzzle for just over a few hours. It was 1,000 pieces; you knew what you signed up for. It had taken over every bit of your attention, completely engulfed in the task at hand. If there was one thing about you, it was that you never left something half finished, so you’d be damned if you left the dining table with the puzzle yet to be completed. 

Still yet, this was taking longer than you remembered it took you when you were young, too, which was frustrating. You tried not to think about it, tried to not blame yourself too badly for being slow at this. You brushed it off on your child mind being much sharper than these days, and also the time it had been since you puzzled last. Benefit of the doubt. 

It had been so long you'd been at this, in fact, that your boyfriend had started to feel abandoned to the point of waddling his way into the dining section of the kitchen in your shared apartment. You didn’t quite catch the blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders and draped over his head, he was only a blur in your peripheral vision, and you had vaguely heard his footsteps. You’re thankful you heard him because you can feel that you would’ve jumped out of your skin at his touch on your shoulders if you hadn’t. You let out a small gasp despite this. 

“Still going at it, love?” Vessel asks you, hands slipping over your shoulders more. 

You hum back to him absentmindedly. Your eyes were darting across the pieces laid out across the table, furrow in your brow. It was becoming a little infuriating that you couldn’t find this specific piece and your brain wouldn’t allow you to move onto the next until you found this one. A huff comes from you. At this, Vessel starts to massage your shoulders. 

“Do you need help?” He speaks again. You notice that his voice sounds tired. It makes you feel a twinge of guilt that you can’t dwell on. 

He leans down, hands still on your shoulders, leaning his face against yours. He places kisses along your jaw, up to your check, back down to your neck. He missed you.

“Can you see this piece?” You point at an empty space in the already assembled other pieces. “I can’t fucking find it and I’ve been looking for ages,” you sigh. You finally allow yourself to feel some of his touch.

Vessel angles his head to get a better look at the puzzle sprawled on the table. He’s still close to you, enough where you can hear his breathing. You feel the blanket around him, falling further back into the chair to try your best to be closer to him. Something about Ves being like this makes your core melt. You adored when he was all soft and cuddly. Especially for you.

His fingers brush through the small pieces of printed cardboard, eyeing them with the same intensity you had been before. He sucks in a breath while he picks one up, then places it into the spot you’re trying to fill. It slips into place perfectly. You almost want to curse him for it. 

Instead, you opt for saying, “Maybe I should’ve recruited you to help me earlier.” Your tone sounds tired, even you can hear that now. 

A dry laugh comes from him, you stare at the smile on his face. He looks proud. You want to bite into him. “I think you need to take a break, darling.” 

Okay, yeah, you did need to take a break because a headache bursts through you at full force. You’re not going to tell him that. 

You’re reluctant to reply, but you eventually settle with, “I really want to get it finished first though.” You pout at him, sinking a bit down the chair. 

Vessel’s hand squeezes at your shoulder, planting a kiss to your neck in unison. “Let me help you then.” 

“Do you really want to?”

“I miss you,” he says. Your heart aches a little. Maybe a lot. 

“Sorry,” you mumble. You didn’t mean to get so focused on this that you blocked everything out, including him. 

He leans backwards, standing straighter. He takes your chin into his hand to make you look up at him. “No sorries, yeah?” 

You nod. 

“Good.” He leans down to kiss you, lingering there, he savors it. He tastes you, slowly. It was a hunger in his stomach that had been building for the last few hours, and he was taking his time to satisfy it. If the puzzling hadn’t melted your brain, his lips and tongue finished that for you. 

When he pulls away, the way he looks at you only amplifies the puddle you’ve become. Vessel had this way of his eyes saying how much he simply adored you. It was identifiable, instantly, and it never failed to do its job. 

“Wanna get up so I can help you?” 

Your brain didn’t understand at all what he was implying under the fog he placed upon you. It wasn’t until he took your hand, pulled you up, sat down in your place, and tugged you back down to sit on his lap that it clicked. All of it seemed like a blur to you. You were having trouble processing things. 

This feeling dissolved when Vessel started questioning you about what you were planning on looking for next, asking about your sorting arrangement as well. The questions were grounding. Ves also had a way of doing that, placing you atop clouds and bringing you back to Earth in the same breath. 

And so, the next while was spent with you on his lap, the two of you finding it much easier to finish the puzzle together rather than you on your own. This didn’t mean that he didn’t get distracted a few times by kissing your neck, saying that he’s proud of you, and reiterating how he had missed you. 

After the puzzle had officially been approved by you as accomplished, Vessel had dragged you to bed with him. Here took place of many sleepily shared kisses. 

“No idea how much I needed this,” he told you between the kisses. 

You wanted to tell him that you couldn’t tell him either, that this melting of your chemical compounds was needed in a form of saturation. The shaking of his hand as it came up to hold your face almost broke your skull in half. He licked into your mouth with more hunger than in the dining room, believe it or not. 

The act of this had lasted until neither of you could not go any longer, jaws almost sore. And the exhaustion was an honorable mention too. You couldn’t have even guessed how much time had passed. Though, it didn’t take any time at all for Vessel to put both of you to sleep through his whispered praises to you. Even in a state of deliriousness, he couldn’t help but to utter how much he yearns for you.

[strayheartless]

Okay, I’m just sounding ideas here and don’t come at me from behind with a baseball bat or anything…

But do we maybe think that Angeal made the situation in the training room worse? Now I’m not saying Angeal’s to blame and I wanna caveat this entire ramble with the admission that I’m not even sure about this take. However, I was thinking about the actual situation like I was breaking down frames of a film (👋🏻 yoohoo! Film degree!) and when you look at it this:

(Credit for clip: Shirrako on YouTube)

It’s Angeal’s sword that breaks. Now, again, not blaming Angeal, Genesis was being Genesis and the whole thing wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t challenged sephiroth. But there is a line of thinking that suggests that it is Angeal’s lack of trust in his friends that exacerbates the situation.

Fanon aside, there is nothing actually in text that suggests that Genesis and Sephiroth have ever actually taken it too far. Actually apart from that one e-mail from Kunsel:

"It seems every SOLDIER 1st Class has a quirkor three, but I think Angeal has a lot ofcommon sense and is a trustworthy fellow.Let's face it: Genesis never found groupactivities appealing, so Angeal is, in fact,the spiritual leader of SOLDIER.I've got a lot of respect for him, too.And I envy you for getting to work with himso often."

(Source: Fandom Wiki, Final Fantasy Wiki: Mail (crisis Core))

there is nothing at all about Genesis' personality before the accident and degredation at all. We can make general guesses based on what we see of Genesis before that innitial wound, but over all, we do not know. So, why does Angeal stop them?

The obvious answer to this is because Genesis and Sephiroth are literally destroying the training room, he even says "You'll destroy this place," but they've done this before according to Sephiroth and theres no point at shich either of them actually manage to hurt the other. Even when Genesis encases Seph in a ball of fire, he doesn't hurt him, and their swords never aim for flesh.

it would be very easy for Sephiroth to exploit Genesis' weakness' and aim for his vulnrablites.

(credit for clip: Shirrako on YouTube)

As we can see in the above frame, Genesis leaves his left side virtually unguarded. His body is turned to favor his right side, he is quite clearly teligraphing a weakness that Sephiroth does not exploit once. Why? perhaps its hubris, perhaps its trust; who is to say, but what is clear is that, despite the destruction, neither are going to hurt each other.

The problem arises, then, when Genesis allows himself to grow overconfident. He legitimately blasts Angeal out of the fight and goes to defeat Sephiroth himself. Angeal is perhaps alerted to the fact that Genesis has lost some sort of control, but concidering there is not a scratch on either of them, he possibly didn't need to.

What I like about this line of thought is that it works hand in hand with the actual story itself. at the crux of everything it is not just Genesis and Sephiroth to blame for how events unfold, Angeals actions have a greater impact on everything.

When Angeal chooses to get in between the two he is the deciding blow that hurts Genesis, yet it is Sephiroth who is blamed for Genesis' sickness.

When Genesis storms the Shinra building it is Angeal who has left Sephiroth in the dark without answers; yet it is Sephiroth and Zack who have to pick up the pieces after it ends.

in Banora it is Angeals inaction that places Zack in danger and ends with the distruction of his home.

and the most obvious, Angeals death is not just defining for Zack but for Sephiroth too. While it is not talked about in text, Angeals death leaves Sephiroth vulnrable to Genesis' ire, and his own relationship to honour and monstrosity that affects Sephiroth's perseption of himself.

Angeal's decision to not allow Genesis and Sephiroth to come to their natural conclusion creates a consistant feeling of unfinished business. The ultimate question here is, would either Genesis or Sephiroth truly hurt each other. Had Angeal not intervened with his flimsy Shinra issue Claymore (possibly representative of his own morality and honour) Would Genesis have been wounded and would he have felt robbed of the title of hero?

This is all just conjecture and shaky soundboarding. If you have any opinions please feel free to share!

As always be kind and please don't yell or be mean (I am only a little critter I will cry!)

[chixkencxrry]

oh, baby

WARNINGS: SEXUAL THEMES, MENTION OF ASSAULT (NOT BY MIGUEL), ORAL (F/M), CURSE WORDS, EXPLICIT SEX, CUM SWALLOWING, DIRTY TALK. Your consumption of media is on you. Not Proofed.

DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE MY SHIT.

Summary: Miguel O'Hara x Fem! Reader; Miguel was a mystery you'd hardly began to solve. Too bad you were already in love with him.

I

Two weeks. 

It had been two weeks since you last saw or heard from Miguel. Now, you tried not to feel abandoned — per se, but the emotion nagged to the corners of your soul. Miguel was secretive and cagey. You’d just sort of embraced that part of him. It wasn’t like the two of you were in a relationship or anything like that: a fact you have to remind yourself of constantly. You just slept together; sometimes. 

He was a mutant like most people in the city; like that Spider-Man kid. But he never got caught on YouTube or anywhere. In fact, if it wasn’t for the marks he left on your skin — you were quite sure you would have thought he wasn’t real.

“I’m tired of you moping around in your apartment.” Your best friend, Tia, had said when she called. “You’re going on the date whether you want to or not.” 

Tia’s solution to everything seemed to be getting dicked down. To you, this date wouldn’t even begin to scratch the itch Miguel left behind. Yet, here you were, putting on lipstick and wearing your good lingerie set beneath a new cocktail dress. 

“And where are you going?” Snarled a familiar voice, causing you to snap your lipstick in half.

Miguel stood by your window. Black and red suit on but maskless. His face looked worse for wear. Your heart clenched at the thought that he might be hurt.

You wiped your hands and grabbed your first aid kit, exiting the bathroom and jogging to him. “What the hell happened to you?”

He passed his tongue over his teeth; watching you scrambling over him in a little black dress. “Fight. Where are you going?”

“A date.” You didn’t have to answer to him.

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

You padded rubbing alcohol to a nasty scar on his chest. He didn’t even flinch as you cleaned it. “With who?”

“Not sure. Tia arranged it.” 

“Plan on fucking him?”

“What the fuck, Miguel?” 

“I’m just asking. That dress barely covers your fucking ass, your tits are all the way up to your neck —”

Angry, you poked the bruise until he flinched. “Don’t you fucking start! You disappear for what, two weeks? And just barge in? I don’t even know your last name, Miguel. So yes, I can go out and fuck whoever I want.” You threw the supplies at him and grabbed your bag. “You can clean up yourself you fucking asshole.”

II.

The date went horribly.

You couldn’t blame the guy — he was nice, Peter Something was his name, but he was a little young to you and you weren’t in the mood for a bad decision tonight. 

So, you came home alone and cold. Miguel had long since gone. Your supplies had been returned and surprisingly, there was a note at your bedside with some sort of tricked-out cellphone. 

My name is Miguel O’Hara. You can contact me on this.

It took you two days to send a message. A bright, sunny June morning. And it wasn’t anything poetic or well-thought-out. A simple hey. 

You’d shoved the phone aside and gone on your laptop to teach a few classes. At lunch, when you opened it — you were surprised to see he had responded.

I’m sorry. It wasn’t my place.

Huh. 

Damn right. 

The reply came instantly; Did you have fun? 

Should you lie? No. That was petty. Biting your lip, you twirled your fork in your ramen. What the hell. 

Yes, I did. 

This reply came slower. Okay. 

Another text came in before you could respond. I don’t want you going on dates with other guys.

Your reply was automatic. Did he think you were some well-trained maltose? 

Then do something about it. 

I plan to, cariño  .

It seemed you’d underestimated what those texts had started. Miguel had honestly started to court you. He called you often, even video-calling and you spoke at great lengths about each. Then, the gifts came. 

The first was a bouquet of flowers. Carnations, roses and tulips. You had set them on your nightstand. Looking at them every night until they turned brown. 

Then, the Nat King Cole record. It was mint and sounded crisp when you played it. A perfect sound and echo. 

Miguel was determined. 

At least now you knew he was serious. Excitement coursed through you. You liked getting to know him. You liked the vulnerability he shared with you. You liked that you knew his favourite meal, his hatred for his father, his love for his mother – you knew he lost someone he cared deeply about, you knew his aches as well as you knew the curves of his back. The scars healed and were left behind. You cared for this man. You loved this man. That was scary.  

The two of you stayed over at each other’s homes on and off. Miguel’s home was clinical and lacked warmth. He had offhandedly said he lived at work and not really here, in this little apartment he showed you. 

“Someday, I’ll take you to where I actually sleep.” he’d promised one night, rubbing your feet as you queued up an old movie. 

You’d said nothing, not wanting to show him how eager you were for any scrap of information he had to give. You wondered if it was sane; to want someone the way you wanted Miguel. This craving hunger seemed to get the better of you. Was it foolish? To let him in when there was so much pain, so much secretiveness about him. 

Could you want something so much it killed you?

III.

You’d taken a summer job when classes had closed down. Waitressing in the city, like you had when you were a grad student. The problem, however, came with getting back home during the night shift. The buses ran till midnight and sometimes, you had to walk home. It was lonely, sure, and you kind of regretted taking the shift. You preferred it being you – older, fewer ties than the other girls with families and who were now getting their degrees. Plus, the late-nighters seemed to tip better.

 A cold glock pressed itself to your side – pausing you from moving. Your fingers trembled. “Give me the purse or die.”

Twitchy fingers dug into your fanny purse for your cash, eager to get the fuck away from the psychopath. Then, a flash of colour popped before your eye and the feeling of the glock disappeared. The gun hit the floor and you turned slowly to see the attacker on the ground clutching his throat. Over him stood a familiar black and red, hulking form. Talons dripped crimson and in the shadow of the street light – Miguel appeared fearsome.

Your lips quivered. Words couldn’t wrench themself from your throat. But Miguel turned to you, leaving the man bleeding on the ground. 

“I’m taking you home, now.” His voice was a growl. Modulated and unlike the voice you had come to care for. His arms wrapped around you and soon, you were swinging through the city until you met your apartment. 

Miguel stripped you and bathed you, tied your hair in a satin scarf and laid you on your bed. You watched him, he seemed laser-focused on you as he tried to make sure you were safe and comfortable. He made that orange tea you liked so much, lit a pine candle and wrapped you in your favorite blanket. 

It was when he was half-way out your window that you found your voice. “Stay. Please, Miguel.”

Miguel turned. Removing his mask and suit until he was just in his footlong briefs. “Of course, mi cariño.”

In the morning, Miguel took you to HQ. And boy was that a mindfuck.

IV.

“Empanadas?”

“Beef or chicken?”

Miguel opened the box, took a seat next to you on the park bench, and took a sniff. “Beef.”

“Oh. Yum.” you made grabby hands.

Your boyfriend relinquished them to you, smiling as you dug into one. “So good. I think we should keep coming to this universe just for the food.”

He hummed. “Highly unlikely.”

You licked your fingers and rolled your eyes. Your eyes caught an alley in dark corner and red flushed across your neck. It had been a while since you and Miguel fucked. He wanted to take things at your pace. Sure, he ate you out from time to time and you certainly couldn’t go long without deep-throating his cock but you hadn’t had him deep inside you for a while.

Wiping your hands on your jacket, you placed a hand on his thigh and rubbed a circle. “Mig?”

“Yeah, baby?”

You dropped your voice low and pressed your breasts against his large arm. “Wanna do a quickie in a dark alley?”

Miguel stopped what he was doing and flickered his eyes over you and then back to the alley. “Baby, don’t do this to me.”

“C’mon,” your hand went higher to his groin. “Fuck me like a whore up against a dirty alley wall.”

“Fuck.” Miguel rolled up his sleeve to show his gizmo and in a few taps, you were home.  

V.

Your hands were pinned on top of your head by webbing. You showed your teeth and snarled. Though, everything about this was consensual. You liked making things difficult for Miguel. He was about to turn your pussy inside out and you were going to weep on his cock, anyway. 

So, yes – you liked making things a little difficult for him. It was your thing. You fought and acted like a bitch and he made you pay deliciously for it. 

A hand slapped across your heavy breasts, eliciting a whimper and drawing you from your thoughts. Red eyes flashed down at you, fangs hanging between pouty lips. “I must be doing something wrong if you’re so distracted?” 

“Yes.” You answered without hesitation. “You aren’t fucking me.” 

Miguel didn’t respond. His hand pinched a hard nipple, sharp talons tracing your skin and making your pussy grow wetter at his teasing. Cupping your pussy, he parted your folds and caressed it — sticky love coating his finger as his thumb rubbed your swollen clit. You buckled beneath his touch. 

“Look how that mouth disappears when I’m touching my pussy, cariño  .” Miguel kissed your neck; determined to make you come just by playing with your clit. Which wasn’t hard to do. Not when he was pressed against you like this. Kissing your throat and nipping at the swell of your breasts; sucking your nipples as if to draw nectar from them. 

You became a wiggling — snivelling thing under him. Fuck. Fuck. Your pussy quivered with the impending fall of your climax. 

Arching you back, your mouth hung open as your peak approached. Just as the crescendo reached its high Miguel pulled away from you. Tears burned your eyes as they snapped open to look at him. 

“What the fuck?” Your voice came out needy, weak and pleading. 

Miguel simply grinned at you, sucking on his fingers. “Are you complaining? Stop being such a whiny little puta.” 

Raising your hips, you demanded attention to your pussy. “If you’re going to tease me I might as well take out my vibrator and get the job done.”

“Neta?” The humour in his voice was dry and you felt as though your horny mind had just made a fatal mistake. “You’re going to pay for that.”

Miguel bowed his head and started eating your pussy slowly. Tongue lapping like a cat to cream, he licked from your clit to the end of your slit. Sucking and tonguing your weeping pussy at his own slow pace. Building you up all over again. 

He pressed his pretty lips to it, kissing your pussy like it was a precious thing. Then he pressed it to your aching clit. Sucking it slowly, making loud sloppy wet sounds as your hips worked desperately against his face. Miguel made pussy eating a gourmet art. 

His index and middle finger pressed into you, sinking into the depth of your carven. You shivered, moaning loudly at the combination.

“Miguel! Oh, please, baby. Miguel! Miguel!” 

Moments from it. You felt your release coming before he pulled away again. This time tears fully flowed. “Please, please, please.” 

Licking his lips, Miguel showed his fangs, brown eyes dropping to your dripping pussy. He set his hands on your thighs, then rubbed his thumb over your clit before slapping your pussy softly. “Oh. I wouldn’t want to put your vibrator out of business, cariño  .” 

You groaned. God, if only you’d kept your fucking mouth shut. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, baby. Just let me have it. Make me come, please baby. I’m sorry. Baby, please.” You were outright begging now. Your voice a pathetic, weak mewl. How the mighty had fallen already. 

But that pleased Miguel. He liked you pleading. Liked it when you wanted him so badly it made you insane. Writhing on his bed, tied up and weak for him and only him. 

Stretching his body over you, he let his hard cock rub against your wet core as he grabbed the aforementioned vibrator from your bedside. Flicking it on, the purple device vibrated. Then he clicked it up to the highest speed. 

You hit your lip; excited to see where this would go. 

Miguel went back to his meal. Kissing and sucking your pussy before focusing on your clit again. 

The vibrator slowly inserted into your pussy as he sucked your clit. You arched your back, whimpering and moaning as the vibrator went in and out of you. Miguel’s expert kissing and use of the toy had you collapsing in moments, spraying his face with your orgasm. 

You felt raw and overstimulated but Miguel kept the toy there even as he raised his head to kiss your breasts. Covering them in bite marks.

You are already mute at his work. He worked the vibrator deep into you so that it would stay there in you as he sat on your face — working the tip of his cock into your open mouth. 

“Relax your throat, slut.” He growled, working his cock in and out of your mouth. It was an awkward angle sucking his cock as you lay down. The salty taste of his velvet member was a favorite of yours still. You often told him it was your favourite thing to eat. 

The vibrator stayed in you even as you wiggled your hips to try and get it to slip out. The sensitivity of your pussy with its motions and the delicious feel of Miguel fucking your mouth had you trembling.

Looking up at Miguel felt like a religious experience. A god, looking down at you as his balls slapped your chin. 

“Look how pretty you look — silent and full of my cock. Fuck. Yeah, suck it like that. Fill up on my cock.” 

Miguel held your head, controlling the pace but you made your cheeks shallow and kept your tongue wrapping around him. His member jammed the back of your throat and slid down it, you gagged — naturally but Miguel kept it there for a few seconds before pulling out. He rubbed his head, coated in spit and pre-cum all over your lips. 

“Pretty puta. You like sucking my cock? You like being my fucking whore?” 

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before slipping the tip in. He slid in and out before pulling out and cumming on your face. A spurt landed on your lips and forehead — barely missing your eye. Miguel slipped it back into your mouth and you sucked the head, swallowing the milk that came from it. 

You’d lied before. His cum was your favorite meal. His cock was a close second. 

Pulling out from your mouth, Miguel reached forward and sliced the webbing open with his talon. Your hands fell to your sides and automatically went to your face. He removed the vibrator from your messy cunt, planting kisses on the poor, trembling pussy.

Miguel wasted no time and plucking a wet-wipe up from his nightstand and wiping your face clean. 

“There’s my pretty girl.” He said with softness. You smiled, kissing his cheek and lips. “How’re you? I wasn’t too rough?”

“There’s my beautiful man.” Your hands trailed his body, all the way to his still hard member. Miguel let you lead, guiding his cock into your trembling pussy. You bit your lip and moaned as his thickness sunk into you. “You weren’t rough enough, baby.”

His head dropped, lips to your ear as he hummed against the familiar feel of your walls. You hissed as he pushed himself to the hilt, kissing your skin. You were sure by the end of the night you’d resemble a leopard. “Let me endeavor to correct that then, cariño  .”

Miguel’s hand settled onto your throat as he began to stroke you. His girth stretched you slowly, thickness digging deeper into he attempted to dissolve fully into your warmth. He was being kind to your sensitivity but that kindness ended quickly.

His fingers tightened around your neck, conjuring a gasp. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you sloppily as his hips picked up a harsh pace. His cock spreading you and burning your pussy with its fever. 

“You like stretching out this pretty little pussy? Like me making this a home for my cock, whore?” 

His teeth nipped your lips, tongue passing across your jaw before he bite your neck. 

“Yes, baby. I like you fucking your little whore’s pussy. Stretch me out.” You whispered, fingernails digging into his impossibly large back. You doubted you broke skin but mania overtook you when Miguel’s cock was inside you. 

His hips stuttered, ever so slightly, and you couldn’t help but squeeze your pussy around his cock, rocking on the member. 

Miguel placed a hand on your crouch, pushing you down. “Not so soon, cariño  .”

Staying perfectly still for a moment, he released your throat and sat on his hunches — forcing you to sit up. Miguel placed a hand at your back and another beneath your buttocks, keeping you up. 

The movement, and friction of your clit against his pubes, caused for a shutter of an orgasm to race through you. A little thing like that, made you coat his cock. 

Full of machismo, Miguel puffed his chest out and began fucking into you. Hard. “Miguel! Fuck, oh god. Oh god!”

“That’s right, baby. I want everyone to hear me fucking you.”

“Oh god, oh god!”

“That’s not my name baby. Fucking say my name!” 

And you did, over and over. Until his name became the only word that would fall from your lips. His thick cock dragged against the walls of your sensitive pussy rough and fast, fucking Miguel was holy. Fucking him was close to heaven.

“Love fucking this pussy, cariño  . My tight little pussy. Love spreading it open with my fat cock. Oh, take it baby. Roll those pretty eyes back on this cock. My cock dumb little whore.”

Still sensitive, you came wet and messy on top of him. Miguel followed after, chasing his orgasm with hard, burning thrusts until he came inside you. Laying you on your back, he made a few more jerky thrusts; just to get it all inside you and collapsed on top of you. 

He rested on you for a moment, before pulling out, cock bouncing onto his thick thigh. Miguel’s chest heaved, his dark eyes looking over your face. His hand found its way between your legs, rubbing his leaking cum all over your sore pussy — pressing some of it back into it. 

You couldn’t help it. You kissed his lips and cheeks. God, you loved this man.

Comments are nice ✨

Master list

[cookiesupplier]

Every Rose Has Its Thorns - Part Nineteen

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc x Chris 'Motionless' Cerulli

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, panic attack, stalking, online bullying.

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate. For everyone involved.

author’s note: Unbeta'd, readers beware as always lol.

tags:@tearfallpixie @cncohshit @jordynyingling0219 @faceless-mirror @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @wild-child-7747 @witchyweeb34 @black-damask1999 @jilliemiw86 @ilovesamkiszka @lyschko666 @lacktoesandtoddlerants @bngurngheart @collapsedglasshouses @laurpartyprogram

Tag List is Open, please let me know if you would like to be added to it or in general.

Ricky was staying with Chris, which he hadn’t wanted to. When he came down, having finished editing the video, uploading it to YouTube so that he could publish it when he was ready, only for Chris to let him know the plan. He’d argued that he was fine in his own house. He hadn’t worked hard to buy his own fucking house to get run out of it by some fucking insane psycho stalker!

The whole argument had fallen on deaf ears. Chris had just shaken his head, saying that he wouldn’t be staying with him forever, that this was still his house, just until they figured out how to deal with everything that was happening, until all of this settled down. It would all be settled down. Chris assured him, standing there with him, a hand on his shoulder, the other curving around the back of his neck, just helping him breathe for a second. It would be fine.

Talia had taken a deep breath herself watching the guys console Ricky, as much as he fought to stay in the house, something about how he looked as he turned to head back upstairs to go pack a bag so he could stay with Chris, she had a feeling there was a weight off his shoulders. He could argue that he was fine here all he wanted, but he wasn’t, and she didn’t blame him. Realising that you had a stalker, it didn’t matter who they were, it was unnerving. In this case Talia thought  it was worse because Ricky did know Grace, and Grace knew Ricky, and now they knew that Grace hadn’t given up, whether, she thought she could get him back, or she was just trying to ruin his life, Talia didn’t know. Then again, someone as insane as to date him for so long and think he’d never find out she was lying to him, it was possible she thought turning the fans against him, would get him to come back to her. So Ricky packed up a bag of his things, along with some of his equipment, and after he published the video to his channel, headed to go home with Chris. Talia, however, went with Vin and Ava like she had been since she’d arrived, waiting to see how it would fair with the video, how the fans would react. By the time the video went live, it had been quite late at night for all of them, so it was no surprise, that she crashed into a fitful sleep long before she saw any reaction to it.

When Talia woke up, she realised it was mid-morning, and found a text from Ava, telling her that she’d gone into town with Vinny and that they’d be back later that afternoon. So dragging herself to make something to eat, only to hear the door, she sighed, walking from the kitchen, she went to answer it, and saw Rick on the other side of the door, waiting.

“Vin isn’t here, he went out with Ava-”

“Actually, I came to see you.”

She was taken aback. So far, Ricky hadn’t once gone out of his way to want to see her, every time they’d spoken, the party, yesterday, even the diner, had all been circumstances when they’d been put together because of other people, and had to deal with the other person, and now he was here, seeking her out?

“Um, okay, come in, I guess?”

Stepping aside to let him in, while it wasn’t her house, she knew Ricky was more than welcome in Vinny’s house as it was.

“I’m just making something to eat, I only just got up, I, well, I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Talia nervously rubbed her neck slightly, she hadn’t been able to check her phone without being abused in her messages on her social media since yesterday, and honestly, she was scared to check it now, she hadn’t checked her messages since she woke up.

“I haven’t checked my messages since I got up, I know it's going to be crazy, I can’t control how the fans react, all I know was what I said, and I turned the comments off on the video. I told them I would, because of the abuse that came after the live, and how ashamed I am that any of my fans would abuse anyone online, ever. So.”

Walking back towards the kitchen after she closed and locked the door, she doubted that would change everyone, she knew how fandoms got, while there were a lot of good people there could be a lot of bad too. It wasn’t a good thing, even if you could meet great friends, you could meet your worst enemy too.

“What was more important, was, talking to you about yesterday, about how we haven’t really talked, and you were right, I haven’t wanted to. Honestly, because admitting that you’re my soulmate has been, it's been shit through all of this. I have been struggling-”

“I know Ricky, you don’t need to explain that to me-”

“Shit! Will you just stop!”

Rick cut her off as she went to make herself a coffee, and she started a little, going tense as she set the cup that she’d just pulled out of the cupboard on the counter carefully, not wanting to look back at him now and fuck, he ran his fingers through his hair, feeling bad for snapping at her with how she looked right then. Shit... Why did she have to look like a spooked fucking deer, when yesterday she looked like she was ready to slap him into the middle of next week. Where was that girl, he needed her for the moment. But he supposed, at the same time, he needed reminding, why he was here, after what she said yesterday, he didn’t know her, he didn’t know the pain she’d been put through, by her own fucking family. He had so much support around him, from the band, his friends, and even his family from a whole other state, and she had Ava and two friends who couldn’t even be here with her now.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have snapped at you, I just, do you always do that? Make excuses for other people's shitty behaviour? You’ve been doing nothing but that for me since we met, haven’t you?”

He’d known he was acting like an ass, but hearing her yesterday, he hadn’t realised just how much of one he was until then. Shit. When Talia didn’t say anything, just stared at him for a long moment, Ricky glanced down at the coffee cup on the counter and shifted on his feet, moving to pick up the cup. When she went to say something, he lifted his hand,

“Let me, how do you like it?”

He didn’t have Ava here to ask, and hadn’t prepared in advance like she had yesterday, so, he went ahead and asked her directly.

“Half cream, no sugar, please.”

Nodding slightly, they both fell silent as he went to work to make her her coffee, while she knew she hadn’t eaten anything yet and any moment her stomach was going to rebel, it was going to have to be satisfied with the coffee, because the thought of eating anything while about to talk about soulmates with Rick, well, the thought made her feel a bit sick. They’d been going around in circles enough, and she was a bit terrified of where this was going to go, not to mention the messages she had seen yesterday, had brought back the worst memories, she didn’t need to go down that path right now.

Once he was done, Rick handed over her coffee, and let her take a sip before,

“Okay?”

When she nodded slightly, he smiled a little, at least he could do something right, even if it was only coffee.

“Good, okay. So, I know I’m fucked up, and I don’t need you making excuses for me, I don’t deserve them, any of them. I don’t deserve them any more than the people in your past do, because I know I don’t know you that well, but from everything Ava says about you, and she talks about you constantly,”

His voice a little deadpanned at that, trying not to smirk at the way Talia’s face turned a bright fucking red when he said that, she did though, Ava had talked Talia up all through their time on tour, even if Rick had tried to avoid any talk of her like the plague it had been impossible in its entirety. He’d be laying in his bunk, and Ava would be talking to Vinny about home, and Talia this, and Talia that, and it had made him want to scream in fucking frustration into his pillow that he couldn’t escape her.

“Then you are an amazing person. Honestly, you’d think you were her soulmate, Vin should watch out, she might have a thing.”

Hearing her chuckle against the coffee much was better than the dead silence, and the startled look she’d given him when he’d snapped at her before.

“There was that moment in college, so maybe, he should be warned.”

“Oh wow, noted, I’ll give him a heads-up.”

Both of them were laughing that time as she drank some more of her coffee, Ricky reaching for another coffee mug as he started to make himself a coffee.

“So yeah, I want to apologise, I realise, like a complete asshole, that I haven’t, for anything that I’ve done, or said to you, pretty much the entire time I’ve known you. How I’ve treated you has been, inexcusable. Even if you weren’t my soulmate, I should have treated you with more respect, especially as my best friend’s soulmate’s best friend, sister even.”

Both of them, standing in the kitchen, with their coffees leaning back against opposing counters and drinking at their mugs,

“Thank you.”

It was nice to hear it, at least. Talia hadn’t ever even gotten an apology from her family. Not that they would ever consider that they were wrong, that she could be right about having a famous soulmate, that was it, not that she’d always known who he was. Kyle and Jordan had known from the start, it was that Ricky was famous. Who was she, what right did she have, to have a famous soulmate when they didn’t? At least that was how Ava put it, that they were all just jealous, what made her special, was that she had a famous soulmate, and they didn’t, why did she deserve something more? She didn’t, she just had a soulmate, a normal soulmate, Ricky. Ricky, who enjoyed music, had been painfully abused by a horrible woman because of it.

“Fuck, don’t thank me, I was an asshole to you, especially at that party, shit. Making you prove it.”

He knew how he was treating her then, just like Grace had been suggesting she was, just someone out to play him, and he felt like utter fucking trash for it. Now she was thanking him for finally acting like a decent human being and apologising? Well, that made him feel even worse.

“Shit, you can’t be real.”

Just hearing him mention that party, even with what he was saying, how he’d treated her that day, Talia was feeling some sort of way, and Ricky’s eyes went wide when he felt the way she was reacting to it, the way his soulmate tattoo started to grow warm. Only the heat wasn’t instant and, well, stabbing like yesterday, it was like a warm slow burn. The warmth was a tingle that sunk into his skin to spread through him, and shit. That was when he saw it, the way her fingers pressed tighter to her mug, her back arched as she stood a little straighter, her thighs, tensed slightly, pressing together under her long shirt, the shorts she wore barely visible underneath.. Oh, and oh that delicate flush of her cheeks..

“Oh, oh Talia..”

The words were so softly off his lips, that he barely breathed them, he wasn’t even sure she heard him, but that wasn’t the point. She had to be some sort of masochist, he was a fucking asshole to her of epic proportions, and she was still thinking about him like that. Swallowing, not that he could lie himself, that day had played on his mind too. He’d thought about her more than once over the past week, enough that that tingle in his tattoo right now was not an unfamiliar feeling… Right now, seeing the way she was rolling her shoulder on the side of her tattoo, remembering how she reacted to the pain yesterday… it was making him wonder.

Did she feel it every time he did?

Did Talia feel what he felt every time he’d felt a surge of sensation in that tattoo?

Fuck, the most memorable had been when they were together, in that bathroom. He’d felt it, the way he brushed against her tattoo, the way he’d let his lips trail over her tattoo, how in that instant he’d felt her come around his cock as he did. Just thinking about it now, he might as well have been buried deep inside of her again, with the way the surge of feeling in his tattoo flared just at the thought, his eyes closed at the soft gasp that escaped her against the mug of her coffee.

“Shit.”

Ricky set his down on the counter before he dropped it and scalding hot coffee went everywhere. He took a deep breath, eyes opening before he moved towards her, taking the mug from her hands and putting it aside, hot coffee, safely out of reach for the moment, and then his hand was curving around the side of her neck, over her soulmate tattoo, just letting his fingers rest there over her skin nothing more, and feeling her shiver slightly under his touch.

“You can feel something, can’t you?”

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[acaplaya-musings]

Geoff & Sanders Sides crossover fic thing

So basically this idea wouldn't leave my head until I got it written down, and also I partially blame FallingBlueRoses for this (affectionate).

Alright first of all, if you somehow found this through the Sanders Sides tag and you don't know who Geoff Castellucci is, go look him up on YouTube! Much more than just a pretty face ;). But you don't really have to know too much about Geoff to understand this fic - think of it as an Outsider POV fic, with a bit of a twist at the end. But also note that I haven't actually watched any Thomas Sanders videos since 2021 (it's just that Sanders Sides somehow continues to remain in my head rent-free and I can still hear all their voices clear as day), so their visual appearances are based off of what they all looked like back then (in case there have been any changes since - I really don't know).

To my followers and other Geoff fans who don't know Sanders Sides: this little fic basically explains all the relevant bits (except this is an AU where they're "real" of course) - you can learn along with Geoff!

This fic became a bit longer than planned but I still wanted to post this here rather than AO3.

Geoff yawned as he walked through the doors of Pattycake Studios. He was never really a fan of early wakeups, especially when it wasn’t even for a proper filming day, but he knew his latest video plan could benefit from some light rehearsal and blocking first, and for situations like this, it was easier to get things done when the studio was quieter. But he certainly wouldn’t say no to a bit of an energy boost first. Thank someone for the coffee machine…

Geoff made a beeline for Pattycake’s coffee-maker, while glancing down at the video notes he had typed out on his phone. It took him a couple moments to register the five men in his peripheral vision, sitting on the blue leather sofa in the breakroom. Must be filming a video here today, or doing prep work at least. Geoff knew Layne and Tony were often willing to hire out parts of the studio to anyone who needed such a space for filming, but he didn’t usually bother to keep up to date with such things, other than checking that certain sets would be available to use when desired. It wasn’t completely uncommon for Geoff to cross paths with different artists and performers in the studio, though, and often he would greet them with a smile and a nod, but currently, most of his brain was focused on obtaining coffee, and the remaining parts were thinking about his video plan. And so Geoff didn’t initially think much about the quiet whistle from the side of the room, until he happened to overhear what one of the men was saying.

“Hey! Hey Thomas! Look!” said one of the people on the couch.

There was a sigh, and then another voice – Thomas, presumably – spoke up. “What is it, Roman?” The voice had a similar timbre, brothers, perhaps.

The first one, “Roman”, spoke again, now sounding indignant. “Oh I’m sorry, have you somehow not noticed the definition of handsome that just walked into the room? I mean come on! The hair! The arms! The hair! Quite frankly I’m not sure what I feel more, love or envy!”

“Hey Thomas, why don’t you have arms like that? Ever thought about that?” asked a third voice, a little lower and with slightly more roughness to it than the first.

“Well I’m thinking about it now, obviously,” replied Thomas, sounding irked.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

Obviously the other men were talking about Geoff – there was nobody else in the room after all – but even now he still couldn’t fully understand how so many different people seemed to think of him as attractive. Furthermore, the first guy, (‘Roman’, was it?) who had spoken up had made no attempt to be quiet or subtle when talking, as if he thought Geoff wouldn’t be able to hear him, or he simply didn’t care. It’s too early in the morning for this…

Having reached the coffee-maker, Geoff finished reading through his notes, and then turned on the machine, while the conversation off to the side of the breakroom continued.

“Okay but just hear me out, Thomas,” said Roman. Geoff snuck a quick glance across the room, and identified Roman as the one wearing a Prince Charming-esque costume straight out of a Disney movie. Or a Pattycake Productions video, even. His white long-sleeve shirt was adorned with gold accents across the front, shoulders, and cuffs, and topped off with a red sash that ran from the top of the right shoulder down to the left hip. Roman continued. “All I’m saying is, that guy looks like he knows what he’s doing, like he’s been here multiple times before! He might even work here regularly!”

“Your point being?” asked Thomas, who sounded like he wasn’t entirely following.

“I’m saying that there could be multiple opportunities here for the taking! First you go up and say hi, make small talk, you could say you need help with your video, and you’re gonna have to come back here at least a couple more times before it’s done, so you exchange contact details, for purely Business Reasons of course, but then maybe-”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” cut in a different voice. It was stern, clear, and direct, almost like a schoolteacher. “During your flights of fancy and prolonged aesthetic appreciation of this man, did you take even a single moment to observe his hands?”

“His hands? Why would I- Oh, right. He’s got rings on.”

“Precisely – he’s married. And besides, who’s to say that he’s romantically attracted to other men anyway?”

Thomas sighed. “Yeah, you’re right, Logan, I know,” he said flatly.

Well, at least that got sorted out by itself. Geoff just had to wait a few more moments for his coffee to be ready, and then he could go get to work.

A fifth distinct voice spoke up, lighter and bubblier than the voices of the others. “Hey now, no need to let it get you down! After all, there’s no saying you can’t talk to him at all! You could go say hi, get to know him a little!”

“Nope, no way, nuh uh,” said the lower-voiced guy quickly and firmly. Geoff matched the voice to the one wearing a black hoodie covered in purple plaid patches. “Well, not right now at least,” he continued after a beat of silence. “Look, he’s here as early as we are, and he’s clearly busy with his own stuff, and probably the last thing he wants is to be distracted or held up by some random guy wanting a conversation.”

Geoff couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for Thomas and the one in the hoodie. He recalled moments in his younger years, when he had had similar dialogues play out in his head, in regards to people he admired, or simply wanted to get to know better. And sure, he didn’t always have the biggest ‘social battery’, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be viewed as aloof and unapproachable. At least the coffee is finally ready.

He took a long drink of coffee, and relaxed his shoulders as he felt the hot, caffeinated beverage already begin to work its magic. Perhaps the video work could wait a little longer – after all, it was just basic courtesy to acknowledge these newcomers, wasn’t it?

Geoff took a step away from the coffee machine and towards the group of five, giving them a friendly smile. “It’s okay, I don’t bite,” he said. “Well, once I’ve had my morning coffee, anyway!”

Geoff wasn’t prepared for the shocked and surprised expressions on each of the men, as five pairs of eyes rapidly fixed upon him.

“Wait, you can hear us? And see us, too?” said Roman, gesturing to everyone else except the guy in the middle, who was currently shooting a half-panicked half-frustrated look in Roman’s direction.

Geoff raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yes? Am I not supposed to?” he replied, deeply confused.

The guy in the middle of the sofa chuckled nervously. “Oh just ignore him,” he said with a forced smile. This must be Thomas, based on the voice. “It’s like a… comedy bit, yeah, y’know, just a silly joke!”

“…Riiiiight,” said Geoff, having another drink of his coffee while side-eyeing the group. There was definitely something going on here – he just couldn’t fully put his finger on it yet.

The individual wearing a blue striped tie leaned his head over to Thomas. “I don’t think he fully believes us,” he said flatly.

“Yes, thank you Logan!” Thomas snapped, but there was more worry in his tone and demeanour than annoyance. He took a deep breath in, and looked back at Geoff. “I’m so sorry, we really didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve got work to do, so we’ll leave you be and you can forget that any of this ever happened!”

Geoff took a final sip of coffee before setting the mug down. Perhaps video planning can wait a little longer. He folded his arms and took on a relaxed position, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Well, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, but there’s obviously a story here, and I must admit that now you’ve got me kinda curious!” he said. “And I’m in no real hurry to get started on my own stuff.”

Thomas glanced uncertainly at the men sitting either side of him. The one in the light blue polo shirt smiled encouragingly at him, but the other three looked uncertain. Thomas sighed. “Okay, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else-”

“-Not that anyone else will probably believe you,” said the one in the hoodie.

“…and promise not to freak out.”  

Geoff gave a light-hearted scoff. “Please, I’ve been involved in a lot of crazy stuff over the years,” he said, thinking especially about some of the things Layne would come up with for video shoots. Geoff smiled, but paused when he saw Thomas’ expression. “I promise. Oh, and I’m Geoff, by the way.” He took another step towards the couch and held out his hand. Thomas stood up and shook it.

“I’m Thomas,” said Thomas, “and these-” he moved to stand next to Geoff. “-are, well, it might be better if I show you something first.” He then spoke to the other men still on the couch. “Okay guys, go back in please! I’ll call you all back shortly, probably.”

Geoff was about to ask Thomas what he meant by “show you something”, but then his gaze focused on the couch, and his eyes widened. Before his very eyes, the four other men had quite literally faded from view, going from solid, to translucent, to completely gone in just a few seconds, so that now it appeared that Geoff and Thomas were the only people in the room.

Thomas turned to Geoff. “Look, I know this is still probably gonna sound really crazy, but those were-, are literal representatives of different aspects of my personality – my “Sides”, I call them – and actually there’s a couple other Sides as well but those four are sorta the ‘main ones’, and I’m probably not doing great at explaining this because they’re usually only seen by others when they want to be seen by others! And we weren’t planning on you being able to see or hear them – not that I’m saying it's your ‘fault’ or anything, but…” Thomas trailed off helplessly.

A small bell of familiarity was ringing in the back of Geoff’s mind, but the rest of his brain was trying to process the whole ‘different aspects of one personality’ thing. “…Like Inside Out?” he asked, remembering the sequel he had watched at the cinema not too long ago.

Thomas brightened a little. “Yeah! Sorta!” he replied. “But a bit more complex than that, I guess you could say. I could introduce them properly if you’d like?”

“Please, go right ahead!”

“Alright, first of all, meet Roman.” Thomas lifted up his hand in the direction of the couch, and Roman faded back into view. “He represents my creativity, my imagination, and, well, he’s also my romantic side.”

Roman looked away, a reddish hue on his cheeks. “I’m sorry again about all that,” he said to Geoff, not meeting his eyes. “I honestly wouldn’t have acted that way if I knew you could hear me!”

Geoff smiled reassuringly at him. “It’s all good, no harm done,” he replied.

“Next up: Logan!” said Thomas, again lifting his hand. Logan, who wore thick, black square glasses, a black polo shirt, and a dark blue striped tie, faded back onto the couch just as Roman had, and nodded at Thomas in greeting. “Logan is my logical side,” Thomas explained, “he represents my knowledge, my rational thinking, my reasoning, that sort of thing.”

“Yes, and may I highlight the fact that I was the one who stopped Roman from taking things too far just before?” said Logan with more than a hint of smugness.

“Yes, well done,” Geoff replied. Roman folded his arms and made an indignant humph sound. “…but I can’t exactly stop people from fantasising, and it’s not Roman’s fault that I heard what was obviously meant to be a private conversation!” Roman brightened at that, and turned to Logan and poked his tongue out at him. Geoff laughed. Oh yes, I know this dynamic well.

Thomas then introduced another Side. “Now it’s Patton’s turn!” Patton wore glasses similar to Logan’s, though a little more rounded. His polo shirt was like Logan’s as well, but sky blue instead of black, and he had some sort of grey hoodie tied over his shoulders. “Patton represents my emotions, as well as my moral compass and inner child.” Patton beamed and waved happily at Geoff. Geoff waved back, and noticed the symbol on Patton’s polo shirt, which wasn’t a brand logo like Geoff had initially assumed. It was a small picture of a smiling heart with glasses on it. Geoff looked at Logan’s polo and was unsurprised to see a picture of similar form, but this one a brain wearing glasses.

“Let me guess,” said Geoff to Thomas, “Logan represents the brain, and Patton represents the heart?”

Logan smiled approvingly. “Very astute!” he said. Patton nodded eagerly and clapped his hands in delight.

“Well finally,” said Thomas, “meet Virgil!” Geoff was a little surprised when Virgil, instead of fading in gradually like the other three, instead simply popped into view in the blink of an eye. His hair was tinted with purple, his face was paler than the others, and he wore heavy black eyeshadow underneath his eyes. “Virgil represents my anxiety, but he’s also my self-preservation and my fight-or-flight response!” Virgil gave Geoff a nod and a two-fingered salute in greeting.

Geoff turned to Thomas. “So you said none of them can usually be seen out in the open except when they want to be? Is that right?” he asked.

Thomas shrugged. “Don’t ask me how it works, but basically, yeah,” he said. “I’m a YouTuber, and sometimes these guys get involved in some of my videos, and that’s when we can pass it off as it all being ‘me’ the whole time, y’know?”

The bell that had been ringing in Geoff’s brain grew louder. “Actually, I think I do know,” he replied, “and I think I might have an idea why I could see and hear your Sides? It might be totally unrelated, but…”

Thomas looked at him curiously. “Oh?

Geoff rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess you could kind of say I have something similar,” he said. “Not exactly a ‘different aspects of personality’ situation, but, well, I suppose I might as well show you?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This Geoff guy has Sides too? Okay, well, maybe not Sides exactly, but still, of all the explanations for Geoff being able to see and hear the Sides when he wasn’t supposed to, Thomas hadn’t considered this one.

Geoff took a couple steps away from Thomas and turned his back. “Alright you four! Your presence is required! Right now!” he said.

It was as if Geoff had been multiplied four additional times, but with slight variations each time – bigger muscles, or more stubble, or more grey hair; one even had glasses on. Thomas wasn’t quite sure whether this made things make sense or whether he was just now more confused, but either way, it seemed like he and Geoff did have something to talk about after all.

((I totally could have written more than this, and definitely have at least a couple ideas for interactions between Geoff's Clones and Thomas' Sides, but again, this turned out to be longer than expected, so I'm ending it here. No guarantees for a part 2! Idk! We'll see!))

[th3w00ds]

Let’s Fix That with a Controlled Shock

@red-balloon12 @nwtbobsessedemo @colourfulmes

Fandom: Youtuber Egos

Trigger Warnings (if any): Character goes through a lot of pain, electrocution, betrayal, angst

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

Natemare sighed as he approached the run down building that two of his… “friends” had told him to go to for some meeting. Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. He looked up at the decaying walls, the plant life growing on them making it clear that the pizzeria hadn’t been open for quite some time.  He walked closer, opening the doors and stepping inside. The inside of the place looked even worse than the outside of it did, tables knocked over, the floors littered with garbage. Why the hell would they invite him here, to this shitty place? 

Natemare continued his walk inside the pizzeria, inspecting what he could see. No sign of either of the two. Were they even going to show up? He wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t. 

Suddenly, the lights on the main stage flickered on. Natemare snapped his head towards it, and he looked for any sign of a person. Both the ones who invited him had electricity powers, so it could be either.

“Hey! Anyone there?” He called out loudly. A chuckle rang throughout the room, and bolts of purple and blue electricity arced onto the center of the main stage, forming a person amid the broken animatronics. The form was center stage, standing in front of the withered Freddy animatronic. The one stepped closer as he formed, and Natemare recognized him.

“Natemare! It’s been far too long, my friend!” Dawktrap exclaimed, hopping down from the stage in front of Natemare. The Brit wiped at his purple vest after, making sure he was immaculate as always. His glowing blue and purple eyes slowly dimmed back to normal as his powers weren’t being used. 

“It’s good to see you too, Dawktrap! Where’s Anti? Have you seen him?” Natemare asked, looking around the room once again. 

“The bastard will be here soon. He’s always late to these,” Dawktrap answered, also looking around for any clues to Anti’s appearance. 

A couple of seconds after that, a flash of green electricity happened. Natemare had to blink rapidly for a moment to get his vision back to normal due to how bright the flash was. When he opened his eyes, he saw Antisepticeye in front of him and Dawktrap.

“You two seriously expected me to be here at the same time you were?! I was running late, Seán’s other egos were being assholes and tried to fuckin’ stop me from leaving! Can you believe that?!” Anti said, his voice glitching sporadically. Anti growled, and began to fiddle with his knife. “Who do they think they are?!” 

Anti was one for tantrums when things didn’t go his way, he always was. Dawktrap giggled, and Natemare smiled. The three of them hadn’t had a reunion like this in quite some time. It was nice, but out of the blue like this was very strange, and especially at being at Freddy Fazbear’s. 

“Anti, calm the fuck down, will ya? Remember, we’ve got something to show Mare!” Dawktrap said, still giggling. “And put the bloody knife away, you’re so attached to that thing.” 

Anti glared at Dawktrap, “I’ll put it away when I fuckin’ want to.” Anti stepped closer to the both of them, and gazed around the building himself. Natemare shifted on his feet, wondering when Dawktrap and Anti would get to what they wanted to “show him.” It was vague and quite odd, Natemare thought. 

Dawktrap began to walk to an open area in the room, ushering Natemare and Anti to follow him. Anti picked up his pace to walk parallel to Dawktrap, leaving Natemare to walk behind them. They reached the area, stopping their movement. 

“Now,” Dawktrap said, clasping his hands together, “Me and Anti wanted to show you something, Mare! You want us to?” 

Natemare was confused, but nodded nonetheless. “Sure I guess,” He said. 

“Great.” Dawktrap said, smiling. Natemare noticed a glint in his eyes as they started to glow. He tensed up, and took a step back. He wasn’t so sure about their intentions with this meeting anymore. 

“What are you guys going to sho- AGH, FUCK!” A sharp pain erupted from below Natemare’s shoulder out of nowhere. He quickly turned his head to see what had happened, and it was Anti. Holding a knife that was lodged into his back. They were planning on fucking attacking him?!

Natemare started to breathe in, preparing to sing in order to control them both and get them to stop attacking him. He could do it despite the pain, he knew he could. 

“Ah ah ah! No!” Dawktrap said, aiming his right hand towards Natemare. Natemare saw, and tried to prepare himself for what he knew was about to happen. Blue and purple electricity shot out of Dawktrap’s hand, and onto Natemare. It felt very painful, like many knives stabbing into him at once, but he could take a shock from one of them.

Anti let out a deranged laugh, which made it seem like he was enjoying this. Anti placed his free, left hand on Natemare, and it let out electricity as well. Now a mix of blue, purple and green electricity was arcing over and into his body, his muscles beginning to spasm. Taking a shock from one at a distance was doable, but he couldn’t take a shock from both of them, especially with Anti’s hand having direct contact with Natemare. 

He began to feel lightheaded, and was breathing erratically. It hurt so much. He wanted it to stop, to STOP, but Natemare had no idea how long they would keep up their sadistic fun. 

Natemare was on his hands and knees on the floor, breathing in and out at a fast pace, and he felt nothing but pain. Sharp, electric pain. It was too much. He could let it out, maybe it would relieve his pain. Natemare took a deep breath in, and started to scream in pain. 

It felt like forever, like the pain was forever and he was screaming FOREVER. HE COULDN’T TAKE IT, SO HE CONTINUED TO SCREAM. 

IT FELT LIKE IT NEVER STOPPED. 

AND HE CONTINUED.

TO.

SCREAM. 

The pain began to dim, slowly fading, and he noticed that the electricity arcing across him had disappeared, but the tingling and the pain had not yet gone. 

He opened his eyes and let out a shaky breath, looking up at Dawktrap and Anti, who were looking down at him. 

“Pathetic,” Anti sneered, “You were one of the most powerful egos of your group! And now look at you, Natemare… A worthless, useless, GODDAMN FAILURE OF AN EGO WITH NO POWERS ANYMORE!” He shouted at Natemare.

Natemare’s breath hitched and his eyes widened. No powers? W…What the fuck did he mean, no powers?! He had powers! He could control people with his voice! 

He tried to speak, but nothing escaped him. Nothing. NOTHING?! THAT SHOULDN’T HAPPEN, THAT- This couldn’t be happening! Had he seriously lost his voice?! Anti had said no powers anymore, so… did that mean Natemare would be without his main ability permanently?! No, no no no! 

“Natemare, you must understand, we simply… how shall I put this, thought you were too weak as you were. With your voice being your one and only power. We’ve helped you, see. You can adapt, you’re the type of person who adapts to anything. I’m sure this will be no different.” Dawktrap said, looking down at Natemare. 

Adapt? To this?! To having his main power stripped away from him?! Yeah, sure, he totally could! Natemare glared up at the two. Then another jolt of pain coursed through him, and he flinched. The knife was still lodged into his back. 

“And I’ll take this back,” Anti said, gripping the knife and slowly tearing it out. Natemare tried to scream in pain, but his voice didn’t work. 

“We’ll be going now,” Dawktrap said, “I assume we’ll be seeing you.” In one last flash of electricity, Dawktrap and Anti disappeared, leaving Natemare alone in the abandoned pizzeria. 

…Abandoned. 

Like he was. 

[phregnancy]

I was with you for a lot of the discussions you were having on your blog but I have to unfollow you now, as this victimization of Phil is not something I want to be apart of, he is and was a huge celebrity at a time, with a keen eye for business and trends and how to maximize his (and the dnp brand) collective assets. He is the logistical head behind a lot of the decisions they made as a duo and this rebranding as a poor ignored “side-kick” is not doing him justice or the fandom. You are also starting to inadvertently do to Dan what you claim was done to Phil in the past albeit more eloquently and subtly by minimizing his impact and creativity. Dan wasn’t just a relatable brand the reason so many people jumped on the Dan and Phil wagon was because Dan was and is to this day an incredible and compelling storyteller. The amount of work that went into his 10 minute videos is the type of structure that fits into video essayists today that collect millions of views. You said to some of your anons Dan wouldn’t stand for Phil slander but Phil is the man that stood by Dan since he was 18 years old not just because of how he made him feel but because of who he was as an individual as well and I imagine he wouldn’t stand for some of your wording either.

putting this under a cut for people scrolling the spoilers tags and are uninterested in random discourse

dan’s branding heavily leaned into the fact that he was a relatable netizen at the height of his youtube popularity, that was not the sole aspect, but that is what drew in a lot of the crowd who weren’t dan and phil fans. they have a large difference in followings, because dan appealed to a wider audience through more relatable content. they referenced this during the show tonight. he is an excellent storyteller and he is just as brilliant. i am not diminishing that, he has worked very hard to get to where he is. i don’t talk about that as much because quite frankly, it does not need to be said. people aren’t writing think posts about why dan doesn’t deserve his career or saying he piggybacked off phil’s fame at the height of their careers or attributing every emotion of dan’s to phil like he isn’t an individual with complex feelings, like people often have done with phil. i’m also not rebranding phil as a sidekick, he isn’t a sidekick, he has often been overlooked as his content was not as popular as dan’s and again, tonight, he brought up the fact that he felt like he was babysitting while people waited for dan to come back. i don’t think dan is to blame and i also don’t think what he does was easy or simple. now if you think i should shut the fuck up because ultimately they’re two rich british dudes who have more wealth than we could ever imagine and are deserving of less empathy because of that, i’d understand that, but that’s not what you’re saying. all i really have to say is that i find it interesting that me talking about phil and mistreatment by the audience is interpreted, by you, as me bashing dan and saying his career was simple - when i have not said that at all or even alluded to it. i just don’t talk about dan as much, and you assumed that my talking about injustices towards phil means i think dan deserves less. you are right to unfollow because we have strong differing opinions on this.

[xentari94]

Okay so I’m going to put in my 2 cents on the matter of the mwiii ending. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t write some semblance of a theory post. Maybe I’m in denial. If so I don’t. fucking. care. Soap may not be my personal comfort character in the same sense like he is to so many others, but finding out about the campaign today has left me depressed as fuck over this ngl. I love Simon and Johnny so much 💀 🧼 ❤️ And quite frankly this was some steaming FUCKING bullshittery that I will never accept. So… without further a-due

SPOILERS!!!!

SPOILERS!!!!

SPOILERS!!!!

SPOILERS!!!!

———————————

Now I haven’t watched all of the campaign yet, so I can’t get a solid feel of how rushed it is like people are saying. I started watching the first mission before I got distracted with the comment section on YouTube, and that’s when I found out what happens and the whole damn thing snowballed from there. Might go back and watch it later for the boys sake mainly, and to gather more accurate information. But I’ve seen enough to form a theory that Soap may not actually be dead.

Again… I know I’m probably just denial typing but if it helps then it helps ya know? And I like to put a bit of faith behind these, else there would be no point in making them.

So to start, we see Soap get shot and fall but to me personally our view of him was never close enough to determine if he was actually breathing or not. Man just got shot twice, at least once critical, any breathing gonna be labored as fuck I’d take it. Our only thing to go by is Price saying k.i.a out loud which- later I thought- Makarov may have been injured and ran, but he could still have men in the area watching the boys, reporting back to him anything that could have occurred after his bitchass self made his little bitchass exit. Soap could still have been alive, but in the moment the need to announce aloud that Makarov did him in was needed to keep his true status unknown to any potential unnecessary ears or planted bugs to help keep Soap that way until the rest of the boys could get him to medical.

The whole scene with Laswell redacting reports? At least I’m assuming that’s what that was, keeping information about the mission secure because the enemy is still out there. I tried reading it as it went, I’ll have to go back later and really pay attention to what was typed before it was marked out. Labeling Soap k.i.a again as possible cover up to keep him safe.

The ashes scene, while heart wrenching, is such an odd thing to jump to imo. Did Soap not have a family waiting for him? Never known otherwise unless I missed something along the way. I mean being realistic here the bodies of soldiers are usually sent back to the families if able. And Soap was still intact. So the team scattering ashes really doesn’t make sense if you really think about it, if Soap was actually dead. Just automatically cremating him would be cruel. Yes Soap was a part of their team family … but not letting a possible blood family get their son back… unless there was a time skip and they were allowed some of Soaps ashes… idk.

On the other hand perhaps a possible family couldn’t be notified of their son’s condition due to their safety potentially being in jeopardy. Now there is the matter of Soaps dog tags of course, who has those? Soaps family? Or maybe Ghost? I didn’t see them nor hear mention of them so it’s still too soon to say what happened with them. And if the boys needed a way to make soaps death look real. Needed to really send it and make it seem untraceable well… tossing what looks to be ashes would be the best choice. While Soap is kept hidden away under constant surveillance as he hopefully recovers. Makarov could have eyes always on them. I wouldn’t doubt that he did.

Just too many plotholes. Too many what ifs. Too soon to tell. Am I mad? Upset? Pissed? You betcha ass I am. I let my hopes get too high in believing the 141 would get some strong plot armor this go around. Ghost survived, can you blame me? A part of me just refuses to accept and believe Soap is gone. That my favorite duo is done. Big chance I’m wrong I know. But always a chance I could be right. A chance I’m willing to take.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Hey everyone, it’s August 19, 2023. Do you know what that means? It means happy 20-year anniversary to the events of this YouTube video!

It’s one of the less talked about of the various old Chocolate Milk Gang Edinburgh clips I’ve found on YouTube. By which I mean it’s less talked about by me than a few of the others are, but that is also an indication of how much it’s talked about in general, because I am the only person in the world talking about those clips. The CMG Edinburgh videos I’ve found span a few years, but the earliest are from 2003, so we’re going to hit twenty-year anniversaries of a couple in a row this week.

We open on Daniel Kitson doing some material that was a fairly significant part of his 2005 Edinburgh show, appearing here with somewhat cruder wording than he used in the final versions of that show. Apparently he was sufficiently happy with the concept of that bit to hang onto it for two years before making it an official part of an official show, but he had a more extreme example that he saved for when performing in the middle of the night to drunk Gilded Balloon people. When he performed it in the middle of the night to sober people at The Stand two years later, this bit did not contain the words “wanking freely”. Not that I think he wouldn’t use that phrase at The Stand. But maybe wouldn’t go to it just for the sake of impressing a raucous and filth-demanding crowd, the way that he’d clearly learned to do at Late ‘n’ Live. You can see why twenty years later he’s writing plays about the sins of his past, Simon Amstell/Grandma’s House-style. Maybe a tiny bit Frankie Boyle-style, too. Someone should make a list of all the comedians who’ve written pieces of comedy that are apologies for the much harsher comedian they used to be. Amstell blamed the "roast culture" at the intersection of popular music and 00s panel shows, Boyle can blame the bearpit that Mock the Week allegedly was in its early years, and apparently Kitson can blame the drunk people at the Gilded Balloon.

Then the montage moves on, and Jason Byrne is on stage, covered in bubble wrap. Kitson introducing him like he’s a cage fighter, and there’s clearly a lot more irony in the way Kitson’s presenting this situation than in the way the crowd is receiving it, as they are audibly yelling for blood. Jason Byrne stumbles on his words, which does not surprise me, because I think I’ve heard his name specifically mentioned as one of the anti-Chocolate Milk Gang people. By which I mean they given the name by people like Andrew Maxwell and Jason Byrne and Glenn Wool – the latter of whom has been credited with actually coming up with the term – for not getting drunk at late-night Edinburgh shows, in contrast to the people who named them, who were always drunk at late-night Edinburgh shows.

Anyway, David O’Doherty turns up, also covered in bubble wrap, accompanied by his evil manager, noted Chocolate Milk Gang named coiner Glenn Wool. And then they set about attacking each other with garbage bags. DO’D… really going for it. Just beating the shit out of Jason Byrne during bubble wrap wrestling with what must be more zeal than was planned. They cover the bubble wrap wrestling night in slightly more detail on the 2012 BBC Scotland Late 'n' Live documentary, and in that one, there's a shot of DO'D leaping through the air and pouncing on Byrne like a puma. DO’D also did something similar at a 2007 Late ‘n’ Live, getting into a wrestling match with Daniel Kitson where he attacked hard enough so that at some point you can hear Kitson make it quite clear that he did not intend for the comedy stage wrestling to go as far as DO’D is taking it. I rather love the idea of David O’Doherty as a man brimming with unexpressed rage that he only gets to take out at the occasional late-night comedy show where they set up some sort of fight. I also love how hard DO'D beating on Jason Byrne makes Daniel Kitson laugh, just cracking up from the sidelines while he's supposed to be ironically commentating.

Though it’s worth noting – I pointed this out the other week, when I wrote a whole post about Cowgate, since obviously the world needs another post about that. I said that Adam Hills got lost in the moment and was just yelling what came into his head, while Daniel Kitson was pretending to be similarly caught up, but was in fact using his status as outside commentator to give genuinely useful advice to DO’D about where to attack the cow. You get something similar here – he’s breaking with laughter at what’s happening, but still has the presence of mind to shout “Glenn, get involved” in a voice that sounds like more hype but is in fact a host controlling his gig. You can see where he developed the compering skills.

Then David O'Doherty finishes beating up Jason Byrne and jumps into his evil manager's arms like... look, last night I went to my best friend's place and we watched a video from a gold medal match at the senior national championships of actual wrestling (no bubble wrap) earlier this year. We were watching it because an athlete from our team won that match, and winning it put her on the ladder for Olympic qualifications, and she's just decided she definitely does want to make at run at the 2024 Olympics so we need to re-watch all her recent matches to analyze her weak spots and create a training plan to prep for the Olympic trials, which is very exciting, so there's a little thing going on in my life. Anyway, the point is that the match was very exciting, it came down to the last few seconds, and when it over, and they confirmed that she'd just won the national championship final, she ran across the mat and jumped into my best friend's arms, throwing herself so hard at him that she knocked him backward, since he was the coach in her corner. Watching this comedy video today, I'm struck by how much DO'D jumping on Glenn Wool looks exactly like that athlete jumping on her coach after a genuine important sports thing. You can see why this type of thing eased my withdrawal during the sport-free pandemic.

Anyway, then Kitson introduces Cat Empire, a band from Australia, which he obviously loves because he loves all musicians from Australia (except that one cunt from Sydney). He then engages in a rap battle with a member of the band, which is… to be honest, genuinely awkward. And I’ve watched everything else in this video, and in a bunch of similar videos, without cringing, I think it’s fun, and it’s acceptable to do stupid things like that if you’ve layered enough irony on top, which they always do. The Kitson vs. DO’D rap battle from another night – enormous fun to watch. But somehow, doing a rap battle against and actual musician who does actually do this type of thing makes it, sort of, not quite as much of a joke anymore. Still definitely a joke, but just a few of those layers of irony shaved off, and it turns out, a rap battle needs every layer of irony it can get or it quickly stops being funny and starts to just be hard to watch.

It may be made worse by the fact that Daniel Kitson appears to be genuinely having a good time. There is, obviously, irony when he yells at an Australian musician that he’s conquered that man’s homeland because he “Went over to Melbourne, nearly won the Barry/Motherfucker, other side of the world/Nearly won me an award, got me a girl”. But I’m not sure there’s quite enough irony to make that easy to watch without cringing. It looks too much like Daniel Kitson might be slightly, for real, sort of enjoying getting to brag to an Australian musician about how he’s big in Australia. And you just can't have that.

Then Cat Empire plays music for the rest of the video. The music is fine. The video is sort of interesting just because it gives me a bit of a sense of what the Gilded Balloon looks like away from the stage (I can piece this together with some of the backstage Gilded Balloon footage that was in the Tim Minchin documentary I watched last year, and I could probably draw a floor plan of that place).

Happy twenty-year anniversary, everyone! I'm sure most of the people in this video are very proud of their antics, twenty years on. Well, I'm sure some of them are. Maybe. Daniel Kitson's out there writing plays about regretting some of the ways he used to behave on stage. While David O'Doherty, I like to think, would probably fuck up Jason Byrne or that cow or Daniel Kitson just as badly again, if given the opportunity to do so tonight. The real lesson here is don't fuck with David O'Doherty.

[sugarfrostedconspiracies]

Blog #5: Repetitive Advertisement + a YouTube Video

Yo, it’s me. Today, I’ll be discuss the repetition of Frosted Flakes advertising. The reason why I’m writing about it now is because on New Year’s Day of 2023, I watching a marathon of “The Amazing World of Gumball” on Cartoon Network. Now usually, Frosted Flakes would do its thing about once per commercial break, like it has been for the past 3-4 years. That day, one of the breaks aired the commercials not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES! I mean, what the fuck?! Sure, I’ve seen Chuck E. Cheese’s or McDonald’s advertised twice per break, but never more than that, which means that Tony’s just hogging most - if not, all - of the time in between program blocks. That was probably the most I’ve ever seen Cartoon Network sponsor Frosted Flakes since the series finale of “Steven Universe: Future” back in 2020, basically when the Covid-19 pandemic began. Seriously, like people had nothing better to do in quarantine than that?! People couldn’t be bothered leaving their house to get the cereal because the world was on lockdown. Like, what is Tony trying to do, trick people into getting sick with the virus?! I don’t think so!

Yes, I remember that night, the day I was sobbing as I saw the final moments in “Steven Universe: Future” (the constant Frosted Flakes didn’t really help me feel better either). And I swear, Tony couldn’t go the first thirty seconds without breaking the forth wall, could he?!

Speaking of, I saw this cool video about Frosted Flakes being advertised constantly during the Steven Universe: Future finale. Here’s the link:

Yeah Steven, quite frankly, I don’t blame you. Also, what I found funny about this video was that at the end, Tony states how lonely he is and begins to cry. Good, he fucking deserves it! But to be honest, if I was to see Tony in real life, I wouldn’t just reject his cereal; I would punch him in the face, then make a run for it. So ha ha! In your face, Tony! Not even Steven likes you!

If you didn’t see the video above, I suggest you do before Tony has you, too, under his spell.

[magicinknpiercings]

Name: Leta Bloom

Nicknames: Boston, Lion (does not like being called this)

Species: Shapeshifter

Height: 6'8

Age: 18-28

Personality: loud, happy, protective, in charge, noncommital, seductive, fun, sassy, sometimes a bit of a hot head, independent

Sexuality: bisexual with a heavy female leaning

Gender: nonbinary (she/her pronouns, occasionally he him, they them is okay)

Top/Bottom/Switch: top

Hair: brown or black, changes it to black when the money is available

Eyes: usually blue but changes them at will

Career: piercer at LGBT+ Piercings

Living Situation: At the Shop at her station or a small one bedroom Erik had renovated for her in another part of the building

Personal Beliefs: Life sucks but gotta move forward somehow with a smile

FC: TTBret (asktheboywholived, Instagram, TikTok, Youtube) [I did ask for TT's Permission before using her]

Biography:

Leta grew up on her own, her mother died giving birth to her, and her mother’s wife was none too happy her ‘husband’ had a child of her own. But not knowing who her father was other than a shapeshifter who granted her mother’s wish to be able to live her life honestly, Leta was given to her mother’s wife who quickly remarried to a very abusive man from her church as she dealt with being abused by her brother as well who was only a few years older, blaming her for the death of his ‘father’.

When Leta turned 14 she came out to her family hoping they’d make her leave, and was promptly thrown out for being just like her mother. She lived happily on the street living in homeless shelters and working odd jobs sometimes.

She met Erik on the streets when she found many other homeless queer kids that she had quickly nicknamed the Queerkats. Erik and Leta both took on the mantle of leaders of the Queerkats and she was shocked when he opened up LGBT+ Piercings.

She learned her craft quickly. She didn’t like the tattooing process so she also works the front and in accounting. She and Erik both seem to be more like an old married couple in public but once the shop shuts down they act more like bratty siblings but they wouldn’t change each other for the world.

Out of everyone at the shop, she’s the muscle. She has no qualms about knocking someone on their ass if needed. Street fighting is her style but has taken up different fighting styles. She also may not look like it but she is built and uses her size quite a bit.

[hiphopdrita]

Raul portal noti dormi

The precinct number 99, the 99th precinct. So uh… the Davis-Morales lives in Brooklyn, yeah?.They give the case to Scully and Hitchcock. The Nine-Nine handles this the way you’d expect. Some other police departments pride can’t stand the idea of a vigilante taking away from their arrest records. Maybe once every six months there’s this big push to find Spider-Man. ( Holt’s also got a soft spot a mile wide for young people with sharp tongues and a desire to make the world better, so of course he keeps tabs on Spider-Man the way he does all of his family in the Nine-Nine) Cheddar looks adorable in the Spider-Man onesie he wears during that years Halloween heist. Some of the bigger politicians have made entire campaigns around their stance to stop vigilantes. Holt has to at least pretend to be neutral. ((because he can see his daughters in this kid, knows that if they had powers they would do the same thing and he wouldn’t blame them, how could he? but god they are just so young-)) And the idea of a kid going out to fight, even a kid with superpowers, makes his heart twist every time he sees the videos Jake loves) (What the squad doesn’t know is that Terry’s heard Spider-Man’s voice up close, can tell just how young this kid is. The whole squad groans when he starts going down this road, even if it’s just to point out the negatives of street level vigilantes who haven’t been through the training they have. And yeah, maybe this guys got superpowers but he can still get himself or others hurt. He knows what it’s like to go in to a situation cocky from his rookie days. If he’s going to be a rule breaking vigilante then fine but he at least better be doing it right! But she has a whole binder of the lectures she’s ready to give Spider-Man about safety and procedure, and then another whole binder on modified police training procedures and tactics that she angrily adds to when she sees him flung around by the newest bad. She’s got a reputation to maintain as a rule follower, you see. And then she’ll cuff Jake on the back of the head and tell him he better not start getting any ideas, there’s already too many spandex-clad vigilantes and they didn’t need his ass getting caught out there.Īmy isn’t quite as vocally supportive. The ones that would make catching the bad guys a lot easier, even if it would be a little messier for them to clean up. But every once in a while when Jake’s watching YouTube videos of the latest stunts caught on shaky phones, she’ll comment about all the other weapons Spidey should look in to. Rosa is harder to read because of course she is. And when he’s nearby she most definitely takes a squad car to go to the scene, in order to get up close and personal. Gina’s taken at least three selfies with the guy, and there’s a whole section of her G-hive who’s dedicated on telling her when Spideys been sighted. Either way, at least once a month there’s some sort of Spider-Man snack featured in the break room with only moderately exotic ingredients. Not only is he freaking hilarious, but he’s based in Brooklyn and maybe Jake starts to keep an eye out more when he’s doing patrol and listening to the radio as more than background noise to keep up to date on what’s going on and any possible Spidey sightings.Ĭharles, of course, follows Jake in loving Spider-Man, although that’s because he is 90% sure Jake is Spider-Man even if Jake’s told him a million times it’s not possible, Charles, that one time you did see him I was right next to you. Like, Jake just thinks he’s the absolute coolest Avenger, no doubt. Okay but where is my Brooklyn Nine-Nine and Avengers crossover fic where the squad all agrees to adopt Spider-Man?īecause obviously the squad all loves him in different ways.

[ihavenolife346]

Tell him I love him

Robin Arellano x f!reader

Summary: Y/N, Y/L/N was the first victims of The Grabber. Y/N died with only two wishes, one being that her boyfriend, Robin Arellano would never have to go through this and that he wouldn’t blame himself. And her second wish being that her best friend Finn would never go through this either. Long story short, Robin did end up blaming himself for not being able to protect her… and Finn had been put in the exact same place she had been all those months ago. But at least she got to say goodbye to Finn and pass a message onto Robin…

Warnings: Mentions of death, slight swearing

Side note: Robin does not die in this short story. Also I’m making it so that every past victim is in the room with him, until it’s time for a phone call.

There will be a few time skips because I can only find Robin’s phone call (Will be used as Y/N’s phone call just with a few words changed and some parts will be added) I can’t find the other’s phone calls on YouTube.

I do know that Robin is only 13 or whatever but I had an idea, I’m writing it, so just go with it.

I am a lesbian… but I just watched The Black Phone and I absolutely loved Robin’s character and I know quite a few other people love him so here I am.

“F-Finn.” Y/N choked, crouching down to get a closer look at the boy who had just been thrown into the basement, realizing it was her best friend. “You know him?” Vance asked the younger girl. “Yea… he was my best friend.” Y/N quietly explained, not wanted to believe that one of the two things she hoped would never happen, had now been happening.

“Well… that sucks. At least it’s not that boyfriend you always tell me about.” Vance patted her on the back, trying his best to be nice to the girl who was basically his little sister (I know he’s not that nice but just go with it). “Aw gee, thanks for trying to care.” Y/N sarcastically laughed, not taking her eyes off of Finn. “Of course kid. I try, I really do.” Vance chuckled, heading back over to Paperboy, watching the girl just sit down next to the boy, putting her head on her knees, waiting for him to wake up.

The moment the boy started to stir, Y/N immediately perked her head up from her knees, just wanted to hug him and tell him it’ll be alright, even though she couldn’t. She could see him, she could see ever other victim after her, yet he couldn’t see her or any of them. The black phone that Y/N has been using to try and help every other victim, failing at every attempt, the phone always rang, but none of them ever heard it, Y/N had to watch every single teenage boy face the same she had, one after another.

“I wish he could see us.” Bruce came up next to the girl, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Yea. We just gotta hope that he doesn’t end up like us. Hopefully he’s successful at what we all tried to do.” Y/N smiled at the boy her age, getting up from the ground. “Hopefully he doesn’t. More people don’t need to go through what we did.” Bruce agreed with the girl, returning the smile. “Yea. Then he won’t have to look at all the old blood left of your clothes and body.” Y/N chuckled slightly, getting a laugh out of the other 5 people.

_________________

“So, you guys remember those phone calls I told you about? How I tried with everyone one of you.” Y/N asked the group, getting a grunt from every boy. “Should we try it with him? Who knows, maybe he’ll be lucky enough to hear it.” Y/N suggested, keeping her eyes on the boy who was now roaming around the cold room. “I mean it could work this time. Y/N said she tried it with all of us. And all of us saw her try it when we were killed. Maybe he’ll get lucky.” Billy agreed. “Finn’s arm is mint. Can’t let that go to waste.” Bruce joined in. “Oh what the hell, why not.” Griffin, or the escape artist as everyone liked to call him agreed, making all eyes turn to Vance. “Fine. Only because I like her. Not because the rest of you agreed to this.” Vance groaned, shooting a smile at the girl. “Thank you guys. This really means a lot to me.” Y/N mumbled, giving a smile to everyone.

_________________

“My god! That dumb fuck!” Y/N yelled in frustration for the fifth time in 20 minutes, pacing back and fourth, annoyed with the fact that Vance just disappeared after yelling and yelling and Finn while Y/N was waiting for her phone call, which would be the last. With just one small sob, Y/N immediately shit her eyes over to her best friend, tears forming in her own as she watched him start to cry. “Motherfucker…” Y/N mumbled, walking over to the black phone, dialing a number, making the phone start to ring. “Please don’t let this be a mistake with timing.”. Y/N mumbled to herself, watching Finn wipe his tears a few times before slowly walking to the phone.

“What.” Finn asked after a few moments of silence and the static from the phone. “Hey Finn. What’s up?” Y/N finally brought herself to say something, remembering how she used to always greet him in the mornings before they started walking to school. “Y/N?” Finn asked, a look of disbelief on his face while he pushed his head back up from against the wall. “Hey buddy… don’t cry.” Y/N softly said, making a mental promise that she wouldn’t start crying. “I’m not.” Finn defended, wiping his eyes once more. “Yes you are. I can see you.” Y/N smiled to herself, leaning against the wall beside the boy. “You can?” Finn asked, sounding like he was making sure he heard the girl right. “I’m with you. I’ve been with you this whole time.” Y/N lightly laughed, now starting to get teary. “You have?” Finn asked the girl. “You never leave a friend behind. You know how mine and Robin’s dads left for Vietnam? They didn’t leave their buddies behind. That’s why neither of them came home. And I’m not coming home either. And I’m not going to leave you behind.” Y/N chocked, trying to pull herself together. “We’ll be together again soon.” Finn slightly lowered his tone, finally knowing his fate. “Fuck that shit. You aren’t going like I did.” Y/N scoffed, still remembering the day she died. “I’ve tried everything! Nothings worked.” Finn told the girl. “Yet.” Y/N let a tear slip, noticing how desperate the boy was. “Y/N-.” Finn started, only to have Y/N cut him off. “You remember what me and Robin used to tell you?” Y/N snapped. “That I need to see more horror movies?” Finn questioned. “Besides that.” Y/N slightly groaned, not loud enough to hear. “That someday I have to stand up for myself.” Finn finally mumbled, walking further away from the phone, only for Y/N to follow behind. “That day it today Finn! Today’s the day you stop taking shit firm anybody!” Y/N tried to sound encouraging. “I’m not a fighter like Robin, I’m not a fighter like you. Even you couldn’t take him.” Finn sighed, still slightly processing the fact that Y/N was dead even though her body hasn’t been found yet. “You’ve always been a fighter Finn! That’s what you, Robin, and me have in common. Why we became friends, why me and Robin got together. You were always afraid to throw a punch but you always knew how to take one! And you always caught that (idk what Robin says here)! Every time.” Y/N tried to give the boy more confidence. “I’m not strong enough.” Finn mumbled. “You have to be. Your getting out of here. If you can’t do it for you, do it for me, do it for Robin, do it for Gwen.” Y/N walked closer to the boy. “What does it matter?!” Finn slightly raised his voice once again. “Because I don’t want to die for nothing! I want to have at least died for my best friend. And because I can’t kill that fucker you have to do it for me!” Y/N finally let a few more tears fall, pulling herself together again. “How?” Finn asked, hearing the tone in her voice. “Your going to use a weapon.” Y/N plainly spoke, knowing she couldn’t talk to him again after this. “What weapon?” Finn asked, clearly confused. “The one in your hand.” Y/N clarified. “The phone?” Finn asked. “Fill the receiver with dirt, pack it in tight, give it some heft.” Y/N instructed the boy, watching him take a few steps forward while she took a few steps behind him. “Then what?” Finn asked, curious about her plan.

“Then you practice. Over, and over. You raise the phone, take a fast step forward, step back, step forward, and swing!” Y/N slightly did it herself, remembering exactly what Robin taught her when she was bullied. “Try it.” Y/N instructed, noticing the boy just standing there. “Now?” Finn asked, not understanding why now. “Yes, you raise the phone, take a fast step forward, step back, step forward, and swing!” Y/N did it herself, watching the boy hardly do it with her. “Again! You raise the phone, take a fast step forward, step back, step forward, and swing!” Y/N smiled, seeing Finn get more into it. “Again! You raise the phone, take a fast step forward, step back, step forward, and swing!” Y/N smiled, watching Finn kinda get the hang of it. “Again! You raise the phone, take a fast step forward, step back, step forward, and swing!” Y/N taught as fast as she could with the time she had left with him. “Again! You raise the phone, take a fast step forward, step back, step forward, and swing!” Y/N stopped, hearing the teenager grunt and he swung the phone, proud of herself for teaching him so fast. “You’ve got it. Now fill the phone with dirt like I told you.” Y/N’s mood shifted, not ready for this to be the last time she talks to the boy, walking over to the corner of the room and pressing her body against the wall. “Will I still be able to talk with you?” Finn asked, not wanting to come to conclusions yet. “This was the last call Finn… it’s all you from here on out.” Y/N’s tears started to build back up. “I miss you Y/N.” Finn’s tone dropped after hearing those words. “Then get out for me, use what we gave you. “I will…” Finn mumbled. “Um, before you do what I said, can I ask you to do something for me?” Y/N croaked, really trying to hold back tears. “Of course. Anything, anything at all.” Finn nodded, waiting for the girl to finish. “Tell him I love him, that I still love him, that’ I will always love him. Can you do that for me?” Y/N finally let it go, starting to cry as she spoke. “Of course, of course I will.” Finn agreed, a small smile forming. “He still loves you too.” Finn added on. “Thank you. Thank you so much Finn.” Y/N wiped her tears, smiling about his last sentence. “Of course Y/N.” Finn mumbled. “Bye Finn. I love you.” Y/N finally finished. “Bye Y/N. I love you too.” Finn hesitated to put the phone back, but once he did, Y/N just let it all out, crying with her knees hugged to her chest for at least half an hour, only pulling herself together when The Grabber came down. (PLATONIC LOVE)

_________________

It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t fun to watch, but Y/N was there the whole time, watching a grown man get the shit beaten out of him by a teenager. Y/N and the other souls of past victims finally got to say their final parting from The Grabber, Y/N saying “Fucker! This is what you deserve! Burn in hell!”. But now all of them were finally free, free to move on with the afterlife. Once Y/N and the others finally saw sunlight, they couldn’t be happier, even though nobody could see them besides each other, they were all just happy it was finally over. Saying their final goodbyes, Y/N and the group of souls went their separate ways. Vance going to haunt people that kissed him off, Billy going off to live his afterlife, Griffen going to see his family’s house before going god knows where, Bruce went to go see some family before going off to enjoy afterlife as well, while Y/N on the other hand, she decided to stick around a bit longer, just another night or so with Finn, Gwen, and Robin. The boy she still loved and hasn’t seen since a year and a half ago when she went missing.

_________________

“Wait, wait, wait, your telling us that there was this phone in the guys basement that allowed the souls of past victims to contact you?! And that how you knew how to get out.” Gwen exclaimed, still processing the story Finn just told her and Robin. “I know it sounds crazy, but yea, it’s true.” Finn laughed, making Y/N smile as she hung behind Gwen at the trio’s sleepover. (Not in a crappy way, I just didn’t know how to put it.) “Was it all past victims?” Robin asked Finn in a odd tone, making Finn know exactly who he was referring too, Y/N…

“Yes Robin. All past victims. Including Y/N.” Finn nodded his head at his best friend, only getting a loud sigh out of him. “Um, she was my last call. She was the one that mainly helped me escape. She was the one that taught me how to punch, she learned that from you.” Finn started explaining things, noticing Robin’s intense listening. “Come on Finn.” Y/N mumbled to herself, hoping he didn’t forget. “She uh, she did ask me to do one thing for her.” Finn added, making Robin’s head perk up. “Before our conversation ended, she asked me to tell you that she loves you, she still loves you, and she always will love you.” Finn remembered almost Y/N’s exact words, making Y/N smile at the fact that she could know her at peace with knowing that Robin knew. “Thank you Finn. Thank you for telling me.” Robin nodded, getting up from his seat on the floor and flopping on the bed behind Gwen, thinking about things.

With Gwen staring at the floor, happy thatcher brother got yo talk to his best friend again, by the smallest glimpse of her eye, she saw a smiling Y/N squeeze Robin’s hand before making her way out of the room, shooting a quick smile at Gwen, almost like she knew the younger girl saw her.

[haileybeehappy]

Neighbor

I’ve been working on the piece for a while but have had no idea how to finish it. Finally did it. Lol. Anyways enjoy

SUMMARY - You move into a simple studio apartment. The very first place you live by yourself and your very attractive neighbor unknowingly sings you to sleep through the walls.

WARNINGS - just cheesy fluff

WORD COUNT - 3.4 K

I am in love with long hair Harry. I mean. Damn.

You had recently moved into a new apartment. Your very first time living by yourself. Your best friend lived just across the street but you were in a completely new world. Hundreds of miles from your home. Your neighbors seemed nice enough. You had yet to meet the person to the left of your apartment. He or she was mostly quiet, a bit of music here and there. Other than that they were nice and quiet.

You were sitting on your sad couch you had found on facebook marketplace. Watching some youtube videos when you heard the strumming of a guitar making its way through the thin walls. A low voice begins to sing, calming. Finally relaxing for the first time in a week.

You listen intently to the lyrics to the song. It's sad. The words make your heart ache. You lay there, phone now off in your hand and your body relaxed. Head against the back of the couch. As the song comes to an end you find yourself drifting to sleep.

“I’m falling,”

…

You wake to your phone buzzing and screaming at you. You pick up your phone that found its way to the floor. You click off the alarm and lay there for a while. That was the first good night of sleep you had since coming to the city. You had spent the last week sleeping on the couch, tossing and turning because you had yet to get yourself a mattress. Dragging yourself off the couch and into your mostly empty kitchen. You pull out the loaf of bread and start to make yourself some breakfast.

Once you’re done you sit on the floor and eat your food by your couch. Using the coffee table. As much as you like eggs and toast (not that much) you really need to go out and get some more food. There is a Saturday farmers market you had seen signs up for so you’ll probably head that way today.

…

You are trying to get up the final flight of stairs before your floor with three bags of food from the farmers market. The bag in your left hand is probably seconds from tearing and spilling apples and oranges everywhere. Just as you go to push the door open to leave the stairwell it swings open. A man stands on the other side. He is quite a bit taller than you. He has long brown hair and he is quite possibly the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen

“Oh goodness please,” he goes to grab the bags out of your hands. “Let me help you,” you nod and allow him to take the bags from you.

“Thank you so much,” you laugh out. “I don’t think I would have made it much further,” he nods, smiling.

“Of course. Where to?” You still have the one bag in your hand

“24 D,” he looks at you surprised

“Well hello neighbor. I’m in 25 D,” he stops at your door. You follow behind him, you struggle to find the key in your pocket. Once you grasp it and pull it out of your pocket you instantly drop it on the floor due to your shaky fingers. I mean he is literally the most beautiful human you have ever laid eyes on so who can blame you.

“Fuck, sorry,” you laugh awkwardly.

“I got it,” he sets the bags down and grabs your lanyard off the floor. He quickly unlocks your door and pushes it open. He follows you into your apartment and you put your bag on the counter. He does the same.

“Thank you so much. You really didn’t have to do that,”

“I couldn’t just let you struggle on your own, that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me,”

“I mean I guess that’s true,” you begin to come very aware of how awkward this is. You become very embarrassed of your living situation. You look back at the musty couch you’ve been sleeping on. “Sorry about the place, I just moved in,” you shrug.

“Hey you’re doing a lot better than I was my first week livin here,” ‘

“I really doubt that,” you start to unload the bags. He begins to help. “You don’t have to help. You were obviously on your way out somewhere. Go ahead and go,” you give him a smile. He starts to walk to your door and you follow him.

“Oh yeah of course,” he gives you a real genuine smile back. “I just love to help, especially when the person I’m helping is as attractive as you,” a blush spreads across his cheeks.

“Damn, just laying it straight huh,” you laugh.

“Gotta shoot my shot,” he shrugs.

“Well I think you’re pretty attractive yourself,” fuck this man.

“Thank you,” you open the door and he allows himself out.

“By the way,” you feel the blush creeping up your neck. “I really enjoyed the song you played the other night,” he instantly begins to close off.

“You heard that?” the look of embarrassment on his face.

“It was beautiful,” his hand goes to the back of his neck.

“Thank you. I’ve been working on it a while I just um,”

“I’m sorry, I just,” the both of you just stand there in silence. “Thank you so much for your help,”

“Of course,” he turns to head to the stairwell. “My name is Harry by the way,” he turns and waves.

“I’m y/n,”

…

You had officially settled into your apartment. You bought a bed for the little studio apartment. It took up way too much room but you didn’t mind too much because you spend ninety percent of your time in bed. You had given away the musty old couch in place of two arm chairs. It was starting to look less like a squatters home and more like the house of a twenty something year old.

You had yet to see any more of Harry the last couple weeks. You had heard him strumming his guitar a few nights but no singing since. You felt almost guilty because it was probably your fault. You embarrassed him. Not that he needed to be. He had a beautiful voice and the lyrics he sang were soul wrenching. You longed to hear his voice again. You spent many nights tossing and turning. You had never slept as well as you did the night he sang you to sleep. You decide to take your chances and make your way to his door.

Before you could bring yourself to knock he opened the door.

“Oh hi y/n?” his face contorted in confusion.

“Hey Harry,” you begin to play with a loose hem on the sleeve of your sweater. “I was just wondering if you're busy?” you don’t even have the courage to look him in the eyes.

“Not really I was just heading down to check my mail, why what’s up?” you panic and think of the best excuse. How had you not come up with one before you came to his door?

“I um,” fuck. COFFEE TABLE! “I have this coffee table thing that I got from Ikea that I need to put together and I have no idea how. I’ve been struggling with it for like three days,” that's not a lie. “I could really use some help, but if not that’s fine,” you shrug.

“I could try to help you out with that,” he offers. “I’ll be right over once I get my mail?”

“Yeah that sounds great thank you,” you finally look up at him and he offers you a smile. You smile back. He comes out into the hall and comes very close to you to close the door. You take a step back and once he has the door locked he looks at you,

“See you in a minute okay?” you nod and he walks to the stairwell and you turn to your apartment. Once you make it into your apartment you look at the pieces of the coffee table laid out on a moving blanket, that was your excuse? I mean at least he said yes. You go over all the scenarios that could happen. Racing through your mind. Interrupted by three quick knocks at your door. You quickly move to open it.

Harry stands on the other side. He has his keys in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

“I figured if this table is as hard to put together as you say it is we’re gonna need a bottle of wine,” you laugh and move out of the way so he can come in. It’ll at least help settle your nerves.

“Probably, either it's too hard or I’m incompitent,” you shrug.

“Probably a little of both,” he jokes. It gets a sincere laugh out of you.

“Damn, harsh but probably true,” you motion for him to follow you and bring him the two feet to the unassembled table. “Here’s the damned thing,” you sit on the floor, one leg folded over the other. He sits across from you. He sets the wine down.

“Oh! Glasses!” you shot up and headed to the kitchen area. You pull out two coffee mugs from above the sink. You make your way back to him and sit in the same spot, handing him the mugs. “Sorry, that’s all I really have,” he chuckles and pops open the wine. Where he got the cork screw from you have no idea. That question is answered when he tucks it into his pocket. He pours the wine into the cups and hands the coffee mug with the cow to you and keeps the pig one to himself.

“These are perfect,” You chuckle and take a sip of the wine. Not bad. “Now let's get started,” he claps his hands and then grabs the instructions. It was a simple wood coffee table with a rustic wood top and white legs and shelf.

“I have no idea where to even start,” you grab the tool that came in the box and twirl it around in your hands. He is still going over the instructions.

“I mean it doesn’t look too hard,” he turns it over to the blank page on the back.

“That’s what I thought,” you took another sip of your wine. “Like I said it might be because I’m Incompitent,” he cracks another smile.

“Come on,” He puts the paper down beside him and picks up some pieces. He stands up what might be a leg and looks at it intently. He then begins to work out the frame and goes to grab some screws. Just as he starts fiddling with the screws a look falls over his face. His eyebrows furrow.

“That’s about how close I got,” He puts the pieces down with a crash and picks up his wine.

“What in the actual fuck? Did they put the holes in the wrong place?” He puts the cup down gently and picks up the piece of wood gently running his hands over the holes and looking down at the paper.

“I have no clue,” you laugh. He grabs at your hand to take the allen wrench from you. You hand it to him. He tries to fiddle with the pieces for a minute. His hair keeps falling into his face. He flows it out of his view a few times. He groans in frustration and drops it. His hands go up to his hair and he starts to pull it back into a ponytail. You can see the tattoos peeking from under his flannel. He wraps a hair tie around the knot of hair on his head. Pulling into a neat little bun. You laugh silently.

“Wha?” he looks at you with a quirked eyebrow.

“Nothing,” you smile at him.

“You can’t laugh at me and then tell me nothing!” He tosses a screw at you and it falls into your lap.

“I just don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy actually look good with a man bun,” you smile at him. A grin breaks across his face.

“You think I look good?” you throw the screw back at him.

“I mean yeah,” you start to pick at the strings on your sleeve again.

“Well nice to know it's reciprocated,” He picks up the legs of the table again and begins to try to assemble it. You sit there in silence. You can feel the blush creeping up on your face. You can’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Fuck yeah!” he screams and makes you jump. You look up and he suddenly has two of the legs connected. He has one arm up in the air and another holding the frame.

“Well damn. I guess I am just incompitent,” it seems like forever till the table is built. You help him here and there but he does it himself for the most part. The two of you sit in silence while sipping at your wine. He refills your cups a few times.

“And done,” He has a smile of pride on his face.

“Well damn,” you place your cup on the table and he does the same. “You really did it?”

“You didn’t think I could?”

“Honestly no,” his mouth falls open and a look of shock is prominent in his eyes. “I mean I worked on this for three days?”

“I mean not to be rude or anything but you were the one who said you were incompitent,” you scoff.

“I did say that but still rude,” you scrunch your nose. Slightly offended. He’s not wrong though. “It did take you two hours to do tho,” you take the allen wrench in your hand and twirl it in your fingers.

“And that’s a whole seventy less hours than you,”

“Whatever Harry,” you stand up and stretch out. Harry stands up in suit.

“Tell me I’m wrong?”

“You’re not,” you laugh,

“I know,” you plant yourself in the armchair and stretch out your legs and place them on the coffee table.

“I just built that!” Harry sits himself in the chair next to you. He goes to swat your feet of the table.

“It’s my table!”

“So?”

“It’s my table!” you laugh. “I can put my feet on it!”

“That’s just barbaric,” He grabs your feet off the table and drops them to the floor with a thud.

“Well where am I supposed to put them?” you ask. He pats his lap. You shrug and throw your feet onto his lap. He places his hands on your ankles. “You don’t have a thing for feet do you?” He brings his head up from resting on the back of the chair to look at you.

“Depends. Do you have cute feet?”

“Ew! You go to pull your feet off his lap. He grabs them.

“I’m kidding!” he laughs and you relax. “Feet are gross,” you wiggle your toes at him. “Oh god,” He smacks your foot.

“Ow!”

“Stop being weird,” he groans. Before you know it you two are sitting in the dark. Only the light from your draped windows shining through. You have talked about things. Everything really, and nothing. His hands were still on your legs. His hand now cupped around your ankle. His thumb slowly caresses your exposed skin. Your heart started racing the second his skin met yours. The conversation went silent a while ago.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Did I offend you?”

“What no?”

“The other night? When I talked about singing?” his hand stills on your leg. He’s quiet for a second. Your breath got caught in your throat.

“No, I just got embarrassed. I’ve never sang for anyone before. Not that I know of,” he shrugs. “But now that I know how thin the walls are, plenty of people must have heard me,” his hand begins to move again.

“I mean. I don’t know if it means anything but you have a beautiful voice,”

“Heh, thanks,”

“Did you write it yourself?” you ask. He responds with a nod. “Well you are an excellent song writer.

“Thank you,” his voice was meek.

“It’s only the truth,”

“I play guitar in a band, but I’ve never sung for anyone. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to honestly. I can sing fine in the comfort of my own walls. Knowing that you can hear me makes me nervous too,”

“I’m sorry,” is all you can think to say.

“It’s not your fault,”

“Can I say something and it not be weird?” another nod. “That night, I fell asleep to your voice. That is the best night's sleep I have gotten since I got here,”

“Oh,” is all he says.

“Yeah,” you respond.

“It helped you?”

“Yeah. A lot actually,” he plops his head down back into the chair. It might have been the wine. Nerves finally calmed. But after sitting in prolonged silence. Comfortable silence but nevermind that. “Do you maybe wanna go out with me sometime? Get dinner?” The second the question leaves your mouth you panic. You can feel yourself panic and become statue still.

“Really?” You can’t find the words so you just nod. “I would love to,” you can’t see him but you could basically hear the smile on his face. Probably just as big as the one you have.

“That would’ve been really awkward if you said no,” you laugh.

“Maybe a little. But how could I say no to a girl who has bigger balls than me.” You laugh.

“Oh my god Harry!”

“I mean it’s true! I’ve been trying to get up the courage for the past twenty minutes and couldn’t seem to say anything!” You are now both looking at each other. “You can’t blame me though. You are quite possibly the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” his voice has lost the joking tone and now was very soft. You almost didn’t hear him.

“I’m nothing special,” you say in the same tone.

“You are absolutely something special,” you blush. Hard.

“Says you,” you start to play with the stray strings again. Damn nervous habits.

“Yeah, says me,” he sits up and your legs fall off his lap. His hands come around yours and make you drop the strings. “Because you are. I know I don’t know you very well yet. But this is the most comfortable I’ve been with a person in a long time y/n,”

“Me too,” he intertwines his fingers with yours. And stands up.

“Let’s dance?” You let out a laugh

“We don’t have music?”

“Let me sing to you?” You stand up slowly

“Are you sure?” He nods. He pulls you to his chest and wraps his arms around your waist. Your hands set at his chest and then you slowly work them up around the back of his neck. He begins to sing and your body feels fuzzy. You can’t quite make out the words he’s saying because your mind is clouded. You feel so safe. Time seems to move so slowly. You begin to grasp at the words.

“When I close my eyes, all the stars align,” you rest your head against his chest and feel the rumble of his voice against your head. Once he’s stopped singing the two of you stand there. Still swaying. You stay that way for a while. Neither of you wanting to let you. You could be here forever.

Once the two of you finally break apart he decides it’s time for him to go home.

“Thank you so much for the help,” you were standing at your door. Him just outside of your apartment.

“Of course, I guess I could say the same to you?” You look at him with a raised brow. “You’re the first person I’ve sung in front of,” he lets out a nervous laugh.

“I’m happy it was me,”

“Me too,” he stands there for a second. “So see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, tomorrow,” he turns to walk away. Then quickly turns around and basically runs at you. His hands come up to your face and you are almost nose to nose with him.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks you.

“Pleas-,” is all you get out. His lips meet yours before you can finish the word. Your whole body almost give out on you. Your lips only meet for a few seconds but the whole world slows. The second he pulls back it begins to spin again. His thumb rubs over your lips. A smile etched into his face.

“Can’t let you be the only one with balls,” you laugh.

“Oh my god!” He quickly peck your lips again even though you’re still smiling.

“Goodnight y/n,” he releases his grip on you and walks back to his apartment. Still facing you, walking backwards.

“Goodnight Harry,” you wait till he’s inside to close your door. And that night you fall asleep to Harry’s voice through the walls and sleep peacefully