#it's good to not go with those too far of course

[thrown-away-opinions]

Remember a couple years back when everyone was rightfully pissed off that NFT bullshit transactions required an ungodly amount of power? Remember how people were blaming blizzards and tsunamis and hurricanes on crypto transactions?

I don't want you to assume that I'm saying the energy waste that comes from crypto bullshit isn't needlessly excessive. Jackasses are out there inventing new shitcoins every day and further overburdening an already gluttonous system.

Advertising is worse in every single fucking way.

LED Billboards, for example, that they keep building more and more of. There's hundreds of thousands of them in the US alone and each once uses an obscene amount of power just to advertise. Even the ones that don't use massive arrays of LEDs and air conditioning to stop them from overheating are massive metal and concrete foundation structures that need to be physically changed with massive quantities of vinyl or paper. Just for a giant fucking ad on the highway. All that fucking manpower and all those resources and all of the pollution it takes to make one, for a fucking ad telling you to stop at the local strip club or McDonalds.

But I want you to expand your thinking for a moment and consider social media. These sites exist as advertising space. Even if you make an account solely with the intent of interacting with your friends, seeing funny memes, or staying informed about things that interest you, all of those things are enticement to use their platform so they can serve you ads. Constant talk of "engagement" and "retention" are just corpospeak for the amount of time they can keep a user on the platform so they can see the most ads possible.

Consider youtube and tiktok and twitter and other platforms that dangle the promise of payouts if a user gets enough views and followers. It is incentivizing users to come up with methods of raising engagement and retention so people can see more ads. Advertising is manipulating people to make themselves into ideal advertising tools.

It's an extremely cynical and interpretation of things, because the value gain from human communication and interaction and other elements far outweigh the evil of the ads, but even that is heavily influenced by the ads. Like when the platform decides that certain words or topics aren't allowed and you get the babyfication of language. Conversely, trends and algorithms and what is likely to get the most clicks, which influences what kind of videos and art people make to stay on top and retain their income.

The value of learning about the latest drama involving Baby Gronk and Mr. Shit is is nonexistent and it is being done purely because drama and gossip content gets good engagement (lots of ad views) and pays well for the creator and gives them another opportunity to get a sponsored ad read, so now it's not just the platform, but the people on it serving you ads.

And those sponsors are quite often bad for everyone involved. Scams or dropshipped plastic bullshit or slave labor produced overpriced shit that is supposed to fix a problem you don't have. Landfills are getting loaded with water bottles and wireless earbuds and the packaging from shitty meal prep services. Feel bad about it? Talk to an unlicensed therapist from a company that is data mining your mental health profile. Go shopping with this cool app that saves you money by datamining you and affiliate link sniping the creator you thought you were supporting. Use that money you saved on garbage from chinese Amazon.

And when you've finally gotten sick of all of that and realized you're wasting your time, you can take online courses with this subscription service so you can learn to create slick, eyecatching, advertiser friendly content become an advertiser too!

Consider the e-waste the comes from so many people thinking they're going to become twitch streamers or youtubers. Trading out for the latest iphone, buying tons of lights and accessories and recording equipment. The amount of content creator-adjacent bullshit that ends up in the garbage when it breaks or when their "career" doesn't take off and they don't get to be an advertising space on the internet. Consider all the people whose entire PC setup exists almost solely for content creation.

And then there's content mills. A global industry of people desperately churning out incoherent sludge as fast as possible. On top of all of the issues above, the manpower, the hardware, the e-waste, the electricity, and the fucking bandwidth, the promise of advertising, affiliate link, and sponsor money from attempting to exploit algorithms for the sake of serving more ads has taken large numbers of people is underdeveloped of economically weak countries out of the workforce so they can crudely animate videos of Slenderman giving Pomni a root canal, because that does well in the algorithm, somehow.

And if we jump back to the NFT/Crypto problem of wasteful internet usage for every minor action, advertising giving way to sludge content and sponsor-driven content causes our entire global information network to be constantly pushing around incomprehensible amounts of bullshit data to feed this shit that exists solely for the benefit of advertisers, wasting untold amounts of energy so you can get ads and sludge content in your endless scroll feed at all times, on every news site, on every search results page, no matter what you do to stop it, because advertising has so much fucking control over the internet that they are now trying to FORCE PEOPLE TO SEE ADS BY TRYING TO SHUT DOWN ADBLOCKERS.

You do not hate advertising enough.

Also I've said this before but advertising is an industry that should be considered as pointless and harmful as fossil fuels.

[littlelovelunette]

Toxic!Ranvika pressuring reader to go out drinking with them, and them pushing it a bit too far where reader gets too messy? Either smut or not, your choice!

Intoxicated

Toxic!Sevika x Reader x Toxic!Ran

Coercing reader into drinking, alcohol intoxication, reader gets horny as fuck after consuming mentioned alcohol, not smut really, fics kinda messy tbh.

★ It started with a stare too long when you refused to drink with them. You told them how bad you were at handling your alcohol but they weren't listening. They'd always been like this— often forcing you to do things that you didn't want to do even if sometimes it ended up with brutal consequences.

"We both know how this night's gonna end," Sevika whispered in your ear. "It's gonna end with your legs over your head."

You sighed and shook your head. "It doesn't have to end that way."

Ran's hands wrapped around your waist from behind. "Just the tiniest little drink? C'mon, now!"

You shook your head, hesitantly although. "You know you want it."

Sevika said, "Let those walls down, we'll take care of you."

You exhaled deeply before looking over to where the drinks were being made. Should you really? You fumbled with the chain of your purse, a million thoughts coursing through your brain at the speed of light.

"Fine."

"Atta girl."

Sevika left to get the drinks, leaving you with Ran whose hands knew no restraints— hands squeezing your waist gently and bringing you closer in a silent promise for a good night.

★ "I'm not sure if this is a good idea." You told Ran.

"You'll be fine." They assured carelessly, hands guiding up and giving your breast a small squeeze.

You swatted it away, "Not here... Besides, how are you so sure? I could end up unconscious."

"Then I'll carry you back, princess," Ran chuckled.

You sighed and crossed your arms, watching as Sevika brought the glass. You didn't want to this but sometimes the pair made you feel like you needed to do all these to still be with them romantically. They were so sweet when they weren't being forceful with you, and the way they took you in bed was always so loving too. Well, most of the times, loving. It was a lot on your mind.

"For the pretty lady," Sevika winked.

You took it gingerly and downed it all in one go. Your throat burnt. You exhaled through your nose, grunting.

"Nope. That was not magical." You put the glass down, shaking your head.

Sevika pulled you close, her lips lingering on the middle of your neck, "Oh, baby doll, just relax. Let loose a little."

"Yeah," Ran chimed in. "You're gonna be okay."

★ The night went by like a blur. You had no idea what was happening. No clear sense. Sevika saw the way you were dizzy and completely off-balance. The smile wiped right off her face and she glanced at Ran, a concerned look on her face.

"Do you think something went wrong?" Sevika asked.

"What didn't go wrong?" Ran asked back before huffing exasperatedly, "I can't tell if she's overreacting or really intoxicated."

"I'm gonna take her back to ours..." Sevika said, "Cmon, cmere, sweetheart," she tried but you drunkenly giggled and tried to walk away.

Ran sighed and grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you into place, closer to them. "Oh hey, handsome." You slurred.

"Oh goodness." Ran groaned and Sevika took the chance, grabbing you up bridal style and carrying you back home. "I'm worried as fuck." She told Ran who walked by her side.

"I am, too... What if she's like this the entire night? Do we knock her out?"

Sevika gave Ran a look and they shut up.

★ You didn't stop kissing them both when you both were finally home. You grabbed Sevika's hands, feeling brave under the influence and put them on your ass as you kissed her hungrily. Ran watched, mouth open in astonishment. They blinked, and then they were next. You didn't even pause to breathe, grabbing them by the collar and pulling them in next for a kiss.

"Hey!—"

Ran's protest was cut short as you kissed them deeply, letting your tongue wander about their mouth and tasting the liquor theyd drunk beforehand. As you parted, your eyes were half-lidded and you gave them the most perverted grin ever. You were rutting on Sevika's lap.

"Baby, you're drunk, we can't do this," Sevika said gently, trying to pry you off but you didn't budge.

"Don't be such a coward!" You said, grabbing the buttons of Sevika's top and pulling them open quite easily considering how drunk and messy you were. You ogled at her tits as if you were seeing them for the first time.

"Baby, you need to—" Ran tried to interfere but you pushed them down beside Sevika and grabbed their thigh, hand moving upto their crotch slowly.

"I thought this is what you both wanted," you slurred. "For me to let loose."

Sevika opened her mouth to respond but you cut her off kissing messily, your pantie-covered wet pussy dragging against her abdomen as your hand squeezed her breast, the other reaching for the zipper of Ran's pants.

★ Eventually they managed to put you to bed, you were knocked the fuck out.

"I feel terrible." Sevika said, sitting down beside Ran and grabbing a cigarillo. She let out a deep sigh and Ran helped her light it up.

"Same... We pushed her too much."

"Wanna plan apology breakfast?" Sevika asked after a pause.

"Y'know what? Fuck yeah."

[undyingdecay]

hihi first, your writing is EXQUISITE.... is helped me improve my own by a mile.

second, i would love to request a service top bucky or bob... and maybe with heavy amounts of making out.. I've read probably everything you've got so far but if i did miss something like this I'm SO sorry. take care of your wrists okay bye <3

FIRST thank you, im sososo happy im able to help you with your writing second — service top!bucky? absolutely.

because bucky isn’t the rough-handed, snarl-in-your-ear monster people like to paint him as. not really. not where it counts. it’s a lie he lets them believe because it’s easier than explaining the way his hands shake when he wants too much, the way need settles into his bones like rot, slow and clinging. what nobody tells you is that bucky’s the type to serve so wholly, so unthinkingly, it borders on worship.

he’s a mess for it. desperate in that quiet, seething way. not a whimpering thing, no — but the kind of man who’d let you ruin him and thank you for the opportunity. and it always starts so soft. so unbearably soft.

it’s in the way he looks at you, first. like you hung the stars crooked on purpose and he’d still build a temple under them. thumb ghosting over your lower lip, eyes heavy-lidded, mouth already parted like he’s been starving for the taste of you all night. there’s something fractured about it — that bone-deep ache you only get from decades of denying yourself. from wanting and wanting and never asking.

and you make him ask.

because he deserves to beg for it a little. deserves to have his lip split between his teeth when you push him back onto the sheets, one hand pressed flat to his chest, cold vibranium fingers twitching helplessly at his sides. he’s so good like this — spread out, ruined already, cock leaking against his stomach without you even touching it properly yet.

'please,' he murmurs, voice rough, thinned with strain. 'fuck, doll, lemme — let me take care of you, c’mon, i can be good, i promise.'

and you let him. of course you do. because bucky barnes was made to serve. made to wrap those big, battle-worn hands around your hips and drag you down onto his tongue, made to shudder under the weight of your thighs trembling around his head. he’s so good at it too, like it’s the first real thing he’s done in years. eats like a man exorcising ghosts, like your pleasure might be the only thing to stitch him back together.

he’d make a mess of you. slow, devastating passes of his tongue, lips slick and flushed, groaning into you like every soft, wrecked sound you make feeds some half-feral thing inside him. you’d tug his hair, grip so tight it borders on cruel, and he’d moan for it — rut against the bed like a man possessed, like every scrape of your nails in his scalp writes new commandments into his skin.

and when you finally let him up for air, when you hover over him, thighs sticky, breath ragged, he looks so fucking wrecked. pupils blown wide, mouth swollen, chin gleaming. he’s trembling — not with fear, not quite with desperation, but with the unbearable pressure of every need he’s ever buried.

he tells you he needs it, tells you he can’t take it anymore, and you make him wait anyway. because you like the sound of his voice when it breaks, the way his hands flex helplessly, begging in every language his body can manage. he calls to you 'baby, sweetheart, tell me im making you feel good.'

and when you finally slide down onto him — slow, unrelenting, until he’s seated so deep he can’t tell where you stop — bucky whimpers. chokes on a curse, hands fisting in the sheets, throat tipped back, sweat glinting along his collarbone. he doesn’t dare move without your say so, every muscle strung tight, every inch of him screaming for it.

because bucky’s not a monster. he’s a servant. a willing, ruined, aching thing — and he was always going to give you everything.

[followmybadreligion]

thinking about your devoted!blue-collar husband and his dreams of getting you pregnant…

it’s one of his sweetest dreams besides being with you.

while in the south, big, growing families were far from rare, he was always hesitant to have one of his own. with the way he worked, forty hours a week and sometimes more, it just wasn’t realistic. despite having a good role model in his pa, and a yearning mother on his back, he never knew if he could see himself that way.

well, until he met you.

while a large part of him was satisfied with taking care of you— giving you every ounce of his love— there came a time where a more primal urge began to form. an urge that desperately wanted to create life with you. that wanted to expand his family and extend his love. that wanted to be the father of your child, along with your husband.

the daydreams started slowly, but after a while they were all consuming.

watching you laze around the house in your puffy sundresses, bump just brimming underneath the fabric. laying with you at night with your swollen, worn body under his hands as he lifts the weight off your back. sweet early mornings filled with sweet tea and your bare feet resting in his lap as he squeezes away the pain.

he fantasized about painting the nursery together— desperate to please your rapidly changing visions. buying your babies little onesies and socks to wear as they grow. making little scrap books of the pictures he’d take along the way, noting how you bloomed more and more with the labor of his love.

he’d learn to cook according to your pregnancy cravings. he’d hold your hair back as you threw up from morning sickness. he’d take those silly breathing and parenting classes with you, if you agreed too. he would do anything at all to make it easier for you; that he knew more than anything.

it got so bad that the thoughts began following him to work, too.

usually, he thought of you whenever things got stressful and be was tempted to quit. thought about how his money was your money, and how each grueling, sweaty day was worth the smile on your face when he’d hand you a random few hundreds.

you were still there, of course. you never leave his mind. but now, instead of seeing your sweet, sexy stare in his mind’s eye, he saw the wet, long lashes of a baby girl with hair just like yours. he saw chubby little hands, a cute little pout, and skin a mix of your two shades. he saw his wife, his baby, and himself— his sacred little family.

that just about does it for him. any doubts he had before have practically melted, replaced by sheer hope.

he’s careful in the way he approaches you about, timid and shy about the broad new chapter. he knows that he’d provide well for both the baby and you. he knows that his loves would never want for anything— never go without. he knows it all, but he’s still so…nervous.

he’s done so much. so, so much.

more than you know— more than can be forgiven. that, he knows.

sure, it’s a sweet dream. one of the sweetest there could be. but, deep down he knows that he’s not deserving.

so, he keeps it to himself. lets it float through his mind and occupy the spaces you don’t fill. lets the temptation of locking you down torment him, hoping that maybe one day, he’ll forgive himself enough to make it a reality.

sweet, sweet blue collar man.

hello, everyone! this was requested as a domestic moment for our beloved blue-collar!husband. of course, i couldn’t resist throwing a little wrench in that plan, though. expect to see more of our guy soon. you guys have been asking some really good questions ;)

wanna send an ask? check this out!

[pushspacetocontinue]

"I couldn't break the mop he was carrying. It was a metal handle, and I wasn't as strong as I am now, but I did the next best thing and broke him instead," Travis said, "A month of detention, but it was worth it, and I told the younger kids that if he dared do it again, just to tell me."

And the janitor hadn't dared try it again from what he had heard. He had learned a lesson from having the absolute snot beaten out of him and seeing how he liked someone bigger than him treating him like that.

"I'm not good at being sneaky," Travis said, "I'm hardly subtle about anything, me. But I bet the effect when one of you two do it. I imagine it happens a lot by accident too though."

Of course, Travis hadn't known about it, but there was that time where had Erica had inadvertently snuck up on Antonio before their mission to rescue Leofric.

"I never got a chance to do it when she was alive," Travis said, "I was in prison when she died. That was the third best news I got in there. The second of course was the news that I was finally getting out."

But Travis did look interested.

"I think I might just have to do that, thanks for the tip," Travis said, as he started to get driving away from the area. As disappointing as the car itself was, at least it was a smooth ride so far, "I wonder if she'd be able to see Lewis and let him know that we're doing all right. I'll have to hear those stories sometime. And that's up to you, Willow. I'm good either way."

Travis then grinned.

"Now that's a song of choice."

Russell didn't seem to notice that Lucien and Rook were keeping a slightly firmer eye on him for the moment. He was more focussed on looking at the things around them.

"Heh, it's not, not as yellow though, or, or, or as terrifying," Russell said, "At, at least not, not to use right, right now. I, I guess it, it knows we're, we're not threats, and, and with Rook here taking, taking us through."

He really had no idea how it worked in all honesty, so it was just a guess.

"I suppose it is a bit more like the Infinite Ikea," Bill said with a grin as he took in the details a bit more now that the plague doctor mask was off properly.

Antonio managed a small smile of his own at Rook's comforting gesture, reaching up to gently pat her hand with his own.

"That sounds about right, arrogant prick," Bill said, "He would think he's the best so why bother to improve? Even I'm constantly learning new things, and I'm centuries old."

"We all are," Leofric agreed, "Perhaps he would have been different in another life, a timeline far from this one, and ultimately, it did little to serve him. But in this one, he simply became a power hungry bully, as you said, Veronica, and if we do have to face him again, then I will do without hesitation."

"Some people just shouldn't be parents," Bill said, before he smiled at Rook, "I'm glad I didn't either. And I'm glad I was with you, well, everyone here, to deal with him together."

But then he spoke up as soon as Veronica said what to do.

"It's almost like we're ducklings," Bill said, as soon as he realised just what Veronica had mentioned before, "Oh dear..."

It looked like he was going to be the one taking the express route today.

"No, I, I don't mind," Russell said, "As, as you said, it has been a, a long fight and if, if you gotta, you gotta fuel up, you, you gotta..."

Not the most eloquently put, but hopefully it still got the point across.

"Yeah, you do what you need to do," Simon said.

Leofric just nodded.

"We can wait for you, sorellina," Antonio agreed, "You've been brilliant today."

"I suppose while she does that, we can take a moment to have a look at this gold pile," Leofric suggested, a subtle way of telling the others to allow Rook some privacy.

Erica, of course, couldn't do anything but cheer at that. "Heck yeah! That guy deserved all the bruises he got."

Somebody had to stand up for children. It was nice of Travis to take the matter into his own hands.

"It sounds like willow and I." Erica said, before she pointed to her double, "She scares people just by standing around and nobody ever hears me coming!"

Both taking great pleasure from the effect they had on people. Willow's attention briefly shifted to the car as Travis got it started and listened to the noise of the engine just a moment before losing interest. Disappointing like its former owner. She might let the others keep this one, after all.

"I'm sure it would be her pleasure to do so." Willow replied, "You should inquire about it directly. There is a high chance she already has some stories to share."

It would have been beneficial in more than a way. The ghost lady would have loved to brag about doing something like that. Having that waiting for her on the other side might have actually persuaded her to take time off more consistently with her needs.

"Let's leave the area. Then I will provide directions to our destination." Willow instructed, "Or we could have a little fun with the GPS."

"We should put on that song that plays in that sketch with the three guys in the car!" Erica suggested.

"We shall, Erica."

They could indulge as long as it was funny.

Like a good host, Rook was keeping track of her guests, especially the ones who had visited before. Russell had made it through on his own last time, strong of the fact that the pocket didn't enjoy holding onto regular humans.

That had changed, but Lucien was already on the case.

"Well, now we know what it feels like to visit the Backrooms." the half fae mused.

"It's more like that infinite Ikea thing." Rook replied. She was quick to summon two endless shelves filled with all kinds of books and knickknacks that stretched past them as far as the eye could see.

It was an excuse to flex the full extent of her occult collection, but it also offered a distraction while she quietly reached to place her hand on Antonio's shoulder. Younger siblings had to be supportive too when needed.

"In my professional opinion, his entire family has never really shined in that regard." Veronica said, "They're just a bunch of power hungry hypocrites. It wouldn't surprise me if he was actively discouraged to improve his technique. He wouldn't be this deranged if he did. They essentially ruined their own child."

As a parent, she simply couldn't stand the thought.

Rook briefly looked at the chainmail, before shutting the chests. "I'm glad you didn't need that."

The battle had gone better than she could have ever hoped for. Both chests floated up to an empty spot on one of the shelves. They would be safe there for the time being.

"Alright, then. Let's all line up and follow mum outta here!"

Veronica sighed and moved to lead the way. "The first one to make a duck joke will take the express way out."

Lucien opened his mouth to reply, but decided for his own good to keep quiet.

Rook fell into step, moving more quickly now that her wings were gone.

"Do you guys mind if we stop by my stash? It's been a long fight..."

Her marks were starting to nag her already.

[sparkarrestor]

Plinthed

Written By: SparkArrester

     Edward sat in the works, alone. Well, not alone, for it was the middle of the day and the workmen were busy with the usual goings on. Too busy to really pay him much notice. He didn’t really mind, as it left him able to rest comfortably without men poking and prodding at him. As comfortable as he could, at least, after his incident. He had brought a heavy train home during a thunderstorm, all while his left siderod was lodged in his running board. He had to run as a single, slipping and sliding all the way from the branchline to the big station. Now, he was waiting on repairs to go back in service. The new diesel, BoCo couldn’t do it on his own, and besides, he needed help to keep the twins in line, didn’t he?

As Edward was dozing, he heard the crunch of shoes on ballast coming towards him, and opened his eyes. It was the Fat Controller, and Edward watched as he shooed away the CME and walked up in front of him.

“Good Morning, Sir”, Smiled Edward, “Here for a visit?”

“Indeed.” Replied The Fat Controller, in a rather neutral tone, “Just check up on what is happening, and for you, of course.”

“Me?” Said Edward, “Well, I’m doing fine so far, but I’ll be even better once I’m back in steam! I’m sure the twins miss me, and I shan’t leave BoCo on his own.”

Edward noticed the slight change of expression on the Fat Controller’s face, but kept up his smile.

“Is everything alright, sir?”

“Well…” Replied The Fat Controller, before taking a breath and going back to his neutral tone, “I have something I’d like to tell you. Something important.”

“And what would that be?”

“Well, Edward, you… you’re one of the most experienced engines on this island, and what happened yesterday, well, it was very admirable, getting those people home in your condition. Your boiler ticket is about to run out as well, so I’ve been thinking…”

While the Fat Controller was taking, Edward smile slowly morphed into a frown, but he held off speaking until-

“How would you like to… retire?”

“...what?”

The Fat Controller braced himself, especially at Edward’s expression, but he steeled himself, and pressed onwards.

“We can fix you up cosmetically, and we can place you somewhere that you’ll always have others to talk to! Like the big station! The passengers and engines, especially the young engines, will all benefit with you around, like that old engine from Barrow!”

That just seemed to make the expression on Edward’s face worse.

“Erm, well, look Edward, I think that-”

“N-No.”

“... I’m sorry?”

Both engine and controller were startled, Edward the most. He couldn’t even remember the last time he denied his controller something, but he went through with it regardless.

“Sir, I… I don’t want to be taken out of service, I don’t want to be plinthed and be one big useless ornament taking up place in a station or on a siding. I want to be working, with my friends, pulling trains and being worth something, not just the useless thing someone has to clean whenever they need disciplining.”

The Fat Controller stared wide-eyed at Edward, but let him continue.

“And I know that trains are getting heavier, and I know that my age is very much catching up with me, but I can’t stop now. I won’t stop now. I’m not ready for retirement, and I don’t know if I ever will be. I’m… I'm sorry. If that, well, If that upsets any plans you have.”

They both sat in silence for only a few minutes, but it felt like forever. It took every ounce of nerve Edward had to keep going, and not simply apologize and go along with whatever The Fat Controller had planned for him. He was struck by the thought of what his friends would do if they had heard. The big engines had always said he was meant for retirement sooner rather than later (well Gordon mostly, and he wasn’t too sure on where they stood these days), but he was certain that the tank engines would cause a ruckus at least. Though, while they weren’t as old as him, they weren’t exactly the picture of modernity themselves, were they? However any more thoughts on that were cut off as The Fat Controller spoke.

“Alright.” He said, quite easily. Edward blinked.

“Really?” He said, mouth agape, “Just like that?”

“Well…” Said The Fat Controller, giving a proper smile, “If you’d like to keep serving your railway, who am I to stop you? Your knowledge would be more useful on the rails than on a plinth. I’ll see about moving you from cosmetic repairs to a full overhaul, at once.”

“I-I… Thank you, sir!”

“It’s no bother.”

And with that, The Fat Controller turned on his heel, and walked away.

[fumiscripts]

🃁 SHINING DIAMOND

masterlist . prev chapter . next chapter

You stare at the screens, not entirely focused, just watching. Your group wasn't playing in matches three and four, so they decided it would be nice to watch the match that team W played, to prepare or something. You couldn't care less, since they were nothing to note of. You'll just destroy them again, just like any other time.

“This is boring,” Shidou yawns beside you, and you couldn't agree more. He bounced his leg, getting bored quicker than an ipad kid. He sighs, huffs and rumbles, pink eyes darting around the room for anything that could serve as entertainment. Picking a fight could cure his boredom, but with you showing zero interest in it when he did it last time, he decided it wouldn't be any more entertaining.

There was a zone of chatter from everyone around, none of it worthy of being entertained by you. Flawed formations, half-assed plans— did they take account of their individual skills and teamplay with their eyes closed or what? It almost made you laugh, but decided not to do it in front of their faces. You stood up from your position on the floor, abruptly taking your leave, not caring if they thought of you as a lackadaisical person for not joining in on their plans. They can't do anything without you, anyway. They have no right to complain.

Shidou stared and thought he should do the same. It's stuffy here.

Cold water splashed down your face, rinsing off the facial cleanser you put on. You sigh, grabbing a towel and drying off, leaving the faucet open. You'll go to bed early tonight. Have a good sleep and all while the rest are busy worrying over nothing— they're gonna get their asses carried, anyway— and watching game replays. The mattress was stiff, though. You should get a luxury bed or whatever it was called next–

“How is it going so far, [Name]?”

You almost jump. Almost. Who the fuck wouldn't? The guy had silent footsteps, just to talk like a living jumpscare. Ego, you bastard. “Jeez, old man,” you sigh, peering your head over the cloth, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re like a ghost.”

Ego said nothing, leaning on the washroom door with his hands in his pockets, not looking at you just yet. Why was he here in person, anyway? He had those screens he could project himself from in most of the rooms in the building, he could've used one of them to talk to you. He waited for the answer to his previous question, head lowered so you couldn't see his face clearly. How overly theatrical…

“It’s too easy,” you decide to answer, a slight complaint hidden in your tone. He catches onto it, as usual. You've been complaining like a professional ever since he took you in as his disciple. “Boring, uninteresting, lackluster…” you add on a few more adjectives to get your point across, placing the towel on top of the counter. “...and hella disappointing. Why am I in team V, anyway? You know I'm too good to be stuck with that lot, Ego-san.”

He hums, not denying it. “Any letter above team V doesn't exist,” Ego dropped a spark, not much of a bomb. Though it would be for anyone else. You had your suspicions, having known him for a while before. “Every wing thinks they're the fifth one.”

“What for?” you question, curious. You leaned back onto the surface, listening to his words, surprisingly— since you tune him out most of the time— perhaps because this time, it was something new rather than a rant you've heard from him before. Your mentor is an interesting fellow, and this whole blue lock thing was something that was right up his alley. Who would put three hundred high school strikers in soccer's equivalent of squid games? No one else than Ego Jinpachi, that's for sure.

“So that the majority think they're at the bottom of the barrel,” he stated. “What better motivation than the thought that you're barely hanging on? Of course, it doesn't work with the likes of you, who are already self-assured,” Ego tilts his head, glasses glinting under the lights. “It’ll filter out those who don't have the desperation, too. Those who don't have what it takes to be the best striker.”

You pause in thought, staring at the plainly tiled floor. “‘Turning zero into one’ and ‘focusing on your own goals rather than your team,’” you list off. “... The majority is already failing those things, then,” you recall how dependent your team is on you and Shidou. Sure, you displayed the latter one, but your team is hopeless when it comes to individual goals. How disappointing.

“It’s just the first selection, [Name],” he assured, seeing your dwindling engrossment in the project. “Rest assured that the fight will only get more heated after narrowing the players down,” he pulled away from the wall, standing up straighter, taking a hand out of his pocket to push up his glasses. “Don’t waste your energy just yet.”

A blink, before a slow exhale. You'll keep playing at this level for now, then. Not like you could do otherwise, as the game is over before anyone could trigger you to play seriously. The sound of running water filled your silence, faucet knob remaining unclosed.

He walked towards you, relaxed with sure actions. “I’ll use Blue Lock for you just as much as I use you for Blue Lock.”

You run a hand through your hair, pushing yourself up from the counter. “I figured you would, Ego-san,” you replied, walking off to continue with your nightly routine before hitting the bed. Ego watched you through the mirror, following your retreating back until you turned the corner. He looked down, seeing the tap which you annoyingly left open. Out of the heap of unpolished gems, you were the shining diamond he'll turn into a masterpiece.

Ego turned the faucet off.

“Fifth match of wing five goes to team V!”

Your team won 7-2, and that leads you to eight points saved up. Finally, you can sleep on top of a proper bed now. Team W fell crushed, most of them on the ground, clutching at the artificial grass because of yet another loss. For them, the only chance they had is to be the highest ranker in their team.

Team V left the field, not sharing that problem thanks to you, having yet another celebration for standing there and cheering you on. The time for dinner rolled in, and you faced the point-system screen once again.

You purchase the luxury bed, knowing you just crushed the soccer dreams of ten people.

“Yo, [Nickname], give me your number,” Shidou says from beside you, having just bought his phone back. You raise your eyebrow at the sudden nickname, receiving his phone— which had an… interesting case. He grins at you, watching you sigh like he's some admirer who wants your number. You still gave it, anyway.

“Is this a sperm phone case?” you couldn't help but ask, almost amused. Where the hell did he even get something like this? Actually, nevermind. You can buy a shit ton of diabolical shit online, nowadays.

He beams. “Yeah. Makes a big statement, doesn't it?” it's certainly unique, you think, handing it back towards him, now with your contact. He can get a reward for having the most unexpected things. Last time, you found out he somehow managed to get eyeliner from the staff. You wouldn't be surprised to find out that he brought in hair dye next.

“It sure does make people look twice,” you shrug. And of course he takes that as a compliment.

The rest of the meal went as usual, with you deciding to sit on the farther side of the team’s proclaimed table. There wasn't a sitting arrangement, of course, but throughout the days spent in blue lock, everyone started going to the same seats, every group sat together, out of habit and for convenience.

You pick at your food, not really feeling the need to eat. Eating the same thing again and again gets old. A sigh, before poking the pork cutlet on your plate, making yourself take a bite. Your eyes roam across the room, observing, taking in the interactions between players and silently judging them in your mind.

That brunet has fun eyes, they must seem amber under the sun. That one sits like a shrimp, what a bad posture. That other one shouldn't have that haircut, it isn't flattering and— oh wow, you accidentally held eye contact with someone across the cafeteria. A second. Two. You didn't even try to look away, acting like it was a staring competition.

A few moments pass, before he tore his gaze first, suddenly gaining interest on the table. Oh, he's flustered? That's cute. Must be someone from team V, since that's the usual area they take. His light purple eyes were still trained on the surface, as if the shade used on it was fascinating. You didn't miss the way he peeked up from his ravenet bangs, though, fiddling and adjusting his headband until you finally decided to look away.

You could practically hear his sigh of relief from all the way over here.

(a/n) expanding more on mc and ego’s relationship djskajia backstory soon? (not next chap tho)

do people care about the hype moments in the field? yeah prolly... dunno if I execute it well tho...

if you can guess who the character is at the end you'll get a free smooch from me

oh yeah btw mc is acquainted w some of the new gen 11 lolol guess who those are

taglist:: AEoM: @sxnnee, @shidousprincess, @lakeside-paradise, @shrii-kk, @neversam, @motchilyn, @tired-xyra-urstruly, @sabrina-senpai, @justanotherweeb666, @kaikaidenkai, @beepbopzlorp

© fumiscripts 2024-2025. don't steal, repost, translate or modify my works without my permission.

[sharkikive]

as if it were our last (nanami kento x reader)

Summary: Both of you were regular customers at the bakery, him a quiet figure so close yet so far. That is until both of your fate is tied by the last piece of pastry available.

Word count: 5,607 CW: Fluff, slight angst, ties to the actual story (you know how he ended up)

***

The first time you saw him, you thought it was a coincidence.

The second time onward, you believe it was fate.

But every single time, you can’t take your eyes off him.

Maybe it was the fact that he would always show up in the same attire; a cream-coloured suit thrown over a perfectly-starched dark blue shirt, his leopard print tie loosened as you wonder how many of those suits he actually owns. Every day, without fail, he would pick up bread at the bakery you frequent. From his attire alone, you can guess that he’s involved with a corporate job, but it’s not like you could ask him casually what his occupation is despite being the only customers in the bakery, the soft music accompanying your baked goods picked for today.

It’s always like this. You and him, the music in the background playing as you browse through the selection, your eyes ever-so-subtly alternating between the shelves and his figure. Funny thing is, both of you would come to the bakery at the same time every day, whether it’s on purpose or not, and there would never be another customer present.

As if the time is specially reserved for both of you.

You chuckle at yourself, amusing yourself with the thought of having your own imagination being too idealistic while the man is probably only thinking about how he’d go home to eat whatever he bought fresh. You slightly shake your head, hand automatically reaching out for the last piece of cream-filled pastry but your hand stops short when another hovers near yours.

Of course, right. The only time I wasn’t checking him out was exactly the time he would magically transport himself next to me.

And of course, we’re going to get the same pastry but it’s the last piece.

What a great story, next.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

You freeze at the simple sentence because one, you realize that this is the first time you’ve actually heard his voice clearly and two- it sounds so nice. Like the warm feeling you finally get after being in the cold for so long, the first spark you see as you sigh when you feel the warmth gradually return.

You must’ve been frozen for so long that he must’ve thought you didn’t hear him, so he clears his throat subtly before trying again, but this time around his head is peeking through the corner of your eyes.

He has beautiful eyes, despite his darkened eyebags that make you think what in the world had treated him harshly.

You want to reply, but you end up waving your hand, somehow ashamed to even look at him when you’ve been basking in his attractiveness every single day without any regrets. Somehow, the thought of him striking a conversation with you, albeit because of the last piece of pastry never occurred to you. Your image of him is just this suited up attractive guy who enjoys bread as much as you do, bringing around a mysterious aura but would never spare you a look in the eye.

You hope your attempt at a flimsy wave would bring across the message to him that he can have the pastry before you clutch the tray closer to you as if it would repel him from continuing to talk to you. Well obviously, much to your dismay, it doesn’t work as he speaks up again.

“You can have it. I always see you buy it every day; you must like it a lot.” There’s a pause, as if he’s contemplating on whether he should be saying the next sentence. “I was curious about what it’d taste like but it’s too bad there’s only one left today.”

Again, he makes you speechless and you can’t seem to tell whether it’s a good or bad thing. Whatever he said just sounds the same as you confessing that you’ve been watching him ever since the first time you saw him.

Silence hangs in the air before he clears his throat again. “I did not mean to sound creepy.”

This time around you laugh lightly, because it wasn’t him that you thought was creepy. It just seemed like you’ve come to the realization that whatever you did this whole time must be borderline creepy yet you couldn’t help yourself when your time and his always seem to align perfectly.

“It’s delicious.” You reply simply, but it takes a moment for you to realize that this conversation is one of the most awkward you’ve ever had and yet you don’t want it to end.

He chuckles. “I couldn’t have guessed.”

You can’t help but smile as you notice that he’s been trying to quietly place the bread on your tray, but seems to hesitate as you’re hugging the tray a little bit too close to your body. Subconsciously, you extend your tray towards him, too late to not appear as if you’re really desperate for that last piece.

He places it down on your tray carefully before he shrugs, a little bit of the corners of his mouth lifting up as he says, “Maybe I’ll have better luck tomorrow.” He bows his head before turning on his heels, and you realize there and then.

You want to talk to him more. So you say, one of the boldest but probably dumbest things you can manage to a stranger.

“We can share.”

There, you said it. And so, he stops in his tracks, looking over his shoulder. For a moment, you can see his decisions flashing right in front of his eyes and they all end with a no, no, no thank you, that’s a weird thing to say to a stranger, I’m going to call the police on you.

But much to your surprise, and well, it does take a lot to surprise you- he turns around before nodding almost nonchalantly. “Sure, if you don’t mind.”

You’re hoping it’s an exaggerated description when your jaw hits the floor at his easy agreement, but it does feel so until you didn’t even realize that he has taken the tray off your hands. Before you can register what’s happening, the total is already displayed on the screen but it’s not you who’s searching for money.

You steal a glance from the corner of your eyes as he insists on paying everything you bought, highly embarrassed that the total you bought exceeded his.

You’re even thinking of snatching some of the items off the tray but the cashier is quick in putting everything in a bag while pointing out that it’s the first time she’s seen the two of you striking up a conversation. You only sheepishly nod, mind already reeling on what would happen next when you actually have to share the pastry with him.

Sure, you can break the pastry in half then give it to him.

But still. Still. Sitting together with the man you’ve always found attractive, sharing pastry? The furthest you’ve gone with a boy is him rejecting you in front of the whole school while his friends laugh in your face for ‘not knowing your position’ and since then, you’ve vowed to never make the first move again.

Yet today, you asked someone to share pastry with you? Even you find this whole development kind of funny and you might even start to laugh. You’ll just wait until this man, whom you don’t even know the name of, decides that sitting down with you is not something he would like.

Maybe, he’s only trying to be polite and tried not to reject you-

Your brain stops making up scenarios of him leaving you behind when you hear him asking what you’d like to drink.

“Huh?” you manage, unaware of what the simple question means.

He smiles while gesturing towards the dining tables outside of the bakery then to the menu board. “Since we’re eating here, I thought you’d like something to drink.” He leans forward. “Just one cup of black tea for me, please.”

Your eyes dart around, looking at the menu feeling flustered and not registering any of the words. Instead, you order your go-to drink and you internally cringe when you see him paying for your drinks too. You wanted to pay instead but when you’re fumbling around for cash, he has already pocketed the change.

He tilts his head, inviting you towards the patio so you can enjoy the scenery as you think that oh, what have I gotten myself into?

He walks towards a chair and you think that he’d plop himself onto the chair first, but you forgot that this man is not like ‘other men you’ve met’ because he pulls out the chair for you to sit.

“Ah,” you exclaim before hurriedly rushing over to sit, as if scared that if he’d have to wait a second longer he’d change his mind and leave. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he replies, and you think no, you have no idea how it’s truly, truly my pleasure.

You can’t help but even admire the way he sits, so poised that you’re convinced he’s taken special lessons on chivalry and proper etiquette.

Your mind is reeling on what you should do next, on whether you’re supposed to take out the pastry now, or wait until your drinks arrive before having to suffer the consequences of your impulsive action.

“I’m Nanami Kento,” he pauses, “by the way.”

Ah right. You didn’t even know his name. “Y/N,” you reply almost hurriedly, hoping that the drinks would come faster to save you from this heat.

The drinks did come, but it doesn’t solve the heat you’re experiencing because you’re still thinking on how you’d do what you actually came here to do.

You watch as he stands up, washes his hands before reaching out for the pastry in the bag. You don’t remember the last time you were this nervous.

There’s nothing to be nervous about, right? Of course there isn’t. At least that’s what you’re trying to convince yourself, but it doesn’t help as you see him tear the pastry in half (which somehow, he could do perfectly without having the cream drop to the table) and hand it over to you.

It doesn’t feel fair to you as everything he does seems to be perfect. Here you thought that sitting down with him would crush the image you have of him and you’ll finally stop daydreaming about him.

“Hmm,” he hums as he takes the first bite slowly, eyes immediately finding yours. “You’re right, it’s delicious.”

You only smile as you quietly munch on your own portion; you were never much of a talker. Confessing to the boy you liked in school before getting rejected was probably one of the reasons you thought it’s better to stay quiet most of the time.

The same seems to ring true for him as he quietly finishes his portion. Sure, it’s quiet, but it’s not uncomfortable. You like his presence; he seems to be a man of few words yet you feel comfortable. You can live with this. Definitely.

As time passes and both of your drinks are long drained, you’re able to discern two major points about his job; it’s something that he can’t say outright about what it is, but it’s definitely not a shady job (in which he seems to try really hard to convince you that he’s not someone dangerous) and that he has a senior at work named Gojo that he absolutely cannot stand yet somehow has to.

He indeed didn’t come across as much of a talker, but every time he does open his mouth, you find yourself absorbed in whatever he’s talking about. You enjoy his company up to the point that you forget about the nerves you initially felt, the time passing by much faster until it’s past the time you would usually spend at the bakery.

You notice that he would occasionally clasp his hands and cross his legs as he drinks his black tea (elegantly, if you may add). It made you conscious about your choice of clothes that you thought maybe you should’ve dressed more neatly if you know you’d run into him at the bakery anyway. To the passers-by, you must’ve looked like the employee who’s about to be fired by their boss over a cup of tea, especially with how much you were fiddling with your fingers and the obvious attempt of not looking at him directly.

Of course the only time you didn’t want to look at him is the time you actually had the opportunity to do so.

“What about you?” he asks, and you blink, taking too long to process what he’s asking about. It seems that your thoughts take longer to process whenever he’s near. “Of course only if you’re comfortable.” He shrugs, “It seems that I’ve been talking too much.”

You finally register what he’s alluding at. “I’m a writer,” you say simply, a bit ashamed to say that even your ‘bestseller’ sold less than 10 copies at the local bookstore. Even then, most of them were bought by family members and friends who wanted to support your debut work. “Well,” you chuckle, more of you trying to brush away the embarrassment, “trying to be one.”

“That’s amazing,” he utters.

You can’t help but smile, fighting the urge to joke that there’s simply nothing amazing about your work- just a product of your imagination running wild. Imagination that fell flat and forced you to accept reality. Truthfully, you barely remember the plot of your own story after it failed to sell well. Now you’re just barely going through life as you think about how you’re going to survive another month without a stable paycheck.

You didn’t realize time has passed in his presence that you flinch when you notice the time, realizing that you still need to buy groceries before going back home. You hastily apologize as you tell him that you need to go and catch the bus. When he offers to accompany you to the bus stop you politely decline, already thinking that the walk to the bus stop would be twice as longer than normal if you’re with him.

He lets you go with a ‘be careful’ and a ‘see you tomorrow’. As you scurry out of the bakery you finally acknowledge the heat in your cheeks, grounding you to the fact that you just had tea with the man you wouldn’t dream of striking a conversation with, all thanks to the last piece of your favourite pastry.

Throughout your journey in the bus and to the grocery store, you can’t stop thinking about him, even more severe than the days before now that you’ve heard his voice and seen his face up close. At the same time you’re debating with yourself, asking whether he’s only being polite and that someone like him should’ve already had a special someone.

Right, it’s good to not get ahead of yourself. Come on, you barely know him and it was only a one-time thing. Simply him being polite over a cup of tea.

Well that’s one thing- you convinced yourself too much about that until it started to manifest itself.

After that day, you do come across him as usual like other days, but your meeting with him is only a polite nod and brief greeting from him before he goes to the counter to pay and disappears. You're only left speechless and begrudgingly disappointed as you realize that indeed, you were getting ahead of yourself. It's not that he ignored you, but you wished that maybe after that day, something would be different.

You try to think of whether you did something that made him uncomfortable, but the only time you were actually in close proximity was that day. You can't think of any other days that you could've made him not want to have anything to do with you anymore.

Oh, you think to yourself. Stupidly thinking that the conversation was something.

The only consolation you had for yourself is that at least he didn't entirely avoid you by not visiting the same bakery, at the same time. At least. 

It's that particular day when he looks especially restless, face tense more than usual. You decide that you need to stop worrying about him and focus on yourself instead, now that the month is ending and the balance in your bank account doesn't look too promising.

"Y/N."

Just as you're about to walk to the counter to pay, you hear his familiar voice calling out your name, and it takes your slightly petty self a little bit of will to not ignore him. You turn around to see him standing with a tight look on his face, barely smiling and his fingers clutching the tray tightly, his knuckles turning white. You frown when you notice that he looks… sad.

As if he was longing for something that never came.

Oh, sounds very familiar.

"Nanami," you utter, drawing the line where you know that his last name is only what you'll be able to address him as. "Is something wrong?"

"I was wondering if…" He presses his lips together, forming a thin line. You see something flash in his eyes, but he looks away almost instinctively that you wonder whether he did it on purpose so you wouldn't be able to read him.

Not that you're a good mind reader anyway.

"...if you're free tomorrow."

"For-" You stop talking as you see him relax, before he gives a nervous chuckle.

"I'm asking you out on a date. That is, considering that you don’t have someone.”

You ball your fist and press it against your mouth, too shocked to function. This development of going from barely acknowledging each other to going out on a date seems like a major leap, but you find yourself nodding almost immediately.

"I'm free." You don’t reply to the latter part of his sentence as you believe agreeing to go on a date with him means that your lovelife is as dry as a barren desert.

Just as you see him smile his phone rings and he grumbles when he notices that Gojo is calling him. He excuses himself for a moment as he answers the call, leaving you to process what he just asked you and how quick you were to agree on going out on a date with him.

Nanami massages his temple all the way through the call, but you can’t make out the details of his phone conversation. What you notice is him punching the end button in a hurry, letting out a big sigh as he pockets back his phone. He turns to you again, a subtle smile dancing on his lips as both of you agree on a set time and place for the date.

Just like that, he leaves you with his phone number and a promise to meet at the designated place.

In the eagerness you agreed to go out with him tomorrow, you realize you absolutely have no idea on what you should wear. You decide that you would wear something that’s in your comfort zone, figuring out that maybe Nanami isn’t the type of guy who would question your choice of clothes.

You can’t sleep that night. It’s a mixture of you being nervous and excited, but to be honest you don’t have any idea what to expect. Nanami to you is still quite a mystery, but it’s the expression he had on yesterday that made you wonder whether this date is just something he would want to get out of the way.

You can’t help but think of his sudden decision to ask you out on a date, but you bring yourself out of your bed, slightly shocked at your face staring back in the mirror. So, not sleeping the day before your first date is an absolute big no. Too late to turn back time, you get ready as best as you can and step out of your house with enough time to meet him at your promised place.

It strikes you that you’ve never actually seen him in clothes other than his usual attire, so when you notice him leaning against the wall wearing a light blue sweatshirt paired with tight-fitting pants you just- gulp.

He pushes himself off against the wall when he sees you approaching, a smile bigger than any one you’ve seen on him, but it’s still there- the distinct sadness in his eyes.

You want to ask, but you don’t want to ruin the day, and not to mention that this is your first date in a while (read: your whole life). So you only stand next to him, and it startles you when he asks, albeit shyly, whether he can hold your hand.

He keeps insisting that you’re free to rip your hand away from his if you ever feel uncomfortable, but all you want to tell him is that you’ve never felt a grip as safe as his, the scars on the palm of his hand giving you a sense of security that tells you he’ll protect you when he needs to. At first he seems awkward as he holds your hand, but further into the day, you notice that he gradually interlaces his fingers with yours, subconsciously rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand.

You’ve no idea what a first date is supposed to be like, but with Nanami, you’re convinced that you won’t ever have any other date as perfect as this. Both of you visit museums, walk through parks, share stories over food- though one thing you realize is that it seems the more you share with each other, the more you don’t know about Nanami.

It feels like he’s trying to go everywhere a day would allow, not giving a single chance for you to waste any time.

At the end of the day, as both of you stand on the bridge overlooking the river and breathing in the air, he loosens his grip around your hand before leaning against the railing, hands clasped in front. The two of you remain silent, but even with the animated conversations you shared today, there is still a lot you want to ask him.

You figure out it’s better to take it slow. After all, there’s plenty of time, right?

Nanami looks down at the river long enough until he feels like he could face you, before turning around to hesitantly place his palm on your head. He smiles, but there it is again. The smile that makes you think he has something heavy he needs to verbalize but can’t.

He does say it anyway.

“I wish we had more time. I wish I mustered up the courage to ask you out earlier.”

From the tone of his voice, you know that him saying more time is not referring to today.

“Are you going somewhere far?” you ask. “Is that why you suddenly asked me out on a date?”

“It depends, but most likely. Somewhere far away so I can’t see you again no matter how much I want to.”

You want him to explain more. You want him to give context, but all you feel is that you’re not in the place to ask. It’s that feeling you have ever since the first time you saw him- that both of you exist in different worlds. That there’s something about him that you simply can’t understand.

So you do the thing you do best. You keep quiet. 

You don’t blame him, but you can still feel your heart breaking into pieces. Is that why he looked so sad? Being able to occupy his mind up to the point his mood was affected feels like a foreign idea to you, so you brush that thought away.

He grabs both of your hands, holding them tightly as if he’s refusing to let go. Slowly, he lowers his head and presses a kiss on your forehead. He apologizes but you don’t know what for, until you feel his lips pressing against yours briefly, like a butterfly fluttering its wings as it takes flight. He rests his forehead against yours, and you know that you want more but the feeling at the pit of your stomach overpowers it.

You pull him into a hug, and his body shrinks into yours, as if the hug is what he’s been desperately needing his whole life. You can’t pull away, you don’t want to pull away and he shares the same sentiment as he links his hands behind you. All the warmth, the loneliness, the unsaid pain linger in the hug, and you stay that way until you’re aware of his breath hitching against your bare neck.

You free yourself from the embrace but he holds onto your hand, trying his best to smile. You walk along the bridge, hands interlocked, thinking that oh, why is everything moving so fast?

For crying out loud, it’s your first date with him yet you’re left feeling empty by the end of the day. A bottomless pit that you can’t fill, a mystery you can’t unravel before the time’s up.

You want to know more about him but-

This is as far as we can go.

He accompanies you all the way to your house, insisting on seeing you off until your doorstep. When you face each other at the doorway, you want to invite him into your house. You don’t want to let him out of your sight. You want to feel more of him, more of his warmth.

But you know that’s where he draws the line.

After all, it’s only your first date, right? Too bad that it seems to be the last one as well.

He finally lets go of your hands, the sudden empty feeling for not having his hands wrapped around yours jerking your heart suddenly. He looks down at the floor, uttering words that only sound superficial to you.

“I hope you had fun today.” He only smiles like he was forced to before turning around, leaving you clenching your fists in slight irritation. As if he didn’t kiss you on the lips and tried to pretend it didn’t happen.

“Did you not?” you ask his back, resisting the urge to make him turn back to look at you.

“I’m not-“ He turns around to face you again, and you see that he’s no longer smiling, his lips pressed into thin lines. “-someone who deserves to feel that way. I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, but that’s not what you need right now. All you want is an explanation. “I shouldn’t have roped you into this. You could’ve gotten hurt by getting involved with me.”

You’re frustrated, but you let out a small laugh out of incredulity. “You said you’re not a dangerous person.”

He doesn’t falter. “I’m not, but my job is.”

“Well maybe I’m already hurt,” you say through gritted teeth. You press the back of your palms against your eyes, looking away. “It was the happiest I’ve felt in a while today.” You look down, the tears slowly dripping down your cheeks. “Thank you.”

“Y/N,” he insists.

“I’m fine,” you lie. “I’ll have to take a shower and sleep, I’m so exhausted.” You try to play it off but in reality you want him to stay.

He doesn’t. Instead he grabs your hand to plaster kisses on your knuckles and pats your head for one last time, sighing, before turning around to leave. Soon he’s just a small figure in the distance until you can’t see him anymore.

And you never do see him again.

After that date, you go to the bakery as usual, hoping to catch glimpses of him again and it was only the two of you acting out a play, belting out dramatic lines. You call his number a few times, drawing the limit where you wouldn’t be considered as pushy. In fact, you would even take it if he pretends to not recognize you anymore. You just want to see him again.

Days go by and the routine of the both of you going to the bakery at the same time every day gradually fades, and it takes you a desperate flip through your phone album to realize that you don’t even have a single picture of him.

You have absolutely no idea that somewhere in an underground subway station, Nanami is desperately fighting for his life.

Nanami could feel his body weakening, and he knows that he’s reached his limits. Half of his face and body are burnt off, and through his limited eyesight that he’s slowly losing, he sees the aftermath of the battle he lost. Even though his hand is tightly gripping his weapon, he has no energy to use it anymore. He’s done here. He has no regrets.

Maybe some.

He wanted to visit Malaysia. That would be nice.

Ah, I wish I could see your face for one last time.

Possibly his biggest regret.

You’re his biggest regret.

Regret that the circumstances of your fateful meeting turn out to be so cruel.

He kneels on the ground and drops his weapon. He closes his eyes; let me just rest for a while.  When he sees his dear friend whom he lost in high school smiling at him from a distance , he knows that he can no longer see you, the worlds between the two of you completely breaking apart.

The days are getting colder. You let out a large breath as you push open the door to the local bookstore, the bell chiming. It’s a habit for you to visit the store, considering how you’d always browse through the books even though you don’t have the luxury to buy them. Besides, although you don’t want to admit it, you want to check out whether the sales counter for your published book would increase even just by one.

“Y/N, good to see you here,” the shopkeeper and owner greets you. “Now that you're here, I’ve something to give you.”

Confused, you walk over to the counter as she beckons you over. She fishes something out from under the counter and slides it over to you.

You look at the book. “It’s my book,” you utter, not bothered to hide your confusion.

“Ah, silly me.” She slaps her palm to her forehead. “So this gentleman came into the shop and asked me whether I have your book in stock. I said of course! He said he wanted to buy one, but the weird thing is, he read through your book for hours here, without even moving. He finished reading, handed it over to me before saying that he’ll take it back after this date." She points to a circled date on the calendar. "But-“ she breathes in, “he told me that if he failed to show up after that date, I should give the book to you. I think he wrote something in there.”

“When was this?”

“Around two weeks ago, I think?”

So it was sometime before our date. But is it even him?

“Let’s see…” she exclaims, “Ah, here it is. Attractive gentleman named Nanami Kento. Super polite too. Who is he?” She grins. “Your boyfriend? Both of you passing letters through your book?”

“Just someone I know,” you reply, hands reaching out to take the book. “I’ll be taking this,” you say hurriedly before dashing out of the store.

Is it just you, or the temperature has gotten colder than before you entered the bookstore?

You find a place to sit on the bench at the park, already out of breath as you impatiently flip through the pages. What is he trying to tell you? You thumb your way through, half expecting to find a full-page written letter but you only come across a small note slipped at the end of the book.

Thank you, I enjoyed the story a lot. Though I wished we would never turn out the same way.

You don’t understand what he’s trying to tell you.

But the storyline of your own book comes back to you bit by bit, until you feel your tears pooling in your eyes. You remember making up the main plot of the story about a couple who couldn’t be together because they were from different worlds. In the end one of them died, their feelings unable to be conveyed. You thought it was a good story that could sell well, but guess it’s too clichéd judging from the sales anyway.

None of that matters right now.

Your eyes fall to a part of your story where Nanami had pointed out.

I’ll be waiting for you, always. I’ll be waiting for you so that the first thing I’m going to say when we meet again is ‘I love you’. In this life or another, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. I don’t want them to be my last words to you, but I couldn’t bring myself to say those words to you in the first place.

You flip to the last page of the book because you suddenly remember a line that was your absolute favourite when you were writing it. Whether it’s a coincidence or fate, you see a small note attached near the line, with Nanami’s handwriting saying how much he loved that line.

Your eyes skim over the line.

I want to forget about you so that I can fall in love with you all over again.

[mikkomacko]

moose feeling so betrayed after nico came home smelling like another dog (he went to check in on luke at the dog shelter and happened to pet a dog on his way out) so he refuses to wrestle with nico when he gets home

It’s even funnier because he goes to the dog shelter sometimes with you, especially when you’re first getting the contract done and Moose doesn’t react to you smelling like or petting the other dogs.

But one day when you’re not feeling good, you’re begging Nico to just go check on Luke please and to take him lunch so of course he goes. And of course him and Jack hang around, get the full tour from Luke on their little sticker/magnet shop and the website he set up for donations and all that good stuff. And then of course they have to meet the dogs because Luke is very excited about it.

Nico didn’t think about Moose at all because he knows his dog and his wife have been here before. It’s not a big deal that he plays fetch with a golden retriever for a minute or two. Except it is because as soon as he gets home, finds you and Moose cuddled into the couch, he’s trying to sit next to you and Moose won’t let him.

The dog pauses when he first sits down, ears flattened suspiciously as he sniffs at Nico’s jeans and hands. And then he shoots up, moving into your lap even though he’s far too big to be doing that.

“What’s up Müsli?” Nico asks curiously, trying to move after him but Moose keeps backing away from him until he’s practically sat on your head. “Why won’t he let me let him?”

Patting at Moose’s butt, you give Nico a flat look. “I don’t know. I’m more concerned with trying to breathe here.”

So Nico slips off the couch and into the floor, patting at the rug and reaching for a tennis ball to try and get Moose to come play. The dog moves, but only to curl back up by your feet. Then he just stares blankly at Nico.

“Baby,” he whines, “tell Moose to come play with me.”

You nudge Moose with your foot. “Go play with dad,” you say cheerily, and Nico squeezes one of his squeaky toys. Moose’s ears perk up, head tilting like maybe he’s going to go join Nico but then he sniffs the air and slumps back into your legs.

“Oh no,” you laugh, sitting up to pet Moose who is looking at Nico longingly.

“What? What happened?” Nico begs, squeezing the toy again.

“He’s mad at you,” you giggle, “watch give me the toy.”

Nico tosses it to you, scoffing in offense when you give it to Moose and he immediately latches his teeth around it, pulling and shaking his head with exaggerated growls.

“Moose?” Nico gasps, “Come on that’s mean! I want to play!” Then he looks to you, eyes all big and begging. “Why is he mad at me?”

You giggle again. “You smell like the shelter dogs. That’s why he ran when he sniffed you and again when I tried to push him down there.”

Nico’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “He doesn’t do that to you. You go to the shelter all the time.”

“Yeah but I’m not you. He’s not used to his dad being friendly, especially not with other dogs.”

Oh, Nico thinks a little happily. Moose is possessive over him. Sure Nico was the one to pick him up off his flight from Switzerland when he was just a puppy, and the shirt of yours he sent to Bern for Moose to be trained with probably smelled like him too, but he always thought you were Moose’s number one. After all, the dog was literally bred to be your best friend and protector.

But he’s jealous over Nico too and that’s- well it’s nice actually.

“I didn’t know,” Nico murmurs, scrambling to his feet. “I wouldn’t have touched those stupid dogs if I did.”

You laugh. “Hey they’re not stupid. Don’t be mean to the shelter dogs.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Really? They’re pretty stupid compared to him.” He motions to Moose.

“Well they didn’t go to two fancy doggie schools.”

Which no Nico guesses they didn’t. His dog is just better like that though. And he can happily brag about it now because you and Luke are trying to give the shelter dogs a similar life now.

“They just don’t have the Hischier genes,” he says, “we’re natural smarty pants.”

You laugh when he moves to pet Moose, the dog leaping away from him again and curling into your torso. “Go shower or something Schao. You’re freaking him out.”

Nico does, but not before leaning down to give you a kiss, even if it makes Moose leap across the couch again.

[charafansmile]

what do you think of Berdly deltarune?

I like him! I think he's an interesting little guy, and I enjoy the role he fulfils in the story. He's a redditor and he sucks alot but by God is it funny to watch him be a redditor and suck alot.

There's specific parts of him as a character that I think deserve to be discussed (primarily how the character is fundamentally one with sexist beliefs) ..but alot of berdly negative I think goes too far in on the him being sexist angle (he is, but let's be real he's 15 and capable of learning. If we were supposed to think he's sexualizing noelle or susie he'd be written more overtly like burgerpants is). My own stance is that he's a play on the 'white knight' sort of 'nice guy' with the subversion that he's not actually interested in noelle romantically. But does still think he 'deserves' her. Not quite an incel but playing with those tropes.

He is weird and pushy ABOUT romance and I think that angle of the character provides an interesting dynamic with suselle (being that noelle has to learn how to stand up for herself) and the player and kris ourself since we can go directly against what kris wants by saying yes to him. He's basically the annoying team member you can't get rid of that is 'harmless' enough to not really be a threat so much as he is a device for other characters development. (Sidenote, I don't like calling his actions harmless and I'd really rather people not defend him being pushy with romance as him being autistic and not understanding social cues, he's inept sure but that sort of behavior does need to get called out and I hope there's some scene in the festival where he apologises or something.)

Of course me seeing him as more of a plot device atm doesn't mean I don't think he's a character in his own right, I enjoy the inferiority complex he's got going on and his friendship with noelle is very sweet to me. The lightnerds.. they talk vidya games togetehr... As weird as he can be he's just one of those people who you just can't spend alot of time around without wanting to strangle them. Like queen said. Nothing REALLY wrong with him, he's just annoying.

I also think there is a potential for something deeper with his character, and him being avoided because of his behavior does have potential for angst.. but I don't care for reading into it that deeply or blaming his isolation on outside factors that don't recognize the fact that berdly: is a jerk. He's an ass, he's rude, he's self-important and condescending...all of those are the reasons for people avoiding him. It's his own fault. He's that kid in high school who insults your handwriting and keeps talking to you when you're trying to ignore him. You may have a few casual conversations with him and be able to have fun on occasion courtesy of being in a small town without more options, but he still acts like he's better than you for no real reason. It's his biggest character flaw outside of the romance thing and probably my favorite thing about him. Love characters that keep fucking things up for themselves. I think the scene in chapter 4 of the library where he starts spluttering when he realizes susie doesn't want to hang out with him if he's being a jerk will be something that comes up again, if his arc continues. Ideally it'll be something like this

He keeps being pushy with noelle + susie + kris -> they ditch him -> He realizes they dont actually like him that way-> he eventually apologizes -> they hang for a bit -> he reverts to being kind of a jerk again -> they threaten to ditch him -> he realizes his error a second time and then apologizes again -> character arc fulfilled.

Not that he'd be completely fixed, he seems the sort to need multiple lessons, but I think being friends with susie would be good for him? She wouldn't put up with him like noelle does or ignore him like kris does, she'd call him out and stand on it in a way that I think would help develop him...the issue is he needs to get over his crush on her and a few(alot) more beats of self reflection before he's able to be #normal about it. Susie needs more friends too but well.. as good of a friend as she'd be for berdly being a better person I'm not so sure he'd be a very good friend to her without a lot more development. His interactions with her post realizing he can be stupid were funny but I need him to stop flirting yesterday. Idk this parts more an aside. They COULD be gamer buddies...but im unsure of it.

[artificial-suicid3]

Gummy Worm Promises

Noah Sebastian x Reader

This is part 2 of 3AM Snack Run. You don’t need to read the part 1 to get the idea of it. I’m actually very proud of this work and would like to continue with this. Let me know your thoughts, enjoy.

It had been three days since the 3 a.m. snack run - the night you’d met him. You hadn’t expected to see him again, not really. People like him, the ones who appear out of nowhere and do something oddly kind - like paying for someone else’s snacks and then driving them home without being weird about it - they usually vanish as quickly as they show up.

But then he texted.

Noah: Still craving sour gummy worms at ungodly hours or have you finally returned to the world of normal people?

You smiled when you saw the message, remembering how he’d grinned when you told him you liked the red ones best and that the green ones were a personal betrayal. The easy conversation you had in the car. You thought for a second before typing back.

You: No cravings lately. But I still stand by my gummy hierarchy.

He replied almost instantly. Which made you wonder, did he actually enjoy talking to you?

Noah: I respect that. Also… my band’s playing a small show on Friday at the KROQ Sound Space if you’re down to come? I’ll send you the details.

You stared at the screen a moment longer than necessary. He wanted you to come to see him perform? You of course knew the famous radio station, listening to it quite often yourself.

You: I’m down. Only if you save me a red one.

Friday came and you were nervous. Why? You were probably gonna meet the band as well, you wondered if he told them about you.

You found the radio station venue in Los Angeles, it took a while due to the traffic but you left early so you made it in good time. You messaged Noah saying that you’re there as promised. A little while later, a security guard found you and ushered you inside.

You followed him through a back hallway, passing posters and dimmed stage lights. The guard stopped outside a black door, knocked twice, and cracked it open.

“She’s here.”

The door opened wider. And there he was.

Noah.

His head snapped up when he saw you, and the grin that spread across his face made your heart stutter. The guard left us and shut the door quietly.

“You came.” He said, as though he hadn’t been sure - even after inviting you. These days he wasn’t sure if he could trust people and it was even harder to date or even have any female friends.

“Still waiting for those red gummy worms.” You teased, walking towards him on the couch.

He reached into the small backpack beside him, rummaged for a second, and pulled out a tiny Ziploc bag. Two bright red gummy worms inside.

“You actually brought them?” You questioned, feeling warmth spread through out your chest. He actually went out his way and did that for you.

He stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his trousers. “I made a promise and I’m a man of my word.”

You stood and blinked up at him. Noah was the most kindest and thoughtful man you’ve met. Something as little as sour gummy worms could bring out happiness. The fact that he got you the red ones too. God you were falling for him and fast.

Too fast.

“So, are you nervous?” You asked, wanting to change the topic. You couldn’t get yourself too caught up, not yet.

“Not about performing.” He admitted, but his eyes held something softer. You noticed the change.

“Then what?” You asked, raising an eyebrow up and moving closer towards him and sat on the couch.

He glanced down, almost shyly something you hadn’t seen yet. “More about whether or not you’d actually show up… or if I made the whole 3 a.m. thing up.”

“Well, I’m real so believe it. So go impress me, rockstar.” You smirked and nudged him, making him laugh at your words.

“Oh, so you’re not impressed with me already?” He teased you, his words holding a different meaning than just his musical abilities.

“Well, I like what I’m getting so far.” You admitted, grinning. It was definitely true, he has impressed you in more ways than one.

“That’s a good start then.” He said, standing up he already had his stage clothes on. He just needed to get his equipment on and to meet with the guys quickly before going onto the stage.

The space was dim, shadowy—more like a late-night secret than a concert. From where you stood just behind the curtain, tucked near a rack of battered guitars and an open case of tangled cables, the room felt small. Not cramped, but close. Intimate.

The crowd wasn’t massive, maybe fifty people. They were all pressed in near the low stage, watching like they were afraid to blink and miss something. The air was thick with warm sound and that particular kind of stillness that only happens when everyone is holding their breath.

Everything was bathed in red. Deep, low lighting that painted the stage like an old film developing in a darkroom. It turned Noah’s silhouette into something half-real, all shadow and sharp angles.

You watched from the wings, half hidden behind a tall speaker stack. Your heart beat a little faster with every chord, like you were eavesdropping on something you weren’t supposed to hear - even though you were invited.

He wasn’t flashy onstage. No big movements or exaggerated performance. But there was something about the way he stood, still and sure, the mic just inches from his mouth, eyes closed as he sang.

And his voice.

It was smooth, raw and passionate.

And when the set was finally done, and the crowd gave their soft, warm cheers, he thanked the crowd with the band and left.

A minute later, you heard footsteps behind you.

“You stayed,” Noah said softly, his voice real again - closer, quieter. Like the red light followed him off the stage.

You turned. He was right there, breath warm, skin still flushed from performing.

“Of course I did.” You told him, looking up at him. The lighting was still dark, but you could see him, feel him.

“Come with me.” Noah told, his voice low.

You nodded, you didn’t even know where you were going. But with him? You’d go anywhere with.

You were utterly screwed.

Tag List: @mrscevans @renegadebirch @pipidoll

[thefaiao]

I love your shape language so much!! it’s inspiring me to try new things with my art, i was wondering if you had any suggestions for breaking the shapes down in character designs or how the characters relate to the colour palettes used in your pieces!!

God this is a tough question... I'll try my best to answer. This is somewhat basic but when drawing, think not only about the space the character occupies, but the space they don't, the negative space. Sometimes poking wholes into those large masses, if it is by stretching their limbs or body in some way, which most artists do to better communicate poses or make the drawings more dynamic, can help distinguish the shape and bring forth the character that much more.

Experimentation is also important, though it shouldn't stop you from starting and finishing something so to speak. Like I have drawn Rando many many times in different somewhat laborious illustrations, but instead of trying to get him perfect, I finish what I started and move on to try again. My first Randos are far from perfect, but isn't it nice that you can go back and see them anyway? It's important to finish things, even if it'll be inconsistent later. It's inconsistent because you are human, not only you can't figure it out without practice, perfect is the horizon. You can never reach the horizon, it can only exist far away from you, and that is fine. Trying to get there is what truly matters.

Now for color I'm not sure... I don't have a good grasp in color theory, at least not one I could put into words. I just kept painting until it looked good, and many of my old color schemes were awkward, though I still was very attached to them because I wanted to believe there was more ways to do things than what I was seeing. How about this tip: my coloring after picking the more base colors that underline the illustration is simple, you should not feel daunted and see what I do as impossible to achieve somehow. I tend to pretty often work with single layers and just making colors decay in a pleasing curve to represent shadows, mostly by becoming darker and more saturated, but it depends on the mood. If you wanna get good at colors, try that, try just drawing on the same layers and sculpting things with color. It's awkward at first but I think it pushes you to live with your decisions and not get too attached to one piece or another, which I think is one of the biggest traps you can fall in with digital art.

Now of course I pick my colors thinking of how I relate to the characters and all. In a way when I draw I am reflecting on what that particular character means to me. With a known game I also think about their place in the history of games I suppose, and online culture. At the same time I wanna capture all the aspects that I like about them. For Susie for example I wanted to capture her more teenage side, as I feel it is lost with the drawings. Mostly it comes down to shapes and how the character presents themselves, but I suppose the colors also reflect the mood of the situations I imagine these characters in, behind the more superficial aspects of my style like the fact it's generally vibrant.

I could probably meander on, but I'm sure you get the picture. I hope it shed at least some light on what you had in mind.

[whyareyoulookingatmelikethat]

Okay so first CRK post I guess!!! Have fun people

CRK With A Single Mom Reader (Yeah I know its dumb)

Self indulgent as heckkkkkkk my thoughts at 3 am

Shooketh. All of them are. They thought that was the last time they’d see you when your phone was dropped into a lake, back when you were young, maybe an early/late teenager.

And now after years of isolation and silence, missing you, while they sit in the endless dark void, they’re hit with the news that you became a single mother a while ago, and your child has found the very game you used to play yourself.

So once your child holds up the phone towards you to show you the new game they found, the cookies(yes, even the ones waiting to be pulled) get a good full picture of you, all grown up,(seemingly in your late 20’s to early 30’s) in a nice apron, cooking dinner in the kitchen like a domestic housewife.

There were definitely more than a few Cupid’s Arrows shot. Actually, I think he had to request some more. He ran out.

They’re all so happy, some are even crying in joy. They’ve missed you so dearly, for so, SO long, and now they finally see you again.

And their moods only get brighter as your face turns to a surprised look and you walk over to your child with a cooking spoon in hand, crouching down to your kid and saying: “Oh, I remember that game fondly, many years ago. I may have gotten a bit too attached to it.”

They would then hear a barrage of questions from your child, asking you what you meant, how long you played, what it was like, etc.

And everytime, you would speak about the characters with such warmth that they could practically feel it radiating off you through the screen.

You had such calm, motherly energy. Once your kid knew you were experienced with the game, they would frequently call you over if they got stuck or needed help with a certain level. The cookies would eagerly await those moments when you would kneel down besides your child, who was holding the phone, and grace them with your gentle face.

Your child has insane luck and strength now. Have fun listening to them scream about how they just got 3 ancients in one 10 pull, or defeated a team 10x the power level of theirs.

A lot of them daydream about being with you, in the real world. While others have more innocent thoughts, like eating your cooking, receiving praise or pats on the head, even playing with your kid when you’re busy, some are…not the purest. Of course, they would never go too far, but those thoughts are there.

If they ever were to get out? It would be…chaotic, to say the least. I mean, there’s 156 OF THEM. They could definitely fit with their small stature into one or two rooms, but privacy is enjoyed.

If one or more, or perhaps even all of them were to start a relationship with you, suggestive advances would eventually occur, but only if they’re the same size as you somehow. In a mini form, such things would never happen. You’re much too big.

They will have rivalries over who the kid’s favorite is. Because if the kid likes them, you’ll like them. Of course, you’d like them even if the kid didn’t, but if they can get along with your kid you feel a certain natural draw to them.

One time Pure Vanilla asked if he could help you cook/bake, and it spiraled into a whole class where you would teach kitchen skills to all the cookies who asked. Some are better than others, but they’re certainly all trying. Cookies who are actually already experienced at working in the kitchen will sometimes ask to be your assistants.

On the note of the kitchen lessons, certain dishes can be requested for you to teach and for them to learn. Like lets say…oh I don't know, Madeline wanted to learn to make a pot pie for some reason. Then you would teach about pot pies in a lesson as soon as you can.

Ever since they came around, chores have become much easier and much harder at the same time. Like, you have a lot of helping hands, but you also have a lot more dirty dishes, or laundry!

If this was realistic, being in a relationship with 146 cookies would never work. Sorry to crush your hopes and dreams. BUUUUUUUUUUT, we’re in fanfiction, so we don’t care about how realistic our works are!! No huge breakups or fistfights, just some jealous glaring! :D

[pitviperofdoom]

@morning-softness reblogged my Caleb bio post with these tags, and I'm so glad you asked! The short answer is, Caleb's vampirism created his attitude towards cooking.

The long answer is that SDverse is urban fantasy, not horror, so vampires are a fantasy sophont species rather than always-antagonistic monsters. They're just folks! And sure, you have your Count Draculas and your Henry VIIIs who see humans as livestock to be subjugated and fed upon, but that has more to do with them being royalty than them being vampires. Vampires can subsist comfortably on a liter of blood every few weeks, far less than it would take to kill someone; it takes a lot of gorging to get to the level of power and indestructibility of Count Dracula, and as Count Dracula proves, that gets you noticed, and all it takes is a handful determined best friends to slap you back down. There's a reason the world hasn't been taken over by bloodthirsty overlords; most vampires just don't want to.

So your average ham-and-egger vampire isn't going to have the power, resources, and preexisting authority and mystique to get away with terrorizing the local populace. If they're discovered, they're more likely to have people charging out with torches and pitchforks than cowering in their homes. So, they have about two options. Either they get really good at stealth, never stay in one place long enough to be noticed and, most importantly, don't get greedy when they feed. Or, they can deal openly, and fairly, with the humans they feed on.

It's not uncommon for vampire clans to have permanent or semi-permanent human entourages, who trade their blood for protection, monetary payment, or whatever goods and services the vampires can provide. These arrangements can be exploitative, of course, but most vampires who take this route know that what you put into it is what you get out of it. A vampire that takes good care of their humans is a well-fed vampire.

Caleb's clan had a number of human members over the years, two of whom ended up turning and joining the clan permanently. As a human, Caleb had learned to cook out of necessity, both to directly feed himself and as a skill he could be paid for. As a vampire, he took it up again, got very good at it, and found a lot of joy in feeding his humans healthy (iron-rich, of course) meals. As the centuries passed, he was always on the lookout for new cookbooks, and new advances in medicine and nutrition. Gotta keep those humans happy and healthy, so they can keep you happy and healthy, too.

He hasn't cooked in a while.

[2af-afterdark]

There is probably overlap with the chasity ask so if so excuse me. But how would each brother and dateable be if they had control over a butt plug or viberator in the mc? When would they tease them? How far do they do they go?

Lucifer

You can trust him with the remote, I swear. Will he be fair? Of course not! But he also will not do anything that would create a scene. He may turn it on a low setting when MC is not in a situation where they need to be focused, expecting them to maintain and carry themselves with dignity. He wants to push them to their limits, but without causing a scene.

Mammon

He is going to abuse that remote. Whenever he is alone with MC, he will turn it on just to watch them squirm. He also has no sense of control, so he will be flipping the settings on that thing constantly just to see all of their reactions. Yes, he would fuck them while they are getting overstimulated by that thing.

Leviathan

He has been given too much power. He will play with that remote like a toy and he won't give a crap where or when he does it. He expects MC to contain their reactions when they are in public or else he will get jealous. Only he is allowed to see how cute their face gets when he plays with that remote.

Satan

He is going to use that remote to train MC. He starts with researching which settings they like and which ones they don't. Then it's a simple task of positive reinforcement and negative punishment. It's all perfectly logical and MC will be shaking before long. They will be absolutely perfect before long... yes, there may be some reading of erotica (out loud) while he sets it off. For fun.

Asmodeus

He gets a remote, MC gets a remote. They will play together and drive each other mad. It'll be so much fun for both of them and he can't wait to see who goes crazy first~

Beelzebub

Did you think he would be nice about the remote? HA! He's absolutely terrible because he likes watching MC squirm and jerk. He will be playing with those settings just to see which one makes MC lose their mind. He can keep going for as long as it takes them to beg for the real thing instead.

Belphegor

For him, that remote is a tool to control MC. He is a little devil. Everyone time they mildly annoyed him, he will turn it to the highest setting. Or if he wants them to come to wherever he is. Or if he's bored...

Diavolo

Do you want to be cursed to an overstimulation hell? Because that is what you will get. He knows it make them feel good and he wants to make them feel good, so he will be using it liberally. May have them sit in his lap while it's on so he can see their humming face up close.

Barbatos

Another man who uses the remote to train and discipline MC. Good behavior shall be rewarded. Bad decisions shall be punished. MC shall leave in fear of that remote... and every other part of him, to be fair. Barbatos doesn't need a remote to train MC.

Simeon

He's so kind and sweet and benevolent... and that vibrator is a punishment. Who knew angels could be so cruel? He will be mindful of time and place, but he will also have MC begging for mercy, setting it off as he lectures them about their behavior and actions. Maybe turn it on while they are praying for fun... Or maybe that is just my wishful thinking...

Solomon

He thinks this could be more fun. He will use it to motivate his apprentice... or to mess with them because he is actually a menace. It is unpredictable when he turns it on and how intense. He may leave it on all day. Who can say? He can. Only he can...

[lunarruled]

God she hoped whoever was injured wasn't still in the area or even alive. Just like animals people could be very dangerous when they were hurt and afraid. The last thing Kyleigh wanted was a run in with someone else. She was used to being with Magna, to have to go through that again was just too much damn work. And if the two of them were eventually going to go their own way then what was the point of getting to know another? Either way if anyone living was nearby they would deal with that situation if they came upon it. Magna was right though, no one was getting far without a vehicle these days. One that ran and actually had gas was like finding the cure for whatever this virus was, so if there was one in that garage Kyleigh was not going to let it just sit there.

Coming to that old couple's bedroom was a bit of a disappointment, but Kyleigh had told herself not to get her hopes up about it. So far the house had gifted them with a lot of things they needed, she didn't want to get greedy. She did find a pair of old house shoes she grabbed just in case and a blanket. Not that she needed it, but if it did get chilly she would have to look the part so Magna didn't get suspicious of her. There was still so much that neither one of them knew about each other, one big thing that Kyleigh would rather keep to herself as long as she could. Her eyes did land on the many books that were in the room, drawing her over towards them. Normally she would scoop up as many as she could, read them to pass the time since there was nothing else to do. But this time around she had to just leave them there which did make her a bit sad. A few of them would have been very informative but Kyleigh was pretty sure she would have the chance to find more at some point. Magna announcing that she had found keys snapped the half lycan out of her own thoughts, a sly smile crossing her lips for a second. If all went well they wouldn't have to walk back to their place with all the new shit they found.

"There's a couple ways we could do that. If there's a door from the house to the garage we can just break that open, a good kick should do it. If we have to go outside we can see if we can lift the door from there. Usually if they have a handle on the door it means there's a lock that we can pick. That also puts us in more danger since it's out in the open, so let's see if we can find that first option."

Heading out of the bedroom the pair found themselves back in the small hallway that led to the rest of the house they had already checked out. There was a door at the end that Kyleigh figured led to the back yard, which she did not want to open for all the obvious reasons. There was another that turned out to be just a small closet with a few jackets and some random things on the floor. Probably one that they kept their coats and things in for when they were leaving the house. She wondered if they went to church every Sunday. Or went out once a week for groceries. If they had kids and grandchildren that came over for visits and holidays. Of course those thoughts made her heart ache. The family probably had no idea that they were dead now, maybe they never got the chance to look for them, to say that final goodbye. Clearing her throat Kyleigh pushed on towards the end of the hall, but no more doors were there to open.

"Alright well they don't have a door that goes to the garage from inside. But I have seen houses that have one through the back yard. We could go out there and see, might be safer than the front of the house. What do you think?"

If there were any of the dead in the back yard they would be easier to take care of and less likely to attract more. And if herself and Magna could get into the garage that way it would be easier for them to open it up and get the car out.

Kyleigh's theory made sense. Maybe by the time they had finished patching themselves up, they heard that old couple banging on the door and decided to leave rather than fight them. The safer choice, two of them at once was just too much if they were right behind a door, especially if you had an injury. "They could've left through the window right here. Maybe they're still nearby. If they're still alive. You don't make it far without a vehicle."

That was a big if. Magna had seen people leave this world so ridiculously quickly, she was already counting on them being dead, anyway. She's been in entire groups just a while ago, entire groups that had succumbed to the undead.

Their next room, the old couple's bedroom, hadn't been as much of a gold mine. Well.. that was the law of averages, wasn't it? Unsurprisingly, it didn't have any food, nor any hygiene products like the bathroom had. Nothing but clothes too small for Magna, except for a sweater she took with her in case it ever got cold outside and some underwear and socks. She'd been hoping to find a firearm somewhere, but she wasn't surprised those two didn't have that kind of stuff. Seeing that the rest of the objects within the room were nothing but decor or books (one about foraging mushrooms, but Magna didn't bother to check the bookshelf), she was about to leave the place, but the sight of two wallets inside the bedside table drawer made her want to check its contents. Money was useless nowadays, but something within her just wanted her to know those people's names. Gladys and Otto McCluskey. She couldn't help but almost flinch when she saw their organ donor cards. The universe had a cruel sense of humor. They seemed to have been good people, judging by some of the photos in their bedroom showing the charity work they'd done.

"I found car keys", Magna remarked, holding up a key with a Volkswagen keychain. "Let's pry this garage open. Got any idea how we could pull that off?"

She'd known thieves from the prison, of course. There had been one lady that had managed to pry open garages and steal people's cars by using a coat hanger. But Magna didn't know much about stealing, aside from a few times she'd shoplifted clothes as a teenager. That seemed to be more Kyleigh's area of expertise.