#just without the y’know passive shit

[suja-janee]

Curious.. cause I’m kinda in multiple fandoms all at once right now

What are you guys following me for? Also what would you like to see more of on this blog?

(Note: I am asking cause I want to see the demographic of who’s actively following me, I won’t do everything that is asked of me in the comments)

[cursedcola]

Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle (Here!), Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia(Pt.1)(Pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. I've been thinking about maybe programming a small fan-made mini-otome using these ideas. Just for some practice for school while also being self indulgent hehe

Azul Ashengrotto

Fortune. Azul is one fortunate soul. At least, not he thinks himself to be.

and to think that it's because of sheer luck. He did not work for you. He did not climb or claw or plan for you. He did nothing.

No, you chose him. You saw him at his lowest and decided that he was worth becoming friends with. You actively sought him out...just to spend time at his side. Regularly. You enjoyed Azul's company

and over time, he grew to enjoy yours. Immensely. Like a giddy school-girl, his heart fluttered at the thought of you and all his notebooks were covered in doodle hearts.

This was it for him. Azul is a one and done kind of man. It’s you or it’s no one. Which means that it obviously is going to be you because hello??? Azul is not a quitter.

During your younger years as students….he may have been a bit too ambitious. In other words, Azul has proposed many times

And in turn has been rejected. Many. Times.

It began passively. He’d mention here and there his future plans for after schooling. Try to talk himself up, yeah? He’s going to be a big business man, isn’t that just perfect husband material? He can take care of you easily so there’s no need to stress.

Naturally you pushed off these moments as daydreaming and casual joking. Nothing serious. So he ups his game. It just so happens that he mistakenly got a bridal magazine in the mail…oh, look at these dresses and suits! So fancy. So beautiful…oh, you would look absolutely darling in one.

….oh sweet merciful seven please take the HINT. He is LITERALLY throwing himself at you

He ups his game. Again. A romantic candle lit dinner for two. The works. Jazz music, slow dancing, good company, and the casual proposal y’know just your average date.

You have to be doing it on purpose

In your defense. He did not flat out say “will you marry me,” because he chickened out. Instead he asked if you’d like to live with him after graduation as…roommates.

The world is out to get this poor man. It is. It truly just wants him to crash and burn in embarrassment. The way you laughed and went “I think we’re a bit more than that, don’t you think?” HAUNTS him

He screamed into his pillow that night. For hours. Floyd still gives him shit for it

Life continues this way. For reasons unknown…he just couldn’t bring himself to be direct. Which is so unlike Azul considering he spent years toughening himself up.

Maybe deep down he did fear that things wouldn’t work out. A merman and a human…what if you did not want to lige in the sea? What if his body could not sustain human form for long term? Maybe he wanted you to take initiative and prove him wrong. Eventually he did give up.

At least until you both aged into the “roommates”he dreamed about. There were trials and compromise. He never thought to have two homes, one by the ocean and one literally inside of it. Life was perfect….just without the title. And on one random night, Azul thinks “One more time,”. No elaborate ruse. No trickery to get you to ask him. Just….

“Will you marry me?,” Azul whispered into your shoulder. You both lay together in your shared bedroom with nothing but the sound of crashing waves coming in from the outside. Your steady breathing halts, proving that you heard him. With a sigh, he reaches to massage your scalp, “I do not know if you have realized by now…no, I am sure of it. No one is that dense. I won’t pry for why you have ignored my past attempts…all I ask is that you answer this. Will you marry me, (Y/N)? Having you at my side has truly made me the most fortunate man alive,”

{ A black pearl over a gold band. One of the most ultimate displays of wealth. Azul is well aware that this is not the traditional pathway. He could have easily acquired a ‘genuine’ Pearl, perhaps a diamond - but no. You are a rarity. A true jewel. Only a ring worthy to reflect that is worth buying. You were the most unexpected thing and are now the most cherished. This ring represents that,}

Jade Leech

The want caught him by surprise one day, which is rare. Jade is never thrown off guard. At least, not easily.

Then again, you have always been the most difficult person for him to predict. Something he finds very charming since there is always an upbeat atmosphere wherever you go. If his days were a dimming flame, you would be just the right amount of Co2 to spark some fun - not that he would easily admit to it.

Albeit so, Jade is not blind to his emotions. He hides them well underneath a polite smile - but they are there. He is aware of them.

Which is why he snatched you up early on. A relationship was the last thing he thought to find on the surface (or in general, honestly), but Jade knows what he wants when he sees it.

He merely asks you on a date with confidence. You accept, and the process repeats until an unspoken bond formed between the two of you. Not a soul in the nearby vicinity would dare make a move on you with his lingering presence. Jade was pacified, entertained, and happily content with your circumstance.

A circumstance that Jade gets maybe a bit too comfortable with. Just like surprise, it takes a lot for Jade for feel secure. The only person he has truly felt that with is his brother. This lack of overbearing responsibility, where something is being unspoken. No ulterior motive or underlying tone in your actions that make him have to over-analyze.

In the beginning he thought of your bluntness as an extra entertainment factor. Something that he could count on to make those brief unpredictable situations amusing. Yet, as time passed he notices that it's comforting. When he's with you, Jade turns his brain off. Not entirely, of course. He still needs to throw in witty quips and fluster you at LEAST twice per day.

but it's different. It's a different comfort than what he feels with his sibling or with his friend. It's new, and strangely similar to how he feels when he forages while hiking. Perhaps finding peace in another person...maybe there is merit. Hah. Yet another surprise.

On an evening long past curfew, Jade was tending to his botany collection and miniature greenhouse. You sat on his bed, watching videos on your phone. It was almost like you weren't there with him, yet not since he felt your presence. However, there was no pressure to talk or be attentive. He found himself enjoying your presence alone, and it slipped.

"If this is how our days will be when we live together, then perhaps sharing one life is not as inconceivable as I once thought," he said amidst trimming one of his herb plants. Jade turns curiously when he hears a thump from behind, and sees you gawking at him. You had lost your grip on the cell phone, and it fell to the ground.

He eyes you suspiciously. What's startled you? He doubts that any video could render you speechless.

....he spoke aloud, yes? Not in his head. Now it's Jade's turn to lose his composure.

Another surprise, but this is his own doing. Jade has not had a slip of the tongue since his childhood. Even then it was rare. He's never experienced this kind of mess-up...yet, you don't appear appalled.

Jade places the clippers down, and coughs into his gloved hand, "well, it appears I have gotten a loose tongue. It must be from your influence, no doubt". He stands, and moves to sit next to you on his bed, "I've never spoken out of place before, you know. Do you know what this means? I've become weak...and perhaps it it is time you take responsibility for these newfound emotions. I fully intend for many moments like these to happen, and for you to not leave my side. When it is time to leave this place, I believe you will join me. No, I am certain of it"

{An eye of lapis. A reminder that he is always watching - waiting, to see you again. The gem is not see-through. It’s a tough stone. Yet it is beautiful and is appreciated nonetheless. Enough said}

Floyd leech

At first, you believed him to have an obsession. Many did, actually.

The judgement isn't uncalled for either. Floyd's emotions towards you are very strong. With the way he loves to tease and follow you around - he's got a deep attachment. He's always demanding your attention, pulling you from your duties, starting trouble, and nosy. Floyd is oh so nosy and into everything in your life.

You're a toy. His little Shrimpy. The plaything that he absolutely adores and loves to watch. You're the Friday night sitcom to his late-90s grandma.

That's how you see it because that's how he portrays it. With others in agreeance, it is easy to overlook the small undertones in his actions. Especially since he's a touchy and emotional person normally.

Somehow, Floyd had himself tricked as well. He didn't akin his emotions to obsession, but he did think that you were a toy that he would

eventually out-grow. At the start, it really was just a game for him. He liked your reactions and therefore decided to keep you around.

Yet, he never got bored. Eventually the fun events around you stopped being what he found interesting, and instead he liked you alone. Floyd being Floyd instantly tried to confess this, not wanting to waste another minute. Yet you never believed him.

He brushed it off. You'd come around. Not a day went by without him by your side. To the average onlooker (and you, to Floyd's dismay) this still appeared normal. Weeks past by like nothing.

Only the people closest to Floyd see the small giveaways. Like how he glares holes into the mirror portal every morning, or gets snappy with customers if you take too long to visit the Monstro Lounge at night. There's a booth saved, every evening with no student brave enough to go near it unless they want their head chopped off.

When he gives you a 'squeeze,' he never wraps his arms around your stomach. He instead smothers your head and goes tightly around the shoulders. Your squeezes are special. He loves them.

or the name 'Shrimpy'. How he says it to you in public, but in private he occasionally lets your real name slip out. This normally happens during moments when he feels "bored,"(i.e has nothing to talk about) or lighthearted (the rare moments when you get him to relax). Floyd has never said that name with anything other than a positive emotion, despite his mood swings. Shrimpy is his calling card for you, and only his. Yet your name is different. He feels a tummy-twisting kind of weird when he says it.

but the biggest change is Floyd's attitude towards danger when it comes to you. Before, he thrived on it. He liked to hear your stories and be part of the fun. He took joy from the scary adventures you got wrapped into; heck, he was one of them.

Now he gets morbid. Not like how he was before, with eerie threats and a suspenseful aura. He never actually acted unless told to do so, since the over-blots and delinquent students were your problem, not his.

One afternoon, you didn't show up to have lunch with him. That already made him irritable since you know better than to no-show. Did you want a squeeze? Huh, Shrimpy? He'll give you one later.

Then two students come in, all snickering and acting suspicious. Strike two. Now Floyd is upset AND annoyed. Others in the area can feel the animosity in the air.

"Did you see their face? Psh. That'll teach some snot-nosed no-mag to act all mighty. If they know what's good for them, they'll go back to whatever sh*t-hole they came from alrea-" The no-face couldn't finish his sentence. Not with one of the infamous Leech twins gripping his arm tight enough to snap bone.

Floyd smiled, "oh~ So you're the reason my little shrimp isn't eating lunch with me, aren't ya? So. What'd ya do? C'mon guys, I want to know what 'lesson' ya taught, " as Floyd spoke, his grip gradually tightened and he stared straight into the other student's eyes. Each word came out harsher than the last.

They broke quick, as he suspected. With a rough shove Floyd pushed them aside to find you. He had their faces memorized. Let them live in fear for a bit until he collects due payment. For now?

Floyd finds you at your home. He doesn't bother to knock and bursts through the front door, only to see you nursing a black eye on the couch with some ice. He wastes no time in taking it and kneeling in front of you.

Floyd holds the ice to your eye - a bit too harsh- and clenches his jaw when you wince. You won't meet his eyes and it only pisses him off more, "Oi. Look at me," and you do with your one eye. "Why didn't you call me. Why'd you not show up," You sigh and reach a hand to cover his, "because I knew you'd be pissed... I handled it, okay? No need to fake the whole 'I will protect you, my little Shrimpy' scenario. We both know that's not your thing, "

You're wrong. It's not a scenario. You can dismiss his flirting all you want, but even Floyd has a limit. Do you not see how absolutely wreaked overhearing those airheads made him? He's going to do worse than you can think. He won't kill them. No, he'll make sure that no one messes with you anymore. You can't see it, but on the inside he is over it. Done. Finished. Officially has 0% patience.

"Did you know that every time you spout crap like that, it pisses me off? I don't 'act,' because that's boring. I'm not lyin' when I say I like you, and you better start believin' it because I'm over the niceties. If someone messes with you, they mess with me. You're in deep (Y/N) and I'm not letting go, so wait here while I handle some little pests. I love ya. I act this way BECAUSE I love ya. Quit denying me already,"

No one will ever mess with you again. Not with the sparkly little gem on your ring finger, tying you to one of the largest and most threatening groups in the undersea world to date.

{ An aquamarine tear. In all honesty, Floyd did not put much thought into his gem. It sparkled. It is the color of his hair streak (or close to it). He imagined it on your finger and thought that it would stand out - ensuring that anyone and everyone could see it. He thought of your possible expression upon seeing it, and was sold}

[pinksomovember]

Day 1 - In A Car [ao3]

Ivy rocked on her heel folded under her.

“I’m going to piss myself,” she said, a slight whine bleeding into her otherwise joking tone.

Nora didn’t respond. Ivy had been complaining on-and-off for the past hour, with increasing frequency, and had started shortly after a stop that had a bathroom.

“I seriously don’t think I’ve ever had to pee this bad in my life,” Ivy continued. “It’s starting to hurt.”

“You could’ve gone at the gas station,” Nora said.

Ivy didn’t appreciate the condescending scolding. She felt like a water balloon that was still attached to the hose, bulging more and more with every second, with only a matter of time before it went pop. Her only outlet was to fidget, simultaneously squeezing her thighs together and rocking back and forth onto her foot so it pressed up against her pussy. In combination with the seam of her jean shorts digging up against her—working its way into a wedgie—her urethra had plenty of pressure to help it stay closed. That was only going to work for so long, though.

“You didn’t see the bathrooms,” Ivy argued. They’d been disgusting—shit on the back of the seat, a truly foul smelling liquid seeping along the corners of the floor, and flies everywhere. Not to mention how every surface was covered in stains and dried flecks of who-knows-what. If it had been cleaned in the past month Ivy would eat one of her socks.

She’d had to pee, decently bad, when they had stopped there. But under no circumstances would Ivy use that bathroom. Except for maybe (just maybe) right now.

She thought she’d be able to hold it. They were only a few hours out from their destination and she could always get Nora to stop at a rest stop or a gas station if it really got bad. Ivy, however, hadn’t realized that they were about to exit fucking civilization. There had been nothing for the past fifty miles other than cattle and the occasional cornfield!

“If you weren’t chugging those iced teas-”

“I’ve stopped!”

Ivy might’ve also forgotten to factor in how much liquid had still been moving its way through her system, too. It was a habit for her to sip at sugary drinks when she was bored.

A wave of desperation so strong that Ivy dug her nails into her thighs swept through her.

“Ohhh my god,” she moaned. “I can’t do this. Jesus fucking Christ.”

There was so much pee inside her right now her bladder was visibly pushing up against her skin, firm and tight and aching between her hips. She had given up on the seatbelt, and the button of her shorts, well over fifteen minutes ago. Ivy kind of wanted to cry.

Nora softened. “You going to be alright, babe?”

“I don’t know. Yes, probably. Maybe.”

“I can always pull over,” she offered. “You’d have to piss on the side of the road, though.”

Ivy shook her head adamantly. “No, there’s way too much traffic.”

They fell into silence for a few minutes, aside from the staticy music of one of the few radio station’s Nora’s truck was picking up and the occasional curse from Ivy.

“Are you enjoying it, at least? At least a little?” Nora asked, breaking the quiet.

“What?” Ivy practically panted. Her breathing was rough as she tried to huff and puff her way through the worst of the desperation.

“Just.” Nora seemed a bit embarrassed, keeping her eyes completely glued to the road. “You’re…y’know. Piss thing.”

“It’s not a piss thing,” Ivy hissed, mortified. Even though it was, at least partially, a piss thing.

It wasn’t her fault that having a full bladder turned her on. From what Ivy understood, it was just simple biology! The fuller that most women’s bladder’s get, the more it puts pressure on all the internal pleasure hotspots. A little like cockwarming a moderately small toy, just without any form of firmness that a foreign object would feel like. It felt good in a slow building, passive sort of way.

Getting off with all that weight in her lower belly also felt good. A little bit of extra flare to a still otherwise damn good orgasm. 

But she wouldn’t say she was into piss. The idea of the smell and the mess alone was enough to turn her off to it. Holding it on occasion until it was just starting to edge into too much was plenty enough for her.

Although, she had to admit, she wasn’t exactly turned off to it right now.

Each tight squeeze of her thighs stimulated her a little bit. Every rock back pressed the bone of her heel into the squelching slickness of her pussy, which was absolutely soaking her panties despite knowing damn well that she hadn’t leaked a single drop of pee yet. And with all that movement, the seam of her shorts was pulled tight against her unmistakably hard clit.

“Well, are you?” Nora asked.

“I-” Ivy stopped herself. Her face was burning. “Yeah, maybe. So what, I still have to pee more than I have to—or whatever, want to—get off.”

Nora stole a side glance at Ivy. Something dark, heedy, interested came over her expression as she drank in how Ivy looked.

Ivy sacrificed one of her hands clawing into her thigh as a grounding method to cover her face. This was embarrassing enough as it was without having to talk about her kinks. Even if Nora seemed to be getting into it.

“Oh my god, ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” Ivy chanted, forgetting her embarrassment entirely. The wave of desperation felt incredibly, suddenly like a physical wave. She could feel it surging against the sphincter muscles of her urethra. 

She wiggled her hips side to side to try and fight through it. The movement caused her shorts, already so tight against her cunt, to shift. Her clit was trapped between the seam and her pubic bone, but couldn’t stay in place with this new movement. The seam fucking stroked her aching clit, slipping to the side before grinding right back over it with the next sway of her hips.

“Hu-uhn,” Ivy couldn’t help but moan. “Uh, uh, uh!”

“Fuck,” Nora cursed, breathless.

Ivy couldn’t process the difference between her desperation for relief and her sudden, surging need to cum. Everything was much too much and not enough at the same time. 

“Fuckfuckfuck. Jesus Christ. Uhaha.” Ivy sobbed a couple times. It was part laugh and part horniness and part overwhelmed. She couldn’t believe this was happening. It felt like an out-of-body event while also being the most physically animal experience she had ever had.

“God. You feeling good, baby?” Nora asked. 

“Y-y-yes!” Ivy wailed. “It’s- fuck, it’s so good. I’m so wet. Shit, I’m so- I’ve gotta piss so bad.”

Nora took her right hand off the wheel to grab Ivy’s leg. Her other hand held onto the wheel so tight her knuckles were turning white. There was something wild about her. Something that, if she didn’t have to focus so much of her attention on the road, might’ve swept her up in the same way Ivy’s desperation was.

“You gonna play with yourself, baby?” Nora asked. “Gonna play with your clit while you piss yourself?”

“Don’t- don’t wanna piss myself,” Ivy whined. Nevertheless, she did as Nora suggested and grabbed tight between her legs. Her shorts were too tight and were getting in the way of actually being able to touch herself effectively, but the pressure helped reel in her bladder’s demands a little bit.

“Ives, baby, there’s no bathrooms for miles yet.”

A reedy noise broke in Ivy’s throat.

“I know, I know,” Nora said, hand squeezing at Ivy’s thigh. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“This is so fucking embarassing,” Ivy managed, laughing incredulously. “I’m seriously gonna wet myself. Fuck.”

“I don’t care. Fuck, baby, looking like that…I’d let you ruin anything.”

“Hm?” Ivy hummed. Her whole cunt was pulsing, vagina and pussy lips and clit. She was so wet she wouldn’t even be surprised if a spot was showing up on her shorts, soaked straight through her panties. Her body was building up to something—so high up she was almost afraid of it—unsure if it would be the dams breaking involuntarily or an orgasm so intense it would be the best she’d ever had.

“You look so fucking good, Ives,” Nora rasped. “I could eat you alive.”

“I…” Ivy wavered. She didn’t know what she wanted to say. 

“It’s okay,” Nora said. “It’s gonna happen either way, isn’t it? Unless you changed your mind about the side of the road?”

They were on a two-laned highway, a couple of cars in either direction always in sight. Stopping would mean even more cars, as the ones behind them passed them by. 

“No, absolutely not. It’d end up on the- on the fucking Internet or something.”

Nora massaged her thumb against Ivy’s skin. “Then I’m sorry, baby, but you’re gonna have to piss yourself.”

“’S bullshit,” Ivy mumbled. Tears were pricking up in her eyes. The side-to-side wiggling was simultaneously not doing enough to help her hold it and doing a frustratingly inconsistent too-much-not-enough to get her off. She resorted back to rocking, with no sign of pausing the mounting something that was steadily creeping up on her.

“We’ve got a ton of clothes in the back,” Nora soothed. “And towels, and baby wipes, and our rental is pretty far from any neighbors so nobody’ll see you walking in your wet clothes. And it won’t take too much to clean the truck, and I don’t mind cleaning it up, okay?”

“But-”

“It’s not a big deal,” Nora insisted, a bit of firmness edging in. “Understand?”

Ivy nodded tightly. She did understand, even if she could barely think. 

“Now, since it’s gonna happen anyways, you want to make yourself feel good?”

“Already am,” Ivy said. “Might, fuck, I don’t know. Might cum.”

“Just like that?”

“May- uhn- maybe.”

“Fuck.” She sounded reverent. “You wanna touch yourself, baby? Wanna stick your fingers down your shorts?”

Ivy nodded, frantic. She was so close, to coming, to pissing, to doing both. She just couldn’t quite get there.

Her fingers felt fucking heavenly. Her pussy was a mess of sticky slick, audibly squishing as she pushed her hand beneath the waistband of her panties and into the lips of her pussy. Just brushing against her clit was enough to cause her to shout out, trembling at the sudden stimulation of sensitive nerves.

“Just like that, baby. Fuck, look at you. It feels good?”

“Yes! Fuck, ohmygod. Hnnnuh.”

Ivy’s fingers were clumsy, sitting up and trapped in her shorts and obstructed by the clamping of her thighs. But God, it didn’t even matter. She grinded her cunt on her heel and the drag of the cotton and denim against her pussy made everything all the better and her fingers fumbling over her clit was dragging her up up up.

“Keep playing with your clit, baby. Just like that, yeah. Just how you like it.”

“Gonna- fuck!”

“You gonna cum, Ives?”

“Wanna,” Ivy cried. “So- fuck, please, please. Wanna…I’m so…”

“Or are you gonna piss?”

“Fuck!” Ivy wailed. Her pleasure crested, sharp and violent and hard enough that her whole body shook. She threw her head back into the seat, practically seizing. She barely recognized the sounds she was making as something coming from her mouth, unfamiliar from any other she’d made before.

“Oh my god,” Nora was saying, somewhere in the distance. “Fuck, baby. Fuck.”

Ivy was still shaking, still somewhere high up. 

“Need’ta piss,” she slurred. “Need’ta…uhn, I need’ta…”

Nora said something. Ivy registered only that it was meant to be encouraging.

“Uh, uhn, ohhhhhh fuck. Oh-”

Ivy’s fingers were still against her cunt, and she felt the first hot trickle of piss against them. It wasn’t enough, though, not even registering as relief. The sensation of liquid leaving her bladder, however, passing through her weakening sphincter and soaking into her shorts, bordered into the same amount of pleasure as playing with her clit usually was.

So soon after her orgasm, she felt overstimulated. There was still way too much pressure and it was taking a strenuous amount of concentration to keep even the tiny stream going and everything still felt so fucking good.

“Nnn…Nora,” Ivy sobbed. “I can’t-”

“Relax, Ives, relax. It’s okay, you can do it.”

“Can’t-”

Nora let go of Ivy’s thigh and instead tucked her hand beneath Ivy’s wrist of the hand still down her shorts to place her palm against her belly. “I’m gonna push down a bit, okay? Just relax.”

Ivy hiccuped, but nodded. She was still managing a thin stream of piss, seeping into the seat of her shorts and just barely beginning to form a puddle under her butt, but her bladder was screaming at her.

Nora pushed down and Ivy squirmed violently. The pressure was so much more but it wasn’t doing anything but hurting. She had to piss so bad and she couldn’t and inexplicably she felt like she could cum again just like this but not quite. And then her urethra gave way.

“Ohmy god,” Ivy choked. The piss flooded out of her.

It didn’t even feel like she was sitting in the passenger seat of her girlfriend’s car, her entire bottom was so suddenly drenched. She might as well have been sitting in the tub in a few inches of bathwater. Hot, very slightly piss-scented, bathwater.

It was euphoric. She might’ve been cumming again, for all the pleasure searing through her as her release hissed through her panties and pooled on the fabric seat faster than it could soak it up. She genuinely couldn’t tell.

The stream was hot and steady against her fingers as it sprayed out of her. Absently, she petted along her inner labia. 

“Shit,” Nora said, like she was in awe. “Shit.”

The stream started to peter out, in fits and bursts. Just when Ivy thought it was over another gush would start up, each one a little weaker than the last.

There was a dull drip, drip, drip as the puddle on the seat dripped onto the floorboards.

Nora’s eyes darted between the road and Ivy, with a desperate sort of want. “Oh my god, Ives. That was…”

“I think I’m still going,” Ivy said. She felt a little fuzzy around the edges, numb in the very tips of her fingers and toes and slightly cross eyed. Fucked out.

“Fuck,” Nora whispered, enthralled.

 The final dredges of her bladder’s contents were still dribbling out of her, like her urethra couldn’t quite figure out how to close back up. Ivy tried to force it a bit, by clenching up, but all that caused was a violent shiver to rush up her spine and a soft little gasp.

Finally, finally, Ivy felt herself stop peeing.

“Mmmm,” she hummed, satisfied and spent and high on sex. 

“You okay?” Nora asked. Her hand was back to Ivy’s thigh, mindless of the piss starting to cool on her skin.

“Yeah,” Ivy sighed, sleepy and pliant. “M’great. Maybe, uh, in a bit you could get a towel outta the back?”

“Yeah,” Nora agreed. “’Course, baby.”

[makethatelevenrings]

Somewhere Only We Know - TWO

Chapter Warnings: spoilers for 2x02, swearing but that’s part of the show idk why you would be surprised by that

shoutout to @yanna-banana​ for showing me this Instagram dupe site so I can make this a bit more ~interactive~ since reader is, y’know, a social media manager. also thanks for ur patience my lovelies, i’m having “ahhhh im graduating” depressive states and all my energy is going towards finals and existing rn.

Series Masterlist

“Okay. Laptop. Charger. Keys. Coffee. Shoes. Shoes!”

For some reason, you were a mess this morning. You had been repeating your list of things you needed over and over again and yet every time you kept discovering something else you had forgotten. Your bag lay half-packed on the couch as you ran around like a chicken with its head cut off in pursuit of your shoes. Seriously, how the fuck did you lose the shoes you had grabbed from your closet just a minute ago?

That’s because they were in your hands.

Sighing, you pulled on the sensible flats and took another moment to look around your room and list out all the things you needed for work today. The TV played in a lone drone behind you and you turned your head to see This Morning playing. Philip and Holly were interviewing some guy from that one reality show.

“What about Amy? Are you going to wait for her?” Holly asked.

“Nah, no. I was just playing a game, know what I mean?” the guy replied. Christ, was that Jamie Tartt? It was, wasn’t it. “Find the fittest girl there, have sex with her in the toilet, ask her to marry you. Strategy.”

“Wow,” you drawled before you shut off the TV. “He’s a piece of shit.”

You headed for the door and quickly backtracked. You almost forgot your entire bag and the leftovers from the shoot you had last night. Ugh, you needed more coffee.

~~~

You were scrolling through TikTok in search of a new trend to use for a Richmond video when all five foot two inches of your boss came bursting into your office.

“Oh, sorry! I should have knocked. Get your bag, babes, we’re going to lunch,” she exclaimed. “There’s this cafe that’s a ten minute walk from here and they’ve got the best coffee.”

You knew better than to argue with the pure ball of energy that was Keeley Jones. In the short time you’ve known her, you loved the beaming blonde. She and Rebecca were infectious in their laughter, light, and kindness. When you first interviewed, you were intimidated by the two women, but you quickly learned that they were goofy as hell and always down to gossip.

Grabbing your purse, you dutifully followed Keeley through the maze of hallways. She passed the locker room without a second glance, but you made sure to peek over your shoulder to see a few of the guys streaming out of the doors.

“Yo, Keeley!” someone called. She spun around and waved at whoever yelled and then grabbed your hand, pulling you over to talk to a few of the guys.

“Hi Isaac! Have you met our new social media manager yet? She’s gonna be the one making you all look sexy on the Gram now,” she announced. You offered them a tentative smile and the large man in front of you beamed.

“Isaac McAdoo,” he introduced. You gave him your name in turn and then cleared your throat. You weren’t as charismatic or bubbly as Keeley, but you were trying to make more of an effort. Your last job was filled with a few passive aggressive comments thrown over cubicle walls and then bossa nova jazz everyday. No one had been chatty or nice the way everyone was at Richmond.

“I’ve actually been meaning to set up meetings with all the players,” you explained. “My job is to handle the team’s socials, but I also want to integrate the players' ideas and individual brands. I’d also like to know if anyone is working with a management team so I can coordinate with them on certain posts.”

“Isn’t she fucking brilliant?” Keeley exclaimed.

Isaac puffed out his chest and flexed his biceps. “As long as you make us look good, then I’m in.”

Keeley patted you on the shoulder. “We should get going to lunch, but check your email soon. I’ll make sure we can coordinate times to meet.”

“Awesome. Nice to meet you!” He darted off to go talk to someone else and Keeley slid her arm into the crook of yours so she could lead you out of the building and down the road.

“Isaac’s all bark and no bite unless you’re on the field,” she explained. “Sam is an absolute sweetie and Colin is darling. Richard is my go-to when I need to know a wine pairing and Zoreaux is a beast at Dance Dance Revolution. Bumbercatch is…”

Keeley listed off all the players on the team and you tried to keep a mental catalog of everything she said, but it was making your head spin. You were grateful once she stopped outside a small cafe that was indeed a short walk from Nelson Road. A simple vanilla latte and a chicken cobb salad was your order while Keeley got a complicated drink and a wrap.

The owner, Alex, handed the two of you your drinks and you turned with the intention of finding a table to wait for the food when Keeley stopped short. Some guy stood half-obscured by the plant shelves, but he stepped out once he realized he caught Keeley’s attention.

“Jamie?!” she exclaimed.

“I-I’m not stalking ya,” he blurted out. “I’ve been following you for, like, a few blocks now and I couldn’t text ya because I deleted your number.”

As he rambled on, his words started to fade in and out as you took him in. His slicked back hair made him look like a corny Godfather character and the all black ensemble didn’t help. You could understand why people fawned over him with that strong jaw and blue eyes, but as his lips moved all you could hear was his smarmy talk from the show this morning. 

“So, yeah, I’ve been following you for the last few blocks. No, I’m lying. I’ve been following you for your whole lunch hour. But I’ve just been trying to build up the courage to say hi…so…hi.” His voice trailed off and he shrugged.

“That’s, like, the definition of stalking,” you murmured which drew his attention to you. Jamie Tartt was starting to feel like a bad omen that was following you around.

“Hi, sorry. Jamie Tartt.” He offered you a cocky smile that you recognized from the TV that morning and you merely glanced down at his outstretched hand. You had no idea where that hand had been. Raising a single eyebrow, you let your gaze trail up from his hand to his face.

“I’ll go find us a table,” you said to Keeley before you brushed past him and found an empty table by the window. You always loved sitting by the window and watching the world pass by. You could make up stories about the people that passed by. Like the lady walking two poodles. Maybe she was some CEO or maybe she was an undercover agent. That would be sick as hell.

“Sorry about that, babe,” Keeley apologized. She placed your salad in front of you and then took the seat across from you. “Now, I just want to say that your idea about meeting all the players? Brilliant. Absolutely fucking brilliant. When we get back to the office, we can set up a calendar for everyone to schedule a time to meet with you. How’s that sound?”

“That’s great. I really love working here.” You looked towards the door where Jamie Tartt was heading out of, a coffee clutched in his hand. He glanced back at the table you were sitting at and you immediately looked away and back at Keeley. You offered her a tight smile and nodded along to whatever she was saying.

Hopefully that was the last time you would ever see Jamie Tartt.

Tag List: @shiptheship​

[initial-lime]

Stardew valley “lore” ramble for my own game below the cut,, I’m like halfway trough my second year (first time playing) and have just been making shit the fuck up, if you correct/spoil me on ANYTHING I will hit you with my car. Applause and intrigue only

So,, farmer “hunter” (me :3) comes to the valley after being given the farm by mysterious dying grandpa with the shitty bed (I’d be dying too if you bed looked like that)

Spends the first 3 weeks of the game chopping down trees and weeding in a haze, as you do,

Eventually goes “oh yeah I should probably talk to these villager people a little,,”

I end up walking into the clinic after almost dying in the mines for the first time, like maybe,,, 3 pixels of health left, accidentally give Harvey a granola bar trying to talk to him (I did not know you can’t be holding items when talking to people) he asks if it’s “healthy” (Harvey doesn’t like my granola bars ): )

I obviously think that’s fucking hilarious, guy walks into the clinic practically bleeding out, gives the doctor a granola bar (that he hates) and then leaves.

I make it my mission to piss off harvey more so I get him a coffee the next day because y’know,, caffeine is “bad” for you, which APPARENTLY he LOVES, which is obviously where I fall in love with the nerd because he’s stupid and adorable.

I keep up my “charades” of buying him coffee twice a week, saying various things such as “this one’s poisoned for sure” meanwhile building up my farm and my skills, getting to know some of the other villagers also, like Linus and stuff (Linus is my bff)

Around fall I finally buy Harvey a bouquet and we start dating 👁‍🗨👁‍🗨 (yippie) winter passes without seeing him much (grinding money in the mines/fishing)

Eventually the first rainy day in spring I propose to my boy (he says yes obviously) and we get married (yippie x2)

Me and Harvey now live together on the farm (:

Specifically farmer “lore” vv

I like to think the farmer isn’t human, or at least not fully,, y’know we never hear about a “grandma” and like??? Stuff in the valley grows SUPER fast and the farmer is inherently very strong (can carry a bunch of stuff) all’at

So. The farmer is a supernatural creature sort of like a nature?? Protector?? Kinda thing?? (Inspired by ye’ Scandinavian trolls, because I’m Danish so y’know obviously my main viewing lens is from that perspective) we’re once they’re given/take a piece of land (grandpa giving me the farm) they’re bound to it and act as a protector and amplifier for that land, everything in the valley grows so fast because the farmer is passively magic.

The farmer can either have a “monster” form or a human disguise, for the first half of the game the farmer is in human disguise because people are generally distrusting of the supernatural but as he befriends the villagers he’s in monster form more and more (since that’s his natural look)

Since I’m Romancing Harvey I like to think Harvey had a suspicion but only found out about the whole monster thing after they got married but before everyone else finds out, he probably gets super excited about it since he’s a doctor and he’s like “omg,, you could study this” (nerd lol)

Uh yah 👍 there’s more but I think I’ll save that for later lol

[oddeyevibes]

The Rock w/ A Goth S/O

(Like usual, this is kayfabe compliant. Also, this has elements of my fic idea basically but I’m still workshopping stuff so I decided to do headcanons cause why not)

You debuted just before the WWF fully embraced their attitude and aspects of goth sub-culture bled into the federation. So that made you kind of an oddball but, obviously, you embraced it.

So it was an odd pairing between you and “Rocky Maivia”. This rookie femme fatale and this fresh-faced third gen up-and-comer looking to make a name for himself.

I would say, maybe in the beginning you two would keep your relationship under wraps, with the both of you coming off as either friends or twos newbies simply looking out for each other.

The other wrestlers that were heel aligned wasted no time in giving Rock dirty looks cause of how close he was getting to you.

You would support and help him train as he wanted to be some Hulk Hogan-esque hero to the fans but it wasn’t working.

At first, he was in that stage of denial and wanting passive advice. The “it’ll get better” type deals because he felt if he kept trying, he could win them over. He was even given those talks by the other faces backstage.

As someone who was more “heel aligned”, you thought that was horse shit but you supported what he initially wanted.

It wasn’t until the “Die Rocky Die” chants and signs that you put your foot down.

“Tell them to go fuck themselves” you would say and he would ignore it. Trying to talk YOU down from going out there and cursing people out.

“I just have to run my own race and I’ll win them over.” He was so naive. The poor baby.

But you were determined. Becoming the little devil on his shoulder while the other baby faces kept trying to urge him to stay on the “right” path. The path of “perseverance”.

“Who cares what the fans think?”

“They don’t even know what they want. They’d rather cheer on dinosaurs than new blood”

“Stop lying down and waiting for them to respect you. TAKE their respect.”

At first, he would laugh at your persistence. “Girl, you are a bad influence on me.”

But then it started getting to him more and more, and with the Nation of Domination now urging him, he finally took matters into his own hands.

After the crowd watched him raise his fist alongside Farooq, it was no holds barred.

Now instead of being some fresh faced Romeo + Juliet type fling, you two went full on power couple.

Subtext became straight up text.

I said it before in my other headcanon but it bears repeating, with your styles, the both of you would end up matching CONSTANTLY.

Also vial of his blood? You can totally have it. Obviously, I gotta mention it.

While The Rock is not one to cheat, that was the service you offered any heel clients you valet’d for but it was a matter of trust. Trust that he can get the job done because he always could.

He’s finally out of his shell enough to let you take him to a goth club and boy does he fit in with the way he dances.

You have full control of the music when y’all are driving from place to place until one song that he just can’t stand and he takes your CD out. Not even huffing will make him budge.

He sings to you. He takes the songs you like and randomly sings them to you. He wants to dance with you. He’ll even try to sing them slowly for a slow dance. It becomes a battle to see how long you can go without laughing.

He sometimes goes to wrestlers like Edge & Christian (and sometimes Undertaker) for advice on gifts.

Mankind ADORES you.

While I wouldn’t recommend on WWE/WWF Wedding (name one time the ceremony succeeded), if y’all confident it’ll work for y’all and Mankind is gonna officiate. That or Dude Love (who happens to be great pals with Mankind).

Rocky does help you break some of your heel-ish habits. Despite it all, he encourages you not to be TOO underhanded. Not in a controlling way but in a “you can do better” way, y’know?

In general, this is a relationship that a lot of other folks think shouldn’t work but it works just fine for the both of you.

[sammisafetypin]

im enabling you rn. karin for the ask meme plssss

ollie please tell me what dis image is . anyways KARIN TIME💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

Sexuality Headcanon: Karin has never thought about her sexuality once in her life. She has been MUCH too busy to think or care about it and if you asked her she’d interrogate you about why you care so much. Would call herself straight if you twisted her arm for an answer, but the gender section below kinda complicates that response.

Gender Headcanon: Deeply hard-boiled egg, would be a he/she trans man if there was, once again, any time to think about it. He goes on about how all of her issues with being a woman are because “men get so many more opportunities anyway”, and it’s “only natural to wish you were a man for strategic purposes”. He is not figuring this shit out without intervention, the denial goes to the ocean floor at this point.

A ship I have with said character: (RIPS MY SHIRT OFF TO REVEAL THAT I HAVE TATTOOED TEH WORDS ‘I 💛 DAARIN’ INTO MY CHEST)

No but seriously. I don’t care how much of a popular Reddit ship they are, their dynamic is literally perfect. Karin’s constant charging ahead VS Daan’s inherently passive nature and how they don’t understand the other person’s way of approaching life is already great, but the way they bicker is even better. It wouldn’t be nearly as interesting if Daan didn’t snap back, but he does and it makes them SO funny. I also think, despite their dynamic being predicated on being such opposites, they have the most potential to actually deeply understand each other — the less you get someone, the more you want to, and so they both kinda dig their heels into “why are you LIKE this” until it becomes “oh ok. I see. you’re still fucking annoying though >:/“. I have a hard time verbalizing why I like them so much but I just really do, they’re a bickering old married couple to me that has never actually dated, Daan just kind of became Karin’s “person” one day and he carries him around like a particularly mean purse dog.

A BROTP I have with said character: Her and Abella! In my first playthrough my party for most of the game was Karin, Daan, and Abella, so I got really attached to them as a trio. I think Abella is kind of immune to Karin’s bullshit and able to just thwack her on the head when she’s getting ass-deep in her stubbornness. Doesn’t always work, but Abella’s determined to try and get her to unwind a little bit.

A NOTP I have with said character: I don’t like Karin/Pav at all, though I’ve only seen a small handful of people ship it. I just don’t think Karin would ever feel anything but homicidal rage for Pav, much less romantic affection. I know I just went on about how much I like the conflict of Karin/Daan, but it’s different. Those two have banter, Karin and Pav is like, “I actively believe you to be a fucking pig”. Y’know? Also Pav pisses me off for literally no reason so that doesn’t help.

A random headcanon: She LOVES documentaries, and I mean love love LOVESSS documentaries. She’s such an old man about them she wants to sit down and watch his stories about World War 1 and loudly eviscerate every detail he disagrees with. Daan who would rather be watching the ‘40s equivalent of trash TV can’t stand this. When he has his shows on Karin complains but inevitably gets invested anyways. Her opinions on the Toddlers & Tiaras moms have to be known.

General Opinion over said character: KARINNNNNN MY SWEET BOY MY SUGAR PLUM!!!!!!! I loveeeeee Karin he was teh first character I beat teh game with which made me super attached to her already, but besides that shez just a great character that doesn’t get nearly enough respect in dis fandom. Do you know how many Karin centric fics dere are on Ao3?? Not enough, I’ll tell you! And itz bizarre to me bc she’z so interesting! I think she gets kinda discarded as th token bitch of th cast but if All Of That had happened to me I think I would be kind of a paranoid stubborn cunt too! Her backstory’s like actively horrifying to me it surprises me I don’t see it talked about more. But anyways Karin is my SPECIAL BOY WHO I LOVE SOOOOO MUCHES I MADE HER ATTACK GOD WITH A MEAT MALLET 

[suffersinfandom]

I was going to make some embarrassing, fluffy New Year post about how grateful I am for OFMD and this fandom and how cool it is to be here and participating for the first time ever (I mean, I made some goofy meme edits for BSG and Star Wars, but I sure as heck wasn’t brave enough to share actual thoughts). I was going to type about how awesome and smart and funny so many of the people I follow here are and how much I love all of the meta and art and fanfic, and I was going to go on about how important OFMD is to me and how much it’s brightened up my life.

But then I logged on and remembered how flawed this fandom is, too. It makes me sad to see all of the insults and personal attacks in a fandom that is -- or at least claims to be -- more queer and more accepting and more invested in kindness and goodness than any other I’ve come across. 

There’s the block button, I know (believe me, I use it every time I come across someone who goes on about how abusive Ed is because I absolutely won’t entertain that), but the hostility runs deep and blocking alone isn’t fixing anything. People act like the mere existence of interpretations that contradict their own are direct attacks on their character, and they retaliate by calling people idiots with zero reading comprehension and abuse apologists and cruel sadists who wouldn’t know suffering if it bit them on the dick and so on. It’s not enough to disagree; we have to tear people down and insult them and make everyone angrier by showing our followers strawman arguments being tossed around by ~the other side~. 

Don’t get me wrong, there are definitely abhorrent takes that demonstrate, at best, ignorance on the part of the person making it. We should call those out! 

Idk, I just wish we could have discussions and disagreements without attacking actual human people. Like, I love it when people engage with things they don’t agree with in good faith and pick apart arguments and make new points. I even love passive-aggressive indirect responses to bad takes. Those can be very fun and, tbh, it’s not a fandom without a little pettiness, as a treat.

But it sucks to scroll around and see people in your fandom throwing out very personal insults and attacking others for interpreting things differently or thinking a fake guy is a piece of shit, y’know? I want better for us. We deserve better. 

Also, just to be clear, this isn’t in response to anything specific, okay? I was just generally set off when I scrolled through the OFMD tag today and saw yet another “well, if you don’t see things the way I do, you’re a stupid piece of shit who loves abuse” post from someone I hadn’t gotten around to blocking yet. Not to get personal, but as someone who was regularly called an abusive, stupid piece of shit by someone who was genuinely abusing me when I had the nerve to challenge them, that kind of thing can be legit triggering if it hits at the wrong time.

Also also: I do feel all of those things that I mentioned in the first paragraph! I’m so grateful for OFMD and the fans of it! There are so many brilliant and talented people around here, and I know I wouldn’t be as bummed about the unsavory parts of OFMD fandom if I didn’t love it so much as a whole. 

[void-tiger]

Warning: Sandman Spoilers.

(I’d plop a Read More here except I can never remember how to do that in mobile, mobile is much friendlier in layout to how my brain functions than the full web-on-computer will ever be, and Readmores flatout break my ability to edit, say, tags after I hit that Post button.)

-

-

Right. Okay.

…I think what irritates me about the Endless Siblings?

Delirium Can Do No Wrong Because She Baby (which is true. We dunno what shit happened to her that forced her to shift from Delight to Delirium, but we know it was BAD) even when she torments mortals for her Games (just less maliciously than Desire and Despair; it’s debatable if she’s fully Aware of the consequence of what she’s doing), even when Delirium’s (understandable!) demand to have Destruction back actively kills people!

Or Destruction—who LEFT and almost demands the others to leave as well despite Not All Of Them CAN Leave (and to be frank? Him abandoning his post despite having Creation as his counter-domain is probably why, say, warfare became SO destructive SO rapidly followed by a technological boom)—and literally planted what might as well have been BOMBS in his closest friends if any of his siblings tried to find him.

Or Desire—who fucks around and NEVER has to find out. Who actively targets Dream and blames Dream for their bad relationship with their older brother…and never takes any accountability for their own part in it and continued active antagonism and actively trying to DESTROY Dream either by spilling family blood and igniting the Kindly Ones’ Wrath and using Dream’s Own Function against him…or by risking Dream shifting into something Not Dream Any Longer. (And the absolute Irony of Desire being the one (1) sibling to EVER help, then gets pissed off and antagonizes further. Gee, Desire. I wonder why Dream doesn’t ask and if he asks you he asks you last!)

Or Despair. Who plays games beyond her function, and this aspect of Despair seemingly ignoring her counter-function of Hope, and is a co-conspirator albeit passive co-conspirator in Desire’s torment of Dream in much the same way as a pair of school-aged Mean Girls

Or Destiny. Who so rarely shows that he cares, uses his Book as a Defense Mechanism Excuse in a similar way as Dream does his Pride (and being prickly by-nature but most of his standoffish-ness is honestly a defense against Holding ALL Of Subconscious + His Family’s A Bunch Of Assholes (Too)). And if he does anything “outside his Book” or “finally acts within the Book” …he denies it’s because he cares. It’s to berate for showing up in jeans or someone else leaving their stuff in his room (even when someone else left it)

Or Death. Who had her own Edgelord Phase that lasted for eons before her younger siblings even existed. Who never once actually came to help yet berates Dream for not asking her when he wound up in Serious Trouble…again. (And not by his own fault, unless you want to count fixing a past mistake seriously draining him to the point he could he snared by Desire’s (and Despair’s but mostly Desire’s) Trap.)

…They’re ALL Assholes, Jared!

But only ONE of them is held to a standard none of the rest of them even bother to live to and gets actively punished for it at every turn, even when he tries to reach out, do better. (And yes, Morpheus!Dream has some serious fuckups. But. So do the rest of them. And he’s kinda the only one held accountable for them + some things that really aren’t his fault or are actively traumatic and he doesn’t really have a way to safely recover from without, y’know, affecting the Dreaming and all the dreamers! And it’s not for a lack of trying or continuing to try, despite his natural stubbornness, prickliness, introversion, and avoidance!)

[spider-man-2o99]

what are your favorite comics?

as tempted as i am to just say “i’ll give ya three guesses, and the first two don't count,” and leave it at that for the sake of The Funny, lol—

im not gonna let myself keep going on and on and on for too long, or else this post’ll never get made, but this isn't. like. Everything. brain is just scrampled egg rn so these r a little all over the place but. w/e here r the first “favorite” books that’ve come 2 my mind:

(under the cut because i Ramble*) (*let us also proceed knowing that classic spider-man/spider-man in general goes without saying b/c i am Not typing that much.)

- Spider-Man 2099 (1992) big surprise, i know. lay off! it was my first comic! looking back on it, i probably shouldn't have been reading it as, like. a 9-10(??) year old kid. but. y’know. pish-posh. when the chips’re down, sm2099 was what i had during a real rough time that spanned years without letup, and as a result sm2099 has been a Really Important Thing for me ever since. has the relative decade’s worth of Enrichment ultimately also been worth the requisite Nigh-Obsessive Brainrot? 🤷 i’unno. i’m predisposed to say “well, duh, dude, no shit it has been,” so that's that.

- Spider-Man 2099 Meets Spider-Man (1995) duh. (in seriousness: fun romp of a one-shot, nd i really like that mig and mj were kinda-friends,., .,,.,)

- Moon Knight (1980) MK v1 was the run that REALLY got me into comic books as something more than just a passive casual interest, back in, uhh-- early-early 2020, i think? it definitely... shows its age in not a great way, at times, but otherwise i can’t help but feel a fond affection for the first volume of MK. (Plus, on the art side of things, it’s really cool to see Bill Sienkiewicz developing his iconic signature style over the course of the run!!!)

- Immortal Hulk: The Threshing Place (2020) .......and tbh, every other Immortal Hulk one-shot, as well, but. Threshing Place especially has some just gorgeous art. I can’t stomach visual body horror very well most of the time, but I otherwise really like what I've been able to read of Immortal Hulk.

- Ms. Marvel (2014) genuinely a really good book and also the only Inhumans thing i like (in no small part, im sure, because there is not a lot of Inhumans stuff in it). starting to run out of spoons at this point so i’m just gonna be blunt if u hate kamala khan Fuck You

- Unbelievable Gwenpool (2016) unbelievable gwenpool is Good it’s a Good Comic marvel has just been absolutely massacring the character ever since it ended. in 2019 the Defiler leah williams took poor gwennie out behind the barn and basically just shot her in the back of the fucking head. we will probably never see the character in any significant or serious capacity ever again :(

- Superman’s Girlfriend, Lois Lane (1958-1973) culturally important to the medium of superhero comic books As We Know Them Today. also generally batshit insane to an objectively hilarious degree ❤️

+ honorable mention(s): that one green lantern story where hal jordan slipped on a bar of soap and bumped his head so hard he not only  was immediately rendered unconscious but then also fell promptly into a coma.

ALSO Blue Beetle (2006) it's been so long that i barely remember what happens in it but i Do Remember that it was Good. i really need to reread the run sometime soon...

[intherainbowfactory]

Starry Knight (1)

[a/n just gonna post this cuz ;3]

[this was something I wrote over a span of like fourteen days in-between me English project and college apps and I sincerely hope you enjoye. don't be fooled: this is indeed a my little pony fanfiction, an isekai, in fact, but it doesnt show at first. also, the mc is my polar opposite]

[p.s. there's a reference to dC/dt ≠ 0 in here. it's a small one, but i love that story dearly and think you should check it out. rip]

I never even liked knights that much.

I was just a regular kid, y’know? Pretty boring kind of girl, into reading and motocross and not much else. I just spent my days living my mundane life. I’d spend not enough time hanging out with my friends and buying food and stupid shit at our one grocery store around our small town, I’d spend not enough time going to parties because there weren’t many, and I’d spend too much time obsessing over scholarships and college for after my senior year so I could finally escape the bullshit of small-town rural life and move to an actual big city.

Hey, I just wanted to be somewhere that would let me find someone to hang out with whenever I felt like it, without having to pimp my worryingly decreasing cash out to someone to have lunch with!

Well, anyway, the last day of that life came one summer afternoon. I was just walking around the streets, finding enjoyment from waving at the elderly who were driving past and who drove to my right to avoid possibly hitting me at all. Some stray dogs were wandering around in a pack, and I stopped to pet some of the friendly ones. At least they’re here for me, I had thought at the time, frustrated at how nobody would return my calls. 

A large, white, fluffy dog (just the sweetest thing…) was rolling around under my floofin’ fingers when suddenly, I heard the truncated barking of a known menacing pit-bull punctuated by the blood-curdling screams of a little kid. It was located behind me and across the street. I feared the worst. I sprinted across the street to save the kid—

When I was hit by a bus going thirty miles per hour.

My flesh registered the impact of metal in slow motion, time crawling to a stop as my brain wrecked itself trying to find a way out of this situation. My skull creaked and rolled back, being the first to hit the bus, before cracking and caving in on my brain with an audible squelch. I wasn’t lucky enough to die, however. With milliseconds feeling like minutes with how much adrenaline my brain was pumping, my arms slowly moved forward to gingerly touch the front of the bus before shattering into dust, my eyes showing me the horrified shriek of the bus driver forced to watch as my life gets torn from me while sitting passively inside the infernal machine that took my life.

The second-or-so that I was conscious for in this ordeal was the second that would define my entire death. As it was, the bus was torn away from my view as my head was thrown back to gaze upon the shining blue heavens, bright and glittering with the rays of the sun, my body feeling weightless in flight from the force of the impact, feeling lighter of all its earthly attachments in the type of loss that encompasses an unplanned, uncalled-for end.

I blinked, and abruptly the sky changed to a brilliant starry night right in front of my eyes. Such splendor, such ethereal quality—is that what a galaxy looks like without the light pollution receding it?—I have never seen such constellations in the sky! What a convoluted, almost planned design they had! The moon shining unnaturally brightly, fixed in eternity backdropped by the cosmos, was what really set me off. “I must have died,” I thought at the time with trembles running the entirety of my being. Disbelief wracked my being before sprinting past all the stages of grief towards acceptance. Nothing to do but accept the facts that I’m dead, even if it’s pretty strange that I’m dead, and I’m still conscious.

“I died,” I concluded with some confusion as the final chain of that logic attached itself inextricably along my mind. That confusion slowly turned to joy as I again noticed the sublime vision in front of me and looked upon the dark recesses of the terrible, wonderful infinity stretched out before me. Manic fervor filled my soul, an incredible sense of pride at the life I lived and the good I did even up to my final moments making me feel ten feet tall as exactly where I was dawned on me. 

Excitedly, I thought, “I died! Hell yeah! I died! Died died, died died, died-died-died-died died died!” I finished alongside a jaunty tune that started playing in my head with my mental song.

Of course, it was sad that I was dead, but that wasn’t what I was celebrating! I concluded my thoughts as such:

“I died and went to Heaven!” Take that, Susan! I always knew Hell was reserved for people like you! (And you said there was no way God would let me get near Heaven without smiting me like the whore you told everyone I was! Where’s your non-benevolent interpretation of God now, Susan?) 

Anyway, I feel like I got sidetracked. What was I saying? Oh, yeah!

“I died and went to Heaven!”

I tried dancing and whooping and laughing with joy, but I couldn’t feel my body. I felt such bliss that I might cry, but I couldn’t feel my face and my tear ducts ran dry. I tried to sing a song in tribute to the wondrous sight blessing my poor, dead soul… but I couldn’t move my mouth or my throat. I couldn’t turn my head to look around me, couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t feel anything under my body or feel the air or any forces acting on me. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t move my leg, neck, eyes, mouth, arms, ears—

“I really am dead,” I concluded (finally!) in my mind. “And now I’m in Heaven.” Non-physical shudder. “Now what happens?”

As it turned out, nothing really happened. That was fine for a time, though. I could take a couple more minutes of playing connect the dots with the stardust and quasars among the stars while I waited for something to collect me or for me to sprout wings and be able to fly away, and anyway, I was thankful to still have a consciousness to see this wonder in the afterlife.

After fifteen minutes, the glamour wore off and I was starting to get bored of scanning the same non-Earth constellations and non-Earth moon patterns over and over. “Is this all it is, just looking at the stars forever?” I asked myself internally. “No, no, there has to be something I’m missing!” Finally, I began to search inside myself for the answer. “Maybe I’ll have some instinct or something that’ll help… After all, I’ve probably been turned into an angel, or maybe some other kind of spiritual creature, since I clearly don’t have a real body.”

Nada. Just my memories and old instincts from being a regular girl in her senior year of high school in our crappy small town. Former small town. “Dude, where’s my personal God or Death or whatever?” I tried to psychically think at any eldritch intelligences around, “I’ve been waiting to see anyone to explain the answers of the universe to me for like fifteen—sixteen minutes now… Wait, how did I know that? Whatever, it doesn’t matter. ROOM SERVICE!” I shouted out, also psychically.

Nobody came, no new thoughts, no new sensations. I was starting to get a little scared of what comes next and whether it would be a fate worse than death to stay alive and conscious in what was deep space, apparently, until anything happened—until that happened!

“What was that?” My nonexistent nerves jumped out of their metaphorical skin and looked around for the source of the strange sensation, and found it once I thought about it. A pop-up, a blue sort-of hologram hovered in front of my vision, saying in floating text, “Would You Like To Die? (y/n)”

“No! What the fuck?” The pop-up didn’t go away. I mentally turned around and talked to myself. “It’s only been sixteen minutes of this. I can’t just die now, I need to know what the afterlife is like! Though it is nice that they gave me the option… even though I’m already dead. Or am I really dead? Just what the fuck is even going on here?”

When I turned my attention back to the pop-up, it instead read, “Are You Done? (y/n)”

“No, but uh… do you know what’s going on around here?” It still just stood there floating above my vision, straining my eyes from how blue and oddly formatted the text was. I racked my brains—my minds—for any way to get rid of this thing before coming to a realization. “En!” I said, and it immediately disappeared. 

Sighing in relief, my brain—mind—was free to puzzle over what the fuck just happened. Eventually, though, it just accepted that hologram embedded into my instincts as another part of being dead. Must be some automatic Kevorkian computer response, designed to connect me to utter nothingness at my utmost convenience. Not very user friendly, though, it would seem, since I had to explicitly say—uh, think the letter “N” before it accepted that as an answer. 

Now that I think about it, why did the text on it even change from “Would You Like To Die” to “Are You Done” in the first place? Was the pop-up programmed by a disgruntled angel, or something? Or maybe a fallen angel, someone like Lucifer, messed with the servers and cursed the interface of Heaven to be mildly devious before their inevitable fall from grace?

Aaaaand through thinking about it more closely, the magic of being in Heaven(?) suddenly vanished with one passive-aggressive, poorly designed, and eye-burning screen.

Talk about a bureaucratic afterlife!

I supposed I would wait a couple more minutes before trying to summon Oblivion again—and another phantom sensation ran down my nerves! Eough. Another pop-up came up in front of my non-face, again blocking the lovely view of outer space. These holograms were starting to hurt my non-eyes (too much blue light).

It read, “Would You Like To Wait? (free response) You Have Been Conscious For Seventeen Minutes”

Free response! I thought, “Hello? Who are you? What do you mean by asking me if I want to wait? Why are you here, in my mind? …What are you, anyway?”

To my surprise and relief, it changed its text. Finally, something else in this monotonous starry sky to think about! (Even if its neon blue hologram grated on my eyes after fifteen minutes of soothing black-and-iridescent deep space.) It read, “No, No, I Meant Like, Would You Like To Fast-Wait? Or, Rather, Wait Without Being Conscious Of Time Passing, Like Time Was Fast-Forwarding?”

After a moment, it changed to, “Oh, And What I Am Doesn’t Really Matter Right Now, So Don’t Ask Me, Because I Won’t Tell You”

Now, I was intrigued. Clearly, it was intelligent enough to start a conversation. At least, (I hesitated) it was now.

“Why not?” I replied psychically.

“I Don’t Think You’d Like It,” it read.

“But I want to know! Can’t you tell me?”

“You Realise I’m Not Telling You About Myself For Your Own Good, Right? Don’t You Think You’d Rather Not Know? (y/n)”

“No—En!”

“Well, Whatever. I Can’t Tell You Unless You Give Me Explicit Verbal—Thoughted Permission, So There”

“Why.” It was more a statement than a question.

The pop-up tilted downwards a little in my vision. “I don’t bloody—I mean—Because It’s The Way.” The pop-up righted itself again.

I decided to ignore that little lapse of text (though it did make me cringe a little), and I thought sharply at the hologram with an upraised not-eyebrow, “No, I wasn’t asking why you needed permission, I was saying the letter ‘Y’ to confirm it.” The textbox looked around uncertainly, or so I thought. “You know, as in (y/n)? Now, spill!”

Sarcasm buzzed from the hologram as it now read, “Fine. I Am Just A Separate Part Of Your Own Consciousness That Was Put In Control Of Your Automated Responses To Expedite Them For Your Convenience. Happy? Oh, And That Means I Also Basically Had Your Entire Character Forced Into My Personality, And What A Lovely Character It Is. (Snicker)”

I was too excited by the implications to be bristled by this comment just now. After all, if I could find out more about this brain stuff, I might be able to figure out tons of stuff about the human brain and consciousness, both topics that have been very mysterious and vague to scientists for years! I could have revolutionized brain science and become rich and famous like I used to daydream about, overhauled medicine and artificial intelligence for the greater good of humanity—maybe even made it so my DB-W001 Viper could talk!

…But I was dead.

Tentatively, “Hey, um… Hologram?”

“Please. Call Me Dr. Hologram”

“I am dead, right?”

“All Signs Point To ‘Yes’”

“...Why do you snark so much?”

“Because My Life Is So Peachy Right Now,” it read with a roll of the hologram that I interpreted as an eyeroll

That remark nettled me, and unnerved me besides. “What’s your deal?”

“Look, I’d Rather Not Say. Just Leave It At Me No Longer Being A Part Of Nothingness And You Being Here In… Space, Or Wherever The Bloody Hell You Are”

I blanched. “You mean… you don’t know where I am?”

“Well, It’s Not Like I Know Anything At All About Your Particular Situation Or Anything (Snark)”

After a few stunned moments, its text changed again to read, “...Oh. You Thought I Knew What Was Up With Your Situation. Huh. Well, All I Can Really Tell You Is That You’re Not Really Dead. I Was Just Being Facetious. Really, Your Soul Was Chosen At Random To Be Summoned To Another Universe By A Wish, Or A Ritual, Or Something Else To Be Reincarnated As An Immortal Warrior And Hopefully Do Some Good. Oh, And The Multiverse Is Real, By The Way.” The text box shook briefly as it added, “Those Stupid Bloody Scientists Don’t Even Know…”

Somehow, I couldn’t find myself growing more hopeful at my prospects. 

“So… then why am I stuck in space?” I asked.

The hologram came closer and tilted its textbox down at me. “I Don’t Know. All I’ve Got Is My Past Experiences And Your Current Experience, And I’ve Never Seen Anything Like Your Experience”

“Hm. And I really am just stuck here, am I?”

“Yes. Is That All? Any Other Frivolous Questions? Eighteen Minutes. I’ve Got Some Oblivion To Get Back To, And I’m Afraid It’s Rather Urgent. That’s Right, I’d Really Rather Cease Consciousness Than Talk With You Any Longer.”

I cursed under my non-breath and felt a distinct lack of blood rushing to my head. “Now that was really uncalled for. So was your whole aggression deal earlier. You know what, just, what’s your problem, dude? All you’ve done since I asked you these very reasonable questions is bitch and moan. What’s your fuckin’ deal?” 

I added under my mental non-breath, “Fuckin’ pop-up bitch…”

“I Sensed That Remark! And I Don’t Have To Tell You A Single Thing (Smugly Smirking),” it read. What an idiot.

The hologram briefly tilted to the right before it tilted back and changed its text to read, “Actually, You Know What? Fine. I’ll Tell You About My Sad, Pathetic Life If You Promise To Never Summon Me Again Unless It’s For A National Emergency.”

Curious I was, so I relented. “Fucking finally. Wait,” I wracked my brain for bargaining chips and thought of one, “only if you change your fucking text to not be so eye-searing blue.” 

As an afterthought, I added, “Actually, what the hell, get rid of the stupid underlining and italicization gimmick from your text, too. It makes you look like an asshole with a Homestuck fetish.”

“As Thou Doth Command, Your Majesty, I May Only Comply With The Strictest Grudgingness In A Sincerity Unable To Be Spoken”

Cursing under my breath, I muttered to myself, “Figures you’d finally use your italics to bitch at me.” Trying to close my eyes and count backwards from ten, I realized that I didn’t have any eyelids, so I just focused on the gradually fading Horsehead Nebula and counted backwards from twenty, wishing I could rub my forehead to ease the phantom burning feeling welling up in it.

I remember thinking to myself, “Huh. I guess the Horsehead Nebula really does look like a horse’s head after all. I owe Brett a new computer. Good thing I don’t have to actually follow through on that bet now that I’m… here.” 

I mentally snorted. “I wonder if the rest of his ‘theory’ was true, too…”

I had to fight hard to keep from perceptually falling into a fit of giggles at this thought. “I mean,” my mind felt like a bouncing rubber ball wrapped in a straightjacket, trying to keep the laughter to myself, “I-If the Horsehead, heh, Nebula looks like that, like Brett said, snnnrk!—then… then—pfft!—maybe Ponies from My Little Pony do exist after all, as aliens in the Horsehead Nebula itself!” That thought nearly pushed me over the edge of busting my gut laughing out loud psychically. “Pfffft! As if!”

It took a minute or so of reining in and wrestling my wild thoughts to catch my breath, and at the end of that minute I was again feeling phantom heat on my phantom head from a phantom headache, and I was again suitably pissed off at that motherfucking pop-up.

The textbox updated, “You Have Been Conscious For Twenty Minutes. Unless I Was So Lucky As To Have You Somehow Die Before I Had To Explain Myself… … …”

I riposted as I didn’t raise a singular bussed-off eyebrow, “Sorry, I’m still here. Spill.”

“Ahem,” it read. Seriously, it actually read “Ahem.” And that’s all it read for a while until my mental kicks to its third eye prompted it to change to reading “Okay, Okay!”

“Where Was I… Ah, Yes. My Childhood. I Used To Be A Regular Kid, You Know. Physical And Everything. I Could Even Hold Sodium Pyrosilicate In My Tentacles’ Cruce And All.” The textbox looked down forlornly as I cringed internally. “I Miss The Alluring Velveteen Touch Of Sodium Pyrosilicate…” 

It continued. “Eventually, I Grew Up, Had A Family, Explored Other Worlds, Found This Place Called Earth, Had A Wonderful Time In The City Of Wolverhampton With A Sponsorship Family Who Were In Dire Need Of An Alien To Hide From The Authorities, And Was Tragically Killed When I Was Hit By A Rogue Double-Decker Bus”

“There seems to be a lot of that going around…”

“Yeah. I Know. Funny, Innit? Except It’s Not,” it read, “Since Instead Of Getting Some Peace And Quiet Like I Wanted For My Afterlife, My Soul Has Been Stuck Serving Reincarnated Idiots For Centuries As Their User Interface!”

There really wasn’t all that much I could say. “Twenty-one minutes,” I thought.

Sheepishly, I added, “Oh, sorry! I meant to say ‘Sheesh’!”

“Are You Fine With Not Hearing The Rest Of My Story Now? Because I’m Fine With That If You Are, You Wretched Abomination Creating Mockeries Of The Precious Nature Of Life’s Infinity And Beauty That You Tainted With The Virgin Universe’s Blood And Denied Meaning And Happiness In Your Cruel, Callous Cheat Of Death!”

Okay, this guy is definitely on the top of my shit list. “Pretentious asshole…” I muttered.

“Oh, (Snicker), You Want To Know Why I’m Being So Pretentious And Asshole-ish? (y/n)”

“No.”

“It’s Because Whenever I Get Shoved Into Another Wino’s Mindscape, My Personality Is Overwritten With The Host’s Personality,” it read, coming uncomfortably close to my vision. “So All This? This Is All You, Honey. All Of This Is How You Would React If You Were In My Shoes, We Spiteful, Short-Sighted Bitches. Just, Maybe With A Little More British Charm, In My Case At Least.”

“Oh.” My phantom eyes glazed over. So, this whole time, I’ve just been talking to myself, going even more mad with the sensory deprivation and isolation in space. Twenty-two minutes… Well, maybe this hologram’s not entirely myself, but eh.

“In that case, can you tell me some advice you got from oh-so bravely overseeing ‘centuries’ of reincarnated… people?” I chanced focusing my attention on the stars above, only to be shocked when they seemed to be… more muted, for lack of a better word. Not as noticeable, maybe? Those galaxies also seemed kind of faded now. Strange.

“And Why Should I Do Anything For You?” the pop-up read, visibly sullen, somehow.

Point. I wouldn’t, if I was him. Too bad. We might have been friends, if he didn’t have my personality type. (I just hate those kinds of people!) 

After a pause to collect my thoughts and shove down my disappointment at talking to my own imaginary tulpa, I transmitted the following: 

“I’m sorry, okay? We kind of got off on the wrong foot, and I can see where you’re coming from, being… me. I got your life story, and so I won’t bug you any more unless it’s important.”

“Okay. Good. Nice Doing Business With You.”

“Good,” I thought, and the hologram disappeared, leaving just the saddeningly dulled stars and planets, and the moon watching furiously, as my company for the evening.

I just sat there for a moment, taking in the same familiar sight and growing ever weary with boredom. In psychic silence, I waited out the twenty-third and twenty-fourth minutes of consciousness that I was somehow acutely aware of. That did make me a little curious, the precise sense of time I gained, but I figured the pop-up’s answer to any questions about it would be the same my-personality bitching and passive-aggressive remarks as earlier.

But then the hologram came on again in front of my eyes. My non-phantom-spirit-eyebrow raised up, for certain values of “up”, as the tingling in my spine that announced the arrival of the textbox barely even shocked me.

“...”, the textbox opined.

“...”, I riposted.

The textbox tilted to the right for a few seconds, and then tilted back… Tilt-A-Whirl! Wheeeee!

…Sorry. It’s been so long since I’ve ridden one of those. After all, the kaleidoscope of memory distorts my impressions of expressions indelectable in remembrance for remonstrance of the performance in chronomance I command for extremity collectivismificationalization in entanglement with my destiny re-unstranglement I consider everyday as my hippocampus-illating defictionalization reports of twenty-one gun salutes resort to remarks of natent noospherical nonsensical non-dramatically detailing di-universal non-determinism via vicissitudinarily voyeurist verisimilitude in medias res when I’m ad hominem, and that’s the best.

Oh yeah. I do that, sometimes. Don’t worry about it; it just comes with being tens of thousands of years old. Now where was I at this point in the story? Was it the part where I fended off the errant Malpractitioner army from Saturn City…? Maybe the part where I became the master of time travel after defeating the chief of Breezie Temporal Solutions in a rock-paper-scissors competition…?

Oh, now I remember! I was at the part with all the ellipses…!

“...”, the textbox re-riposted.

“...”, I re-re-riposted.

“...”, it STILL READ.

“...What’s with all the ellipses, man?”

[beanlot]

oh em gee just saw that ur reqs are open so may i please request for ellie:

what would she be like when you argue with her? or when she’s jeslous? angst ( + comfort PLS, HOW ELSE WILL WE SURVIVE) / or maybe a modern au 🫣 could be nsfw could not yk what im SAYINGGGG

you don’t have to but god if u do, i think i might just go out like a light

love u, take care <3

just a little childish.

not to find fault with ellie, but she’s someone who isn’t emotionally disciplined when there’s hollows in your relationship. no matter what the argument surrounds, it’ll feel very one-sided in terms of communication and trying to plaster the holes in the walls - ellie is passive aggression, and it could be through maintaining bitter eye contact or not looking at you at all, unpredictability that has you treading on thin ice. she’ll wait for you to cotton on that something just isn’t right, and when you do, it’s not weight being taken off your shoulders.

i’m not saying it’s a howling match between you, but ellie’s warlike on a verbal level - she gets comfortable with hectoring at people whether it makes a scene or not, and this will only fuel her potential to hiss insult after insult at you. and it’ll probably go something like:

your voice is pissing me off right now, so shut it.

you think you’re the shit, don’t you?

you just walk around thinking you’re some fucking angel, but i see through it, don’t you fucking worry.

and again, not to rub the salt in the wound, but ellie has a tendency to abuse talking over you.

she isn’t much of a mumbler in arguments, which is ironic since she exhibits a very vanilla tone ordinarily - but in her peak of hostility, she’s not resistant to get her point across and really drill it into you no matter how callous it is. she likes to be heard, and if that’s through amplifying the vocal chords just a tad, so be it. and she’s an angry crier, no doubt. ellie gets indulged in the superfluity of emotion, too much that she doesn’t notice the tears streamlining her cheeks until she’s done, well, yelling at you and clarifying her outrage.

but she’ll miss you.

ellie would prefer to have such disharmony resolved by the end of the day - she doesn’t like to go nights without alleviating the conflict between you, and its insufferable to breathe through the ripped bandage. she lives in the moment without realising it bites her in the ass later, and when she’s fanned out all of the wrath, she’ll come to you.

with ellie, her usual assertiveness during disputes plummets to submission with apologies; she knows she’s shy with talking things through, globes of fern planted on her fingers as she’ll fidget with them. she wants to be good at this, good to you, and it starts with a sorry once you’re both situated under the covers as she stiffly lays beside you:

hey..

earlier was stupid..

i wanna say i’m sorry, and i have no right to be upset..

i understand if you’re mad at me or you wanna, y’know, stop everything..

i didn’t mean anything, was just tryna dig at you..

please say something..

and if that didn’t work out, she’d shuffle closer, fingers on your waist. and depending whether or not you take her hand off, she’ll earth into you more, lips brushing against your neck and lashes butterflying your nape.

however, the only way make-up sex would happen with ellie is if you initiated it. realistically, she’d be too intervened with ameliorating the dissension between you and plastering all the little apertures she’d left - sex wouldn’t be on ellie’s cards unless you’d roll around and tell her that you’re horny.

and she’d do as you please.

[chibanova]

I'm currently working on the Zelda art right now but I'd love to know some info about them! The idea that they'd have to disguise themselves as regular townsfolk adventurers is such a cool idea and I'd love to see how they play off of each other

Sorry this took so long to write, this is what I’ve got so far!!

Sun (20)

• Very sweet and kind but has a lot of pent up rage from y’know. All the goddess stuff. Think Shinobu from demon slayer, but milder.

• I don’t think she planned for Hyrule to become a monarchy, and seeing how much her vision for a land below the clouds has….changed over the millennia definitely upsets her.

• Actually knows how cook and sew, and is very valuable in terms of keeping the group alive.

• Doesn’t do well with large crowds or strangers, used to the tight-knit community of Skyloft.

• Will not stop talking about her boyfriend Link. Ever.

Disguise: 7/10 she can pass as an adventurer, but as a knight she sticks out a bit. Mostly stays under the radar.

Dot (19)

• I need to reread the four swords manga, but this girl takes no shit. She is the queen of passive aggression.

• As someone who is 5’3 and is going to be 5’3 for the rest of their life, I feel her pain. Strangers mistake her for being younger, people don’t take her as seriously as her companions, and she can be easily overpowered in a fight. This can range from being mildly annoying to setting off the primal short people instinct to go for the knees.

• I don’t know where to place this on the timeline?? Is she minish cap Zelda as well or just four swords adventures Zelda???? I haven’t decided yet.

• Either way her and Link are besties. Absolute partners in crime. Maybe something more in the future but I’ve never though too much about fsa ships.

Disguise: 3/10 it’s just her princess outfit cut short with pants. People can tell she comes from money, but the way it’s presented comes off as odd to most people.

Lullaby (14)

• I sense a gender crisis on the horizon. They haven’t quite realized it yet, but a cis this Zelda ain’t.

• Is aware that either Link or them sent him back in time to prevent the future from happening. He did not tell them and they haven’t seen him since he left Hyrule a few years ago, but they came to that conclusion anyways. This might haunt them a bit.

• Impulsive and a bit too sure of themself; this is the same kid who thought they could outsmart and defeat Ganondorf’s plans at like. 10.

• Is determined to make this inter-dimensional trip an adventure, no matter how life threatening. They don’t know if they even want to go home.

Disguise: 6/10 not bad but the vibrant pink definitely stand out

Dusk (23)

• Sword Lesbian Sword Lesbian Sword Lesbian Sword Lesbian.

• Appears stoic and regal, in reality is barely holding on. This women would love coffee.

• Is incredibly prone to self sacrifice, would die for her companions after knowing them for 2 days.

• Unrelated but I will never get over how she and Link barely knew each other and didn’t get the the chance to know each other. Not in a ship kind of way but like how two people so strongly connected by fate just brushed past each other and went on with their lives.

• Definitely had a thing for Midna. If she stayed Her and Link might have fought over her.

Disguise: 9/10 have you seen how big her cloak is??

Tetra (16)

• The Street Smarts of the gang. Seriously, they would be dead without her.

• She does all the haggling and she’s very good at it. Her intimidation tactics are top notch.

• Knows more cuss words than everyone else, is very happy to share them.

• Has a crush on Link but they are both in HEAVY denial about it.

• Honestly could be in charge if the others didn’t see her as a child.

Disguise: 9/10 it’s just her regular clothes but they’re a tad too beachy for most of Hyrule’s weather .

Phantom (16)

• Her amour was custom made after her adventure, when she was feeling a bit nostalgic for her phantom form (big and tall and could crush enemies with a single strike).

• Link teaches her sword combat. They are inseparable.

• Confident and self assured; she’s done this before

• A bit of hero worship towards Tetra, she tries hard not to spoil what her future holds for her.

• Still afraid of rats.

Disguise: 1/10 she looks so goddamn weird but she refuses to take the horns off.

Fable (19)

• Yes we are incorporating the Fable is Legend’s brother headcanon I just think it’s neat.

• Getting kidnapped by Ganon three times has to mess a person up. She’s paranoid and convinced he’ll return within her lifetime, but represses it with a facade of calmness and over confidence.

• Takes self defense lessons so she feels more prepared.

• I think she’s secretly rather lonely, more so than a lot of other Zeldas.

• Cuts her own bangs.

Disguise: 5/10 the same as Dots but a bit better. She has so much rich girl energy though.

Dawn (17)

• Remember how after the adventure of link, there’s two princesses? Succession crisis.

• Aurora quickly gains popularity with the court and people and uses this to start a coup against Dawn. She escapes into the woods and is sucked into a portal before anyone can catch her.

• She’s always been a bit quiet and timid, but it’s made worse by this

• absolutely shocked at the amount of wealth and life other Hyrules have. Maybe a bit jealous.

Disguise: 4/10 it’s her princess gown repurposed into a shirt and pants, but it still looks ridiculous. Too bad they’re all broke (what kind of princess carries money with them??).

Artemis (34)

• I don’t know who this woman was married to but there was a divorce.

• The best at combat, has killed many people before.

• When she tells stories about the war, she doesn’t lie or sanitize them. She want them all to know what horrors can occur as a warning.

• I don’t think a single Zelda has had their mother survive their childhood, so a lot of them latched on to her.

• She trains them all to improve their combat skill.

• Is used to being an unquestionable authority, is shocked when some of them don’t respect that (Tetra, Sun, Dusk).

Disguise: -1000/10 she has GOLDEN ARMOR.

Flora (18)

• Oh boy trauma. 100 years of it.

• She is a scientist she is an explorer she is a gremlin in the woods desperately trying not to lick her plant samples.

• She has an unmatched temper. Blows up at small things, cries about it afterwards.

• She tells the others about how she decided not to revive the monarchy and nearly gets jumped for it.

• Her and Link share one (1) braincell.

• Suffering because she doesn’t have the Sheikah slate. Has to improvise.

Disguise: 10/10 very normal person look. Wears traveller tunic with hood partly because it’s comfy, partly so she doesn’t get recognized by the Yiga.

And that’s what I’ve got so far!!

[thetriggeredhappy]

combining team fluff, team bonding, and ASL pyro into one fic, with the additional latine pyro for myself because it’s dia de muertos and i’m really excited for it this year. also ft way too many cascarónes because i’m super mad i didn’t get the chance to make them this year

(warnings for discussion of death, but without negative connotations. dia de muertos motherfuckers)

-

“What’s up, Mumbles,” Scout greeted, slapping Pyro on the shoulder as he passed where they were sitting on the couch, doing a double-take as he caught sight of what they were doing over their shoulder. “Hey, what’s goin’ on over here?”

The room glanced up, Demo and Sniper from their card game at the table, the Engineer from his chair where he was sat doing a sudoku. “That’s a lot of paper,” Sniper observed mildly, clearly eyeing the multiple chains of paper already lying to one side of Pyro, or maybe the pile of paper flowers quickly being assembled. It was hard to tell with the sunglasses.

“What’s all that for, then? Doin’ rituals?” Demo joked.

Pyro’s reply was to sort of wave them off, and the Engineer took his cue to chime in. “Makin’ an altar, for the Day of the Dead,” he said.

“Ofrenda,” was Pyro’s correction, spelled out by the letter quickly with the hand not holding a flower together.

“Right. Dia de Muertos,” the Engineer agreed, nodding.

“Isn’t it, uh, dia de los Muertos?” Scout asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Nah. Or, sometimes. In a formal setting, maybe,” Engineer said, glancing over at Pyro for confirmation.

Pyro, having finished the flower they were working on, added their two cents. “Yeah, not that one. You sound really, really American. That’s what Americans call it.”

“Oh.”

“What are we talking about?” Sniper asked across the room, looking his passive version of confused.

“Never heard of it?” the Engineer asked, a little surprised.

“Scottish and Australian, Toymaker,” Demo reminded him, setting down his cards altogether. “We don’t have all the same holidays.”

“It’s, er,” the Engineer started, paused. “Well, never celebrated it all that much myself, to be honest, unless we had my mother’s side of the family around at the time. Had a tiny little altar some years, but mostly just knew about it from folks in town.”

Pyro sighed slightly as they had to set down their paper flowers to sign. “Holiday. Like a memorial day, except not depressing. It’s a celebration of the dead. First and second of November, spirits come and visit the living for a little while. We make decorations and food and music for them to have and see when they come visit.”

“Ah,” Demo nodded.

“Bit early, isn’t it?” the Sniper asked, glancing towards the calendar on the wall. “Few weeks away.”

“Wanted to get a head start. Last few years, we’ve been kind of busy around that time,” Pyro replied, giving a meaningful look up towards Demo.

“Look, you find a cure for haunted eye socket, I’m all ears,” Demo scoffed.

“We don’t gotta worry about these ghosts, like, starting shit, right?” Scout asked slowly.

“No. Ghosts aren’t supposed to be scary or evil or anything. They’re just people who died. People die all the time,” Pyro waved off, shaking their head with exasperation.

“Y’know, Firebug, this is really supposed to be a sort of family… or, er, group activity. A community thing,” the Engineer pointed out. “I really think the fellas would wanna participate, if we have the chance. Hell, we all might like the break, even. Especially if, uh…” He trailed off, looking towards Demo.

“Alright, it’s not the eye thing every year. Some years it’s Soldier’s fault for having a shite roommate,” Demo pointed out.

“Sure,” Pyro finally said after a short pause, and went back to making the flowers, and paused again, carefully put them down. “Want to help me make these?”

“Sure,” the Engineer said immediately, moving over and shuffling paper aside to take a seat.

-

“Pan de Muerto?” Spy read aloud, arching an eyebrow as he looked down at the recipe in the open cookbook.

“Yeah,” Pyro agreed briefly as they moved between cabinets at a steady pace, pulling down spices and ingredients with practiced ease.

“I assume this is for your holiday?” he asked in the same disinterested intonation, eyeing the ingredients already on the counter.

“Yeah,” they agreed again, even more rapidly than before as they bent to try and find the mixing bowl in the lower cabinets. When they resurfaced, they elaborated. “I make my own. I’m going to make some now and then some right before just in case it gets eaten before then.”

“Hmm.” Spy regarded the page for a few more moments, adjusting to one side as Pyro also leaned in to glance at it for a second before moving away again. “Any particular reason it is a sweet bread, by any chance?”

“Because it’s delicious,” Pyro shrugged, and that got a snort from Spy.

“Well, either way, I think I’ll be chaperoning this particular baking day,” he finally said, standing up more fully. “After your complex history with using the oven.”

“Hold on, that was a long time ago,” Pyro protested, shaking their head at him disapprovingly in place of a frown.

“Three months is hardly that long. If anything, we’re overdue for another kitchen fire,” Spy replied.

The sound of a sigh from inside Pyro’s suit, and then Spy made a much-less-dignified-than-usual noise of surprise at a mixing bowl full of ingredients colliding with his chest. “Fine, then start mixing, I have to start baking the one I mixed yesterday,” they instructed, and Spy considered giving some sort of snappy retort before deciding to just go along with it.

Still, he found time for his snide remarks. “Two and a half teaspoons of anise?” he murmured, looking at where a correction had been scrawled in the ingredients list. “Surely one and a half would be more than enough.”

“Don’t tell me how to live my life,” Pyro protested flatly where they were making little bone shapes out of dough, and had to scold him firmly a few moments later when they watched him put a single teaspoon in the mixture then go to put the spice back away.

-

Medic looked over the line of eggs before him with a critical eye. “So,” he finally said, tone serious. “What exactly is the method for this?”

“Well,” Pyro began, then paused, fidgeting with their hands a little. “I haven’t tried to make these since I was a little kid, so I don’t actually remember. Mostly we made them on birthdays. Or around Easter. Because… Easter. And eggs. But, you can make a cascarón whenever. Sort of.”

A nod from Medic, who returned to staring at the eggs, expression calculated. “Eggs are extremely fragile,” he said, and Pyro nodded in agreement. “And very thin. Piecing one back together would be a lot of trouble.”

A nod from Pyro, not that Medic was paying attention to them anymore.

“What would make the most sense is to make the smallest hole possible, making it easier to cover later. Then again, getting the confetti into the egg is going to be a different task altogether.”

“I know usually, you cover the hole in the spare tissue paper,” Pyro tried to add.

“Is there any particular reason you wanted me to do this?” Medic asked, either not noting what they said or just moving on from it.

“Steady hands. Surgeon.”

Medic nodded, looked back down at the eggs. Paused. “…What if, instead of confetti, a small chicken came out. I assume that would break tradition.”

Pyro’s posture was enough to display the fact that they lit up. “Absolutely, but also it would be incredible.”

Medic broke into one of his less-than-sane grins, rubbing his hands together. “Then let us get started, my friend.”

-

Soldier looked up when Pyro waved him down, drawn from his conversation with Demo. “Hello, Private,” he greeted as Pyro walked up, set a case on the table.

“The chicken thing didn’t work out,” Pyro noted to Demo, who made a noise of vague disappointment, holding up his flask in a brief toast of remembrance. “Soldier. I wanted to ask if you would help with something.”

“Absolutely. What is my mission?” Soldier asked immediately, standing at attention.

“These are confetti eggs,” Pyro signed, “and they’re really fragile. Would you mind watching these for me? I don’t want them to get broken on accident.”

“I will!” Soldier declared, saluting briefly. “What is the purpose of these eggs?”

“What’re they called?” Demo asked, and watched Pyro sign it out by letter, then pronunciation. “Cheers. Cascarón, Soldier.”

“What is the purpose of this cast carry on?” Soldier asked.

“You break them over people’s heads.”

Soldier, hearing this, immediately seized an egg in one hand and spiked it like a football directly on top of Demo’s whole shit.

“Oi!” Demo protested, starting to brush the confetti from his hat, laughing. “Watch the curls! Do it to someone else!”

Soldier seized a second egg, smashing it over Pyro’s head, who was also laughing now. “Soldier! C’mon, leave some for everyone else!” they protested.

“The cats curled on are a far too potent weapon! They need to be deployed now! Before they’re taken hostage!” Soldier insisted, starting to scoop up handfuls of the eggs.

“Soldier, no!” Demo protested, both he and Pyro starting to wrestle eggs from his hands, laughing as they were increasingly covered in confetti.

-

Halfway through setting up the arch of paper flowers, Pyro heard someone enter the room, and waved vaguely behind themselves, finishing tacking the last flower in place and bending to get another chain of them. When they’d straightened up again, they jumped at the sight of Heavy, lingering at their shoulder, looking over the altar with a critical eye.

“What is this?” Heavy asked simply.

“Decorations,” Pyro signed, hanging the flower chain on their wrist briefly to explain. “For the altar. For the Day of the Dead celebrations.”

“Day of the Dead?” Heavy asked, frowning further. “Is memorial service? For who?”

Pyro went to sign yes, then no, then sighed a little, starting over. “Sort of. It’s not really a memorial, it’s not supposed to be sad. It’s a celebration.”

“You celebrate when people die?” Heavy asked very slowly, as if already knowing that he was probably mistaken. Pyro shook their head.

“It’s… we make the altar, and leave offerings, food and drink that the dead liked, pictures, things like that, because they were important,” Pyro explained. “Were significant. We loved them, and cared about them, and respect them, and so every year, we build altars and talk about why we liked them and what we remembered about them, and play music and celebrate with them, because they’re important.”

Heavy nodded after a moment, looking up at the arch and moving to re-pin where a part of the chain had come loose. “Happy memorial service,” Heavy self-corrected.

“Yeah. Except… well, we leave food the people liked because it’s like… we’re inviting them back. The night is special because this is the night they can come back. And we’re also having a party for them, making the food so they can share, telling stories so they know we remembered them and loved them.” Pyro handed Heavy the end of a chain, and he moved to start pinning it up wordlessly. “It’s not sad because dying isn’t sad. Death isn’t sad. It’s part of life just like being born is, and getting older is. And you live, and it’s important, and then you die, and people care about you so much that every year they bake you bread. It’s… nice to think about.”

“Very good way of thinking of things,” Heavy noted, nodding approvingly. “Very healthy.”

“Thanks.” Pyro started securing their own chain after a moment, and paused when they’d finished tacking it into place. Heavy seemed to notice, also pausing briefly in his motion. “That’s one thing that confuses me about the United States, and Americans. Death is really, really scary to most of them. I guess I just don’t have that.”

“Little Pyro is not only very brave, but also very content,” Heavy suggested, and Pyro’s shy downward tilt of the face betrayed the way it flustered them.

“Thanks,” they said again quickly, briefly, before picking up more chain and busying themselves with it, and Heavy chuckled, continuing to pin up flowers.

-

“Ooh, bread,” Scout murmured, reaching towards the altar.

“Not for you, Scooter!” the Engineer hollered from clear across the rec room, and Scout flinched back, then pouted.

“Who the hell is it for, then?” he complained.

“Ghosts,” Demo said from the couch, and Scout squinted at him, then towards Pyro for confirmation. Pyro just shrugged with a nod.

“Quite a lot of work went into the bread for it to be the property of only ghosts,” Spy muttered, and the Engineer elbowed him.

“Be nice for once,” the Engineer said.


“What, to the ghosts? Is baking them bread not enough kindness?”

“Bet it tastes bad. Bet your shit’s gonna be haunted as hell,” Scout said, and Spy scoffed, marching over.

“It tastes excellent, I’ll have you know,” he said, moving to pointedly adjust the plate holding the bread to sit more neatly on the table.

“Oh, what the fuck! Why does Spy get to eat the ghost bread?” Scout demanded.

“He’s a specter just like them,” Demo said from the couch.

“He helped bake it,” Pyro explained, and was acknowledged only by Scout, who huffed at that answer.

“Whatever. Can I at least eat the, uh, the egg… candy… things?” Scout asked next, picking up an egg from the little bowl.

“They aren’t candy,” Pyro corrected quickly. “Don’t eat them.”

“Don’t listen to ‘em, Scout,” Demo said from the couch. “Eat what you want. Live your own life, lad.”

“They’re confetti eggs,” the Engineer started to explain patiently. “Egg shells full of little bits of confetti. What you’re supposed to do is—“

Scout didn’t wait for the end of the sentence, instead slapping the egg down on the top of Spy’s head at high speeds.

“—Well, yeah, pretty much just that,” the Engineer finished under the sound of Spy starting to swear with speed, volume, and vigor.

The rest of the room started paying attention with that as an argument broke out, and started to laugh increasingly as both Spy and Scout started trying to hit each other with more eggs. Over at the dinner table, Heavy subtly picked one up from a second bowl sitting over there, crushing it in his hand over Medic’s head and making the doctor swear, trying to save his dinner from the confetti. From there, a war began.

“Sniper, no!” Pyro protested towards the Australian as Spy was beaned in the back of the head with one from all the way across the room. “You’re supposed to break it over their head, not throw it!”

“Sorry, mate,” Sniper called, and ducked under the table as Spy found and picked up another egg, scanning the room.

No corner of the rec room was safe from pieces of confetti, and everyone’s plates were ruined in the carnage, inedible with little pieces of paper showered over them. Pyro remained mostly unscathed, mostly because they were too busy laughing, heart soaring at the sight of everyone taking part and getting involved.

“So, uh, who’s the lady?” Scout asked later, all but forced to help clean up some confetti due to being the one who smashed the most. Pyro tilted their head at him, and he pointed at a picture on the altar. “The, uh, lady. In the picture. Who’s she?”

“The Engineer’s mom,” Pyro explained simply. “He was telling me stories yesterday when he was helping me set some things up. She was really nice.”

“Cool, cool,” Scout murmured, eyes returning down to his sweeping, and Pyro’s to their own. “So he made that thing too, then? It’s his too?”

Pyro nodded. “It’s everyone’s, really. That’s kind of the point. It’s supposed to be a community thing. A sharing thing,” they explained.

“Oh, cool.” Another pause. “So you wouldn’t mind or nothin’ if, uh, if I put… some pictures up there? Of some people?”

“That’s fine,” Pyro nodded. “Part of it is that you’re supposed to tell stories about them, though. It’s a happy thing.”

“Oh, you’ve already probably heard the stories,” Scout waved off, smiling. “I was thinkin’ of putting a picture of my grandad. Pops. Awesome dude, talked circles around people until he was like ninety, real smart. I’ve talked about him for sure. He was a great guy.”

Pyro gestured at him to continue, and he paused, thought for a second.

“I mean, yeah, I remember it being a whole thing how he didn’t wanna move into somewhere, right?” Scout started. “Like, an old folks’ home. Nuh uh. No way. He wasn’t having it. Lived in his house all by himself, up and down stairs and everything, until he was like ninety-five. Strong dude. Used to be in the military, fought in the war, the first one. And literally every day he’d walk like half a mile, every morning, eight AM, down to this deli he’d been going to for like forty years, and he’d get himself a donut and a coffee and a newspaper and walk home. Did it through blizzards and shit. Only time he ever missed that eight AM donut was when my first brother was born because he was at the hospital with my Ma about it, and the guy at the deli like, basically called 911.”

Pyro’s shoulders shook with a laugh, and Scout snickered too.

“But, yeah. Cranky funny old guy, Pops. Then, uh, then when I was a kid, one day he, uh, he trips on some icy sidewalk, hurts his leg, goes to the hospital. It’s not super bad, but they’ve gotta do a surgery, pretty easy one. Only problem is he’s like, yeah, in his nineties.” Scout’s expression was falling. “Surgery was fine, but recovery took forever, and then he wasn’t recovering, and then it kept getting worse, and… yeah. I was in grade school I think? So, yeah. Cool, uh… cool guy though. Gave me my first baseball cards, y’know?”

Pyro looked up. Scout cleared his throat, drew the back of his hand over his face briefly. “It’s super bad luck to cry at one of these,” Pyro said carefully.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m, uh, I’m gonna be haunted as shit,” Scout apologized, laughed a little.

“For the ghosts, actually. Apparently, it…” Pyro stopped suddenly.

Scout looked up, blinked, cracked a grin. “Why? What happens?” he asked, curious.

“…Apparently, it makes the ghosts slip and fall,” Pyro signed awkwardly, and there was a brief pause before a laugh was punched out of Scout, more of a wheeze, and then they were both laughing, until Scout was nearly bent double with it and Pyro was leaning on the altar table for support.

“Holy shit, Mumbles!” Scout wheezed, half taken aback but extremely entertained. “What the fuck, pal!”

“I realized it as I was signing it!” Pyro protested, still laughing.

It took them both a minute to calm down, and Scout picked up his broom again, shaking his head. “Holy shit. Oh my god. Okay, anyways, sorry about your other leg, Ghost Pops,” he laughed, and that set Pyro off into another set of giggles. “Okay, anyways. When the fuck do I get to eat the bread?”

“After the ghosts do,” Pyro replied, still giggling.

“Hey, I should grab a donut and a coffee for Pops. He’d lose his mind,” Scout said, glancing over the table.

“Yeah, do it. You have tomorrow, too. It’s the first and the second of November,” Pyro replied, and he nodded.

“Hell yeah. Thanks pal. Especially for the laugh. Hey, we should do this next year. And make way more eggs,” Scout said, and even if he couldn’t see it, it made Pyro smile.

[rei-does-stuff]

OKAY SO I HAD AN IDEA

What if Blackbeard started having hallucinations of like Stede the way Stede had with Badminton and shit

SO I WROTE A LIL THING ABOUT IT SOOOO

Stede in this is obvi ooc since its not rlly him but yk

Tried to do Blackbeard right so hopefully I did well

I TRIED I DONT USUALLY DO FANDOM WRITING SOOO ONTO THE FIC

—

Edward Tech…No Blackbeard took a swig of rum. He still thought about him. About Stede, he had heard what happened, he was dead. No one seemed to know how the man died, mauled by a wild cat, killed by his former wife, shot by Badminton, all the sorts. But one thing was for certain, Stede Bonnet was dead. Deader than dead if the mauling was true. It made him want to cry, but Blackbeard didn’t cry. No matter how much he wanted to. Instead he threw his half finished bottle of rum at wall in a sad rage. Because violence was the only thing Blackbeard could do.

“Well that’s not very nice is it?” He heard a familiar voice said with a hint of disgust. “Stede…?” He said in a hush voice. “I-I thought you were dead.” Was he seeing things? Was he drunk? He had to be. ‘Stede’ smiled at him. Though it wasn’t his usual smile no, it was different. Stede’s smile were warm and filled with life and happiness. This smile was filled with…What was that word? Passive aggression.

“Oh I am dead Ed! Very dead! Didn’t you hear? I was mauled by a wild cat, or killed by my wife or Badminton! The details don’t really matter though I suppose.” His voice was cheerful, but had a heavy hint of sarcasm, like he was mocking him. “Glad to see you’re holding up wonderfully, you look dreadful. More than usual!” He said. “Are you here to haunt me or something?” Edward asked. “Mayhaps! Haven’t decided yet. We have a lot to catch up though since you left without me, or I left without and died. Details details…” He told him. “But y’know, dead or not I would have never even come with you to begin with you know?” ‘Stede’ said.

“What?” Blackbeard replied in surprise, a shocked look on his face. “Oh my goodness your face! Did you really think I would’ve ran away with you to what? China??” He let out a laugh. “God if you thought that you’re more pathetic than I am! And that says a lot!”

“You said you would though!” Edward said. What was even happening??? “And you believed me?!” ‘Stede’ exclaimed. “Ed, I was lying! You’d think the mighty Blackbeard would catch on to that!”

“Think about it, and really think because I know you don’t do that often, but why, why would I ever go with you? You out of everyone?” He asked him. “Because…Because we made each other happy..” Edward said quietly. “Ed…I left you waiting for hours! If I really loved you would I do that? You were just…Something fun for a while. But I got really bored you know? Especially with how…Horrible you are.” ‘Stede’ said with a frown. “What?!” Blackbeard said through gritted teeth. “I mean just look at you, it’s kinda funny how you treat everyone so horribly and are SO surprised when they hate you! You killed your own father, you left a whole ship to burn to ashes for fun! For goodness sake you threw poor Lucius overboard for no reason! Is it really that hard to get through your thick skull??” ‘Stede’s’ voice grew louder and louder.

“You’re a monster Ed. You really are like the Kraken. Who knows maybe if you checked on me I wouldn’t have died. But you didn’t, because no matter what you do, you’re Blackbeard. The most bloodthirsty pirate that ever lived. And Blackbeard doesn’t care about anyone else but himself because all he is, is a SELFISH LITTLE TWAT-“

“SHUT UP! Shut the fuck up!” He threw Stede’s boat model of the ship at him. The one thing he didn’t throw away. But it didn’t do anything, going through straight through him and shattering into a few pieces. And before he had time to even think he was gone. Like he was never there. A few minutes later Izzy open the door. “Are you alright captain?” He asked. “Yeah I am…” He sighed.

“I need a fucking drink.”

—

LMK WHAT YOU THINK SHSHSJ I TRIED

[jeonqqin]

man up. [m] | pt. 1

h. jisung x reader | netflix teen rom-com au

— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.

or alternatively;

Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au

WARNING: language, eventual smut, minho is a little bitch

A/N: I pulled little tropes from pretty much every Netflix teen rom-com so if you see those little allusions then that’s why,, also I hope you all don’t mind that I made this into a series!

▸ request

CHAPTERS:  01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

© jeonqqin 2020

Your eyes blurred over the words that were held out in front of you, every page harder to remember than the last. 

It was your fault you were in the library studying during lunch period. You were the one that decided to procrastinate after all. But you also had no idea what was going to be on the exam in your statistics class. How could you start studying when you had no idea what you were meant to be studying? At least, that was your genius excuse for not touching your statistics book all week.

Resting your head on your hand, your eyes briefly wandered off of your book and directly up into a pair of pretty brown ones. They were already looking at you; gaze intense and flirty. It had you quickly looking back down at your book on instinct, this time without the intention of actually reading anything. 

No way. 

The boy sitting directly across from you was cute—no doubt about that. It was hard to disregard just how pretty he was with his classic big brown eyes and flat brown hair. At least, you couldn’t ignore him when he was clearly looking at you. Peeking up to make sure you weren’t seeing things, you caught his gaze again. And as his lip quirked up, you knew it wasn’t just a coincidence—he was deliberately looking at you. A childish giddiness flooded your stomach at the realization. 

He smiled at you; charming and sweet. 

“Do you know anything about political science?”

It took you a second to process what he asked, but you eventually shook your head with a smile. “D’you know anything about the statistics exam next Wednesday?”

He shrugged playfully. “Not a clue.”

“Well, it looks like we’re in the same boat then.”

“Utterly screwed by the school system?”

Snorting loudly, you instantly received an unhappy glare from the librarian and a followed up hush. An apology was on the tip of your tongue, but with the newfound fear of making another noise, you opted to send her a timid wave. Neither you nor the cute stranger moved until she returned to her book. But then he was slinking over and taking the seat beside you. 

You could’ve squealed—imagine being such a teenage girl that you were so ecstatic to sit next to a cute guy. You were practically bouncing in your seat. 

“At least I know that there’s someone else who can understand my worries,” he whispered, turning in his chair to face you completely. 

You scoffed, eyeing the librarian for a moment before blinking back at the boy in front of you. 

“Yeah right. You could ask the entire student body and they would all reply in one collective groan.” 

“You’re not wrong there.” He hummed. “Thanks for not making me feel like a complete loser for procrastinating.”

“Oh, you’re still a loser for procrastinating,” you said, attempting to hold back your smile as he looked at you with a raised brow. “You’re just not the only one now.”

He made a playful noise of anguish, nodding his head with a silent laugh. “Ouch. That hurts coming from a mystery girl.”

You shrugged coyly, letting him take that as your answer before you leaned back against your palm. 

“Maybe,” he paused for a moment, glancing around to the occupied librarian and continuing, “After classes, we could go out for coffee. Y’know—to get better acquainted. Unless you wanted me to keep calling you ‘mystery girl’.”

You pretended to weigh your options in your head, eyes flicking up towards the ceiling and an uncontrollable smile slipping onto your lips. 

You were getting asked out. And every possible thing was going right; he was cute, he was witty, there was a connection, there were no interruptions—

“Are you free at six?”

Your mouth opened to reply a quick “yes”, but suddenly there were a set of hands landing firmly on your shoulders and you could feel the familiar brush of soft hair against your cheek. 

“No sir, she is not free.” 

The subtly stern voice of your brother replied, and the color of the stranger's face in front of you went pale as his eyes darted between you and the intruder beside you. “But thanks for asking.”

“Sorry, Minho—man, I didn’t know she was your girlfriend. I swear.” Came the panicked reply. 

You winced, expression going sour as the apologies flew out of the boy’s mouth at a rapid pace. 

“Sister.” Minho corrected, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on his face that read disaster. 

And then after a few more unsettling glares and passive-aggressive comments from your older brother, the guy was gone, his head lowered to his chest. You had seen worse. There had been many more that happened to end in bruises and a visit from campus security, so a little humiliation wasn’t so terrible. 

But fucking hell—there goes another one. 

“You need to stop doing that,” you said, swiping all your books into your bag as your brother watched the poor soul leave the library with satisfaction. 

Minho scoffed. “What? Weeding out the losers that run at a little sign of conflict?” He tisked patronizingly. “Do you really want to be in a relationship with someone who pisses themselves because your brother was being a little protective? I’m not going to be here forever, and who will be the one to watch out for you then? Certainly not Mr. Are-You-Free-At-Six.”

A heavy sigh left your lips. You had heard his speech before and you had been infuriated. But after years of the same response and lecture, you grew numb to the feeling of anger towards your brother. 

“Who said I even needed protecting?”

“Me. I’m your big brother, I know what’s best for you.” He replied curtly, grabbing your bag from your shoulder and slinging it over his own. 

You scowled, following him as he charmingly waved at the librarian on your way out. She chuckled under her breath and fluttered her fingers towards Minho, absolutely no intention of even glancing at you. Minho was a very likable person. He had always been able to use his endless pool of charisma to get on anyone’s good side, and that had opened up many opportunities for him. 

Unfortunately, your brother had many sides to him, and one of them had manifested from his obsessive need to keep you away from any and all possible danger in life. That part of him was what had every guy running for the hills. 

You were a freshman in college, and every relationship you had was ruined, courtesy of your older brother. 

The two of you merged into the crowded halls filled with unrushed university students, several people greeting Minho with friendly gestures that you couldn’t keep up with. It was as if no one even saw you—you supposed that was also Minho’s fault.

“I have class now,” you huffed, tugging your bag from his shoulder and nearly making him stumble into a wall. “Okay? Am I allowed to continue my education, oh great brother of mine?”

Minho made a mocking face in your direction. “Haha. Very funny, young lady. Now don’t go seducing any more good-for-nothing’s while I’m gone. Got it?”

“I’m going to kill you one of these days.”

Minho snorted, spinning on his heel towards the direction of his own class. 

“And I’ll be waiting with open arms, little sister!”

“Eat shit, Minho!”

With a visible bounce in his step he disappeared behind the corner, supposedly heading to his next class, but you knew it was just a matter of time before he would get sidetracked and distracted along the way. He was always excited to see you around campus, seeing you—his baby sister—just made his day better. 

Generally, you found yourself smiling after a good interaction with your brother, but then he would go and pull the ‘protective brother’ card and suddenly you had the urge to rip his throat out. Minho knew you were growing up and pretty soon his intrusions wouldn’t be seen as just a nuisance, and they would turn into more of an invasion of your personal life. But you could see how much that realization hurt him, so you held back. 

You settled into your seat as one of the first people in the lecture hall, watching as your professor rubbed his eyes and set up the slides for the class. 

On your second day of class, your professor had snapped at one of the students for being late for his lecture, and it scared the shit out of you. The next day he apologized and used the excuse of being hungover and hungry, and it opened your eyes to the fact that you weren’t in high school anymore. You were surrounded by adults—careless and irresponsible adults, granted, but they were old enough to understand your professor’s woes. 

Still, you would never find yourself arriving late, just in case you caught him on one of his bad days. 

“Y/n,” 

The cheery voice startled you out of your stupor. 

“Good morning, my darling.”

Your eyes rolled back, though a smile still grew on your face. A fleeting thought ran through your head, you shouldn’t have been surprised, he did it every morning. You offered him a sparing glance as he stepped up to your seat, falling back into the uncomfortable chair beside you. 

“Hi, Jisung,” you chuckled as his arm swung around your shoulders. 

You decided to ignore the way the cut of his sleeves allowed you to get a glimpse of the muscle that was starting to form.

Han Jisung was your brother’s best friend, an annoying loud-mouth who was in too many of your classes for it to be a coincidence. He had been by Minho’s side for most of his life, and therefore, most of yours. And he flirted with you for as long as you could remember. 

Just as the majority of the students started to flood the hall, Jisung pulled an apple out of his bag, holding it out for you to take. 

“I noticed that you hadn’t gone to lunch with Felix today, and I figured since you’re looking berry cute today—” He grabbed your hand, placing the fruit into your palm. “Sorry. I didn't have any lines for apples.”

And the pickup lines—the many, many pickup lines.

“Really? Nothing?” You asked.

His head shook, eyes coy. 

You aided him, shaking the apple in front of his face, “You’re the apple of my eye?”

“Ah…” He nodded in realization, seemingly bummed for not thinking of that one before. But then suddenly a smirk flickered over his features and he was pinching your cheek, “I knew you were in love with me.”

You turned away from his grabbing hand, fighting back the urge to roll your eyes. His talent was finding a way to flirt with you, and at times you had wondered how he was so good at it. 

Practice made perfect, you guessed. 

You smiled. “Uh-huh.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he was in love with you—

“Hyunae told me to start eating more fruit, so she threw the apple into my bag when I wasn’t looking.”

—but Han Jisung had a girlfriend, and she was so much more than you could ever be. 

Not that you cared at all. 

“So you two are doing well?” You asked, feigning interest as you reached into your bag and pulled out your laptop. Maybe if you were stealthy enough you would be able to sneak in some studying while your professor went on about how traffic signs affected climate change—or whatever it was that he was talking about that week. 

No wonder why you had no idea what you were doing.

Jisung hummed, leaning back in his seat. “Yeah. She’s still bossy, but that’s just Hyunae.” 

“I heard she got into quite the discussion with Hyunjin this morning.”

You were swinging pretty low, but you weren’t the biggest fan of Hyunae to begin with, so there was a small part of you that enjoyed picking at the scabs she left behind. 

Okay, there was a pretty big part of you. 

“Don’t remind me,” he grunted. “One day their fights will end with murder. And it’ll be me who is found dead.” 

“Next time they get into an argument just slip away and let campus security deal with the mess. Let the bitches be bitches.” 

Your suggestion was in the form of a joke, but really, you meant every word. 

Hyunae easily rivaled Hyunjin’s bitchiness, and in your group of friends, that statement had weight to it. Not just anyone could argue with Hyunjin and step away unscathed, but she managed to do so just about every day. You would’ve been impressed had she ever shown you any kindness, but she hated you from day one. You were only returning the favor by rooting for Hyunjin until he somehow figured out how to kill someone with his words. 

He had come close before, so you kept your fingers crossed.

“Well that bitch is a goddess in bed,” Jisung snickered, his voice just loud enough for you to hear. “And frankly it’s hot when someone’s bossy during sex—”

“Are we talking about Hyunae or Hyunjin now?”

Jisung laughed sarcastically, throwing a sneer your way. “Bravo. You want a medal for the joke of the year?”

“Nah, I have plenty of better jokes that imply that you like boys.” You absentmindedly glanced back towards your professor as he began the lecture, his voice as uninterested as your gaze. “Though I have yet to make one about your secret relationship with my brother.”

Jisung nodded with fake enthusiasm and said, “That’s nice but I’m not listening to you anymore.”

“The girls on campus would pay big bucks for that sex tape.”

“Shut up before I throw up on you.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you didn’t like me.” You pouted half-assed, typing notes that you would never use solely because their only purpose was to make it seem like you cared. Though by the look of it, the professor probably gave less of a shit than you anyway. 

Jisung’s teasing and inappropriate comments hardly bothered you anymore, especially since you knew how to counter them with your own. 

“I don’t even know why I’m here,” he mused, though you both knew the reason why he was taking the class was because he needed the credits and the teacher didn’t care if you botched all of your tests as long as the final was double-spaced and had your name at the top. 

“Because I’m your favorite.” You whispered, lifting your pointer finger to your lips. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell Minho.”

“As if. Get your head out of your ass.” 

“Duly noted.”

You loved Jisung.

You loved him in the same way you loved your brother; you didn’t want to love him, but for whatever twisted reason, the universe made it so. Too bad you didn’t think of Jisung as a brother—the game of life was cruel that way. It sucked that he was such a good… everything. Han Jisung was a good friend, a good boyfriend, and annoyingly one of the best people you had ever met. 

Not that you would ever admit that to him and risk his head inflating to the size of Felix’s stuffed animal collection. 

Dammit, you really didn’t want to love that moron. 

Maybe you could get away with being in like with him instead.

“Y/n!”

Your head swiveled, just barely catching a flash of ridiculous purple hair before a hold on your wrist was stopping you mid-stride. 

“Owie,” was what came out of your mouth, your gaze set into a glare at your aggressor.

Though, Felix wasn’t fazed by your scowl. He was too excited—or pissed, it was hard to tell—about whatever he wanted to tell you. But knowing him, his news probably had something to do with the meme he posted on Twitter that morning—you did see it, and no, you weren’t very impressed. You expected better than the overused picture of the woman yelling at that cat at the dinner table. Caption be damned, that meme wasn’t even good anymore. 

Felix was followed by his shorter but considerably stronger lackey. Without even looking at him you already knew Changbin’s biceps were popping under the black shirt he wore, the whole aesthetic making him look way more intimidating than he was. 

“Where were you?” Felix asked, smacking your arm hard enough to gain your attention. “You didn’t meet us for lunch.”

“Maybe because I don’t appreciate your abuse.” 

“Haha. Seriously,” he griped, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why’d you ditch me?”

You had been friends with Felix for who knows how long, but you would never get used to how needy the boy was. You and your brother sure grabbed a couple of good ones. 

“I had to study.” You admitted with a huff, though you already knew your excuse wouldn’t be enough for Felix. 

“Okay, one—you never do that.” He countered before flashing you a look. “And two—liar.”

You set your gaze on Changbin for some support, but the boy simply avoided your eyes as his way of saying “you’re on your own here”.

You turned back to Felix with a groan. Changbin never helped you ever, the bastard. 

“Lix I have a dumb test in statistics next week and for whatever reason, all I can remember right now is that the SREB3 gene in zebrafish can cure cancer or something.”

“That has nothing to do with statistics—”

“And is also very wrong. Are you even paying attention in biology?” Changbin asked, his face scrunched up in a mix of confusion and disgust. 

You motioned to Changbin to prove your point. “Hence the reason why I was in the library.”

Felix suddenly tilted his head back and did that thing where he looked like he was trying to convince himself that living was worth it. 

He sighed. “Okay, I’m calling Seungmin—”

At his words, you all but shrieked, a hand swatting Felix’s shoulder instinctively.

Seungmin was a friend of Hyunjin’s, which indirectly made him a friend of yours. But the relationship between the two of you could only be classified as rocky considering he felt the need to tell you just how much he wanted to, and you quote, “throw a rock at your head”. Ironically enough, the feeling was mutual. 

But you would never say that to his face because that would most likely lead him to complete the task.

“You promised to never do that to me again!” You cried, throwing yourself against Felix’s boney shoulder. 

This time was Felix’s turn to look at Changbin and search for help, but he was met with the same passive reaction as you had received. Honestly, you didn’t know why anyone tried anymore. 

“He’s not that bad, Y/n.”

You gaped, disbelieving of your friend’s words. “You can’t be serious. He’s the devil! He preys on the weak, and then spits out their bones, Felix.”

“He tutored you once and you got a ninety-eight on your exam.”

“After hours of torture and anguish.” 

Felix gave you an unsympathetic look before plucking his phone from Changbin’s back pocket, “I’m calling him.”

With a glare, you folded your arms over your chest. “Remember this moment the next time you ask me to revise your Tinder bio.” 

“Joke’s on you. Changbin gives better advice and he doesn’t laugh at me.”

You snorted despite yourself. 

But before Felix could lift the phone to his ear, Changbin’s began to ring obnoxiously in his pocket, and you were ready to bow and praise whichever deity in the sky that decided to bless you with such luck. 

And like a child, you stuck out your tongue. 

“What’s up?” Changbin hummed, turning away from the two of you. “Did you get all of your stuff in the apartment yet…?”

Changbin and Minho were roommates and had been since Changbin was a freshman. The two worked well together in the sense that they were both loud as hell and could (and hopefully never will) sleep through a stampede of elephants in their living room. 

Felix slipped his phone into his pocket, unabashedly listening to the conversation just as you were. 

“They must’ve finally found someone interested in moving in.”

They had always talked about renting with someone else, but along with being the worst people to live with, the duo was picky as hell. Pigs would fly and snowballs would be living in hell the moment they let someone else move in with them. 

“Okay, but is Minho going to let you turn the office into a recording room?”

You froze, a remark on the tip of your tongue. 

Changbin was talking on the phone about recording—an activity that you knew for a fact that only two people in your life had ever taken part in—and moving into Minho and Changbin’s shared apartment. 

Now, you weren’t the brightest crayon in the box but connecting all the dots wasn’t too difficult. 

“Are you crazy?” 

Not only was the idea of Jisung moving into Minho’s apartment a terrible one, but it would also compromise the only place you could relax in peace. Your dorm was hell (for reasons you didn’t want to relive) and you weren’t allowed anywhere near the boys' dorm. You were currently on the RA’s shit-list ever since the misunderstanding that went down last semester—

Bad timing for a room check one night when you, Felix, and Hyunjin were in a compromising position.

If Jisung moved in with Minho, you would then be spending more time with him, and all the hard work you spent on keeping your distance would’ve been for nothing. You’d probably see his monster of a girlfriend around regularly as well, and you didn’t want to witness any of that in your lifetime. 

Time to welcome the snowballs to hell, because that was where you were headed. 

Hoisting your bag over your shoulder, you positioned yourself to run.

“Lix, I’m sorry but I have to go beat some sense into my brother! Maybe we can talk to Seungmin on a day when I feel like dying from blunt force trauma.”

You didn’t bother to wait for the yelling as you took off through the quad. 

The wind slapped you in the face the moment you were away from the cover of the university buildings, and you were suddenly second-guessing the escapade. Though, you simply chalked your reluctance up to laziness and continued forward. Minho’s apartment wasn’t far from the university, and after his little stunt in the library, you were looking forward to kicking his ass in the privacy of his home. 

You pulled your spare key from your bag as you finally approached the complex, eager to get away from the nipping wind. Because fuck you for wearing a t-shirt in forty-degree weather.

Pushing the door open, you threw your bag inside recklessly, “Minho, you flat-faced asshole. You tell me right now that Jisung isn’t your new—” 

But you screeched to a stop as your eyes locked onto someone who definitely wasn’t Minho. 

“Roommate.” 

You swallowed. 

A man with perfectly styled black hair and no sleeves on his shirt sat on your brother's couch, a pair of thick headphones covering his ears and a laptop resting on his thick thighs. His eyes darted up to meet your gaze as the door closed behind you, and a single brow raised as you stood in front him in a stupor. 

“Hello,” he pulled his headphones down to hang around his neck, cocking his head in amusement. “I am neither Minho nor Jisung, and I really hope I’m not a flat-faced asshole. Can I help you?” 

You floundered for a second, mouth open. “I mean—I was looking for my brother. Changbin was on the phone with their new roommate, and I just assumed…”

“You thought that Jisung was his new roommate?” He snickered, carefully placing his labeled laptop onto the couch and lifting to his feet. 

You were tempted to hang your head in shame and leave with your confidence shattered. But his attractive gaze was enough to convince you to stay put. 

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Well,” the stranger’s expression softened, his hand reaching forward. “I’m Chan. Your brother’s new roommate.”

You gave his hand a quick glance before taking it. 

“I’m Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.”

New roommate: not as terrible as you expected it to be. 

The more you looked at him, the more you wanted to tell him how beautiful he was. Though you would have to be delusional to actually admit that out loud to a complete stranger, it was surprisingly tempting. 

And… you were still holding his hand. 

“Oh, uh—sorry.”

Releasing his grip, you laughed awkwardly, feeling the heat rise up your face and engulf your ears. 

Damn your brother and his affinity for making friends with every gorgeous person that crossed his path. He was going to kill you eventually, between his protectiveness that shattered your social life and all his model-like friends that continued to claw their way into your heart. 

A pleasant beat of silence passed between the two of you while you both took a second to consider each other. Chan wasn’t your conventionally beautiful person like Hyunjin, nor was he completely rough around the edges like Changbin. His hair was a bit wild, possibly due to the lack of product, but it was combed through and hung around his eyes nicely. A stark contrast from the gelled and styled boy you had been infatuated with.

Your eyes fell onto the coffee table between you, neck growing warm as you realized your thoughts had drifted back to Jisung, even with such an attractive stranger standing right in front of you.

You shut your eyes, stilling yourself as you took in a deep breath.

“So…” you drawled, avoiding his amused gaze. “Recording, huh?”

That settled it, you were an idiot. 

Chan snorted out loud, finding your innocent question cute.

“I’m a producer.” Chan supplied, shifting closer to you in order to lean against the couch. “I haven’t been able to record my own songs for a while though. That’s why I’ve been trying to convince Minho to let me turn his office into a recording room. I have all the soundproof padding and everything, all I need is to guilt-trip him into letting me put it up.”

You nodded in understanding, glancing over towards the not so office that Minho was currently using as a storage room. 

If anyone was ever surprised by the number of bundles he had in his room, they would drop dead at the sight of what was behind that door. 

It was bundle hell. 

Your voice rang out, “That would probably take you all day on your own. It’s pretty disastrous in there.”

“Is there an implication there?” He snarked, mock question in his voice. 

“I help you clean, and you show me what you have on that little laptop of yours.”

Chan hummed, his eyes tracing over you and then over to his precious laptop resting off to the side. He had always been cautious about showing people his music, there were too many outcomes that he didn’t like thinking about. But you were looking at him with this excited little grin and he was finding it hard to say no. 

You were dangerous.

“I can get behind that deal,” Chan concluded. 

“Great,” you chirped without a second of hesitation. “Let’s go.”

But Chan’s strong grip stopped you as you attempted to pass and you couldn’t help but focus your eyes on the veins that ran up his bare arms. 

His eyebrow raised, amused. “We’re just going to barge in there and start cleaning?”

“Would you rather wait for the bundles to gain consciousness and invite us in?”

Chan couldn’t help but bark a laugh at your sarcasm. “Of course not. I just wanted to ask for Minho’s permission first—”

You paused him with the raise of your hand, “There’s one thing you will learn about my brother; he never says yes.”

Sensing a seriousness behind your tone, Chan nodded, suddenly open to all of your suggestions. 

“Lead the way then.” Chan encouraged, gesturing forward and releasing your arm. 

“My pleasure.”

But just as you were about to reach for the handle of the spare room, you remembered something—

The fact that you were a (stupid and unemployed) college student currently paying for a failing test grade in her statistics class.

You cursed under your breath, pausing in your stride long enough to prompt Chan’s questioning gaze, and damn it, it was adorable the way he cocked his head to the side. 

“Something wrong?” He asked. 

Your face twisted in thought, “Probably…”

“And…?”

You cleared your throat, finally pulling your eyes away from the chipping white paint of the door.

“Do you perhaps know anything about statistics?”