#none of this to say sun is perfect. he obviously isn't

[madamemiz]

y'know what i find interesting about sun now that hw2 is out?

i've seen various interpretations of him since the game's release with all the new dialogue and scenes we got ranging from "stressed and in bad need of a cigarette and a three year vacation" to "petty bitch" to "caring but pushed to his limit" and like

the thing is, they're all right

he probably played favorites with some of the kids--cassie's testament combined with his general mannerisms certainly make me think so. sun is a little mean to the player character. he insults you, he talks down to you, he treats you like you don't have two brain cells to rub together when you screw up. in the carousel level, he's clearly begrudging that he can't simply do the job himself. he is petty and he is stressed and he is frustrated

you'd think, then, that sun would happily let moon do what he will with the human employees he clearly detests, with the kids that obviously frustrate him. you'd think he'd make good on his threats to turn off the lights himself, to let these people get what they deserve. how many times have we dreamed of petty revenge on the shitty customers and coworkers we've had to deal with in our jobs?

he doesn't. instead, he resigns himself to a life of isolation to keep moon in check, doing whatever he can to keep anyone else from getting hurt or dying. despite all his hot air, sun cares. deeply, selflessly. when we see him during the ruin segments of hw2, he's shaking in fear, hiding in scant light he has access to in his and moon's horrible room, out of easy reach from most, trying in the only way he can to keep more tragedy from occurring. he knows how bad his situation is; he's acutely aware of it in a way most of the other animatronics don't seem to be. his actions speak far louder than his words, and god knows he has plenty to say

sun is a deeply flawed person who tries to do good in spite of it all, and to me, that's fascinating

[wineauntie]

WHEN WE MET THE WORLD STILLED – quinn hughes x singer!oc

masterlist

summary: quinn hughes finds himself enamoured by someone he’s convinced is far out of his league.

note: your honour, I love these two!

warnings: none really!

word count: 1.8k+

Juno Blackwood had absolutely zero idea about the logistics of hockey as a sport. In fact, if she hadn't been invited to Rogers Arena to perform the national anthems and a quick interval show, she probably wouldn't have even given the sport a second thought.

Her red-heeled, signature cowboy boots clacked across the cement floor as her head swivelled to look at everything her assigned tour guide, Michael had pointed out. She was half-listening, her thoughts more focused on running through various lyrics for her performance– she hadn't meant to zone out but it had just been so easy to.

"And obviously, we managed to get our hands on a jacket for you to wear for the anthems," the man guiding her spoke, snapping her out of her daze. "We figured the jersey mightn't be up your lane."

Feeling a sudden wave of doubt, Juno glanced down at her beige, afghan jacket that just brushed her knees. She wore one of her typical outfits— her boots, a pair of red wide-leg pants and a loose white shirt with a deep neckline, loosely knotted together in the front. Those paired with a gold belt (that she was certain was a long necklace before) seemed to be one of the only suitable options she'd had in her wardrobe.

She wasn't made for the cold weather in Vancouver or the chilly atmosphere of the hockey arena, she was a summer child, drawn to the sun and its warmth.

"Not that your jacket isn't perfect!" Michael rushed to say in a panic as his eyes bulged. Juno had realised that, once again, she seemed to zone out from the conversation at hand. "It's really nice and all, but I know you expressed interest in some Canucks apparel and—"

"The jacket sounds great," Juno cut in kindly, her ring-clad hand placing itself on top of his waving one. "May I see it?" The man flushed and bobbed his head, rushing forward, as Juno kept her strides long to keep up with him.

At the end of the hallway, a group of three people stood, idly chatting. As Juno's heels clicked and echoed, the group's eyes snapped up to meet her gaze. Her eyes remained lax as she locked eyes with the man who stood between two women. His eyes searched hers, as they softened. Juno examined the man shamelessly, taking in his navy suit and beanie, so unlike the outfit she adorned. Her gaze travelled across his stubble to his sheepish smile and his eyes.

Juno hummed, her lips quirking up as Michael stopped in front of the group with her by his side.

"Juno, this is Charlotte and Andrea, our social team," Michael explained, gesturing towards the two women who stood with their cameras and phones out, yet Juno's eyes lingered on the nameless man. "...and this is Quinn Hughes, Captain of the Canucks."

"It's lovely to meet you guys, I’m Juno." She smiled, moving her gaze away from the man–Quinn, as she shook Andrea and Charlotte's hands first. She paused as she turned to shake Quinn's, his intense stare igniting something within her.

Quinn took her hand carefully, their fingers briefly brushing as he finally cracked a smile.

"I'm going to be showing you around from here on,"

Juno almost melted at the sound of his raspy voice, her head tilting as they kept their hands connected. Realising that she had yet to speak up, she cleared her throat and released her grip.

"Great," she offered up, her eyes flitting to Andrea and Charlotte. "And you guys will be coming along for the trip too?"

"Yes!" Andrea gleamed, her eyes twinkling in excitement. "We have a few things planned, so Quinn will be taking you on a tour of the locker rooms as well as presenting you with a jacket."

Juno's eyes jumped back to Quinn, who seemed to be solely focused on her face. She cleared her throat and folded her arms, trying to block out the cold that infiltrated the arena surrounding her– although the heat stemming from his stare was creeping up her spine in indescribable warming sensation.

"You'll also get to meet some of the other guys and we'll try to linger in the background taking photos as subtly as we can," Andrea finished explaining, recapturing Juno's attention.

"You've got it all planned out," Juno commented appreciatively, "that all sounds perfect." She turned back to Quinn. "Well, I guess you're leading the way, Cap."

Quinn stifled a smile and gestured with his head for her to follow as he began to walk. "We can start with the locker room," he spoke, leading Juno further down the hall as she nodded and followed alongside him.

If Quinn's voice was a song, she wanted to listen to it on repeat because she knew she'd never get tired of it.

Now, Juno was no romantic, but with Quinn? He intrigued her...enraptured her attention and she couldn't place why.

"So, how did you get roped into giving me this tour?" Juno teased, as the media women followed close behind. "Lose a bet or were you sacrificed for the greater good?"

"Neither, fortunately," Quinn remarked, his warm eyes sparking with mirth. "I had to quite literally 'take one for the team' as the captain."

"You poor thing," She grinned, her lip jutting out in mock offence.

"That's not what the guys think," he mused, causing Juno's brows to raise in question. "A few of them begged to take you on the tour themselves." Quinn's confession caught her off guard, and she couldn't help but chuckle.

"Well, I must be quite the hot ticket item around here," she replied, her tone playful and light, undeterred by his words as they reached the locker room door.

Like a gentleman, Quinn stepped aside and held the door open for her, warning him with a dazzling and warm smile. As Juno stepped inside the locker room, she was immediately hit by the smell of sweat, disinfectant and leather. Quinn was close behind her as she scanned the room taking in the rows of lockers adorned with players' names and numbers.

"So, uh...this is where the magic happens," Quinn sheepishly spoke, his hands in his pockets. "Well, most of the time."

Juno nodded, impressed by the organized chaos of the space. "It's got a winning kind of energy tonight," she remarked, moving closer to one of the lockers to get a better look at the jerseys hanging up.

"Well, I'd hope so," Quinn mumbled as she approached a locker on the far side which was labelled with her name and displayed a vintage, navy Canucks jacket with a red stripe down the sleeves and the logo on the back.

Juno beamed and ran her hand over the material, her fingers caressing the red, feeling rather glad for her coincidentally, coordinating outfit.

Quinn watched Juno with a soft smile, appreciating her genuine excitement, as he took the jacket off of the hanger and passed it over to her.

"Welcome to the team," he teased, handing her the Canucks jacket, the pair deaf to rapid clicking and flash of the cameras behind them.

Juno shrugged off her Afghan coat and hung it up on the hanger before she took the jacket from him, her fingers running over the material.

"Thank you," she said gratefully, slipping it on over her shoulders. It was slightly oversized but was comfortable and warm, two things she loved about clothing.

Quinn nodded, a small smile playing across his lips. "You're welcome," he replied, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary.

As they stood there, exchanging smiles, Juno couldn't help but feel a flutter erupt in her stomach as her eyes locked on Quinn's. There was something about him that drew her in, further and further.

"Well, how do I look?" Juno radiated a smile, breaking the momentary silence as she twirled.

Quinn watched her with interest, his eyes following her every move. "Looks good on you," he remarked, his voice soft.

Juno grinned, feeling a rush of warmth at his compliment. "Thanks," she said, heat rising up her neck. This was so unlike her, she never acted like this with men– or women for that matter!

"Hi guys, could we just grab a photo of the two of you?" Andrea's perky voice asked, infiltrating whatever moment she and Quinn seemed to be sharing.

"Yeah,"

"Of course!"

Quinn and Juno's words overlapped as the two of them scooted closer together. She plastered her biggest smile across her lips, her head tilting as they faced the multiple cameras facing them. They stood for another few minutes before they were allowed to move apart and move on with the tour.

"So, you're performing during one of the intervals tonight, right?" Quinn asked, glancing over at her as they walked.

Juno shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips. "I am," she hummed, "three songs during the second interval and then the two anthems before the match."

Quinn nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer. "Well, we're glad to have you here," he said sincerely, his eyes meeting hers. "And I have a feeling you're going to knock it out of the park tonight." Juno felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words, and she couldn't help but return his smile.

"Why thank you, Cap," she joked, successfully hiding the blush she could feel rising to her cheeks as a flutter of excitement turned into a flurry of joy at the thought of performing in front of the crowd later that evening.

"Juno, we're being told to show you where you're sitting and then bring you back in a while to meet some of the players," Andrea read off her phone, her eyes apologetic at the order.

"Alright," Juno hummed before she turned to Quinn for the final time. "Well, Cap, it's been a pleasure, thanks for the tour."

Quinn felt a faint smile grow at her words, a small laugh escaping his lips. "The pleasure's all mine," he nodded, sticking out his hand once again.

As Juno accepted Quinn's hand, she couldn't help but notice the warmth that radiated from his touch. His hand was strong and reassuring, yet surprisingly gentle, despite the toughness of them as their palms met.

For a moment, Juno swore the clocks stopped and the world apart from them fell into the depths of space, leaving the two of them in their bubble. Juno felt another damned flutter erupt in the pit of her stomach, a sensation she couldn't quite explain but couldn't ignore.

As Quinn's thumb brushed over her knuckles, she couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort wash over her. There was something about the way he held her hand – firm yet tender, confident yet gentle, a feeling that seemed to scream safe, as if she had finally found someone who understood her in a way no one else ever had.

Good Lord, Juno needed to take a nap or something. She was becoming soppy and unlike herself.

Pulling away, Juno followed Andrea out of the room, but not before flashing Quinn a dazzling smile, one that was quickly reciprocated by the man.

a/n: oh and this is her outfit + the jacket I envisioned her getting!

[delicrieux]

𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑶 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑫, 2. summer 1972, august

pairing for this chapter—regulus black x f!lestrange!reader   warnings for this chapter—none! word count—2.3k

regulus can get quite mean in the sweltering summer heat.

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | ttp masterlist | < back | next >

the grandiose patio is lined with wet footprints. yours. and regulus’. the sunshine is too unkind to him – burnt easily, he seems even more miserable in summer. he’s not much fond of water, even if you constantly drag him into the depths of the pool. the chlorine reeks, he had said displeased, trying to swat away his wet hair from his eyes. you had fought, tooth and nail, not to state, you reek. it would’ve obviously been a joke, and sirius would have laughed so merrily at your boundless wit, but regulus would have flushed in embarrassment and confined himself to silence.

you don’t like much when regulus is silent. in fact, you don’t fancy silence at all. father’s silence usually entails bad news, and mother is always silent. your house is too big to retain any noise, and rodolphus is contemplative and rabastan doesn’t take up enough space. with bella here, perhaps things will become more rowdy.

already, she’s turning everything upside down in what she has dubbed ‘the great upheaval.’ the new lady lestange has expensive taste and moody preferences, and so the walls are getting painted, and all sorts of curious trophies and relics from the depths of gringotts are being brought as decorations. she had let you practice explosive magic to knock down a bookcase she believed to be misplaced. you had been very thrilled to help.

now, though, the pleasant buzz of nature is satisfactory. the gardens and the orchard have remained untouched, though the greenhouse has been smashed completely. the remnants of glass glimmer on the sun-sparkled grass, a perfect spot to avoid as the pool beckons your return. not that mother's menagerie had been of much interest to anyone for years. the servants had tended to it, but it remained vacant of visitors, except the rare moments rabastan felt particularly sentimental. all those exotic butterflies spilled into the crisp, open air. it was quite magical. regulus was particularly down that evening.

of course, bella hadn't given much faff for any of it, so you don't dwell. a morning in the sun is a morning in the sun, after all. and, surely, if mother isn't to care for her property, then why should you?

"you recon sister will hire more staff?" you muse aloud. regulus has languidly settled under an olive tree, the leaves framing the thin, half-naked body like an all-too-pale depiction of pieta. his head hangs, the burn-warmed skin glowing, "without me to help she’ll hardly be able to manage all of these household duties."

regulus raises a brow at that, "what have you done exactly to help," the way he says it is half-chiding, half-mocking. as though he thinks that's the way to speak to the owner of the manor, "you blow up bookshelves."

you turn away from his stare, and keep yourself upright against the pool, knees scraping against the pebbles.

"well," you reply with a sniff, "if you had not noticed, she has taken a shine to me."

"shines are used for small jewels."

you hit his leg in a mindless display of violence.

his sharp inhale isn't playful – "what was that for?!"

"that was for talking down to me." you scoff. and his cheeks grow red, but not because you caught him in his error.

his next response is bitter. "i see how it is," the pitch of his voice rising ever-so-slightly, a subtle crack in a violin string, "you grow more pompous every day."

with his legs folded under his chin, arms crossed tightly, his discomfort in his position isn't masked as well as his emotion is. his wide eyes belie an even wider sadness. a hunger, a wanting for the type of affection a mother provides. something you'll never want to think too hard on because you understand, but also have been told by father not to ponder on.

"was that you attempting to speak down to me again?"

"no!" he snaps back, before muttering, "not that you wouldn't deserve it."

your temper has spiked. that isn't fair, what did he know of all that you must put up with! father expects a lot, and yet you are not given enough to do, but your brothers still complain at everything, and then you must put on a smiling face in front of bella, and how rude is he, really, to disrespect you so!

regulus doesn't receive a single hint of a reply from you. if his plan to make you more malleable to conversation wasn't working, he could start something of his own.

"have you made up your mind," the subject switch makes you jump, "about what house?"

oh. he hasn't stopped prodding since the end of june. that's almost cute of him.

"why are you obsessed about this?"

regulus makes a face. "don't try to understand. i just am," he pauses. for once, he regards you carefully, head tilting slightly to one side, "so you have made up your mind."

"slytherin sounds lovely," you admit, as you have been practising this speech in the mirror for a fortnight now. it feels more real coming out of your own mouth and not an apparition's. you could never admit to gryffindor, as your secret would unravel. regulus would spot his brother’s influence, and he would know, with certainty, that you prefer sirius to him. he must know already, but chooses to ignore it, like you chose to ignore all things inconvenient.

regulus stills for a moment. "wonderful," he comments, and resumes the snootiness of his demeanour, but more distant, "i'll definitely be in slytherin,"

yes, clearly, he would suit the snake very well. and he would fit in, like cissy. no matter the apparent fragility to him, it seems to be hiding a will stronger than all of yours combined. his eyes glitter and gleam when the sunlight hits them just right, but their core seems deeper, darker. no cracks or fissures. just an endlessness.

"and so would you," he finishes the sentiment.

"wh- whatever do you mean?!" you cry in his face, startled out of the depths of your musings.

"dear cousin," he simpers, "for how much time must your father spend pontificating on how utterly useless you are before you realise i'm in your same boat."

he may not mean it, but the insult is unbearable. and perhaps there's a sliver of truth that irks you. that your own kin think so lowly of your abilities. but, nonetheless, "behind my back, at least," you sound, "please, regulus, don't say such things to my face!"

he snorts, faintly amused at your ridiculousness, "will it make you feel better if i apologise?"

you huff. your pride has been bruised. he has, as always, thrown you into a sulk, which will be harder and harder to get over now. especially with you sitting a little more self-conscious than you had been ten minutes ago. and really, it had been such a pleasant afternoon. sweltering, and you bask in sunlight like you're famished for it. the rivera had been sweet, always bright and sunny, but england is hardly ever not gloomy. yes, the weather is worth more mental effort than regulus black, you decide. you would rather converse with a house-elf than him. he, yes, is useless, but you have some use, surely.

"think before you speak," you warn, not very menacingly, "honestly, if my life is already doomed, you'll not aid in ruining it any further."

"what life? father dotes on you endlessly. even if you've got not a single brain cell, he still fancies you," he drawls, "really, you're like a pet. a mooncalf. not a thought behind those eyes."

there it is. the nerve that tics. and though he'd spoken in a lazy, pensive drawl, your response is razor-edged and dagger-thorned. you're the blight. the aphids that sully. the plagues of locusts, “so what!" you counter, and you're barely standing on the border, "what is it my trouble? at least my father loves me, which is too much to say of your own."

regulus rises sharply. it is the fastest he's ever moved in all his life. that face would strike a serpent cold, you imagine. "take. that. back." his tone is chillingly even.

but a quick wit has always served you best, "no. not till you're nice to me."

"fine," the sun casts an angry, dark shadow of his figure over the pool. only eleven, yet he might be the most daunting creature you've ever encountered. all long lines, jutting ribs, and pale skin. and those eyes. downturned, forlorn. a regal hazel. the lids are flutter-thick.

the silence that settles is thick with discomfort. you think of your mother’s room at the top floor, how hot she must be with the heavy curtains drawn. it would be good to air it, lest she grows sicker from breathing in all of that old dust. yes, you shall let a servant know as soon as you finish chipping away at regulus’ resolve with your withering glare.

finally, slowly, carefully, "you won't tell mother i upset you, will you?"

"aunt walburga has much to preoccupy her. of course i won't."

he takes this as enough an acquiescence.

you find a part of him has softened. the edges, maybe.

"why should i apologise anyway," he adds, as if by way of an attempt at conversing in your manner, "the truth needs no apology."

his voice, not that of his father's but certainly not the poshest, has something odd about it.

he waits for a few more seconds, in what you gather, is a wait for an excuse to take the blow off of himself. you keep thinking, and these thoughts blunder quickly about. of mother’s room and father’s study, of rabby down in the cellar, of rodolphus prancing around his new wife. of sirius locked in his guest room, all of his muggle trinkets confiscated. sirius would have a laugh if he wasn’t too busy sulking. this impish row would cheer him up.

you've accepted the role now. it feels like a coronation. the signet ring would fit. pretty thing.

"regulus," you start, but can't keep your straight face. his stare bores into you, until the laugh finally escapes.

"you twit!" he accuses you, "i thought you were really angry for a moment! good thing i wouldn't actually worry, with how loose tongued you are. and stupid! to think, everyone always bellows about how pleasant and intelligent you are."

"could hardly be talking of me," you say, feeling not very bitter, but the taste of it is tart on the back of your tongue. this is a new pattern. a childish bickering, or even teasing, "i've never wanted to know anything. everyone else is terribly inquisitive."

regulus just eyes you in bewilderment. as though your view on the world is rather strange. regulus is fond of reading, and he has a plethora of curious facts to share to anyone who would listen. he had been more vocal of them when he was younger, but at eleven, he's growing very reserved and respectable.

to anyone but you, it seems, because he's rude and standoffish in your presence, even if his cheeks start to burn when you catch him staring at you. maybe you should've let him know. it'd be sweet to see his eyes widen in surprise, or his lips purse. that'd be worth all his rude jokes and unwarranted insults. his silence has allowed him to believe that all his sentiments are harmless. but they are not.

perhaps you are useless, not even a little bit useful at all, if a mere boy who's still gangly and graceless has you wound around his little finger, while not even knowing it. you can't decide if that's better or worse than knowing. it doesn't really matter anyway. when the family meetings took place late in the evening, and you were pointedly dismissed, you had decided you shan't ever want to know anything. to live in simple bliss of a fantasy, to enjoy what you're good at enjoying, and never touch the dirt of any of their messy problems. the end of childhood doesn't concern you, no more than any of the scandals you overhear and promptly ignore. gossip you adore, but only if it's mindless, like a poor matching colour of a robe.

the rest you are well off without.

pretty thing, mother had once called you when awake. her gaze had been vacant. you refused to decipher the meaning, if there was any to begin with. pretty things needn’t be sensible, they only need to be admired.

regulus offers you his hand. a rarity, him touching you, because he rarely is one for contact. especially with you, it had seemed. the small, slim fingers don’t tremble in their wait, "want to swim?"

your earlier mood melts away like the heat waves over the warm stone. the blood has flushed both your skins, but his more.

it's not important anyway.

"thought you don't like water," you say smugly, happy to lord over this very basic information you know of him over his head, "you'll look like a prune."

regulus wrinkles his nose in distaste at the idea. his pale complexion is so easy to scorch and scar. the redness blooms on him beautifully.

but then, all he says is, "you're my favourite, you know that, right? always have been."

the pleasantry, in such an instant, brings another surge of blood to your cheeks.

"why?" you have to know.

a shrug, then, a smile. not malicious at all, and you've always enjoyed it when he can't hold the pretences up in your company.

"dunno," and his expression goes blank again. his gaze roams somewhere far, "so do you want to go swimming?"

his offer has something more, and the confusion lingers.

"it is very hot," is all you find to say.

and what else, but to hold onto his outstretched palm?

[mazeinthemiroh]

heyyy! can i request a stray kids reaction to their s/o asking for their fashion advice :((( i want their style so bad. thanks in advance!

stray kids reactions to their s/o asking for fashion advice

genre: general

word count: 0.7k

warnings: none

pls like and reblog if you enjoy! feel free to request anything <3

bangchan

well chan's fashion is literally "wear anything black and you're all set." his whole wardrobe is pitch black like there's no colour in there. because of this, he thinks his opinion of fashion to be quite limited. but in reality, it isn't all that bad. he does have a bias towards comfier clothes on himself, but he observes what looks better on others. so he will get you to try on a couple of different styles or colours of clothes for him and tell you what he thinks looks better on you.

lee know

like chan, minho prefers comfier clothes on himself. so he will set you up with some really nice casual clothes really easily. as for the nicer, more formal clothing, he can help there too! obviously, because he is an idol, he has to work with a lot of different styles. he will get you to try on styles you might not even have considered before. will make you do a whole catwalk for him and everything. takes helping you seriously but also has to have his fun!

changbin

now he would probably laugh if you asked him for fashion advice. not because he's not fashionable! only he feels that his expertise lies in other areas. nevertheless, if you want his help, who is he to deny his services? changbin ends up just spoiling you and buying you tons of clothes to try on no matter how much you object. "the only fashion advice i have is take all the clothes you possibly can!" man focuses on quality and quantity.

hyunjin

he knows which colours go with what. he just knows when something looks off; it's the artist in him. so, with that being said, he will make you try on every shade of colour until he figures out what matches your skin tone. your favourite colour is purple? he's getting you to try on lilac, indigo, lavender, magenta, everything under the sun. if you ask for his fashion advice, he's not gonna give you halfhearted comments. oh no, he's committed to that role.

han

hannie slays in every outfit. he is blessed with a perfect face, so whether he is wearing a simple fit or a stylish suit, he's looking fly af either way. consequently, he doesn't give fashion too much thought. so when you ask him for fashion advice, he pretty much says to experiment! there's no harm in thinking outside the box and adding things to your outfit to make certain aspects stand out. he encourages all that creativity.

felix

felix is so excited that you want his advice. he loves helping people in any way he can and he appreciates that you care about his opinion. he will list clothes off the top of his head that he thinks look good and flattering on your unique figure. he will offer to go shopping and get you to try on clothes for him so you can both see what suits you. will always compliment you as well as point you in the right direction.

seungmin

seungmin encourages you to be comfortable with everything else. he usually dresses in cute and comfy clothes himself. he's very boyfriend material, isn't he? he doesn't believe that you should be uncomfortable just because an outfit is stylish and trendy. he wants you to be happy and comfortable in the choices you make in your clothes, and he would never pressure you to wear anything you don't want to wear just because it looks fancy.

jeongin

this fashion king? he has all the tips. you know he dresses very well, so going to him for advice doesn't come as a surprise to him. but what he mainly focuses on is helping you find your own unique sense of style. he's not just going to dress you up in his style and call it a day. he appreciates that people have different types of looks that they're going for, and he wants to help you figure out how you can express yourself through your clothing!

[bookworm-center]

I have a request for a Kaz Brekker au/one shot (whatever u see better fit)

Where the crow club usually as a singer on friday nights but the singer had to cancel last minute so seeing the “panic” on the other crows and crew Y/N steps up and sings even tho nobody knew she could sing and when Kaz hears it and sees her he just gets lost in her voice…

I hope this is a good idea haha

Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader

Unsung Duet

In which Kaz's partner in crime steps up to sing.

Author's Note: Ooh, I love this request! I'm twisting it slightly but not too much; I hope that's okay! I wasn't sure if you wanted a specific song, so I went with "Six of Crows" by Gio Navas. Such a good song that's obviously inspired by the book, you should definitely listen to it. This ended up being shorter than I wanted, but I think it's not bad.

Panic floods the Crow Club in hushed whispers. The usual Friday night singer cancelled? People begin to leave, shoving their way out of the small doorway.

Kaz's panic isn't shown on his features- he's good enough at his job to know panicking is a weakness- but the other Dregs are rushing about. Rotty says something about too many people leaving, but Kaz is too busy working out a plan to respond.

Claps come from the stage, quiet and slow at first, but gradually growing. Then comes the singing.

This is a city of toxic smoke

We trade our lungs for a noose of rope

Under our feet and the tilted ground

Runaways of ashes never found

People turn around, coming back in and filling up all the seats and tables. Kaz looks up from his glass, to the singer that's taken the stage. There stands none other than his partner in crime. Y/n L/n, master of tricks. He had never heard her sing, never even knew she could, despite his reputation for knowing everything. Her eyes are closed at first, like she's trying to lose herself in the music.

Here is where the monsters hide

Only the wicked can survive

With every line, every rise and fall of the melody, every held note, Y/n gains a little more confidence. She taps her feet on the wood of the platform they call a stage.

And just like that, Kaz, along with the patrons in the Club, are swept away by her voice. There's something about the way she sings that's so enchanting and enticing, almost like a pull of unseeable magic. Her and Kaz only make eye contact once, when the song is nearly over.

A boy with a broken soul

Marching through this world alone

He fights among the cursed six of crows

Where is his heart, he may never know, never know

And that's it. The crowd bursts into applause, demanding for an encore as Y/n walks off the stage. Kaz hadn't even noticed she was finished singing, not until the bartender called his name several times.

He knew the last verse was about him. Y/n had been his best friend, his other half, his partner in crime, for so long, that they were nearly one person. She knew nearly everything about him, and he for her.

The last line gets him thinking: where is his heart?

Easy. His heart is set on revenge. It's set on destroying Pekka Rollins, ruining everything he built.

There's another response, further back in his head, in the part of him that was still Kaz Reitveld. His heart was with Y/n.

After all, they were the halves to a whole, the sun and the moon. Together they were perfect clockwork, chiming together to pull off the perfect heist.

His heart was with Y/n, his unsung duet.

[xxmethlordxx]

Hello! I read that your request are open and I wanted to give it a try! If my promp isn't of your interest just ignore!

Can I request a fluff/comfort LaiosXReader (Any gender is fine) Fanfic/Headcannon/Oneshot/Anything

Of Laios comforting the reader during a fireworks show because they're scared of the loud noises?

Thanks you so much!

(Edit I was trying so hard to check spelling mistakes that I didn’t type anything else but lmk what you guys think and give me feedback please :3)

Booming sensation

laios x gender natural reader

Warning: none

When you aren’t working and being in the dungeon, you like being outside the dungeon to get fresh air and do other things. At the end of July would start the summer festivals your village would have. You dreaded it. You liked the summer sun, the treats they would have outside, everyone laughing and dancing to the music that filled the ears with happy children and adults. But you never joined in the activities they held, knowing after a while, they would start to set off fireworks. The loud sounds, flashing lights, were just too overwhelming for you and anytime you were invited out you sadly refused, not telling them of your fear out of embarrassment. This year was no different. The smell of food, the sound of music and villagers laughing, the atmosphere was perfect, but you knew you couldn’t go out, so you didn’t do anything to get ready. You planned on lying down until you heard a knock at the door. You opened the door to see your lover laios. You’ve been together for about a couple of months and he’s been a dream. He has his quirks, but sitting through hours of monster info dumping was worth it to get all the love and affection you could ask for. Smiling when seeing your boyfriend, you greeted him with a hug. “Laios, what are you doing here” you smiled up at him. “Well, I was wondering what you were doing today.” you looked at him for a minute before responding. “W-well I was just going to stay home and probably go to bed early”. You felt bad, but you knew what he was going to ask. “Oh well, I was wondering if you wanted to see the fireworks that were about to go off” Laios smiled at you but soon frowned. “But if you're going to bed early I can ask someone else” looking at laios frown broke your heart, and it felt like looking at a sad puppy, so you sighed “I guess I could try and come out for a bit….” Laios practically lit up and smiled at you grabbing your hands and blushing. “R-REALLY- I mean you don’t have too if you're tired” laios looked down again trying to find your eyes. Maybe it might be different with laios. Maybe if you focus on him the entire time, the fireworks won’t affect you so much. “Yeah, I’m fine, plus it could be like a little date,” you say, blushing. Laios also blushes at your words but smiles and says he will wait for you by the lake. Laios walks off and you sigh, getting dressed.

Now, walking out, your nerves start to get to you. What if they went off randomly right now, you didn’t see laios, so you would be screwed. But finally seeing the tall man looking out towards the lake, he turned to see you. “(Y/N) OVER HERE”. Laios waves at you, and you jog at him and smile. “You look really nice..” said Laios said “thank you, you look quite handsome too~” you said giggling, making laios blush. He soon turned towards the lake. “They should be starting sometime soon” he smiled, still looking out. You gripped the ends of your shirt nervously waiting to hear the big booms and kapows. “Laios when do they go-“ BOOM, suddenly a loud boom happens, and you automatically get down to cover your ears and scrunch your face. This isn’t fine. I don’t feel fine. You feel tears coming into your eyes and your chest feels tight. You soon feel a hand on your back and laios right next to you, obviously worried. “Are you okay? What happened (y/n)?” Laios paused when he saw your tears, and soon you felt two arms carrying you, still covering your ears and shielding your face. Before you knew it, you were back at your house, the fireworks still going off loud booms one after the other. They would go quiet before another went off. Laios went to your bedroom and put you under the covers and lay next to you holding your shaking body. “Shhh it’s okay I’m here…” laios hushed, slowly caressing your back. “Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t like fireworks”. Laios looked down knowing you wouldn’t look up at him.

Silence was all that he heard from you. “You didn’t have to come with me. I could have stayed here with you and held you like this. You finally looked up with red eyes. “You looked so sad when I said no at first and…I didn’t want you to be mad at me” these words broke laios, he would never want you to be somewhere you were uncomfortable or put you in any situation like that. “(Y/n) I would have never gone out if I knew, I’m sorry I didn’t know” he lifted your chin with his hand to look at you with sorry eyes. “I didn’t tell you that wasn’t your fault”. Again, silence between the two of you felt so long, but it felt better having laios hold you like that with the fireworks going off. “Laios…can you stay the night and hold me like this…”. Laios looked down and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll stay as long as you need”. He hugged you tightly, and you nuzzled into his chest slowly. The sound of fireworks soon faded out, and you could only hear your breathing and Laios' heartbeat.

[steppingonyourshadow]

Selected excerpts from Marie Claire January 2024

It's difficult to miss Xiao Zhan's strong sense of boundaries. When being interviewed, he will constantly say, "if I may put it that way", either as a question or confirmation for himself. He's also constantly reflecting on himself.

For example, constantly reminding himself not to perform from habit, as becoming too accustomed was a slippery slope to the dreaded state of inertia. Like the way he constantly emphasises that he has no interest in putting on an air of mystery, there were many things he had yet to learn, and he was merely sharing his honest, everyday feelings. And like his response to hearing a crew member say he was tireless in pursuit of excellence - that he had yet to reach "excellence" and was only pursuing "better".

Xiao Zhan doesn't speak rapidly, but with fluid eloquence, not with an explosive, fiery temperament. Like pleasant idle chit-chat, with a bit of the classical air of a learned Confucian gentleman.

And he's not even a little tense. Willing to talk about every topic under the sun, and when he's particularly satisfied, he leans back in the chair, holding his right leg loosely with both hands. The conversation ranges from the always resonant emotion contained in classic songs, to AI, our view of humanity, and his experiences in life and acting.

Xiao Chunsheng of "Where Dreams Begin" was a role that felt fresh, because he was so obviously different from Xiao Zhan's own character.

Xiao Chunsheng is a young man from the 70s, whose environment and upbringing could not be more distinct from Xiao Zhan's own. Military coats, "two-eight" bicycles, the ice rink of Shichahai, growing from a callow youth into a middle-aged leader of industry, none of this was familiar to Xiao Zhan.

Even now, traces of Xiao Chunsheng can still be found in Xiao Zhan. When speaking of one of the characters, Chen Hongjun, he kept using "Hongjun-er". That's the Beijing accent he learned for the role: using "er" at the end, "aiyowei" and "huo" as exclamations - these were once a constant refrain for Xiao Zhan.

Language and the time setting aside, the biggest difference between Xiao Zhan and Xiao Chunsheng is in personality. Xiao Zhan is an introvert who enjoys being alone, and Xiao Chunsheng is the complete opposite - he makes friends everywhere and loves to make things happen. Using today's standards, this kind of enthusiasm often translates to a person with a poor sense of boundaries.

"Times change more and more rapidly; today's youth all live fast-placed lives, and won't casually breach each other's boundaries," Xiao Zhan remarked. "But Xiao Chunsheng is a total busybody, which means he can easily cause offence."

When he first read the script, Xiao Zhan was pretty worried about this and felt that it would be hard to make Xiao Chunsheng likable. But after his initial hesitation, it occurred to him that what we need might well be hidden within the traits we mind to the most.

"Vivid", that's how Xiao Zhan describes Xiao Chunsheng and others of his generation. "Unabashed about what they can't stand, what they like. Don't you think they're especially vivid in all their colours and shades?" he asked. Even now, when he thinks of some of the scenes in Where Dreams Begins, the characters still have a vibrant, brilliant glow to them.

Playing Xiao Chunsheng, whose values were some distance from those of today, was rewarding for Xiao Zhan in another way: he learned not to be afraid of making mistakes. He says, "a truly likable character isn't perfect."

During filming he asked the director whether a busybody like Xiao Chunsheng would come across as really annoying. The director told him that this annoying tendency is what makes Xiao Chunsheng, and what makes him an appealing character.

The director's words made Xiao Zhan recognise the trap of wanting to avoid or correct imperfections in his characters. "When you do this, you rob the character of their appeal," Xiao Zhan says, "So I think when getting to know a character there's no need to be afraid, if they're over-enthusiastic then let them be, if they're a boundary-pusher then go with that. If you get stuck on a character's flaws and what might happen when the audience bashes you for it, that makes it impossible to do the job." Because an actor should be playing a character, not an assigned persona.

Not being afraid of flaws can also mean the courage and ability to seek challenges. Sunshine By My Side was Xiao Zhan's first time performing in an urban profession drama. The reason he took this role was simple: modern dramas are very close to reality, since they're about everyday life. That actually makes it harder to deliver a believable performance. Because he had no assurance of success, he became convinced that if he could do it, it would be a valuable learning experience. That's how Sheng Yang came to be.

In filming Sunshine By My Side, Xiao Zhan learned that urban dramas are really reliant on how well the actors work together. Because they're more down to earth, nothing is set in stone, and both dialogue and performances are subject to adjustment.

"We're all living beings, we don't exist to maintain some persona. What we do, what we say, the emotions we express, it's all natural, logical, fluid. If you change something, my performance will change to match," Xiao Zhan says. This creative coupling meant that the actors could not be pedantic and mechanical, so it became a new and fun experience.

Whether modern or costume, Xiao Zhan has always had a clear-headed perspective on choosing scripts and characters. "Quality is always rare. That's why everyone says you can't look for it, it finds you," he says, based on what he's observed in the last while. "Some scripts, the industry might view them highly, but when the show airs the market response might not be that positive. How are we defining 'good'? Is it popularity, or acclaim? It's hard to say."

So all he can do is fall back on his own understanding and instincts, to choose what he thinks is best. As for what he wants to try, Xiao Zhan says, "I've been saying it for years, a lovable and charming rogue*, if there is an opportunity."

*["lovable and charming rogue" is a Chinese internet meme, originating from a line spoken by Tojiro/James of Team Rocket when introducing himself in the Pokemon anime.]

Xiao Zhan says he's a homebody. If he has free time, other than resting, he'll work out or watch a movie. He's never seen watching movies as a chore and will watch anything regardless of genre, whether it's a blockbuster or arthouse film. Recently, he watched Anatomy of a Fall which won the Palme d'Or at the 2023 Cannes Film Festival.

He often rewatches Love Actually around new year's, about once every three years or so. The reason is simple - the familial and romantic love and friendships are wonderful and heart-warming.

As for his hopes for himself, Xiao Zhan had an even simpler answer: "I did a pretty good job in 2023. Hopefully I can keep that up." After a bit more thought, he added: "in 2024, I'd like to love myself a bit more, and give more space to my own feelings and thoughts. That's not only my own resolution - that's my hope for everyone else too."

For Xiao Zhan, the "him" on screen is distinct from his own life. In private, he doesn't spend a lot of time dolling himself up, or wear any spectacular, eye-catching clothes. In everything he reaches toward what is natural and truthful.

"Like for our conversation, just maintaining this kind of comfortable state. I'm not going to put on another face, play another person," Xiao Zhan says. "That would be exhausting. Exhausting." He says it twice.

Like the poet wrote, "my heart may encompass the entire universe." Outside Xiao Zhan's boundaries, there's the delineation of borders, and the wide expanse of the universe.

[extraaa-30]

PJO & Palestine pt. 2

This is going to unpack some bullshit I've seen about Rick Riordan. For pt. 1 about why "boycotting Disney" is not actually the thing you need to be doing right now, go here.

Imma try to keep it brief this time <3

In addition to the misleading info about Disney as a boycott target, I've seen some ridiculously facile takes about boycotting the show because of Rick Riordan.

As far as I can tell, the drama stems mostly from this blog post, where he shares his (fairly tepid but still principled) view of Palestine and Israel.

Here are some key takeaways:

The blog post is from Oct 17, 2023. Only ten days into the genocide, and with plenty of attention still lingering on Oct 7 worldwide. As far as I know, he hasn't shared any updated reactions

Should he? Maybe. Here's what he has to say about it in the blog post:

He goes on to talk about having readers in both Israel & Palestine:

Maybe you think he should pick a side. Maybe you're sick of both-sideism and if you see one more media take equating Israeli grief to Palestinian grief during a motherfucking genocide you will launch yourself into the sun. Rick goes on:

I don't know what you were expecting from a children's author whose overarching theme is, "You might think you know who the monsters are, but be careful; black-and-white thinking like that reduces us all."

[SPOILERS for non book readers] In PJO, Percy ultimately agrees with Luke that the system is unjust and can't remain as it is. Luke's willingness to sacrifice the lives of their friends is the thing he can't support.

The series deeply explores questions of monsters vs. victims, how our circumstances shape us, institutional injustice...

I get the anger when people, especially celebrities and the media, use calls for nuance to avoid taking a stand. I don't think it's accurate to say that's what's happening here.

I said I'd keep this short and I've obviously failed, so let's get to the most damning part of Rick's blog post:

This is what has people calling him a Zionist. And do I kinda hate it? Yeah, I do. That line "security and support" is propaganda that Israel has spent 75+ years feeding into the global media machine. I also hate that the overwhelmingly pathetic response of most public figures has conditioned me to be impressed by breadcrumbs like 'Palestine should also be secure and supported and free.'

So there you have it. Rick's opinions from 10 days into what has become a 100+ day genocide.

Maybe this all sounds unforgivably centrist to you, and that's your right. You don't have to engage with his stories. Approaching content with an eye to the author's real positions and attitudes is a healthy way to interpret media critically.

However, I'd really like people to remember two things:

This is not a JKR situation. Watching the show does not give money to someone who actively uses their platform to spread hate.

If this is about your own media purity, I have bad news for you. Literally none of your faves are perfect, and neither are you. Trying to only interact with un-cancellable media is futile, discourse-killing, and self-absorbed at a time when there are more important things we should be doing.

Ultimately, the choice of whether to engage with content from someone whose views you don't agree with is your own. You get to decide where to draw that line.

I, personally, can respect a lot of what Rick says here. He's a children's author using his platform to speak to children. He has his eye on the long game. He still emphatically argues for a free Palestine.

There have been other betrayals from other artists that I couldn't tolerate. It's a personal choice.

So please, stop shaming people for watching this silly little show. Stop trying to police how others engage with media that isn't hurting anyone.

There's work to be done.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Crucible - a Magnus Archives fic

Martin's been having dreams.

He doesn't understand them.

Surely, if Jon had ever looked like that, with unreal wings and a crown of spinning eyes, he would have remembered.

But his memory isn't working as well as it should right now, and Jon never blinks.

Martin is afraid.

Inspired by The Watcher’s Crown by @raynecreates

Note: this is angst. Somewhere Else goes very, very wrong.

AO3

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

The dream again.

The same one he’d been having—vivid, rich, all senses engaged.

Impossible.

But maybe that was just because he’d had none in the apocalypse, right? Because Jon had protected him from them (or their memory, anyway), and who the hell knew how long it had taken to get across that mess, so his subconscious was just making up for it now.

Right?

“Did you dream again?” murmurs Jon in the morning light, so beautiful, the halo of his hair softening the side of his face visible above his pillow.

“Yeah,” says Martin, who feels sticky, who feels sweaty, who discovers the sheets are tangled around his legs as though he’d been ensnared. “Sucks.”

“I’m sorry.” Jon reaches, cups his face. “I could try to… prevent them. If you want.”

That touch is everything—warm and rough, scarred from gods-damned Perry, absolute perfection. Martin turns and kisses Jon’s palm. “No. No, it’s all right. We agreed. Normal. We try for normal.”

“Normal.” Jon repeats the word with no inflection, but he smiles, and that helps. “For whatever that word is worth to me, these days.”

“More than you think.” Martin catches Jon’s hand and pulls it closer so he can kiss each fingertip, then place them over his heart. “It’s been six months, Jon. They’re not coming after us. We’re free.”

“Then ‘normal’ wouldn’t be as big of a concern, would it?” Jon says, unblinking (but he never blinks), still smiling that way which he only ever does for Martin.

Martin has observed. That smile is his, and his alone, and he keeps it locked in the vault of his heart like his private, personal sun.

“I mean,” says Martin, “we don’t want anybody’s attention, right? So yeah. Under the radar. Normal.”

“Of course.” Jon tugs his hand loose from Martin’s, but only to caress his lips like the barest whisper, then finally gets out of bed.

Martin feels loved, and has never felt so loved.

Jon is… something in the light of dawn.

Still too thin (it seems impossible to fix that). Unexpectedly curvy, missing two ribs. Scarred here, there, everywhere, all over the place in unnecessary ways, his rich, brown skin a tapestry to the things that bit him.

He moves like a swan, Martin thinks, because he’s absurdly in love, and doesn’t give a fuck how silly it makes him.

“I have a meeting with the council today,” says Jon.

“Again?” Martin play-whines.

Brushing his long hair and tying it up, Jon smiles at him over his shoulder. “It’s every week, you know.”

“Sure,” says Martin, still play-whining. “I just get jealous of anybody taking your evenings. You know that.”

“I’ll be fantasizing about your pasta dish the whole time,” promises Jon, clean clothes in hand. “Did you name it yet?”

“Not yet? I want it to be poetic,” Martin says, because he’s very proud of his dish, because he’d figured it out via leftovers and stolen produce, because it wasn’t Spanish and wasn’t African and sure as hell wasn’t English, but somehow all of those things with a pinch of cream (but it wasn’t American or French, either) and too much pepper, and made them both sweat and laugh and mouth-breathe while chewing.

“You’ll find it, I’m sure.” And Jon is off to shower.

Martin watches until he’s gone.

The dream. He doesn’t want to remember the dream.

It was obviously a result of the damned eyepocalypse, because really.

Jon hadn’t looked like that in the apocalypse. Not even in those first, fraught minutes when Martin had run (fled staggered survived) back to the cabin and found him on the floor with glowing eyes in the air all around him, and glowing eyes all over his flesh that had torn when they opened and bled.

Martin had fallen to his knees and pulled Jon close (and the eyes felt disgusting, so horrible, but he did it anyway), and then the eyes had focused on him.

All of them, airborne and bloodied, focused on him.

Recognition.

Martin had felt it, as if the universe had sung his name.

Martin shakes it off. No, even then, he hadn’t looked like the dream.

Not that the dream was… bad, exactly? Scary as hell, sure, but Martin’s morning erection wasn’t just about shifting blood flow, and—

The shower is running.

Martin decides to push it all away and go wash his lover’s back.

#

Work is dull, but that’s expected, given the tasks at hand.

Construction doesn’t really suit? But Martin is strong, and it is not hard, though some of the more repetitive things do leave his mind to wander.

He’s a little jealous that Jon could just bluff his way into the local governing body with powers.

They all think they know who he is, and have for years. They all believe he has documentation, of course. Most of them even think they’ve seen it.

When in reality, Jon walked into one of those weekly meetings six months ago, informed them he was running for representative of the district of Eden, and… maybe there was a vote?

Martin’s not sure.

He’s also not sure how he feels about Jon doing that?

But it brought immediate income, which they needed, and immediate housing, which they needed even more, and—so Jon said—paperwork and identification for them would be coming soon.

Of course, that was six months ago.

They hadn’t really needed ID yet, living via cash, cheating via Jon’s powers.

It felt a little risky, but… how bad could it honestly be?

This was damn near close to their United Kingdom. No, not fully identical; there were some changes in the history of this place, and they still owned other people’s countries, like India, which was not so great, but that wasn’t what mattered.

No Fears. That was the biggie. So.

(Then why did Jon have powers?)

(Because he changed, and you know that, so shut up, Blackwood.)

The big gossip from Jon’s council right now was, of course, that the Eden District Council was supposed to be dissolved, their duties split between Westmorland and Furness authorities.

(Furnace! There’s an idea for a spicy pasta dish.)

Whatever. It didn’t seem like it would have a major effect on their lives.

Martin does his job, and laughs with his coworkers. He ensures his bosses like him all the way up the chain, and everyone who matters knows his name.

Sweaty and pleased, he goes home.

#

The dream.

The dream comes again, and as always, he cannot wake.

A dream of wings: two a dark and solid green, two flowing with eyes like rivers in ribbons of light.

And they drop translucent feathers that glow like those eyes, drop from those ribbons of green and lambent sight that knows and knows, and though all four wings shift as though breathing, Martin fears those glowing wings the most.

He fears so deeply what will happen should they unfurl.

#

“The dream again?” Jon’s hair is messier this morning, and Martin smooths it down, mindful of snags.

“Yeah,” says Martin.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?”

Martin sighs. “Jon, I said no. I meant it.”

“I know, I know. It’s just… hard to watch you suffer. Especially when I can…”

“What? Fix it?” Martin laughs a little. “I sure hope not, because if you’ve been bouncing around people’s dreams fixing things behind my back, we’ll have to have a little talk.”

Jon smiles as though Martin is joking, and Martin smiles as though he is joking, and instead of leaving the bed, Jon slides over him, and pins him down with hands and eyes and heat, and—

(They make love? Of course they make love, because Martin’s body still hums at work, and his thoughts keep slipping back to the sense of caressing, of joining, of fingertips teasing his nerves to wild, near-painful peak, and—)

And he can’t quite… remember?

But no, he does, he does, he remembers what happened, remembers that rarest of gifts that Jon gives, which Martin will not ask for because he knows Jon almost never wants, and he does remember what they did in their creaky bed in their borrowed house in Cumbria.

It’s fuzzy because he was fuzzy. From the dream. That’s all.

And work requires full attention, anyway, what with the power tools and I-beams and whatever.

He does remember. He does.

He focuses on the good and loving feelings, the sensation of being so deeply adored (seen, yet still wanted, still loved), and gets back to work.

#

“Council meeting tonight,” says Jon. “I think it’s tradition now to make your spicy pasta dish.”

Martin laughs. “Already? Sure, that’s fine. Oh—I was thinking of calling it the Furnace.”

Jon laughs. It’s such a delightful sound, so rare when he isn’t talking to Martin, so real. “The Furnace! Why?”

“Heat,” says Martin, simply.

“I think you’re very close,” says Jon, tapping his chin, then returns to straightening his tie and ensuring his braid is tight. “What about… Crucible?”

Martin startles. “Crucible?”

“Not the old morality play, of course. I meant a literal crucible.” Jon’s tie pin (which isn’t an eye, but somehow makes Martin think of one, and he chooses not to think about it) glints as he turns around.

“Huh,” says Martin, who doesn’t really get why that word. “Crucible?”

“It’s just an idea. The concept’s been on my mind, lately,” says Jon. “The changes and all.”

“Changes?”

“It’s not just Eden’s council that’s breaking up. The whole empire’s structure is changing,” says Jon like that’s absolutely nothing to be concerned about, and Martin stares at him.

“What?” Martin says.

“It won’t affect you at all,” says Jon.

“What do you mean, it won’t affect me?”

“Us,” says Jon. “It won’t affect us. Isn’t that what I said?”

“No, Jon, that’s not what you said.”

“Probably because I’m thinking of all the paperwork I’ll need to do,” says Jon.

Martin frowns.

“Hey.” Jon leans in, gives Martin a kiss, and all the fluttery sense-memories from a week ago flood back as richly as they have every day since, and Martin’s tension melts. “It’s going to be okay. Do you honestly think, even here, that I would let anything happen to you?”

Martin laughs. “Jon… things do happen to people. I work in construction, I mean… something could.”

And the next kiss is—

That kiss is—

Martin is on the tube, nearly arrived at his stop for work, and doesn’t recall how he got there.

Wow.

But he does remember?

Remembers the kiss, remembers Jon pushing him gently against the wall, remembers feeling devoured and weak-kneed and worshiped, and then… walking out, and…

He even said hi to the neighbor, Mrs. MacReady.

Hadn’t he?

He had.

Except… he hadn’t?

Of course I did, he thinks, and wonders, at last, if something truly has gone wrong.

#

He doesn’t tell Jon about the doctor’s appointment. No point in worrying him.

Though he almost does after, as the doctor goes over his scans and confirms conclusively that there is no brain tumor, or anything like that.

“You’re a remarkably healthy man, Mister Blackwood,” she says. “Absolutely every single test we ran came back completely optimal—practically textbook, ideal. Whatever you’re doing, by all means, keep doing it.”

I’m doing the Archivist, he thinks slightly hysterically. “But then what about these… blackout moments?”

“All I can say, Mister Blackwood, is it doesn’t seem likely to be… physical. Though you show no signs of stress, the mind can be a funny thing; are you under stress?”

Yes, he thinks, and doesn’t know why. “No.”

“Do you feel safe at home?”

No, he thinks, and doesn’t know why. “Yes.”

“Well, how about this? We can refer you. I really think you’re going to be all right; tests like these don’t lie. But it won’t do any harm to see someone, anyway.”

Martin thanks her, takes the info, and leaves without making a further appointment with anyone.

#

The dream.

Oh, the dream.

Is he seeing more? Or maybe remembering more in that instant before opening his eyes?

Seeing the four wings (two solid, two not), but standing between them now is Jon, and the wings aren’t attached to him but they are him, somehow, some balance between mortality and godhood (how does Martin know?), and Jon in between is—

Jon is—

Martin gasps awake.

“Martin?” says Jon, raised up on his arm, eyes wide and worried. “Are you all right?”

The image. The dream.

Jon, with a crown, but not a reasonable crown, some kind of spinning wheels, one within the other, and lined with fucking eyes. Jon with some kind of rising sun behind him that cuts as it illuminates, and Martin feels seen, and Martin feels eviscerated, and Martin feels burned.

“Martin?” Jon says, looking genuinely concerned.

Martin grabs him.

Holds him tight, maybe too tight, judging by the grunt, but he won’t let go.

Can’t let go.

“Martin,” Jon whispers, and holds him back, and kisses gently along his jaw, and tries to soothe with fingers in his hair. “Hey. Hey, look at me. What’s going on?”

“I don’t think I’m okay,” says Martin, softly.

Jon goes stiff. “You are. You have to be.”

“I… I don’t know that I am. Something’s been… I feel like I’m losing time. And I…”

Jon relaxes again, tension gone. “And that worries you,” he says, soft. “I understand. I’m sorry.”

Well, that’s not what he expected. “What?��� says Martin.

Jon kisses him softly. “We’re both going to be late. Come on.”

“But—Jon, what the hell did you mean by that?”

Jon won’t tell him. He won’t, peeling off Martin’s pajamas (“Jon, really, we’ve got to talk about this,”) and pulling him into their walk-in shower.

It’s not making love, and it’s not even sexual, but it is intimate, and precious, to be cleaned by one who loves, who is loved, and Martin stops asking.

Not wondering. But asking.

He can ask later.

He will ask later.

And on the way out the door, Jon kisses his cheek. “It’s almost over. I promise, Martin—you’re safe.” And he goes, ignoring Martin’s new questions, headed toward the tube.

#

Martin can’t stop seeing dream-Jon’s eyes while he works.

They’re everywhere. (They’re nowhere.)

They’re watching him from just to the side, only gone when he turns to see. (They’re not there.)

Inhuman eyes.

Gleaming green magic star-eyes, brighter than the sun, burning without pain, looking inside without slicing him open.

Except he feels sliced open.

The wings. The falling feathers.

The wings in front were the not-human ones (which makes no sense because humans don’t have wings so why would solid green wings be human?).

Like… Jon’s making a choice, or… some balance is slipping out of hand, or… he’s being overrun, or…

“Look out!” he hears, and with the rest of his coworkers, looks up.

The crane at the top of this building has just fucked up.

They all see it happening.

See the I-beams, the bricks, the sacks of concrete—

See the crane itself, tipping over the edge of the roof and taking all the nearby materials with it.

Is there time to run?

Martin doesn’t know. He tries. They all try. Of course they try, but the ground beneath them shakes (does it?) hard enough to knock every last one of them off their feet, and there are screams and there is panic, and Martin clearly sees the swelling shadow of whatever is about to end his life all around him before his mind goes blank in crushing noise and terror.

#

Martin lives.

No one else does.

Somehow, the beams fell near and not on, and somehow, the bricks missed as if poorly aimed, and somehow, the crane—which had been about to land right fucking on him—hit hoist-first and angled just so, crashing down so he lay curled in the crux of its joint, miraculously uninjured.

He’s covered in dust. He cannot stop shaking.

There are sirens. Shouts. His ears ring. He’s dazed.

But before they drag him away—

Before they get him to medical personnel and begin the mad battery of tests demanded by lawyers to ensure he can’t sue—

He sees what’s left of the crane operator.

Sees the movement in the cab, the wriggling he would recognize anywhere, any time, and will to the end of his days.

The driver, who was crushed when the crane fell down, was filled to the brim with worms.

Everyone tells him his panic attack only makes sense, and nobody blames him for screaming, and he has no idea how long it is before he’s finally discharged to go home.

#

Jon is waiting for him there.

Martin knows Jon is there before he gets to the door, which makes no sense, because he should have come to the hospital.

There is no way Jon didn't know what happened. Why hadn't he come? (Because you were all right.)

No, that's not good enough, why hadn't he come? (Because something held him up.)

What could have done that? Martin knows damn well paperwork wouldn't have done that. Some stupid meeting wouldn't have done that. Only a big thing, the biggest thing, could have done that.

And he knew you were all right. (I am not all right.)

He knows Jon is waiting, feels him, sees green light emanating from every door and window when he closes his eyes, though it isn’t there when they’re open.

So, Martin reasons. Either he’s gone insane, or Jon is…

Jon is not okay?

Martin’s throat is tight as he opens their door, eyes burning, heart sinking.

Jon is okay. Jon has to be okay. (Are we going to have to kill John? he had asked himself, asked his other self in his own domain, and the answer had been yes.)

“Jon?”

“Come in, Martin.”

It’s a gentle tone, calming. Calm.

It shouldn’t be setting off alarm bells, but it is.

Martin pauses on his way to the living room. He gets a knife from the kitchen, tucks it into the back of his belt, and approaches.

Jon is waiting by the fireplace, which he’s got warm and crackling. He looks normal (no wings). In a suit with a day’s rumple, his tie untied, his top buttons unbuttoned (only two eyes).

He looks up and smiles, and Martin knows.

He’s seen that smile before.

Seen it, before he had to do the worst thing to save the whole world.

“Oh, Jon,” he says, breathing too fast. “What have you done?”

“Nothing terrible, I assure you,” says Jon, standing and approaching.

Martin reaches back and finds the knife gone. He stiffens.

“I let you do that last time because I thought it would help,” says Jon, sliding his arms around Martin’s waist. “But it didn’t. They all came with us, and it was all starting again. I know you don’t realize. You couldn’t feel it. Not like I could.”

“Jon, what have you done?” says Martin, louder, angered at the assertion that the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life had been allowed (no matter how true).

“Do you want me to show you?” Jon’s kiss is soft (it’s the same, how can there be terrible things when his kiss is the same).

“You’re going to, anyway,” says Martin, not as sharply as he wanted. (Are we going to have to kill John? and he’d had to, he’d had to, he—)

Jon smiles.

It’s like the rising sun.

It’s impossible to look away from, impossible to see in only three dimensions. Impossible.

Martin can feel himself… melting. Cracking? Changing?

(Are we going to have to—)

(No.)

And then Jon is the dream.

It is so much more than the dream.

And they are in the cottage but not, and they are on the ground but not, and the translucent eye-wings are around and through Martin and sliding everywhere, and he gasps, and stares, and he can see.

“I like ‘crucible,’ because that’s what I did,” says Jon, who is holy, who is too much, who would be melting Martin’s skin off his bones unless consciously choosing to not. “I made a deal with them. With the Web, primarily, but with them all. Either I would drag them to destruction… or we would do this right.”

“Right?” whispers Martin, and feels horrified, but vaguely, distantly, like he’s forgetting how.

And then, he sees it all.

Only for a moment. He can’t do more than that, or he’ll break, his mind snapping, but a moment is enough.

Of a power like a net or a blanket or a spill sliding smoothly out from Penrith, Cumbria, and it spreads like light and it spreads like oil, and Martin can see—

Can see that the members of the Eden Council were changed, each chosen by Jon to be marked as he wanted, and directed, and pointed like a gun—

Can see they were chosen to join him in a version of the mass ritual that was so much worse than Jonah’s because Jon learned from Jonah’s mistakes—

Can see the fear gripping one human after another, each of them freezing where they are, and then, crying, going about their day, continuing their lives, but choking on unending fear—

Can see that Jon has somehow forced the Entities to change.

“This is balanced,” Jon explains, and yes, it is too late, and Martin can see that killing him wouldn’t stop it, and he’d have to go on some kind of murder spree to take out the whole Council, and even then it might not stop it, because Jon learned from Jonah’s mistakes , and this cannot be undone.

And touching Jon back feels like taking handfuls of fire and want, and even as Martin is burned, and he shouts, he pulls him closer because Jon is what he needs.

There is nothing else. Maybe there never was.

He can’t even remember why he was upset a moment ago.

“You don’t need to be,” says Jon. “Never again. Nothing will ever hurt you. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Jon,” says Martin, and means it with all of himself, and feels the (oil light poison) power of Jon’s will washing over and around, but the fear doesn’t reach him, doesn’t touch him, and Martin remembers to be upset for the world for all of one second before it’s gone.

Martin loves Jon.

Jon loves Martin.

Everything is good.

Martin is safe.

Jon is safe.

Maybe… maybe everything works out, here, in somewhere else.

Together.

One way or another, together.

Martin settles against his god and closes his eyes, because Jon can see it all, and Martin doesn’t have to, that is the way things should be.

[myheartismadeofstars]

TGCF pokemon teams: made x

Xianle Quartet version

Xie Lian

Absol:

Pretty self explanatory. Absol is the Bad Luck pokemon and appears before disasters. No doubt XL encounters a lot of them. Absol would also keep an eye out for BWX.

Calyrex: a pokemon who used to be a king but has lost everything, even his friends...sound familiar? Also it can make plants grow and I love the unused Flower God!XL concept. Also I think XL deserves a legendary.

Hisuian Liligant: an elegant fighter and a beautiful flower. Revered in ancient times but almost forgotten in the modern era. Also I see H!Liligant as very nice and polite.

Mienshao: an unarmed fighter that fights with "ribbons" that remind me of Ruoye. Mienfoo are also mentioned to seclude themselves in the mountains to train.

Garbodor: our favourite trash collector needed a trash pokemon, okay? But also a joking reference to his terrible cooking lmao. (I think Garbodor could eat XL's cooking like HC can, but that's the same as calling it garbage lmao)

Dusclops: THIS is Ruoye. It wraps and binds people in the cloth bandages hanging off of it. It does hold a Reaper Cloth but XL hasn't been able to find someone to help it evolve.

Liligant, Calyrex and Mienshao have been on the team the longest. I think the newest member is Garbodor, but he has had several other pokemon over his lifetime that he lost due to his luck.

Hua Cheng

Ceruledge: allow me to quote the pokemon Scarlet Dex Entry "The fiery blades on its arms burn fiercely with the lingering resentment of a sword wielder who fell before accomplishing their goal." That's honestly enough for me, but also, wartime!HongHong-Er having a Charcadet and also it's a ghost/fire type lmao.

Inteleon: Inteleon can learn Rain Dance. But also the transition from a bullied kid to an emo teen and finally a cool and suave (seeming) adult who still has signs of being that scared kid at heart?

Houndoom: HC needed a dog. Also the fact that just HEARING Houndoom's howl can send people fleeing in terror and the burns hurting FOREVER. (Reminds me a bit of E-Ming's curse, though not perfect)

Absol: Pokemon believed to cause disasters and hated for it, even though it was innocent and was actually trying to warn them... Also Absol has red eyes! Unlike XL's Absol, HC's has Super Luck!

Honchkrow: Murkrow are supposed to bring bad luck but Honchkrow are the bosses of Murkrow and said to be merciless towards them, much how HC is with Ghost City.

Honedge (Shiny): E-Ming! The shiny form has red eyes on its hilt and the blade seems forged in blood. It's literally a cursed sword with red eyes.

I would say that Inteleon and Ceruledge and MAYBE Honchkrow are the only pokemon he has from when he was alive, though none of them were fully evolved (Inteleon was a Drizzile). Ceruledge evolved first.

Feng Xin

Hisuian Decidueye: hisuian Decidueye is based on a ronin. He's an archer wandering the earth without a master.

Mabostiff: Mabostiff are LITERALLY the Guard dog pokemon!! Of course our favourite bodyguard has to have one! Also supposedly has a "scary face" like our grumpy boy

Lucario: Protective and loyal and I've now seen several people say that FX is good at tracking and I would say Lucario is perfect for trying to track someone (aka: XL) by their aura.

Espeon: Loyal but also the Sun Pokemon! FX is the "Southern Sun" after all! I also have a headcanon about FX having a spoiled cat and I think Espeon is the most similar to the cat I have for him

Zangoose: Obviously a reference to his fighting with Mu Qing. (I also think Zangoose has Toxic Boost rather than Immunity. Because FX isn't immune to MQ's words and actions, just angered by them, ergo: Toxic Boost)

Male Pyroar: It's a noble and intimidating pokemon and I would consider them a very masculine pokemon that would suit his title quite well and also...since it's revealed that Pyroar do have similar social structures to real lions... Males have nothing to do with child rearing I'm so sorry FX I'm sure you'd be a good dad if given the chance idk if I'll give Jian Lan a team but a female Pyroar would definitely be on it.

Most of his teammates have been around for a long time. Decidueye didn't fully evolve until he ascended on his own, and I would say Lucario and Espeon are the newest members. But his "starter" was probably Litleo, and he got Maschiff when he became XL's bodyguard when he was 14.

Mu Qing

Umbreon (Shiny): counterpart to FX'S Espeon, and I think it fits "Enigmatic Truth" almost as well as Espeon suits "Southern Sun". MQ's is shiny mostly because I feel the blue rings suit him better lmao. Also MQ deserves something special dammit!

Seviper: Rivals FX's Zangoose. The poison typing brings to mind his own toxicity (🤟) and the bladed tail reminds me of his Zhanmadao and Seviper is just a bit longer than most Zhanmadao are.

Persian: Considered beautiful and elegant but fickle, just like our boy!

Leavanny: Leavanny reminds me of the fact that his mother was a seamstress. But also: they are kind to children (but can also learn Sword's Dance and have wicked bladed arms) Mama's boy cannot forget her.

Midday Lycanroc: Cautious and extremely loyal to those who treated them well. Considered Dusk Form considering how hot headed MQ is, but slightly prefer the Midday form for him because it emphasizes the loyalty while Dusk is notably difficult to raise I also headcanon him with a yellow coloured dog so midday suits that better

Empoleon: Proud in all evolutions, but still live in groups as Piplup and Empoleon, though solitary as Prinplup. Sounds like pushing people away and then realizing that you wanted them in your life after all.

While he doesn't keep it with him, he also has a Male Indeedee who has been with him since his servant days. He mostly stays in his Palace and manages things. MQ doesn't like to be reminded of those days, but it did introduce him to his friends.

The oldest teammate is Leavanny by quite a bit. Leavanny was with him before he went to Mount Taicang (though maybe not fully evolved) Lycanroc is the newest member, but I don't think Empoleon is fully evolved until he reconciles with XL and FX.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Well...That Happened...

Reactions and Thoughts For Episode 8 Under the Cut:

Hey, so my initial feeling about the episode honestly is that I'm really disappointed. Hated how the final fight went down. I feel like they handled the whole SB thing badly from the beginning. I feel like they (MM, Starlight and the show itself) put him on the same level of horrific as HL, and I'm sorry, but that just isn't true. (Although I do understand MM's motivations.)

Now SB is a racist, chauvinistic, rage-filled asshole. But HL is all that and a MILLION times worse!! Soldier Boy at least seems human, he's shown restraint a few times. (at least since he's been back from Russia) He has at least paid a debt for his crimes with 40 years of torture. Homelander has done NONE of that!!

Literally, SB may have been manageable, maybe his experiences in Russia changed him a bit. Who knows, but I feel like there was at least some wiggle room with him, somewhere to go. HL has proven time and again that he is incapable of being stopped. He's done every sadistic, horrific thing under the sun, but somehow SB was the one that absolutely had to be taken out?

They could have really used him against HL and from the beginning Starlight and MM acted like HL was just a secondary problem to SB! When it was 100% the other way around.

And what?!!! Butcher and Homelander worked together for a minute against Soldier Boy?

(x)

I get they were trying to protect Ryan, but I felt like that was kind of out of nowhere too. I didn't feel like HL's sudden, unswerving love for his son was earned. Obviously it's gonna be an easily overturned love too, as soon as Ryan does something HL feels is a "betrayal" he'll try to take him out too.

Anyway, I'm glad SB isn't dead, but I just feel like his character was kind of wasted. I LOVE his character and not just cause I want him to fuck me five ways from Sunday, but because I just think there's SO much more they could do with him.

In my mind the only way to redeem things is if in the end SB and Ryan team up, with the Boys of course and take out HL for good.

Things I really enjoyed about the episode:

Frenchie finally standing up for himself, being awkwardly badass and Kimiko cheering him on. 😍😍

Maeve kicking ass and freeing herself from the van.

Maeve not losing sight of the mission and kicking HL's ass.

Maeve faking her death and getting to go live a powers-free life with Elena.

Ashley helping her get away with it.

Noir's death scene literally made me cry. Obviously he's done some truly awful things too, but I really liked his character, and to watch his little woodland friends comfort him as he died just ripped my heart out. But that whole scene between HL and BN was incredibly well-done.

The scene between Butcher and SB talking about SB's father, and how it shows there's more than one kind of abuse. Jensen's INCREDIBLE acting in that scene.

Hughie making the right decision, not taking the V, and HELPING Starlight instead of trying to save her.

MM's scene with Janine. That was absolutely beautiful and a PERFECT example of what real strength and masculinity looks like. It was truly wonderful, when Janine puts her hand over his to help stop the ticks, and says, "You're my hero, Daddy." Ugh!!! ALL the tears! 😭😭😭

This line from Hughie when he's talking about his Dad, "He wasn't weak. I just...I didn't know what strength was." Truth. Hughie speaking absolute truth!

Starlight officially joining the boys, although I've disagreed with her and found her incredibly frustrating for most of the season. 😄😄

I've loved this season, overall, and even though I didn't like what went down in the end (If we need more proof that they went after the wrong fucking Supe, we can look to HL's actions in the final scene and the beginning of Ryan's corruption!) I'm still VERY excited for next season. I'm worried about Butcher, of course. I feel like the only way to save him might be to give him real V. Which will be an interesting dilemma for him! And we've got Neuman as the candidate for VP, yikes!!

So, bring on S4.

[lordfreg]

LEGO Monkie Kid™: Secrets of the Emerald Road - Episode 1: A Hero's Quest

×just for fun; doesn't belong to me. all credit to its rightful owners. might not update for a while, don't expect to have weekly updates lol.×

×also unedited.×

×warnings: none this episode☺×

Legends say that long before this world was ever created, there were spirits of the Celestial realm. They harbored the spirits of nature;

Shrî (Water), the water spirit and her husband Shān (Mountain), the earth mover.

Chang Lü (Evergreen), the princess of the forest.

Together, they created the earth and planted their children on it, creating new life and making a seal to the Neather realm with a key, guarded by the fiercest of their children; The Tiger Princess.

But, after the Demon Bull King escaped and with him hoards of demons, the Princess was quickly overpowered. Seeking shelter after a dangerous battle with the rampaging demon that had ended in her being gravely injured, she returned to the Celestial Realm to heal and recover.

The Emerald key, however, was never seen again...

━─━────༺༻────━─━

Mk opened his eyes to the rays of suns filling his room, the sent of the fresh air filling his nose as he opened the window to the shining town of Megapolis. A peaceful city where absolutely nothing could go wrong.

He pulled out his phone, popped his Turquoise headphones on his head and hit play on his playlist.

He moved on to his bathroom routine while bobbing to his music. Shaving his non-existent facial hair and brushing his teeth. Combing his hair into a shape and tightening his head band, he was ready for the day!

Feeling ready for anything, he strolled out of his apartment building and cruised all the way down town to Pigsy Noodles, ready for even the toughest of deliveries and grease stains.

"Gooooooood mornin', Pigsy!" He greeted, sliding into the building. "Morning, Tang!" He waved, getting a small wave and smile from the black-haired man.

"Mornin', kid," the pig said lightly while answering the phone and cooking, not even paying enough attention to realize that the broth was boiling over.

Mk realized and rushed over, turning off the stove and catching some debris of vegetables that Pigsy was tossing into the pot.

"Hey, Pigsy," Mk huffed, obviously struggling to keep up with his over stressed boss, and his horrible aim, "I think, I think you need a day off!" Mk huffed over the man's shoulder.

Pigsy turned slowly, a look of pure horror, disgust and hatred all in one. If looks could kill, everyone in that restaurant would be a goner.

"What. Did. You. Just SAY TO ME?!?" Pigsy yelled at the top of his lungs, scarring Mk.

"Uh, uh, uh," Mk choked out, sweat instantly pouring down his face. "I-I said you need to take a day off...?" He repeated himself hesitantly.

Pigsy opened his mouth to speak, before Tang quickly interrupted. "Yes, Pigsy," The book worm said, "I think you've been pushing yourself too hard these past weeks." He noted.

"Yeah, so?" Pigsy snapped at the young man, "What's it to you, ya freeloader?!"

"For one, it's affecting your temper," Tang stared at the small pig, "Worse than usual,"

"Why I outta--" Pigsy wound up a fist before being held back by Mk.

"Heeey, Pigsy!" The boy smiled nervously, "Why don't we try and listen to Tang for once?"

"Have you lost your mind, son?!?" Pigsy shouted.

"No!" Mk defended, "I'm just saying, maybe he's right. Maybe you have been working yourself too hard lately." The boy suggested.

"And plus, me and Mei have this totally under control." Mk boasted.

"Isn't Mei on a family trip or something?"

"Tushhh, yea, but she said she'll be back tomorrow!" The teen scoffed.

"Hmm," the pig pondered, "Well, okay, I don't see any harm in leaving for a FEW days..."

"So, you'll go?!" Mk and Tang beamed, talking in perfect unison.

"Yes, on ONE condition," Pigsy stated holding up one finger while the other arm rested on his hip, "That Tang comes with me."

"Deal!" Mk shot up, immediately grappling Pigsy in a handshake.

"Mk!" The poor man whisper-shouted, "Nooo!!"

"Aw, common Tang!" The teen patted his friends back, "It'll be fun!"

"Are-Are you sure?" Tang asked nervously, gazing at the angry little pig man.

"Positive," Mk winked while giving a thumbs up.

━─━────༺༻────━─━

After a long, fulfilling day of deliveries, cleaning and a small bit of helping Sandy, Mk was finally... almost done with work.

It took quite awhile to clean up everything after today's lunch rush and dinner feast, especially with the deal Pigsy had thrown in there because of how excited he was to spend a weekend away at Flower Fruit Mountain with Monkie King.

The boy sighed a breath of relief as the last spot of gunk was scrubbed out of the nice wood of the table.

"That the last one, kid?" Pigsy asked as he washed the grease off the pans and other dishes.

Mk gave a thumbs up while looking soulless. "Yup, that's the last one." He smiled a small bit.

"Good job," The pig smiled a slight smile and dismissed Mk from work.

Feeling proud, he strolled out of the closed shop with headphones blasting his usual techno music while bopping his head to the beat and dancing along.

It was around 10:00 at night, so the streets where dark and nearly empty.

Mk whistled to the music before feeling he was being watched. Letting the song fall dead on his lips, Mk paused the music and took off his headphones, skeptically looking around.

It was dark, no one else was around, this would be a perfect time for Macaque to try and ambush him.

He felt the person shuffle around him, following them with his body on the defensive.

"Macaque," Mk called out, "I know you're there..!"

No response.

He tried again, "If you're planning on kidnapping me or something, just come and get me already!" He called out, a little louder this time.

Still nothing.

A few more suspicious glances down ally ways and dark paths before Mk started to suspect he was just being paranoid.

Putting back on his headphones and continuing the awesome music, Mk strolled all the way back to his apparent.

But he couldn't shake the feeling.

"Eh," Mk shrugged, getting snuggled up in his blankets, "It'll probably go away in the morning..." He yawned before drifting off to sleep.

"So, that's the Monkie Kid, huh?"

━─━────༺༻────━─━

Mk woke up a little more early then usual, starting off his day with self-care. Shaving, combing his hair, all while bopping to his music.

After he was done cleaning his room, he took the elevator down to the lobby and started towards Pigsy Noodles.

His pace became slower as the feeling of being watched continued to linger over his head.

Ignoring it, Mk opened up shop and waited for Mei to arrive.

After a few hours, that sinking feeling started to burrow it's way into his chest, making his smile sadden a bit.

"Any minute now.." He said, sitting on the kitchen floor, "She's gonna show up, right?"

Mk's phone buzzed, a message from Mei.

Hey mk! Sorry I couldn't make it back today, my parents need some extra help. Can't wait to be back home tomorrow!!😋😋😋

Mk sighed, and responded:

No big deal, cya tomorrow😜😜

A slight smile struggled to form on his lips, before falling back into a discouraged frown.

Then his phone rang again, "Pigsy's Noodles! How can I help you today?" He answered quickly, now grinning.

"Uh, yeah," the indecisive voice said, "Could I get a helping of noodles and a side of Dumplings?"

"Of course, right away!" Mk smiled, hanging up and getting right to work, "My first order of the day! Man, Pigsy is gonna be so proud of me!" He smiled at the thought.

After painstakingly making every noodle the exact same size and filling the dumplings perfectly, Mk jumped in the old noodle truck and drove off.

Following the GPS and bobbing to music once again, he was led out of the city, way out of the city.

"Huh," Mk said, growing more worried by the second, "Who would want to order all the way out here..."

Mk chuckled nervously, "In this dark... creepy forest..." His hands started to get sweaty, "Heh, there's probably nothing to worry about... Out here, in a dark forest with scary trees that probably have sp-spiders in them."

Mk started to scare himself now, and hit the gas; tearing through under brush and bushes before landing in a clearing, a clearing that had a giant stone floor right in the middle.

"Wow," Mk breathlessly admired, looking down at the giant Yin and Yang symbol carved into the stone, which was now covered in vines and plants.

Surrounding the entire stone floor were shields, swords, battle axes, maces and a huge war hammer coated in gold with jasper accents.

Mk looked up, seeing two huge marble tigers each holding a round object under their paws and snarling.

In between the tigers there was a pillar, and resting on that pillar was the Tiger Princess herself.

Well, more a limestone rendition, but none the less still exciting.

Mk's eyes formed to the size of dinner plates as his jaw dropped.

He screamed a shriek of pure terror and a small bit or modification.

"Oooooh my gosh!!" He immediately bowed down to the stone woman, "I'm so sorry for intruding on your... grave? I don't know what this is, but I'm sorry!" Mk bowed a few more times just for good measure.

"Relax, kid," Monkie King said, resting on one of the stone Tiger Guardians.

"M-Monkie King?!" Mk gasped, "What are you doing here???"

"Just," Monkie King started as he picked his teeth, "Hangin' out with an old friend," the ginger monkey laughed.

"Monkie King, not cool," Mk scolded disappointed in the King's lack of respect.

"Kid, common," The monkey smirked, "If there's one person in this realm that should be touching this stuff, it's me." He boasted, now getting comfortable on the stone pillar holding the girl.

"Yeah, totally," Mk said sarcastically.

"Take a look around," the monkey urged, "It's probably rich with all that history nerd junk you always talk about all the time." Monkie King yawned.

"Well, one little look couldn't hurt..." Mk smiled, looking at each weapon and reading the plaque as Monkie King napped.

After a little while of sleeping, Monkie King walks up and continued to supervise the overly excited teen as he re-read every single thing once more.

"Monkie King!" Mk waved his hand frantically at the marsupial, "This one is super good!!"

"Uh-huh," the monkey dismissed, "Sounds cool,"

While Mk tried to lift as many of the weapons as he could, something shiny caught the King's eye.

"Ya think I could carry on of these?!" Mk pointed happily at the giant war hammer.

"Uh-huh, yup, totally," the monkey dismissed once again, "You try that and I will be over here, uh, "looking" at stuff in this pile of offerings." Monkie king said slyly.

"Oh, okay!" The boy said, struggling to lift up the hammer.

"Hmm," the ginger purred, reviewing the offerings, looking for the one that caught his eye. "Ah-ha! Found you.~" Monkie King said as he held up a necklace containing a purple orb.

Suddenly, the stone of the tigers began to shake, their eyes shot open and their snarls became very real.

"Monkie King!!" Mk scolded, "What did you do?!"

"What? I didn't touch anything!" He said spreading out his arm before realizing that he had the necklace in had and quickly hid it behind his back.

Mk groaned, before shouting at the monkey, "Watch out!"

Monkie King wiped around quickly and punched the stone guardian in the snout. Picking up Mk like a doll, and running as fast and his legs could go, he stopped at the cart and grew him in.

"Go, kid, GO!" Monkie King shouted.

Mk it the gas and switched it into reverse.

Following the path of already tore through plants, they sped out of the clearing as fast as they could.

Monkie King held up the necklace, "Ha ha, got you now." He mumbled to himself.

"Uh," Mk looked at him with the most disappointed face he could muster up, "Care to explain?"

"Oh, yeah, of course!" The monkey smiled sweetly, "You see, this is actually a map, an ancient map, that has been told to lead the follower to the Emerald Key." He explained.

"And you needed to steal it?" Mk frowned at his mentor.

"No, it's not stealing," Monkie King chuckle nervously, "It's forever borrowing!" He reasoned.

"Sure, sure," Mk inhaled.

"But I had to take it because I knew there was a demon trying to steal it!" He desperately cried.

"Really? Who?" Mk was now interested.

"A powerful demon built of nothing but the tortured souls of those who are dared enough to try and fight it," the Monkie King said mysteriously, putting both is arms over his face for dramatic effect.

"Oh," Mk squeaked turning pale, "How wonderful..."

"But don't worry," The monkie king reassured, "With your great sage here, nobody's getting this key, or any other interdimensional key." He said cooly.

Mk sighed, "Good to hear, good to hear,"

"How about we go back to the shop and hang out," the king said nonchalantly

"Really?" Mk beamed.

"Really," the monkey smiled

━─━────༺༻────━─━

A human sized blue demon lurked out of the destroyed underbrush after bringing back nothing but a piece of Mk's ripped jacket.

"Good work, my pet," A smooth voice hissed out. "Run, run, run away monkie king. Karma catches up to everyone eventually." The voice laughed.

END.

[httpiastri]

wedding plans – ln4

lando is sure he wants to marry you – but the road to getting there isn't always so easy.

(part 2 to 'wedding bells' – read part one first!)

genre: fluff

pairing: female reader x lando norris

warnings: none

requested: yes!

author's note: hello everyone! it seems like maybe this blog is working again... at least on some fronts. i finally got an answer from tumblr support, so we're on our way to solving things i think. yay! this is a bit rushed and it's also past 3am but i will proofread it more thoroughly in the morning. also, i wrote this while listening to some kind of lando playlist on spotify and it had the most random songs 😭 so the mood throughout this is a bit mixed too. anyway... hope you all have a good day!

f1 masterlist

lando wishes he could be romantic and say he planned out his proposal for months, that he had organized it with your friends and family, or even had a set date for when it was supposed to happen. but, he hadn't.

he did have a plan, though; not a perfect one, not one he had thought about for a long time, but still a plan. he was supposed to do it after having dinner with your parents one night. he wanted to stop somewhere on your way home, take you out on a walk along some beautiful scenery and just pop the question when you'd least expect it. he hadn't worked it out to the smallest detail, but he had a clear idea of what he wanted to do.

however, his plan went straight out the window today when he got his first win.

winning at his home race, a maiden f1 victory in silverstone was more than he could've ever dreamed about as a child. it was all just perfect, and he wanted the already so special day to be even more special.

ever since your night at his brother’s wedding, lando knew he wanted to propose as soon as possible. he wasn't really scared you would reject him; you had never given him any sign that you would be against it. he just needed to be your husband, sooner rather than later.

that's how he finds himself here, pacing around the bedroom of your hotel room. one hand rakes through his hair as the other stays in his pocket, fingers tightly grasping the tiny box. he wants to do it here and now, so that you get to have something extra to celebrate when going out tonight, but he's growing more and more nervous by the second.

you're in the bathroom, making some final touches to your makeup, so you're completely unaware of the anxious behavior from your boyfriend. but when you hear his voice call out your name, you instantly notice how it's a little shaky. "yeah?"

"can you come out here for a moment?"

your eyebrows furrow but you do as you're told, stepping out to find lando standing by the window, taking in the scenery. the hotel you're staying at is just a couple of miles away from silverstone, and the view from your room on the top floor is magnificent in the low light of the sun almost setting. he tears his eyes from the outside to look at something even more beautiful.

obviously, you have gone for an orange dress to celebrate him, and he can't help but smile slightly when you walk up to him. "you're gorgeous," he tells you, his hand finding your waist as he lets his thumb graze the material.

"you're even more gorgeous." your hands meet at the back of his neck, fingers intertwining as you look straight into his eyes.

he pauses for a moment, gathering courage. "hey, i..." then he looks down at his feet, letting out a small chuckle. "wow, am i really this nervous?"

you tilt your head, your eyebrows rising instinctively at the sight of him loosing his cool. your always so confident boyfriend is nervous about... having you in his arms? "are you alright?"

"yeah, i just..." lando sighs before looking back up at you. "i love you, you know. a lot." you nod, and just as you are about to tell him you love him too, he speaks again. "and i want to spend the rest of my life with you."

suddenly, it clicks in your head. "lando-"

"shush, don't interrupt me," he cuts you off, a joking tone clear in his voice. a laugh bubbles from your chest and lando lets go of your waist, taking a step back. your own hands come up to cover your mouth as he takes a deep breath and kneels down. his hand reaches into his pocket to pull out the box, letting it fall open. "will you do me the great honor of marrying me?"

you had been preparing for this moment too, obviously. there had been many things you'd thought about when it came to the proposal, one maybe more important than the others; you had promised yourself not to cry. you already knew it was going to happen, and you knew what you were going to answer, so you wouldn't be surprised.

but just like lando's plans, your plans also went out the window once it actually happened.

"come here, you idiot," you let out, your eyes tearing up as you held your hands out to him. he stood up, falling into your embrace as your arms wrapped around him. "god, i love you."

when you part from your hug, your hands cup his face in them and you lean in to press your lips against his.

"yes," you say when you pull away, right before kissing him again. "yes." another kiss. "yes yes yes yes."

"wait, you need to be more clear with your answer." when you laugh, the tears stream down your cheeks, and lando helps pat them away with his thumb. then he kisses you again, mumbling against your lips. "i can't wait."

it's all so simple, so natural, so unforced, just like your relationship – but unlike how the rest of the night will likely go.

"hey, are you dozing off again?" you groan, your eyes shifting from the pieces of paper in your hands up to watch your lover next to you. his arms are crossed on top of the table, head resting on them as his eyes grow hazy again. "concentrate, norris!"

he lets out a deep sigh, one of his hands coming up to wipe across his face. he leans back in his chair, making an attempt to remember what you had said just before you started scolding him. "yeah, that sounds great."

you swat at his shoulder with your hand, furrowing your eyebrows. "you don't even know what i was talking about." you hold up the papers to him, showing off the different color schemes you were choosing between for the big day. "if we choose this one, we could get those pink garden roses we talked about for the reception..." you hold up one piece of paper to him, eyes watching closely for his reaction. "...but this one..."

lando hates planning for your wedding. he finds it extremely boring, especially because it's so complicated and because there's so much to figure out. but more than anything,

he hates waiting.

he wants to marry you now – if he got to decide, he'd just run off and elope with you right this second.

unfortunately for him, you have convinced him that you both want your friends and family to be there for the big moment. when he tries to think realistically, he does agree with you, but when he lets his heart do all the thinking, he can't care less about anyone other than you. all he needs is to have you with him.

hell, he would run off with you to a random country, leave all civilization and everyone you know, live off insects and grass or whatever, as long as you're there with him. he needs nothing else.

"are you still not listening?" your hands land on the table with a thud as you throw your head back.

lando leans forward to rest his chin on top of your shoulder, his arm snaking across your waist to pull you closer to him. "i'm sorry."

"what even are you thinking about?"

he pauses for a moment before he leans back a little, eyes meeting yours. "i'm giving eloping a serious reconsideration."

"lando, we've discussed this enough, haven't we?" one of your hands land where his neck meets his shoulder. "plus, it's so late now. we'd lose our deposits."

"you think i care about the money?" he cocks an eyebrow and you shake your head at him. "all i care about is you, and you being mine. no matter how we get there."

"so, if you care about me so much," you start, tilting your head as a smile spreads across your lips. "will you help me with this? pretty please?"

"well, since you ask so nicely..." lando can't help but let out a laugh at your expression. "but first..." his hand pulls you even closer and your knee is grazing against his leg when he leans down to you. his lips find yours easily, like it's what they were made for, and you kiss your fiancé back just as easily.

maybe he can muster up the energy to focus on planning for a little while. it will be worth it in the end, he thinks; when he sees you walk down the isle, when he holds you in front of everyone, when he gets to kiss you as your husband, he is sure it will all be worth it.

everything is worth it when it comes to you.

"has monaco always been this pretty?"

your voice breaks lando's train of thoughts and he looks over at you. you pull your knees up to your chest and he scoots closer to you on the blanket. "i'm pretty sure it has."

you pause for a moment, taking a deep breath. "it feels different, though. doesn't it?"

he gets what you mean. everything feels different these days; the morning coffee, his races, waking up in your arms. even just sitting with you here, overlooking the country you'd spent so many months in, the city lights twinkling under the night sky.

it's all lighter, easier, sweeter. every day has just a slight touch of extra beauty that wasn't there before.

"do you think it will still be different after tomorrow?" your voice is low, almost as if you're scared of your words.

you are. to be fair, the changes in the horizon are life-changing – it's not weird to wonder and be nervous about what life will look like.

"yeah, i think so. but another type of different." you tilt your head up towards him, eyes catching the way his own are sparkling in the lights. except, they aren't looking at the lights; you're the reason they are sparkling. "a better different."

you smile, leaning against his shoulder as you let your eyes fall closed. "i can't believe it's tomorrow," you hum. "the wedding. our wedding."

time has passed really quickly, as life sometimes does. all of the days lando had spent complaining that the wedding was so far away had gone by in the blink of an eye. "you still have time to run away, you know."

a chuckle leaves your chest at the comment. "so do you." his arm drapes across your shoulders, holding you close as you let out a breath. "i can't believe i'll be yours in just a few hours."

"love," he starts, looking down at you. "you have been mine for as long as i can remember."

he was right; you can barely even remember a time where you weren't his.

"and you have always been mine, too."

it was just months ago that his brother got married and you dreamed about your own wedding, imagining what it would look like and how you would feel. and now, the moment is mere hours away. to say you're completely terrified is an understatement – but at the same time, you're so very excited. and every time you remember the person you're getting married to, it's easy to calm down. as long as you're with lando, everything will be perfect.

you look up at lando, your soon-to-be husband, and your heart flutters at the look in his eyes. it's a look of complete and utter love – the exact same one as the one you're showing off.

your lives have just begun, and you can barely even wait to see what the future has in store for you.

bonus:

just before silverstone, there was one time where the two of you had walked along the shoreline of monaco after a lovely dinner, with the prettiest sunset covering the sky. lando had stopped walking, felt his jacket pocket, and groaned out loud. when you raised your eyebrows at him, he just said: "this would have been a perfect moment to propose to you."

"do it, then?"

"i left the ring at home..."

"you're unbelievable. and adorable. come here, let me kiss you."

[seasideretreat]

The glory of you

I can't forget you. You are the most splendid thing under the sun. Of course, many things are hard and you cannot ever replace the pure sunshine of crazy existence in the last analysis, but there is something cool about your calm demeanor and your wise resistance against bad things. You are truly a master-mind of ordinary resistance, everything you take up turns to gold. Your power is infinite, your work is splendid, everything you do is splendid, I adore you. Maybe there is something wrong about the way I address you: in that case, I apologize. But I am just so overcome by awe for your crazy worth and mighty work and happiness, everything you do is mighty and amazing and I just really need to say this again and again and again, until something changes in the fabric of the universe to centre itself on you and may you shine and radiate in glory and beauty. I can't put you away. You are addictive beyond reason, everything I associate with you is great. Your work is amazing, your deeds are good, everything you do is good. But I see, that there is something I have yet to cover in my aubade: the simple things. Your name, your clothes, the way you move. Everything is perfect.

We can't let the disasters of everyday put us down. Sure, it's good to mourn for a while, but there's more on the horizon, your best days are yet to come and you don't see it: you got to get out more! Positive thinking will get you very far: it will get you over the ridge and out of sight! There's much work to be done.

I have been to Paris. Not everybody is your friend there, but it is a cheerful town with many cultural people, who will cry for your tragedy and laugh at your comedy. Life is both a tragedy and a comedy, and the hilarious parts are often the most tragic parts. But there is a lot of things to do and we don't know half of what is going on in the world, everybody just moves around and there is no way forward, except of course the mean old dirty road of cruelty. But cruelty is not going to get you to heaven, so to speak, and we all gotta get to heaven. Writing is both a philosophical and a temperamental affair. This mostly has to do with the fact that a lot of writing is just filler. This is a horrifying reality, that we must somehow free ourselves of. A good writer, obviously, doesn't really write filler. But of course, the art of writing filler is a good art. You can't write the way you speak, or even if you could, it wouldn't do you much good. I don't know. I suppose the internet just isn't the free place it ought to be. We free ourselves: writing is a struggle. We write uphill. Not very strategic. I gotta read Sun Tzu again. Anyway, I don't know. I don't know what the work really is, the work of writing. Being a writer is not as free as being a postman or a call-centre employee. There is a great deal of things that we can do, but none of them are very fun to the writer. The writer is just confronted - all the time - with horrifying limitations of time and space, and he can do many good things with his time, but there is nothing to be done about being in the here and now, and so on and so forth. I just want to say: you're amazing. I have seen so many great things and it is all terrible, but the great things that you have done have gotten me out of my mind and I really like you now and there's something unusual about your simplicity and honesty that always comes by to help me see the truth about your amazingness again and again. And furthermore, I love you. The things that I saw in your originality are prudent and official, but they were nothing in the vast context of your original necessity that made me realize how prudent and official your ordinary habit was in the vast entirety of the world, that made me see how simple and how ordinary your happy existence really was: I love you, and you are amazing, that's all I got to say.

[zuzuhasablog]

♡ HQ First Date

(omi, rin, iwa)

contains : not proofread, aged up, fluff, gn!reader

SAKUSA KIYOOMI

with this man, you're not sure who made the first move. things just kinda went along, and now here you are : on your first official date together as lovers. and from the moment sakusa had picked you up at your doorstep up until now, he hadn't said a word. so you've been trying to make things less awkward with small talk, but God knows sakusa isn't a fan of that—but he still remains silent as you ramble on and on about random things that come to mind, unbeknownst to you and your anxiety that he's secretly stealing glances until the car reaches the restaurant. it's not too fancy, not too cheap, not too crowded, not too empty—perfect choice.

at the moment, you're overwhelmed and overthinking that maybe this isn't going well and that you should leave, but you've already ordered your meals and... well, now you're sitting silently across each other, none of you are distracted, you're just staring at each other in silence—it's like an eye staring contest. “This is... going so awful.” you finally admit. Sakusa doesn't seem to be caught off guard or affected, he simply nods in agreement.

“I don't know how this is any different than our usual hangouts, it feels like we don't know each other—” you continue, but Sakusa interrupts.

“You're pretty.” he mumbles.

“...What?”

Scratching the back of his neck, the young man explains himself. “...I've been.. meaning to say that for awhile now. I'm sorry that my silence made everything awkward.”

“...O— yeah, no, it's fine—” you chuckle as you look at the ceiling and put your hands on your chest as you let out a relieved sigh, and whisper. “thank you.”

SUNA RINTAROU

you and suna had been official for awhile now, but you've never been on a real date. so, suna, being the person he is, asked you out on an amusement park date on a windy Friday afternoon. you, being the person you are, obviously agree to this date and are awfully excited about it. when you two meet up at a diner, you first order a small snack before going to the amusement park, and much to your surprise, it wasn't awkward at all! everything was going well, Suna stealing as much photos of you as he can, even having you model for some.

doing everything anyone does at an amusement park, and it never getting old is as amazing as anything can get, especially when you're with someone you like—gosh, you sound like a teenager again. as the sun finally sets, you two follow suit, and are taking your rest along with it as you sit on a bench together eating ice cream. “Wait, pause, you look perfect right now—” Suna says as he takes out his camera. “Hm?” you cluelessly ask as you stare at him. “Oh—” you immidiately going back to eating your ice cream for the photo. “No, no, look at me, that was perfect—” you turn to look at him, confused. he snaps the photo and shows it to you.

“...you dingus.” you say, disappointed, as you wipe the ice cream off of your forehead, Suna laughing in the background and both of you having no idea how it got there, what's important is that now, it's gone. after the amusement park, the two of you head toward the last destination of your date—a VIP bar. it's silent, calm, air conditioned and it's where you can get a real breather. this is probably the first time you've been to the bar with a boyfriend, besides the fact that you've been to a bar many times with suna, this is the first with a label. you stare at him as he silently drinks his scotch, and you turn to your own drink, sighing before getting off of your seat. “I'm going to the bathroom.” you mumble, and you can see him stare at you before nodding as you walk past him and into the restroom.

In the restroom, you fix yourself up to look more appealing and feel more refreshing—reapplying some perfume/cologne, especially after all the sweaty crowds you've been in. you lick your lips and get ready to go back out there. seeing suna in the same spot, you awkwardly return and sit next to him. “...hey.” he says, not turning to look at you, you turn to look at him, and then he turns to look at you before capturing your lips in a slow peck, and you're taken aback for a moment—“your face has had 'kiss me' written all over it all day.” he mumbles.

perhaps all he needed was to take is a drink to get to the next step.

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

your first date isn't awkward at all, you two had been hanging out for years, and after he asked you out you thought “why the hell not?” and if it doesn't work out, it won't be awkward or sappy, you're just two friends who tried something and it hadn't worked out that way. so, the classic, he pulls up to your house, you open the door, he says “you look... good.” and you say “thanks.” you go into his car, he drives to his “surprise” destination while you two discuss the billions of other galaxies out there while here everyone is worrying about taxes, and finally, you two are at a traditional Japanese restaurant.

apparently, iwaizumi somehow got to book a vip room where it would only be the two of you, away from all customers. you two sit down on the floor and make yourselves at home as you order some meals, you commenting about how “it feels like my childhood” and iwaizumi silently chuckling and agreeing to your statement. it feels right—comfortable, being around him. you could imagine a future with him right now, but you won't, that's... weird.

“hey, there's a cat out there–” he whispers as he points out the open shoji where a cat had been walking by, and stopped midway to look at the two of you. iwaizumi is the type to claim he's a dog person, but really likes cats. you laughed to yourself as you silently watched the man—mesmerized by the beauty of another mere living organism of a giant universe. he turns to look at you. “how are you not looking at the cat right now?” you shake your head and stare at him. “I'd rather look at you.”

iwaizumi deadpans.

“that was... surreal.”

you laugh together. “I agree, I could've done so much better than that.”

[robbyykeene]

Johnny!

favorite thing about them: he's just sooooo pathetic when the term poor little meow meow was coined they were thinking of none other than Johnny The Trash King <3

least favorite thing about them: I mean the constant reckless child endangerment that borders on abuse isn't great but hey! no one's perfect!

favorite line: like, literally every other word that comes out of his mouth but if I had to choose one probably "Not sure I want you to grease me up right now. Baby oil gets over everything [insert the biting lip emoji]"

BrOTP: the og cobra gang in general but honorary mention to Johnny&Amanda and obviously Johnny&Daniel

OTP: Johnny x Carmen sorry I'm basic! But Johnny x defeating alcoholism goes hard too

NOTP: Not to be controversial but I guess Johnny x Ali lol I just don't really care personally and in the movies he was a pretty horrible (ex) boyfriend imo.

Random headcanon: he has a severe TBI and that's why is the way he is lmao. Still waiting for the episode where him and Robby get MRI’s together <3

unpopular opinion: I have absolutely no gage on what is or isn't popular in this fandom but I will say that I think a good 95% of the disputes people have over johnny’s character can all be traced back to the fact that the writing itself seems to flip-flop on which parts of his character it considers necessary to redeem and which parts it doesn’t.

song that makes me think of them: even though I fully believe he would despise this song. My Own Worst Enemy by Lit. Also Black Hole Sun by Soundgarden

favorite photo of them: