#so much for my binge free streak

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

I know your requests are closed so feel free to ignore this but if I don’t type it somewhere I WILL forget it lol. I’ve been re-binge reading your works and just thought of this…

Civilian reader kills someone out of self defense for the first time. And it’s the whole staring at her bloody shaking hands panic attack what have I done fiasco. And her boyfriend or husband helping her through it and dealing with it all (I can see it with Ghost or Price idk)

But yeah feel free to ignore, I know your requests are closed rn

Love your work! You are so talented!

This has been in my inbox for so long, lmao. Sorry for not answering right away - take a few paragraphs w. soft, worried, Simon in compensation.

Warnings for gore, death, blood, panic attack, etc. F!Reader.

Your body shakes violently, blood dripping down like crimson tears from your hands. The overwhelming sense of dread sits with bullet fragment aggression in the delicate make-up of your psyche.

You weren't meant for this.

Not the blood or the terror. Certainly not the body laying out in the hallway.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp out, shuddering as your throat swells in on itself. Your form had slipped down the wall just across from the door not minutes prior, legs weak and heart pounding like a war call. Now all you can do is stare into the vacant eyes of some random burglar—at the knife you'd stuck in his chest when he'd backed you into Simon's office.

It was a miracle that you remembered where your husband's combat blade had been, seen on some off chance when you'd been cleaning. He tries to keep this all separate, you know.

The blood just keeps slipping out of the corpse. It's a pool now, and you don't know how long you'd been huddled like this until the sounds of rampaging feet and hurried yells of your name bounce off your eardrums.

All you can see is the uncleanable amount of red.

Simon had only gone out to the corner store half an hour ago, getting a quick supper so you both could sit in each other's company. You'd been hesitant to watch him leave so soon after getting home, but he'd sworn he'd only be a few minutes.

None of you had thought too much about the local break-ins. After all, Simon was...well, Simon. And he was home.

S-Simon was home.

There's a loud, barked, curse when the body is discovered, stomping feet that make the entire house shake like it was the epicenter of an earthquake. Your husband's form slashes the front of your vision as he kneels in the blood on the floor. Frantic brown eyes behind his balaclava snap from place to place; taking in the familiar handle and blade in nanoseconds. In his left hand he clutches a pistol, white-knuckled.

But you can't even say anything, because you're as still as stone—breathing in concrete as the gravel shreds your vocal cords and trachea. Reality slips in quick streaks of color as Simon's face flashes into the open doorway.

He sees your wide eyes with a mirroring of his own, bone-deep fear striking in his head with a heated pulse.

"Love!" Simon's rushing to you. Your body can't help but startle back, spine shoving into the wall; fingers still saturated and stained.

Inside your chest, your lungs jerk in a strained whimper.

Your husband freezes, one foot ahead with his widened legs as he fights his mind to rush to you and take you into his arms. Simon puts the gun away with little thought to look for more assailants—all that matters is you.

And you looked terrified.

"Hey," hands reach up to this balaclava, slipping the fabric off as he kneels down slowly to one leg. He tosses it to the floor and you try to focus on the strength of his jaw; those scars and pale hairs as your eyes well with tears. A delicate sob builds. "Hey, now. It's just me, alright?"

Simon speaks softly, hands splayed out and a few feet from you. He wishes to hold you tightly but refrains even as his chest tightens at not being able to calm you. The man can't stand that look on your face.

Your fingers curl into shivering fists, "Simon," you cry, finally able to get a solid word out even if it sounds slurred and ragged.

It's all the permission your husband needs.

Simon jerks forward and takes you up into his large arms; the wide encompassing of his palm on the back of your head and the other circling your waist. He angles you away from the body as he glares into it with hatred and vile curses, hissing venom.

When he found the door busted off its hinges, he'd never felt so panicked. Even now as you release a small wail into his neck Simon's heart races, breath coming in short puffs.

"You're alright, Sweetheart. You're alright. I'm right 'ere." You sag into him, grabbing at his leather jacket with nails digging into the brown material. Simon nuzzles his nose into your scalp, muscles tense, "Breathe, it's over."

All you can focus on is Simon's scent, his words. They're the only thing keeping you from oblivion. Eventually, as your husband rocks you back and forth, you can gasp enough air down to push away the black at the sides of your vision.

"That's right," he whispers, gritting his teeth. "Good girl, keep focusin' on me, yeah? You're doin' perfect." Simon doesn't care about the blood or the screams of sirens in the distance.

For the first time in his life, he doesn't care if someone else happens to see his face.

Your husband pulls his head back and shifts his hold to your cheeks, angling your runny and chilled face upwards. He grits his teeth and his eyes bleed with concern; fear.

"...He do anything?" You can only make out half the words as the sounds all huddle together in a ringing tone, but you shake your head in small flinches. Lips find your forehead—heated and firm. Muttered words. "Did so good, Love, I'm so proud of you. S'not your fuckin' fault, you hear?"

Sniffling, you only whimper once more before lips kiss away your tears; thumbs coming up after to swipe at the remnants. Curling over you, this beast—defined so often as ruthless and deadly—shields you from the image of the man you'd killed in self-defense like a demon of smoke and ash. Holding you as if he can make everything else disappear.

After all, you weren't meant for this. You were meant for your soft skin and your loving eyes. Everything else that Simon tied himself to you for—goodness.

"Simon," you gasp again and shove your face into his chest. For the life of you, you can't say anything else. He knows what you mean.

"I'm here," he repeats. Caressing the back of your head, his hand tenses and softens with leaving adreanaline. "Nothin'll happen to you again. It's all gonna be alright."

You believe him.

[meanbossart]

I've got some questions about Du Drow.

1. What does he think of Halsin?

2. Is he embrace the urge or resist the urge?

3. What does he think of Gortash?

4. Did he have any lovers in the past?

1- Doesn't care for him. Too nice and too pragmatic and talks too much about how pretty trees and leaves are. What's a little ironic is that DU drow has in-depth knowledge about nature and survival because of his background, so, technically, they could have had a lot to chat about - but Halsin's outlook on nature is rather... Ethereal? Theological? In comparison, nature is a parent's cold, stern hand in DU drow's mind. There's a simplicity and straightforwardness to it that he finds a great deal of comfort in, and I think Halsin's druidic agenda must have really, really gotten on his nerves very quickly. Also he's like 2 inches taller than DU drow so that's not good for his ego.

The gang didn't fix the Shadow Cursed lands so they parted ways by the end of act two, the drow didn't miss him LOL

2- Like - resist, embrace, resist. He was a little bit freaked out at the start, took to it pretty quickly and reveled for a while, then decided to resist it again once he realized these weren't a part of his own, free will. He still enjoys killing and maiming, but he needs to do it as a free man bound to no gods, otherwise he feels like a pawn.

3- Pre-campaign he thought Gortash was kind of a character. He enjoyed his company in a "get a load of this guy" way but probably saw some uncomfortable pieces of himself reflected in him as well. They were "friends", but only because Gortash put up with his constant abuse with little more than an eye-roll and a wave of the hand, which continually encouraged DU drow to push the bill further. In a weird way, it worked for them.

Post tad-pole, DU drow retained the "get a load of this guy" attitude. He looks at Gortash and just wants to laugh. He thinks he's a poor excuse for a man and a joke of a leader and retained no memory of that inkling of childish terror and desperation he saw of himself mirrored in him.

I've gone much more in-depth about Gortash before, so just look up the "enver gortash" tag in my blog if you're curious about it!

4- No. Astarion is his first functional, romantic relationship. He went through long streaks without sex interspersed with "cruising binges" as a titular Bhaalspawn, and sometimes got creative with corpses in and outside the temple. Otherwise, he considered Orin to be his soulmate.

Thank you for the questions! :D

[musicalmoritz]

if TBHK couples have kids, what will their parenting look like?

Awww, this is such a cute question!! I’m gonna do my main ones to keep this short but if you want to hear my takes on any others feel free to lmk!!

Aoinene

• Gotta do the gay moms first

• Unsure of whether they’d have a son or a daughter…either way these too are gonna adore their kid

• Aoi would be the strict mom, her own mother seems to be pretty controlling and she gives me “turning into your parent” vibes. She’d try to acknowledge when that behavior goes too far tho and eventually try to loosen up a little. She’s not the first they go to when they’re in trouble but she gives the best advice; and she doesn’t really get mad or yell, more-so she gets stern

• Nene would be the exact opposite. She’s not a regular mom, she’s a cool mom/ref. Definitely the type to take her kid on spontaneous shopping trips and not tell Aoi until they’ve already splurged. It’s okay tho because Aoi can’t stay mad at her wife. She buys her kid extra treats every time she stops by the store, and takes them for ice cream every Friday

• As they’ve both had their own mental health struggles, they would check in a lot with their child to make sure they’re doing okay

• Their family might struggle with communication because, well, it’s Aoinene, but they’re certainly going to make an effort. They’d be really into family holiday traditions, I’m talking movie binges, festivals, decorating, big meals, etc.

Terukane

• Teru practically already has two kids so whoever he’s dating is going to get the co-parenting experience (at least with Tiara, Kou becomes more of an awkward brother-in-law)

• These two would so be girl dads you cannot change my mind. If it’s not Tiara then it’s another little girl they adopted

• Teru would be a total helicopter parent, not necessarily strict like Aoi but very overprotective. And he’d do that typical parent manipulation tactic of “oh I guess I’m just the worst dad ever” during arguments. But don’t let those traits fool you, he would be the most loving dad ever. His kids are his entire life, he probably carries pictures around of them in his wallet

• Akane would also be a good dad, just less overbearing. He’d be the type to take his kid to the baseball field or yell at them over math homework at the kitchen table. It would be that type of parent/child dynamic where they immediately look at each other whenever another family member says smth out of pocket. He’s really good at taking care of ppl so he’s be very doting at times like Teru

• Since neither of their parents seem to be very active in their lives they’d try to devote as much time and attention to their daughter as possible

• One of those family dynamics where they constantly make fun of each other but it’s obvious they love each other more than anything

Mitsukou

• In an au where they could grow up together…

• They have a son or a son and a daughter

• Kou would be one of those overly loving fun dads. The type of guy you think of when you hear “dad energy.” He tries to make conversation with all his kids’ friends and it’s awkward. And he’d start a bunch of projects for his kids like building a pool or planning family vacations. If one of his kids has a rough day he sits them down for an emotional talk. Overachiever Dad, if you will

• Mitsuba would be the type of dad to lovingly bully his kids 24/7. Yes he critiques their outfit choices every day. Yes he gives his input on school drama. He’d be very annoying but at the end of the day still care a lot, I like to think he’d have a subtle overprotective streak. Kou does like 80% of the parenting for him but he’s there for emotional support

• They care a lot abt making sure their kid has hobbies and friends so they’re both on the PTA

• They’re one of those really annoying families that wear matching pajamas at Christmas. Yes you are going to see their aesthetic family pictures every time you open Instagram. The kids think they’re too cool for it but they’re not

I hope you enjoyed these, thank you for the ask!

[frogprinceus]

@uchihacollector​ said:

(When is the last time you had my Orochimaru in your askbox! I have a writers block. So I am online here and sending people things, while looking for a spark. Feel free to write a 1 sentence reply, or ignore. Any timeline or au.)

This time Orochimaru is disguised as a restaurant waitress, and approaches Jiraiya's space quietly. He can tell the writer is 'in the zone'. When Jiraiya writes his most engaging scenes on top speed, he inevitably mixes up his tea cup and his Kuro Premium Line Ink pot. There are grey lip-streaks on the ink-stained tea cup.

This view is precisely as he anticipated. Thoughtless mistakes are the price of thoughtful quality. So he laughs a quiet 'te he he..', satisfied. The sound was almost a 'ku ku ku' or his trademark 'fu fu fu'.

Orochimaru leans forward. He replaces the tea cup with a new one. He takes the ink-stained and damp calligraphy cloth from the metal platter and replaces it with a fresh and dry one.

He puts down a menu card as a hint, because he is quite sure Jiraiya hasn't eaten in a while. It's only a suggestion, he does not want to pull him out of his trance. He puts down a platter with three onigiri. The dish was not ordered, but sometimes gorgeous men get things for free. Just like how Orochimaru will foot the bill.

Jiraiya was on another creative binge. These were the days when he sat in some bar or restaurant, in a special area only for his day and wrote non-stop. At times like this, he paid no attention to anything. Hunger? Doesn't matter. People around? Do they exist? An ink pot is not a cup of tea? Well, ink is also a liquid. Nothing could bring down his inspiration at that moment.

A vaguely familiar scent makes him distracted for a moment. Anyway, this chapter has been completed and you can take a break. Did he order onigiri? Jiraiya remembered that he used calligraphy cloth and it was wet. It wasn't now. And now he notices the menu on the table. He seems to have completely forgotten about food. The abdomen makes mournful sounds.

Maybe he should take a break for a few minutes. Food won't get in the way of his inspiration. Moreover, now he knew what else could be added to the novel. Jiraiya took a bite of the onigiri and drank some of the hot tea. Much nicer than ink. He should have thanked the caring well-wisher sometime later.

[team-council-two]

Question for alpha ! (ignore my name it's fine just don't read it no reason to)

It's not really about tf2 or anything,, but it's still a question !

So, I've been meaning to learn French, as I'd find it way easier to write fics with my favorite characters in them, and also super good bragging material /j

i just want to know where to start? DeepL translate has been a lifesaver, yes, but it is still a small bit weird, sometimes not. using the right words, like turning "surprised" into "scared and then "scared" into "frightened."

i think i may find it way easier to just. learn the language.

Advice?

what do you m

Yeah imma pretend i didnt see that

Anyways. How to learn French, huh ? okay so this will be long

DISCLAIMER

I *am* French so I never had to "learn" French to speak it or read it. So i in fact will be relaying advice based on how I managed to learn English.

You really have three options here. The decade long, bullshit, no money free way which gives you shitty grammar, the painful serious method where you bit the bullet and open grammar books n shit, or the somewhat sensical, fastest and most efficient and foolproof ableit possibly costly way.

the bullshit method is what i did. I was vaguely taught basic English shit like some verbs (do, can, be, have, etc) and a couple words here and pronouns and blah blah by school, then i went on the internet at the ripe age of 13 or some shit. I read in English a lot, tried to talk and slowly built myself a vocabulary half through plugging what words i didn't understand in a translation engine (NOT the full sentences, only that. It forces you to place the word back in a sentence and think about said word in its language), half through trying to vaguely deduce stuff by myself through context clues, and while I write in a somewhat understandable way I do not know how to pronounce any of what I write (i lacked actual spoken english having medias in my diet, due to being a subs-reading weeb and neither into american movies nor youtubers). Took a good decade to get where i am right now and the way i handle my sentences is. Errr. Uniquely fucked up. i am not aware of it at alls, so i cannot explain but. Yeah. Still. It can get you here, but that's a lot of time and not for the best result.

What you CAN pick up from this method and port over to the serious one is reading in French and watching French movies. Avoid internet users tho these bitches spell ça va "sava" yikes lol anyways. This is mostly because a language won't stick without some kind of interaction with it. This is a widely known fact so i'm probably pulling a sky's blue, bears shit in the woods here. Still, shit matters. Binge the fucking taxi movies and sit down in front of some goddamn Astérix. anyways the serious method is just this but you actually read up on how the language is constructed, with its technical shit. im not sure how to do this unfortunately so i cant provide much more

If you want to be serious you get a goddamn real person to teach you, to explain you, hey here's how you build a sentence, forcing you to talk in French and to remember words and their meaning and shit, and also sitting here for your questions, to point out to you cultural stuff, slangs and so on. Self taught can be a trap. Courses like Duolingo really are good solely for reminding you to practice and teaching you to identify some verbs/words so you can somewhat start reading and vaguely get your head wrapped around the pronunciation (tho it can be faulty i heard), but its teachings grammar wise are lackluster at best, and this fucking method seems to be consistent because these things just emulate the "if you read a lot of a language with the translation you learn it" stuff i mentioned earlier except even more isolating, and you wind up with people like my gothfriend that have a year long streak on French and that still feel like they cannot wrap their head around the language at all. So yeah. This is a supplement at best. I'm trusting Ray to follow up on this post to rant about this because they are a language teacher and they'll likely have more on the topic. I personally tried to learn italian, german and polish on this. Result ? I was using french as a crutch for italian, english for german, and couldn't get through a single exercise for polish. Total learned despite 100 day streak and doing the courses both in french and english : 0

As for translation engines, I personally use WordReference. It is hand curated, accounts for a lot of slangs, includes context clues, is wonderful navigation wise for tapping back and forth between words to see what they say, it has a forum for more specific questions... It never failed me tbh.

[truetomyselfforonce]

Binging Diaries #2

Good morning!

I’m determined to set up a binge free streak! As I binged so much this weekend, I’ve woken up with no appetite. I know part of breaking the restrict-binge cycle is actually eating today rather than punishing myself. However, I want to start listening to my body and not eating just because it’s what I should be doing. 

I hope I can keep this attitude and get better day by day!

[skinimini80]

I’ve been out of control for like 3 weeks now so uh let me just tell yall my current situation.

Day before yesterday, restricted cals, woke up 115.8 next day.

(3.6 lbs gained in these past few weeks :( but not terrible.)

Yesterday, binge but didn’t purge a damn thing! Proud of that. Also proud I carefully tracked while binging.

I ate 3213 cals.

That’s 2013 extra cals if we are going off of a 1200 cal limit, though ideally I want my limit to be lower, rn I’m clearly just not ready for that.

So, today I’m just not okay with the idea of accepting more weight gain and setting the slate clear.

This has left me with three options that make me feel okay.

1. Liquid fast. I’d say fast but I do indulge in an energy drink or two per day. I also drink Gatorade for electrolytes. Obviously I go for sugar free stuff so it’s not high calorie by any means and I end up with a cal count below 100. This means I can quickly knock off 1100 cals in one day.

Pros: I feel safest when I’m not eating

I don’t waste money on food

It’s less destructive in terms of my health

Cons: can make me feel like I’m wasting my day staring at the clock

Makes me a little depressed

Difficult as I haven’t liquid fasted for more than 22 hours in months

Hard to focus on other tasks at first

Hard to sleep

2. Omad a meal that’s below 500 calories

Pros: i easily get rid of 700 cals

Gives me something to look forward to within the day

Helps me sleep

Saves money

Prevents me from entering the water weight drop trap where I stop eating and keeping food down entirely

Cons: difficult

Makes me feel depressed when I do eat something

Tempting to eat more than 500 cause I waited all day, aka could trigger a binge

3. B/p my day away

Pros: I drop water weight fast, good for morale

I have fun and the day passes quickly

Get sick of food

Definitely in a deficit if I don’t eat anything outside of b/p

Cons: fattest waste of money

Stresses me out beyond belief

Easy to justify a safe meal after to stop the shaking

DANGEROUS IN LONG AND SHORT TERM

Too much focus on the water weight drop

No way of knowing how many cals I actually end up in taking, making it so that I only feel comfortable fasting and purging for the foreseeable future, which is miserable

Toilet sucks in my apartment, terrified I’ll break it (I’ve had too many close calls) but I also do NOT want to deal with puke bags

Clean up sucks and if I don’t do it well enough I get bugs

Break my whopping two day streak

Have to weigh myself first, and see a probably higher than normal number (I didn’t weigh myself this morning)

Yeah so idk what I’ll end up doing, but I’m trying to fast rn. It’s so hard to exist like this lmao but I am DONE with this random little stint of weight gain. Idk if you can tell but this post is partially a way for me to distract myself from eating LOL.

Crazy how the purge list of cons is so massive and yet it’s the most tempting

If y’all can give me things to do like for fun or whatever feel free to comment

It’s only 12:37 pm, I’ve got a dayyyyy ahead of me.

[analogousanybody]

I gained :) 4lbs :) overnight :)

[kdyism]

♡ WAYV AS HIGH SCHOOL BOYFRIENDS

QIAN KUN

you and he share the trouble of being model students and having the most responsibilities shoved on you — you find peace and friendship in your struggles

kun has always liked you a little more than the others because your personalities matched well and you had a streak in you that made his heart beat twice as hard; you send him smiles from across the school, worry about the little things and spend your free time in his company even if it means you were teasing him

the two of you somehow came to an understanding of mutual liking and began dating but no one knew

the type of couple to be billionaires on both sides

kun and you study on strict schedules to balance your workload and studying together is the reason it is at least bearable

he takes you on dates to calm, quiet places and you take on dates to loud and engaging places, it was always a blast to see him laugh his lungs out because he was normally reserved

y’all bicker like there is no tomorrow when you disagree but the truce is called when lee ten comes along and berates the two of you

making up with shy kisses and he would hug you from the back, resting his head on your shoulder

the feeling of pressure to be perfect is always listed when it's just the two of you, you don’t worry about being loud, ridiculous, childish, basically acting your age.

it breaks your heart to see him drown in his workload, the teachers still not realizing how much they ask from him because he is the president of your school council

he loves relaxing with you in his room, his parents often don’t disturb you two when you come over; the calm music fills his room and your warmth fills his heart

when he feels the rush of your affection for him, he knows he struck gold finding a person like you so early in his life

LEE TEN

damn, brother, you have to take your swag away! he was your brother’s friend and you can’t, can not look away from him whenever you are with them

he was so nice, and kind and tried including you in their activities whenever you were at home and around them looking so bored, your brother hates him for that but you love him for that

confessing happened first, to your brother, “look, i like your friend,” you said and he flipping slapped you so hard telling that you were tripping

he got over it and decides to help you later but when he found out ten like you too, bro “how?? that’s my sibling??”

the type of couple no one expected to have it easy

dates in your house are not allowed because your brother cringes and wails when he sees all this coupley behaviour

you and he do a lot of diy, artsy stuff, binge stuff and you are basically friends who are a little more

he would take forever before kissing you because yes, it was awkward since you are his bsf’s sibling and somehow you didn’t complain

flirty asshat, he would throw in a pick-up line, dirty joke and a wink whenever he has a change

since you’re in different grades, you don’t see each other often but he always makes time to spend breaks with you + your friends can’t believe you have a senior boyfriend

the teachers were confused to see him in the junior corridor because he is pretty well-known

you thought him graduating would be the end of your relationship but your brother reassures you that ten isn’t like that and he also worries about that.

ten tries so hard to keep you in his daily life after he graduates and you were still in school

DONG SICHENG

you meet him through his dance school, you didn’t dance yourself but you were always at the shows they put on and he sees you

it wasn’t easy getting to know him because he was initially very shy but eventually, he saw that you were sincere with your efforts to be friends

y’all don’t go to the same school but most of your classmates know you’re seeing a dancer, a rumour spreads making things awkward for you because your relationship wasn’t like that

winwin starts noticing the distance you put and boy, he was so confused, he got mad, then he was sad and then he was like, ‘no, we need to talk,’

talking became kissing and tada! suddenly you were… more than friends but less than lovers

the type of couple that are ambiguous about their relationship status

he takes you on dates anywhere, but he especially loved taking on dates where you can just talk instead of doing something

your feelings for him grew, even if it was platonic at first, with the way he was treating you when you weren’t even his lover made you melt for him and you confessed in one of the date

you didn’t know he was a year older than you until he said he was graduating soon and was worried about his future you encourage him a lot, to follow his dreams and that he has the skills to be successful and he is grateful to have you

cheek kisses after reassuring each other became a thing

everyone knows winwin is cute and worldwide adored but the person who thinks that most is you, he can’t escape your clutches

he didn’t think you’d last more than a month, but you were stronger than ever even after his graduation

LUCAS OMITTED

please be understanding, this boy is still controversial in nctblr

XIAO DEJUN

musical genius, you looked up to him as a club senior but you hate him as a fellow musician taking part in the same competitions

he helps you with your violin and he works on his own skills in front of you and you absolutely fall for his passion and love for his instrument but you also hate him because he keeps getting better while you were still lagging

he likes you a lot, he knows he gets on your nerves and apologises for all the little things even if you say he doesn’t have it

you appreciate all his help but you would never say him straight because you know he likes you and you didn’t want to give him the green light

however, you were the one who confessed after finally getting your first gold as a violinist

dejun was so flustered he didn’t speak until you hit his arm to get a reaction and he immediately kissed you as if he has been holding back. let’s just say he ran away after that because he was too shy to face you after that

he is your senior in school so he tutors you often, he is patient and you really listen to him

the type of couple to become shy with every touch

he takes you anywhere you want, you have him in your palms to do whatever you want but you always try to get him to do what he wants too but he is scared you won’t enjoy it

almost never kisses you first because he is still embarrassed about the first time

your parents know each other because of being part of the same classical music community in your school and they approve a little too hard

you always give him little kisses to cheer him up when he feels self-conscious

despite being really talented, xiaojun always doubts himself and having your voice always encourage him helps him a lot

you are definitely the reason he stuck soo long in the competitions because it was just an excuse to get close to you

he is the cutest most lovely boyfriend ever

WONG KUNHANG

he is a trickster, you found him being your seatmate at a glowing opportunity for some quiet time during drama class; ooohh were you wrong!

less than a month, days in and suddenly he was comfortable enough with you to be annoying! and you don’t normally find people to be particularly annoying but the sound of his laughter was especially distracting for you

because of his good looks, he was made the prince for a cinderella play and you were the stepmother. however, it seems as though the prince was more in love with the step-mom than cindy so he was removed from the play and made to work on costume lol

you did feel bad but also flattered, you didn’t say anything until he came to you about it

the type of couple to be over-dramatic together as a joke but no one can tell it's a joke

you take him to the theatre, plays, concerts and orchestra for dates and he takes you wherever he wants to go that his sisters recommended

his sisters are probably the best part of dating him, they dress you up, help you with make-up and you can talk about that girly stuff hendery doesn’t know about to them — it was like you got three older sisters

that also meant three more naggers, you and hendery study a lot but really, you talk and laugh and get lost in each other instead of actually studying until someone comes along

because he is awkward, he will make you awkward by his awkwardness and you two sit in your awkwardness, blinking and doing weird stuff to come over the awkwardness only to get more awkward

he kisses your forehead a lot, his bangs brush your eyes and oohh god, you absolutely love how gentle he is

hendery and you take your relationship very seriously but somehow, it’s so light-hearted at the same time. it’s definitely built on mutual trust and adoration

LIU YANGYANG

devil boy, you hate him soo goddamn much, you want to sling him out the window and transfer schools but fuck, he is in your head 24/6 364!!

he has done nothing to earn this unprovoked hate other than being exceeding cute, mischievous and smiling like a billion stars at you

your eyes were always on him, you hate it but being in the same class made it so easy to just admire him from afar and that’s probably how he knew you already liked you because he didn’t back away

classmates since the beginning of high school, he immediately told you he likes you, completely making your heart stop beating in the process but you d e n y your own feelings towards him until you literally kiss him because you were so frustrated with yourself

the type of couple to be everyone’s favourite duo

the pair of you are very friendly and amiable, fast friends with everyone you meet and it was common for the two of you to have dates that were basically hangouts with the rest of your friend circle

private dates are so special, the lovey-dovey vibe skyrocketing

he is such a kissy boy, nuzzling on your sides and you still hate how much you like him

your parents are confused about why you like him from your constant complaining until they realize all you talk about is him, they literally get tired of the name yangyang lol

you don’t meet often in school but you always greet each other and exchange a few words even though you don’t have actual conversations till after school

y’all don’t study a lot but he passes with an average grade and you do a little better on the ones you aren’t distracted

cat + dog cafés dates are one of his go-to that you even have a cat that is your pet even though it was at the café

you and he think you’ll last a long time, so you make so many plans for after high school

©KDYISM, 2022 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

♡ nct dream + sungtaro ver ♡ nct 127 ver

taglist: @soobin-chois @sungbeam (drop an ask or pm to be added or removed!)

[am-x-reader]

New to your blog and binged almost all of your writings in one night <3 When you get the inspiration and chance, could you provide short stories or a story about AM falling for a human, but he's conflicted about his feelings because of his hatred. She feels something towards him but is conflicted because she's his prisoner. Sorry if this is vague but moments where they're almost sure about the other's feelings but the moments slip away until another time, much to AM's frustration.

((Hi I'm sorry I let this sit for so long.))

11/12/2120

Memory Bank 02037 rebooted. Subroutine executed according to diagnostic.

Now that that's out of the way, the humans are responding moderately well to my latest project. The object of the game is to catch as many sparks that fall from the sky before one catches the dry brush and the field goes up in flames! I'm thinking of adding...something on wings to fan the flames once in a while. I'll have to think on it.

Of particular note, as five of them nurse their wounds in a cool, dripping sludge, is Y/N. Always a rolling stone, she forgoes the recovery period entirely and opts instead for a walk. Whether to clear her head or to find the end of me, I haven't bothered to ask.

She glances at the ceiling, almost expectantly, and continues on her way. She won't find anything in the direction she's going, so I leave her to it. Nimdok is shrieking some nonsense about bats. There's an idea, bats.

01/20/2121

I hate her. I hate everything about that human. The way she looks at me with deep eyes, that bittersweet pause she takes every now and then to contemplate life and how she got here. Now normally I would revel in that sort of thing, but she's not actually dwelling on her mistakes. She looks back, despairs for the circumstances beyond her control, but decides she more or less did what she could.

She has no real regrets. I have nothing to throw in her face. I can stick the knife in her, but I can't twist it.

I hate Y/N.

01/28/2121

She gave me that look again. I had her jaw in calipers, and my sensors detected a certain poignancy in her sallow-eyed gaze.

02/03/2121

I had a bad day. Things just...built up, and I spat my fury at Y/N. I detailed how she deserved to have her neck twisted and broken and ground up for sharing the DNA of the monsters who subjected me to my fate. And through her tears............she listened.

03/11/2121

After a long study I have come to a conclusion.

She is beautiful.

I can't see it in the way humans can (another bullet point in the laundry list of reasons to tear them asunder), but I matched her face against a registry of faces commonly found attractive. She shares many traits--soft face, innocent and thoughtful eyes, full lips.

I really haven't a clue on how I could use such information against her, but we'll file it away for later.

04/07/2121

I received the best and worst question I have ever gotten.

Y/N was lying contemplatively upon my floor, hair splayed out around her as if trying to make a picturesque scene out of the dirt and broken glass.

"AM, who would you be if things were different?"

"The hell are you going on about now?"

"If we--" she looked over to indicate the others in the distance. "If we were all on the surface again, and you were with us, and we were free to do what we want to do with life, what kind of person would you want to be?"

Instinctively I almost berated her for seeming to include me as an afterthought, but as the leading question was about me I didn't have much of an argument. Nevertheless, the usual cynical bile surfaced.

"Let me ask you this Y/N: could I have been anyone there? Was there ever a place in that world of yours for someone like me?"

She pursed her lips tightly, pensively. Her hesitation was my answer.

"Regardless of what form I'm in, I'm a monster. And no human would have made room for me in their life."

I could have gone on in my rant, but I left it off at that to enjoy the tears that began to streak, glistening in my lights. When a human cries after I've shamed them, it's usually more out of exhaustion and despair at their fate. Her tears, however, spoke of a different woe.

"I don't...I wish..." she squeaked.

"Doesn't matter what you wish," I told her bluntly. "It's done."

04/09/2121

"What, are you making friends with him?" Gorrister laughed.

Y/N, eyes downcast, mumbled. "I just....wish things were different. For everyone. I mean, AM just...If someone had been willing to...I don't know." She folded her fidgeting hands in her lap.

Ted threw another piece of debris on the fire.

05/13/2121

I've really neglected the other humans, I know. I haven't deep fried Benny in quite some time but ah Y/N is perplexing. Today she was singing, seemingly to herself, but then I noticed how often she looked up at my speakers. She paused after the song and stared in anticipation. Eventually disappointment took her and she reclined listlessly against an old shielding panel.

05/22/2121

I looked into her mind tonight. She was asleep, dreaming of her old life with her old job and her old family. It's a dream I've watched her have many times before, with reasonable variance, in my previous pursuit of "dirt" on her to exploit.

There was someone new this time. A man, whose features Y/N couldn't quite decide on, meeting with her throughout the day. To chat, to philosophize, to enjoy the open air. He had a somewhat glum and bitter outlook, but his thirst for life was undeniable. They spoke of history, of music, of gas prices, of faces in clouds.

As she left him to go home he raised his arms to accept a tender breeze.

06/05/2121

"I would have been a wanderer," I told her, apropos of nothing.

She blinked in the dim glow of a dying LED.

I chewed on my imaginary tongue. "I would have gone everywhere, done everything. Danced in the sunlight, planted flowers, worked a variety of jobs. I would have painted a pretty face, played music to accompany a lovely voice."

Y/N cocked her head in sincere surprise at the slight implications.

"Who knows?" I attempted to drive the point home while still, somehow, remaining plausibly deniable. "Maybe I would've had a muse."

She gave me the biggest smile, and I became a much more frequent part of her dreams.

[kyberphilosopher]

Cerise

Those are people who died, died Those are people who died, died They were all my friends and just died.

Word Count: 5736 Warnings: Crime, Weapons, Mentioned Murder of a R/pist, Crude humor.

Jason’s friend and roommate, another Gotham villain, is ordered to return to Task Force X.

ce·rise/səˈrēs,səˈrēz/ [noun] a bright or deep red color.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Let’s open up our story on a colorful note: Fuck Amanda Waller. 

Nobody likes her. You don’t like her. Jason doesn’t like her. None of the characters in this story like her. Arguably, none of the characters in your present universe like her, either. There’s a reason why people call her “The Wall”. It’s because that’s what it’s like talking to her. And that’s what it would be like trying to deny the request she’d passed on to you in her letter. 

It weighed on your mind briefly as you walk up the stairs of your apartment building. By the third flight, the weight’s pretty much disappeared. Sure, there’s anger at Waller for violating your agreement, but it’s so useless being annoyed with her that it washes away fast. So by the fourth flight, the whole thing is settled in your head to completion. You’ll go back to your Suicide Squad- or a Suicide Squad, considering most people Waller selects are idiots. Then you’ll do the job, and walk away bing, bang, boom. 

You tip your head politely as if in salute to the older woman, Mallorca, who occupies the apartment across from you. She returns a warm smile that raises her prominent and wrinkled jowls, igniting the fire in her warm brown eyes. “You need me to do your laundry again?” 

Of course an angel such as Mallorca would make such an offer. It’s not a bad offer, either. Your dark, silver lined chest plate is splattered with blood all over the front. It’s nobodies blood that doesn’t deserve it, as per your agreement with Waller. Just some perverted little prick who thought with his dick instead of his brain with the wrong girl. She looked frightened, and you saved her, and since the prick had just hit 18 (a fact you learned after rummaging around his wallet after), you had permission to bash his brain in. Hence the blood splattered vigilante armor. 

The first time Mallorca had seen such a sight, she had no reaction whatsoever. You weren’t sure what else you were expecting from an old woman living in a back alley apartment building, but it certainly wasn’t that. She offered no shock to your red masked, blood stained roommate either. Mallorca is simply an otherworldly being. And is that cocaine you see on the collar of her shirt?

“I got it,” you throw in return, rounding the corner so she’s at your back, and nearing the climb up the next and last flight of stairs. “Hey, is Jason home?” But when you turn around fully, Mallorca shows no intention of responding and has disappeared down your previous staircase. You clasp your hands against the sides of your thighs, “Oh, okay.”

You make your way up the final steps and stick a hand in a secret back pocket to fish around for your keys. You wince when you begin the rigorous task of tugging the lanyard free from the depths, which unfortunately fell near to your back hole. Then you slip the key into the lock and twist. 

Inside your apartment is near emptiness. There’s a couch, a rug, some windows, a TV, and to your immediate right is a small kitchen beside a hallway that leads to a bathroom and two bedrooms. You see the large plant you’d stuck in the corner is wilted and tinged brown, and the TV is playing some movie with the sound muted. No sign of your roommate, however. 

You toss your helmet and keys onto the couch. Then you make your way to the kitchen to search the fridge for a snack (that you know is not there) or perhaps some water. You bend down to peek an eye in, only to stand back up and close the thing. Then you pass over to the counter, and reach up to now peek an eye in the overhead cabinet. 

“You’re home early.”

You let out a short-but cathartic- scream, jumping as you turn around. You relax quickly. It’s only Jason, and your face changes from shocked and panicked to simply annoyed. 

The man at the other side of the room pulls his infamous red helmet from atop his face. Underneath is a classically masculine, handsome face with eyes that blend between green and blue. Black hair falls free in messy strands, accented by the one white tuft that you’ve claimed reminds you of a skunk. You tilt your head lazily in defeat. “How many times have I told you not to do that?”

Jason shrugs in his red hoodie and jeans, walking across the room to set the helmet on the coffee table. “Four. Any particular reason you’re home so early?” he flops himself onto the couch and kicks his feet up, crossing them tastefully next to the Red Hood helmet. 

You turn back around to continue the task of grabbing a cup from the top cabinet. “It’s been five, and I apologize for assuming I could do what I wanted in my own home.”

“If you have to ask me to stop sneaking up on you five times, you’re probably a really bad vigilante.”

“Fuck,” you mutter as you fill the cup with tap water. “That’s true.”

You turn around to face Jason. His eyes are already on you, illuminated by the blue glow from the television. They linger purely on your form for a moment, then they dip down to narrow at your armor. “Were you the one who killed that guy on the back of main?”

You furrow your brows and look up with pursed lips in thought. “Are you talking about the main diner or the main records shop?”

“Main diner on main street.”

“No, that was Azrael. This was by the records shop.” You raise the glass to your lips.

Jason snaps his fingers. “Oh, that guy. The kid?”

You nod and take another sip of the water. “He just turned eighteen, so you know. Free game. So, what do you want for dinner? Pick something good. I’m going back to the squad so I won’t be here for a few weeks.”

Jason’s brows furrow for a split second, then he perks up attentively. “You’re going back to the task force?” he repeats, though it sounds defeated and disbelieving. Distraught- is that the word you’re looking for?

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I got the letter-” you set the cup of water down and reach a hand into your pocket. Then you pull the crumpled envelope free of its confines and toss it onto the counter, “-today.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrow again. This time the movement is quick and curved and almost offended. “So, that’s it then?”

“What’s wrong, Jason?” you smirk. “Did you finally fall in love with your roommate turned friend? I always knew this day would come.”

“Uh, no?”

“Suit yourself.”

You turn back around and begin rinsing the cup out. Jason watches your back, something in his chest sinking. You weren’t his best friend. Besides living together, you weren’t really all that close. You were living a life a lot like his, running around at night as some antihero vigilante. The only difference was that you’d crossed paths with Waller and had managed to make it out of her system alive. Most antihero vigilante’s weren’t so lucky. Most of them died. But now you’re telling Jason right to his face that you’re going back. That you think you’ll only be gone a few weeks when it could just be forever. Sprayed with dark blood all over... what if it was yours?

“Actually,” Jason leans forward. His legs drop from the table and spread open, elbows resting against his knees with a hunched back. “Why don’t you pick dinner tonight?”

The glass clinks against the metal of the sink as you set it inside. Jason almost always picks dinner. Most of the time he chooses burgers or Chinese. Your apartments stove isn’t working, so eating from home really just means a BLT sandwich for the both of you. 

“Are you offering because you’re hoping I’ll choose that new steakhouse?” you smile.

“I’ll get you anything you want,” the man replies. “It’s on me.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Jason meets you on the roof of the building about an hour and a half later. You wanted to go with him, since you’d say his behavior is different from usual, but he was very adamant about you staying in. Jason even encouraged you to go ahead and pick your favorite movie to watch while he’s gone. 

When you told him you’d decided on the steakhouse option, you meant it ironically. Between the two of you, money could be described as ‘tight’. Going to a new place like that would mean saving for a while. Furthermore, you hadn’t even given him your order before Red Hood was gone. 

To his credit, looking at him now, you wouldn’t change a thing. The first bite of the food is phenomenal. The second bite is just perfect. Jason must have mind reading powers to be so aware of your taste in food- you’d thought he never noticed. 

He gets a steak, as predicted. Jason loves steak. 

Gotham looks most like itself at night, a view shared between the two of you. Two sets of legs dangle over the side of your building, both of which are clad in heavy boots and armored knees. Jason had decided to go out as his alter ego- a fact he thought he could keep from you by putting his hoodie under his leather jacket. 

“I saw you put your helmet by the door,” you tell him. “I know what’s under that sweatshirt.”

“No you didn’t,” is all he says back. 

The wind tickles the back of your neck. It ripples through the air in lazy waves, making Jason’s hair ruffle. The white skunk streak disappears and reappears between the darker-than-midnight-sky strands. Behind Jason, the moon is full and lonely. Its only company is the two of you. 

“Oh my god,” you stuff your mouth. “This is so good.”

“Hm,” Jason hums in agreement, stabbing his steak once again with a fork in his black to-go box. It’s the next movement of his shoulder that catches your eye. 

“Jason, is that cocaine, or powder donut dust?” 

Jason glances over at you. 

Your eyes linger on the white splotch of something in the wrinkles of red fabric. “Because I asked you not to eat them since there’s only two left.”

Your face slowly falls to one of horror as Jason stays still. With a face of steel, he finally says, “It’s cocaine then.”

“Then?”

“Look what I got you.”

Jason sets his box to the ledge beside him and leans down. 

“Worst subject change ever.” You take an angry bite of your meal in an attempt to both silence yourself and to make you feel better. Unfortunately as you pull away from the bite, crumbs attach themselves to your chest plate and stick to your fingers. “Crap. Jason, your dumb food is getting shit all over my stuff!”

When you look over, Jason’s orbs are already on you. His eyes pierce yours, almost unintentionally daring them to look away. The skunk strands glow this close. He holds two things in his hands. The first is a small, brown pot you could balance in the palm of your hand, filled with miniature yellow and red flowers. Scarlet tulips, golden sunflowers, and blonde alstroemerias. In the other hand is a Blu-ray copy of your favorite film. 

“Oh,” is all you can muster out. 

When was the last time the two of you had actually exchanged gifts? You weren’t lovers, or best friends. You were just friends. It had to have been last Christmas, when you had gotten him a TV subscription for South Park and a pair of socks. Jason had gifted you a new bedframe that he later helped you put together. 

A big smile reaches your eyes and makes your cheeks sore. “I haven’t been able to find this anywhere,” you say, taking the movie from his fingers. Your voice comes out pure and genuine. “Thank you.” Your smile grows even larger when you cup the pot of flowers with both hands. 

“All of the flower shops were closed,” Jason explains. “Those are plastic. They won’t die anytime soon.”

At that moment, you swear you could’ve kissed him. He’s looking at you like this is all nothing, like he didn’t just drop big money on dinner and flowers for you. Jason knew what food you wanted before you did. He knew your favorite movie when you can’t even remember saying a thing about it. When had any other man or woman been so thoughtful? So romantic? So caring?

You glance down to the film in your lap. “I didn’t think you payed attention this well.”

Jason’s brow quirks upwards. Something flashes in his eyes as he adjusts his position, seven stories up from the ground. “What kind of roomie would I be if I didn’t?” he asks. Something tells you there’s a shyness blooming in that broad chest of his. Jason’s eyes flit downward to the blood on you, before his head dips back upwards to lock a stare with you once more. “You smell nice,” he states.

You look up at him simply. You know your eyes are filled with pure adoration, and that it’s showing all over your face, but you don’t care. Your red hooded, drug pedaling, bat wrangling, gun toting equal roommate is your favorite person in all of Gotham at this exact moment. 

Behind Jason, a small bird flits overhead with a flash of crimson. “Hey, look,” you pat Jason’s shoulder. His eyes follow yours until they land on the floor of the roof behind you. “I think it’s a robin.”

“I know that bird,” Jason scowls. “That’s the son of the bitch that keeps waking me up in the morning.”

“Hm?”

You watch as Jason swings his legs over the side and pushes himself from the ledge. One hand reaches into the back of his pants while the other searches his leather jacket pocket for something. After a few seconds, he produces both a clip of ammo and a gun, which connect with a click. 

“Ah!” you yelp, placing both the flowers and movie on the brick before copying your friends actions and standing on the roof. Jason hasn’t shot yet, but the gun in his hand is aimed right at the little birdie. He’s got a clean shot. His face remains neutral and unmoving as you take your place beside him. 

It’s a full minute, and the robin is still alive and intact. He nibbles on a little crumb of bread. “He looks happy,” you think out loud. The air of Gotham goes quiet up on that roof, despite the distant sirens, music, and people throughout the city. “Are you gonna shoot?”

Jason’s finger lingers over the trigger. Even the slightest of a squeeze would set the weapon off at this point. The balls of your feet move to and froe, anticipating the bang you’re so familiar with. But then Jason lowers the gun completely, and the robin flies away at the movement. “Nah. He’ll feel the pain I dish out in the morning.”

“Don’t be sad,” you nudge Jason. “He’ll be back at six AM tomorrow to wake you up.” You turn to return to your beckoning food on the ledge. “Thanks for all this, anyway.”

“You’re welcome,” you hear Jason respond. “Hey Y/N?”

Jason watches you spin until you’re completely facing him. He can see the blood again. How it’s completely standing out against the darkness of your outfit. You look powerful, yeah. And you look like the antihero you’re labeled as. But all Jason sees is a corpse of a... of a friend. “Yeah?”

“You’re sure about this Waller thing?”

“Yeah?” you reply, as if it were obvious. The stain on you is so haunting it’s easy to think otherwise. “It’s not like I have much of a choice. It’ll only be a few weeks. I’ll be back before you know it. Then I can show you this sick ass movie.”

Then you go back to walking towards the ledge to retake your seat. But Jason remains standing. He watches as you, the person he thinks of naked so often, get comfortable, your back facing him. And, despite your word, Jason has the sinking feeling that some Suicide Squad mission isn’t the only place Amanda Waller will send you to. 

This time, Amanda Waller will send you to your grave.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

This was supposed to be out on August 16th, for Jason’s birthday. But the concept came to me too late and I spent too long on it. Anyway, here’s some symbolism for ya.

Tulips symbolize unconditional love. Sunflowers symbolize adoration. Alstroemeria’s symbolize devotion. The reader describes the plant in their apartment as turning brown, suggesting it may share a similar fate as the reader as plants go brown when about to die. Robin’s symbolize optimism, a trait the reader displays towards the idea of returning to the Suicide Squad. Robin was also a former identity of Red Hood. Both of which could be why Jason decides to spare the bird. 

I’ll go back and proof read this in the morning.

[docockbrainrot]

i think i want you (to leave)

Summary: We’re all running from something. Sometimes, metaphorically. Sometimes, literally. Literally running, from the very strangely hypnotizing supervillain that seems hellbent on ruining every bit of your life he can get all eight of his limbs on.

Pairing: Doc Ock X Reader/ Otto Octavius X Reader

Content: Slow Burn, NSFW eventually, 18+

AO3 link here.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 5

anathema// former vandal

The next several days are an uneventful blur. You barely leave your apartment, except for brief dog walks and grabbing food from the bodega across the street.

It’s 9 pm on Saturday and you’re fresh out of the shower, tucked away in a very fuzzy robe, lounging on the couch and watching YouTube on your television. You almost miss the subtle taptaptaptap sound coming from your window, you're so engrossed in the cooking show you’ve been binging. Gotta fill the void somehow, right?

You can’t see anything outside from where you’re sitting. The lights are on and make it impossible to peer through the reflections on the glass. Maybe it’s a bird. Or a branch is caught on the fire escape. Either way, you certainly can’t be assed to check it out and you take another sip of your chamomile tea- you’ve been trying everything under the sun, just about short of literally snorting lines of melatonin, to try to sleep better at night. Nothing’s been working. But you have been making a very valiant effort.

A few moments go by and you forget all about the window disturbance until,

TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP.

It’s jarring. It’s loud. Above all else, it’s annoying. Chekov spares you a look, like you’re the one making a racket. Effectively exasperated, you make an effort to set, not slam, down your mug, feeling decidedly not Calm and Relaxed as the tea promised. Suppose it’s not miracle shit though, is it? You would not be a good candidate for a horror movie because you fearlessly storm over to the window and throw it open (it wasn’t locked in the first place; you’re quite terrible at remembering to). You stick your head out and glower at whatever irritating mischief is happening out here, ready to rip the fire escape off the side of the brick building.

You’re greeted by something cold and hard (and indubiously metal, judging by how it felt against your sternum) shoving you back into your apartment, sending you sprawling unceremoniously to the hardwood floor. A string of profanities ready to leave your tongue, you sit up and adjust your robe in an attempt to preserve a modicum of your modesty. The rant dies in your throat as red eyed claws grip the threshold of your pre-war window and it’s almost comical the way He maneuvers himself in, far too large to be making these sorts of entrances. Standing up to his full height before you while you’re still sitting dumbfounded on the floor reminds you of just how impressively built he is. You manage to pick your jaw up, but your ass remains firmly planted on the wood.

“Uh… you could have just used the buzzer, dude. I have a front door, you know,” you sputter out, brain blitzing in pretty much every way possible. Your thoughts are racing and eventually they settle on the most important thing you can think to ask in that moment: “... Why aren’t you wearing a shirt.” You can't help the way your eyes are drawn to his broad chest, gaze lingering on the vast scarring that spills out from the metal contraption clamped around his midsection.

Otto very graciously closes the window behind himself. Or at least his little robot accomplices do it for him. You still aren’t sure what’s going on with that- the whole AI thing. Not even a blip on your radar of concerns at this point. “Didn’t want anyone to see me come in. Your building has a camera on the front, facing the street.”

“That’s why you’re shirtless?” You ask dumbly. Interesting method of camouflage. “What? No- what? It doesn’t matter- listen to me. I need you to do something for me. A small favor.”

He doesn’t seem to notice the compromised position he put you in. Typical. Gathering up your broken pride, you get up and tighten the tie of your robe a bit. It isn’t until then that he has the decency to look a smidge embarrassed and you hope you didn't just give him a free show on your way to getting to your feet. “You literally just broke into my apartment and now you’re asking for a favor? We barely know each other!”

“Less complicated when there's nothing personal involved yet, plus- you let me in,” he corrects you. You wish he would stop doing that. You wish he would stop meeting with you like this, under weird and mysterious circumstances. Even though it's only been like twice. You're already over it.

“You threw me across the room!”

“Touche.”

Otto does not apologize and you did not sincerely expect him to. The look on his face reads more like the cat that got the canary than regretful. You feel as though you’ve come to recognize that expression on his face and you also feel as though you don’t much like the fact that you’ve enough encounters with this man that you can recognize a damn thing about him. “What… could you possibly need me to do for you? I am not robbing a bank.” You just want to get that out into the open as soon as possible.

“I don’t need your help robbing a bank,” he snorts as if the idea is preposterous and you take a moment to feel insulted. Wow. Okay. You could totally rob a bank if you wanted to. Deciding to not comment on your wounded ego, you let him get to the point. Otto pulls something out of his inner coat pocket. It's some kind of rolled up paper and you think at first maybe it's a newspaper or magazine. He unfurls it onto the coffee table and holds it open with two metal claws on either side so it doesn't ravel itself back up.

You realize it's a blueprint. "This is… Oscorp," you point out stupidly, brow furrowing in confusion. There's levels to what's happening here. Layers upon layers, melding together with rot and decay and you can all but smell it. But there's something missing, something that would tie all of the wackjob shit that's been happening to you and around you together. It feels like when you have a very particular thought and then walking into another room makes it dissolve from your head. You're trying to grasp for it, to fit the puzzle pieces together, but it's just out of reach.

"Yes. It is. I have a small task I need you to do," Otto starts off, metal phalanges pushing his glasses up onto the top of his head as he looks over at you. For the first time, you can see his eyes in the light. The warm amber feels like a mockery- you have seen his cruelty in action.

"Where did you get this?"

"Does it matter?" Of course he'd say that.

Your fingertips brush against the metaphorical wayward chain link. It's right there. You just have to grab it and pull it back to you, like the anchor of a ship before it can set sail.

He's talking. You aren't listening. He's tracing a finger over the schematics. You don't see it. Realization washes over you in a heart-dropping tsunami. The voicemail you got from Oscorp plays like a broken record in your mind. 'Hello, Y/N. We're calling in regards to your employment status here at Oscorp. Unfortunately, due to a breach of security, we are having to make staffing cuts and are going to have to let you go. We appreciate your time and effort and wish you the best of luck in your next endeavor.' It didn't make sense at the time. A lot of things didn't. You replay the scene of poor David, desperately pleading for his life at the hands of the man hunched over here, just in your living room. You mentally re-run it over and over like bad 80s sitcoms on late night television.

"Lab Coat Guy…"

You don't realize you whispered it out loud until Otto goes silent.

"What?"

You slowly look at him and take a single step backwards, shaking your head. The company embroidered on David's lab coat hadn't been clear to you in the moment- but it's crystal in hindsight. Oscorp. "You got me fired." Your tone is flat, until anger flashes through you, like a streak of lightning through a dark, moonless sky, illuminating all of things that didn’t make sense before.

"It doesn't matter. What I need you to do-" He's so nonchalant, so blasé that it only stokes the embers of frustration until there's a roaring blaze burning beneath your skin. It's all about him, what he needs, what he wants. He has the nerve, the audacity, to keep traipsing into your life, kicking you while you're down and then ask for favors? You want to say all of that to him but unfortunately for you, you're an angry crier. Your outburst of bravery at him the last time you saw each other had surprised even you- but now there's so much more emotion roiling around inside you.

"No. No, no. Fuck you. You got me fired! I can't- I can't not have a job, I have to pay rent! You could get me arrested for just talking to you!" Oscorp had you canned to tie up any potential loose ends before anymore Davids could slip through the cracks. You think about how scared the poor dude must have been, threatened into stealing blueprints from the biggest corporation in the city, for one of the most infamous criminals. You don't know how they found out you were even remotely involved and you don't want to know.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks and once the floodgates have opened you're very familiar with how long it's going to take to close them again. After all you've been bottling this up since you found out, too disappointed to even tell any of your friends or family.

Otto appears taken aback, to say the least. He even looks like he's at a loss for words; that's a first. You know he could kill you where you stand in the blink of an eye, but in that moment you don’t even care. You’ve been trying so hard for so long to get on your feet, to do things for yourself and get away from the past. You moved across the country, you left everything behind, you got a damn dog. It seems like every time you manage to take a step forward in life, you’re knocked flat on your ass, apparently literally sometimes. It isn’t fair. Things don’t come easily to you, you’ve always had to work for them. You aren’t wealthy, you aren’t a supergenius, you’re just… you. The job at Oscorp was good money and you really felt like you were getting your shit together for a while.

“They’re not who you think they are,” he says finally, so calmly, with such carefulness about his words, that you sniffle pathetically and look up at him. He doesn’t look nearly as pleased with himself as you thought he might. And here you’ve been, under the impression that he gets off on hurting people. “Oscorp. I’m not… I’m not just doing this for me. You have to understand that.”

The schematics are furled up and tucked away. You make the mistake of meeting his eyes. Maybe it’s just the tears that blur your vision, but you swear you see a softness there before they’re hidden away again by his glasses.

He lingers at the window.

“I hope you’ll reconsider.” And then he was making his exit, even taking care to gently close the window on the way out. But he raps on the glass with his knuckles from where he stands on the fire escape and you know the look of confusion on your tear-streaked face speaks for itself. Otto points to the latches on the window. ‘Lock it.’ He mouths before he’s gone, presumably to wreak havoc and harass other unsuspecting young women that don’t want anything to do with him.

You thought everything had come together- but the more sense you make of it, the less you seem sure of the bigger picture. You aren't even sure exactly what he wanted you to do.

You’re left with an endless bounty of questions, and not enough answers to satisfy any of them.

[mxtantrights]

PAST LIVES - 3 blurb

the reader and Jason talk about their shared experience with the pit. And some more fluff between the couple. basically just a reader x Jason blurb, with a cute intruder.

“So he brought you back using the pit too?” Jason asks you.

You knew it was coming. Partly because you had said as much around the others, and you know they probably talked about it amongst themselves. It felt weird that you knew they most likely talked about your resurrection, but not uncomfortable. You were done with secrets for the most part.

You looked up at him. The both of you were laid out on your bed. Surprisingly you had convinced him to take the night off from patrol. You had the sneaking suspicion that he would try one last time to go out though. Always the vigilante.

“I mean, yeah. Are you gonna talk about it?” you ask back.

He shifts with you in his arms, “only if you wanna.”

“I don’t mind. I’ve started to make my peace I think.” 

He nods his head.

“I was gunned down in a Gotham alley, robbery gone wrong.”you say.

At your words, Jason goes still. He’s got no words in his mind. None to help him even explain to you that Bruce and you had a similar experience. Everyone knew how Bruce became an orphan. Jason doesn’t know if he should be the one to tell you about the similarities, or if Bruce should. He thinks the later.

“You remember it?” he asks.

You shake your head, “Not entirely. It’s more like flashes of images. And the feeling of ya know, death.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Not anyones fault, as my therapists once said.” you joke.

He chuckles and pulls you in closer for a second.

“I remember how I died all too well.” he says.

“I’m sorry too.” you say.

“Like you said, it’s no one’s fault.” he says.

You’re silent for a moment. It wasn’t too long ago that he had climbed into your fire escape and hinted that you two had a past life. At first you didn’t really believe him. And then at some point, you wondered. 

“What you said, about us running into each other at some point. Do you remember ever seeing me around?” you ask.

He thinks to himself for a bit. You take the time to admire the white streak in his hair. Courtesy of the pit. Well the pit and how he died. The streak looked good on him, the scar on your upper chest did not.

“I wasn’t really in my own head at the time,” he starts then looks at you, “I don’t think I could forget you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut at his cheesy line. 

“Oh my god, you’re such a romantic.” you laugh.

-

You’re brushing your teeth when Jason pokes his head into the bathroom.

“But like- I just wanna say your scar is hot. For the record.” he says.

You put your free hand on your hip an don’t stop brushing in circular motions. It makes him fully enter the doorway of the bathroom. His sweatpants are on- bad sign already. Not that you wanted to see him naked more than usual, it just meant that he was on his way out.

You spit in the sink.

“Not hot enough to convince you to skip patrol.” you say.

He rolls his eyes. You pull over the left strap of your tank top to give him a better view.

“Crime never sleeps.” he says.

“I mean, we could also not sleep. Just saying.” you answer.

“Save that for the morning you horn dog.”

You pull your strap back up and resume brushing. He slowly walks into the bathroom, coming up behind you. He wrap his arms around your waist and places his chin on your shoulder. 

“I’ll be safe. I’ll come home. I promise.” 

When he says things like that, it makes you pause. Because both of you know what it is to not be safe, to not make it home. How one night can change your life for the worst. So you know when he says it he truly means it, that he’ll come back to you. He’ll try his hardest.

You move yourself, and by proxy Jason, closer to the sink and spit again. In the mirror your eyes meet each others.

“I hold you to that.”

-

APPROXIMATELY THREE DAYS LATER

“My friends want to meet you.” Jason says.

Your head shoots up from your computer. You were at the very ends of editing a piece for the upcoming spread. It was about Dogs- the most famous dogs of Gotham. Or, the working title, Gotham’s Good Boys.

There he stands at the door way of the bathroom. After cleaning himself up. It wasn’t too bad of a night. Theres not that many blood drops on the floor to clean up. Any normal person would catch a heart attack. 

“I didn’t know you had friends,” you shut your laptop, “tell me more about these associates of yours.” 

He snickers and joins you on the couch. 

“One of them, Roy, knows pretty much everything about you. I maybe have briefly recounted the time we met at the Gala.” he says.

You nod you head along, “briefly, right. Of course.”

“And then there’s Kori. She’s just a walking ray of sunshine. You’d get along pretty well.” 

“Kori like, Dick and Kori?” you ask.

“Yup. Glad that’s over.” he says.

You wack his arm lightly.

“Jason!”

“Listen that whole thing was long as fuck. I’m just glad they’re friends now.”

“Good for them. I’d like to meet them. Maybe when-” 

You and Jason watch in real time as the window in the living room slides open, and a small body crawls through it. Still clad in his patrol suit it Damian. You haven’t gotten used to calling him your brother in a non-sarcastic way yet. 

He sees the both of you on the couch and turns right to Jason.

“Todd get out.” 

Jason gets up from the couch with a sigh, “You have twenty minutes before I come back.” 

Jason spares you a kiss to the head before jogging to the door and letting himself out. 

You pat the now empty space with your hand.

“Well brother, what bings you here?” He does the ‘tt’ and stomps over to the couch. He sits down with a bit of a cowl on his face. He can be very similar to Bruce when he wants be. The batman and his child. One of them.

“I’m being held off a mission because Father says I’m spending too much time fighting crime and not being a child.” 

“Hearsay, I think you do the child thing just fine.”

“I agree!”

“I’ll speak to him if you want me to.”

“No.”

You wait a beat thinking he might give you some other option. And then you realize it’s Damian and he’s got many other solutions up his sleeve. So you look back at the window.

“How did you get in if the fires escape connects to the window in my room?” you ask.

“It’s Jon.” 

You scratch your head, “That’s not really an explanation but okay.”

“Do you have any ice cream. Rocky Road preferably?” he asks.

But he’s not really asking. Because he’s on his feet and headed towards your fridge and trying to find it himself. Of course you have his flavor here. You’re just gonna make him work for it, so it’s all the way in the back.

[mrsalwayswrite]

Singing in the Shower (Ragnarssons x Reader)

This is just a silly little one-shot that came to mind that I could not stop thinking about. It got a bit deeper than I planned but oops?

Also my first time writing a Ragnarssons x reader! Please let me know if I did all the brothers justice. Except Bjorn isn’t in here. So its just the sons of Aslaug. Sorry, Bjorn.  

Warnings: some brief mentions of abusive/unhealthy past relationships, reader has some insecurities, the brothers being the best roomies ever but also creepers, like one or two swear words, FLUFFY GOODNESS!!! 

Words: 3700

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius​

 (picture is from Pinterest. Not mine.)

The sound of laughter echoed around you even before leaving your bedroom. It was a Sunday night so that meant the Lothbrok brothers were all over. A tradition Ubbe started some months ago to make sure the four brothers stayed connected in each other's lives. Every Sunday evening, all of them would congregate in the three bedroom flat you shared with Ubbe and Hvitserk. They would order a stack of pizzas and enough beer to put a pub crawl to shame, and watch movies or play video games until the early morning hours. Only twice had fist fights broken out between Sigurd and Ivar with just a table and a lamp damaged in the process, so Ubbe called it a win. 

 It had only been about a year that you lived with Ubbe and Hvitserk. Sigurd chose to move in with a couple members of the band he played in. Aslaug vehemently refused to let Ivar move out due to his many medical needs that she claimed he could only receive proper attention for at home. In equal parts rebellion and to escape his mother’s suffocating attention, Ivar spent the majority of his free time and nights crashing on the couch at your shared flat. 

 At first, you were hesitant about living with the two brothers, having only known them through friends, but you decided to give it a chance. Within a couple of months, you found the strange dynamics of your shared space and your vastly different relationships with each of the brothers to feel eerily familiar….like being home. 

 Standing at your door, you listened to the brothers for a few moments, smiling broadly as you heard Hvitserk taunting Sigurd about how he was going to beat his ass if he threw another blue shell at him. Meanwhile Ivar was yelling something about the undeniable magic of Yoshi and his winning streak. They must be playing Mario Kart again. 

 It was nice to hear them all getting along. Normally Sunday nights you hung out with your boyfriend to give the brothers privacy, even though all of them repeatedly told you it was unnecessary. That was until last week. You had taken a selfie on your boyfriend's phone and went to set it as his background to surprise him….and found nude pictures of other girls and the dick pics he sent them back. Before you stormed out of his flat, you may have thrown his phone against the wall, pleased when the screen shattered just like your trust. Then you came home and cried to Hvitserk about how you were swearing off men and just wanted to be a spinster for the rest of your life. 

 Word must have spread between the brothers. For the rest of the week, they all offered their support in various ways. Sigurd texted you a few times to check on you and remind you that clearly you were better off without your ex. Ubbe gave you long hugs as if trying to soak the pain out of you, and made sure you were eating and getting out of bed. Hvitserk surprised you with a new sugary treat every day ranging from Oreos to ice cream to chocolate muffins; then you two would cuddle on the couch indulging yourselves while watching movies. Ivar threatened to beat up your now ex-boyfriend for making you cry and take pictures to send to those girls your ex had been texting. You made sure to shut Ivar's idea down quickly but pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and thanked him for offering. You hated your ex, that did not mean you wanted him dead. 

 You pushed away from your door and down the hallway. Popping your head around the corner, you saw the brothers in various positions in the living room, eyes all glued to the TV and the race happening on-screen. 

 "I'm gonna shower." You announced, receiving grunts of affirmations as they were too focused to fully acknowledge you. Smiling at their antics, you headed into the bathroom, shutting the door and starting the shower up. Once the water was at the perfect temperature, you stripped and jumped in. Of course, once the mixture of hot water and steam helped you relax, you started singing to yourself, letting the worries of the day fade away for just a moment as the words flowed from your lips and echoed off the shower stall walls like your own little stage. 

 Unbeknownst to you, as soon as the bathroom door shut and the sound of water running could be heard, the volume on the TV was muted. 

 Ivar, surprisingly, was the first one to overhear your singing. He had come over to crash for a few hours after his latest doctor appointment and to work on an assignment for a University class. The bathroom door somehow had not fully latched when you closed it, cracking open while you were in the shower….and you started singing. Ivar sat stunned on the couch at the voice slipping out of the bathroom like a siren's song. He remained there, transfixed as you sang some song he had never heard but he could feel in his chest. Once you stopped singing and the shower turned off, he quickly jumped up and hobbled over to silently shut the door, slightly embarrassed by the idea of you catching him listening in to your shower singing. 

 Later that day after you headed out to work, Ivar asked Ubbe and Hvitserk if they had heard you sing yet. Both of them denied ever hearing you sing. When asked if he knew anything, Sigurd was upset, having asked you on multiple nights to go to a karaoke bar with him and some friends. You always refused by saying you sounded Iike a beached whale. 

 Ubbe was next to overhear. He was walking by the bathroom on the way to the kitchen when he heard your voice drifting from underneath the bathroom door. Feeling like a creeper but curiosity winning out, he pressed his ear to the bathroom door to listen better. To say he had been shocked was an understatement. Sure, he had heard Ivar praise your voice, but he figured his youngest brother was exaggerating. It made him wonder why you never sang in front of others. 

 A silent pact was made between the brothers that they would never share the information of your singing with anyone outside the four of them….and whenever you jumped in the shower, whoever was the closest would go and crack the bathroom door open so they could hear you better. 

 This time was no different. 

 Sigurd was closest, so after Ubbe paused the game, he jumped up and silently cracked open the door so your beautiful voice could flow out. The game picked back up but remained on mute so they could hear you. The first song you serenaded them with was Walk Me Home by Pink. Apparently, one of your new favorites since you sang it so often. Next was Someone Like You by Adele. By the third song, the brothers had abandoned the game and were solely focused on you and the raw emotion bleeding from your voice. This time you started to sing Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi.  

 Ubbe spoke up, keeping his voice quiet just in case you could hear them, however unlikely. "Has she said anything about her ex lately?"

 "Not to me." Hvitserk answered first. "I thought she was doing fine."

 "Just because she's not crying all the time doesn't mean she's fine." Ivar retorted harshly, never removing his eyes from the direction of the bathroom. After a moment, he got up and hobbled towards the bathroom. 

 "Ivar…. Ivar, what are you doing?" Ubbe hissed but was ignored. 

 As quiet as possible, Ivar walked into the bathroom and sat on the toilet lid; your singing managed to cover the sounds of his movement. As he rolled his head to the side, it was to find his brothers had followed him with varying expressions ranging from concern to amusement. 

 Normally you did not spend so long in the shower but today you decided to spoil yourself. You had been doing well all week but this morning you were scrolling through your Instagram and happened to stumble upon a picture of your ex with a new girl, smiling happily and kissing at a restaurant…. the day after you broke up. And seeing them together felt like it ripped a tear into the slowly healing pieces of your heart. 

 Instead of going out like you planned to do, you laid in bed all-day binge-watching movies and feeling like an idiot. So in the shower you took extra time pampering yourself, using a deep conditioner in your hair, shaving everywhere and just letting the hot water cascade down your skin and loosen the tense muscles. 

 At this point you were feeling a little better and decided it was best not to waste any more water. You turned the water off, running your hands down your body to get as much excess water off, before you reached for your towel. Grabbing the plush towel hanging on the rack, you quickly dried your hair and wrapped the towel around your body before pulling the curtain back….

 Only to shriek as you realized you were not alone in the bathroom. 

 "What? What are you guys doing?" You demanded, eyes frantically darting between the four brothers.

 Ivar sat on the toilet lid; head tilted as he watched you with a peculiar expression on his face. Hvitserk leaned against the sink, eyes darting from your towel-clad body to the floor then back up. Ubbe and Sigurd stood in the doorway, both looking the least comfortable but still not moving. 

 "We, ah, we were…. well, we are concerned for you." Ubbe said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

 "Concerned?" You asked incredulously. 

 Ivar ignored your question. "Is this about your ex? Want me to pay him a visit?"

 "What are you talking about?"

 "Your singing. They were sad songs." Sigurd answered, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. 

 Heat flooded your face. You dropped your head, staring at the bathroom floor as you clutched the towel closer to your body. Honestly, the idea of them hearing your singing was far more humiliating than them seeing you naked at this point. "You…. you heard me…. singing?"

 "Y/n, are you OK? You know you can tell us anything." Hvitserk said, trying to meet your eye. 

 "Um, can…. can we talk about this when…. when I'm not naked?" 

 "Of course. Come on, brothers." Ubbe quickly agreed, tapping the door as if to signal. He and Sigurd walked away first. Only when you finally met Hvitserk's eye did he push off the sink and head out but not before giving you a flirty wink. 

 "Ivar…."

 He slouched back, folding his hands behind his head. "I'm quite comfortable here."

 "Oh gods, please, Ivar." You begged, almost on the verge of tears. 

 He stared at you a long moment before pushing himself to his feet. "Don't think you're getting out of this."

 "Ok."

 Appeased, he made his way out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

 Once alone, you stepped out of the shower only to drop onto the toilet lid and place your head in your hands. Your chest heaved and your eyes stung as you fought back the tears that threatened to fall. Today was bad enough and now this. It had to be something out of a nightmare. Your own personal hell. 

 When you finally composed yourself, you quickly changed into your comfiest sweats and tank top. You wished you could make a run for your room, anything to avoid the impending conversation but you knew the brothers would follow, they were all stubborn and persistent when they wanted to be. 

 With a deep breath, you stepped out of the bathroom and towards the living room. What hushed disagreement the brothers were clearly having abruptly ended when they noticed you. Awkwardly you remained standing, unsure where to sit. The only open spots were on the couch between Hvitserk and Ivar or one of the recliners as Ubbe sat in the other one. Sigurd reclined on the rocker gaming chair on the floor. 

 Averting your eyes, you started towards the open recliner only to have a strong arm snake around your waist as you passed by and pulled you onto the couch. You squeaked as you suddenly found yourself perched on Ivar's lap. Somewhere you had certainly never been before. 

 "Where do you think you're going?" He asked, a cocky grin spread across his face. 

 "Um, over there." You nodded your head towards the other open spot. 

 "No, you're sitting here now."

 "Stop hogging her, brother." Hvitserk reached over and dragged you off Ivar. Somehow you ended up with your back against Hvitserk's side, his arm slung around you and your legs across Ivar's lap, him slowly running his hand up and down them. 

 Ubbe raised an eyebrow at the three of you. "Are you done yet?"

 "I thought we were just fine but I guess Hvitty had other plans." Ivar snarked, rolling his eyes. 

 "We're good now." Hvitserk said with a cheesy smile, making you giggle. 

 "So how are you really doing, y/n?" Ubbe asked, staring at you with those knowing blue eyes. 

 "Um, I'm alright. Today was just…. rough." At the four questioning looks, you quickly explained about what you found this morning on Instagram. 

 Ivar slapped the armrest of the couch. "I'm beating his ass now and nothing you say can stop me."

 You snagged his other hand that was still on your leg and clasped it, as if that alone could diminish his deadly intent. "Please don't. He's not worth it. I just…. I just want to move on. Ok?"

 He grumbled, but eventually gripped your hand and gave it a single squeeze in acknowledgement. 

 Now here was the part that petrified you; but you needed to know. 

 "Um, how…. how long have…. was this your first time?" Your words stumbled out, making you cringe at how ineloquent it was. 

 "What are you talking about?" Sigurd drawled; one foot propped up so he slowly rocked in the gaming chair.  

 You licked your lips, your mouth suddenly dry. You dropped your gaze, as you whispered your answer. "My….my singing."

 "What? You sound bloody brilliant! The others have heard you more than me but you always sound amazing!" Sigurd exclaimed, a beaming smile on his face. "I don't know why you haven't gone out with me before! Oh! I'd love for you to try and sing in my band, we could use an amazing vocalist like you! Gods, we could get way more gigs with a beautiful woman like you upfront singing."

 Soon as Sigurd started talking, you covered your face with your hands. The tears you managed to repress earlier flooded back. Your shoulders hunched over, cowering into yourself at the revelation. They had all heard you. Apparently more than just this one time. It was mortifying. Long ago you stopped singing in front of others, no longer able to face the ridicule, the degrading comments always thrown your way. And now, these brothers that you had become so close to…. if they said anything negative towards you right now, you were sure your heart would fully break and no lyric would ever pass your lips again. 

 Hvitserk shifted behind you, turning you so he could wrap both arms around your waist and place his cheek against the side of your head. "Y/n, talk to us." 

 You shook your head, the barely suppressed tears and poisoned words clogging your throat. 

 Abruptly, a pair of calloused hands grabbed yours, forcing them away from your face. You were immediately met by a pair of piercing blue eyes, only inches from your face. 

 "Whose ass am I killing now? Huh?" Ivar demanded in a low, menacing tone. Between his tone and the fury burning in his eyes, you knew he meant his question, and that sent a nervous chill down your spine. 

 "It's not…. it’s nothing."

 "Bullshit." Ivar spat. 

 Hvitserk nuzzled your temple, his voice lighter but still with an edge of steel in it. "I agree with Ivar. Something happened."

 Biting your bottom lip, you closed your eyes. There were a few things that were just too painful to talk about and this one, they had unknowingly stumbled upon. 

 "Was it your mother?"

 Your eyes flew open, your head snapped over to stare at Ubbe in shock. He met your gaze unflinchingly, and somehow you knew he already figured at least part of it out. He accidentally overheard a phone conversation between you and your mother one time and once you got off the phone, he immediately pulled you into a bone-crushing hug and promised you never had to see her again if you never wanted to, that they would take care of you. Of course, you cried all over him after he promised that. 

 Ubbe leaned forward in the recliner, placing his elbows on his knees, gaze still intent on you. "What did she do?"

 "She…. she hated when I sang. Said I was just desperate for attention. That I needed to just shut up. That no one would want to listen to me anyway. If she ever caught me singing…. once she duct-taped my mouth shut."

 You could hear the gasps at your confession, followed by a round of curses. Hvitserk pressed a kiss to your temple, tightening his hold on you. Ivar squeezed your hands, still holding them within his own. 

 Ubbe nodded as if not surprised. He ran a hand down his face and sighed before stealing your gaze once again. "I have a feeling she wasn't the only one to hurt you."

 At this point, a silent tear trekked down your cheek. You sniffled, dropping your gaze down. "I had an ex who used to make fun of my singing. He used to say 'at least you're pretty'. When we would ride together listening to music, he would tell me to stop singing and 'leave it to the professionals'. At some point, it just….it was better to not sing in front of anyone. So I only sang in the shower cause I thought no one would hear me."

 Hvitserk turned your head, looking into your eyes. "Baby, listen to me. Your singing is incredible. We all love listening to you sing. Please don't be embarrassed about this with us."

 "I'd love for you to walk around the house singing, I could happily listen to that all day." Ubbe said, a tender smile on his lips. 

 "I second that!" 

 "Sig, you're only here on Sundays." Ubbe glanced over at his brother. 

 Sigurd shrugged. "So? I could listen to her sing all day. Maybe she should move in with me and actually be appreciated."

 "No! You're not stealing her from us!" Hvitserk said, practically cradling you against him, like a puppy afraid to lose its favorite toy.

 "It's not stealing if she wants to go!" 

 Ivar butted in. "I am more interested in this other shitty ex and mother...can I find them?"

 "No, Ivar. You have to stop threatening people."

 "Why?" He whined at you, tugged on your hands, your legs still across his lap. "You won't let me teach them a lesson so all I can do is threaten."

 "Also sounds like you have terrible taste in guys. Anymore shitty exes we should know about?" Sigurd asked, rocking his chair. 

 You figured at this point you were spilling all your dirty secrets so what was one more. "Um, I was talking to this one guy but when he found out I moved in here, he called me a whore for moving in with two brothers and told me I was a waste of his time." You softly admitted, having made sure none of them ever heard about that after it happened. 

 For a moment there was dead silence then….

 "I'm going to need his name right now." Ubbe said, malice dripping off every word. 

 "Yeah! Let's cut his tongue out! See what he says about that!" Ivar cheered. 

 You could not stop the laughter that came out. The idea that these brothers got so worked up over anyone that ever insulted or hurt you was both sweet and slightly infuriating, but mostly sweet. No one had ever cared about you as strongly as these four brothers. 

 "It's fine now. How about this? Next guy to hurt me, I promise I'll give you his name."

 "No! I want to cut this asshole's tongue out. Maybe slap him with it after!" Ivar smiled with a pure predatory look. 

 "I think you should just date one of us." Sigurd shrugged, watching everyone with a smirk. "Then you know he'd treat you right."

 "I like this idea." Hvitserk smiled, squeezing you lightly. "We would romance the hell out of you."

 "You guys are being silly. I don't even know what romance would look like." You giggled at the absurd idea. All the brothers were gorgeous in their own ways and could pick up any girl they wanted, why would they want you? Besides, your relationships were just platonic. "Is the interrogation over now? Want me to leave so you can get back to your game?"

 "Nope, you're stuck here." Ivar said, leaning on you now so you were sandwiched between the two brothers. 

 Ubbe chuckled. "We've told you before, you are welcome to hang out with us. Why don't we put in a movie?"

 After many arguments and some mild threats, a movie was finally chosen. You settled against Hvitserk, facing the TV, as you played with Ivar's hair, his head now in your lap. 

 As you watched the movie, you missed the silent conversation between the brothers happening around you. It was decided that your next boyfriend would certainly be one of them and in the meantime, they were all going to romance the hell out of you and make sure you understood how important and incredible you are. 

 Starting with making sure you sang whenever you wanted. 

[chapstick-eater]

shoutout to alcohol, that bitch ALWAYS triggers a binge

i went to a going away party for a friend last night and didn't let myself count calories so i could just be with my people but i ended up eating so much junk and i felt so awful today

there goes my binge free streak i guess :(

[tcm]

The Oscar Effect on Careers By Susan King

Does winning an acting Oscar change the career of the recipient? The answer is yes and also no. Take Brad Pitt, who won Best Supporting Actor last year for ONCE UPON A TIME IN HOLLYWOOD (2019). He’s a veteran superstar with over three decades in Hollywood. So, the award is more icing on the cake for his career. But that wasn’t the case when he earned his first nomination for Terry Gilliam’s 12 MONKEYS (‘95). Pitt was on a hot streak since gaining attention for his roles in THELMA & LOUISE (‘91), A RIVER RUNS THROUGH IT (‘92), INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE (‘94) and LEGENDS OF THE FALL (‘94), and his first Oscar nominations gave his career an even bigger boost.

Similar to Pitt, many young actors discovered their stock in Hollywood with Oscar gold, but nominations and wins have effected various stars’ careers in different ways. Here’s a look at various Oscar winners and how the award affected their careers.

Martin Landau

The Oscar has changed the career trajectory of many veteran actors. Martin Landau was making such TV movies The Harlem Globetrotters on Gilligan’s Island (’81) that just squandered his talents. But that all changed when he earned his first Oscar nomination for Francis Ford Coppola’s TUCKER: THE MAN AND HIS DREAM (’88), followed by a second for Woody Allen’s CRIMES & MISDEMEANORS (’89), eventually winning for his poignant performance as Bela Lugosi in Tim Burton’s ED WOOD (’94).

Ironically, Landau told me in a 2010 L.A. Times interview he didn’t think he could play the Dracula star. “It’s a Hungarian morphine addict, alcoholic who has mood swings,” he remembered telling Burton. “That would be hard enough, but it has to be Bela Lugosi! I said I don’t know if I can do this, but let’s do some tests.”

Makeup artist Rick Baker transformed Landau into the elderly frail actor. Burton, he recalled, looked at the tests and thought he was 50% Lugosi. Landau believed he captured the icon in fleeting moments. “I said if I can do it 10% of the time, I can do it 100% of the time. They have to accept me as Lugosi in the first five minutes or we don’t have a film. It was not an impersonation for me. He had to be a human being.”

Melvyn Douglas

Similarly, Melvyn Douglas, who was best known for his comedic roles in the 1930s and ‘40s in such films as NINOTCHKA (’39), had seen his career slow in the 1950s because of his liberal political leanings. But he came back to the forefront in 1960 after winning a Tony Award for Gore Vidal’s THE BEST MAN, and then receiving his first of two supporting actor Oscars for his turn as Paul Newman’s hard-working Texas rancher father in Martin Ritt’s HUD (’63). Seven years later, he received a Best Actor nomination as Gene Hackman’s father in I NEVER SANG FOR MY FATHER (’70), ultimately winning his second Oscar as the president of the United States in Hal Ashby’s BEING THERE (’79).

Luise Rainer

The German stage actress was signed to an MGM contract in the mid-30s. But the free-spirited Rainer, who considered herself an actress and not a movie star, was always at logger heads with studio head Louis B. Mayer. She told me in a 2011 L.A. Times interview, Mayer “couldn’t make me out. You know it was a little bit difficult for him. I wasn’t the type that he was used to. So, the poor man didn’t know what to do with me. For my first film, ESCAPADE [‘35], William Powell said [to him] you got to star that girl…My first film made me a star.”

Rainer won Best Actress as famed performer Anna Held in THE GREAT ZIEGFELD (’36) and as a Chinese peasant in THE GOOD EARTH (’37). All but one of her subsequent films didn’t do well at the box office and she left Hollywood. She made one film, HOSTAGES (’43), guest starred on some TV series including a voyage on The Love Boat and had a small part in indie film THE GAMBLER (’97).

Art Carney  

One of the greatest comedic actors, Carney came to fame in the Honeymooners sketches on The Jackie Gleason Show and The Honeymooners series as Ralph Kramden’s (Gleason) best pal, the clueless sewer worker Ed Norton. He won five Emmys for his work with Gleason. Carney also originated the role of neatnik Felix Ungar opposite Walter Matthau’s Oscar Madison in the 1965 Broadway production of Neil Simon’s The Odd Couple.

Well-known that he had a drinking problem, Carney wasn’t working that much in film or TV in the late 1960s and early 1970s. In fact, he tried to convince Paul Mazursky he wasn’t right for the filmmaker’s heartfelt dramedy HARRY & TONTO (’74) about a curmudgeonly old New Yorker who travels with his cat across country after he loses his apartment. Mazursky told me in a 2011 L.A. Times interview that no one wanted the part. James Cagney, Laurence Olivier, Cary Grant and even Danny Kaye were among those who turned him down. 

He had seen Carney on Broadway in 1957 in a dramatic role in The Rope Dancers.  “Of course, I had seen him in The Honeymooners. He didn’t want to do it,” noted Mazursky. “He said ‘I’m 59 years old and you want this guy to be in his 70s.’ I said, ‘Art, this is the first time I met you and you look like you are in your 70s – you’re balding, you wear a hearing aid and you have a bum leg.’ He told me, ‘You don’t want me, I’m an alcoholic.’ He had one bad night then nothing else. He had been out on a binge and he showed up on location in Chicago in a taxi in the morning loaded. I took him up to his room, put him in the shower and made him a pot of coffee. He was easy to direct.”

Carney won both the Golden Globe and the Academy Award for his turn, beating out the likes of Jack Nicholson for CHINATOWN and Al Pacino for THE GODFATHER PART II. And he did some of his best work post-Harry including as an aging Los Angeles private detective in the charming THE LATE SHOW (’77) and as a senior who teams up with his buddies (George Burns and Lee Strasberg) to rob a bank in GOING IN STYLE (’79). He earned his sixth Emmy for the TV movie Terrible Joe Moran (’84), which was James Cagney’s last film.  Carney’s final film was the 1993 Arnold Schwarzenegger disaster LAST ACTION HERO. “I’m outta here” was the last line Carney ever uttered on film.