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#weekend breaks derby
southislandwren · 7 months
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arrgggghhhhhhh they weren't kidding when they said everything happens at once!!!
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russo-woso · 5 months
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Would you please do an Esme Morgan x reader, where her teammates are meeting her girlfriend for the first time. Maybe Esme's teammates are prepared to be protective of Esme and give R older sister speechs until it turns out she's just as soft and sweet as Esme.
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I told you | Esme Morgan
“So Es, when are you going to bring your secret girlfriend to meet us?” Alex’s scouse accent filled the food hall as the Man City girls ate their lunch.
“I’ve managed to get her tickets to the match against United next week.” Esme replied and all the girls smiled, knowing they could finally meet you.
You, the girl who Esme couldn’t stop talking about.
“I can’t wait to sit down and talk to her. She best be ready for it. I’m gonna tell her that if she ever hurts you or a single hair on your head, she’s dead. I know I’m known for breaking my own nose, but I’m also just as good as breaking other peoples’ noses.” Alanna spoke up and a light hum of agreement was heard throughout the team.
“She’s dead if she hurts you.” Jill agreed, a stern and serious tone in her voice.
“She is so sweet, please don’t scare her away. She means so much to me. I can’t lose her.” Esme defended, a smile appearing as she thought of you.
“As long as she treats you right, then it’s fine.” Steph added and all the girls nodded in agreement.
“She does, I promise. Tell them, Hempster.” Esme commanded, knowing Lauren had met you since Lauren and Esme shared a house.
“She is. She’s just like Esme.” Lauren stated before adding more in. “They’re perfect for each other.”
“We’ll see.” Alanna
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“Hi, baby.” You greeted Esme as she opened the door.
“Hi Y/N bear.” She responded, bringing you in for a hug and a kiss.
“I bought these for you.” You told her, showing her the bouquet of flowers. “And I also bought this for you. I walked past it in tescos and I thought of you.” You explained, showing her the small stuffed teddy bear.
“Thank you so much, baby.” Esme said, nearly in tears at your thoughtfulness. She pecked your lips once more before letting you walk in.
After a movie and cuddles on the sofa, Esme tensed up remembering the conversation with her teammates earlier.
“Y/N, baby, you know you’re coming to my match on the weekend?” Esme started and you hummed in response, pressing a kiss to her head. “I told my teammates and they really want to meet you. Of course, it’s up to you. And you don’t have to give me an answer now but it’s—”
“Es, take a breath, love. It’s fine. I promise. I love you and if getting to love your means I have to go through your teammates, then tell them to bring it on. I love you so much, Esme, and that means that I’d do anything for you.” You told her, stroking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before placing a soft kiss on her lips.
“And by the way, the whole team thinks you’re going to hurt Esme so be prepared.” Lauren laughed as she watched the whole thing from the other couch.
You just looked at Esme, confusion written on your face, as Esme shrugged whispering that she’d explain it to you later.
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After an eventful Manchester derby, the nerves started to kick in as you waited to meet all Esme’s teammates.
To city’s luck and pure talent, they won the derby 3-1, managing to get the ball past Mary Earps 3 times.
As soon as the match ended, Esme made her way to you.
“Essy bear, you played so well. I’m so proud of you.” You said, enveloping her in a hug.
“I only played 15 minutes.” Esme pointed out, a smile wide on her face, identical to the one on yours.
“I know but you didn’t let any balls past you.” You told her, taking a piece of grass off her forehead, and kissing the place it was in.
“I’m so glad you’re here.” Esme admitted and you rested a hand on her cheek, gently rubbing your thumb over it.
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Now where’s them teammates of yours? I’ve been preparing myself to take them on.” You joked and Esme let out a soft giggle, taking your hand in hers as she led you down to the pitch.
“Y/N!” Lauren cheered as she spotted you walking towards the team.
“Hi, Hempster. Well done on the win.” You said to her, bringing her in for a hug.
“Thanks, Y/N.”
“Hempster, don’t go stealing my girlfriend now.” Esme warned as you and Lauren still hugged.
Esme tickled your sides as you laughed and clung onto Esme.
“Es, stop it.” You giggled, as Esme planted kisses on your face.
“Why? Can I not kiss my gorgeous girlfriend?” Esme asked, a grin taking over her face.
“Of course you can but not when you’re all sweaty.” You said, placing a final kiss on her lips.
The whole team watched from afar, realising that they were all wrong about their thoughts.
You really were another Esme.
“Gonna introduce her, Es?” Chloe asked, and Esme nodded.
“Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is the team.” Esme introduced you and you smiled at the whole team.
“Hi everyone. I’ve been so excited to meet you all. Esme’s constantly talking about all of you and it’s so nice to finally get to meet the people she’s been talking about. Congratulations on the win as well. It was such an exciting match to watch.” You said, a smile on your face the whole entire time.
“Maybe I won’t be breaking your nose any time soon. It’s nice to meet, Y/N.” Alanna greeted and your eyebrows furrowed at her statement.
“Breaking my nose?” You asked, confused.
“I thought you were gonna be some drug dealing alcoholic that was gonna break Esme’s heart.” Alanna explained casually and you nodded in understanding.
“I can assure you that I’m not. And before you all have talks with me, I’m not going to hurt Esme. I’d rather die than ever hurt Esme. Esme is my whole heart, I couldn’t be without her.” You told them all as Esme’s heart warmed.
“I couldn’t be without you either, Y/N.” Esme said, leaning down to place a kiss on your cheek.
“Right, we get it. You two are madly in love. It’s nice to meet you, Y/N, welcome to the team.”
“I told you she was another Esme.” Lauren spoke up, grinning at her teammates.
You had a huge smile on your face, and so did Esme.
You had been welcomed into the team although you couldn’t kick a ball to save your life.
And Esme was so happy that you had been accepted by her family, and the fact that she had you in her life.
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dreamauri · 1 year
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♪ — 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗠𝗨𝗦𝗜𝗖 𝗗𝗜𝗘𝗗 - part two max verstappen x girlfriend! driver! reader (angst) “. . . you were close to wining your first world title, until you weren't.”
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( fic master list | general master list ) ( previous | next )
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You arrived at the track with your parents, each at either of your sides, talking you through the weekend like it was your first time as you made your way to the paddock. You were exhausted. You've been trying to improve yourself all winter break. You wouldn't even consider it a break from all the training you’ve been doing.
The only good thing out of this was that your parents were agreeing on something ( which was treating you like an idiot who was ruining their image ). Although divorced, they still came to watch your every race and coached you through everything. They might have not been the best parents, instead of providing you with what you needed as a kid and adult, you were tweaked and regularly maintained into becoming a machine.
And it was paying off, you had successfully delivered a grand slam. Fatigue finally caught up to you as you slowed down to complete the cool down lap. You could hear booing from the grandstands. The hate from last season was still there. Claiming you were wasting money for losing the championship, suing the FiA, and for car damages. And that all that could've been avoided if you just opened your eyes and dodged the derbies.
And you of course, let the hate get to you. You drove by on the track, watching as many people cupped their mouths shouting your name and throwing thumbs down, the middle fingers, and other vulgar insults. This was a reaction you were quite used to as a female driver. What you weren't used to was the black liquid splashing onto you.
In quick reaction time, you were able to flip your visor up to see the track. But you were not ready to react to the second splash, a larger dosage this time. The unidentified chemical burned your eyes. Your first instance was to pull over and get out. You stumbled with the seat belt before running eyes closed to where you remembered you last saw marshals.
And that was another mistake. Your assailant was able to get to you before the marshals did.  He tackled you down, shouting in your ear. His assault was short lived to your fortune. Max had stopped by your side and pulled him off you, delivering a good punch and pinning him to the ground.
Your eyes were washed out with water quickly after, helping you recover most of your vision. You spent your podium celebration in the hospital, getting your eyes treated.
Your parents fought in the background and you listened as the nurse applied droplets on your eyes. Your sight was weakened and sensitised. You were not going to be able to race next week, which hurt more than the whole incident.
later that night, Max successfully sneaked in to see you, scared to be caught by your parents or by paparazzi, or any other driver for that matter. No one needed to know how close you two had become. no one. you didn't need anyone up either your asses.
He was sitting on a chair beside your bed, bushing strands of hair off your face as you listened to the race on the TV, laying on your side quietly. "I'm so proud of you for being so strong, lieveling." [sweetheart] He whispered to you.
You opened your eyes for the first time, looking him straight in his gorgeous blue ones with an empty expression on your face. You sighed, leaning up and pressing your forehead against his. A gesture you two had developed throughout your relationship.
Max was quick to lean into your touch, cupping the back of your head gently to keep you close to him. You were so preciouses to him, it got him so scared he thought his soul would jump on his body. He was quick to react when he saw what happened, jumping out of the car and pulling the guy off you.
Seeing you so weak and hurting on the ground, Max wanted to do worse. It took all of his strength to hold himself back.
"Will she cross it first? And, yes she does! A great start of the season for Porsche with their star driver winning!" David Croft's voice came from the television. You pulled away from Max's touch to watch and see what happens next ( even though you knew ).
Max was quick to cover your eyes, gently pushing you back down on your side to rest. "I thought you said the doctor told you to avoid looking at screens and bright light." He reminded her, only receiving a scoff before you closed your eyes again.
"What's he doing here? There's a person right there- Oh! They- they dumped some sort of liquid on-" "OH SHIT." Max watched the footage, raging at the sight of the other man hurting you.
"That's Verstappen's car- Is he? Oh! Right in the face." “Bloody hell.” You sighed listening, reaching forward in search of the blonde's hand. You were grateful that he held yours instantly, intertwining your fingers together. "Max Verstappen ladies and gentlemen. The marshals will-" The television was turned off, giving you a moment with max.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
"Couldn't we go through a back door maybe?" To say you were scared was an understanding. Walking behind your parents in the paddock, you made sure you were all covered, too scared to face another rogue person. Sunglasses, cap, long sleeves, baggy pants.
"You're Porsche's golden girl." Your mother reminded you, rolling her eyes. "Stop being a pussy. And don't make me walk next to him." Your mother pulled you in between herself and your father, rotating your cap backwards to make you look less scared.
Your father only scoffed, starting a bicker with your mother as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. You sighed, making eye contact with Max as you passed him.
Everyone was pretty sure you would end up strangling someone at this point, they could tell you were losing your cool. You weren't that same girl from last year and at some point you were going to snap, maybe sooner than expected.
Anger was bubbling inside you as you took off your helmet. After parking in the garage you marched over to Perez who had clipped your car, costing you a flying lap, Q1 and Q2. It was all in vain as well because he did not even improve his standing.
Thankfully, Max was quick to stop you, pulling you back from your bicep before things got dirty. "Why are you here?! Why don't you go celebrate with your team or something? Huh?" You pushed him away proceeding with your fight against Checo ( who looked absolutely shocked and apologised multiple times, but you were not having it ).
And when it was race time, you were a beast. From P19 to P2 you were attacking max, switching positions with him every few seconds. Cuss words slipped from your mouth each time he overtook you. You eventually parked in the P2 spot, heaving from the battle that lasted to the last second.
You screamed as you got out, not from joy or excitement. From anger. Slamming the steering wheel on the asphalt, you were not satisfied. It was not enough. You were hugged by your team and praised by your parents before taking your weight and sitting in the cool down room.
Taking your helmet off for the first time gave you room to breath as you sat in the chair, closing your eyes and leaning backwards. "That was a good race." You heard Max say from beside you, running a towel gently over your face.
There mustn't have been another person or cameras in the room. So, you were currently sitting beside your boyfriend, not your rival. "Tell me about it." You sighed, sinking into the chair tired. "You did very well, I'm proud." You could hear the smile in his voice, and you looked to see. He was indeed smiling at you, but you still felt . . . frustrated.
"But I lost." You scoffed sitting upright. You wanted to be angry at him, but you couldn't. You just couldn't.
And when it came time to celebrate, you put down the trophy as soon as you received it. Looking at it, the only thing you felt now was shame. When the Austrian anthem came to an end and champagne bottles were opened to be sprayed, you were downing the bottle instead.
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part three →
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worseforwords · 6 months
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Crescendo
(Alessia Russo x Reader)
Chapter III of Marshmallow
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The Monday after the weekend off marked the return to training. As you locked your car door and approached the training center, your mind still replayed the events of the past weekend.
“Hi!” A sweet voice brought you back to the present. You turned around to meet Alessia’s now all-too-familiar blue eyes. “Morning Marshmallow,” you said, a half-smile playing on your lips. “So, I guess we're back to normal now, huh?” you said.
“Yeah, friends,” she replied as the two of you strolled towards the building. As you entered the changing room together, Katie let out a dramatic wolf whistle. “Well, well, if it isn’t our two lovebirds! I guess you’ve just moved in together already.”
Laughter echoed as you shot Katie a playful glare. The spotlight was on the two of you, and everyone seemed curious about the weekend’s charade. Vic decided to get straight to the point. “So, spill it. How’d it go? Your parents buy the whole lovey-dovey act?” She asked.
You nodded, trying to play down the attention. “Yeah, they bought it.” As you moved to take a seat next to Leah, Alessia found her own place, and the atmosphere in the room buzzed with curiosity. Beth couldn’t resist chiming in, “Really? You actually pulled it off?”
“Alessia here was playing the ideal daughter-in-law. Perfect performance,” you said with a smirk, earning a few chuckles. You were hoping to leave it at that, which was of course too good to be true. “So what’s the next act? Break up after a while?” Vic inquired.
Before you could respond, Alessia jumped in, “Actually, Y/N’s sister is getting married in Paris next month, and we’re going together.” Jaws practically hit the floor. “Paris!?” Katie exclaimed, clearly taken aback.
“Yeah, why not? Always wanted to go, and it’s a free trip with a friend.” Alessia said with a casual shrug. For some reason, the word ‘friend’ hit you like a sudden jolt, though you knew she wasn’t lying. You noticed yourself zoning out as the conversation continued on the other side of the room. “Hey, are you okay?” Leah suddenly asked quietly, noticing your distant expression.
“Yeah, fine,” you replied, but the truth lingered beneath the surface. You busied yourself with your shoelaces, gaze straight to the floor. “You know, I’m surprised your parents bought your little act. You’re not exactly a great liar Y/N/N,” she said as you both got up to leave the changing room, clearly not fooled by your tough act.
The rest of the month leading up to the dreaded Paris trip went by a lot faster than expected. You and Alessia seamlessly transitioned back into your roles as teammates, though there was an undeniable shift in your relationship. To everyone else, it appeared as if a new friendship was blossoming, but to you, it felt like a delicate dance between savouring your time together and avoiding getting too close.
You enjoyed the conversations you had with her and the occasional playful teasing. Yet, you set unspoken boundaries. The line between friendship and something more blurred at times, and when the teasing veered into the realm of flirtation, you found subtle excuses to distance yourself from the situation. It was a self-imposed rule, a defence mechanism to keep your emotions in check.
When the dreaded weekend arrived, it started on a high. You had won the London derby, the roar of the crowd still echoing in your ears as you and Alessia boarded the plane. An hour and a half flew by as you chatted away about the hard-fought victory. When you landed in Paris, the city of lights welcomed you with a glow that mirrored the spark in Alessia’s eyes.
Stepping into the hotel lobby, Alessia’s hand found its place on the small of your back. It was a simple yet familiar touch, a signal that the roles were back in play – girlfriends for the public eye. In that moment, a surge of conflicting emotions washed over you. The elation from the match, the allure of Paris, and the gentle touch on your back created a concoction of feelings that you knew you would have to suppress all weekend.
When you swung open the door to your shared hotel room for the weekend, you couldn’t stop your jaw from dropping as your eyes scanned the room. Soft, warm lights adorned the walls, casting a gentle glow across the room. The scent of vanilla and lavender wafted through the air, creating an atmosphere that whispered of indulgence and intimacy.
The centrepiece was a double bed, adorned with satin sheets and a multitude of plush pillows, rose petals scattered artfully across the bedspread. The suite, beyond the bedroom, featured a cozy sitting area adorned with plush armchairs and a low coffee table holding an assortment of gourmet chocolates and a bottle of champagne on ice, complementing the romantic atmosphere.
“Well, they really went all out on the couple vibes, didn’t they?” you remarked with a faint grin, glancing at Alessia. She chuckled, seemingly unfazed. “Seems like it. Guess we’ll be embracing the honeymoon suite feel.”
As you walked in, you found a little note sitting on the bedside table. “Your first romantic getaway little sis! Have fun you lovebirds. x Charlotte.” You snorted as you read it out loud to Alessia. “Typical Charlie turning her own wedding into a romantic getaway for someone else,” you remarked.
Alessia giggled as she walked up to the window, taking in the gorgeous view, whilst you found yourself staring at the double bed, only now realising its implications.
“Hm, so,” you cleared your throat. “Since they gave us only one bed...” you paused for a moment as Alessia turned around to look at you. “You can take the bed, and I’ll take the floor. I’ll go request some more blankets.”
Alessia raised an eyebrow playfully. “Come on, Y/N. We’re not twelve. If you’re okay with it, we can share the bed. If not, I’m more than happy to take the floor. Your call.”
“Yeah, sure, no big deal,” you mumbled, trying desperately to sound casual. Alessia flashed a warm smile. “Great! As long as you’re comfortable.” She looked at you in anticipation as if checking once more if it was really okay with you. “Absolutely, all good,” you replied, maybe a bit too quickly.
That night, you had planned to meet your family in the lobby for a drink, whilst Andrew, your sister’s fiancé spent some time with his own family. Alessia, charming as always, effortlessly endeared herself to your family.
The night was a success, with your parents clearly appreciating Alessia’s company. Your brother, Colin, and his wife found her delightful, and even your sister, the bride-to-be, was glad to see you with such a wonderful person—a relief, since Charlotte had a tendency to be very protective over you. Alessia’s ability to navigate through conversations, blending in with your family seamlessly, only solidified the image of her as the perfect girlfriend.
As you all left the venue, there was a warmth in the air—a promise of a beautiful wedding day and a sense that Alessia had, once again, proven her mettle in this elaborate charade. The only challenge, it seemed, was the quiet struggle within you as you continued to suppress the feelings that once again had begun to blossom. Or maybe they had never really stopped.
Later that night, your hotel room was hushed, illuminated only by the soft glow of your nightlight. You sat up against the headboard, engrossed in a book, the occasional rustle of pages filling the silence. Alessia lay beside you, already cocooned in the sheets, her rhythmic breathing like small waves washing over the stillness.
When you had first started reading, Alessia was still scrolling on her phone. Now, however, the sound of soft snores broke your mind away from the captivating narrative of your book. Your eyes wandered to where she was peacefully asleep beside you, and you couldn’t help but let a warm smile form on your face, matching the warmth you felt inside at the sight of her.
With a tender touch, you pulled the blanket further over her, shielding her exposed shoulder from the chill. But as you lingered, you found yourself entranced by the subtle rise and fall of her body with each breath. Your gaze lingered longer than intended, tracing the contours of her form.
Reality snapped back as you became aware you had been staring at your friend for minutes now. In a hurried response, you left your book on the nightstand, turned off the nightlight, and shifted your body down to let your head sink into the pillow.
You briefly stared at the ceiling, but found yourself distracted by the slightest of movements still visible from the corner of your eye as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. Fighting against the current of your emotions, you turned onto your side to face the other side of the bed.
However, even in the absence of her sight, you could feel her presence like a magnetic force against your back. With a racing heart, you stared into the black void, and when the internal struggle reached its peak, you made a decision. Quietly, you slipped out of bed, hoping not to disturb her peaceful slumber. However, Alessia, even in her sleep, seemed attuned to your movements. She stirred slightly, her eyelids fluttering open.
“Everything okay?” she mumbled sleepily as she reached for her nightlight. You hesitated for a moment before replying, “Yeah, just can’t sleep.” Alessia, still in a drowsy state, offered a comforting smile. “Tea?” she suggested, the word accompanied by a gentle stretch.
She hardly gave you a chance to protest as she got up to turn on your hotel kettle, returning moments later with two cups of chamomile tea and a soft, sympathetic smile.
A quiet and peaceful minute later, with the cups emptied, Alessia encouraged you to lie back down. “Now turn to your side,” she added. A sense of vulnerability washed over you as you pondered which side, and you hesitated. You ultimately decided to face away from her again, knowing the possibility of feeling her breath on your face was simply too much for you.
Shortly after you moved, however, you felt an arm softly land on yours, gently wrapping itself around you. You tensed up a little at the unexpected contact, but you slowly felt your body relax as Alessia hesitantly edged closer to you. “Is this okay?” she whispered.
The gesture was unexpected, and you felt a mix of emotions. Somehow, it felt right. “Yeah,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible, and she held onto you a little tighter. Had you not been as sleep-deprived, your judgment of the situation might have been different, but in Alessia’s embrace, the room seemed to still, and you gradually drifted into a more peaceful state.
The morning of the wedding greeted you with a soft glow, sunlight streaming into the hotel room. As you opened your eyes, you found yourself in Alessia’s arms, her warmth a comforting presence. The gentle rise and fall of her chest against your back momentarily lulled you into a sense of security.
However, you were quick to resist the allure of the moment. With a silent sigh, you carefully escaped from Alessia’s embrace, not wanting to disturb her peaceful slumber, and slipped into the bathroom.
After your shower, Alessia had woken up and did the same. As she occupied the bathroom, you used the mirror in the bedroom for your little morning chat with yourself. Today’s chat was more of a tirade, spoken with a stern whisper, since the main character was just a door away. You kept it short, deciding to use the time to get dressed.
Earlier this year, prompted by your sister’s wedding announcement, your family had visited to a tailor, which had resulted in a cohesive theme threading through each member’s attire. A shared fabric choice subtly connected all of you in the celebration. Opting for a suit, you added a personal touch underneath—a graceful camisole that exuded both elegance and individuality.
The jacket was expertly tailored, cinching at the waist to accentuate your silhouette. The trousers were tailored to perfection, elongating your legs in a tasteful manner. As you turned back towards the mirror, you felt a sense of confidence wash over you.
However, said confidence disappeared in an instant when a little while later, Alessia emerged from the bathroom. The sight of her took you aback as she looked nothing short of stunning. Her outfit exuded elegance and grace. She wore a floor-length dress with a fitted bodice that accentuated her figure. The colour was a soft, muted tone that complemented her skin beautifully and matched the shade of your camisole. The dress had delicate lace detailing, adding a touch of sophistication. Her hair, styled in loose waves, framed her face with effortless charm. She looked beautiful.
Moments must have gone by as you stared at her before she spoke up. “How do I look?” she asked nervously, eyes moving up from the floor to yours and a shy smile on her face.
The words caught in your throat for a moment before you managed to reply, “Absolutely breathtaking.” The sincerity in your words was undeniable, even as the underlying complexity of the situation lingered. Alessia’s smile widened, appreciating the compliment.
“You look great too,” she said, scanning your suit. “I’ve never seen you in a suit before. It’s— different,” she added. You felt your cheeks flush as every drop of confidence left your body. Different? What on earth did she mean by that?
She must have noticed your slightly somber expression when she added, “Good different, I mean. It’s— I really like it.”
“Oh, thank you,” you said shyly, a soft smile creeping its way onto your face. “So, you ready, marshmallow?” You asked in an attempt to lighten the mood and she giggled. “There’s no way you’re calling me that when I look like this,” she said, crossing her arms.
“Fine. Are you ready, beautiful?” You really meant for that to sound sarcastic but were pretty sure that’s not how it came across. “Yes I am, gorgeous,” she retorted. You extended an elbow and she quickly took the invitation, intertwining her arm with yours as you left your hotel room to meet up with your family.
The ceremony itself, while undoubtedly beautiful, proved to be a bit of a blur. As vows were exchanged and the union was sealed with a kiss, your mind occasionally drifted to the subtle touches exchanged between Alessia and you. All of them part of your charade, of course.
The reception was where the day truly came to life. The venue sparkled with twinkling lights, and soft music wove through the air, casting a dreamlike aura over the celebration. Tables adorned with delicate flowers dotted the space, and laughter echoed as guests mingled. You found yourself mostly sticking by Alessia’s side, introducing her to friends and family.
Caught up in conversation with your cousin, you momentarily lost sight of your pretend girlfriend amidst the laughter and chatter. An undercurrent of panic flitted through you until, scanning the room, you spotted her engaged in a lively conversation with your mom.
As dinner unfolded, the atmosphere transformed with each heartfelt speech. Stories were shared about Charlotte and Andrew, from their initial dislike towards each other when working together to an accidental cooler confinement that changed everything.
Eventually the microphone found its way into your uncle’s hands, who fancied himself a poet after a few drinks. “Life is like music,” he began. "We all navigate through the complex cacophony that is the world as our own melodies. But it’s when we listen to those around us that we find unexpected harmonies.”
Glancing at Alessia, you found her eyes already on you. A shy smile passed between you as you related the poetic metaphor to your own story— the harmony between you and Alessia, unexpected yet undeniable.
“It’s the unexpected that makes both music and life beautiful, but love is not just about one simple harmony,” your uncle continued. “It’s about finding a way to move your melodies in sync, with whatever tempo, pitch, or dynamics the world throws at you. Charlotte, Andrew, I can’t wait to listen from afar to the next movements of the symphony of your love.”
Cheesy as the speech was, your uncle was right. No matter how much you felt the two of you harmonise when you were together, her melody wasn’t in sync with yours. It was with someone else’s.
After dinner came the highlight of the night— the party. The crowd gathered in the grand dance hall, and the band kicked off with some casual tunes. Your sister and her newly-wedded husband valued family a lot, so they wanted you all to be part of the first dance. The newlywed couple would start with a slow song, and as it progressed, close family members would join in. Then you all would do a small routine together to another song.
The original plan was for you to share the dance with your brother, a strategy devised by your mother to prevent you from being on your own. However, with Alessia as your date, plans swiftly changed. Your mother broke the news mere minutes before the grand moment. You attempted to protest by saying Alessia didn’t know the dance. However, unbeknownst to you, when your mom had briefly taken Alessia away during the reception when you whilst chatting away with your cousin, she had quickly taught her the routine.
Nerves began to bubble within your stomach as the band’s singer instructed everyone to form a large circle, with the newlyweds taking center stage. The chosen song for the dance was “Finally // beautiful stranger” by Halsey, a bit of an inside joke as it happened to be Andrew’s ultimate guilty pleasure and a challenge for him to hold back tears.
Nevertheless, to his credit, he continued slow dancing with Charlotte, and your turn was approaching. “Are you sure about this?” you asked Alessia, who responded with a nod, extending her hand for you to hold. You complied, and she practically dragged you onto the dance floor.
Not a fan of the spotlight, your face started heating up as you felt everyone’s eyes on you. Alessia must have noticed your flustered state as she quickly directed your hands to her waist, wrapping her own around your neck. She slowly guided the two of you, swaying to the music as the band launched into the final chorus.
“Beautiful stranger, here you are in my arms And I think it's finally, finally, finally, finally, finally safe For me to fall”
As you looked around you, you felt your palms getting sweaty and your throat closing up. Sensing your nerves, Alessia whispered softly, “It’s okay, just look at me.”
You did as she said, and although her bright blue eyes did not make you any less nervous, her encouraging smile made you temporarily forget about everyone else’s eyes on you, hers the only pair that mattered. Alessia became your anchor on the dance floor, subtly guiding you through the steps.
As the night unfolded into a lively party, drinks flowed freely, and the dance floor beckoned. Your pretend girlfriend, being the new addition to the family, soon found herself surrounded by eager relatives, each wanting to share a toast or pull her into a dance.
You were in the midst of a conversation with your aunt when Alessia suddenly whisked you onto the dance floor. Guiding your hands to her waist once again, she inched closer, and the dance felt different from before, carefree in a way. Her hands explored your body more intimately than usual, and you decided to attribute it to the influence of alcohol and chose to savour the moment.
Just as you were becoming lost in the dance, your brother Colin’s playful interruption cut through the enchantment with a teasing grin. “Hey, lovebirds, mind if I cut in?” His comment, though light-hearted, momentarily disrupted the dance’s spell.
Another interruption followed when Alessia’s phone chimed with an incoming call. She gracefully excused herself, walking away to take the call with an apologetic smile. However, you couldn’t help but glimpse the caller ID on her screen—Dan, accompanied by a little heart emoji.
“Who’s Dan?" Colin inquired, raising a suspicious eyebrow. It seemed you weren’t the only one who had caught a quick glimpse of the screen. “He’s just a friend of Alessia’s,” you quickly replied.
“Why did she add a heart to his name?” he persisted, unwilling to let the topic go. “They’re good friends, like family almost,” you offered in explanation.
“Family? Really? Would you take a photo like that with me?” he skeptically questioned. He seemed to have gotten a better look at the screen than you had thought. “Y/N what’s going on here?”
“Nothing is going on. You’re just looking for drama, that’s what’s going on!” you retorted, shoving your brother away as you headed to the bar, eager to escape the conversation.
Fortunately, Colin didn’t follow you, and you settled onto a barstool with a glass of water to cool down. 
“Hey, did I do something wrong?” Alessia asked when she found you at the bar a little while later. “I just ran into Colin. He was being weird. All of a sudden, he was telling me I can’t hide anything from him,” she explained.
“Shit,” you muttered before pulling Alessia into the hallway and explaining your encounter with your brother. “I don’t know what to do, Less; he might be onto us.”
A hushed silence fell between you as your minds raced to find a solution. “I think I might have an idea,” Alessia suddenly broke the silence, and you looked at her expectantly.
“It’s a bit weird, but don’t freak out please,” she said and you nodded nervously, but you both jumped when Colin’s voice suddenly rang from around the corner, calling out your name.
“Shit okay, no time to explain,” she continued, turning her body towards you. Her blue eyes locked onto yours as she took a deep breath. “Y/N, can I kiss you?”
Perhaps it was the alcohol, the rush of the situation, or simply your brain short-circuiting at the question, but whatever it was, you nodded almost instantly. “Yes?” she asked, seeking assurance, a warm hand cupping your cheek as you closed your eyes.
“Yes.”
The approaching footsteps neared the corner of the hallway where you stood when you suddenly felt a pair of soft lips crash onto yours. For a moment everything around you disappeared. Your hands found her waist once more like on autopilot, and her hand moved to the back of your neck. She slowly walked the two of you backward until you felt your back connect with the cold wall behind you. The kiss was hungry and a little sloppy, nothing like how a first kiss was supposed be, yet you never wanted this moment to end.
Had your brain still been functioning you would’ve realised the heat of it all was due to Alessia trying to perform a convincing drunken make-out. But your brain had little to do with what was happening right now. For a moment, you didn’t think. You disappeared into the kiss easily, as if the two of you had done this numerous times before. Harmony. Synchronisation.
Alessia broke away from you what must have been minutes later, your brother long gone. As you felt your heart all but beat out of your chest, you wondered whether she had noticed that just moments ago when she had you trapped against the wall.
“You think he bought it?” Alessia asked, her warm breath mingling with yours as it took you a while to form an answer. 
“I would assume so,” you finally answered, only now remembering the reason behind the moment you shared.
The party continued in a blur of lights, laughter, and music, but your mind remained in a state of disarray. The hallway kiss with Alessia left you dazed and confused. What did it mean? Why did she do it? The questions swirled in your mind, each one more bewildering than the last. One thing was certain; it didn’t feel like nothing.
As the night wore on, you and Alessia eventually decided to call it a night. The world outside the grand dance hall seemed quieter, and you both made your way back to the hotel room in a companionable silence.
Once inside, the question that had been nagging at you surfaced. “Hey, about the call from your boyfriend earlier, is everything okay?”
Alessia nodded, “Yeah, it’s fine, just had a planning issue,” she explained. Curiosity brimming, you probed further, “Is he really okay with all this?”
She hesitated for a moment. “Yeah, he’s... not really the jealous type,” she finally responded. The air grew heavy as you dared to ask the question that hung in the room, “Are you gonna tell him about the... you know, thing we did earlier?”
“I guess so,” she mumbled casually. “Doesn’t really matter anyways…” Her voice trailed off, and her gaze seemed distant, as if already lost in other thoughts.
That admission hit you like a stab to the heart. It was a stark reminder of the insignificance of the shared moments, at least from her perspective. You fell silent for a while, processing the weight of her words.
“Y/N? Are you okay?” Alessia’s voice was filled with concern. You forced a smile, “Yeah, all good. I’m just gonna take a shower.”
In the confined space of the bathroom, the sound of water cascading drowned the noise in your head. You let the water cleanse not only your body but also the lingering confusion and hurt. As you stepped out, Alessia was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps sensing the need for space, she’d let you be.
When Alessia returned, you were already in bed, eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. You remained still when you felt her quietly slip into the other side of the bed.
The next morning was a quiet one. You both packed your belongings and left for the airport, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words. The flight was silent, with occasional glances at each other, a mixture of confusion and hurt and still, for whatever reason, curiosity in your eyes.
Neither of you dared to broach the topic of the previous night’s events. Was it a mistake, a game, or something more? Or was it really nothing? Were you making things up? The questions lingered as the plane landed, and you shared an Uber to take both of you home.
The Uber dropped Alessia off first. As she gathered her things, she turned to you. “Hey, want to come in for a bit?” The question hung in the air, loaded with unspoken implications. You hesitated but agreed, curiosity overcoming your reservations.
Inside her place, the tension was palpable. Alessia attempted to break it with a joke, "So when’s our next performance?”
You forced a chuckle, “Don’t worry, I can come up with excuses for you for the next couple of family events, and after a few months, I’ll just tell them we broke up or something.”
Alessia’s expression shifted, sensing something beneath your words. “Is everything okay, Y/N?” She asked, a concerned look on her face as she tried to catch your gaze, which you avoided.
“Yeah, fine,” you lied. “I’m just not going to drag you to every family thing ever just because you said yes to it once. It was really nice of you to help me, but you should get to spend your time off football with your actual boyfriend.”
“Right, Dan. Y/N, I—” she started but the keys jingling in the door interrupted her. The door opened, and in walked her boyfriend.
He greeted Alessia with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and your heart sank a little as you watched, unable to shake the tinge of jealousy. You wished you could hate him, find some flaw, but he was genuinely a nice guy who had done nothing wrong. Still, you couldn’t help but wish you could recreate the intimacy you shared with Alessia just yesterday, a privilege he seemed to enjoy effortlessly whenever he wanted.
When Dan asked you if you wanted to stay for lunch, you politely declined, saying you already had plans and you excused yourself, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. 
You shut the door to Alessia’s apartment and with it your pretend relationship. Why did this fake break-up hurt so real? 
One thing was for sure, it was all your fault. And still you had a lingering feeling that this wasn’t the last chapter of this strange tale.
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Note: Hi! Just wanted to let you all know that I love hearing what you think about the story thus far and what you would like to see happen next so feel free to leave a comment/ask/message!
-> Chapter IV
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bsaka7 · 7 days
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Amy Lawrence: When Arsenal faced new challengers, Arteta and his players found new solutions (full text below)
The Tottenham Hotspur DJ cranked up the volume at full time as Arsenal’s players made their way towards their supporters. It seemed like an attempt to drown out the provocative noise of celebration, but Mikel Arteta didn’t need words to express himself as he went to embrace his players. All week, they pushed themselves when Arsenal dearly needed it and the manager’s compliments after the 1-0 win were heartfelt.
Preparations for this match had thrown up complication after complication. “I didn’t enjoy it because I didn’t sleep much,” Arteta said. “I looked ahead to Spurs for four or five days and I had a clear plan how to do it. I prepared all the meetings, the training sessions and everything. Then I get the news that we’ve lost a player, and then another player and then another player, and I had to completely change it and adapt the plan to the players that we had available. It was a great challenge.”
Rising to that challenge was something he and his players addressed with seriousness and sacrifice. It required adaptability, mental and physical willingness, and, for some of the personnel out on the pitch, the determination to stretch their body to the limits.
Jorginho, who pressed and harassed and was a general nuisance to the opposition with the leadership necessary for the occasion, was cramped up in stoppage time. It was only his third full 90 minutes for Arsenal this calendar year. Jurrien Timber, who has been feeling his way back carefully from his anterior cruciate ligament injury, played with combative relish to start and finish a Premier League match for the first time.
There was a perception that this was a good time to play Arsenal, with the first-choice midfield decimated. At one point, there were four Hale End teenagers watching on and warming up from the sidelines.
The team meetings building up to this north London derby were intense and full of heart. Can you play 90 minutes? Yes. Can you play a different position? Yes. Whatever the question, they endeavoured to give a positive answer. Every player selected stood tall, listened, adjusted and bristled with positive attitude. This was a match about finding solutions to problems.
Strategically, Arsenal turned to a good, old-fashioned 4-4-2. It was a practical way of best using the limited resources available, to pair Jorginho and Thomas Partey in central midfield so they could share the load, while Bukayo Saka and Gabriel Martinelli were positioned to scrap when necessary and zip forward when possible.
Kai Havertz, with Leandro Trossard in support, dovetailed efficiently enough. But it was the defence, the rock upon which this team is built, that enabled Arsenal to tackle this game with confidence, despite the deficiencies they would have preferred to do without.
Let’s talk about Arsenal’s back line for a moment. They have a culture, a shared love of defending, an inbuilt understanding between them, which has created a collective fearlessness. That is about to get its biggest test next weekend at Manchester City.
But in general, the way they help each other out and defend as a group, rather than individuals, makes them bigger than the sum of their already impressive parts. It must be wearing for attackers trying to break them down.
The partnership of William Saliba and the matchwinner Gabriel is well established, but it was notable that David Raya and Timber, two newer members of the rearguard, played with character and authority.
Raya’s calmness and confidence have kicked on enormously since last season. As for Timber, this felt like a breakout performance. He played so assertively that it felt as if he had been part of this for years. Winning this match with his own contribution felt like a moment when he was officially inducted into the back four. Welcome, Jurrien, to this very exclusive joint.
Arsenal needed a moment, a hero, to seize all the points and it came when Saka delivered a perfect invitation for Gabriel to turn his head into a human cannon ready to fire the ball into the happy oblivion of the Tottenham net.
Arteta was delighted with the collective response from his squad. “Loving the game means that you can do things regardless of the context,” he says. “Jorginho loves the game. When he’s not playing, he’s training like an animal every day even though he’s won everything. When you ask him to play 90 minutes, which he hasn’t played for months, he can do it.
“The same with Jurrien. It’s been a year out and he hasn’t played 90 minutes at all. He was struggling but he managed to do it for the team. Kai, without a pre-season, I don’t know how many minutes he’s played, but he was unbelievable. All of them — that’s the spirit and the characters we have that I love.
“It’s a tough week coming and, instead of finding excuses, we did the opposite. The team got hungrier and hungrier to play the game. We have people that are hard and have thick skin. They love the game and we love winning. To love the game and win, you have to do things that people call ugly. ”
The fixture list hardly threw up a gentle set of away games to open the season, with Aston Villa, Tottenham and Manchester City in early succession. Even though the performances have not been perfect enough for Arteta, finding ways to win the first two, without conceding a goal, augurs well.
The week ahead remains hugely demanding, with a Champions League trip to Bergamo to play Atalanta, before the Etihad and all the vibrations that brings.
There will be more problems, more questions and the need for more solutions. One thing Arteta can be sure of is that his players will do their absolute best to find them.
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spenglercore · 11 months
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Sharing a WIP from later in When Protons Collide. No major spoilers, but I'll add a readmore just in case, and there are some notations in brackets. Egon gets tapped to crawl through the HVAC ducts in a commercial building in pursuit of An Entity and things get wildly embarrassing.
Bit of context: Victoria does roller derby almost every weekend, and she also lifts in her spare time to maintain core strength and she is also only 5'4".
"Well…shit. We don't have a ladder do we?" Vic asked as she stared up at the vent grate the ectoplasm was dripping from. "Not unless you have one in your pocket." Ray sighed. For a moment, nobody said a word as they all wracked their brains for a solution.
"I could always give one of you a leg up, no problem." Victoria offered with a shrug. "That would work. Who gets the honor of crawling through commercial ductwork?" Egon asked, half-sarcastic. Usually these sorts of things fell to Peter by default. But this time, as the silence stretched, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and when he turned to see Ray and Winston looking at him expectantly. "What." "Well, you're the tallest." Peter shrugged. Egon raised an eyebrow. And? Then it hit him. "No." He turned and jabbed a finger at Peter for good measure, but then Ray spoke up. "You're also the lightest of us, if I remember right," He pointed out. "No," Egon repeated as he turned back to Ray. "Oh come on, you're built like a two-by-four! Not like you'd get stuck." Winston said. He'd been called unattractive in far worse ways, but having attention drawn to his body type in front of Victoria made him self conscious and he could feel his face go red as he glared at Winston and opened his mouth to protest again, but he was interrupted by Ray. "Hell, you'd probably have enough room to send a trap back out once you nab the wormy little critter." The more he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn't argue; he was best suited to go after the [need name for lil worm dudes] where it was hiding. Despite Victoria being more than capable of lifting any of them, it would be easier for her to heft the lightest person there, whom she'd also already proven she could pick up without breaking a sweat, and the odds of getting stuck somehow were definitely not in his favor. "And hey," Peter said as he clapped a hand on Egon's shoulder. "I always get tapped for this kind of thing, usually by you wanting me to gather some kind of snot for you to analyze and quite honestly? I'm starting to think you have a fetish." Egon had never wished so badly that he could vaporize the man with his mind. Instead he settled for channeling as much 'fuck you' into one look as he could. "Fine." He acquiesced reluctantly. "Hoo, if looks could kill!" Winston laughed. [add more; after a mildly awkward face to face boost into the vent, Egon catches The Thing and then has to worm his way out backwards and things go sideways]
He felt his left boot connect with Victoria's shoulder, and took a moment to make sure his footing was solid. "You're good!" Came the tinny reply. He braced his arms against the top and bottom surfaces of the duct, then slowly lowered his right foot, and a hand gripped the bottom of his boot around the arch. "Okay I got you, just let yourself down slow!" Easier said than done, there wasn't exactly anything to grab ahold of inside a commercial duct made of smooth sheet metal. Once he started to bend his left knee, he felt his right foot take his weight as it settled into her interlocked hands, which meant he no longer had to support himself entirely by his arms and shoulders wedged into the sides of the duct. As he slowly lowered himself further, he felt Victoria jostle and quickly tried to pull himself back up. "Oh fuckssake get your junk out of my face!!" At first, he thought that one of the items attached to his belt had hit her as he lowered himself out of the HVAC system, but it didn't take him long to realize that positioned as he was would put the jumpsuit's fly at face level. That junk. He was glad that his top half was still obscured inside the duct; he could feel his face burning and he wanted to disappear. But his only choice to resolve the situation was to keep going and get down as quickly as possible. Egon tried to lean back, so as not to violate Vic's personal space more than he already had. This in turn pushed his foot forward, which put him off balance. He tried to compensate by bending his leg, but that just shoved his kneecap into Vic's sternum. And just as he decided to try and straighten his leg again, his hand slipped. And there was nothing to grab to arrest himself. "Shit!" As he tried to reposition his left hand, his right slipped. "Shit, SHIT!" To her credit, he felt Victoria crouch down as he slipped backwards out of the vent in attempt to minimize his fall. But having one foot on her shoulder and the other in her hands caused his weight to further shift away from the wall, and several things happened in quick succession. As he fell down and back, Victoria let go of his right foot, and the lack of support caused his left foot to support more weight, which in turn meant that his mass shifted still further from the wall and out into empty space. Her left hand snapped out, and somehow she managed to grab the front of his jumpsuit in an attempt to stop him from hitting the ground. It didn't work. He already had enough momentum that all Victoria did was get yanked down with him. As he hit the ground, all he could think of was Newton's Principle of Inertia. This was going to hurt.
Hitting the ground flat on his back was bad enough, but hitting the ground and then immediately being hit in the midsection by a couple hundred pounds of his coworker succeeded in completely and utterly knocking the wind out of him. He let out an undignified strangled noise and tried to curl up, but he only succeeded in giving Victoria a very awkward hug as he gasped repeatedly to try and catch his breath. "Egon?! Are you okay?" He felt Victoria sit up on her knees, which now meant his legs were on either side of her torso. He squeezed his eyes shut as he silently cursed his psyche for supplying approximately 17 much more intimate scenarios that involved the sensation of her hips pressed against the inside of his thighs. "Fine," he half-wheezed. He hadn't quite gotten his voice back yet.
Egon gasped again and coughed, then felt Victoria shift against his legs. Assuming she was going to extricate herself from him, he pushed himself into a halfway sitting position braced on one elbow, his other hand pressed to his chest just below his ribs as he took another deep breath. "You sure?" He went to nod 'yes', but his eyes snapped open at the sudden and unexpected feeling of hands on either side of his face, and what breath he'd gotten back seemed to get stuck somewhere in his chest; Victoria's face was less than two inches from his, and suddenly all thoughts seemed to disappear, except for one. Kiss me. Please… He felt his face go hot, and hoped that it would just be taken as a side effect from his recent exertions and not his brain suddenly being fixated on the concept of kissing with a ferocity he was not prepared for. Don't forget to breathe, imbecile! He exhaled a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding, and nodded. Maybe he was just seeing things, or reading too much into Victoria's own physiological response to strenuous physical activity, but she seemed just as pink in the face as he probably was, and she wasn't saying anything, just….looking at him… "Are you guys gonna make out right there on the floor, or can we leave now?" Victoria let go of his face as Egon started and twisted one way, then the other, just in time to see Ray give Peter a pained look. Any and all interest he had in kissing evaporated, and an intense embarrassment took it's place. "Can it, Venkman!" He almost yelled. Egon cringed mentally as soon as he spoke; his response had been far too defensive, especially considering how rarely he rose to his friend's usual provocations. Peter's response was to raise his eyebrows and laugh. "Ooh looks like I hit a nerve." He said in a teasing, sing-song tone before Ray smacked him in the back of the head.
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borom1r · 2 months
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alone, break, desire, and mask for the OC meme (whichever one(s) you have the brain worms for)
ooooooo ok I’ll do a few guys.. Kenneth, Fýrulf + hmmmm Achim :3
Kenneth—
alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?
loneliness doesn’t bother him. he’s a freak + he knows it, he grew up being The Weird Kid(tm) and learned pretty fucking fast that people don’t like being around him for extended periods of time.
+ so he spent most of his adult life completely alone, before he met John. it didn’t bother him, but in like. the sense of he was so used to it he just didn’t even register it as sth lacking. now that he has John, he’s fully committed to “when you die, I die.” nobody gets to take John away from him lmao
when nobody’s around… kinda similar to what we’ve talked abt with John tbh. like not as extreme bc Kenneth very much HAS his own identity, but if he doesn’t need to perform for anybody, if there’s nobody in his life to care about, then he’s just going thru the motions. very robotic. part of why he likes the adrenaline rush of demolition derbies so much, + why he’d drive around picking up ppl on the roadside. he was looking for danger bc it gave him sth to focus on Other than the creeping emptiness of his stupid little life.
break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?
oh if John died. 100%. I mean like I touched on above, if John goes, Ken’s going to.
if it’s natural causes, he’d just take himself out quietly. if someone else caused his death, Ken would rip their throat out with his teeth first. blind seething rage.
Ken’s never Been at what he considers his “lowest,” but John has seen him minutes away from a panic attack so I think that counts lol
desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?
surprisingly enough for Kenneth’s whole.. vibe, a long happy “quiet” life lmao. he’s got John, he’s got someone who matches his vibe, like he just wants their version of 2.5 kids and a white picket fence. Their quiet little lot in the trailer park, their lazy days fixing up junker cars, their weekend trips to go murder idiots on the side of the road + fuck in seedy motels— he’s very open with this To John. nobody else needs to know about their fun weekend murder getaways lmfao
+ he’d fully tear the world apart to keep his little piece of paradise intact
mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?
literally? No. figuratively….. sort of. he’s weird + generally offputting if u spend more than half an hour around him. the only thing he rlly bothers to mask around the general public is the like. murder fantasies and extremely dubious kinks. Betty at the local 24hour diner doesn’t need to know he and John met bc Kenneth was driving around at three in the morning actively looking to Get Murdered For Sexual Gratification
John is FULLY aware that he’s in a committed long term relationship with a rancid little hick freak but to be fair literally who else would look at John and go “oh yeah YOU are the dude I wanna spend my life with. get loved, idiot” — I mean literally Ken and John:
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Fýrulf—
alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?
loneliness isn't sth that bothers Fýrulf— he's been completely alone plenty of times, and he enjoys the isolation. it's why he decided to become an adventurer instead of staying home to protect his home village; a full pack chafes at him. he'd rather wander and join other adventurers only when he needs to
when there's no one around to see, he's a lot more willing to indulge his animalistic side. not that he bothers to hide it much to begin with; being a lycanthrope is a source of pride for him. if he's alone, though, he can indulge in things like eating raw meat or hunting with just his hands and teeth without getting weird looks
break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?
hm. that's an extremely good question actually. Fýrulf has a retired knight (an Aasimar named Tavar) that he's got quite the fancy for, and is considering asking Tavar to be his mate. bringing an outsider home for a short time to have a child is one thing, asking an outsider to be your mate is another, and would require Tavar to 1) be bitten by a werewolf and 2) embrace the full bloodlust that comes with lycanthropy. If Tavar fails to embrace his lycanthropy, he'd be ritually hunted and killed— a hunt Fýrulf would be required to take part in.
I think that would break Fýrulf. (he worries about his little brother eclipsing, failing to embrace the bloodlust, but he's always known that was a risk and it's an accepted part of their culture. it would be.. different, with Tavar)
Fýrulf at his lowest.... he'd just shut down. I think he'd let the wolf take over completely. no thoughts, only murder < no one's ever seen him at his lowest, bc he's never hit that point
desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?
glory for his people! he's an adventurer specifically to bring back wealth and glory (since he's gay and isn't necessarily gonna come home with children. like he COULD, but he's absolutely not the father type). it's a very simple desire but Fýrulf is a very simple man. he loves his home, he loves his family, he enjoys exploring the world but there just isn't a whole lot he wants for himself. someday he'll die an honorable death in battle and that's enough for him
he's very open with wanting glory, but his home village/its location is a closely-guarded secret. even Tavar doesn't know exactly where it is
+ he's already working to fulfill his goals. every adventure he goes on is more tales of battle and bloodshed to bring home to his people
mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?
literally? yes actually! his wolf-pelt can be worn as a mask, and he will usually lower it over his face before he goes into battle. figuratively? not really. he is what he is and he's not ashamed of any of it.
Tavar and his family. they get to see Fýrulf as his truest self
Achim—
alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?
ahh.. he doesn't deal w/ loneliness well. he'll summon ghosts to keep him company if he's Truly Alone, which is not the best coping mechanism for sure
he was.. not completely alone, but extremely isolated. his aunt slowly poisoned him to death and kept him secluded in his room, so.
he doesn't like being alone. it makes him anxious, but now he's got a soul-link with a monstrous ghostlike creature that grants him supernatural powers. so now he's never alone!
break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?
if he ever was truly alone, i think he would break. if he lost his connection with his geist, he'd freak. like a frightened animal in a storm. his partners have seen him at his lowest, and though Emrik struggles with emotions, Dorin is generally good at helping Achim calm down
desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?
To Be Loved~
like look, he was poisoned to death by the one person he thought cared about him, resurrected by a powerful spirit and now he's got two Different undead creatures for boyfriends. not to mention his first real experimentation with intimate relationships came in the form of using previously mentioned supernatural powers to make ghosts tangible from midnight to sunrise.
Achim is. not the most well adjusted. he wants someone who will Love Him For Eternity, and he's fairly open about that. if he ever lost Emrik or Dorin, he'd probably go back to summoning ghosts for Late Night Flings. again, not healthy, but he wouldn't do anything to hurt people he cares about (even if they're actively hurting him)
mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?
does he? no, not really. it's especially hard to mask when the Geist you're tied to manifests any strong emotions as uncontrollable, murky tears (if his Geist is feeling things? Achim is crying nonstop). since his/his Geist's emotions are so painfully obvious, there's not a lot of reason for Achim to mask. he's self-conscious, insecure and a bit of a clingy crybaby. Dorin and Emrik know this, and they care about him all the same (Dorin is fascinated by a Ghost Magnet and Emrik can't quite quantify "love," but they do each care about Achim in their own ways)
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klainelynch · 3 months
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🪐 for the writer's ask !
Thank you friend!
🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now
It's summer break, so I've been able to relax and just enjoy my time. I'm rewatching Black Sails and am almost finished with season 5 of Game Changer (I can't wait to start on other Droupout shows!)
My roller derby team has a home bout this weekend, and I'll be playing in both bouts. I'll be tired, but it should be a good time!
I can normally either read books or fanfiction. I read a lot of books last semester, but so far this summer, I've read a lot of fic and listened to a lot of podfic. It's been nice to catch up on all of the wonderful things people have made!
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bloogers-boogers · 1 year
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Kyle Brofloski/ Eric Cartman (SP FIC) part 3
/A player with lies/
Fatass can actually move? Kyle gets overly pissy for no good reason and Stan needs a damn break
Slight warning ⚠️ the characters name says it all, if you're not comfortable with the ship then this isn't for you, but if you are then hop on in and enjoy the ride ☆
~~~~
It was a beautiful morning, three boys waited patiently for the bus to arrive, it was a Friday, meaning it's time to finally take a break from school after a hell of a week.
Stan was on his phone as he scrolled effortlessly through his social media, liking randomly posts with out putting to much thought on it.
Kyle yawned tirelessly as he was still caught on doing extra work for school the last few days because of his lack of attendance from last month, so yeah, sucks for Kyle.
And dear Kenny found himself watching some porn shamelessly with out earphones on, as he grinned watching big boobs appear on screen.
The absence of their fourth friend wasn't too noticeable, as Cartman had the tendency to do shit in the morning after breakfast making him come either too late or too early depending on the scheme he's doing.
A blonde beaming boy walked their way, placing himself infront of them, a little too cheerful for their liking.
"Morning to you, Butters," Stan commented, more like a question than a greeting.
"Mornin' hasn't Eric arrived?," he asked glancing at his spot.
Neither bother answering as it was obvious he hasn't.
"Geez, he must be really excited today," He commented as he took out his phone and typed in some music, Kyle arched a brow confused.
"Let me guess, he's 'excited' to lay in bed, doing absolutely nothing, eating junk food for two days straight." Kyle sarcastically said, making the other two boys laugh.
Butters tilted his head, bewildered as he eyed him. Making Kyle feel insecure about being stare down like if he didn't know what he was talking about. He knew the fatass, no one should make him feel like he didn't.
It's Cartman, what else could Cartman be possibly excited for during the beginning of the weekend? If it isn't to lay down in bed and do nothing, mostly school related. Even though he doesn't do much of that either during the week, but still, he had an excuse.
"He.. hasn't told you guys? Oh hamburgers," he looked around, "I think I said too much then," he tried dashing off but Kenny stopped him by placing his hand on his chest pushing him backwards.
"What're you talking about, Butters?," Stan asked, now placing his phone in his pocket.
The blonde scratched his neck nervously before spitting out the truth, "you guys may not know this, but there gonna be a roller derby in town tonight, I thought Eric had already told you guys but-"
"What're you talking about, Butters?," Kyle snapped, gripping on to his shoulders shaking him frantically, "what could possibly Cartman do and hide from us?," He blurted out almost daring.
"Yeah, dude, Cartman's an awful liar, normally he'd come running to us if he was excited about something just to tell us all about it," Stan defended Kyle's argument, even though he found his reaction a little overeating.
"That's what I thought!," Butters exclaimed, letting loose from Kyle's grip, "I figured Eric would've told you by now cause he's been in it since sixth grade. "
"Since sixth grade!?," Kyle blurted out in disbelief, "that's bullshit, Butters. Are you fucking with us? Cartman can't take something seriously for that long!."
"Kyle's right," Kenny chimed in, confused and a little skeptical, "Besides, if Eric's been so serious about something that he's soo into, he would've told me by now."
"And 'in' what!?," Kyle remarked.
"Well if you guys actually let me finish speaking I could explain to you guys what's going on!," Butters snapped now tired, making them all go silent.
"Like I was saying, I'm surprised Eric hasn't told you. Because I do believe he takes it seriously, I've been with him during his games before and he looks.. well, seriously about it?," he explained trying to pick the right words to use, looking at the boys who watched him with odd looks, "guys, Eric's been in the South Park roller derby team for three years, and you guys haven't even realized it? I believe even Clyde knows it! Today's a really important game for him, and he's been waiting for it for the past three months."
Kyle felt his world shattered.
Theres no fucking way.
This is bullshit, he's calling bluff right there.
"Fuck you, Butters," He spat bitter, poking him in the chest aggressively, causing the boy to startle, "FUCKYOU, if you're still willing to pull up this type of shit with Cartman! Trying to mess with us this early in the fucking morning!," Butters slapped his finger away from him, glaring.
"Look Kyle, if you don't believe me then that's all on you, jewboy," he barked back mimicking Cartman's nickname on him, making Kyle snarled.
"Okay guys, calm down," Stan placed himself in the middle of the two boys.
If there someone who's capable on getting to Kyle's level was an angry Butters.
"Butters, you don't have like any proof you could show Kyle or something?," Stan inquired, still skeptical himself.
Butters huffed, as he scroll through his phone shoving it harshly to Kyle's face, earning a groaned from the boy.
"If that isn't enough, why don't you scroll through the south park derby page, ask the coach himself or wait? Ask fucking ERIC!," he screeched out, face heated in temper.
"Dude, chill your hawaiian is showing," Kenny tried calming him down, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"I don't like being called a lying snake," He huffed once more, shoving Kenny's hand away.
Kyle scrolled frustrated through the photos Butters had showed them, they were all separated in a folder called 'Eric' pretty much all the folder had were photos and videos where Eric was included in, or taken with. Or stupid selfies the fatass will take in Butters phone.
What he was frustrated about was that seemingly enough, Eric and Butters were in some type of rally, fat boy grinning wide as Butters thumbs up while being taken the picture.
Date: October 28th, two years ago
On another, it was just Eric seemingly stretching his leg out in some booth, having roller skates on, a white helmet and some gym looking clothing as he glared to what it seemed like nothing but in the background they were plenty of people meaning he must've been glaring at someone.
Date: November 15th, one year ago
Then there was another where Cartman stood full picture, revealing his entire outfit; like a uniform with the number 9 plastered in the front, some red shorts too small for his ass and roller skates on, some black ankle and elbow patches, a green helmet in hand with a white stripe as he posed like he was about to run, grinning confidently.
Date: December 1st, one year ago
And another one, he felt himself being hit by an avalanche of rocks each second he look through each photograph.
Cartman looking forward, some other players beside him showing off their backs, it seemed the photo was taken from a far not as far, but far enough to tell he was about to race and Butters was probably just watching from the crowd.
Cartman's t-shirt said 'South Park derby' plastered big in the back part, words adorned around the large 9 with a goofy cow logo.
Date: January 4th, actual year
He shoved the phone back to Butters, as he glared to the ground defeated. The plan was too elaborate for it to be fake, and there were more photos in there than just those he analyzed.
He clenched his fist tight, and gritted his teeth, holding his head high as he saw Butters leave.
"Wow, I guess Cartman is in the roller derby team," Stan finally spoke out after brief seconds of silence.
"Yeah, I suppose so," Kenny then added.
The silence was now unbearable, Kyle kept contemplating what he just learned. Glancing at the bracelet he held around his wrist 'tsk.'
Stan and Kenny awkwardly shared a concerned look to their friend.
"Maybe Cartman was just too embarrassed to admit it to us?," Stan suggested, trying to relieve the tension that was now formed.
"Probably thought we'd ripped on him, which we definitely would had," Kenny agreed, both boys eyeing the redhead who just stood there unresponsive with a nonchalant expression.
"'Embarrassed' but not embarrassed enough to tell Butters?," he finally snapped, turning his fuming glare at them, "Don't you guys feel betrayed?."
"No," Stan admitted nonchalantly," it's really not a big deal dude, it's not like we all don't play a sport ourselves?," he kept on blabbering, "I play football, you play basketball and Kenny plays with pussy."
"Yeah," Kenny nodded.
"You guys don't get it, we've been friends with Cartman for YEARS, dealt with his shit for years and still, he can't even tell us about being on the derby team? It's not like we haven't seen him do more embarrassing shit! Why all of the sudden is he running off discreetly to play some stupid sport!?," by this point he was all spiteful and riled up, "that bastard doesn't treat us like friends! He treats us like- like some lab rats he likes to test with.
I'm tired of his fucking shit!."
Both boys stood listening not daring to say a word, just letting him spit all his anger out, they've learned by now that it's always best to let Kyle vent out all his frustrating opinions before they spoke out their own.
They knew well enough that he wasn't in all finished.
After like a minute they glanced at each other more surprised that he hadn't added anything else than discovering about their fat friend's secret.
"Well, what you want us to do Kyle? It's not like we can do much." Stan commented.
"Y'know what?," Kyle said with a thoughtful face as he tapped his feet contemplating some type of plan, "maybe we should teach Cartman a lesson about 'friendship' and where it leads people when you overtake advantage of it."
Both boys stared at the red head worrisome not knowing the type of shit they had gotten in to.
"Like what?," Stan follow along, still uncertain about it.
"We're gonna go to that rally and make him fucking lose that so precious game he's been craving for so long."
Bewildered the boys looked at Kyle, speechless.
'My god'
"Kyle, I don't think that's a good idea," Stan tried to reason with him.
"Dude, Cartman does this type of shit with us all the time! This is no different," he blurted out, placing his hands on his hips, "Besides, we have reasons!."
"We do?," Kenny added confused.
"Yes. We do," He said sternly, "he makes us deal with his crap all the time, and we just let him step on us everytime he wants? Cartman little derby game is our payback from all the shit he's made us go through as children! Technically, we're not doing anything wrong," he tried justifying his actions as he walked in circles.
"Dude, you sound like Cartman," Stan blurted out baffled.
"¡IDONOTSOUNDLIKECARTMAN,GODDAMMIT!," he screeched out loud causing them to wince.
Kyle has never felt more betrayed than what he's feeling right now, he doesn't know why this has got him so badly. But it became personal.
He really thought he was already figuring out Cartman and the douche bag, again, makes him reconsider everything!
It's like he's doing it on purpose, he sighed scribbling in his notebook, thinking of a plan to sabotage Cartman's game tonight.
Garrison kept blabbering about his upcoming wedding for like the 100th time of that week, they all already wished he got married and get that shit over with.
He looked to his side, glancing at Cartman who was making paper planes alongside Kenny, throwing it to their sides all dramatic and random flying across the room, among the students. Innocently batting their eyes as Garrison scold them.
Well, it didn't seemed Kenny was too affected by being lied by his BEST FRIEND, was he really the only one who cared to complained? He looked at Stan that was flipping through his textbook not caring for the world.
Cartman seemingly looked in a good mood which just added to his wrath.
He huffed as he rested his chin on his hand.
°°°°
"Dude, are you sure about this?," Stan asked as he zipped his jacket covering the vegetal oil they had planned on sneaking in, "what if Cartman actually gets injured?."
"Do you really care if he does?," Kyle asked skeptical, glancing at a couple of people who walked in the stadium.
"Good point," he added as he grabbed his phone and dialed Kenny, "Dude, did you bring it?."
"I'm on my way dudes, I couldn't find the cheapest brand I could afford but I found some cheap brand on wish," he said frantically as he was running while talking on the phone.
"Whatever dude, just don't die on us," Stan meaningless said before hanging up, "I can't believe we're actually doing this."
"This is for the best, Stan. Think about all the things Cartman has done to us, think about the time he's ripped on you, call you names, taunting you because you have a girlfriend and show you not even an ounce of respect," the redhead kept reassuring to his friend.
Stan frowned as he contemplated his words, now nodding assertively, "yeah, you're right. Fuck that fatass! He's never treated me with respect no matter how many times I followed through his stupid shit and called him a friend," He blurted out, a he held his fist high on to his chest, more confident.
"Atta, Stan," Kyle beamed patting his friend in the back, now turning to look at a panting Kenny.
"I-Im herE.." he continued panting as he took out some marbles out of his jacket to show them.
"Okay, cover those, we don't want to get caught," Kyle shove the marbles back inside his jacket.
They went inside, buying a ticket and glancing at the huge crowd. They didn't know roller derby was that a huge deal for people, the place was packed.
They spotted Butters in one the seats there, headed twoards the boy as they sat next to him.
Butters turned their way, "Oh, geez, you guys actually made it? Does that mean Eric already told you about the derby?," he asked casually, as he sipped from his soda.
Kyle smiled forcefully as he nodded, "yup," he lied.
"Cool," Butters beamed as he waved at some random player there, knowingly who that was.
"So when does the game start?," Kenny asked from the forth seat at the end of Stan.
"You mean the jam?," Butters corrected unfazed, chugging on some chicken nuggets, "the first pass still hasn't initiated. They're still waiting for the seats to be full, and it normally just starts at eight it's still six thirty."
They look at each other not knowing well about how that sport worked, they didn't looked deep in to it.
"Okay, so when does second round start?," Stan added, earning a scoffed from the blonde.
"Didn't Eric bother to explain you guys?," He rolled his eyes, sipping loudly on to his soda purposefully making the other three boys annoyed.
"In derby they're not precisely called 'rounds', they're jams that consistent on a timer of 2 minutes, that, or the lead jammer decides to cut it short," He continued to explained to them, as he beamed waving another player in the rank, "we could say the end of the first period will be thirty minutes in during jams, cause they're two periods. A game last sixty minutes you guys."
They blinked in confusion.
"And.. what exactly are jams again?," Stan winced out apologetically, as Butters groaned annoyed and roll his eyes in response.
"What's hard to understand?," Butters exclaimed in disbelief, "first pass; choosing the lead jammer, no points counted. Second pass; the pointer starts and the first jam is started."
"Dude, what's a jammer?," Stan asked still confused.
"And how the hell do we count a point?," Kenny added.
Butters frowned, "you guys didn't talk to Eric did you," he guessed out making the three boys look at him with blank stares.
"Look, Butters, where here. That's all that matters," Kyle chimed in, as he extended his arm around his shoulder making him arched a brow.
"My god. What're you guys planning to do." He immediately pointed out, realizing their motivates.
One of the perks of being around Cartman for so long is to recognize a liar, manipulative, two face bitch a mile away trying to take advantage of his naive behavior. This knowledge is something Butters holds dear on to, as it's gotten him out of many messed up schemes from his peers before, even from Eric himself. Giving him a boost of confidence while contradicting someone is he didn't agree on what they're doing, saying or opinion. He felt a little more freeing knowing he can atleast not take shit from his friends when he didn't feel like doing so unlike with his parents.
"Well good luck with that," Butters hummed out as he heard their improvised plan, "if you guys want to actually sabotage Eric's skates you're gonna need to do it now before the jam starts. Their break is thirty seconds long before a next jam starts and their longest break is a minute long on mid period, so you should guess, Eric has no plans on taking his skates off," he said nonchalant, now gesturing a snack seller to come towards him, purchasing a bag of gummy bears.
He held in front of Kyle, "these are gonna be for Eric cause he's gonna win no matter what," he said in a confident manner, intending to provoke the red head.
Kyle frowned, "just you wait!," He screamed as he stormed off to the benches, Stan following behind.
'Fucking asshole, who does he think he is?'
He kept on walking ignoring his best friend's complaints, as he halted abruptly, the whole damn reason he was here was because of Cartman, and he didn't even bother to even check if he was there at all. But now, holy damn. Now he couldn't just ignore him. He stood far apart near the circuit track chatting with all his teammates next to the penalty box.
'Wow' his eyes widen, bewildered. He's seen Cartman's in his derby uniform in Butters pictures, but the real deal was entirely different.
It felt like his surroundings just stopped moving as Cartman was the only person there that moved in a very slow dramatic way. Everything becoming blank an fuzzy as the only color there that blossom was Cartman.
And no matter how far Cartman was from him, he felt like he was the closest thing there that his eyes couldn't unfocused on.
'Kyle?'
'Kyle, dude!'
"Huh?," he asked now seemingly confused, turning to look at Stan.
"The oil?," He reminded him.
"Right," He blurted out continuing to move, side eyeing Cartman; as he turned his back flipping off some players from the opposite team.
'Oh god'
He stopped again dumbfounded, contemplating how well those shorts complemented his hips and-
'Kyle!'
"Ah?," He asked startled by the abrupt tone, "right!," He reminded himself, as he shook his head running twoards the benches were the players kept their belongings.
They searched through the bags looking for Cartman's, but they couldn't find it.
"Kyle, look!," Stan pointed out, were the coach sat in a empty bench with a bag seemingly not his.
'That's Cartman's,' he felt it.
"I'll distract him, and you sabotage his skates," Stan ordered, shoving him the oil as he approached the coach.
He nodded, as he slowly pulled the bag away as Stan had forced the coach to help by leading him to the bathroom as he had faked puked.
He opened the bag and looked through Cartman's things, he gripped on to the skates beaming relieved that he hadn't put them on yet. He took the oil from his pocket and opened the lid accidentally dropping it inside the bag. He reached out for it and gripped on to a folded piece of paper.
He examined it closely and seemingly enough, it was definitely a very old careless torn off polaroid folded by the middle. He flipped it open, and found four boys popped up posing silly as one flipped off the camera, another beaming mischievous, the other peace signing smiling, and lastly another making a goofy face.
Those four boys were them.
He felt himself contemplating between the bottle of oil or the polaroid photo, feeling himself softened, unsure of what to do.
He gulped, "C'mon, dude, Cartman's coming," Stan said worrisome, as he grasped his arm dragging him away to their seats.
"So? Did you manage to oil them in time?," Stan asked expectantly, sitting down.
He nodded reluctantly knowing damn well he didn't.
The jam was about to start, as the players got in position. For what Butters had told them, Cartman was the pivot, so he placed himself in the pivot line alongside the opposite team's pivot which is infront of the blockers and lastly behind them, the jammers.
A pivot being the one that normally leads the blockers signaling the strategies that will be put to use, also being the only teammate there that could turn into a jammer during a jam.
Apparently the first pass is where they choose for the the lead jammer.
Then second pass is when the score begins to count.
Or something like that for what he understood.
Kyle bit his nails nervously, watching Cartman smirking mockingly the other pivot. The red shorts and white shirt with the added helmet suit him so well it even looked grossly cute.
He rubbed his face with his hands, he wasn't thinking straight, literally.
He rubbed his legs as he heard a whistle blow initiating the first pass.
He digged his nails on his legs, seeing Cartman skate on the rank was extremely..
"Don't worry, dude, we'll get him next time," Stan reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder in a comfort gesture. Probably thinking he looked upset that the 'plan' failed.
'Oh God,' he plead merciful, looking Cartman rolling around the track as he 'booty block' a blocker.
He unintentionally bounced his leg frantically, as he keep watching Cartman making sure the jammer pass through with ease.
"We still have the marbles," Kenny reminded, as he was kinda entertained by the game, stealing Cartman's gummy bears from Butters.
But he was already too far off to listen, seeing how a blocker shoulder bumped Cartman's side as he hip trusted his side in response moving him sideways letting his jammer pass through.
Two whistles were heard as the referee gesture south park's jammer as the lead jammer, the crowd cheered as most there were obviously from the town.
Cartman stretched his back, clapping hands with the jammer in a smugly manner.
He quickly stretched down his hands to his toes as he quickly went back to position.
Kyle mentally saving that small moment savoring every second, his leg bounce some more, unknowingly receiving a concerned stare from Stan.
He felt himself heated, as his legs moved frantically, faster, zoning out by the fuzzy and blurry feeling he felt, breathing heavily as he watched Cartman now on his second pass.
He panted, as he tried grasping for air, Stan turned his way giving him a weird look alongside Butters who heard him squeeze.
'Oh god' he thought as he abruptly stood up, dashing to the bathroom, he excused himself as he pushed some people out of the way.
'Hormones, hormones, hormones, stupid hormones!' He screeched angrily smaking his head consistently, earing weird stares from the people around.
He entered the bathroom turning on the sink and splashing water on his face, cooling himself down. Not daring to look down.
He looked at his flustered face, in horror realization, 'there was no fucking way' he eyed his dilated pupils as he gently caressed the side of his eye.
'No. Way.'
Stan dashed after him, entering the bathroom and kneeling beside him as he found his friend curled up in a ball at the floor corner.
"Kyle, what's wrong?," he asked worried.
Kyle hold on to him as he bawled his eyes out, sobbing uncontrollably by the overwhelming emotions.
Stan was left bewildered as Kyle vomit on him still holding him by the arm.
"Dude, chill the fuck out. Tell me what's going on," Stan said sternly holding on to his shoulders making him look at him in the eye.
Kyle swallowed loudly, denying with his head as he stood up tirelessly, "let's just go.."
Stan reluctantly stood up not furthering questioning his friend as he followed behind him brushing off the vomit out off his jacket.
Stan halted looking at his best friend continued walking off, he went to Cartman's bag as he got out a piece of paper writing down 'we need to talk, meet up at yours after your derby race, fatboy -s,' now no longer caring being caught in the rally or snooping in his stuff.
°°°°
Cartman quickly rolled down town, not caring about ruining his derby skates as he was afraid of possible blackmail by the hippie of all people!
He couldn't even celebrate his victory with the guys by getting pizza, cause he had jolted off like a mad man not being able to enjoy his awsome evening.
He gripped tightly his bag as he got to his side of the sidewalk eyeing Stan sitting in his doorstep.
"What the hell do you want," he pointedly accused, almost slipping down by a small peddle.
Stan stood up looking at the floor with both his hands in his pockets.
"I think Kyle's really affected about you not telling us about being in the South Park derby team," he bluntly admitted, causing Cartman to tilt his head confused.
"Huh?," he said.
"Look, fatass, just.. I think you should talk to him." He frowned, glaring at the floor before glaring at him, "Dude, I'm serious, if you try saying some stupid shit to him I promise you I'll tell everyone about the Jody incident," he threatened.
Cartman flinched, "who told you," he shuddered out.
Stan rolled his eyes, "you weren't really being discreet Cartman it was a public park dude, anyone could've seen you ." He shaked his head dismissively, "look, I don't care if you're gay and shit, I just need you to tell Kyle you didn't mean to hide the derby thing from us."
Cartman spat offended, "he kissed me, dude! Not the way around, I was startled okay!?."
"Yeah, whatever dude. Just talk with Kyle," Stan shrugged off indifferent before walking off.
Cartman grumbled, he couldn't believe Stan had saw the incident with Jody. He really wasn't expecting it! That dude just sent him a letter in his locker and he figured it'd be some chick confessing her overbearing love for him not the ginger kid he manipulated back in forth grade.
He sighed as he tossed his bag at the door before taking off his skates angrily and bitter, tossing them to the ground as he walked barefoot to Kyle's front door.
He knocked unwillingly, as he placed his arms behind his back hearing steps head down stairs.
"¿Yeah-" Kyle's mouth flattened, gripping on to the door frame, "what you want, fatass?."
"You're hippie boyfriend complained to me you were upset over the rally thing, I didn't know you'd figured it out," he shamelessly rat on Stan.
Kyle frowned, "I don't care," he spat out dryly.
Cartman stared at him for brief seconds; he wore a white t-shirt and some black square patterns bottom pj's. His gaze fell on the now naked wrist, Cartman figure Kyle would eventually take the bracelet he gave him but now looking at his wrist, it made him feel a little disappointed.
Kyle awkwardly hid his hand when he noticed.
Standing awkwardly for seconds that felt like minutes.
Things between them have just been so awkward nowadays, and Cartman hated to admit why.
"Okay, cool.." he blurted out looking at the ground then turning around and walking back home.
"Wait," Kyle spat out, now holding on to his arm stopping him.
Cartman cursed inside him for feeling his heart skip a beat.
"What do you want?," he shoved his hand off.
"I think we should just.. talk about it," he admittedly struggled out, wincing his eyes, "someone has to put an end to it."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Cartman glared defensively, acting like he didn't know.
"Cut the shit, Cartman. You know, I know," he stated firmly, gripping on to Cartman's shoulders making him look at him, "we should just get it out of our chest and move on."
"I don't know what you're talking? I've moved on, Kahal, but it doesn't seem like you have," Cartman continued lying between teeth, "you're making it weird, our dynamic it's just..flopping? And it's your fault! You broke our rule, kyel," he continued pin blaming Kyle.
Kyle glared at him, "Cartman, were not gonna leave from this spot until we finally discuss it. It's driving me crazy."
"Watch me," he dared trying to leave, but was gripped hard on to his arm earning a '¡owe, Kyel that's hurts!,' "okay, fuck! We'll talk just let me go you asshole!," He whined out in a cry, scowling him as he now let him go, rubbing frantically the injured area.
Things weren't going to turn back to normal. They knew that, it was hard to grasp it. And they've tried so hard to shove it off.
He and Cartman hated change, that was something they both openly agreed on.
Their dynamic has always been like that; they've have some bizarre moment between each other and they shoved it off behind the back of their brains trying to not acknowledge it, trying to not take it seriously. Just getting back to their usual banter ignoring whatever happened between them that shook them off from their usual dynamic. Like a intruder invading a home that was built by scratch and decorated with time and being carefully planned; moving all their stuff and placing them elsewhere, stealing them, breaking them pretty much destroying the property they built for years.
They feared for it to happen again, making new barriers and creating knew strategies to prevent the intruder to make his way back in. Putting up locks and blocking the windows.
Not acknowledging how'd it'd affect them physically and mentally.
Making their little spacious home fell more like a trap, tight, suffocating, imprisoned. Being scared to get out but also craving to get out and breath some air, some freedom.
Screeching for help, as they longer couldn't stand those walls, trying to grasp on the little space they had while it slowly killed them.
They figure it wouldn't be any different now, but they were wrong. They just couldn't, they had went to far pretty much breaking a entire wall out, being in for so long inside the opening freely feeling just being too overwhelming for them to welcomed, handle.
No longer having the energy to just block it, as they were just tired, and the damage was too much to build around it with out destroying it more in the process.
Which they have been doing unintentionally, being so.. out of character, feeling more vulnerable around each other, one being uncontrollably unable to handle his anger and paranoia and the other uncontrollably unable to control his stress and obsessions. The bars were just unbalanced and their personalities were going elsewhere, being mix up with so many feelings they can't just grasp in to it all, having to forcefully grab one an drain it dry inevitable taking all their energy out as they couldn't keep up with the ongoing changing feeling. It felt wrong not being able to control their emotions, it was frustrating not being able to grip on to one, knowing your place and how to act.
It felt so unnatural, and somewhat obsessive being so dependent on each other even when it came to their feelings, characterization and personalities.
Kyle sighed defeated, sitting in the sidewalk, Cartman hesitated before sitting besides him.
Cartman rested his chin in his hand, Kyle half lidded eyes darted to the empty street.
It was time to open up to change.
"So.." Kyle trail off, trying to lighten up the tension between them.
"Kyle, it's clear you don't want to talk about it," Cartman said with a bored face.
"No- I mean I do! It's just.. I don't know were to start," he admitted, looking at the beaming light from the poll from the other sidewalk.
"You mean being some psycho gaywads or about the change of our dynamic?," he guessed, now relaxing his body, shivering lightly as he was already feeling the cold sweep in.
Kyle pouted thoughtful, "honesty? Both," he said, taking out from his sock the bracelet Cartman gave him.
"Seriously? Fucking gross dude," Cartman winced dramatically sticking out his tongue in disgust.
Kyle chuckled unfazed by the comment, "I- I was really angry today cause you didn't tell me about being a south park derby, and somewhat thought I'd be vengeful by throwing my bracelet away, but I just couldn't. I want to have it on me, so I justified myself putting it under my feet for I to continuously stepping on it yet still have it, you get me?."
"Wow, how evil of you," Cartman remarked sarcastic before rolling his eyes feeling a smile crept out his face, "does that mean you've still had it on before today..?" He eyed him expectantly.
"Yeah, dude, I like it. The colors just match well," Kyle nodded admittedly, gently caressing the fabric.
Cartman felt his cheeks heated, flustered embarrassed and slightly flattered, "thanks.." he sighed heavily, "I- I was kinda disappointed you didn't have it on just now," He laughed nervously before playing it off, as he grabbed the bracelet from Kyle's hand and tied it up back on to his wrist.
Kyle let himself smile back by the gesture, letting those feelings invade his now tight fluttered chest.
This felt nice.
"Well now that were being honest here, I was mesmerized by your ass at the derby rally this evening," He shamelessly admitted.
"Woah there, kahal, a little bit too much don't yah think?," he added, a little baffled by Kyle's boldness.
Kyle chuckled, he really enjoyed Cartman's red flustered face. He enjoyed being able to do that.
He leaned forward, "I really liked that kiss," he admitted in a whisper, slyly smirking as he saw Cartman face burning hard red flames, he could swear he even heard a small 'yelp' coming out from his mouth.
Guess the fatass can't find his way to snap back at him, which is a accomplishment on it's own cause Cartman wasn't the one that'll keep his mouth shut always wanting to have the last word into everything even if he had to blabber nonsense to get that.
He squiggle his mouth, moving his eyes fanatically left and right, left, right, left and right again. Kyle cautiously counted each movement, waiting expectantly.
"Me too, jew.." he blurted out after brief swallowing seconds.
"Cool," Kyle nodded, as if he had already knew that.
"About the derby thing, I honestly didn't bothered mentioning it to you guys cause I know the type of assholes you are, not much about.. well it wasn't a you thing," he admitted as he glance the other sidewalk.
Kyle nodded understanding, anger long gone by that point.
"So now what?," Cartman reluctantly asked after another brief seconds of silence.
Kyle shrugged.
They sat for over an hour before being called out by Gerald, who'd ask Kyle to get inside as it was already getting too late. Still not exactly finishing everything they wanted to say but it was enough to bare for the night, Cartman waved goodbye as he left to his home and Kyle stood in his doorstep looking out for Cartman until he saw him get inside his house before reluctantly getting inside himself, contemplating how things unfolded between the two and how good Cartman's gigantic ass looked when he walked off.
Prev — Next
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sibillascribbles08 · 2 years
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ok last one i promise KDKFKG
107
You say this like I am bothered I can assure you I am not alskjdf
Donatello hated that he was going to his dad for advice.
Mainly because he'd already tried that before asking Jase out, before even being friends with him in fact. Befriending Jase just slowly lead him to the realization that he had no parental figures in his life that had any good advice regarding romantic relationships.
After all, just look at the line up. His dad, who's only stable relationship resulted in him being imprisoned in an arena for years. Draxum, who's relationship history was not only a mystery but also one Donatello didn't care to dig up. Holly Blue, who flat out told him when he asked her about dating to just never bother with it--not encouraging. And who else? Todd? Donatello wasn't about to open that can of worms either.
At least this was far less about general relationship advice and more specific like what the heck kind of things did you do with someone for a date?
Donatello didn't want to get his information from films, far too fictional to trust, and running internet searches was not only embarrassing but came with mixed results. Especially for New York City. A three hundred dollar dinner? No thank you.
So, here he was, standing in the living room while his dad watched some kind of romance drama on the big screen.
"Hey, Dad?" Donatello cleared his throat.
Splinter glanced over at him. "Yes, Purple? Did you need something?"
"Uh, just, wanted to ask for your opinion on something." He tried not to clear his throat again, tried not to fidget as he kept glancing to the side. "Like um... date ideas."
Splinter's ears shot straight up before he rolled over in his chair to lean over the arm rest. "Ohohoho, with that purple dragon boy?"
Donatello grit his teeth, trying to shove back the heat emerging in his cheeks. "He's not a purple dragon anymore, but yes."
Splinter hummed, tail swishing from side to side, obviously amused. "Surprised you're asking me for advice."
"I'm desperate." He scoffed.
"Hmph, rude! But well... date ideas would entirely depend on what the two of you like to do."
Donatello pressed his lips together. "Uh... programming?"
"No! Non-working activities. Going to the zoo? The park? A demolition derby?"
The last one was a joke, but Donatello glared at it.
"How about a movie?" Splinter pointed to the screen with his tail. "I know you love those."
That was actually a good idea. Jase had already shown him a few back when they were just friends, and apparently there were many, many movies that Donatello could still catch up on.
"Hm, I see you have your idea." Splinter flopped back onto the sofa. "Hope he has space at his place, or you get your own TV. You are not stealing mine so you can make-out on the sofa."
Donatello flinched, all the heat rushing back to his face. "Dad!"
His father just laughed.
----------------
Jase sighed, staring at the wall of math homework still on the screen. He technically didn't have to do it all tonight--the professor just posted all the weekly homework at once--but he wanted it out of the way so it didn't cut into his weekend free time.
Still, maybe he should take a break. Online math homework was a nightmare.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed on his desk. Jase picked it up, looking at Donnie's icon before answering it.
"Why, if it isn't Othello Von Ryan." He taunted into the line as he tabbed away from the math page.
"I can't believe you're still calling me that." Donnie tsked.
"You come up with a dumb fake name I'm never letting it go." He mindlessly scrolled through his social feed, looking to see if there were any updates on the leaks for the next line of transformers. "Any particular reason you called? You usually like to text."
"Ah, well... I just thought it would be easier to ask over the phone?"
"Lie." Jase said flatly. "You're really bad at that, you know."
"Only sometimes." Donnie snapped. "Fine. It's been a few days so I wanted to hear your voice."
Ah. Jase adjusted his glasses before messing with his hair to ease up the burning in his ears. "You said you wanted to ask me something?"
"Yes." Donnie's typical, confident tone returned. "You, me, popcorn, two liter Dr. Pepper and a movie. You in?"
A movie? "What movie?"
"I am so glad you asked. I have narrowed down my list of two hundred possible films to just five by calculating the length, ratings, content, actors, the actor ratings, the--"
Jase couldn't stop himself from snorting and laughing.
"Huh?" Donnie said. "What? What's so funny?"
"Sorry." Jase said between laughs. "Sorry, not laughing at you. It's just... so you."
"What's so me?"
"Going through all that analysis just to pick a movie." He let out another chuckle before running a hand through his hair. "But yeah, sure, send me the list and I'll help pick one out."
"So... that's a yes?"
"Yeah, Donnie, we've watched movies before."
"Sure, but not as a date."
He forced himself not to laugh again, both out of amusement and nerves. He found it so endearing that Donnie, who almost always had this guise of confidence and boldness would always get so shy about conversations like this.
Not that Jase was any better.
"Does it have to be Dr. Pepper by the way?" He tried to change the subject a little.
"Dr. Pepper is the superior movie soda."
"Yeah? Did you calculate that too?"
"Well, statistically--"
"Oh my god." He groaned, even though he kept smiling. "No. How about I just bring my own soda."
"It better not be that weird knock off grape soda."
"The taste of purple."
"Ugh!"
"Going to chug half the bottle right in front of you."
"Disgusting. Horrible. Maybe I should un-invite you."
"Yeah?" Jase rested his arm on the desk before leaning forward to put his cheek on it, still holding the phone to his ear. "Then who are you going to watch the movie with?"
"Hm, you have a good point. I suppose your company will just have to do."
"Yeah, whatever Donnie." Jase couldn't seem to stop smiling. "I look forward to it."
"Right." Donnie sounded nervous again. "I um... do too."
Jase glanced at his computer screen, the math tab haunting him. He sat up again, minimizing the entire window before pushing away from his desk. "Are you busy right now?"
"Not entirely, though Mikey will probably call me for dinner soon enough."
"That's okay." Jase flopped onto his bed. "Just want to talk for a bit longer. What were you doing at work today?"
"Oh! Well Alori, the cheetah yokai, she came by to test the new hanging lights and..."
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thunderpetal · 2 years
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Dropping all my hunter headcanons because why not
-He definitely experiments a lot with his style. He especially loves human clothing, Luz takes him shopping frequently, he likes wearing skirts too, just really likes the different feel and freedom of them
-He also gets introduced to human tunes and keeps cranking up the volume, he has to be reminded to turn down the volume when listening with earbuds lest he give himself tinnitus aged 17 god bless
-as for who he listens to: everyone. Well i think he actually gets into hard rock/metal, Luz keeps making ‘male maniupulator music’ jokes that he does not understand At All. But then on another day he’ll be singing his heart out to some Twice like this boy contains multitudes
-is camila’s adopted son. Well in legal terms i think he actually gets taken in by both eda and darius. Like he goes to darius at weekends but instead of his parents being divorced its more like they’re the previous generation of theatre gays who still have high school beef but they also saved the world together so its a funny dynamic. Anyway thats just my hc as a dadrius liker but also hunter clawthrone truther. BUT THIS IS AB CAMILA back to camila.
-As i said camila does not Officially take him in, but he does visit her crazy often because he just likes being around her. Being in the human realm post kings tide was a tumultous time for him but the noceda home was where the process of his healing got to finally properly begin so he loves it. And camila was a huge part of that ofc. She thinks he is a lovely young man. Obviously she is also worried about him but she doesn’t have many probing conversations with hunter, like she knows his Deal and past abuse but they spend most their time together baking cookies and shit. He is definitely comfortable breaking down around her though
-Speaking of, cooking/baking is his main hobby he develops post kings tide, it started in the human realm ofc he is camila’s sous chef. But back in the BI he continued and he just. loves it. He reads cookbooks cover to cover like they’re novels and won’t even mark down any recipes he likes because he’s just too engrossed. And then with actual making, he prefers baking bc its very follow-instructions-and-get-correct-result and he has been doing that his whole life, cooking is Scarier bc its more flow and experimentation and artistic but he’s getting to grips with it. He proudly boasts about he’s the only person who can make both human and BI cuisine (Luz not applicable, she can only make instant ramen)
-The emerald entrails are his closest friends and he just loves LOVES hanging out with them all as a team, he loves their group hangouts and how chaotic they get, and ofc they all still play together! He’s also gotten pretty good at flyer derby and he is Not smug about it (he is so smug. But also he deserves it)
-You know how other witches have their palisman tucked away 90% of the time? Yeah not this white boy. Flapjack is just Constantly vibing on his shoulder, save for when he’s out and about in the human realm, bc he could get away with it but it just looks a Bit too unusual to have a bird perfectly content on his shoulder. But mostly Hunter relishes not having to hide Flapjack anymore. It’s huge for him. Sometimes he still feels scared, like Belos is going to come back and rip Flapjack away, but in those moments Flapjack will peck at his ear and remind him that they’re both safe
-(post hair noodle, hunter’s ear is the main Flapjack target)
-him and Amity got over their animosity pretty quickly but that does not deal with the other, greater obstacle: their mutual awkwardness. GOD BLESS THESE TWO IDIOTS THEY WERE TRYINF but they used to be so BAD at conversations. Literally just like ‘hey’ ‘hello’ ‘…’ ‘…’ ‘…nice weather isnt it’ AND SO ON. Luz was greatly entertained and she did nothing to help them. But they figured things out themselves. And once they get past their awkwardness… oh boy, say hello to trauma bonding! Obviously its not the only thing they talk about it but Hunter is comforted by knowing there is someone who really Gets it and vice versa. Sometimes he feels a bit bad going to Amity to vent because he’s like ‘what if she’s having a good day? What if she’s not thinking about the bad things that happened to her and then here I come dredging up everything-‘ but amity tells him it’s Ok. They get through most of their bad days together. And on their good days they almost murder each other over mariokart
-he is okay in the end and lives a good life full of healing and happiness AMEN
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thoughtsofananon · 2 years
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Aroace Hunter Week Day 2: Friendship
@goldenentrails
“Whoaaaa Hunter!” Skara chuckled. “How much did you sleep last night?”
“Uh. . .” Hunter thought as he opened his locker. It was finally the end of the day, which meant flyer derby practice.
“Six hours? Five? Please don’t say four. Or three. Or less.” Skara sighed. “Dude, you have got to start sleeping. Like, take naps on the weekends or something.”
“I was thinking about something.” Hunter muttered.
Skara leaned against the locker next to him. “Are you ever not?”
“Most people think, surprisingly. It’s easy to tell when you’ve met a person who doesn’t.”
She elbowed him. “Yeah yeah, I got it. What were you thinking about this time?”
If he said ‘nothing’ she’d assume a nightmare and quit asking. Those were pretty frequent, unfortunately. But he actually did want to talk about it, and if he lied, she would see right through him. After taking off the golden guard mask he’d discovered he was notoriously bad at lying. No wonder Belos always saw right through him.
He sighed. “It was later than I am going to tell you-“
“Midnight?” Skara guessed immediately.
He glared at her, and she smirked, knowing she’d get it right.
“Ugh, anyway, Lilith and Hooty were still up and talking, and they didn’t know I was awake, they started talking about ‘Aroace’ and I kiiiinda maybe yelled out and asked what it was and then I was thinking about how I did some stuff where I didn’t understand relationships and stuff and then I just kept thinking about maybe I’m Aroace and I really want to ask someone about it but I didn’t know how and- god, I’m ranting now, sorry, did you hear any of that?”
Skara waved. “I got it, don’t worry.” She looked really thoughtful all of a sudden, though.
“Yeah. I- I do get it, Hunter. I get the Aroace thing.”
“You do?” Hunter was surprised. He didn’t think the first person he asked would get his thought process.
“Yeah.” She started talking. “When Grom came last year, some guy asked me out, and I thought. . I thought all my dreams came true. I liked the idea of romance, and being in a relationship, but. . I don’t know. We went on a few dates, but I just felt. . so uncomfortable and I had to break up with him, I’m just glad he wasn’t too upset.”
“But I still liked romance and stuff, and I thought- ‘hey! Maybe the human realm knows what’s wrong with me! I can ask Luz and maybe she’ll know how to fix it.’ So I went to her, we looked up some stuff and we found it.”
Skara spread out her hands as if she were presenting something incredible.
“Aegoromantic Aegosexual.”
“What’s that?” Hunter asked awkwardly. 
“Someone who likes the idea of relationships and love and stuff, but doesn’t actually want to participate in it themselves.”
“Oh. .” Hunter thought for a minute. “So you’re saying. . maybe Luz can help me? Not- Not that you didn’t help and-“
Skara laughed. “Hey, it’s okay. I don’t know, I guess the best thing is to just. . look it up, talk with some people, and if it feels right-“ She shrugged. “I guess it’s right.”
“GUYS?” Roared a voice. Skara and Hunter shrieked and Skara karate-chopped the air.
“Are you here or did you stay home today?” Viney yelled in.
“We were talking!” Skara yelled back. “It’s quite a natural thing friends do, surprisingly!”
“Well get out here!” Viney called. “Did you forget we had flyer derby today? It’s going to rain soon, too, and I don’t think Hunter would have much fun practicing by himself!”
That was true, he wouldn’t like practicing himself. And rain was a him and King activity.
Hunter stopped Skara as she started walking out. 
“Thanks.” He mumbled.
She looked confused. “For what? The Aroace thing?”
“I don’t know.” Hunter sighed. “Everything? For not staying pissed at me when I tried to kidnap you into becoming scouts? Nearly throwing yourself out the window when you heard he was still out there and what he did? Talking about Rulers Reach with me? You and Viney staying with me in The Owl House when everyone else was fighting him and the Collector and basically screaming at me every two seconds I wasn’t weak for staying behind??” He threw out his hands. “Everything??”
“Is the sentence you’re looking for ‘Thanks for being my friend’?” Skara asked, smiling and raising and eyebrow.
“Oh. Yeah.” Hunter mumbled sheepishly. “Should we go before Viney yells again?”
annnnd then of course I make this whole story and end up having no idea what to do for Coming Out, so either I think of something real soon, or I just leave it blank
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A comic I might draw later
HEAVILY inspired by MorningMark and that one scene from Casper meets Wendy (1998).
TLDR: Luz friends love her and will defend her from any threat, even petty human teenagers. Playing real fast and loose with magic and Gravesfield okay, I don't know how magic transfer over now that The Titan is gone and King is still too young but we don't have to get in to all that okay. Also this isn't proofread, this is just a silly little idea I had.
So Luz is back in human realm to finish school along with Vee. Going about her daily goings about. On days like these she likes to walk around and just think/talk with String Bean. They can’t be in the Boiling Iles every weekend so taking a walk around Earth’s nature will have to do. She is human after all. Well no one said Luz’s return was a welcomed one (and after her whole speech about Phillip in class I doubt high schoolers spared her), but who is she care about their opinions? She’s the daughter of the greatest witch who ever lived, sister to a literal god and is friends with the most powerful witches the Demon Realm has ever known! Of course no one on Earth knows or would believe her (spare Jacob), but it’s the thought that counts!
All in all her days passed by fine, save for a few particular classmates. Classmates that had known Luz since she moved to Gravesfield and seen her jump from wierdo, to normie, to reserved and now somehow even weirder? The teasing never stopped or at least you get used to it, is what she told herself. More accurately what she told to String Bean on this particular walk.
“I can’t wait for break to come! Bump finally said yes to opening a Flyer Derby Track!” She cheered. String Bean hissed happily. She turned her head towards the tree line in confusion, like a puppy. Hearing something, she quickly turned into a staff. Luz was quick to grab her worried something might of spooked her.
“This is hilarious, I know you don’t have any friends but talking to a stick is a new low.” A familiar snide voice called from the tree line coming from the bushes and onto the path.
“Ugh Anna.” Luz rolled her eyes as the three stepped out, Anna and the other two girls Luz never really caught the name of.
“If I annoyed so bad why are you always following me? And I do have friends FYI!”
“Yeah, yeah I know. Your ‘super cool and awesome friends from out of town’!” She mocked “Weird that no one’s ever seen them before-“
“People have seen them, they were here for Halloween! They were in my Summer Break Presentation!”
“Oh yeah they were,” one of the follower girls said. Anna sent a stern eye her way before striding over to Luz.
“Whatever. Doesn’t change that you don’t have any friends at school and it makes sense! All you do is creep people out.”
“You think I want to friends like you?” Luz scoffed
“Excuse me-“
“You’re so rude to everyone around you, I doubt even those two like you.”
“What do you know?! Everyone thinks you’re weird!”
“Well if being ‘normal’, whatever that means, makes me like you? I’ll pass.“
Anna huffed in anger lunging towards Luz and grabbing onto the staff. They struggled, pulling towards each other. “Stop it! You’ll hurt her!”
“Her?!” Anna pushed off her back foot taking Luz down and grabbing hold of String Bean. She raised it above her head. “It’s just a stupid stick-“
Before she could slam String Bean down, a sheet of ice covered the path took Anna and her two followers down. String Bean was tossed in the air and caught by a figure riding a long vine.
“Luz!” Willow called out, the vine spiraling down to meet her on the path. Hunter and Gus were close behind. String Bean transformed back in Willow’s hand and floated towards Luz, nuzzling into her cheek.
“Oh girl, I thought I lost you.” She cradled String Bean close.
“Is she okay?” Hunter called out finally catching up with Willow, Gus behind him.
“Yeah, just a little shaken up.” Luz replied.
“What about you Luz?” Gus asked
“I’m fine,” she smiled “What are you guys doing here?”
“Well we came to see if you wanted to hang out but it seems we caught you at a bad time.” Willow glared at the girls. They all scrambled to their feet, ready to run but were blocked by a wall suddenly appearing behind them.
“That’s bold, picking a fight and then running away?” Hunter stated
“Three on one? Talk about unfair.” Gus sneered
“I think three on three is fair enough.” Willow said, magic circles already formed.
“Guys!” Luz called. Luz looked at Anna, full of fear and for a moment saw something familiar. Even if it was fair, she sighed, “It’s not worth it, some people just never change.”
All three complied, sending their own threatening look towards the girls.
“What if they say anything?” Gus asked
“I doubt it, they would look like weirdos.” Luz smiled smugly. String Bean hissed as if to accent the point.
“See you guys on Monday.” Luz said waved off taking to the sky with her friends. Anna and her friends were awestruck at the sight but more so that no one would ever believe them.
Bonus:
“Well I don’t want to go near her- her creepy friends could come attack us again!” One of the girls yelled over the video call.
“We were not attacked, okay. Just Luz and her weirdo friends.” Anna huffed
“Get over it Anna, just let her be.” The other called
“When did this become my fault?!”
“When you almost got us killed today!
“For the last time, we were not attacked-“
A soft tapping at the window.
“Anna?”
“Hold on,” she said moving towards the window. She leaned it, examining it closely. Splattered her window suddenly was a mess of purple goo. It pulled itself off the glass and formed into a body, a face started to form from the goo. A girl with purple hair and bright yellow eyes, like a cat. She tapped on the window with a smile leaving a purple smear. Anna hesitated before the girl opened the window herself.
“Hi.” She smiled
“H-Hi.” Anna stammered
“I’m gonna keep this short cause it’s late. I’m not as nice as Luz or our friends so take this as your only warning. Never hurt my girlfriend. Got it?”
“Y-Yeah.”
“Good.” She smiled. Her form distorted as her skin turned back into a dark purple. The slime slide off the windowsill and down the side of house all the way to the forest behind.
Anna was stunned staring out the window, her friends calling her name in the background.
Meanwhile at Luz’s house, the Hexside Crew set up for a movie night. “Amity! The popcorn’s ready.” Luz called
“Coming! Ghost thought she heard something.” Amity called back. She knelt down to let the incoming abomination slip back into her vase. Amity smiled to herself as she came into the kitchen. She grabbed a bowl and kissed Luz on the cheek.
“You’re smiley, did Ghost catch something?”
“No, just thinking about this spell Em taught me. I can show it to you later.”
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mitchipedia · 1 year
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Adi Robertson at The Verge:
Last week, generative fiction tool Sudowrite launched a system for writing whole novels. Called Story Engine, it’s another shot in the ongoing culture war between artists and AI developers — one side infuriated by what feels like a devaluation of their craft, the other insisting that it’s a tool for unlocking creativity and breaking writer’s block. Neither answered the question I was really curious about: does it work? Well, I didn’t take on Sudowrite’s pitch of a full novel in a few days. But over the weekend, I generated a novella written entirely inside Story Engine — it’s called The Electric Sea at the AI’s suggestion, and you can read the whole thing on Tumblr. I’m not sure how I feel about it. I’m an enthusiastic, if strictly amateur, fiction writer. I wrote somewhere north of 150,000 words of unpublished fiction last year, so Sudowrite’s “break writer’s block” pitch isn’t that compelling to me. Writing, however, is not a task I hold inherently sacred. The field has a long and proud tradition of hastily written profit-driven trash, from Ed Wood’s churned-out erotica to the infamous pulp publisher Badger Books, known for handing authors a cover and asking them to write a book around it. I enjoy seeing where large language models’ strengths and weaknesses lie, and I’ve long been fascinated by challenges like NaNoGenMo, which asked writers to create an AI-generated novel in the days before modern generative AI. So on Saturday morning I paid for 90,000 words of Sudowrite text, booted it up, and “wrote” a roughly 22,500-word cyberpunk novella by Sunday afternoon.
One of my favorite novels deals with the world of “hastily written profit-driven trash:” “Derby Dugan’s Depression Funnies,” by Tom DeHaven, about a hack writer in the 1930s who churns out pulp stories and comic strip text. I wrote about it here. (“_Derby Dugan _is a wonderful novel,” I said. “I like to re-read it every few years to revisit a time and place where a kid in a yellow derby with a talking dog can make a writer a star of an enchanted New York.” Which reminds me that I haven’t re-read the Derby Dugan trilogy in some time.)
Robertson:
Writing is a pastime I enjoy, and it’s led me to a lot of fascinating places, even when the end result won’t be sold or even read by anybody else. I’ve taken up entire hobbies and vacations for research purposes. I like devising a good turn of phrase or exploring a character’s motivations. I enjoy feeling like I’ve done something a little unexpected or, conversely, like I’ve written a spot-on pastiche of a style. I don’t care about an AI “replacing” me the way I don’t worry about an industrial knitting machine replacing my handmade shawls — the process is the point.
I need to think about that. I started my journalism career on daily newspapers, where I loved doing weird things that I would not do on my own initiative: playing paintball, flying in an ultralight aircraft, or—in college—going out with the campus police on an all-night ridealong. I talked with a lot of strange characters too. Tech journalism and marketing is a great career, but I miss miss that other thing.
Spoiler: Robertson finds the software writes a barely passable, mediocre, cliched cyberpunk novella. I think she’s being charitable. I think it stinks—but I’m not a cyberpunk fan. Still, it’s a functional novella, she says.
I find the same thing with ChatGPT, when I’ve tried it on articles. It’s bad, like SEO spam. But there’s demand for SEO spam.
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stoopidamerican · 1 year
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On Tap 9/1-3
Embed from Getty Images The last weekend before the September international break promises to be a good one, especially in the Premier League. But there’s also key games in the Bundesliga and Ligue 1, as well as an Old Firm derby to contend with. And then there’s a tasty opportunity to catch not-so-Stoopid American Christian Pulisic on Friday. All listed times are CDT. Friday, September…
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kylewalker-peters · 2 years
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If its not a 10-0 against schalke then I don't want it. I crave revenge. And schalke are also blue. That's close enough
Do we know if karim is fit enough for the Derby?
im pretty sure we're the only 2 teams in the league to not lose in the second half of the season and we only managed a 1-0 win with mouki in the first half who's not even fit for this one. if i have to take another 1-0 win with the dullest football imaginable I'll do it I'll do anything for those 3 points
that's a good question i actually have no idea? i feel like he should be back this weekend or next though? but they might want to just wait till after intl break to make sure he's properly ready
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