#what i can’t tell is if she’s soc-blind or not | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

somethingblu3 · 8 months

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Thy Mercy | Father Anthony Bridge

Read on Ao3 here.

18+ minors dni.

Fandom: Casualty

Summary:

Father Anthony commands you to list out the rosary.

TW: Church Sex, Spanking, Candles Wax Play, Improper Use of a Rosary, Priest Kink, Author is not Christian, Forbidden Secret, Relationship,neil newbon - Freeform, Begging, Burns, Dom/sub, Dirty Talk, Bible Kink, No Beta, mouth spitting, Mutual Masturbation, cum, Paddle, Humiliation, lightly edited, Orgasm Delay/Denial.

Pairing: Father Anthony Bridge x female afab reader

Word Count: 1,844

Divider Credit: firefly-graphics.

Note:

I'm not Christian, but I did go to church when I was younger. It's been over a decade since I've used a rosary, so I'm not entirely sure if the beads are accurate.

“Say it,” Father Anthony ordered in the shadows. You both sat in the empty church. The only light came from the flicker of the oil candles that hung from the ceiling. You had never been in a Church alone, especially not on a cold, dark winter night like this. Your hands are sweaty as they trace over the familiar chunky beads. It was a gift given to you by your grandmother. You remember sitting at her vanity as she gifted you the beads. They were sacred, and you kept them secure under your pillow at night, not wanting to lose them, but you almost dropped them as you felt Father Anthony’s gaze lock on you in the shadows. He was watching, waiting for you to start.

He had warned you that if you stuttered or your voice faltered, he would spank you. From the corner of your eye, you could see Anthony's hands clutching the black paddle in his hands as he readied himself. Your breathing hitches as your sweaty hands clutch at the burgundy glass. Your mind goes blank, but you can feel Anthony’s hand ghost your sides, closing your eyes. You took a breath, trying to cleanse your dry lips. Anthony pushes his nails into your thighs, a sign for you to start.

“In the name of the Father, The Son, and of the Holy Spirit Amen” Your fingers move towards the first bead, feeling the contours of the Crucifix between them. He hadn’t even done anything yet, not even touched your skin. You could feel something against it, maybe his fingers or the brush of the silver of his belt as he grinded against you; it was hard to tell in the dark. It was scary not knowing what was coming next. He had blinded you before, but here you were in the Church surrounded by the darkness. You were both very evasive about your relationship. If anyone ever found out about this, Anthony would be fired and defrocked, not even that he would be ousted from the community.

He was more protective of that in the early days, but as your relationship developed, he found it harder and harder to let you go. You were his biggest sin. He couldn’t walk away from second to drinking. You lick your lips as they suddenly turn dry, and you hear him play with the silver of his belt. A warning. “Our father, who art in heaven…” He pulls back your black skirt, which he told you to wear for this evening’s service. Your breathing hitches as you press on, moving to the smaller beads. “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.” “Faster,” Anthony hisses as his belt drops to the ground, and you feel his hands grab you by your waist. “The Agony in the Garden…The Soc-Sco-ugring at the-” You pause as he slides inside you. As always, you are already wet and sticky. His hand teases your clit, preparing you, and you hear him groan in delight. You didn’t want to disappoint him. You could already hear his voice in your head.

You stutter, “At the-Fuck” You are so tight, but that doesn’t stop him. His breathing increases Anthony halts you trying to search for your voice as it escapes you, and you feel the ip of Anthony’s cock ghosting over your back and cum dripping down your legs; you're already so wet. Not that you are surprised. He waits for a moment and clicks his tongue. You can’t help but feel…disappointed. “The scourging at the pillar,” you finish confidently. Anthony nods. “Good girl,” he praises you as he inserts himself into you once again. “The crowning with thorns-” you hesitate as you feel your cheeks flush increase. “And the crucifixion.” “You missed one,” Anthony scolds as he removes himself from you and then takes you over his lap. “The carrying of the cross,” he tells you as his paddle is against your skin."I'm sorry, father." You cry. "Again. Say them again," He demands as the paddle rests inches away from your skin, a lingering threat. You take a shaky breath, clutching the bread, and then you start again, but your brain has already turned to mush. "In the name--" You swallow as you feel him consider if he should spank you or not, but he doesn't. You clear your throat as you start again, your fingers finding their way to the beads. "In the name of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen." His fingers glide against your skin.

You know he won't mark it yet, but you can't help but shiver under his grip. "Our father, who art in heaven." You continue as you move on to the next bead and then the next until you reach "The Agony in the Garden..." You pause, trembling the pad inches and inches away from your skin, and as he presses further, you fumble. "Fuck-i'm so sorry, father." You sob as his paddle spanks against your skin. "I'm so sorry," you tremble. "I thought I had trained you better than this," Anthony snarled You lower your eyes, focusing down on the wooden floor, feeling nothing but shame course through you as he spanks.

"Count. Count to four," He orders, his other hand rubbing your other cheek "One" Smack "Tw-ooh" Smack "Fuck-Thr-eee" He pauses but then adds another smack. "F-ffour" you finish He smacks again. "Good girl, now let's start again from the top."

You nod and carry on repeatedly, but then, this time, you stop at the crucifixion. You close your eyes, knowing what is coming next. You tried to prepare yourself, but there isn't another smack at your ass. Instead, Father Anthony pulls away for a moment, and then he finally starts once again. "I don't think this taught you much of a lesson, did it?" He asks with an arched brow You are too stunned to speak as you feel your ass clench from the stings. He's not going to start again, is he? Usually, he would give breaks in between or at least kiss and "So why don't we try again?" "Father, please-" He ignores you as he reaches over and grabs a candle from the holder. It drips onto your skin, and you hiss, chowing down on your cheek to bear the pain.

"Good girl," he tells you as he messages your head. He watches as your body jitters. The pain is unreal, the sensation of the hot wax. He throws down the paddle, tossing it onto the wooden floor as he grips the candle in his hand, the wax melting his skin. He inserts himself inside you once again. "Let's start from the crucifixion and see if you can finally finish." You nod, shivering from the heat. You feel like you are melting, but also, at the same time, you know that Father Anthony won't hurt you. That was against his moral code, but the pain thrill was still exciting.

"Okay," You gulp as he thrusts inside you. Your dry cum drips between your legs like the candle wax between his fingers. "Okay, okay," you whimper as you get used to his thrusts as they increase in speed, still feeling the tingle of the wax drip down your lower back. "In the name of the Father, The Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen...." Thrust "Our father, who art in heaven…" Thrust. Now, the room is filled with the sound of his skin smacking against yours. His other hand finds its way to your left waist, pulling you as close as humanly possible. Your moans were escapable now. If someone were to walk in right now, it would be clear as day what the two of you were up to, and that feeling made your heart race, and you could just about see your skin turn bright red under the glow of the candle.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. The Agony in the Garden…The Scourging at the-” "Go on," He commands "The scourging at the pillar, The crowning with thorns, and the--the" You can feel yourself approaching your final orgasm as it tricks down your legs, and you roll your head back. You feel Anthony's hand in your hair as he croons your neck to look at you. He pants and spits in your mouth, his chin covered in drool. He stops trapping your hand clutched with the beads firmly.

"Hold on-" He commands as he takes the warm beads from your hands. "Turn around and face me," He commands," and he does You shiver as you finally meet his gaze. He's tired but happy as a small smirk appears at the corner of his lips. Forecebilly he takes the rosary from your hands and shoves them inside your sticky pussy. "Father," You gasp as you feel the beads between your legs. He chuckles darkly "You are such a good girl," he tells you, stroking your hair. "You're doing the Lord's work," he mumbles the sensation. Of the beads rocking between your legs is something else. The small cross rubs against the end of your pussy, edging you even closer and closer without him even touching you. You watch him as he takes his dick in his hand, proud of himself as he watches you stutter and moan, grabbing onto one of the pews. "Let yourself go, love," he instructs as he quickens the pace of his hand on his dick.

You nod, and your eyes roll back, your breathing hitching. You spot him as cum dribbles down from the head of his cock onto his robes. Your hand fiddles for the beads, and you begin rolling them against yourself. God, it was shameful, especially with how much they meant to you, but you knew after this, they would be covered in your seed, in your wetness, and you would give it to him as a gift, perhaps as a birthday present, so that he would always. Be near you. You grin at that thought.

A subtle reminder. "Now, what comes after the crucifixion, my love?" He urges as he wipes his cum against his robes "The Resurrection," you pant. You knew that wasn't all of the stages, but for now, it was the most you could get through without faltering, and you felt proud of yourself as a smile plucked at his lips. Once you finish, you both orgasm against each other, his seed mixed with your wetness. He throws the candle stick into the trash and licks his finger with your mixed juices, but his robe is still a mess. You are too weak to speak, and then he catches you as you are about to collapse onto the floor. "I want to treasure this forever." He pants as he rushes towards you, shoving your hair behind your ear, and kisses your neck as your eyes drift close. "This is heaven...". You lower your head against his neck, and you catch your breath. This man will be the death of you.

#casulty #neil newbon #father anthony bridge #father anthony bridge x reader #fanfiction #neil newbon smut #anthony bridge #casualty fanfic #bbc Casualty #ao3 cross post #neil newbon x reader #neil newbon fanfiction

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funkymbtifiction · 2 years

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instinctual variants

hi, i’m trying to figure out my instinctual variants and i think i have so and sx in my first two, but sometimes i feel like i value sp a lot still? for reference, i’m an enneagram 9w8.

I think so/sp. Let's unpack it.

for so, i love to stay up to trends, celebrity news, gossip with peers, etc. i have a generally easygoing attitude around people and try not to cause too much disharmony within a group. i love blending into social groups wherever i go, and if i can’t find one, i’ll usually bring together friends that i’m comfortable with to hang out in a group. i want to have a deep connection with someone/group of people where we know each other’s secrets, insecurities, desires, have many inside jokes, and just consider each other as the first people we’ll always turn to for everything. i can tell when i can consider a friend to be this potential person for me or not. it sucks when someone doesn’t give the same energy, since i’m used to relationships where we talk about literally everything, so when i find a new friend that texts back days later or seems detached, i have this urge to cut off the connection and find someone else who can give that reciprocal energy. when i’m not around a friend group for a period of time, i start to feel isolated and sort of depressed. <- social dominance

for sx, though i don’t feel an immediate attraction/repulse to certain people, i can feel this sort of “voodoo doll” pull to someone that even i don’t really understand. <- that indicates your sx isn't "dead," but the question would be -- do you throw aside all hesitation and go for it?

in relationships, i want to feel really involved with each other but also have a sense of privacy and alone time. <- alone time is sp

i’m not one to enter a relationship simply for financial and material aspects. <- good ;)

i do value stability and want to feel like i’m financially secure, but i also want someone who i’m actually in love with and is in love with me. <- normal desires, but also shows a sp desire for permanence

it’s like i can’t enter a relationship unless i feel this insane attraction toward someone. <- this is iffy, it could be sx, it could also not be

i sort of categorize people into “i could fall in love with them” or “best friends woo” and it’s hard for me to see a friend as suddenly a love interest. <- it would be for a lot of people; I almost feel like idolizing the "I suddenly realized I loved my best friend" might be more of an sp/so trope (we grew up together, and loved each other being sp)

i feel like i use sx more often in my obsessions with shows and movies, though, but this may veer into sp territory? i have to be intensely interested in a show/movie otherwise i won’t want to watch it or will have to be forced to watch it. if i like it, i’ll be obsessed with it, reading and watching every piece of media i could find about it. <- an so/sp friend of mine used this as an example of potentially being sx as well, but she's still sx-blind; I think sx-blinds are just as capable of being obsessed with shows, actors, etc. Obsession is not just sx, because it doesn't involve another human being -- being aware of the impact you are having on them (sexually or energetically), and also aware of the sexual/energetic affect they are having on YOU.

for sp, i care about food and calorie intake to keep my body in shape, and i try to exercise daily. <- why do you keep your body in shape? "for me" is sp. "so people will find me pleasing" is soc. "so I can beat out any sexual competition to attract the person I want" would be sx.

Your instincts are where your mind goes, and how it justifies your decisions -- an sx wants to look hot so they don't have to be second best in a room full of other hot people, so they can be competitive enough to get what they want. That's what motivates them toward self-care -- the idea of attracting someone sexually.

i think i am practical in regards to financial stability, in that i will pick a career that i’m not very passionate about if it means that i’ll have a stable income and can be able to provide for my and my loved ones. <- sp, not sp-blind

i find comfort in familiar and routine things and will stick to these until there’s an external factor changing my circumstances. <- strong sp

i also like feeling i have a space to retreat to when i feel drained/antisocial. <- sp again, yes.

So/sp seems right.

#question #social instincts #enneagram

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delicrieux · 4 years

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☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

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The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results).

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be.

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children.

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim.

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

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Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do.

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

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“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point!

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus.

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping.

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex.

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him.

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red.

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!!

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling.

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!”

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out.

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you.

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage.

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her.

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement.

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.”

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fic #corpse husband social media au #social media au #myso #make you say oh #quackity #dream smp #corpse x y/n #imagine #imagines #reader #xreader

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manikas-whims · 3 years

Text

Turmeric Milk

A sequel to my other Kanej fic Holi

[Read on AO3]

Ship: Kaz Brekker X Inej Ghafa

Summary:

Modern AU

Kaz had told his neighbour Inej that he'd call up his doctor friend to get his wounds treated but she stills decides to check up on him.

And with a weird drink at that..

Note:

I've decided to turn this Modern AU into a series.

Hope you enjoy this one as well ♥

Kaz rouses from his slumber due to the noise of the cellphone buzzing and sits up, accidentally hurting the wound on his chest. He represses a hiss and looks around, finding himself on his living room’s couch. The wall clock that his eyes land on, make him realize its past seven at night. Great, sleeping at odd hours. Pushing off the duvet, he scrambles to his feet, a jolt of ache shooting through his bad leg. Immediately, he seeks purchase in the arm of the couch, taking deep breaths to help himself endure the ache.

His phone buzzes again and he picks it up in annoyance. ‘W. Van Eck’, the screen reads and Kaz sighs, receiving the call.

“What happened?” He grunts out.

He can hear a loud huff from the other end. “You know Kaz, those shouldn't be your words to initiate a phone conversation.”

He rubs his eyes, trying to bite back the string of colorful words at the tip of his cursed tongue. “What do you want, Wylan?”

There’s a long pause. “Jes and I wanted to check up on you.”

“I’m doing quite alright.” He grits out as calmly as possible.

“Listen Kaz, if you need–”

“I’m not a child Wylan. I can take care of myself.” Kaz reminds him. He likes his crew because they do their jobs perfectly well but thats all he expects of them. His health and personal lifestyle is none of their concern.

“..kay, I understand. Rest well.” Wylan mumbles and disconnects the call.

With that, Kaz tosses his cellphone to the couch and limps towards his bedroom. Its about time he takes a much needed bath and orders his dinner.

By the time he’s done, he changes into another pair of trousers and lets his towel dangle around his neck. There's several drawers in the side rail of his bed. He crouches down to open the middle one and rummages out a first aid kit from within.

Grabbing his cane from the mattress, he walks out to the living room. Immediately his eyes take note of the duvet falling off his couch and the half-filled bottle of brandy but he chooses to ignore them. He’s not in the mood for tidying up. He simply picks up his cellphone and places an order for hutspot from the Kooperom, a diner nearby. It should take around twenty minutes to arrive and as such, he decides to address his injuries.

He sits heavily onto the couch, placing his cane in his lap and pulls out a roll of gauze and a flask of liquid disinfectant. Dousing a cotton pad in the disinfectant, he starts swiping the cut that trails diagonally from the right side of his chest down to his navel, just like he'd done earlier in the morning. That punch to his face had blinded him for a moment and another Razorgull took advantage of that. The teeth of that man’s knife tore so callously through his skin that Kaz winces several times during the whole cleansing. Finally as his hand reaches for the gauze roll, the dinging sound of the doorbell interrupts him.

The food delivery guy can’t make it this quick. A single father and his son run the whole diner by themselves. The thought makes Kaz gaze uncertainly at the door.

The bell rings again and this time Kaz stands up with his cane. He takes slow steps, snaking out a revolver from behind a painting next to the door and then turns the knob.

“Ohh God!” a feminine voice shrieks, making Kaz flinch.

His deep, coffee irises clash with a pair of dark brown ones and he scowls. Its none other than his next-door neighbour— Inej Ghafa. She’s forgone her shimmering traditional garbs and is sporting a set of faded blue silk pajamas. Her long, flowing hair has been pulled together in a single braid. And she has a small jar full of something yellow in her hands.

“The hell!?” He grits out.

She flushes at the sight of his bare torso as she speaks, “I just came by to check up on you.”

Really? Kaz lets out an exasperated sigh and glares at the jar of the unknown yellow. His lips curl in memory of that excessively-sugary Indian sweet that she had shoved in his mouth this morning. He’s not falling for her words again.

Her own eyes follow his and she smiles, lifting the jar higher. “Ah yes! I brought turmeric for you.”

He scrunches his nose in suspicion. “I don’t think I need it.”

She rolls her eyes. “Says the man with a gun.”

Exactly! And she must be scared of this sight. Not strike jokes about it. But he has to admit he’s quite pleased that she’s mentioning the gun instead of commenting on the cane in his other hand. She doesn't even flash a single pitiful glance like the others who come across him do.

“Anyways, may I come in?” She waits patiently.

“For what?” He asks.

“To make you a glass of turmeric milk.” She states, as if its the most normal thing to do for a neighbour.

“Again, I don't need that.” It feels like arguing with a saleswoman.

“But its good for health.” She informs wisely and her eyes stray towards his chest. “And it'll help you heal faster.”

He quirks a brow incredulously. “Fantastic! Just what I needed. Give me the jar and I'll make it myself.”

“Just like you said you'll call you doctor friend?” Her eyes rove pointedly over the injured state of his chest and she shakes her head. “I think I should do this myself.”

Kaz gulps. He knows he will regret this later. Yet something tells him that rejecting her hospitality will only make her more persistent. And its not like his significant belongings just lie around the house. She won’t be able to figure-out anything about him. Yeah but what kind of a sane guy greets a neighbor with a gun? He dismisses the thought instantly. Maybe she’ll just make her energy drink and leave. Maybe she won't consider him a sociopath at all.

“Come in.” He slides the gun in his pocket and opens the door wider.

Inej neatly puts her slippers in the shoe-rack before following Kaz into the living room. While he resumes his task of bandaging his wound, she watches quietly, making him feel self-conscious for the first time since he was fourteen. Now that he isn’t focused on interrogating her, he is unable to be as nonchalant as he had been minutes ago.

“Your job sure keeps you entertained.” She remarks. “I thought your line of work didn’t allow action to this..severity.”

Kaz regards her curiously. He isn’t sure he’s aware of what she’s talking about. Is she a spy from another rising gang? Is she vaguely suggesting she knows about his position in the Dregs? His hands twitch as they tie the gauze.

“You are a Private Investigator, afterall.” She adds.

Oh. Kaz nods in relief. Of course she's talking about his cover job. She probably learnt this as well from the building management.

“Ye-Yeah..things do get messy sometimes.” He confesses imprecisely and starts returning the disinfectant, cotton pads and the remaining gauze into the kit. He needs a shirt. He's never felt so nervous in a woman's presence.

Thankfully, she ends the awkward moment for the both of them. “I..I should start on that milk. If your apartment has the same layout as mine, the kitchen should be the next room from the gallery?”

He nods once and picks up his cane, heading ahead of her in the direction of his bedroom.

Upon his return, and with a shirt on, he notices the absence of his brandy from the table. A package with Kooperom's logo sits in its place. His duvet has been folded neatly, resting on one end of the couch. And his neighbor is standing in the center of the living room, a glass of yellowish, creamy liquid in her hand. He’s assuming its the “turmeric milk”.

“So uh..a delivery man came by just as you left.” She gestures to the package and continues, “I’ve put the turmeric jar on your kitchen counter. Just add a spoonful to your milk daily and you'll be back in shape in no time.”

She strides towards him and pushes the glass into his free hand. “Goodnight, Mr. Brekker.”

And just like that..she’s gone. What’s with her swinging by and departing so abruptly?

Kaz locks the door and sits by his folded duvet. Its interesting how she managed to clean this room within the few minutes he was gone.

He unpacks the food, picks up a fork and takes a bite of the meat from the hutspot. Fulfilling as ever. He takes another bite and looks at the glass in his hand. Reluctantly, he brings it to his lips and takes a sip, bracing himself for another weird experience. To his surprise, it tastes alright. And strangely enough, his muscles do ease a bit. Maybe having neighbors isn't all that bad.

Hutspot: a traditional Dutch dish of potatoes, carrots and onions. Sometimes meat is served as a side dish with it.

Turmeric: a spice regularly used by Indians in their cuisine. Its said to be a natural antiseptic.

Turmeric Milk: drinking milk with turmeric is good for health. even gargling with turmeric water (hot) is good for throat.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed reading this..:3

Read more Soc Fanfics, Headcanons & AUs here

(divider by @firefly-graphics)

#kanej #kanej fanfic #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #six of crows #shadow and bone #grishaverse #dirtyhands #the wraith #kaz x inej #kanej fanfiction

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maskved · 3 years

Photo

hello, besties ! this is ami (she/her) and i’m probably late with this intro ! first i’m sorry for mass-liking every post but i’m already in love with all your lovely muses. also i must confess that i’ve only read the first book ( years ago ) and watched the show because i have an attention span of - 10 seconds. but at least i’m a soc hoe, so we can scream about that ... please ... !!! so if i get anything wrong pls let me know or you can also not let me know and i’ll continue being embarrassing 😔. anyway, if you are interested in some juicy plotting pls LIKE this post or message me ( if you want to plot on discord we can also do that 💖). I’M EXCITED.

PINTEREST . discor*d six of hoes🔪#7888 // YEVA

[ viktoriya zobova ], an [ twenty six ] year old grisha in the little palace. she is a [ tailor ] and are known in the little palace as the [ viscerotonic ]. they are known to be [ resilient ] and [ elusive ] and vaguely resemble [ kristine froseth ].

death tw

- viktoriya zobova ( however, prefers to be called vika because every time one calls her by her full name she might as well be in trouble ) had never been more than average. born to average parents ( although grisha their powers pale compared to others ) into an average family and of course as the middle child, vika strived for more than simply being overlooked.

- truth to be told, she dreaded to be tested. to her it seemed like the final reminder that she was nothing special, average, merely an extra to someone other’s story. she even wished, she wouldn’t be a grisha, fearing that like her parents she’d belong to the lower ranks. however, if she turned out to be a simple human without any power, at least she’d be special within her family or could even try to make a story up that she was adopted or something ( i hate her -- ).

- however, the moment she found out about being able to alter people’s appearances with her ability *atla vc* everything changed -

- truth to be told she knew she was considered to be lower rank among others but what really fueled her arrogance and the sudden feeling of self importance was her knowing that she possessed a rare ability. she didn’t care others treating her badly for her rank because “hey i can alter appearances and that is lit ( she probably didn’t say it that way - )

- ALSO ( here comes the moment i throw in my found family trope bcs i’m a soc hoe and this actually plays a big role in her story ) she’d found comfort in the friends she met.

- (lemme add my childhood friends trope bcs why not ) as vika was never close to her parents ( to be fair her being taken away for the training at such a young age did not really gave her the time to really bond with her family ) her little group of friends became her second family. they called themselves “blood is thicker water” ( gang ???) bcs 1) vika really thought the saying was blood is thicker water and not blood is thicker than water 2) they thought they were incredibly funny.

- they were pretty much known as troublemakers, especially with vika being a tailor it was easy to sometimes shift the blame on others. truth to be told, it only caused vika to be more frivolous. all the fun they had blinded her judgment and she viewed her ability as harmless.

- well, lets say vika becoming more reckless did not end up being the best character development (lmao). as usual , everything started out as a harmless joke. her friend asked her to change his appearance. however, this time they wanted her to change their whole face. not just the colour of their hair or eyes. vika was reluctant at first, she’d never done it before but in the end she agreed to it and much to her surprise she succeeded. she even bragged about it and told her friends ( of the bloody “blood is thicker water” gang (???) ) .

- to cut a long story short, their friend ended up dying because of it. i have two versions for their death ( i haven’t decided on it yet *clown emoji*)

1) the person they changed their appearance into apparantly was involed in some shady stuff and had some pretty morally questionable people around him. they thought vika’s friends was that person they were looking for (bcs of the changed appearance) and killed them for some reason.

2) vika’s friend was supposed to be part of some mission they didn’t want to go to, thus changed their appearance to escape from it. however, ended up having to do another mission and ended up being killed.

RIP nameless but vital character to vika’s bio

- vika pretty much blamed herself for it and maybe her friends of their friend group as well. this incident also ‘humbled’ vika and now instead of being proud of it she hates it.

- right now, she doesn’t really know what to do with her future. she has this ‘oh so grand’ plan that one day she might be able to change her appearance (permanently) and then leave the little palace and live under a new name and lead a life where she wouldn’t need to use her abilities anymore.

personality ( i’m trying to keep it short i swear, i’m just adding a bunch of sentence here bcs i’m throwing all my ideas into this paragraph)

- she’s known to be pretty social. she loves to talk and honestly doesn’t know when to shut up. she can’t deal with silence because it forces her to think about things she doesn’t want to think about. although, her tongue is sharp and trouble seems to follow her, she also loves to dance around the issue, pushing her feelings away and replacing it with a witty joke instead. as if everyone does it the same way, as if everyone is supposed to understand.

headcanons

- although she was tempted to change her own appearance many times. she never did because she is a coward and doesn’t trust her skills as much others might think she does.

- she views her ability as a form of art, perhaps that is also the reason she used to love to paint. honestly, she was never really good at it. average and above average with practice. her friend ( the dead one lmao ) used to paint with her whenever they could sneak away but with them gone, she doesn’t see a point in it anymore.

- she secretly envies the other grisha’s who can use their ability to fight. recently, she’d find herself trying to practice some punches so she doesn’t feel that useless in case of a dangerous situation. she also sucks at that so she’s probably in need of a training patner aka someone who is willing to train her or she has annoyed that much that they were willing to help her out ( wc ???)

- being personally trained by the darkling, one might assume that she’s loyal or even thankful towards the darkling. however, contrary is the case and she wouldn’t even grant him a dust particle of her trust. she doesn’t believe that he has the best interest of anyone in his heart and if she could, she’d probably spread rumors about him and telling others that he has some serious case of stanky breath.

wanted connections ( just some ideas, which can be changed ofc ! or some wcs can be connected )

(0/3) “blood is thicker water” friend group : they pretty much grew up together. the death of their friend ( the friend needs a name - i swear...) caused tension within the group. while, one might have blamed vika for their death the other doesn’t and just wants them to be how they used to be. nevertheless, no one can deny that nothing was what it used to be). (( honestly these are just some ideas and we can plot wtv sddm )

training partner ( can be more than one ): connection mentioned in the hcs ! they help her a little out to become physically fit and level up her combat skills of -10. maybe they want something in return for it. help her out bcs they’re just nice or bcs vika annoyed the heck out of them etc.

person vika changed their friend’s appearance into: honestly we can do wtv with it. i just thought it’d be fun to play with the idea and having the person running around when they actually “died” and everyone belieed them to be dead until they found out that it was vika’s friend. might be angsty bcs it might remind vika of their friend.

angsty exes: listen, i love some angsty shit and i love to blame vika for all the problems. they might have dated before the whole dead friend fiasco happened. although, viktoriya acted as if she was fine after the incident ( which she wasn’t ),it only made muse a realize that vika and them weren’t as close as they believed and how much vika tied to hide from them. BUT tbh anything would work i love a good angsty ex connection djddnd

random idea but i just liked the thought that this person once went to vika for some enhancing stuff. however, this day vika was not really herself, distracted, head in the clouds. so she accidenally might have gotten rid of some important scar or something.

enemies : lbr, vika might prbly be the type who has some enemies. she has no filter and might has stepped on someone toes because of it. (Also maybe gimme some enemies to lovers trope , adding this here quietly to not expose myself as a hoe for that trope )

HONESTLY GIVE ME EVERYTHING, gimme angst, fluff, tropes !!??? more friends, unusual friends, shippy stuff, platonic stuff, family connections djdsd GIMME

#this got super long sddsn i'm sorry #she's super dumb thats her story just being dump #also i'm not ignoring my ims i will answer them asap !!!#ravkahq:intro #not me having to reedit the edit bcs i misspelled her surname *clown emoji*

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outsiders-incorrect-quotes · 3 years

Text

Same story line as always you the Curtis sister... I recommend reading the other ones to have more of a familiar idea what is going on but its fine if you don't... ENJOY! Pls tell me if you like like these BC i continue to write them but Idk if anyone is enjoying them.STAY GOLD

“Wake up greaser!” Two-Bit said as he jumped on your bed “Heya Two-Bit, what’s going on?” you say tiredly

“Where’s the rest of them ?”

“Well Pony and Johnny had a field trip today and they had to leave early for school so Steve, Soda, and Darry went to drop them off then go to work after.”

“What about Dal?”

“Lord knows”

“Well looks like it’s just gonna be you and me Y/N”

“Good deal Two-Bit”

“You get dressed and I will go start breakfast”

“You got it”

As Two-Bit left the room you got out from under the covers and began making your bed and thinking about how much you really appreciated Two-Bit. You heard the eggs frying on the pan and began getting dressed, you didn’t have much so you took an old DX shirt from Soda’s closet that he said you could have and a pair of black skinny jeans and combat boots Dal got you for Christmas.

“Hey Y/N what do you wanna do today?” Two-Bit asked as you walked into the kitchen

“Not sure… wanna watch Mickey?” you said grabbing 2 plates from the cabinet

“I got it! Were gonna have my famous Two-Bit days where we do what two-bit does.”

“And what does that consist of Two-Bit?” you said with sarcasm in your voice

“ Well since your a mighty fine drinker, were gonna have a beer-chugging competition”

“Ok but we can’t drink to many or Darry is gonna scream our heads off even though your the only one who’s gonna get drunk cause I don’t get drunk”

“Yea yea hand me those plates”

After handing two-bit the plates you went to see if Mickey was on and luckily it was. Two-Bit put your plate on the coffee table and he sat next to you. You sat in silence for a few minutes with Mickey playing in the background.

“How are you and Dal doing?”

“Huh,” you said with egg in your mouth

“ you know we all saw yall kiss in the rain at the movies”. You choked on the eggs that you were about to swallow and then you spit it onto your napkin and wiped your face off. “Yall watched us”

“Maybe”

“ Two-Bit yall are freaking creepy. Good thing Darry wasnt there”

“We told him”

“ What!” you said dropping the plate and began dragging Two-Bit to the ground. “Ima cut your air Two-Bit”

“Ima cut your air Two-Bit, “ two-bit said in a high pitch voice trying to mock you and rolled out from your grip. You laid on the floor and he was standing above you and said “ we didn’t tell him, just wanted to see you get mad”

“Damn you Two-Bit,” you said as you sat up and grabbed your plate taking it to the kitchen.

“You are on dish duty,” he said

“Hand me your plate”

“Which beer did Darry say your allowed to have”

“You can pick any, as long as we don’t have more than 6 pack,” you said drying your hands. Two-Bit walked into the living room again and you followed him “ ok on the count of 3 we chug this beer. 1...2...3!” you chugged so fast your were done and you slammed the empty glass on the table and you watched Two-Bit take his last sip “ Beat that Two-Bit!” you said wiping your mouth “ Pretty good Y/N, another round later?”

“You betcha “

“Let’s play cards and later we can go find Dal or something”

“Let’s do it”

You guys played for what felt like days and decided by lunchtime to go to DX and see what was going on.

“Hey Two is it cold outside you said walking to your room”

“Not too bad, but you might want to bring a coat”

“ Alright thanks,” you said. When you opened your closet barely anything was there. Like you always do you went to Soda’s closet and grabbed a jacket and walked out to the living room where two-bit was putting on his leather jacket.

“You ready yet?”

“Yea let’s go… did you bring a car or are we walking?”

“Walking,” he said opening the front door

As you guys walked you made jokes about people coming by and you guys slashed some Soc’s tires might have been Cherry’s car. You slashed one side and he slashed the other side and then hauled out of there. When you got DX you saw some girl flirting with Soda and he wasn’t having it. He saw you and looked at you with a face saying ’help me’ and you winked at him with one eye and ran up to him and hugged him saying “ hey babe” and he hugged you back and went along with it. The look on that girl’s face “I think that’s enough gas” she said pulling the pump out of her car and driving off. “Thanks, Y/N,” Soda said pulling away from your hug and looing at your outfit up and down “we better buy you some new clothes,” he said putting his arm around your shoulder and walking up to Steve and Two-Bit who were messing around with some broads who probably stopped by to see Soda. “Soda you letting Y/N wear your clothes now,” Steve said

“Yea what about it?” soda said grabbing a windshield wiper

“Yea what about it?” you said grabbing the windshield wiper out of Soda’s hand and whacking Steve in the head with it. Steve was holding the side of his and then you tackled him to the ground. You were rolling all over the ground tackling him when you put him in a choke hold “ want me to cut your air Steve?”

“No”

“Then say it dont matter”

“Hell no”

" the im cut your-"

"Hey there y/n" you heard from behind you. It was Dal. You got really fast and ran to him then jumping up and wrapping your legs around his back. Before you could say anything you guys were kissing infront of all of them. In the middle of you guys kissing your hear all the boys making smooching sounds with their back turned to you guys hugging themselves while moving their hands up and down their back. Dal let go of u quietly and picked the windshield wiper off the floor whacking each one of them in the back of the head with it. You laughed as the all turned around in pain and surprise. " when yall plan on telling Darry" Soda asked snatching back the windshield wiper from Dal. " do we have to?" You wined " unless you want him to find out the hard way" steve interrupted " I will find a right time to do it" you said

" listen me a Soda got to get back to work" Steve said walking towards a car he was working on before you and Two-Bit got there.You gave Soda a hug and waved him good bye. Two-Bit, Dal, and you walked around for a bit before Dal said "the sky's getting dark pretty soon im gonna have to go"

" where you off to" you asked

" gonna go see Tim" he said

" see u tomorrow" You said giving him a hug

" take care of her Two-Bit and layoff of her otherwise i will have your panties in a twist" Dal warned him

Two laughed and waved as Dal walked into an alley. On your way home you stopped by the dingo to get some dinner for everyone when they came home.

When you got home you set everything down and set the table. " when is everybody getting home?" Two-Bit asked " i think around 5:30" you said looking at the clock " about an hour til, we can watch Mickey and have a drink till they get here" you said smiling " good thinking" he said walking to the fridge grabbing 2 beers. You both sat and watched mickey slowing sipping on the beer. You leaned your head on his should with the beer in your hand. " Two-Bit?"

" yea y/n"

" have I ever told you I love you like a brother"

" have i ever told you I love you like a sister"

A warm feeling rushed over your body as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder

" if you ever need anything two, im here for you if you need me"

" same to you y/n" he said as he lightly cheered your beer

From outside the window your heard sniffles. " the hell was that" you say as you open the blinds to see Soda and Steve hugging and pretending to wipe tears of their eyes. You got up closed the blinds and locked the front door. " yall can come in when Darry gets home in an hour" you say while looking into the window. "Hope it ain't cold out" Two- Bit yelled as you sat back down next to him.

#two bit mathews #the outsiders #DX #imagines #steve randle #sodapop curtis

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bastard-of-the-barrel · 5 years

Note

Hi! So I have a strange favor to ask but I would be eternally grateful. Occasionally I get these ridiculously severe cravings to read certain scenes in books and I dont have my own copy of SoC to fix it lol. Obviously you dont have to but could you possibly send/post the scene where Kaz is interrogating Ooman and rips out his eye? I know it's strange but me and a friend were just talking about it and now I cant get it out of my head. Thank you for your time!

“Let’s ask.” Kaz limped over to where Rotty had helped him stash Oomen.

I stuck your Wraith, Oomen had giggled when Kaz had spotted him curled up on the ground. I stuck her good. Kaz had glanced at the blood on Oomen’s thigh and said, Looks like she got you, too. But her aim had been off or Oomen wouldn’t have been talking to anyone. He’d knocked the enforcer out and had Rotty retrieve him while he went to find Inej.

Now Helvar and Jesper dragged Oomen over to the rail, his hands bound.

“Stand him up.”

With one huge hand, Helvar hauled Oomen to his feet.

Oomen grinned, his thatch of coarse white hair flat against his wide forehead.

“Why don’t you tell me what brought so many Black Tips out in force tonight?” Kaz said.

“We owed you.”

“A public brawl with guns out and thirty men packing? I don’t think so.”

Oomen snickered. “Geels doesn’t like being bested.”

“I could fit Geels’ brains in the toe of my boot, and Big Bolliger was his only source inside the Dregs.”

“Maybe he—”

Kaz interrupted him. “I want you to think real careful now, Oomen. Geels probably thinks you’re dead, so there are no rules of barter here. I can do what I want with you.”

Oomen spat in his face.

Kaz took a handkerchief from his coat pocket and carefully wiped his face clean. He thought of Inej lying still on the table, her slight weight in his arms.

“Hold him,” he told Jesper and the Fjerdan. Kaz flicked his coat sleeve, and an oyster shucking knife appeared in his hand. At any given time he had at least two knives stashed somewhere in his clothes. He didn’t even count this one, really – a tidy, wicked little blade.He made a neat slash across Oomen’s eye – from brow to cheekbone – and before Oomen could draw breath to cry out, he made a second cut in the opposite direction, a nearly perfect X. Now Oomen was screaming.

Kaz wiped the knife clean, returned it to his sleeve, and drove his gloved fingers into Oomen’s eye socket. He shrieked and twitched as Kaz yanked out his eyeball, its base trailing a bloody root. Blood gushed over his face.

Kaz heard Wylan retching. He tossed the eyeball overboard and jammed his spit-soaked handkerchief into the socket where Oomen’s eye had been. Then he grabbed Oomen’s jaw, his gloves leaving red smears on the enforcer ’s chin. His actions were smooth, precise, as if he were dealing cards at the Crow Club or picking an easy lock, but his rage felt hot and mad and unfamiliar.

Something within him had torn loose.

“Listen to me,” he hissed, his face inches from Oomen’s. “You have two choices. You tell me what I want to know, and we drop you at our next port with your pockets full of enough coin to get you sewn up and buy you passage back to Kerch. Or I take the other eye, and I repeat this conversation with a blind man.”

“It was just a job,” babbled Oomen. “Geels got five thousand kruge to bring the Black Tips out in force. We pulled in some Razorgulls, too.”

“Then why not more men? Why not double your odds?”

“You were supposed to be on the boat when it blew! We were just supposed to take care of the stragglers.”

“Who hired you?”

Oomen wavered, sucking on his lip, snot running from his nose.

“Don’t make me ask again, Oomen,” Kaz said quietly. “Whoever it was can’t protect you now.”

“He’ll kill me.”

“And I’ll make you wish for death, so you have to weigh those options.”

“Pekka Rollins,” Oomen sobbed. “It was Pekka Rollins!”Even through his own shock, Kaz registered the effect of the name on Jesper and Wylan. Helvar didn’t know enough to be intimidated.

“Saints,” groaned Jesper. “We are so screwed.”

“Is Rollins leading the crew himself?” Kaz asked Oomen.

“What crew?”

“To Fjerda.”

“I don’t know about no crew. We were just supposed to stop you from getting out of the harbour.”

“I see.”

“I need a medik. Can you take me to a medik now?”

“Of course,” said Kaz. “Right this way.” He took Oomen by the lapels and hoisted him off his feet, bracing his body against the railing.

“I told you what you wanted!” Oomen screamed, struggling. “I did what you asked!”

Despite Oomen’s knobby build, he was deceptively strong – farm strong like Jesper. He’d probably grown up in the fields.

Kaz leaned in so that no one else could hear it when he said, “My Wraith would counsel mercy. But thanks to you, she’s not here to plead your case.”

Without another word, he tipped Oomen into the sea.

#six of crows #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #leigh bardugo #soc #dirtyhands #quotes #ask me #follower asks

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8osbabe · 5 years

Note

okay so this will sound dumb, but like the reader is dating two-bit and she is super badass, like she fought 5 socs at once and beat them all but she has an identical twin sister who acts the same, and the gang calls them the terror twins.

a/n : okay here’s the thing. i need to stop.

these genuinely take me long because i

go into my google doc, thinking, “oh

this will be a short drabble, then i’ll

move onto the next one!” and then i

lose all self control and write a

2000+ word fic. also your idea isn’t dumb,

I was actually really inspired and writing

this just kind of flowed out of me.

____________

it’s one of those unbearably hot days in tulsa, and the windows of your bedroom are cracked open to let in a draft, though it doesn’t help much.

standing in front of your closet, trying to decide what to wear, you already know it’s going to be a god-awful day.

why? well, to begin with, summer days like these call for more breathable, or skimpier, clothing.

thing is, the hot weather seems to aggravate every dirty, skeevy greaser in this neighborhood. fights happened more often, and their advances were far more aggressive

so it didn’t help that you were stuck with wearing less clothing for the next month or so.

finally, you pull out one of your looser, linen blouses, opting for an old skirt that was a little small on you, but at least didn’t heat up much.

you’re halfway slipping it on as your sister pushes the door of your shared room open, falling onto her bed with an exhausted sigh.

“you know, i really didn’t think i could get any hotter.”

you roll your eyes, turning to face her and smoothing down your hair.

“—hey, i have that blouse, too! we should match,” she says sitting up.

“we aren’t five anymore. we don’t have to dress the same just ‘cause we’re twins.”

“well, whatever we’re wearing, dad’s making us run down to the market. ‘says he’s out of smokes, we’re out of bleach, and we need more eggs.”

your expression turns sour as you survey your looks in the mirror. “what, he’s too drunk to do it himself?”

he did that a lot lately. the simple fact that you had to buy bleach on a consistent basis to clean up the aftermath of his drunk spells, was nauseating.

you can see your sister from her reflection in the mirror, biting her lip and staring at the ground, her somber expression almost making you feel bad. yeah, she was the nice one.

“alright, let’s go, grease,” you smile at her and reach out a hand to help her off the bed as a sort of apology for snapping.

taking it, she jumps off the bed and you head outside.

the walk to get groceries wasn’t particularly long, but your house was tucked in the very deep end of the neighborhood, forcing you to walk past every other house on your way.

the actual market was conveniently close to your house, mostly because this was the one with the clerk who didn’t really care about selling smokes to minors, and would even sell you a six pack or two if he was in a good mood.

you manage to make it through unscathed, though, and you suppose it’s because it’s early, and most greasers are hungover or sleeping.

you walk out of the store with your purchases tucked into a paper bag that you’re holding across your chest with your arms.

your sister’s going on about some soc she scammed, overcharging them for grass, which was a good business to be in, considering the drug was blowing up with socs who could afford it by the minute.

your sister didn’t smoke at all, in fact, she’s pretty sickly, so she avoids almost everything that could get her sick. when you’re a greaser, you can’t afford much antibiotics, which means that sitting out the flu, sucks.

but, money doesn’t grow on trees, at least not these trees, so you did what you had to, to keep moving. it was a risk, but your sister was willing to take it. you wouldn’t stop her.

you’re laughing with her when she reminds you of the time she got beaten to a pulp by a soc when she first started selling, though it hadn’t been funny at the time.

at first, the idea of being a real pusher, made her feel guilty. instead, she raided the old spice cabinet in your kitchen, where bottles full of seasoning were gathering dust.

so she put them to use, stuffing the tiny bags and making a quick buck off of dumb socs.

then, word got around about the scam, and they hand come to find her outside the drive-in, slapping her around and demanding the real thing.

you’re so lost in your thoughts that you only become aware of your surroundings when you near two boys, greasers, leaning on the fence outside of an old-looking house.

your expression turns stone cold, but it doesn’t stop them from calling out to you as you close in on them.

“will you look at that, two-bit. one for me and one for you,” one of them snickers. he’s smoking, wearing a leather jacket, nearly the same color as his dark hair.

he looks like the hood type. the other, a blonde in a mickey mouse muscle shirt, not so much.

the hood had called him two-bit.

you’re just starting to walk past them, both of you ignoring them.

“— aw girls, don’t be mean.”

you inhale sharply, trying so hard to keep your cool.

then, the hood sticks a foot out abruptly in front of you, and he’s too quick for you to react. he sends you, and the bag of groceries, flying to the ground.

your sister stops short, and jerks the hood forward by his jacket.

“piss off, dallas.” oh, she knows him. cool.

“stop,” you call out to her, slowly moving to your feet. “lets just take the stuff home before dad freaks. we’ll see to this later.

your twin gives dallas one last menacing glare, before releasing him and grabbing the paper bag from the floor.

you grab the small bottle of bleach from where it rolled out of the bag.

“what’s that for, ‘you use it to keep the boys away?” two-bit laughs. eye roll.

“actually, it’s just my favorite summer beverage.” you offer him an excruciatingly fake smile, and take off after your sister.

you’re already far and don’t hear them when they speak again.

“those girls were weird, man.” dallas smirks and takes a drag from his cigarette.

two-bit smiles. “i don’t know. i liked the mouthy one.”

you’re crossing the street when a silver camaro nearly runs you down, screeching to a stop beside your sister.

“you. you’re the chick who sold my little brother some spice,” he snarls from out the window of his car.

“i am?” she answers smugly.

“you know, he didn’t stop coughing for an hour. ‘drank two gallons of water that day.”

“really?” she’s trying to contain her laughter, but isn’t doing a very good job of it.

this doesn’t appease the socs, who turns off his car just as fast as he, and four of his friends, jump out of the car.

now, as far as the odds go, they were pretty screwed up.

you look at the bottle of bleach you’re armed with, though, and decide this will be fun.

best case scenario, they leave ashamed and with mild chemical burns. the worst, well, at least you stain their madras permanently.

the driver, who had some score to settle with you sister, pounced her first, but sweeps his legs, sending him to the ground.

it was a good strategy. they were easier to fight when you could pin them.

one takes after your sister, trying to help out his buddy, but the other three rush you.

you unscrew that cap of the bleach and launch some of the liquid onto the exposed skin of the assailant’s chest.

he hisses, and falls back, and two of his friends take off. it was the wise thing to do.

with the remaining one down for the count while he nurses his chest, you look toward you sister, who’s digging her thumbs into the driver’s eyes.

not enough to blind him, because that was surely a lawsuit, but enough to keep him down.

another tries to pry her off of him, his back turned to you. it gives you the perfect opportunity to kick him where you know it hurts best, and punch his nose when he turns to face you.

“let’s go,” you call to your sister. you feel winded.

you walk quickly in the opposite of your original direction, opting to walk a different way home, and leaving the remaining socs to climb back into their car.

the new route takes you back to the house with the greasers, only this time they’ve moved from their spot on the fence to look towards you as you walked closer, confusion and smugness radiating off of them.

“we, uh, thought we’d help, but-,” two-bit starts.

“but we didn’t need it.” it was your turn to be smug. you loved the look of bewilderment when people saw how resourceful you could be in a fight. girls who could hold their own were hot.

“your girls want to come in for a beer?”

you hate to give in, but dallas’ offer of free beer on a hot day after you just spent all your energy fighting, was too tempting not to take.

you close in on two-bit, cupping his cheek.

“my hero,” you say sarcastically, with the faux smile to match.

then you slap him.

“don’t touch my ass.” he laughs, and you suppress a smile as you walk past them toward the house.

—

you’re sprawled out on the curtis couch, lying across two-bit as he sits up, attentively watching the mickey cartoon that was playing on tv.

you were spaced out, thinking about how you met him, how you got here, apart of this gang of sorts.

it was easy to lose interest in the mickey mouse cartoon, because you didn’t really care for it, though you would never tell keith because you knew it’d be a deal breaker.

you do like to tease him, though, by pretending not to understand it and ask a lot of questions.

“—but they’re both dogs? but only that one talks?”

“you’re looking at it wrong, babe—,”

you tune out his long speech about the history of canine domestication in the mickey mouse universe.

you watch your sister mediate an arm wrestle between soda and steve across the room, when ponyboy, the youngest curtis, walks into the house smirking.

“pony, where you been?” soda asks, still managing not to lose focus on the arm wrestling match.

“i ran into a couple of socs outside the movies, i almost had to fight ‘em, until one of them recognized me as a member of the gang with the terror twins,” he smiled. “i didn’t know it was that easy.”

you smile at him. “it’s got a ring to it, huh?”

“i’m or sure if they left me alone ‘cause they were scared,” he looks at you. “— or maybe they just didn’t want to lose their dealer,” he says, now glaring at your sister, who laughs vibrantly.

“you? terrifying?” two-bit laughs.

“what’d you mean? i am scary.”

you stare at him, daring him to prove you otherwise. he takes you up in that offer, and pins you against the couch, catching you off guard.

“who’s scared now?” he almost whispers into your ear, and you know what’s coming.

“two, stop!” you squeal, but you really don’t want him to. he’s kissing wildly at your neck, his hands roaming your sides and hitting all your sensitive spots, the tickling feels causing you to laugh loudly.

“get a room, you two,” steve growls from where he’s almost winning the arm wrestle.

you snicker. “steve, your neck is a little red. i could almost swear that it’s every shade of evie’s lipstick!” you snicker, and you can see his cheeks burn.

“i win!” soda calls, your comment having caused steve to lose focus and throw the win to soda.

you settle back into a comfortable position on the couch, watching as soda and steve break into an argument about why that wasn’t fair, thinking about yourself, your sister, and your relentless reign of terror.

#the bleach drinking part was inspired by an actual exchange i had with the grocery store clerk today !#the outsiders #two bit x reader #two bit mathews x reader #two bit mathews #dallas winston #steve randle x evie #steve randle #request

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kevintor · 6 years

Text

I Watch a Movie I Should Have Seen: “The Outsiders”

All I knew about this movie was the name “Ponyboy” and that the cast was jam-packed with 80s beefcake like a savory Great British Baking Show pie I wouldn’t want to eat. I wish I could remain in that blissful, pre-watch state.

My thoughts:

The opening credits are "sands in an hourglass” away from being the start of a soap opera. I kept waiting for my mom to fast-forward the VCR to get to Luke and Laura.

Ralph Macchio can’t run very well. I don’t know what the excuse is. This is long before his leg is swept.

Matt Dillon asks Diane Lane if she’s a real redhead. It’s followed by two separate, but way-too-long, instances of assault. I think Matt Dillon’s character is a metaphor for how awful the movie is.

Ponyboy is the guy’s real name. It’s what’s on his birth certificate. His brother is Sodapop. They said the dad was “original.” Maybe he was having a four-year-long stroke.

The Drive-In: Where everything comes in a cup!

In the 60s, if you fought over women, you had to break a bottle or pull out a butterfly knife. I get it. I got my wife because I broke…out my affection for her and her affection matched mine so we mutually decided to start spending time together.

This is filmed like a bad after-school special or a middle school play. Give the editor credit that not a single scream of “LINE!” made it into the final cut.

The Karate Kid killed a guy! He stabbed Leif Garrett to death! This must have given Tiger Beat magazine months of covers.

Matt Dillon lights a match using his necklace. It’s sorcery.

Ponyboy and Karate Kid stow away on a train. They take it to an abandoned church to lay low until the murder heat dies down. They prove it’s abandoned, not with rats, but with shots of two rabbits. “Mr. Coppola, I know when I talked you out of putting a rabbit’s head in the guy’s bed in ‘The Godfather,’ you said, ‘Next time I get two rabbits,’ but…"

Ponyboy and Karate Kid cut their greaser hair to lay low. Karate Kid looks like shorter-haired Karate Kid and Ponyboy looks like He-Man’s alter-ego.

Ponyboy reads “Gone With The Wind” to Karate Kid. They share so many tender moments while they’re on the run, but not actually moving. This movie would make more sense if this was a love story between them.

Matt Dillon takes them to Dairy Queen. Some kids come ask for fifteen cents. Matt Dillon hides his face and shouts at them to go away. Then he says, “That was close.” Does he think the 10-year-old girl and 6-year-old boy were undercover cops? Is Matt Dillon "age blind?"

Ponyboy, Karate Kid, and Matt Dillon return from Dairy Queen to find the abandoned church on fire. Even worse, it’s apparently the day of the local school’s field trip to an abandoned church and some kids are stuck inside! Ponyboy, Karate Kid, and Matt Dillon save the day!

Side note: One of the school teachers says to the other school teacher that she thinks some students might be inside the building. The other teacher responds that she’s probably wrong. No need to check. As a chaperone, I, myself, have an 80% student return guarantee due to similar laziness.

Emilio Estevez’s name is Two-bit. His diet consists of chocolate cake and Budweiser and he wears a sleeveless Mickey Mouse t-shirt. And, for some reason, we get way more screen time of Matt Dillon?

Ponyboy has a deep conversation with the head of the Socs about the impending rumble. The sexual tension is palpable. Guys just open up to Ponyboy. Does he put out pheromones that bring all the boys to the yard? Damn right!

We have a heart-wrenching scene where Karate Kid and Ponyboy talk in the hospital. Pony boy tells him he’s going to be okay as Karate Kid repeatedly tells him he’s not with medical evidence as support. Ponyboy: “You’re going to be okay.” Karate Kid: “The doctors say I’ll never walk again." Ponyboy: “It’s going to be fine.” Karate Kid: “It’s not. My spine was crushed. The cord was actually severed.” Ponyboy: “I have a good feeling about this.”

We end with a mud-wrestling rumble between the Greasers and the Socs. Jeans vs. Khakis. Gross hair vs. Weird hair. Someone has to win and it definitely won’t be me.

This movie was terrible. I can’t think of a moment I enjoyed in it.

Somewhere in the middle, I wondered if maybe Karate Kid was just a figment of Ponyboy’s imagination like in “Fight Club.” How cool would the movie have been if, at the end, Sodapop said, “What are you talking about, Ponyboy? YOU stabbed Leif Garrett. Who’s Karate Kid?” Then we quickly flash back through various scenes of the movie showing Ponyboy doing the stuff Karate Kid did. Mind blown.

Instead, it is one of the worst things I’ve ever watched. And we still have no idea if Diane Lane is a natural redhead!

#i watch a movie i should have seen #the outsiders #ralph macchio #rob lowe #tom cruise #leif garrett #matt dillon #patrick swayze #80s movies #The 80s #80s #comedy #funny #blog #Movie Reviews #ponyboy #stay gold ponyboy

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azenta · 5 years

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Hello again trusted source! Came to ask you about someone else’s typing that I'm confused about. Overall, this girl isn't very driven. She doesn't have any goals or aspirations. She isn't dreamy like NFP's and she's very grounded. The most notable thing in her is how her knowledge of herself and other people is enough to get her out of trouble even though its very subjective.

She is not interested in what she cannot see or measure, like personality traits e.g. funny, dreamy or dorky unless it achieves a certain result that is measured by how others perceive them: she would not consider someone funny unless many people laugh at their jokes etc. An ESFP commented on this and thinks that she is shallow for constantly judging her by how others perceive her. I am personally confused because I can’t measure the borders of her personality. (2/6)

Her method of thinking is: Is someone is in a relationship and they are not committing any red flags like cheating, then the relationship is successful until it is not. She ignores prior feelings like: maybe the relationship is not rewarding enough , or maybe one of them feels bored etc.Her advice is well placed and doesn’t come up at the worst times. She knows when to tell someone something so that they’re not embarrassed. She isn’t crass (?). She is loyal and has strong values that she sticks (3/6)

When she ‘networks’ she makes sure that she has though of the scenario beforehand when she brings people together. Therefore, I think she has Fe, because as a contrast my ESFP friend cannot bring people together AT ALL. She is good at networking because people frequently feel like they owe her and introduce her to more people. (4/6)

To her, a friend is someone I never betray, even though I talk to them once a month. A boyfriend is someone who I hold dearly to my heart, even though we don’t look like a couple. Its because of her values, she makes people feel secure. (5/6)

She distrusts intimacy, and frequently tests people. She trusts people with little to no power and never takes her chances. Her method is by constant calculation. This is why she does not spend most of her time with people she is intimate with, because she feels vulnerable. I understand that my perception is pretty subjective, so please ask me questions in places where you see me contradict myself. Thank you! (6/6)

Hey there

Based solely from your description I would type your friend as some xSFJ 6 core (639 or 629) Sp/so.

Fe on its own doesn't bother about how it is perceived nor about making people comfortable, but paired with high Pi it does know how to read the room and how to manipulate it to obtain a desired result. High Si will be more likely to act on Fe or make Fe act than Ni, since Ni doesn't give a fuck about what it can do now while Si will (S vs N). From your say she does act to accommodate people, and simply know what to do and it works, which points more likely to Si/Fe and some harmonic core shit. The reason why she does so seems related to get a positive image of herself and also probably related to a sense of security. Also, since she seems to bring successfully people together, I'd go for a synflow stacking.

The image aspect is still too unspecific, so if you know what kind of image she wants to project and why she needs this perception of other, it could help. You can DM me for that if you want.

Though, I will guess 3 fix for now since she seems to adapt her self to anyone and 3, 6 and 9 are all about having no stable sense of identity/certainty/self to rather mold to conveniance. But it could all well be a 2 fix, since 2 also plays with their self-image to external convenience. I would guess she has at least 6 somewhere and either 3 or 9 with it too.

I said 6 core because frequently testing people trustworthiness, being stupidly loyal, and being calculating about who/what/when to trust is typical of 6s, and even more stereotypical if Sp/so due to Self-pres goal. Though, it could be her second fix. It depends what she cares the most, either creating some supportive network to rely on, accomodating her sense of self to avoid conflict or change her image so people view her into a worthy/positive light.

Sp/so seems the most likely if she's afraid of intimacy, despite the very obvious 6 reasons, and because of what seems synflow of her. Intimacy is literally what Sx aims, being afraid of it just screams sx blindness. Usually, So/sp tolerates Sx more because of Soc's priorities, but ultimately shut it down through Sp aux. They usually also manifest a fear of intimacy or apathy for Sx related stuff, but will better hide it thanks to Soc dominance (especially if she is a harmonic core with harmonic fixes).

If you want to discuss about that more, you can DM me if you want. Tho, this is based on my impressions of your impressions of someone, so I can't tell how accurate it is. It could be totally wrong.

#ask #typing #typology #en #ivs #mbti #cft

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returnsandreturns · 7 years

Text

I’m restless so I’m posting what I have of this fic I randomly started writing this weekend. It’s incomplete but I’ll put it on AO3 when I figure out where I’m going with it.

It wouldn’t really be sinning if Matt never acted on it, but he’s acting on it. Impulse control was always his problem, even with all of the training. It wasn’t enough to stop him from being an idiot, and that’s what he’s being right now—an idiot. A half-dressed idiot in bed with another guy, pinning him on the mattress and kissing him because it feels right. Kissing’s always felt right to Matt, no matter who it’s with. It’s disgusting and wet and wonderful. The fact that he’s kissing a guy is only a problem because he knows it doesn’t matter how it feels. It’s still wrong.

“You okay up there?” the guy—Jamie, from his Soc 101 class, with the sweet high voice and honey beeswax lotion—asks, reaching up to touch Matt’s hair. Matt falters for a moment before he smiles, nodding his head.

“Great,” he says, leaning down to kiss him again, voice dropping to a low murmur to say, “Take your pants off, okay?”

Matt’s weak. He always has been. He’s going to fuck Jamie if he’ll let him, and he’ll sneak out sometime in the middle of the night to sneak back into the dorm and crash in his own bed without waking Foggy up.

In the morning, Foggy will ask him about the girl that he hooked up with last night, and he doesn’t even have to lie. Foggy doesn’t have to know that Jamie from his Soc 101 class, with the soft hair and the nice ass, isn’t a girl.

Not that he’d care.

A few hours after they first met, Foggy’s heart starts beating hard before he laughs casually and says, “Sorry if it sounded like I was, like, hitting on you or something earlier.”

“No big deal,” Matt says, smiling. “I didn’t think you were.”

“Oh,” Foggy says. “Oh, right. Good. Because that would—that would be weird.”

Matt knows when someone’s attracted to him, without having to interpret flirting. It didn’t take him long to figure out once he hit high school, not when a girl’s raised heartbeat, the heat of her body, led to him being taken by the arm and kissed in hidden corners. He had one girlfriend in four years, a sweet girl sophomore year who liked to hold his hand in the hallway, who snuck him up to her room one night so they could lose their virginities together.

She broke up with him because people kept making fun of her, saying that she was so ugly that she could only get a blind guy to date her. Nobody wanted to hold his hand in the hallway after that, but—people still wanted him.

Since the first day they met, Matt knew that Foggy wanted him.

It took Matt a lot longer to realize that he wanted Foggy, too.

“Truth or dare, Murdock,” Marci says.

“She’s staring at you in a really scary way,” Foggy warns, leaning into Matt. Foggy’s drunker than he is, possibly than all of the nervous, horny freshman squeezed into this dorm common room.

“I can tell,” Matt says, smiling calmly. He’s not scared. “Dare.”

“Kiss a boy,” Marci says, immediately, like she’s been holding on to it.

Matt’s smile falters at the same moment that Foggy’s breath catches. He shifts away from Matt, but Matt wasn’t going to pick him, anyway. It wouldn’t be fair when he knows Foggy still gets flustered when he takes his shirt off in front of him.

Instead, he says, sighing, “Fine. Someone wanna volunteer?”

That gets a laugh from the room and some shuffling and goding, but then a voice that Matt doesn’t recognize says, “I’m in,” and someone’s crawling across the circle to touch his shoulder.

“Who am I kissing?” he asks.

“Sam—we were in the same orientation group.”

Right. Sam smells a little bit like weed, now and back during orientation, and he’s got a soft dry voice that’s not bad to listen to.

“Oh, hi,” he says, sitting up on his knees.

“You cool with this?” Sam asks, soft enough that Matt doesn’t think anyone else can hear. Maybe Foggy, whose heart is racing. “I promise the gay’s not catching.”

“Oh, you’re—” Matt starts, then shakes his head. This is taking too long. It’s just a game. “C’mere.”

He leans in and Sam meets him halfway, angling into a careful kiss, long enough that Marci won’t complain about it. Matt’s never kissed another guy before, but this is—it’s not bad. A few heart rates spike at the sight of them, apparently, and he’s not sure where the reactions fall on the spectrum of grossed out to aroused, but it’s enough to make him break the kiss and sit back again.

To light applause and laughter.

“Satisfied?” he asks, in Marci’s direction.

“You seem to be,” she says.

He smirks at her. He doesn’t know if Marci likes kissing other girls, but he knows that everyone else would.

“Truth or dare, Stahl?”

The first college game of truth or dare that Matt played, Charlotte from two doors down asks, when Matt chooses truth, “The whole freshman class wants to know, Matthew. Guys or gals?”

“Or both,” Foggy offers. He blushes when Matt turns towards him. They’re close enough that Matt can feel it.

“I didn’t know I was such a hot topic,” Matt says, even though he kind of did. He knew that he was attractive—heartbeats, warm skin, people either too nice or stumbling over their words—and he could hear people talking about him. Not the whole class by any means, but passing by and getting people’s attention meant comments about his ass and a lot of shitty too bad he’s blind talk—either dismissal or pity.

He’s used to people talking about him because he can always hear when they’re doing it.

“Answer the question, Murdock,” somebody says.

“This seems exploitative,” Matt says, “but I’m straight.”

“Mmm hmm,” Foggy hums, softly. They’ve had this conversation.

“What would you have done if I was hitting on you?” Foggy asks, overly casual, later on that first day when they’re walking around campus and figuring out where all of their classes are.

“Politely decline?” Matt offers, smiling wryly.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Foggy says. “I imagine a lot of guys would not be that polite about it.”

“Well, what would you do if I hit on you?” Matt asks.

“Uhm, politely decline,” Foggy says, smiling when Matt laughs. He can’t tell completely, but he thinks Foggy’s lying.

He doesn’t mind. He wouldn’t have a problem if Foggy did ask; all he has to do is—well, politely decline.

Matt finds himself in the bathroom with Sam an hour or so after they kiss. He drank a lot after that, but so did everyone else. Foggy abandoned him to make out with Marci in the hallway, tucked in a corner, and—Matt followed Sam into the bathroom.

“I figured if I was going to hotbox the bathroom, I might as well let someone join me,” Sam says. “You do smoke, right?”

“Sure,” Matt says.

He hasn’t, actually. He smoked a cigarette once and it sucked, but maybe this’ll be different.

The first time he takes a drag from the joint, he realizes that it’s not all that different, coughing and pulling a face once he catches his breath. There’s a long silence.

“I maybe lied about smoking,” he says, and Sam laughs, warm and loud.

“Now you won’t be lying,” he says. They’re sitting on the floor, their backs against the door. “Can I try something? It’s gonna seem really gay, but you’ll have plausible deniability.”

Matt nods, taking a sharp breath when Sam moves to kneel in front of him and cup his face with one hand. Matt stays still, making a soft noise when Sam says, “I’m kind of going to kiss you again, but you need to breathe in, okay?”

He breathes in deep when Sam presses their lips together, both of them opening their mouths. It’s not quite as bad, and Sam lingers close to him when he blows the smoke out, breathing heavily. Matt thinks about kissing him in front of everybody, and he thinks about kissing him here, where nobody will know about it but them.

“I’m not—” Matt starts, not sure how to do this.

“Yeah?”

“Gay,” Matt says. “I’m not gay.”

“Wow, rub it in,” Sam says, laughing. He starts to move away and Matt reaches up to slide fingers into his hair and pull him into a kiss. Sam returns it for a moment before he pulls back to stub the joint out on the floor, say, “Yeah, not gay at all,” and climb into Matt’s lap.

#my fic #daredevil #mattfoggy #i'm playing fast and loose with the timeline here

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kendrixtermina · 7 years

Text

Voltron Cast vs. Personality types

Feel free to add & correct

Lance

Very Clearly ESxx. He’s practically “Extrovert problems” incarnate, poor boi, just wants to be liked & accepted.

I’d say he has some Fe there but the degree of inappropriate jokes vs value judgements/policing suggests tertiary rather than dominant. ESTP then.

Pretty much that common Fi PolR/ Fe tert problem of not realizing your own inclinations & opinions of yourself “count” & therefore looking for external validation a lot. Adding to that is his crazy aim & knack for planning sneaky strategies on the fly, also he once mentioned he has a hard time sleeping if he gets all pumped off, having so much energy it needs to be burned off is a common Se dom issue, as is his concern with looks, status & “finer pleasures” & his competitive streak.

He’s an inert subtype, and enneagram wise he’s such an obvious 3w2 someone who never saw the show could tell just from me reblogging posts about him. He keeps making up roles for himself to play (”cool ninja sharpshooter”) & hoping they catch on with the others, though there’s also an angle of wanting to contribute & be needed.

imma venture soc/sx but im not adamant on this. Sanguine classic.

Also very obvious oldham Inventive with sprinklings of Devoted and Dramatic. He’s also a dead-ringer Mercury-Venus. Also probably Thunderbird.

Gryffindor or Hufflepuff tho? There would probaby be hatstall, but ultimately I feel he would be a “grow into it” Gryffindor.

The Red Lion only takes them Gryffindors BTW. Come on. Bravery? honor? No self-preservation? Likewise, the green Lion only takes Ravenclaws and the Yellow one only takes hufflepuffs. The recipe is probably more complicated with the other two tho.

Hunk

The most obvious ISFJ to ever SiFe.

He’s cautious & prefers the familiar, a good judge of character & may need to see things with their own eyes to grasp their full scope, but also has a big heart cares a lot. Hasthat “inferior Ne panic reaction” too.

You kinda also see the “dexterous/practical” side of Si with his being a mechanic. The makers have described the contrast between him and pidge as the “figure it out & think it up” side of engineering vs the “buid it & make it work” side of it which is basically N vs. S in a nutshell.

Inert Subtype. Pudwudkie Hufflepuff. Nuff said. A 9w1, probably, though with a notable 6w5 fix. sp/soc. Phlegmatic. Venus. Clearly has some Sensitive style in him but he’s not all that shy & fluttery so there’s probably some stabilizing influence there. Not wholly sure if it’s some Leisurely or something else

Allura

Preddy much ESTJ. Brave, dutiful, action-oriented, bossy, fortright, yells a lot, can be rigid sometimes, we know the drill.

Contact subtype. Mars-Jupiter af. srly that’s just a holistic sumup of her character. Choleric. (ChlorSan prolly) 2w1 soc/sp? I do think soc is right & she does have that “politcian-y” quality.

She’s ever the altrustic helper ready to put her life in danger, insists they answer every distress call, and has this ‘diplomatic important organization leader’ thing going on that social 2s do.The w1 also manifests as back & white or oversimple thinking at times.

Oldham wise it’s hard, something of a pronounced mixed/intereference pattern with both Self-Sacrifcing and Aggressive in the mix.

Wampus. I see why someone might say Slytherin but I’m sticking with Gryffindor for now.

Pidge

This one is kinda easy.

INTP 5w6. Ravenclaw. Horned Serpent. Lunar. sp/soc. IDK bout vertical subtype but she rambles/blurts more than she snarks/criticises so I’m saying contact.

Less sure ‘bout oldham though there’s probably some Vigilant, though not, like, sharp excess.

Imma run with melancholic b/c she’s definitely not pure Phlegmatic or Supine. MelPhleg perhaps.

Shiro

Apparently there has been a case of “the fan-favorite is always INFJ” (TF?) but I think most of us will agree that he has Te - he’s goot at handing out tasks, managing people, coming up with courses of action...

He rocks that tert Fi too in that he’s a good listener & tries to further the other’s personal developement.

We often think of natural leaders as extroverts but ISTJ is prolly the introvert most likely to become head-of-state. He just fits the overall patterns of ISTJ: Dilligent, put-together (when he can help it), great integrity, perceptive with details & able to use comparision with past experiences to kick butt in the present (Like when he timed the Sentry Drones’ rounds), though he does’t have the elbowy agression/striving of other TJ-types, and he’s a morning person too.

He’s probably a contact subtype. Temperament wise he’d be one of those few where I’d be tempted to call ‘balanced/Leukine’, but if I didn’t I’d say ChlorPhleg comes the closest. 1w9 af, prolly sp/soc with a degree of both personalperfectionism & mentoring others present, and also feeling overly responsible for everything.

Oldham wise an obvious conscientious type.

While he’d sure have some gryffindor potential, his firm belief in teamwork & humility would probaby land him in Hufflepuff.- Think Cedric Diggory who was also a sort of prodigy. Though he is probably also very much a Wampus.

Also, he’s a classic, archetypical pure Saturn type. Actually, I believe at least partially saturnyne personalities are the Black Lion’s thing. Still not sure how Blue’s could be quantified, apart from possibly favoring extroverts, but that’s probably by design.

Keith

Mai Spicy Boi! .

I’m just gonna flat out say that he cannot be anything other than a contact subtype Se auxillary. Just look at all that Se! That’s about as much of the stuff as you can possibly cram into an introvert.

He’s got sharp senses & reflexes, often reacts to opportunities, observations and impressions in the moment (and very often it’s a deliberate risk that works out - he’s not just “hotheaded” or “not thinking”, but he’s thinking about things to do or investigate, not so much what happens next. ) & improvised, didn’t really have longterm plans after flunking out, He also very much has the ‘decisive’ and agressive side of Se though I wouldn’t call him dominant.

And I’m saying ISTP over ISFP b/c the Se itself seems a sufficient explanation for his reactive nature,and then there’s general lack of people skills, solitary mode of operation & difficulty with group work (not a shred of Te not even inferior)

Also, when he’s actually thinking rather than just waltzing in guns blazing, he very much has task-oriented, detached impersonal reasoning “But can we afford to save the princess? It’s not about the glory. The cause is bigger than any of us.” He’s also very much the cynic of the group or the one most inclined to see things in shades of grey rather than black & whites.

I doublechecked this to make sure I’m not just assuming him to be a Ti dom b/c he’s my fav character, but ‘ISTP’ really seem to summarize his character & much of the metas written about him very well.

Soo... is he a cp 6? a sp4? An 8? Probably all of those, they don’t call that the “tripple reactive” tritype for nothing but coretype wise I’d put him very much in the action triad as a 8w7, that’s not even all that uncommon for ISTPs. He’s also very distinctly soc blind,(which may explain why he doesn’t really manifest the dominant part of the 8, but he’s very much got the every-man-for-himself, rely-on-no-one rebel part of it, as well as the characteristic problem with backing down/shelving arguments though the other fixes, again, don’t help. ) not sure if sx/sp or sp/sx, on the one hand he’s...tempestuous, on the other he spent a year as a desert hermit and found itpleasantly calm, at least in part, so if pressed I’d go with sp/sx, also because of his tedency to hold himself apart from the group somewhat without much indication that it’s a conscious choice.

Oldham wise he’s got some adventurous & some vigilant but also some sort of more emotionally juicy counterpoint to that without which he’d have a lot more hostile unconcern. He’s not clingy enough for Mercurial tho so I’m vaguely at a loss.

He’s got some more maturity to acquire there but I do think there’s very much a Saturn-Mars underneath it all. Certainly NOT as thought-through as a pure saturn and with no shortage on the action but he does have momentzs of somberness and nuanced understanding. Very much fits both the archetype of the ‘rugged doer’ and the ‘powerful, cause-oriented person’. though he still has some work to do on the ‘inspiring others’ part.

Gryffindor, no 2 ways about it. (Some have suggested Slytherin because he’s the “edgy” one but honestly I don’t see that at all. He has zero interest in personal glory or the ‘in-group’ & doesn’t seem to think of himself as special though he would very much have the grounds to do so.)

The real question is: Wampus or Thunderbird tho?

Coran

Clearly has both Ne (wackyness and quirkyness) and Si (storytime! “Proper” Traditionalist), and too much for either to be the inferior.

Since he doesn’t seem like a Ne auxillary, that leaves us with ESFJ by principle of exclusion, like he kinda has the chattynes & is always helping with everything & taking all the duties. Probably a contact subtype.

Hufflepuff for similar reasons. IDK bout Ilvermony but he does have an adventurous side that did shenanigans with the previous paladins, so probably Thunderbird.

Out of the enneagram types that commonly occur in ExSJ, 9 seems the likeliest, he’s nor dramatic enough for a core type in the emotional triad. I’d say he also has a 7w6 fix somewhere. Also he’s probably soc-first... and in hindsight actualy acts alot like a textbook social 9, working a lot to support the community while not taking the spotlight himself.

Oldham wise I’d postulate a Dramatic-Devoted mix.

Essence type made me think for a bit i had several inconclusive kneejerk reactions but imma stick with Jupiter for now.

Zarkon

Well, another ESTJ, prolly an inert subtype tho.

Pretty much your standard evil overlord/ Te dom villain, though he’s more an enforcer than someone who does a lot of lecturing like when he does it’s usually to-the-point, plus he was sorta repressed in his youth & seemingly a strict traditionalist.

Also a very obvious Aggressive type (complete with the comon constellation where the spouse can deal with & accept that that but the kid’s can’t & regular teenage rebellion ends in dramatic estrangement), like, he would not be questioned even by his best friend even long before he went nuts enough to randomly murder ppl for talking back to him.

You could deem him an 8w9 and a Saturn for similar reasons though he evidently incorporates the more negative aspects of that... though he did have a “protective-responsible” side before things got too sour.

Ovsly Slytherin (& wampus), methinks the whole imperial family would be one those dynastic Slytherin families for all their differences.

Haggar

I found her hard to get a read on for the first two seasons, but with the backstory reveal I think I can conclude INTx, see the whole lightning speech & the whole “Think of the Potential!” attitude, also her being a misanthropic cat lady & sassing Alfor to his face (”customary gesture”) way before things went all sour.

I am less sure here, but out of the two options INTP is more likely because I think I see more indications for SiFe than for FiSe. Her present day self is markedly more cautious than she was in her younger days. She minimally toys with her victims for effect (Poor Shiro) and has this pretty honest devotion & concern for Zarkon, though she seems content subordinating herself to him, though she has this dourish Si-Ti bubble-popping, “Yeah sure but be cautious” attitude especially in interaction with Lotor & Zarkon.

Beyond that, i’d say that she is a very clearly an inert subtype, a Serious-primary and probably some fashion of 5w6 (by principle of exclusion). Slytherin & Horned Serpent. What else would a mad science shadow empress space witch possbly be? Might be Lunar but don’t really have a good read there

Lotor

Some kind of NF, ENFJ if I had to guess. Not his father indeed, though still quite ExxJ. He has the charme, he has a planning, analytic quality underneath, but while he had ambition the more fundamental motivation seems to be to enarn recognition to prove himself.

sx/soc 7, glorious, extra with lots of plumage, certainly very self-interested when it comes down but you could totally picture him just chilling with his henchladies & preferring a ‘personal’ environment/inner circle though he can totally work crowds like clay.

Self-Confident with a tinge of Exuberant perhaps.

Slytherin Thunderbird.

Perhaps what an antagonistic Solar Type looks like. He’s got charme, he’s got loftiness and big goals he works hard to accomplish and little hesitation to put his own person out on the field but he’s sorta the very opposite of naive, very much a planner and going all road runner on poor Keith. Come to think of it,one could make a good case for him as a Solar-Saturn.

As for the Generals/henchladies we’ve only seen bits & pieces of them so far all we can really tell is that Narti and Acxa are introverts while Zethrid and Ezor are extroverts, but Imma risk a guess based on rough vibes/ intuition:

Ezor: ESFP Narti: ISTP Acxa: ISTJ Zethrid: ESTJ

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #typology

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smolharray · 5 years

Text

Dating Zayn Malik

Here's a taste of my writing.. (Also, these small situations are all just random little ideas, no hate towards anyone or anything mentioned!)

Dating Zayn Malik as a fellow artist was not easy. Everyone knew that Zayn was an extremely private and introverted guy, especially for a celebrity. He rarely appeared on interviews or TV shows, is usually inactive on social media other than a tweet every so often and does not promote his music in any way, much to his fans' dismay. Although they respected his choices and were always highly proud of his achievements despite his inactivity on the media. They also loved his music, how real and genuine it felt to listen to it, especially because it's 'hand-made' by Zayn.

You however, are the exact opposite of your beloved boyfriend. You loved interacting with your fans, online or offline, no matter where you are, you can always be spotted chatting with them, taking selfies, giving autographs. It felt like you owed it to them, and it was the least you could really do for those who unconditionally supported you regardless of your relationship with them- strangers.

You regularly promoted your music, always performing live at concerts, TV shows and even talk shows like Ellen, The Late Late Show With James Corden, The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon and many more. You also made regular appearances at radio stations, Buzzfeed and hundreds of magazines for your modelling career.

Acting was much less common, but it was still something you did. A couple of main roles, a few cameo or special appearances did much to boost your name as an 'all-rounder celebrity'.

So to say the least, dating Zayn Malik was not easy. In fact, your personalities clashed a little too much for the idea of even being friends, let alone being a couple.

Initially, Zayn had objected to the idea of revealing your newfound relationship. In fact, you agreed, not wanting to ruin the first few months of dating. The feeling of a fresh, unknown and private relationship was a lot more beautiful than one could imagine, especially when it came to being a public role model. It felt much more meaningful and romantic when you weren't being plagued with fans, magazine rumours and always making it on the headlines if you're seen with the opposite gender. Of course, you don't blame them. Never did, never will.

Sometimes it's just hard to live in the spotlight when you want peace and alone time to spend with friends, family and loved ones.

However, as time went on, it wasn't really news to you that both you and Zayn were suspected to be involved with each other. Fans find things out a lot quicker than most could imagine, it was almost scary. However, Zayn's constant denial made you upset. What was wrong with revealing your relationship? It was common, even amoungst your past relationships. This ended in small arguments that were pointless, but eventually, to save your relationship, he gave in. Anyway, it would have been found out sooner or later and the both of you had been getting annoyed with the many articles being released, "Zayn Malik & Charlotte Parker infatuated with each other?", "Couple or 'Just friends'- Zayn Malik and Charlotte Parker", "Has Zayn moved on from his relationship with Perrie?", "Is Charlotte over her recent breakup with Cole Sprouse?"

"And what, Zayn? Why don't you want people to know about us? Is it something about me? Am I not bloody good enough for you?"

You knew it wasn't true. Zayn loved you with all his heart, and it didn't matter if you were a celebrity or not. Zayn didn't care about these things, he made that clear from the start.

But it was getting out of hand; the rumours. They knew, fuck, they probably suspected it from the beginning. What's wrong with telling the world?

"You know that isn't fucking true Charlotte. I love you, you know that. It's just-"

"What? Just what Zayn?"

Zayn remains silent, his brown eyes refusing to meet yours. Neither of you said a word as you sat in the piercing silence.

Zayn quietly turns to look at you, he knew you wanted it. Could he sacrifice his privacy for you?

Secondly, it is very well-known that Zayn has been in One Direction, and of course decided to cut all ties with his former bandmates. Except, you've been together while Zayn was still in One Direction, and friends when he joined the band. This meant that a friendship with the other boys was definitely going to happen. However, when a bandmate who just so happens to be closest to you leaves, it will lead to more drama. You cannot count the amount of times fans have pleaded- begged you to reconcile their relationship.

Some Directioners even accused you breaking the band because of your relationship with Zayn, which was absolute horseshit. The boys have stepped in to defend you, but it didn't stop some fans from blaming you whenever they found something that was close enough to be called 'evidence'. This was the exact reason why sometimes you wished Zayn would suck it up and apologise for leaving so abruptly and fix their friendship. However, if it were that easy, Zayn wouldn't have left. You don't blame him for not doing that.

Many useless articles have also came up with news whenever you were spotted spending time with the boys. Yes, the relationship has soured between the members, but did that stop you from being good friends with them? No. Problems only arose whenever you tried to fix it, and it didn't seem that either party were willing to cooperate with each other. Moreover, with their busy schedules and sizeable media exposure, it was hard to find a time and place to mend their friendship. So maybe, maybe when everyone had the chance to get together, you'd try.

"Can't you just try, for them? For me?"

Zayn sighs, holding his head between his hands. You knew he didn't want anything to do with them, but you never really understood how someone could abandon a 5-year friendship, especially if you've lived together more than half the time.

"Baby, you know how I feel about it. I'm just not ready. Moreover, it seems that none of the guys want to either."

His words only make you grit your teeth. The guys seem like they don't want to because none of you try to help the problem! Everytime you manage to gather the boys together, it always ends in shouts and awkward silence.

"Well... Fine then. I guess I can't force any of you."

Lastly, it's common knowledge within your fan base and even outside of it that you abhorred smoking and drugs. The visual made up for it's disgusting nature, but you still preferred to stay away from those cancer sticks. With such a negative view towards cigarettes, it was certainly a surprise when your company revealed you got together with Zayn, considering he smoked a ton.

Fans were worried that he had lead you astray and bombed him with hate for quite awhile, but once you cleared the issue up, many were questioning, why?

Some said this only shows how powerful your love was, that you could oversee a flaw in the Bradford man and still love him for him. However others said that this only proved you're there for his money, which didn't really make sense, considering you earned just as much, if not more for the amount of promotions you did. So that theory was long diminished.

Cigarettes were small, but to you, they held a lot more power than one could imagine. It was not only addictive after a few smokes and lethal, but it also seemed to be able to put a strain on your relationship with Zayn. You hated that those things had so much power.

"Baby.. I thought I told you no smoking inside the house! If you want to smoke, go to the balcony."

You sigh, coughing a little as the pungent smell of smoke stung your lungs. You honestly didn't know why Zayn turned to smoking when he could do other things to relax and let off steam.

"It's just a little smoke babe. Deal with it."

"Perrie did.. So why can't you.." He mumbled, clearly not realising just how loud and clear it was to you. Tears filled your eyes and anger ran through your veins. So this was what would end it all, a fucking cancer stick.

"Fuck you Zayn." You breathed out, wiping away your tears before slamming the door to your shared room shut.

You definitely did not miss the regretful look in his eyes, but honestly, you could care less at this point. If Zayn missed Perrie so much just because she could endure a goddamn cig in the house, he can have her all he wants.

You eventually made up with Zayn. He came over to your friend's place where you were temporarily staying at 3am, drunk while slurring out constant apologies. It truly did hurt you to see him like that, however, what he said, you would never, ever forget. He promised he would try to get over his habbit, just for you. It comforted you that you were able to get him to try his best to overcome this life-threatening habbit. Because hey, you might not have been able to endure it for him, but you potentially saved him from health issues in the future.

Of course, Zayn's smoking habbit did bother you a lot more than you would admit, it's just that you didn't show it to the public. It was a turn-off, especially the lingering scent on his body. Even after showers, the foul smell always lingered on him. After the fight, you had managed to lower his smoking frequency by a substantial amount, but it still wasn't enough to you. As a biology student in secondary school, your knowledge over the toll smoking can cause on a person's body was not small, and you've heard many stories from your teacher about how smoking almost lead to her father's permanent blindness. You were bent on not letting that happen to Zayn, let alone even getting close to that state.

His fans are more than thankful for that.

But they didn't just love you for helping his problem with smoking. In fact, they loved that once you appeared in his life, his mood seemed to always be playful and happy. How did they know that? Because of your weekly Instagram posts with him. Zayn may not be active on social media, but you constantly made it a point to give the fans a little taste of him outside of work. It seemed to do the trick, because many of them loved it.

There were also less Twitter rants made by him. It used to be common for Zayn to post whatever he wanted to say on Twitter without directing it to anyone, but he rarely did that anymore, and he kept to more positive tweets.

The part fans were most excited about was that Zayn seemed to quarrel less with the his ex bandmates. Their Twitter war likely came to an end because of you. Overall, fans were content with the positive influence you had on him.

"How does it feel to be in a relationship with Zayn Malik?"

The female interviewer asks, almost grinning with adoration when your eyes lit up at the sound of his name.

"It's difficult because of our differences. As many people know, he's much more introverted and less active than I am in the community, but despite those differences, it's still amazing. We love each other and that's all that matters. We give each other balance, and we're always there for each other whenever the latter needs support."

You pause, biting your lip.

"Zayn is the best thing that's happened to me. He's a great guy. I'm so thankful that I can have him in my life, even if I can't boast about our relationship."

The interviewer chuckles, many found it enduring whenever you talked about your relationship. She's not the first.

"Do you have anything to say to Zayn?"

Crossing your legs, you smiled shyly, tucking a strand of black hair behind your pierced ears. You had plenty to say to Zayn, but it wasn't practical to say it all out on camera. No matter how extroverted you were, baring your heart out to the world was still a hard no in your book.

You faced the camera, the corners of your lips curving ever so slightly.

"Zayn, I know you hate publicising anything about us, I know it's tiring when we go out together, especially when fans and paps disrupt our private time together. It's been hard on you, and I'm sorry. But we grew together as partners which is all that matters, and we learnt to give way to each other, even if it meant sacrificing a little. So thank you for putting up with me. I love you."

The interviewer quietly squeals beside you, clapping at your small speech. She then goes on to talk about how real your relationship seemed to be, as compared to other public relationships. But you listened to none of it, because, you were watching Zayn stare at you quietly from behind the camera, with watery eyes and the widest, goofiest grin on his face.

#one direction #zayn malik #he'll forever be in 1D #fanfic #imagine #longer than an imagine..#readerxzayn

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