#millions of people can’t afford their fucking home or to even eat every day
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#listen#I’ll just say this once today and be on my merry way#if you have the kind of money that allows you to RENT Harry Styles TM for your wedding#you have too much fucking money and could stand to be taxed at a higher rate while still living VERY comfortably#I’m so sick of this shit#millions of people can’t afford their fucking home or to even eat every day#and there are people out here just tossing wads of cash at other people who already have stupid amounts of money#we need a revolution#these bitches g2g#also#unless this was a friend or relative and Harry offered to perform for free#fuck Harry too#like girl you do NOT need to be taking these gigs especially when tickets for your concerts are selling at fucking $1400 PER PERSON#the blatant and unabashed GREED is just exhausting#and before someone comes at me#$500k donated to one organization in a country that has a deep rooted systemic cancerous disease will not even scratch the surface#like that’s nice and all but it won’t actually make any difference#I know. I live here. and it’s the same thing every other week#I recognize I’m being very critical and maybe harsh but I think it’s justified after the last few weeks#anyway#I say this all the time but#I’m just so tired
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The Gr8King
Camboy!Oikawa Tooru x Fem!Reader
+9k words
MDI, Explicit, Smut, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers
Read it on AO3 here
Finding an apartment for college was one of the hardest things you’d ever done. Searching endlessly through ads, you ciphered through countless creeps and dingy houses that were not up to code. Up until the second to last week of summer break, you had no where to stay, but a friend of yours from high school said that he knew a guy looking for a roommate within your price range.
Thanking him a million times, you met up with Tooru Oikawa the next day at a coffee shop and got acquainted. You found him charming, and something clicked between you two immediately, a spark if you would.
Two days after you met him, you were moving in. And very quickly after that you met his best friend; the three musketeers were together at last. Hajime, Tooru and yourself were always together and you all got along extremely well.
You were a middle ground between the two, somewhere between the lines of rude and flirtatious, but it made for some fun nights out. Hajime and yourself are even better friends than Tooru and you, but both of you agree that it’s because of the mutual “hatred”. He became your best friend in a matter of weeks, and people often assumed you were a couple. Every time, it was quickly denied as either of you stated that you would rather shoot yourselves than hook up with one another.
Fast forward almost a year later, and the three of you are sitting on the couch, watching some shit alien documentary Oikawa put on in the background.
“Do you think we should buy a bigger TV, Y/N-chan?” Tooru asks you while shoveling some noodles in his mouth.
“Dude, it’s fine. I mean if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it? Plus, I don’t have the kinda cash for that at the moment.” You stand up, stretching slightly while reaching out to Iwaizumi, seeing as his bowl is empty. “Unless you wanna pitch in?” Laughing softly, he places the bowl in your hand and shakes his head.
“No chance in hell I’m helping you losers buy a bigger television for your apartment.”
“Well that was uncalled for…” Oikawa quietly mumbles. “But! I think I’m just gonna buy a new one. You don’t have to worry about the money or anything. Think of it as our one year anniversary gift!” He wiggles his eyebrows and bumps his elbow into Iwa’s side as you roll your eyes and walk to the kitchen. You’re just glad that you make it to the sink before he can see the bright red on your face.
You weren’t sure when this started, but whenever Tooru teased you, a rush of blood would flow through your system. You’ve known each other for years at this point, and nothing like this has ever happened. You’ve noticed that he’s been building more muscle, almost like he’s glowing. You’re unsure, but not upset.
“How the fuck can you afford that? You’re at practice all the time, and you don’t have a job.” You turn around after washing the dishes, leaning into the counter as you speak.
The two men quickly share a glance before Oikawa speaks. “I have my ways.” The flirtatious tone in his voice lures you in, wanting for the subject to change, and you give in to the pretty boy's ways.
“Whatever Flattykawa.” He sticks out his lip and pouts as you insult him. “I’m gonna turn in for the night, I have an eight thirty lecture and I still have to meet with a TA beforehand.” A yawn escapes your mouth as Hajime stands up from the couch, making his way to you and wrapping his rather large arms around your frame. The man has always been a walking space heater, and you place your arms around him. He rubs his hands on your back before saying goodnight and walking back to the couch. Tooru is still pouting, head turned to look out of the window as he sees his best friend hug his crush. The slight twinge of jealousy lasts for a brief moment, going away as he whispers a brief goodnight to you as well.
~
A week or so has passed since that night, and things are still the same between yourself and Oikawa. He did end up buying a new t.v., and you got the “old” one for your room. Not only that, but he’s been receiving packages all the time. Almost everyday he gets something shipped to the apartment, and you can’t help but wonder where the fuck all of this money is coming from.
It’s none of your business Y/N. If Tooru’s rich, then there’s nothing you can say about that. He’s just a little luckier than you are, with money, talent and looks he’s practically got no issues… Your thoughts run on and on as you sit at the bar, distracted from the homework on your laptop screen. It’s roughly seven or eight at night on a Monday night, meaning Oikawa’s home since it’s his day off. He doesn’t like being bugged when doing work of any kind, and tends to stay in his room until he’s finished doing whatever it is he’s doing. It was an agreement you both made when you first moved in to learn each other's boundaries and respect privacy at all times.
Your phone dinged on the other side of the counter, and you quickly picked it up to look at the notification. At the same time, Tooru walks through his bedroom door and into the kitchen. His unruly hair was even more disheveled than usual, and his shirt was nowhere to be seen. It’s a rather common occurrence for him to be shirtless, but it’s been happening more and more. Unaware of your gaze, he continued looking for a snack like nothing mattered. You glanced at him quite a few times, admiring the light viel of sweat covering his chest and the soft breaths as he took a few deep inhales.
Not taking any chances of being caught, you went back to checking your phone and saw a text from the group chat you had with a couple of gal pals. They were asking about going to brunch tomorrow and you quickly responded that you were down to clown before placing the phone back on the counter.
“What’s up Tooru?” Your eyes settled back on his frame as he turned to you, a smile grazing his lips. He liked it when you called him by his first name. Not that he’d tell you, but he thought it was cute that you only called him that when you two were alone.
“Nothing much Y/N. Looking for something sweet to eat…”
“Hmm, if I recall you’re the one who ate the last of the rice krispy treats.” You cocked your eyebrow, smirking at his over exaggerated reaction.
“And?” He placed his hand over his heart, “Just because I ate one of your rice krispies treats, and it happened to be the last one doesn’t mean I don’t deserve something sweet.”
“Riiiight, so by one do you mean five? Because I did take the trash out of your room the other day, and there just so happened to be some more wrappers in your bin.”
“Y/N. I would never, and when I say this, I mean never eat all of your snacks. I can’t believe you would accuse me of such a thing.” Oikawa sassed you back, feigning innocence.
“Mhm.” You hopped out of your seat and walked to your room.
“Where are you going?” He calls out, a little dumbfounded that you up and left.
“Hold your panties dude, I’ll be back.” He crosses his arms and leans into the counter as he waits for a few seconds. He can hear your footsteps coming back to the kitchen only a minute or so later, and suddenly a chocolate bar comes flying at him. It hits him square in the chest, but he catches it as it falls.
His lips stretch out into a genuine smile, looking between you and the chocolate. “I love you Y/N,” Tooru says in a sing-song voice, but rips open the wrapper as he speaks. Once again, his words cause a sudden blush to cover your face and you practically run over to your laptop to use it as cover.
“Whatever Tooru.” He chuckles while getting something to drink, and you see that the group chat has popped off during your short encounter. Decisions had been made in a small amount of time, but now you have plans tomorrow.
“What’s got you so happy?” He says, mouth full.
“Oh, just going out with some friends tomorrow. Haven’t seen them in a while so it’ll be fun.” You don’t bother looking up as you type.
“So I won’t be getting a breakfast special?”
“Are you saying you like burnt toast and crispy eggs?” A soft laugh fills the space when Tooru throws the wrapper in the trash. He pads over to the living area and plops down onto the couch.
“Vegging out for the rest of the night?” You call from the kitchen, still engrossed in the group chat.
“I think so. I’m all caught up with everything and a new episode of that alien series came out yesterday.” A hum in affirmation leaves your lips before sitting down next to him.
The rest of the night is quiet as Tooru watches his show and you text your girlfriends, both of you content with being next to one another in comfortable silence.
~
“So Y/N”, one of the girls smacks her lips once she places her champagne glass on the table, “You and Oikawa together yet?”
A blush erupts over your skin, and wanting to hide you start to shield your face into your shoulder. “No,” you mumble while the girls laugh at your reaction. They’re some of the only people, mind Hajime, that know about your crush. It hasn’t been that long since you’ve developed these feelings, but it’s starting to have an affect on your dynamic with him.
“Well,” another one of your friends starts, “I think you should hop on it girl. He’s fine as fuck, and I can’t help but imagine what he can do with that body-”
“Alright!” Your best friend breaks up the conversation, seeing you get more uncomfortable by the moment. “We don’t need to talk about Oikawa’s anything right now, but I am curious about him buying new things for your guys’ apartment all the time.”
“I don’t know guys. I think he’s just rich, or something,” you shovel some of your food into your mouth, speaking in between bites. The girls look around at each other and shrug it off.
“Maybe he’s got a side business.”
“Or he’s a sugar baby!” They all laugh, minus you who takes the idea seriously.
Maybe he has a sugar mommy or daddy… I mean, he’s got the looks and personality… You pick at the food on your plate as they continue their conversation.
“I would kill to be a sugar baby,” one of them whined, “Then I could sit around and do whatever I wanted.”
“You mean you could sit around and watch porn,” your best friend interjects. Silence fills the space before another round of laughter erupts from the table.
“Okay, but hear me out…” Another girl whispers under the hollers that can be heard across the restaurant. “I started watching this camboy the other week and it’s really hot.”
“Oh, like the guys who jack off on stream?” They sip out of their champagne glasses.
“Yeah, but when you donate money you can request or get things out of it. The guy I’ve been watching has been doing stuff with some vibrators lately, and I can’t get enough.”
“So,” you look up at them all, placing your fork down, “there’s just this whole category of porn where people do what you want.” They all turn and nod, almost eagerly.
“Did you not know about this Y/N?”
“I mean,” you could feel the heat rise on your face again, “I’ve heard of people jacking off on streams, but I didn’t know it was that popular…” Some of them laugh softly at the notion, but others try to explain further.
“You know, you might like it. I can send you the guy's username I’ve been watching. He streams every Monday for sure, and a few other times during the week. I’ll just text you.” She winks and the rest of the morning is just catching up with everyone.
~
Over the course of the past few days, your curiosity grew about cam culture and what it entailed. It’s been over a year since your last relationship and it has taken a toll on your sex drive. You aren’t about one night stands or friends with benefits, so you just stick to watching, listening and reading porn when you need to get off, and as the days went by you needed the release.
Making sure your room was locked, you opened your phone and searched through the texts to find your friends suggestion.
“Gr8King”, you whisper to yourself while typing the name into the search bar. The livestream pops into frame and the man is fully clad in a slutty maid outfit, teasing his own nipples with his fingers while he speaks ever so softly into the mic. His head is above the screen, allowing you to only see his mid and lower body down to his calves. He’s lean and toned, and you can feel your own arousal growing at the sight. The notification tones going off every few seconds, hundreds of people donating and thousands watching as he moves a hand slowly down his torso, grabbing the hem of the skirt.
“Should we move on to something more,” he moves closer to the mic, breathing softly and talking in a deeper tone, “sensual?” The vibrations from his voice cause chills to run down your spine. You run a hand over your clothed sex, dying for friction while clenching your thighs.
The skirt comes off, falling to the ground and it leaves him bare on screen. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath it, and his cock is already getting hard. The tip is red, leaking with precum as he moves his hand up the shaft, rubbing the head with his thumb and smearing the liquid around.
Messages increase from the viewers, begging him to do something more, but he stays in his position. “I can’t do anything until the masters say I can,” he whines. Never in your life did you think that you would have a thing for guys in maid outfits, but what was left of the outfit and him calling the audience “master” fueled your curiosity.
That’s when you realize the small animations on screen. Based on the donations, there’s a vibrator going on and anytime someone donates they can change it, and if they exceed a certain amount they get called “master” for the night. More people donate, rapidly changing the speed and he bucks his hips into his fist, moaning breathlessly. “Not- not so much,” he releases his hand except for the pointer finger, running it with a feathery touch from the head to the base. A larger notification shows on screen, a “master” donating a rather large sum of money. Once again, the chat waits in anticipation to see what he’ll do next.
“Looks like master wants me to fuck my dirty little fleshlight while the vibrator gets turned up all the way.” He turns to find what’s necessary, and you stare at the screen, biting your lip.
Am I really enjoying this that much? Your eyes are glued to the screen, waiting in anticipation for what’s about to happen. He returns to the frame, toys in hand and resumes the broadcast.
“How could I deny my masters when they’ve given me so much? I need to be a good boy for them..” he purrs into the mic, teasing the head of his cock on the entrance of the clear fleshlight. The vibrator goes to max, and he shoves the toy down his length, moaning viciously.
Embarrassment floods your system as you listen to this random person whisper sinful things into your ear as he reaches his peak. It’s definitely foreign to you, but the throbbing between your legs makes you want to watch more.
~
Watching the “Gr8King’s” streams becomes almost routine over the next few weeks. You convince yourself that it’s healthy for you to jack off whenever he streams, but deep down you know it’s just an excuse to stare at some guy guy's body while he talks dirty. In fact, this past week you’ve found yourself wanting to donate for the first time, but you don’t have money to just throw around willy nilly so you just lurk.
The stream boots up, this week being just a normal show where he takes suggestions from any amount. You settle into bed, getting prepared for the night’s activities while listening to the voice call you pet names like “cutie”, “gorgeous” and countless others.
It was a stressful week full of work and school, so you decide to take the time now to really let loose and let him guide you to your climax. He talks about nothing in particular, but does as his audience wants while moaning and playing with himself, leaving you panting on your bed, waiting to release at the same time.
Taking all the time in the world, he edges himself multiple times. You can barely hear his words as you desperately try to keep up, but you can feel the knot grow even further in your lower body. After teasing for almost fifteen minutes, he starts to whimper, begging the audience for relief. The way he speaks into the mic is weirdly familiar, just a few phrases here and there catch you off guard, almost as if you know him. This feeling is quickly washed away from the growing knot in your stomach. The audience give into his pleas immediately and you feel the shock waves of pleasure wrack your body. The high washes over and you pant to regain composure. After lying on the bed for a few seconds, you lazily get up and wash up very quickly before hearing a short growl come from your stomach.
Making something quick, you watch some TikToks on the couch as you eat, too entranced by the memes to see Tooru walk out of his room. Once again, he is shirtless, but he spots you on the couch before entering the kitchen.
He slows his pace to admire your flushed skin and glow as you laugh. His heart beats quickly, and he targets the fridge. You can hear him in the next room over, but you don’t bother to call his name, figuring he would join you shortly.
A few moments later, you hear his bedroom door shut and you’re left alone. “What the fuck?” You check the date on your phone, making sure it’s Monday. He usually watches his alien show with me on Monday’s since we can hang out… With a frown, you turn on the t.v. The newest episode plays out as you mindlessly scroll, wondering what was wrong with him.
Two days later, you finish watching a stream, taking longer than usual to clean up and head back out to the living room, wanting to clean some before Hajime comes over. Much to your surprise, it’s being worked on by Tooru, who’s wearing a muscle tank top and some running shorts. He’s panting quietly as he bends to pick up various pieces of trash, but it leaves you stunned.
When did he get so buff? You peered at his abs and pecs through the large slits on the sides of his shirt, but he turns and catches you staring.
“What’s up, Y/N-chan?” He’s got a sly smirk plastered over his face. Your reaction is involuntary heat takes over your body. Without saying anything, you turn and go back to the safehaven of your room.
Tooru is also stunned over your movements, expecting some kind of sassy retort. Then his phone dings in his pocket. Still freaked out over what happened, he checks his messages and sees you’ve texted the group chat you both have with Iwaizumi.
[I think I’m sick, so you guys have fun tonight <3] His brow furrows; now he’s just confused.
“The fuck did you say to her man?” Hajime shoves a piece of sushi into his mouth, talking between chews. Tooru and himself sat at the counter, talking over some movie that all three of you were supposed to watch.
“I made a joke about her staring at me since I was wearing workout clothes, but I thought she was gonna just punch me or something.” He places the chopsticks down on his plate and tries to think. A light goes off in his head, Hajme can see that, but the look is quickly replaced with one of defeat.
“Imayormaynothavebeenavoidingherforthepastfewdays.” All at once, Oikawa speaks in a rushed and hushed sentence, hoping his best friend caught on.
“Excuse me: what.” There’s no playful tone in the air. Hajime popped that balloon and glares daggers into that thick skull of Oikawa’s.
“I,” he plays with his hands, “may or may not have been avoiding her over the past few days.” The first go around was quieter, but Iwa hears it more clearly, finally understanding what’s going on.
“You’re a fucking moron, you know that right?” Hajime places his utensils down, “I’m not going to get in between whatever’s going on here, but you both need to figure shit out. You can’t just avoid her all of the sudden. Not that she’s said anything to me, but she might be going through something and having one of her best friends just avoiding her out of the blue might not be the best thing for her.” Oikawa’s eyes widen at the words of wisdom. He makes a mental note for later, and the night goes on with the two men watching Godzilla for the 100th time.
~
Monday afternoon rolls around, and Tooru walks through the door of the apartment, finished with his classes. You’re making some tea to get some homework done, and he marches into the kitchen, raiding the pantry and fridge.
“You okay man?” Your brow pops up in concern. He didn’t have practice today, so why was he acting like this?
“Huh?” He turns with some food stuffed in his mouth. After swallowing, he answers, “Yeah, I’m good. Just wanted to talk with some friends on chat tonight so I wanted to eat quickly.” Hesitantly, you nod, returning to your laptop on the counter. What you couldn’t see was how his heart rate picked up after seeing you in the kitchen. He’s been wanting to confront you about his sudden absence in your life, but everytime he sees you he gets extremely nervous and bolts.
Tooru finishes up with whatever, and practically runs to his room, slamming the door. He scolds himself quietly behind the closed door for not saying anything to you.
Rude. You focus on homework for another thirty minutes or so and check the time, knowing that your weekly ritual is gonna be starting in the next fifteen minutes or so. Packing everything up, you move into the bedroom, checking the lock on the door for the thousandth time before settling down.
In minutes, “Gr8King” appears on screen, this time in a sports uniform. He starts out like normal, teasing the audience with his voice, running his hands along his body as countless people donate and chat in real time.
Just as he’s about to take his jersey off, a notification dings somewhere off camera and he tenses. “Excuse me cuties,” in a rush, he moves out of frame, slightly knocking his camera from it’s normal setup.
In the background, you spot a poster on a wall that’s eerily familiar. It’s light blue, with a man jumping high, arms reaching back as he prepares to attack. A net is settled before him as a volleyball is high in the air. There’s words in a foriegn language, except for the large letters at the bottom of the poster: “Argentina”.
This causes you to stop what you’re doing. You’re not entirely sure why, but the poster pokes and prods at the back of your mind. It’s a thorn you didn’t know you had.
Why does this guy have an Argentinian volleyball poster? The live stream continues in the background while your eyes haze over. Why does this bug you so much? It’s not like I know the dude, but he did seem familiar in a sense...
That’s the last piece. Everything falls into place as you hastily slam the laptop close. Your breaths are heavy as you finally understand. He’s not fucking rich, he’s a fucking camboy! Your fingers run themselves through your hair over and over as your brain tries to process what’s happening.
I’ve been watching Tooru fuck himself for weeks and had no idea. I was watching the guy I’m crushing over please himself for thousands of people, and he’s just down the hall. What the fuck. You try to stop fidgeting, but your anxiety starts to spike.
“Maybe it’s not him. Maybe this is just a weird fucking coincidence that some streamer has the same schedule as Tooru and the same volleyball poster,” legs pacing around the room, you try to rationalize the situation. Talking out loud helps you realize what’s happening, but you speak quietly to ensure he won’t be able to hear you. Your heart is hammering in its cage, the rapid beating making you dizzy.
Before making any hasty decisions, you walk out into the kitchen and grab a glass of water. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence…” You pull out your phone, turning the sound all the way down and go back to the stream. You don’t actively watch, bouncing your leg as you lean on the counter, and wait for it to end.
You realize it might be a while, and you creep through the hallway, wary of the floorboards that creak and press your face onto his door, listening as closely as possible. Very softly, you can hear moans and grunts, but no actual words. Maybe he’s just working out...
The stream is still playing on your phone, but you return to the kitchen. Not much later, it ends and you wait patiently, timing everything from when it ends. Preemptively, you fill an extra glass with water and set it down. Five minutes pass, and Tooru walks out of his room, sweaty and shirtless. He turns the corner, taking the glass with a small thanks before going to the living room.
The timing makes sense. If he’s the Gr8King than it would make a lot of sense...
[Hajime we need to talk] you type and send before returning to your room, avoiding Tooru. He notices your disappearance and frowns, debating on fetching you. He misses the time you two used to spend together, and he scolds himself further for not bringing it up.
Taking a deep breath, he tells himself to “man up” and sends, [hey, i'm here for you if you need me :)]. He presses his lips into a line before hitting send and placing the phone on the couch next to him.
~
“So what’s up? Not to be rude but you never wanna go to the juice bar…” Hajme laughs lightly, hiding how nervous he is to be meeting up with you.
“I need to ask you something,” you sip the green smoothie, smacking your lips in disgust at the flavor. “And I need you to be honest with me.” Making eye contact, you set the cup down on the table.
“Y/N you’re freaking me out,” he meets your eyes and clenches his jaw.
“Well,” the blush rises in your cheeks, “I always joke about where Oikawa gets his money,” Hajime tightens his grip on his own cup, but remains silent. “I thought it was weird that he got packages all the time when he was either at home or at practice. Then I realized when he was at home, he’d lock himself in his room.” Your face is bright red and you take a deep breath in. “A friend of mine suggested something to me a few weeks back, and when I looked into it I saw something I don’t think I should have.” You look up at the ceiling, avoiding Iwa’s strong gaze. You don’t say anything, trying to think of a way to ask in the least embarrassing way possible.
“What is it Y/N?” He speaks with a small voice.
“Istooruacamboy?” You whisper, still looking up. Hajime’s face also breaks out into a blush, but he chuckles at the events. His chuckles grow into full on laughter as he buckles over and you’re stunned into silence. This continues for a few minutes until he calms himself down, wiping a few tears from his eyes while he looks up to you.
“I can’t believe you found out by watching him.” Some would say it’s impossible, but your face turned two shades darker as you slap him on the chest.
“Fucking asshole! You fucking knew, didn’t you?!” You punch him in the bicep for good measure as you scold him. His laughter is brought back while sipping on the rest of his drink.
“He started after the first semester of school, just trying new things. He told me it was interesting to him, and I said I wanted no part. He hated working at that sports store, you know that, and when he started to get popular there was no going back.” You sit silently, letting him explain. “I hope you don’t think that he’s like, sex crazed or anything… He’s just doing it for the money as far as I know and he likes being able to work from home.” He smiles, acknowledging his friends work but finishes his drink in silence, waiting for a response.
“I don’t think any different of him,” you shake your head and begrudgingly take another sip. “I just- It’s hard for me to take in? I think? Like, I wanna be supportive for him, and I’d like to think that I am but that doesn’t change that I want to be more.” Hajmie nods in affirmation, already knowing that you have feelings for your mutual best friend.
“I'm gonna keep saying it, just tell him. Tooru’s a good guy, and you two deserve each other.” You bite your lip and keep silent. “But first you should tell him that you know about the cam stuff.” Iwa is nonchalant about it all, and grabs your cup, finishing off the drink.
~
You sit on the couch, bouncing your leg but keeping an eye on the package that sits on your lap. It was something for him, but you don’t open it. You just sit there, eye’s on the door, waiting for him to get home from practice.
This is a stupid fucking idea, I should just go back to my room. Your leg bounces faster, and the anxiety bubbles in your stomach. You have no idea what’s gonna happen when he steps through that door, but you were set on telling him tonight.
Just then, the sound of keys entering the lock draws you away from your thoughts, the handle jiggling slightly before it turns and Tooru steps through. He’s dressed in sweats and a tee, hair damp from a shower and a gym bag hanging from his shoulder. He kicks his shoes off and enters the living area, setting the bag down without noticing that you’re watching his every move. Moving into the kitchen, he still doesn’t acknowledge that you’re there as he grabs a glass of water and walks back down the hallway to his room.
“Tooru!” You don’t know what you’re doing, but you need to get this over with. He stops his movements, and pulls an earbud from his left, looking at you with concern.
“Yeah?” He’s unsure what’s causing your outburst, but then he notices the package sitting in your lap, hands softly grasping it to keep its place in your lap. A wave of panic settles down his spine as he slowly spins around and walks to the couch, taking a seat on the other side from you. His eyes are glued to the package, but he notices that it isn’t open.
“I have something I wanted to tell you,” you start softly, placing the cardboard box between you both. He gently sets the glass of water on the glass coffee table and folds his fingers together, settling them on his lap.
“And what’s that?” He’s still shaken, but looks into your eyes.
Your heart starts to pound. What if this is a mistake? He looks like he’s about to throw up. Shaking the doubt from your head, you take a deep breath and hold your gaze. “I know what you do.”
His head cocks to the side, taking in your words. “I’m sorry Y/N, but what does that mean?” He hopes you aren’t alluding to what he thinks you’re getting at.
Another deep breath and you start again, “I know why you spend so much time in your room.”
Tooru’s face flushes with color, the pink hue finding its way onto his skin and he laughs anxiously at your words. “I don’t think I follow.” He’s trying to change the subject, hellbent on finding a way out of this. “Are you saying you know that I masterbate Y/N?” He’s trying to tease you, hoping this conversation would stop and you would hand him his package and be on your way.
Cue your face turning red, but you huff in annoyance, throwing the box at him. “Yeah, if you mean that you’re streaming it.” He catches it and looks at you, eyes are blown wide, and he realizes this is the worst timeline to be alive in. You, on the other hand, are annoyed that you had to say it out loud and stand up, folding your arms and staring him down. “I don’t care, but I wish you would’ve said something to me. As your roommate and your best friend,” ouch, that hurt, “it would’ve been nice to know.”
With that, you march into the kitchen, looking for a way to cool off, but a pair of arms sneak around your waist as you rummage through the freezer.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything,” he mumbles into your hair. The close contact wasn’t abnormal, but it never felt like this. Your body heats up when his breath hits your skin, but you remain in your place. “I just- I didn’t know how you would react and Hajime kept telling me to talk to you about it, but I always get too nervous to bring it up.”
You spin around, his arms still on your hips, and watch his face carefully. He looks concerned still, but there’s a small pleading in his look. “And why were you nervous?”
Tooru’s face turns a shade darker, “It’s just weird, I guess. You’re one of the only girls in my life that I'm kinda serious about I didn’t wanna loose you if you thought that I just thought about sex all the time.”
Was that a confession? Your head starts to spin when he realizes what just happened.
“I MEAN, uh, you’re one of the only girls that I consider a big part of my life, you know?” He’s frantic and stumbling over his words, but you stay absolutely still. His grip on your hips loosens, he wants to run into his room but sticks it out to see what you do.
Instead, you surprise him by nuzzling yourself further into his neck. “You’re very important to me too, Tooru.” Your voice is soft, and muffled against his neck but he smiles into your head, living in the moment. He wraps his arms around your frame, squeezing you tight against his firm chest.
“I’m kinda serious about you too…” The statement was almost lost to the hum of the a.c. unit, but Tooru caught your words and he stiffened up. You stay exactly as you are, praying to whatever god is out there that this all works out in your favor.
It takes a few seconds for him to come back to earth, realizing how hot your face is against his skin, but once he regains consciousness he chuckles. The vibrations ripple through your body, as you both remain in one another's arms. Your first thought was that he was laughing at you, and the panic settles under your skin. He can feel you start to pull away, but tightens his grip on your body, effectively trapping you in this position.
“Iwa-chan’s right, we are idiots.” Everything is so confusing. Does he like me back? Is this a joke? What does Hajime have to do with any of this? Countless thoughts along these lines run through your head, and Tooru knows this. “We’ve both been pining over each other for months.”
His words process with high speeds as you pull back. He had loosened his grasp, but his hands remained on your sides as you both stared into each other's eyes. You search his for answers, while Tooru finds comfort in yours.
He laughs breathlessly once he can see your body relax, and he dips down to meet your lips. Tooru’s movements are fluid, moving both hands up to your jaw while tilting his head. You gasp once his soft lips meet yours. They taste like his dumb chapstick that he carries around everywhere.
Tooru takes it slow, moving at your pace while humming into the kiss. Pulling back after a few seconds, you lean forward to catch his lips before he detaches himself. Rubbing a thumb on your cheekbone, he flashes the most brilliant smile. In the year you’ve known him, this is the most genuine and beautiful thing you’ve ever seen him do, and you can see it in his eyes.
“Y/N,” his voice is ever so soft, gliding in the air from his lips to your ears. Tooru’s eyes hold nothing but adoration in them as you stare into each other's eyes. “I don’t want to be serious with anyone but you.”
The bright blush returns to your cheeks, the warmth between your two bodies rising exponentially. His thumb doesn’t stop moving across your cheekbones. He's in total bliss as nothing in the world could matter more than what was happening at this moment in your shared apartment.
You smile up at him and grab onto his hand that's stroking your face, and just hold it closer to your skin. After a light squeeze, you both shift positions to hug once more, Tooru's arms latching around your waist and yours around his neck.
"Thank you," he states, the world muffled from your hair as he has lodged himself in the crook of your neck.
"For what?" You mumble back, rubbing an arm up and down his neck.
A deep chuckle causes your body to rumble, and a soft breath cascades down your neck before he pressed feathery kisses behind your ear. They're lighter than air, but you can sense he's holding back a bit. "For not being upset with me, for putting up with me, for accepting me, for everything." His whispers are woven into your skin, goosebumps rising up and down your spine as he speaks.
You push yourself further into his chest, a silent affirmation that everything is okay and will be okay. He smiles as he continues to press his lips to your neck, humming in the silence.
After a few minutes more of embracing one another Tooru pulls away, hands grazing your hips as he stares deeply into your eyes. His chocolate iris’ swirl with several emotions as you take in the vulnerability. You have only known Tooru as the charming, flamboyant character he puts on around almost everyone else. Maybe once or twice in your year of living with him have you seen this side of him, in which he offers himself as he is, not as who he wants to be perceived as.
Tooru presses a quick kiss to your lips and puts some pressure on your hips, signalling he wants to move. You both relocate to the couch, where he traps you in his arms and lap.
“I’m curious,” you reposition to look up at him, but he chuckles at your wide and curious eyes. “How did you find out about my streams?” A teasing grin makes its way on to his lips and your brain short circuits.
“Uh.. about that…” You purse your lips, looking anywhere but him, embarrassed of the insinuation of your actions.
Tooru breath fans against your neck, his face dipping down into that crook once more while letting out a low laugh. Sparks fly between you two when his lips brush your ear. He whispers, “You’ve watched me, haven’t you?”
With lightning speed, you snap your face to match his, but he’s quick to recover the initial shock with a deep kiss. He cranes his neck to further the kiss, pulling at your bottom lip with his own. Still startled by his teasing, you give in easily to his antics and within seconds his tongue has entered your mouth.
A low growl escapes him all while you succumb to his movements. His hand snakes up your side, settling itself on your rib below your breast. Tooru rubs his thumb in that spot, but you are lost in his taste to feel his hand.
You start to move in sync with him, moving together and letting each other take the reigns. Oikawa adores your feisty spirit, and when it starts to show through your movements, it only excites him more. You explore his mouth with your tongue, and suck on his lower lip as he slowly moves his hand back down your sides to cup your ass.
Now that you’re in control of your actions, you feel his hand stop right above your butt, almost as if he’s asking permission, but you grab a hold of his wrist and shove it down. That hand lets go of his arm and down to the hem of his shirt. A few fingers make contact with his toned stomach, and he shivers at the cold sensation.
“Impatient much?” Tooru repositions you so you’re straddling him. You don’t break off the kiss and place your hands on either side of his face, the tips of his hair tickling your fingertips. His large hands grasp under your thighs as he hoists the both of you up and off of the couch. Hastily he moves down the hall and into your room, busting through the door and gently he places you down on the edge of your mattress.
You pull away, breathless and stare into his eyes once more. The tension in the room is thick, but warm and comforting. He smiles at the look in your eyes, knowing that you’re in no way anxious of what’s about to happen.
“Are you sure about this Y/N? We don’t have to do anything before the first date.” His smile is intoxicating, and he doesn’t want to pressure you in any way.
“I want you Tooru, I’m good,” this time you rub a thumb across his cheekbone in reassurance. Smiles on both of your faces, he dips back down to capture your lips and push you onto your back.
Your mattress is firm underneath you, the bed frame shifting under the weight of two people. The cold sheets scrunch under your back contrasting the warm embrace of Oikawa as he dips down on top of you, running a hand through your hair.
“Do you trust me?” He speaks while hovering over your body. You push yourself up to meet his lips, giving him a quick peck on the side of his mouth. “I’ll take that as a yes then.” You laugh and lay back down, pulling the front of his shirt to pull him down with you.
Tooru laughs into the kiss, pressing his chest into your own. All of his kisses are electrifying, the spark runs up and down your spine while you both like with one another.
You take the next step and tug at the hem of his shirt while wrapping your legs around his lower half. His skin raises in temperature but he follows suit, practically tearing the fabric off of himself. You watch Tooru get shirtless and fully take in his figure.
It's not like you haven't seen him like this, but this is the first time you've ever actually took a good, long look at Oikawa's figure (knowing it was him, at least). He works out regularly for volleyball and maintains a good diet, and it shows. His chest is firm when you place a hand on it, and his abs create a valley down his stomach.
As you feel him up and down, Tooru stares at your face as it scrunches curiously. "Like what you see cutie? It shouldn't be anything new."
You blush but smack his chest in retaliation. A low laugh escapes his lips, but he sneaks a hand to the bottom of your shirt, poking a few fingers into your stomach in a wordless question of what to do. You squirm in your position and he helps remove your shirt.
Arms cover your chest instantly as you realize you're wearing one of your older bras that isn't the most flattering thing on the planet.
Noticing the shift in tone, Tooru gently unfolds your arms. "None of that Y/N." You don't put up any resistance as he speaks sweet and salty worlds into your ear. His hands are coarse and rough, calloused from years of training but he untouched you with a softness, almost as if he was handling a dove.
He kisses your neck making his way down your chest while reaching underneath you, unclasping the bra and throwing it onto the floor.
With your breasts exposed, Oikawa pins your arms on either side and continues down your clavicle, down through the valley between your chest. You whimper when he suddenly takes one of your nipples into his mouth, gently biting and sucking of the soft bud.
Instinctually you squeeze your thighs together, but he stands between them and he hums into your breast, knowing you're starting to grow impatient. Tooru's other hand moves to the opposite breast, kneading it in his palm.
A soft moan escapes your lips and you roll your hips into his, shock waves of pleasure wrack your body while your cunt starts to throb.
Oikawa moves further down your stomach, reaching the button of your pants. He peers up at you, pupils dilated and hungry. You nod and lift your hips while he removes both the pants and panties you were wearing.
He stands at the edge of the bed, removing the rest of his clothes and let's his cock spring free. It's red at the tip, which reaches up to his abs from being hard.
Tooru’s hips meet yours, laying his long cock over your bare stomach while rubbing soft circles into your thighs. “Look at how deep I’m gonna be inside of you cutie.” A quiet whimper leaves your lips, wrapping your legs around his waist in a silent plea. His eyes burn into your skin.
“Tooru, please…” The desperation in your voice only spurs him on as he drinks you in, lying bare, begging for him. It’s everything he’s ever wanted, and his dick hardens further at the sound of your voice.
A switch flips in his brain once you swirl your hips, and a smirk pulls at his lips. He leans forward, pressing his body into your, getting dangerously close to your ear and fanning hot breath over your skin. Chills erupt from the sensation and make their way across your body, causing a whimper to involuntarily escape your mouth when his hot skin presses into your cold chest. “What do you want, Y/N?” Tooru’s voice is quiet, but the vibrations from his words have an effect on your body you thought wasn’t possible. He presses feathery kisses into the sweet skin on your neck, causing you to tilt your head.
“I want-” Your voice is breathless as you search for words. “I want you to-” Suddenly, he slips his dick in between your folds, slowly moving his hips up and down, getting himself ready with your slick. The electricity of his movements force a moan through your throat, Oikawa relishing in the sound of your voice as he uses his thumb moves to apply pressure on your clit.
Still breathing hot air onto your neck, he mumbles, “You want me to fuck you, is that it?” Your eyes shut as a thousand tiny confirmations leave your body, physical and not. He revels in the moment, realizing the control you both have over each other. He can’t help wanting more of you, all of you. Your aura is intoxicating, and Tooru feels drunk off of your presence.
“Please.” He continues grinding his length down your folds. “Just fuck me already.” Your voice is raspy, pleading for movement, connection, anything. Arms folding around his neck, you grind harder into his cock while he continues to rub the sensitive bud.
“So impatient.” His voice is dark, sultry and enticing. It draws you in, leaving you stunned and you can’t think straight anymore. “I bet you’ve wanted this. Watching me stream, you got to see all of me little cutie,” Tooru readjusts himself, placing the tip at your entrance, drawing circles with it. “Now I get to see all of you.”
He slowly pushes forward, letting his dick get sucked in to you as you cry out at the contact. Oikawa starts to lose himself at the feeling of your pussy when it twitches. His eyes never leave the sight of his cock disappearing into you.
You take a moment to breath as his hips lay flush with yours, but you take action and raise your hips. He hisses at the movement, not expecting you to set the pace so quickly.
Snapping out of it as you move your hips back, Tooru moans loudly and grabs one hip and leans over you, placing his other hand next to your face. His face gets inches in front of yours, matching your movements and leans in to take your lips once more.
His hips move back and forth, building up speed through both of you ravenous moans and whimpers. Through the sounds and movements, you feel his cock penetrate you with endless force, as if it fits perfectly inside of you.
You moan his name as Tooru pounds into you, scratching at his back from the waves of pleasure. Feeling you clench around him almost teasingly, the hand on your hip moves to your clit, and Oikawa starts to rub circles.
"Fuck Tooru!" You press your nails harder into his skin and he growls at the sensation. You can feel yourself getting close, the knot building larger with every second.
He pulls back from your lips and looks at your face. Your eyebrows are scrunched and your eyes are shut. The way his hips move is better than you could’ve imagined, even more sexual than his streams. Oikawa shifts his position to hit you deeper, his dick just barely hitting your cervix.
"I'm close," you mumble from bruised lips. He can’t hold himself back much longer and his thrusts become erratic. Tooru plants his lips on your ear, speaking a thousand words to you which you’re unable to hear. His thrusts and deep and fill you to the brim. The pleasure becomes too much for you to be able to focus and with one thrust you tense and the knot snaps.
He moans your name loudly when he feels your walls clench down on him. Swiftly, Tooru pulls out and finishes on your stomach, white ropes decorating your soft skin.
His head is still next to yours, but you’re both panting. It takes a few seconds for both of you to come back to your senses, but he prys himself up and off of you, looking down on his work. “You’re gorgeous Y/N, just fucking stunning.” He admires your glowing form while you stare at him, a smile adorning your features.
Oikawa moves first, placing another soft kiss to your lips before going to the bathroom for a warm towel. You lay in bed, just thinking about everything. How did I get here? You never thought that watching camboy porn would ever lead to you getting with the guy you’ve wanted for a while now, but if it works out then it works out you guess.
He returns a few moments later and cleans you up, throwing the rag with the rest of your clothes and climbs into the sheets, maneuvering you onto his chest where he cuddles you and runs a hand through your hair.
You close your eyes, breathing onto his bare chest and take in the beat of silence. You can’t see it, but Tooru looks down at you and smiles. You’re finally his. He can finally hold you in his arms and give you all the love he thinks you deserve. His heart swells at the notion, and makes a mental note to thank Iwaizumi later in general since he feels in a giving mood.
Oikawa feels your breath even out, your chest rising and falling in a slow pattern. Your senses are drifting from you, but you’re able to make out a few things before you pass out. Tooru places a kiss on the crown of your head, pressing his lips into your hair and he whispers something before you completely fall asleep.
“I love you Y/N.”
#oikawa#oikawa tooru#tooru oikawa#toru oikawa#oikawa toru#oikawa x reader#tooru oikawa x reader#toru oikawa x reader#oikawa tooru x reader#oikawa toru x reader#haikyuu#haikyu#haikyu x reader#haikyuu x reader#camboy#camboy!tooru oikawa#camboy!oikawa#camboy!oikawa x reader#oikawa/reader#oikawa smut#mdi#smut#friends to lovers#mutual pining#new series on the way
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Tough It Out - Rise of the Guardians/Guardians of Childhood - Apollo and Koz (or Pitch)
sorry for the wait, this was oddly personal to write? ah, apollo my love. all the money in the world couldnt help you. tw: suicidal ideation, references to past child abuse, homophobia, and substance abuse. this is part one!
The skyscraper that housed Lunar Industries had a hundred and eight floors. Apollo stood on the hundredth-and-ninth – that being the roof, har-har, look how clever he was – looked down at the lights of the city blazing far below his boots, and contemplated taking the quick way down to the ground.
His phone jangled in his pocket. He flicked it open without looking at the caller ID and was still unsurprised to hear Selena on the other end. Who else would be calling Apollo, except his ex-wife? He didn’t have friends. He had even fewer no-friends after this morning. Redundant.
Fired from his own company. Suspected tax fraud. Excuses, really, to cover their asses. The words floated around him like clouds.
Like the actual clouds. Red tinted smog, nice and foul on the lungs, blazed through with gassy city lights blaring on down there in the dusk. Even the cars that chugged and coughed along between the flaring traffic lights, the gum-spitting and leather-pursed pedestrians that wove their way round them to be swallowed into huffing buses and sleek trains. Apollo's people, one and stinky pollutants all. He could make a nice big mess of himself down there among them, wet splat on the ashy pavement, just more trash to sucker up the clogged drains and heaving sewers. It'd be like coming home, maybe.
“Apollo,” said Selena, like exchanging words with him was like swallowing a pill and she had to spit through each one as quickly as possible to avoid the taste lingering on her tongue, “Are you busy?”
“Not really,” said Apollo, wondering how long, mathematically speaking, it would take to walk off the edge of the building he didn’t own any more instead of taking the elevator.
He'd never really paid attention in class. There was Koz, golden and glorious, to stare at back then. The way his dark hair curled at the nape of his neck was infinitely more transfixing than applied mathematics. Before today, Apollo could always pay someone for that.
“Can you take Mim this weekend, then?” she asked. “I’ve got this – thing on Saturday-“
“Can’t he stay at home on his own?” said Apollo. “He’s old enough now.”
“He’s a baby, Apollo,” Selena snapped. Ah, two weeks divorced and he could still make her sound as pissed off as if they’d said their marriage vows yesterday. There had to be some Hallmark card for that. “Deal with your son.”
“Fine,” said Apollo, since he really didn’t have anything to do that weekend other than, possibly, googling how much drugs he could take before he obliterated his brain and whether watching one’s father do that as a baby was the sort of foundational experience that required very costly therapy later in life. “How are you, anyway?”
Selena hung up on him.
Apollo sighed and walked away from the roof’s edge. God knew Selena was a nightmare if he was ever late to pickup.
Elevator it was.
---
“… my wife’s leaving me, I’ve lost my company, and I’m pretty sure my baby hates me,” Apollo told his therapist a day later, idly spinning the cord of the telephone around his finger.
He liked the creaking of its coil, and when he’d outfitted this office in his sleek downtown flat he’d had all the money to afford to go retro. This, like everything else, needed to go soon or else Apollo would run out of money to be able to convincingly fake that his life wasn’t completely shredded to shit to his ex-wife. Buyer lined up already.
Devil worked fast but Apollo worked faster.
“That sounds difficult,” the therapist said, because he was paid to sympathise with Apollo.
“Not really,” said Apollo, because he wasn’t.
“Have you been reaching out to your extended support networks?” said the therapist, who cost more than he was possibly worth.
Apollo wanted to laugh. “Sure,” he said.
“Mr Lunanoff,” the therapist began, but Apollo had already tuned him out. Extended support network. What a joke.
There’d only be one man who could ever qualify for that role, and they’d not spoken in years. Apollo was decently certain that Koz didn’t even remember they were friends on Facebook – probably had him muted – because every so often Koz’d post shitty memes about eating the rich that Apollo would reply to with winks and flirts that he never reacted to back. He hadn’t pushed it too much, though. Koz’s posts were the best parts of his week.
Get up, annoy his wife, stare puzzlingly at his gurgling son, read the newspaper, check the feed of his best friend that liked to pretend he didn’t exist. Perfect morning routine that’d spawned a multi-million dollar company and a therapy bill to match.
Still, his life was going to shit. Why not add this to the pile? Koz’s voicemail was vaguely hot, anyway. He always sounded kind of mad that someone would dare to ring him. It was familiar. People'd been sounding disappointed that Apollo remembered their numbers since he'd got his first phone at five. Soothing, in that way.
Unceremoniously, Apollo hung up on the therapist and typed a name into his phone that sprung to the top of his paltry contacts list, starred and favourited. He swiped. The dial tone made him more nervous than last week’s fistful of stimulants. It jangled into his ears, made him doubt himself. This was a stupid idea. He was going to push Koz away – further away, how much fucking further can he get?
Well, Apollo could get blocked. Still, there was always the hundred and ninth floor and the short way down.
“Pitch speaking,” the man’s voice was gruff and deep on the other end, sent shivers down Apollo’s spine. God. He was so hot. “Who’s this?”
“Kozmotis darling,” said Apollo, trying for upbeat and ending up gaudy and gay, “It’s me.”
“Who?”
“Apollo Lunanoff of course! Don’t tell me you didn’t save my number again.”
There was a beat of silence, then Koz cleared his throat and said, “Ah, new phone. Must have forgot.”
Bless his heart for lying. Koz's lies were thorny things, but they, blind belief and wilful misuse of drugs, were the way they'd stayed friends for so long after all, years after they'd left Apollo's father's estate and Koz's family's little house on the grounds far, far behind. Koz had, anyway. Some part of Apollo was still back there, according to his therapist. Apparently, violent repression was considered not therapeutic gold standard. Apollo reckoned it was fine. It was drugs, wasn't it, not men. That was what his father and he had agreed.
“Don’t worry,” said Apollo, “You can make it up to me. Do you know anything about taking care of babies?”
#age of rust#inkwrites#apollo lunanoff#kozmotis pitchiner#rotgoc#rotg#i have all year to do rotg bingo tho
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Enthralled - 4
previous
1,391 words | Original work
Content: partial nudity (non sexual), pain, imprisonment, fear, vomiting (brief), drinking blood (vampire), profanity, worrying about transphobia and fantasy racism
Tseth breathed in. He... hurt. Dry mouth carefully parted, he breathed out. He was blearily aware of sheets, a bed, blankets, beneath and atop his still form. He smelled like venom.
Several minutes passed before he could force his laden eyes open. A white wall greeted him. He closed his eyes, the movement pressing tears free to sting down a cheek and off his nose.
The scent of blood kept him from slipping back into a haze. Slowly, every movement a battle, the dhampire pulled blankets aside. He laid there on his side for a minute more before working up the will to roll onto his other side and confront his situation.
The room was small and unadorned. A small nightstand was next to the bed, with two red plastic cups resting on top. As he pushed himself upright on a trembling arm, he saw soup in one and a few ounces of blood in the other. Getting settled, he picked up the broth and smelled it. Chicken. Probably unadulterated. He took a careful sip.
It was cold and hit unpleasantly, making Tseth's stomach growl angrily and cramp. He shut his eyes, holding down nausea. Once the wave had passed, he set the cup down, rubbing his eyes.
Looking around again, he saw a small adjoining room with no door. A half bathroom laid beyond. It was a good thing he didn't need to use the toilet, because he wasn't sure he could make it there. He glanced up, noticing two cameras watched him from different corners of the room, recessed into the walls.
He shook his head, returning his attention to the cups. Maybe if he could eat something more, he would feel better. He just had to get it down. Bracing himself on the counter, he poured some of the broth into the blood to make a 3:1 ratio. Then, after working up a little bit of strength, he tossed the mixture back.
He set the empty cup down. Only a few seconds later, he stumbled off the bed, knees hitting a wooden floor as his legs buckled. Everything came back up, burning on the way. Ow, fuck. Tears dripped from his nose onto the ground as he heaved a few times before he could crawl away.
He was only able to get a few feet away before his strength gave out and he collapsed. The taste of bile lingered, and he shook as if he was freezing but his entire body was flush with heat and sweat.
Soon, a lock clicked and the door opened. Tseth's eyes snapped open and he tried pushing himself upright.
It was the vampire in the doorway. Fangs, that was the name he'd given Tseth. Ridiculous—as if anybody would ever name their vampire kid "Fangs."
"Don't move," he said, dark eyes impassive.
Not like Tseth was having much success, anyways. He fell back down, warily watching.
Satisfied, Fangs moved inwards. He held a bucket in one hand. Going down on a knee near the mess, he methodically took cleaning supplies out of the bucket before lining it with a plastic bag. He snapped on some gloves.
"You can't just chuck back when you haven't eaten in days," the vampire chastised while mopping up with paper towels.
Tseth bit back a hot retort, instead electing to not respond, tucking his head down.
The vampire peeled off the gloves and tied the bag shut when he was finished. He dropped it off to the side before reloading the bucket. Then he looked up at Tseth and stood, taking a step closer.
Alarm jolted up Tseth's spine. He pushed himself back while hissing wordlessly, spine hitting the nightstand.
Fangs stopped, hands up and open. "You look like you need help getting to the shower." The vampire seemed genuine, and that he didn't immediately forced Tseth into being manhandled was a point in his favor.
Tseth wavered with indecision. Had he been given any kind of bath while he was out? He didn't know. All he could smell was the venom in his sweat. It would be so nice to shower. But it would also mean getting naked, wouldn't it? Or at least being wet and not having anything dry to change into. He had boxers on—his own boxers, even. Had they been on when he was strapped to the table? Had they seen him naked? Did they know? Did they understand what the scars on his chest meant? Would they care? But he couldn't take the risk that it would make the situation worse, could he?
He shook his head, trying to get upright again. With the help of the nightstand, he was able to sit up. Swallowing, trying to erase the burning in his throat, he said, "What did my grandparents say?" His brow was creased with effort it took to form the words.
Fang's mask slipped momentarily, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. "Grandparents?" He fetched something out of his pocket, tossing it into Tseth's lap.
The dhampire flinched, too slow to move before the thing had already settled. Hands weak and shaking, he found the oral anesthetic. It took him only a moment to decide to get some on his finger and onto his gums. The action gave him time to think, and fortunately it helped clear away the taste of sickness.
His grandparents were the ones with money. That had to be the reason he was kidnapped, right? They found out somehow... Vlad overheard something while he was talking to them? Somehow connected him.
Grandma was right, he reflected miserably. I shouldn't have left home.
"The ransom demand," he said, feeling the numbing agent immediately start its work. Some tension eased from his shoulders, agonizing pain fractionally reduced. "Have they responded? How much did you ask for?" He didn't actually know how much his grandparents had, but it was like a lot. Not billionaire a lot, but a lot.
"I can't tell you that," Fangs said, face clear again. "Do Tylenol or ibuprofen work for you?"
Frustration built at the man's answer and change of subject. But he wouldn't turn down the opportunity for non-venom painkillers. Pulling his legs to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them. "A dose and a half of Ibuprofen. Please."
"And do you like chicken or beef more?"
Also not a question that hurt to answer. Eating was important. "Beef, and I eat green smoothies for other nutrient requirements. No milk." As Fangs nodded, Tseth pressed his luck. "Please, can't you tell me anything? Who's your boss?"
Fangs bent to pick up the bucket and trash bag. "Be back in a few." He left, lock clicking behind him.
Tseth leaned his head back in frustration. He couldn't get a read on the man. The other one had seemed more than willing to hurt Tseth into compliance, but Fangs... Were they doing good cop bad cop, maybe?
Worry scratched at the back of his mind. Was it standard to maim a ransom victim right off the bat? You only did that when you sent the body parts to horrify people into paying, right? I've got to stop getting my criminal knowledge from action movies.
His grandparents would pay for him in a heartbeat if they could afford it, he had no doubt. Or send a private rescue team or some shit, but either way, they would get him out.
But Fangs had seemed confused. Was it possible he wasn't here because of money?
He wiped his forehead, nervous. Only one other thing set him apart from the general populace.
Half-breed. His hands tightened on his legs. Was that a slur when he was the only one he knew about? Vlad had certainly said it that way. Betrayal ached in his chest. His roommate had never been particularly chummy, but never in a million years would he have imagined...
He swallowed, tears in his eyes again. You knew a vampire called Vlad was sketchy, moron. It was just so hard to find people chill about a vampire roommate.
If he was here because he was half-vampire half-human—
It's got to be because of money, he told himself, running a hand through his hair. Please let it be about money.
He didn't think about the fact that he'd already seen the face of one of his captors.
taglist: @lettuceknighted
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#tseth the dhampire#enthralled#original work#whump writing#captivity#vampire whump#emeto tw#anxiety#mars writes#vampire whumpee
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GRATITUDE & ATTITUDE — THANKSGIVING WITH RAPPER!JAKE HEADCANONS.
anonymous asked: what would rapper jake be like at Thanksgiving?
warnings: confused canadian tries to understand american thanksgiving, multiple mentions of food/eating, daddy kink, brief mentions of smut (as usual).
notes: i apologize if i’m not representing thanksgiving properly, i tried to do as much research as possible though! for those who don’t have this holiday/don’t associate with the religious aspects of it (like me!), this is pretty much focused on family gatherings and food, so you’re good! i found the gifs in a gif hunt and idk who made them, i’m sorry i can’t credit the creators. i was listening to mirrorball by taylor swift and glee’s let’s have a kiki/turkey lurkey so... yeah don’t vibe with me this time! happy thanksgiving to everyone who celebrate it! <3
food. this holiday was about food and nobody could tell rapper!jake otherwise.
the mountain of grocery bags and produce in the kitchen proved his point. he was determined to turn into all of those friendly people he watched on food network. you know, the kind eyed grandmas and the men with funky glasses? he even got an aprin. and new oven mits in which his hands actually fit. he had all of the recipes printed out on paper, then taped on the cabinets’ doors. he had the biggest smile on his face.
“when we’ll have kids, imma cook them yummy dinners every night.” he greeted you with this promise when you walked in the kitchen, rubbing your tired eyes.
you checked the clock on the microwave. it was 8: 20 am.
jake caught up on your confusion. “i waited in the parking lot to be the first person there as they open, ordered all the food online last night when you were sleeping. i picked up a cute table center piece on my way back. isn’t it lovely?”
lovely. that’s not a word he used often.who was this man and where was your boyfriend?
you turned your head and found a very autumn looking arrangement of candles and wood and other golden elements. you nodded slowly, approving of his choice.
you turned your heels, ready to go back to bed and ignore the upcoming chaos in the kitchen as lil chef jakey-jake was about to cook for an entire army.
“don’t you wanna be a good girl and help daddy cook for your parents?”
soon enough you two were wearing matching aprins, you had jake’s hands printed in flour on your butt as he fed you slices of apple while putting the pie together.
it was barely two in the afternoon and everything was ready or finishing to cook. jake made sure to let you taste test everything. he didn’t want you to be too full, so he let you snack on some froot loops around lunch time. he couldn’t deal with a hangry hostess, tonight was too special for that!
you started to yawn and get cranky and quite frankly, he was not doing any better.
“let’s nap before we feast like royalty” he suggested.
you cleaned the kitchen at the speed of lightning.
jake grabbed your hand and pulled you upstairs. he tucked you in. you spooned him, hiding your hands under his t-shirt to keep them warm as you too quickly fell asleep. he was too exhausted to laugh at your cold fingers toasting against his skin.
the alarm ran so loud that jake jumped off the bed (he caught himself before falling on the floor).
“wake up, buttercup.”
you earned a kiss on your temple, basically the only corner of skin exposed from under the blankets.
you growled in response, missing the warmth of his body.
“oh, is that so? you’re not gonna let daddy make you feel good in the shower?”
won’t you look at that, your pyjama was tossed on the floor, steam was leaving the glass shower and your back was pressed against the tiles as jake held you up and fucked into you, slow and deep.
“stuffin’ you up so good” jake laughed, as both of you were close to your release.
you exploded in laughter, jake echoing your gleeful giggles. he went to rub your sensitive clit and a few seconds later, you were screaming out his name.
the two of you got dressed. he wore a black shirt. you wore something that matched. you put on light makeup and perfume as jake watched your reflection on the steamy mirror, his arms wrapped around your waist.
“tonight is going to be perfect.” you reassure him, making him grin.
the door bell rang and jake ran down the stairs. he let you fix his rebellious collar and press a kiss on the tip of his nose.
the door slammed open. “mom, dad! so good to see you!” jake greeted your parents, remembering how you introduced them to him the first time.
another wave of laughter. jake noticed that you had the same happy wrinkles at the corner of your eyes as your mother. he loved that new detail about you.
“gather around, the food is ready!” jake said and your mom offered to help him serve the plates. he accepted, thankful for an extra pair of hands.
the table was quickly covered with mashed potatoes, chicken (he didn’t want to roast a whole turkey for the four of you), roasted veggies, salad, gravy, bread and basically everything you could think of (he kept the froot loops on the counter in case you didn’t like his newfound recipes).
jake buttered a slice of bread for you, earning a smile from your father.
you gave him a bite of stuffing and the two of you laughed at his cheesy dirty talk from earlier.
jake leaned closer to your ear, when your parents discussed some encounter with wild turkeys they had on their way home. it was picturesque, but jake’s words snapped you out of this reverie.
“all the food is good, but your pussy’s still my favourite flavour.”
you choked on your sip of hot apple cider for a quick second.
this man had no shame.
rapper!jake started to talk to your dad about the hockey season. and to your mom about the carrot cake recipe he found that he wanted to make with her.
you blinked away a happy tear.
the rest of thanksgiving dinner went smoothly. you guys went to watch television, some old scenes of charlie brown were playing. jake switched to music instead, the smooth jazz of louis armstrong brought your dad to invite you for a slow dance around living room. jake did the same with your mother.
eventually, you tried to switch partners and your dad ended up dancing with jake. they both went all in, suddenly thinking they were in a royal ballroom.
it was after the four of you stopped laughing that your mother suggested they drove back home.
it had started to snow outside, pretty hard.
“why don’t you stay? we have a guest room.”
the we made you feel all happy inside. it was jake’s house, he worked so hard to afford it. yet, he considered it yours too.
“we don’t want to bother the lovebirds!” your mom tried to deny the invitation.
“family is never a reason to be bothered.”
these words came from jake.
the same jake who, not too long ago, didn’t even speak to his own family. he didn’t want to have anything to do with them.
the same jake who was about to break down at the thought of meeting your parents.
the same jake who thought would never have a family of his own.
your parents smiled and thanked the both of you.
jake gave your dad some merch and sweatpants for sleep wear. your mom took your favourite pyjama set.
they were fast asleep.
and you thought jake would be too, after such an exhausting day of running around.
“what are you thinking about, my love?” you asked.
jake shrugged, moving his arm so you could snuggle up against him. you rested your head on his naked chest. the beat of his heart was peaceful, almost enchanting.it was your favourite musi.
“we didn’t say what we were thankful for.” he remembered the essential tradition of thanksgiving.
“then say it now.” you chuckled softly.
“i’m thankful for you,” he poked your nose, making you scrunch it adorably. “thankful i get to see you smile, get to hug you and kiss you, get to sing to you until you sleep...”
he kept going with millions of other details.
“i’m thankful for the wonderful human that you are, jacob.”
strangely, he was both tearing up and getting a boner at the same time. you can’t blame him, there’s something very hot about being open and vulnerable.
you moved on top of him, trailing kisses on his jawline and neck, on that sweet spot that drove him wild right under his ear. you painted his collarbone with more kisses.
your pace slowed down, your body was falling against his.
he wrapped his arms around you, making sure you were safe and sound as he heard you snoring slightly.
he laughed through his nose, not bothering to turn the lamp off.
he opened his mouth one last time that evening, to whisper those three magical words:
“i love you.”
#jake gyllenhaal imagine#jake gyllenhaal x reader#jake gyllenhaal smut#jake gyllenhaal fluff#jake gyllenhaal x you#series: southpaw#topic: rapper!jake
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here’s an excerpt from a first responders au that I will likely never write
Calum sits silently, letting the steady pulsing of the heart rate monitor and faint bustling from outside the room wash over him. Michael lays perfectly still on the hospital bed, IV in his arm and oxygen in his nose. His body is a spattering of bruises and cuts, and under the hospital gown Calum knows that there’s bandages around his ribs and a cast on his leg. They managed to inflate his lung and get him breathing on his own, but he still hasn’t woken up and might not for a while.
They got lucky. Everyone keeps saying it, but Calum doesn’t feel very lucky. He doesn’t feel much of anything. He got out with scrapes and bruises, but Michael and the captain were close to the blast. It’s a miracle that they got out alive, much less in the condition that they are, but it’s hard to remember that when no one should have gotten hurt at all.
Still, at least the captain is awake.
The entire crew is here and probably will be until someone forcibly removes them from the hospital. They’ve been taking rotating shifts to be sure no one is alone, trying to let the others rest in the waiting room, but every time Calum has been forced out there instead of in one of the patient rooms no one has been sleeping. Ashton keeps running to get awful, sludgy coffee. None of them like the taste, but all of them keep asking for it, as if they can force Michael to wake up simply by being there and not sleeping themselves. Cap keeps trying to force them to go home. Halsey joked that it’s so he can sneak into Michael’s room and sit with him himself. Calum doesn’t think that’s a joke.
Michael is his oldest friend. If anyone is going to be staying here the entire time, it’s Calum, although he’s getting hungry and will need to take a break to eat soon.
Footsteps stop abruptly by the door, and when Calum looks up Luke is standing there. He’s still in his uniform, wearing the signs of a long shift on him. There’s no blood on the uniform this time, but he’s worn, upright only because of adrenaline and force of will.
“I heard he--” Luke starts, then stops. “I came as soon as I could.”
“The doctors say he’ll be okay,” Calum says robotically. “We weren’t briefed on the contents of the plant until it was too late. Michael was closest to the explosion, but he got lucky. When he was thrown, the only things to break was his leg and some ribs. His lung was punctured, but they were able to inflate it. We’re just waiting for him to wake up now, but doctors say it could take a few days and we shouldn’t worry.”
All of this happened in a few hours, but the explosion itself feels like it was days ago. Calum doesn’t know how long he’s been awake for, but by the looks of the circles under Luke’s eyes he’s not the only one with exhaustion clinging to him.
“You getting off a 24?” he asks. Luke nods. “Do you want to sit with him?”
Luke takes half a step back.
“I don’t want to impose.”
“He’d appreciate it.”
Calum doesn’t know a lot about Luke, but he does know that Michael smiles more after seeing him. As much as they’re pretending that all they are to each other is a good fuck, Luke’s presence here says otherwise. He offers Luke his chair, and Luke approaches cautiously, like he’s afraid that loud noises will startle Michael awake, gasping and crying. Calum pats his shoulder once as he leaves, pulling the door half-closed behind him to give Luke the illusion of privacy.
Ashton finds him in the hallway a few seconds later. He presses a styrofoam cup into his hands, more of that sludgy coffee, and peers through the window into the room. They watch Luke gently brush Michael’s fringe off his battered face, then take his hand. He’s saying something softly, mouth moving but words indiscernible, eyes never leaving Michael’s. Calum doesn’t know if Michael can really hear him, but he hopes that whatever Luke is telling him helps.
“They seem to be in a good place,” Ashton says.
“Yeah. They’ll probably have to talk about it once Michael wakes up, which he’ll hate, but they clearly care about each other more than they’ve been admitting.”
Michael and Luke are going to get their shit together before him and Ashton. Michael is going to laugh so hard when he wakes up.
“You okay?” Ashton asks. Calum hums. “He’s going to be okay.”
“I know,” Calum says, and he actually believes it. Michael is a fighter. It’s strange to see him lying so still in a hospital, but he’s going to pull through and be back to his old self in no time. Calum can’t afford to believe any different, even for a second.
“What’s wrong?”
Calum shrugs. There’s a million understandable reactions he could have to what he just experienced, but none of them are coming to mind. In this moment, with his captain and best friend in the hospital and all of them exhausted and running on fumes, he’s not overly worried, or relieved, or even tired. At this point, he would feel completely numb if not for the sting of his bruises when he shifts his weight.
Luke runs his fingers gently over Michael’s knuckles. Calum watches and longs for someone to care about him like that.
It’s not that he doesn’t think anyone cares, because he knows that if he were in Michael’s place the team would still be camped out in the waiting area, but he knows that they’re his only friends here. Still, sometimes it feels like they forget about him, making plans and assuming someone will tell him even though no one does or always assigning other people to tasks. Calum isn’t complaining about the lack of work, but he’s been doing this for a long time. He’s qualified to do a lot, but he never gets asked to do anything. Even when they’re responding to calls, civilians tend to approach Ashton, Niall, or--in the cases of various old men, for some unknown reason--Michael. At the coffee shop, people look right through him. Calum doesn’t know why he’s invisible, but it’s starting to eat away at his edges.
Michael keeps insisting that Ashton likes him back, but sometimes it feels like a struggle to get him to look at him twice. If Calum were in that hospital bed, he can’t picture Ashton brushing his hair back or gently holding his hand. He’d probably still be doing the coffee runs.
“Have you slept at all?” Ashton asks.
“Have you?” Ashton doesn’t answer, which is answer enough. “Have any of us?”
“No, I don’t think so. Hence the coffee.” Ashton sighs and leans against the wall, looking down at his cup. Calum looks at his own and his stomach flips unpleasantly.
“There isn’t anything we can do now,” Ashton says. “Maybe we should take Cap’s advice and go home. Sleep a bit so we can be back bright and early.”
The thought of leaving makes his stomach flip even more.
“I can’t.”
“It could be a few days before he wakes up. We have to be refreshed for the next shift. He’d never forgive us if our job performance suffered because we were worried.”
“Ashton, he’s my best friend. I can’t leave.”
“Yeah, I know,” Ashton says, looking back at his coffee. He takes a sip, then grimaces. “Each time I naively think the coffee will finally start to taste good, it gets worse.”
Calum snorts. When he looks at Ashton, Ashton is already looking at him. He’s searching his face, eyes wandering all over, and Calum wonders what he’s seeing.
Apparently it’s the desire for a hug, because in the next second he’s being relieved of his coffee and strong arms are wrapping around him, tucking him close. Calum buries his face in Ashton’s neck, still smelling of smoke from the fire and sweat and a million other things that he shouldn’t find comforting but does, because it’s all Ashton, and no one makes him feel safe and happy and a million other positive emotions like him. One moment his eyes are watering, and the next he’s crying, big hiccuping sobs that feel like they’re erupting from somewhere deep inside him, like he’s a coke bottle that got shaken and opened too soon.
“Shh, shh,” Ashton says, one hand moving to cup his neck. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m right here.”
Calum clutches him tighter and sinks into the hug, letting himself lean on Ashton and surrender to the sudden tsunami of emotions.
#my writing#cashton#muke#luke is a paramedic#the other three are firefighters#hi guys I binge watched 911 lonestar instead of doing any of the things I was supposed to#and this is the result#thinking about all the good ideas I have that I will likely never write...........#mainly this one and the firefly au#because they both would require too much work and my desire to write them is not that high although they'd be GREAT if I did#snippets#first responders au
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Survey #397
“you’re my religion, you’re my reason to live / you are the heaven in my hell”
Do you think that you’ll always love who you love now? Even if we're never together again romantically, I will ALWAYS love her at least as a best friend.
Have you ever made out with a random person? Yeah, no.
If you could do your first kiss over, would you? No. I'm lucky that my first kiss was honestly cute as hell.
Do you like your country’s president or prime minister? Well I voted for him, so I obviously can't hate him. He seems to be doing fine so far, though take that with a grain of salt seeing as I don't keep up with politics. Even before voting for him, I just did a small bit of researching on his values.
What color is your house? Yellow with white accents.
Do you listen to Christmas music during the holiday season? No, I don't enjoy it. Man, Jason's mom sure did, though... I loved how in the spirit she'd get and always played Christmas music in the car during that time of year. I miss that woman and I sure as hell hope she rests easy now.
Do you like ginger ale? Solely if I have a stomach bug, and I can only ever sip it.
What are you listening to? "Electric Sugar Pop" by Jeffree Star.
What’s the last thing you watched on TV? The TMS office has the TV on, and the woman who overlooks it (I have zero idea what her position is called) tends to have it either on a cooking channel or a home improvement one. Today was a cooking one.
Is your favorite author the author of your favorite book? I don't have a favorite author.
Describe someone you find really attractive: M-Mark Fischbach. *___*
If you HAD to look like someone else, but could choose who, who would you choose? Hm... maybe my friend Alon. I've mentioned I feel like a million times that she is like, ethereal with how gorgeous she is.
Have you ever seen someone get a tattoo done? If so, what was it? Did they cry or were they in a lot of pain? Yeah; it was a watercolor feather with "ohana" written below it. She didn't cry at all, but she grit her teeth a few times.
Do you have anything you couldn’t go a day without? Some form of technology.
Have you ever gotten caught doing something illegal? No.
What’s your favorite flavor of Vitamin Water? I don't even think I've ever tried it.
Is there someone you wanna date right now? Yeah.
What first attracted you to the last person you kissed? If we're talking the very first, our vast similar interests.
How many brothers does your father have? None.
Does your best friend have any tattoos? No.
Do you like Ben + Jerry’s? Yep. Man, I want their Phish Food ice cream now.
Would you ever wish to be the opposite sex? Nah.
Do you think you’re attractive? Nope.
What is your favorite card game to play? Magic: The Gathering. I really miss my PS3 where I had Duel of the Planeswalkers installed on it, it was really fun.
Do you own a globe? I don't think we still do.
What is your favorite wild cat? Perhaps clouded leopards.
If your bedroom had three portals to anywhere, where would they lead? South Africa, Sara's place, and maybe a nice little cabin in the mountains for when I'm feeling a peaceful getaway.
You can ask any author one question about their story. What do you ask? I have zero idea.
What’s a place you have a strong emotional connection to? The pond behind the local community college. Jason and I took our first prom pictures there.
Do you take yoga classes? No, but I'm actually considering it since they offer those at the YMCA Mom and I now go to.
What is a decision you’ve made that changed your entire life? To let Jason go. It's pretty great, my PTSD has been less of a bother lately!
Have you ever made any money from a side-hustle? Could you consider being paid to take pictures once in a blue moon a "side hustle" when I don't even have a main job?
Do you ever wonder what kind of person you’d have turned out to be if a certain event never happened to you? Ugh... it's incredibly painful to wonder how life would be if Jason never left.
If you could have anyone’s singing voice, whose would you choose? Adele's or Amy Lee's, probs.
What are your top 3 favorite genres of music? Metal, hard rock, alternative.
Do you think Mars will be colonized in your lifetime? No.
Have you ever been homeless? If so, what led to your homelessness? Technically, yes, because Mom couldn't afford the rent. She, my little sister (who still lived with us at the time), and I each were accepted into the homes of willing, kind people, though.
Have you ever been on a ship? No.
Who was Van Halen’s better singer - David Lee Roth, or Sammy Hagar? David.
Which fictional character has the most memorable quotes? Heath Ledger's Joker is quoted all the time, so probably him.
What do you think of the "Healthy At Every Size" movement/philosophy? Before I answer this, I want you to keep in mind that this is coming from someone who is obese, so I would positively love to agree with that for my own self-confidence, but I don't. I believe it's a very dangerous mentality. I think you should cherish your body unconditionally, like it's an amazing machine, but I firmly believe you should have an active interest in becoming what is physically healthy. You couldn't pay me millions to convince me that, say, a 300 lb. person is healthy.
What was the name of the first person you ever had a crush on? Why did you like them? I think my first *real* crush was this guy Sebastian my freshman year of high school. I thought he was very sweet, funny, caring, and attractiveness was a bonus.
What food will you absolutely not, under any circumstances, eat? Sashimi, caviar, raw eggs...
Which famous person would you like to be BFFs with? Bindi Irwin, for one.
What kind of natural disaster is most common where you live? Hurricanes.
Have you ever had an animal get into your attic? No.
Have you ever been bitten so hard that there teeth marks were there after? I mean I've had hickeys before if that's what you're asking.
Ever gave one? Oh, I guess you were. Yeah.
Do you think its weird if guys wear make-up like eyeliner? Not at all.
Would you ever date a disabled person? (Be honest) Yes.
Would you rather adopt or have your own child? IF I wanted kids, I'd rather have one myself because I'm well aware I personally need that special connection. Stepkids count, too, because they'd be my partner's and therefore very important for me too.
What is the most personal question you have ever been asked? Probably TMI, so here's your fair warning, but I've been asked before if I "touch" myself and I was absolutely repulsed that someone would ask me that.
Were you abused by your parents? No.
If you’re not straight, who was the first person you came out to? Sara.
Were you one of the smartest in your class? Up to finishing high school, modestly, I was.
Where did you meet your first crush? Art class my freshman year of high school.
Do you ever go places with wet hair? Yeah, idc.
Who is your favorite little girl? My niece Aubree. She's such a wonderful girl.
Does your best friend have kids? No.
If you were pregnant, would you want a boy or a girl? Hypothetically, a girl.
What place outside of your own home do you spend the most time at? Um, maybe my older sister's house?
Have you ever participated in a medical study? No.
Do you have any family members who are cancer survivors? Yes, including my mother. Twice.
Are you allergic to any medications? None that I've tried.
Do you have any licenses other than your driver's license? I don't even have that.
If you’re atheist, would you raise you kids believing in God or not? No; I wouldn't intervene with their own spiritual (or lack thereof) journey. They'd learn what they'd learn and decide themselves what they believe.
Do you like reading self-help books? No, I just can't get invested in those.
What is your opinion on sex change? If you're unhappy with your body, you're more than free to surgically change that with no judgment from me.
Do you have any goals for this summer? If so, what are they? Yes, to lose weight.
Can you get a strike at bowling? I have before. There was one occasion where my first go was a strike RIGHT after saying I sucked at bowling, hahaha.
Do you ever take pictures of negative moments? Well, I photograph roadkill, and that's one hell of a sad moment. I actually wouldn't mind broadening my horizons of photographing negative moments (with permission of course), because I actually find these very impactful and even builds empathy. I will never, ever forget this one picture I saw sometime of an emaciated boy huddled in the dirt with a vulture close by watching him... like fuck, it made me want to sob. No one should ever have to live like that, especially a child.
Would you ever post a picture of yourself crying on social media? No. I know that sounds contradictory to what I just said, I just wouldn't be able to do it myself.
Have you ever held a newborn baby? Once, when my last niece was born. I'm terrified of holding them because they're just so fragile.
Do you know anyone who has twins? My friend just had triplets.
What is your favorite country in Europe? Germany.
Are you thriving in your life right now? BOY HOWDY-
Do you remember to water plants? I don't keep plants.
Name three YouTubers you aspire to be like. 1.) Markiplier in a vast plethora of ways; 2.) Jeffree Star for his incredible work ethic; and 3.) Shane Dawson for his incredible compassion. Yes. I know the controversy, but regardless, he cares a lot about people.
Who is your favorite character from Harry Potter? I wouldn't know, given I haven't read the books or seen the movies.
Do you watch PewDiePie? Not anymore; his content doesn't interest me anymore. I watched him religiously back in the day when he was a serious let's player, though.
Do you have a Steam account? Yes.
Have you ever played Five Nights at Freddy’s? No, not personally. I like watching LPs of it and I find the story fascinating, but it's not the kind of game I'd enjoy playing.
Have you ever tried Akinator? Yes. I don't think I ever beat it, except maybe once.
Are you wearing socks right now? No; unless I'm wearing closed-toe shoes like sneakers, I never do. I hate the feeling of them.
Can you twerk? Haven't tried, don't wanna.
Do you like dabbing? No, it looks stupid.
Do you like fishing? I honestly do think it's fun with all the anticipation and thrill of seeing how big the fish is, however I don't support it anymore unless, like hunting, you genuinely need it for food. The only case where I'd go again was if my dad asked me, because that's always been our bonding experience.
Do you have a Spotify account? Yes.
Have you heard of Blizzard Entertainment? Well, they're the company behind World of Warcraft, so obviously.
Do you like bananas? Yes, but only for a VERY short window of time. I am beyond picky with the ripeness of bananas.
Are you addicted to anything? Caffeine and technology.
Do you know your phone number? I actually don't.
Do you swear in front of children? No.
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★~BTS REALITY~★
BTS is holding a special reality series with fans as a celebration of ten years performing. The goal is simple, be the last girl standing and you might win yourself a big ol' prize.
Now who in their right mind would pass up on an opportunity like this? Definitely not you.
Rated: M (it doesn’t seem like it now, but it’ll get there eventually)
Relationship: OT7/Reader
1 | 2 | ?
Chapter 1: ★ APPLICATION ★
It was an ordinary Saturday. The refreshing feeling of waking up and realizing you had no classes already making the day ten times better. The smell of coffee makes its way to your nose, indicating that Adela was awake. She was always the early riser of you two.
Making your way out of your room, you wrinkle your nose as the coffee smell becomes stronger. Coffee was not a drink you preferred. You drag your way to the bathroom and proceed through your morning routine.
Teeth freshly brushed and face washed, you walk towards the living room.
“You’re up early” Adela states slightly surprised. She watches you beeline to the couch. You offer a small grunt in return as you plop yourself down. You never were much of a morning person, though today seemed to be going fine so far. She grins and sashays her way over to the couch as you begin flipping through movies to watch.
“You know, (y/n), I’m going to be checking out that new café on campus with Jeffery today, if you want to come with” You, halt your movie search.
“Adela, girl, I love you, but Jeffery is a total douche,” you reply. Last time you checked Jeffrey's world revolved around pretty girls and parties.
Laughing, Adela rolls her eyes. “Whatever (y/n), I’m leaving in an hour, let me know if you change your mind” and with that, she heads towards her room to get ready. Shrugging, you return your focus to the T.V. It would be nice to head out today and get some fresh air, but staying home and binging Netflix sounded much more appealing. You snuggle further into the couch, yes, this will do for today.
----------
It was close to lunchtime when you finally peeled yourself from the couch. Your hunger had overpowered your will to not move, and so, you were forced to get up. Without Adela in the house, it was unusually quiet, something you hadn’t had the pleasure of experiencing in a while. Turning to your phone, you scrolled for some music to play while making something to eat. Opening YuTube you begin your search for some good music.
While scrolling you come across a new BTS song. ‘Hmm’ you think to yourself, ‘It has been some time since I’ve listened to something new by them’ Clicking the song you are pleasantly surprised with what you hear. They had evolved their music style since the last time you had listened to them. You scroll down further to the comments, wanting to see what others think of the song. As you read through the comments, you notice some repeat the same message: LIVE EVERY FAN’S BEST DREAM WITH BTS! CLICK HERE TO READ MORE…
You stare at the message intently. It was most likely a scam, some robot trying to rob fans of their personal information, yet you felt your curiosity getting the best of you. God, please don’t be dumb right now (y/n). You could not afford to have your personal info stolen, especially your bank info, with how things were going money-wise. You found your finger getting closer and closer to the link. Well as the saying goes, you only live once! Quickly pressing down, you scrunch your eyes as if by closing your eyes you were saving yourself from the hacker you were allowing onto your phone. After a couple of seconds, you slowly peel your eyes open.
Looking down you are shocked to see a legitimate website. You stare at your phone helplessly as the options tumble through your head. Glowing on your screen was the ad for BTS’s new exclusive series reality show, something about a gift they had decided to award their fans for their 10th anniversary.
You delve further into reading the ad, trying to see if this was really happening. Who would’ve thought BigHit would ever allow this, especially with the number of crazy fans BTS had out there. Applicants weren’t required to speak fluent Korean, rather they wanted those who could speak some Korean and some English. You knew fans all over the world were having a field day over this, including you. Giggling in excitement, your legs begin bouncing in anticipation. Sure you only knew like five words in Korean, but you could learn more. As you began to calm back down, logic began invading your happy thoughts. There were going to be millions of people applying for a chance to participate in the show, and only 10 spaces available. Well, 10 spaces before elimination within the show of course. There was no way BigHit was going to notice you of all people, so what was the point.
“Fuck it” Rolling your neck, you ease the tension of sitting hunched over your phone. Either way, you weren’t going to die if you applied. Might as well jump on the opportunity.
The questions were very standard, asking information such as age, height, nationality, etc. Towards the end, trickier questions began appearing.
“Why do I want to be a part of this show?” you can’t help the eye roll that escapes you at the question “What the hell kind of question is that,” you ask yourself aloud. What were you supposed to write? It was simple, you had been a big fan of them back in the day (still kind of were), and this was your chance to meet them in person. But you had a feeling BigHit wanted something a bit deeper, something more personal. Unfortunately, you were not a very deep person, so this question was a challenge.
Almost two hours later, you were finally finished. Grumbling, you stood and made your way back to the living room. Your mind wandered back to the difficult question. You had written some cheesy response relating BTS to your ‘precious high school years’, but what if that wasn’t good enough? Someone across the globe had probably written a more authentic answer, taking your chance of ever meeting the boys. You shook your head as you made your way back to the living room, it wasn’t like you were going to get picked anyway.
----------
You were shaking as you stared at your computer in disbelief. To say you were confused was an understatement. How was this even possible? You were sure your application would get ignored with the millions of fans applying, yet in front of you was an email from BigHit inviting you for an interview. You couldn’t even describe the emotions coursing through you, everything felt tingly and ugh you hated it. You were probably about to have a stroke from the shock alone. Stumbling towards your bed you throw yourself down, how were you supposed to break the news to Adela. Also thank god it was summer since your dumb ass decided to apply without even thinking about school. God this was all happening way too fast.
Your hands tremble as the gravity of the situation sets in.
You were going to Korea.
You were going to be on T.V.
You were going to meet BTS.
No, you were getting ahead of yourself. You had to pass the interview first before you could even breathe in the same room as them.
Your eyes begin to droop, the softness of your bed lulling you to sleep. You had some serious planning to do.
--------------
“God you’re so lucky (y/n), make sure to get an autograph for me.” You laugh as Adela clings to you. Breaking the news to her wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be. Now here you were, a new wardrobe later, lugging the largest suitcase you could find. You weren’t exactly sure how long you were going to be stuck in Korea, so you figured you might as well pack as much as possible.
Adela had been slightly hurt that you hadn’t told her about the application since she had been a fan back in the day as well. In the end, she settled with you getting their autographs and pictures of the boys. That was if you even made it onto the show.
“You know I can’t promise that Adela” you reply amused. She rolls her eyes with a huff.
“Oh be quiet (y/n), they’d be stupid to ever reject a girl like you” she grins at you before picking up the pace. “Hurry up, you’re going to miss your flight at this rate”
You can feel the sweat collecting on your hands as you approach the security check. This was it, no turning back now. Taking in a deep breath, you turn towards Adela.
“Thanks for coming with me today, I’m seriously going to miss you”, your voice wavering slightly. You hear her sniff before she launches herself at you.
“Shut up, you’re going to make me cry (y/n)” Chuckling, you wrap your arms tighter around her. You were going to be lonely without her. Reluctantly, you pull away. You had a flight to catch. Looking back one last time, she waves and you turn and make your ways towards security. Korea, here you come.
-------------
Finally, the plane had landed. You knew the flight would be long, but you didn’t realize how bloated you would get, so now here you were with a swollen face hobbling around the Seoul international airport. Good thing you weren’t being interviewed, or even seen by anyone from BigHit today. They might have rejected you on your bloated face alone.
Looking up you thank the gods that they provide English on the signs because although you were comfortable with speaking Korean, reading was a different story. You wander around for your carousel and luggage, there were too many people in this place. You rub your face and wipe the crust from our eyes. You could not wait to get to the hotel and get some proper rest.
30 minutes later, you finally had your luggage and were heading towards the exit when you spotted a man holding a sign with your name. You pause slightly, startled at the sight before you. Was this in the email they sent you? Gosh, you knew you should’ve re-read the email before landing. You decide against waving your hand at the man and begin approaching him instead.
Getting closer, you tentatively step towards the male “Um, hello sir, my name is (y/n) (l/n)” your voice coming out hoarsely. Jesus, you needed to drink some water asap.
Turning suddenly, the man’s eyes widen. “Oh! Apologies miss! I didn’t see you walk here” he apologizes quickly, a forced smile pulling its way across his face. His accent was prominent as he stumbled through his English. Giving you a once over, he bends to grab your luggage from you. “My name is Song Park. If you would follow me, I will be taking you to hotel”
“Oh, thank you very much Mr. Park” you respond somewhat taken aback as he begins to wheel your luggage towards the car. You weren’t expecting a whole chaperone service, but you sure as hell didn’t have any complaints.
Sliding into the car you decide to send a quick text to Adela, letting her know you had arrived safely. The car begins moving as Song drives you to your destination. You lay your head back and allow yourself to relax into the seat, you can’t help the butterflies that flush your system suddenly as realization strikes you. This was happening. A smile graces your features as you doze off.
#ot7 x you#ot7#bts#jimin x reader#jungkook x reader#seokjin x reader#hoseok x reader#yoongi x reader#namjoon x reader#taehyung x reader#reader#female reader#(y/n)#reality tv au#idol bts#angst#fluff#comedy#competition
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(Third film. Kronk’s Tavern. Facillier’s just sat down at the bar next to Hades (Eva Green) who’s nursing a large flagon of beer)
Facillier: so you’ve heard
Hades: heard? Of course I’ve fucking heard. Your daughter and my son are dead
Facillier: legally. Legally dead there may still yet be hope
Hades: he has no magic. And she’s not powerful enough to keep the both of them alive. So either they’re both dead or there’s going to be a rampaging homicidal heartbroken teenager laying waste to the island any day now
Facillier: you don’t know that.
Kronk (genuinely trying to help): well anything’s possible isn’t it? Both could be dead or one had to eat the other. Phytoplankton only goes so far you know
Facillier: Kronk! There’s a call for you downstairs.
Kronk (not getting the sarcasm): OH BOY
(He launches headfirst into the floor knocking himself out cold)
Facillier: tch. Sideskicks. Now that’s been taken care of. How are you doing?
Hades: my second son is presumed dead. So is your first daughter. What do you think?
Facillier: not very good
Hades: nope!
(She takes another massive swig of beer)
Facillier: where’s Hadie right now?
Hades: with Antony at the butchers. Why?
Facillier: let’s get out of here. You can come back to mine. And we can
Hades: oh ho ho. The offers greatly appreciated. You don’t know how much. But I have a wife
Facillier: I know. She dumped you the morning after the wedding night the moment she realised she was pregnant with Mal.
Hades: oh, no. No. I mean my first wife. Persephone. After all this trouble I think it’s time I put our arrangement aside and focus on her and my five, sorry, four, four children.
Facillier: be that as it may. You’re in no state to be alone tonight. At least let me escort you back to your lair
Hades: nope. Nope. Too risky. I don’t trust myself
(This is when “honey I’m good” happens. After the song she collapses into Facillier’s arms completely drunk)
Facillier: yeah....I’m taking you back to my place. You can’t be alone tonight
Hades (mumbling): ifyoumustyoumust
Facillier: heh?
(Hades mumbles again. This time even more unintelligibly. Then pushes herself away from him)
Hades: fine then. Walk me home.
Facillier: start going. I’ll catch up.
Hades: oooh no no no. You’re walking me back to your place.
Facillier: someone has to pay for the booze
Hades (incredulously): it’s KRONK!
Facillier:....fair point
(They leave the tavern and make their way back to the arcade. This is when “walk me home” happens. After the song they walk through the door of Facillier’s arcade, Hades (having switched to his Sebastian Stan form) being half carried-half dragged inside by Facillier)
Anastasia: so he’s heard?
Facillier: and then some. And kronk was absolutely no help whatsoever
Anastasia: Well you know what we sidekicks are like
Facillier: yes I do. I was one.
Anastasia: oh yeah....I forgot about that
Facillier: everyone does. Help me get him to the sofa
Hades (grumpily pushing himself off from Facillier): no-ohhhh!!!! Imma go drinkie-poo some more
Anastasia: drinkie-poo?
Facillier: cut him some slack alright? He’s grieving his son. I doubt you’d be coping well if Anthony were dead
Anastasia: first off. No one should ever mourn a pirate. Secondly. Assumed dead is very different than ACTUALLY dead. Thirdly. Uma’s in the same situation and you’re not falling apart.
Facillier: I can’t afford to.
Hades (over at the bar): STOP TALKING!!!! I’M WALLOWING HERE!!!!
Anastasia: yeah, we know. And you need to stop
Hades: why the he>hic<ell should I?
Anastasia: because it’s not healthy?
Hades (hair bursting into flames): I AM A GOD!!!!
Facillier: yeah, yeah, we heard you the first 98 million times. Now! We need to sober you up
Hades: wahverfor?
Anastasia: it’s unseemly for a being of your calibre to behave in this manner
Hades: oh fuck off Human!
(Facillier pulls Anastasia off to the side)
Facillier: I think it’s time to try a different approach
Anastasia: ya think?
Facillier: the question is; what do we do?
Anastasia: if we can make this slag heap partially liveable we can kick a deity out of his funk.
Facillier: yeah but how?
Anastasia: to music of course.
Facillier: now why didn’t I think of that?
Anastasia (cupping his face in her hands and looking fondly at him): because you can be a right old idiot sometimes
Facillier: thank you Ana, thank you for the help
Anastasia: it’s what I’m here for Antoine. HADES!!!! What happened to you. We made this island what it is. We built everything from the arcade to the docks. Admittedly it only took 12 hours but we did it. So why are you so down in the dumps?
Hades: I grew up. I have four-three-one. I have 1 child on this island and now he’s all grown up. I’m superfluous.
Anastasia: but people used to run at the mere mention of your name. What happened?
Hades: I’m dead inside
Anastasia: then reignite. Antoine!
(Facillier turns the stereo on. This is when “we built this city” happens. After the song they collapse on the sofa)
Anastasia: feel a bit better?
Hades (chuckling slightly): a bit
Anastasia: gonna stop the hard drinking?
Hades: yup
Anastasia: alright then. In that case. I’m gonna go back to my place. The meat ain’t gonna cut itself you know
Facillier: you could just ask us to help you with magic
Anastasia: nah, I like doing it myself. Keeps me busy. See ya tomorrow
Facillier and Hades: see ya
Hades (immediately after the door closes): I lied
(He launches himself at the bar intent on getting more beer)
Facillier: oh no you don’t!
(He clicks his fingers and Hades ends up suspended in mid air. This is when “I do not hook up” happens. After the song the focus momentarily shifts back to Uma and Celia witnessing the flashbacks)
Uma: wow. They were cut up
Celia: yeah....
Uma (breaking into laughter): THIS IS AMAZING!!!!
Celia: what
Uma: don’t you see? This means someone actually cares about me. I always thought-
(Suddenly they get pulled out of the arcade and into another building filled with exercise equipment, a boxing ring and musical devices)
Celia: where are we
Uma: Morgana’s Speakeasy
Celia: there’s a speakeasy on the island?
Uma: sort of. She told me it’s fun to say. And more inviting then mere bare knuckle boxing. Why would the incense bring us here though?
Celia: of course. Look.
(Uma turns to see the action behind her. Morgana looks shellshocked as Anastasia fetches her a drink)
Morgana: she’s gone. Dead. Dead and gone
Anastasia: assumed dear and gone. There’s still a chance she’s alive
Morgana: if he tries to worm his way back here he’s in for a nasty dose of reality. I can tell you that nothing
Anastasia: Morgan, you’ve got to stop doing this. Not everything has to be traced back your psycho sister and Antoine.
Morgana: tell that to them then.
Anastasia: that’s....a lot of T’s in one sentence. You know what you need? Visualisation Therapy.
Morgana: and that would be?
Anastasia: I don’t know. I read it in a book. And I’m spouting it to what I made Hades do just now. I see no reason why it can’t work on you as well.
Morgana: what do we do?
Anastasia: you’ve got second hand karaoke right?
Morgana: at the bar
Anastasia: perfect. (She walks over to the bar). Now let’s see. Hmmmm. Ooh! Perfect.
(She switches on the machine. After a few stutters and a tiny, easily squashed fire the music starts)
Morgana: oh Christ not this one. It doesn’t even make sense
Anastasia: who cares? Just sing it!
Morgana: ugh. Fine
(This is when “big girls don’t cry” starts. After the song the Speakeasy melts away and the two sisters get pulled upwards)
Uma: what was that?
Doug: ten minutes are up. Come on
(He leads them back into the kitchen where Carlos is glowing with white light and viciously beating Harry up as everyone but Hades, Elsa, Hadie and the Hook sisters cheer him on)
Uma: what the hell’s going on?
Doug: Harry ran his mouth. Carlos got so pissed off he unlocked his latent demon magic. And is now currently in the process of beating the shit out of Harry
Uma: and the king allowed this?
Doug: he’s Carlos’s father. Of course he did.
Uma: DE VIL. STOP THIS RIGHT NOW
Carlos (with the “I’m far too cute for you to get mad at me” look on his face): Sono sempre così terribilmente dispiaciuto capitano. ma non ho la più pallida idea di cosa stai insinuando
Uma: what?
Carlos: means “no”. I can speak Italian now
Jay: I like Italian Carlos
Uma: aren’t you English or something
Carlos: my biological fathers the coachman from pleasure island. Who else do you think would willingly reproduce with Cruella De Vil?
Uma:....good point. But you’re what? 16? How have you only just unlocked your magic?
Carlos: never been quite so pissed off before. Thank you Hook
(Harry wheezes and coughs up blood in response)
Doug: anyway....hades, Mal. I believe you two were going to tell them something.
Hades: yes! Right. Sorry. Uh. Where to start?
Doug: want me to help?
Mal: please?
Doug: fine. When I was under the sleeping curse Maleficent appeared to me and tried to get me to betray you all and join her. I stabbed her with a material dark fae are allergic to and she teleported away. But before they she said something that got me thinking. Some crap about being naive and on your own. But I wanted to know more. So I asked Hades. And then told him to tell Mal cause you know it’s her family history even if she doesn’t see herself as Maleficent’s daughter anymore. Now your turn. Your eminence
Hades: Maleficent isn’t french. She’s Persian. In the year three hundred she decided she wanted rule her kind. Only. They weren’t hierarchical. So she got mad. And killed them. Every last man, woman and child. Until she was the last one left. Then made her way to france. She made a name for herself. Became the Mistress Of All Evil. In 1300 Aurora was born. And, well, you know the rest.
Uma (incredulous): what?
Mal: and the really funny thing is. I don’t know how to speak Persian. But apparently. I can understand it. Take it away dad
Hades: امروز برای صبحانه چی خوردی؟
Mal: bakers dozen egg yolk omelette deep fried in chunky chocolate peanut butter. SEE!?!?
Uma: I-I-I I can’t
Evie: neither can I Uma. But let’s face my sister is inordinately and insanely unfairly lucky
Carlos: are you seriously still on this?
Evie: I just don’t think it’s fair that Mal is willing to forgive him after what he did and yet I’m not allowed to be rightfully mad he abandoned me for sixteen years
Mal: we’ve been over this E. You know why he did what he did
(The two sisters continue to argue as Carlos approaches Jay)
Carlos: I think it’s time for that spell again
Jay: good. Because I really like what happens when we use it. By your leave C
Carlos: thank you. To get rid of these ants in their pants/I command thee all to get up and dance.
(This is when “we are” happens. After the song. Evie now looks more annoyed than ever)
Evie: stop doing that!
Carlos: why? I think it’s hilarious.
Ben: yeah it is actually kinda growing on me
Evie: well I don’t like it. So stop doing it. Ok?
Carlos: when did you become such a drag?
Evie: hmmmmm let’s see. Probably right around the time I found out I’m related to two of the people I hate most in this world.
Carlos: hmmmmm. Nah. You were a drag before today
Mal (sensing danger): ok that’s it!
(She clicks her fingers and the whole house melts away along with everyone else leaving her and Evie in a beige coloured void)
Evie: what did you do that for?
Mal: because you snapped at Carlos.
Evie: of course. Of course you defend the precious prince(.)
Mal: what is your problem? Huh? I’m mean you weren’t exactly sugary sweet before. But today you’ve been downright freaky. Ever since I connected the dots you’ve been indulging in this pity party act that just isn’t like you. And sometimes you’re fine. And then you go ballistic for no good reason-oh my god. Is it your uh....?
Evie: what? No. That’s next week.
Mal: ohhhh. Then what is it? Cause frankly. You’re being a nightmare. And you really need to-
Evie: I don’t know ok! And even if I did know. I wouldn’t tell you. Cause there’s no way in His realm you would ever understand
Mal: and just what is that supposed to mean?
Evie: I don’t ugh I just. (Irritable sigh). It’s just that.
Mal: tell me
Evie: no
Mal: why not? Maybe I could help
Evie: you couldn’t. I doubt even Doug or Dizzy could help.
Mal: why?!
Evie: BECAUSE IT’S NOT HAPPENING TO YOU!
Mal: what!
Evie: you just don’t get it. Everything was fine. I escaped my mother. I have Doug. I have Dizzy. I gave our house. And then this happens. And you are oh so smug about it.
Mal: I’m afraid I’m not following.
Evie: of course you’re not. Allow me put this in terms you might understand
(This is when “better than I” happens. After the song. Evie snaps her fingers and takes them back to the kitchen)
Evie: so do you?
Mal: do I what?
Evie: know better than I do? Know why it’s so difficult for me to accept this?
Mal: no
Evie: then keep out of it then
(She stalks out of the kitchen)
Uma: whoo. I do believe you’ve touched a nerve
Carlos: shut up Uma
Uma: or what?
Carlos: or I’ll make you
Uma: you wouldn’t dare
Carlos: I almost killed you back in the mirror. And that was without magic. Imagine what I can do now that I have it
Uma: you don’t scare me De Vil
Carlos: of course not. Because you don’t want to face the fact that the “weak little human bitch” that you loved siccing Harry on. Can now REPEATEDLY hand you your multi legged ass on a platinum platter
Uma: you wouldn’t dare.
Carlos: oooh let’s see now
(He summons Uma’s nautilus necklace to his hand and freezes her in place)
Carlos: how’d she do this again? Oh yeah
(The nautilus begins glowing white hot and he starts singing)
Carlos: 🎶If you want to cross the bridge, you bitch/You've got the pay the toll/Take a gulp and take a breath/And please try not to be a troll/mom and dad you know I've got her, guys/The prince is on a roll/This poor unfortunate soul🎶 What was next? Oh right. 🎶Beluga sevruga. Come winds of the Caspian Sea/Larengix glaucitis/Et max laryngitis/La voce to me🎶 Now, sing!
Carlos (with an insanely sadistic smile on his face): Keep singing!
(White smoke pours out of the nautilus, forms into hands and makes their way to Uma’s throat. Which is itself glowing. Just like Ariel’s did all those years ago.)
Uma (utterly pants shittingly terrified): Aah...
(The smokey hands had just about reached into Uma’s mouth when Doug snatches the nautilus out of Carlos’s hand and throws it back to Uma who falls to her knees and starts sobbing brokenly)
Carlos: hey dude, not cool.
Doug: now is really not the time C. Alright?
Carlos: urgh. Fine
(Doug follows Evie upstairs. Carlos looks around in mild surprise)
Carlos: hey. Where’d my folks go?
(Out in the backyard Ben and Mal are surveying the completely totalled gazebo)
Mal: so whadya say? Can it be salvaged?
Ben: possibly sold to a salvagers. OOOH! I know! If we clean the wood up and fix any missing chunks I can take it to the island and give it out as free firewood. Wait. Does winter exist on the isle?
Mal: there’s no snow. But it’ll get very cold very fast at the end of August.
Ben: that should be enough time to clean and multiply the wreckage.
Mal: sounds like a plan.
Ben: whatcha thinking of?
Mal: sisters getting on my nerves
Ben: again
Mal: well at least I’m trying. Which is a damn sight more than she’s doing.
Ben: perhaps she doesn’t want you to try? Like how you never let us go to therapy with you?
Mal (realising what he means): oh. Never thought about it like that before
Ben: eh that’s alright. There’s a lot that’s been going on today. S’understandable. And besides. Even if you don’t patch it up today. You’ve got until the sun expands to talk it over. And then some. But just remember you’ve got me as well.
(He waggles his eyebrows and smiles that “who said I can’t be an incorrigible little shit just because I’m the king” smile that always makes Mal laugh)
Mal (through her laughter): oh how positively awful
(This is when “1000 years” happens. After the song. Bal hug each other. Then Mal sees something in the kitchen)
Mal: I’m so sorry. You give very, very good advice. But I’m afraid I have to go and make a scene.
(She heads back inside)
Ben (chuckling to himself): I wouldn’t have it any other way
(In the kitchen. Evie’s behind the counter. She’s put her hair up in a messy bun, taken all her makeup off and is forest green pyjamas monogrammed with the initials “D.N.S.G”)
Mal: what’re you doing? This isn’t like you. Getting ready for bed when you have guest. What’re you playing at?
Evie: I’m tired, Mal. It’s been a long. I’ve been put through hell. So excuse me but im going to bed
Mal: at 9:40 in the evening?
Evie: you all know where your rooms are. Celia can bunk with Dizzy. Hades, Hadie and Elsa can camp out in the living room. The pirates can fuck off outsude for all I care. I’m. Going. To bed
Gil: this really does seem unlike you E. Party isn’t over yet. And, plus, we’ve still got to come up plan to stop Chad, Maleficent and Adam.
Evie: but we can’t do that right now. You know that right? If we make up a plan right now and go in guns blazing we’re toast. You understand that right? I mean what the hell are we compared to them? Huh? (Pointing to Mal). A dragon in therapy.(Pointing to Ben). The one scaly to rule them all. (Pointing to Carlos). A teenager who’s four steps away from being a marvel villain. (Pointing to Jay). Civilised Tarzan. (Pointing to Uma). Kleines Fräulein tunnel vision. (Pointing to Harry then Hadie). My brothers slut one and slut two. (Pointing to Harriet). Scottish Bellatrix. (Pointing to Hades). My abandoner of a father. (Pointing to Elsa). An ice queen with social anxiety. (Pointing to CJ). A Liddellite. (Pointing to Celia). Lyra fucking Silvertongue. (Pointing to Lonnie). The general. (Pointing to Jane). A powder keg full of marshmallows. (Pointing to Gil). Blonde Hercules. (She gets kinder now as she points to Dizzy). My beyond intelligent daughter. (Pointing upstairs which is where Doug still is). My talented amazing brilliant extremely handy boyfriend. (Pointing to herself). And me. The only one in this place with any brains. So you see Gilly. We can’t beat them like this. So I’m going to bed. And we can reconvene in the morning. Good night and leave me alone
(She turns to leave but Carlos stops her)
Evie (whining): whahahat? What now?
Carlos: rooms?
Evie: what? Oh yeah. Let’s see now. Most of you know where your rooms are anyway. Uhhhh. Celia. You can share with Dizzy. Elsa and Hades can sleep on the fold out couches in the lounge. The pirates can sleep outside. It’s supposed to rain tonight. Hopefully they’ll melt. Once again. Goodnight!
(She leaves again. She’s halfway up the stairs when Squeaky starts whimpering in pain in his sleep. Squirmy soon joins him. And then they both start crying)
Evie (inhaling sharply through her nose): this is just not my day is it? (Calling up the stairs) Doug. Could you come down. (Bitterly). The shit’s hitting the fan.
(After Doug comes back down. The twins are still screaming and crying in their sleep. And he pirates are looking progressively more terrified)
Uma: WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?!?!
Mal (frantically flipping through the spell book): I don’t know! I don’t know!
Hades: and what time is it now?
Hades (thinking intensely): twelve hours. DOUGLAS! What time was it when my ex wife and that class traitor attacked the house?
Doug: uhhhh. 10am. Why?
Hades: and what’s time now?
Matty (who’s just arrived and been witnessing the past events amusedly with a very frightened Dude in his arms): 9:50pm
Carlos: GIVE ME BACK MY DOG!!!! (Matty does so). Thank you. Now. What the hell are you doing here you little freak?
Matty: temper temper Mr De Vil. I suggest you treat me a mite more kindly because right now I am your only hope of keeping those two awake past sunrise.
(At this point the screen cuts to Ursula’s restaurant on the isle. The time stamp on the screen says “several hours ago”. Hook’s at the piano, all limbs and mental faculties restored and he’s giving a little performance to all the villains who are meeting there. This is when “little drop of poison” happens.)
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1011
1. Five facts about your current relationship OR five facts about your single life.
a) I haven’t been truly single in...around 6 years, so it’s been a bit of an adjustment.
b) It was my last day as an intern yesterday (but they hired me, so I’m staying after all, haha) and since I’ve felt like I gained a family in the last two months, I thought it would be okay to give professionalism a break and share what had actually been going on with me on my first day on the job, aka when the breakup was still fresh and I was still figuring out how to function all over again. It unsurprisingly surprised everyone and my superior said something like, “Omg it’s the [company name] curse; it’s so strong it broke you guys up before you even got hired” which got a laugh out of me.
c) I’m not interested in seeing other people.
d) Probably wouldn’t be, for a long time. My trust has been irreparably broken.
e) Seeing couples in public has now become annoying. I’m happy for them, but it’s still annoying.
2. Five facts about a past relationship.
a) I’ve known her since kindergarten, but we didn’t become friends till 7th grade and didn’t start dating until junior year of high school.
b) We were legal with her family and her parents loved me and I them. On the other hand, I was never able to come out to my family because she broke up with me before I could be able to do so.
c) She introduced me to vaping.
d) We were never able to truly travel together, which we always planned to do after graduating. The farthest we reached was Batangas.
e) She never knew where she wanted to eat whenever we were out, so I was mostly the one who decided which restaurant we were going to have lunch or dinner in.
3. Five facts about your mother.
a) She has always worked in hotels, which is great because it has always allowed us to get room and buffet discounts, heh.
b) Her family (aka my grandparents, her, and my uncles) struggled financially for a little bit when my grandpa lost his job when she was in college. When her friends would go to fast-food restaurants, my mom would always decline, saying she had schoolwork to finish. In reality she just couldn’t afford anything, and the only money she held was for public transport.
c) She is a little childish considering her age, and I cannot stand her petty tantrums. She was childish even when I was a kid, and I believe my emotional well-being suffered because of that.
d) She has a high pain tolerance and the only time I’ve seen her struggle was when she was getting a tattoo on the back of her shoulder.
e) She is also extremely religious and it especially grinds my gears when she gets hypocritical about it, which is just about all the time.
4. Five facts about your father.
a) He has only ever dated my mom.
b) He grew up extremely poor and at some point his parents actually stopped being able to afford his tuition. Instead of being kicked out, a few nuns who served in the school paid my grandparents a visit and told them my dad would be given a scholarship since he had good grades and it would have been a waste if he got expelled.
c) He was a dancer in high school, knows how to play the guitar, and he also apparently knows how to draw very well. There’s a lot I don’t know about him, considering he has worked abroad my whole life.
d) He breaks or loses his reading glasses once every few months. I know which parent I definitely take after.
e) I have never seen him cry.
5. Five facts about your sibling. If you have more than one, pick one. Or do them all!
a) She had problems crying in school until she was in around 2nd or 3rd grade.
b) She’s in college and is currently taking up digital filmmaking.
c) She’s the biggest introvert I know. I’ve never seen her be willing to do anything silly; not even with her friends.
d) She can’t handle spicy food.
e) Her main interests have shifted from Harry Potter, to One Direction, to 5SOS, and now K-pop. I believe she’s into Seventeen the most.
6. Five facts about your town.
a) The upper part of the city offers amazing views of the Metro Manila skyline, which has recently made the place a kinda popular nightlife destination.
b) There’s a lot of hidden gem restaurants here but because most people spend more time complaining about how far my city is and how difficult it is to get to than actually just making the damn ride over here, the restaurants stay hidden and uncrowded. Their loss.
c) Used to be massively underdeveloped for most of my childhood and teenage years. Now there are several malls and I can easily go to a McDonald’s, Burger King, and Starbucks right outside our village.
d) Because you basically have to drive through a mountain to get to the upper part of the city, it’s not the safest highway and fatal crashes are unfortunately common.
e) The city is known for its suman, except I hate Filipino rice cakes and this actually doesn’t do anything for me.
7. Five facts about your house.
a) It used to have a balcony until we had that transformed into another bedroom. So technically it is still a balcony; it just hasn’t had that purpose for a while now.
b) My mom used a little cheat in our dining room and installed a huge wall mirror. Most people visiting for the first time always note how much larger it made the room (and thus the house) look.
c) I live in a neighborhood where the houses are of the same model and look (think the Squidville episode from Spongebob). That said, balconies are included in all properties. When my parents decided to renovate ours and turn it into a room, so many houses slowly followed suit as well. It was amusing to see it unfold, knowing the idea undoubtedly originated from us. It was like a revolution.
d) We don’t have a gate, which irritates me to no end because it allows noisy neighborhood kids to just march and run around our property. Sometimes they even make it to our carport and backyard, ugh. :(
e) Speaking of backyard, the landscaping for it used to be a pebble mosaic designed to look like a swan. But over the years the quality deteriorated, so my parents to opted to have the pebbles crushed into tiny rocks and embedded onto the ground. I don’t exactly know what this technique is called, but yeah.
8. Five facts about your niece or nephew. If you have more than one, pick one. Or do them all! Skip if you don’t have one.
I don’t have any, but I do have a godson so I’m going with him as I don’t want to leave any section blank.
a) He was born sometime in December. I honestly don’t remember when, loooooool. Worst godmother ever.
b) He’s actually one of my first cousins, but I guess my aunt saw something in me and wanted me to be his godson. I’ve been a terrible one, though; I’ve never bought him gifts or money or anything – to be fair, I was made a ninang when I was like, 14 or 15 lmao. But I can definitely make up for it now that I’m starting to earn my own money.
c) He’s the calmer, sweeter version of his older brother. His kuya was a pretty naughty kid when he was his age.
d) He mainly speaks English, as how most younger parents raise their kids these days. He understands Filipino of course, but he mostly communicates in English.
e) The last time I saw him, he was in the middle of a ridiculously adorable interviewing phase where he’d approach anyone in the family and start asking them a series of questions: what’s your favorite color? What food can’t you live without? What’s your favorite subject in school? Would you rather win $1 million dollars or know how to fly? It typically got exhausting after the 25th question, but it was so cute nonetheless. None of us have any idea where it came from.
9. Five facts about your education.
a) I went to a private, all-girls, Catholic school from kinder up to high school, and then moved to a public, co-educational, non-sectarian university for college. It was the very epitome of culture shock, lemme tell ya.
b) Some classes I had in my first school that might be uncommon in others have included penmanship (because my school has its own brand of cursive), environmental education, and I don’t remember what this next class was called anymore but we were basically taught how to write professionally? Like how to write cover letters and resumés and all.
c) My first school is extremely homophobic and went so far as to ‘hire’ spies tasked to check up on who’s been in same-sex relationships, list them all down, and report them to the guidance office so that they can be called one by one and be interrogated, and for the most part, pressured to come out. I don’t know if they still do this, but the younger batches are definitely more vocal and woke now thanks to social media and I doubt those practices would still fly today.
d) My university education was a breath of fresh air. Suddenly people were wearing sleeveless tops, mobs and rallies were a common sight to me, and my instructors were now atheist and not shoving Catholicism and Jesus and salvation down my throat. I loved every single day of it.
e) The most interesting class I took in college was a course called Pornography in Electronic Media, under the broadcast communication department. Getting to tell people I take a class where we sit down to watch porn was such a fucking ride.
10. Five facts about your job.
a) I got hired last Wednesday, but I had been interning for the company for around two months before they extended the offer.
b) I’m pretty much gonna be doing the same things I did as an intern, except I’m now accountable for any boo-boos I make HAHAHAHA. Also, I’m gonna be paid a lot more, obviously, which is sweet. I really thought we interns were severely underpaid considering the work that we help with on a daily basis.
c) My role is going to be with another department which is a little scary because it means the things I learned with the department I actually interned at will be pretty much useless. I’ll be starting from scratch again, but I’m still excited.
d) It’s a work-from-home situation, which is a relief for me because I don’t have to wake up early and I don’t have to face traffic.
e) My job interview for the position was actually a bit of a bomb because I absolutely fumbled with and messed up the first question I was asked; and since first impressions matter, I really thought I lost the gig from the very start of the interview. I made up for it as the interview continued and fortunately was able to break the ice and build a rapport with the team members who spoke with me, and I guess I did enough for them to want to take me in anyway.
For those who are curious, I blanked the fuck out when they asked “Tell me something about yourself that isn’t in your resumé.” Slowest 15 seconds of my life.
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so this is it (i sold my soul for this)
What are you willing to lose?
You cover your wounds, but underneath them
A million voices in your head that whisper, "Stop now."
Another twist of the knife, the turn of the screws
It's all in your mind and it's fighting you
Arm yourself, a storm is coming
Well, kid, what you gonna do now?
So are you going to die today or make it out alive?
You gotta conquer the monster in your head
And then you'll fly
Wren is seventeen, and a few years ago, the old lord passed away, and Lord Darius came into power. He is old enough to notice the changes when they come. They come slowly at first. First, there is a furrow in his father’s brow as he orders supplies for his shop. The wrinkles around Kero’s mouth deepen on the days he goes into the city to sell his crops. When first winter after Darius takes power turns the town white, for the first time in Wren’s life, it is hard to come by simple things like flour, sugar, and coffee.
When he is old enough, Wren takes odd jobs around town – carrying boxes for the tavern owner, running errands for the schoolteacher, cleaning rooms for the innkeeper when one too many employees leave to find work in the city – and he uses his earnings to buy some of the luxuries his family can no longer afford.
He learns to bring these things home when his father is busy in his shop. The first time he brought home a tin of candied fruits that his father loved but was a full silver more expensive than it used to be, his father demanded that Wren use his money for his own amusement, not to make up for shortages in the family budget.
Kero’s eyes are disapproving, but each time, he says nothing when Wren tells his father that the items are gifts or in lieu of copper or silver for a day’s work.
It is more difficult to explain away the prohibitively expensive potion of healing that Wren brings home when Kero was kicked by one of their horses. But it’s Kero, and Wren’s father lives with a quiet terror of losing the ones he loves, so his father says nothing, helps Kero drink, and holds his husband close as the potion nudges the broken bones to realign and heal.
There is nothing special about the day that changes Wren’s life. All of the pieces are familiar.
It is a warm summer’s day, and the sun shines as brilliantly as it did the day before and as it would the day after. Wren says goodbye to his father and to Kero on his way out the door to spend the day at the tavern. A decent bard keeps a tavern’s customers in their seats, after all.
The tavern owner smiles as Wren arrives and begins to play. The morning is slow, but with the noon hour comes more appreciative tips from people who take their lunch in the tavern for a chance to get out of the sun. His fingers trip over the chords that are best played by hands larger than his, like usual. He fights the redness in his cheeks which always flush when he sings around so many people, like usual. He makes his usual reminder to himself that his voice is very fine, only higher in pitch than many.
Predictably, the tavern slows to a crawl in the afternoon. Wren stretches as he stands up, bids the tavernkeeper farewell, and steps out of the tavern to take a walk before the evening crowd begins to show. He wanders the town square, makes small talk with Miss Al, who is sixty years old and sells yarn near the fountain, and flirts with the schoolteacher in the shade of the trees planted near the temple. It’s a pleasant day, and it is pleasant to be among his friends and neighbors, the people he has known all of his life.
Then he hears the commotion and the scream.
Raised by fathers who do nothing but help others, Wren turns so fast that his lute, slung over his shoulder so his hands are free, knocks painfully against his back. He takes a step from the shade before he understands what is before him.
Across the town square, standing above the blacksmith lying prone on the ground, is Lord Darius, unmistakable with his fine clothes and noble bearing, standing near his carriage. The blacksmith’s tools lay scattered around her, and she stammers apologetically.
“Your apologies, like yourself, are worthless. You have already insulted me with your carelessness, and it is unforgivable. If I were not so merciful, you would be dead.”
“I’m sorry, sir, truly, I am! I didn’t mean – you and your guards were walking so quickly –”
Lord Darius’ face screws up with fury, and he slams his boot down onto her ribs. “You would place the blame for your stupidity on your lord? The insolence!”
The blacksmith cries out when he kicks her again, and Wren is already halfway across the town square, breath shuddering with rage.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Wren demands, forgetting his caution as his hands shake. “Take a step back.”
Lord Darius stops before striking the blacksmith again and turns to face Wren curiously. Lord Darius is handsome, Wren supposes, in the way most noblemen are handsome. That is to say, Lord Darius’ face is unremarkably symmetrical. His hair is neatly styled, and his clothes are well-tailored. Wren decides, somehow through the rage screaming through him, that Lord Darius wears a large number of very ugly rings.
Lord Darius’ laughter is ugly, too, and Wren cannot help the frown that twists at his mouth. “My dear boy,” he says. “You really oughtn’t make a nuisance of yourself. I am merely holding this woman to account for her disrespect.” He turns his wrist and casts a spell.
Wren knows a warning when he hears one, but he’s too angry to listen and impatient enough that the spell breaks before it can touch him. “Tough talk for a fellow with a small cock.” His rage doesn’t cool but it twists until his voice is steady with ice. “You probably stumbled into her way because you can’t see past the inbred nose on your face.”
A flush forms high on Darius’ cheekbones, and he lifts his fingers in a complicated pattern.
Wren feels the spell like a slap, but he wants to laugh because the spell does as much as a gentle breeze does against a wildfire. He keeps talking, and his voice grows louder with each word. “You come here, you throw your weight around, you talk like you’re somebody, and it’s like, we get it. We understand that you know you are fundamentally unworthy of love, that you were a mistake before you were even formed in your mother’s body.”
There’s a mocking slant in his voice that he’s never heard before, and he revels in it. His chest heaves with every breath, but his mind is sharp, words tripping from his mouth as his shoulders loosen because the way Darius is so speechlessly offended begs him to keep going.
“I am certain it is difficult to live each moment with the knowledge that you were never anything other than a duty and a burden to your parents. It must be hard, knowing that you are human refuse given form and the ability to talk. But despite all of these heartbreaking struggles, it is still unacceptable to be an asshole.”
For a moment, the world is silent and still. And as Wren closes the distance between him and Lord Darius, his steps echo in his ears like a shout. He lifts his chin to stare directly into Lord Darius’ eyes. He forgets to be afraid, and he says, “Back the fuck off.”
Lord Darius raises his fist, and Wren’s vision blurs when his head cracks against the ground.
“Let this be a lesson,” Lord Darius hisses, eyes bright as he bends over Wren. “And if you cannot learn, you will be punished.”
Wren huffs as he sits up. His nose hurts. It might be bleeding. But it doesn’t hurt enough to make him afraid. “I think you need a nap, maybe something to eat,” he says with a mad grin. “That’s what people do when babies get fussy, right?”
With a wordless roar, Lord Darius proceeds to hold him down and slam his knuckles into Wren’s face until Wren is afraid and until there is blood gushing down his face and both of his eyes are blackened. Finally, when his fists are stained red and Wren is shuddering and nearly unrecognizable on the ground, Lord Darius stands. He pants for breath for a moment before he speaks.
“If I ever see you again, I will kill you. I will tear your limbs from your body. And I will not stop there. I will find your family, and I will kill them first. You will die with their screams ringing in your head. Do you understand me?”
Wren curls onto his side, sobbing as he tries to stand up with hands too weak to push him to his feet. He cries out when Darius kicks him in the ribs, sending him flat once again.
“I said, do you understand me?”
Wren chokes as he tries to squirm away. “Yes, I understand you, please, stop. I’m sorry, please, I understand.”
“Glad to see you have come to your senses. Run on home now and tell your parents that I was merciful.”
Wren lays on the ground, shaking and crying, a hand pressed to his mouth, for some time. At one point, he hears the carriage pull away. He doesn’t know how much time passes until there are gentle hands helping him stand and brushing the dirt from his clothes and hair. He can barely tolerate a single moment of it, and he tugs himself free from whoever managed to pull him to his feet. It hurts too much to be touched. It hurts too much to breathe.
He has no idea how he makes it home. He struggles to open the front door. He can hardly see the key in his hand with his blackened and swollen eyes, much less the keyhole. He only manages it by touch. He hears movement once he is finally inside, and shame curls hot in his throat.
“Wren, by the Creators.” His father’s gentle hands touch his cheeks and tilt his face up. “What happened to you?”
Wren trembles and tries to explain, but he’s crying too hard to manage words. His father hushes him and gathers him close, guides him to a chair and holds him.
The story comes out of him much later as his father gently cleans the blood from his ruined nose and cracked lips and bruised cheeks and after Kero had returned home from his day in the fields. Kero held his hands and murmured soothing things as his father righted his nose. He does his best to give a faithful account of the day’s events, even the parts that make him flinch and shudder.
At some point, Kero goes to bed after a murmured conversation with his father just out of Wren’s earshot. His father comes back to his side. “Come on,” he says, “let’s get you to bed, too.”
Wren changes into the clean garments his father hands to him, and he gets into his bed when he is told. He lays on his side, miserable with – something. Defeat, maybe, or failure. Shame, too.
His father sits on the edge of his bed and rubs a soothing hand up and down Ren’s arm. “You are my son,” his father says. “I love you more than I have ever or will ever love anyone else.”
“I shamed you today,” Wren mumbles, “and I shamed myself.”
His father shakes his head. “No. You – today, you showed courage that – you leave me breathless with pride, Wren. And I am angry that that son of a bitch touched you.”
Wren doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything. Eventually, he falls asleep to his father softly singing a lullaby that he sang when Wren was small.
#THIS IS MY DND SON#I LOVE HIM VERY MUCH#about wren#dnd tag#my dm was saying more about the fucked up stuff darius has done such wren left home#and i just had to rewrite his back story to reflect more of the cruelty#and i'm having so many EMOTIONSSSSSSSS#title is from some nights by fun#and the italicized lyrics are from phoenix#its a song written for league of legends in 2019
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HOMECOMING — PART I
Prologue / Part l / Part ll / Part lll
Summary: The year is 3030, and the divide between the rich and poor couldn’t be greater. Wildwood University is the most prestigious school in the entire world, but it isn’t only because of the impeccable flying cars that can be seen best during the fuchsia lit nights, or the dexterous education everyone receives. It has secrets. A lot of secrets.
Genre: Gang!AU, Futuristic!AU, Dystopian!AU
Warnings: Vivid descriptions of violence, foul language, drug use, and murder.
Taeyong had never been on a train before. In NEO, there was no reason to use them. No one could afford to go anywhere, but even on the rare occasion that you had no children, and owned a buisness successful enough to have the cash, you couldn’t past the test; the certification test.
The purpose of the certification test was to ensure that people who resided in NEO, or practically anywhere that had the familiar smell of poor water systems and hunger breath, couldn’t cross the border that lead to the “brightest place on earth”; Valhalla. They asked impossible questions, but most importantly, you couldn’t have a criminal record. Something impossible in poverty and they knew that.
Valhalla didn’t feel like a real place. I mean, Taeyong knows it’s real because they always drop the brochures from their solar powered helicopters four times a year; one for every season. Everyone always runs and practically slips on eachother’s drool to get the newest addition of the futuristic landmarks they decide to bless the masses with. Photo’s only, of course.
Taeyong finds it to be quite taunting. To actually give these people any hope that they could make it over. It was hilarious.
If you work hard, you too, can see the light. Absolutely pathetic.
Currency wasn’t a familiar term back home either. You purchased what you needed with other things; your body, drugs, or being a child.
Everyone had sympathy for the children that came into the convinence stores with dark hands, and heavy bags under their eyes indicating they had the weight of the world on their shoulders, but also the slouch that proved they knew even now that there was no out. This was life. Now, they just had to figure out how to live it.
He’s alone right now. The sound of the tracks and rails continuously slapping against eachother was unfamiliar, but he didn’t mind it. He enjoyed hearing new sounds, smelling new things; good or bad. Even the scenery that laid before him wasn’t too harsh.
He can see the homeless on the streets, currently trying to prepare for the storm that was predicted to come tonight. With the small amount of privilege he has, there is a radio in their residence. Maybe this was because if not for that, everyday would seem like a hurricane was out to murder them all for good. Black and white vision didn’t leave room for much imagination.
“I haven’t taken this drive in a while, kid.” The man conducting this ride hadn’t spoken a word to him this entire time, but he didn’t mind the conversation. Even with his lack of communication skills, he was willing to put in an effort.
“That’s nice.”
“You know, I think we should throw a fucking party. I mean, you have to be extemely intelligent to be going across the border. A fucking genius.”
A drunken confession. Not surprising to Taeyong as everyone in NEO was on something. Or everything.
“But you know what, I know about you.” He starts, but Taeyong doesn’t move a muscle. He had been injected with enough Indigo to last him the next 48 hours; enough time to get on the campus without a squeak. Sooman promised he would give him further instructions later on. “I know you have some connections. But don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I don’t know what you do, but I respect it.”
“Do you?”
“I do.”
Being so high, Taeyong can’t speak any longer. His hand rummages through his black bag that usually held his heavier weapons, and he feels for the blanket that never left his sights. It’s old place was on his bunk he shared with Jaehyun. He had the top. Now that he thinks about it, Jaehyun was quite jealous that he was the chosen one for this particular mission. He joked, saying that he must have sucked enough dick for a lifetime, considering he was obviously better looking, and more charming, but didn’t get chosen.
Taeyong simply shrugged, one of his signature moves. “I’m a better shooter, a more cold blooded killer, and my dicks bigger.”
But back to the blanket. Secretly, he was able to preserve the scent. His parents scent. This blanket, although seeming like a rather childish need, was his safe place. It was the last thing they gave him before he came downstairs one morning, expecting a large breakfast becuase they promised him. And they never broke promises. But instead he found them dismembered, blood splattered all across their wooden floors.
Even while thinking about his nightmare, there was no anxiety. He falls into slumber more peacefully than he ever had before, as he doesn’t have his guard up. No one is out to get him right now. He’s on his way to Valhalla, after all.
Also, thank God for Indigo.
Hours had passed, followed with the drunken conductor spewing on about how NEO could make it out. Become a real city, and purge its current anarchy position. Taeyong took the seat all the way in the back, so he obviously thought he was getting a response. Taeyong heard none of it.
Oddly enough, he feels himself waking up just when the train seemed to be slowing down. Taking a plane, or a jet, would’ve been so much quicker, but he doesn’t mind the good rest. It’s supposedly night time now, but there is a glow radiating from the sky. Damnit, he wished he could see the color. It was rumored to be fuchsia every single night. Every damn night.
Taeyong begins to stretch out his back muscles like a swan, preparing himself for his true specialty. He looks out the window, making sure they are in the correct location. The woods are steep; trees everywhere. According the brochures, this was a frequent camping spot for the residents of Valhalla. You had a perfect view of the burning stars that always left the weather warm, and sweet.
In his pocket, he feels around for the paper. He knows he can’t experience those luxuries right now, but it’s not against the rules to imagine, right?
A sweet vanilla scent always fills Camp Lolly! Maybe it’s because we wanted it to match with the pink sky! Or maybe it’s because you deserve it. Either way, you need to bring the whole family! Opening March 21, 3030.
Taeyong chuckles to himself. Cute, he thinks, already feeling the familiar rush of blood bounce around his anatomy. He hasn’t even touched his pistol yet, but his mouth was watering. He even felt his member getting excited, something he had never in his life experienced. He had never been dosed with this much.
“I don’t know why we stopped here.” The conductor takes another swing of his drink. “But I trust you. Wasn’t our conversation just amazing this whole trip? You know, maybe when you come back we can catch up in different ways?”
With the silence that filled the train, you would assume that he wasn’t in it. But that was the best part. A sky fox, he was. He’s crawling on the floor, looking nothing less of a demon. The sight is horrid, and as he approaches his prey, he can feel his eyes flashing. He had never been able to look in the mirror to see if this was a real thing. If the color was actually a bright purple color. Regardless, it feels good. It feels so good, he wants to scream.
“Taeyong? Where are—
Splat.
The pistol is silent even as it cools off, smoke receding from the hole. There’s a fat blood stain on the window, and it brings comfort to Taeyong. He can’t smell it, but he inhales deeply anyway. God, he wanted so badly to keep going. To take this high and do things he had never done before. Shoot him more, squeeze his throat to see if he can make it burst. But there’s no time for that.
“Sorry, buddy.” He laughs loudly. “But you talk too fucking much. Also, bosses orders.” He looks at the watch he always sported on his left wrist; tapping it twice. The text he recieved just minutes before the train showed up hologrammed above the dead body.
Get rid of him when you get there safely.
With his black gloves on, and his mask now covering his identity, he throws the man down the stairs of the train. He cleans the leftover blood on his way out, and with the strength of a million men and woman, he carries his body to the deepest parts of the greenland.
“Did you handle it?”
“Of course I did.”
“I know you can’t see it, but how does it look? It looks different, doesn’t it?”
Different was an understatement. Taeyong had found a safe place to finish his resting, and he was so ready. He was so ready to step foot onto the campus, class.
“They have black bricks.” He stares up, eyes rushing to search for everything. The scenery screamed the future. He can hear cars zooming down the road. They’re everywhere. People are laughing, and walking around with genuine smiles on their faces. Girls are with boys, and they’re not being assaulted, or being forced to show themselves just so they can eat. Some are even holding hands.
The grass seems so soft. More than ever now, does he want his colored vision. Grass is green, but he knew this grass was greener. Possibly a completely different shade of green.
“They have a lot more than black bricks, boy.” Sooman laughs, finding this whole ordeal too adorable. “They look clean don’t they?”
“Mhm.” Taeyong swallows.
“Your Indigo is wearing off.”
“How do you know?” He’s asking questions, but he’s not even listening. He’s quite distracted with the rumble echoing through the sky. On the brochure it always describes the day as blue. So that’s what color he was going with.
“You’re feeling a lot right now.”
“I can take extra. I don’t want you to think—
“Calm down, boy. You deserve to have fun. Starting today, no more Indigo for you. First and foremost, people will start asking you questions, and if your senses are off, it’ll expose you completely. But at the same time, you obviously can’t just stop taking them completely. You’ll be a mess. You’re smart enough to split the grams in half, lessening the dosage, aren’t you?”
“Are you sure? I mean—
“God, I’ve haven’t heard you ramble this much since I found you.”
That sentence brings an unfamiliar tingle to Taeyong’s chest. As usual, that days pops right into his memory, but he’s not content. He can feel his blood pressure rising slightly as he can see the blood again. The way their eyes were in the back of their heads, and their skin was pale.
“Sorry.” Is all he can muster.
“Take a half right now. It will calm you down. Call me when you see her.”
“Okay. See you when I come back.” He speaks, immediately hanging up the phone. Why the fuck did he just say that? So fucking sappy, and weird.
He continues to walk around the large campus. He can still feel that shaking, and it’s making him quite anxious. Just how he was feeling when he got this mission. The worst part of it all, or maybe the best part, was that his mission wasn’t what was bringing him the slight shake. He had literally been sent to murder the president of the most prestigious university in the world, and his entire family, but no sweat.
“Excuse me.” He finally speaks, noticing a girl, white hair, cruising cooly beside him. They happened to be walking over a bridge, assisting them over water. Beforehand, he thought he saw little fish swimming around in it, but he would have to test that later.
“What’s up?”
“What is that vibration? I’m new here.”
“Oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t know?”
His heart slightly stops, but he catches himself as his feet continue to scrape against the cobblestone walkway. He doesn’t care if it’s annoying the girl. He enjoys the sound.
“It’s landing hour. All the people who have flying cars are arriving at school as we speak. Some of them come in flocks, some alone. Most in flocks though.”
“Flocks?” He questions with an innocent head tilt. He knows what the word means, but he wanted to know what kind. Did they have gangs here too?
“You know, sports teams?” Her voice is becoming lighter, indicating she either was really annoyed with his idiotic questions, or she genuinely felt sorry for him.
“Yeah of course!” He corrects, turning his inner liar back on. More like outer liar. Not being on Indigo was way harder than he ever could’ve imagined. Especially when talking was his only way of finishing his mission. “I just mean, what kind of sports do they have here.”
“Well, we have the typical stuff. Swimming, floating rollerskating, but our most popular team is the speed demons. Electrical NASCAR. Hard to explain? you just have to see it in person. Complete jocks. So hot.” She gushes.
“Interesting.” He notes. “Why can we feel them, but not see them?”
“You see, everyone thinks that just because you go here that you’re rich. But that’s not true. I only drive a Tesla! My parents would never even think about buying a flying car! Even though I’m at the school that fucking invented them—anyways,” she breathes, slapping herself a quick time, “they have privileges, like their own parking lot. If you’re on the other side of the campus, you can see them rolling in, but from here? They don’t think we deserve it.”
“Right.” His lips are now folded into a thin line, wanting so badly to scoff at her. She was complaining about having a Tesla, when he had never even been inside a car. Fuck you. He thinks to himself. He’s not stupid enough to say it outloud. This girl is clearly naive, even if annoyed, and he knows he can get more information out of her.
They finally make it over the bridge, and Taeyong continues to observe the campus. There’s more students on this side. He can see ramps, and people using their hoverboards to skate and do tricks. It’s almost an electrical current thats surrounds the boards; lightning. They have no shoulder pads or knee, clearly knowing they are safe. No danger in sight.
“I never asked for your name?” He slides in, adjusting her book bag strap ever so slightly. He notices her blush.
“Mackenzie.” She chokes out. “You?”
“Lee.” He answers simply. “You like it’s here? Other than not having a flying car?” He chuckles. She can’t see or hear the aggression behind it. If his drugs weren’t wearing off, he might have fed on her like the idiot she was later tonight.
“I love it.” She sighs in content. “You meet a lot of great people here who just want to keep the world a beautiful place. Valhalla is...magical. Funny enough, the flying car guys may be hot jerks, but one of them has a sister.”
His ears perk up immediately. This can’t be this easy, can it? The chances of your name about to leave her mouth was actually quite slim, but it was possible. And a possibility is an opportunity.
“Really? Who?”
“Johnny and Y/N. Hottest people here. I know I say hot a lot, but they’re like—sexy. Most popular kids on the campus.” Her hand reaches for his own, and she slyly takes his schedule from his hand. She opens it promptly as they hault at a large pair of stairs. It’s a hologram, and rumor has it; your feet tingle when you walk on it.
Everyone gets a boost! The sign floats.
“Funny enough, she’s in the class. We all have class together.” She smirks. She’s happy. She thinks she has a chance to get with him; or at the least, get in his pants. “Environmental science.” She finishes. “Lucky me.”
He laughs, this time loudly. It echoes, and he sees her smiling even brighter from the sound. This makes him laugh even louder, taking his first steps into his new life; temporarily of course. It does indeed tingle, and feels himself waking up even more.
“No, Mackenzie,” he breaths out, taking a hand and swiping it through his hair ever so gently. “Lucky me.”
When he walks in, his heart stops. The ceiling seems to be unreachable as it practically touches the moon. He also can see right through it, although it seems to be able to protect from horrible weather conditions.
“Also lucky both of us, we’re here.” Mackenzie walks up to a black door; a keypad floating in the center. Her thumb locks itself on the scanner, and it opens immediately. Well, more like dissapeared. He quickly follows behind her, but is stopped and shocked, causing him to hiss.
“What—“ he ravels, rubbing his stomach from the pain. From the other side, he can see her, laughing at him. She thinks it’s cute.
“Everyone has to use their thumb print.” She confesses.
“You couldn’t have told me that before I walked behind you?”
“Everyone has to learn.”
Real funny, Mackenzie. More now than ever did he know she was going to be added to his list.
He sticks his thumb on the pad, and sticks his foot through to be safe. He’s in, and he can see so many people inside. The desks are all levitating; it’s unbelievable. He looks to see if there’s a professor, but there’s nobody. At least not yet.
“You can sit with me. Study buddies?” She cooes, locking his arms into hers, and for a split second, he almost reacts. He was not used to so much affection, not even with his brothers. They weren’t touching unless their hands were around your throat.
Once again, he’s following her lead. She hops on seemingly thin air, adjusting herself into the chair. He does the same, and now that he’s up, he can look around. All over, he can see familiar images. The images from the brochures.
Goon Lagon! Limy likepark! Winter frost!
There’s also a huge map resting in the back of the classroom. He’s too far to read what it says, but he wants so badly to know if NEO even made the cut. Do these people even know it exists? Probably so, right? A smile is creeping on his face again, because he really did it. He’s a monster, invading their world.
He’s caught up in his thoughts, but not so much that he doesn’t notice the door clearing again. He immediately breaks into a cold sweat when he sees who’s coming in.
It’s you. Johnny can also be seen, and he prays that he’s not in this class as well. That would make things so much harder. The two of you hug, followed by hoots and hollers from the guys floating in the back. They must be on the team, too, as they sport similar coats.
Your walk; it’s addicting. The sway in your hips is something Taeyong wasn’t acccustomed to, and the outfit you sport. He can’t see it, well the color, but in reality you’re wearing an orange tube top that read “NASCAR”, and has a car zooming on a track as a finishing touch. Your orange pants match perfectly. You had combat boots, just as he did on your feet, and shades were covering your face. You looked exactly what Mackenzie said you were; popular.
He expects you to find a way to sit in the back. Those seem to be your people. Your potential protectors. But without even thinking about it, seemingly, you hop up right beside him. You remove your shades from your face in dramatic fashion, and your eyes; they’re beautiful. They don’t even have to be a bright color. They’re just black to him, but they’re sparkling.
And yet, he’s unfazed. You’re nothing special, he thinks. A pretty face was nothing.
#nct#nct 127#nct taeyong#nct series#nct imagine#taeyong#nct imagines#nct scenario#nct scenarios#taeyong nct#nct gang au#gang au#kpop gang au#kpop#kpop series
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Just some Ideas I had for Yandere BNHA
WARNING: Slight yandere themes
Bakugou:
It was just another day of work for Bakugou, he was going undercover and searching for a villain who had hacked into several bank accounts and had stolen over 4 million. After some extensive research Bakugou had figured out that this villain worked as a theater manager and worked behind the scenes as this hacking mastermind.
Bakugou sighed as he waited for the show to end there was only one more solo dance performance left and he was bored out of his mind. He sighed as the announcer went backstage to bring in the next performer.
“Ladies and Gentleman I am pleased to introduce the dancing sensation of Roko city y/n!”
Within a flash he saw y/n. His breath hitched and his bored expression turned into a more curious one as he saw y/n how her beautiful hair danced in the light, her gorgeous dress fitting her perfectly and how she smiled at everyone. Something about this girl made him feel different, made him feel like he was complete.
He stared into her eyes and for the first time ever he felt happy, he didn’t want to shout, he didn’t want to yell, he wasn’t angry, it was just him.
Y/N’s eyes met his briefly which made his heart beat faster but she turned away and as soon as the music started, she swayed elegantly with it. She was calming and refreshing to watch and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was love at first sight...
It must have been, right?
Of course it was! He loved y/n! And he was going to go to the moon and back for her. He would kill for her! He would die for her!
She was an enchantress her beautiful long tresses swaying with her every movement and how she was the perfect girl for Bakugou.
She was his and no damn extra or reject could take her away from him! They were bound together from that moment on.
Izuku:
This sweet cinnamon roll was walking down the street recently dumped by Ochako Uraraka. He was slowly moving on but the thought of his old girlfriend made his eyes flood with tears. They loved each other and he simply couldn’t understand why she would leave him. He huffed as his eyes watered again.
CRASH
He bumped into someone who was on the ground.
“Geez! Watch where you’re going” she said as Izuku reached down to help her. Both of their eyes met and they took each other in.
She wore a red hat and red jumpsuit with a tag ‘y/n’
Then their eyes met- Izuku couldn’t possibly look away from those beautiful e/c eyes.
“What?” y/n snapped rudely “cat caught your tongue”
“No-no I’m very sorry...I’m Izuku by the way, Izuku Midoriya” he said with a little stutter here and there. y/n worried over the distraught man and looked down guiltily.
“No I’m sorry” she said looking back at him with a tired smile, “I’m y/n by the way- I was just grumpy because I’d done a 24 hour shift to cover for a friend, y’kow? I just want to go home and get some sleep”
Izuku felt really bad, y/n wouldn’t have to work a day if she was with him. He would make her happy and keep her to himself. She was more than Uraraka could have ever been to him. She was his sun, his moon, his star. He would protect her and this time yn wouldn’t hurt him like Uraraka did, she was an angel- no a goddess. It was love at first sight and he wasn’t going to ever let her go! Of course not!
“y/n you seem really tired, do you want me to walk you home?” Izuku asked slyly.
“No I wouldn’t want to bother you and besides we’ve just met” she said shifting uncomfortably.
“No we know each other” he said
“huh?” she asked alarmed
“your y/n and I’m Izuku... We know each other now” he said giving her a sweet smile and his puppy eyes which she couldn’t refuse.
“Oh alright! Fine by me!” y/n said smiling back at the man who she guided to her house unsuspectingly. After all she really doesn’t know that he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Shoto Todoroki:
Shoto was enjoying a lonely walk down his usual way until a paper smacked him in the face unsuspectingly.
“ugh” he groaned as he fell backward. Just his luck.
“Oops! Sorry” A melodic voice from nearby spoke out.
Shoto quickly grabbed the paper harshly and glanced at the girl running towards him, her eyes shone concern catching him off-guard and building up a warm feeling in his chest. He’s never quiet felt this way before and wishes he did because the feeling was a pleasant one.
“I’m really sorry sir, I’m y/n and I work for an orphanage nearby. I was actually just handing out papers for donations. You see we’ve been running low on our government funds lately so I was handing these papers out. I guess my clumsiness speaks for itself.” She said quickly cutting herself off as she noticed his unfamiliar gaze.
“S-s-sorry sir” y/n said bowing her head down low too embarrassed by this situation.
“How much money?” Shoto asked all of a sudden pulling out his wallet.
“What?” The girl asked money.
“How much money do you have left to collect for your donations?” He asked. He sounded impatient but in his mind he wanted to stay just like that with her forever.
“We still have 1 million dollars-” y/n was silenced by Shoto’s immediate reaction to take out his check.
“Sir what are you doing?” y/n asked.
“Can’t you see what I am doing? I’m giving you the money” Of course he would. He had decided from the moment he saw her that he was going to take care of her and he would do anything for her.
He quickly signed it and handed it over to her with a donation of 1 million dollars. To say the least the girl was starstruck, she could barely get a hold of herself. She flung herself into his arms and kissed his cheek and that sealed her fate forever.
“Thank you so much sir!” she said still hugging him as tears of joy streamed down her face. The orphanage would be saved after all!
“Shoto” the man said piping up from this position, “the name’s Shoto” he said and left the girl who would soon be his wife.
Denki:
Denki Kaminari wasn’t a marrying man, he was more of a one night stand kind of person. He was so used to girls fawning over him because of his career, his money, his looks. All that didn’t matter to him but he could never say that it wasn’t fun. He hung out in the clubs every night swaying with the beat with a ton of his fan girls.
And this day was just like any other, after a hard day at work he went to his favorite club across the street and was hanging out in the bar after dancing for two hours. Seemingly a beautiful girl had come his way, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Her vibrant hair and eyes, her sheepish smile. Oh he could just stare at her for hours.
“Um sir-?” she started but was quickly cut off by Denki
“You want my autograph, picture, and number right?” he asked grabbing her hand quickly while taking out his pen and signing his name onto her hand.
“To whom do I make it out-” Before Denki could finish the girl grabbed her hand back.
“You Fool! How the hell did you get the idea that I wanted your fucking autograph on my hand? huh? I was just going to ask if you knew where the exit was! Geez! The gull you have to sign your name onto my hand!” She yelled.
He couldn’t lie- she was hot when she was angry. He continued to listen to her rant until her friend came up behind her and tapped gently on her shoulder.
“What is it?” she asked impatiently.
“Y/n! That’s chargebolt, he is-”
“I don’t give a damn about who this pikachu is! I just want to go home!” she yelled furiously and walked away from that scene.
Denki didn’t want her to go- not yet- no, not ever. He loved the way that this beautiful girl named y/n changed his life within minutes. He would come to that same club everyday in hopes that y/n would be there. He refused to dance with any girl that wasn’t y/n. He would search the streets and the world! All for his dear y/n. He decided that he was going to marry her and they would be the perfect husband and wife together.
Kirishima:
Kirishima was shopping for groceries.
Yeah, heroes had to eat to and the manliest of them all also had to cook for himself. He had a break today and he might as well buy the next meal.
He reached out to grab dome ocra but bumped into the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
Her beautiful hair cascading down her shoulders, her beautiful eyes widening at the sight of bumping into him and then doing a 360.
She was beyond beautiful.
“Oh sorry” she said monotonously.
“hehe it’s fine” he replied while rubbing his neck sheepishly while grabbing ocra for the both of them.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“y/n, what’s yours?” she asked back trying not to be rude. It was her worst day by far and she couldn’t take it out on a kind stranger!
“Ejirou Kirishima!” he replied back enthusiastically to which she smiled slightly, “something seems to be bothering you” he said quietly.
“Oh well it isn’t much- oh fine your just a stranger that I’m never going to see anyways! So what the hell? Y’know my parents they are super annoying even though I’m a grown women they work me to death and I’m supposed to give them half of the money I earned to them! It’s evil! I can’t afford for food myself and they can even without the support of my income they can buy thousands of rich people meals for themselves! They said that I owed them something and took away everything I loved from me-” and so the story went on.
Kirishima couldn’t seem to break his mind away from this rant he was onto every word that came out of her beautiful mouth. How dare her parents do this to her? She was his beautiful angel now and he will become manly and protect her! The red riot wanted to save his princess from trouble and lock her up in a lavish castle where they both could live happily ever after.
Shinsou:
Shinsou was up late in the U.A library. It was a long day, he came back to U.A to meet his adoptive father, Aizawa, his adoptive sister Eri who was a U.A student herself now. After one whole day of hanging out with his family, he sat back in the library enjoying the peace and quiet.
After a few minutes of resting his eyes he heard a loud CLANG towards the south of the library. He quickly woke up and ran towards the source of the noise.
There was a woman in a tight formfitting black jumpsuit and a black mask holding a few textbooks and a small romance novel that he liked as well. He smiled a little in amusement as the women stopped and backed up into the wall.
Shinsou put both his hands on either side of her to stop her from escaping trapping her as she squirmed. Shinsou snatched the mask away from her face and stared at her beautiful face.
Her eyes slightly widened as Shinsou’s smile grew.
“What are you doing here darling?” he asked
“What does it look like?! Do you think I’m a f-fool? I’m sealing books” she said- she was scared but she was trying to act tough.
“Security!-” Shinsou tried to yell but the woman crashed her mouth into his to just shut him up.
Shinsou was quiet surprised but melted into her soft kiss and passionately kissed back. Both of them pulled apart and the woman breathed out and crashed back into the wall.
“You know if you wanted me to kiss you, you could have just asked” he breathed out still flustered from the kiss.
“I had no other choice! Listen I’m y/n and I’m 19 and the daughter of the U.A school librarian... I want to go to college but my family doesn’t have enough money... So I’m just studying. I didn’t want you to call security so I did what felt right at the moment, and in order to shut you up I kissed you... Please don’t say anything about me to anyone... I return all of my books anyway! I just don’t go here so I can’t get books-”
“What University did you want to go to?”
“(insert your favorite university name)”
“Oh alright I’ll talk to the librarian tomorrow and get you in there” He said absent minded still staring at the woman waiting for her answer.
“How will you get me in?” she asked innocently
Anything for her of course! She was his the moment she kissed him and he wasn’t going to let her go! She was never to be sad because from that moment on she was his.
“I saved that university a couple of months ago, they owe me a favor anyways” he said nonchalantly while bending down to her height and whispering into her ears, “you should never be unhappy love”
With that Shinsou walked away in total bliss, they were fated together afterall.
Iida:
Iida was interrogating a villain to gather information about her group. She was the queen bee and apparently she had sacrificed herself for her group. He didn’t want to interrogate her, he was conflicted. He just couldn’t because he was in love with her. Even though it was so wrong it felt so right. He wanted her to be a hero but what’s the fun in that? Love threw it’s challenges at everyone-their challenge was the fact that they were on different sides.
“What is the name of your villain organization y/n?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know pretty boy?” she asked with sarcasm dripping from every word. His partner kicked her.
“He asked a question! Answer it!” His partner fumed.
“As if I’d ever answer to you shorty!” She yelled back in pain.
“What did you call me?”
“Shorty” she replied back earning her another kick as her chair fell down and she groaned. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes,
“Go easy on her” Iida said from the background trying his hardest to hide his tears.
“We are going easy on her Iida” his partner reminded him.
“Ugh” Iida groaned and grabbed his partner and walked out of that room.
“We are done for the day, release her!” he said and the guards reluctantly complied and set her free.
“I-I-ida what the fuck are you doing?!” The partner asked
“Doing what’s right” he said, “By the way you are fired from my agency” he said without sparing him a second glance.
He walked away with his heart on his sleeve. Iida was madly in love with y/n the villain and he would do anything for her. After all she was his.
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The absolute rage expressed in this piece borders on the righteously murderous. I would wager it’s a sentiment shared by at least 70,000,000 Americans. This mom is angry and tells it like it is:
I was born at the end of Gen X and the beginning of the Millennial Generation, and grew up in a middle class town. Life was good. Our home was modest but birthdays and Christmas were always generous, we went on yearly vacations, had 2 cars, and there was enough money for me to take dance classes and art lessons and be in Girl Scouts.
My 1940s born Dad raised me to be patriotic and proud, to love the war bird airplanes of his era as much as he does, and to respect our flag and our country as a sacred thing. I grew up thinking that being an American was the greatest gift a person could have. I grew up thinking that our country was as strong, and honest and true as my Dad. I grew up thinking I was free.
As an adult, I have witnessed the world I grew up in fall to ruin. I have watched as our currency and our economy have been shamelessly corrupted beyond redemption. Since we’ve been married, my husband and I TWICE had our meager investment savings gutted by the market that we were told to invest in, now that pensions no longer exist and we working stiffs are on our own. We will be working until we die, because the Social Security we’ve been forced to pay into has also been robbed from under us.
I have watched as our elected officials enter Congress as ordinary folks and leaves as multi millionaires. I have watched my blue collar husband get up at an ungodly hour every day and come home with an aching back that we pray will hold out long enough to get him to old age in one piece. Outside of shoes, socks and underwear, almost everything my family wears was bought used. We’ve been on one vacation in 12 years.
We don’t have cell phones, or cable, or any sort of streaming services, just a landline and internet. We hardly ever eat out. Our house is 1400 square feet, no air conditioning. I cook from scratch and I can and I garden and I raise chickens for eggs and meat and I moonlight selling things on Etsy. Still it is barely enough to pay the bills that go up every year while service quality and the longevity of goods goes down. What I just described is the life you can live on 60K a year without going into debt.
At last calculation, when you consider all of the federal, state and local taxes plus registration and user fees, Medicare and SS payroll taxes, almost a third of what my family earns is stolen by the govt each year. What’s left doesn’t go far, just enough to cover the basics and save a little for when the wolf howls at the door.
I watched as my family’s health insurance was gutted and destroyed. Our private market insurance, which we had to have because my husband’s employer is too small to have a group plan, was made illegal. We were left with the option of either buying an Obamacare plan with unaffordable deductibles and insanely ridiculous out of pocket maxes, or paying the very gov’t that destroyed our healthcare a fine for not buying the gov’t mandated plan that we cannot afford. We now have short term insurance that isn’t really insurance at all, and I live in fear of one of us getting injured or sick with anything I can’t fix from the medicine cabinet.
I have watched as education, which was already sketchy when I was a kid, became an all out joke of wholly unmathematical math, gold stars for all, and self-loathing anti-Americanism. My family has taken an enormous financial hit as I stay home to home school our child. At least she’ll be able to do old-fashioned math well enough to see how much they are screwing her. A silver lining to every cloud, I guess.
I’ve sat by and held my tongue as I was called deplorable and a bitter clinger and told that I didn’t build that. I’ve been called a racist and a xenophobe and a chump and even an “ugly folk.” I’ve been told that I have privilege, and that I have inherent bias because of my skin color, and that my beloved husband and father are part of a horrible patriarchy. Not one goddamn bit of that is true, but if I dare say anything about it, it will be used as evidence of my racism and white fragility.
Raised to be a Republican, I held my nose and voted for Bush, the Texas-talking blue blood from Connecticut who lied us into 2 wars and gave us the unpatriotic Patriot Act. I voted for McCain, the sociopathic neocon songbird “hero” that torpedoed the attempt to kill the Obamacare that’s killing my family financially. I held it again and voted for Romney, the vulture capitalist skunk that masquerades as a Republican while slithering over to the Democrat camp as often as they’ll tolerate his oily, loathsome presence.
And I voted for Trump, who, if he did nothing else, at least gave a resounding Bronx cheer to the richly deserving smug hypocrites of DC. Thank you for that Mr. President, on behalf of all of us nobodies. God bless you for it.
And now I have watched as people who hate me and mine and call for our destruction blatantly and openly stole the election and then gaslighted us and told us that it was honest and fair. I am watching as the GOP does NOTHING about it. They’re probably relieved that upstart Trump is gone so they can get back to their real jobs of lining their pockets and running interference for their corporate masters. I am watching as the media, in a manner that would make Stalin blush, is silencing anyone who dares question the legitimacy of this farce they call democracy. I know, it’s a republic, but I am so tired of explaining that to people I might as well give in and join them in ignorance.
I will not vote again; they’ve made it abundantly clear that my voice doesn’t matter. Whatever irrational, suicidal lunacy the nanny states thinks is best is what I’ll get. What it decided I need is a geriatric pedophile who shouldn’t be charged with anything more rigorous than choosing between tapioca and rice pudding at the old folks home, and a casting couch skank who rails against racism while being a descendant of slave owners.
I’m free to dismember a baby in my womb and kill it because “my body my choice”, but God help me if I won’t cover my face with a germ laden Linus-worthy security blanket or refuse let them inject genetically altering chemicals into my body or my child’s. I can be doxed, fired, shunned and destroyed for daring to venture that there are only 2 genders as proven by DNA, but a disease with a 99+% survival rate for most humans is a deadly pandemic worth murdering an economy over. Because science. Idiocracy is real, and we are living it. Dr. Lexus would be an improvement over Fauci.
I am done. Don’t ask me to pledge to the flag, or salute the troops, or shoot fireworks on the 4th. It’s a sick, twisted, heartbreaking joke, this bloated, unrecognizable corpse of a republic that once was ours.
I am not alone. Not sure how things continue to function when millions of citizens no longer feel any loyalty to or from the society they live in.
I was raised to be a lady, and ladies don’t curse, but fuck these motherfuckers to hell and back for what they’ve done to me, and mine, and my country. All we Joe Blow Americans ever wanted was a little patch of land to raise a family, a job to pay the bills, and at least some illusion of freedom, and even that was too much for these human parasites. They want it all, mind, body and soul. Damn them. Damn them all.
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(fleabag/priest • read on ao3)
I love you, too.
It'll pass.
Much like God, that last bit turned out to be a lie.
—
It's two years later and things are—fine, actually. Good, even. Cashiers ask you how you are, and you say, "I'm doing well, thanks," and it doesn't even feel like a lie. The cafe is, somehow, still a success—enough so that you can afford to do things like buy a new awning and replace the linoleum. You even spend a weekend with drop-cloths spread out over your nice, recently-replaced linoleum and give the interior a new coat of paint. You choose this pastel, light-washed teal color that looked cheery on the swatches but mostly reminds you of watered-down mouthwash. Still, when the sun comes in during the afternoons, it looks nice. You get compliments on it.
All the guinea pig pictures are still up, of course.
Both Hillary and Stephanie (who is, you remind people, actually a hamster) are also doing well, which feels like a miracle. A few months back, Hillary caught some sort of guinea pig flu and that had led to an emergency vet visit and several very-panicked Google searches about guinea pig lifespans, but then she'd gotten better and apparently they live for four-to-eight years anyway, so, she'll likely be around for ages yet.
(Hamsters, on the other hand, only live about two. Sorry, Stephanie.)
That banker—or, former banker? You never did find out what his new job was—still comes by. At least once a month, and usually on Chatty Wednesdays. He brings his wife, too, as he'd said he would. She has kind eyes—which is the sort of description you don't use very often, but suits her—and is both soft-spoken and full of questions. You learn that she bakes, because of course she does, and every so often she brings along a cloth-lined basket of lavender cookies or rose-frosted cupcakes or something equally Martha Stewart. They're fucking delicious, too.
Claire still commutes from Finland, but less often, now that she lives there. She has an apartment in London for when she visits that's obscenely beautiful and rarely-ever used—dark granite countertops and these funny-looking geometric sofas and lots of tasteful artwork (though, none of them done by your cunt stepmother). It should all be gathering dust, but Claire pays someone to clean it once a week and to keep the fridge stocked (on the off chance she comes for a sudden visit, which she never does). Sometimes, when you've been out late and your own place is too far away, you stay there for the night. Claire did give you a spare key, after all, and it seems a shame that no one is getting any use out of those million-thread count sheets or the quinoa salads in the fridge. You don't particularly like quinoa, but that isn't the point.
The two of you don't talk often, but often enough. You know that she's busy, and when she does call, it doesn't feel like an obligation. Like, sure, maybe your sister needs a calendar reminder to phone you, but when she does, she sounds genuinely happy to hear from you. (She also just sounds genuinely happy about her life, which is such a wonderful change of pace.) Tall, blonde, beautiful, Finnish Klare posts pictures of the two of them on Facebook sometimes (yes, you got a Facebook just to friend him)—mostly selfies, all taken by him, of him and Claire in various corners of the world. Stern-looking, northern cities where the sun doesn't rise part of the year, and bright, fruit-flavored beaches where the sun never sets. Claire looks half-annoyed in all of them, but the kind of annoyance that's covering up how pleased she really is. Like she isn't allowed to look too happy about her tall, blonde, beautiful, Finnish boyfriend and how much he clearly adores his tall, brunette, equally-beautiful, British girlfriend.
"If you have a child, will you also name it Claire?"
"What? Don't be silly, we're not having a child. I don't even know if we're going to get married."
(She does, and they are.)
"You could spell it with a ch so it's a little bit different. Something silly and American, like C-h-l-a-y-r-e."
"Stop it."
(She's smiling on the other end of the phone. You expect they'll announce the pregnancy by the end of the year.)
"It's gender-neutral, too, so you're set either way. Come on—you both have perfect bones and perfect hair and it'd be such a shame to waste that. "
"You're ridiculous."
"Always, but I think I'd be a great Aunt to little Chlayre."
"I'm going, now."
Apparently, having sex with someone who has the same name as you is weird, but you get used to it. And, apparently, the sex has been so amazing anyway that it's worth a little weirdness. Good for her. God knows she needed it.
(Speaking of God—)
He moved parishes shortly after the wedding. Not God, of course, but—well, you know. You'd thought it a little dramatic to move entire cities just because you'd had sex, but it was also arguably less dramatic than his leaving the Church, so. Likely he had made the right call. You probably would have ended up hating each other by the end, anyway, if he'd stayed. It wouldn't have worked out, because when do these things ever? It's good that he left. (It isn't.) It is.
Still.
You think about him less than you used to, less than in the days after—I love you, too. It'll pass—the bus stop, when it was all still so fresh and new. When you were feeling dramatic (drunk), you'd liken it to the feeling of having lost a limb, like he'd taken one of your hands or some vital organ when he'd walked away. When you're feeling less dramatic (sober), you liken it to having lost something you'd only been promised—something fanciful, like someone told you that they'd invented the ability to breathe underwater and it had all turned out to be a lie.
Except it wasn't a lie. He did love you. He just loved God more.
One afternoon, you'd been running errands that had happened to take you past the church (six blocks out of your way, actually, but close enough) and ducked inside—not even to say anything, just to see him, maybe—but it had been empty except for Pam arranging some pamphlets at the front. You'd asked about him, because of course you had, and she'd said he was "gone."
"Gone gone? Like—"
(Dead?)
"No, sorry, my mistake. Moved. This lovely parish on the coast whose own priest passed away a few weeks ago. A little quiet, but he says it's very charming."
"You've spoken to him, then?"
"Yes, of course."
Of course—like it's so simple.
You leave ten minutes later, after Pam's talked you into donating another ten pounds to the collection and volunteering at another church event the coming weekend, but it doesn't really hit you until you're nearly back at the cafe that he's—gone. Not dead gone, but might as well be. That, much like Harry taking that stupid dinosaur toy, he'd wanted to close the door permanently. Maybe he knew you well enough to know that you'd come back to the church someday, or maybe he knew himself well enough to figure it was only a matter of time before he turned up on your doorstep, and so he'd taken the choice away from you both. What a stupid, frustratingly-adult thing of him to do.
You hate him and love him a little bit more for it.
You don't really know what moving on looks like, but you figure it out. You drink a lot, at first, and then a little bit less. You stop feeling weepy whenever you see a Bible, or a G&T, or photos from the wedding. Rebound sex isn't as good as you'd imagined (except with the Hot Misogynist), and so you quit bringing people home quite so often—at least until you can stop comparing everyone to him. You still masturbate over him, of course, but it feels less like a need and more like a way to treat yourself. Like, if you eat all of that kale salad and only have a glass of wine with dinner, then tonight you can wank over his stupid strong arms and his stupid beautiful neck and that stupid little smile of his. If you just make it through a whole lunch with your dad and your cunt stepmother and not say anything too profane, then you get to touch yourself and imagine waking up with him in the morning and him making you pancakes and other sickeningly domestic fantasies.
It's been two years, so of course you've moved on, but you've moved on in a way that lets you keep loving him. Perhaps it's irresponsible, but you're not willing to let him go entirely. Not yet, anyway.
—
Then, your cunt stepmother announces that she and your father are adopting a baby.
"I'm sorry, what—"
"You've got to be fucking kidding—"
They'd waited until Claire was in town to make the announcement. They'd invited you both over for tea, and you should've known something was strange about that, but then you're sitting in the garden with a mouthful of Earl Gray and your cunt stepmother says she's adopting and you have to flip a coin between spitting out the tea all over her tasteful linens or scalding the inside of your throat.
You end up swallowing the sip, but it's a close call.
"Well, you know, I've never really ruled out having children—it's such a blessed, beautiful part of life—but, unfortunately, I can no longer conceive naturally, and so your father and I have been discussing—"
(It wasn't a discussion.)
"—and we submitted the applications and met with a mother this week. Lovely girl, terribly awful home life, can't afford to raise the baby on her own, but she's just got the most marvelous cheek bones."
(Cunt.)
"Anyway, she's due in a couple of weeks and then we'll be bringing little Felicity home—"
(Felicity?)
"—and we'd just love it if you two were there for the christening."
"Yeah, because this family has such a great record with godmothers."
Your cunt stepmother is still smiling but the look she's giving you is acidic enough to peel paint.
"Oh, look, I don't know." Claire's grip on the teacup is so tight, you're surprised she hasn't cracked the porcelain. "I've just taken time off to come home, and I'm really not sure I'll be able to again so soon—"
"No, but you must—mustn't she, darling? Your father just couldn't bear it if you weren't there for such an important day, and we did so miss you at the wedding reception."
(Two years, and she still hasn't let that go.)
"Say you will, Claire. Please? Promise us you'll be there." How your cunt stepmother manages to look so pleading is a mystery, but fuck her if she doesn't have it nailed. Your father is still mostly silent, as he's been throughout this whole ordeal, but Claire must see something in his expression because she relents with a, "Yes, fine, alright. I'll be there."
For the christening. The christening of the baby they're adopting. Your father's going to be in his fucking seventies at the kid's graduation.
"Oh, how marvelous! It won't be for a few months or so after the birth, so you should have plenty of time to get everything in order. The whole thing will be just splendid."
(It won't be.)
—
The day of the christening creeps up like a bad dream.
(You know those events when you think you'd rather get a bikini wax and then take a bath in lemon juice than attend? This is one of those days.)
You found a dress that seems like a good church dress, a boat-neck, sky-blue thing that doesn't really do anything for your figure, but it is a christening, so. You get there early because your cunt stepmother asked you to (demanded it), and because Claire will be getting there early as well, and maybe the two of you can sneak some of the church wine. You figure you'll probably be handing out programs or directing people to their seats or whatever else happens at a christening. It'll last about an hour, and then there will be a tasteful reception with champagne and sparkling cider and your dad and cunt stepmother showing off baby Felicity in her white, wedding-like christening gown, and then you can go home and forget the whole thing ever happened.
That's the plan, anyway.
You get to the church a half-hour before the christening starts (which is still later than you were meant to be here, but fuck it) and your cunt stepmother is already in—well, a tizzy. She's wearing this funny, artsy-looking gown that's patterned like stained glass and you wish it looked worse on her than it does. She's not yet holding baby Felicity (because this day isn't really about baby Felicity) but she is deep in conversation with the priest up near the altar, who's already dressed in his own decorative christening robes. Then your cunt stepmother looks up and sees you standing in the aisle, half-debating whether you could hide under the pews, and she's calling out your name and saying, "Thank God you're finally here—sorry, Father," and, "Oh, do you remember—?"
(It's him.)
"—he's the priest who officiated our wedding. He's not in the parish anymore—such a shame—but when I knew we'd be adopting little Felicity, I contacted him to find out if he'd be willing to perform the ceremony. Such a dear, isn't he?"
(It's him.)
"I do so love the symmetry of it. And it seemed such a hassle trying to find another priest we'd connect with when we already knew such a nice fellow."
(It's him, it's him—fuck me—it's him.)
He smiles when he sees you, a nice, polite, church smile. Of course, he's had however many weeks to prepare for this whereas you've just had an anvil dropped on you like you're Wile E. fucking Coyote.
"Pleasure to see you again," he says. He even sounds sincere.
"Likewise—" you say, but then your cunt stepmother is coming down from the altar and shepherding you into the back and putting you to work folding programs—"Make sure you're lining up the corners, dear,"—and you've never hated her quite so much. Of course, if it weren't for her and baby Felicity and the whole stupid christening, he wouldn't be here in the first place, but you're willing to ignore that for the sake of hating her. Fuck, he'd looked good, too. And here you are in your fucking church-appropriate dress folding fucking programs and by the end of the day he'll be gone back to the fucking coast and—
You need a cigarette, or ten. Fuck the programs.
It's quiet in the alley, enough so for you to take a couple of slow, deep, wonderfully nicotine-filled breaths and get yourself together. It'll be fine. It'll be miserable, but it'll also be fine. You'll sit in the pew, and you'll watch him perform the ceremony, and try very hard not to think about how beautiful he is underneath the fancy christening robes, and tonight you'll drink yourself unconscious and then wake up tomorrow and forget the whole day ever happened. It'll be the worst day of your life, but then it will be over.
(Second-worst, actually.)
The cigarette is nearly burned down to your fingernails, and you're about to stub it out when you hear the side door opening, and you say, "Sorry, Dad, I'll be there in a moment, I'm just—"
"Got a light?"
It's him.
(It's him.)
You nod, your breath feeling very shallow as he comes up next to you, leans in towards you with the tip of his cigarette. The orange light looks like paint on his skin, like he's been pulled from a Renaissance painting. He still smells the same.
"Aren't you worried about ash on your—" you gesture down at the fancy christening robes.
"Not really." He exhales, slow; his hand is shaking a little. "I doubt anyone but your stepmother would notice, anyway."
The thought gives you a sudden rush of satisfaction. Fuck, you do love him.
"I tried to quit for a while," he says after another breath, the smoke hovering in front of him, "then found I didn't really want to."
(You hope he isn't actually talking about cigarettes.)
"Better than me—I've never even tried to give it up."
(You, at least, are definitely not talking about cigarettes.)
"How have you been?" he asks.
(Miserable, then less miserable, then better, and now miserable all over again.)
"Good, actually. Haven't run myself out of business yet, so. That's something. How about you?"
"I was pretty lonely, for a while. New parish and all that. But it's not so bad now, and I quite like being so close to the water."
(You're happy that he's doing well, and also a little unhappy that he isn't doing worse.)
"That sounds nice, actually. And it's good of you, to have come all the way back for the christening. You didn't have to."
He's giving you a look. You hope it's the sort of look that means, yes, I did.
"Well, your stepmother can be awfully persistent."
"Yeah, well, she's a cunt."
He laughs at that, both amused and unsurprised. "I don't think I can mention that during my speech."
"No, probably not."
His own cigarette is nearly gone; you'll have to go inside, soon, and then the moment will be over. You really, really don't want it to be over.
"Do you ever think about moving back?" Your palms somehow feel very dry and very sweaty at once.
"Sometimes. Often, if I'm being honest, but—" he exhales instead of finishing the sentence. "There's plenty to keep me busy where I am now."
"And how's—God?" You're just fishing for time now. Badly.
He raises an eyebrow at you. "Mostly the same. A bit disappointed in the state of the world, but still filled with an infinite capacity for love, forgiveness, et cetera."
"Right. I think I remember something like that in the Bible."
"Love, forgiveness, et cetera?"
"Exactly."
He laughs again, then pauses. "Do you still have it, then? The one I gave you, I mean."
(You know what he meant.)
"Yeah, I've got it somewhere."
(In your nightstand, but he doesn't need to know that.)
He nods, then lets his own cigarette fall to the pavement.
"Well, I should—"
"You should probably—"
If you were braver, you might kiss him. If he were braver, he might kiss you. You don't really want him to leave, and he doesn't particularly look like he wants to go, but without being brave, neither of you knows what's supposed to happen next. He'd go back inside and then go back to his new parish, probably, and you'd never see him again. It's painful, how much you don't want that.
"Can I ask you something?"
He looks both curious and a little afraid for the question. "Yeah, of course."
He'll be going anyway, whether or not if you fuck this up. There's no reason not to try—other than that you're a little bit of a coward, but that's not really an excuse.
"You said it would pass." You feel a little dizzy. "Did it?" His jaw goes tight a little, like there's a wire running through it. "I'm just—curious, I guess." You take a slow breath. Fuck, what you wouldn't give for another cigarette right now, or an IV filled with whiskey. "Because it didn't, for me."
At that, he lets go of whatever tension he was holding in his jaw. He lets out a half-laugh that seems—relieved, almost. "No?"
You shake your head.
"No. It didn't for me, either. I feel like I've spent the last few years cheating on God—loving him and loving you."
There it is, in the open then. I love you, too.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
You want to kiss him, or maybe have him fuck you against the wall. You think he probably would, too. It's exhausting, feeling this elated and miserable at once; by the time you go back inside, you hope the needle has landed on one or the other, you almost don't care which.
"What does that mean, then?"
He laughs again. "Fuck if I know. Like I haven't wasted two years trying to figure that out." He sighs, impossibly weary. "I still don't want to leave the church."
"Okay."
"But I don't want to spend any more time without you, either."
"Okay."
"It would help if you said anything else."
"I would, if I knew what else to say."
(Kiss me, fuck me, marry me—none of those are particularly solution-oriented, though.)
"It's been a while since we were friends. We might not like each other anymore."
(Bullshit. To the friends part and the not liking each other part.)
"Yeah, maybe."
"We could still end up hating each other."
(We wouldn't.)
"Also true."
"But—I could come back. See you again. See if this is still—"
(It is.)
"I'd like that."
He nods, weighty, like you were just discussing how to solve world hunger instead of whether or not he'll move a forty-minute drive back inland.
"I should actually get back inside, now, before your stepmother castrates me—"
(Which would be a shame, now, after all that.)
"—but I'll be in touch? If you want?"
"I—yeah. Yes, I do."
He nods, and then he's stepping away, back towards the side door and the interior of the church. You wish he'd moved the other way, wish he'd push you up against the pitted brick wall and kiss you like it'd kill him to do anything else, but he doesn't. He's already in his fancy christening robes, after all, and it'd be a shame to wrinkle them now. Besides, you've waited two years. You can wait a few weeks or months more. You can wait, and then the two of you will figure out what happens next. He loves you as much as he loves God, and that already feels like a better place to start.
You brush the ash from your own dress and go back inside.
(You had said this was a love story.)
#fleabag#fleabag x the priest#fleabag fic#the priest#3600 words in like two days I really was feeling inspired#my fic
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Can someone check the GFCI?
When a circuit breaker snaps, it’s because the circuit was beginning to heat beyond design capacity and it’s shutting down to prevent something worse from happening, like fire or damage to a sensitive circuit or device.
It’s a safety device, and we all know how much I love safety devices, but at the end of the day if you don’t take action when a safety device activates, generally the damage can be much worse than what the device was actually protecting.
Folks, our owners have decided that it’s going to be much easier to control the world if they only have to do it from one government, and if you still think this is a conspiracy theory, you need to turn off CNN and step outside your basement. Even the dimwit in Ottawa can no longer keep the secret of where those in lofty chambers have decided we are going, although I sincerely doubt he understands the repercussions, just like 98% of the population. It’s not their fault, they are wired in such a way they can’t see the truth, either by design or programming.
Doesn’t matter which it is (blue dress/brown dress), the damage to our population has started and we don’t have the collective will to stop it, because we’ve been conditioned to be victims. Correction. Most have been conditioned over the past two decades to be victims, to be at the mercy of big government and those who know better than you do.
I’ve a friend who explains it perfectly. He says that most people cannot see past the end of any given month. It’s not a derogatory thing, it’s just who they are. These are the people who live paycheck to paycheck, who don’t plan for the future because they are just trying to stay alive. They work hard to keep up, but are consumed by just trying to cope with what life throws at them. These are the majority of people on this planet. Not a bad thing, but these are the type of people easily controlled by fear.
The next group are the people who can see 6 to 12 months, and they understand cause and effect better than the first group. They understand that payday loans are bad and that you should control your destiny through planning. These are the type of people who run our governments and provide services. They see the benefits to organized approaches to problems and find safety in numbers of like minded people.
The last group, the smallest one are those who can see 3 to 5 years down the road. These are the visionaries, people like Edison and Orwell, Tesla and Rand. These are the Elon Musks and Bill Gates of the world. They drive humanity through aspiration and ambition.
Unfortunately they aren’t always right, for example I would consider Karl Marx to one of the latter.
So why am I talking about Karl Marx and circuit breakers you ask?
Well it’s because my tin foil hat is on too tight, or because I’m not quite right in the head I guess, or any other of the labels those who can’t see past the end of the month would paste to someone like me who likes to think a bit more long term than the end of the next season of the Kardasians.
Shutting down the world for a bad flu wasn’t a decision based in science. It’s not even a decision based in safety, and believe me I know a thing or two about that. The whole “nobody moves, nobody gets hurt” thing really doesn’t work for long. Sure, nobody gets hurt, but no body eats either. This is what your average person isn’t thinking about when they scream “stay the blazes home”.
Yes, you can stay the blazes home. Yes, you can cower under your bed until the bad thing passes, but at the end of the day the Magic Pantry was just a kids TV show.
Dude’s gotta eat, right?
I’m currently living inside the “Atlantic Bubble”, or whatever is left of it after those anointed in oil decided to take their toys and go home, but in reality we’ve created an interesting paradigm here on the east coast of Canada that’s unlike anywhere else in the world.
We’ve created the perfect culture of fear.
Now for those living outside the bubble, we’ve shut the door, turned off the lights and posted a big “FUCK OFF” sign on the front lawn. We’ve turned our back to the virus like it’s a Trump supporter. This is our plan. We’ve posted guards, created intricate rules around who can go where and why, and basically made it impossible to move anywhere without government permission. All over a bad flu with a survivalbility rate of over 99.4%, with 70%+ of the mortality coming from those 70 years of age and older. You are more likely to die from an automobile accident today than COVID.
Don’t get me wrong, COVID is no cake walk, it’s a nasty disease, but it’s not Ebola. I’ve been battling this virus now for 11 months, I’ve seen how it works, it’s veracity is substantial, and if you have co-morbidities such as diabetes or heart disease, it can take a toll on you, and yes, more people are dying from it than the seasonal flu, but at the end of the day it’s not going to wipe out the human race. The majority of the people who test positive don’t even know they have it.
And don’t get me started on testing.
I can’t talk publicly about it but if you see me out and about, ask me why I think testing is a control and not a diagnostic element. Sorry, the hat’s tightening.
Let me throw one example out for you to chew on, let’s say vaccines. Now the vaccines are the panacea for the masses right? I mean we should be amazed we were able to concoct a vaccine that is 95% effective in eradicating this virus inside 8 to 10 months, hell, we should be ecstatic, right? I mean it took 30+ years to get a handle on AIDS and we beat COVID in just 240 days. We currently linbe up to get an annual flu shot to protect us from the last major Coronavirus (Remember the Spanish Flu?) that has been in development for the last 60 years and it’s still only 35-40% effective, and less than 50% of Canadians get it
We must be freaking geniuses now.
I’ll never understand the sheer amount of dumb optimism that’s out there, but I certainly appreciate it. Without that optimism we’d be more like Lemmings than we currently are.
But back to the “great reset”, shall we?
So dude’s gotta eat, right? I’m going to quote one of my modern day heros, Elon Musk when he says “If people wants stuff, they have to make it” or something along those lines. In other words, there’s no money tree. My parents very early on taught me that lesson, and that if I wanted anything in life I had to earn it or make it, that there was no such thing as a free meal. The problem is most people today have been conditioned to think there is. Trudeau has been giving away our money like a drunken sailor on shore leave to the tune of $400 BILLION dollars in 8 months. Let me put it another way, in the last 240 days Trudeau has spent $10,814.00 per Canadian citizen, or around $25K per taxpayer. That’s debt folks, that’s directly on the shoulders of every Canadian. But it’s ok they say because interest rates are so low we can afford the additional leverage.
Problem is folks is interest rates don’t stay low after a major crisis. Why? It’s called inflation. As money supply loosens, so does the value of a dollar, and when the value of a dollar decreases because there’s more supply of dollars then prices increase. When prices start increasing wages need to go up to keep pace with inflation, and when that happens there are two options. Control monetary supply, otr deal with runaway inflation.
How do you control inflation you ask? Great question. You raise interest rates to throttle spending.
How can anyone forget the late 1970’s? It was less than 50 years ago folks. Remember Trudeau’s 6 & 5? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? JUSTIN? For fuck sakes the kid was living at 22 Sussex drive when his father created the greatest economic challenge of our lifetime.
Wait, check that. Apparently the second wave will be worse than the first.
This great reset is gong to be tragic. Already they are estimating over 100 Million people in 3rd world countries will die next year due to disease and starvation because of the lock downs. In our own western countries the most disadvantages are already our most vunerable populations. Humans aren’t meant to be caged, nor can we afford to be. We need to be free, have purpose, and contribute to a vibrant society.
You can’t govern that. You can’t rule over a captive society for long. History has shown us that time and time again that King’s aren’t benevolent rulers and those who suffer the most are at the bottom the societal ladder.
If you aren’t seeing the end goal yet, I get it, but I do. You only need look as far as the ice cream eating elite who enjoy fine dining when your cupboard is near empty and jet off to Mexico while telling you can’t bury your spouse or child. They make you endure cruel mental anguish while they spend your tax dollars on jet setting and pontificating about a communist world that they rule.
All in the name of a better world, one free of climate change and racism.
Who knows, maybe they are right, maybe they are part of the component of society that sees the future more clearly than the rest of us.
I guess that’s why they get ice cream and can go spend Thanksgiving with their moms while you can’t bury yours.
I guess that’s just our lot in life, to be ruled, to understand it’s for thee, but not for me.
This what we want? This what we deserve? Am I wrong?
I don’t think I am, I just want to be. Can someone go downstairs and check the fuse?
Jim Out
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